His Style of Seduction

by Roxanne St Claire

  “Good to see you, Jackson.”

  “You, too, dude. How’s Kendra?”

  “Glorious,” Deuce said, that pride glistening in his eyes again. “She’s going to be the most amazing mother. Of course she has everything organized and ready, every detail covered. She even—”

  “So she feels okay? Everything with the baby is fine?”

  “The baby’s great. You can see her kick. It’s so cool. And wait’ll you see the nursery, man. We went a little nuts with pink.”

  Jack shot Lily a look. “I was worried about this. The aliens beat us here and took Deuce away.” He frowned at Deuce. “Who are you?”

  Deuce laughed. “The husband of your sister. The father of your niece. The coach of the old Rock High team.”

  But not the player—on the field and off—he used to be.

  “You sound like a very happy, very excited, very proud papa,” Lily said. “I’m looking forward to meeting your wife.”

  “Good, ’cause I don’t like to leave her alone for long these days. Let’s go.”

  Jack helped Lily onto the dock and she walked down the wharf, studying the boats and the weatherworn buildings at the port outside Rockingham. He knew enough about her social protocol to realize that she was giving him a moment alone with Deuce. Still, he took some of that moment just to admire her, and wonder what she’d think of his hometown. Then he stepped back onto the boat to grab the keys.

  Deuce had scooped up a single duffel bag from the deck. “This it? You two sharing a suitcase?”

  “And a room,” Jack said pointedly.

  Deuce lifted one eyebrow. “I thought this was a work arrangement. Isn’t she supposed to be some kind of executive coach?”

  “What can I say? The sex gods adore me. And so does she.”

  “You and your gods.” Deuce rolled his eyes and shouldered the bag. “Don’t you get tired of jumping from one bed to another?”

  “Oh, like you were Mr. Celibacy when you were single.”

  “Maybe I wasn’t. But now I’m Mr. Monogamy, and one of these days you’ll see the light.”

  Jack made a fake punch at Deuce’s shoulder. “I see the light has blinded you, dude. Which is a good thing, since you married my sister.”

  “Love has blinded me. Wait’ll it happens to you.”

  “I can wait. Obviously, some clichés are true. Misery does love company.”

  With a hand on Jack’s shoulder, Deuce nudged him around so they were facing each other. “Hey, pal. Do I look miserable?”

  Why lie? “No.”

  Deuce notched his chin in Lily’s direction. “She’s nice.”

  “She’s more than nice,” Jack said, studying her right along with Deuce. “She’s…she’s…” He shook his head. The string of adjectives would embarrass him if he started to say exactly what Lily was.

  “Whoa, this is a first. Words elude Jackson Locke. Film at eleven.”

  Jack pocketed the keys and climbed out of the boat. “Shut up, Monroe.”

  “And he has no funny comeback.” Deuce dropped into his best color announcer’s voice. “This could be serious, folks. This could mean the game is well and truly…over. Could it be we are a single strike from the end of a stellar career as one of Rockingham High’s greatest players?”

  Jack speared him with a warning look. “Would you can it?”

  Deuce laughed, shouldering the duffel bag and following Jack out of the boat. “Wait’ll Kendra finds out.”

  “Kendra finds out what?”

  “That you’re in love.”

  Jack opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. Not because words eluded him. But because he didn’t trust what he might say.

  Kendra Monroe closed her eyes and, for the twentieth time that hour, rubbed her swollen belly with a deep inhale of satisfaction. Lily was sure it was twenty, because she’d counted every happy sigh, every maternal pat, every exchange of affection between the prospective mother and father. Joy permeated Deuce and Kendra’s beautiful waterfront home. Joy and security and love and permanence.

  Lily could practically taste the contentment in the air, as thick as the salt off Nantucket Sound just fifty picturesque feet from where the four of them finished dinner on the wide deck.

  “That was wonderful, honey,” Kendra said to her husband, patting her belly. “Jackie loves your barbecue chicken.”

  “Jackie?” Jack shot forward from his seat and blinked, incredulous. “You’re naming the baby after me?”

