Читать книгу Married By Mistake! - Renee Roszel - Страница 8

CHAPTER ONE

“LUCY, darling, what—Oh, Lord! Twins!”

Lucy frowned and stretched, then winced as pain stabbed through her hip. What an odd dream. Jack was in it, and he sounded so—so troubled. It wasn’t like him to be troubled. He was an easygoing guy.

She felt another twinge in her hip, and her eyelids fluttered as she fought coming awake. She was so tired. Every fiber in her being cried out to be left alone. But something nagged at her brain, making her battle the urge to fall back to sleep.

As her eyes fully opened, she grimaced in confusion. Why was her head lolling on the seat cushion of an unfamiliar velvet sofa? And why were her legs cramped and twisted awkwardly on the cold, wood floor of—

She jerked up, shocked to discover that she’d dozed off. She couldn’t believe she had actually fallen asleep in such a scary situation. Swiping at her eyes, she cleared away the blur of exhaustion. The flicker of two dwindling candles on a dust-coated end table was her only light, but enough to make it clear that her little sister was no longer sleeping on the sofa. Lucy had been comforting her, holding her hand. But now, she was gone! Lucy jumped to her feet, her heart going to her throat. “Helen?”

In the dimness she could see the newborn baby girls, still on the velvet cushion—such a small, precious bundle—swaddled in her raincoat. Thank heaven for that. Pulling her sweater tighter around her, she began to panic. It was freezing in the old D’Amour mansion, and her sister had just given birth, prematurely, to twins. She was weak and cold, so where could she have gone? “Helen!” When her only answer was silence, fright clutched her by the throat. “Helen!” she cried in desperation. “Please—where are you?”

The sound of someone running filled her ears, and she spun toward the den’s entry in time to see a tall, dark figure appear at the door, just beyond the reaches of the candles’ illumination. With the intruder’s appearance, her heart stopped with dread. What was happening? She was so exhausted, so emotionally depleted, her eyes had to be playing tricks on her. Or was she hallucinating? Maybe, if she were very, very lucky, she was still asleep. Yes! Yes, that had to be it! She was asleep, and this massive, threatening figure was not there and Helen was dozing peacefully on the couch beside her babies.

Balling her fists, Lucy squeezed her eyes tight, pleading, “Please—please let me wake up from this nightmare !”

Footfalls that sounded all too real advanced across the gritty floorboards. Terror and helplessness surged through her. All she could think of to do was to fling herself across the babies in an effort to protect them.

As she was about to lunge toward the couch, she detected the most incongruous sound. A wry chuckle. At that same instant, gentle hands gripped her upper arms. “Lucy, Lucy...” Her name was spoken with soft urgency, and she felt herself being shaken slightly. “I know I’m not the man of your dreams, but a nightmare? Give me a break.”

That voice! She knew that voice! But it couldn’t be him. Couldn’t be Jack. He was spending the month in Bermuda. His last letter had been mailed from there.

She dropped her fists to her sides and opened her eyes. The first sight she saw was a cinnamon brown gaze, shimmering with melancholy humor. “Jack?” Though the candles were flickering low, their light feeble, she could never mistake those eyes. “Jack!” She grabbed at his shirtfront. “Oh, thank heavens you’re here. Helen’s missing. You have to help me find—”

“Calm down.” He pulled her into his arms. “I’ve already carried Helen to the car and notified Skaggs Hospital that we’re coming.”

So relieved she couldn’t find words, she hugged him with all her strength. “What—what are you doing in Branson?”

“Oh, the usual.” He held her close, his breath warm against her hair. “You know. Slaying dragons. Rescuing damsels in distress.”

She relished the harbor of his embrace and the comforting sound of his voice more than she could have imagined. Unfortunately, before she was ready to relinquish him, he stepped away. With a nod, he indicated the couch where Lucy’s infant nieces were lying, wide-eyed, in their makeshift bedding. “What do you say we rescue these little damsels?”

She didn’t know how Jack managed it, but she actually felt good enough to smile.

She shivered. The mild March day had turned mean and cold around midnight. The worst possible timing, considering everything.

He must have seen her tremor, for he shrugged off his suit coat and draped it about her shoulders. His body warmth hovered in the fabric along with his pleasant, familiar scent. Gratefully, she slid her arms into the sleeves, hugging herself. The expensive garment swallowed her all the way past her fingertips, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t remember when she’d needed warmth so badly.

