LITTLE MISS INNOCENT? Page 5

  He brought the phone, her phone book, some of the correspondence that required a personal call, and a pen and paper to her. Lace wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d set a glass and water pitcher beside her, he seemed so diligent in his efforts to please.

  He turned to her as he shrugged into his shirt. She found the process fascinating. Men did things differently, moved differently, even breathed differently. Seeing Daniel in the act of something as mundane as dressing proved fascinating when compared to how her own body moved while performing the same duty. She wished she could watch him shave, though he looked good, rugged, with whiskers on his lean cheeks.

  “What do you like to eat? I’ll pick something up for a late lunch.”

  “Mexican,” she said without hesitation. “Something hot and spicy and with lots of sauce.”

  Daniel laughed. “At least that doesn’t surprise me. Somehow I knew you’d be a spicy kind of woman.”

  Lace tilted her head and looked at him with lowered brows.

  He pulled on his shoes, still grinning. “No offense, Lace. Just a joke.”

  “What about you? What will you eat?”

  “Mexican is fine by me.”

  “Ha! Now that does surprise a body, doesn’t it? I mean, I definitely never thought of you as a spicy kind of man.”

  He stood and slipped on his coat. On his way out the door, he stopped to look at her over his shoulder. “One of these days, I may just surprise you.”

  Lace felt her mouth fall open, but he was already gone, the door closing softly behind him.

  *

  “It all comes back to how you feel about the whole thing, Renee. If you like him playing the dominant role, if it satisfies you, then there’s nothing in the world wrong with it.”

  Daniel froze one step inside the door. Lace glanced at him, waved a short hello, then gave her attention back to the phone. Dominant? What kind of conversation had he walked in on? One typical for Lace, he realized, disgusted with himself.

  He closed the door behind him and set his load on the foyer table. Lace had a ton of mail, much more than he’d anticipated. He’d really had no idea she received so much correspondence through her profession, or that she’d become such a popular personality. Hanging his damp, snow frosted coat on the coat tree, he pretended not to listen to the conversation.

  “I know it’s 1998, and women are supposed to take a more active role, be more decisive and aggressive. But that’s the whole thing, choices. What works for one woman, or for a couple, doesn’t necessarily work for another. You don’t want to let society standards restrict you, any more than you want your mate to. Only you know what feels good to you, what satisfies you. Don’t worry about whether or not it’s in the ‘norm.’ If you’re comfortable with letting him dominate in your marriage, that’s all that matters.”

  His glasses fogged and he had to turn away. How was it every word out of Lace’s mouth sounded like a purr of seduction? As if she said those things specifically to rile him, to arouse him? Irritated, especially given how soft he’d been feeling toward her when he’d left her apartment this morning, he stomped into the kitchen to put the Mexican food in the refrigerator. He’d made certain to have it packaged in a way that he could microwave it later and it would still taste fresh. He’d thought of her satisfaction at the banquet he’d compiled, the spicy enchiladas, the chili, the fajitas. He’d been so pleased with his efforts. Now he had his doubts.

  Lace hadn’t changed just because she’d been hurt. She wasn’t suddenly vulnerable and needy just because she liked Christmas carols but had no one to share them with. She was still the same woman, the liberal who’d transformed his baby sister from tomboy to femme fatale. Her idea of entertainment was to harass him until his mind fogged with lust and his body reacted independently of his brain. He’d have to remember that.

  Determined to provide the help he’d promised her, Daniel went in search of dirty laundry. He tried to ignore the ensuing discussion, but certain words jumped out at him, key words that told him all he needed to know about Lace McGee, sexual icon, vamp extraordinaire.

  When he walked into her bedroom, he heard her voice raise in a squeak on the phone. Seconds later, she came hobbling in behind him. “What are you doing?”

  He glanced up, pretending to be impervious to the way her pastel robe draped over her slim shoulders, to the way her moon-colored hair curled in disarray. How her bare feet looked pink and small and so very feminine. She stared back nervously, tucking her hair behind her ears and glancing around her room as if she suspected he might have stolen something.

