SEAL the Deal (18 page)

Lacey smiled. “So the lawn guy is back? He
didn’t move, after all?”

Maeve didn’t even glance away from the window.
“Oh, no. He’s gone and forgotten. But apparently, we’ve been upgraded to a
better model.”

Curious, Lacey made her way to the window.
Her jaw dropped.

There was Mick, shirtless, mowing the
backyard.

“Oh my God,” was all she could say.

“Mmhm. That’s about the reaction we had,”
Bess murmured.

Lacey had imagined Mick’s body would be
muscular, and make no mistake—she had imagined it plenty.

But even her wildest fantasies couldn’t
quite match the reality of him. His shoulders were wide and thick with corded
muscles that extended down into his broad back. A scar just below one shoulder
seemed to lend an air of mystery to his otherwise flawless body. As the mower
made its pass, the girls exhaled in unison at the sight of six pack abs so divine,
they could only have been crafted by the hand of God.

Lacey felt the urge to trace her fingers
along those ripped muscles. And get naked. Very, very naked.

“I knew he’d be ripped,” Maeve said with
some authority, “but I had no idea he’d be that ripped.”

Bess was flushed. “As a pregnant woman, I
didn’t think it was possible to be this turned on.”

“Are you kidding? All those extra hormones
you have now are just aching for some relief. Lacey, couldn’t you just loan
Mick to Bess for an hour or two?”

Lacey wanted to say that he wasn’t hers to
loan, but the words got lodged in her throat. She couldn’t tear her eyes off of
him. Beads of salty sweat trickled down his six-pack and disappeared beneath
his shorts. She licked her lips unconsciously and struggled to find her voice. “Why
is he mowing the grass?”

Maeve snickered. “Well, he comes pounding on
the door about a half hour ago and says he owes you big time, and to deduct
whatever I used to pay the other guy from your rent.”

Lacey blushed noticeably.

Maeve finally managed to pull her gaze
from the window. She crossed her arms. “So what, may I ask, does he owe you
for? Must have been a hell of a blow job.”

Bess snorted.

Lacey gave Maeve a light slap on the
shoulder. “Nothing like that. We had an argument. But we worked it out, so I
never told you guys. There was so much else going on with the break-in. I never
expected him to do this.” She looked outside again in sheer admiration of the
male form. “Oh, Maeve. You didn’t tell him he had to take his shirt off, did
you?”

“Even
I
wouldn’t have thought of
that. It was his idea. He said he wanted to make sure I got my money’s worth.”

Bess whistled a little. “I think you did
and then some.”

Just then, Mick glanced up and saw all
three women gazing at him. He flashed a smile and flexed his muscles with
flourish. “Just wait till you see me do the edging,” he called out over the
roar of the motor.

“Sweet Mary. We could sell tickets to
this, you know.” Maeve sighed and then said sharply to Lacey, “Now don’t you
dare tell him that the other guy never did the edging.”

“So what happened, Lacey?” Bess asked. “Must
have been a bad argument for a payback like this.”

Lacey turned away from the window. “Well,
Mick found out that I had written up a proposal for Edith’s house.”

“So?” Maeve shrugged.

“He went ballistic. Stormed into my office,
telling me I should have told him, and all that.”

Bess lost the color in her cheeks. “Was he
violent?”

“Mick? Oh, no. Just loud. So I told him to
leave and he did. That’s why he came early Saturday night. To apologize. And
that was that. I had no idea he was going to do this.” She gestured to the
backyard.

“He said he’ll keep doing it till winter,
too,” Maeve said with a grin. “So you’ll have a bit more spending money in your
pocket for the holidays.”

“He really didn’t have to do this. It
wasn’t such a big deal.”

Crossing her arms, Maeve leaned against
the counter. “So when are you going to take that hard body out for a spin,
Lacey?”

“I’ll probably never have the honors.”

“For God’s sake, Lacey, how settled in
your career do you have to be to have sex again? This is getting absurd.”

