“I’m on salary now. I wouldn’t be earning extra out on the streets, so you keep your money.”
“Nonsense. You’ve earned it, and I know how much being in debt bothers you.”
Except for when he was swatting at Susannah’s attempt to pay him, Jake stood with his feet spread, hands on hips, equally determined to win the argument. Lilly was afraid the standoff could last for hours, and now that she’d felt his arm around her again and seen the flame of passion smoldering deep inside, now that she knew his weak spot, she wasn’t willing to wait all day.
“I bet he’d take another pan of fudge instead.”
“Oh, I don’t know. We’ve been gone an hour and a half. Seems to me his time’s worth more than—”
“I’d love some more fudge.”
“Well, that’s just fine, then.” Susannah beamed proudly. “You two youngsters go next door—Jake, sugar, show her all those electronic gizmos you have at your place—and by the time you’re ready to leave, I’ll have a pan ready.”
“Yeah, Jake,” Lilly said wickedly, wondering what kind of woman-in-distress scenario she could play out.
She’d never been that type. “Let’s go to your place and you can show me your gizmos.”
“That was a brilliant idea. The fudge,” Jake said, as he and Lilly cut across the dormant lawn, side by side.
“Need I mention my small, fifty percent, fudge brokerage fee?”
“Oh, goes without saying.”
The ground was mushy from the thaw, but the area between the houses was sunny and the zoysia thick enough that they didn’t sink as long as they kept moving. There wasn’t a slice of slippery ice anywhere, so he couldn’t ever-so-innocently take her by the arm; he knew, because he looked.
Lilly sighed wistfully. “I’ll bet Susannah’s a great mother-in-law.”
“You in the market for a new one?”
“Eventually. Right now I just want the one I have to stop criticizing.”
“I know Donna,” he said. “Tell me about it, maybe I can help.”
Lilly picked her words carefully. “Some of the people I’ve seen in the past week, well, they called her and told her what a wonderful thing it is that the ‘Marquette family is so civic-minded.’”
“Doesn’t sound so bad.”
“They also mentioned ‘that nice young man’ driving me around.”
“Ooh.”
“Yeah. What’d you do to get on her bad side? Other than, you know, where you were working.”
“She didn’t like where I was working?”
“I didn’t think ‘pervert’ sounded very complimentary.”
“Huh.”
“ ‘Pervert shop’ were her exact words.”
“That’s better than just straight out calling me one, I guess.”
“Oh, she covered that, too.”
“Well then,” he said, sure he was grinning pretty goofy for a man whose reputation was in tatters.
On the back porch, Lilly paused to admire the stonework on his parents’ three-story.
“Dad built it before I was born. He and Grandpa and Uncle Paul.”
“Gorgeous. Neat—the garage looks like an old carriage house.”
He unlocked the back door with a simple touch on the small thumb pad. It swung open smoothly, flawlessly, better than anything the Marquettes had.
“What? No retinal scan?”
“Cute, I’ll have to remember that for the cat door. Mom’s got arthritis real bad in her hands, and she doesn’t trust a voice-activated lock like Susannah’s— she’s afraid it’ll open by mistake during a thunderclap or something and let a real pervert in—so I whipped up a fingerprint identification system.”
“Just whipped it up, huh?”
“Sure. Welcome to the pervert’s house. Come on in, take your coat off, make yourself at home.”
“Wow.”
Lilly inched inside, her gaze raptly taking in everything. Jake was so accustomed to it all that he forgot the impact it had on visitors the first time, until he had to drag her in so he could close the door. He held her hand longer than necessary and squeezed it lightly before he released it, thinking it was a good first step toward letting her know that he knew he’d been wrong about her. That didn’t change the fact that he owed Brady to keep his hands off her, but there was no reason they couldn’t be friends.
Lilly was absorbed by the kitchen. The two most notable elements were the tall wood cabinets, fronted with leaded-glass doors that had been rescued from a turn-of-the-last-century building slated for demolition, and a massive stone fireplace, topped with a cherry-wood mantel that had been carved out of a single piece of wood. Most people didn’t get past those until the second visit, when they started noticing hand-painted Italian tiles and other small embellishments that his mom had selected. It wasn’t the Marquette mansion, but it was home.
“You live here with your mom?”
“Nah, when she and Dad get back, I’ll live over the garage.”
Knowing he should keep his hands to himself, Jake still couldn’t resist helping Lilly with her coat, letting his knuckles brush along the length of her arm as she slipped out of it.
“They’re spending the winter in the Southwest,” he said. “Phoenix.”
“Oh. Mine too. They winter in Death Valley every year. Great big RV park. You should see a picture of it. It’s like this huge parking lot, only people live there for months at a time until it gets too hot.”
He could tell by the little shudder in her voice that it wasn’t where she’d choose to spend any time.
“It’s not the retirement they’d planned, but what can you do? Shit happens.”
“Maybe they like it.”
She gave him a surprised look. “That’s what they said when I tried to give them money, that they’re the happiest they’ve ever been! I can’t believe it.”
“Yet you’re giving away an awful lot.”
