by Renee Roszel
His grin grew sly. “Did you really think it was bad?”
She experienced a shiver at the memory of how pleasurable his tongue felt against that most unlikely scrap of anatomy, then forced her lips into puckered thoughtfulness. After a count of ten, she relented. “Okay, so I need therapy, too.” With a disdainful sniff, she turned away. “We’re both perverts.”
He reached down and scooped up her shoes, tossing them onto the bed. “Here, put these on before I do something rash.”
She turned back. “Rasher than sucking my toes?” She made a face. “I shudder to think!”
He laughed. “You know what Shakespeare says about that, don’t you?”
She frowned at him as she put on her socks. “Do you?”
He slid his legs off the bed and slipped into his shoes. When he straightened to tower above her, the sight was so alarmingly enjoyable the air fisted in her lungs. “Tinsley isn’t the only person who can quote Shakespeare.”
She eyed him askance. “Okay. I’ll bite. What did Shakespeare say about toe sucking?”
“The ol’ bard said, ‘Let us perverts go do lunch.’”
She stared, stunned by the invitation. “You mean it?”
He shrugged casually. “I’m starved. No offense, but one of your toes does not a luncheon make.”
She laughed. “Another quote from the ol’ bard?”
“Shakespeare didn’t say everything.” He feigned a hurt look. “Shake a leg, Luce. I need food.”
It was strange how her fatigue suddenly disappeared. Scrambling for her shoes, she pulled them on. “I passed the cutest café on the way back.” Hopping off the bed, she grabbed his arm. “You know, for a pervert, you can be fun.”
When he smiled down at her, a new spring of happiness filled her heart.
“You’d be surprised how often I hear that,” he kidded.
It was a shame how happiness could bubble up and then just as quickly evaporate. Thoughts of Desiree leaped into her brain. No doubt the sexy French siren knew all about Jack’s lusty perversions.
Lucy bit her lip, but the pain she inflicted on herself didn’t outstrip the pang of jealousy she felt in her gut. She flinched. Jealousy?
She must have audibly groaned, for at the door, Jack stopped, pulling her to a halt. “Are you okay?”
She couldn’t meet his gaze and merely nodded. Jealousy? Were her feelings for Jack changing? Did she see him as something besides a good friend? Possibly more?
“You sure you feel okay?” he asked, sounding worried. “You’ve gone pale.”
She forced herself to look at him, reaffirming her lie by shaking her head. He bent lower to get a better look into her eyes. A swath of brown hair fell across his brow, reminding her of his wilder teenage days when she’d had a raging little-girl crush on him.
“Lucy?” he coaxed.
“Uh—oh—just hungry, I guess,” she muttered, coming out of the trance. She didn’t want to think about exactly what—or who—she might be hungry for. How stupid could she be? She didn’t want to feel an attachment for any man. She wasn’t even sure how she felt about Stadler, so how could she be entertaining possessive thoughts about Jack?
He’s only doing you a favor, Lucy, her mind screamed,—as a friend.
CHAPTER NINE
LUCY sat down on a bench in the shade of a Victorian gazebo. She watched Jack take a drink from the shaded water fountain, fed by one of the natural springs that gave the town its name. Leaning back on her hands, she lazily scanned him. The flat stone was cool against her palms, but the afternoon had been pleasantly warm, and so had Jack’s company. She grinned as he straightened, thinking he looked cute in the Panama hat he’d bought in the shop that stocked all manner of headgear.
Feeling in a particularly silly mood, she’d bought a mauve pith helmet, sporting a purple ribbon that tied under her chin.
Jack sat down beside her, adjusting his straw hat farther back on his head. “What next?” he asked.
She sagged against his shoulder. “I’m pooped, but I have to get to that store that caters to cat lovers. I want to get Helen something.” She nudged her shopping bag with her foot. “Elissa’s going to love that cloisonné frog we got her.”
“You think so?” Jack asked with a grin. “I never thought of Elissa as a frog sort of person.”
Lucy tipped back her helmet so that she could better see him. “Really?” She was curious about his opinion. “How do you think of Elissa?”
