by Abby Gaines
It didn’t seem that much to ask.
Instead, nothing felt right, and most of that was Lucas’s fault.
He’d picked up her dad from Dwight’s place at nine-thirty—Dad would put in short days for a few weeks—and brought him to the workshop. John was in good spirits, which improved Merry’s mood. The boat he’d been working on when he collapsed—a twenty-eight footer commissioned by a merchant banker in Manhattan, who planned to keep it in the Hamptons—was awaiting finishing. It was a good project to start back with.
Lucas came into her office once or twice, issuing orders that she ignored. Instead, she caught up on the mail and supplier payments.
At ten-fifteen, she got up to put the kettle on for coffee. Her dad always had his morning cup at ten-thirty.
As she returned to her desk, she glanced out into the workshop. Dad wasn’t in sight, but she could see Lucas’s head over the top of the boat. As she watched, he came around to the near side.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt.
Merry swallowed. Whatever might be wrong with Lucas’s eyesight, his general fitness seemed excellent. Last time she’d seen his bare torso—their wedding night—they’d been in semidarkness. Now, with the sun’s rays streaming through the high windows, he was captured in glorious daylight. Broad shoulders, arms and chest nicely muscled, flat stomach…
Merry wrenched her eyes away. Her thoughts took a few moments to follow.
Yet again Lucas was invading her life. And this time it was totally unnecessary.
He should be wearing a shirt.
Everyone knew boatbuilding was hot work, even at this time of year. But her dad managed to wear a T-shirt year-round.
Surely Lucas’s state of undress was a safety and health issue. Wasn’t there a manual around here somewhere?
She leaned to her left—causing Boo, who liked to lie beneath her feet, to twitch—and pulled open the bottom drawer of her desk.
She leafed through the hanging files. Safety and health, safety and health… Ah, there it was: Keeping Your Marine Industry Business Safe and Healthy. She pulled out the manual, still shrink-wrapped. Obviously long overdue a read. She sliced through the plastic with a thumbnail.
Out in the workshop, Lucas had stopped to take a call on his cell phone. Whoever the caller was made him smile. He was extremely good-looking when he smiled. Merry thwacked the manual open on her desk. The table of contents wasn’t very detailed, so she turned to the index, looking under C for Chest, bare. Nothing. Come on, it had to be a hazard.
“Stephanie just called.” Lucas’s voice jerked her out of her reading. He stood in the doorway—still shirtless, damn him—one arm propped on the doorjamb. He could have posed for a sexy boatbuilders’ calendar. If there was such a thing.
Boo scrambled out from beneath Merry’s feet and trotted toward him. That was another thing Lucas had taken over. He’d suggested more exercise might help Boo’s constipation, and had offered to take the dog on some of his runs. That was Lucas all over—if there was a problem, he would try to fix it. But in this case his logic made sense, so she’d agreed. But not only hadn’t it worked, Boo was now slavishly devoted to Lucas.
“Stephanie and Dad invited us sailing on Friday—Dad has a day off,” Lucas said. “They’ve already invited John, and Garrett and Rachel are coming up.”
His brother, Garrett, two and a half years older than Lucas, had been outside Merry’s sphere of interest when she was younger, and had left home at the earliest opportunity. He’d never gotten along with Dwight, unlike the uneasy truce Lucas had with his father. But he was excellent company when he made the effort, which he’d done increasingly often since he’d married Rachel. He’d met her at the Manhattan advertising agency where they’d both worked—though there was more to that than met the eye, apparently—and they’d married last December. Both Garrett and Rachel doted on Mia.
“Dad will love it.” Merry kept her eyes on Lucas’s face, away from that bare chest. “But I don’t think we should go. Or at least, I shouldn’t. It’s just two more people to try to fool, and more explaining to do later.”
“If your dad’s going, we should keep an eye on him,” Lucas said.
“Why are you taking such good care of him?” Merry asked, not for the first time.
“It’s what we agreed,” he said. Which wasn’t entirely true, but she could hardly complain. “Having Garrett and Rachel there will take the focus off us,” he added.
