by Janet Dailey
"Having any luck?" she called.
He shook his head and shouted back, "None!"
It wasn't a response that encouraged more conversation and Lacey walked back alone to the beach house. A shower wished away the ocean salt and shampoo cleaned her hair. Dressed in fresh clothes, Lacey rinsed out her swimsuit and hung it over a towel rack in the bathroom to dry.
She wandered onto the balcony, leaning a hip against the rail while she idly toweled her short hair damp-dry. After several minutes, she hung the towel over the rail. The afternoon sun could finish drying her hair, she decided, and haphazardly combed the strands into order with her fingers.
She could see, up the beach some distance away, Cole still engrossed in his fishing, apparently in the same spot as before. She thought back to their extremely brief exchange when she ended her swim.
Of course, Lacey hadn't expected him to suddenly turn into her companion just because they were temporarily staying in the same house. It was just — she sighed inwardly — it would have been nice to sit and chat with him for a while.
But she also remembered his statement that he was there for the peace and quiet. That was why she hadn't forced her company upon him. It had just seemed right and proper that she should respect his wishes.
As she watched him, Lacey saw him pick up his pole and tackle box and start down the long stretch of beach toward the house. She darted into the house to the bathroom, where she quickly ran a comb through her nearly dry hair and added a touch of strawberry gloss to her lips.
Inwardly she was laughing at herself all the while she was doing it, because it was quite laughable to think she might want to impress Cole. She was just stepping onto the balcony again when the doorbell rang.
Her first thought was that it was Monica returning for some nefarious reason, and she glanced toward the beach to see Cole still a considerable distance away. Then, shrugging in resignation that she would have to face the green-eyed lioness alone, she walked unhurriedly into the house and down the stairs to answer the door.
But it was Mike Bowman who was standing outside when she opened the door, and her brown eyes widened in surprise at the sight of him. He gave her a crooked smile.
"It took you long enough to answer the door," he teased good-naturedly. "I was beginning to think either I had the wrong house or you'd gone somewhere."
"Hello, Mike," Lacey murmured, not fully recovered from the shock.
He waited patiently for her to invite him in. When she continued to stare at him, he tilted his head to one side in an inquiring fashion.
"You did invite me over this afternoon, or have you forgotten?" he prompted gently.
An embarrassed pink rouged her cheeks. "I didn't forget," she lied rather than admit it had completely skipped her mind that she had asked him over this afternoon. "I simply wasn't expecting you so soon." Glancing down at her beige checked shorts and the orange midriff top, she tried to pretend it was a concern for her dress that had caused her to look so uncomfortable. "I'm not dressed or anything." She lifted a hand to her shining crown of silky brown hair. "And my hair isn't even all the way dry."
"You look great to me," Mike insisted. "Are you going to invite me in or do you want me to wait in the car until you're ready?" he teased as she continued to block the doorway.
"Do you see how flustered you've made me?" Lacey forced a laugh. She swung the door wider and stepped away to let him in.
Actually, she knew exactly why she was so flustered. In a minute she would have to explain to him about Cole Whitfield's living in the same house with her.
The situation was bizarre enough to her. She wasn't certain how Mike would react to it or exactly how she would go about telling him, considering the biting things she had said about Cole in Mike's company.
As she led the way up the steps, she was still trying to decide whether she should just blurt it out or make a joke out of it or what. One thing was certain — she had to make up her mind pretty soon or Cole would be walking in and the whole thing would be out in the open before she could prepare Mike for the news. The entire situation was becoming more complicated by the minute.
"This is quite a place," Mike declared as they reached the top of the stairs and entered the living room.
"It is beautiful," Lacey agreed absently, and began, "Mike, I —"
"It's custom-built, isn't it?" He surveyed the room, his gaze narrowing as he studied its construction.
