‘From Mr McAdams,’ the housekeeper smiled. ‘The label on the boxes is that of a well-known lingerie shop. Wasn’t that kind of him?’
Chelsea was well aware of the fame of the establishment named on the boxes, she also knew Lucas hadn’t made the gesture out of kindness. With the gift he intended making certain last night’s incident didn’t happen again. She couldn’t take the nightgowns, but nevertheless, her fingers itched to see what Lucas’s taste was in women’s nightwear.
‘Very kind,’ she answered Mrs Harvey, not intending to upset her tenuous relationship with the other woman by telling her she couldn’t accept the ‘kind’ gesture. ‘Shall we have a look inside?’ she invited mischievously, opening the top box, echoing Mrs Harvey’s gasp at the beauty of the frivolously lacy garment the folding back of the tissue-paper revealed, its colour pure ivory, knowing that it would look beautiful against her pale skin and silver hair.
The other two boxes revealed nightgowns equally as beautiful and feminine, one of peach lace, the other the palest lemon Chelsea had ever seen. Lucas had beautiful taste in women’s nightwear, so much so that she decided to give him the money for them rather than return them as she had at first planned to do; she couldn’t have chosen better herself, if she had to wear a nightgown.
‘They’re lovely,’ Mrs Harvey echoed her feelings.
‘Exquisite.’ She hung the three lacy garments in the wardrobe with her other clothes. ‘Lucas has a wonderful eye for colour.’
‘Oh I’m sure Mr McAdams wouldn’t have chosen the gowns himself,’ the housekeeper sounded shocked at the assumption that he would have done. ‘He would simply have telephoned the shop, given them a description of your colouring, and left it to their discretion.’
She had a feeling the other woman was right, and somehow that knowledge took away some of the pleasure of the gift, made it seem impersonal, more just a need to remind her that he didn’t want a repeat of the previous night.
‘Then the saleswoman has an eye for colour,’ she said brightly, picking up the empty boxes. ‘I may as well join you in the kitchen for that coffee.’
Much as she was coming to like the other woman, Mrs Harvey having thawed considerably towards her as the day progressed, she was still glad of the time alone once the housekeeper had left for the day, the instructions for the already prepared dinner written down in the kitchen; Chelsea was determined to be the one to do those last-minute preparations.
Mrs Harvey had told her that Lucas usually wore something casual when he dined at home, and deciding her denims and blouse were too casual she went to her bedroom shortly before six to change into a high-necked navy blue dress, a sash-belt at her narrow waist, her tights also navy blue, as were her high heeled sandals. Her hair flowed long and silky to her waist, her make-up light; she was going to need all the self-confidence she had to face Lucas after the last occasion he had seen her!
She was waiting in the lounge with the whisky and the dash of water already poured into a glass that Mrs Harvey had told her was Lucas’s usual drink when he came in. He hadn’t seen her as he put his briefcase down on the hall table, lines of weariness etched beside his eyes and mouth, although he looked just as dark and virile in the dark grey three-piece suit as he usually did.
His eyes narrowed as he looked up and saw her standing proudly in front of the window, the dark brown curtains a perfect foil for her silver-blonde hair.
‘Hi,’ she greeted huskily, walking across the room to hand him the prepared drink. ‘Mrs Harvey told me your preference,’ she explained at his questioning look.
He took a large swallow of the whisky and water. ‘It’s good,’ he admitted grudgingly.
As she had taken such care with it she was glad about that! ‘Have you had a hard day?’ she asked politely. ‘You look tired.’
He flexed his stiff shoulder muscles. ‘I am tired. But don’t feel you have to do this just because you’re my guest.’ His mouth twisted.
Chelsea frowned. ‘Do what?’
‘Welcome me home with the customary drink,’ he grimaced. ‘And then dutifully ask me about my day. I can assure you I’ve survived for thirty-four years without such solicitations, I can manage without it now!’
She blushed at his derision. ‘I was genuinely interested,’ she snapped. ‘But if you don’t want to talk to me that’s okay! Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes, I hope that’s long enough for you.’