When she looked at him again, he had lifted the babies in his arms and turned to go. She scurried after him toward the front entrance. For some reason, she recalled her odd, coincidental dream about Jack and couldn’t help but ask, “Did you call me darling in there?”

She thought she saw a slight hesitation in his step, then a sharp glance her way, but couldn’t be sure, even under the full moon. He began to lope down the steps, his chuckle rumbling through the night. “Sure,” he said. “I call all you Crosby girls darling. It keeps me from having to remember your names.”

She flushed, feeling ridiculous, and followed him down. “Sorry. I guess I was a little hysterical.”

“Forget it.” He settled the twins into Helen’s open arms, then helped Lucy into the back seat of his luxury rental car. She was startled when he leaned inside. His expression serious, he reached out, smoothing a strand of her blond hair behind her ear. “By the way, happy birthday, Luce.”

He’d ducked out and was in the driver’s seat before she could react. As he started the engine, she smiled shyly, focusing on her knees. She should have realized Jack wouldn’t forget.

One of the babies whimpered, and Lucy’s gaze shot to her little sister. “Helen? Is everything okay?”

The new mother glanced over her shoulder and smiled. Though she looked tired, her expression was happy. “In such good hands as yours and Jack’s, how could anything be wrong?”

Suddenly, Lucy found herself battling down an urge to burst into tears. It wasn’t until this moment—when the crisis was over—that she realized how out-of-her-mind stressed she’d been. Thank goodness the births had been normal.

Jack lifted the receiver of his car phone. “I’ll call the Branson police. Elissa went there to report you two missing.” When he hung up, he relayed the message that Elissa would meet them at the hospital.

Lucy sagged into the plush leather, grateful that Jack was here, handling everything.

A dark thought intruded—the other thing—the Stadler thing—and she bit her lip hard, preferring pain to remembering. This was no time to think nasty, bitter thoughts about heartbreak and betrayal. This was a time for positive thinking. Her glance shifted to Jack’s wide shoulders, then slid forward to scan his long, tanned fingers, curled around the steering wheel. Yes, Jack was a positive subject. She would think about Jack.

Jack had been their stepbrother fifteen years ago. Though he’d only lived in her father’s home for three years, and his mother, Rita Gallagher, had never allowed her dad to adopt him, the Crosby girls had refused to divorce Jack, even when his mother ran off with another man. Though he wasn’t truly a relative, he was very dear to them.

As he chewed up the ten miles to the hospital, Lucy found herself wondering how it was that he seemed to sense when the Crosby sisters needed him.

She marveled that he always seemed to be there.

Lucy accepted the paper cup of vending-machine coffee that Jack handed her. The Skaggs maternity wing was located in the newest hospital addition. Its waiting room was typical of waiting rooms everywhere, unadorned, antiseptic. The alcove was painted in restful hues of turquoise and mauve, with footstep-muffling carpet that seemed unnecessary in the predawn silence.

The furniture consisted of blond, wooden chairs butted armrest to armrest against the walls, the thinly padded seats of dark turquoise only comfortable enough for the most weary human being. But Lucy had no intention of going anywhere. She was that tired and that emotionally drained.

Yet she was also grateful. The doctor had reported that Helen and the babies were going to be fine.

“Where’s Elissa?” Jack sat down in the chair on her left.

“Oh, you know Elissa. She’s pacing somewhere.”

“That’s our Elissa. Little mother hen.” He placed a casual arm behind her. “How are you doing?”

She knew he was referring to Stadler, but she didn’t want to talk about that. The pain of his rejection was too raw, too new. Taking a stalling sip of the burning drink he’d brought her, she nodded. “I’m great. Now that I know Helen and the babies are no worse for the wear.”

“You did a good job.” He grinned down at her. The same, wonderful grin she’d found so comforting when she’d been a timid little girl, afraid of storms, creaking boards and barking dogs. Almost everything, really. Then big, strong Jack had come into their lives, apparently fearing nothing. Seven years her senior, he’d seemed quite grown-up when she’d been eight and he’d been fifteen. “You were smart to put that candle in the window, Luce.”

She couldn’t help but return his smile, though her effort was weak. His scent wafted around her, familiar and welcome. “Thanks. I had no idea you’d be the answer to my prayer.”

