Barefoot in the Sand (16 page)

He laughed softly. “The ‘complication of our attraction’? Well, gee, when you put it that way, it’s
really
sexy.”

“You know what I mean.” She elbowed him. “You scare me.”

“Why?”

“Because… you’re… scary.”

He took her beer bottle and carefully set it back in the cardboard six-pack along with his. Then he eased back and she had nowhere to go but next to him. Once they were side by side, pressed together in the hammock, he curled a hand into her hair and forced her to look at him. “You’re not scared of me. You’re scared of sex.”

“No, I’m not. I’m scared of… involvement.”

“Then we’re good. Because with me there’s no involvement, other than our business arrangement. All you need to do is relax and have fun.”

She smiled, tilting her head so her soft curls brushed his hand. “I was just thinking that I don’t have enough fun in my life.”

“Then I’m your man.” He leaned toward her a little more, the curve of the hammock forcing her a little closer. He tangled his hand in her hair and brought her face closer to his.

“I bet you’re a lot of women’s man.”

“Not really.”

“No one in your life? No one up in North Carolina thinking you’re just down here on business, not fun?”

“No one at all.”

“Why not?”

He dropped back, looking into the purple twilight sky, thinking of the twenty different ways he could answer that question. Hadn’t met the right girl. Too busy with work. Standards so high they’re rarely met. All true, but none the real reason there was no girlfriend or wife up in North Carolina.

“I had a bad experience,” he finally said.

“How bad?”

“Disgustingly bad. Scarred-for-life bad. Keep-all-my-relationships-superficial bad.” He didn’t turn to look at her. In fact, he closed his eyes and braced for the nasty job of telling his ugly story.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Only if you’re prepared to lose respect for someone you have on a pedestal.”

“Someone
I
have on a pedestal?” She sat up a little. “Who?”

“
The
Clayton Walker.”

“Your father? You said he was remarried and had a…” Her voice trailed off. “How does that affect your love life?”

It had ended his love life. “Well…” He let a few seconds drag out. “The woman he married was my girlfriend.”

He didn’t have to look. He knew her jaw must be open, her eyes wide, her breath sucked in with shock. He’d seen the expression on every face, every time he told the story. Which wasn’t often.

“Oh. Wow.”

“Yeah.” That would be the typical response. “So, I’m
pretty much sworn off anything beyond fun, therefore you have nothing to fear from scary me.”

“How did it happen? I mean, if you don’t mind telling me.”

He minded. A lot. But he’d told the story before and survived, so he could do it again. “Jayna was my dad’s admin at the firm. When I interned there, we… were together. She’s a few years older than I am.” He caught her little wince and instantly took her hand. “Trust me, that’s where the similarities end.”

She nodded, waiting for more.

“We were pretty tight.”
Like she was picking rings
. “It was pretty serious.”
Like every weekend and most nights were spent in the same bed
. “I was pretty…” Gone.

“Doesn’t sound pretty to me.”

He smiled. “I admit, I kind of broke it off first. I got gun shy ’cause things were going fast. I’d just finished school and was really serious about training and learning this business. You have to understand that I’ve been in and around architecture my whole life. I’ve been working in some capacity at my dad’s firm since I was fifteen and I finally had my degree and was interning, really doing some amazing work.”

She searched his face. “Like the French Hills.”

He barely nodded, turning to face the sky again to corral his emotions. Damn, when would this wound stop festering?

“Anyway, I got some majorly cold feet. I wasn’t sure if she was right for me. I wasn’t sure if I was ready. I took off for a summer in Europe to just look at the architecture and get my head together. She—Jayna—read that as a permanent breakup. And…”

“And she moved on to
your dad
?” She asked the question like anyone would: with complete disbelief and disgust.

“I think it was the other way around.” His throat desert dry, he reached for his beer, slugging the bitter brew quickly, making the hammock sway. “Hey, if you think I’m persuasive with the opposite sex, you ain’t seen nothin’ till you meet C-dub.” Which she never would. Ever.

“C-dub. For Clayton Walker. And they got married?”

“She got pregnant while I was in Europe, so, yeah. He divorced my mom and hopped on a charter to Vegas to make Jayna the next Mrs. Clayton Walker.”

She dropped back onto the hammock as it all sank in. “And that’s why you left the company?”

Actually, no. But now he was getting into some dangerous territory. Telling her any more tonight, when she was feeling this emotional? Bad idea.

“More or less,” he said vaguely.

“What kind of relationship do you have with them?” she asked after a minute.

“My dad and Jayna? I’m not gonna lie. I can’t stand the sight of either one of them and I don’t feel like taking the high road.” Plus, Dad wasn’t even done ruining his life, trying to make himself look good and Clay look like a criminal. “I see my half-brother when my sister, Darcie, babysits him. I don’t do holidays or birthdays or happy family reunions. Jayna got what she wanted: a husband. And Dad got what he wanted.”

“A trophy wife?”

Dad got what belonged to Clay. “My dad’s a small-minded, jealous, insecure son of a bitch who resented everything I had because he didn’t have it.”

“That’s not very… fatherly.”

He snorted softly. “That fucker doesn’t know the first thing about being a father. Pardon my French, but he…”
Brings out the worst
.

“Sounds like he earned that.”

“He did.”

She didn’t say anything for a long time, the only sound the crickets in the trees and some traffic in the distance. Then, “So that’s why you want a no-strings-attached sexual relationship?”

