Hot Buttered Yum (18 page)

Roni and Lucas spoke at the same time, both taking a step toward her. Roni glanced at him. He ignored her and continued on to Mrs. Rylander. “Please allow me to help you down the stairs.”

“Well,” Mrs. Rylander said. She peered down the steep steps before looking back at the two of them. The woman might be spry for her age, but honestly, she had no business on those stairs. One finger lifted to toy with a tight curl just below her ear. “I’m sure I could do it.”

Roni’s jaw dropped. Mrs. Rylander was doing the oh-innocent-me hair twirl? At her age? The woman had no shame.

“Please,” Lucas said, “I’d be honored.”

Assuming he would hold her arm, Roni watched as Mrs. Rylander stuck out her elbow, but Lucas surprised both of them by scooping her up, one arm behind her knees, the other at her back.

“Oof.” The sound came from Mrs. Rylander a second before both hands clutched tight around Lucas’s neck. She peeked over his shoulder and smiled wickedly at Roni.

The sneaky little thing.

Lucas swung around, Mrs. Rylander in her arms, and pinned Roni with his gaze. “Do not go anywhere,” he said. “We have a conversation you ran away from yesterday.”

“Really?” Mrs. Rylander swiveled her head between them. “Did something happen?”

Roni glared at her but didn’t answer.

“Oh,” Mrs. Rylander said, drawing the word out as if she’d just seen what seemed to hang between them every time the two of them got within twenty feet of each other. Mrs. Rylander then smiled brightly at Lucas. “I’m sure she’ll be right here waiting for you. Who wouldn’t want to have a conversation with a handsome young man like yourself?”

Eyes more stormy than clear shifted from Roni to her neighbor. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” His voice made Roni fidget where she stood. It had a way of twining around her, while simultaneously reaching out and stroking her. “Yet amazingly,” he continued, “she seems to enjoy avoiding me whenever she thinks she can get away with it.” He took a step down the stairs. “If she’s smart, she’ll realize this is not one of those times.”

Mrs. Rylander giggled again and the two of them headed down the steps. Roni’s gaze caught on the muscles bunching under the back of Lucas’s T-shirt. There was a lovely grace about the rigid planes as they tightened and lengthened with his moves. A sexy grace.

She’d touched and seen each and every one of those muscles up close the other night.

And she found herself wanting to do it again.

Regardless of the fact that the instant she’d caught sight of him on her deck, she’d realized that she hadn’t only run away from his daughter the morning before. She’d run away from him too.

But he was a good guy.

He was carrying an old woman down the stairs, for crying out loud. Who wouldn’t be swept away by those kind of manners?

Right before they disappeared from sight, Mrs. Rylander looked back one last time. She waggled her eyebrows at Roni and Roni flushed in embarrassment when she realized she’d been caught ogling.

But dang. If an eighty-year-old could act feeble just so the man would carry her down the stairs, how was Roni supposed to stand a chance around his charms?

Because she didn’t.

She was already thinking that she’d overreacted. So he had a daughter. So what? He also had a few moves in the bedroom she wouldn’t mind trying out another time or two.

Surely she could keep things compartmentalized.

He was a fling. She wasn’t going to fall for him.

Easy peasy.

His dark head reappeared at the bottom of her stairs a couple minutes later, and his gaze lasered on hers. Hot desire shot through her body.

Oh geez. She was in trouble.

This was not going to end well.

By the time Lucas got to the top of the stairs, all he saw of Roni was her retreating behind in her tight black-and-blue running pants. She did leave the sliding door standing open, though. Inviting him in? Or possibly, conceding defeat.

Either way, he was entering her house and she was allowing it. Score one for him.

He stepped cautiously inside and found himself standing alone in her living room, which was actually only one part of a much larger space. The entire room comprised her living room, kitchen, and dining area. It had high ceilings and elaborate crown molding, with the detail of the molding mimicked in the woodwork of the kitchen. The cream cabinetry and light-stone tile floor gave it a wide-open feel. The room was huge.

Not that he was surprised. Her whole house was huge. He’d seen that from the outside.

What did surprise him was the piano in place of where he would expect to find a table and chairs. A large piano. One that took up enough space that Roni could easily fit a table for twelve there instead.

There were papers scattered on top, along with a couple pencils. A few more papers were crumpled and pushed to the side, and a couple had tumbled to the floor. A squat, seemingly forgotten plant sat brown and dry in front of the floor-to-ceiling bay windows that were directly behind the piano.

Next was the kitchen.

The stainless-steel range was industrial-size, and the counter space would be a culinary student’s dream come true. If there wasn’t such a mess scattered about.

A coffeepot sat next to the sink, its lid removed, and two brown trails of stains dribbling from the spout. Several mugs littered the area around the pot. The cabinet door above the area hung open, with more mugs and a stack of bowls perched on the shelves.

Running parallel, an oversize island spanned the room, with a small sink on one end. The opposite end held the tea set Mrs. Rylander had brought over, along with an unorganized cluster of plates. It looked as if Roni had sat at one of the padded barstools to eat, but then pushed the dishes aside instead of taking them to the dishwasher.

