A Date on Cloud Nine (12 page)

Over the next week, Lilly learned a few things in her new clothes, stage two highlights and Kick-Ass Claret nail polish.

One, women reacted negatively. She suspected her dangling earrings and plunging necklines had a lot to do with their attitude, putting them off, making them cool until she handed them a check made out to their organization. That usually thawed them, though she suspected uppity Mrs. Dawson wondered just what Lilly’d done to “earn” a hundred thousand disposable dollars.

Two, men didn’t take her seriously. And there she suspected not only all of the above, but also the amount of
skin displayed between her hem and strappy, high-heeled sandals. Admittedly, she had a disproportionate number of doors held for her, both by men to whom she handed checks and any other male within twenty feet. She started carrying a scarf in her coat pocket, and whenever she went into offices of charitable organizations, she draped it around her neck so when she unbuttoned her coat, their attention didn’t immediately plummet to her chest.

Three, little kids, bless their hearts, didn’t notice or care what she had on. Just as before, some hung back out of shyness, others rested sticky hands on her skirt and begged for another box of raisins.

Four, Jake went through several stages. Hot glances. Stammered half sentences, then silence. Shorter than usual phone conversations with his sisters, on whom he normally doted. Distracted driving. A few times, he actually lowered his window and insulted other drivers, until he noticed the male ones stare at her, then he gave that up and sulked for a day.

“Is he sweating?” Betsy asked during one of their evening phone calls. Progress reports, they laughingly called them, although Lilly wasn’t laughing nearly as much as she would’ve been, had she not been carrying a heavy burden of guilt. She still hadn’t figured out how to get Jake the money she owed him.

“He lowers his window a lot.”

“It’s freezing outside, so that’s good. It means he’s hot, and you’ve almost got him. You’re brushing up against him a lot, aren’t you?”

“Well, maybe not a lot.”

“Why not?” she demanded.

“Because he’s already asked me twice if I’ve been drinking.”

Betsy laughed.

“Yeah, it might’ve been funny, if we weren’t standing in front of a
bishop
at the time.”

“Whoa, you’re moving up in the world.”

“Yeah, between being a Marquette and giving away almost a million dollars a week, the word’s spreading. I don’t have to hunt for charities anymore, they’re starting to call me.”

She wasn’t explaining to anyone the significance of losing the “17” charm on the bracelet; two million down, sixteen to go.

Her philanthropy had been somewhat hindered, of late, when the recipients noticed Jake’s furrowed brow, so Lilly’d banished him to the taxi. Now each time she returned thousands of dollars lighter, she generally found him engrossed in his work, either smoothing kinks out of software for new-and-improved home control systems, networking by cell phone, or photographing something that caught his eye. Sometimes he was chatting by phone with one of his sisters or their kids.

Each day wasn’t all about her. She also accompanied him on calls regarding a consulting job he was working on, until he said he couldn’t stand seeing her bored and likewise banished her to the sidewalk or a nearby mall. She had to make do with window shopping, because of course she couldn’t buy anything frivolous for herself. She was doing a pretty thorough job of turning over a new leaf—until she spotted the three-carat, antique-cushion-cut canary diamond ring across a store. It was impeccably set in platinum, nestled between two side trillions, and really did belong on
her
hand, because the woman wearing it was about two years behind on manicures. It didn’t take much
imagination to hear Elizabeth
tsk
ing at this selfish impulse. John was undoubtedly shaking his head.

“Sorry,” she mumbled heavenward. She walked outside and handed a bag lady ten bucks.

On Thursday, she stopped by the country club to show Mrs. Therringer that she was, indeed, fine—and to ask her advice on something. Mrs. T. rushed from behind her desk to embrace Lilly in a hug that only served to remind her how much she missed the childhood closeness she’d had with her former nanny, how suddenly it had been taken from her the day she’d been sent off to boarding school.

“You look just fine,” Mrs. T. said, holding her at arm’s length, inspecting her for damage from head to toe. “I’m so relieved.”

“Me? What about you? I never get over your transformation.”

“Ugh, I sure don’t miss the uniforms and sensible shoes.” She favored peach dresses that showed off her pretty face and pumps that put a nice curve in her calves. “Are you here for lunch?”

“Actually, I wanted to run something by you.”

“Okay.” She indicated two chairs angled toward each other, next to the window.

Lilly sat on the edge of hers and smoothed her skirt. “I keep running into the fact that there are a lot of organizations in this city that run on volunteers. I mean, they put in a lot of hours, and while some of them are recognized for it, the majority aren’t. I’d like to do something for them.”

Mrs. T. beamed at her.

“What?” Lilly asked warily.

“You’ve grown into quite a woman.” Mrs. T. popped to
her feet. “Just let me get a file and we’ll get started on something.”

