A Crazy Kind of Love (12 page)

“Would it physically
kill
you to enjoy yourself?”

One of Jo’s dark brown eyebrows lifted. “Possibly.”

“Well, I for one am enjoying myself,” Sam muttered thickly.

“See?
She’
s my sister,” Mike said.

“What’m I?” Jo demanded.

“Still working that out,” Mike countered, grinning.

Jo sighed and gave her foot back into the care of the woman glaring at her. “Fine. We’ll do the girly thing, so you can run off and play . . . whatever, with your latest conquest.”

“He is
so
not a conquest.”

“Then why the weekend getaway?” Sam asked on another sigh.

Good question. Mike had been asking herself that
very question for days. The best she’d been able to come up with was pretty pitiful. But she tried it out on her sisters anyway. “Lucas doesn’t know anybody around here. He’s got some big-deal fund-raiser to go to and he doesn’t want to go alone.”

Jo gave her a wry, sidelong glance. “So this is a pity date.”

She stiffened. “Who said anything about pity?”

“So why, then?” Sam asked, stepping into the middle of a blossoming argument, just as she always had. Sam, the peacemaker. Sam, the middle child. Sam, the sister waiting for an answer.

“He’s . . .” Mike’s voice trailed off and she would have waved her hands but they were held in a tight grip by the manicurists stationed on either side of her. She searched wildly for what to say, but a good Italian required her hands to have a decent conversation, so she came up empty.

“You like him.” Sam sounded pleased.

“I don’t hate him anymore,” Mike allowed.

Jo looked at her. “Decent of you to forgive him for building his own house.”

“On my land.”

“Which he bought,” Jo pointed out.

“After going behind my back,” Mike countered, feeling the old resentment spring to life inside her again.

“Which he didn’t even know was there,” Jo said amiably.

Hell, Mike thought grimly, Jo was always amiable when she thought she was winning an argument.

“
Back
to the point of this,” Sam said, winning a glare
from both of her sisters. “Which is, you’re going away with a guy you’ve only known two months.”

“Hah!” Mike snorted. “Excuse me? Aren’t you the one who
married
the Weasel Dog after three hot weeks of sex and giggles?”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “And remember how well that turned out.”

“Worked out now,” Mike reminded her.

“Sure, nine years later.”

“Got you there,” Jo chortled.

“Are you almost finished?” Mike asked the manicurist on her left. “I’d like to punch my sister as soon as possible.”

“Nails are wet.” The girl laughed.

“Damn it.” Mike inhaled sharply and huffed it out again. “Look, I’m going away for the weekend. It’s a . . .
favor
.”

“
That’
s a new one,” Jo said, chuckling.

Mike snapped her a killing look that bounced right off her, like bullets off Superman’s chest. “Is it so hard to believe that I could do a nice thing?”

“No,” Sam said quickly, as Jo was just opening her mouth to comment. “It’s just that, while you’re doing this nice thing . . . I hope you’re careful.”

“Yes, mom,” Mike muttered. Sam’s warnings were
so
unnecessary. Mike had been giving herself this same speech for
days
. Actually, since right after agreeing to go with Lucas in the first place. She’d thought about The Kiss every night in her dreams. Well, not really
thought
about it. More like relived it. In glorious Technicolor with Dolby digital-enhanced detail.

The man might be a scientist, but he had some really
interesting
layers
. The question was, did she want to
peel
him?

Always before, the men in Mike’s life had been temporary. Deliberately chosen to be temporary. She didn’t want to fall in love. Actually, tried hard not to fall in
like
. She preferred keeping things on a strictly hormonal level.
Want
was okay.
Need
was not.
Lust
, yes.
Love
, no.

Not that she had anything against the whole “happily ever after” thing. Hey, she’d listened to as many fairy tales as the next woman. It was just that Mike would never be able to have the
whole
fairy tale.

And half a “castle” worked for nobody.

“Fine. We’re supporting our sister during her charitable mission,” Jo said grimly, with a glance at Sam. “But while we’re here, could we at least—I don’t know . . . talk about
work
?”

“You really need a life,” Mike muttered.

“Like yours? No, thanks.” Then Jo ignored her. “We signed on to do Stevie’s new roof, so I’ll be handling that while you guys start working on Cash’s place next week.”

“Us? Not you?” Sam asked.

“It’ll be easier this way,” Jo insisted, taking her now freed right hand and inspecting the clear polish with a nod of approval.