Or even the sink.

Several times.

Not that the place was a disaster. Just … untidy. There was a clump of bananas shoved haphazardly to one side of the stove, and two oranges that looked to have rolled away from the rest of the fruit lay butted up to a plastic mesh bag of avocados. There were also two empty baskets sitting alongside the fruit as if only waiting to hold everything.

Appliances of all types and sizes dotted the granite countertops, and a short hallway led to the open door of what he could only guess was a room-size pantry.

He scanned his way back to the living room, bypassing the foyer and the attached room with the French doors, and his gaze landed on the table bumped up behind the sofa. It was covered in pictures. His feet moved forward, but he caught himself before picking up any of the photos.

There were several of Roni from different ages. Each was of her standing proudly beside a piano, not smiling, but looking like she wanted to. In the most recent one, she had on a midnight-blue gown and her black hair swung loose to her waist, draped softly over her narrow shoulders. This was the Veronica he remembered from when he’d seen her play before. The picture couldn’t be more than a few years old.

Next to it was one of her and her father. She stood by one piano, and on the opposite side of it was her father standing with an identical one. Lucas had seen this photo online before. If he remembered correctly, Roni had been eighteen and it had been taken only a short time before her father had passed away.

Mixed in among the pictures of her were what he assumed to be family photos. A man with Roni’s black hair and features stood with a woman and two dark-haired boys. This same grouping was in at least four other pictures, as well. There was an early shot of Roni with what he assumed was her brother, her father, and her mother. And then another of her, her brother, and her mother. That one looked to have been taken here on the island when she’d been in her early teens.

The enormous leather sofa was a burnt-red color. And tossed over the far corner were two blouses. In front of the couch was a coffee table where the silver shoes he’d brought back to her were now perched.

He glanced toward the hallway, following the trail of sand, and wondered what she was doing. And why she hadn’t taken the shoes with her.

In the living room stood a dark Christmas tree in front of the glass window overlooking the ocean. The tree was filled with an assortment of ornaments of every size, shape, and color. If there was a theme, he was missing it. Gracie would approve. Gracie hated her grandmother’s snowflake-themed tree and her Christmas village–themed tree. She wanted everything mixed together.

Roni padded into the room then, no longer wearing the snug bottoms and top she’d had on for her run. Instead she had on a pair of gray cotton, loose-fitting pants with a drawstring at the waist and a cropped T-shirt that ended right where her waistline began. Her hair was still damp from the run, but her cheeks weren’t quite as flushed. Her eyes implied she was irritated with his mere existence.

“I brought in the tea,” she said by way of greeting. “I assumed you were finished with it.”

Lucas cracked a smile. She was already trying to get rid of him.

It was going to take more than that.

“Gracie is four and a half,” he started, his words blunt and to the point. They had a conversation that needed to be finished and he intended to do it. Before she
did
kick him out.

Roni didn’t say anything, just crossed the tile floor in her bare feet and plugged in the tree. It came to life, including several of the ornaments tinkling and revolving on their hooks.

“Her mother and I got together when I was twenty-two,” Lucas continued. “I took time off from school during my fourth and fifth years to earn the money to finish up. Des was a makeup artist on several of the shoots I did.”

“I didn’t ask,” Roni pointed out.

“But you need to hear.”

She eyed him, unimpressed. It didn’t stop him. What he felt for her scared him.

And he hadn’t cared enough to be scared in years.

“So it took you five years to graduate college?” Roni asked. She tossed him a superior look down her nose before stooping at the fireplace and popping the igniter. Flames burst to life, casting a faint glow around her hair.

That’s what she’d gotten from his statement? That he’d attended college for five years. “Four and a half, actually. I got a double major,” he pointed out. “Computer Science and Math.”

“Ah.” She rose and faced him, her hands clasped in front of her. “You’re a brainiac?”

She was trying to derail him. Why?

He narrowed his eyes on her. Because she didn’t want to know about Gracie?

Or because hearing about his past made her nervous?

Option B, he thought. And it was too damned bad. Because he was nervous too.

“Exactly,” he acknowledged, ignoring the bored look on her face. “Des was twenty, and going on about sixteen.” She’d had stars in her eyes about what she wanted from life.

It had been even worse when it’d come to what she’d expected from him.

Unfortunately, he’d been too wrapped up in his own plans to notice.

“We were stupid.” He felt stupid thinking about it now. “And we weren’t always as careful as we should have been. I was getting ready to go back to school when we found out she was pregnant. It was October.”

He was rattling, but he couldn’t seem to stop.

“I graduated in May, got a job in Houston, and Gracie was born in June. I was ecstatic. I’ve loved Gracie from the minute Des told me she was pregnant.” He swallowed and then stalled by walking to the tree and watching the tiny scene of ice dancers skating around a frozen pond. “Des was …
less
than ecstatic. Motherhood wasn’t what she wanted.”

Neither had been living in a Houston suburb with a corporate suit for a husband.

His bad for not noticing.

“She wanted to be in Hollywood,” he blurted. He turned back to Roni and crossed his arms over his chest. Des had wanted
him
to be in Hollywood with her. Since he’d been a model, she’d had visions of him being the next Brad Pitt while she would do makeup for the likes of Angelina Jolie.

