She didn’t realize how badly she was shaking until she was inside her own apartment. Her knees felt as if they were about to buckle. She sat on the love seat and Cleo leaped into her lap, eager for attention.
Lacey ran her hand down the length of Cleo’s back. “Well, girl, you’re going to be a mother. What do you think about that?”
Cleo meowed.
“This is destined to be an interesting couple of months,” she said. Dr. Christman had given Lacey several pamphlets about the reproduction of cats. Lacey had read them a number of times. She’d grown up with a gentle cocker spaniel named Sherlock, but he’d been a male so she’d never been through this sort of thing.
The following afternoon, Lacey’s doorbell rang. Jack was on the other side, leaning against the doorjamb. He gave her a slow, easy, heart-stopping grin.
“How’s Cleo doing?”
“Fine. She seems to need a bit more attention these days, but other than that she’s behaving normally.”
“I had Dog neutered. He’s keeping a low profile these days.”
Lacey was forced to pinch her lips together to keep from smiling. As far as she was concerned, it would do Dog good to have his carousing ways curtailed.
“May I come in?”
Lacey wasn’t sure letting Jack into her apartment was such a good idea. “All right,” she said reluctantly, stepping aside.
Then Lacey made the mistake of politely asking if he’d like something to drink, and Jack asked for coffee. Since she didn’t have any ready, she was required to assemble a pot.
To her dismay, Jack was intent on helping her. She turned on the water and measured out the coffee grounds, all the while complaining inwardly about her compact kitchen. She couldn’t move without touching Jack in some way. When she stood on tiptoe to lift down the mugs, he stepped behind her, the full length of his body pressing against hers.
She felt trapped and silly and unbearably uncomfortable. Worse, she was blushing, although she did everything she could to disguise the effect he had on her.
“It seems only fair if I’m going to share the expenses of Cleo’s pregnancy that I have visitation rights,” he said casually.
A chill washed over her. “Visitation rights?”
“Yes. I’d like to check on her every now and again to be sure she’s doing well.”
Lacey wasn’t sure this was such a good idea, either, but she couldn’t think of any good reason to protest.
“I can assure you Cleo will be well cared for.”
“I’m confident she will be, but I’d like to check on her myself.”
“All right,” she agreed with ill grace.
The coffee finished brewing and she poured them each a cup. Jack took his black and strong, but he waited while Lacey diluted hers with milk before returning to the living room.
Cleo walked regally into the room and without a pause jumped into Jack’s lap. Lacey was amazed. Her cat had never been fond of strangers.
“Cleo,” Lacey chastised. “Get down.”
The cat would have been a fool to do so. Jack was petting her back in long, smooth strokes that left Cleo purring with delight. It was probably like this with every woman he touched. Lacey attempted to scrounge up resentment toward him, and to her amazement found she couldn’t.
Instead, the very opposite was happening. It was as if Jack’s hands were on Lacey. A series of warm, dizzy sensations began to grow in her. Sexual feelings. Her breath came in little short puffs. She sipped at her coffee and forced herself to look away, anything that would make this feeling disappear. It was much too uncomfortable to remember that part of her nature, the one she’d buried after her divorce and conveniently ignored until Jack walked into her life.
Looking away didn’t help. Nothing did.
“Cleo’s a beautiful cat,” he said in a low, sexy drawl that had Cleo purring and Lacey’s heart racing.
“Thank you,” she managed.
The tingling feeling spread slowly, inexorably, through her body, leaving her with a need she wouldn’t have dared express to another human being. It had been well over a year since a man had held her. Not once in all those months had she missed a man’s touch. Until now.
Now it was torture to sit and do nothing. To her dismay, Jack seemed relaxed and in no hurry to leave.
“Have you thought about homes for your half of the litter?” she asked, to make conversation.
“No.”
“I . . . I think my friend Jeanne will take one.” Her gaze followed the movement of his hand against Cleo’s soft fur. The brush of his fingers was light, gentle. A lover’s touch. He would be a tender lover, Lacey mused.
She shook her head, needing to clear her mind before it completed the picture of making love with him. Oh, dear heaven, this was more than she could bear.
“Lacey.” The sexy drawl was back. “Come here.”
“W-why?”
“I want you to feel Cleo’s tummy.”
“It’s much too soon for the kittens,” she protested and all but vaulted out of her chair. He knew exactly what he was doing to her and he enjoyed it. Lacey’s cheeks flamed.
She hurried into the kitchen. Running the faucet, she filled a sponge and wiped down her spotless counter. If only Jack would leave! But that would be asking for a miracle. He had her on the run and wasn’t about to give up.
He moved into the compact kitchen, and she closed her eyes, praying for strength.
“It was nice of you to stop by.” She hoped he’d leave before she made a fool of herself.
“Why did you turn down my invitation to dinner?” he asked.
She swore he was only inches behind her, but she didn’t dare turn around.
“Lacey?”
