To Love Again

CHAPTER TWO

PERHAPS always was putting it a little strongly, but Christi had certainly loved Lucas from the time he had first introduced himself as her neighbour almost four years ago.

Her parents had only recently died, the full impact of that not hitting her until weeks later, and her move from her parents’ house to a smaller, more manageable apartment had been made with something like detachment. Certainly, it hadn’t been until some of the suitable furniture from her parents’ home was being moved into the apartment that she suddenly realised her mother would never be coming back to sit behind the delicate writing-table as she answered all her overdue correspondence, that her father—her dear, absent-minded father—wouldn’t ever again have a need for the display cabinet that had housed his most precious objects, those artefacts now given to museums, as he had requested they should be in his will.

But seeing all that furniture moved into these strange surroundings had been the end for her. She had run from the apartment with a choked cry, coming to an abrupt halt as she crashed into a hard, but somehow soft, wall. Lucas’s chest …

She had been eighteen years old, sheltered and cosseted all her life by over-indulgent parents, the men she had so far had in her life only a passing amusement at best. But, as she looked up into the harshly beautiful face of the man that held her so tightly against his chest, she had felt her heart leave her body and join with his. Not even a word had passed between them, but Christi knew she was looking into the face of the man she loved.

And when he had spoken it had been with gentle kindness, introducing himself as Lucas Kingsley, her new neighbour, insisting she join him in his apartment for a drink of some kind while the removal men finished bringing up her furniture.

Christi had felt wrapped in a protective glow, huskily explaining her recent loss, held tightly in his arms as she cried on his broad shoulder, her senses wallowing in the clean smell of him that was mingled with another smell that was all Lucas, a completely masculine aura that seduced and tempted, drawing her more fully into his spell.

He had left her only briefly, and that was to tip the removal men when they knocked on the door to say they had finished, returning instantly to take her in his arms once again.

But, during that time, or the many times afterwards when he had offered her the same comfort, it had never been the sort of embrace she wanted from him. He treated her more like the little sister he had never had, taking her firmly under his wing until she felt able to stand on her own two shaky feet, even then continuing to be the shoulder she could always cry on if she felt the need.

She had watched with dismay as first one woman entered his life, and then another, none of them lasting very long, all of them maintaining a friendship even once the relationship was over. With each new woman that entered his life, Christi lived in dread of this one being the one he decided to settle down with.

After two years of loving him that hopelessly, when it seemed he would never see her as more than the ‘little girl next door,’ she had decided something would have to be done to make him see she was all grown up now, a woman in every sense of the word. If she couldn’t have Lucas, she was going to make sure he saw her with enough men to be convinced of her maturity.

The next year had been full of those men, but, instead of Lucas accepting she was no longer a child, he had merely offered her his shoulder to cry on whenever one of those friendships broke up!

After more careful thought, she had decided that it had to be the fact that she still had a guardian, in the shape of her uncle Zach, that prevented Lucas seeing her maturity, and consequently her love for him. That decision had provoked an elaborate—and, she accepted now a ridiculous—plan, that would show her uncle just how adept she was at taking responsibility for her own life. The result of that had been her uncle and Dizzy—who she had somehow managed to persuade to enter into the madcap scheme to hoodwink her uncle—falling in love with each other, her uncle releasing his guardianship of her and her inheritance into her own control at twenty-one, instead of the twenty-five it could have been—and with Lucas’s attitude not changing towards her in the least!

She had been at a loss to know what to do after that, had drifted along for another six months, lost in a sea of self-pity. Then, as a last desperate plea for Lucas’s love, she had stopped dating other men altogether, concentrating on her career, hoping that would finally make him sit up and take notice of her. Months later, she had to admit it hadn’t affected him in the slightest.

And neither had the idea of her possibly becoming involved with Dick Crosby, Barry Robbins, or David Kendrick! He had even invited himself to the wedding!

