His First Choice (15 page)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

L
ACEY
WAITED
ALL
day Monday to hear from Jem. He'd be working, for sure. And Tressa would be, too. Still, she was on edge. In a queer sort of way. Levi was perfectly safe for now. If Tressa was abusing him, in any way, Jem would keep the boy away from his mother even before the state could intervene. So Levi wasn't the immediate concern.

Which left...Jem.

She was concerned about Jem contacting his ex-wife and getting into an emotional discussion with her.

Because she was jealous?

He'd asked her on a date. No more. She had no ownership over him in any way. No matter how much she was drawn to him.

Or how perfect he seemed to her.

And even if she did feel a little like she was sending a steak into a lion's den, it was more than that. If Tressa had fooled Lacey so completely, then was it possible that she was doing a number on Jem, too? It wouldn't be the first time she'd seen a woman be manipulative.

Not that Lacey knew Tressa at all. Jem knew her. Lacey had spent a couple of hours with the woman.

But after ten years of living her job, her instincts were usually spot-on.

Which would mean that Tressa wasn't hurting her son. And yet, Levi's story the day before had been true. She was sure of that.

And clearly it was significant enough to him that he was talking about it almost three months later.

She'd meant to tell Jem about Levi's last comment, too. About being afraid that “she” would not let him live with his father.

Whether the “she” was Tressa, or Lacey, or someone else entirely in the little boy's mind, Jem needed to know that his son was harboring the fear that he could lose his home with his father, at an age when the little boy needed security more than anything else. Security was the freedom that allowed kids to grow. To think they could do anything. Explore. Learn. Reach out and take life on...

Jem wasn't going to be working on the house that night, or at all that week. He wanted the footer to cure for a week. And also had to have it inspected before he pulled out the metal frames, backfilled the holes and poured the cement that would become the floor of the room.

Any other time she'd have thought the whole process boring as hell. Funny how fascinating it all was to her now.

Funny, too, how Tressa was blonde, decorated her home like Lacey did and liked the same kind of tea.

She brushed the thought aside. Jem had wanted the divorce from Tressa. Wanted to live apart from her. Lacey was definitely not a “second” choice where the other woman was concerned. She wasn't something he was settling for because he couldn't have what he really wanted.

At least not where his ex-wife was concerned.

Growing up in her sister's shadow was making her paranoid. And it had to stop.

His call came in while she was on her way home from work. He was home already and had Levi watching a video, which gave him roughly twenty-two minutes to have a conversation without Levi paying attention.

He was speaking so softly she could barely hear him—even with her car's Bluetooth feeding his voice through the speaker system.

“I talked to Tressa before I picked him up from preschool,” he was saying.

Lacey's heart thumped so hard she could feel it. She hated that. Also hated that she couldn't read anything in his tone of voice or see his face.

Her interest in him was more than professional. She couldn't pretend otherwise.

“And?”

“He did cry when she was teaching him to swim.”

“She told you that?”

“As soon as I asked.” He sounded...calm.

“Why was he crying? Was he afraid of the water?”

“He wasn't listening to her. She was trying to get him to put his face in the water, then lift it back up, and move his arms in a front crawl. But he kept jumping around and splashing. He slipped and went underwater and she panicked. She was scared to death he was going to drown and she overreacted. She reached down and grabbed him as tightly as she could and hauled him up out of the water. And then she yelled at him and made him cry.”

As most parents might have done.

“And I can tell you right now, the reason he wouldn't have told me was because he hates me to know when he misbehaves. He's always so eager for me to be proud of him, so eager to get things right...”

She wanted to address that, too, just because she spent her days counseling parents in raising healthy children. Too much of a need to please Jem could result in some real problems for Levi later.

Thing was, she hadn't noticed him putting any undue pressure on his son. He wasn't overly harsh with him. Nor did he require anything out of the ordinary of him.

“Levi doesn't act like a child who fears disappointing you.”

“I don't think so, either. But Tressa's right. He never tells me when he's been in trouble over there.”

“Maybe it's her he fears disappointing.”

Or maybe she was giving the little boy reason to fear. What if she was threatening him? Telling him he'd have to leave his father's home if Levi told about the times she lost her temper with him? Not that Lacey had proof of that. Just a supposition.

“I can't imagine that he fears disappointing Tressa, but I suppose he could think that the reason she doesn't live with him, like most mommies live with their kids, is because of him. We've both talked to him a lot about it, about the fact that Mommy and Dad have a problem between them and that they can't live together anymore. He's seemed quite happy living with me...”

“You sound hesitant.” She was almost home, so she pulled off at the beach, parking with a view of the incoming tide, to finish their conversation. Kacey would be waiting with a grilled chicken salad ready. Lacey wanted to get this settled first.

“It's just... He's been a little more clingy lately.”

