Family Affair

by Debbie Macomber

  “Are you worried about Sarah?” Lacey pried gently, wondering at his somber mood. Something was on his mind, but she couldn’t force him to tell her. He would speak up when he was ready, she decided.

  “Not as much now as when she was living with Mark. Although it’s been hard on her, discovering exactly what kind of man he is was the best thing that could have happened.”

  “She’ll be fine,” Lacey said confidently.

  “Thanks to you.”

  “Oh, hardly. Sarah will come away from this experience a little more mature and a whole lot smarter. I know I did with Peter. But it takes time. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

  “I’ll say. Look how long it took me to get to know you.”

  “It was worth the effort, wasn’t it?”

  He took one hand from the wheel and patted her knee. They were sitting so close to each other that their hips touched. The morning was muggy, but neither of them moved, enjoying this small intimacy. “The wait was well worth the while,” he agreed and then added, his eyes dark and serious, “I’m crazy about you, Lacey; I have been for months.”

  “I’m crazy about you too,” she returned softly.

  What was definitely crazy was that they should admit their feelings for each other in a moving van in the heavy flow of San Francisco traffic.

  After having spoken so freely, both seemed a little embarrassed, a little relieved, and a whole lot in love. Lacey felt as if she were in college all over again. The years of her marriage and the aftermath of the divorce vanished, as if they’d never happened.

  Leaving his car in the underground parking lot, they caught the elevator. The instant the door slid closed, Lacey was in Jack’s arms. His mouth sought hers with the desperation of a man locked in a dark room, unable to find the exit. His arms half lifted her from the floor, giving her the perfect excuse to cling to him.

  “I’m crazy about you,” she said. She felt drunk, as if she’d spent the last few hours sitting in a bar instead of the last few moments in his arms.

  He caught her face between his hands and kissed her until she trembled and whimpered. He moaned.

  “Jack.” From somewhere deep inside she managed a weak protest. “We’re still in the elevator.”

  He lifted his head and looked around. “We are?”

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and tilted back her head to smile up at him.

  “Where’s your sense of adventure?” he teased, kissing her nose. He reached over and pushed the button for the fourth floor.

  This intense feeling of desire was new to her. If he didn’t continue kissing her, loving her, touching her, Lacey thought she’d die. It was as if years of dammed-up longing had broken free deep inside of her, swamping her senses.

  He kissed her again and she sagged against him just as the elevator delivered them to the fourth floor.

  “Your place or mine?” he asked, and then made the decision for her. “Yours.”

  Her hand trembled when she gave him her keys, and she was gratified to see his fingers weren’t any steadier. In that moment, she loved him so much she couldn’t bear it a second longer. Her arms circled his middle and she kissed the underside of his jaw, teasing him with her tongue, running it down his neck to the hollow at the base of his throat and sucking gently.

  “Lacey, stop,” he protested.

  “Do you mean that?” she whispered, lifting her face.

  “No . . . never stop loving me.” The door opened and they all but stumbled inside.

  It was then she heard Cleo’s pitiful meow. Jack heard it too. He glanced over his shoulder and then turned his gaze back to her. His eyes were tightly shut.

  “Cleo’s having her kittens,” he announced and moved away from her.

  Nine

  “Cleo’s having her kittens now!”

  Lacey hurried into the apartment.

  “Oh, my goodness!” She pressed her hands over her mouth and stared into the closet, where Cleo had made herself a comfortable bed in a darkened corner.

  The Abyssinian meowed pitifully.

  “Oh, Cleo,” Lacey whispered.

  Cleo ignored her, rose from her nest, and walked over to Jack, weaving between his legs, her long tail sliding around his calf. Then moved back into the closet and cried again, softly, pleadingly.

  “She seems to want you,” Lacey murmured, unable to disguise her amazement. It didn’t make sense that Cleo would be more comfortable with Jack. After all, Lacey was the one who fed and nurtured her.

  “She wants me?”

  “It wasn’t me she was crying for just now.” Didn’t anyone understand the meaning of commitment anymore? Lacey wondered. Even her cat turned to someone else in her moment of need.

  Cleo was up again, seeking Jack’s attention. He squatted down in front of the open closet door and patted her gently while whispering reassurances.

  “Should I boil water or something?” Lacey asked anxiously. The moment had finally arrived, but she hadn’t a clue as to what her role should be. She’d assumed Cleo would calmly give birth to her kittens one day while Lacey was at work.

  “Boil water?” Jack asked. “Whatever for?”

  “I . . . don’t know. Coffee, I guess.” She paced the carpet behind Jack in short, quick steps. Seconds earlier they’d been wrapped in an impassioned embrace, and now lovemaking was the furthest thing from either of their minds.

  “How’s she doing?” Lacey asked, peeking over his shoulder.

  “Great, so far. It looks as if the first kitten is about to be born.”

  “How’s Cleo?” Lacey asked again, her fingertips pressed against her lips. “Is she afraid? I don’t think I can bear to see her in pain.”

  Jack looked up at Lacey, reached for her hand, and kissed her knuckles. “She’s fine. Stop worrying or you’ll make yourself ill.”

