Divorced, Desperate, and Delicious

Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

  

“Hi, Fabio.” Lacy knelt down to give her canine the customary greeting scratch behind the ears. Then she gave one more for good measure. In truth, she would have loved to sit down in the entryway and scratch Fabio behind his big ears until he was bald. Anything so she wouldn’t have to face Chase.

She heard the grandfather clock chime ten times, and each swish of the clock’s pendulum heightened her angst. Never in all her life had her feelings felt this complicated. Needs, desires and wants struggled with wisdom, reality, and logic. She stared at Fabio, then heard footsteps. He appeared in the doorway, tall and sexy. And irresistible. The perfect bad boy.

Fabio darted into the other room. Lacy remained kneeling in the middle of her terrazzo floor, staring up at Chase and feeling overwhelmed. Her calf muscles began to pinch, but she didn’t move.

“Have a good night?” he asked.

She listened, thinking she’d hear resentment or sarcasm in his tone, but none tightened his voice. “It was fine.” The need to explain filled her throat. “We meet every Friday. If I hadn’t gone, they would have shown up here.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He walked over and extended his hand to help her up.

She looked at the outstretched palm, knowing that even the least physical contact could be dangerous. And wonderful. Oh, how she wanted the wonderful. Trembling, she placed her hand in his.

He pulled her up, lacing his fingers through hers, and moved toward the living room. His hip brushed against her as they walked. Suddenly she became aware of the smell of burning wood. He’d lit a fire in the fireplace. It draped the room in softly flickering shadows. Then other smells, the hearty scents of food, teased her senses.

“You cooked?” she asked.

“Chicken and pasta with wine sauce. I didn’t know how long you were going to be gone.”

“I ate. I’m sorry,” she said. His hand fit so comfortably, pressed tightly against hers. So warm, so right. Oh, Lordie, what was she going to do? Take a chance, an internal voice seemed to scream.

“I’ve already packed it up. We can have it tomorrow.”

Her gaze went to the television. Splashed on the sixty-inch screen was an image of her at eighteen months old, her diaper down around her ankles and Sunshine, her first cat, in her arms. She recognized the shot from the tape her mother had given her for Christmas a few years ago. “You . . . you watched my family movies?” she asked.

“You told me I could watch any of your tapes. I hope you don’t mind.”

A strange feeling came with knowing he’d witnessed parts of her life. “I don’t mind. I just don’t see why it interested you.”

“You interest me. And that tape is about you.” He placed his other hand on her shoulder and his gaze flickered to the screen behind her. His lips spread into a smile. “That shot is priceless.”

She met his green eyes and in the corner of her gaze she caught the bedding on the sofa. Questions started to form. And with them came an emotion that resembled disappointment. Had he already lost interest in her and decided to sleep on the sofa? Was she such a vanilla wafer that he’d decided just a little more effort to seduce her wasn’t worth it? The emotion couldn’t be disappointment. She was relieved. And devastated! Okay, she was bitterly disappointed.

The old saying, He made his bed, now he has to sleep in it, echoed in her mind.

Chase’s hand moved beneath her chin and he turned her to face him. “We have to talk.”