  “We’re naming her after Jackie Mitchell,” Deuce corrected. “One of the first professional female baseball players, who signed with the Chattanooga Lookouts in 1931.”

  Jack looked at Lily, unconvinced. “They’re naming her after me.”

  “Your ego knows no bounds,” Kendra said, chuckling fondly at her brother. “I knew you’d think that, so I didn’t tell you.”

  “I love that you’re naming her after me,” he continued, undaunted. “I’ll be the best godfather in the world. The kid will want for nothing.”

  Lily reached for her water, hoping a sip would cover the impact his words had on her. He would, of course, do anything for his about-to-be-born niece. Jack would be a stellar uncle, one who would take the baby for wild shoulder rides and shower her with frivolous, expensive gifts and a lifetime of love.

  Because there were no walls, no rules, no limitations with a niece. Not the way there would be with his own child. The thought twisted her heart and she sipped again.

  “Don’t you think, Lily?” Kendra asked. “I mean, you know Jack better than anyone now that you’ve been his professional coach.”

  Lily set the glass down slowly. What had they asked her? “I’m sorry…”

  “She’s sorry she won’t reveal trade secrets by answering that,” Jack said, shooting her a look that said he knew she’d lost track of the conversation. She’d like to take credit for teaching him that social skill, but she knew better. He was way too adept at reading her body language…and sometimes, she imagined, her thoughts.

  “No, I won’t,” she said quickly with a smile of gratitude. “But, tell me, does the name mean you expect her to play baseball?”

  Kendra laughed. “You obviously didn’t get up to her room yet to see the unorthodox decorating scheme. Who knew you could get pink catcher-mitt-shaped pillows?”

  “Come on,” Deuce said, standing and grabbing an empty platter to take it into the kitchen. “I’ll show you my masterpiece.”

  “This I gotta see,” Jack said, also standing and picking up some dishes. “You coming, Lil?”

  “I’ll see it in a little while,” she said, not exactly anxious to tour the nursery with Jack and hear any remarks about how Deuce was trapped.

  Not that he’d made any so far, but she knew Jack. “I think I’ll get a little more of the sunset with Kendra and then I’ll clean up.”

  “Thanks, Lily,” Kendra said. “Deuce won’t allow me to lift a finger, as you’ve noticed.”

  Deuce leaned over his wife, holding the platter out while he dropped a kiss on her hair. “You are thirty-eight weeks pregnant, Ken-doll. You’re not supposed to do anything but grow that baby.”

  She smiled up at him, and for the twenty-first time rubbed the basketball-shaped tummy. “We’re fine, honey. Don’t worry about either of your girls.”

  His expression said that he did, but he just dropped another kiss on her head and looked at Lily. “Holler if her water breaks.”

  Behind Deuce, Jack looked skyward. “Holler if my cell phone rings,” he mocked.

  When they left, Lily settled in to chat more with Kendra, who was a sweet and feisty feminine version of her older brother, although her eyes were blue and her hair much lighter than his.

  It would have been easy to seethe with envy when faced with a woman like Kendra Monroe. She had it all—love, marriage, a baby on the way and a house so warm and welcoming and safe that Lily literally ached when she walked into it.

  But Lily didn’t ache from
envy or jealousy—she’d spent her whole life longing for what Kendra had, so the sensation was as natural as breathing. No, this hurt was different. This was new and scary. Now her ache had a face. A name. A body. A head of gorgeous hair, a heart of pure gold and a resistance to commitment that was so much a part of him, it was stamped into his DNA.

  “I think you’ve done it, Lily.” Kendra’s statement pulled Lily from her thoughts again, but this time Lily wasn’t about to act as though she knew what her hostess meant.

  “I’ve done what?”

  Kendra shifted on her chair, squinting into the last rays of sunlight bouncing off the water beyond the whitewashed clapboards of her home. “Well, for one thing, Jack put his napkin on his lap before we started eating and I could have sworn I noticed him switch forks between the salad and main course.”

  Lily smiled. “A small victory, but it should help the cause.” They’d explained the entire situation to Deuce and Kendra over dinner, spelling out the reason Lily was there and why Jack had agreed to the idea of coaching.

