by Renee Roszel
“And how’s Stadler reacting to the news?” Damien asked.
Elissa shook her head. “Who, Mr. Denial?” She paused, looking reflective. “You never met him, did you, Damien?”
“I never had the pleasure.”
“What pleasure?” Helen mumbled, then clamped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That just slipped out.”
Lucy felt a twinge at her words and automatically defended him. “Stadler can be enchanting and dear.” She gave her baby sister a dark look.
“I said I was sorry.” Helen looked contrite.
Elissa walked behind her sister’s chair and began to rub her shoulders. “You have to stop defending the guy, Lucy. He’s not worth it. Just remember we love you and we want you to be happy.”
“I hope Stadler and his new fiancée don’t leave before they can see our gorgeous baby girls,” Helen said.
“Bite your tongue!” Lucy cried. In the ensuing silence, she realized how rude she’d sounded. She shook her head, aghast at her uncharacteristic show of temper. “I—I don’t know how long I can carry off this lie. The sooner Stadler leaves the better.”
“Your muscles are all knots, honey.” Elissa rubbed and massaged, glancing at Jack. “Do you think— maybe—this trick we decided to play on Stadler is too much for Lucy?”
“You finally figured that out?” Lucy admonished, jumping up. “Fine timing! Now that it’s too late!”
The redhead looked stricken at her sister’s rare explosion of fury. Her lips moved, but no sound came, and her green eyes began to glisten. It was clear from her expression that she finally understood what an ordeal this was for Lucy. Tears shimmered on Elissa’s lower lashes. “Oh—oh, honey, please forgive me. I sometimes forget...” She stopped and swallowed as though trying to steady her voice. “I didn’t understand...”
When Lucy saw how badly her sister felt, she began to hurt right along with her. She knew Elissa well enough to understand that she rarely cried, so her turmoil was deep and real. Unable to stay angry in the face of Elissa’s distress, she rounded the chair and hugged her. “It’s okay, Liss,” she murmured brokenly. “He’ll leave—soon. I can manage.”
Elissa hugged her back, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand.
Damien cleared his throat, sounding uneasy. “So, Jack, how long are you going to be in Branson?”
Lucy was grateful for the subject change.
“I’m not sure,” Jack said. “I have a real-estate man looking at properties for me. I’m thinking of opening a Gallagher’s Bistro here.”
Lucy sniffed and turned at the news. “Oh, I’d almost forgotten.” She brightened at the reminder. With an arm around Elissa’s waist, she grinned at him. “Maybe you’ll get back more often with a restaurant here.”
He winked at her. “Absolutely.”
“Well, Jack, have you two kissed yet?”
Jack’s smile dimmed, and he stared at Helen, who’d asked the odd question. “Have I kissed the real-estate man?”
She giggled. “No, silly. Lucy. Have you kissed Lucy yet?”
His drowsy-lidded gaze widened a bit.
“For Stadler’s benefit, I mean.”
With her explanation, he nodded in understanding, then gave Lucy a quick, appraising look. “No—it hasn’t been necessary.”
“Necessary?” Damien asked. “When do engaged people need a reason to kiss?”
Lucy was flaming, her skin all but smoking. She knew what Damien and Helen were doing. The scheming rats! Well, she was having no part of it. Slipping her arm from around Elissa, she eyed Helen and Damien with as much indignation as she could muster. “Engaged people need a reason to kiss when they’re not really engaged. That’s when.”
“Maybe they’re right, Lucy,” Elissa said, regaining her smile and sniffling into a handkerchief. “It might be smart for you and Jack to have a practice kiss.” She stuffed the hankie back into her pocket. “So it’ll look real.”
Lucy glanced at Jack, who was watching her. She couldn’t tell if his expression was disquiet at his distaste for the idea or if he was feeling sorry for her, knowing she was unhappy about it. Whichever, he looked far from delighted.
“Practice makes perfect,” Helen said cheerfully. “And we’re as happy as pie to help. Aren’t we, Damien?”
“I know I’m happy,” he drawled with a grin.
“You’re all as nutty as pecan pie.” Lucy’s voice was low and uneven.