On Friday morning outside a small shelter-cum–training center, Lilly returned to find Jake sketching out the mechanics of what he called a totally off-the-wall idea.

“How many degrees do you have?”

His pencil paused midstroke.

“I only ask because I’ve just given a hundred thousand dollars to a pompous ass.” She checked her watch. “In thirty minutes, I couldn’t find one reason his own mother’d be proud of him. Shoot, if I were her, I wouldn’t even claim him.”

“Being a little hard on the guy, don’t you think?”

“Please. He had his diplomas enlarged and framed on the wall behind his chair, right over his head.”

“You find that intimidating?”

“They were from high school and one of those schools that advertises on TV.”

He snickered. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. People go in there to see about vocational training for some low-level job, and he sits there all high-and-mighty—”

“You
saw
that?”

“Didn’t have to. So how many, Mr. Low Profile?”

“Gee, you’re putting me on the spot here.”

“Give. It’s no time for modesty.”

He sighed. “You mean other than information technology, electrical, and mechanical engineering?”

“Never mind.”

He grinned and said, “None.”

Lilly’s insides responded to his teasing with a mixture that was part heat, part completion. “Just those three, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s all I had time for. Once Brady and I decided to start the company, I quit school.”

“Dropout.”

All week she’d wanted to reassure him about the money, but what could she say?
Look, I’m trying to get a one-on-one with an angel’s supervisor so I can pay you back
? He’d kick her out of his taxi for sure, and then where would she be? No driver. No Jake. No baby.

The taxi suddenly seemed overly warm. Lilly unbuttoned her coat and stuck her scarf in her pocket. Jake’s gaze dropped to the low V of her blouse—red, of course—for a second before he dragged it away. Pretty reluctantly, she thought.

Their last stop of the day was a grocery store. Lilly might hate to cook, but she liked salad bars and fresh fruit. Jake quickly commandeered the cart, as if he should be in charge of anything with four wheels.

“All this food,” she said. “It amazes me that people actually like to prepare it.”

“What do you like with your salad?” he asked.

“Dressing.”

“You know, I could’ve predicted you were going to say that.”

“Then why’d you ask?” She gave her total attention to a pile of plums so he wouldn’t see how much she enjoyed sparring with him.

“Oh, my mother’s going to love you.”

Startled was a mild description of how she felt to discover he was thinking of her and his mother in the same sentence, the same thought. Already?

“Hey, you know plums don’t bounce?”

She looked down at the floor and discovered she’d in
advertently knocked several off the pile. She quickly bagged them.

“They’re bruised.”

“They’re more tender that way.”

A small girl darted between them and reached up for a plum. Before she could pull out a bottom one and set the whole pile rolling, Jake intervened the way only a veteran uncle could. He plucked a nearby orange off a display.

“She wants a plum,” Lilly said.

“Nah, it’ll be mush before she’s out of Produce.” He tempted the four-year-old with it until she couldn’t help but decide an orange was definitely better.

“Where’s your mommy, sweetheart?” Lilly asked.

The little girl plucked the orange out of Jake’s hand and ran off, knowing exactly where she was going.

“Cute kid,” Jake said.

“How many nieces and nephews do you have?”

“Twelve and a half.” He returned to following her aimless path. “When I asked what you like with your salad, I was thinking along the lines of cooking a steak and a baked potato.”

“Really? You cook when it’s just you?” Oh man, he cooked, too. Now she really had to catch him.

He sighed audibly. “Actually, I was thinking maybe
you
’d like a home-cooked meal for a change.”

She stopped in her tracks and figuratively shot a victorious fist overhead.
Yes!
He finally wanted to follow her beyond the driveway and
through
the front door. For her purposes, it didn’t matter why. But to her heart, it did.

She didn’t have to call Betsy for advice. She knew what it would be: Ply him with wine, lower his defenses, then seduce him. Apply red tights as necessary.

J
ake selected a medium-priced red wine, then thought about where the evening was headed and added a second bottle to the cart. Maybe a little libation would dull that anticheckwriting pain in Lilly’s arm long enough to get his family back in the black. She didn’t owe him, but hell, as long as she was giving it away…

He realized the trap in his plan as soon as he followed her into her kitchen, spotted the dark granite counter—the very one of Brady’s
“my wife” and a between-courses quickie
fame—and remembered how disloyal it was to lust after his best friend’s widow.

“Maybe we should do this at my house.” He cradled the bags in his arms and wouldn’t set them down.

“Don’t be silly, we’re already here.” She took one from him, set it on the island, and started unpacking it. “I might avoid cooking at all costs, but everything works. Don’t be shy, there’s lots of room.”

As if demonstrating that fact, she slid her palm across
the wide granite top. Jake broke out in a sweat.

“What can I do?” she asked.

“Hm. Uh…”

“You know, to help?

“Wash the potatoes?”

