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breasts.
“Father, we’re in public and if you make a scene you will look ridiculous. Smile and
pretend to be polite.”
Raymond opened his mouth to speak, glared at his daughter, then stiffly inclined his
head toward Jake. “Mr. Dalton.”
“Mr. Fairchild.” No way would Jake do anything to embarrass Lucy tonight. He smiled politely.
They had a relatively quiet and peaceful dinner, despite the fact Raymond invited Alex Sheldon to sit at their table. On the other side of Lucy, of course. Jake did his best to
ignore the man, who seemed more focused on getting Lucy’s attention.
Fortunately,
Lucy’s attention stayed on Jake.
A fact he didn’t mind one bit. They made small talk and she asked him about his work, he asked about hers, but they never got into any serious discussion since both
Raymond and Alex eavesdropped on every word they spoke.
“So, you’re in construction.” Alex said the word as if Jake sifted through people’s trash for a living.
“Jake helped build this hotel,” Lucy said.
Jake noticed the way her eyes sparkled with pride. He liked that.
“Tell me,” Alex said, lifting yet another glass of wine to his lips. “Which style of Victorian homes so indicative of San Francisco architecture are your favorite? I tend to
prefer the Italianate.”
Before Jake could respond, Lucy stood. “Let’s dance,” she said, holding out her hand.
Despite his wanting to stuff Alex Sheldon’s superior tongue down his own throat, he
nodded. How could he resist an offer of a dance with Lucy? They stepped onto the dance
floor, the orchestra playing soft strains of an old melody that Jake couldn’t quite place.
She glided into his arms, her hip resting against his thigh. His palm splayed over the
bare skin of her back. Silken soft skin, and that smell of summer.
“You really can dance.” Lucy lifted her head and met his gaze, surprise showing in her eyes.
“Thought I could only do the hoe down, did you? I didn’t get to show you my best stuff the other night at the bar.”
She laughed, and he found that he loved the sound. Deep and throaty, as if she could
really belt out a good bit of giggling if she chose.
The music barely registering in his mind, he focused on Lucy’s cheek against his jaw, her full skirt billowing around his legs, the perfect feel of her in his arms. He tightened his hold on her and whirled her a few turns around the dance floor.
“I’m sorry about my father and Alex.”
He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I can take care of myself. Besides, isn’t that why I’m here?”
She tilted her head. “I suppose so.”
He’d give a million dollars just to kiss her neck. Probably not a good idea to do that
here.
“Still, it irritates me when they act so condescending and disapproving.” He slid his hand along the soft skin between her shoulder blades, enjoying her quick
intake of breath. “I told you. Don’t worry about me. I can handle whatever they throw my
way.”
She pulled in her lower lip and worried it with her teeth. His gaze was riveted on the
short glimpse of her pink tongue, still tasting their kiss on his lips. What he wouldn’t give
to take a little nibble of that lip himself.
Unfortunately, the music ended. Lucy’s face was flushed, her cheeks a rosy pink.
“You really can dance.”
He smiled. “Had to take lame dancing lessons at school. I have a fairly good memory.” He’d hated those classes when he was an early teen. Now he was grateful he’d
had them.
They stood in the middle of the dance floor, neither of them moving. If he were a betting man, he’d lay a wager that Lucy Fairchild wanted another kiss.
Right here, in the middle of the dance floor, in front of all these rich socialites.
Wouldn’t that cause a scandal? Jake thought it would be more than worth it to taste
her sweet lips again.
“Please, excuse me for a moment.” Her near breathless whisper told him she’d been
thinking the same thing.
As soon as Lucy took off for the ladies room, Alex and Raymond approached him.
Jake smiled behind his drink. They’d waited for the perfect opening like a couple of
circling sharks scoping out prey. Now that they had him alone, he expected the inquisition. An inquisition he more than welcomed.
The night was about to get even more interesting.
Chapter Four
Lucy stood alone in the makeup area of the ladies room, trying to catch her breath.
She put her hand over her heart, as if the gesture could calm the incessant pounding going
on in there.
Her heart was palpitating, she was flushed and sweaty. If she didn’t know better she
would swear she was having a heart attack.
But it wasn’t a heart attack. She was turned on.
Between Jake’s kiss and the dance they’d just finished, she was a mix of pent up emotion. He made her feel something. But what was it? Pure feminine ecstasy at having
an attractive man showing interest in her, yes, but more than that. Plenty of good looking
men had pursued her, but they’d never captured her interest as much as Jake had.
