Sunshine and the Shadowmaster (19 page)

Lucas looked at her some more, as if awaiting a punch line. Then he asked, “That was all?”

“I said it wasn't a big deal.”

“Rocky. That's Rocky Collins, right?”

“Right.”

“As I remember, he was always a big drinker.”

“He still is.”

“His face turned green when he saw me.”

“It was already green. Like you said, he drinks too much.”

“You're missing the point, Heather. I'm saying he looked scared to death of me.”

Heather opened her purse for no reason, looked in it and shut it again, wishing with all her heart that this conversation would just die a natural death.

“Heather, I said he looked scared of me.”

“Yes, I suppose. Maybe he was. Just a little.”

“Why would he be scared of me?”

She tried to think of a gentle way to say it. “Well, because nobody knows what you might do.”

“I see. Because I've done such awful things in my life, is that it?”

“Well, yes. They don't know the real you.”

“The real me?”

“Right. All they know about you is, um...” She realized she was getting into deeper trouble with every word she said and so she let the sentence fade away unfinished.

Lucas revived it. “...that I stabbed my father when I was seven, never got along with anyone while I was growing up and then, in my twenties, almost went to prison for assault and battery?”

What could she say? “Well, yes. More or less, that's about it.”

“More
or
less? Which one?”

She slanted him a pained glance. “Well, you left out the books you write.”

“They don't approve of my books?”

“Well, some of them don't. But I told you that. Remember how I said Linda Lou Beardsly—”

“—hates herself, but won't stop reading them.”

“Right.”

There was silence. Heather hoped Lucas wasn't offended. She really did want him to discover the goodness at the heart of most people in North Magdalene—and she
didn't
want him going after Roger or Rocky.

She decided she ought to point this out, “But not Roger or Rocky.”

“Not Roger or Rocky what?”

“They don't have problems with your books. Roger and Rocky couldn't care less about your books. I don't think either of them has read a book on purpose since they got out of high school.”

Lucas started up the car at last. But then, instead of driving away, he draped an arm over the steering wheel and turned to face her again. “Look. Do you want me to have a little talk with those two or something?”

Heather stifled a groan. “No. Please. Just let it be. They mean well, they really do.”

“Right.” Lucas shook his head, then muttered under his breath, “I can't wait to get out of this place.” He pulled the car away from the curb.

Heather sank deeper into the luxurious seat and tried to pretend she hadn't heard his last remark. But then, as she pondered the conversation, Heather couldn't help wondering if maybe what she'd said in the restaurant had hit a nerve with him. Lucas
was
a wealthy man. And he was marrying her because of the baby, not because he loved her or longed to share his life with her. Maybe he resented the idea that she'd now have a wife's claim on all he owned.

When they'd pulled into the small lot of the clinic and Lucas had parked the car, she turned to him. “Lucas, I really wouldn't marry a man because he was rich, you know?”

“I know that,” he said without hesitation.

Those words warmed her. She ventured more. “In fact, if you want, we can put together a prenuptial agreement. That would be fine with me.”

“Oh, really?” He looked distant and impossible to reach again. “And what would this agreement say?”

“That everything you have stays yours, that's all.”

“And what about you? What about what
you
have?”

She hadn't thought about that.

“Well?” Lucas prompted.

Heather was confused. “I don't know. I wasn't really thinking about what
I
have.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Well, all right.” He just looked at her, so she assumed he was waiting for her to continue. Gamely she did. “I'm nowhere near being rich, but I have several thousand in savings, mostly the profits from the sale of the house Jason Lee and I were buying before Norma died and left us
her
house. And then there's the insurance. Jason Lee was a big believer in insurance.” She smiled a little, thinking of him. “So I get money every month from that. And there's a little from the county and then the Conley house itself.” She smiled wider. “Well, I guess I've got more than I realized, now that I think about it.”

“Good. So you're not marrying me for my money. You know it and I know it. Let's cut the prenuptial agreement talk and do what we came here to do.” He leaned on his door and pushed it open.

Heather grabbed his arm. “Lucas. Don't.”

“Don't what?”

“Don't just...walk out on a person like that.”

“We're here to get blood tests, aren't we?”

“Well, of course we are. But—”

“But what?”

“But we were
talking.
”

“About how you don't need my money. I know. And I thought it was settled. You don't need my money and I don't need yours. And neither of us really wants any prenuptial agreement.”

“Yes, that's right. That's how I feel.”

“Good. Then was there something more you wanted to say?”

“Well, no. I just, um...”

“What?”

“Are you...mad at me for some reason?”

“No.”

“But you act like you are.”

“Well, I'm not. Now let's go.”

She stared at him for a moment more, wondering if she would ever come to understand him, and beginning to fear his heart and mind would forever be closed to her. Then she shrugged and let go of his arm. “All right. Let's go.”

He left the car. She got out, too, and followed him into the building.

T
hat night was the same as the previous one. Lucas spent some time with Mark, but seemed preoccupied and distant whenever Heather tried to start a conversation with him. He was shut up in his room when she went to bed. And she was feeling just discouraged and irritated enough with him that she didn't go to his door again. She could get by just fine, she decided sourly, without her nightly pat on the head.