She rolled up the sleeves of her silky red blouse, which shouldn’t have been a turn-on, but it was just that much more skin darting around in front of him as she washed potatoes and put groceries away. It got worse when she reached around him to open cabinet doors and brushed against him while getting into the drawers. Between that and the
click-click-click
of her sexy high-heeled sandals on the wood floor, he damn near lit a fire in the island’s grill without turning any knobs.

“You’re going to ruin your clothes,” he said, not meaning to sound so gruff, so he got a grip on himself and softened his tone. “If you want to go change into sweats or something, you’ve got time.”
Please, make ’em thick and baggy.

“I’m fine.”

She opened a lower cabinet and bent at the waist. Her short skirt rode up the backs of her thighs. Nice. Very nice.

No, bad, very bad. He was supposed to be getting her tipsy so she’d share the wealth, not her body.

“Where’s the corkscrew?”

Instead of just telling him where it was, she stretched across him to pull open a drawer. She smelled nice. Sweet, like hyacinths. He’d planted scores of them for his mother, and their coming up always signaled the end of winter and the promise of better things ahead. Oh, he could only wish.

No!
his brain yelled.

Yes!
his body screamed.

“Darn.” Lilly leaned closer, her breast grazing his arm. “I know it’s in here somewhere.”

He leaned with her, as if helping her look, when he was really just enjoying how their bodies melded, how she suddenly swayed, giving him the perfect excuse to circle his arm around her and pull her close. As if he needed an excuse to appease the rational side of his brain because the emotional side had just seized control.

Her voice was breathy and inviting as she turned her face toward his.

“Jake?”

“Hm?”

The tip of her tongue darted out, moistening her lips, brightening the new shade of red she was wearing. Whoever’d invented that color should be arrested for the way it outlined the twin peaks at the center of her top lip. He hadn’t been able to keep his mind on his driving all week.

He thought she was going to say something like
I can’t find it with you all over me like that
, but instead she smiled softly, and her body melted against him. In the blink of an eye, her arms wound around his neck, her fingers dived into his hair, and he was lost, lost with his lips locked to hers, his arms around her body, his hands roaming up and down her back, touching her hair, grazing over her rear, and rubbing, squeezing, caressing every inch in between.

His left brain made one last attempt to remind him that this wasn’t how things were supposed to play out, but testosterone overrode that with even greater logic. Hell,
even Brady wouldn’t blame him for this. No man could be faced with this woman and be held responsible for what happened next.

He dragged Lilly up against his chest, ground his hips against her, let her feel how hard he was, how badly he wanted her. She moaned against his mouth, a deep, throaty sound that told him she was as lost in the moment as he, as willing as he,
wanting it
as much as he.

Spanning her waist with his hands, he lifted her onto the island, dragging her body up his ever so slowly. The hell with Brady’s “my wife” story. He’d only gotten her onto the counter. Jake had the whole damned island at his disposal. She could lie back if she wanted, open herself to him—

Hot damn, she was wearing a garter belt. He didn’t know women wore them except on dates, and this was no date. How the hell would he drive her around next week knowing she was wearing a garter belt and stockings every day, with soft, creamy skin between the tops of her hose and the bottom of her—

Oh damn, no bottom; a
thong
.

He felt her hand patting his shoulder.

“You want it here?” Would she like him to remove it, rip it, or just pull it aside?

She patted him again. What the hell did that mean?

He slipped between her open thighs, spreading them around his hips, anchoring them there as he bent over her and eased her onto her back.

“Jake…” She could barely talk.

“Hm?”

“The doorbell.”

“Forget it.”

“Who could it—”

“Who the hell cares?”

He tasted all of her mouth with his lips, his tongue. His hand inched into the front of her thong, prolonging the moment for her as much as he was able to in this state, until he discovered few enough curls that he knew she’d had a bikini wax. After that, all he noticed was that she was wet and ready.

Her fingers dug into his back, his shoulders—

And then he heard it. Footsteps echoing on the wooden deck, advancing toward the back door. A man’s voice.

“Lilly? It’s me.”

Warning bells rang, and Jake knew what he had to do above all else:
Protect Lilly
.

He scooped her against his chest, her legs and arms wrapped around him like a baby chimp, and he sprinted across the kitchen, into the dining room, where he pressed her up against the wall and struggled to catch his breath. His hands slowed. His kisses grew lighter, but nothing ended his ragged breathing or his erection.

“Ooh, I’ve never done it against the wall,” she said breathily, then plundered his mouth, tilted her pelvis and squeezed her thighs around him.

Sweet Jesus
.

“Lilly? Everything okay in there?”

“Who the hell is that?” Jake growled.

“Lilly? It’s me.”

“Oh God.” Her groaning near his ear didn’t help him cool down any. “It’s Andrew.”