“Honestly, Lacey?” He turned to her. “I don’t ever plan on putting myself in the line of fire again, no. I want to do my job really well and use my gifts. I want to fix my—build my own reputation in this business, make top dollar, and… avoid anything that tears you to shreds when it ends.” He looked hard at her. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy myself. It doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy each other, if you’re comfortable with that.”

“You know, five minutes before you arrived, I was swearing off sex and now you’re basically offering just that.”

Just
that. “Dumb thing to swear off.” He kissed her nose, her eyes, and her mouth again, letting the hammock rock itself so he could use his free hand to trail a finger path down her neck and into the V of her top. “Damn, I thought about you all day.”

Color and goose bumps rose on her creamy skin. “What did you think?” she sounded as if she were afraid to ask.

“Well, I didn’t think you’d stand me up,” he said, faking a frown. “I thought I could get you to my apartment and we could watch your favorite movie from under the covers.”

Her eyes widened.

“And we could argue about how the wrong guy gets the girl,” he continued. “In between, we could…” His finger reached the rise of her abundant breast, and his mouth nearly followed. “Would you like that?”

She let out a shuddering sigh, rolling her body even closer to his. “Of course I’d like that, but we can’t.”

“That’s funny, Lacey. I could have sworn I heard you use the C-word.” He underscored the tease by dragging his finger lower, into the lace of her bra, and leaning forward to kiss the flesh of her cleavage.

“I might have.” The confession was buried in a sweet moan of helpless pleasure.

“You like that, too?” he asked, his body reacting as it had been all afternoon: on the brink of an erection.

“I do, but…”

“Sounds like someone needs some Excuse Juice.”

“No, I don’t. I need”—she stabbed her fingers into his hair, guiding his mouth lower—“this.”

“Told you.” He rolled so that he could press himself against her hip, hard enough now that she could feel exactly what her body was doing to his.

“Clay,” she said, easing away. “We really can’t. Not here, not now.”

“Okay.” He eased off the next kiss. “Your daughter’s coming home?”

“Well, yeah, but there’s someone—something—else. This afternoon—”

“Mom, where are you?” Ashley’s voice cut her off and they both bolted upright, making the hammock sway so hard they almost fell out.

Clay was still processing Lacey’s last words. Had she said there was some
one
else?

Lacey face was more panicked than he’d have expected, considering they weren’t doing anything.

“I’m out here,” she called as they got to their feet. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

The sliding door to the house opened and instead of the sandy-haired teenager he expected, a man walked out. Tall, dark, commanding, and instantly focused on Clay.

Yep. She’d said some
one
else. Damn it.

“Mom, did you start the cookies yet?” Now the teenager charged out, a smile that could light the universe on her youthful face. It disappeared the instant she saw Clay. “What are you doing here?”

“Ashley,” Lacey reprimanded. “That’s rude. Mr. Walker is here to discuss the building project.”

The man crossed the grass with an easy grace, lanky, tall, and confident, reminding Clay of someone but he couldn’t quite grasp who.

“I’m Fox,” he said to Clay, extending his hand. “Ashley’s father.”

Ashley’s
father
? Clay shook his hand, meeting green eyes the precise color of Lacey’s daughter’s eyes. “Clay Walker,” he said, returning the shake.

“I understand you have some outrageous ideas for our—for Lacey’s property.”

“Don’t know if I’d call anything outrageous,” Clay replied, his brain spinning through what he knew about Ashley’s father. Hadn’t Lacey said he was out of the picture? Like, seriously, gone for the past fourteen years?

Ashley muscled into the middle of the group holding up two bags. “Dad found you a tart pan and Masterson’s was open, so we got apples. He got the clear glass kind,
like you want. He knew you can’t stand to bake with metal or dark glass, so now you can bake the tart that made Dad fall in love with you.”

Fox chuckled, putting a warm, fatherly hand on Ashley’s shoulder, eyeing the six-pack on the ground. “It looks like your mama’s a little busy now, Ash.”

Ashley lowered the bags, disappointment making her expression fall.

“No, we were just… meeting,” Lacey said quickly.

“And we’re just about done,” Clay added. “So y’all can bake your, uh, tart.”

“Southern boy, are you?” Fox stooped over and picked up the DVD Clay had brought over. “And look at this. Lacey’s all-time favorite way to lose two hours. Can we watch it after we bake the tart?”

“It’s all yours,” Clay said. “I brought it over for Lacey.”

“Oh, I’m sure she has a copy, but this is a digital remaster. Ever seen this, Ashley?”

“Mom’s tried to make me watch it but, whoa, boring.” She rolled her eyes and sang the last word.

“I’ll make you love it,” Fox said, putting an arm around Ashley and nodding to Clay. “Nice to meet you, Clay. Lace, just come on in when you’re done with your meeting. Ashley and I’ll start the dough and we can watch the movie while it chills.”

They disappeared into the house and Lacey stayed perfectly still, watching them, silent until they’d closed the door. “I wanted to tell you he showed up quite unexpectedly this afternoon and that’s why I didn’t take your call. I’m sorry.”

“No apologies necessary.” But he didn’t want to hang around and hear the gory details about their reunion. And
go through pictures of their life together. “I’ll keep working on the blueprints and sketches. And I’ll call you in a few days.”

Some storm clouds passed her eyes. “Clay, I—”

“Mommy, hurry up! We can’t do this without you!”

Lacey closed her eyes. “I don’t want to watch that movie with them.”

“Of course you do,” Clay said. “You love that movie. Even the end.”

She looked up at him and smiled. “When the wrong guy gets the girl?”

He laughed softly and backed away toward the gate. “Yep.” And wasn’t that the story of his life?