by Renee Roszel
Shaking her head, Lucy slowly stood. Pack. That’s what she had to do. She could always catch a ride to Springfield in Branson on one of the big hotel shuttles. There was no way she could carry off this charade even if Jack was willing to help. She wouldn’t put him through it. It was too much to ask, even of him.
She must leave. Now.
Lucy checked her watch. Ten o’clock. Her cab should be arriving any minute. Snapping shut her suitcase, she headed out of her basement bedroom and hurried up the steps as quickly as her heavy bag would allow. She knew that Elissa would be in her office at this hour working on the inn’s books, and Jack... Well, hopefully he was in his room or taking a nature walk in the woods—anywhere but in her direct escape route. She didn’t want either of them to see her and try to persuade her to go through with their insane plan. At the top of the stairs, she hastened right into the little hallway that led to the staircase vestibule, then to the reception hall.
She could hear the crunch of tires on gravel as she reached the front door. Perfect timing. Peering through the beveled glass, she recognized the vehicle as a cab.
Taking a long, relieved breath, she knew she was about to make a clean getaway. Let Stadler think she ran away. Let him believe she was too hurt to see him. She didn’t dare look into his two-timing, plum-colored eyes, eyes that she feared could still make her melt. She didn’t dare let him see her pain.
Besides, Elissa had too much family pride to admit Lucy had run off. She would deny the truth with all her strength and make up some plausible story. This was the best way. If she stayed, there was no way she could hide her anguish. Stadler was not a stupid man.
Just as she turned the door handle, she heard the slam of a car door, then another. Two slams? Two car doors? For one cabdriver? Alarm constricted her stomach, and she peeked through the glass again, only to gasp out loud.
Stadler!
He and—and his woman were here.
“Luce?” The query came from somewhere in the vicinity of the staircase. She spun around. “What is it?” Jack came down the remainder of the steps and made quick work of the distance between them. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, pointing disjointedly over her shoulder. Words wouldn’t form.
He leaned close, his night-woodsy scent clean and pleasantly familiar as he looked through the frosted and cut glass. “The bastard?”
Though she was unsettled by his word choice, she knew whom he was talking about and nodded.
When he stepped back and looked at her again, he noticed the suitcase beside her and frowned. His glance flicked back to hers as realization struck. His look of disappointment almost made her cry. “Luce, you weren’t.” The words of disbelief came out in a husky whisper.
She swallowed hard several times. “I—I can’t go through with it, Jack.”
The flare of his nostrils was his only comment as he grabbed her bag and sprinted with it to the staircase hall. Throwing open the storage door below the stairs, he shoved it inside.
Lucy started to object, but jumped when she heard heavy footfalls on the front porch. As though it were a pack of rabid wolves bent on gnawing through the door, she leaped away. Even in her stumbling retreat, she couldn’t keep from staring in hypnotized fascination at the crystal knob, twinkling as it turned.
There was a click and a low-pitched creak when the door began to open. It happened in a crazy slow motion, seeming to take forever. But after an eternity of ponderously ticking seconds, there he was.
Stadler Tinsley—the man Lucy had thought she would spend her life with. The drama teacher at the University of Kansas, who got a lucky break, being chosen for the lead in an off-Broadway production of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Naturally, for an aspiring thespian, it had been an opportunity he couldn’t resist, even though he and Lucy were to have been married in only two months.
So he’d asked her to wait for him—a wait that had become two long years while he toured Australia—and apparently romanced and won another woman along the way.
Lucy was unsettled to note that he was still as disarmingly attractive as she remembered. Tall, lithe, he stood there, impeccably dressed, somewhat on the dramatic side. Not a hair on his sandy blond head was out of place. His dazzling plum eyes were bright in contrast to his milky skin. And as usual, his prominent, aristocratic nose was lifted a bit high for him to claim a shred of humility.
Lucy knew the second Stadler recognized the woman he’d so recently and heartlessly dumped. His lips lifted in a jaunty smile, and her heart twisted. How dare he smile like that, without a hint of remorse?