An enigmatic, almost pained, expression fleeted across his features. Lucy couldn’t imagine why, but whatever it meant, it was quickly gone. Probably fatigue. They were all reeling with exhaustion.

He cleared his throat. “So, you and your nieces share a birthday.”

She hadn’t thought of that. “I guess we do.” Her laughter bubbled, but lacked much humor. A yawn threatened and she covered her mouth with a hand. Peering up at the man beside her, she shook her head. “Sorry. It’s been a long night.”

His smile, this time, was less visible. “Extremely. I got to the inn around midnight, after driving from the Springfield airport. When Elissa went to find you and Helen to tell you I was there, she discovered you’d never returned from your walk. We drove around looking for two hours before we split up and she went to the police station. That’s when I saw the candle in the mansion window.”

“It was an afterthought. Helen couldn’t be left alone. The second baby took her own sweet time deciding to be born. I had to do something.”

There was a long pause, and Lucy felt a little uncomfortable, unsure why. “Elissa told me about Stadler,” he finally said. “If you want, we can talk about it.”

At the reminder, her muscles tensed and her heart constricted. All she could do was shake her head. She supposed she’d known the subject would have to come up. After a few strained moments, she managed, “I can’t.” Jack’s face was blurry and she blinked her vision clear. “Not yet. But thanks.”

“No problem.” His jaw clenched and unclenched. “I can wait.” He pursed his lips as though working to change the subject, bless him. “Where’s Damien?”

Grateful to have something else to think about, Lucy sighed. “He’s in the Denver airport, snowed in. His book tour is just about over. Two more cities.” She took another sip of coffee, then smiled with recollection. “When I talked to him a half hour ago, he pretty much said the tour was over as far as he was concerned. To quote him, he said, ‘I don’t care if my book is number one on the New York Times bestseller’s list and my publisher drops dead from apoplexy. I’m damned sure going to be with Helen and my baby girls as soon as this snow lets up!’” She was happy for her little sister and the staunch supporter she had in her husband. “Damien’s a wonderful guy.”

She noticed that Jack was looking at her in his direct, serious way. His vivid gaze was contemplative. She took a quiet minute to stare back, filling her eyes and her heart with him. It was awfully good to have him there.

His thick brown hair tapered tidily to his starched white collar. His silk tie was loosened at the neck, making him look less like a successful restaurateur and more like the teenage rebel she’d first known.

He’d rolled up his shirtsleeves, exposing sturdy forearms. Strong, protective arms that had lifted her out of a tree when she’d gotten herself stuck. Arms that had held her down so that the doctor could stitch up a gash in her thigh after she’d fallen off her bike. She bit her lip at the memory of how she’d shouted at him, telling him she hated him and would despise him forever. Of course she hadn’t meant a word of it. He’d laughed at her, telling her she was crazy for him and she knew it.

She half smiled at the memory. She’d had a terrific crush on him back then. She supposed she hadn’t hidden it well. Running a restless hand through her eternally tousled hair, she had an urge to snuggle in his arms the way she had when she’d been a frightened child. She needed some good, old-fashioned comforting.

“The babies weren’t due until April, right?”

His question pulled her from her musing, and she flushed, wondering if he would be embarrassed to know she’d been thinking about his arms, of all things. She nodded. “April second. Two more weeks.” Her heart twisted and she had to blink back guilty tears. “Oh, Jack—the whole thing was my fault.”

He chuckled, showing a flash of teeth. “You got Helen pregnant?”

She did a double take, then couldn’t help but laugh at his joke. “Jack, your restaurants keep you too busy. You need to take a course in human sexuality.” She shook her head in mock incredulity, but felt less depressed because of his teasing. Still, as her thoughts returned to the events of the night, her buoyant mood faded. “Really, if I hadn’t been so—so upset, Helen wouldn’t have suggested we take a walk and we wouldn’t have been in the middle of nowhere when she went into labor.”

“Sometimes twins come early, I understand. Don’t blame yourself.”

She glanced at him again, and this time when her lips twitched upward, there was wistful gratitude there. “Did you take a course?”

A dark eyebrow rose. “You just told me I needed to.”

“Not that course.” She slipped into the crook of his arm, yawning again. “Another course—where you learned all the right things to say.”

His pleasant chuckle reverberated through her. Very vaguely, she sensed her coffee cup being lifted from her fingers as overwhelming exhaustion and Jack’s snug closeness ushered her into the land of Nod.

