by Kylie Brant
Brummond smiled thinly. “Celeste, darling, you remember me mentioning Jacinda.”
“Of course I do.”
So she’d warranted a mention? Jacey entertained a very brief, very satisfying mental image of him wearing the remainder of her drink. She turned to smile at the man by her side. “And this is Luc Boucher, a friend of mine.”
Lucky took Celeste’s hand in both of his. “Brummond is a lucky man. I hope you remind him of that often.”
Jacey managed, barely, to avoid rolling her eyes as the petite woman simpered. “How kind of you to say so. Are you and Jacinda…close?”
The look he turned on Jacey then was heated enough to steal her breath. “Quite close.”
It took conscious effort to tear her gaze away, to remember to draw air into her lungs again. Smiling even more brightly, she stepped forward and brushed a kiss on Peter’s cheek. “Congratulations.” Turning to Celeste, she said graciously, “I wish you both every happiness. But we really shouldn’t keep you from the rest of your guests any longer. Lucky?”
She had the distant thought that she’d always detested the way Peter pressed his lips into a thin flat line when he was displeased. That, and the muscle twitching in his jaw was enough to fill her with a flicker of satisfaction. Whatever the fallout from the little charade she and Lucky had enacted here tonight, it had accomplished one thing. She’d walk out of this event with her head held high.
They were some distance away before she remembered to draw a breath. “Well, that was fun.” She sipped from her glass again, frowned when she found it empty.
“I thought so. She’ll lead him around by the nose. Already has a pretty firm hook there, I’d say.”
“Then he’s getting exactly what he deserves.” And she wasn’t going to waste a moment of sympathy on him. Delicate colored lanterns had been hung to light the grounds near the terrace. They followed a stone walk along the gardens, edging farther away from the sounds of the party. The evening had turned out far better than she had hoped, Jacey thought. If she’d come alone, the entire night would have been excruciating. And if she’d followed her mother’s advice, it would have been humiliating, as well.
Thoughts of her mother sliced into her sense of wellbeing. “I should probably warn you that Charlotte is here, and she is not happy.”
“Such a surprise, for the woman is usually a fount of good cheer.”
His incredulous tone brought an unwilling smile to her lips. “You do seem to bring out a rather…sour side in her. She was thrilled that I’d brought a companion, until she saw who it was.”
He gave a casual shrug. “I have long been convinced that you were adopted. That one is much too cold to have gotten a child in the usual way.”
She elbowed him in the ribs. “Don’t be nasty. I’m feeling much too good to argue with you.”
“Then don’t. Dance with me instead.”
“Dance?”
He cocked his head. “The band is startin’. Don’t you hear it?”
Orchestral strains drifted over the air. She turned back toward the terrace and saw a few couples already swaying to the music. “I suppose it would help the cause if we stayed around a bit longer.”
He offered his bent arm. “I aim to please. Let’s give them just a little more to talk about, shall we?”
Resting her hand on his arm, she smiled brilliantly up at him. “Let’s.”
Never, in the furthest reach of her imagination, had Jacey ever considered she’d actually enjoy herself tonight. But for the remainder of the evening, she did exactly that. Lucky was an amazingly good dancer, although he held her much closer than she was really comfortable with. But it was difficult to protest when she saw the sidelong glances sent their way, and knew that regardless of the impression he was planting, no one in the place was feeling sorry for Jacinda Wheeler.
Because he insisted, they nibbled at hors d’oeuvres before he’d bring her another drink, and then they danced again. She thought it was safe enough to remain on the terrace, as her mother rarely joined in the dancing.
She had just a flicker of conscience when someone mentioned to her in passing that Charlotte had left early with a headache, knowing just what, or who, had generated it. But it wasn’t all that difficult to banish the thought from her mind. She didn’t fool herself into thinking that she’d heard the end of this from her mother. It was much more likely that the woman had retreated for the moment to fortify a new attack. But she wasn’t going to worry about that at the moment. She was enjoying herself too much.