“It’s not just that, Maeve. He still
doesn’t know that I crashed Doc’s funeral to try to get the listing,” Lacey
explained. “After seeing how he reacted last week, now I
know
he’d hate
me for that. How can I get involved with him now?”

“Honey, I’ve got news for you. You’re
already involved with him.”

Bess gazed out the window again
thoughtfully. “Why don’t you just tell him the truth?”

“I tried to last week, but he cut me off. Said
that he was wrong to stick his nose into my real estate business, and he didn’t
want to know anything more about work.”

Maeve brightened. “There you go, then. You’re
free and clear. Jump the poor bastard before he explodes from sexual
frustration. Or before you do.”

“I’m not like you, Maeve, I can’t just
jump in the sack with someone when I feel like I’m hiding something from him.”

Bess winced. “Ouch. Lacey.”

“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it that
way.”

Maeve waved her hand carelessly, “I know
you didn’t. No worries. So then just tell him and force him to listen.”

“I know that’s what I should do. But the
more feelings I get for him, the harder it is. Besides, a relationship with
Mick isn’t good for me right now. He’s already clouding my thinking. Last
Thursday when I went to that Parker funeral all I kept thinking was, is this
ethical? I couldn’t even bring myself to introduce myself to the widower. I
just slipped out after the eulogy. Even now, look at me. I walked in the door
in a great mood. Then I took one look at him and I’m confused, unfocused, and
pretty much just want to cry.”

“Holy Hell. You’re in love,” Maeve
concluded.

 “No!” Lacey insisted firmly, despite
the tears building up from the realization… and the guilt. Why was she reacting
this way? “Absolutely not. He’s just my friend. I feel the same way you two feel
about him.”

Maeve and Bess exchanged a look.

“Uh, but we’re not crying right now,” Bess
observed.

The mower outside stopped. Lacey glanced
out the window as Mick powered up the edger. Licking her bottom lip
involuntarily, she let out a slow breath when she saw his muscles bunch as he revved
the motor.

Maeve raised an eyebrow to Bess. “If this
keeps up any longer, we’ll be buying her a vibrator for Christmas.”

Lacey stood in front of her closet wishing
some new outfit would magically appear. Her wardrobe was dismal. Browns, grays,
black. Lots of black. But since attending funerals was part of her job, the drab
palette was a necessity.

She slipped on a gray skirt with a black
sweater. Glancing at herself for no more than ten seconds, she ripped the sweater
off and replaced it with another black one. Shaking her head ferociously, she tore
off the skirt and tried some jeans. At least they were blue, and this was
Annapolis, after all. No one ever wore much more than jeans in this town.

Feeling defeated, she flopped down on the
bed.

What was wrong with her? This wasn’t a
date. It was just two friends going to sample some foods together. It didn’t
matter what she wore.

The hell it didn’t.

She stormed into Maeve’s bedroom on a
mission.

“Looking a little flustered,” Maeve observed,
eyeing the light sheen of sweat on her friend’s brow. She lay sprawled out on
the bed in a silk robe reading
Architectural Digest
.

Desperate, Lacey’s eyes were wide. “I have
no clothes. I have no shoes.”

“As I’ve been telling you for months now.”

“Can I borrow something?”

“Duh. Of course. What do you need? What
are you dressing for?” She lifted herself out from a pile of fluffy pillows.

“Mick and I are going to sample those entrées
at Eagle’s Point tonight.”

“Hot date clothes, then.”

“It’s not a date.”

With a smirk, Maeve snuggled back into the
poof of her bed linens. “Well, then what you’re wearing should do just fine.”

Lacey sighed. “Okay, okay. Sort of hot
date clothes. Everything I have is either super casual or bland work clothes.”

“Ah, yes, the Lacey Owens Funeral
Collection,” Maeve nodded solemnly, rising from her bed with greater enthusiasm.
“I can do better than that.”

Lacey bit her tongue and let her friend
take over, watching her pull out stacks of shoe boxes and armloads of hangers from
her closet.

