by Renee Roszel
Her cheeks grew warm even in the cooling night “I—I’m...” She swallowed, not sure what she wanted to say, but knowing she had to say something to make things right between them. “It’s just that I’m not all here emotionally—if you know what I mean—and I... When you kissed me like that—well, I wasn’t prepared.”
She stopped, swallowed, waiting for him to react. He did, but only with the clenching of his jaw.
She exhaled a quick breath, needing to get this over. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you kiss.” Her voice had gone peculiarly rough and she cleared her throat. “As a matter of fact, you kiss very well.” She winced. That’s not what she’d planned to say, and she wondered what idiotic part of her brain had insisted on the confession. She jumped when she sensed he was turning in her direction. She didn’t know she’d unconsciously backed away from him until the square wooden rail support was biting into her shoulder.
With her retreat, he shifted so that he could lean against the wooden supports on his side of the steps. When he moved, their legs brushed. Lucy flinched away from the contact.
He watched her silently in the growing darkness for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “I’m sorry I frightened you, Luce.” His voice was low, hardly more than a whisper. “I kissed you the way a man in love would kiss the woman he carried around in his heart. It was my mistake.”
She shrugged dejectedly. “That’s what you were supposed to do.” She smiled, but it was more an ironic expression than one of pleasure. “I’m just too broken up inside right now to even playact with any conviction.” She drew a breath in an effort to get through her apology. “It’s not you or your kisses or your playacting that are at fault. You’ve been wonderful. It’s me. All me. Don’t let my emotional dilemma screw up your ego.”
His eyebrows dipping, he took her left hand, startling , her. “My ego’s just fine, Luce. And you don’t need to apologize for being honest. Let’s forget it.”
He shifted a hip and with his free hand drew something from his jeans pocket. “While I was in Branson this afternoon it occurred to me that you needed one of these.” She felt warm metal being slipped on her ring finger and looked down. Something suspiciously like a diamond twinkled in the moonlight. “Engaged women get rings, I understand,” he said. “We can tell Stadler it was being sized.” He let go of her fingers, and when she looked up at his face, his eyes were on her, his expression unreadable.
She couldn’t speak. Disbelieving, she dropped her gaze again to the sparkler on her left hand. It was big. Beautiful. She feared it might even be real. “Oh, Jack...” Wagging her fingers, the large, square stone caught the light and made it dance inside its many facets. “Oh, dear...” She gaped at him. “You didn’t buy this, did you?”
He shrugged, crossing his arms before him. “Would you have preferred that I stole it?”
She tried to mouth several potential reasons why he shouldn’t have done this, but no words formed. It was clear that she was allergic to diamonds—even fake ones—for her mind had turned to mush. Finally, at a complete loss, she stared down at the ring again—at the wide golden band adorned with the fabulous, glittery gem. “Please—please tell me this is a very good fake.”
“okay.”
When he didn’t go on, her glance shot to his face. Reading wry amusement in his features, she frowned. “Don’t say things to appease me, Jack Gallagher. Is this ring synthetic or not?”
One eyebrow lifted in a vague shrug. “Not.”
She groaned, sagging back. She’d been afraid of that. “What are you going to do with a diamond ring?”
He sat forward, resting one forearm on his knee. “Let’s call it an investment.”
Guilt strangled her so that she could hardly breathe, couldn’t think. She tried to yank off the ring, but found it was too snug to be easily removed. She tugged harder, all too aware of Jack’s history. She knew that his mother had married six times. Jack had told her he would never marry, not unless he felt in his heart that it would be only once—and forever. Jack Gallagher didn’t take things like engagement rings lightly. “Jack, I simply won’t let you do this,” she cried. “Not to mention the fact that you must have spent a fortune on—”
“Well, there you two are!” Elissa called from the back door. “Stadler has been in a snit looking for you both.” Lucy and Jack jerked around to see Elissa standing in the exit, clearly trying to bar the door to keep someone from muscling his way outside.
Just in time, Jack tugged Lucy against him, his arm slipping around her waist and drawing her close. His chin brushed the top of her head. “Hi, Elissa,” he said, a smile in his voice. “I’m afraid we’ve been hiding out.”