She would just have to accept it, she didn’t have anything to interest a man of thirty-seven who had been married and had a couple of children.

She couldn’t accept that! She loved Lucas, had loved him for four long years, would go on loving him until the day she died. And she wouldn’t give up trying to get him to return that love until that day came!

The last thing she felt like doing at the end of another exhausting—and disappointing—day, was getting dressed up to go out on a date with Dick Crosby.

She freely admitted that she had got out of the habit of going out on dates the last six months. Not that it had been too difficult; until last week she had had a one-line part in a long-running play, which had taken up most of her evenings. But last week the play had come to an end, and so she was back looking for work, or ‘resting’, as most people knew it. She knew she was one of the lucky ones; her allowance, and then her full inheritance, meant that she was never going to be one of the ‘starving’ actors who had to find work to survive. But she wanted to make a success of her career, and loved to act, going for any of the auditions her agent managed to set up for her. It was a bit much to expect success after only two days of looking, but the fact that she hadn’t didn’t add to the mood of wanting to go out for the evening.

It didn’t help that she hadn’t seen Lucas since he had so blithely invited himself to her non-existent wedding, either!

He had been out on a date last night himself, with a beautiful lawyer who possessed brains as well as all that blonde beauty; Christi had learnt this when Lucas introduced the two of them last week. He and Michelle had been seeing each other for a couple of weeks now, and Christi could tell by the way Michelle looked at Lucas that she was more than fond of him. It was like twisting a knife in her chest to see him with other women, to imagine him making love to those women. One thing she was grateful for, Lucas never brought those women home to spend the night with him, any lovemaking he did obviously taking place at the woman’s home.

He had come home alone last night, late, because Christi had heard him letting himself into his apartment just after twelve.

He had already left for the office in town, from which he ran his considerable empire, by the time she’d got up this morning; and as she wasn’t likely to see him tonight, either, now that she was going out herself, the evening looked bleak.

Poor Dick Crosby! She wasn’t being fair to him at all, she realised ruefully. He couldn’t help it if he wasn’t the man she really wanted to be with, nor that she was in love with a man who was far out of her reach.

Because she felt so guilty about her reluctance to go on this date at all, she made an extra special effort to look nice for Dick, aware that the flaming red dress, that reached just below her shapely knees, made her hair appear more ebony than usual, and added colour to her pale cheeks.

Nevertheless, her heart gave a weary lurch when the doorbell rang promptly at eight o’clock, and there was no way she could force a sparkle into haunted blue eyes as she hurried to answer the door.

Dick Crosby was in his early thirties, with thick sandy-coloured hair that fell endearingly across his forehead, and brown eyes that warmed appreciatively as they took in her appearance. Not quite six feet tall, he nevertheless possessed a natural grace of movement that made him appear taller than he actually was.

‘I must remember to thank Dizzy for finally introducing us properly,’ he murmured softly.

Dizzy. Her best friend—and aunt—had rung her shortly after she had got in this evening, assuring her what a lovely person Dick was, and telling her to ‘give him a chance’.

Mentioning Dizzy was the worst thing Dick could have done, if he had but known it, the evening losing what little glow it had had with the remembrance that Dizzy had been the one to set them up in this way. She meant well, but …

‘Shall we go?’ Christi suggested sharply, sighing inwardly as Dick gave her a hurt look. ‘Sorry,’ she grimaced. ‘Bad day,’ she excused, picking up her jacket to follow him out into the corridor.

He relaxed again. ‘Oh, I know what they are,’ he said knowingly. ‘Only too well, lately.’

‘Oh?’ she prompted with polite interest. Maybe if she got him chatting she wouldn’t have to add too much to the conversation.

‘Yes, I——’ Dick broke off abruptly as he saw the stricken look on her face as the lift doors opened in front of them.

Christi stared disbelievingly at Lucas and Marsha as they stood side by side in the lift. Lucas was grim-faced, Marsha as kittenishly beautiful as usual as her ex-husband ushered her out into the corridor.