He stepped inside the door and lifted his arms as though he expected her to run to him in a spasm of joy. “Lucy, my pet!” His fine bass voice echoed as though he were speaking to an enraptured audience. “What a pleasure it is to see you again!”
He took a step into the room, then stopped, his cultivated smile faltering. Lucy was confused for a second, until an arm came around her waist, gathering her against a sturdy torso. She could detect Jack’s cologne as well as the light, underlying tang that was his alone, and she breathed deeply, hoping that filling her lungs with his essence would infuse her with at least a little courage.
It was too late to run.
“Our sentiments exactly, Stadler, old buddy.” Jack extended a hand toward the gaping man who had gone still. “Really—a pleasure. Isn’t that right—darling?”
Lucy felt wretched. The fraud had begun.
CHAPTER THREE
A SANDY eyebrow lifted, the only indication of Stadler’s misgiving. Though his smile had wavered temporarily, it was radiant again. “Why, Lucy-pet? What does this mean?” His arms slowly began to lower to his sides, giving the impression of a deflating plastic doll.
A rustling came from outside the door. “Staddie?” Another rustle and a thump-thump. “Staddie? Can you open up a little wider?” After one more dubious glance at the entwined couple, Stadler swung the front door wide to allow a petite woman to struggle in, a big leather suitcase in each hand. “I told the cabbie we could get the cases, Staddie. Save a penny, save a...” She looked up, smiling brightly at the room in general. “Well, whatever. I can never remember those old sayings. Hi, everybody.”
Lucy stared at the young woman who was barely five feet tall. Her dark hair sprouted up and out, away from her head in a punk-pixie style that somehow suited her. By her beaming smile, she clearly didn’t know the minefield she was stepping into. Apparently, Stadler hadn’t thought the poor thing needed any preparation for what could very well be awkward—if not violent. He obviously didn’t make a practice of giving bad news face-to-face. Not a particularly heroic trait, Lucy mused.
“Hi, there.” It was Jack who broke the silence. With gentle fingers at Lucy’s back, he prodded her reluctant body forward as he stretched out a welcoming hand. “I’m Jack Gallagher and this is my fiancée, Lucy Crosby. Nice to have you visit us, Miss...”
The pixie woman with huge hazel eyes let go of one of the bags. Instead of extending her hand, she began to rub her palm on the thigh of her mutilated jeans, seemingly cleansing it before the handshake. Lucy’s glance was drawn to her red T-shirt, taut over pert, unfettered breasts that jiggled as she moved. The shirt read, “I am woman, hear me charge.”
After a thorough polishing of her palm, which now had to be raw if not entirely germless, the pixie extended her hand. “Sareena Green. Pleased to meet you, Jack—Lucy.”
“Fiancée?”
Three heads turned toward Stadler, who had now lifted both eyebrows in conspicuous incredulity. His smile was gone. “Fiancée?” he repeated, this time in a deeper timbre, intimidating enough to make Lucy quake.
If not for Jack’s arm around her, and his body to lean against, she would have sunk to her knees. She swallowed hard, but found that all she could muster in answer was a panicked widening of her eyes.
“Exactly when did this happen?” He slanted his head toward Lucy, one eyebrow cranked upward as though he were saying
, “Not a funny joke!”
“It was sudden,” Jack offered, squeezing her waist reassuringly. By his voice, she could tell he was smiling and she turned to gape at him. His expression was amazingly believable. “I came for a visit and—well, the next thing Lucy knew, she was engaged.” He gazed down at her, his smile tender. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
She nodded numbly. She had to give Jack credit. That little speech was about as close to the truth as this ghastly fiasco was ever going to get.
Startling her, he lowered his mouth to her temple. His lips against her skin were warm and pleasant. His mouth moved to caress her at her hairline as he added, “I don’t regret what I did, Tinsley.” Lifting his lips away, he faced Stadler. “I’ve loved her for a long time. This was all my doing, so you mustn’t blame Lucy.” His jaw clenched, then clenched again as though he were making a guilty admission. “I felt like a jerk—until your letter came.” He grinned. But the expression wasn’t particularly friendly. More cunning. “But then, you know something about jerks, don’t you, old buddy.” It hadn’t been a question.