An hour later she excused herself to find the rest room. With a backwards glance she saw that Lucky was immediately claimed by Peter’s seventy-year-old great-aunt. With a smile on her face, she wound her way through the living room and out to the hallway. It shouldn’t surprise her that women of all ages responded to the man. The charisma he exuded transcended generations.
“Jacinda.”
Lost in her thoughts, she started a bit at the voice coming from behind her. Turning, her good mood abruptly splintered. “Peter.” Looking beyond him, she inquired, “Where’s your fiancée?”
“Dancing with my father. Can we talk for a bit?” It was really more of a command than a request, accompanied as it was by his hand on her back, guiding her into the study. But it was the cautious look he threw up and down the hallway before closing the door that had the bubbles of temper firing through her veins.
“Really, Peter, do you think this is wise?”
He turned to face her. “That was almost exactly what I was going to ask you. What the hell is going on between you and Boucher?”
The demand, the anger behind it, stunned her for a moment. When she could manage to form an answer, she responded spiritedly, “What possible business is that of yours?”
He had the grace to flush. “Things didn’t work out between us, Jacinda, but I still care what happens to you. By playing games with Boucher, you’re going to wind up getting hurt.”
“That isn’t possible.”
Her dismissal of his words made him more irate. “Dammit, give me some credit. I know you, and I’m all too familiar with men like him. I never did understand why you hired him.”
She wandered about the room, running one hand over the butter-soft leather furniture. “He’s good at his job, Peter. He’s good…at a great many things.” The words shocked her even as they left her lips. But they seemed to infuriate the man standing before her.
“Were you carrying on with him behind my back?”
The sheer audacity of the words surprised a laugh from her. Belatedly, her sense of the ridiculous kicked in. “You used to have a fine appreciation of irony. Surely you can see just how ludicrous that question is, coming from you.”
“All right, I behaved badly. I should have ended our relationship when I started seeing Celeste, but we have a history…our families have a connection…” He made a gesture with his hand. “What do you want from me? Things happened quickly, and I had to do the gentlemanly thing, to avoid talk. It hasn’t been easy for me, either, Jacinda.”
She stared at him, struggling to piece together what he was saying. He’d been seeing Celeste while the two of them were still dating? The spike of anger that accompanied the realization was sidetracked as the rest of his words filtered in. “Gentlemanly? Celeste is pregnant?” His pursed lips, his gaze skirting hers, was her answer. “Well. You were busy.”
“The situation was impossible,” he muttered, half turning away. “We’ve waited this long to announce our engagement to quell the gossip.”
There was a dangerous burn in her stomach. She decided he was far safer with the furniture between them. “I suppose I should be grateful. No woman likes it to become common knowledge that her boyfriend of a year and a half knocked up another woman while they were still dating.”
“We’re having a private ceremony, and then I’ll transfer to father’s Houston branch for a couple of years. No one will ever put the timeline together, you can be sure.”
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She shook her head, incredulous. The lengths he was taking were reminiscent of a generation earlier. With a sudden dawn of understanding, she realized the truth. “I’m sure Audrey will be pleased that you’re following her plans so exactly.”
His voice was stiff. “I don’t blame Mother for her concerns. Both your family and mine have always been careful about their reputations. Which is one more reason you should take greater care with yours.”
For a moment, she’d actually begun to feel a bit sorry for him. The sensation dissipated as he went on. “He’s only interested in one thing from you, Jacinda. You have to protect yourself.”
Her smile was brittle. “Believe me, I know exactly where Lucky’s interests lie.”
He gave her a pitying look. “He may be using sex to get close to you, but make no mistake, it’s your money he’s after.” He didn’t appear to notice that she’d gone completely, deadly still. “A man of his sort doesn’t choose a woman like you for a relationship without ulterior motives.”
Tiny glaciers formed, bumping and colliding in her veins. “A woman like me?”