The two couples stared at each other as the lift doors closed, and the lift descended again without Christi having made a move to go inside it.

Marsha and Lucas made an arresting couple—Lucas so tall and handsome, Marsha so delicately lovely as her hand rested on the crook of his arm.

But what were they doing together like this? the question screamed in Christi’s mind. How could Lucas fail to appreciate the beauty of the woman who had once been his wife, her hair curving alluringly about her beautiful heart-shaped face, the black dress she wore showing off her curves to perfection. Next to her, Christi felt like an ungainly giraffe!

And then reality righted itself, and with it came the realisation that Lucas and Marsha were divorced because they didn’t love each other, that they had been more like enemies the last five years, that the only interest they shared was their children.

The children … Of course! Marsha would be here to discuss something with Lucas concerning the children. She could only hope, for Lucas’s sake, that it was nothing too traumatic; Marsha had already made him suffer enough where they were concerned.

‘You seem to have missed the lift,’ Marsha purred mockingly, hazel-coloured eyes gleaming with catlike malice as she looked Christi over scornfully.

Christi’s head went back challengingly. ‘It must be the surprise of seeing you again,’ she derided. ‘It must be—almost a year since we last met?’

‘Something like that,’ the other woman dismissed in a bored voice. ‘You haven’t changed at all,’ she scorned. ‘Although the men in your life seem to have matured somewhat.’ She looked Dick over appreciatively, giving him her most seductive smile.

Christi stiffened at Marsha’s open derision for her lack of years, glancing uncomfortably at Lucas. He looked so grim, his eyes glittering silver with suppressed anger, that Christi just wanted to put her arms around him and tell him everything would be all right, that Marsha wouldn’t be able to torment him with the upbringing of his children any longer. But it would be a hollow promise; while Marsha had Lucas’s children, she took great delight in making him dance to her tune any time she wished. For a man as forceful and dynamic as Lucas, it was an impossible situation.

She woodenly made the introductions. Lucas’s greeting was terse, to say the least, Marsha’s a sensuous purr, and Dick’s after his initial surprise at hearing that Marsha and Lucas, the flirtatious woman and the grim-faced man, were husband and wife, was cautiously warm; he kept a wary eye on the other man’s face with its stony expression and hooded grey eyes. He obviously didn’t know what to make of the oddly matched pair, and Christi took pity on him and suggested they had better leave now or they would be late for dinner.

She cast one last anxious glance at Lucas as the lift doors closed behind her and Dick, her heart twisting at how bleak he looked.

‘What a strange couple,’ Dick remarked dazedly at her side.

Christi’s mouth tightened. ‘They’re divorced,’ she snapped.

‘Oh!’ he said with some relief. ‘Oh,’ he repeated again in soft speculation.

‘And yes, Marsha is very available, in case you’re interested,’ she told him sharply, marching out of the building to come to a halt on the edge of the pavement. She was shaking with anger, and drew in a deep, steadying breath to calm herself.

Dick caught up with her in a couple of strides; he seemed surprised by her outburst, and looked at her enquiringly.

‘I’m sorry.’ She gave a rueful grimace. ‘Marsha doesn’t bring out the best in me, and—well, I did warn you it had been a bad day.’ And it was getting worse by the moment! Dick couldn’t be blamed for finding Marsha attractive, especially after the woman had come on to him as strongly as she had. At the time, it had just seemed to her that Marsha was to blame for the fact that Lucas wasn’t able to fall in love again, and that the man Christi did have interested in her was also succumbing to the other woman’s undoubted sensual attraction. In that moment, it had just seemed too much! ‘Although that’s no reason to behave like a shrew,’ she apologised again.

This time, instead of feeling annoyance when Dick mentioned Dizzy, Christi felt relieved to be on neutral ground, relaxing slowly on the drive to the restaurant as they discussed the success of Dizzy’s illustrations. The most recent publication to come out with one of her illustrations was a Claudia Laurence book, one of the most successful ever.

