“Mom’s here?”
“Yes, sir. Miss Hattie too.”
He sent Lucy a puzzled frown. “Dad said they weren’t coming.”
She shrugged. “I’d rather not be here tonight, but as long as I am, I’m glad they are too.”
“Yeah.” But a little voice in his head was talking loud and fast, and they weren’t words of jubilation. Darned if he could figure it out, but he was sure, despite the plausible explanation, his dad was up to something. And if history repeated, that something wouldn’t be good.
Muted elevator music played in the background as they stepped into the foyer. The furniture and walls were dark wood, shining with the patina of age. The perfume of fresh flowers mixed with the scents of good food wafting from the kitchen and the tables of other diners.
Lucy laughed and pressed a hand to her stomach. “Jeez, Jake. It smells incredible in here. I didn’t realize how hungry I am.”
“I hope the company doesn’t put you off your food.”
She swatted him with the little clutch purse she gripped. “That’s your family you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, it is.” He met her remarkable eyes. “And you of all people should know that doesn’t always mean comfort.”
“Touché.” Her expression clouded.
“I’m sorry, Luce.” He pulled her hand into his, rubbed his thumb over the back of it. “That was thoughtless.”
“No. You’re right.” Her smile slid back into place. “Let’s get this done.”
“Thank you.” He dropped a quick kiss in her palm, felt the sizzle to his core. Saw it shimmer in her eyes, too, and wanted to shout with relief. She wasn’t immune to him. Thank God! Although what the two of them were going to do with all this heat, this barely reined-in passion…
“Jake.” His mother held out her hand to him, smiled at Lucy. “Lucinda, you look absolutely amazing.”
“Thank you.”
Lucy did look amazing, Jake thought. She’d fretted, picked through her trousseau, deeming everything in her suitcase unfit for a business meeting. He’d assured her the term had a slightly different meaning here in Pride, Georgia than at one of her big-city board meetings.
She’d finally settled on a silk shift in the palest of greens. It skimmed her figure and made a man’s mouth water. Made him want to uncover what hid beneath.
Instead, he leaned down and kissed first his mother’s cheek, then his grandmother’s.
“I didn’t know you two were gonna be here.” His gaze met his father’s. “Dad said you weren’t coming.”
“What? And miss out on dinner with you?” his mother asked. “I overheard him talking to you on the phone.”
“But—”
“Why don’t you come on over here, Jake, and sit by me?” His father indicated the chair to his right. “Lucinda, you sit there beside Grandma Hattie.”
Reluctantly, Jake led Lucy to her chair, held it out for her while she sat, then took his seat by his father. Since when did Howie Parker care where anyone sat?
Billy Ray Walters appeared at the table to take their drink orders. Jake ordered a beer and Lucy decided on a white wine.
“This evening’s special is prime rib with roasted new potatoes and broccoli.” The white-aproned waiter hovered beside Howie’s chair.
“I can recommend it.” Howie swirled the ice in his glass. “I’m gonna need another scotch, Billy Ray.”
The outside door opened. An all too familiar man walked in and headed toward their table. His face had been splashed on tabloid covers and TV all week—right beside Lucy’s.
Jake’s temper flared, and he rose halfway. “What the hell? Guess I understand now why the jerk’s week is suddenly open.”
“Howie?” his mother asked.
His dad, rather than answer, stood, took the newcomer’s hand. “Donald, why don’t you take the seat at the end there? By Lucinda.”
“Who is this good-looking young fellow?” Gram asked.
“Trudy, Hattie, this is Donald Kimball, up from Florida to take care of, ah, a little real estate matter. Donald, my wife Trudy and my mother Hattie. I believe you know Lucinda, and it seems you and my son have already met.”
“Yes, Jake and I have met.” Donald nodded at the others around the table.
Lucinda’s heart raced. Donald? Here at dinner? With Jake’s father? She wasn’t ready for this. His cool aloofness irked. But, then, he’d known she’d be here. He held the advantage.
Her ex-fiancé sat beside her, his legs brushing against hers. Lucinda felt nothing but loathing. And a rush of thankfulness that she’d not gone ahead with the wedding.