“I’ll think about it.” She looked back down at her manual. Ah, found it. Clothing, protective. Page 108. Behind her, the kettle whistled. Merry took the manual with her as she headed to the stove. “Can you tell Dad coffee’s ready?”
When Lucas came back, he had a T-shirt slung over one shoulder. Close, but no cigar.
Her dad went to set up his blood pressure kit. He would measure his BP before he drank his coffee, which could skew the results.
“You need to put your shirt on,” Merry told Lucas as she handed him a cup.
“Excuse me?”
She held up the safety manual and read aloud from page 108. “‘Protective clothing must be worn when whenever conditions warrant.’”
“You think I’m going to spill hot coffee?” Lucas asked.
She snapped the book shut. “You need to wear a T-shirt at work. All the time.”
She realized she was eyeballing his chest, and jerked her gaze upward.
Their eyes met in a long, charged moment. Merry was suddenly short of air. Gratifyingly, Lucas didn’t seem all that comfortable, either.
Then he smiled slowly, speculatively. “Why, honeybun, am I causing you some anxiety?”
She glowered. “I don’t want to get prosecuted for lax safety standards.”
He handed his cup back to her and put on his T-shirt, which involved much stretching and flexing of muscles. Merry looked away, at her dad. He was yawning as he released the blood pressure cuff.
“You sleeping okay, Dad?”
“Sleep’s not a problem, but I might have overdone it a bit yesterday,” he admitted. “I went bowling.”
“Dad, you might bust your wound open,” Merry said.
“You should be careful,” Lucas agreed.
A sidelong glance revealed he was now covered up.
“Relax,” John said. “I only used a ten-pound ball. The doctor said I could lift up to fifteen pounds at this stage. Besides—” he cleared his throat “—my date was a nurse, so I had medical expertise right beside me.”
Lucas went on the alert. “You’re dating?”
He probably thought that was something else he needed to get involved in.
“Who is she?” Merry tried to sound interested, rather than disapproving. “Did you meet her at the hospital?”
“Yes, and so did you,” her father said. “It’s Nurse Martin. Cathy.”
Merry’s jaw dropped. “The mean one?”
“She’s not so mean when you get to know her,” John said. “She’s had a tough time, that’s all.”
“Dad, she’s horrible.” Merry caught a warning look from Lucas. It was none of his business. Still, she spoke more moderately. “So, do you plan to see the nurse again?”
“Actually, bowling was our second date,” John said. “We’re going fishing next week.”
Fishing! Fishing was special. Her father didn’t do that with just anyone. “Dad, what about Mom?”
“I’m just dating this woman,” John said, “and probably not for long. I’m not in love with her, and I’m not about to marry her. But if I want to live life to the full, I can’t ignore my need for companionship.”
Lucas’s eyes met Merry’s, clearly communicating that he didn’t want to hear any more about her father’s needs. That made two of them.
Merry didn’t want to stop her dad having a fulfilling life—he’d been on his own for a long time. But he was the one who’d always declared he was a one-woman man. Period. That you didn’t find a soul mate twice, and to settle for less would be a con
stant reminder of what he’d lost. Of how good love could be. Her dad might say his dating wasn’t serious, but he wasn’t the playboy type—before long, he’d reach a point where he either had to end it or take the next step. Merry didn’t want him rushing into a relationship—with Nurse Martin, of all people—out of loneliness.
And if her dad did actually fall in love with someone, would that make everything he’d said about soul mates and the existence of “one true love” a lie? Or at least wrong? Merry had been raised on her father’s stories about that instant connection, that perfect unity between two people who’d never doubted they were destined for each other. Never even argued, if you believed her father. Not about anything serious.
“But while we’re talking about marriage,” John added, “Cathy said last night that she wondered if everything’s okay with you two.”
“She doesn’t even know us,” Merry said, outraged.
Lucas stepped closer and put an arm around her shoulders. His answer to every intimacy challenge, it seemed. “We’re great, aren’t we, honeybun?”