Why him? They came from completely opposite ends of the social spectrum, and had
nothing in common. And yet she felt a connection to him she’d never felt with another
man.
Maybe it was physical. That short but oh-so-amazing kiss had sure made a physical
impact on her. And dancing in his arms seemed a prelude to something more sensual,
another type of dance, a different kind of rhythm. Visions she couldn’t quite kick out of
her head had haunted her during that dance. Every time he slid his hand over the bare
skin of her back, or lightly flexed his fingers over hers, her mind flew to the various ways
she’d want him to touch her.
None of this was good. They were playing a game, a charade. Their relationship was
nothing more than a showcase to convince her father to back off. Guilt tugged at her
middle, clenching like a fist. She was using Jake, and it wasn’t fair.
But then again, this had been Jake’s idea, and if she gained some freedom from her
father’s incessant pressure to marry, why not?
But what if she wanted more?
Did he want more?
As she stepped back into the ballroom, she scanned the bar for Jake. Her heart leaped
to her throat when she found him surrounded by both her father and Alex. Lifting her
skirts, she made quick work of catching up to them, hoping she could run interference
before the two of them embarrassed Jake.
She arrived just in time to hear them arguing architecture. Obviously Jake knew building and construction, but she feared he was out of his league with an architectural
discussion.
“You have to admit, the vertical concept and false fronts of the Italianates are truly a
work of art,” Alex said.
Raymond nodded smugly. “I agree. But the gingerbread carving strategy of the Eastlake style is really my favorite.”
Jake hadn’t uttered a word since she’d returned. He inclined his head in her direction, a hint of a smirk on his face, but other than that seemed content to let her father
and Alex carry on.
Maybe he felt uncomfortable chiming in.
“Gentlemen,” she said, hoping to steer the conversation away from grilling Jake,
“I’m sure you’ll all agree the fundraiser tonight has been wildly successful.” They all looked at her, nodded
politely, then resumed their discussion as if she wasn’t even there.
“The structure is astounding,” Alex said. “Dalton, do you have any idea what type of
wood was used to construct the early Victorians?” Lucy rolled her eyes. What was this, a pop quiz?
“Some, I assume, were built with a prefabricated framework,” Jake said.
“However—”
“Really, gentlemen, I think what Jake’s trying to say is—” Her father waved his hand, silencing her interruption. “I believe you’re mistaken, young man. Now, I understand someone like you could not possibly be aware of the
history and architecture of our fine city.”
Lucy was desperate to get Jake out of the line of fire. She stepped over to his side and tugged at his coat. “Would you like to dance?” she offered, giving him a visual signal
that hopefully he’d see as rescue.
“Actually, what I was saying is entirely accurate.” Jake stayed focused on her father,
ignoring her completely.
“What do you mean?” Raymond asked.
Oh dear. Now he’d stepped in it. “I’m sure Jake was just making polite conversation.
Really, Father, this inquisition is intolerable. Jake, let’s go.” As if he hadn’t heard her, Jake continued. “Some of these homes were built from prefabricated framework or plans that could be sent for in the mail, and others were
planned and designed by architects. But most were made from redwood, which was
available in abundance near the coast.”
“True,” Raymond stuttered. “But as far as the differing styles—” Jake went on as if her father hadn’t spoken. “While I can agree on you and Sheldon
favoring the Italianate and Eastlake styles of Victorians, my favorite is the Queen Anne.”
Lucy’s jaw dropped.
“The Queen Anne’s most distinguished feature is its steep gabled roof, a rounded turret corner tower, and a front porch usually inside the main structural frame.
Some
homes typically include a piece of each of the three mentioned styles, in which case they
are referred to as San Francisco style. I tend to prefer the blended architecture because it
showcases the finest aspects of all three.”
Lucy was stunned. She’d finally stopped trying to figure out a way to extricate Jake,
only to realize he was holding his own fabulously. The man knew architecture.
Her father and Alex tried a new tact. Politics. Followed by religion. And as they went on, attacking Jake’s intelligence with difficult questions on global warfare, economics, finance, and the stock market, Jake answered every single one of them
correctly.
They barraged him with questions, hoping to trip him up, to make him feel stupid.
And he’d countered every single one of them with more knowledge about the subjects
than she could ever hope to amass. In fact, he’d even put a few questions to them that
neither her father nor Alex could answer.