Not many people realised it, but Christi’s uncle Zach was, in fact, Claudia Laurence, the author of those ‘hot’ historicals that always had the public clamouring for more. Christi herself had found out quite by accident, shocked to learn that the man she had once termed ‘fusty and dusty’ wrote those enjoyable adventurous romps. As Dizzy’s agent, Dick was also in on the secret, and they both relaxed as they discussed the books.

Her uncle’s secret was one she hadn’t even told Lucas, knowing how sensitive her uncle was about the subject, for his career as a professor of history was just as important to him. It wasn’t that she thought Lucas would tell anyone else, it was just that—well, it wasn’t her secret to tell. Maybe if he had been able to love her …

‘Is there anyone there?’ Dick spoke in a ghostly voice.

Christi blinked at him in surprise, having been completely unaware of her surroundings; the exclusive restaurant, and Dick, had faded from her mind as her thoughts had once again dwelled on Lucas.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she apologised again. ‘I’m afraid I’m not very good company tonight,’ she added with embarrassment.

‘That’s all right,’ he accepted ruefully. ‘I guess my conversation must have been boring for you.’

She had no idea what the conversation had been about! But Dick didn’t seem about to go over it again, suggesting they order their meal instead.

Christi felt terrible about her inattentiveness, putting Lucas—and what Marsha could possibly want to see him about—firmly from her mind, and concentrating on being charming to Dick.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t the most successful evening she had ever had, and as Dick kissed her briefly at her door, obviously waiting for an invitation to come in, she knew it would be kinder not to encourage him any further. He was a nice enough man, but he certainly wasn’t going to be the one to supplant Lucas in her heart!

‘No?’ he realised gently.

Christi gave a shaky smile. ‘I am sorry——’ She was silenced by his fingertips over her lips.

‘It was a nice evening,’ he smiled. ‘I enjoyed your company—I’m not so sure you were actually with me most of the evening,’ he teased without rancour, ‘but it was a pleasant time.’

Pleasant. It wasn’t much of a eulogy. She had to face it: as a return to the dating scene, it had been a disaster!

She was shaking her head as she walked aimlessly around her apartment, filled with a restlessness that wouldn’t be satisfied until she had spoken to Lucas again. But she couldn’t go knocking on his door at eleven-thirty at night!

Damn it, why couldn’t she? They were friends, at least, and friends cared about each other, and he had looked awful when she saw him earlier with Marsha. He could even be ill. Or …

Why bother to search for excuses? She had to talk to him, and that was all there was to it!

Christi was encouraged by the fact that she could hear music playing softly inside the apartment next to hers, and hesitated only briefly outside the door as the possibility that he wasn’t alone passed through her mind. She would take that risk; he could only ask her to wait until tomorrow before talking to him.

She knew she had been right to come when she saw how haggard he looked when he opened the door to her ring, his dark hair looking as if he had been running agitated fingers through it for most of the evening, his face pale, his pale grey shirt partly unbuttoned down his chest to reveal the start of the dark hair that grew there, a glass of whisky held in his hand. It was the latter that told her how disturbed he was; Lucas never drank alcohol, and only ever kept a supply in for guests.

She shifted uncomfortably on his doorstep as he looked at her with narrowed eyes. ‘I—er—I thought I would come and tell you how my evening went.’ It was positively the last thing she had meant to say, but suddenly she had felt as if she were intruding on something he didn’t want to talk about just now. ‘You did say you would like a report on each of my dates,’ she added lamely as he continued to look at her.

To her relief, he relaxed slightly, a faint glimmer of amusement darkening his eyes as he held the door wider for her to enter.

The lounge was in shadows, with only a small table-lamp for illumination, the Kenny Rogers cassette she had bought him last Christmas playing softly in the background. Christi turned awkwardly to face Lucas, feeling as if she had walked in on something very private. What had Marsha wanted to talk to him about tonight?