All senses on alert, she pushed her twist to the back of her head and asked, “Like when?”

“Most recently, when we came back from your house last night.”

That one was easily explained by the conversation that had taken place in the puzzle room.

“And?”

“He had that nightmare at Tressa's. He was particularly clingy the next day when I brought him home.”

“Was that the first time?”

“No. The first couple of days after he broke his arm he was off.”

“And no other times?” Mara had said his demeanor had changed noticeably over the past months.

“Not that come to mind. Kids change every day, it seems. One minute he's a baby wanting to be held. The next he's pushing away from me to get down. He wants me to cut his meat, and then suddenly it's all about him doing it himself. His personality is changing, sure, but nothing that seems alarming or abnormal.”

She didn't see Levi every day—or hadn't until recently. Mara had known him since he was a baby. Mara was around developing toddlers and preschoolers every day. She'd know about normal developmental personality changes.

Still, Mara wasn't a professional counselor. “Have you talked to Tressa about the clinginess?”

“No. But she's talked to me about him being upset. Mostly because of the nightmare.”

“What does she say about it?”

“That he's afraid you're going to take him away from me. That he won't be able to live with me anymore.”

She'd known. Her instincts were still honed—in spite of her personal involvement. But there were a couple of things off...

“How would he have known why I was in your house? Or why he came to my office? Did you tell him?”

“Of course not. Absolutely not. He's a four-year-old. There's no way he'd understand that on any level that could be okay for him.”

“Agreed. But you'd be surprised what some parents do. Kids, even ones with advanced intelligence, still believe pretty much everything their parents tell them. Some parents, those with something to hide, will manipulate their kids into believing or hiding things.”

And someone had told Levi why Lacey had first come into their lives.

“Tressa didn't tell him, if that's what you're thinking.”

“You didn't. And I didn't. Who else is there?”

“I don't know, but I'd bet my bank account and future earnings that it wasn't her.”

He had her attention. “Why do you say that?”

“Because he told me that she told him you were a friend of hers. That you just wanted to get to know us because she'd talked all about us and made you want to know us.”

She frowned. Watched as a lone surfer rode a lame wave in the waning sun. “That doesn't sound like something he'd have made up.”

“He didn't. I asked her if she'd told him who you were and she was as shocked at the idea as I was. Seeing it as cruel. Which was why she didn't want him there when Sydney showed up on Friday night. She was afraid she'd get upset, or cry, or say something, and he'd catch on. If she'd told him that you all were trying to take him away from me, she could have just let him stay. Sydney was just there to talk, like you were at my house with him present the first time.”

He was right.

“So maybe she's wrong and this doesn't have to do with me at all.” Which brought up the second thing wrong with the theory. “If he thought I was out to separate the two of you, wouldn't he be panicked at the thought of us alone together? Wouldn't he want to keep the two of you away from my house? And certainly shun me as a friend?”

“He'd move into your house if I'd let him.”

The words brought a vision to mind she hadn't allowed herself to focus on. She was the woman who found good and loving homes for children. Not the woman who brought them home.

“I guess we'll just have to keep a watch on things and see what brings on the episodes,” Jem was saying. And she figured they'd used up fifteen minutes, at least, of their twenty-two.

“It could just be that he's clingy when he's tired,” she said against her better judgment. If there was even a slight chance that Levi was in danger, she couldn't be giving his father reason to put his guard down.

Yet she cared about Jem and wanted to soothe him if she could. He was a good father. The best. Doing a job solo that usually took two people. And doing it better than most, in her admittedly prejudiced opinion.

“I'm still bothered, though,” she had to add. “Tressa's story about the swimming incident. One grab to haul Levi out of the water wouldn't have caused bruising all along his torso.”

“No, but the fact that she'd held on to him for dear life every second he was putting his head underwater, then picking it up and learning to move his arms and kick his feet, would certainly do so.”

What healthy parent held their kid so tightly they were bruising him for that length of time?

“Do you think it's possible she was pissed at him for his noncompliance, and forcing his head underwater over and over?”

The scenario fit exactly what Levi had described.

“I don't,” Jem said. “There are just some things Tressa wouldn't do. Purposely hurting Levi is one of them.”

“You sound so sure.”

“I am sure.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Because my ex-wife thinks she needs me. And she knows that if she ever...
ever
...does one thing to hurt my boy she will never see either one of us again.”

He believed what he was saying beyond the shadow of a doubt. Lacey was convinced of that much.

She wanted to believe him, too.

But she drove home with a heavy heart.

Sometimes people couldn't see what was right under their noses.

Was it possible that Levi wasn't the only Bridges male that Tressa had been manipulating? Was Jem a victim, too?

She told herself she was being ridiculous, that Tressa's drama was wearing off on her. But once the idea had been planted, she couldn't seem to escape it.