  No sooner had he said the words than Lacey’s stomach cramped. She wrapped her hands around her waist, sank onto the end of the mattress, and leaned forward. “Jack, I don’t feel so good.”

  “Go make that coffee you were talking about earlier,” he suggested. “At this point Cleo’s doing better than you are.”

  Cleo cried out and Jack turned his attention back to the closet.

  “She just delivered the first kitten,” he announced, his pleasure keen. “Good girl, Cleo,” he said excitedly. “My goodness, will you look at that! Cleo’s kitten is the spitting image of Dog.”

  Lacey hurried off the bed to look. Her stomach didn’t feel much better, but she understood the source of her discomfort. She was experiencing sympathetic labor pains. “He does look like Dog.” She squatted down next to Jack and studied the ugly little creature. “I don’t mind telling you, Jack, this unnerves me.”

  “I could go for a cup of coffee,” he said. “Cleo and I are doing fine.”

  Lacey hurried into the kitchen. Once she was there, she decided there was no need to rush. As Jack had so eloquently told her, he had everything under control.

  “How’s it going?” she asked when she returned with their coffee.

  “Great. I think Cleo’s just about ready to deliver a second kitten.”

  Lacey wasn’t interested in viewing the birthing process, so she sat on the bed and let Jack play midwife.

  “Here it comes,” he said after a few minutes, his voice elevated with excitement. “This one’s just like Dog too.” He turned with a proud smile as if he’d given birth himself.

  Grumbling, Lacey sank onto the carpet next to Jack. Cleo was busy licking off her tiny offspring. As far as Lacey could tell the kittens were no bigger than fur balls and ugly as sin, but that didn’t keep her heart from swelling with a flood of emotions.

  “Do you think she’s finished?”

  “I don’t know,” Jack returned. “H
ow long do these things usually take?”

  Lacey laughed. “How would I know?”

  “You intended to breed her, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, before Dog so rudely interrupted my plans.”

  Jack wiggled his eyebrows. “You’re pleased he did, aren’t you?”

  Lacey wasn’t willing to admit anything of the sort. “You’ll note that once Dog had his fun with Cleo, he was on his merry way.”

  “Perhaps, but with Cleo having Dog’s family—well, it sort of cemented our relationship, don’t you think?”

  She suppressed a smile. “I guess it did.”

  “You can breed her next time if you’re really serious about it.”

  He was right; it would be foolish to claim otherwise. “I’ll get the pamphlet Dr. Christman gave me. That should tell us how long this process takes.” She left him momentarily and returned reading the material the vet had given her.

  “I think Cleo might be finished,” Jack announced when Lacey walked into the bedroom and sat on the end of the mattress. “She’s lavishing attention on her kittens and not acting the way she was earlier.”

  “It says here the birthing process generally takes a couple of hours,” she recited and glanced at her watch. It hadn’t taken nearly that amount of time for Cleo.

  Before she could say as much, Jack said, “We don’t have any idea how long she was in labor before we arrived.”

  “Right. It could easily have been two hours.” She felt a tremendous sense of relief that it was over. “She only had two kittens, but it says right here that Abyssinians generally have smaller litters and Siamese have larger ones. That’s interesting.”

  “I guess we should thank our lucky stars Cleo only has the two.”

  “Speaking of which,” Lacey said righteously, “you never gave me the name of the family taking your half of the litter.”

  “I’ll give one to Sarah,” Jack said confidently. “A pet will do her good. Besides, she owes me big-time.”

  “But does Sarah want a cat?” Lacey might think of Jack’s sister as family, but she didn’t want to foist an animal off on her if Sarah wasn’t willing.

  “Of course she wants one. Dog and Cleo’s offspring are special. Besides, a kitten will keep her company while she gets over Mark.” He frowned as if he found speaking the other man’s name repulsive. “It shouldn’t take long for her to forget that rat.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” Lacey told him. “I was married to a man who displayed many of the same characteristics. Be patient with her,” she advised again, and then added with a gentle smile, “As patient as you were with me.”

  “You’ve spoken so little of your marriage.”

  “If you review what happened with Sarah and change the names in the appropriate places, the story’s the same, with only a few differences,” she amended. “The biggest difference is that I was married to Peter. A couple of months after I moved here, I heard from a well-meaning friend who thought I should know that he’d married his blond cupcake and they were expecting a baby.”

  “Some friend.”

  Her smile was sad. “That’s what I thought. The news devastated me. Not because he’d remarried, but because he’d been adamant about us not having children when I wanted a family so badly.”

  Jack drank from his coffee and seemed to be mulling over the information. “You’re over him now?”

  Lacey wasn’t entirely sure how to answer him. Her hesitation appeared to give Jack some concern. He leveled his gaze at her and frowned darkly.

  “Yes, I’m over him, and no, I’m not.”

  The corner of Jack’s mouth jerked upward. “That’s about as clear as swamp water.”

  “I don’t love him anymore, if that’s what you’re asking. The hardest part was having to let go of the dream of what our lives could have been like together.”

  “Have you?” The words were stark and issued without emotion.