‘Chelsea!’ he impatiently halted her angry exit from the room.
Tears glistened in her eyes as she faced him. ‘Yes?’ she asked defensively.
He sighed, his mouth compressed tightly. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s been a hell of a day but I had no right to take it out on you. And twenty minutes is quite long enough for me to shower and change,’ he added gently.
She relaxed a little as she went into the kitchen, although she was very much aware that they had yet to touch on the sensitive subject of her sleepwalking, and the nightgowns that had been delivered because of it. That could cause even more tension between them.
She had the tureen of soup on the table when Lucas rejoined her, her breath catching in her throat at his casually attractive appearance, the dark brown of his shirt the same chocolate colour of his eyes, fitted tautly across his chest and flat stomach, beige slacks moulded to his muscular thighs and legs.
‘It smells good.’ Lucas seemed determined to be friendly as he sat down opposite her.
‘I’m sure it will be if its as good as lunch,’ she nodded. ‘Er—I’m sorry about that, that I missed you I mean,’ she was making a terrible job of apologising. ‘I went out and then forgot the time.’
The tension had returned to his lean body. ‘Did you go anywhere interesting?’
She knew what he was really asking, and she shrugged dismissively. ‘Just for a walk and a cup of coffee.’ She didn’t mention the fact that she had had a companion.
‘I see.’ He didn’t sound impressed with her explanation.
‘Jace called,’ she told him abruptly as she served the roast beef and accompanying vegetables.
‘When?’ Lucas rasped.
She shrugged. ‘Just after you did, apparently.’
‘You spoke to him?’
‘Yes.’ She frowned at his harshness.
‘Is—everything, all right?’
‘Well he’s had to move out of his apartment temporarily because of the publicity,’ she shrugged. ‘But other than that he said everything was fine.’
‘Damn,’ Lucas muttered. ‘I’m sorry I missed him, I’ve been trying to reach him all day.’
She nodded. ‘He’s been trying to reach you too.’
Lucas’s eyes narrowed. ‘Did he say why?’
‘Just to talk, I think. He said he would call again when things have calmed down a little.’
‘And Camilla, did he mention her?’ Lucas rasped.
Chelsea frowned at his renewed tension. ‘He said she was still helping him.’
‘Good,’ he bit out with satisfaction.
‘Er—Lucas,’ she paused hesitantly as he pinpointed her with icy brown eyes. ‘The—the nightgowns arrived this afternoon.’ She took the safest route to the subject she really wanted to talk about; her nudity last night!
His expression became even more remote. ‘I trust they were the right size.’
She nodded. ‘I’d like the bill so that I can pay you for them.’
‘They’re a gift,’ he refused with arrogance.
‘I’d rather pay for them myself,’ she told him with dignity.
‘And I said it isn’t necessary,’ he dismissed haughtily, continuing with his meal as if that were the end of the subject.
‘Of course it is,’ she snapped, wondering how anyone ever got through to this man. ‘We both know the reason you purchased them, and it isn’t your responsibility that I chose to wander around the apartment stark naked!’ There, she had finally mentioned the embarrassing incident.
Except for a fu
rther tightening of his mouth Lucas showed no emotion on the subject. ‘You didn’t choose to do it, you were emotionally disturbed.’
Chelsea gave him an exasperated glare. ‘I was also naked!’ she said again.
He sighed, obviously impatient at not being able to relax and enjoy his fast cooling meal. ‘I did notice that fact,’ he drawled derisively.
‘And it didn’t bother you?’ she snapped her resentment at this easy dismissal of her.
‘I understood the reason for your sleepwalking—’
‘Did you?’ she interrupted shrilly. ‘Did you really?’ she accused heatedly.
Lucas looked at her with controlled eyes. ‘Of course.’ His patience was one of boredom now.
It was his calmness and boredom that pushed her over the edge of being merely indignant at his dismissal of her nudity into a burning anger. How dare he dismiss her as if she were a child, with the body of one!
‘How could you possibly understand my feelings?’ she stood up in her agitation. ‘How can anyone who hasn’t suffered the same experience understand the numbing shock of having your mother take her own life!’
