Death Fricassee Page 7

  “I understand.” Lucas regarded me, with his mouth twisted. “What kind of restaurant does your dad own?”

  I smiled. “It’s like everything else in our family: a mix of all of us. My mom is fully Italian. Her parents were born in Italy. My dad’s mom—that’s Nana—was born here in the US, but her parents both came over from County Cork. So Dad does a mash-up of Irish and Italian dishes.”

  “That sounds amazing. What’s the name of the restaurant?”

  Shaking my head, I pulled my hand away at last and covered my face. “It’s so corny. But they came up with it before I was born, so I take no responsibility for this. It’s called A Bit O’Rome.”

  “I love it. I get the corny, but since it’s not my family, I think it’s funny. I’d love to see it.”

  A pang of hope made my heart stutter. “Maybe someday.”

  Lucas licked his lips, and watching his tongue, a thrill of need shot through my core as he spoke.

  “Maybe someday.”

  “Lucas. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.” I moaned the words and clutched at his hands between my legs.

  “Never.” His fingers moved over me, and I knew I was on the edge, ready to plunge into ecstasy. And then he licked my nose with a cold, wet tongue.

  I blinked into the early morning light and focused on the expectant face of Makani. I’d given in last night to his soulful don’t-crate-me-eyes and let him sleep on the bed with me again. My reward was the interruption of one of my increasingly-regular Lucas-centric sex dreams.

  “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” I tucked the puppy between my arm and my body and pulled him in for a snuggle. “You’re ruining some very interesting dreams lately.” He cocked his head, his small face quizzical.

  Burying my face in the pillow, I sighed and pushed myself up. Things between Lucas and me were moving along. . .but they hadn’t yet reached the point of my dreams, which was a shame, because these dreams sizzled.

  Big news was short-lived in our community, and within a few days of it happening, the excitement of Lucas moving in and my own spectacular blunders had faded from the gossip circuit. Mrs. Mac was in the midst of planning her next block soiree, there was a cheating scandal in the canasta club and Mrs. Walters, widowed for several decades, had been spotted sneaking out of Mr. Carlton’s house in the wee hours of the morning. Lucas and I were yesterday’s headlines.

  A week after Cathryn’s visit, I finally gave in to Al’s repeated suggestions and summoned enough courage to ask Lucas to have dinner with me at Leone’s.

  “Can we eat early?” He looked so serious, so sexy professor, sitting on the step of my porch, wearing his gold-rimmed glasses. Most of the time, I’d learned, he wore contact lenses, but sometimes, by the time he joined me in the evenings, after a long day of working on his book, he’d already taken them out for the night. And each time he did, it made me want to kiss him until those glasses steamed up.

  “Early?” I tried to bring my attention back to his words and ignore the mouth saying them. “Um, sure.”

  He grinned, making that irresistible dimple pop out. “Maybe Mrs. Mac and company are beginning to rub off on me. Pretty soon I’ll be eating breakfast at four, lunch at ten and dinner at three.”

  “Well, it can be tempting to fall into the rhythms around here. But in this case, I think we can make it work. Al and I’ve started working on his cookbook. So why don’t we have a late lunch/early dinner deal, and I can show him my notes at the same time?”

  And that was how I found myself sitting shotgun in Lucas’s car as he drove us the few blocks to Leone’s the next afternoon. His knuckles were tight on the steering wheel, and his lips were set in a tight line.

  “Hey, are you okay?” I touched his arm.

  “Yeah. I’m just not much on crowds lately. Or driving.”

  I bit back a sigh. “Crowds won’t be an issue at Leone’s, not this time of day. And I could’ve driven. You just had to tell me.”

  “I’ll be okay.” He slid me a glance. “So you and the owner of the diner are friends?”

  “Yes. Actually more like family by this time. When Nana came down here, she was a little homesick, and she just happened into this restaurant. Al made her the food she was used to eating with my mom and our family. He’d moved down here ten years before, after his wife died, and I think he was lonely. He and Nana became friends. When I moved down to take of her, after the stroke, he brought me food to the hospital, and then to the house. He used to stop by on his way home, just to check on us.” I closed my eyes, remembering. “We thought she was getting better, but she made me promise that if she had another stroke, I’d let her go. When it happened, my mom and dad and my brothers couldn’t get down here fast enough. Al didn’t want me to go through it alone, so he stayed with Mrs. Mac and me that night. He was with us when she died.”

  Lucas smiled. “He sounds like a good man.”

  “He is.” I nodded as we turned into the diner parking lot. “I tell him all the time, if he were fifty years younger, I’d want him for my boyfriend.”

  “Ah, so I’m about to meet the competition?” Lucas raised his eyebrows, and my heart sped up. More and more often, he’d been making the occasional comment that tempted me to think he was interested in me as more than a friend. In us. I tried not to put too much stock in those teases, since most of the time he followed up by pulling back fast.

  “No competition.” I tossed him a saucy look. “Al will always have my heart.”

  Watching the two men size up each other that afternoon was amusing. For the first thirty minutes, they circled around in wariness. But when they discovered a shared passion for the history and mythology of ancient Rome, it was as though they were lifelong friends.

  “This boy, he’s not so bad.” Al patted my shoulder when Lucas had excused himself to use the men’s room. “A shame he’s not Italian, huh?”

  “No, but he’s Irish, so Nana would’ve liked that.”

