COWBOY FOR SALE--A Second-Chances Spicy Romance (22 page)

Stop comparing them.

Laughter burst from the people at the table, bringing Lacey's attention back to the present. Chad joined the others, his laugh deep, warm, and rich. He brought his napkin to his lips, then turned to Lacey, his mouth quirked with humor.

“Do you think I've won them over yet?” he asked in a low, composed voice.

Lacey nodded. He had. And easily.

He gazed at her speculatively, adding, “I won't be staying for the dancing tonight—I'm not interested in music and I'm afraid dancing is a frivolity I loathe. I'd like to finish our conversation tomorrow. Are you free for lunch?”

She watched the subtle play of emotions on his face. Was he asking if she was free for lunch…or
free
for lunch? Her mind clouded for just an instant, and then she shook away the fog.

Why not?

Chapter Sixteen

Lacey sat waiting for Chad at a table in the
Haut Monde
, folding and re-folding the napkin in her lap. She was surprised and annoyed at her nervousness. It was just a business lunch, she rationalized, trying to convince herself she was being foolish, overreacting to his attention.

She glanced around the dining room, noticing mostly couples with their heads together, sipping on afternoon espressos or glasses of wine.

Closing her eyes, she reluctantly allowed her thoughts to return to the disturbing dream she'd been trying to blot from her memory all day.

She and Jared were at the cabin, soaking in the hot tub on the deck, sipping large glasses of iced tea. It was very dark—a moonless, chilly summer night.

He'd taken the glass from her hand and put his hands on either side of her face, bringing their faces close together, his gaze burning into her. She thought she might lose herself in his shimmering gray eyes, eyes the color of a storm clouds.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispered. “And so perfect. I can't believe how well we fit together.”

Her gaze never left his while his hands moved down to her shoulders, down her forearms, then down to cup her breasts in the bubbling, steamy water.

He'd taken each of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, softly caressing and squeezing until she thought she'd scream with pleasure. In the dream, she'd not been able to speak, she'd had no voice to tell him how wonderful he made her feel.

As she'd groaned with desire, he'd leaned forward and kissed the pulsing hollow at the base of her neck. The touch of his lips on her skin was like a whisper.

“So soft,” he’d murmured.

She'd buried her hands in his damp hair, pulling him upward to her mouth, eager to feel his lips on hers.

His mouth brushed delicately against hers as he spoke undecipherable words of love, velvety soft words that tugged at her heart as much as they tugged at that quivering spot between her legs.

She'd pulled him to her, kissing him with a hunger that she felt would never be fulfilled—slow drugging kisses, kisses that sent the pit of her stomach into a wild swirl.

His lips left hers to nibble at her earlobe and suddenly he was inside her, the sensation of his gentle thrusting threatening to overwhelm her. The hot water, the feverish kisses…she had spiraled to a staggering dream-climax, awakening to the sweet spasms, and then to the startling reality that she was alone in her bed.

Lacey's eyes opened as she heard the sound of a chair scraping away from her table.

“Hope you haven't been waiting long,” Chad said.

Lacey prayed her cheeks weren't flushed from the surge of emotion she felt remembering her dream. She smiled and shook her head, not trusting her voice to sound normal.

“I ordered for us on the way in,” he said. “Hope you don't mind.”

Lacey checked the feeling of vexation she experienced. Why should it annoy her that he had ordered without asking? It was something that suited Chad, she decided, shrugging off her first reaction.

As he sat down, Chad's gaze rested on the group at the next table, a couple with a well-behaved toddler and an infant asleep in a carrier in the chair closest to his. Chad's brows drew together in an angry frown. “I specifically asked to not be placed near children,” he said, “such an annoyance, especially during a business lunch.”

Lacey noted his set face, his clamped mouth and fixed eyes. He seemed genuinely affected by the close proximity of the charming little family.

“So,” he said, redirecting his gaze to her, “where shall we begin?”

“Have you made final decisions about which stores will be getting a face-lift?” she asked, her voice fading, distracted by the plate of raw oysters the waiter placed in front of each of them.

She watched as Chad eagerly squeezed lemon over his plate, then looked at her, waiting. The look and smell of the raw shellfish nauseated her.

“I checked and they were just flown in today, quite fresh,” he said.

Lacey picked up a lemon wedge with shaking fingers, hoping he didn't notice.
This is ridiculous. Just tell him you think they're disgusting.
Why did she suddenly feel inferior? A little too unworldly?

The waiter arrived with a bottle of wine, pulling Chad's gaze from her for a moment, providing the opportunity for Lacey to carefully slip one of the oysters out of its shell and into the napkin on her lap.

Chad ceremoniously sniffed the cork and sipped a little of the wine. A small scowl replaced his dazzling smile. “Sorry, Fletcher, that won't quite do. Please bring me an '84.”

The waiter gave him a nod and pivoted away.

Chad smiled comfortable to himself. “They'll learn that my tastes are quite…specific. So, back to business, then. To answer what you really want to know, yes, the salon is included in the remodel.”

“That’s wonderful.” Lacey was genuinely pleased, knowing her hard work had paid off in more ways than the offer of a regional promotion. Corporate would be delighted at the confirmation of the news.

The waiter returned with another bottle of wine and Chad repeated his ritual, allowing Lacey to quickly slip the remaining two oysters off her plate and into her napkin.

As the waiter poured the merlot into two crystal glasses, his gaze caught hers for an instant.

“Excuse me, Mademoiselle, I noticed that your napkin is a bit frayed. Would you allow me to replace it for you?” His tone was apologetic.