She opened the cupboard and brought down a can of cat food. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to become involved.”
“Why not?”
“It’s fine to be neighborly, but . . .”
“Not too friendly.”
“Exactly.” Her heart continued to beat at maximum speed, clamoring loudly in her ear. She didn’t dare look at him. She couldn’t, without his knowing that she wasn’t any better off than Cleo was with Dog.
“Turn around and look at me,” he instructed her gently, and when she didn’t comply he placed his hands on her shoulders and slowly moved her to face him. Then he ran his thumb along the edge of her jaw. “Look at me,” he repeated.
Lacey closed her eyes and lowered her head. “I think you should leave.”
Using his thumb, he lifted her chin. “Open your eyes.”
She had no choice but to do as he asked. Reluctantly her eyes opened and slid effortlessly to his.
“I remember the day you moved in.” He spoke softly, clearly. His gaze was as dark and intense as she’d ever seen. “I realized then how badly I wanted to get to know you. There was something vulnerable about you. Something that told me I would need to be patient; and so I’ve bided my time. It’s been a year now and I’m still waiting, but I’m growing restless.”
Lacey’s throat felt dry, and she doubted she could have spoken even if she’d wanted to. Which she didn’t. What could she say? That she’d once trusted someone who’d destroyed her faith in all men?
“Who hurt you?” he asked.
She shook her head, unwilling to answer him.
He took her in his arms then, drawing her into a protective circle, easing her into his embrace. His hold was loose, comforting, seductive.
Lacey wanted to resist, tried to make herself pull away, and found she couldn’t.
“I want to kiss you,” he whispered, as if he felt he needed to warn her of every move he made for fear she’d bolt and run like a frightened rabbit.
“No.” She shook her head wildly from side to
side. Somehow she found the resistance to brace her hands against his forearms and push herself away.
He let go of her instantly, but hesistantly. “Why not?” he asked. “I would never hurt you, Lacey. I’d never do anything you didn’t want, weren’t ready for.”
“You must think me a fool,” she said, her breasts heaving with the effort it had cost her to walk away from him.
“A fool?”
“You love Sarah.”
“Of course I love Sarah.”
At least he didn’t deny it. “How many other women do you have on a string? Don’t answer that; I don’t want to know. Just understand one thing. I refuse to be one of them.”
“Lacey.”
“Please leave.” She folded her arms and thrust out her chin defiantly.
“Not until you listen to me.”
“You can’t say anything that will change my mind.”
His laugh mocked her. “Not even when I tell you Sarah’s my sister?”
Four
“Your sister!” Lacey repeated, stunned. For a moment she wondered if she could trust Jack to tell her the truth but then decided she could. The intimacy between Jack and Sarah was what had struck her the first time she’d seen them together. It made sense that they were brother and sister.
“Who did you think she was?” Jack demanded. “You assumed Sarah and I were lovers? How could you possibly think something like that?”
“You’re constantly fighting, and—”
“Of course we fight, we’re siblings. Sarah’s living with a man and I don’t approve. I wish she’d use the brains God gave her and get out.”
“Do you disapprove of their living arrangement or of the young man?” Lacey wanted to know.
“Both. As far as I’m concerned, she’s making the biggest mistake of her life. Mom and Dad don’t know, and I refuse to hide it from them much longer.”
“That’s the reason you keep insisting she move in with you!” Lacey had caught the gist of their disagreement several times and cheered when Sarah flatly refused him. This new information put a different slant on Sarah’s refusal.
“How do you know what we argue about?” he asked, regarding her quizzically.
“You honestly think I can’t hear you two? Those walls are made of papier-mâché.” Her head was reeling. If Sarah was Jack’s sister, that answered a multitude of awkward questions.
Jack stuffed his hands in his pockets and strolled to the far side of the kitchen. His brow creased as if he were deep in thought. “I didn’t realize we’d been quite so loud.”
“You both certainly seem to have strong feelings on the subject.”
“All this time you believed I was two-timing Sarah?”
“What else was I to think?” she asked defensively. “Besides, there were all those other women.”
“What other women?”
“The one I saw you with the other day at the mailbox, for example.”
“You mean Gloria?”
“I didn’t hear her name. . . . Listen, none of this matters. You’re free to date whomever you want. You don’t owe me any explanations.”
He didn’t seem to hear her. “Gloria’s a friend, nothing more. We did date a few years back, but it didn’t develop into anything. She’s seeing someone else now.”
“What about your assistant?” Lacey asked, before she could censor the question.
“Mrs. Blake?” He laughed outright. “She’s fifty and a grandmother.”
Lacey wanted so badly to believe him. “Fifty?”
He nodded. “There’s only one woman I’ve had my eye on for the last several months, and it’s you.”
“You talk a sweet line, Jack Walker, but I’ve heard it all before.” More times than she cared to count. More times than she wanted to remember.
He raised an eyebrow as he advanced a couple of steps toward her. “If you let me kiss you, who knows? You just might change your mind.”
