"Hello, Caroline," he greeted, ignoring the heat in the brunette's scrutiny. "How are you?"
Her red-painted lips turned down in a pout he might have once found sexy but that now annoyed him. "You can ask me that after you've become a married man?" She ran a crimson fingernail down the lapel of his tuxedo jacket. "I will be the first to admit, I didn't believe you would actually go through with the marriage. But when you settle your mind on something, you always get it, don't you, Lucas?" she murmured, glancing up at him through the thick fringe of her lashes. "I remember how it felt to be on the receiving end of that … determination."
Clearly she was into revising history. From what he recalled-and honestly, it wasn't much-she hadn't been difficult to pursue or catch. Gently but firmly removing her hand from him, he drawled, "And I don't remember you being this tenacious-or hard of hearing. I'm married."
Anger brightened her gaze for a moment before she covered the quicksilver emotion with another catlike smile. It was a wonder feathers weren't poking out between her perfect teeth.
"Happily married, though?" she purred, setting off a warning tingle. One of the reasons he'd ended their short association was due to her manipulations. She didn't say or do anything without purpose. "I heard the honeymoon might be over before it even started. More so since your wife was seen with Tyler Reinhold only a week ago." She named the restaurant where Sydney had met her mother at for lunch. "A cozy lunch? Maybe reconciliation was the day's special?"
He arched an eyebrow, feigning disinterest when inside his stomach clenched, twisted. Anger and the grime-coated stain of suspicion spread inside his chest. "Spreading gossip, Caroline?" He tsked. "Business must be slow."
Her tinkled laughter grated over his nerves like a rusty blade. "Not at all. I'm never too busy to be concerned. Oh, hello, Sydney," she cooed as his wife appeared at his side, her hand resting on the inside of his elbow. "Belated congratulations on your marriage."
"Thank you," Sydney said, her tone cool.
"I was delighted you two could come tonight. Though I must admit I was surprised to see you." A perplexed frown appeared between Caroline's brows, an expert mimicry of concern. "A friend of mine told me you'd already RSVP'd to the reception the Reinholds are holding after tonight's ballet."
If he hadn't been so in tune to Sydney, he would've missed the subtle stiffening of her body. Maybe he imagined it, but that insidious suspicion hissed in his head that he hadn't. He wanted to tilt her head back so he could study her expression, her eyes. Reassure himself that his wife wasn't hiding something from him.
That she hadn't lied to him.
"That's the thing with gossip," Sydney pointed out, icicles dripping from each word. "More often than not, it's unreliable. Or untrue. Which is why I try not to indulge in such inane and childish pastimes." Surprise slackened Caroline's sharp features at the polite but dagger-sharp put-down. Her mouth curled into an ugly snarl, but before she could utter a word, Sydney turned to him and smiled the Blake smile. "George Gamble mentioned how much he would love to speak with you."
"I'm all yours and his," he murmured. Pride roared through him like a lion, fierce, loud. Leaving Caroline fuming behind them, he escorted Sydney across the room. As he entered into a surprisingly interesting and engaging conversation with Anita Gamble's husband, he maintained an arm around his wife.
For the rest of the evening, he tried to expel Caroline's catty remarks from his head. But when he and Sydney returned home a couple of hours later, the comments continued to loiter like ghosts refusing to go into the light. But even if he somehow managed to dismiss Caroline's sly innuendos, he couldn't erase the doubt they'd planted. No shovel or plow could uproot that.
"Lucas."
He eased her coat from her shoulders, his fingertips brushing her bare shoulders. "Yes?"
"Do you want to talk about what Caroline said tonight?"
His jaw clenched, and he turned and hung their coats in the hall closet before returning to her in the living room. Slipping his hands in the front pockets of his pants, he studied her. The hint of nervousness under cool composure. The flash of wariness in her eyes. And the suspicion stretched its poisonous tentacles a little further.
"Is there something to talk about, Sydney?"
She shook her head, and the gold and caramel caught the light of the single lamp.