CHAPTER TWENTY

J
EM
DIDN
'
T
TALK
to Lacey on Tuesday. There'd been no real reason to. While he could have made an excuse to call, he purposely chose not to do so. He didn't want to tempt her, in any way, to call off their date. Or tempt fate, either.

He talked to Tressa, though. She called him Tuesday right after work. And Wednesday, too. Seemingly to check on Levi, to ask how his arm was doing—a few weeks late on that one. They were due to have the cast off in another week or two.

Amelia was still out of the picture and he had to wonder if she'd finally had enough. He'd seen the pattern with Tressa often enough not to be surprised by it. She had her way of seeing the world. Knew what she needed. What she thought was right. And if someone didn't meet her expectations, she didn't go easy on them.

In their early days, that had been a good thing for him. She'd encouraged him to work all the hours in the day. To certify in all of the fields in his profession. He'd been planning to do so. Wanting to do so. She'd paved the way with evenings spent helping him study. Quizzing him. Learning his trades with him so that he could focus almost exclusively.

And she'd made some good investments with the money he was making. He got his contractor's license and she'd encouraged him to seek out a small job, on the side, separate and apart from the electrician he was currently working for. He was a certified framer. And plumber, too.

He wasn't sure when he'd quit pleasing her. Lord knew he'd tried his damnedest to keep her happy. A failed marriage didn't sit well with him. Because a marriage took two—to succeed or fail.

He was about to fail her again, he knew, as he pulled up to Lacey's little house Wednesday just before six.

“We're here!” Levi called from the back. Jem had planned to feed him before bringing him over to play with Kacey until bedtime. Kacey had insisted that dinner was part of their date.

Tempted to tell his son not to mention this outing to his mother—ever—Jem refrained. He wasn't going to start down that slippery path, no matter how justified he might feel in doing so.

He knew why Tressa was calling so much all of a sudden—besides the fact that Amelia wasn't in her life at the moment. She was afraid that Jem was interested in another woman.

Because of the conversation they'd had Sunday night. He should never have told her he was doing the job as a favor. Or that the client's sister was babysitting their son.

She'd always been afraid that Jem would fall for someone else. Every day of their marriage, she'd doubted his fidelity. It didn't matter that he'd never, not once, given her any cause to doubt him.

Cheating wasn't his style.

But this time she was right. He
was
interested in another woman. Very interested.

And he wasn't going to let her screw up his chance.

Shrugging aside guilt he had no reason to feel, he helped his son down from the truck and followed behind as Levi ran up the walk, climbed the two cement steps without holding on to the rail and rang the bell.

* * *

“Y
OU
WORE
YOUR
hair down.” Maybe not the best first line for a first date, but as he glanced at Lacey before pulling away from the front of her house, it's what came out of his mouth.

Her hair being down was significant.

“I'm on a date.” Her smile was mysterious. He kind of liked it.

“You always wear your hair down on dates?”

“No.” He started the car and pulled away from the house, where her sister and his son watched from the window, waving at them. He didn't want any intruders on this conversation.

“What's the determining factor?” Might as well get straight to the point.

“There isn't one.”

“But you have done it before.” Suddenly he felt like they weren't just talking about her hair.

“Once or twice.” He made a turn. And then another.

“Did it go well?”

“One did, one didn't.”

He pondered that. Wondered if she knew they were really talking about sex.

“We didn't talk about where we were going to go,” he said. Wanting badly to go with what he'd mentally termed option B sometime during the past couple of days.

She was in nice quality white capri pants and a red, white and blue crop-sleeved cotton tunic, with blue sandals and a big red, white and blue cloth purse.

If she thought the ensemble in any way hid, or detracted from, the lovely curves she was hiding, she was dead wrong.

“I told you, it doesn't matter to me.”

So...option B, it was?

“You want to go back to my place? I've got a couple of steaks, some potatoes we can put on the grill. And veggies, too. We could sit out at the fish pond, have a glass of wine...”

He'd wired the backyard for music. They'd be alone. His bed was close by. No chance Tressa would find them out and about if she happened to be scouring Santa Raquel eateries.

He didn't think she'd go that far. Not anymore. She'd learned her lesson on that one.

But he'd be able to relax more if she could see his truck in his driveway in the event she did another drive-by. He knew she was checking up on him, so it just made sense not to rev her engines if he could help it.

“I'd actually prefer that,” Lacey said. “In case you haven't noticed, I'm not as much into having a lot of people around me as my sister is.”

There it was again...her comparing herself to Kacey. Funny how people couldn't see themselves as they really were.

* * *

I
NSTEAD
OF
THE
usual blue jeans and various work shirts she'd seen him in, Jem was wearing black jeans and a white polo shirt for the evening. It looked like he'd shaved, too. The nights he'd come to her house to work he'd had a very definite five-o'clock shadow. His dark hair was as natural looking as always...

