Lost and Found (44 page)

“The more I look at it. The more I want it. This is such a bad idea!” Lacey bit her lip, but moved forward tentatively anyway.

“Just relax. Maybe you’ll like it. Maybe you won’t. There’s only one way to find out and that’s to take the plunge.”

Lacey and her mom were standing on the sidewalk discussing the four large, craftsman-style, row-houses before them. The attractive properties were set far back from the road, and flower beds lined the cobblestone paths leading to each front door. Most importantly to Lacey and Diana Ferguson, there was a large, bright 'Show Home - Open House Today' sign perched on the front lawn.
 

They had arrived just minutes before the Open House closed at four, so the late March sunshine highlighted the external features of the homes. Each of the four dwellings was painted a different color. As Lacey walked from her car she noticed that all of the front doors had their own distinctive style as well. The row-house on the end with the sign in front was painted a lovely sage green and featured an imposing arched red door with black twining ironwork, like a castle, while the yellow one next to it had a delicate-looking, mostly etched glass door. She couldn’t help being charmed by their individuality. Obviously the builders, The Kingston Brothers, didn't want their homes to resemble the typical cookie-cutter houses seen in most suburban real estate developments.

“Alright, Mom. Let’s go in,’ Lacey said, turning onto the path to the Open House. “But this is our last one today, okay? It’s torture looking at all these places I can’t afford.”

“Lacey, as I’ve told you, many, many times. There’s always room for negotiation. The list price is merely a suggestion,” Diana Ferguson said, stepping around her daughter and leading the way up the path.

“If you say so,” Lacey said doubtfully. “But I can’t help feeling like we’re here under false pretenses. Like I’m pretending that I can afford something like this, when we both know I’d have to take a second job, and possibly sell a kidney to afford it.”

“The real estate agent has to sit there anyway, dear. And I don’t see any other cars here, do you?” Actually there was a sleek white Mercedes parked in front of Lacey’s car at the curb, and a large, shiny, black pick-up truck in the driveway of the Show Home, but Diana ignored them. “I’m sure they’ll be glad to have us come in and distract them for a few minutes.”
 

Lacey rolled her eyes, but followed her mother reluctantly. “Okay, but just a quick tour, okay? Let’s not waste their time with a lot of questions, right?”

“Of course not, dear. I wouldn’t dream of it.” Diana grinned at her daughter and Lacey was certain her mom was going to be grilling the real estate agent within seconds of stepping through the door. Lacey loved her quiz-master mom, but she certainly didn’t endear herself to the real estate professionals, who really just wanted her to go away, or better yet, put in an offer and then go away.

Lacey and her mom were seasoned house hunters. They had been looking for a new home for Lacey for the past eight months, without much luck. A recent promotion to Clinical Resource Nurse at The Health Unit where she worked had allowed her the option of finally moving out of her tiny rental apartment. But finding the right place was proving to be much more difficult than she’d anticipated. Everything they looked at was much too small, too old, or way too expensive.
 

The Show Home they were currently looking at was their third property that day, and it was way above her budget. But she had jogged past the row-houses many times as they were being built, and the quaint style had charmed her. When she spotted the Open House sign on the lawn earlier that day, she couldn’t resist checking them out.

Lacey admired the home’s quaint front porch as she climbed the wide stairs. Mentally she was already seeing the white wicker chair she would place to the left of the bright red door. Trailing behind her mother she imagined they were walking into her house rather than a Show Home. It was just a fantasy, but she really could see herself living in one of these places.

This particular property was in the perfect subdivision, just minutes away from her mom’s house and work. And best of all, the real estate developers had retained many of the mature trees and landscaping that had existed when this area had been army housing. So, it looked like an older, well-established neighborhood but it was gloriously fresh and new, with all the modern design features she had been lusting after from watching the Home and Garden Channel like it was porn.
 

“Hello,” Diana called as she turned the knob and poked her head in. “Yoo-hoo. Are we too late for the Open House?”
 

