by Leslie Kelly
It had been all Lulu could do to not out her for a phony right then and there. Of course, the only way she could have done that would have been to out herself, as well. And that she was not ready to do.
“She brought pie,” Lulu said as she entered the kitchen, putting the dessert on the counter. Chaz didn’t even look up, busy trying to figure out how to cut into a big, softball-size vegetable. “You’d better be careful, you might lose a finger cutting into that Winnebago.”
“It’s a rutabaga. I can’t believe you don’t remember my mom making these every Christmas.”
“Guess I always snuck it onto Lawrence’s plate when nobody was looking.”
“Where is Heather?” he asked, still gazing only at the waxy vegetable and the big-ass knife in his hand. He didn’t sound terribly excited about the arrival, and didn’t dash off to kiss her passionately in welcome, which made Lulu feel a little better.
“Being nosy and checking the balance in your checkbook, I think.”
He lifted a brow at her tone.
“She’s in the bathroom,” she admitted. “Freshening up her face for you.”
“You don’t like her, huh?”
“I don’t know her enough to like her or dislike her.” Licking her lips and pretending to be entirely focused on a recipe for green bean casserole, which she could probably make blindfolded, she asked, “Do you like her?”
He thought about it, a confused expression on his face. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Sometimes I think I do. Other times I wonder what on earth it was about her that so fascinated me the night we met.”
Lulu’s teeth slammed together and she clenched them tightly. She had to pry her words out from between them with brute force. “So, you’d met her before that day we played kickball?”
You idiot, are you totally blind? How dare you think she’s me? There’s not one real, natural thing about her!
He lowered the big knife he’d been using, glanced toward the doorway, and lowered his voice to say, “I don’t know. I thought so, but I’m just not sure. She seems...different than the woman I met, the one I’ve been looking for. And she’s so mysterious about it, she won’t confirm or deny anything when I ask her about it.”
Lulu swallowed, hard. “This woman you met, the one you’re looking for? What was so special about her?”
Chaz shook his head slowly, visibly lost in thought. “I honestly don’t know that, either. I’m not even sure the damn night actually happened. Maybe I was so jet-lagged I crashed when I got home from my trip and dreamed up some elaborate fantasy.”
She gulped. She didn’t want him thinking Heather was the woman he’d been with...but was him convincing himself it hadn’t really happened any better?
Well, yeah, if she wanted to keep her secret, it probably was. But part of her wasn’t sure about that secret anymore. Okay, so they weren’t going to let anything happen between them...would it be the crime of the century if he found out she was the one he’d come so close to hooking up with that night? At least he’d know the truth and wouldn’t be driving himself crazy trying to imprint his memories of that night onto the face of someone who didn’t even have the guts to tell him he had the wrong girl.
“Well hey there, happy Thanksgiving!”
Heather walked into the kitchen. She’d taken off her jacket. She’d also obviously spent time in front of the bathroom mirror, fluffing up her windblown hair to make it look more artfully windblown. She’d smeared bright red lipstick across her lips, and pulled her sweater down to reveal more of the silicone.
Ignoring Lulu, she walked around to the other side of the kitchen island and lifted her face, pursing her lips for a kiss. Chaz, Lulu noted, hesitated, glancing in her direction before obliging his date. If she had to guess, she’d say he was a little uncomfortable.
Good. Because if he couldn’t tell that woman’s kiss from hers, he deserved what he got.
“I’m going to double-check the Ping-Pong table,” Lulu said, trying to keep the disgust out of her voice. If she had to see Chaz kiss another woman, she might just be the one flinging the pie and green bean casserole.
“Isn’t there a lot to still do?” Heather asked, pretending she didn’t care that she hadn’t gotten her kiss.
But Lulu cared. Oh, hell, yes, she did. She hid her smile, though, not wanting Chaz to notice and interpret it. “Yes, quite a lot,” she said.
“If you want to play a game, Lulu, don’t worry about it. I’ll fill in here.”
Lulu smirked. “Uh, the Ping-Pong table is the only thing Chaz had that was big enough to seat everybody around. We’re eating on it down in the rec room.”
The woman’s eyes rounded and her smile faded a tiny bit. Perhaps she was picturing a fancy holiday meal from an internationally published journalist. But she wasn’t going to get it.
Frankly, Lulu loved the effort Chaz had gone to for them. Her heart had melted a little bit when she’d arrived and seen him putting a pristine white tablecloth over the huge table, setting it with new dishes he’d picked up just for today. He’d shoved a bunch of mismatched chairs, including outdoor ones, around the table, determined to make it a great holiday, not just for his friends, but also for his bratty little sister, spending her first holiday away from home.
How many guys would go to so much trouble? Not many, she knew. That was just one thing that made Chaz so special.
If Heather didn’t see and appreciate that, she didn’t deserve him. Hell, she didn’t deserve him period!
