Just a Little White Lie(38)

He shrugged.

“And your clothes? You were half-undressed.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Just half-dressed. Getting ready for my wedding.”

“Her lipstick was on your cheek.”

“A congratulatory kiss.”

Anger, ugly and raw, ate at her. How had she been so blind to the true man inside the expensive, tailored suits? “I have a law degree, Donald. I’ll tear you to shreds in court.”

He laughed, actually laughed.

Her stomach flipped over, and she was deathly afraid she was going to be sick. Right there in front of him. Calling on all her self-control, she pushed it back.

“What’s that saying?” Donald asked. “Only a fool is his own client? Guess if the shoe fits—”

A red haze clouded her vision as rage ripped through her. Damn him all to hell and back. How had she ever thought she should…or could…spend the rest of her life with this…this… Her hand brushed against something on the end table. Not stopping to think, she snatched it and wound up for the pitch.

A hand from behind plucked it from her fingers.

“That ugly piece of plaster has been in the family a long time. Hate to see it broken.” Jake stepped to her side, sliding an arm around her waist. His gaze traveled over Donald, sizing him up. “Even on your worthless head.”

Lucinda hadn’t heard him come in. How much had he heard? Embarrassment and anger raced through her.

She glanced down at the family heirloom as Jake returned it to the table. A Chia Pet! She burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Donald demanded.

Lucinda shook her head. Jake stayed beside her, on guard. Tension radiated off him.

“I suggest you leave now.” His words polite, his tone was anything but.

Donald pointed a finger at her. “I’ll see you in court.” He slammed out the door, a picture on the wall rattling.

The room went quiet. Very quiet.

“What’s goin’ on here, Lucy?”

She shook her head wearily. “I don’t have a clue.” She headed for the kitchen door. “I’m going to sit out back for a few minutes. There’s fresh iced tea in the fridge if you want a glass.”

“Wait.” His fingers touched her arm, stopping her. “Before you go. I’m afraid I have more good news, sweetheart.”

“Something better than a visit from the presumptuous Donald? I can hardly wait.”

“We have a dinner date tonight. Command performance with my dad. He wants me there as his lawyer.”

“Fine. Then it’s business. You don’t need me.” She headed towards the back door, pausing when Jake spoke again.

“He asked that you come too.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Luce, please don’t fight me on this. Apparently Dad’s been trying for the last few months to set up some kind of land-development deal. Even though he only owns a small piece of the pie, he figures he can protect his own investment and boost the town’s economy by getting the place up and running. The guy called this morning. Seems he suddenly has a few days open this week, and he’s flying in from somewhere in Florida for a dinner meet tonight.”

“A lot of us from down that way with time suddenly on our hands,” she mumbled, heading outside.

The screen door banged shut behind her.





Jake poured himself a glass of tea. He needed it. Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, he headed for the front porch to do his brooding. Luce could have the whole backyard to herself. He had no intention of invading her turf or incurring her wrath.

She was entitled, wasn’t she? Donald Kimball sure had some nerve. Sue her for breach of contract? Just try it, pal. If Lucy couldn’t rip the jerk to shreds, he sure would. And not necessarily in court!

He leaned back against Gram’s old red glider and touched the ice-cold glass to his forehead. Ms. Lucinda Darling from Florida had disaster written all over her. In letters as bright and bold as that hair of hers.

Red. The color of fire. And fire burned.

Still, the girl intrigued him. Cool, calm and collected—until something riled her. Then watch out. She had a temper as fiery as any he’d ever seen. Lucinda Darling liked to be in control. So did he. Another good reason to keep his distance. Physically and emotionally.

Their temperaments were too much alike, their backgrounds too disparate. The proverbial oil and water.

But those lips. That body. Those hypnotic golden eyes. He took a sip of tea to soothe his dry-as-dirt throat.

His cell phone rang. He slipped it out of his shirt pocket, read the caller ID and groaned.

“What?”

“You know, son, I thought I’d bred better manners into you.”