He looked away, focusing on the high stone wall that ran along behind the gazebo, giving the place a cavelike feel. “I think of Elissa as fire.” His gaze settled on Lucy’s face. “Helen is earth. The little earth mother who loves and nurtures all living things.”
Lucy was charmed by his assessment of her sisters. His smile faded, and she wondered why. Then she thought of something and teased, “If I’m wind, that makes us a seventies rock group. Not very original, Jack.”
His grin returned, and he shook his head. “You’re not wind, Lucy.” He scanned her face, his expression softening. “Air, maybe.”
“Air?” She frowned in thought. Air was so—so invisible. Taken for granted. And pretty polluted in most places. “Gee, thanks.”
He chuckled. “You’re welcome.” He flicked her helmet down over her eyes. “And what do you think of when you think of me?”
She resettled her hat so that she could eye him peevishly. “You’ve heard of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?”
He nodded, his eyes sparkling. “Sure. Moe, Curly, Lany and Pestilence.”
She couldn’t help herself and grinned, standing up. “Guess which one you are.” Grabbing her shopping bag, she started down the pavement path into the welcome, late-afternoon sunshine. The park was coming to life. Redbuds were blossoming over plantings of yellow crocus, pink tulips and sprinklings of blue, purple and white wildflowers, bright bits of color on the hilly, greening landscape.
Eureka Springs was like a Victorian theme park, with block after block of picturesque stone walls and terraces that housed an Easter-basket array of colorful homes and quaint inns. Lucy thought that any of the turn-of-the century residences in town could have substituted for the famous Victorian home in the movie Psycho—only a warm, fuzzy, Disney version of the film. She secretly hoped each and every one of the old houses had its own ghost lounging around in its pink or yellow or baby blue attic. She’d heard rumors that some did.
She could turn her head almost anywhere in town and civilization disappeared. On the other side of the street, you might be treated to breathtaking woods or treacherous drop-offs. Lucy pictured heartbroken lovers leaping from the plentiful limestone bluffs into the dense wooded valleys below.
And greenery was everywhere—trees, bushes, shrubs, vines. Lucy almost felt that if she was inattentive, she would be swallowed up by it all and burped up somewhere as a rosebush. But apparently, that hardly ever happened, for small animals scampered fearlessly underfoot, peeked from behind trees or scurried into half-hidden caves. And the sky was filled with the bright hue of birds flitting unafraid amid the teeming foliage.
Of course, the famous springs abounded around town, seeping from massive stone outcroppings or harnessed in drinking fountains in charming little parks. The clean, clear water was welcome and cool after a long day of tromping over uneven cobbled streets or up and down incalculable steps.
“Where are we going now?” Jack asked, catching up and taking her bag from her.
“The cat store.”
“Oh, right. Helen.”
“Earth mother,” she said, surprised at the rancor in her voice. Why was she jealous that Jack thought so fondly of Helen—and that he thought of Elissa as fire? Why couldn’t he think of her as earth or fire? Air. Phooey. Nothingness!
“How many pets does she have now?” he asked, breaking through her mental griping.
His fingers encircled her elbow, forcing her to slow her pace. She hadn’t realized she’d practically been running. From what, sh
e had no idea.
“Uh—Helen?” She shook herself, trying to get back on track. “Oh, her cats. Yes. She still has Thalia, of course, and Love. And Cracker. You remember her three-legged dog?”
“Right.”
“Helen said she’s adopted a crippled cat named Mousie. Seems the little dear was hurt in a fall and one of her forepaws is paralyzed. Gets around fine, though, just slides the bad paw along the floor. And there’s Beaver and Pandora and, uh, one more. Miss Fluffy, I think.”
“Any more dogs?” Jack asked, amusement in his voice.
“One. A female. Can’t recall the name, but apparently Cracker brought her home. So I guess she’s really Cracker’s dog.”
Jack laughed. “Great. Now her pets are bringing home pets.”
Lucy smiled. “Luckily, their house sitter used to work for a vet, so he’s accustomed to caring for lots of animals.”
“I have a feeling there’ll be more before she’s through, if I know my Helen.”