But she woke the next morning ready to try again. She was, after all, born a Jones. And a Jones never gave up.

When she arrived home that afternoon, Lucas was upstairs. She left him alone and did some more packing. But then, after dinner, when Mark went to Marnie's to watch a rented video, Heather insisted Lucas spend the evening with her.

He agreed, though rather grudgingly. They took another evening walk, then sat on the couch, where she told him about her last day at work. Lily had actually baked a cake and Tamara had cried and hugged her and asked if she could have Heather's lucky tip jar.

“What's that?” Lucas asked.

“The jar I put my tips in. It's lucky, everyone says so. A lot of quarters have gone through that jar.”

“Maybe it's lucky because of you.”

They were sitting on either end of the couch. Heather had kicked off her shoes and folded her feet under her. “Because I'm such a great waitress, you mean?”

“No. Because you're great, period.”

That
was nice to hear. “Lucas, I think that was a compliment.”

“I think you could be right. Stretch out your feet. Come on.”

She did, and he rubbed them. His hands were warm and strong, easing the aches away, and she cautioned herself not to think too much about how good those hands had felt on other parts of her body three nights before.

“Lucas?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you just...talk to me?”

“What about?”

“Yourself.”

His hands stilled, cradling her right ankle. “What about me?”

“What you think. And feel.”

“Such as?”

“Well, are you okay? About marrying me, I mean? Do you feel that I'm
trapping
you, or something?”

He actually chuckled. “Think back, Heather. I was the one pushing for marriage, not you.”

She laughed, too. “You've got a point. But there's something wrong. Something—”

“What?”

She studied him, feeling very far out of her depth. “You didn't let me finish.”

“All right, then. Finish.”

“Well, it seems like there's something bothering you, that's all.”

“No. There's not.”

“You're sure?”

“Positive.”

She pulled her feet free, but only so she could slide closer to him. “Well. Great instincts I've got, huh?”

He put his arm around her and kissed her on the nose. She reveled in the hardness of his lean chest against her own softness and wondered shamelessly how she was going to last without his lovemaking for that night and three more nights to follow.

How could this be happening to her? She'd gone twenty-three years without his lovemaking and managed just fine. And yet here she was wondering how she would make it through the next four nights.

“Don't worry about your instincts,” he whispered in her ear. “You have other things going for you.”

She shivered a little. “Like what?”

“I could show you.”

Oh, she shouldn't, she knew it, yet her lips were saying, “Yes. All right. Please do.”

He kissed her, his mouth covering hers in a caress both tender and consuming. She pressed herself eagerly against him. It was a long kiss and would have been longer had there not been the sound of sneakered feet bounding up onto the porch.

They pulled apart, both breathing a little too hard, and turned to smile at Mark when he came in the door.

* * *

Heather floated through the rest of the evening in a state of dreamy arousal, smiling to herself at the thought of how Lucas's lips felt against her own, telling herself it wasn't
that
long until Saturday. She could wait. Somehow.

But then later, when she lay in her bed unable to sleep, she couldn't help suspecting that he'd done it again—avoided the subject of what was really on his mind.

* * *

The next day they drove to the government center in Nevada City and got the marriage license. Then they went out to lunch at a nice restaurant. Heather had a lovely time. Lucas was attentive and charming. They talked about his books and she told him just what she thought of each one. He told her that he and Mark lived a very private life in Monterey, that the only time he really got out was for the required publicity tours whenever one of his books was released.

“Are you trying to reassure me that I'll get along all right in your world?” she asked.

“I'm just telling you that there isn't any big social scene for you to get used to.”

She thought about that. “Maybe I wouldn't mind a big social scene. I'm a pretty social person, after all.”

“If you want to get out, we can do that.”

“Maybe we could just...stay in North Magdalene and live? If you want a bigger house, we could even build one.”

They'd just left the restaurant. He stopped in the middle of Commercial Street and turned to her. “Are you ever going to give that up?”

She gave a little shrug. “Probably not. I love my hometown.”

“I gathered. But we're living in Monterey.” He started walking again.

She had to hurry to catch up with him. “Don't be grumpy.” She took his arm and beamed up at him.

He granted her a grudging smile. “Then knock it off.”

“Okay. For now.”

* * *

Heather was so encouraged by their afternoon together, that she didn't even hesitate to seek him out in his room again as soon as Mark was in bed. When he opened the door to her, she caught a quick glance of his computer before he blocked it with his body. The screen was dark.

“You're not working,” she accused teasingly.

“Yes, I am. I'm thinking.”

“About what?”

“About my work.”

“Let me come in.”

“That could be dangerous.”

“I'll take my chances.”

He stood back and she entered the room. She heard the door close and turned to find him leaning against it, his arms crossed over his chest, watching her. He wore loose black slacks and a crew-neck black shirt and his feet were bare. They were very well-formed feet, actually, lightly dusted with dark hair.

“What are you up to, Heather?”

She tore her gaze away from his toes and made herself confront those unreadable eyes. “I thought...we could talk.”

“We talked all day.”

“Well, I know but...”