Lucy, Jack and Elissa visited Helen that afternoon after everybody had had a little rest. Just as visiting hours were ending, Damien Lord dashed in, rumpled, unshaven, the image of a man possessed. Lucy smiled at him as he rushed by. He was such a handsome man, eye patch, scars and all.

“Darling.” He took Helen in his arms. “You look wonderful.”

Helen kissed Damien long and lovingly, her arms tight about his shoulders. When the kiss ended and Damien drew away enough to look at her, she held his face between her hands. “You look tired, honey.”

He grinned, relief etched on his face, then kissed the tip of her nose. “I just became a father. It takes a lot out of you.”

“No kidding.” Helen slipped her arms around his neck again. “Well, since you’re in such a delicate condition, maybe you’d better lie down beside me and rest.”

Jack cleared his throat and stood. “Sounds like our cue to leave, ladies.”

Damien turned, finally acknowledging them with a wave and a striking smile.

Elissa got up from her chair and smoothed the wrinkles from her wool skirt. “Well, I know I should get back. Jule’s become a great right hand for me at the inn, but I think I’ve left her alone long enough for one day.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Helen.” Lucy approached her sister and squeezed her fingers. Bending forward, she kissed her brother-in-law’s whisker-roughened jaw. “You get some rest, too—Daddy.”

Helen took hold of her sister’s hand and turned toward Jack and Elissa. “You two go on and get the car. I need a second with Lucy.”

Jack slipped an arm around Elissa’s shoulders and led her from the room. “It must be a secret club, and we don’t know the handshake.”

“Well, when we start our own secret club, they’ll be sorry,” Elissa said with a laugh.

After they were gone and the door closed, Helen released Damien and indicated the opposite side of the bed with a pat. “Sit here, honey. I need to talk to my sister for a minute.”

Lucy felt embarrassed and shy. “Look, Helen, you’ve already thanked me for helping you with the babies. But it was my fault we were out there—”

“Hush!” Helen touched Lucy’s mouth with her fingertips. “I suggested the walk. I flew from New York Against Damien’s wishes and the doctor’s orders, so enough about fault. We’re fine, and we’re here to celebrate a whole bunch of birthdays, and...” Helen’s expression grew sly. “And one other important and wonderful event!”

Lucy grew confused. She looked at Damien who appeared equally puzzled, though he smiled. “I don’t know what she’s talking about, either, but...” He took Lucy’s hand and lifted it to his lips, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “How can I repay you for saving Helen and my little girls?”

His expression was so full of emotion, Lucy’s eyes filled with tears. Pulling her lips between her teeth, she swallowed to get control of her voice. “I’m glad...” The words were so weak and shuddering, she stopped, trying again. “I’m glad everything turned out okay.”

“Now don’t make me cry, you two. It hurts,” Helen interrupted, sounding a little quivery herself. “Will you let me say something that’s very important?” She propped herself up on her pillows to have better eye contact with her sister. After getting comfortable, she took both of Lucy’s hands in hers. “Do you realize you’ve fulfilled all the requirements of the myth?”

Lucy was baffled. She looked at Damien in time to see his expression change from soft concern to wariness. “What are you saying, sweetheart?” He touched Helen’s hair, smoothing it along the pillow.

His wife glanced at him, her expression loving. “The D’Amour myth.” She returned her gaze to Lucy, her features animated. “You’re going to marry Jack.”

Lucy had never been so completely blindsided in her life. Not even by Stadler’s appalling letter yesterday, telling her he was breaking their two-year engagement to marry someone else. After she’d waited a year, then nine more lonely months while the Shakespearean troupe extended their tour of Australia again and again. She had been devastated by Stadler’s cruel blow. But this? This was insane!

She frowned, unable to do more than stare at her sister, who was obviously having a psychotic reaction to childbirth. Pulling a hand from Helen’s grip, she felt her sister’s forehead. “This isn’t good.”

“Is she feverish?” Worry edged Damien’s voice.

“I’m afraid not.” Lucy reached for the nurse’s call button. “And talking crazy like she is, she should be burning up.”

“I’m perfectly fine.” Helen grabbed Lucy’s wrist before she could call the nurses’ station. “Don’t you remember the myth?”

Lucy squinted down at her sister. “That—that thing about the birthday and the full moon?”

