Tidewater Lover (19 page)

Beside her, Vic shrugged. "The lady says no, Cole. And I certainly don't have any reason to try to change her mind."

"Our table," Monica prodded.

Out of her side vision, Lacey saw Cole abruptly pivot away from the booth. The rigidity of controlled anger was in his carriage as he walked from the lounge with Monica on his arm. Pain shuddered through Lacey, relief mixed with a wounding ache.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" Vic's statement was coated with sardonic mockery.

Pale and shaken, Lacey knew she couldn't escape the truth, so she nodded a silent admission. There was a terrible unreality to the situation, as if none of it was really happening.

"You poor kid." But he sounded more amused than sorry for her. "You thought you had a chance against Monica. If you'd asked me, I could have told you it was inevitable that Cole would end up with her."

"Really?" Tears seemed to be frozen on her lashes. She flicked them away with her finger, refusing to break down, but more returned to hang like liquid icicles. She breathed in deeply, sniffling a little, but obtaining some control.

"Monica has too many things going for her," Vic told her. "Besides, Cole is just the kind of man she needs. He would have been hers two years ago if she hadn't started ordering him around and throwing childish tantrums when he wouldn't do what she wanted. Theirs has been an on-again-off-again affair ever since. You have met Cole in one of the off-again stages."

"Yes, probably," Lacey agreed tightly, not about to explain their meeting now.

"To be perfectly frank, I'm all in favor of the marriage," he went on. "With Cole for a brother-in-law, I know my father will get off my back. I haven't any business sense and I don't want anything to do with the family operations."

He slid an arm around her shoulders again. At first Lacey accepted its comfort. "I'm not cut out for the business world, and Cole is. I'm much better at consoling beautiful women like you, Lacey."

She stiffened at his words. "If you're the consolation prize for losing Cole, Mr. Hamilton, I'm not interested," she declared, and removed his arm from around her shoulders. "Would you please let me out of this booth?" she requested curtly.

Vic Hamilton was not interested in consoling her, only in taking advantage of her weakness at the moment. To remain in his company would simply remind her that Cole was with Monica. At long last she realized what a fool she had made of herself by falling in love with Cole. There was no need to make a bigger fool of herself.

"Where are you going?" He appeared incredulous that she was actually rejecting him.

"I'm leaving, and 'where' is my business," she retorted.

"You don't really mean it," Vic persisted.

"I do. So if you don't want me to create a scene, you will move."

He gave her an ugly smile. "You'll be sorry for this some day. Once a girl says no to me, it's the last time she's ever asked," he threatened.

"No, Mr. Hamilton. No, no, I don't want you ever," Lacey repeated, enunciating each word.

White with anger, he slid out of the booth. "You're nothing but a stupid little secretary," he jeered. "I don't know why I bothered with you."

His spiteful words bounced off her, not leaving any marks, as she swept past him to the lobby. When she stepped outside into the sun, the tears on her lashes streamed down her cheeks.

Once she was in her car, instinct took over, making all the right turns to take her to the beach house. She drove the last two miles in a sea of tears that blinded her to the point that she could barely make out the road.

Bolting into the house, she stumbled up the stairs to sink into the nearest chair, drowning in waves of despair and self-pity. Outside a car engine roared angrily into the driveway, brakes squealing it to a halt short of the garage door. The reverberation of a car door being slammed echoed into the house.

A sixth sense warned Lacey it was Cole. She quickly wiped the tears from her face and was blowing her nose as he slammed more doors on his way into the house, climbing the stairs two at a time.

His anger was no longer suppressed, but raging freely in his every line. But Lacey was beyond being intimidated by his anger; he had already hurt her too deeply for that. She met the blue storm clouds of his gaze without flinching.

"It's a little early for you to be here, isn't it?" she suggested stiffly.

"You know damned well why I'm here!" His voice rolled like thunder across the room and Cole quickly followed it. His hands were clenched in fists at his side, muscles leaping along his jaw. "I want to know what you were doing at that hotel with Hamilton."

Lacey tilted her chin defiantly, pain hammering at her throat. "It's no concern of yours what I was doing at the hotel or with whom!"

If she had had any doubts about that statement, they had faded into nothing when she had seen him with Monica. She started to pivot away from him, but his fingers closed in an iron grip around her forearm to spin her back.

"When I ask a question, I want an answer," he growled savagely. "What were you doing at the hotel?"

"You're hurting my arm," she pointed out curtly. His punishing grip began to cut off the circulation, making her hand and wrist throb.

"A lot more is going to hurt if you don't give me a straight answer," he warned, not relaxing his hold a fraction.

"I certainly didn't go because I thought you would be there." Lacey choked out the answer, fighting the tears that were once again stinging her eyes.

"But you arranged to meet Vic Hamilton there, didn't you?" Cole accused.

"Yes, I met him there. Is that what you wanted to hear?" she cried in challenge.

He released her arm abruptly as if she had suddenly become contaminated. With fires still raging in his eyes, he looked away in angry exasperation. He let his gaze slice back to her, dissecting her into little pieces.

"I knew it was only a matter of time before Vic made a play for you, but I thought you were smart enough to know what a philanderer he is," he said with contempt. "But the combination of money and looks was too much for you, wasn't it?" He didn't wait for an answer. "How many other times have you met him before today?"

Lacey was gently massaging her arm where he had gripped her so roughly. There would be bruises in the morning where his fingers had dug into her flesh.

"It isn't any concern of yours," she declared tightly, countering with, "I've never asked you how many times you've seen Monica."

"Monica has no part in this, so just leave her out of it!" he snapped.

"Gladly!"

