Authors: Kate Aster
“No, no. I’m really fine. I just bumped my
head.” Despite the dull ache at her temple, Lacey struggled to get up and the
room swayed in response. His firm yet gentle grip held her still. Another
fluttering below her stomach, and she wondered if it was sheer lust or nausea
from a mild concussion.
Or maybe both.
“It would be better if you didn’t move.”
“I’m really fine.” She pressed her palm
against his chest to nudge him aside and felt a hint of the rock-hard pecs
beneath his neatly pressed shirt. Involuntarily, her hand strayed an inch or
two to savor the feel of a tempting ripple. She couldn’t resist; men who looked
like this didn’t grow on trees. If they did, women would never get any work
done.
Feeling his chest rise as he took in a
breath, the alluring warmth of his skin seeped through the smooth cotton to her
hand. She could swear she heard her body sizzle in response, and pulled away as
though she had touched the burner on Maeve’s new industrial gas range. “I’ll
just sit down somewhere and catch my breath.”
“I really don’t recommend…”
Strangely feverish, she shrugged herself
free from his too-titillating grip and began to stand.
“Okay, if you’re going to be stubborn.” With
a slight shake of his head, he lifted her into his arms so easily that her
breath caught. Unconsciously, she let out a whimper. Every muscle in her body
savored the feel of his thick, corded arms enveloping her and she fought the
urge to nestle into his broad chest. She silently prayed he would carry her out
the door and to the nearest secluded area without delay, but he carried her to
a nearby couch instead.
His fingers probed gently around her head
as he searched for swelling. With one careless touch of his hand against the
side of her face, Lacey’s body melted into the sofa cushions like a pool of hot
wax. She briefly fantasized about pulling his face toward her so she could feel
the sweet pressure of his perfectly formed lips.
It really had been too long, she realized.
Immersing herself in her work had definitely made her sex life come screeching
to a halt. But hanging out in funeral parlors was generally not the best way to
meet men…until today.
His hand became entangled in her updo as
he continued to feel for inflammation. He must be a doctor, Lacey decided. He
couldn’t be an E.M.T. or every unattached woman in Annapolis would be dialing
911 more frequently than Papa John’s.
“Do you mind?” he asked.
“Not at all,” Lacey responded breathlessly
before realizing she had no idea what she had just agreed to.
He pulled out her hair clip and let her
brown locks tumble around her. The tiniest hint of arousal sparked in his eyes,
but it disappeared quickly replaced by a stoic countenance.
Damn
.
“Can you tell me your name?” he asked,
slipping her hair clip into his pocket.
Lacey’s heart soared a moment with the
hope he might be interested in her. She hadn’t attracted a man this hot since…well,
never
.
“Lacey Owens.”
“Who is the President of the United
States?”
Crash and burn. He was only concerned
about whether she had a head injury. “No one I voted for,” she muttered, her
ego deflating. “Really, thanks for your concern, but I’m perfectly fine.” She
felt the sting of disappointment as he let her stand up on her own, secretly
hoping he’d throw her back on the couch and ravish her. Except for the fifty or
so people crowded around them, it would have been the perfect opportunity.
An elderly woman approached, extending her
hand. “My dear, that was quite a fall. Are you all right?”
It was Edith Baker, the woman she had been
trying to talk to when she crashed into…
Him!
Lacey suddenly realized that her knight-in-wool-blend-Brooks-Brothers was
the reason for her fall. No wonder he was so interested in whether she was all
right. He probably thought she was planning on suing him.
Figures.
“Are you all right?” the woman repeated. “I
really think you should sit down again.”
“No—I mean—I really am fine.” Brushing
herself off, she struggled to regain some shred of dignity. “You’re Mrs. Baker.
I wanted to extend to you my sympathy. I’m Lacey Owens.”
“Thank you. I’m so glad you’re all right. How
did you know Don?”
That question used to stump Lacey. But
after a year of honing her funeral crashing skills, she could smoothly answer,
“I only knew of him. But he’s done so much incredible research for the
hospital, I felt compelled to pay my respects.”
“So you are a doctor, too?”
“No,” Lacey laughed. “Actually, I’m a real
estate agent. But I read all the hospital newsletters, so became familiar with
his work.” She felt a wave of skepticism coming from the muscle-bound specimen
who stood protectively at Mrs. Baker’s side. “What your husband achieved in his
cancer research has saved so many lives.” She sinuously shifted the focus off
of herself like a pro.
“He was a dedicated man,” Mrs. Baker
agreed, “and a wonderful husband.”
“He obviously loved you a great deal.”
“Owens,” the elderly woman suddenly
repeated thoughtfully. “You sent that lovely flower arrangement with stargazer
lilies, didn’t you?”
“I had read once that your husband said it
was your favorite flower. As a surprise for you, he filled the room with them
for the hospital fundraiser you chaired last spring. I can’t imagine having a
husband who cherished me like that.”
The once-grieving face of the widow
instantly transformed with a smile from the memory. Lacey saw the man standing
next to her soften, and he touched the older woman’s arm tenderly as though he might
be her son.
Odd, though. Lacey hadn’t discovered a son
in her research.
Mrs. Baker patted Lacey on the arm. “You’ll
have that one day, too, my dear. Thank you for reminding me of such a wonderful
memory.”
“It was my pleasure. I’ve taken more of
your time than I intended, though. I’m sorry I caused such a disruption.”
“I’m just glad the color has returned to
your cheeks, my dear.”
Lacey smiled, moving in for the kill. “And
please, if you ever need a volunteer for your charity work at the hospital, I’d
love to help in any way I can.” She adeptly reached into her purse and passed
the woman a business card.
“Thank you. I will. Are you sure you are
all right?”