  “And,” Kendra continued, “I can say since I’m his sister and lived with Jack for most of my life, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him so adept at keeping a conversation with Deuce off baseball and high school, and on to things that the whole table cares about.”

  Lily nodded. “He was easy to guide in the area of social protocol.”

  “He’ll make an excellent ad agency president, and, believe me, there was a time when I didn’t think Jack would be anything but a starving artist.”

  “He’ll fool the Brits, anyway,” Lily conceded. “If I can get him to wear shoes and cut his hair.”

  Kendra shook her head and took a sip of water. “Good luck with that. The only time he kept it short was during the spring and summer baseball seasons, and only because Deuce wanted his best friend on his team and pleaded with him to follow the coach’s rules.”

  “He hates rules,” Lily said.

  “With a passion,” Kendra agreed. “Jack’s just always been that way. Hates restrictions. Hates structure. Hates policies, guidelines and most systems of government.”

  “He hates walls, too,” Lily said with a laugh.

  Kendra leaned forward. “But he sure likes you.”

  The words kicked her gut. “Yes, well, we have…we get along…we are sort of…compatible.”

  “You are sort of crazy about each other is what you mean.”

  The idea that she and Jack had a relationship so open and obvious that his sister could see it made her heart dance. And then sink. “It was fun,” she said quietly.

  “Was?” Kendra’s baby-blue eyes widened. “It’s over already?”

  “Well, as soon as he goes back to New York, I’ll be going to Boston. And with luck, every one of the twenty-six cities where Anderson, Sturgeon and Noble has an office.”

  “So your paths will cross,” Kendra said hopefully. “You’ll see Jack. If you get the assignment, you’ll be a consultant to his firm.”

  Lily had thought of that. A million times. “Yes, of course. But…” They wanted such different things out of life that crossing paths would never be enough for Lily. Although it might suit Jack perfectly. “We’ll see,” she finished weakly. “It all depends on how well he pulls off the executive makeover.”

  Kendra looked across the table at her, one hand slowly rubbing again. “He’ll never cut his hair,” she predicted. “It would take an act of Congress, an act of God and more influence than even you can have to get him to do that.”

  “He has to. He promised. The whole thing is a waste of time if he walks into a meeting with the British owners with hair down to his shoulders.”

  Kendra shrugged. “Well, if you get him to cut his hair, then, honey, he must really love you.”

  The glass-top table suddenly vibrated with the hum of Jack’s cell phone.

  “Well, what do you know?” Kendra said with a sly smile. “My water didn’t break, but his cell phone rang.”

  Lily picked up the device and peered at the caller ID. Reggie Wilding. 911.

  “It’s his boss,” she said. “And it’s important.”

  “Answer it,” Kendra said. “He won’t mind.”

  She was right. Jack wouldn’t think she’d invaded his privacy—911 could mean anything. It could mean something happened to Samantha. Lily flipped the top open. “Hello?”

  “Lily? Is that you?”

  “What’s the matter, Reggie?”

  “Nothing. At least, I don’t think so. Robert Anderson and Russell Sturgeon are coming to the office tomorrow. They want to meet Jack.”

  She fell back against her seat. “Tomorrow?”

  “Is everything okay?” Reggie asked. “You haven’t called in a few days. I thought perhaps things weren’t going along as planned.”

  She thought of her revelation on the boat. Things were definitely not going along as planned. “What time tomorrow?”

  “They’ll be here at two o’clock. I need Jack on a plane early tomorrow morning. There’s one more commuter flight out of Nantucket tonight, I think. In an hour or so. You’ll have to hurry.”

  Oh, Lord. “We’re not in Nantucket, Reggie. We sailed to Cape Cod.”

  “Cape Cod?” He practically choked.

  “Don’t worry.” Although she was, she wouldn’t let the client know that. “He can fly out of Boston first thing in the morning.” Wearing…what? She looked across the table and held Kendra’s gaze. Surely Deuce owned a nice suit.

  Oh, she could just see it. Jack sauntering into the meeting in some ill-fitting suit, barefoot, his hair a wild, unholy mess from running through airports.