  “You’re a slob. I was only picking up the laundry so I could go get it started.”

  Lace scowled. “I can pick up my own laundry.”

  “No, you need to take it easy.” He reached for a T-shirt, then a lacy sock. She snatched them both out of his hands.

  “Dammit, Daniel, I don’t want you rifling through my things.”

  “Rifling? I hate to break it to you, Lace, but your dirty clothes aren’t all that interesting to me.”

  “They were last night.”

  “Don’t look so smug. Last night you took me by surprise. I expected your place to look … different. To reflect the woman you are.”

  Her back stiffened. “You don’t have an inkling of the woman I am, so how could you possibly have had an accurate preconceived notion of my housing?”

  He whistled through his teeth. “Wow. All that, huh?” She growled and he leaned back on her dresser. “What makes you think I don’t know you?”

  That stumped her. She opened her mouth twice, only to close it again.

  “Well? Nothing to say?” She stubbornly shook her head and he knew he saw a measure of hurt on her features. It had to be physical. He refused to believe his opinion of her caused her a single moment of grief. “Dammit, will you lay down? Use the bed, that way you can watch me and you won’t have to worry about me rifling through your things.”

  With her mouth tight and her expression rebellious, she did as he asked. Once she was settled on her side, she peered up at him and gave a sigh. “How come we’re arguing again?”

  “Damned if I know.” Then he sighed, too. “Did you get your phone calls taken care of?”

  “Most of them. That last one took longer than I thought. She was very upset.”

  “A disgruntled woman who’s into bondage? Is that where your valuable time is dedicated these days?”

  He knew even as he said it he wasn’t being fair. It was just that she made him so confused with what he felt and what he ought to feel. How she spent her life shouldn’t matter to him, but it did. He wanted her, more than he’d ever wanted any woman, and he knew he shouldn’t. He didn’t feel any real affection for her, much less the overpowering love people often spoke of. And he didn’t believe in uninvolved sex. He’d had his share of sexual relationships, but he’d always liked the women and, more importantly, he’d respected them.

  He thought about apologizing. Before he could even work up a good way to start, Lace burst out laughing. She laughed so hard, she fell onto her face on the mattress and he was left with the view of her trim backside, curving round and soft beneath her thin pink robe.

  Daniel stepped closer, his arms crossed over his chest. “What is so funny?”

  “You!” she gasped, then went off into another peal of laughter. “How you can pretend to be so righteous when your mind spends so much time wading through lascivious gutters I’ll never understand.”

  She wiped tears of mirth from her eyes and laughed some more—at his expense. Confusion hit him. “I’m not the one who was discussing sexual vagaries on the phone…”

  Lace rolled onto her back, yelped and went back to her side, still chuckling. “‘Sexual vagaries’? Is that what you thought?”

  Her bright green eyes were alight with humor. She looked beautiful and happy and… “You were discussing domination.”

  “Not in bed, you idiot.” She softened the insult with another chu
ckle. “Renee is an older woman who’s always allowed her husband to have financial say in their marriage. Now her friends are telling her how he’s taking advantage of her, how she should assert herself. It’s hogwash, of course, because she doesn’t want that responsibility. She’s happy letting him handle the major decisions in their lives, and from what she told me, he loves her very much and always puts her best interests first. It’s a case of reverse discrimination, and women do it to each other all the time now.”

  Daniel felt incredibly stupid. “What you were saying had nothing to do with sex?”

  “You must think my every waking thought, my every action, centers on the physical!”

  He shifted. “Well, yeah.”

  That started another round of hilarity that continued to the point where Daniel wanted to strangle her. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her in dry annoyance. “Aren’t you overdoing it just a bit?”

  She hiccupped and gave him a teasing, watery-eyed smile. “Oh, but overdoing is evidently what I’m known for. Indulgence. Gluttony, even. Why, I never tire out.”

  “Lace…”

  She rested her head on a pillow and smiled at him. She looked serene, freshened by the laughter. Sweet and innocent. “Why are you so repressed, Daniel?”