  “Yes.” She wanted to thank him for the large part he’d played in the healing process, but he didn’t seem receptive to it. Although he’d asked her about Peter and her marriage, he seemed to find it uncomfortable to listen to the sorry details of her life with her ex-husband.

  Jack stood and wandered into the living room, taking his coffee with him. When she joined him, she found him standing in front of the small window that looked down over the street. He didn’t turn around. It was almost as if he’d forgotten she was with him.

  “Jack?”

  He turned around and offered her a fleeting grin.

  “Does it bother you to discuss my ex-husband?”

  He shook his head, and set his mug aside. “Not in the least. I was the one who asked, remember?”

  “Yes, but you seemed—I don’t know, upset, I guess. Peter was a part of my life, an important part for several years.

  “The divorce was difficult for me, but I learned from it. I matured. Blaming Peter isn’t important any longer. I understand now that I played a part in the death of our marriage. I wasn’t the perfect wife.”

  “You say you don’t love him anymore?”

  She gestured weakly. “Let me put it like this. I don’t hate him. My happiness doesn’t hinge on what’s happening in his life. My happiness hinges on me and the choices I make, and I’ve decided to live a good life.” She hoped it would be with Jack. With all her heart, she prayed he felt as strongly about her as she did him.

  He smiled. Lacey swore she’d never seen anyone more beautiful. It was strange, she realized, to feel that way about a man. It wasn’t so much his looks, although heaven knew he was handsome. What she found so appealing about Jack was who he was as a person. He was trustworthy and generous. He’d helped restore her faith in love and life. His love had been a precious gift for which she would always be thankful.

  “Jack,” she whispered, “what’s wrong?” Something was still bothering him.

  He walked over to Lacey and tenderly gathered her in his arms. He rested his chin against the top of her head, and she heard a sigh rumble through his chest.

  “You got your raise from Mr. Sullivan?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Lacey was sure she’d told him, but they’d both been so wrapped up in helping Sarah that he must have forgotten. “A very healthy one.”

  “Good.”

  Lacey eased away from his chest and met his gaze. “Why are you asking about Mr. Sullivan?”

  “You love your job, don’t you? Especially now that you’re getting the respect and the money you deserve?”

  “Yes, but what does that have to do with us?”

  He brought her back into his embrace. “I love my job too. I’ve worked for California Fidelity for nearly ten years. Last Thursday I was given a promotion. This is something I’ve worked toward for years, but I never dreamed it would happen so quickly. It took me completely by surprise.”

  “Jack, that’s wonderful.” Stepping up on her tiptoes, she kissed him, so proud she felt she would burst. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? We could have celebrated.”

  “My promotion means something else, Lacey.”

  “I’m sure you’ll have added responsibilities. Oh, Jack, I couldn’t be more pleased for you.”

  “It means,” he said, cupping her shoulders, “I have to move.”

  The blood rushed out of her face so fast, Lacey felt faint. “Move? Where?”

  He sighed and looked away from her. “Seattle.”

  Ten

  “Seattle,” Lacey echoed, stunned. “When did you intend to tell me, before or after you had your way with me?” Stepping away from him, she pushed the hair away from her head, leaving her hands there, elbows extended. “You’re no better than Dog!”

  “What’s Dog got to do with this? You’re being ridiculous.”

  “I’m
not. You were going to make love to me and then casually mention you were being transferred?” It was all clear to her now. Rainwater clear. Just like the tomcat he called a pet, he was going to take what he wanted and walk out of her life.

  “I didn’t plan anything of the sort. You don’t have any reason to be so angry. Besides, nothing happened.”

  “Thanks to Cleo. And for your information, I . . . have every right to be angry.” Her fragile voice wobbled with emotion but gained strength with each word. “It’d be best if you left.”

  “Not until we’ve talked this out.” He planted his feet as if to suggest a bulldozer wouldn’t budge him before he was good and ready.

  She pointed her index finger at him while she gathered her thoughts together, which unfortunately had scattered like water-starved cattle toward a river. “I’ve heard about men like you.”

  “What?” He stared at her as if he needed to examine her more closely. “Lacey, for the love of heaven, stop right now before you say something you’ll regret.”

  “I most certainly will say something.” She walked over to the door and held it open for him. “You . . . you can’t drop a bombshell like that and expect me not to react. As for regrets, trust me, Jack Walker, I’ve got plenty of those. It’ll take years to sort through them all.”

  “All right, all right.” He raised his hands in surrender. Actually he posed as if she held a six-shooter on him. “Please, close the door. Let’s sit down and talk this over like two civilized people.”

  “Are you suggesting I’m not civilized? Because I’m telling you right now, I’ve had about as much as I can take.”

  “Sit down,” he said calmly and gestured toward her sofa. “Please.”

  Lacey debated whether she should do as he asked or not. She crossed her arms under her breasts and glared at him. “I prefer to stand.”

  “Will you close the door?”

  She hadn’t realized her foot had continued to hold it open. “All right,” she said stiffly, as if this were a large concession. Chin held high, she moved, and the door closed with a decidedly loud click.

  “This is what I thought we’d do,” Jack said, pacing in front of the window he’d been staring out only moments earlier.