Down by the River (14 page)

Like a silly teenager, she found herself wondering if Jack might try to kiss her again. Was he still attracted to her? Her eyes shifted to his face with her thoughts.

Jack caught her eyes with his, studying her.

Grace twisted her hands in her lap nervously now.

“It's getting me all excited, Grace, watching you fidget and worry about what I might do while I'm visiting you here.” He gave Grace one of those devilish smiles that lit up his dimples and crinkled his eyes.

Annoyed, Grace sat up straighter, trying to regain her composure. She felt a slight flush rise up her neck as she did. “Perhaps the direct approach is better with you, Jack. What are you doing here, anyway?”

He leaned back and grinned at her. “Now, that's not a very neighborly way to act, Grace. I brought the guest list over to you.”

Jack pulled a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket and handed it across to her. “There will be seventeen coming on Friday night, Grace. The Teagues—including the girls and I, Ma, and Bebe—from across the river. From the River Road and Creekside there will be Vincent Westbrooke and the Butlers: Roger, Sam, Daisy, and Ruby. From the next house down, Sally and Berke Carson plan to come, but not Berke's mother Jo. I think Sally said she had a cold. Then from the last house on the River Road there will be the Clark clan: Gavin and Freda and their four kids, Kyleen, Dean, Stacy, and Julie. That's it—our small neighborhood in a nutshell. You'll sort them out Friday if you don't know them all already.”

He ran his hands through his hair as an ending. Grace followed the motion, fighting the thought that she wished her own hands were there.

Mentally she scolded herself for the direction of her thinking and tried to relax. She put on a plastic smile. “It sounds like a good group. I think I've met almost everyone, although I know some better than others.”

His eyes assessed her lazily. “If you'll look on the list, Grace, you'll see what food everyone has volunteered to bring. It's a lot. Roger, Berke, Carson, and I are in charge of the grilling, and we're buying the hamburger meat and buns. We'll also come early and bring over the tables and chairs we'll need from the church. Vince and Gavin Clark are helping with that, too. All the families are bringing fixings, sides, desserts, coolers full of drinks and ice, paper plates, utensils, and cups.”

Jack angled in his seat and stretched his legs to prop them on the footstool in front of the little sofa where Grace sat. She tried not to focus on his legs so near hers.

Mentally she chided herself.
He's only here being a good neighbor, telling you about this gathering coming up on Friday. Why are you so conscious of him? Of every move he makes. You're acting like a silly schoolgirl! Stop it, Grace.

Jack's voice floated over her thoughts. “Samantha told me to tell you to make a couple of pitchers of that great fruit tea of yours, if you would. She knows you're opening your shop Thursday and Friday for the first days of business. She doesn't want you doing anything more, although she said you probably would anyway.”

Grace listened politely, trying to concentrate on what Jack was saying. Whatever was wrong with her? You'd think she'd never been alone with a man at night before!

A small silence descended before Grace realized Jack had stopped talking. She looked up and saw him watching her.

He dropped his feet off the stool and stood up then. In a quieter voice he said, “I'm going home now while I can, Grace Conley. If I stay in this sizzling tension any longer I'm going to pick you up and carry you back to the bedroom and work off some of this agony.”

She knew her eyes had grown wide and her posture rigid.

Jack smiled lazily. “Don't you think you should walk me to the door, Miz Conley?”

Grace stood to her feet, her legs feeling wobbly and rubbery. She unconsciously smoothed her hands down the front of her shirt, trying to straighten it.

Jack's eyes followed her hands as they passed over her breasts. “That did it,” he said. In two seconds, he had taken the few steps separating them, grabbed her by the arms, and leaned down to kiss her with a kiss that could never be termed polite.

Grace grasped the front of his shirt to hold herself up. An explosive passion seemed to wash over Grace's senses. She heard some gasping little breath escape her before Jack crushed her closer against him, his mouth devouring hers and his hands roving up under her hair and then down her back and lower. When he pulled her more tightly to him, his hands cupped under her hips, Grace felt herself grow dizzy with sensation.

