Tidewater Lover (7 page)

The cup clattered rather noisily in its saucer as Lacey carried it into the living room to Cole. Her complexion was unnaturally pale, her color not completely regained from the shocking possibility that had occurred to her.

The three were still standing, Cole and Monica eyeing each other with almost open hostility. Lacey came up to Cole's side, offering him the coffee she had poured. The cup ceased its rattling the instant he took it from her hand to set it on the nearest table.

"Aren't you going to introduce us, Cole?" the sandy-haired Vic prodded, gazing intently at Lacey.

A muscular arm curved lightly and possessively around the back of her waist, and she stiffened in resistance to Cole's touch. Her gaze flashed to his, meeting the bland glitter of his unusually dark blue eyes.

She heard the other woman's savagely indrawn breath, which resembled a cat's hiss, her green eyes glowing with hatred. And she realized that Cole was deliberately goading the woman, further incensing her with his action rather than trying to smooth her ruffled fur.

"You haven't formally met my roommate, have you?" His steel blue gaze swung to the couple, his arm tightening around Lacey's waist when she would have drawn away.

He had referred to her as his roommate last night in a joking sense, but his use of it now was provoking and suggestive. He propelled her stiffly resisting figure a few steps forward.

"Lacey, I would like you to meet Monica Hamilton and her brother Vic Hamilton." He identified them only by name without any explanation as to his relationship to either of them. "This is Lacey Andrews."

Monica merely gave Lacey a green look of hatred, but her brother reached to shake her hand. "It's definitely a pleasure to meet you, Lacey," he murmured.

He retained his hold of her hand. The look he gave her made Lacey feel as if she were wearing a black negligee instead of being so fully covered by long pajamas and her housecoat.

"Back off, Vic," Cole ordered quietly.

Lacey's hand was released as Vic smiled mockingly from her to Cole. "I see, private property—no trespassing, is that it?"

"That's it," Cole agreed with a curt nod.

"Don't you think," Lacey suggested stiffly, "that you should explain to your friends the exact circumstances for my being here, Cole?" As far as she was concerned this farce had continued much too long already.

He glanced at her, seeing her rigid with anger. "Don't think Monica is interested in learning how you came to be here, Lacey," he replied drolly. "Nor a description of what happened between us last night. She's seen all the evidence with her own eyes and filled in all the sordid details with her imagination."

"Tell her," Lacey insisted.

With a mild shrug of acquiescence, he swung his gaze to Monica. "Despite the way it looks, this is all perfectly innocent," he told her. "As a matter of fact, Lacey and I slept in separate beds."

"Before or after?" Monica snapped.

There was an I-told-you-so glint in his eyes when he glanced back at Lacey, and she acknowledged silently that Monica was beyond listening to any explanation at this time. And Cole was to blame for that.

There was a challenge in the set of his jaw when he again reverted his attention to Monica. "You haven't mentioned why you're here."

"We came to invite you to dinner and arrange an impromptu beach party for this afternoon," she replied caustically. "Of course, I was under the impression that you were here alone with nothing to do all day."

"Obviously you were wrong," Cole returned with a complacent smile.

His arm tightened unexpectedly around Lacey's waist, drawing her more fully against his side before she could make a move to stop him.

"Don't!" she protested in a low angry whisper.

By the time his grip lessened, it was too late. Monica was already turning on her heel, her long blond hair swinging around her shoulders.

"We're going, Vic," she snapped.

"I'll see you, Cole," Vic shrugged, but it was Lacey he was looking at before he turned to follow his sister.

"Monica, do you remember what I told you the other day?" Cole's voice halted her at the top of the stairs, her attractive features haughty with pride. "I think you understand now that I meant it when I said, 'Don't call me, I'll call you.'"

Liquid green eyes shimmered briefly and resentfully at Lacey. Then Monica was descending the stairs with a faintly smiling Vic behind her. Neither Lacey nor Cole moved or spoke until they heard the front door shut.

"You shou—" Lacey began reprovingly.

But the deep, rich laughter coming from his throat stunned her into silence. The hand resting lightly on the back of her waist suddenly exerted pressure to sweep her against his chest.

"You' re a godsend, Lacey!" he laughed.

In the next second, his mouth was swooping down to claim her lips in a hard, sure kiss that took her breath away. When he lifted his head to study her, her reaction was chaotic.

The firm imprint of his mouth still tingled on her lips, the scent of soap and shaving cream assailing her nose. Her heart was tripping over itself, unable to find its normal beat. Over all that, confusion reigned at his lightning change from sarcastic coldness with Monica to this warm, hearty amusement.

He locked his hands together at the small of her back. Lacey's own fingers were spread across his chest in mute protest, aware of the solidness of his naked flesh.

His wickedly glinting eyes looked deeply into hers, crinkling at the corners while taking note of the confusion darkening her brown eyes.

"I've been trying to get that attractive crow off my back for several months," he explained. "I think the sight of you scared her off for good. For that, you possess my undying gratitude."

"Who is she?" Lacey frowned.

"A couple of years ago I briefly, and unwisely, made her my fiancée. I soon rectified that mistake, but Monica isn't the type to take rejection lightly. In fact, she's been trying to persuade me to change my mind ever since I broke our engagement." His face was disconcertingly near hers, the chiseled male contours shadowed by the overnight beard growth.

"So that's why you deliberately let her believe we'd spent the night together—in the intimate sense," Lacey said, half in accusation and half in conclusion.

"Exactly. She wouldn't have believed me if I'd tried to convince her otherwise," Cole insisted calmly. "Knowing the way her mind works, if there'd been a motion picture camera hidden in the house to film all that happened—or failed to happen—last night, she still would have been certain that I'd somehow messed up the film."

