Tidewater Lover (18 page)

He turned back to his papers muttering, "So do I. Then you wouldn't be here. You'd be in your own apartment where you belong."

"That's what you want, isn't it? For me to move out?" she challenged tightly, a pain squeezing her chest like a constricting band.

Again his cool, glittering blue eyes regarded her with a level look. "I thought I'd made it plain that was what I've wanted all along."

Lacey paled slightly. "I had the impression you'd changed your mind," she retorted.

There was an unfriendly gleam of mockery in his gaze. "Because I had a desire to make love to you?" he replied. "For God's sake, Lacey, you're an attractive woman, intelligent and easy to be with, as well as having a passionate nature. Any man in my situation would want to make love to you, given the opportunity."

"I see," Lacey murmured stiffly.

If she had asked him outright whether or not he felt any serious affection toward her, she couldn't have received a more explicit answer. The passes he had made at her had been strictly that—just passes.

She was available and had been available. She should have been glad that he wasn't the unscrupulous type that would have taken advantage of her vulnerability. But the ache inside was too painful to leave room for gratitude for small favors.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll get back to work." Cole shuffled his papers, bending over them again. She was being dismissed.

"By all means, go ahead," Lacey urged on a spiteful note of sarcasm. "Don't let me disturb you whatever you do," she added.

"You disturb me just by being here," he muttered almost beneath his breath, but he did not let his gaze wander from the papers in his hand.

She had the impression that he hadn't meant her to hear the remark, but there was no consolation in that. She wanted to disturb him—emotionally, not just physically.

Turning on her heel, she walked rigidly to her bedroom and closed the door. Her eyes were hot with tears, but she didn't cry. Instead she walked to the closet and took out her nightclothes.

Lying in bed, she stared at the ceiling. Her door was shut, but the light in the hallway streamed through the narrow slit at the bottom of the door. From the living room came the whisper of papers moving against each other.

Chapter Nine

OUTWARDLY THE pattern of their lives didn't change during the next three days, but subtly it had altered.

Cole's alarm still awakened Lacey in the mornings while he slept through its buzz.

They shared orange juice and coffee together, talking with apparently teasing friendliness. But it was a forced effort to maintain the previous week's atmosphere on both parts.

As before, Cole returned late in the evening, eating elsewhere, and spent the remainder of the time engrossed in paperwork. But there were no more physical encounters, no chance contact, because neither of them was leaving anything to chance.

For Lacey, it was like a rocket countdown. Five nights to live through before her cousin Margo returned, then four, then three. Now it was Thursday and the number was down to two.

The agony of being near him was almost over, but she was afraid of what was to come. She found it almost impossible to believe that in the space of one short week a man could mess up her mind and her life the way Cole had done.

"You stupid, impulsive little fool," she scolded herself angrily as she climbed out of her car. "He never asked you to fall in love with him, so it's your own dumb fault!"

"You're talking to yourself, Lacey. That's a bad sign," Mike teased, walking up behind her. "What are you mumbling about anyway?"

Recovering from her initial surprise, Lacey shook her head. "Nothing in particular—just the world in general."

"Did I lose a few days somewhere—is this Monday and you're on your way into the office?" He glanced ahead of them at the office building housing the construction company where they both worked.

"You haven't lost any days," she assured him, attempting a smile.

"You just couldn't stay away from the place, huh?" Mike laughed.

"Something like that," Lacey agreed.

"All joking aside, what are you doing here? You should be out soaking up the sun while you have the chance." His hazel eyes began inspecting her closely, noting the way she avoided looking directly at him and the fine tension behind her carefree expression.

"I drove over to my apartment this morning to pick up the mail and make sure everything was all right there," Lacey explained, striving to appear offhand so he wouldn't guess it was her own company she particularly wanted to avoid. "Since I was in the neighborhood and it was lunchtime, I decided to stop by and have lunch with Maryann."

"I'm afraid you're out of luck," His mouth twisted ruefully. "Maryann took her lunch break early to visit the dentist. I'd buy you lunch, but I'm just coming back myself." He glanced at his wristwatch. "And I have an architect due in about twenty minutes."

"That's okay." Lacey shrugged, turning back to her car. "I deserve to eat alone. I should have called Maryann from my apartment instead of driving by." She didn't want to prolong the conversation with Mike. "See you Monday if not before, then."

"Don't be late," Mike warned, waving a goodbye.

In no hurry to return to the beach house, Lacey took her time on the way back. As she passed one of the more lavish resort hotels, she studied it absently. Giving in to an impulse, a trait she had moments ago derided, she left the highway and retraced the route to the hotel.

"Go ahead and splurge," she insisted. "You ought to have more out of this vacation, Lacey Andrews, than a broken heart and memories."

Parking her car in the lot, she walked into the hotel lobby, not giving herself a second chance to consider whether she should spend so much money on a simple meal. It was her vacation and she wouldn't have another for a year.

She hesitated near the lounge, trying to decide if her spree would extend to a cocktail before lunch. The thought of sitting alone at a table for two sipping a glass of wine was too depressing, and she started toward the restaurant entrance.

"Lacey!" a male voice declared, its expression somewhere between surprise and inquiry. "My eyes didn't deceive me—it is you!"

Halting, Lacey turned to stare at the handsome fair-haired man striding from the lounge. Her own surprise was mingled with dismay as she recognized Monica's brother, Vic Hamilton.

"Hello, Mr. Hamilton," she greeted him coolly, hoping he would receive the message and make his greeting equally short.

