Her companion excused himself with a touch to her shoulder and joined another conversation. She let him go without uttering a single word, rendered speechless by the appearance of this ghost from the past. The years had been good to him. He’d been a good-looking co-ed and had matured into an attractive man in his mid-thirties.
The beard was new, but she’d recognized him right away. Broader and thicker, he filled out his dark suit in a way that left no doubt the body underneath the expensive material was in good shape. His skin was a deep brown—mahogany—and his eyes dark and welcoming with long, curled eyelashes that would be feminine on any other man. But not on Lucas Baylor. He was all man. Six foot two inches of raw sex appeal.
An awkwardness she hadn’t felt in years filled her. Were they supposed to hug? Shake hands?
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He tucked one hand in his pants pocket and surveyed her. “I’m in Seattle on a promotional tour for my book.”
She’d meant what was he doing at the party. Had he purposely avoided answering the question? “You’re an author?”
He nodded. “I wrote a book called The Rules of Man.”
Interesting. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks. Seattle’s the last stop on my tour.”
She felt a surge of happiness he’d achieved his heart’s desire to be published. “That’s wonderful. I knew you could do it.” She wanted to hug him but held back, locking her hands in front of her to resist the urge.
He shrugged, as if it was no big deal. But it was. He’d always been a lover of the written word and had regaled her with original poetry and pages of lyrical prose. The simplest sentence took on a new texture and depth when he reworked it.
“You did always have nice things to say about my writing,” he said, and she thought she detected a level of fondness in his voice. “So…it’s been a long time.”
“Nine years.” She shook her head in shock. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
He chuckled, an appealing, masculine sound that made her insides twist painfully. He seemed so relaxed, yet she was a cluster of nervous energy. She’d thought she’d matured enough to handle seeing him again should the occasion ever occur, but clearly she hadn’t. Not when the sight of him was so jarring, so…debilitating.
She struggled for something to say, latching on to a neutral topic to keep from getting too personal and dredging up memories better left in the past.
“I admired everything you wrote. I could barely put two sentences together, but you, you were brilliant.” She sounded like a groupie and felt a bit foolish at her gushing.
“English was always my strength, I guess. But I couldn’t do what you do, messing around with statistics and projections and strategic management. All of that was, and still is, over my head.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice if I was going to be an active contributor in the family business.” A business she’d conveniently avoided telling him about at first.
He looked around the room. “Is your husband here?”
His question surprised her. She hadn’t expected him to take the conversation in that direction. “My husband passed away two years ago.”
His brows lifted. “I had no idea. I’m sorry to hear that. Are you…?”
“I’m fine. It’s gotten easier.”
“And your daughter?”
Startled, tension coiled in her stomach and her gaze tightened on him, but he gave no indication his question was anything more than polite conversation. “She’s managed well. Kids are amazingly resilient.”
“Excuse me.” A female voice interrupted their conversation. Ivy turned in the direction of an older couple, appreciative of the temporary respite from the conversation.
“We have to leave,” the woman said. “It was lovely to see you and your brothers again.”
“Thank you for coming.” Ivy clasped the wife’s hand and they gave each other air kisses, one on each cheek, before she and her husband walked away.
“I should go,” Ivy said to Lucas. She waved her hand vaguely at the room. “We have so many guests here tonight.”
“I know you’re busy, but I was wondering if we—”
“I’m sorry, but I see someone I need to speak to.” Her insides quivered in alarm at the suggestion he’d almost voiced. He was about to ask to keep in touch, to speak to her privately—something—and she had to avoid that.
She took him in, memorizing his face, the breadth of his broad shoulders and the beauty of his eyes. She used to tease him about the unfairness of him having such long lashes while she was stuck wearing false ones to get the same look he had naturally. “It was nice to see you again.”
As she walked by him, she paused.
“How’s Mama Katherine?” Lucas’s mother, whom she’d called Mama Katherine at the older woman’s insistence, had welcomed her into their life with open arms.
His dark brown eyes were neutral, studying her. She knew he had questions, but she was afraid of where the conversation would lead and what he would uncover.
“She passed away a few years ago.”
“Lucas, no.” A wave of sadness washed over her.
“Yeah, it was tough at first, but she’s in a better place. She died peacefully in her sleep. All the kids came back for the funeral—everyone who could, anyway.”
Mama Katherine had taken in dozens of foster children over the years. She’d had a no-nonsense attitude about her, and when Ivy had met her she’d insisted she call her Mama Katherine, like all “her kids” did. The chatter and laughter of her foster kids and children from the neighborhood always filled her house, and it wasn’t unusual to find people who’d stopped by to spend time with her and soak up her wisdom.
She’d taken Lucas in when he was about fourteen years old, a troubled teen with rough edges. She’d worked on him, smoothing those edges with discipline and love and watched him graduate from college with first a bachelor’s degree in creative writing and then a masters in English.
“I’m so sorry,” Ivy said.
His gaze softened. “You did love her, and she loved you, too.”
“I had a second mother for a short time.”