Helen nodded. “And sleeping in the mansion. And for your information, today is your birthday. Last night there was a full moon, and I know you slept because I saw you.”

Wide-eyed, Lucy looked to Damien for guidance. “What should we do?”

“I don’t know about you—” he grinned at his confused sister-in-law “—but when the time comes, I intend to kiss the bride.”

Lucy’s mind tumbled and skidded. Clearly, whatever psychosis that was affecting Helen had spread to her husband. She pulled from Helen’s grasp and backed away. “If this is a joke, I’m not laughing.”

Helen sat up, then grimaced, lying back down. “It’s not a joke. Tell her, Damien.” Taking the hand that had been stroking her hair, she kissed his palm. “Tell her that Jack Gallagher is her destiny, just like you were mine.”

Damien lifted one shoulder in an offhand shrug, looking terribly charming—such a big man perched carefully on the small bed beside the woman he loved. Two unlikely people who had found each other in an improbable place, their chance meeting changing both their lives drastically. “I like Jack. You two would be a great couple,” he said with a grin.

“But—but Jack’s been like a brother to us,” Lucy cried. “He—he...” She clamped her jaw. This conversation was ridiculous. “Besides, I—I can’t conceive of marriage right now!” Her heart wanted to scream that concepts like “trust” and “commitment” were sour, bitter lies as far as she was concerned. Stadler’s treachery had done great damage to her heart, damage not quickly mended—if ever.

Even so, Lucy wasn’t the sort of person to get angry and shout or argue. She’d always been the peacemaker of the three sisters. So from long years of practice, she straightened her face. She wasn’t mad at Helen. The sweet, stubborn dear had insisted on flying from New York just to be with Lucy on her birthday.

Clamping her hands together, she eyed them both with as much poise as she could muster. “I think the way you two met was extremely romantic, and it was a beautiful coincidence—considering the myth and all. But don’t you breathe a word of that nonsense again or I’ll—I’ll...”

“What?” Helen asked with a smirk. “Knit me a really ugly sweater?” She laughed, then winced, but quickly regained her smile. “To be honest, it won’t be necessary for either of us to lift a finger. Your fate is sealed.”

Lucy’s brows knit further and she stared pointedly at Damien. “The subject ends here, right?”

He winked. “I always said Jack was a damn lucky man. I just didn’t know how lucky.”

Lucy’s lips parted in stunned disbelief. “You two are crazy.”

“We are cute, aren’t we?” Helen snuggled against her husband. “And we’re happy for you, Lucy.”

She drew a deep breath and forbade herself to tremble. “Get some sleep, both of you. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“You’re cute when you’re in denial,” Helen said, waving goodbye. “Now go away. Damien has some serious kissing to do.”

His low chuckle mingled with his wife’s laughter, chasing Lucy from the room. As she scurried along the hallway toward the parking lot, she vowed that Jack would never get wind of what had been predicted today. Jack Gallagher felt indebted to their father for helping turn his life around, and because of that deep affection and appreciation, he cared for all three of the Crosby daughters—equally.

She would never allow him to be embarrassed by such a crazy notion!

Since Old Man Winter had decided to revisit Branson, Jack lit a fire in the inn’s parlor. Luckily, March was not one of the busiest tourist months in the bustling Missouri town referred to as the “Las Vegas of the Ozarks,” so there was a vacant room for Jack.

Lucy had taken a long nap and a relaxing bath that afternoon, so she felt more human as she sat on the white muslin sofa, toying with the fringe of one of the colorful throw pillows. Covertly, she watched Jack as he and Elissa played gin on the Oriental rug before the fire.

Elissa slapped his hand as he picked up a card she’d just thrown on the discard pile. “That’s the third card of mine you’ve taken!”

He slipped it into his fan of cards. “Can I help it if you don’t know a good card when you see one?”

“You’d better take care,” Elissa warned him, drawing another card. She frowned at it, scanned Jack with narrowed, suspicious eyes, then slapped it onto the discard pile. He plucked it up, and this time, Elissa dropped her cards and grabbed his hand with both of hers. “Oh, no! Oh, no! There’s a rule that you can’t take more than three discards in a row.”

“Show me in the rule book.” He laughed as she yanked on the playing card.

“Don’t you trust me?” she squealed.

“Not a chance.”