Good thing he didn't wear the polo shirt to work. It was lethal. Not only did it accent the breadth of his shoulders and chest, it showed off the dark hair beneath it. Made her want to run her fingers through it.

People slept together on first dates all the time.

She never had. And wouldn't. But if this was going to be her only chance, if she did it before she was in too deep...

Stop it.

“You like your steaks rare?” he asked, standing by the impressive outdoor kitchen he'd built. It had a sink with running water, a small refrigerator—from which he'd taken a bottle of wine—and a bottom cupboard that contained not only the two wineglasses they were using, but various other drinking vessels, as well. Small plastic ones included.

And there was the grill. Infrared. With two burners off to the side.

“I like them medium,” she said. “Kacey's the rare girl.”

He closed the grill. “You did it again.”

“Did what again?”

“Compared yourself to your sister.”

She hadn't noticed.

“Why do you do that?”

She shrugged and took a sip of wine. She was having a good time, was alone with a man who was affecting her like none other, was filled with anticipation and a tad bit of naughty. Something more in tune with Kacey than herself...

She'd just done it again.

“It's natural, I guess, when you grow up side by side with another human being who looks exactly like you do.”

He sat down, touching his knee to hers. Could have been an accident, but he kept it there and took a sip of his wine. A light merlot.

“The curious thing is that you always seem to come off on the bad end of the comparison.”

She could have been back onstage with lights shining so brightly on her that she couldn't see anything in front of her. He saw too much.

She felt naked. Raw.

A tad bit defensive.

“You know Kacey,” she said, sipping more quickly than she otherwise might have done. “She glows. It's not her fault. Not anything she even wants. But it's always been that way.”

“She's the sunrise. You're the sunset. Both are equally spectacular.”

Oh, my God.
Had he just said that? She stared at him. She loved sunsets, thought them the most stunning of all the natural wonders...

She was going to cry.

“In case you haven't figured it out, I'm a sunset guy.”

Lacey blinked. And blinked again. He got up to turn the steaks—on purpose, she'd bet, giving her a second.

“I like my steak medium, too, by the way.”

She knew what he was doing. And if she hadn't already been falling in love with him, as Kacey kept asserting, she started right then. Falling hard. And fast.

People fell in love at first sight. And she...

Afraid, she knew she had to stop the downward hurtle. “People have always preferred Kacey to me,” she told him. If he was going to be blind, she at least needed to tell him what he wasn't seeing. Better now than later. “From acting directors to the high school prom committee—both junior and senior years—to...men.”

“Or maybe it was just that she was the easier one to reel in.”

“What does that mean?”

“If you see a doughnut right up on the front of the tray, and there's another equally delicious-looking one in the back, which one are you going to take?”

“The one in front.”

“Exactly.”

“Kacey and I aren't doughnuts on a tray.”

“She's accessible. You aren't so much.”

She sipped and eyed him, wanting so badly to fall under his spell. To believe what he was telling her. “You're saying I'm hard to get.”

“I'm saying you're more discreet. Which makes you more interesting to a discerning guy like myself.”

She was in severe danger of adoring this man.

And his wine, of which she helped herself to a little more, with hands that shook.

“When Mom and Dad called for us, they always said her name first.”

“Who was born first?”

“Believe it or not, I was. For six minutes and ten seconds, I was the only one of me.”

“You're still the only one of you.”

She knew that. More now that she'd moved out on her own. And she was lonelier since then, too.

“I love having my sister around,” she said. And was just discovering how much. When her resentment of Kacey had begun, she didn't know, but she knew it was gone. “I miss her like crazy.” The wine had to be loosening her tongue.

And her brain, too.

“I didn't realize how much coming second all the time had affected me.”

“Who got better grades?”

“I did.”

“So you didn't come second there.”

“Yeah, I guess, but grades were never that big of a deal in our household.” She and Kacey were already earning enough to support themselves before they'd entered high school. “You know, it's one thing if your sister is taller than you, better endowed, with prettier features...you get that fate gave you other graces. Hopefully. But to have your looks be exactly the same—from the same egg—and still be overlooked...”

She sounded pathetic and wouldn't blame him if he was second-guessing his choice of sisters. A part of her almost hoped he was.

It would make life so much easier. Safer.

“Would you rather be Kacey?” He was studying her.

“Of course not. Her life would drive me crazy.”

“Plus you prefer softer shades to brilliant white.” Information gleaned from their paint-chip expedition the week before.

“Yep.”

“Just think how unhappy you'd be, then, if you'd been the sunrise.”

Something new and beautiful flowered within her. In spite of herself.

Lacey smiled at him over the top of her wineglass.