Divorced, Desperate and Delicious, Page 24

Lacy swung around and felt her face flush at the sight of Chase standing at the bathroom doorway, wearing only his jeans and a proud smile. He reminded her of a model in a jean commercial, a bare-chested man looking too sexy in his jeans and knowing it.

  He stepped closer and started to kiss her, but she pulled back and cupped her hand over her mouth. “Morning breath,” she mumbled.

  He kissed her forehead. “After all we did last night, I’d thought we were past the fear-of-morning-breath stage.”

  The heat in her face grew more intense and he chuckled. “Brush your teeth and I’ll trade you a kiss for breakfast.”

  She nodded, and he disappeared out the door.

  • • •

  Chase stepped into the kitchen just as the phone rang. He’d tried Jason four times this morning, praying to hear good news about Stokes. His fingers itched to pick up the phone, but he held his breath and waited to hear the machine.

  “Chase?” Jason’s voice filled the room.

  Chase snatched up the phone. “Tell me some good news.”

  “He pulled through,” Jason said, a lightness in his voice that sounded like relief. “He’s still not completely out of danger yet, but he’s a fighter.”

  “Yes!” Chase raised a fist in the air. “That’s great news. Now you keep him alive. Don’t let Zeke get close.”

  “I’m not. Oh, I’ll catch you later.”

  The phone clicked off. The abruptness told Chase that someone must have walked up, but the important message had been given—Stokes had pulled through.

  Chase took a deep gulp of morning air. A few flashbacks from the previous night tiptoed through his mind. He smiled, as appreciation for simply being alive struck him. It was a damn good day.

  • • •

  When Lacy walked into the kitchen, Chase looked extra cheery. He kissed her and, with his mouth melted against hers and his hands on her hips, two-stepped her across the room.

  “Hungry?” he asked when they finally came up for air. “I hope you like omelettes.”

  She nodded. His hand moved up and down her back as he guided her to the table where a hot cup of coffee waited, figure eights of steam rising from the top. As she dropped into a chair, feeling all tingly, he went to the stove. The phone rang again.

  “Your mom called last night.” He lifted a lid off a skillet and grabbed a spatula from her silverware drawer.

  “You didn’t talk to her, did you?” she asked, noting how comfortably the man moved in her kitchen. How comfortable it felt for him to be here. He fit into her life like a soft nightgown fit against her body on a cool night. Perfectly. He even liked her animals.

  “I didn’t answer.” He glanced up after placing a beautiful half-moon-shaped omelette on the plate. “But she left a very long message.” Chase grinned. “You know, she’s a strange one. But she’s not really that hard to take.”

  “You haven’t gotten to know her yet.” Lacy sipped her coffee.

  Chase picked up another skillet and scooped what looked like fried potatoes onto her plate. Then he raised his gaze. Concern filled his eyes. “How bad was she?”

  Lacy heard his question and the implication in his voice. “She didn’t abuse me. It’s not like that. She loved me. It’s just . . . ” She stopped talking when the voice on the line came over the loudspeaker.

  “Hi, Lacy? It’s Eric. Your favorite vet. Well, since you didn’t call me back, I’m assuming you were out all yesterday. But how about tonight?”

  Chase frowned and pointed the spatula toward the phone. “That guy is getting on my nerves!” Fabio barked right then, and Chase looked at the dog. “Fabio doesn’t like him, either. He confided in me last night.”

  Lacy grinned. “Yeah, but that’s because the man neuters dogs for a living.” Joy swelled in her chest. Chase Kelly was jealous! Surely that meant something, didn’t it? He placed a plate in front of her, twisted it around as if presentation mattered, then kissed her neck before returning to the stove to fix his own plate.

  They ate, talked and laughed. Chase told her more about his sister, and about his new nephew he hoped to visit soon. As he talked, he rubbed his foot against her bare calf. Lacy couldn’t ever remember being so happy. The phone rang again. This time it was Mr. Bradley, the plumber, informing her that he would be there a few minutes late. She noted that the voice sounded like the same man from last night. Lacy stared at her plate and remembered Kathy and Kathy’s resistance to follow her heart.

  She took another bite, and Chase’s foot moved up to her thigh. When she glanced up, she wondered if Chase felt any of the things she felt—the lightness, the warm wiggles in the stomach. Why, he’d told her the sex was great. And now he was jealous. And he’d cooked for her! A man didn’t cook for a woman when it was just casual sex, did he? The words she’d read yesterday echoed in her mind. Cooked dinner and had sex with Jessie.

  Oh, Lordie. She glanced down at the omelette, her appetite gone, and the snag in her heart started slowly to unravel. She was nothing but another Jessie to him. Biting her lip, she pulled her leg away from his foot.

  “What is it?” he asked, drawing her attention as he bit into his toast.

  The butter from the bread made his lips glossy. A few crumbs clung to the corner of his mouth. She watched as his tongue slipped out to remove the gloss and crumbs.

  “Nothing. I’m just full.” She sat up straighter, adding some starch to her backbone. She couldn’t allow herself to care; Chase was just—

  “You’ve barely touched your food.”

  “I ate more than half.” She patted her stomach. “Wouldn’t want to get fat. Then no one would want to have casual sex with me anymore.” Rising, she walked to the kitchen sink, but she felt him staring, and the starch in her backbone became mush.