Lacey wriggled free of his unrestraining hold, finding his nearness just a little too disturbing, especially when he was only half-clothed. She moved a few feet away under his watchful yet mellow gaze.

"I am sorry, though," he added. "It wasn't really fair to involve you, not when you're an innocent bystander." A smile tugged at the edge of his mouth, deepening the cleft in his chin. "I hope you don't mind being unjustly branded as a scarlet woman."

"Spending a night with a man in today's society doesn't put a scarlet stain on a girl anymore," Lacey answered, adultly shrugging away the suggestion. "To be honest, I thought for a moment that she was your wife, and I was more worried about being named a correspondent in some divorce suit."

Cole winced mockingly. "Please don't remind me how close I came to having Monica for my wife. A man doesn't like to believe he was ever that much of a fool."

"She's very beautiful," Lacey commented absently, picturing the green-eyed blonde in her mind.

"If ever the saying 'Beauty is as beauty does' is true, it is when it's applied to Monica," Cole stated. Then he asked unexpectedly, "Can you cook?"

It took Lacey a second to follow his rapid change of the subject. "I'm about average—definitely not cordon bleu. Why?"

"I'm hungry and I was hoping I could persuade you to fix breakfast," he grinned.

"I think first I'll get dressed," she replied, adding silently to herself, before any more visitors show up.

Cole rubbed the stubble on his chin. "And I still have to shave. You said my razor was in the cabinet?"

Lacey nodded. "I noticed it there this morning."

She was only a step behind him as he started down the hallway. When he stopped at the bathroom door, she started to walk by him to her bedroom, but he laid a hand on her forearm to stop her.

"I want you to know that I didn't mean this to happen this morning," he told her, a serious frown drawing his dark brows together. "When I made the suggestion last night that we both stay here, I had no plan whatsoever to use you to get rid of Monica."

"I believe that," she assured him. "It never occurred to me that you might have."

"I hope not." Cole paused for a second. "If I'd known she was coming over this morning, I would have insisted you leave rather than have you the subject of her vile suspicions."

"It doesn't matter." Lacey didn't want to dwell on Monica's suspicions, "Would you like bacon or sausage with your eggs?" she asked, using his tactic of changing the subject.

"Bacon—crisp," he smiled, aware of what she was doing. "And three poached eggs on a slice of dark toast."

"I was asking your preference, not taking your order," she sighed with mocking exasperation.

His smile deepened for a teasing minute before he walked into the bathroom and closed the door. Lacey stared at the white woodwork, then moved to her own bedroom.

Cole Whitfield. The man in person was vastly different from the ill-tempered voice on the telephone. This Cole Whitfield she could like.

Chapter Four

THE BACON was already fried and draining on a paper towel when Cole wandered into the kitchen-dining area. Lacey lifted the poached eggs onto the dark toast.

"Looks good." He reached across the counter bar to take the plate from her hand.

Lacey hoped the food tasted good, but she didn't say so. "The silverware, salt and pepper are already on the table. Coffee to drink or would you like something else?"

"Coffee is fine." He moved to the table where a place setting and a clean cup were laid. Lacey brought him the plate of bacon, as well as the coffee pot to fill his cup. He glanced around the table, then at her. "Aren't you eating?"

"Just a slice of toast" She walked back to the kitchen area for her coffee cup and the
small plate with additional slices of toast on it, one for her and the rest for him.
 

"Are you watching your figure?" There was something mocking in the sweeping look he gave her as she turned to rejoin him. Lacey hoped it implied that there was nothing wrong with her shape.

"No," she said. "I thought I'd go for a swim, so I didn't want anything heavy in my stomach."

She had expected him to say he would come with her, but he only nodded at her statement. Lacey wondered what he planned to do but decided it was better not to pry. After all, nobody liked a nosy roommate.

The colored bamboo blinds at the dining-room windows were raised, letting in the morning sunlight. Lacey nibbled at her toast and gazed at the ocean view of sparkling waves and brilliant gold beaches.

"How long have you worked for Bowman?" Cole asked with apparent casualness.

"I've worked for the firm for almost five years and for M…Mr. Bowman the past two." Despite her unusual living arrangement with Cole, Lacey decided it was wiser if he wasn't aware Mike was a friend as well as her boss.

"You must have gone to work for the company straight out of school," he commented.

"Straight out of secretarial school," she said, qualifying his answer.

"Did you attend school here?"

"No, in Richmond. That's where I lived—where my family still lives." Lacey dunked the last bite of toast in her coffee.

"What made you decide to come here to work? There must have been plenty of openings in Richmond where you could be with your family and friends." He eyed her curiously.

"That age-old desire to leave home and be totally on my own." She shrugged and cupped a hand under the dripping piece of toast to carry it to her mouth.

It occurred to her that she had the perfect opening to ask him about his family and background. But by the time she was able to swallow the food in her mouth, it was too late to take advantage of it.

"You're a very good cook," Cole stated. "Remind me to recommend you if you ever decide to change your profession to chef."

"Thank you." Lacey was ridiculously pleased by his compliment and tried not to show it.

He pushed his plate to the side and leaned back in his chair. "Since you did the cooking, I guess it's only fair that I wash the dishes."

"I…" She was about to insist that she would clean up, then decided she would fast turn into his maid if she wasn't careful. And that wasn't the way she intended to spend her vacation. "All right," she agreed.

"What? No protest?" Laughter danced in his deep blue eyes.

"No protest. I hate washing dishes." Lacey rose from the table before she succumbed to the old-fashioned notion that doing dishes wasn't man's work. "I'm going for my swim. Have fun."