CHAPTER FOUR
THE stunned silence that followed Chelsea’s outburst gave her enough time to realise exactly what she had said, and who she had said it to.
She had known when she found her mother unconscious that she hadn’t suffered a heart-attack, her expression too peaceful and serene for that, the empty bottle of pills on the bedside table damning evidence of what had really happened. But from the moment Jace arrived on the scene everyone, from the doctor on down, had called it heart-failure. They were protecting her for her father’s sake, at his request, she knew that, and she loved him for it, but living with the lie, having to pretend she didn’t know the truth, was breaking her up inside.
And Lucas looked so dismayed by what she had said in the heat of her anger that she knew he had been protecting her from the truth too.
‘I’m sorry,’ she choked, turning on her heel to run to her bedroom, all the time remembering the nightmare of knowing her mother, her beautiful mother, had cared so little for her life, for the life they had together, that she had chosen to die rather than continue it. She hadn’t even left them a note, had just taken the pills, lain down in the bed, and slowly died.
And she had been alone. If only Chelsea had come home as planned, maybe she could have talked her mother out of whatever depression had claimed her. But their lives had taken such different courses lately, their conversations only surface deep; she still had no idea what had driven her mother to kill herself. The divorce had been quite amiable, and was so long ago that she couldn’t agree with John’s suggestion that it had been that. John had known of her mother’s suicide, of course, had been allowed to see the newspapers Lucas had been protecting her from all day, had read of the intimacy of their private lives.
Admittedly her mother hadn’t dated at all since the divorce, but she had enjoyed her career, had recently become the top realtor in their area. And she had seemed to enjoy life. So the question remained why? Why would a beautiful thirty-nine-year-old woman, surrounded by people who loved and cared for her, contemplate suicide, let alone go through with it? Chelsea didn’t have any of the answers, and that hurt almost as much as knowing she could perhaps have prevented it happening.
‘You knew all the time that your mother’s death was suicide?’
She turned slowly at the gruffly voiced question, Lucas standing in the open doorway to her bedroom. ‘Yes, I knew,’ she admitted dully.
‘Jace doesn’t think that you do.’ He came completely into the room, sitting down on the single bed she had slept in the night before.
She shrugged, swallowing hard. ‘I realise that. I—He didn’t seem to want me to know either, so I went along with the heart-failure story.’
‘And coming here.’
She chewed on her bottom lip, her hands laced tightly together. ‘It was what he wanted.’
‘Yes,’ Lucas nodded. ‘And even though you know the truth I still think he was right to do so.’
‘Perhaps. Although it could have been something we shared together.’
Lucas’s mouth twisted. ‘Jace still thinks of you as his little Princess!’
‘I know that,’ she sighed. ‘But I’m all grown up now, and able to take the truth, no matter what it might be, or how painful it is.’
‘The Princess has left her ivory tower?’ he taunted.
‘I left it a long time ago, if anyone had cared to notice!’ she snapped. ‘But no one did.’
‘It’s called love, Chelsea,’ he rasped. ‘You should feel privileged to be surrounded by such love. Some of us haven’t been so lucky in our parents.’
‘But your mother and father were wonderful to you and Camilla.’ She frowned at the bitterness in his voice.
He shook his head. ‘They built us in their own image and were disappointed with the result,’ he rasped. ‘You were too young seven years ago to see that, but Camilla was frivolous and shallow to enter modelling, and I could never be as good a lawyer as my father! You’ve never been able to do a thing wrong in your parents’ eyes since the day you were born, so don’t blame Jace for trying to protect you still. It’s done out of love!’ Lucas bit out.
She blushed at the rebuke. ‘I never realised… I thought you and Camilla had a happy childhood,’ she admitted. ‘Camilla doesn’t seem to have been affected by the way it really was.’
‘Meaning I have?’ he grated.