Her frigid tone seemed lost on him. But then, Peter always had been singularly dense at times. Not to mention insufferably insensitive. “Like is attracted to like. A lowlife like Boucher has certain…appetites. You don’t have the experience or skill to satisfy a man like that, unless it’s with your bank account. So just be careful, will you?”
The buzzing in her ears had nothing to do with the alcohol she’d imbibed and everything to do with fury. Hot molten waves of it, whipping through her body, licking along nerve endings. Outside her defense courses she’d never hit a person in her life, but she wanted, with every fiber of her being, to ball her fist and plant it squarely in the nose his plastic surgeon had so carefully structured when he’d been eighteen.
It took every bit of acting ability she possessed to smile sweetly. “I’ll keep it in mind. But you should keep in mind that my…skill, as you call it, hasn’t been an issue with Lucky. So maybe it’s not the type of woman that matters at all. Maybe it’s the type of man.”
And with that she turned on her heel and walked regally from the room.
Chapter 6
“The nerve of that slimy rat.”
Lucky watched with mild concern as Jacey paced the length of her parlor. Wearing heels the height of hers, it wouldn’t take much to catch her foot on the richly jeweled tapestry rug, or to twist an ankle when she turned, skirt fluttering intriguingly around her slender legs, to pace back again. He didn’t consider his concern diluted at all for being layered with appreciation. He’d never denied being male.
“My skill. My experience. Can you believe that? Like he was anything spectacular in that department.”
“The man’s a fool.” He poured some wine he’d opened in the hopes of calming her, and pressed a glass into her hand. She drank it with a speed that showed little sensitivity for its label. With a shrug, he refilled her glass as she passed by again. “It’s the sort of thing a small man says to tear at a woman’s ego. If he’d had any particular skill at all, he would have had no complaints about yours.”
“Exactly.” She whirled to survey him grimly. “And I told him as much, too. Well, actually, I let him believe that you had reason to know it wasn’t the truth, but after the show you put on tonight, I didn’t think you’d mind.”
His lips quirked. “Non, use me as you will.” He watched, with growing worry, as she tossed back the contents of the glass and handed it to him. They hadn’t eaten tonight other than the fancy snacks that had been served at the party, and he hadn’t noted that Jacey had eaten all that much then. “Maybe you could just hook the bottle to an IV.”
She stood before him, one hip jutted out, chin raised and gaze narrowed. “I don’t need a lecture, Lucky, I have my mother for that.”
Given his opinion of Charlotte Wheeler, it was a low blow, but effective. He shut up. By the time she realized he was right, she’d be nursing the grandmother of all headaches.
Right now, though, she was on a roll. He settled on the curved-back couch to enjoy the sight she made with color in her cheeks and fire in her eyes. He’d always had a fine appreciation for a woman in a temper. Bien sûr, it usually did not pay to underestimate the danger of a female in such a state. But in this case, he wasn’t the cause of the fury so he thought himself safe enough.
“I could kneecap him for you.” He tossed out the offer lazily, only half joking. “I doubt he’d put up much of a fight, and I can’t say that the urge has never occurred.”
She slowed as she crossed the room yet again, her lips tilted. “The idea has merit, but I think I’d find it more gratifying if I did it myself.”
“Very possibly. I will settle, in that case, for a ringside seat.”
“He got her pregnant, did I tell you that?” There was a flash of emotion in her eyes that had all amusement draining from him in an instant. “He was sleeping with both of us at the same time. From the haste with which they’re marrying, I wouldn’t be surprised if we were still seeing each other when that blessed event occurred.”
“Maybe I’ll rethink that kneecap job, after all.” As it was, Brummond would be fortunate if their paths didn’t cross anytime soon. He no longer questioned just where this protective streak toward Jacey stemmed from. He could consider her well rid of the man while still wanting to break his jaw.
She gave a wave of her hand, as if it didn’t matter. But he could see the disillusionment under her anger. “He was just so smug, so sure of himself when he said you could only be interested in me for money. I wanted to strangle him.”