And somehow, no matter what it cost her personally, Lulu hoped Chaz found out the truth about the other woman, and realized she was not worth his time and trouble. He deserved better.
* * *
ALTHOUGH CHAZ HAD worried a lot about the presence of both Sarah and Lawrence at today’s holiday dinner, his sister and Lulu’s brother managed to surprise him. They’d apparently seen each other on campus and now were both perfectly cordial, if not exactly warm. The younger pair had finally grown up. So in that respect, things were going great.
The problem had come from an entirely different direction. Chaz found his peace of mind most disturbed by having both Heather and Lulu here.
It was crazy. He and Lulu were old friends; they’d both agreed that’s what they would remain. End of story. And Heather was a woman he’d just started dating who was new to town and had nowhere else to go. It had seemed perfectly natural for them both to be invited. But now that they were both here, sitting at opposite ends of the Ping-Pong table ignoring each other easily in this big group, he couldn’t help comparing them—and realizing he’d made a mistake. Possibly a big one.
Heather might be the woman whose memory had tantalized and tormented him for weeks. She might be the one who had flooded him with want and erotic fantasy.
But she sure didn’t feel like it.
They’d gone out twice before today, and while he thought she was attractive, he hadn’t experienced that out-of-breath, heart-pounding, palm-sweating, pant-tenting excitement, not even when they’d kissed. Nor had his usually subtle, but sometimes direct questions about whether she was the one he’d met on Halloween night yielded any definite answers. She hadn’t said yes. She hadn’t said no. She’d hinted and hemmed and hawed. His sexy witch had hidden her name from him on Halloween night, so she obviously did like being mysterious. But he’d never felt like she was playing games. He wasn’t so sure about Heather, who, he suspected, could be a game-player. The only thing he knew for sur
e was that he felt not only confused but untouched.
Nothing about Heather touched him at his most basic, elemental level, the way it had on Halloween.
He’d invited her for Thanksgiving before he’d come to the realization that she was probably not his mystery/fantasy woman. But since he was no closer to finding that woman, and since Heather was attractive and interested, he had decided to play this out with her.
All that had seemed smart.
Until he’d spent much of the day with Lulu.
Lulu was a brat from his past, the girl next door, the little witch who’d busted his ass, literally.
She was not supposed to feel so natural by his side. She was not supposed to inspire thoughts of hot kisses and sweaty sheets. Her hair wasn’t supposed to feel so soft and sensuous against his skin. The sight of her hands shouldn’t make parts of his body tense in anticipation of her touch.
What the hell was happening here?
“I still can’t believe the parents all went on a cruise for Thanksgiving. But I have to say, you did a really good job today, big brother.”
Chaz tore his mind off the confusing women in his life—woman, one, Lulu is not in your life, not as a woman anyway—and smiled at his kid sister.
“Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without Lulu.”
“Well, thanks to you, too, Lulu,” Sarah said, sounding sincere and being nice to Lulu, with whom there was usually tension. Then she ruined it by smirking. “I guess we should all just be glad you both survived it. With the track record between you, and all those sharp objects in the kitchen, it’s lucky nobody was scarred or maimed.”
Lulu picked up her wine glass, bringing it to her lips. “The night’s still young,” she mumbled before sipping.
“Were these two really nemeses like we’ve heard?” asked Peggy, who was rubbing her full stomach with one hand, while patting Marcia’s with another.
Lulu’s kid brother, Lawrence, who looked as a young man exactly as he had when a young boy—a little small, angular face, deep, soulful eyes, and kind smile—answered. “Only because they were in love with each other.”
Chaz dropped his fork. It landed with a clatter on his plate. But even that wasn’t loud enough to cover Lulu’s immediate exclamation.
“That is crazy!”
She sounded like somebody had just accused her of robbing a church, which wasn’t exactly flattering.
Of course, his vehemence probably didn’t make her feel any better when he snapped, “I doubt Lulu was in love with me when she cut off all my hair with her Fiskar scissors during recess.”
“It grew back,” she sniped. “And I doubt you were in love with me when you told all your friends that I wet the bed.”
“You did.”
“When I was three!”
“Nobody ever asked for clarification,” he said, his smile taunting. “I never lied.”
“No, you never do, Saint Chaz.”
“Whoa, whoa, sorry,” said Peggy, holding up her hands, palm out, to each of them, acting as referee. “I didn’t mean to start a war here.”
“Wow, it sounds to me like you two can’t stand each other,” said Heather, whose sweet smile didn’t quite hide the gleam of happiness in her eye. He had to wonder if the redhead had picked up on some of the vibes between him and Lulu.
“Okay, subject change,” said Marcia as she licked the last of her mashed potatoes off her fork. “Lulu, I’ve been meaning to ask you, how’s work going? Has our donation been distributed yet?”
“Donation?” Heather asked.
Chaz listened, too. Lulu had never really talked about her job, and he honestly didn’t know what she did, beyond working in an office up on Massachusetts Avenue. Her master’s degree was in political science, so he assumed she was doing something connected with one of the many embassies up in that part of the city.