‘I didn’t mean that. I—Yes, I did,’ she grimaced, at last knowing the reason for his coldness. It wasn’t an unhappy affair at all but his strict upbringing with intolerant parents had made him the coldly harsh man he was now. ‘You were always very serious, Lucas, but now you’re—’
‘I don’t care to discuss my character deficiencies,’ he cut in harshly. ‘We seem to have got off the subject, and that was your mother’s suicide. How are you handling it?’
Her mouth twisted. ‘By walking around the apartment naked! So much for our agreement that I would dress respectably outside the privacy of my bedroom!’ she said self-derisively.
He gave an arrogant inclination of his head, the overhead lighting picking up several strands of grey among the darkness of his hair. ‘We’ve already solved that problem,’ he dismissed.
‘I don’t think we solved it at all,’ she told him sharply. ‘I want to pay for the nightgowns, and you refuse to let me.’
‘Surely the matter is too trivial to argue about?’ he scorned.
‘Not to me! And I’m sure Jace doesn’t expect you to give me expensive gifts either.’
‘I’m sure Jace doesn’t realise you sleep in the nude!’ came back the impatient reply.
‘Yes, he does,’ she snapped.
Lucas frowned. ‘He approves?’
‘Why shouldn’t he?’ she shrugged. ‘There’s nothing shameful about the human body.’
His mouth tightened, a pulse beating in the rigidity of his jaw. ‘No, there isn’t,’ he acknowledged tautly, the dark brown eyes emotionless.
Chelsea looked at him closely, noticing the white line of tension about his mouth, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. ‘What’s the matter, Lucas,’ she taunted. ‘Did you like what you saw?’
He looked at her with cold disdain. ‘I don’t believe we should be having this conversation!’
‘Why not? Do you think of me as a child too, Lucas?’ her voice had lowered huskily. She had no idea why she was doing this, but it suddenly seemed very important that she elicit some response from Lucas, even if it were only anger.
‘No,’ he rasped. ‘I know you aren’t.’
‘Do you?’ she breathed softly. ‘How?’
His mouth tightened ominously, his eyes icy. ‘What do you want from me, Chelsea?’
‘The truth,’ she sighed heavily. ‘Something no one seems inclined to give me at the moment.’
‘Then I will,’ he ground out. ‘I woke in the nigh
t because I heard a noise, I left my bedroom expecting to find a burglar at least. What I saw was—’ he broke off abruptly, reluctant to go on.
‘Yes?’ she prompted, the tension in the room almost at breaking point.
‘At first the figure seemed almost ghostly,’ he continued grimly. ‘Long silver hair, almost white in the moonlight, a pure white body. And then it took on the distinct shape of a woman,’ he grated. ‘A tall, slender woman with high thrusting breasts, a waist so slender I could have spanned it with my two hands, gently curving thighs and hips, their beauty begging to be touched, and legs so long and shapely they seemed never to end. Even the feet were perfect!’ he finished harshly.
Chelsea was breathing erratically, shaken by his description of her. ‘That was poetic, Lucas,’ she gasped breathlessly.
His gaze raked over her insultingly. ‘Don’t mistake me for some simpering idiot, because I’m very much a man,’ he rasped. ‘And if you ever goad me like this again you could find yourself facing more than you’re prepared to know. Do I make myself clear?’ he bit out precisely.
The mood of intimacy was broken with his harsh rebuke, and Chelsea flushed guiltily. What was she doing! Lucas was a family friend, more of her father’s than her own really, and for a few brief moments she had been goading him, had wanted—something. She wasn’t even sure herself what that something had been, oblivion perhaps. And she knew Lucas could give her that. A few moments ago he had given her an insight into his sensuality that had surprised, as well as excited, her.
‘I’m sorry,’ she told him softly, her eyes pleading for his understanding.
His expression softened a little. ‘Your apology is accepted. Now will you come and finish your dinner?’ he encouraged softly.
She shook her head. ‘I’m not hungry.’
‘Then come and talk to me,’ he suggested softly.
Her eyes widened. ‘You aren’t going out tonight?’
‘I didn’t go out yesterday evening in the end,’ he told her. ‘I cancelled my dinner engagement.’
‘Because of me,’ she sighed.
Trust in Tomorrow Page 6