“I told everybody you two were—oof!”
Elissa stumbled sideways as Stadler forced his way onto the small porch, all smiles. “I was just telling your elder sister, Lucy-pet, that I was hoping we could get up a bridge game. Then I remembered how you loved to play.”
Though nervous about this latest deceit, Lucy allowed herself to settle against Jack’s chest. She even managed to smile at Elissa and Stadler, who shared the stoop above them, eyeing each other like gun-toting Hatfields and McCoys, bent on murder.
“Lucy doesn’t like to play bridge,” Jack said.
Lucy nodded in agreement, having forgotten how well Jack knew her. “Stadler, you’re the one who loves bridge,” she said. “I only played because you insisted it would be good for me—socially—to learn.”
“And as-you can see,” Jack added, startling Lucy by kissing her temple, “we’re not feeling. all that social right now.” His hand around her waist was so toasty warm, so welcome, she found herself laying her hand atop his, lacing their fingers together. Apparently, the move caused her ring to sparkle in the light of the near full moon, because Stadler’s gaze dropped and his mouth fell open.
“What’s that on your hand?” he demanded.
Lucy didn’t say anything at first, thinking Jack would handle the lie. But when he didn’t speak, she held up her hand so that he and Elissa could see the ring. “What does it look like?” She was amazed at the satisfaction in her voice.
Elissa gasped and raced down the stairs. She grabbed Lucy’s fingertips. “Oh, give me strength!” She laughed. “I hope you have the strength to lift that huge rock, sweetie!” The redhead gave Jack a look. “I love this, man.”
Lucy knew Elissa meant she thought getting the ring was about the greatest thing he could have done to insure that the ruse would work and that Stadler’s ego would be cut off at the knees.
With a kiss first on Jack’s cheek and then on Lucy’s, Elissa turned to make quick work of the steps. Taking Stadler’s arm, she said, “Look, Stadler, can’t you see they want to be alone? I swear, if a gorgeous man like Jack handed me a rock like that, I’d be giving him endless exhausting hours of thank-yous—if you get my drift. Let’s go teach your little fiancée how to play cards. Did I ever tell you I’m a whiz at gin?” She gave Jack a quick wink. “That is, when other people don’t cheat.”
The door slammed at their backs, and Lucy felt laughter gurgle up in her throat. This time, the sound wasn’t a nervous twitter or a hysterical giggle, but real, merry laughter. She was surprised at the elation she felt. Maybe she did have a touch of vengeance in her soul after all. For the first time, she’d seen a glimmer of doubt in Stadler’s eyes, possibly even pain, and she was stunned to find that it felt good.
“It’s nice to hear you laugh, Luce,” Jack murmured. “I want you to be happy.”
She twisted around to face him, but didn’t draw completely out of his grasp. With a kiss on his cheek, she smiled. “I’m so crazy about you, Jack. And don’t worry about the ring. I’ll give it right back as soon as Stadler leaves.”
He smiled at her then, more an acknowledgment of her promise than an expression of relief. “I trust you’ll do the right thing.”
She had an overpowering urge to hug him and didn’t fight it. She grasped him tightly around the chest, placing her face a
gainst his throat, relishing his nearness, his unwavering friendship—something she seemed to need more than food or shelter right now.
She was amused that he seemed startled by her impulsive embrace and she laughed again. For the first time since she’d received Stadler’s cruel letter, she actually felt better. As his arms belatedly came around her, she whispered, “You’re a great friend, Jack. I love you.”
While he held her in his embrace, the strong beat of his heart was the only sound she heard, for he said nothing.
March twenty-second was a great day at the Crosby Inn. Helen came home from the hospital with the twins, and they all took up residence in Damien’s room—the same room he’d been brought to unconscious and furious with the world when he’d first stayed there.
Who would have thought then that only nineteen months later he would return to the inn, a world-renowned author and political columnist, and that bashful but strong-willed Helen would be his wife and the mother of his two beautiful baby daughters. Lucy smiled at the thought. Life could certainly create enchanting love stories at times, and Lucy couldn’t imagine two more deserving people.
