Kylie Brant - Close To The Edge

Draining his beer, he set it down and eyed hers, which hadn’t been touched yet. “How many grandchildren are there?”

“Four. Rupert has three children, two sons and a daughter, all by different women. So I guess they’re all really half-siblings. Lianna has one son. The four range in age from twenty-five to thirty-six.”

“Do you know them?”

“I’ve run into all of Rupert’s children on occasion at various functions. I don’t recognize the name of Lianna’s son, Jeffrey Wharton. While she was married she lived in Boston, and apparently the boy bounced back and forth between her and her ex-husband for most of his life. According to the file, he’s been living in New Orleans for the last six months.”

She slapped his hand just as his fingers would have closed around her bottle. He adopted what he hoped was a wounded expression. “C’mon cher, you know you’re not goin’ to drink that. Don’t be mean.”

“Yes, I am.” To prove it, she lifted the bottle to her lips and took a long pull. Immediately her eyes squeezed shut, and she choked a little. “That’s…” She hauled in a deep breath, smoothed her expression. “That’s excellent.”

He laughed out loud, delighted with her. “It’s an acquired taste, and one I wouldn’t have thought to your likin’. By all means, finish it.”

“I intend to.” She’d do just that to prove a point, and damned if he wasn’t going to enjoy watching her. Taking a more cautious sip the next time, she managed to swallow without grimacing. “Thank you for the sandwich. I guess I have been a bit single-minded today.”

Lucky stood, began gathering up the wrappers and shoving them back in the bag. “You mean uptight? Oui, just a bit.” He, on the other hand, had come to work feeling loose and relaxed. A long night of steamy sex had that effect on a man. He would have suggested that she engage in the same, but given her choice in male companions, he doubted her experience would produce similar results. She tended to choose men who were little more than empty suits, all surface polish with no real substance beneath. Although she’d broken away from her high-society upbringing in her choice of careers, she didn’t seem able to shake it when it came to the men in her life.

He stood, wadded the bag in his hand and banked it into the wastebasket. Noticing the way she was working her shoulder, he moved to stand behind her. “Here, let me.” When she would have batted his hands away, he dug his fingers into the tight muscles, eliciting a groan.

“How do you do that?”

“We all have our talents. Yours is turnin’ oversized bikers into eunuchs, and mine is loosenin’ up tight muscles.” He used his thumb to rub along her nape. “You’re all knots.”

“I tossed and turned most of the night.” She let her head loll, allowing him better access. “I woke up stiff.”

Her lack of sleep could no doubt be laid squarely at her mother’s doorstep, but bringing up the woman’s name would just have her tensing again. “You need to learn how to relax.”

“So you always say.” She rolled her shoulders. He thought the muscles there were already becoming more pliable. “M-mm, with your talent, you could become a professional at this.”

“Fa’true?” He pretended to consider it. “Maybe I’ll just do that. I could stop slavin’ away for you on that paltry salary you pay me and open my own business.” He pretended not to hear the sound she made in response. “Yeah, I’m thinkin’ of buying a van with equipment inside it. I could make housecalls first thing in the mornin’ to provide wake-up massages for the stressed out-women of the city. I could call it…Loosen up with Lucky.”

She tilted her head back to look at him. “Why not? I know of some dog groomers who work that way. They go to the customers’ homes and provide the service in the back of their vans. You might even want to offer some of the same services they do—I’m sure some of the ‘clients’ you’d acquire could benefit from a good flea dip.”

Lucky’s chuckle joined her laughter, even as he lowered his face to hers to growl in mock menace, “You’re a cruel woman, cher, to trample a man’s dreams that way.”

“Dreams? Don’t you mean fantasies?”

“Oui, and now I have a far different fantasy in mind, one that involves…” He broke off as he heard a sound in the outer office. In the next moment the door to Jacey’s office was pushed open, and a man filled the doorway.

Time stilled for an instant as the three of them froze. In the next second Jacey straightened abruptly, in a move designed to dislodge Lucky’s hands. He was just contrary enough to keep them in place. “Brummond.” His fingers resumed their kneading motion. “Haven’t seen you around for a while.” His grin was as careless as his words. “Can’t say I’ve missed you.”

Peter Brummond stepped into the office, his gaze first taking in the placement of Lucky’s hands, then the bottle in Jacey’s hand.

“Jacinda.” The word was stiff. “I apologize if I’m interrupting.”

“We just finished a working dinner.” Jacey tried to rise, but Lucky’s placement behind her chair prevented it. She turned and shot him a telling glance. “It’s after five, Lucky. Lock up on your way out, will you?”

As a dismissal it was fairly obvious. There was no reason for it to burn the way it did. “Are you sure?” As far as he could tell, dropping Brummond a few months ago had been one of Jacey’s smartest moves. “We really weren’t finished here.”

Her smile was tight, but her eyes held a plea, one he couldn’t help but respond to. “I’m sure.”

He didn’t have to feign his reluctance. He didn’t know what Brummond’s presence here after all this time meant, but he was pretty damn certain it couldn’t be good. Slowly, he let his hands drop from her shoulders and rounded the table. The other man stepped aside, allowing him room to pass, then shut the door behind him.

“What was that all about?”

If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought there was a note of jealousy in Peter’s voice, but that was ridiculous. Peter was getting married. He’d made his choice. Both of them had.

“Please sit down.” The graciousness in her voice would have made her mother proud. “I must admit I’m a bit surprised to see you, though.”

The man had the grace to flush. He lowered himself to a chair opposite Jacey’s. “Believe me, I know I’ve handled this badly. I wanted to talk to you a dozen times, but I just…I didn’t know what to say. Or how to say it.”

“I understand congratulations are in order. Have the two of you set a date yet?” She had the distant realization that she’d never seen Peter Brummond so discomfited. It would have been satisfying if she weren’t so intensely uncomfortable herself.

“We’re…it will be a small ceremony. Private. That’s why Mother insisted on the engagement affair. You know how she likes a party.”

What Audrey Brummond loved most, Jacey recalled, was having the spotlight on her and her family. She couldn’t imagine that a private wedding ceremony had been Peter’s mother’s idea, hence the engagement party.

Peter fidgeted in his seat. His blond good looks were just as polished as she remembered, saved from conventional handsomeness by a chin that was a shade too weak. “This thing with Celeste…well, it took me by surprise, too. That is, it all happened so quickly…”

“You and I were no longer seeing each other,” Jacey put in smoothly. “You had a right to date other women.”

His expression eased a fraction. “That’s true. I still felt though, that as a courtesy I should have informed you, but there never seemed an opportune moment.”