“Wonderful,” she said firmly. “I couldn’t be happier.” Maybe she should have unclenched her teeth before she spoke.
Her dad didn’t look reassured.
“John, how about you invite your, uh, nurse to have dinner with us so she can see for herself,” Lucas said. “Does Thursday work for us, honeybun?”
No!
“You don’t think that sounds too serious?” John said.
“Hmm, it might,” Merry said.
“Strictly casual,” Lucas assured him. “It’ll be fun.”
That was Lucas’s idea of fun? Entertaining the nastiest nurse in town, possibly having to watch the woman flirt with Merry’s father? It just went to show, Merry thought, she and Lucas were about as far from soul mates as two people could be.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I GO ON VACATION FOR TWO weeks—two weeks—and your dad almost dies, but gets a kidney transplant in the nick of time. Then Patrick dumps you, and you get married. To Lucas Calder, the guy I had a crush on in school and you couldn’t stand? You have terrible sex with him, and now you’re getting divorced?” Sarah Ford, Merry’s best friend, bit into a slice of pepperoni pizza and chewed disgustedly. “Couldn’t you have done some of this while I was here to live vicariously through you?”
“Sorry,” Merry said, feeling better already for having shared her woes. She leaned back on her dad’s couch. “Just to clarify, the divorce is a little way off. And I could stand Lucas in high school.” Where did everyone get the idea she didn’t like him?
“Meanwhile, the most exciting thing to happen to me was sunburn in an embarrassing anatomical location.” Sarah grabbed a paper napkin from the stack on the coffee table in front of them and wiped a blob of tomato sauce from her chin.
“Much as I hate to trump your sunburn,” Merry said, “Dad also got a girlfriend.”
Sarah threw herself back against the sofa cushions theatrically, slopping her chardonnay over the edge of her glass. “Now I know you’re making this up.”
“It’s true,” Merry said glumly. “And she’s awful. Lucas invited her for dinner.” She picked a slice of pepperoni off the last piece of pizza, which was still sitting in the carton, both of them refusing to eat it out of politeness. Merry popped the pepperoni in her mouth. “He’s driving me crazy. It’s like he has a checklist in his head that he’s working through. All the things he needs to fix before he leaves.”
“And this is a problem why?” Sarah asked.
Merry huffed out a breath. “This isn’t going to sound reasonable.”
“Try me.”
“I don’t like being on a checklist.”
“You’re right. Unreasonable.”
“No, it’s not,” Merry countered. “Lucas and I have been friends forever. In some ways we’re like family. But I don’t get the impression he’s done one single thing the past few weeks because he cares. He does them because he can.”
Sarah sipped her wine. “I’m not sure if the distinction is worth worrying about if problems get solved.”
“Sometimes he’s more like a robot than a man,” Merry grumbled.
Her friend stared, then hooted with laughter. “You’re miffed because Lucas is getting you all hot and bothered, aren’t you?”
“No,” Merry said. “Yes.”
Sarah snickered. “So, you’re lusting after Lucas, while he’s being robotically practical.”
“Most of the time.” Because there had definitely been looks.
Merry got up to choose a DVD. Sarah loved Lassie almost as much as she did, and one of the movies usually formed a backdrop to their girls’ nights in. She and Sarah were living proof that watching a G-rated movie in no way inhibited consumption of alcohol or salacious gossip. “Which version do you want? The 1994 or 2005?” One was set in the U.S.A. and the other in England.
Sarah thought for a moment. “Ninety-four. The dad’s cuter.”
“I can’t agree, as you know.” Merry preferred the 2005 movie on several levels, but she inserted Sarah’s choice into the player.
A minute later, the opening credits were rolling. The sound was set on low; they would turn it up during the good bits.
“It’s not like I even want anything with Lucas.” Merry picked off another slice of pepperoni.
“Agreed,” Sarah said. “Twice now you guys have failed to launch.” She was the only person Merry had told about Baltimore.