With a sigh of relief, she relaxed. She’d underestimated Jake Dalton.
It didn’t take long for Alex and her father to figure out they weren’t going to be able
to embarrass Jake, and they finally gave up in disgust, moving off to mingle with the
politicians in attendance.
Lucy turned to Jake, about to tell him how impressed she was with his knowledge.
But she was shocked at the fierce glare on his face. His jaw was clenched and his eyes
narrowed. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he was angry. Very angry.
At her. Without a word, he turned and headed to the door.
Lucy hurried after him, catching up to him near the front door of the hotel.
“Jake, wait!” She grasped his sleeve and fought to catch her breath.
He stopped, turned to her.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going home, Lucy.”
“Why?”
He didn’t say anything for a minute. Then, “Why did you bother to bring me here tonight?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Did you think I was stupid?”
“No, no of course not.” Frantically she tried to recall anything she’d said that he could have misinterpreted.
“If you thought I was so moronic that I couldn’t enter into a simple discussion with
your father and that idiot he parades around as your fiancé, then you shouldn’t have asked
me here.”
Now she understood, guilt stabbing at her. “I didn’t know how much you knew about
the subject. Honestly, I was trying to spare you some embarrassment.”
“I expected your father to treat me like I was stupid. I didn’t expect you to feel the same way. I’m finished.” He turned on his heel and walked through the doors.
Stunned, Lucy could only stare after Jake’s retreating form, misery forming a knot in
her stomach. What had she done?
He wasn’t stupid. She was. She fled to the ladies room and flopped onto a chair, fighting back tears.
Jake had offered to help her out, and she had insulted him. Underestimated his intelligence in a huge way. He was right. She had thought he wouldn’t be able to hold his
own in a conversation with Alex and her father, and he’d proved her, and them, wrong.
He had a sharp wit and intelligence she hadn’t expected.
And why hadn’t she expected it? Because she had prejudged him based on his occupation. He was a construction worker, therefore he couldn’t be as smart as lawyers,
right? Blue jeans couldn’t possibly hold their own against designer suits.
She bent over and laid her head in the palm of her hands.
For someone who’d always prided herself on not being one of the snooty upper class,
she had sure shown her true colors tonight. She’d made judgments about Jake based on
his social class, and not on him as a person. In doing so, she’d proved herself the biggest
snob of all.
Jake threw the charcoal on the grill and ignited the flame, then picked up the slimy
tennis ball his Golden Retriever, Rascal, had dumped on his foot.
“Don’t you ever get tired?” he asked the dog, who sat at his feet, butt wiggling and
tail flapping furiously back and forth. “Guess not.” He threw the ball across the yard as far as he could. Rascal took off in a determined
gallop, growling and shaking his head when he pounced on his quarry.
Jake laughed at the dog’s antics and headed inside for a beer. He walked past the pile
of paperwork leering at him from the dining room table and chose to ignore it for the time
being. It was Saturday, he was hungry, had been working on the house and yard all day,
and he wanted a break. Paperwork could wait for later.
He’d thrown himself into home improvement projects since dawn, after spending a
restless night tossing and turning. A vision of curly hair and eyes the color of pale jade
haunted his dreams.
How could he have been so wrong about her? She’d seemed so unlike most of the upper class women he’d met before. Nonjudgmental based on what he did for a living.
He thought she’d enjoyed his company on their date the other night. Then it turned out
she was so deathly afraid he’d embarrass her in front of her father that she tried to steer
him away from the conversation, certain he was too stupid to know the answers to the
questions her father and Alex had asked him.
It was better to end things with her, anyway. Before he did something really moronic, like get involved. Like thinking she might care, that someone like her could
actually fall for someone like him.
Lucy Fairchild was no better than his father. Passing judgment on him, c
ondemning
him as a failure for no good reason. He’d endured enough of that to last a lifetime.
Taking out his aggression by viciously tenderizing the steak with a wooden mallet, his annoyance ticked one notch higher at the sound of the doorbell.
Five o’clock on a Saturday. You’d think salespeople would give a working guy a break and stay away on the weekends. He wiped his hands and stomped to the door,
ready to skin alive the first person who tried to sell him something.
“What?” he said in a curt tone as he swung open the door.
Lucy blinked, taken aback by Jake’s surly greeting. It was hard enough to be standing at his door, and with a welcome like that she felt like tucking her tail between