Very short. Only a few months during the summer she and Lucas had spent together. When her relationship with him ended, she’d mourned the loss of her relationship with his mother almost as much. Now she grieved again with the knowledge that someone so generous with her time and love was no longer among the living.
“Take care, Lucas.”
Unable to help herself, she reached out and squeezed his arm. Feeling the muscles there, she caught her breath at the raw power emanating from him. The type of power that had kept her pinned beneath him, his heavy thrusts making her breathless, panting, pleading.
He tensed under her touch, and their gazes collided, eyes lingering a fraction too long on each other. Desire whipped through her, and her body throbbed with awareness so sudden, so basic, it frightened her.
She escaped with rapid steps across the room. She didn’t want to see that look in his eyes, because then she’d be tempted to stay and talk and bask in his presence. Tempted to exchange numbers and try to recapture the magic they’d shared during their brief time together. She risked revealing too much if she did.
Resisting the urge to look back, she wondered the entire time she walked away if he was still standing there, staring after her.
Nine years ago, meeting Lucas had changed her life for good. He had no idea how much.
Chapter Three
“Who was that guy?” Ivy’s older brother, Cyrus Jr., frowned down at her. “I don’t recognize him.”
No surprise that Cyrus questioned her. His attention to detail was impeccable.
“I guess you could say he’s someone from my past.” She kept her voice emotionless so as not to alert her perceptive brother.
“I saw him checking you out earlier.”
Her heart jumped. “You did?”
“He was
watching you from the bar over there.” He motioned with his chin.
“Stop frowning,” she said. She wrapped her arm around his.
He wore a permanent scowl on his face. He’d taken on the responsibility of running the family business at a young age, and he took it way too seriously. A health nut and a teetotaler, Cyrus was the only one in the family who didn’t drink beer, something few people outside of the family knew. He brought a glass of organic white grape juice to his lips and took a sip.
“If you keep that look on your face, people are going to think you’re not having a good time,” Ivy told him.
“I’m not.”
She smiled, amused at his candor. Cyrus was too tactful to be so blunt when speaking to anyone else. He’d only admit something like that to her or Trenton. Speaking of which…
“Where’s Trent?” She scanned the room for their younger brother.
“Probably in a closet somewhere,” Cyrus said dryly.
“You’re never going to let him forget that, are you?”
Several months ago Trenton had been caught with a server in a closet at a charity function. To keep the incident quiet, Cyrus had donated another $75,000 to the cause, doubling their original donation.
Her brother grunted. “If he spent half as much time working as he does chasing women…”
“Now you really sound like Number One,” Ivy teased.
She and Trenton fondly called Cyrus Mr. Johnson Number Two. Their father had passed away years ago, and it had taken a long time for them to get to the point where it was no longer painful to discuss him openly.
He grunted again.
“Trent does a good job and you know it,” Ivy chided, squeezing his arm.
“Think of how much more of a good job he’d do if he focused on work instead of sexual escapades.”
She tended to agree with Cyrus but wouldn’t admit it. Trenton was the youngest of her brothers, and while it was true he still had some growing up to do, she looked the other way at his behavior because of what he’d been through as a child.
“I’m going to head up to my condo,” Ivy said. “Do you think it would be rude of me to leave right now?”
“Who in their right mind would question you?” A healthy dose of arrogance filled Cyrus’s voice. He had a point. This was their event, their year.
“I’ll say good-bye to a few people and then head up. Goodnight.”
He nodded absentmindedly and had barely taken two steps when a guest nabbed him in conversation.
****
Ivy didn’t see Lucas again, and she assumed he’d left after she’d escaped from him. She said her good-byes, left the ballroom and took the elevator up to the private residences of the hotel. At her condo she opened the door and almost immediately the sound of little slippered feet pounding on the hardwood met her ears.
“Mommy!”
Her daughter, Katie, appeared in a blur of pink and flung herself at her, wrapping her arms around Ivy’s waist. She was eight years old but often mistaken for younger, her small size an oddity considering she had height on both sides of the gene pool.
Her daughter would likely go through a growth spurt, the same as she had done in middle school, when she’d shot up taller than most of the boys in her class and morphed into all arms and legs. She looked back on those years not-so-fondly and called them the Awkward Years.
She glanced down into her daughter’s bespectacled face. “You’re supposed to be asleep, young lady.” She cupped Katie’s chin.
Janelle, the babysitter, came rushing up. “I’m sorry, Ms. Johnson. I couldn’t get her to go to sleep. She kept saying you should have been home by now and wouldn’t go to bed until you did.”
Janelle had been babysitting for Ivy the past few months. Ivy had found her through a childcare service, Nanny Services on Call, after the woman she’d been using for several years moved away. Janelle was younger, but she came highly recommended and passed all the usual background checks. Her fondness for Katie and dedication to the job were unquestionable.
“I stayed a little longer at the party than planned. Without Mother there, it was important we have a solid presence. I left Cyrus in charge now that things are dying down.” Ivy pulled cash out of her purse and handed the young woman a few bills.
Janelle refused to take the money. “Ms. Johnson, you don’t have to do that.”
Ivy paid the service directly, but every now and again she gave Janelle a little something extra. “I insist. I want you to get that car you’ve been saving for.” She grasped Janelle’s hand and squeezed the money into it.