The temptation was strong, stronger than Lacey wanted it to be. “Another time,” she said, her heart roaring in her ears as she backed away from him.
Jack looked disappointed. “All right, Lacey, I’ve been patient this long. I can wait.” He checked his watch and sighed. “I’d better get back to my place. I’ll stop by later in the week to check on Cleo.” He waited as if he half expected her to protest.
She didn’t, although she probably should have. Life had taught her that men weren’t to be trusted. Everything Jack said was well and good, but she refused to believe he’d been interested in her all these months. No man had that kind of patience. At least none she’d ever met.
Before he left, he took her by the shoulders and gently planted a kiss on her cheek.
“Are you going to go out with Jack?” Jeanne asked when they met the next morning. Lacey’s arms were loaded down with several large books of carpet samples. She swore they weighed twenty pounds each. Her arms felt like they were about to come out of their sockets.
“I don’t know.”
Jeanne eyed her speculatively. “Lacey, you can’t let an opportunity like this pass you by. As I said before, the guy’s a hunk.”
“Handsome isn’t everything.”
“True, but it’s a good start. Besides, I like Jack.”
“You only met him once.”
“True, but I liked what I saw.”
Lacey didn’t have an answer for that. They rode in silence for several moments.
“I see you brought your work home with you again.” Jeanne glanced disapprovingly in the direction of the samples.
“We’re making a bid for an accountant’s office, and I stopped off on my way home last night and let him look over the different carpets and colors.”
“More overtime you’re not getting paid for,” Jeanne murmured. “Did you ever stop to think what Mr. Sullivan would do without you?”
Lacey had given that question ample consideration. Every time she worked up a quote or dealt with a moody customer because Mr. Sullivan was “out of the office at the moment,” she had that very thought. “He’d probably find some other schmuck to take my place.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jeanne said. “The man needs you. He knows it, and so do you. What you should do, my friend, is use this to your advantage. We both know you should be making double what you make now.”
“Double?”
“I don’t know what Scrooge is paying you, but I do know it isn’t enough. If you don’t say something to him soon, I will.”
“Jeanne!”
“Relax. I won’t. But it makes me angry the way you let him take advantage of you. I don’t know what it is about you that lets him get away with it. Do you enjoy being a victim?”
“No!”
Jeanne shrugged. “Then do something about it.”
Her friend was right. More than right. She was acting like a victim. Lacey left the BART station filled with indignation. It lasted until she reached the office.
Unfortunately, the lone elevator was out of order. Lugging the carpet samples with her, Lacey huffed and puffed up three flights of stairs and literally staggered into the office.
Mr. Sullivan glanced up and gave her a look of concern. In his late forties, he was fast going bald, and his blue eyes had faded over the years. His suits were meticulously tailored, though, and he insisted they both maintain a crisp professional image.
Lacey pressed her hand over her heart and slumped into the first available chair.
“Lacey, are you all right?”
She shook her head. She hadn’t realized how badly out of shape she was until she’d trekked up those stairs hauling two twenty-pound books of samples.
Mr. Sullivan walked over to the water cooler and drew her a cup of clear cold liquid. “Drink this and yo
u’ll feel better.”
“Mr. Sullivan . . .”—she was so winded her voice could barely be heard—“we need . . . to talk . . . about my . . . position here.”
“Of course. You’ve done a wonderful job. I owe you a debt of thanks. I realize I’ve left you with some of the more unpleasant tasks lately, and I hope you’ll forgive me for that.”
He was a kindly man, she realized. Dissatisfied with her wages, she’d built him up in her mind as an ogre with few redeeming qualities. Much as she’d pictured Jack . . . until recently.
“Overtime?” Her lungs hurt, otherwise she would have elaborated.
He frowned as if he didn’t understand her. “Are you saying that over time you’d like to become a full-fledged decorator?”
She nodded, but it was more than that.
“You’re wonderfully talented, Lacey. In a couple of years I feel strongly that you’ll make it.” Having said that, he lifted the heavy sample books, replaced them against the wall, and returned to his desk.
Mumbling under her breath, Lacey walked over to her own desk. No sooner had she removed her jacket than Mr. Sullivan announced he was leaving for the rest of the morning. He didn’t tell her where he was headed, which was typical.
When Lacey returned to her apartment that evening, the first thing she did was soak in a hot tub. It felt wonderful.
Her day had been hectic. She certainly wasn’t in the mood for company when there was a knock on her door. She jerked on a pair of sweats. “Oh, please, make this fast,” she muttered as she went to answer it.
Jack stood with Sarah on the other side. “I thought it was time the two of you met,” he said.
“I’m Sarah,” the pretty brunette said, holding out her hand. Now that Lacey knew they were brother and sister, it was easy to see the family resemblance. Sarah shared Jack’s deep chocolate-brown eyes and thick dark hair.
Family Affair Page 3
