Johnson Family 1: Unforgettable (2 page)

The tail lights grew smaller and smaller as the sedan drifted away. Panting, Lucas slowed to a stop and tried to catch his breath. What in the world had possessed him to chase after that car, as if he could catch it?

A car horn honked behind him and he jumped out of the way. He stood there, breathing heavily, watching the vehicle disappear from sight. His racing heart felt ready to burst out of his chest.

He wasn’t certain she was in that car or even that the voice belonged to her. Maybe her laugh wasn’t as unique as he remembered, and it
had 
been nine years since he’d last heard it. Still…something inside of him said it was her. Deep in his gut, he knew.

Still slightly out of breath, Lucas trudged back to the hotel, significantly more deflated than he’d been earlier, not even sure why he’d wanted to see her so badly.

He re-entered the hotel and noticed a marquee he hadn’t paid attention to before. He walked right up to the signage and read the words announcing an anniversary reception for Full Moon beer, the popular brand of beer her family brewed. It had to have been her. She must have gone there instead of outside. His heart rate tripled again.

It didn’t take him long to find the ballroom and the remainder of the party. When he arrived, two empty podiums sat on either side of the open door where greeters must have stood and checked in the guests. No one stood there now; the festivities were clearly winding down. Four people sauntered out of the ballroom and a couple chatted on the outside of the door. They paid him little attention when he walked up.

Inside the room, he ambled around the perimeter, his eyes searching, his heartbeat still abnormally fast. Then he saw her.

He almost overlooked her because her shoulder length hair was much longer now. The vision in front of him stalled his footsteps and suspended his breath for an eternity. He couldn’t stop staring.

It was Ivy.

Chapter Two

Standing at one of the two bars in the ballroom, Lucas sipped his beer in the Pilsner glass specially designed to commemorate the anniversary celebration. His gaze swept over the room containing Seattle’s finest, dripping in diamonds and wearing tuxedos and haute couture gowns. But not only Seattle’s best; a national Who’s Who in entertainment and captains of industry attended the party. Apparently this event was one of many celebrations throughout the year to commemorate four decades of Johnson Brewing Company beer-making.

Across the crowded room, Ivy Johnson conversed with a man whose face was vaguely familiar. Lucas thought he might be an actor but couldn’t be bothered to figure out which one.

He remained fixated, the same way he’d been the first time he’d seen her back when she’d walked into the restaurant where he waited tables. He catalogued her appearance. Statuesque and tall, she looked every bit the heiress she was in a dress that cascaded to her feet and draped around her ankles in a waterfall of champagne-colored chiffon. It shimmered against the toffee color of her skin and molded to her frame. The sweetheart neckline showed off her shoulders and the graceful curve of her neck, exposed because her long hair had been swept to one side. Blonde color accentuated the fine, dark strands, and her hair fell over her right shoulder in huge, barrel-like curls.

All of a sudden she laughed, placing a hand over her full bosom as if to contain her amusement. He couldn’t hear her, but his scalp tingled nonetheless as he imagined the sound. When she was especially amused, her laugh was loud, the pitch higher.
Unladylike
she used to say, covering her mouth in embarrassment. Yet he’d loved the sound of it—perhaps his favorite sound in the whole world, next to her cries of pleasure.

Damn, she was beautiful. His gut tightened. Truly beautiful in a way that made men do double takes and had women keeping an eye on her out of a combination of fear and envy. He should leave, but he couldn’t right then. Not without speaking to her at least once. Some indefinable thing had pulled him to her.

Maybe he needed to see for himself if he had been wrong, and she wasn’t a heartless liar, despite evidence to the contrary. Maybe because despite everything he’d accomplished and experienced in his life, a small part of him regretted his decision to leave all those years ago—nine years to be exact—and he couldn’t help but wonder what could have been if he’d stayed and fought for her.

Lucas drained his glass and set it atop the bar. He fished in his pocket and pulled out a small tin of cinnamon Altoids, a healthier substitute for the cigarette habit he’d picked up in South Korea and eventually kicked upon his return. They calmed his nerves. He popped one in his mouth and chewed until it disintegrated, the heat of the cinnamon candy filling his nasal passages. Then he started walking, keeping his eyes on her the same way he’d done since he caught sight of her.

She turned suddenly, as if someone had called her name, and she waved, laughing again. Closer now, the sound gripped his abdomen like coarse talons. At the same time, she glanced in his direction and did a double take. The smile arrested on her face and was replaced by bewilderment as her lips parted.

He stopped a few feet away and immediately the scent of her perfume enveloped him. She still smelled like flowers—a light, tempting fragrance that hinted at sensuality and made it all the harder to keep his wits about him.

“Lucas?” Ivy’s fingers tightened around the gold beaded clutch in her hand. The shock of seeing him sideswiped her with the impact of a truck.

“Ivy,” he said in greeting, his mouth curving upward into a smile, as if they were old friends.

He spoke with a lazy drawl, the hint of Southern accent giving her name a sweet sensuality she never heard when anyone else said it. The sound filled her with memories of humid Georgia nights and long, lazy days.

Her companion excused himself with a touch to her shoulder and joined another conversation. She let him go without uttering a single word, rendered speechless by the appearance of this ghost from the past. The years had been good to him. He’d been a good-looking co-ed and had matured into an attractive man in his mid-thirties.

The beard was new, but she’d recognized him right away. Broader and thicker, he filled out his dark suit in a way that left no doubt the body underneath the expensive material was in good shape. His skin was a deep brown—mahogany—and his eyes dark and welcoming with long, curled eyelashes that would be feminine on any other man. But not on Lucas Baylor. He was all man. Six foot two inches of raw sex appeal.