  It didn’t matter. She had to make it work. Jack had to make it work.

  “Lily, I want him in this office tomorrow, dressed to impress and spit-shined to a blinding finish. They’re bringing the contract and I intend to sign.”

  The sliding door opened behind Kendra as Jack and Deuce, laughing at something, came back to the patio.

  “He’ll be there.” Lily flipped the phone closed and looked at Jack. “The British are coming. And you’re expected to be in New York, in full battle gear, tomorrow. We could sail back now, get your stuff and try and get a morning flight to Manhattan from Nantucket.”

  “That’s crazy,” Deuce said. “I have plenty of suits.”

  Jack didn’t speak, but he held Lily’s gaze for a long time before asking, “Kendra, do you have any scissors?”

  “I sure do, but are you planning to cut Deuce’s suits to fit?”

  “Nope. Lily’s going to cut my hair.”

  Kendra lifted one very impressed eyebrow at Lily. “She is?”

  “She is,” he said with a quick wink. “It’s showtime.”

  Nine

  “I can’t do it.” Lily clunked the shears onto the marble vanity in the guest bathroom and Jack opened his eyes, catching her expression of dismay in the mirror.

  “You can do it. You used to be a hairdresser. You told me.”

  “I didn’t know you were listening.”

  “I listen to everything you say and some things you don’t.” At her narrowed eyes, he shrugged. “Hey, you’re the one who spent a day teaching me how to read body language.” When she didn’t answer, he pivoted on the little vanity stool to face her. “You can do this, Lil.”

  She sucked in a deep breath, and shook her head on the exhale. “It’s a crime. Your hair—it’s…” She fingered it the way she always did, threading her index finger through a lock in the front, twirling it with affection. He loved that gesture.

  “It’s just hair.”

  “It’s you.” She slipped her hand deeper into the hair, palming his nape, raising his face to hers. “Maybe we could do something with a ponytail?”

  “I think the aliens got you, too.”

  She smiled weakly. “A wig?”

  “I’ll do it myself.” He reached for the scissors, but she grabbed them first.

  “You can’t cut your own hair.”

>   “I can do anything.”

  That made her laugh softly. “Honestly, I can’t believe we’re having this discussion. It should be the other way around. You should be fighting me, I should be begging you.”

  “You’ll beg later, when you get to pretend you’re making love to Mr. Right…wing.” He tapped her chin with a finger. “Hey. We can’t quit now. Deuce loaded me up with some Armani pinstripes and your favorite—a pink tie. I can even squeeze into those slick black loafers of his. We’re not going to back down now just because of a logistics glitch, are we?”

  “You’re right,” she said. “And Kendra told me you used to cut your hair short so you could play on Deuce’s baseball team in high school.”

  “You bet I did. And I made a ritual out of it.”

  “What did that entail?”

  “I’d go down to this place on a beach just south of town and have a sacrifice to the hair gods.”

  She laughed, still shaking her head. “You’re too much.”

  “I’m serious. I’d take my mom’s scissors, two of my dad’s beers—which I would chug before I cut because the hair gods demanded it or else your hair would never grow again. Then I’d take all the hair I cut, let it fly in the wind and wash the rest off butt naked in the water.” His lifted an eyebrow. “And that was in March.”

  She snagged a washcloth from a basket and wrapped it around the scissors. “Go get the beer and let’s go.”

  His jaw dropped as he grabbed her hand. “At midnight? You’d go to the beach and cut my hair?”

  “Don’t sit there and ask questions, Jack Locke. The hair gods are waiting.”

  But he had to sit there. He couldn’t move. He was stupefied by…by her. By this perfect, irresistible, adventurous woman who totally got it.

  “What are you waiting for?” She tried to tug out of his grasp.

  “For this.” He gave her a solid pull, landing her on his lap. Then he kissed her with every ounce of passion he could muster, hugging her into him and taking possession of her mouth the way she’d taken possession of his heart.

  When the kiss ended, she opened her eyes and winked. “Now, don’t forget the beer. We don’t want to anger the hair gods.”