"When I had lunch with Mom, unknown to me, she had arranged for Tyler to show up at the restaurant. She'd also accepted an invitation to his parents' reception on my behalf. I didn't find out any of this until that afternoon." She held out her hands, the palms up in supplication. "I meant to tell you. There was-is-nothing to hide. But when I came home … it slipped my mind. We started talking about her, and then you took me down to your study. And I truly forgot to mention it. I had no intention of going to the reception or seeing Tyler again."
He didn't reply. Couldn't. On the surface, her reasons seemed plausible. But in the interim-in the days that had passed since that day-why hadn't she said anything? His mind was quick to supply ugly reasons. Such as her intent to meet with her ex again. After all, he'd been the reason she couldn't bring herself to be intimate with Lucas on their wedding night. Did she still love him?
An image of his father solidified in his mind. Devastated, defeated. Because of his love for a woman who'd broken his heart and trust time after time with infidelity after infidelity.
Staring into her lovely face, he wanted to believe her. But his own experience had taught him the consequences of giving trust so freely, so cavalierly.
"Say something," she whispered.
"Let's go to bed," he murmured, holding out his hand.
After a moment's hesitation, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her up the stairs to the bedroom. Where he removed her dress, slid his hands over her body, made her come apart with his fingers, mouth, and cock. And after their breathing returned to a semblance of normal, and the perspiration dried on their skin, started all over again.
Because here, he thought as he buried himself in the hungry, grasping core of her, there were no lies.
Chapter Nineteen
"Thank you, James." Sydney smiled at the ever-attentive driver as he helped her from the rear of the town car. Over the weeks, they'd developed a rapport, as Lucas had hired another chauffer for himself, leaving James to care for Sydney. She enjoyed his calming presence and quietly funny wit. "I'm going to miss you next week," she said, stepping onto the sidewalk outside the brownstone. "But have a wonderful time with your daughter and grandchildren."
He dipped his head, walking her up to the steps. "I haven't seen them since last summer, so I'm excited about going." He grinned, and it lit up his face. "And San Diego in November isn't bad, either."
She laughed, pressing a light kiss on his cheek. "Well, have fun. But don't let them convince you to move there," she warned.
Waving good-bye, she mounted the stairs and entered the house. Silence greeted her. Not that she had expected Lucas to be home. He hadn't surprised her like that since the day she had lunch with her mother. That didn't keep her from glancing toward the living room, though.
And didn't keep the emptiness and loneliness from knotting her stomach.
God, she should have an ulcer by now.
Since the night of the party a week ago, there'd been a distance between her and Lucas that hadn't been there since their time in Seattle. One inserted by him. He'd drawn behind this reserved civility that warned her away. Even in the one place he'd never held back with her-their bedroom-he'd become detached. It hurt. It confused her. It left her doubting his attraction to her. Old insecurities had risen, and as a defense, she'd drawn away from him, too, increasing the gulf. A gulf she had no idea how to swim across.
She peeled her coat off, tired from sleepless nights as well as a long day at the youth center. Although she thanked God for her time at the center. There, she could forget about the sharp turn her relationship with Lucas had taken. She could lose herself in work, but now, in the resounding quiet, she had nothing to distract her. Sighing, she closed the closet door, and as she headed back toward the foyer, her cell phone vibrated in the pocket of her skirt. Her pulse tripped. How pathetic did it make her that she hoped to hear her husband's voice? Not quite you-hang-up-no-you-hang-up pathetic but definitely I-want-to-sleep-in-your-shirt-so-I-can-have-your-scent-surround-me pathetic.
Removing the phone, she glanced down at the screen.
Tyler.
God. She hit the reject button and pocketed the phone. Since she'd missed his family's party last weekend, he'd called several times. Encouraged by her mother, no doubt. Sydney snorted, disgusted. Shaking her head, she picked up the mail and, as was her practice, sorted through it. She removed the junk mail, left the one piece for her on the end table, and carried the rest to Lucas's study.