The card was now bent and twisted, but Jack didn’t release it, only chuckled at Elissa’s futile struggles as he placed it with his other cards.

“If you gin, I’ll kill you.”

“Gin,” he said without missing a beat, his grin so delightfully devilish it stole Lucy’s breath.

With a wild groan, Elissa yanked his cards from his fingers and tossed them into the air. “I will not play with a cheater!”

Lucy found herself joining the laugher. She reached out and caught a card as it fluttered down. “Jack, when will you learn that Elissa hates to lose?”

He glanced up at her. The firelight did clever things to his hair, giving him a bronze halo. His teeth seemed excessively white as he grinned her way. “Then you play with me. My health insurance rates will go down.”

“Oh, you...” Elissa leaned over and tweaked his cleft chin. “You’re the only man on earth I can’t beat at gin and I hate that about you. It’s an unforgivable flaw in your character.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “That makes two unforgivable flaws. Lucy says I don’t have a clue where babies come from.”

“Really?” Elissa passed a dubious glance toward Lucy. “Do you suppose that supermodel who stalked him for six months thought that, too?”

“She didn’t stalk me,” Jack cut in, amusement in his voice. “She just followed me around and hid in my grounds from time to time.”

Elissa stood. “Well, excuse me. I’m insane for suggesting she stalked you. After all, stalking is when somebody follows you around and hides in your grounds. My mistake.”

“Okay, okay. But she’s safely back in France now,” he said. “Getting treatment.”

Elissa smiled playfully. “What was it she couldn’t resist about you, Jack dear? Your gin game?”

Lucy’s cheeks grew hot. “I was kidding when I said that, Elissa. I’m sure Jack is well aware of sexual—stuff.”

Elissa laughed. “Lucy, Jack knew stuff even before his mother married Dad and they moved in with us.” She gave him a superior smirk. “I should know because my room was right below his. I saw his girlfriends climbing up the trellis to his room.”

Jack’s expression grew sheepish, captivatingly so. “Hell. You knew?”

“No!” Lucy cried. “I don’t believe it. I never saw any girls. And I ran in and jumped right into Jack’s bed during thunderstorms.”

“During thunderstorms the windows were closed,” Elissa reminded her with a laugh.

The fire popped and hissed, and Jack turned away to took into the flames. Lucy had a feeling he was embarrassed about this discussion of his wild youth.

“On those infrequent nights when his window was closed, it kept out the rain and half the pubescent females in Kansas City.” Elissa crossed her arms before her, eyeing Lucy as though she were a touch feeble-witted. “And you said he didn’t know where babies came from. Just another example that you’re not a good judge of men.”

The remark was like a punch in her heart, and Lucy grimaced.

Suddenly, Elissa was standing before her, holding her face. “Gosh, I’m sorry. That wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—I was trying to be funny.” She let out a disgusted breath and eyed the ceiling. “I’m just so furious at Stadler. That’s all. Can you forgive me?”

Lucy swallowed to ease the lump of emotion that had formed in her throat, then nodded. “Sure—sure...”

“Hey.” Elissa inhaled, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “How about some tea? Since you won’t let us celebrate your birthday until Helen and the twins are home, we might as well have a cup of English Apple to commemorate year number twenty-six. What do you say?”

Lucy nodded. “Sounds good.” She managed to smile and even make direct eye contact with her sister, who looked so upset by her slip of the tongue that Lucy couldn’t be angry with her.

“Want some help?” Jack asked.

“No.” Elissa faced him, thumping her fists on her hips. “Cardsharps must clean up the mess.”

“I presume that’s straight out of ‘Elissa’s Gin Rule Book for Sleazoids Who Beat Her’?”

“Chapter one.” She lifted her chin in haughty affront. “Sleazoid.”

After Elissa. left the room, Lucy discovered that Jack was silently watching her. He bent one knee, curling an arm around it. “Would you like to play with me?”

She felt a strange tremor along her spine and shook it off. Helen’s prediction that afternoon had left its lingering effect, and Jack’s innocent question seemed erotic. Shaking her head, she sat farther back in the fluffy couch, clutching the pillow she’d been toying with to her breasts. “Oh—no, I’m not very good at gin.”

“Neither is Elissa.” His grin was so appealing she found herself smiling back. “You tell her I said that and you’re toast.”

She nodded. “I know.”