“Easier on who?” Mike asked. “If we all do Stevie’s roof we can have it done in three or four days. You working alone will take nearly two weeks.”

“Your point?”

Mike blinked and looked at Sam.

“Her point”—Sam picked up the thread and ran with it—“is that we work together, Jo. You know that.”

“Not all the time.”

“
Most
of the time,” Sam insisted.

“I just thought it would be easier to get both jobs going at once.” Jo frowned at the pink polish on her toes.

Curious, Mike leaned closer to her oldest sister. “What’s going on with you and Cash?”

Jo’s blue eyes snapped up to meet Mike’s. “Absolutely
nothing
. The man is a pig. A self-satisfied, arrogant, know-it-all pig.”

“Whoa,” Mike said, laughing, “don’t hold back, Jo. Tell me what you really think.”

“Cute.”

“Are you sure you’re not—”

“What?” she snarled.

Mike looked at Sam, smiled, then shifted her gaze back to Jo. “You know what. Worried about maybe spending so much time with drop-dead gorgeous Cash and then sleeping with him only to discover your hidden altruistic side? Marching off to do good works?”

Jo scowled at her. “Do you
ever
get tired of talking?”

“Nope.”

“Any woman who sleeps with Cash needs her head examined,” Jo grumbled and waved both hands, hurrying up the nail polish drying.

“He’s hot.”

“So’s nuclear waste.”

“He’s also living like a priest.”

“Huh?”
Both Jo and Mike said the word at the same time and turned astonished gazes on Sam, who was thanking the pedicurist and admiring her dark-coralpainted toes. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to her sisters
and smiled. “Didn’t you hear? Women all over Chandler are pining away, apparently.”

“Since when?”

“By all reports, our secretary Tina was the last one to fall to Cash’s charms.”

“But that was like two months ago,” Mike said, remembering that Tina had spent one night with Cash and then gone home to Georgia to work for Habitat for Humanity. The man was a sexual hypnotist or something.

“Yep,” Sam said. “Two months. It seems Cash has taken a vow of celibacy.”

Jo snorted. “A vow. His dick probably wore out and fell off.”

Mike laughed. “You volunteering to find out?”

“You
are
insane.”

“Hi, you guys, how’s everything?”

All three of them turned to look at Tasha Candellano. She’d just had a baby a couple of weeks ago and already her figure had snapped back into shape—she was as tiny as ever. Her dark auburn hair was streaked with blond and paler shades of red and her green eyes sparkled.

“You look way too good,” Sam said to her. “Seriously, there are women here who would kill to look like that so soon after giving birth.”

“Trust me,” Tasha said, giving her almost flat stomach a pat. “There’s still plenty there. I just hide it well under clothes.” Then she looked around, nodding at the girls who were packing up the manicure/pedicure kits, and asked, “You guys having fun?”

“Oh, a blast,” Jo grumbled.

“Pay no attention to her,” Mike piped up. “She’s obviously deranged. So how’s the baby?”

“She’s gorgeous,” Tasha said, grinning. “Two weeks old and Angie has taken over the household. Jonas is nuts about her—he and Nick are always fighting to hold her.”

Tasha’s foster son, Jonas, had been adopted by Nick and Tasha the minute they got married and the boy was a sweetheart, even if he was closing in on being a teenager.

“I swear,” Tasha continued, “if I wasn’t breastfeeding, I’d never get any time with my daughter.” She caught herself, stopped and smiled even wider. “Can’t believe I can say that. My daughter. Wow.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty great,” Sam said.

Mike smiled, too, knowing her sister was happy at last, with her husband, the “Weasel Dog,” and her daughter, Emma, back in her life. And she really was happy for Sam. Really. It was only that—

“Ah good, the Marconis.” Another voice, older, warmer, and carrying the flavor of Italy.

Angela Candellano, known universally as Mama, stepped up next to Tasha and gave her a quick hug as she sent a welcoming smile to the Marconi girls. Mama was short, a little round, and a woman who had her finger on the pulse of everyone—not only in her own family, but in all of Chandler. And the woman never seemed to change. Her long gray-streaked black hair was always piled in a knot on top of her head and her sharp dark eyes missed
nothing
.

“Is a long time since I’ve seen you three,” she said, propping one hand on her hip. “What? I have to have
you come work on my house to make you stop by for a hello?”