Lacey stalked out of the living room onto the balcony. Her fingers curled into the railing, her nails digging into the smooth painted surface. Waves of pain racked her system, leaving her shaken and trembling.

She was angry with herself because she was letting Cole tear up her emotions further when the damage he had already done was beyond repair. She used that anger as a protective shield against him when he followed her onto the balcony.

"Lacey, I want you to stay away from Vic Hamilton," he ordered. His anger was held in check by a very tight rein, capable of snapping at the slightest provocation.

"I'll do as I please where Vic Hamilton or anyone else is concerned," Lacey retorted in a low, trembling voice that was fierce in her attempt to establish an independence. "Not you, nor any man, has the right to tell me whom I may see!"

The fragile reins of his temper snapped. Her shoulders were seized and roughly shaken as if she were a rag doll. The pain ripping through her body made her as weak and limp as one.

"Do I have to shake some sense into you?" he demanded gruffly.

"I think you've already tried." Her laugh was brittle, her already rattled senses in worse shape than before.

"Then listen to me and stay away from him," he declared, gritting his teeth in determination.

With a supreme effort, Lacey pushed and twisted out of his hold. "I don't have to listen to you!" she cried angrily, her voice ringing with the pulsing hurt inside, her nerves raw. "You don't have any right to tell me what to do or not to do! I don't tell you who you can have for friends, and you're not going to tell me!"

His smoldering gaze flashed past her for an instant. "You don't have to shout, Lacey," he reproved in a low, sharp tone.

Automatically she glanced over her shoulder, an unconscious reaction to discover what had distracted his attention. A woman wearing a sunbonnet was on the beach near the tideline. Lacey recognized her instantly. It was the Mrs. Carlyle, who regularly searched the beach for seashells, and she was staring toward the house, the ocean air undoubtedly carrying their angry voices to her.

"I will shout if I want to." But Lacey did lower her volume. "And if you don't like it, you can leave!"

"We've been through that before," Cole retorted.

"Yes, we have." Her chin quivered traitorously. "And you'll be glad to learn that you've finally won that argument. I'm leaving!"

Cole frowned, his gaze narrowing in surprise at her announcement. Lacey didn't wait to hear his response, but darted past him into the house, not slowing up until she had reached her bedroom. The decision had been made on impulse, but she knew it was the only recourse left open to her.

Gulping back sobs, she dragged her suitcases from the closet and tossed them onto the bed. She began gathering her clothes and stuffing them carelessly into the open bags, jamming them together with no thought to orderliness. She hesitated for a split second when Cole appeared in the doorway before continuing her hurried packing.

A muscle was working convulsively along his jaw. His mouth was a grim line, but there was regret flickering in the hard blue steel of his gaze.

"Lacey, I—" he began tautly.

"There's nothing left to say," she interrupted briskly, aware of his tall muscular figure filling the door frame. "I have three full days of my vacation left and I'm not going to let you ruin those for me."

Impatiently he burst out, "Dammit, Lacey, I'm not trying to ruin anything for you. I—"

"You've certainly done a first-rate job for someone who wasn't trying!" She slammed a handful of clothes into one of the cases, her voice growing thick with suppressed emotion.

"You don't understand," Cole muttered.

"Isn't it time you were going back to your office?" challenged Lacey, scooping a handful of cosmetics from the dresser and dumping them into their small case.

"Yes, it is, but first—"

She turned on him roundly, trembling from the mental anguish his presence induced. "I'm leaving! The house is yours! Isn't that what you want?"

His expression hardened, his mouth compressed into a thin line. "Yes," he snapped after a second's hesitation. "That is exactly what I want!"

In the next instant the doorway was empty. Heavy, angry strides were carrying him down the hallway. Lacey resumed her packing in a frenzied need for activity, faltering briefly when she heard the door slam below.

An hour and a half later, she was carrying the last of her belongings into her own apartment. Setting the bag on the floor, she collapsed into one of the chairs, burying her face in her hands.

She didn't cry; there didn't seem to be any tears inside her. She was just a big empty ache. Vital parts had been removed and she knew she would never function quite the same again.

The telephone rang. It seemed an eternity since she had heard the sound. She stared at it blankly for several rings before pushing herself out of the chair to answer it.

"Hello," she said in a tired and dispirited voice.

"Lacey?"

It was Cole. The sound of his voice seemed to slash at her heart like a knife. Lacey hung up the phone to stop the piercing hurt.

Within minutes it was ringing again. She had made up her mind not to answer it when her hand picked up the receiver of its own volition and carried it to her ear.

"Don't hang up, Lacey." The remnants of his temper were evident in his irritated tone. "I'm at my office, so I don't have time to argue. We're going to get together tonight so we can talk this thing out. I'll be free around eight-thirty…"

After he had dined with Monica, Lacey realized. "Leave me alone!" she begged angrily. "Get out of my life and stay out of it! I don't want to see or hear from you again—ever!"

She slammed the receiver down, breaking the connection, but Cole was as stubborn as she was. He would call back. Trembling, Lacey picked up the telephone again, hesitated, then dialed a number.

When it was answered, she said, "Jane? This is Lacey. May I speak to Maryann?"

"Sure," was the reply. "How is your vacation?"

"Fine," Lacey lied, and her call was switched through. "Hello, Maryann?"

"Hi, Lacey," was the cheerful response. "Mike told me you stopped this noon for lunch. I only wish I'd known you were coming—it would have given me a perfect excuse to cancel my dental appointment."

"I should have called you in the morning, but I didn't think of it," Lacey replied absently.

"How are you enjoying the sun and the sand and the surf?"