Bidding War (2 page)

“Yeah, he just stopped by for a progress report.”

Melanie laughed. “I have a feeling it was more than that.”

They had this conversation about Jason and his brother before, and Lacy didn’t relish the thought of traveling that road again. After turning to face the living room, she said, “I definitely think the smaller scale furniture was the way to go, don’t you? It really makes the room feel larger.” Without waiting for a response, she pointed to the mantle above the gas fireplace. “And I’m thinking a mirror would look great right there. The reflection would open the room up a lot. Not that it’s a small space, but it can’t hurt to…”

Melanie tried, unsuccessfully, to hide her smile behind her take-out cup.

“What’s so funny?” As if she didn’t know.

“Every time I mention Jason or Shane, you try and change the subject.”

“I do not,” she said, loud enough to draw the attention of her moving men. Grimacing, she turned her back. “As usual, you see what you want to see.”

Melanie propped one hip against the doorframe. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re not interested in either of them?”

If only that were true. She’d lost precious sleep fantasizing about one of the sexy Stafford brothers for months. Both were a sight to behold, tall with broad shoulders and narrow hips, dark hair, and intense green eyes, but only one man was able to stoke her fire with a heated glance.
Shane
. If not for her business and her brother’s precarious condition, she would have taken the time to get to know him better, but it wasn’t fair to burden someone else with her personal problems.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested, but like you said, I barely have time for you anymore. How am I going to find time for a relationship?”

“I’m sure you could find the time. Say between eleven and seven?” Melanie winked. “There’s no sense curling up all alone at night when you could be cozying up with Shane.”

Lacy nearly choked on her coffee. Blinking back the tears as she pounded on her chest, she asked, “Who said anything about Shane?”

“Oh please,” Melanie said, tucking a strand of long dark hair behind her ear. “The sparks that fly between you two could burn this house to the ground.”

After dipping her head to hide the color staining her cheeks, Lacy mumbled, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hey,” Melanie said, drawing her attention. “You can lie to me, but don’t lie to yourself, hon. That man’s a keeper, and I know from experience they don’t come around all that often, if ever.”

Chapter Two

Shane stood on the porch of the George Street house balancing a pizza box and paper sack, feeling like the awkward kid who was afraid to ring the doorbell on prom night. Taking a deep breath, he gave himself a verbal lashing. This was his house, he had every right to be here, and bringing Lacy dinner was simply a kind gesture. As her employer, he just wanted to thank her for another job well done. And if she bought that, he needed to start selling swamp land for a living.

He turned around and looked for work trucks. Her little electric car was the only one still parked on the street. God, he hated that car. It looked like it would fold up like a paper airplane if she ever got into an accident. When they started dating, his first order of business would be to ensure she got a new car, maybe a truck. A sport utility vehicle would be good because
—

“Shane? What are you doing here?”

He whirled around, almost dropping the pizza box.

Lacy reached out to grab it, laughing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He cursed his stupidity and cleared his throat, hoping to make a quick recovery. “Jason mentioned you were working late tonight. I had to check on the house, so I thought I’d bring dinner. That is, if you haven’t eaten?”

She closed her eyes, inhaling the pungent scent wafting through the air. “No, I haven’t. This smells amazing. I can’t tell you the last time I had take-out food. I usually brown bag it. I save my money for coffee; that’s my real weakness.”

He frowned as he followed her into the house. She made it sound as though she was sacrificing food, but for what? Her car wasn’t extravagant. She usually wore jeans and t-shirts or tank tops at work, which led him to believe she didn’t spend a lot of money on clothes. Her house, perhaps? “Do you live nearby, Lacy?” He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought to ask that question before. Perhaps it was because she’d worked so hard to keep their conversations professional, rarely veering off course to discuss anything personal.

She led the way into the kitchen. “I’m about twenty minutes from here,” she said over her shoulder. “It’s not bad as long as I don’t run into traffic. I’m usually heading into work before rush hour starts and leaving by the time it’s ended, so it’s rarely a problem.”

He knew she worked long hours, but not fourteen-hour days. “Doesn’t leave a lot of time for sleep, does it?” he asked, setting the paper bag on the granite countertop.

She laughed, opening the box. “Not really, but I’m one of those people who can get by on a few hours of sleep a night.” Shrugging, she said, “It’s no big deal.”

Maybe not to her, but he hated to think they were working her too hard. “Has business been good? I mean, aside from our houses, do you have a lot of new clients?”

Biting into a slice of pizza, her cheeks colored as he waited for her response. After putting her hand in front of her mouth, she said, “Sorry, I guess I didn’t realize how hungry I was.” She slid the box toward him. “Here, have a piece.”

Even watching her eat turned him on. God help him, he had it bad for this woman. “That’s okay. I’m going to open this wine first.” Pulling the wine out of the paper bag, he held it up for her perusal. “I hope you like red?”

She shrugged. “I’m not much of a drinker. Besides, I have to drive home.”

“I don’t think one drink will hurt,” he said, smiling.

“I don’t drink and drive, period,” she said, setting the half-eaten slice in the lid of the box.