“C’mon in. There’s plenty of time,” A friendly female voice answered from down the hall.
 

Diana wiggled her eyebrows at Lacey. She was in her element. Looking at real estate was a game to her. Having bought and sold more than fifteen homes over the past thirty years she loved the challenge of negotiating with real estate agents and getting the very best price.

At 55, Diana Ferguson was still slim and attractive. Her blonde hair had faded and she had a tendency to wear high-waisted mom jeans, and oversized sweatshirts, but it was easy to believe she had once been a great beauty. Many people underestimated her because of her sweet appearance and kind nature, but underneath that maternal exterior lurked the heart of a born hardcore negotiator.

Today Diana was thrilled to be checking out homes in this particular neighborhood. She wanted her daughter to live close by and in a safe environment. The sooner Lacey was out of the dumpy apartment she was currently living in, the happier Diana would be.

They left their shoes outside and stepped into the Show Home’s impressive hallway. The sight of beautiful, shiny, hardwood floors and high ceilings greeted them and Lacey gave a gasp of delight when she saw the crystal wall sconces lighting their way toward the kitchen. She pointed at them, and mouthed, “Those are gorgeous,” to her mother. Diana nodded vigorously and they continued into the Great Room. It was always their strategy to appear cool and detached from the properties they looked at, but usually they failed miserably at this and ended up gushing uncontrollably over the features they liked.

Entering the open concept kitchen and living area, Lacey stopped in her tracks and reached out a hand to touch the object of beauty before her. “I think I just fell in love,” she said over her shoulder to her mother. The two strangers standing at the counter both chuckled at her reaction to the giant island of grey-flecked, white granite she was currently fondling. “Where have you been all my life?” she asked no one in particular. Looking up she smiled at the people watching her molest the kitchen island.
 

The woman, obviously a real estate agent, held out her hand and introduced herself as Serena Garrison. She was tall, blonde and coolly elegant in her white blouse, black skirt and spiky black stilettos. Lacey reluctantly took one hand off the granite, and returned the handshake, suddenly quite self-conscious about her sloppy jeans, long-sleeved T-shirt and bare feet. She really wished she hadn’t let her best friend’s nine-year-old daughter paint her toe nails in a particularly horrendous shade of acid green. Bella wasn’t terribly careful about restricting the polish to nails, and the result made Lacey’s toes look like she’d dipped them in toxic waste.

"Hi Serena, I’m Lacey, and this is my mother, Diana." Her mother stepped up next to Lacey to admire the island. Serena smiled warmly, welcomed both ladies, and handed them each copies of the row-house information sheet. Lacey liked her instantly, but was curious why she didn’t introduce the tall, dark figure who was watching this scene unfold without saying a single word. Must be her boyfriend, she thought. Lucky, lucky girl. Who didn’t like the strong, silent type?
 

She tried not to stare. She really did. But the last time she'd been this close to a guy who looked like he’d just stepped out of a beefcake calendar was probably at her friend Liz's thirtieth birthday party. Lacey had drank way too many lemon drop martinis and ended the evening by groping one of the sweaty Chippendales dancers, much to everyone’s amusement. And that was more than three years ago. So, while her mother chatted with Serena about the features of the home, and his attention was diverted by their conversation, Lacey allowed herself a sneaky side glance at him. A glance that turned into a stare which lingered for just a minute or two longer than was absolutely polite.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed across his wide chest. She could clearly see how the fabric of his blue plaid shirt strained against powerful biceps.
 
The kitchen area was wide and airy, with extremely high vaulted ceilings, but he still seemed to dwarf the room. Casually, she pretended to look out the window next to him but was actually trying to see if his bottom half was as impressive as the top. It was. At least what she could see. Unfortunately, his shirt was too long do a thorough examination, but she noted that he wore loose black jeans and extremely large suede boots.
 