When she’d told him she was leaving, he’d gone so far as to suggest he move there and give it a try. Not because he couldn’t stand the thought of losing her, but because he couldn’t stand the thought of Gracie growing up without her mom.

He wasn’t sure how to continue his story without sharing all that Gracie had been through, and he wasn’t ready to do that. He hadn’t been kidding with Kelly. Leukemia didn’t define his daughter. He never wanted anyone thinking of that first when they thought about Gracie.

“What happened?” Roni asked.

He looked at her. He’d gotten her attention. “When Gracie was eighteen months,” he began, “Des walked. She’d had enough.” He glanced over her shoulder to land on the pictures sitting behind the sofa. He liked seeing her family all clustered around her. “She left us and a week later I got papers from a lawyer, along with a bill. Since we weren’t married, we didn’t have that to deal with, but she’d signed away her parental rights. She didn’t even want updates on her own kid.”

Roni moved her head from one side to the other, as if she intended to shake her head “no” but was unable to make more than that one small motion. “She legally declared she didn’t want to be Gracie’s mother?” she asked, the swoop of her lips turning down. “What is wrong with people? How could she do that?”

She spoke the question so quietly he felt she was almost talking to herself. Then she moved to the other side of the Christmas tree and stared out the window at the beach. The day outside was bright and beautiful.

Roni glanced over at him, her brow furrowed into a scowl. “Gracie didn’t deserve that.”

“I know,” he said. He nodded and repeated, “I know. I’ve never understood it.”

Of course, there was more to it. Des had walked out the morning after Gracie’s diagnosis. She hadn’t signed on for cancer, she’d said. She would never get a Hollywood career if she was stuck in a three-bedroom ranch in Houston, taking care of a sick kid.

She’d packed and been gone before he’d gotten out of bed the next morning.

It still made no sense. She was Gracie’s mother.

“That’s when I moved back to Dallas,” he added. “I’m from there originally.”

“Your parents live there.”

“Right.” He nodded. He’d told her that the other night on the beach. “I wanted Gracie to be close to them since she didn’t have her mom.”

“Was it that or did you move back so you could get your mother to take care of your kid?”

Anger flared.

“Clearly you still travel." Her words were blunt. They were facing each other now, with the edge of the gaily decorated tree sparkling brightly between them. “I mean, you’re here. Someone must be watching Gracie. I assume that was your mother I saw on your computer yesterday morning.”

He forced his jaw to loosen. He didn’t care for the implication that he would ditch his child off on someone else.

“I do travel,” he began slowly. Calmly. “But it’s rare. Having the occasional time away allows me to concentrate more fully on Gracie when I am at home. It helps me be a better father. More grateful. And yes, it gives me a bit of a break. I think every parent needs that, but especially the ones doing it on their own. Plus, I rarely leave. It’s been eight months since my last trip, and that one was for only three days.”

He hoped she was getting that it had been at least that long since he’d been with a woman, as well. He didn’t do flings lightly anymore, even though he did keep them casual.

Until now.

Letting Roni talk to Gracie had blown casual right out of the water.

And she was just going to have to deal with it.

“What else?” she asked.

“What else what?”

She lifted a shoulder in a shrug and shifted her gaze to the ornaments hanging from the branches. “You wanted me to hear this story, so what else do you have to tell me?”

Meaning, get it over with and get out of my house.

He studied her tight jaw and the way she was careful to avoid eye contact.

She was trying to act like this conversation was no big deal. That his being in her house was nothing. But being here was showing him
her
. And what he saw told him that she was far deeper than she pretended.

She had a piano as a focal point in her house, for heaven’s sake. Not to mention enough rooms to sleep a small army.

The space was adorned with pictures showcasing her talent and her career. Her family. There was a Christmas tree and a cozy fire.

This wasn’t the setting for someone only looking for casual hookups and a good time. This was a home. This was also where she was hiding from the world.

It was time to turn the tables on her. “Why don’t you play professionally anymore?” he asked. A woman who had a piano for a dining table missed her career.

Her head snapped up at the question. Her eyes grew cold. “That has nothing to do with your story.”

“Yet it’s a valid question.” He took a step in her direction but stopped when her entire body stiffened.

He wouldn’t force himself on anyone.

“We’re talking about you.” Her words were hard.

He had to push. “Yet I’m standing in your house, and I suspect I’m actually seeing
you
.” He took one small step around the edge of the tree. “Why don’t you play, Roni?” he cajoled. “Mrs. Rylander says you spend hours practicing every morning. Yet no one hears you but customers at Gin’s.”

“I played somewhere else just this week.” The words coming from her seemed strangled. As if she couldn’t get enough air from her lungs to push the words fully up and out.

“You played one song,” he pointed out. “And that one song ripped you apart.” He curled his fingers into his palm to keep from reaching for her. “What happened?”

She closed her eyes and as Lucas watched, he saw her pulse pumping in the side of her neck. Ornaments beside them buzzed as they circled happily in place. A clock from somewhere in the house steadily ticked off the seconds.