‘No Michelle tonight?’ she enquired lightly as she sat down in one of the comfortable brown leather armchairs, the room completely masculine, the décor brown and cream, the furniture heavy and attractive.

‘No,’ he drawled, his voice gruff, as if the unaccustomed raw alcohol had burned his throat on its way down. ‘I didn’t think it fair to inflict my company on anyone tonight,’ he added ruefully, taking another drink of the whisky as he dropped down on to the sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

Maybe she should have had the same fore-thought, and not ruined Dick Crosby’s evening for him! Dizzy was sure to telephone for a full report tomorrow, and she wasn’t going to be too happy with what she was told.

Strange, she and Dizzy were closer than sisters, and yet she had never told her friend of her love for Lucas, had never told anyone. God knew what Dizzy would do if she knew it was Lucas she loved! Christi thought disgustedly.

But, right now, dealing with Lucas’s depressed mood, a mood she had never seen him in before in all the years she had known him, was what was important to her. Lucas’s happiness would always be important to her.

‘So,’ he spoke briskly, ‘was he the one?’ He looked at her interestedly, amusement darkening his eyes.

Christi relaxed slightly at his teasing. ‘No,’ she answered without hesitation.

‘Oh!’ Lucas looked surprised. ‘He seemed a nice enough chap to me.’

‘He was,’ she nodded. ‘But he wasn’t for me.’ You’re the man for me, she cried inside, wishing—oh, God, wishing he could see her as more than a young sister, or, even worse, someone he treated as being on the same age level as his two children! Much as she liked Robin and Daisy, her feelings towards them weren’t sibling, but more maternal. She longed to be their stepmother, to perhaps give Lucas other children. ‘Crying for the moon,’ her mother would probably have told her gently, her face softened with love.

Lucas sipped his whisky again. ‘How could you tell after just one date? Love doesn’t always hit you between the eyes like a fist, you know. Sometimes it takes time to develop and grow.’ He relaxed back against the sofa, watching her beneath heavy lids.

But sometimes it did hit you like that fist, and when it did it was the hardest thing in the world to live without! ‘Love doesn’t,’ she acknowledged with a nod.

He frowned. ‘Meaning something else does?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she smiled.

‘What—ah!’ He gave a knowing sigh, his mouth twisted into a smile. ‘That little monster lust rearing its head again,’ he derided.

The bleakness was starting to fade from his eyes, and he had put down the half-finished glass of whisky on the coffee-table beside him. ‘I don’t think of it as lust,’ she chided reprovingly. ‘Merely a case of physical attraction,’ she corrected with mock indignation, rewarded with a gleam of laughter in dark grey eyes.

‘Lust,’ he repeated drily. ‘But there was none of this—physical attraction,’ he teased her mockingly, ‘between you and Dick Crosby?’

Another few moments of this nonsense and she would have the old Lucas back again, and not the man whose barely leashed savagery distressed her so much.

‘Hm—maybe a little,’ she conceded with exaggerated thought.

‘On his part, at least,’ Lucas taunted knowingly. ‘Weren’t you attracted to him, too?’ he asked interestedly.

‘He was very handsome, fun to be with,’ she conceded with a shrug.

‘And?’

‘And nothing,’ she dismissed lightly.

‘You liked him, he was fun to be with, you found him handsome, and yet—nothing?’ Lucas said disbelievingly.

‘Hm,’ she nodded, mischief gleaming in her eyes. ‘I had my doubts throughout the evening, but it was the kiss that finally convinced me,’ she said sadly, laughter lighting up her eyes beneath demurely lowered lashes.

Lucas sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees, a frown between his eyes. ‘The man has got to the age of—thirty-one, thirty-two——’

‘Thirty-one,’ she confirmed.

‘To the age of thirty-one, and is still a lousy kisser?’ he said incredulously.

‘On the contrary,’ she drawled, ‘he was a very experienced and accomplished kisser.’