That night, the belated birthday party was scheduled—now celebrating three birthdays instead of one. Lucy was elated to have her baby nieces share her special day. The only blot on the celebration was Stadler. Why, oh why couldn’t the sandy-haired fly in her personal ointment buzz off?
By eight o’clock all the tourists had gone into town, so it was just the family to celebrate. Naturally, there was also the plump cook, Bella, and the housekeeper, Jule, and her husband, Hirk Boggs, the local butter-and-egg man. Since the Crosby sisters felt they were personally responsible for Jule and Hirk finding each other, the couple had become like extended family.
Lucy blew out the twenty-six candles on the huge sheet cake, then helped Helen and Damien blow out the single candles on each of the babies’ cupcakes. “I hope they made a wish,” Lucy said.
“Sure they did,” Elissa said. “They wished somebody would come up with names for them so we don’t have to call them Baby Doe One and Baby Doe Two.”
She gave her brother-in-law a lawyerlike stare. “Just for the record, isn’t it the law that you have to have the babies’ names on their birth certificates before they can leave the hospital?”
Damien looked up at Elissa, a shock of dark hair falling over his eye patch. He grinned crookedly. “Not us. We’re special.”
“Come on,” Elissa muttered, sounding frustrated. “Which one of these doll-babies is named after me? I’m sure one is, and I must start showering advice on her about how to become the first woman president of the United States.”
“We really haven’t decided,” Helen repeated, a twinkle in her eyes. “Just be patient.”
“Lucy, help me here!” Elissa cried. “One of these darlings must be named after you, too. Aren’t you crazy to know?” When the redhead faced Lucy, she could see that her good humor was warring with her flash-fire temper.
Lucy pointed toward the cake, reminding Elissa of her job. “The names won’t matter. We’ll all have starved to death. Now cut.” She sidestepped away from the brush of Stadler’s arm. She assumed it was accidental, but she didn’t care to feel his touch or inhale his scent, constant reminders of their past.
In her escape, she stumbled into Jack and grabbed at his waist. He put an arm around her and gave her an “are you okay?” look. “I didn’t think you were the type to guzzle the cooking sherry,” he kidded.
She righted herself, but left one arm circling his waist, finding the engagement charade somewhat easier today. “Just tripped over Stadler’s big feet,” she whispered.
Jack glanced sideways to see Stadler very near, then whispered back, “Care to go out on the front porch for some fresh air while they cut the cake?”
She decided it might be a good idea. Stadler’s cologne was invading her senses and giving her a sinking feeling. His distinctive coconut-and-clove aroma always used to give her a thrill. Right now, her emotions were in such chaos she felt queasy.
She nudged Elissa. “Call us when the cake is ready.”
Elissa glanced at her sister, appearing confused. “Us?”
Lucy gave the redhead a “don’t be dense” look. “My fiancé and I are going for a stroll along the veranda.”
Elissa nodded sagely, her features easing. “Ah, good idea.”
“Take your time, you two lovebirds,” Helen chimed in. “Bella made enough cake for the entire state of Missouri. There’ll be plenty left even if you don’t come inside until Christmas.”
The gathering tittered as Elissa went back to slicing the chocolate cake. Lucy cast one last glance at her baby nieces, sound asleep in their lacy white dresses, the black tufts of baby hair tied up with white ribbons. “Precious angels,” she murmured, stopping by the double-size baby carriage to kiss each tiny pink forehead.
Before they could escape, however, Jule came rushing up, the brawny woman beaming, her brown eyes magnified behind thick, dark-framed glasses. “Happy birthday, Miss Lucy.” She thrust out a thin, gift-wrapped package. “You don’t think me and Hirk would forget your day.”
As Lucy accepted the offering, gangly Hirk ambled up, carrying their four-month-old son, who was absolutely darling, with big brown, inquisitive eyes and lots of curly blond hair. Lucy decided Jule and Hirk had some surprisingly handsome genes in their combined pool and had a feeling their baby boy would be a striking young man one day.