“Yes, it has,” Lulu said, smiling at Marcia.
“Do you know who it went to?”
“Several women from one family in a village in Tanzania formed a farming co-op, and that’s where your donation went.” Her posture relaxed and passion came through in her voice. “I am sure you’ll be getting a letter from them. All of the participants in the program are so incredibly appreciative.”
“What is it you do exactly?” asked Heather, sounding merely polite rather than truly interested.
“Oh, Lulu works for a great organization that puts microloans in the hands of mothers in third-world countries so they can start businesses to support their families,” said Peggy. “What’s it called again, Lulu?”
“Hands Across The Waters,” Lulu said.
Chaz frowned. The name sounded familiar, and it wasn’t just because it was from a Beatles song.
Then it clicked. He’d recently been talking to his friend Tonia about that very same organization. She’d mentioned an investigation she was working on that day when they’d played kickball up at the Mall.
He’d been excited to hear about her work because he wanted to pump her for more information in the hopes that he could find his mystery woman from Halloween. Of course, that very same afternoon, he’d met Heather, and had forgotten all about it.
His heart beat a little faster in his chest. An errant thought whizzed through his mind, as quick and directionless as a fly whizzing by. Something insubstantial, something impossible, something that couldn’t even fully take shape as an idea in his brain.
He lifted his water glass and sipped from it, unable to take his eyes off Lulu’s face. She was happy now, animated when discussing something she obviously cared deeply about. Her dark eyes sparkled, her smile was quick and easy. Her soft, dark hair framed her creamy-skinned face, the thick strands caught in a clip at the base of her neck.
Damn, she was beautiful. Exciting, charming, daring, sexy.
So sexy. So intriguing.
Oh, Jesus.
No. It wasn’t possible. That whizzing thought tried to form a picture in his mind, attempted to present an absurd possibility. Chaz just wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t.
Still, something made his lips form words, and he said, “So, Peggy, you asked if Lulu and I were always nemeses. Did she tell you about the time she swiped all the candy bars out of my trick-or-treat bag and replaced them with raisins?” He caught Lulu’s stare, unblinking, cautious, and added, “She was dressed as a witch that year, I think. Appropriate, don’t you agree?”
Lulu’s tiny gasp might have been overlooked by everyone at the table. Everyone but Chaz.
Her dark eyes went as round as silver dollars and color flooded her cheeks. Her lush lips trembled, and her fingers clenched reflexively on the table, squeezing the white tablecloth into her fists.
Son of a bitch.
The truth began to assert itself in his mind. Wheels turned, cogs clicked, and the whole picture assembled, moment by moment, of that strange Halloween night.
It had been her. Lulu had been the mysterious witch.
She’d been the woman haunting his dreams, the woman with whom he’d shared some of the most wild, uninhibited moments of his life. Lulu.
Marcia smiled broadly, completely oblivious, as was everyone else at the table, to the rising tension between Chaz and Lulu. “That’s funny. Lulu was a witch this year, too.”
“Was she really?” he murmured, his voice low, his eyes glued to Lulu’s stricken face. “Was she a scary witch with an ugly wig and mask?”
“Oh, no. She looked so hot in her black leath
er bustier, with her hair dyed red, and a green Mardi Gras mask, I thought for sure a bunch of guys would follow her home and camp out in front of our building to get a chance with her.”
“I can imagine,” he said, sounding so calm, so reasonable, nobody else might have even realized that inside he was a seething mask of emotion. Humiliation warred with shock, but anger trumped all.
Lulu was the only one who understood. She had to have seen something in him—a spark of fury he couldn’t hide—for she suddenly slapped her hands on the table and launched herself from her seat. Everyone gaped at her, but she didn’t look around. She remained focused only on Chaz. All the color that had been rising in her cheeks fell out and she went as white as the sheet he’d worn when masquerading as a ghost.
“I’m sorry, I’m suddenly not feeling well,” she said, her voice shaking. She brought a melodramatic hand to her face and covered her mouth. “I have to go.”
The others all expressed concern and asked if she needed help, but Lulu had already spun on her heel and raced for the stairs, thumping up them two at a time in her hurry to get away.
Chaz didn’t race. He didn’t chase her. He didn’t yell or hunt her down or demand answers or embarrass her or cause a scene.
He knew where she was going. He knew exactly where to find her.
If she thought her locked apartment door was going to keep him out, she was wrong.
If she thought she could get away with acting as though she hadn’t made an utter fool out of him for the past month, she was crazy.
If she thought he wouldn’t mind that she’d been lying to him for weeks, she was deluded.
And if she thought he was just going to forget what had happened between them, forget the incredible night they’d almost shared, she was out of her God-damned mind.
9
LULU WAS NO COWARD, but as soon as she got back to her apartment, she locked the door, ran into her room, dove into her bed and pulled the covers up over her head.