  “I am not repressed.” At least, he didn’t think he was. No, certainly not. “Just because I show a modicum of restraint rather than your … flamboyance, doesn’t mean I’m not a sexual person.”

  He winced as soon as the words left his mouth. He sounded defensive, and idiotic. And now she’d laugh at him again.

  But she didn’t. She tipped her head and continued to study him. “Do you think it just might be possible we both have a few misconceptions to iron out?”

  “I’ll concede the merest possibility could exist.”

  After a moment she stuck her hand out at him and he took it. “Have I thanked you yet for helping me out today?”

  “Not exactly.” Her hand felt soft and smooth and small in his own. A woman’s hand, offered with integrity. He wrapped his fingers around hers and held her firm.

  “Then consider this my show of gratitude. It’s the truth, I don’t have a lot of family I can rely on. I have no doubt I could have muddled through on my own today, but I’m glad I didn’t have to.”

  The emotion in her gaze unsettled him, touched him to his masculine core. More important than her touch were her words. She’d given him a small piece of herself, trusted him not to turn her words back on her, and he felt ridiculously blessed, as if he’d been given the greatest gift of his life.

  He felt so pleased, it scared him.

  Daniel released her and stood. “Think nothing of it. But, Lace? You know you can count on Annie as family, and Max.”

  “And your dad, and Guy?”

  He hadn’t realized she even knew Guy Donovan, though he should have. Guy was his best friend, practically a brother. He worked at Daniel’s father’s small local company, fulfilling the spot of oldest son since his dad’s rather early retirement, a position Daniel had never aspired to. Guy was close to them all, had even lived with them a good portion of his life, so of course Lace knew him.

  With the faintest twinge he had to admit was jealousy, he nodded. “And Dad and Guy.”

  “And you?” She lowered her gaze, her fingers toying with the lace on a pale blue pillow. “Can I count on you as family?”

  He wondered if she deliberately played him. Suspecting she might, he narrowed his eyes and answered more bluntly than he’d intended. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Hmm.” She didn’t look as though she believed him, but she kept her thoughts to herself. “I’ll get my laundry together tomorrow.”

  “No, I want you to take it easy tomorrow, too. I’ll do it, and no more arguments.” He put space between himself and the bed, and while he picked up various pieces of clothing, he felt the warmth of her gaze on him. The last thing he lifted, a sheer red bra that made his vision cloud, unearthed a gilt-framed photo. Daniel studied it a minute and, even before Lace spoke, knew who the woman in the picture must be. The resemblance was very strong.

  “That’s my mother.” Her tone changed, no longer light with humor or teasing. Now she sounded cautious, distant.

  “You look a lot like her.”

  “My cursed coloring, you mean? She loved it, though for me it’s been nothing but a hassle.”

  Daniel snorted. “You’re beautiful and you know it.”

  “Another compliment? I think I’m losing count.” He started to take it back, but she jumped in before he could. “It doesn’t matter, Danny, not a bit. What my mother considered her greatest asset has been my biggest handicap. And don’t pretend you don’t understand. Your attitudes reflect those of the masculine masses. No woman can look like me and be taken seriously.”

  Lace slid off the bed, her face drawn in real anger, surprising Daniel with the suddenness of it. “Lace…”

  “Never mind. I don’t even care anymore.”

  “Then why did you bring it up?” he asked gently, sincerely. She seemed like such an enigma, so hard to fathom, impossible to ignore.

  “Because your pain medicine is making me maudlin.” She headed for the door, causing him to frown in sympathy over her awkward, faltering gait. “I have calls to make. Try not to eavesdrop this time, okay? I wouldn’t want to traumatize your fragile sense of propriety with my blatant sexual discussions.”

  Daniel watched her limp out, and this time he felt no anger at her disdain, no urge for rebuttal. He felt … sympathy. Something had happened with her mother, something that had possibly helped to mold her into the woman she was today. He wanted to find out what it was, wanted to get to know her better.

  He wanted to make love to her until neither one of them could see straight. He just didn’t know how to overcome the walls he’d set up between them—but he was now determined to try.