Stadler’s eyebrows snapped down in a grimace, and he peered sideways at Sareena. The poor thing’s features were pinched in confusion. “Ena, my pet, why don’t we get settled? You look wan.” He turned back to Lucy and managed a real smile. “May we have a key? Perhaps we can chat about this later.”
Lucy felt a rock form in her stomach, so hard and painful she wanted to cry. Later? That one word held a horrid reality—Stadler had no intention of staying only five minutes. As she nodded, moving in a daze behind the reception desk to get him a key, she felt a sudden urge to feed Elissa piece by piece to the neighborhood squirrels. Five minutes, she’d said. She’d practically promised! Why, oh why, am I not safely on my way to Kansas City right now?
With a frail excuse for a smile, she handed Stadler a room key. Her fingers shook so badly the metal latchkey clattered against its plastic holder, sounding like a tambourine solo. When he reached out to take it, he startled her by engulfing her whole hand in his. “What is it, pet? You seem agitated.”
She stilled, feeling caught. She couldn’t lie! Didn’t know how. She had told Jack and Elissa she couldn’t carry this off. What was she going to do? Blurt out the truth! That seemed like the only answer. As the ugly facts scrambled to the tip of her tongue, she cast a helpless gaze toward Jack.
Almost as though he could read her mind, Jack moved forward, instinctively protective. With a casual maneuvering of his hand, he separated Lucy from her ex-fiancé and gave Stadler the key, all the while smiling easily. “You know our Lucy,” he said. “She hates to hurt anyone’s feelings, and she’s upset about having to spring our engagement on you like this.” He enclosed her limp hand in his so that her fingers were exposed. Rubbing them against his jaw in a loving gesture, he continued to smile at Stadler. “I told her that you—of all people—would understand how these things happen. You do understand, don’t you?”
Stadler inhaled, lifting his regal, if slightly inadequate, chin. His narrowed glance shifted to Lucy. However, when he opened his mouth to speak, Sareena touched his sleeve. “What’s going on? Why would you care if they got engaged?”
Stadler shot a look at his fiancée, his expression troubled for an instant before he could adjust his face in a tolerant smile. He tweaked her pointed chin. “Ena-pet, you look tired. Perhaps we should rest before luncheon.” He lifted his scrutinizing gaze to Lucy. “We’ll see you later, then?”
She nodded, apparently the only thing she was capable of doing in Stadler’s self-assured presence. She couldn’t recall opening her mouth once since he’d arrived.
Skimming Sareena with an offhand glance, Stadler indicated the stairs. “Come, Ena-pet.”
He headed for the staircase, but was halted by Jack’s hand on his shoulder. “This is a do-it-yourself place. Luggage won’t get up there by itself. Or did you expect the lady to carry all the bags?”
Though Stadler was six feet tall, he was shorter than Jack by three inches. He gave Jack a fleeting glower, then backtracked to retrieve one of the bags. “I apologize, Ena-pet. I’m afraid I’m tired, too. I’ve forgotten my manners.”
Sareena seemed startled, as though she carried bags quite a bit without help. “Uh—thanks, honeybun. My guitar case is on the porch.”
Looking put out, Stadler went outside and grabbed the instrument, then stalked past Jack without glancing his way.
Once the two newest guests had disappeared upstairs, Lucy planted her hands on the reception desk, half-sprawling across it, weak and sick to her stomach. She dragged her gaze to Jack’s. “I can’t do this.”
He seemed to contemplate her for a moment, his features thoughtful. Finally, he lounged against the opposite side of the desk, placing a hand over hers. “You can, Luce. It’s important.”
She closed her eyes, gaining strength from his touch. Inhaling raggedly, she faced the fact that she had to follow through now that the lie had begun. Besides, Stadler deserved a little ego bruising—the mewling, letter-writing cheat! Slipping her hand from beneath Jack’s, she rubbed her eyes, feeling caught between a rock and a hard place. “Okay...” She nodded, letting out a resigned sigh. “What’s next?”
“We play it by ear. Just follow my lead.” His comment was soft-spoken and solemn, drawing her trusting glance.
