With a Little Luck (11 page)

“I’d sure like to figure out how to find someone for dad to marry.” Toby sighed his frustration. “I thought about putting an ad in the paper, but dad really got upset when I mentioned it to him.”

Her initial pang of envy came from the knowledge that she coveted the role of Toby’s mother — and Luck’s wife. It wouldn’t take much encouragement to fall head over heels in love with Luck. She was already more than halfway there now.

But after the brief envy came amusement and sympathy for Luck’s plight. The idea of advertising for a wife had to have come as a shock to him.

“It would have been a little embarrasing for your father, Toby,” Eve murmured, the corners of her mouth deepening with the smile she tried to contain.

“Dad seemed to think that, too.” He grimaced in resignation to the decision. “I told dad that you’d make a good mother and he should marry you.”

“Toby, you didn’t!” She nearly dropped the dish in her hand, a warm pink flooding her cheeks.

“Yes, I did,” he assured her innocently. “What’s wrong with that? He likes you. I know he does. I saw him kiss you.”

Eve became very busy with the dishes, trying to hide her agitation and embarrassment with her work. “Just because you kiss someone doesn’t necessarily mean you want to marry them, Toby.”

“Yeah, that’s what dad said,” he admitted. She hated the curiosity that made her ask, “What else did your dad say when you suggested he should marry me?”

“Nothing. He told me the subject was closed and I wasn’t supposed to discuss it anymore, but we need someone around here to take care of us.” The comment revealed he hadn’t let go of the idea. “There’s too much work for a boy like me to do, and dad’s busy. Somewhere there’s a girl that dad will marry. I just gotta find her.”

“Toby McClure, I think you should leave that to your father,” Eve suggested.

“Yeah, but he isn’t
trying
to find anybody,” Toby protested. “I thought I’d have better luck.” Then he laughed. “I made a joke, didn’t I? Better luck for Luck.”

“Yes, you did.” Her smile widened into a grin.

“That’s my name, too, you know,” he declared, and settled his chin on his hand once more.

“No, I didn’t know that.” Her brown eyes widened in vague surprise. “I thought it was Toby — Tobias,” She corrected it from the shortened version.

“That’s my middle name,” Toby explained. “My real first name is Luck — like my dad’s. My mom insisted on naming me after him when I was born, but dad said it was too hard growing up with a name like that. He said I’d wind up getting called Little Luck, and he didn’t like the idea of being Big Luck. So they called me Toby instead.”

“I think that was probably best,” Eve agreed with the decision.

In her experience at the school, she’d seen how cruel children could be sometimes when one of the members had an unusual name. Sometimes they teased him unmercifully. As a rule children didn’t like being different. It wasn’t until later, when their sense of individuality surfaced, that they showed a desire for unique names.

Yet she couldn’t help remembering when she had first been introduced to the father and son, and Luck had explained the family tradition of his name. At the time she had wondered if there was a “little” Luck at home to carry it on. It was slightly amusing to discover it had been Toby all along.

After the dishes were done, she and Toby went into the front room and watched television for a while. At nine o’clock she suggested that it was time he took a bath and got ready for bed. He didn’t argue or try to persuade her to let him stay up until Luck came home.

Spanking clean from his bath, Toby trotted barefoot into the living room in his pajamas. He half flopped himself across the armrest of the chair where Eve was sitting.

“Are you going to tuck me into bed?” he asked.

“I sure am.” Eve smiled at the irresistible appeal of his look. Toby was just as capable of twisting her around his finger as his roguish father was.

Toby led the way to his room while Eve followed. He made a running leap at the bed, dived under the covers and was settled comfortably by the time Eve arrived at his bedside. A white pillowcase framed the mass of dark brown hair as a pair of bright blue eyes looked back at her.

She made a show of tucking the covers close to his sides while he kept his arms on top of them. Then she sat sideways on the edge of the mattress.

“You don’t have to read me a story or anything,” Toby said. “I’m too old for that.”

“Okay. Would you like me to leave the light on for a while?” Eve asked, referring to the small lamp burning on the bedside table. She already suspected he was “too old” for that, too.

“No.” There was a negative movement of his head against the pillow.

Her glance had already been drawn to the night table, where it was caught by the framed photograph of a beautiful blond-haired woman with sparkling green eyes. A vague pain splintered through Eve as she guessed the identity of the smiling face in the photograph.

“Is this a picture of your mother?” she asked Toby for confirmation, her throat hurting.

“Yes. Her name was Lisa.” Toby blithely passed on the information.

“She’s very beautiful,” Eve admitted, aware that Luck would never have called this woman a “brown mouse.” She was golden — all sunshine and springtime. Eve despised herself for the jealousy that was twisting inside her. But she didn’t have a prayer of ever competing with someone as beautiful as this girl — not even with her memory. It was utterly hopeless to think Luck would ever love her.

“Dad has a picture just like that in his room,” Toby informed her. “He talks to it a lot…although he hasn’t lately,” he added as an afterthought.

“I’m sure he loves her very much.” She tried to smile and conceal the awful aching inside. “It’s time you were going to sleep.”

“Will you kiss me good-night?” he asked with an unblinking look.

“Of course.” There was a tightness in her throat as Eve bent toward him and brushed his forehead with a kiss. She longed for the right to do that every night. She straightened, murmuring, “Have a nice night, Toby.”

“Good night, Eve.” With a contented look on his face, he snuggled deeper under the covers.

Her hand faltered as she reached past the framed photograph to turn out the light. Standing up, she moved silently out of the room. Bitter tears burned the back of her eyes. She regretted more than she ever had in her life that she had been born plain.

In the living room Eve turned down the volume on the television set and picked up a magazine lying on the coffee table. Curling up in the large armchair, she tried to force herself to read the articles it contained. The clock on the fireplace mantel ticked away the time.