“My brain is well aware that Lucas and I are incompatible on every level. Maybe I just don’t like that the attraction is one-sided.”
“He is hot,” Sarah admitted. “I can’t blame your hormones for getting confused. I always thought he’d be an amazing lover.”
“Possibly our wedding night wasn’t a fair test,” Merry conceded, unsure what she thought about Sarah admitting to having considered Lucas’s skills in bed. She sipped her wine.
Sarah shook her head. “If you’re good, you’re good. No matter what. Clearly, Lucas doesn’t have what it takes.”
Merry blinked. “You think?”
“Trust me,” Sarah said, “he’s bad in bed.” She sighed. “What a waste of a hot guy. But, hey, I just gave you an excellent reason to stop feeling attracted to him.”
“Just like that,” Merry said doubtfully.
“Remind yourself he’s bad in bed every time you look at him,” Sarah advised. “After all, that’s probably what he’s thinking about you.”
“Ouch!” Merry reached for yet another piece of pepperoni. “Following your logic, he’s right.”
“It works differently for women.” Sarah started to laugh.
“Do you believe anything you just said?” Merry asked indignantly.
“I don’t know,” she said, still laughing. “But I think it would help you to believe it. Also, you should flirt with another guy to boost your ego.”
“You should never get a job as an advice columnist,” Merry told her.
Sarah shrugged one shoulder. “Okay, I won’t. You’ll just have to find some other way to stop thinking naughty thoughts about your hubby. Where is he tonight, by the way?”
“No idea. Probably doing eye exercises with Heather Gunn.”
“The hot cheerleader-turned-optometrist?”
Merry nodded, aware of a surge of irritation. “Ooh, look, it’s the part about the wolf.” She pointed the remote control at the TV and raised the volume.
They concentrated on the movie for the next little while. This was the same version Merry had watched on her first date with Lucas. He’d pointed out that in real life, the wolf would definitely have killed Lassie. Further on, he’d insisted there was no way Lassie could have rescued Matt from that waterfall, and so on. Over the years, they’d somehow got embroiled in several arguments about Lassie’s capabilities.
Lucas came in with about twenty minutes of the movie left, Boo at his heels. He groaned when he saw what was playing, and left the room. But only, it turned out,
to fetch a beer.
Merry tried looking at him through the eyes of someone who didn’t have firsthand knowledge of all his imperfections. Someone like Sarah. Yep, definitely a waste of a hot guy.
“What kind of pizza is that?” he asked.
“Pepperoni,” Merry said. “Help yourself.”
Lucas picked up the last slice. “There’s no pepperoni on it.”
“I’ll be sure to complain,” she said.
He sat on the couch next to Merry, forcing her to move along or else be wedged up against him. She moved.
Boo slunk beneath the coffee table, lying with his nose on Lucas’s feet.
“Keep quiet,” Merry warned Lucas. “Lassie’s about to save the day.”
He yawned. Which, she supposed, was quiet.
Ten minutes later, the movie ended.
“That was great.” Merry wiped her eyes.
“Lassie does it again,” Sarah agreed.
Lucas snorted.
“She’s a hero,” Merry told him.
“She’s not a hero. She’s not even a she,” he said. “All the dogs that have played Lassie have been male.”
Merry gaped. “How do you know?”
“Internet.”
“Why do you know?”
Lucas frowned. “I must have looked it up at some stage. Probably when you were waxing lyrical about what a hero Lassie is.”
“Fascinating,” Sarah said, bright-eyed. “Merry, hon, I think you might be wrong with your robot theory.”
“What robot theory?” Lucas asked.
“Merry, can I use your cell?” Sarah said quickly. “I want to check that calorie-counting app of yours—see how much damage I did tonight.”
Merry handed over her phone. “How’s your depth-perception practice going?” she asked Lucas.
“Great,” he said. “Tonight I could see three circles when I was supposed to.”
She had no idea what that meant, but was vaguely relieved he’d been doing eye tests, as she’d guessed, rather than…something else.