“But what?”

“I just, well, it's only two days until the wedding. And I don't feel as if we really know each other yet.”

He straightened from the door and came toward her, his bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. Oh, he was wonderful to watch when he moved. So fluid—and yet so direct.

All she wanted as she watched him approach was to know his touch again. She felt a little ashamed of herself, really. He'd been right; her coming in here was dangerous if they planned to keep their hands off each other until Saturday night.

So what was she doing in here? And why hadn't she protested when he closed the door?

He stopped in front of her. She could feel the warmth of him, smell his special scent. “What is it you think we should know about each other that we don't already know?”

Her throat felt tight. She coughed a little to loosen it. “Well, everything. What we think. What we feel. The...secrets of our hearts.”

He regarded her quizzically for a moment, then agreed, “Okay. Start talking. Tell me what you think. And what you feel. And all your secrets. I can't wait to hear.”

He was taunting her. A moment ago, she'd felt like his equal. Now she felt about two inches tall.

“Oh, Lucas.” She looked away.

He captured her chin and brought her head back around, so she had to look at him. “Not so easy, is it?”

His hand felt so warm against her skin. Oh, what was the matter with her? All she could think of was the way he felt. She had to put her desire aside for right now. She had to concentrate on getting through to him, on getting to
know
him in a deeper, more honest way than she knew him now.

She attempted once more to explain her unease. “I don't know, I just...”

“You just what?”

“There's just something...”

He lifted his hand and brushed her hair back over her shoulder. Then he idly caressed the side of her neck with the back of his fingers. “Give it up, Heather.”

“Give what up?” Her voice was dreamy. His fingers had magic in them. Just the lightest breath of a stroke on the side of her neck, and her whole body was on fire.

“You can't know everything about me. Not in a few days—probably not in a lifetime. And I can't know all there is to know about you. Just relax. Let it be. We'll be married. I'll take care of you.” His hand strayed. He took her earlobe between his thumb and forefinger and worried it, gently, maddeningly.

“Lucas...”

“You should go. Or stay.” He cupped the back of her neck, his fingers under her hair, pressing on her skin.

Her breath got stuck in her chest. “I...we agreed...”

“Then you should go.”

“But I...”

“Then you should stay.” He pulled her closer, so their bodies almost touched.

She swayed a little, and had to hold onto his shoulders to steady herself. “Oh, Lucas. I have no backbone.”

He chuckled. His fingers moved downward, tracing the bumps of her spine through her blouse. “Yes, you do. I can feel it. Right here.” He reached the small of her back and stopped there, his hand warm and possessive against the curve of her hip.

“This time...I would have to go, before morning. Just in case Mark—”

“Yes.” His hand slid lower still, then back up to clasp her waist. “That would be best.”

“You knew, didn't you, when I asked you to wait until the wedding, that I wouldn't last? That's why you gave me that strange look.”

He stepped back a fraction. Her heart thudded, heavy and needful beneath her breast, as his fingers began working at the buttons of her blouse. “I wasn't thinking about whether
you
could last, actually,” he muttered low and rather hoarsely.

The buttons fell away. With a forefinger, he guided the blouse to the back of her shoulders and then off to the floor. He used both hands to unhook her denim skirt and soon it fell around her sandaled feet.

And then he reached for her, scooped her up against his chest and carried her to the bed.

* * *

It was hours later, after she'd returned to her own room, that she realized he'd evaded her once more. And she had helped him do it.

She lay between the cool sheets of her bed, her body limp and sated, her mind and heart unsatisfied.

Heather moaned and wondered what was happening to her. Lucas was like a drug in her system. She wanted more and more of him. And yet, he wouldn't let her get truly close.

He wouldn't show his heart to her.

She turned over, pulled up the sheet, then kicked it off again.

* * *

When at last sleep came, Heather dreamed she was swimming at the special, secret swimming hole that only she and Jason Lee used to visit. It was night and the moon was full, the stars so thick they seemed to run together. The expanse of beach was silvery in the moonlight.

Naked, Heather lay in the sand, staring up at the moon, waiting for Jason Lee. But he didn't come.

Finally, with a sigh, she rose and went to the water. She waded in. The water was warm, much warmer than she ever remembered it being. Like heated liquid silk all around her. She dived deep, opening her eyes and discovering, after a moment, that she could breathe in the water. She swam for a long time, under the surface, breathing the water, soothed by its silky feel.

At last, she grew weary of swimming. She poked her head above the water. And Jason Lee was sitting there, as naked as she was, on the bank, at the place where she'd gone in.

She knew it was him, though his body seemed leaner and taller and the moon was behind him so that she couldn't make out his face. It had to be him. No one else knew this secret place.

Heather rose from the water and he stood at the same time. They walked toward each other and met in the shallows. And that was when she saw who it really was, when she understood that she really hadn't been waiting for Jason Lee after all.

She'd been waiting for Lucas. And now he was here.

“Let's talk about what's in
your
heart,” Lucas whispered.

“My heart?” She looked down at the water that lapped around their calves, then back up at him.

“You love
me,
” he said.

She said nothing. It was only the truth.