How To Pleasure A Playboy(32)

Lacey drew in her breath. She probably shouldn't ask, but she couldn't help herself. "How is Bronson?"

"I don't really know." Carla hesitated. "Well, to be honest, I'm not  sure whether to be worried or pleased. Since he's been in Brazil, I've  hardly heard from him. It's strange. Ever since I've been working for  him, he's been non-stop, you know? Working all hours of the day and  night, and not getting any rest. And after his week staying the Baxter, I  expected him to be right back into his grueling schedule. But poof, now  he's gone. Two weeks, and barely any contact. I have no idea when he's  coming back. So I'm not sure what to think."

Lacey was silent, her stomach turning over. What if there was something  seriously wrong? Bronson had said his brother was furious with him, so  maybe he was spending time with him to make up for it. Or could his  brother have done something to Bronson? Hurt him, even? Should she catch  a flight to Brazil just in case? Not that she could afford it. And she  was supposed to be cutting all ties, mending her broken heart. But what  if he needed her?

"Anyway, check out the apartment and let me know about the bookcase,"  said Carla. "I can get it transported somewhere else, if you prefer."

"How did he sound when you talked to him?" asked Lacey.

"Bronson? Fine, I guess. A bit distracted. Why?"

Lacey shook her head, though Carla couldn't see her. Why was she  thinking about getting on a plane, when she could just call Bronson and  make sure everything was okay? She'd do it right away to put her mind at  rest.

"No reason," she said. "Thanks for calling."

"Lacey," Carla blurted before she could hang up. "I hope you don't mind  me telling you something a bit …  personal. I just want to tell you how  much Bronson means to me. I've worked for him for eight years, and I  respect him more than anyone I've known. He really cares about people,  you know? He's got a golden heart."

Lacey's stomach turned over again. "You sound like you're giving his  eulogy. He's okay though, isn't he? You don't think his brother might  have done something to hurt him?"

"Oh, no. I didn't mean to give you the wrong idea." Carla laughed.  "That's not where I was going with that. It's just that I see the way  Bronson talks about you, like he thinks the world of you. And he never  usually … " She laughed again, but this time it was a self-deprecating  sound. "I'm not saying this right. But the thing is, he never dates. Not  seriously, anyway. I might be way out of line here, but I'd really like  for him to be happy."

Lacey pushed her glasses up her nose. "You're trying to set me up with your boss?"

"No, it's not like that. Listen, forget I said anything, okay? He tore  down your home, so I guess you aren't going to forgive him anytime soon.  I was just thinking out loud."

"Okay." Lacey frowned. Now she had to call Bronson. With Carla acting so  strangely, she had to make sure there was nothing wrong.

As soon as she hung up, she dialed Bronson's cellphone. It went straight  to voicemail so he probably had it switched off. She tried again, just  in case. Nope, still off. What time was it in Brazil? Maybe it was the  middle of the night and he'd turned it off to sleep. But dammit, now she  was worried.         

     



 

The library was about to close for the night, so she swung her backpack  onto her back and headed down the road. She may as well go to the  apartment on Darling Street. Not that she'd change her mind about moving  in, but she wanted to see her dad's bookcase. She should have known  Bronson would save it for her. That was the kind of guy he was. It was  one of the reasons she'd fallen so hard for him, not that she could  confess her feelings to Carla.

The apartment was at the city end of Glebe, a ten minute walk from the  library. By the time she arrived it was getting dark, but she collected  the key with no trouble and took the elevator up to the top floor. The  building looked like it had been built in the thirties or forties, but  it had been lovingly maintained, and its high ceilings and big windows  reminded her of the Baxter. When she got to the top floor, a family came  out of one of the apartments and two young sisters noisily raced each  other down the hall to the elevator. Their mother smiled and said hello  to Lacey as she went past.

Letting herself to the apartment, Lacey was about to turn on the light  but hesitated with her hand on the switch. She was in a spacious living  room that was airy, but not over the top. At the far end, large windows  stretched to the ceiling. A beautiful moon was rising, spilling silver  moonlight across the wooden floor. In its glow she saw her father's  bookcase fitting perfectly against a wall in the living room, as though  it had been built for the room.

The sight made her throat close up. If only her dad could see it here.  Without the plastic cover that had protected the bookcase from the  leaking roof of the Baxter, it was a handsome piece of furniture, and  the moonlight made the wood shine.

If her father had been well enough, she could have brought him here. He  would have grumbled and bitched, but even he would have had to admit  this place was something special. The kind of apartment she could be  happy in.

Leaving the light off, Lacey walked over to the bookcase, picturing it  filled with her father's books. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she  blinked them away. They were tears of regret, and hadn't she promised  her father she wouldn't regret a thing? Maybe she had been foolishly  stubborn when it had come to the Baxter. Perhaps she should have moved  out a lot earlier. Too late now. The past was done. It was the future  she needed to think about.

Tugging out her phone, she dialed Bronson's number again.

This time, it rang.

But the ringing wasn't just coming from her phone, it was too loud for  that. She'd left the door open, she realized. And that's where the  ringing was coming from.

When she hung up, the ringing stopped.

"Hello?" she called, her heart thumping. "Is someone here?"

"Lacey?" A familiar figure appeared, silhouetted in the doorway with the  moonlight picking out his features. She froze, her heart lurching.  Every time she saw him, it was a surprise all over again to realize how  heart-stoppingly handsome he was. Even more so, in the silver light of  the moon. And especially because she was in love with him.

"Bronson? But how are you here? Carla said you were in Brazil."

"I was." Like her, he walked in without bothering to turn the light on.  "I've just got off the plane, and I was on my way home when I stopped  here on a whim. I'm not even sure why, except I don't know where you  live now, so I hoped you might have changed your mind about moving in  here."

"No, I … " She swallowed. Even now, after she'd convinced herself there  could be nothing between them, she could barely keep from throwing  herself into his arms. But nothing had changed. With him, she'd never  come first. "I just came to see my father's bookcase," she managed.

"How's your father?"

"He's weak, but hanging on. They keep telling me it won't be long, but he's too stubborn to give up easily."

"That's where you get it from." The teasing note in his tone was so  familiar, it made her heart ache. He was unshaven, his chin dark. She  wanted to run her hand over his stubble and feel its roughness against  her palm.

She drew in her breath. "I heard you found your brother."

"He's in Rio."

"That's really … " She was going to say how selfish it was for Christof  not to have at least let Bronson know he was okay, but swallowed the  words. "That sounds nice," she said instead. "Is he still angry?"

"Not anymore. We talked a lot, and it was good. I think we're closer than we've ever been."

"That's great. Carla said she was a little worried that you hadn't been working."         

     



 

A smile played over his lips. "Sounds like you and Carla had quite the  chat. I should have let her in on what I was up to, but to be honest, I  found it a little difficult to let go of work so decided going cold  turkey might be best."

Something tightened in Lacey's chest. "You're moving to Brazil?" She  couldn't stop her voice from cracking. "Is that what this is about?"

"What? No, of course not."

There was no reason for her to be so relieved. They had no future,  remember? But still, Lacey's legs had gone wobbly. "Okay. So why didn't  you want to work?"

He took a step forward to put both hands on her arms. She felt their  pressure as though they were on her bare skin, rather than her thick  winter coat.

"I've decided to do things differently from now on. I had my reputation  all tied up with the clubs, but that's no longer going to work for me.  The building managers are taking more responsibility, and it's up to  them to make the clubs work. So far, they're stepping up to the  challenge."