He got up to pour himself some wine. It looked like it was going to be a long night. “My philosophy has always been, don’t get mad, get even.” He gazed at her over the rim of his glass. “You could always start sleepin’ around. When he hears glowin’ reports of your aptitude, he’d go insane with jealousy.”
To his amazement, she seemed to take his jest seriously. “But I can’t, don’t you see? Because there’s a part of me that wonders if he was right, damn him.” She stared broodingly into her wine. “I haven’t exactly had a legion of lovers. If I’d had, I could laugh in his face, knowing the lack of passion I felt was due to him, not me. But…I don’t know that. And since I can’t be certain, I don’t dare get involved with anyone else, because then he’ll find out I’m terrible in bed, too. And if I don’t ever have any other lovers, there’s no way to get more experience so that I gain more confidence. It’s really a catch-22.”
Because his jaw had dropped during the course of that astonishing revelation, he took pains to close it. But he was unable to remain silent for long. “Jacey, if you still lack experience after being in his bed, Brummond is the incompetent, not you.”
“You’re just being polite.”
“I have horrible manners, remember? You’re always remindin’ me.”
“Still.” She looked pensive. “You’re hardly in the position to judge, since we’ve never slept together. And it’s really not exactly the sort of thing I can ask my former lovers, now, is it?”
Even without her earlier words, he’d have bet that the list of her former lovers would be a short one. He sneaked a look at the half-empty wine bottle. He would never have guessed that too much wine on an empty stomach would loosen Jacey’s tongue to this extent, but he couldn’t say he minded the phenomenon. She was displaying more real emotion in this state than she normally let herself show in a week. And in doing so, she was utterly beguiling.
He wasn’t certain how to erase the doubt from her expression. How could someone who looked like she did be so unaware of her own appeal? It was a mystery of nature, but then, women were mysterious creatures. If it had been anyone else, he could have pulled her into his arms and shown her just how much woman she was, but this wasn’t just any woman. It was Jacey.
There hadn’t been a man at the party tonight who hadn’t taken a second and third look at her in that dress. With her hair l
oose and a little tangled—an improvement of his own design—she’d looked far more approachable than usual. Even more tempting. The contrast between her appearance and her usual reserved manner couldn’t help but send a man’s imagination into overdrive.
She came over and sat down next to him on the couch with a little sigh. “Leave it to Peter to ruin what had actually turned out to be an enjoyable evening. He always was a fun-hater.”
The term had him chuckling. “Somehow I don’t find that surprisin’. And knowin’ what you do about him, you should realize he only said what he did to make you miserable.”
“I wish I could believe that. As pompous and supercilious as he was, he was also quite sincere.” She frowned, as if she were puzzling over some aspect of a particularly confusing case.
“He was jealous, cher. He doesn’t want you, but he doesn’t want you to be happy either. Not really.” He picked up her hand, kissed it lightly, then laid it back on her lap. “Trust me, I know these things. Unlike you, I do not lack experience.” That last was uttered with a wicked tone designed to get a rise out of her.
“So I’ve gathered.” Her gaze slid to his, and he didn’t trust the speculative gleam in them. “Maybe you can help me, after all.”
“Anything. As I’ve proven tonight, I’m at your service.”
She smiled, slow and satisfied and he had the distinct impression that he’d stepped neatly into a trap. “That’s just where I want you. At my service, so to speak.”
He choked, spewing wine down his shirt front. She couldn’t possibly have meant that the way it had sounded. “Careful. A less astute man would have assumed you meant…”
“That I want to sleep with you? That is what I meant.”
His throat seemed to have closed completely. His lungs shut down. But the rest of his body was showing remarkable signs of interest.
“It’d be the perfect solution, don’t you see?” She turned to face him on the couch, her expression earnest. “If even a fraction of what I’ve heard of your reputation is true, I’m bound to pick up some skills during our time together. There’s no worry about sticky entanglements, because when it’s over we’d still be friends. It’s really the perfect setup.”