Jack pulled back from her for a moment to look down into her eyes with a searing gaze. Their eyes locked tightly, and both of them were breathing heavily.

Just as he leaned back toward her with a seductive, satisfying smile, a voice behind them said sarcastically, “Well, well, isn't this an interesting situation to find my mother in.”

A cold bucket of water tossed over her wouldn't have more quickly arrested Grace's passion. Jack backed away with a regretful shrug and turned around.

“Margaret.” Grace tried to greet her daughter in a bright and normal voice—but knew her voice sounded strained. “I had no idea you were coming, dear.”

Margaret rolled her eyes. “That's certainly obvious, Mother.”

Forgetting their normal manners, Sadie and Dooley barked a greeting and clicked across the hardwood floor to weave around Margaret's legs in pleasure.

“No barking,” Margaret reminded them. But Margaret leaned down to greet them both affectionately.

Struggling to recover her equilibrium and her manners now, Grace started her introductions, trying to steady her voice. “Jack, this is my daughter Margaret Jane. Margaret, this is my neighbor who lives across the river, Jack Teague.”

Jack lazily and calmly reached out a hand to take Margaret's. “I'm delighted, Margaret. I can see you inherited your mother's beauty. I am charmed to meet you.”

Grace felt nettled. Nothing seemed to rattle this man. She still felt shaky and weak-kneed, and he seemed calm and unruffled.

“I am so pleased you decided to come see me.” Grace went over to give Margaret a hug now. “How long will you stay with me?”

“I'm not sure.” Margaret shrugged casually and smoothed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her blond hair was pulled back in a smooth ponytail, and she wore white shorts and a black T-shirt that said: Beethoven Rocks.

Grace smiled. “Well, you can stay as long as you like. Why didn't you call?”

“I left impulsively. Elaine and I had a fight.” Margaret wrinkled her nose. “Elaine got all bent out of shape about something that happened. We had a few words, and then Frank got into it.” Her voice had grown expressive and dramatic now.

She waved her arms. “You know how Frank is. So pompous and self-righteous. I don't know how Elaine stands to live with that man. He goes on and on.”

Margaret leaned against the side of a wing chair and made a face. “I finally got tired of it and possibly said a few things I shouldn't have.” She shrugged.

Grace smiled.
Possibly said a few things
was hardly the right way to describe what Margaret had probably let loose at Frank. She tended to get wound up.

“What brought on all this little hoopla?” Jack asked.

Margaret looked toward Jack in surprise, seeming to remember then that he was still there.

She flicked her eyes up and down him, sizing him up—Grace knew that look—before she continued. “Well, I was watching the girls after lunch while Elaine ran out to the store. The girls were playing with some blocks and stuff, busy and happy, and I was practicing the piano.”

Margaret paused. “It was a Tchaikovsky piece, and I got caught up in the movements and got absorbed.” She lifted her eyebrows expressively. “And then the next thing I knew Elaine was rushing in the room shrieking and freaking out. Evidently, Ava and Sophie had gone out into the backyard. I guess I didn't hear them. And they were playing in the fountain with their clothes on when Elaine drove back up.”

Margaret flopped into the wing chair she had been leaning against, the dogs settling on the floor close to her feet. Grace and Jack, following her signal, sat down again, too.

Margaret continued her story. “It was really no big deal. That fountain isn't even two feet deep at the edges. You'd think I purposely took them out onto the freeway and left them there from the way Elaine was overreacting.”

“Were they all right?” Grace asked anxiously.

“Of course.” Margaret gave her an annoyed glance. “That's the whole point. They were just playing around in the water. Of course, they shouldn't have been. Ava knew better and she knew they weren't supposed to even go outside alone without me. Or climb into the fountain with their shoes and clothes on. But that didn't stop them. Oh, no, the little brats. And Elaine wasn't even mad at them at all. Only at me. Frank was even worse. He came home from work to jump on me. So after twenty minutes of his ranting and raving, I just went up to my room and packed some stuff and took off.”

And came to me, Grace thought with pleasure.

Jack laughed, enjoying the story. “How old were these little girls?”