His dark, silky hair was just a little too long to look professional and his nose looked like it had been broken more than once, but overall everything about him made her sigh inwardly in appreciation. This was not a pretty man. He was entirely too rugged to be called handsome or cute. He looked like the broody, intense type. Or perhaps he was more like a conquering warrior, bent on vengeance. Obviously she'd been reading too many novels featuring highlanders lately. She resolved to read something less stimulating in the future. Her libido suddenly seemed to be in hyper-drive.

Deciding that she’d ogled him for long enough Lacey turned reluctantly back toward her mother and Serena. Joining the conversation seemed like a great distraction from staring at the silent, sexy giant. Hopefully he hadn't noticed that her attention had not been focused on whatever Serena had been saying about the features of the home.

Did she honestly think he was oblivious to the way she had been staring at him? Jack thought to himself incredulously. The curvy little brunette with the biggest smile he’d ever seen had been eyeing him like a prime cut of beef at the supermarket for the past three minutes.
 

Her stare should have felt intrusive or even downright offensive, but instead he found himself liking the way her eyes wandered over him with such honest interest. He liked it a lot. But it had been so long since he’d even been aware of a woman that he really wasn’t sure how to react. What were the rules now? He had no idea. His last experience with this had been in college. Surely, things had changed in the 10 years since he’d graduated. Should he stare back at her? Ignore her? Wait and see what she did? Slip her his number? Cop a feel? No, definitely not. That would get him a slap for sure.

He’d been tempted to ask her if she liked what she saw, but was fairly certain she would have panicked and grown flustered if he’d acknowledged her blatant perusal of his body. It might have been amusing to watch her recover from her embarrassment, but he really wanted to feel her eyes on him again. And that was unlikely to happen if he confronted her. He was just glad he’d left his shirt untucked or she’d really have gotten an eyeful of his body’s reaction to being visually assaulted. Mr. Happy could pound nails right about now.

He couldn't figure it out. This woman wasn't even his type. His wife had been fair-skinned, ash-blonde and as tall and thin as a runway model. Lacey was olive-skinned and petite, maybe a few inches over five feet. Usually, his size made him feel clumsy around small women, but not with her. She was perfectly curved, and fit-looking with a small waist and gently flaring hips. Her face was expressive with huge vivid blue eyes that contrasted with her darker skin and hair. But the most striking thing about her was her smile. It was huge and open and made him want to amuse her, just so he could see it again and again. He had never seen someone smile so often and with such genuine warmth in such a short period of time. No denying it, he liked what he saw.

"I can’t believe all the high end finishes in this place. It’s like a miniature version of all of those lottery homes," Lacey said, admiring the travertine tile in the laundry room just off the kitchen.
 

Jack inwardly preened at the compliment. He’d picked out that tile himself, and his brothers had ribbed him mercilessly for his extravagant taste.

“You wouldn’t happen to know the name of that color, would you?” Diana asked Serena, gesturing toward the wall beside the huge natural stone fireplace which looked like it belonged in a hunting lodge rather than a suburban townhouse. "It’s a beautiful shade. Neutral but so much warmer than plain beige, don’t you think, Lacey? I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”

Serena looked down at her notes and then glanced at the dark-haired man. “Jay, can you remember? I don’t seem to have it written down.”

He stepped forward and smiled at Lacey and her mother. “That’s called Biscotti,” he said, pointing toward the wall. "And the darker color leading up the stairs is called Espresso. I guess the paint manufacturer really had a thing for coffee.” On a less masculine man, this knowledge of specific paint shade would have seemed effeminate, but the deep rumble of his voice and the way his eyes warmed when he looked at Lacey left little doubt that his orientation was 100% heterosexual.

“This is one of the builders,” Serena explained, gesturing toward the dark-haired man.

“So, if there’s anything you need to know, he would be the man to ask. He just popped in for a second to check on things, but I’m sure he’d be glad to answer your questions. Is there anything you’re curious about?”