"I believe so. I —"
"It shows," he nodded. "I don't see anything that looks at all slipshod. And that fireplace is a masterpiece." He smiled at her. "No wonder you so readily accepted your cousin's request to stay here while she was gone. Oh —" he suddenly remembered the sack he carried "— here're the steaks I promised to bring. I had the butcher cut them special. He promised they'd be so tender you could cut them with a fork. There's also a bottle of wine in here." He handed the sack to Lacey. "You'll probably want to open it so it can warm a bit before we eat."
"Yes, I will." She started toward the kitchen, certain that Mike was following her. "Mike, there's something I have to tell you."
Setting the sack on the counter, she waited for him to ask what. But when she glanced around, he wasn't anywhere in sight.
"Mike?" She took the bottle of wine from the sack and opened it. Looking around again, she saw the door to the balcony standing open and hurried to it.
"This is some view," he commented, turning as he heard her approach.
"It is spectacular." Lacey rushed on before he could interrupt, "There's something I have to explain to you."
"Look!" He pointed out to sea. "See that ship way out there?"
Lacey glimpsed the silhouette of a large ocean-going vessel on the horizon. She saw it strictly by accident as she scanned the beach and the path to the house for Cole. He was nowhere in sight. She felt as if she were sitting on a time bomb with the seconds ticking away.
"This is impressive," Mike nodded, his gaze sliding to the beach. "You practically have this whole area to yourself."
"Not exactly," Lacey qualified. "I —"
"It's fairly isolated," he reminded her. "Does it bother you to be here alone?"
This was her opening. "Not a bit, because I'm not —"
"Lacey!" Cole's voice sliced off the end of her sentence. She froze as Mike jerked his gaze to the interior of the house. "I rummaged around the garage and found Bob's grill." His voice was coming steadily nearer to the balcony door. "I decided that since you fixed breakfast this morning, it's only fair that I cook dinner."
The time bomb had exploded. Lacey saw the shock waves reverberating through Mike as Cole stepped onto the balcony carrying the charcoal grill.
Cole stopped, drawing his head back when he saw Mike. "Bowman," he identified him before his questioning blue eyes swung to Lacey.
"I invited him over for dinner." She didn't add that she had forgotten. It was written in the look she gave Cole.
Cole set the grill down. "I know the way this must look to you, Bowman, but, believe me, it's really quite innocent."
"Are you staying here, Whitfield?" Mike frowned, his voice lifting to a pitch of disbelief.
"I was going to tell you," Lacey inserted, trying desperately not to sound guilty.
"I see." He sounded grimly skeptical.
"I don't think you do," Cole joined in. "You see, there was a mix-up. Lacey's cousin asked her to stay in the house and her husband asked me. When Lacey and I discovered what had happened —" he fortunately didn't explain the circumstances of their discovery "— we couldn't decide which of us would leave. Finally we mutually agreed that we would both stay."
"Do you mean —" Mike's frown deepened "— you two are living in this house together?"
"I was trying to find a way to tell you," Lacey repeated, sensing his rising anger, "so that it wouldn't sound as if we'd come to some illicit arrangement."
"We're sharing the house, not the beds," Cole stated bluntly.
Mike turned
away, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't believe this," he muttered beneath his breath.
He glanced bewilderedly at Lacey. "You're actually living with the same man that just last week I heard you wish would take a flying leap into a dry lake?"
Her darting look at Cole saw his mouth twitch, with amusement, a mocking glitter in his blue eyes. Even though she hadn't made any secret of her previous opinion of Cole, she wished Mike hadn't repeated her words.
"I think it will be better if the two of you talk this thing out on your own, so I'll make myself scarce." Cole nodded briefly to Lacey, a rueful smile of apology touching the firm line of his mouth.
Lacey nodded her agreement to his suggestion, but offered no words of goodbye. She couldn't very well say "I'll see you later" — not without aggravating the situation.
His departure left an uneasy silence in his wake. Below her, Lacey could hear the opening of the garage door, followed by the sound of Cole's car reversing into the driveway. She glanced at Mike's profile, determined not to apologize for this situation that was so completely innocent.