He clicked his tongue in mock reproval. "Vic," he corrected smoothly, and clasped both of her unwilling hands in his. "You look as beautiful in that turquoise sundress you're wearing as you did in the pajamas of almost the same color."

There was no need for him to remind her of the circumstances surrounding their first meeting. Lacey remembered them vividly. She managed to pull one hand free, but he held the other in both of his manicured hands.

"Thank you." She smiled with artificial politeness.

"What are you doing here?" He tipped his head to the side, his smile not hiding the shrewdness in his eyes. "Don't tell me you're meeting Cole?"

"No, I'm not." Lacey had to check herself quickly to keep from snapping out the answer. "I merely stopped by for lunch."

"Alone?" Vic Hamilton lifted an inquiring brow.

"Yes, alone," Lacey answered decisively.

"I can't let you do that." His smile broadened; her answer seemed to please him. "There's nothing worse than lunching alone. Come, we'll have a drink first."

"No, thank you," she refused, trying discreetly to pull her hand free.

"If you're worried about Cole being upset because we lunched together, I wouldn't." There was something secretively amused about his look, faintly smug and knowing. "Besides, why should two people occupy two tables when they can sit together at one? If you like, we'll go dutch and you can pay for your own meal."

What was it going to take to get through to this blond god that she wasn't interested, Lacey wondered impatiently. Probably no one had ever told him no before and actually meant it.

"I…" she began, but the sound of Cole's laughter coming from somewhere to her left cut off her retort.

The rich, throaty chuckle was instantly recognizable. Turning at an angle, she saw his rugged male figure, wearing a summer gray suit. As always, she experienced that little catch in her breath at the sight of him. So tanned, so vital, and so blatantly masculine, Cole seemed to fill the lobby—and Lacey's senses—with his presence.

Someone was on the receiving end of that flashing smile, full of virile charm. Resisting the pull of his magnetic attraction, Lacey forced her gaze to the person standing beside him.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the green-eyed blonde clinging to his arm. It was Monica Hamilton laughing up at Cole. Everything about the woman said this was her property; and Cole was not making any denial, token or otherwise.

"You didn't know Cole was going to be here, did you?" Vic murmured.

Lacey began to tremble violently. She was unconsciously clutching Vic's hands for support, the same ones that moments ago she had been trying to pull away from.

"No." It was a strangled sound. "I didn't know."

"Nor that he would be with my sister Monica?" Vic continued.

Completely oblivious to the ring of satisfaction in his voice, Lacey was aware only of the constricting band that seemed wrapped around her chest. The pain was so intense she thought she would die. Any second she expected her rib cage to cave in from the unbearable pressure.

"No." Again her answer was a strangled cry.

Her hands continued to cling to him as the only solid object around. He freed one of his hands to wrap an arm around her shoulders and turn her toward the entrance to the lounge. She had the fleeting sensation of a pair of deep blue eyes narrowing on her in recognition before she was faced in another direction.

Numbed by the fierce pain, she didn't remember taking the steps that brought her to the dark corner of the lounge. The next thing she was even semiconsciously aware of was Vic gently helping her into a cushioned booth.

Imperiously he snapped his fingers for the cocktail waitress's attention and called an order, but Lacey was beyond hearing. He slid onto the seat beside her. She was trembling all over and he covered her shaking hands on the table with his own. Someone stopped at the booth, then Vic was pressing the rim of a glass against her lips.

"Drink this," he ordered, and tipped the glass.

Automatically Lacey did as she was told, coughing and choking as the liquor burned a path down her throat. Once again she could feel, but she wasn't certain that she was grateful for that. Seeing Cole like that, looking so happy with Monica, left her with the feeling that she had been betrayed and used.

"Cole didn't mention to you that he's been seeing Monica, did he?" Vic observed.

Pain stabbed through her at his suggestion that this wasn't the first time. She gave him a stricken look, then lowered her head, shaking it briefly.

"No, he didn't," she admitted.

"Haven't you wondered where he's been having his evening meals?" Vic chided in a tone that reproved her blindness.

"No, I…" Lacey pressed a trembling hand over her eyes. It had never occurred to her to set the record straight that she and Cole were not living together in the intimate sense of the phrase. "I thought he was stopping at a restaurant somewhere."

"He's spent the last three evenings at our house, dining with Monica," he informed her.

"I see," Lacey murmured.

She saw that she had been a fool to hold out any hope where Cole was concerned. The hand covering hers tightened protectively, squeezing a warning an instant before a tall figure blocked the light. Lacey guessed it was Cole before he spoke, her nerves sharpening to a razor edge.

"What are you doing here, Lacey?" His voice was low and tautly controlled.

Lowering her hand from her face, she looked up at him, her eyes bright with pain. The hard angles and planes of his features were set in expressionless lines, yet she sensed his anger simmering just below the surface.

From somewhere she found the strength to challenge him. He had no right to an explanation for her presence in this hotel.

"What most people do at a place like this," she retorted, her tone brittle. "I'm having a drink before lunch."

"Yes, Lacey took pity on me being alone and agreed to join me," volunteered Vic, and Lacey didn't deny the lie.

The muscles along Cole's jawline tightened noticeably as he flashed an accusing look at Lacey. Monica appeared at his elbow, eyeing Lacey for a brief second before smiling possessively at Cole.

"Darling, they're holding our table," she reminded him huskily.

Distracted, Cole glanced down at her. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then his gaze pinned Lacey again, sharp and metallic blue.

"Would you join us?" he requested stiffly.

"No," she refused, lowering her pain-filled gaze to the liquor glass on the table.