“It’s all right.” Jake crooned sweet reassurances against her temple while wondering how to keep her exactly
where she was and undo his jeans at the same time. “It’s dark, he can’t see us in here.”

“He has a key.”

Her breath was hot in his ear. So hot.

“We all have keys and alarm codes to each other’s houses,” she seemed compelled to explain. “You know, just in case.” She unwrapped her legs from his hips.

Jake felt cold, deserted, and too pissed off at the interruption to be grateful that things hadn’t gotten out of hand, hadn’t gone too far when they shouldn’t have gone anywhere at all in the first place.

“I have to, uh—”

He felt her hands between them, checking her buttons, tucking the tail of her blouse in, smoothing her skirt. Reluctantly, he gave her room. Then she giggled.

At least she wasn’t mad at him.

“What?” he whispered, thankful it was dark and she couldn’t see him grinning like a sex-starved fool.

“One stocking’s down around my ankle. Where’s the other one?”

“It’s gone?”

“Yeah.”

“You lost your shoe?”

“Apparently. Shoot, I hope they’re not in the middle of the kitchen floor.”
Visible from the window.

“Here, I’ll take that.” He balled up the stocking she swept off, and for lack of a better place, tucked it inside the waistband of his jeans. Then he followed her into the kitchen.

“Andrew, hi,” she said upon opening the door.

The bottle of champagne in Andrew’s hand made Jake suspicious. Then Andrew kissed Lilly’s cheek pretty
damn slow and pretty damn close to the corner of her lips for a brother-in-law.

“Well, Jake, it’s been a long time.”

Andrew stepped forward and grasped his hand as if they were old friends, which they weren’t. Especially not since Brady had died. Jake squeezed tightly, but he had to hand it to Andrew. The guy barely winced and didn’t fall to his knees, which would have been so lovely. It wasn’t as if Jake could punch the guy out in Lilly’s kitchen.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Andrew said.

Lilly started to reply, but Jake painted a clear picture with a few well-chosen words, managing to sound casual and pretty much at home here when he said, “Oh, I haven’t put the steaks on yet.”

Andrew tilted his head toward the driveway. “That isn’t your uncle’s taxi, is it?”

“Yeah.” If one were critical, it could be taken as meaning,
What of it?

“I thought he was out West somewhere. Oh, wait a minute—
You’re
not Lilly’s chauffeur, are you?” If one were critical, his tone could be considered mocking.

Lilly stood ever so slightly off to the side, almost between them but not quite, probably debating whether this was normal behavior or if fists would fly.

“Surely you’ve got better things to do than drive our Lilly around all day, every day.”

Our
Lilly. Hell.

“Just until five o’clock.” It was seven now, so let the jerk infer whatever he wanted from that.

“And here I thought your job was in that sex shop. Oh, that’s right, it blew up or burned down or something, didn’t it?”

“Jake ran back into the building for me,” Lilly said. “If it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Well then, well done.” Andrew smiled broadly and clapped him on the shoulder.

How do you like that? Spend two weeks watching out for an old friend’s wife—shit, he’d let that get out of hand—and then the brother-in-law comes charging in with insincere praise and a bottle of champagne. Instead of being grateful that Andrew’s arrival had stopped him from making a serious mistake, Jake wanted to yank the bottle out of his hand and hit him over the head.

“Can I take that for you?”

“Oh.” Andrew looked from the bottle to Lilly, then smiled. “I brought it to celebrate the sale of your house.”

“It sold? Betsy didn’t call me.”

“We haven’t told her yet. But you know Mother’s affiliated with the university, of course. Well, when she heard you wanted to sell, she contacted the president right away. Seems they have a professor, well, two actually, they’re married. They moved here at the beginning of the semester with their children, and the housing they’re in just isn’t adequate. So mother said she’d buy your house and lease it to them. She wants to know if you’ll sell it fully furnished.”

“Yes!” Lilly looked as if she’d just won a lottery.

“They need it immediately. I hope that’s not a problem.”

“How soon?”

“Next week.”

Lilly’s jaw dropped.

“If it’s a problem, I’d be happy to have you move in with me for as long as you like.”

Ah-hah
. So that was the reason behind the champagne.
The little twerp. Once he got her behind closed doors, he’d bend her ear until she agreed to a new driver, then Jake’d never see her again.

Suddenly, it hurt to breathe. He needed damage control.

“Oh, sweetheart, here it is.” Jake pulled her lace-topped stocking out of his jeans, slowly stretching it full length. He draped it over her shoulder. He could’ve stuffed it in her mouth, her jaw had dropped so low. “Actually, Drew ol’ buddy, it makes more sense if Lilly moves in with me.” He smiled suggestively at her. “That way we don’t have to get up as early.”

He held his breath, not sure whether she’d sock him one. Not sure whether it’d come now or later. Not sure whether he’d lost his mind.

How the hell would he stay out of her clutches under the same roof?