Maeve barreled through an assortment of colorful
attire, sorting and paring down until she settled on a combination that resembled
something ripped from a magazine. She dressed Lacey like a life-sized doll, topping
her effort with a light squirt of perfume.

“There. You are now ready,” Maeve said
triumphantly, turning Lacey around to see herself in the mirror.

“I am indebted to you forever.” Lacey gazed
at herself in Maeve’s selection of a silk blouse with a cashmere sweater, and a
denim skirt that fell just above the knee. Sexy, yet understated, leather
heeled boots completed the ensemble.

“Now if you come home at all tonight, I’ll
be grossly disappointed in you, Lacey.”

***

The smell of roasted garlic wafted into
the stairway as Lacey made her way down the steps. Bess, in her usual sweats,
was hovering over the kitchen counters, chopping and dicing herbs and
vegetables that Lacey didn’t even recognize.

“That smells wonderful. What is it?”

Bess didn’t even turn to Lacey to speak, concentrating
on the task at-hand. “A little experiment. Sort of a lasagna with a little of
this and that.” She finally glanced over her shoulder. “Wow! You look fantastic.”

“Thanks. Maeve’s doing, of course. The
only thing that’s mine is the bra.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” a male voice
said behind her.

Lacey blushed from head to toe at the
sight of Mick standing in the entryway. “Bess, why didn’t you tell me he was
here?”

“I’m sorry,” Bess said innocently, with palpable
amusement. “I thought you heard the doorbell.”

“I couldn’t hear a thing over Maeve’s
lecture about my lack of style and colorless wardrobe.”

Mick gave her an obvious once-over. “I’ll
mirror Bess’s compliment and say you look fantastic.”

“Thanks. So do you. I haven’t seen you in
a suit since—” She stopped suddenly, not wanting to remind him of the
circumstances of their meeting.

“Doc’s funeral,” Mick finished casually
for her. “Yeah, I bet you’re getting sick of seeing me in jeans or in uniform.”

Never, Lacey thought. “Ready to go?”

Mick wrapped his arm around her waist and
whisked her out the door. “I can’t imagine that what they’re cooking for us
tonight will be any better than whatever Bess is whipping up,” he commented as
they stepped into the crisp fall evening.

“I’ve never been to Eagle’s Point, but
I’ve heard it’s incredible. I can’t believe Edith managed to secure it for the
fundraiser. She has such a way of getting people to do things she wants.” Mick
opened the car door for her, and as she sunk into his leather seats, she
noticed his double-take as her skirt slipped further up her thigh.
Good
,
she couldn’t resist thinking.

He slid into his seat and put the key in
the ignition. Glancing at her again, his finger lightly traced the exposed skin
just above her knee. “Goosebumps,” he commented. “Are you cold?”

“A little,” Lacey murmured, a sinful thrill
racing up her spine from his touch.

“I’ll turn the heat up then,” he said,
giving Lacey the hope he might lean in and touch his warm lips to hers.

She fought disappointment when he pressed
a button on the dashboard and she felt hot air blowing through the vents. “Thanks,”
she said half-heartedly.

When they arrived at the end of a winding
road lined with fiery maples, the sight of Eagle’s Point was nothing short of
spectacular. The building was a stately historic mansion converted into a
restaurant on the bottom floor with hotel suites above it, each with views of
the Bay. Lacey silently fantasized about detouring past dinner and right up to
one of the lavish suites with Mick.

As the maître d’ seated them beside a
floor-to-ceiling window, the beaming chef practically floated in from the
kitchen to greet them, grinning from ear-to-ear.

“What a delight to have you here!” the
chef said in an airy tone, enthusiastic hands fluttering in front of him as he
spoke. “Edith told me that you have the final say on the selections, so I am
preparing my personal favorites.” He talked alternating English and French as
appropriate, rattling off dishes that sounded delectable, if unrecognizable, to
Lacey.