"I can't believe you've actually agreed to this," Mike declared, slapping his palm on the railing in a mixture of anger and confusion.
"Honestly, Mike," Lacey sighed, "you make it sound as though I've suddenly deserted to the enemy camp! It isn't like that at all."
"I know," he admitted grudgingly. "It was just such a shock, seeing Whitfield here with you, then finding out that the two of you are living together."
Lacey bridled at his continued use of that term to describe their arrangement. "You wouldn't consider it living together if we were both living in the same apartment building or staying in the same hotel. This isn't any different."
"It doesn't matter how you put it, Lacey," Mike retorted, "sharing a house is not the same as living in the same building. Good God, you cooked breakfast for the man. You don't do that for someone who is only living under the same roof."
"That's not the way I see it."
"You're a fool," he muttered beneath his breath.
"Look, we can argue about this all night, but I'm not going to change my mind," Lacey flashed, her chin stubbornly thrust forward.
Mike turned from the rail to confront her. "What do you want me to do, Lacey? Do you want me to leave?" he challenged. "It's apparent that you forgot you invited me today, so if you'd rather forget about dinner, I'll go."
"I don't want to forget about dinner," she insisted, because she didn't want to give Mike the impression that she preferred Cole's company for the evening — a conclusion he would surely reach no matter how she tried to deny it. "I want you to stay for dinner — as long as you agree to drop this subject. After all, you don't have any right to criticize my behavior."
Breathing in deeply, he eyed her for several seconds. "All right," he agreed tautly. "No more discussion about this."
Pretending that something didn't exist didn't make it go away. It was like sweeping dirt under the rug: it couldn't be seen, but it was still there. Subsequently it was one of the most miserable afternoons and evenings Lacey had ever spent. The atmosphere had crackled with Mike's disapproval, stringing Lacey's nerves to a fine tension.
They were both relieved when he left early. The time they had spent together had been uncomfortable rather than like the companionable good times they had previously known. Even after he had left, Lacey remained irritated with Mike for making her feel guilty about a situation that was completely innocent.
She walked the beach to try to rid herself of her inner agitation with no success. The rush of the surf did not soothe her nerves. There was no magic in the play of the moonlight on the ocean swells. The tangy salt breeze didn't change the sour taste in her mouth. Finally Lacey returned to the house, but the vision of the night's dinner haunted her. She chose to stare out the window at the empty beach.
Absently she heard the sound of a car driving into the garage, but it was Cole's footsteps on the stairs that finally broke her brooding stance in front of the windows facing the ocean.
She remembered too late that she had intended to be in bed before Cole returned. She glanced at the watch on her wrist. It was nearly eleven. She turned as Cole paused at the top of the stairs to glance around.
"Bowman's left?" he asked for her confirmation.
"A couple, three hours ago," acknowledged Lacey, unaware of the vaguely dejected note that had crept into her voice.
His gaze became fixed on her, the electric blue of his eyes so intent that she had to turn away, afraid of what he might be seeing. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. A nervous reaction to the night's tension, she told herself.
"It didn't, go very well with Bowman, did it?" Cole observed, crossing the room to where Lacey stood.
She blinked at him in surprise, then had to look away again to avoid the disturbing study of his eyes. He was much too observant and astute. As he stood tall beside her, tanned and vital, she also had to admit that he was rather overpoweringly male.
"No, it didn't," she answered truthfully.
"Didn't he believe you?"
"Mike believed that the arrangement was all perfectly innocent all right." Lacey laughed shortly without humor. "He just doesn't approve."
"I suppose you argued and that's why he left so early?"
Lacey shook her head in denial. "We didn't argue."
Maybe it would have been better if they had, but it would have meant an open breach between them. After tonight, she guessed that they would just drift apart — be employer and employee and nothing more. In a way it was sad that it was going to turn out that way.
"I knew you worked for Bowman, but it never occurred, to me that you were going with him," Cole mused.