“Oh, Lucy, it’s Jack, remember,” Elissa chided. “You’ve kissed Jack before. A thousand times.”
Shocked, she swung to stare at her elder sister. “But not—not on the lips! Not like a—a lover!”
Elissa shrugged. “Details.”
“Minor details,” Helen echoed.
“Kiss her, Jack. We’ll score you.” Damien casually entwined his fingers behind his head and lounged back in his chair. “Like in the Olympics.” Lucy telegraphed her brother-in-law a sharp-eyed warning. He grimaced, letting her know he’d received her message, but all too soon his grin reappeared. “I’ll be France, so if there’s any French kissing—”
“Oh, please!” Lucy cut in, suddenly light-headed. She swallowed, going hot all over. Apparently, her blush had now traveled the length and breadth of her body. And there was something wrong with her heart rate. It had gone all erratic. She slowly faced Jack, disbelieving. “You—you don’t agree with this plan? You don’t think we should actually kiss?”
He grinned at her, and she relaxed, positive he was about to agree with her. “You don’t have to say it like it’s a prison sentence, Luce.” She frowned, confused. That didn’t sound as though he was agreeing with her. His perusal was steady. When he shrugged, her hopes were dashed. “It might not be a bad idea,” he added softly. “If a kiss does become necessary and you stiffen up, then Stadler will know we’re faking. And he’ll have won.”
“Besides, it might be—educational,” Helen offered.
“Education is a wonderful thing,” Damien said, and Lucy passed them both a hot glare that should have turned them to ashes—if the world were at all fair.
“Well, if it’ll keep you from turning that neon maroon color and stiffening up like a stuffed flounder in front of Stadler, then it’s worth a practice run,” Elissa said, unaware of the unspoken battle going on between Lucy and the Lords. It was obvious that Elissa hadn’t put any stock in the D’Amour myth and had forgotten about it. She flicked her wrist up to look at her watch. “Kiss her, Jack. I have to get back to the inn. I’m interviewing for a new maid to help Jule out.”
Against her will, Lucy’s glance was drawn back to Jack. He lifted a brow in a resigned gesture that was blatantly teasing. “Elissa has to get back.”
She eyed the ceiling. “This is silly. We won’t have to kiss.”
“I bet that’s why Stadler’s still here.” Elissa snapped her fingers, looking as. though she’d had a revelation. “That’s got to be it. He hasn’t seen any physical displays of affection between you two and he’s suspicious. The man’s shrewd, you have to say that for him.”
Lucy exhaled, suddenly freezing cold. It was weird how the air-conditioning in this place was so untrustworthy. One second she was boiling and the next she was shivering. The anxiety of having Stadler visiting, looking at her with those skeptical eyes, was playing havoc with her metabolism, weakening her resistance. If she hung around in the hospital much longer, she’d probably come down with something—pneumonia or hives or—or—that cabbage fungus.... “Okay, okay.” She gave up, shaking her head in surrender. “Let’s get it over with.”
Jack chuckled. “Now there’s a turn-on.”
She eyed him narrowly. “Don’t kid. I’m not in a very good mood.”
He made an apologetic face. “Sorry.” Stepping closer, he placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned toward her, then stopped, sensing resistance in her rigid stance. “Ready?”
“You’re not going to kiss her like that, are you?” Dismay rang in Hel
en’s voice. “You could stick a grand piano between you two. Take her in your arms, Jack.”
Lucy twisted to eye her sister. “Do you mind?”
Helen shrugged indifferently. “Are you going to play a piano duet, or kiss? That’s all I want to know.”
“I’m afraid I can’t play the piano.” Jack’s joking admission ruffled Lucy’s hair, drawing her gaze. He grinned his encouragement as his arms slid around her, tugging her into his hard, lean body. The feel of him was a shock—a pleasant one, some small part of her brain conceded—but a shock nevertheless. Unable to help herself, she went as stiff as wood. “Lucy...” he urged, his mouth brushing against her temple. “Don’t fight me. This won’t hurt.”
She heard a sound, an odd, high-pitched gurgling, and realized it was coming from her own throat. A giggle? She was mortified. She certainly didn’t feel like laughing, so where had that come from?