The strange glimmer she saw in his slumberous eyes had to be a trick of the lighting.
“The twins look wonderful!” Lucy entered Helen’s hospital room and hurried over to the bed, hugging her younger sister. “What are you going to name them?” Before Helen could speak, Lucy reached across her and squeezed Damien’s hand. “Hi, Daddy. How are you feeling?”
He grinned. “My stitches are killing me and I hate the food, but otherwise I’m good.”
Helen laughed, then winced at the discomfort it caused. “Actually, the food’s very tasty. And to answer your first question, we have no idea about names yet. What do you think of Gladiola and Goldenrod?”
Lucy stiffened, staring, not knowing what to say about the dreadful names. Damien’s rich laugh made her realize Helen was joking. “Oh, thank heaven. I know we all have flowers for our middle names, but—there is a limit!” She sank into a nearby chair. “Really, what are you naming them?”
“We don’t know yet,” Damien said, standing. “I’m afraid we need help. I favor political names like Kennedy and Reagan, and Helen likes movie titles like Sabrina and Twister.”
Elissa breezed in with Jack on her arm. “Okay, what did I miss?”
Joining in the fun, Lucy kidded, “We were discussing names for the girls. I think Twister and Hurricane might be nice. They’re unique without being too outrageous. Right, Jack?”
He grinned at her, flashing straight white teeth. “What would you consider outrageous, Luce? Calling them after microbes with megasyllable names—say, for instance, Plasmodiophora brassicae?”
“Why, Jack,” she teased, “that’s really unique.” Placing a hand to her cheek, she pretended to fall into deep thought. “Now what can we call the other one? Everybody think. What rhymes with—Plasmodio what’s-it?”
“Jack, you made that up,” Elissa said with a laugh.
He looked her way. “No, I didn’t. It’s a cabbage fungus.” When his attention returned to Lucy, his smile was playful and elegant at the same time. “You’d be surprised what you can learn in the restaurant business.”
Lucy’s cheeks heated, and she had no idea why. “I’m impressed.”
“Me, too,” Helen chimed in.
Their shared laughter was a pleasant sound generated by a close family. Lucy relished this time of being together. Such moments came so rarely since Helen had married and moved away. And Jack was gone for years at a time. Lucy cherished the experience.
“Well, you all keep right on thinking,” Helen said. “There’s a slight chance something better might come along.”
“I’m hurt,” Jack kidded.
“You shou
ld be, wanting to name my beautiful girls after a cabbage fungus.” Helen motioned him over to the bed. “But I forgive you. Now where’s my kiss?”
He cast a roguish glance toward her hovering husband. “Does he bite?”
Damien took a seat in a chair beside his wife’s bed, enfolding her hand in his. “How can I refuse a kiss to the first man my wife ever slept with?”
Jack’s expression grew charmingly shocked. Helen reached out to him, urging him forward. “Damien heard how you let Lucy and me climb into your bed during thunderstorms. Remember?”
“Fondly.” His smile reappearing, Jack gave Helen a kiss on her forehead. “You’re a beautiful mother. But I always knew you would be.”
“Damned beautiful.” Damien shifted in his chair to kiss Helen’s cheek. He whispered something in her ear, and Helen nodded as though urging him to say something. When he sat back, he scanned his blond sister-in-law with a grin. “So, Lucy, how’s the engagement going?”
Lucy felt herself blush and grew tongue-tied.
“Great so far,” Elissa said. “Lunch was interesting, Lucy even managed to talk a little. And she gazed into Jack’s eyes once without turning a neon pink. I’m sure she’ll get better with a little practice.” The redhead took Jack’s hand. “But our boy here is the natural actor. I’d swear he’s really in love with Lucy.” She nuzzled his knuckles against her jaw. “I always knew your bad-boy past would come in handy for us Crosby girls.”
He smiled, and Lucy noticed a vague ruddy tinge to his cheeks. Jack was embarrassed. Her heart went out to him. “Jack’s a good friend,” she said. “Don’t tease him, Elissa. You’re such a troublemaker.”
The redhead spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “Hey, if you’ll remember, this engagement story was Jack’s idea.”