“Thank you so much, ma’am.” Janelle smiled down at Katie. “Bye, munchkin.”
“See, I told you she wouldn’t be mad,” Katie said.
“I’m not happy about you being up so late,” Ivy said, “but I’ll deal with you after Janelle leaves.”
“Aww. I was just worried, Mommy. I wanted to make sure you came home safe and sound.”
Every so often Katie made those types of remarks. It stemmed from the fact that Ivy’s husband, Winston, had left one night and never come home. For a long time afterward, Katie had been inconsolable and clingy when it came to being separated from her mother. After Winston’s death, the grave expression on her daughter’s face had been heartbreaking. Better to see her in this state—happy, impish, the way an eight-year-old should be.
“Off you go. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Katie scurried to her room, her cat slippers making slapping sounds on the oak floors extending throughout their home. Ivy said goodnight to the babysitter and turned out the lights before going down the hall. She’d moved into the two-bedroom condo after her husband passed away. The back half contained the bedrooms, a home office, and a media room that separated her bedroom from her daughter’s.
She and Winston had owned a six bedroom house, but after his death, the house had felt too large and empty. Her condo was not small by any means, however. At over four thousand square feet, the dwelling provided more than enough room for her and Katie, while giving the feel of a smaller, more intimate dwelling. The spacious living room/dining room area contained giant windows that gave an impressive view of Elliott Bay with commercial buildings in the foreground and the mountains in the background. From her bedroom she could step onto the terrace to admire the view there too, but it wasn’t necessary. More than half of the bedroom’s walls were floor to ceiling glass and provided a breathtaking panorama of the sun setting over the bay in the afternoons.
She’d grown to love living within the city limits for its convenience. She was close to work and within walking distance of Pike Place Market, where she and the other locals would go early in the morning to purchase fresh fruits, vegetables, fish, and deli items before the tourists showed up to explore and videotape the singing fish throwers. The Seattle Art Museum was another favorite haunt within walking distance, and when the weather was nice she and Katie went on outings at nearby Waterfront Park.
Moments later, Ivy sat on the edge of her daughter’s bed, maneuvering through a negotiation about a sleepover.
“But Mommy, all of my friends are going.”
Ivy did her best to ignore the plaintive wail of Katie’s voice and the frown on her face. “You’re too young for a sleepover,” she said. She tucked the blanket securely around her daughter’s small body.
“I’ll be the only one who can’t go.” Katie pushed her glasses up her nose and pouted.
Ivy leaned over her on one arm. “You’re too young.”
Behind her glasses, Katie’s eyes turned glassy and her lower lip trembled.
Ivy sighed, and sensing she was weakening, Katie went in for the kill. “Please, Mommy.”
“Let me think about it.”
Katie squealed and clapped her hands rapidly. “Yes!”
“I didn’t say you could. I said I would think about it.”
Ivy shot her a look, but they both knew her scowl didn’t mean anything. It was a wonder her daughter wa
sn’t spoiled. By all rights she should be a brat, with her mother being such a softie, her doting uncles and an indulgent grandmother, but she wasn’t. No matter what, her daughter maintained a sweet disposition.
“Okay, I’ll let you think about it,” Katie agreed quickly. She clamped her mouth shut, clearly not wanting to mess up her chances.
Ivy cupped Katie’s chin and looked down into the familiarity of those dark brown eyes bordered by thick, curled lashes on the top and bottom. Was she being overprotective? She brushed aside the thought. Children grew up so fast. Before long, Katie would be dating and giving her hell.
“You know I’m not doing this to be mean, but you’re my baby and I need to make sure you’re okay.”
“I know, but I’m almost a preteen. You don’t have to worry so much, and I know a lot.”
“You don’t know as much as you think you do, munchkin.”
“You worry too much, Mommy.” Sometimes she sounded so mature for her age.
“I’m your mother, and I could never worry enough, believe me.” Ivy smiled. “You ready for our lunch tomorrow?” It was the last day she could fit in lunch with her daughter before school started the following week.
“Yes!” Katie’s face lit up.
Ivy removed her daughter’s glasses and placed them on the bedside table. She tapped her own cheek. “Give me a kiss.”
Katie planted a wet one on her skin and then rolled over onto her side. “G’night.”
Ivy sat there for a little longer and looked at her, her heart cheerful and sad at the same time. Her daughter was a blessing, but also a constant reminder of what she’d lost.
Right now she looked forward to a restful sleep that hopefully wouldn’t include too many dreams of Lucas. She didn’t want to think about him, but knew she would once she was alone with her thoughts.
“Good night,” she said finally. She leaned down and kissed her daughter’s soft cheek. “Love you.”
“Love you, too,” Katie mumbled, her voice already drowsy.
Ivy exited quietly and went to her own bedroom to undress. Seeing Lucas had her wired, and she needed to calm down. She pulled a silk kimono over her cami and matching shorts and walked back down the hallway. She peeked in on Katie and then moved to the kitchen, her tread quiet in a pair of thick socks.
Unforgettable Page 2