As she opened the gift, she noticed that Jack continued to hold her around the waist. His touch held great comfort for her, and she found herself reveling in it. “Oh,” she said when she opened the package. “Knitting needles. Just perfect for baby things.” She looked up. “How kind.”
Jule’s wide smile revealed a missing incisor. “I didn’t think you had that size needle.” Her ruddy face grew ruddier, and she ran a callused hand through her cap of nutmeg hair. “Not since you made little Milhouse here that fine sweater and Hirk accidentally tossed that one knitting needle of yours into your growler.”
“Growler?” asked Jack.
“Garbage disposal,” Hirk supplied, grinning embarrassedly. “I felt like a big old fool, I sure did,” he said. “Made a mess of your disposal, too.”
Lucy smiled and could feel Jack’s chuckle where their bodies met. “But, Hirk,” she said, “you paid for a new disposal. It wasn’t necessary to—”
“We wanted to,” Jule insisted, taking a fussy Milhouse from his daddy. “Well, you two go on and take your walk.” Her smile was so full of good wishes for the couple it made Lucy’s buoyant mood sink. This falsehood of theirs was taking in way too many people.
“We’ll see you later.” Jack tugged her along, and Lucy had a feeling he sensed her quandary and wanted to get her away from the others before her face revealed the truth. “That’s a cute baby,” Jack said, startling Lucy.
She looked at him with surprise. “I didn’t think men noticed such things.”
He glanced at her, one brow arching. “What do you mean? I like kids.” He turned away. “I hope to have some of my own one day.”
She smiled at his handsome profile. “I never thought of you as a father, Jack. You’ve always been so driven to succeed.”
He faced her again, and when he did she sensed several emotions flit across his face, but she couldn’t quite pick them out before a casual smile settled on his features. “Funny, I’ve thought of you as a mother.”
She laughed, shrugging. “Well, I’m certainly not a career woman. And you can’t make much of a living knitting sweaters. I suppose motherhood would come to mind.”
“I suppose.” His chin came up in a half nod, his tone strangely flat.
“Too bad the name Milhouse is taken,” she joked.
“Yeah, that’s a real pity.”
His chuckle was rich and intimate, causing an unexpected ripple of contentment to rush through her. She slipped an arm around his waist again, enjoying the easy camaraderie they sh
ared. They turned a corner of the veranda that swept around the side of the Victorian inn, and she propped a hip on the porch railing, hugging herself.
Jack frowned at the move. “You’re cold.”
She had to admit it, and nodded. Though her sweater was somewhat warm for the parlor with all those bodies and the heat from the fireplace, it wasn’t doing the job out here.
“I’ll get your coat.”
With her teeth threatening to chatter, she wasn’t in the mood to argue. “In the basement apartment. The white wool jacket in my closet.”
He grinned. “Right. Anything else? Yam, maybe?” She was confused until he tugged the little gift box from her fist. “I thought you’d like to knit yourself a blanket.”
She rubbed her hands together for friction warmth, smiling at his joke. “I’m fast, but not that f-fast.”
His expression grew skeptical. “Are you sure you want to stay out here?”
“Completely.” She had no intention of inhaling any more of that coconut-clove smell of Stadler’s for a while. It unsettled her, and she wasn’t sure if it was because she desired him or loathed him. With a playful shove at Jack’s chest, she urged, “Now go. I’ll be all right.”
“I’ll hurry.” With that, he rounded the corner and was out of sight.
Lucy turned to admire the night. The sky was clear and she could see the treetops wagging in the evening breeze, new leaves visible on tree branches only recently winter nude.
The waning moon was high and yellow. As an owl hoo-hooed somewhere in the distance, she inhaled the crisp, nutty scent of the Ozark Mountains. A shiver ran through her and she rubbed her arms, resting back against a wooden porch support.
Footsteps echoed nearby and she looked around with a smile, expecting to see Jack. Before she could speak, her smile faded and her heart lurched. Stadler was strolling toward her, intent sparking in his eyes. “I can’t believe he left you out here in the cold.” With a swift shrug, he removed his tweed sport coat and placed it around her shoulders, tugging the lapels together beneath her chin. As he did so, his knuckles brushed her throat. “Better?” he asked, his smile dazzling.