Her sideways glance observed him gazing out to sea, a thoughtful expression on his bluntly carved features. The suggestion of grimness around his mouth made her want to reach out with her fingers and smooth it away. It reminded her too much of the autocratic Mr. Whitfield who had so often infuriated her over the telephone.
"It's nothing serious between Mike and me," she said, correcting his impression that she was going with Mike. "We've dated a few times, that's all. It isn't likely to develop into any more than that, either."
"Because of tonight?" Again the dark blue eyes were studying her profile, alert to any nuance in her expression.
"No, not really." Which was true. "Mike just naturally shies away from any relationship that starts to become serious. I think you can truly say he's a confirmed bachelor." Lacey smiled.
"And that doesn't bother you?" An eyebrow flicked upward in curiosity.
"No. I enjoy working with Mike and he's good company away from the office — no more than that." A breeze stirred the edge of the drawn curtain, briefly ruffling the hair curling near her ear.
Out of the corner of her eye, Lacey saw Cole stifling a yawn with the back of his hand. She felt a twinge of guilt. He had stayed away to give her and Mike some time alone. He had probably intended to have an early night after a quiet, relaxing day.
"You'd better get some sleep," she suggested. "You have to work tomorrow."
"Are you calling it a night?" he questioned, tiredly rubbing his neck.
"Mmm, I don't think so." A smile flitted across her lips. She wasn't sleepy. "I'm not the least bit tired, and since I'm on my vacation, I can sleep as late as I want in the morning. I think I'll go out on the balcony for a while and enjoy the night air."
Cole didn't move as she stepped past him to the glass-paned balcony door. She strolled to the railing, leaning both hands on it as she gazed at the moon-silvered rippling of the ocean's waves.
It was a warm, languid night spiced with the tang of salt air. A firm tread sounded on the board planks of the balcony and she glanced over her shoulder, momentarily surprised to see Cole join her at the railing. She had thought he was turning in for the night.
"What's the matter, Lacey?" he asked quietly.
"What's the matter?" she repeated
blankly, and faked a laugh. "Nothing is wrong."
"Isn't it?" persisted Cole.
His dark eyes were as midnight blue as the sky, shimmering with mysterious, indistinguishable flecks of starlight. They seemed fathomless to Lacey, and disconcerting as they remained steadfastly focused on her face.
"I don't know what you mean." She stared straight ahead, fixing her attention on the gleaming path of moonlight on the water.
"Don't you?" His fingers caught her chin and turned her head toward his searching gaze.
"When I walked in tonight, I could tell something was bothering you. At first I thought it was because you and Bowman had argued, but you corrected that impression. So it must be something else that's troubling you, and I'd like to know what it is."
"It has nothing to do with you." Lacey tried to twist away from his fingers, but Cole increased the pressure to keep her facing him.
"I think it has something to do with me," he argued quietly. "Indirectly perhaps, but I'm guessing that it's about our arrangement. Am I right?"
Lacey sighed in defeat. She swore he could partially read her mind, and she didn't know whether she liked that or not.
"It's silly," she protested.
"Why don't you tell me about it?" Cole let his hand slide from her chin to rest casually on her shoulder.
"It's just that I'm slowly beginning to realize I'm not quite as liberal and freethinking as I thought I was," Lacey conceded. "I never thought other people's opinions would, bother me as long as I believed that what I was doing was right, I'm finding out that I'm a bit more old-fashioned and traditional than I thought."
"Because of Monica's and Vic's reaction to our sharing the house. And Bowman's disapproval, as well," Cole concluded.
"More or less," she nodded, her dark brown hair catching and reflecting the sheen of the moonlight. "I mean, I know it's perfectly innocent," she insisted forcefully.
"So now you're having second thoughts about staying here," Cole finished.
"Oh, no, I'm not." Lacey laughed, a tremulous sound. "I bet you were hoping that's what I would say, then you could have that big fat moon all to yourself." She flicked a glance toward the silver globe hanging suspended above the ocean.