  “This is about Peter, isn’t it?” He came up behind her and placed one hand on each of her shoulders.

  Make that very weak mush! “What’s about Peter?” Lacy turned and stared up at him.

  “This,” Chase said. “You’re pulling back. And earlier, you being afraid to sleep with me. Then the crying afterwards. It’s about him, isn’t it? You still love him.”

  “What? I mean, why . . .” Oh, she got the gist of his question, but how had he arrived at the assumption that she still loved Peter? “I haven’t seen him in over a year.”

  “He cheated on you, didn’t he?”

  She blinked. “Yeah, he did. He banged his secretary in the elevator, and I probably wouldn’t have known if some freak hadn’t gotten hold of the elevator video and splashed it over the Internet.” She didn’t understand what had provoked her to spill that poison, but now that she had, she really didn’t regret it.

  Chase held up his hands as if frustrated. “Then let the bastard go. Forget him. He’s not worth one moment of your thoughts. Not one!”

  She pulled away and started running dishwater, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Is that what you told Jessie about her ex-husband—to just let him go?”

  He took her by the shoulders and turned her toward him. “What does Jessie have to do with this?”

  “Nothing,” she said, and turned back around. “Just like Peter. He’s not important.”

  “Fine,” he snapped, and went to clean the table. They washed dishes without speaking. The silence grew awkward, but slowly it grew less heavy and just felt like silence. When she put the last plate away, Chase wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her hair. “I’m sorry I mentioned Peter, okay? Forget I said anything. It’s just . . . Damn! It’s nothing.”

  Turning, she pillowed her head on his chest and listened to the beating of his heart. She probably had just a few days with him, and she didn’t want to spend the time arguing. When he left—and he would leave unless she gave in to the idea of handcuffing him to the bed—she’d be picking up the shreds of her heart for a long time. Now, however, wasn’t the time to think about that. She looked up. “Thanks for breakfast.”

  He kissed her. �
��How about I run us some water in that Jacuzzi of yours?” He smiled. “I hear it’s good for sore tushes.”

  • • •

  The soak indeed helped the soreness. They sat across from each other, their legs brushing up against one another.

  “Come here, let me wash your back,” he said, but the look in his eyes said something altogether different.

  Lacy twirled in the water, ready for everything he offered. A soft sigh left her throat when he soaped up a washcloth and glided it between her shoulders. Then the cloth disappeared and his soapy palms moved over her back, up and down, then around to cup her breasts. With a slippery touch, he gently rolled her tightened nipples between his thumbs and index fingers.

  She felt his erection against her lower back; the place between her thighs began to pulse and beg to be touched.

  “Do you think you’re too sore to—”

  The doorbell rang, interrupting his question. Lacy, jarred from want, jumped up so fast she nearly fell.

  Realizing it could be Zeke—or maybe Sue, who would simply walk in—Lacy skidded wet-footed across her tiled bathroom floor. Snatching her robe up from where it lay, she poked her arms inside with lightning speed, tied the sash around her waist, and ran to the bedroom to peek out the window. “Jeepers!”

  “Who is it?” Chase followed her into the bedroom, naked, droplets of water rolling down his body. His voice came out firm and concerned, but the evidence of what they’d been doing in the Jacuzzi was hard to miss. Real hard.

  “The plumber.” She straightened her robe, put her hand over her pounding heart, and took one, two deep breaths. Then, squaring her shoulders, she started out the door. “I’ll tell him where the septic tank is.”

  She heard Chase call to her as she stepped out of the bedroom, but the doorbell rang again so Lacy decided to take care of one thing at time. Pulling at her collar to make sure nothing was exposed, she unlocked the bolt.

  “Hello.” She poked her head out the door.

  Mr. Blue-eyed, lost-my-screwdriver-Bradley looked up from his clipboard. His brow crinkled. “Aren’t you—”

  “Kathy’s friend.” She smiled. “I thought your name sounded familiar. Do you know where the septic tank is?”

  “Yes.” He hesitated, as if he had something else to say. “Listen, about Kathy . . . Is she . . . available?”

  Lacy didn’t know how to answer. “Yes, she’s single—but she’s not really open to dating right now.”

  “How ‘not open’ is she?” he asked.

  Lacy nudged the door wider and leaned against the jamb. “I couldn’t say.” She wished she could offer him hope, but she honestly didn’t know how adamant was her friend’s stand on the “no men” rule. A few days ago, she would have insisted she herself would never fall prey to a man’s charms, and look at her now.

  “Should I give it up as a bad idea or keep trying?”

  Lacy considered her answer, then said, “No one likes a quitter.”

  Bradley smiled and tapped his pencil on his clipboard. “I’m going to pull around back. I’m just going to look. I’ll come back later to clean it out. I’ll knock and give you an invoice before I leave. By the way”—his eyes lowered and he smiled—”did you know you’ve got your robe on inside out?” He turned and walked away.

  She looked down at her robe, then backed up. “Oh—how long do you think you’ll be?” she called.

  He didn’t hear her and kept walking. Closing the door, Lacy ran into the kitchen to get a soda, then started back to the bedroom. The doorbell rang again. He’s probably lost his screwdriver, she thought, and chuckled. Still smiling, she opened the door. Her smile dropped like lead and her breath hitched. It wasn’t the plumber.

  Chapter Twenty-three