  *

  Four

  « ^ »

  Lace heard a thump in the hallway and went still. She tilted her head to listen, but all she heard was silence. Just as she started to type again, she heard a low curse. Daniel? Had he somehow injured himself while going to the basement to do her laundry? Sometimes the steps were slippery from people trudging in and out through the weather.

  Once he’d left the apartment again, she’d washed as thoroughly as she could at the sink and dressed in a loose-fitting caftan of lemon yellow and purple. On her feet she wore thick white socks.

  The pain medicine hadn’t made her quite so sleepy today, but it did work wonders on relieving her pain. She was even able to sit up in bed, with a soft pillow cushioning her injury, while she worked on Daniel’s laptop. She knew she looked ridiculous, but Daniel hadn’t said a word. He’d only asked her if she was comfortable.

  “Daniel?” She called his name softly, but received no answer. Slowly sliding out of bed, feeling a smidgeon of worry she didn’t want to acknowledge, she went to her bedroom door and peeked out. She could now hear muted shuffling, but couldn’t quite pinpoint the sound.

  “Daniel?”

  “Sorry, Lace. Didn’t mean to disturb you.” He appeared a moment later, his hair sprinkled with snow, his cheeks ruddy from the cold, breathing just a tad too quickly, as if he’d been hurrying.

  A sort of truce had fallen between them, like two hostile hostages who decide to work together to make the best of a bad situation. Lace had finally begun to relax, to accept his overwhelming presence filling her home, but now, seeing him again, the thrumming feeling returned and she tingled from head to toe. How did he do it? How did this one particular man affect her so easily—without even trying?

  She realized she was staring at him stupidly and blushed. “You’ve been outside?”

  “I, ah… Shouldn’t you be back in bed? It looked like you had a hundred letters to answer.”

  “No, only about thirty and I’m almost through.”

  “You answer every letter personally?”

  “
Of course.” She studied him, and knew in a heartbeat he was up to something. “All right, give.”

  He raised one brow, looking his most autocratic. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Now that would be a sight—you begging.”

  He started to speak and she said, “I want to know what you were doing outside, Daniel. For that matter, I want to know what you’re doing in my living room.”

  “It’s a small room, have you ever noticed that, Lace? Not a lot of space for maneuvering or rearranging.”

  “Why in heaven’s name would you want to rearrange anything? I have things exactly as I like them.”

  “Well, as to that…” He hedged a moment longer as Lace leaned against the doorjamb and crossed her arms. He made a sound of disgust. “All right. Ruin the surprise, why don’t you? I had to make room for the tree.”

  “A tree?”

  “A small one. A Christmas tree. I bought it when I went out earlier.” When she only stared at him, he continued in a defensive tone, “It doesn’t seem right for you to not have a tree, Lace. It’s Christmas.”

  She felt the color wash from her face. She pushed around him, but he stayed on her heels, crowding her, and when she came to a staggering halt in the entrance to the living room, he almost bumped into her. She felt his hands settle on her shoulders.

  “I haven’t had a tree since I was… I can’t remember the last time I had a tree.”

  Quietly, his tone almost a caress, Daniel asked, “Didn’t you decorate a tree when you were a little girl?”

  She shook her head, “For a long time, my mom was married to this rich guy and he had professional decorators come in and fix a tree that was easily ten feet tall. I was afraid to get near it because I thought I might mess something up and everyone would know. Each bow had been placed just so, you see, and if I moved something, or touched something wrong…”

  Daniel squeezed her shoulders again. “We used to decorate our tree with stuff Annie and Max had made. Guy and I would supervise after we’d put on the lights and the star on top. It was funny, because until Max and Annie got big enough, all the ornaments would be around the bottom branches and the top of the tree would be bare. Guy and I would wait until after Annie and Max were in bed, then we’d rearrange things a bit, but we never told them, and they never noticed.” He hesitated a moment, and she could feel the humor in him, the fond remembrance. “It was a great tree, full of hodgepodge ornaments.”