They watched each other for another minute before Jack tilted his head in a way that told her he was there to listen if she wanted to talk. It was bizarre how he could communicate so much without a word. No doubt it was because she knew him so well.

She shook her head. “I don’t think you can help me with this, Jack.”

“I could try.”

Uncomfortable under his close scrutiny, she cleared her throat. “Just be my friend. Okay?”

Pursing his lips, he nodded. “Right.”

He began to pick up the cards and she scanned him as he moved. Watched the energy of his actions, his economy of motion. The clothes he wore were simple, but rich. His beige trousers emphasized hard thighs and taut hips. His shirt was an emerald green knit, and as he moved, muscle rippled, making a tantalizing show of shoulders and arms. She lounged her head back, casually gazing, almost feasting. It was surprising how the simple act of gathering a few cast-off playing cards could be such eye candy.

His knuckle scraped against her ankle as he retrieved the last fallen card, and she yelped, not aware that she’d slipped into a daydream.

“Sorry.” He came up beside her and sat on the couch to shuffle the cards. The broken one flipped out of the pack and landed in her lap. She gasped and flinched. “Aren’t we a little jumpy tonight?” As he picked up the playing card, his fingers grazed her inner thigh through her trousers. Her body registered his brief touch with a queer tingling. “You seem nervous, Luce.”

Restive, she tossed aside the pillow she’d been clutching, then thought better of it, squeezing it against her breasts as some sort of blue damask barrier. “No—no, I’m not nervous,” she lied, then wondered why in the world she was. She and Jack were about as close as any man and woman could be who weren’t really brother and sister. She avoided his scrutinizing gaze, focusing on his chin, deeply cleft and tan. Casting around for a safe topic, she asked, “Why are you in town, Jack?”

“I thought Elissa told you. I’m thinking of opening my fifth Gallagher’s Bistro here in Branson.” She met his eyes, not realizing she’d done so until his half-mast glance was sparkling into hers. “I figured what’s good enough for New York City, Chicago, L.A. and London is good enough for the Crosby girls.”

She smiled against her will. Suddenly shy, she scanned her lap to avoid his intense eyes. “Speaking on behalf of all the Crosby girls—I thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” His hard thigh brushed hers as he relaxed back. “Nice fire.”

“Bragging?” She was surprised to find herself ribbing him for a change.

He chuckled. “I’m almost as good at fire building as I am at playing gin.” He nudged her with his elbow. “Sort of a Jack-of-all-trades.”

She groaned. “That pun never gets any better.”

He shrugged and she felt it. He was sitting very close. Which was fine. She had nothing to fear from him. Just because Helen said she and Jack were going to be married didn’t mean Jack had amorous intentions toward her. And that was absolutely for the best, since the last thing on her mind was romance.

“Tired?”

“No.” She shook her head, leaning against his shoulder. It was true. She wasn’t tired, just downhearted, lost, emotionally adrift. Sleep seemed like the best escape, and her body was willing to oblige.

“Elissa’s fixing your birthday tea.”

“I’m awake.”

He shifted to put his arm around her. “Sure you are, Luce.”

She didn’t know how long she napped in Jack’s embrace before the doorbell woke her.

“I’ll get it,” Elissa said.

“Just in time,” Jack murmured against her hair. “You didn’t fall asleep, did you?”

“No...um—no—I’m wide...” She pushed away from him, her denial thick and slurred. When she straightened and looked around, she noticed a silver tea tray sitting on the coffee table.

He laughed softly. “You’re not that wide.”

She peered at him, fuzzy-headed. “What?”

His grin crooked, he started to say something, but Elissa interrupted. “Lucy, a telegram for you.” She shifted toward the parlor entrance as Elissa breezed in, waving the yellow paper. Disquiet marred her lovely features. “Maybe Stadler’s had a change of heart and has decided to crawl back.”

Lucy took the telegram and tore it open. “You don’t have to be so unhappy about the idea.”

Elissa sat down in the leather chair beside the couch, worriedly eyeing her sister. “Well, before this English Apple turns to ice, I guess I’ll go ahead and pour.” She picked up a cup and the pot.

Lucy scanned the message, unable to believe her eyes. She had just read it a second time when a keening cry tore through the quiet and she felt faint. Somewhere, she heard the sound of a teacup breaking and splintering into pieces.

“Lucy!” Powerful male arms came around her, keeping her from slipping to the floor. “You screamed. What’s happened?”