An awkwardness she hadn’t felt in years filled her. Were they supposed to hug? Shake hands?

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

He tucked one hand in his pants pocket and surveyed her. “I’m in Seattle on a promotional tour for my book.”

She’d meant what was he doing at the party. Had he purposely avoided answering the question? “You’re an author?”

He nodded. “I wrote a book called
The Rules of Man
.”

Interesting. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Seattle’s the last stop on my tour.”

She felt a surge of happiness he’d achieved his heart’s desire to be published. “That’s wonderful. I knew you could do it.” She wanted to hug him but held back, locking her hands in front of her to resist the urge.

He shrugged, as if it was no big deal. But it was. He’d always been a lover of the written word and had regaled her with original poetry and pages of lyrical prose. The simplest sentence took on a new texture and depth when he reworked it.

“You did always have nice things to say about my writing,” he said, and she thought she detected a level of fondness in his voice. “So…it’s been a long time.”

“Nine years.” She shook her head in shock. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

He chuckled, an appealing, masculine sound that made her insides twist painfully. He seemed so relaxed, yet she was a cluster of nervous energy. She’d thought she’d matured enough to handle seeing him again should the occasion ever occur, but clearly she hadn’t. Not when the sight of him was so jarring, so…debilitating.

She struggled for something to say, latching on to a neutral topic to keep from getting too personal and dredging up memories better left in the past.

“I admired everything you wrote. I could barely put two sentences together, but you, you were brilliant.” She sounded like a groupie and felt a bit foolish at her gushing.

“English was always my strength, I guess. But I couldn’t do what you do, messing around with statistics and projections and strategic management. All of that was, and still is, over my head.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice if I was going to be an active contributor in the family business.” A business she’d conveniently avoided telling him about at first.

He looked around the room. “Is your husband here?”

His question surprised her. She hadn’t expected him to take the conversation in that direction. “My husband passed away two years ago.”

His brows lifted. “I had no idea. I’m sorry to hear that. Are you…?”

“I’m fine. It’s gotten easier.”

“And your daughter?”

Startled, tension coiled in her stomach and her gaze tightened on him, but he gave no indication his question was anything more than polite conversation. “She’s managed well. Kids are amazingly resilient.”

“Excuse me.” A female voice interrupted their conversation. Ivy turned in the direction of an older couple, appreciative of the temporary respite from the conversation.

“We have to leave,” the woman said. “It was lovely to see you and your brothers again.”

“Thank you for coming.” Ivy clasped the wife’s hand and they gave each other air kisses, one on each cheek, before she and her husband walked away.

“I should go,” Ivy said to Lucas. She waved her hand vaguely at the room. “We have so many guests here tonight.”

“I know you’re busy, but I was wondering if we—”

“I’m sorry, but I see someone I need to speak to.” Her insides quivered in alarm at the suggestion he’d almost voiced. He was about to ask to keep in touch, to speak to her privately—something—and she had to avoid that.

She took him in, memorizing his face, the breadth of his broad shoulders and the beauty of his eyes. She used to tease him about the unfairness of him having such long lashes while she was stuck wearing false ones to get the same look he had naturally. “It was nice to see you again.”

As she walked by him, she paused.

“How’s Mama Katherine?” Lucas’s mother, whom she’d called Mama Katherine at the older woman’s insistence, had welcomed her into their life with open arms.

His dark brown eyes were neutral, studying her. She knew he had questions, but she was afraid of where the conversation would lead and what he would uncover.

“She passed away a few years ago.”

“Lucas, no.” A wave of sadness washed over her.

“Yeah, it was tough at first, but she’s in a better place. She died peacefully in her sleep. All the kids came back for the funeral—everyone who could, anyway.”

Mama Katherine had taken in dozens of foster children over the years. She’d had a no-nonsense attitude about her, and when Ivy had met her she’d insisted she call her Mama Katherine, like all “her kids” did. The chatter and laughter of her foster kids and children from the neighborhood always filled her house, and it wasn’t unusual to find people who’d stopped by to spend time with her and soak up her wisdom.

She’d taken Lucas in when he was about fourteen years old, a troubled teen with rough edges. She’d worked on him, smoothing those edges with discipline and love and watched him graduate from college with first a bachelor’s degree in creative writing and then a masters in English.

“I’m so sorry,” Ivy said.

His gaze softened. “You did love her, and she loved you, too.”

“I had a second mother for a short time.”

Very short. Only a few months during the summer she and Lucas had spent together. When her relationship with him ended, she’d mourned the loss of her relationship with his mother almost as much. Now she grieved again with the knowledge that someone so generous with her time and love was no longer among the living.

“Take care, Lucas.”

Unable to help herself, she reached out and squeezed his arm. Feeling the muscles there, she caught her breath at the raw power emanating from him. The type of power that had kept her pinned beneath him, his heavy thrusts making her breathless, panting, pleading.

He tensed under her touch, and their gazes collided, eyes lingering a fraction too long on each other. Desire whipped through her, and her body throbbed with awareness so sudden, so basic, it frightened her.

She escaped with rapid steps across the room. She didn’t want to see that look in his eyes, because then she’d be tempted to stay and talk and bask in his presence. Tempted to exchange numbers and try to recapture the magic they’d shared during their brief time together. She risked revealing too much if she did.

Resisting the urge to look back, she wondered the entire time she walked away if he was still standing there, staring after her.

Nine years ago, meeting Lucas had changed her life for good. He had no idea how much.

Chapter Three

“Who was that guy?” Ivy’s older brother, Cyrus Jr., frowned down at her. “I don’t recognize him.”