He didn’t know why what he’d said set her off, but the mood in the room went from friendly to hostile in a matter of seconds. “I’m sorry, did I
—
”

She held her hand up, silencing him. “Don’t apologize, Shane. It’s not you.” She curled her hand over the edge of the countertop. “It’s just that my mom was killed by a drunk driver. Let’s just say coming to terms with it hasn’t been easy.”

Setting the wine bottle down, he ached to reach out and pull her into his arms, but he had no idea if she would welcome his support, so he claimed the stool next to her instead. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago, but it still bothers me when people take drinking and driving so lightly. One drink leads to another, and before you know it, you lose the ability to make good choices. Getting behind the wheel in that state could cost someone their life.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. She was right, and instead of bridging the gap between them, as he’d intended, he’d alienated her by leading her to believe he was irresponsible and callous.

She reached out to cover his hand with hers and smiled. “I’m sorry I overreacted. I know you weren’t suggesting we get drunk and get behind the wheel.”

“No, of course not,” he said quickly. He hadn’t been thinking that far ahead, but this seemed like an opportunity, if she was willing to take it. “We could have a couple of drinks and spend the night here, you know, if we need to.”

She brushed her long blonde hair over her shoulder, frowning. “I’m sorry. Did I miss something? You want to spend the night? Here? With me?”

He knew it was now or never, and he couldn’t make it through one more day pretending that his feelings for her weren’t starting to dominate his life. Even if she rejected him again, at least he would have his answer and be able to move on with his life. Hopefully. “I wasn’t suggesting we sleep together, Lacy. Not that I wouldn’t like to…”

He cursed at the look of confusion in her light blue eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m not making any sense, am I?”

According to his friends, he was the deal closer, the guy who always got the girl. So why couldn’t he get this girl to admit she felt something for him? He took a deep breath as he took a step toward her. He turned her swivel stool and braced his hands on the counter behind her, crowding her. “I want you,” he said, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” He felt her sharp intake of breath when he nuzzled her neck, allowing the stubble on his jaw to scrape her cheek. “You’re the last thing on my mind at night, and I wake up in the morning, hard, imagining…”

She pressed her palms to his ribs. “Imagining what?” she whispered.

He closed his eyes, saying a silent prayer of thanks that she wasn’t giving him the brush off again. This time she was inviting his advances, welcoming his touch. “I imagine you’re taking me in your mouth…”

She whimpered, wrapping her arms around his waist to draw him closer.

“I imagine I’m fisting my hands in your hair...” He considered whether a graphic description was his best option under the circumstances, but being subtle hadn’t gotten him anywhere, and this felt like his last chance. This thing between them had been building for six months, and it looked like she was finally ready to give in to it.

She tipped her head back and looked him in the eye. “I’ve imagined that too,” she whispered. “Do you think you’re the only one who gets turned on thinking about what it would be like between us?”

Dropping his forehead to hers, he closed his eyes. “Then why do you say no every time I ask you out?”  

“It’s not that I don’t like you. I do.” She sighed. “I really don’t want to get into this right now.”

A thought occurred to him, one that would explain a lot of things. “Is there someone else? Do you have a boyfriend back home?” He knew she’d moved to the area less than a year ago, and according to her assistant, Melanie, she still traveled home most weekends.

Frowning, she said, “No, of course not.”

Exhaling, he knew he could handle any other obstacle she might throw in his path. “Okay, what is it, then? Why don’t you want to go out with me?”

Her hands slid down to his hips as she hooked her thumbs through the belt loops on his jeans. “I need this job, Shane. If things didn’t work out between us and I lost your business, I don’t know what I’d do, how I’d survive.”

It hit him like a shot to the gut that she thought he would use his position as her employer to try and hurt her if things didn’t work out between them. He took a step back. “I can’t believe you think so little of me. I thought we were friends. I thought…”

She raised her hand, pressing her fingers against his lips. “We are friends, and that’s what makes this so hard. I like you, a lot. Hell, more than I should, but if it didn’t work out between us, how could we continue working together?”

She was right. Being around her would be damn near impossible if he fell even deeper and she dumped him. “But what if it did work out?” he said, holding her face in his hands. “What if we gave this thing a chance and found that we’re perfect for each other?”

The wind picked up as rain started pelting the kitchen windows. Biting her lip, she looked up at the darkening sky. “I should go. My car doesn’t handle very well in the rain.”

Clenching his teeth, he said, “Why do you drive that matchbox car in the first place?”

She tried to slide off the stool, but he gripped her shoulders, holding her firmly in place.

“It’s practical. I drive a lot and being able to plug the car in instead of filling the tank every other day just makes sense.”

He got the feeling it had more to do with her precarious financial situation, but they had more pressing issues to discuss. “Let’s assume we had a relationship and it didn’t work out. That doesn’t mean you would lose us as a client. You could work with Jason instead of me.”

She shifted her body away from him. After propping an elbow on the breakfast bar, she dropped her head in her open palm. “My life is a mess, Shane. Trust me. You don’t want to get involved with me.”

He saw she needed a friend more than she needed a lover, and he was willing to set his own needs aside to support her. Stepping around her, he reached across the counter to grab the wine bottle. “I don’t know about you, but I need a drink.” When she frowned, he said, “We can always call a cab.”