“Hey, I’ve seen the light. They haven’t.”
“How do you know they haven’t? Maybe we all see ‘the light’ differently.”
“Yeah? Have you?”
He shrugged, starting to pass it off, then changed his mind. “Maybe. Yes. I don’t know.”
She was studying him thoughtfully. “But I thought you didn’t believe in heaven.”
“Maybe one person sees heaven and another sees something else entirely. Maybe we each see what we need to see.” He hadn’t spoken so philosophically to a woman outside his immediate family since Angie had deserted him. But it felt right. Lilly appeared to be giving his opinion due consideration, while his attention wanted to wander to sexier topics.
“If I believe in heaven and my seeing the light involves heaven,” she asked, “what would your light be?”
“I believe in hard data, so I guess it’d have to be something irrefutable. Objective. You know… measurable.” Her coat was warm and toasty in his hands; he reluctantly tossed it onto a chair. “Ready for a tour?”
“Sure.”
“This is the kitchen,” he said, knowing that was dumb and stupidly boring, but safe territory. It was also his favorite room, all sunshine, homemade bread, and fresh, cinnamon-laced cookies. “It’s probably a little rustic for your taste, but we like it.”
“Hey, a stove’s a stove.”
“Yeah, I guess you haven’t met one you couldn’t cook on.”
The kitchen only reminded him of Brady’s “my wife” dinner party story about the quickie he’d copped between courses. His description of Lilly on the edge of the granite counter, her thighs spread, no panties beneath…
Damn, other than his taxi, was no place safe?
Of course Brady hadn’t gone into any more specifics than that. The jerk just let him imagine the rest. It hadn’t occurred to Jake at the time, but now that he looked back, it was as though Brady was trying to compete with him. As if he’d been jealous.
“Frankly,” Lilly said, “I haven’t met a stove I’d want to cook on.”
Jake thought he said, “What?” but he couldn’t be sure.
“I don’t cook.”
“You can fly a plane, but you can’t cook?”
“I hate it,” she clarified.
“No.”
“Uh, ye-es.”
“But Brady told me you’re a gourmet cook.”
Ah, there it was again, that sweet, fun laugh that was all joy and light, all Lilly, with no artifice behind it, no games. He’d heard it once or twice early in the week, then increasingly often as the days passed. It was never enough.
“A gourmet deli shopper, maybe.”
“Really?”
“One day I was a rich girl in boarding school, the next I was poor and flipping burgers and chicken patties in a drive thru. Ugh, never again.”
What the hell? He couldn’t be more confused if Brady was standing here now, relating how “my wife makes the best blank”—insert name of any exotic dish or bar drink.
“Hm, and here I was figuring you knew how long it’d take Susannah to make that fudge.”
She laughed again—yes!
“I remember it tasted like it’ll take all day,” she said, licking her lips.
Damn, but it was a mighty fine line between basking in the light of her laugh and cowering in a comer, scared to death that she was coming on to him, because if she was, they had to get out of here. Now.
“Cool!” Lilly started playing with the automatic water spout at the kitchen sink, which had no faucet handles. “Hm, perfect temperature. No chance I can burn myself, huh?”
“Only if you say ‘water, hotter’ enough times. Detergent dispenser’s automatic, too.”
“I should talk to it?”
“Not that I wouldn’t like to see that, but all you have to do is pass your hand under the tip.”
She tested it, looked around, then while holding her wet hand over the sink, finally turned to him. “And the dryer is…”
“A little rudimentary.” He retrieved a dish towel out of the top drawer and held one end while she dried.
“Prehistoric. I like it.”
This was working out nicely. Lilly was distracted, back to friendly banter instead of sexy moves. Couldn’t last long, though, unless he kept her busy.
“Come on, I’ll take you on a tour. Susannah’ll be expecting feedback.”
The next hour passed quickly. Lilly was a delight to watch, like a kid in a candy store.
Family pictures were sprinkled throughout the house, mixed in with artsy collections of shelves, pottery, and sculptures. Mostly action shots instead of posed; family football on a leaf-strewn lawn, synchronized swimming, father and son versus mother and four daughters in a muddy tug-of-war.
“Terrific photos.” It was impossible to miss the longing in her voice, the way she lingered over each one.
“They’re Mom’s. I got the bug from her.”
“What’s this one?”
He peered closely. “Mom volunteers at the community center. That’s from the thirty-years-of-service party we gave her.”
“Your family?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, what did the community center give her?”
He shrugged. “Maybe a pin?”
She hmphed.
Once she knew about the voice-activated stereo system, Lilly picked something different for every room. “Music, Mozart” in the living room. “Music, Brahms” in the dining room. A classic freak; who knew.
“TV on,” she ventured in the family room, then whooped in delight when she discovered channel surfing without a remote.
Whatever agenda she’d had coming over here, she’d moved on. She tried everything, and what she couldn’t try, she wanted demonstrated or explained. Like the furnace.
“You mean if your heart rate goes up, the room sensor detects that and automatically lowers the heat?”
“Right. So when my folks are sleeping at night and their heart rates slow naturally, the house cools down.”
