How To Pleasure A Playboy(12)

The idea made Bronson smile. "You do that."

His groceries and a team of cleaners arrived not long after Carla left.  Bronson left them working, and went across the hall to knock on  Crystal's door. Her dog yapped, then bounded out, wagging his tail.  Crystal wore a floaty sleeveless dress, and a blast of heat from her  apartment made Bronson raise his eyebrows in surprise.

"Ah, the good-looking building owner. Hello, Bobby Dazzler. Come in."

He had no idea why she was calling him that, but her smile seemed  genuine. When he went in, her living room was a lot like Lacey's, only  filled with clutter. Photos covered the walls, an enormous dream catcher  hung from the ceiling, and smoke from the incense sticks burning on a  table made him cough. Crystal had several heaters going, forcing Bronson  to strip off his sweater.

"Lovely and warm in here, isn't it?" she said with a wink. "Lacey gave me all her heaters."

Bronson chuckled. "Of course she did."

"Cold drink? Or would you prefer herb tea? I've got some nice cake to have with it."

"Do you have coffee?"

"You're in luck. Lacey gave me some yesterday." While she fussed in the  kitchen, Bronson sat in one of her garish armchairs, looking around. The  old woman's apartment didn't seem as damp as Lacey's, and it was a lot  more cheerful. Lacey had obviously taken down her drapes and removed  everything that might make her place look nicer. He'd bet money her good  things were stored here.

His eye caught on an electrical socket that had come loose from the wall. The place was a fire trap.

"Here we go." Crystal put a tray of coffee and cake onto the low table,  and he eyed the slice she cut for him. Hopefully it wasn't laced with  anything psychedelic.

"The building's in a bad state," he said. "Do you have somewhere else to go?"

"I found a lovely little place, and the movers are coming on Monday. My  son's organized the whole thing." With a sigh, she settled herself into  the armchair opposite him. "The hardest thing about moving is that I  won't get to see Lacey so often. It sounds corny, but she's like a  daughter. Always doing little things for me. Fixing my radiator,  bringing up my mail. Fetching my medicine, or picking up my shopping.  She even takes Wolf out for walks." She bent to give her little dog a  pat. "Wolf's going to miss her as much as I do, won't you boy?"         

     



 

"You know her father well?" Bronson took a bite of cake, not sure why he  was curious about Lacey's father. Maybe it was the man's unusual taste  in books.

"Oh yes." Something crossed her face then, a dark shadow that made  Bronson even more curious. "Poor man. But sometimes I wonder, did the  tumors cause the anger, or could it have been the other way around?"  Then she made a tsk-tsk sound. "I shouldn't say things like that, I  know, but his aura got so dark. And for years I watched that poor girl  try to please him. Nearly broke my heart."

Bronson raised his eyebrows. "He has anger problems?"

"Terrible how worked up he gets. I've seen him punch a hole right  through the wall." She poured his coffee from a chipped china pot. "Do  you want sugar?"

He shook his head and put down the cake so he could take the cup she  held out. He had an uncomfortable image of Lacey as a girl, trying not  to make her father angry. "Was he violent toward her?" Bronson tried to  say it in a casual way, to hide how furious the thought made him. Every  muscle in his body wanted to tighten.

"Toward Lacey? Oh no, he didn't hit her. He's just a difficult man.  After Lacey's mother died, he found it hard to get by, as anyone would.  But he didn't grieve so much as rage." She picked up her own cup and  took a sip. Whatever she was drinking was a watery green color. "He  loves Lacey, I know he does. But as hard as he worked, money was always  tight, and I think he resented it. He had strong ideas. Nobody should be  wealthy, everything should be shared out equally." Putting her cup  down, she lowered her voice and leaned her head forward as though  sharing a secret. "I agreed with some of it, but it didn't always come  from a place of love, you understand? He kept saying how unfair the  world was. He'd take her to protest marches and get into fights. Always  threatening people and shouting. But Lacey's a smart girl with a good  heart. She took in the message without the hatred." Crystal sat back and  smiled. "I like to think I helped with that."

