by Lori Foster
Lace slanted Daniel a look of smug satisfaction, determined to goad him out of his mood. “Your little sister likes spicy food as much as I do.”
Annie agreed. “I love it, now that Lace has gotten me hooked on it.”
To Lace’s disappointment, Daniel left the room without a single comment.
“So, tell me. What’s really going on?” Without reserve, Annie began opening drawers and closets, shoving clothing inside. Annie was not exactly the epitome of domesticity. Household chores often escaped her realm of understanding.
Lace cleared her throat and took her time gathering up her correspondence. “I don’t know what you mean. What did Daniel tell you was going on?”
“He said you got hurt, there was no one else to take care of you, so he stepped in. He said he knew I’d have his head if he left you here alone, and he was right.”
Lace frowned. So he didn’t want Annie to know he’d kissed her. Probably because he didn’t want to corrupt her poor little impressionable mind by letting her think he’d cavort with a woman of Lace’s ilk. The big jerk.
Annie patted her hand. “I know there’s more to it than that, though.”
“Oh? How so?” Lace hoped she looked suitably confused.
“I offered to stay with you, to let him go home now, but he refused. He said I wasn’t qualified to take care of you.” She snorted. “I can toady for a person as easily as he can.”
Lace winced as Annie crammed her Tshirts into a drawer. “Daniel isn’t toadying for me.”
“He’s doing your laundry, for crying out loud! What would you call it? And that tree. I saw it the minute I came in and thought you’d finally softened and gotten one. But when I commented on it, he told me he’d done it. He mumbled it, like it embarrassed him or something. Wasn’t that sweet of him, Lace?”
The sisterly admiration on Annie’s face wasn’t to be refuted. “He’s been very kind. At select and individual moments.”
Daniel called them in to eat, and Annie helped Lace out of the bed, even though she didn’t need help. Once they were in the kitchen, Lace felt stymied. There was no way she could sit in one of the hard-bottomed chairs. Daniel touched her shoulder.
“Hold on just a second. I’ll be right back.”
He went down the hall to her bedroom and returned a moment later with a fat bed pillow. He placed it on the chair, then took her arm. “See how that feels.”
Annie watched on as if fascinated while her brother solicitously seated Lace. Once she’d lowered her bottom onto the soft pillow, he pulled another chair forward for her to prop her legs on.
“Keep your leg elevated. It’ll help to keep the pressure off the wound.”
Then he served her a plate.
Lace felt like an inconsiderate witch, especially with the pleased admiration shining on Annie’s face. Daniel had waited on her all day, made certain she’d taken her antibiotics and her pain pills on schedule. He’d fed her and teased her and given her a tree. He’d even washed her dirty laundry, which went well beyond the realm of consideration. She wanted to cry. She should have been more grateful, not resentful that he wanted to keep the kiss between them private.
When she took her first bite of chili, she nearly did cry. Her mouth caught on fire and she fanned her hand in front of her open mouth. Daniel handed her a glass of water, and she knew if she looked at him, he’d be wearing a smug expression. Spicy indeed!
She’d told him she liked her Mexican food hot. Well, it couldn’t get much hotter than this.
“Wow!” Annie was the next to suffer from the jalapeno peppers liberally mixed into everything. She grabbed for her own glass of water, sputtering and choking.
Daniel looked at them both with teasing contempt. “Tenderfoots.” He wolfed down his own food with a distinct show of relish for their amazement.
Both Annie and Lace laughed at his uncharacteristic display. Lace saluted him, then doused her own food with plenty of salsa and cheese to mellow it enough to be edible. Altogether, it was so delicious, and she ate so much, she knew she wouldn’t be hungry the rest of the day.
The meal lingered, mixed with conversation and laughter, for more than two hours. Lace watched Daniel and Annie interact. The way he smiled at his sister, with unconditional love and acceptance, amused by her every word, made Lace ache inside. She couldn’t begin to fathom the depth of their dedication to each other.