Grace answered that. “Ava is three and Sophie is eighteen months. The water in the fountain is not very deep to adults, but it would be waist deep to little Sophie.”

“I know.
And they both might have drowned!
” Margaret parroted Elaine's voice, complete with shrieks and hand gestures. “I've heard it all. And I'm certainly sorry they slipped outside while I was playing piano. But what was I supposed to do about it after the fact? Wear sackcloth and ashes and wail and flail myself with switches?”

Grace watched Jack's mouth twitch. He was getting a good look at Margaret's dramatic take on life.

Margaret blew out an exasperated breath. “I must have said I was sorry a hundred times. But it wasn't enough. They had to launch into a reiteration of all the ways I was so often irresponsible. Honestly, Mother, I was totally over it.”

“Well, you can stay here with me as long as you like.” Grace leaned over to pat Margaret's knee. “There is plenty of room. And I've already fixed up the top suite in the inn; you can use it just like your own little apartment. I think you'll like it.”

Margaret looked around then as if seeing the bed-and-breakfast for the first time. “Good grief. This place is colorful and cluttered enough, isn't it? I don't remember you mentioning that it looked like the inside of a children's picture book or a Mary Engelbreit calendar.”

Jack took this moment to walk toward the door, obviously suppressing another grin. “I think I'll head on home and let you girls catch up on all the home gossip.”

The dogs lifted up their heads and thumped their tails to sleepily acknowledge that Jack was leaving, but didn't get up this time. However, Grace stood to walk him to the door.

Margaret waved a hand at Jack. “I'd say it was nice to meet you, Mr. Teague, but I'm not sure of your intentions toward my mother yet. So I'll reserve judgment.”

She gave Jack and Grace a pointed look. “Perhaps it's good I came when I did. Daddy always said it was dangerous for girls to live on their own. I guess he might have been right.” She smirked and raised an eyebrow.

Jack snickered. “He might have had a point. And it's particularly dangerous for beautiful women like you and your mother. You lock your doors after I'm gone. Okay?”

“We will.” Margaret gave him a saucy smile. “Perhaps Mother should have locked her doors much earlier.”

“Perhaps.” Jack said this lightly and then turned to give Grace a long look. He smiled that rascal of a smile at her then, his dimples winking in his cheeks.

“And then perhaps not,” he added quietly, his voice dropping to a husky tone meant only for Grace's ears.

He blew them a kiss on two fingers before he left, shutting the door behind him.

“Holy kamoly!” Margaret let out the expletive after they heard Jack's footsteps recede into the distance. “Where did you find
him,
Mother? He seems like all the kinds of men you used to warn Elaine and me about all wrapped up in one package.”

Grace could feel herself blush.

She saw Margaret studying her. “You're blushing. And it looked to me like Jack Teague was getting ready to kiss you when I came in. Was he?”

Grateful that Margaret had apparently not seen the episode before, Grace angled to change the subject. “I'm so glad you're here, Margaret. Where are your bags, dear?”

“In the car.”

“Come. I'll help you bring them in.”

Grace opened the door and then stopped in her tracks and gasped, her hand flying to her heart, as she saw a shadowed man's form coming up the darkened porch. Margaret plowed straight into Grace's back when she stopped, almost knocking Grace down.

The shadow moved into the porch light. It was only Vincent.

He was dressed in a beautifully cut black suit, crisp white shirt, and black tie. A neat triangle of white handkerchief stuck out of his lapel pocket. He looked incredible. Grace heard Margaret's soft “wow” in her ear.

“Did I startle you, Grace?” His smooth, resonant voice rolled over them.

“A little.” Grace hated to say how much or why. Recovering herself, she smiled at Vincent, opening the screen door and starting outside. “I was going out to help bring in my daughter's bags. She's just arrived from Nashville.” Grace gestured behind her. “Vincent Westbrooke, this is my daughter, Margaret Jane Conley. Margaret, this is Vincent, one of my neighbors.”

Margaret stepped forward as Vincent reached out his hand. He took her hand, and then Grace watched Margaret's eyes jump to Vincent's face in surprise. And then back to his hand.

Grace had a feeling she knew what was happening.