Bronson smiled in return, but his mind was racing. A picture was forming  of a girl raised by a severe father with a chip on his shoulder. A man  who'd see Bronson as someone who'd got rich because the world was  unfair. No wonder Lacey had been so outraged when Bronson wanted her to  move out of the Baxter. It must have felt as though he was trying to  push her around.

"What does her father think of Lacey's blog?" he asked. "He must be pleased she's doing so well."

Her lips turned down. "He's not one for compliments, or to be pleased  about anything. But if you need someone to tell you what you're doing  wrong, Gary Gibson's your man."

Bronson took a gulp of coffee to wash the bad taste out of his mouth. A  bad taste that had nothing to do with the cake he'd eaten, and  everything to do with the new perspective he'd gained. Considering her  upbringing, Lacey was remarkably level-headed. And he had a whole new  appreciation of the fact she'd agreed to share her bed to save him  sleeping on the floor.

"She has a good heart," he said.

"The best. Pretty too, don't you think? And clever." The woman studied  him, her wrinkled eyes creasing even more as she looked him over. "The  doctors say her father hasn't got much time left, and she'll have to  find a new home soon too. That much upheaval's going to be terribly  hard. I'd like to see her with a nice man who can help her get through  it. Make her dark skies lighter."

Shaking his head, Bronson put down his coffee. "I think you're  forgetting that Lacey and I are on opposite sides of this whole Baxter  thing."

"That's a shame. You're handsome, and you have a warm soul. Did you know your heart chakra has a golden glow?"

No point in arguing with the woman, but Bronson didn't want to leave her  with the wrong idea. "I'm not interested in dating." He stood up. "And I  need to go. I want to visit the other tenants too. Make sure everyone's  going to move out."

"Not interested in dating?" She stayed where she was, eyeing him with a curious expression. "Why not?"

"Let's just say that I've learned to be cautious when it comes to that  kind of thing." He was hardly going to tell her the whole complicated,  painful story about his relationship with Michaela, and how much he'd  hurt his brother. "Besides, I have a reputation to uphold."

She frowned, leaning back in her chair as though preparing for an  argument. "Lacey's a strong, sensible, independent woman. Being seen  with her would be good for any man's reputation."         

     



 

"Exactly the problem." He gave her a nod. "Don't get up. I'll see myself out."





Ten





When Lacey got home from work and opened her front door, she heard an  orchestra. A freaking orchestra, playing beautiful music from somewhere  inside her apartment.

"That you, Lacey?" Bronson's voice floated out to the hall. "Come in, you're letting the heat out."

"The heat? What heat?" There was no answer, and it was warm enough that  she unbuttoned her winter coat. "What have you done?" she demanded loud  enough that he'd be able to hear her over the music.

His answer came from the direction of the kitchen. "Roast chicken."

She walked into the living room and froze. The music was coming from a  brand new stereo. A fire burned in her fireplace, the flames dancing  cheerfully. Through the door to the kitchen, she could see her dining  table was set with two places. The entire place looked clean, with no  trace of the dirt that had coated every surface.

"What have you done?" she asked again, but this time it came out in a  horrified whisper. After all she'd done to make her house completely  unappealing, in a few short hours, he'd managed to make it positively  luxurious. "Cheating," she said. And then again, her voice growing  louder. "Cheating. You cheated. You went out and got-"

"I didn't leave, I had it delivered," he interjected from the other room.

"But you're not allowed to bring in all these-"

"There weren't any rules against it." He stepped out of the kitchen with two glasses of wine and handed one to her.

She took it automatically and slugged back a big gulp. Then licked her  lips. Dammit, it was delicious. And so was he. In the firelight, the  angles of his face were accentuated. His chin was rough with stubble,  and his hair was appealingly messy.