“I bought you the perfect gift, Lace. You’re going to love it.”
Lace froze with her fork in midair and her mouth open. “You bought me a present? Why?”
Annie laughed at her in amazement. “It’s almost Christmas, silly.” She winked at Daniel. “I love buying gifts almost as much as I like getting them.”
Daniel shook his head. “I haven’t even starting shopping yet, Annie, so stop giving me that look. You’ll have to wait until Christmas morning and be surprised like the rest of us.”
Lace listened to them with half an ear. It made her uncomfortable to know she was now honor bound to do her own Christmas shopping. She hadn’t purchased holiday gifts for anyone in too many years to count. For the most part, she’d always ignored the holidays. Now she wouldn’t be able to. She wasn’t at all certain if that was a good or a bad thing.
“I have a few more errands to run, but I’ll come back and spend the night with you.”
Before Lace could find the right words to refuse Annie’s offer, Daniel spoke up. “She needs her sleep tonight, Annie, and I know how women are. You two would sit up all night gabbing.”
Lace could have debated how well he knew women, given the demonstration she’d had so far, but she truly did want some time alone.
“Really, Annie, I’m fine now. I won’t be hopscotching anytime soon, but I can manage.”
“You’re sure? What if you need something?”
“If she needs you, she can call. Her phone is right by her bed.”
Annie stared at Daniel, and he shrugged. “I’ll make certain she’s settled before I leave this evening, Annie. There’s no need for you to worry.”
Lace felt all too conspicuous with them speaking about her. She interjected in what she hoped was an aggrieved tone. “All I really need is a hot shower to work out some of the stiffness from sitting around all day, but I think that’s out of the question.”
Daniel retrieved Annie’s coat for her. As she slipped it on, taking the not-so-subtle hint with good grace, Daniel turned to Lace.
“If you really want a shower, I can arrange it.”
“A magician, are you? I specifically heard the nurse tell me not to get the stitches wet for a while.”
They both walked Annie to the door. “You could use an aqua-guard, a plastic adhesive patch you put over the stitches to keep them dry. I wouldn’t want you to soak in a tub, but a quick shower should be okay if you apply the patch correctly.”
Annie smiled and mouthed the word, Wonderful, behind Daniel’s back, then gave them both a hug goodbye. “Promise you’ll call me if you need anything, Lace.”
“I promise, but I’ll be fine.”
“I trust you to take good care of her, Dan.”
“I intend to.”
Once the door closed behind her, Lace felt selfconscious. The memory of their kiss hung in the air between them. Daniel hesitated a mere second, then pulled her close, gently curling her into his body until she felt surrounded by his heat and his strength and she realized how much she’d missed it since the last time he’d held her. She’d grown addicted to his touch in such a very short time.
She tipped up her face and he kissed her again.
This kiss was a little less awkward, but still very brief. He touched his mouth to the bridge of her nose, her forehead; his cheek rubbed hers as he ran his fingers through her hair, over her skull, cupping her gently. She felt lulled, enticed.
Lace moved back enough that she could see his face, the tenderness in his expression. It moved her so much, she closed her eyes to guard against it and parted her lip
s, silently asking to have his mouth instead. He nipped her bottom lip, surprising her and making her eyes snap open again.
“The aqua-guard might be a little difficult for you to put on yourself.”
His tone was gentle, low. Lace tried to reconcile his words with the mood she presently floated in. “Aqua-guard?”
“The plastic patch I told you about. So you could shower. Given where the dog bit you, it might be difficult for you to get it on properly.”
Lace jerked back. “You’re not suggesting I let you help me with it?”
He stared at her mouth. “Why not? I’m your doctor. I’ll have to check it again tomorrow sometime anyway. And when the stitches are ready to come out.”
“Not on your life.” Lace had no intention of returning as a patient to the hospital, or of baring her injury to Daniel’s interested eyes.
Daniel chucked her chin. “Don’t look so appalled. If you think you can manage, that’s fine. But do it now while I pick up the mess in the kitchen so if you do have a problem, you can let me know.”