Now it was Jack’s turn to stiffen. He pulled away. “Something funny?”
She shook her head, embarrassed to hear the hysterical tittering fill the air again.
“Are you tickling her, Jack?” Helen asked, sounding confused.
He frowned down at Lucy, his eyes flickering with frustration. “Luce, if you can’t do this...”
“I can...” She giggled, then clamped her mouth shut to stanch the flow of inappropriate laughter. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, sucking her lips between her teeth.
The very idea of kissing a man, even Jack, in front of so many gawking people was taking a toll on her tattered emotions. Laughter rumbled in her chest and she cleared her throat to quell it.
“Oh. fine,” Jack grumbled.
She shook her head as if to say she was gathering herself and would be ready in a second. She cleared her throat and forced herself to mold her body into his. A new hysterical giggle threatened, and she choked on it.
He smelled nice—like Jack—and somehow that helped. Her limbs responded, calmed, her body easing further into his. With a quick breath, she snaked her arms around his waist. How trim and solid he felt under her hands.
“That’s better.” His face tilted down, his lips shifting closer to hers. “Lift your chin a little.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she angled her face upward. She expected him to kiss her and braced for it. But nothing happened. She opened her eyes and found herself staring up into a narrowed, cinnamon gaze. “Lucy, I’ll need your lips for this.”
She frowned in mystification, then with a start realized her lips were still firmly planted between her teeth. She groaned. “Sorry...”
“Good grief, Lucy, get hold of yourself,” Elissa said. “It’s a kiss, not oral surgery.”
Burning with humiliation, Lucy met Jack’s gaze again. Something about the way his eyes were flashing made him seem the tiniest bit angry. She didn’t have time to wonder at the cause, for at that instant his mouth covered hers, taking bold possession, his hands locking against her spine and crushing her into his hardness:
She’d expected his kiss to be soft, gentle—brotherly—but she’d been wrong. His mouth moving against hers was all-consuming—a sizzling, wordless seduction that seemed to say, “Open your lips to me, Lucy. Let me explore, tempt, drive you wild.”
The scandalous message was so loud, so clear, she felt a lurch in her breast Her eyes popped wide. Her. arms became ramrods against his chest, and she pushed frantically, stumbling backward. “What was that?” she demanded breathlessly.
He straightened, his brow furrowed. “If you don’t know, then I wasn’t doing it right.” His remark held a suggestion of huskiness. “Was it that bad?”
It wasn’t bad! her mind screamed. It was far from bad! It was-it was... “It was bad! Very bad!” she lied, a quiver in her voice. “Let’s not do that again, Jack.” Whirling to Helen and Damien, she sputtered, “And—and forget—forget everything, okay? Never bring it up! I’m not in the market for—for Olympic kissing or anything else!”
She stormed out of the room, upset, disconcerted. That had been a very bad experiment. How dare she feel anything in Jack’s kiss? He was like family.
It was tension. That’s all. She was stressed out. Not herself. Jack was doing her a favor. Just because he kissed like—like—well, like an Olympic kisser, that didn’t enter into it.
Once outside, she sagged against Jack’s car, then jumped away as though the touch was somehow illicit. She ran a hand through her hair, exhaling long and low. How foolish! It was Jack’s rental car, for heaven’s sake, not his lips.
She sucked in a breath at the sudden rush of memory. His lips. They were awfully sexy as lips went. She’d never thought of his lips in quite that way before—as a mechanism for kissing. No wonder teenage girls had climbed into his bedroom window all those years ago. She didn’t blame them, the poor, helpless things. She shook herself mentally. She wouldn’t think about it. She would put that bit of intimate knowledge about Jack on a back shelf in her mind and forget it.
Sagging against the car again, she prayed that Stadler and his pixie woman would flit out of town tomorrow morning. They had to, because there would be no more mouth-to-mouth kissing going on between Jack and her.
Absolutely none!
CHAPTER FOUR
Lucy felt like a jerk. How could she have treated Jack so shabbily, pushing him and going all hysterical? Even feeling as conflicted as she did, the ride home from the hospital had been unexpectedly light and lively, thanks to Elissa. Lucy blessed her older sister for keeping up an amusing dialogue about some of the most outrageous guests they’d had at the inn. If it hadn’t been for the vivacious redhead, she was sure the ride back would have been a silent nightmare.