Lacey was taken aback, so engrossed in her
smooth business transaction that she had nearly forgotten her head-on collision
with the floor. “I’m fine. I think I will slip out now though, rather than
staying for the service. You don’t mind?” Lacey directed the question to the
woman, but could not help glancing at the hulking man next to her. She wondered
if he had to turn sideways to fit through doorways with shoulders like that.
“Of course not. You’re all right to
drive?”
“Absolutely. Thank you for your concern,” Lacey
said, and quickly turned to walk out the door.
A voice behind her sent a tingling up her
spine. “I’ll walk you to your car.” She felt a warm hand touching the lower
part of her back and another gently gripping her elbow.
Her heart fluttered a moment until panic
set in. She
had
detected some skepticism from him as she was talking to
Mrs. Baker. Was he onto her real estate scheme? “You really don’t have to
follow me to my car.”
“I want to make sure you’re all right. I’d
feel better if I could put you in a cab.”
“I’m fine, really. Please don’t make such
a big deal of this. I’m embarrassed enough.”
With a slight grin, he held up his hands. “Okay.
I’ll stop.”
Lacey couldn’t resist glancing down at his
left hand. No ring. And such nice strong hands.
She gave herself a light shake to snap out
of it. Strong hands or not, he was not worth the risk of losing a possible
listing. With her husband now deceased, Edith Baker was the sole owner of a
waterfront home too large for one woman to live in alone. There was a good
chance Mrs. Baker would consider selling her home soon, and every real estate
agent within a fifty-mile radius would be flooding the old woman’s mailbox with
slick brochures, full-color calendars, and handy refrigerator magnets—agents
with bigger advertising budgets than Lacey’s.
But Lacey’s business card was already snug
in Mrs. Baker’s pocket, and the fondly-remembered scent of stargazer lilies was
wafting past her nose. Lacey’s foot was in the door. She had no intention of
messing up now by getting too friendly with this mystery-in-a-suit, no matter how
nicely he filled it out.
“So are you a family member?” she asked
lightly.
“Not by blood. But I love them like my
parents. I’d do anything for them.” He said it with such conviction that he
might as well have said, “I’d kill for them.”
His tone made Lacey’s eyes widen.
Definitely
too defensive.
He must suspect something
. Every instinct told her to
escape him as quickly as possible, except for that primal instinct that wanted
to tear open his shirt with her teeth.
“She seems like such a lovely woman,” she said
instead, trying to shake his half-naked image from her mind.
“She is. And you’re a real estate agent?”
“Mmhm.” Lacey’s hands trembled as she fumbled
through her purse looking for her keys. He was definitely onto her. She could
see the potential listing slipping through her fingers, and her name being
blacklisted from the best funeral home in town.
“I might need to buy property one day.” His
voice was so smooth it could butter toast. “Can I have your card?”
“I, uh, actually think I gave my last one
to Mrs. Baker. I wasn’t really expecting to do business at a funeral.” She let
out a little laugh.
He seemed taken aback.
Lacey babbled, “I can’t believe I slipped
and fell at her husband’s funeral. Talk about making a scene.”
“Those were slick floors for such high
heels.” He looked down at her shoes and pointedly let his gaze linger a little
too long on her legs. “And you were definitely walking too fast.”
Lacey bristled, quickening her pace. “I
wouldn’t have fallen if I hadn’t walked into someone. You, if I remember
correctly.”
When he smiled, she couldn’t help
wondering how his teeth got so white. They looked positively…delicious.
“I’m very sorry if I had something to do
with your fall, then. How can I make it up to you? Dinner?”
“No, thank you. It really wasn’t your
fault.” She averted her eyes to avoid getting sucked into the vortex of his sexual
magnetism. It was a losing battle.
“Well, I’d love to take you to dinner
anyway. It would make me feel better to check up later on that bump on your
head.” He gently brushed his fingers along the side of her head. A jolt of
electricity raced up her spine.
This man was dangerous. Given the choice
between a night with him and a multimillion-dollar real estate listing, Lacey
was strangely tempted by her carnal side.
He continued tracing the side of her
cheek. “But if you have someone in your life who will check on that—” he
paused, “—bump, I’d understand.”
Her breathing quickened. Her knees
weakened. Feeling lightheaded, she steadied herself against her car. “No one
checks on my bumps.”
Ugh. Did I really just say that?
Smiling slightly, his hand stilled against
the side of her face. Gently, he brushed her hair behind her ear, then more
forcefully plunged his fingers into her long locks. First one hand, then his
other. As he toyed with her hair, his head lowered so close to her own that the
feel of his warm breath against her forehead fully awakened her once flat-lined
libido.
Instinctively tilting her head upward, she
locked her gaze on his tempting mouth, the subtle curve of his lips, his clean
shave that still smelled a bit soapy, the perfect cleft in his chin that she
longed to touch. She leaned into him, aching to be sandwiched in between his steel-hard
body and her car.
His mouth only inches from hers, her lips opened
slightly and her eyes began to close—just as she spotted her hair clip in
his hand and heard him click it shut.
She pulled back from him, mortified.
He was grinning. “Your hair clip. Remember?”
“Of course,” she barely whispered, raising
her hand against the makeshift ponytail that now stood out from the back of her
head. She hoped he hadn’t noticed how close she had come to plastering her lips
against his. But from the smug look on his face, he apparently had.
“So. Dinner at eight then?”
Her lips yearned to say “yes.” Yes to
dinner and anything else he might suggest. But a sudden breeze blew in from the
water drawing Lacey’s eyes away from him and out to the Chesapeake Bay. She
rallied her defenses, narrowing her gaze on the waterfront homes in her view
and picturing “For Sale” signs in front of every one of them.