“As if I would,” she muttered. Lace turned away, horrified by the mere thought. Daniel stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“Come with me to the kitchen. When I got your prescriptions filled, I picked up a couple of the patches just in case.”
Lace trailed behind him, feeling the heat in her cheeks. She imagined the ignonimous position she’d have to be in to apply the patch, and knew he could easily imagine the same. She covered her face with one hand.
“I’m a doctor, Lace. You have no reason to be embarrassed.”
“That little truism helps not one iota.”
It wasn’t easy, but she did manage to get the patch in place. As she quickly showered, she wondered just how long he intended to hang around. He couldn’t spend the night again because he had to be at the hospital very early the next day. She needed him to go so she could sort out her feelings and the strange, seductive plan she’d almost reconciled herself to.
Could she actually give Daniel Sawyers, the epitome of sobriety and discretion, lessons on sexual expression?
She’d never know until she tried. And there was never a better time than the present.
*
Daniel paced, wondering how exactly to initiate his newest strategy on Lace. He supposed he could just fumble around enough that she’d take pity on his inept methods and insist on taking the lead. But somehow it seemed better to come right out with it, to get her agreement up front.
He went through her CD collection as he listened to the water running and imagined Lace naked in the shower, her slim body wet and white and so very soft. He groaned. Damn, but she made him nearly crazy. His errant thoughts skipped ahead, erotic images forming in his mind of her naked, sitting astride his hips, giving him direction.
He’d gladly do anything she asked.
But first he had to get her to do the asking. How to do it?
He put on a country classic Christmas collection he’d brought in earlier from his car and while he listened to the music, he let his mind wander. He jumped a good foot when Lace suddenly touched his shoulder.
Whipping around, he sucked in his breath and every plan in his tormented mind fled, replaced by raw need. She looked beautiful, damp and warm and rosy cheeked. Her wet hair had been combed straight back from her forehead, emphasizing her high cheekbones and her narrow nose, the bright green of her wide eyes.
She’d changed clothes again. It seemed to him she switched outfits often, and every colorful ensemble she put on made his wits numb and his body hungry. This time she wore a long, straight mauve gown with fitted sleeves and a scooped neckline. A hostess gown, he thought it might be called, though where that errant thought had come from he couldn’t imagine. She stood there staring at him, looking more enticing by the second, and he couldn’t wait a moment more.
He pulled her close and kissed her. At the last second he remembered to botch it, and he let their noses bump, let his glasses get in the way.
Lace huffed in frustration. She shoved him back a few inches and looked him in the eye. “Are you deliberately trying to make me crazy or what?”
Blushing on cue would have been impossible, but he felt his neck turn red, which he supposed could only assist his efforts.
Trying to look downcast, he said, “I’m sorry. I know I’m not very good at this.”
“This?”
He gestured at her, down her body and back up again. Then because he couldn’t help himself, he kept on looking until Lace cleared her throat, demanding his attention. “Responding with a sexy woman,” he blurted. “I suppose you expected better of me?”
He peeked at her and saw her frown. Excellent.
Then she sighed again. “Not really.”
He faltered, forgetting his act and giving her a double take. “No?”
“So far, everything about you has indicated you’re not very at ease in sexual situations.”
He didn’t quite know how to respond to that. A show of masculine outrage would be out of place, given his plan. A demonstration of his sexual ease would ruin everything.
His hesitation prompted her to words. “It’s all right, Daniel. I understand.”
Humph. She didn’t understand anything, least of all him or his sexuality. He cleared his throat. “Most women don’t. It’s the truth, Lace, my love life is in terrible shape.”
He could feel her concern, her caring, and he almost felt like a cur for misleading her. But determination and blind need overruled his finer sensitivities and he stuck with his plan.
Her small hand touched his shoulder, and just that, a simple touch in the most innocuous of places, made his pulse thrum.