IT WAS AFTER MIDNIGHT when Luck pulled into the driveway, much later than he had anticipated. Switching off the engine, he grabbed his briefcase and his suit jacket from the rear seat. The briefcase he carried in his hand as he climbed out of the car; the jacket he swung over his shoulder, held by the hook of a finger. His tie was draped loosely around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt unfastened.

The tension of a long drive and the mental fatigue from a full day of business discussions cramped the muscles in his shoulders and neck. Weariness drew tired lines in his tough rakehell features.

As Luck walked to the front door of the cabin, he noticed the light burning in the window. The edges of his mouth lifted in a faint smile at the welcoming sight. When he opened the door, he heard the muted volume of the television set. There was a warm run of pleasure as he realized Eve must have waited up for him to come home.

Setting his briefcase down just inside the door, he walked into the living room and paused. Eve had fallen asleep in the big armchair, with a magazine in her lap. His smile lengthened at the sight of her curled up like a velvety brown mouse. Luck tossed his suit jacket onto the sofa along with his tie and walked over to turn off the television set.

Silence swirled through the room as he approached the chair where she was sleeping. He intended to wake her, but when he looked down at her, the tiredness seemed to fall away from him. In repose, her serene features reminded him of the gentle beauty of a madonna — or a sleeping beauty waiting to be wakened with a kiss. The latter was a tantalizing thought.

Leaning down, Luck placed his hands on either armrest of the armchair. He felt alive and whole, renewed by her presence. He lowered his mouth onto her lips, stimulated by their sweet softness. At the initial contact, they were unresponsive to the mobile pressure of his kiss. Then Luck felt her lips move against his. Raw emotions surged through him, an aching pressure building inside him.

Eve stirred with the beginnings of wakefulness and he pulled back, not straightening but continuing to lean over her. The desire was strong to pick her up and carry her into his bedroom where he could give rein to those feelings that swept him.

Her lashes slowly drifted open and he watched the dawning light of recognition flare in her brown, nearly black eyes. His blood was warmed by the pleasure at seeing him that ran wild in her look.

“You’re home,” she murmured in soft joy.

“Yes,” Luck answered huskily, because it seemed he had come home. It was a sensation he couldn’t quite explain, not even to himself.

One minute he could see the welcome in her eyes and in the next it was gone, as a sudden rush of self-consciousness hid it from him. She lowered her chin, a vague agitation making her restive.

“I must have fallen asleep.” She brushed a hand across her eyes, then reached for the opened magazine in her lap.

Faintly irritated by her sudden remoteness, Luck pushed himself erect, withdrawing physically from her as she had withdrawn from him. He saw the flicker of her hurt in the velvet darkness of her eyes. Luck regretted the day he’d ever called her a brown mouse. Her sensitive nature had found the phrase offensive when he had actually used it with teasing affection.

All Eve knew about what he was feeling she saw in the displeasure written on his features. There was a vague sensation that he had kissed her, but she thought she had dreamed that.

“What time is it?” There was a crick in her neck from sleeping in the chair. She rubbed at the stiffness as she uncurled her legs.

“It’s nearly one.” His answer was abrupt, “I’m sorry I was so late getting back.”

“It’s all right.” Eve smiled in his direction without actually meeting his gaze.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me.” It almost sounded like a criticism. “You should have lain down on the couch.”

“I didn’t plan to fail asleep. I was reading and…I guess I dozed off,” she explained selfconsciously.

“Let me check on Toby, then I’ll drive you home,” he said.

Luck disappeared into the darkened hallway leading to the bedrooms as Eve forced her cramped body out of the chair. She noticed his suit jacket and tie on the sofa when she retrieved her purse from the coffee table. She remembered how incredibly handsome he’d looked when she’d opened her eyes and seen him standing there, bent over her to wake her. He must have seen the rush of love she’d felt. There didn’t seem to be any other explanation for the way he’d withdrawn from her — his sudden shortness. He probably thought she was going to start fawning all over him and didn’t want the embarrassment of her unwanted attentions. She resolved not to let him see the way she felt toward him, not again.

When he returned to the living room, Eve managed to appear very calm and controlled-and very casual. Yet there wasn’t any approval in his inspecting glance. “Ready?” he asked.

“Yes.” She had to look away from him before she was affected by his blatant masculinity. “Is Toby all right?”

“He’s sound asleep,” Luck replied. “He’ll be okay alone until I get back.”

“Of course,” she murmured, and moved toward the front door.

Outside, a full moon bathed the night with its silvery light and the sky was atwinkle with stars. A breeze whispered through the pines, scenting the air with their freshness. Eve paused beside the passenger side of the car while Luck opened the door for her.

Nervousness made her say, “It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?” The ambience seemed too romantic for her peace of mind.

“Yes, it is,” Luck agreed, and waited until she was inside before closing the door.

Her gaze followed him as he walked around the car and slid behind the wheel. When he started the motor, Eve faced the front. Her nerve ends quivered with his nearness, making the silence intolerable.

“How did your business go today?” she asked, to make conversation.

“Fine.” It was a noncommunicative answer, but Luck made it easier by asking, “Did Toby give you any trouble today?”

“None,” Eve assured him. At this time of night there was no traffic on the road to her parents’ lake cottage. They had it all to themselves. “We played catch — and didn’t break a single window,” she added with feigned lightness.

“You’re luckier than I am.” He slid her a brief glance, one side of his mouth lifting in a half smile, his voice dry with amusement.

“We were careful about the area we picked,” she explained, relaxing a little under the humorous overtones of the subject matter.

It was a short drive to the cottage. Part of her regretted the quickness with which they covered the distance, and another part of her was relieved. When they drove in, Eve noticed her parents had left the porch light burning.