“But then it’s cold when they get up.”
“That’s the one time the system’s overridden. It warms up at six-thirty. If they want it warmer, they just say—”
“Don’t tell me. Heat, up.”
“Sure, for Mom.”
“And your dad?”
“Anything along the lines of ‘damn it’s cold in here’ will work. The humidifier’s automatic, but responds to voice control, too. It’s all computerized in a home control network. Along with adjusting the drapes and blinds when the temperature strays too far from optimum.”
“Hm, must be interesting living with someone who thinks of everything.”
“Well, Mom likes me around.” He resisted taking pride in Lilly’s compliments; they shouldn’t matter to him. But damn it, they did.
“Show me.”
“What?”
“Run in place or do jumping jacks or something so I can hear the furnace shut off.”
“Right.”
“No really, I’m serious.”
“Okay, let’s go to the gym.”
“You have a gym?”
“We have a closet we call a gym.”
He ran on the treadmill for her, which was a really big mistake, because all there was for her to do was stand there and watch him. Thinking about her thinking about him sent his pulse soaring, and sure enough, the blower shut off way sooner than called for.
“Now leave the room,” she said.
“I’ll be in the kitchen getting ice water.”
She followed a few minutes later. “I don’t get it, Jake. Why are you driving a taxi when you can do stuff like this?” Her arms spread wide, indicating everything in the house. “You could be making millions.”
It wasn’t an off-the-cuff remark. Because she seemed really interested, he pulled two chairs out from the table. “Let’s talk.” When they were seated, he opened with, “Well, for one thing, it takes time to start over. Lots of networking. Capital.”
She sipped a glass of water while he laid the facts out quickly and clearly, the agreement he and Brady had entered into as old, trusted friends, one rich, the other talented.
“For two smart men, you’d think one of you would’ve thought of insurance.”
“We each had a policy payable to the company.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Not big enough?”
“Three million.”
“Then what happened to—Wait. Three million? But that’s exactly what I got from the insurance company. And this is why you’re in St. Louis, driving a taxi?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t want to file for bankruptcy. My dad put up his business and his house, Uncle Paul helped out, and I was able to pay everyone off, but now, of course I need to repay them. I network, I do some consulting, develop new programs—doesn’t pay much, but it beats wiring intercoms in new subdivisions. Shit, where’s the challenge in that?”
“But I don’t understand. If it was payable to the company…”
“Andrew said Brady changed the beneficiary.”
“He did, huh?” She thought a moment, then shook her head. “Doesn’t sound like Brady.”
“That’s what I thought at first.” Jake was elated by Lilly’s objective assessment of Brady’s character when she easily could have said it was the dead guy and thrown all suspicion from herself—not that he suspected her any more, but she couldn’t know that.
“Well, who… ? Wait, you don’t think I—”
He waved her denial off. “Not since I’ve gotten to know you.”
She grinned slowly. “But you did at first, didn’t you?”
“Can’t deny that.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t throw me back into the fire.”
“I didn’t think about actually throwing you back in,” he said with a chuckle. “But I debated all of a second or two on not putting you out.”
“Any regrets?”
Her eyes never left his, and he had no trouble saying exactly what he felt. “No regrets. And I mean that si
ncerely.”
“Hm, well,” she said. “I think I can fix this.”
“There’s no need.”
“Brady would want me to, I’m sure. Where’s my checkbook?”
For once, he was sorry he’d diverted it again, because when she jumped to her feet to find it, he lost the precious connection with her.
“I’ll just run out to the car and—Ye-owl”
Startled, it took him a moment to realize what she was doing, but the way she was cradling her arm and dancing around the kitchen left no doubt that she’d swear Elizabeth or somebody wouldn’t allow it. He was hugely disappointed in her—and in himself, because he’d thought they’d finally broken through her arm’s-length barriers and were having a serious discussion. Apparently he was way off the mark.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. This again?” Aggravated, he surged to his feet, his chair legs scraping across the floor in protest. He started to pace off his annoyance, but quickly collided with her as she stopped abruptly and shook her arm out. He took hold of her shoulders, faced off with her, stared her right in the eyes, and promptly felt his anger ebb.
“I can’t, uh, write this right now,” she said, gritting her teeth. “But somehow, Jake, I promise you, somehow I’ll see that you get it back.”
Damn this fooling around with his feelings, swearing he deserved the money but pretending she couldn’t give it to him. If this is how she was going to be, she could damn well keep her own self company. Fine, it’d make it that much easier to keep his hands to himself. He strode out onto the back porch and slammed the door behind him.
Lilly wasn’t sure what just happened. One minute they were talking, chatting, having a good time. The next, Elizabeth darned near had her laid out on the kitchen floor. “Elizabeth!”
She was suddenly there, lighting up the kitchen with an aura that Lilly hadn’t noticed in Transition.
“You couldn’t tell me I owe him three million dollars!”
“The money is irrelevant, Lilly.”
“Irrelevant! One minute we’re connecting, and the next you’re zapping me in the arm. I can’t get him in bed like that.”
A Date on Cloud Nine Page 10