“Daniel?” When he didn’t answer, she said in the gentlest tone he’d ever heard from Lace McGee, “Look at me.”
He did.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“Ha! It’s not every day a man has to admit he’s no good as a lover.”
Her eyes widened and he wondered if perhaps he was laying it on a bit thick. Not many men would ever admit to such a thing. The realization came too late.
Lace’s expression softened, and she smiled at him. “What makes you think you’re no good?”
“Hoards of disgruntled women?” He hadn’t expected her to doubt him, only to help him.
She laughed. “Hoards, huh? Well, I’ll let you in on a secret. This is the time of liberation. A woman is responsible for her own pleasure.”
She spoke without embarrassment, much the way he’d been told she spoke on the radio. Lace discussed everything imaginable, to hear others tell it, and never once showed a hint of inhibition. Suddenly the thought inflamed him.
She stroked his shoulder. “If a woman is dissatisfied, it’s up to her to tell her lover why, to instruct him, to guide him. Men aren’t mind readers. And every woman is different.”
Fascinated, he asked, “How so?” just to hear her keep talking. Listening to Lace orate on sexual issues was like extended foreplay; he felt stroked by her voice. How he’d ever last until she was recovered from her wounds was going to be his greatest hardship. He wanted her to start her instructions now. He’d gladly sacrifice his body for the lesson.
“Women all respond to different things, different games, touches, intensity. Some women like subtlety, others blatant advances. Tenderness can be a big turn-on, or rough play, or raw sexuality or…”
Daniel groaned. He’d tortured himself enough for one day. He reached for her—and was interrupted, or perhaps saved, depending on how you looked at it, by a rather loud knocking on the door.
Even as he cursed the fates and silver-tongued women bent on seduction, Lace went to answer her door.
*
Six
« ^ »
Lace pulled her door open and Max Sawyers whisked in. “Hello, sweetheart.”
Lace started in surprise, then gasped when Max jerked her close in his brawny arms and bobbed his eyebrows. “You’re un
der the mistletoe,” he said, and Lace looked up, seeing the most ridiculous hat perched on Max’s handsome head, a long wire suspending a sprig of mistletoe away from the hat to loom above her.
“Good grief, Max, wherever did you get that thing?”
“Good favor shone on me last night while I was shopping, buying your Christmas present. I saw this hat and knew it was just the thing to get you where I wanted you.”
“And where’s that?”
He grinned, a roguish tilting of his sensual mouth that probably made female hearts flutter with great anticipation. But Lace was immune, a fact that continued to nettle Max and prod him onward in his amorous pursuit.
He leaned close, still grinning, and whispered, “Right here, in my arms. Ready to be kissed.”
Lace flattened her palms against his chest and stiffened her arms, putting as much space between them as she could, even as she laughed. He whirled her around, lifting her off the floor so her feet swung in the air behind her and she lost her balance. She landed hard against his solid chest. Her gasp of pain sounded just as Daniel unglued himself from the living room floor and stormed up to his brother.
“Dammit, Max, knock it off!” He grabbed his brother and pulled him away from Lace, then put his arm around her waist to support her. She sagged against him, relieved to have his rescue. To Lace, he asked, “Are you all right? You’re as pale as a ghost.”
Lace managed a nod, though in truth Max’s actions had sent pain singing up and down her thigh and bottom. She could barely stand on her injured leg.
Max stepped closer, his brows pulling down. “What’s going on? What’s wrong with Lace?”
“She’s injured, you idiot.”
“Well, how was I to know?”
Lace held up a hand. “Please, it’s no big deal.” Briefly she explained the dog bite to Max and he whistled, twisting around and trying to get a look at her bottom. Daniel scowled, physically maneuvering her so that Max couldn’t see a single thing.
“Damn, that’s horrible. I’m sorry, babe.”
Daniel’s arm stiffened around her and Lace pulled away to prop herself delicately on the edge of the couch. She watched the two brothers, aware of the outrage about to erupt and helpless to defuse it.