“Of course,” she said.
Saved
. She handed her napkin to him with a small, shy smile. As he placed a fresh cloth in her lap, amusement flickered in his eyes as they briefly met hers.

“Very good,” he said, spinning quickly away from the table.

Lacey made a mental note of his name—her intention to send a hand-written thank you with a free cut and style coupon enclosed.
Fletcher was one classy guy.

With barely controlled enthusiasm, Chad explained to Lacey that the board of directors and he had met a month ago regarding which storefronts deserved the benefit of a remodel. Now it was just a matter of informing those that had been selected and prepare for the disappointment of the merchants that had been excluded.

Lacey squelched the feeling of empathetic dissatisfaction she knew the merchants not receiving a remodel would surely feel. But this is just business, she reasoned.

“You seem a little distant.” Chad caught her gaze and held it. “I hope you know our decisions are nothing personal. Everything is based on facts and figures, profit and loss.”

Lacey nodded. She did know that some of the stores in the mall faced non-renewal of their leases this year due to less than satisfactory sales quotas, but it was still difficult to think in terms of affecting people's livelihoods—and sometimes their lives—without even talking with them, taking into account that they were people, not just facts and figures.

The waiter returned with their entrees—fortunately nothing exotic—and Chad's conversation turned to small talk. He was very good at it, Lacey noticed, and she found herself tempted to reveal a bit more than she normally would to someone in his position of authority.

She frowned. There was something about him that made her slightly uncomfortable, guarded. Perhaps it was just his demeanor, she considered. He was so organized, focused, determined to not allow anything—or anyone, for that matter—to interfere with his plans.

Perhaps what affected her was his lack of spontaneity—or his obvious dislike for children…and dancing. Lacey smiled behind her napkin, imagining him in a cowboy hat and boots. Impossible, but definitely amusing

Lacey glanced at her watch. “I've really got to get back to the salon. Thanks so much for all the positive feedback.”

Chad's face broke into a leisurely smile. “Glad we could spend some time together. I expect it to become a regular habit, Lacey.”

She returned his smile, turning away from him before he noticed her blazing cheeks. The guy was just a bit too sure of himself.

Hurrying as much as her ankle would allow, Lacey made her way back to the salon, knowing her client would be waiting for her at the shampoo bowl.

***

Fifty feet away from the opening into the Shear Delight salon, Jared paced, a bouquet of wildflowers in one hand, an envelope in the other. The entire way there he'd rehearsed what to say, but now his mind was a blank.

When Jo had heard about his leaving Lacey alone on the trail and then how she'd injured her ankle, she'd read him the riot act. His sister was a master at putting salt in his wounds, but in the end, he'd admitted to her how he felt about Lacey.

She'd altered her role, then, to sympathetic big sister, carefully reminding him to look at the big picture, consider his options, encouraging him to consider some sort of compromise.

Jared stretched his neck and rotated his shoulders. He was exhausted. Five consecutive nearly sleepless nights had begun to take its toll. Every night he'd tossed and turned, wondering what to do, and now he found himself wandering aimlessly near the front of Lacey's salon, still clueless.

A bead of sweat stung his eye. Why did she affect him so much? Jared stopped his pacing and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Might as well get it over with.

***

Lacey sat down in the chair at the appointment desk, grateful to check out her last client. Her ankle throbbed beneath the elastic bandage and she elevated it on a box that she'd hidden under the desk. She considered the fact that she might have come back to work a little too soon.

The doctor had recommended a week off, but after the mall dinner she'd had almost an overwhelming burst of positive energy and besides, she missed the nurturing environment of the busy salon.

Plus, she reminded herself, she'd had a lunch date—business meeting, she corrected herself—and it hadn’t seemed right to not be working in case Chad had stopped by the salon.

She had to admit that Chad had been easy to talk to, and she'd been pleased with his relaxed manner and evident business savvy. He was indeed as shrewd and bright as he appeared.

She'd also learned he spent a great deal of time in Denver, maybe an added plus. He'd seemed genuinely disappointed to learn of her decision to leave the area but impressed at her drive to climb the corporate ladder.

All in all, she felt it had been an interesting experience. When he asked if she would like to keep in touch once she'd moved, she'd said yes quite easily.

Now she pulled a small card from her pocket…Chad's personal card, imprinted with his name and a Denver phone number.

He'd made her promise to call him the minute she was settled. She decided she probably would. He was smart, and she could surely learn from him. Even a business relationship with him seemed right.

Denver.

A new life, one filled with responsibility and devoid of the complicated feelings she felt about Jared. In many ways, staying home a few days with her sore ankle had been a blessing in disguise. It had provided the opportunity to think, re-evaluate her goals and reaffirm the criteria she assured herself was legitimate.

She felt good about her call to the corporate office that morning when she'd formally accepted the promotion that would take her away from San Diego—away from Jared and Jamie.

An unexpected shudder accompanied the thought, and there was a heavy feeling in her stomach. Denver would be…an adventure, she told herself, forcing the nagging picture of Jared from her consciousness.

At the sound of a check being torn from its holder, Lacey returned her attention to her client. “Thanks, Marge, call Kandy for an appointment in about a month to trim the ends off and your perm will last longer.”

She handed a receipt and reminder card to her customer. “I'd get up but my ankle is really throbbing.”

The woman clucked sympathetically and patted her new hairstyle. “You get some rest, Lacey, and I'm really going to miss you. I hope Kandy does as good a job.”

“She will. I promise—or I'll come back and torment her.”

The woman turned away, chuckling.