Lucy swallowed hard. My Helen. She supposed Helen was Jack’s favorite. Her little sister was quiet, sweet and about the most kindhearted person in the world. Why wouldn’t Jack love her the most? “Well, their house in upstate New York has ten acres around it.” She forced herself to sound cheerful. “They could have a zoo if they chose to.”
For some reason, she didn’t feel conversational anymore and she couldn’t imagine why. They’d had a great afternoon. Jack had even bought one of those instant cameras and they’d taken lots of silly pictures—
“What about another picture?” Jack’s suggestion startled her. Could he read her mind? He indicated the direction. “Let’s go over there beside the tree.”
A huge oak sat amid a landscaped area that would certainly hold a myriad of flowers later in the year. A low branch forked off from the main trunk about three feet up and nearly parallel to the ground. Jack led Lucy to the tree and put down her sack of souvenirs.
Spanning her waist with his hands, he hoisted her up to the branch. He surprised her by sprinting back to the path and stopping a stout, middle-aged man who had been walking with a tall, thin woman. “Mind taking a picture of us?” he asked. “We’re on our honeymoon.” He grinned and thanks to his effervescent charm the couple smiled obligingly. After the man took the camera, Jack showed him the simple mechanism, then ran back to stand beside Lucy. He laid an arm around the branch, brushing her hips as he did.
“You’d better take off those hats,” the man suggested. “Your faces aren’t going to show.”
“And you really must kiss her,” the woman added, giggling. “We won’t look.”
Jack peered at Lucy. “What do you think?” He leaned closer, tugging the ribbon loose at her chin and slipping off her pith helmet. “It would look convincing for you-know-who.” He dropped the helmet onto her sack, then flicked off his straw. It sailed to the ground near the man with their camera.
Lucy felt a twinge, but didn’t know if it was caused by the reminder of Stadler or the idea of kissing Jack. Now that she’d had thoughts about him that didn’t fit into the “best friends” slot, she wasn’t sure what she should do. Not caring to analyze her thinking too closely, she merely nodded. After all, a debate about kissing Jack out here in public wasn’t worth the embarrassment it would cause. Jack had already said they were on their honeymoon. Besides, her mind whispered coyly, kissing Jack again has been on your mind. Admit it! “Okay,” she murmured, her gaze cast down as she fussed with the top button of her blouse.
When she chanced a peek at his face, his smile came slowly, stretching her nerves tighter. He turned to nod toward the couple. “Great idea.” As luck would have it, the branch had positioned her eye-to-eye with him. His face was near, growing nearer, his lips inviting as his mouth shaped itself for kissing.
Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she grew giddy with anticipation. Jack was actually going to...
As his lips met hers, his arm around her hips pressed close, pulling her into him. His free hand moved to the nape of her neck, locking her mouth with his. A beautiful imprisonment. His kiss explored tenderly, sending shivers of desire through her and throwing her stomach into a turbulent spin.
There was soft persuasion in the touch of his mouth, and in a gentle, wordless bribe he somehow managed to cajole her lips to part—moving her to accept the stimulating gifts his tongue could offer.
With the intimate invasion, she experienced a heady, almost delirious gratification. Her arms came up on their own, curling about his shoulders, and she found herself joining the sensual dance of tongues, startled at the depth of her craving. Never had she kissed Stadler with such helpless need. Never had she quivered at his touch this way—so deep down in her core that a restlessness blossomed, making her feel more and more need rather than a quenching of it.
Without warning, he lifted his mouth from hers, backing a step away. She blinked, swayed, and he steadied her. It was only then that she realized there was a tittering of laughter nearby. She turned, feeling drugged, only half-registering that they’d drawn a crowd. The man who’d taken the picture was standing nearby. He handed Jack the camera. “Makes me wish I were twenty years younger.” He patted Jack’s shoulder. “Takes me back. Yes, it sure does.” He turned to his wife and smiled at her. “Let’s go back to the hotel, Margaret May.”
His wife’s faded gray eyes went wide and her lined cheeks grew ruddy in a blush. It was clear from her husband’s tone that Jack and Lucy’s kiss had reminded him of the reason he’d married his wife years ago. He walked back to the path and took her hand, tugging her along. The woman looked back and waved. It almost seemed as though there was a thank-you in her eyes.