Lucy had purposely slipped into the back seat of Jack’s rental car, seating herself behind her sister so that she could see his profile whenever she dared look his way. Though he laughed at Elissa’s bubbly chatter, she could detect a certain rigidity of his shoulders, a tenseness in his jaw. It was obvious that she’d hurt his feelings with her childish display, and she despised herself for that
He’d let them off at the inn and then driven directly into Branson, where he’d had an appointment with his real-estate man. He hadn’t returned in time to eat dinner with them. Lucy had to admit that this latest meal under Stadler’s scrutiny had gone more smoothly, since she hadn’t been compelled to look lovingly at Jack, feeling like an impostor. Maybe it was a good thing that Jack was busy looking at properties in town, giving her a respite from his gaze, always fired with an unquenchable warmth. She needed time to get her wits together—and her apology to Jack worked out.
Now that dinner was over, most of the guests had left for Branson to take in one elaborate variety show or another. All of the family but Lucy were gathered in the parlor—along with Stadler and his fiancée, of course. The last thing Lucy wanted to do was to be trapped in a room where he and his little twinkie waited like vultures. Well, not Sareena. She was as simple as a mouse, poor thing. But Stadler was waiting, no doubt with his forehead puckered, ready to pounce on any inconsistency in her “engagement” story. He no more believed that she was engaged to Jack than she believed it herself.
Well, she wouldn’t go in there and allow herself to be interrogated. She would take a walk. Nippy weather or not, it was better than Stadler’s artificially polite third degree.
Slipping on the overlarge sweater she’d knitted for her ex-fiancé as a welcome-home gift, she shoved up the sleeves, a new bout of irritation rushing through her. She would march through a tangled heap of cobras before she would give the handmade gift to Stadler now. Standing before the mirror, she decided the baby blue shade was fine for her light coloring and accented the blue of her eyes. And with today’s oversize clothes, no one would know it had been meant for a man.
She had already changed into jeans and a soft white sweatshirt, so with the sweater she should be plenty warm if she walked briskly. She ran her fingers through her hair to move it off her face, only to have the fine tendrils tumble back to frame her bleak expres
sion. She straightened her features. That guilty, unhappy look would surely give her away if Stadler saw it.
She tiptoed up the basement staircase, slipped out the kitchen door and bounded halfway down the stairs to the backyard before she realized someone was sitting on a step near the bottom. It wasn’t hard to tell who by the width of the shoulders blocking her path. She grabbed the rail to keep from tumbling over him. “Hi, Jack.” Her voice was high-pitched with embarrassment. It was true that she planned to apologize to him, but it was also true that she wasn’t quite prepared to do it yet.
He was sitting there, hunched slightly forward, his forearms on his knees, his hands clasped as though he was deep in thought. No longer dressed in a suit, he wore jeans and a dark mock turtleneck sweater that emphasized his upper torso.
He shifted to look her way. “Hi yourself.” The light was quickly fading, but the flash of his teeth in a friendly grin was surprisingly calming. “Where are you running off to, Luce?”
She walked down the three remaining wooden steps to stand on the dry grass, then faced him. “I thought I’d take a walk rather than be stared at all evening by Stadler.” She sighed and was startled by how forlorn she sounded.
Jack’s expression grew serious and he patted the step he was sitting on. “Join me?”
She did want to be with him, actually, and that fact startled her. Nodding, she gathered the big sweater around her and sat down. There wasn’t much room for them both, but Lucy decided that was good. Jack’s warmth would help keep out the chill.
He glanced away from her as she settled herself, his attention drawn to the darkening forest behind the inn. The white picket fence that separated the yard from the woods looked ghostly pale by comparison. When Jack said nothing for a few minutes, she decided she had to start. “I—I’m sorry I was rude at the hospital.”
He blinked and glanced at her, his face close, his gaze somehow sad. “You can’t help how you feel, Luce.” He turned away again. “It was my fault anyway. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that” .