Mike glanced at her sisters, then shrugged and provided an excuse for all of them. “Sorry, Mama. It’s been a busy summer.”

“Oh yes. A happy summer, too, eh? New babies—a boy and a girl”—she hugged Tasha again—“now my Carla’s going to make me a nana again. Sam’s little girl has come home, and Jackson is the new mayor.” She frowned. “But Mayor Vickers wants a—” She turned to Tasha. “What did Jackson say it was?”

“A recount, Mama,” Tasha provided.

“You’re kidding,” Jo said.

“No. He says chads work in Florida, they should work here.” She shook her head grimly. “I think is Rachel, his wife, who is the problem.”

“Not surprising,” Sam muttered. “Rachel really likes being the mayor’s wife. Not surprising she wouldn’t want to give it up.”

“Jackson won, that should be it,” Jo snapped.

Mike agreed. Jackson Wyatt, Carla Candellano’s husband and the father of the little girl Carla had adopted as her own, had run for mayor and won in a damn landslide. Everyone in town had been ready for a change. And maybe, she considered, the fact that Rachel Vickers was always foisting her poisonous attempts at cooking on everyone was one of the reasons.

“He’ll win in the recount, too,” Tasha said loyally.

“Of course he will,” Mama agreed, nodding hard enough to loosen a few strands of hair from her topknot. “And this Christmas, my Tony’s brother’s son Alex is
coming from Omaha for a visit. His wife died and he should get away for a while. Is not good to be alone.”

“Another Candellano coming to town?” Mike asked.

Mama smiled benevolently. “We’ll try to make him stay here. With family.” Then she inhaled sharply and said, “Molly is going to fix my hair, so I have to hurry. You girls say hello to your papa for me, all right? And Grace, too.”

“Grace?” Mike blurted. Hell. Had
everyone
but his daughters known about Grace and Papa?

Mama bent down and patted Mike’s hand. “He missed your mother so much, God rest her soul.” She paused to quickly cross herself and bob her head. “It’s good Hank and Grace found each other. Is not good to be alone.”

As Mama and Tasha said goodbye and wandered off together, Mike thought about what she’d said. No, it wasn’t good to be alone. But sometimes, it was much
easier
.

Lucas snatched the phone up, eager for a distraction. He’d been working on his book for the last three hours and had managed to type one whole page. Nanotechnology research was a hell of a lot easier than writing.

“Hello?”

“Lucas.”

His hand tightened on the receiver and his features went hard and stiff. Lucas actually
felt
ice move through his veins, despite the unexpectedly sharp burst of fury that slammed through him.

“How the hell did you get this number?” he demanded.

“I called the lab,” Justin said, “your secretary gave it to me.” His voice sounded faint, far away.

Not far enough.

“I’ll fire her tomorrow.” Not really, but damn if he didn’t want to. Sharon shouldn’t be giving out personal information to anyone. Least of all to brothers who should have stayed the hell away.

“Damn it, Lucas, I have to talk to you and you won’t even read my e-mails.”

Lucas fixed his gaze on the lake. Keep staring at the cool, clear surface of the water, he told himself. Feel the calm settle. Feel the tension drain away.

Fuck that.

“In case you didn’t get it,” Lucas said, and every word had to be
pushed
past the knot of anger nearly strangling him. “I don’t
want
to talk to you, Justin. It’s been four years. Nothing you can say to me now will mean a damn thing.”

“Damn it, Lucas—”

“Get the hell out of my life, Justin.” His fingers tightened around the phone. His breath labored in his lungs. His vision suddenly clouded with a red haze of pure rage and he whipped his glasses off, tossing them onto his desktop.

“I’m about to.”

“Don’t wait,” he snarled. “Do it
now
.”

Lucas stabbed the
TALK
button, hanging up and ending the conversation before Justin could manage to say another word. “Does he think I want an
apology
?” Shaking his head, he threw the phone onto the chair
and glared at it when it rang again. “Does he think that there’s
anything
he can say to make this all right?”

The phone rang again and Lucas took two steps back and away from the chair where the phone lay, its red light blinking frantically with each ring. Gritting his teeth, he reached up with both hands and scraped his hair back from his head. He dragged one uneven breath into his lungs, then another, then another. His heartbeat slowed down, the inferno of rage faded into a few hotly smoldering coals, and the haze around the edges of his vision slowly cleared.