While their audience dispersed, Jack lifted his hands to Lucy’s waist. “I’ll help you down.”
Without making eye contact, she nodded. Her throat was too scratchy to speak. As he settled her to the ground, she exhaled through puffed cheeks, wondering if Desiree was this wobbly after one of Jack’s kisses. She busied herself straightening her trousers, keeping her face averted, for she knew she was red with shame. How could she have let herself go that way?
“I’m sorry about that, Luce,” he murmured.
She plucked at a bit of bark that had stuck to her. “About what?” She cleared the quaking from her voice.
“The kiss. I’m afraid I got carried away—for the picture.”
She swallowed several times. “No problem. I didn’t feel a tongue—a thing!” She closed her eyes, wishing she were dead. Her only hope was that he hadn’t heard her slip.
“That’s good,” he said, and Lucy had a dreadful feeling there was a touch of amusement in his words.
She started to take a step away to put distance between them, but found her legs too watery. She grabbed for the tree and leaned against it.
“What’s the matter?”
“Crick in my knee,” she lied.
He picked up the sack, depositing her hat inside. “Do you still want to get that gift for Helen?”
“Sure.” She inhaled for strength. Pushing away from the tree, she tested her legs. They were steadier, thank heaven. “Let’s go.”
Taking her arm, he led her toward the path where he plucked up his hat. When he set it on her head, she glanced his way. “ Looks better on you.” His crooked grin was so breathtaking she dropped her gaze in self-defense. “How’s the knee?” he asked.
Better than my lips, she wanted to shout. They throbbed with every beat of her heart and felt as swollen as weather balloons.
Stupid lips.
Lucy was lonesome and alone a lot during the next two days. So she spent her “honeymoon” browsing in the little art galleries along the narrow downtown streets of Eureka Springs, which were devoid of stop signals and other signs of the twentieth century.
She couldn’t recount the number of times she rode the trolley or loitered in city parks where impromptu jazz and blues concerts abounded. Wistfully, she gazed after other honeymooning couples walking arm in arm, oblivious to
anything but their love for each other. To her dismay, during all this lonely time, her thoughts turned invariably toward Jack.
Jack.
As quickly as she batted down romantic notions, they crowded back, implanting vivid pictures of the two of them together, arms entwined, with eyes for no one but each other. The foolish scenario was getting monotonous, considering the fact that Desiree didn’t seem to have anything else to do but make long, hot calls to Jack—day and night. Night and day. No wonder he had so much trouble getting any work done.
Every time the phone rang, Lucy’s stomach knotted. Which was crazy. And even as she pretended nonchalance, leaving Jack to his privacy, she was getting more and more upset and confused. What was going on with her emotions lately? Did she care for Stadler or did she loathe him? Did she want Jack for a friend or—or...?
She hadn’t spent much time with her pretend husband in the past forty-eight hours, which left her feeling depressed. Business concerns were uppermost on his agenda. Plus the property deal in Branson was coming to a boil, with negotiations, renegotiations and re-renegotiations.
In truth, when she came back to the room after several hours of sight-seeing, she enjoyed sitting on the bed beside him as he talked with business associates on the phone. While he could be funny and charming, he was always logical. He spoke with authority, yet was never unkind or argumentative. She admired that ability. She’d never been good at confronting a problem and explaining analytically why it should go her way. Usually she got tongue-tied and backed off, hating herself for being such a weenie. Jack never backed off and he never lost.
He seemed to be able to win a fight and never even flight. And he didn’t wheedle or manipulate the way Stadler did. Or go behind a person’s back. She liked that straightforwardness about Jack. He could be trusted to be honest and loyal to his friends and candid and fair with his competitors.
That night, they turned in early. Jack had a 6:00 a.m. conference call, and Lucy was just plain tired from all her walking. Rain began to tap against the windows around ten. A short time later, a spring storm swept in. Lightning shot silver flashes through the room, and thunder rattled the patio doors like an angry landlord.