  “Maybe.” Al rubbed one finger over his bristly chin. “You don’t think he’s hiding anything from you anymore? No more mafia questions?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t think I know everything about the guy, no. I think. . .there’s still more going on than he’s telling me. But I’ve decided that I can wait until he’s ready to share.”

  “Good thinking.” Al nodded. “And I don’t think you were on the right path, anyway. I reached out to a few people after you asked me, and no one had heard talk of any witnesses on the run.”

  “Thanks for checking, Al. I appreciate it. Chalk it up to my overactive imagination.” I pulled a tablet from my bag. “Here’re the notes we talked about for the cookbook. I took the list of recipes we discussed and narrowed down our focus. We’ll need to start planning out each dish, and as we discussed, for book-quality pictures, we need to hire a professional photographer. Look this over, and we’ll finalize everything next week.”

  Al’s face broke into a smile. “Excellent. I called my children last Sunday and told them all about it, and now everyone wants to tell me which of their favorites must be included.”

  I laughed. “Then you have your work cut out for you, my friend!”

  On the way home, Lucas was quiet. “I like him. But I see what you mean. No competition, is there? I’m beat.”

  “I’m afraid so. If Al says the word, I’m his. I can see the day coming when I convince him to run off to the Italian Riviera with me. Just you watch.”

  Lucas smiled, but there was sadness in his eyes. “Jackie. . .” He began to speak and then lapsed into silence. “Never mind.”

  I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t see Lucas for several days after that.

  Despite the fact that we were spending more time together, I wasn’t any closer to discovering Lucas’s secrets. He continued to stay in his house most of the time, and as the weeks went by, I got into the habit of glancing out the window, checking to see if he were coming or going. I spotted Nichelle making deliveries every few days. Lucas didn’t men
tion her when we spoke, and neither did I.

  He came to visit me most evenings if I sat out on my porch. I invited him inside a few times, but he always declined. We talked for hours about books, plays, movies and music. And while I loved our conversations, I was always aware that we never touched on anything important or too personal.

  “Billy Joel is the voice of our generation.” Lucas was sprawled on the floor of the porch, leaning against the house as he pointed at me. “His music tells our stories. How can you not see that?”

  “It’s not that I don’t like him.” I shrugged. “But I like Elton John, too. And Bruce Springsteen. James Taylor. And what about Carol King? You can’t say that Tapestry wasn’t one of the best albums ever produced.” I quirked one eyebrow. “And you do realize we’re seriously dating ourselves by talking about stuff that came out when we were infants. Or not even born yet.”

  “But it’s—” He stopped suddenly, and the same odd expression I’d seen a few times before crossed his face. As always, he jumped to his feet. “I’m sorry, Jackie. I have to go.”

  He was down the steps and half way back home before I could struggle out of my chair. I leaned around the house, straining to see him as he ran up the steps of the deck to his back door. I watched to see lights flicker on, but the house remained dark. I knew his car was parked in the driveway on the opposite side. As far as I could see, it never moved.

  I sat down again with a deep sigh. Every time I thought Lucas was beginning to relax and trust me, he seemed to draw back again. I didn’t know if it was something I was doing or failing to do, but I was getting tired of the entire situation.

  Through the open window, I heard the trill of my cell phone ringing. I jumped up to grab it, wondering if it might be Lucas, calling with an explanation. He’d agreed to take my number in case of emergency, but he’d yet to use it. Of course, I hadn’t called him yet either, though his info was logged into my contacts.

  And tonight wasn’t going to be any different. Leesa’s name flashed across the screen.

  “Hey, Leese.” I dropped onto the sofa.

  “Hi there, chickadee. I’m calling for an update on the boy-next-door.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Leesa, honestly. There’s nothing to tell. Nothing’s going on.” If I sounded a little disgruntled by that fact, I couldn’t help it. The more time I spent around Lucas, the more I liked him. And the more it bothered me that a secret stood between us.

  “Honey, from where I sit, this is the kind of situation where you’re going to have to make the first move. And I think it’s about time.”

  “Hmm. Where you sit, my dear, is a thousand miles away in New York. You have no idea. Maybe he’s not at all interested in me.”

  “And why does that matter? I hear it your voice, Jacks. You’re hot for his bod. When you spent ten minutes the other night telling me about his forearms, I knew you had it bad. Jump his bones, girlfriend. Make it happen.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t want me to jump his bones. Maybe he doesn’t like me that way.”

  “Bullshit. They all want it. He might not want a long-term hookup, but he’s a man. You offer him the goods, he’s going to say yes. And if he doesn’t, you can be sure he plays for the other team. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I’m telling you, sweetie, any guy who turns you down isn’t interested in girls.”

  I sighed. “I hear you, Leese, He’s still doing the disappearing act, though. Tonight he was in the middle of telling me how great Billy Joel is, and suddenly he gets this look on his face, and before I can get out a word, he’s gone. Like a flash across the yard. Whoosh.”

  Leesa didn’t speak for a minute. “Jacks, did you ever think. . .maybe he’s a superhero?”

  I gritted my teeth. “Come on, Leesa. Be serious.”

  “I am, I totally am. What if he’s getting the call? You know, like Batman seeing the signal? Or Spiderman with his Spidey sense?”

  “Okay, sure. I live next door to a superhero. That’s the secret. You know, come to think of it, that’s the second time you’ve mentioned Spidey lately. What’s up with you?”

  I heard her sigh. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but. . .I’m seeing someone. And he’s totally obsessed with comic books, particularly Spiderman. I guess it’s rubbing off on me.”

  I squealed, wriggling on the couch. “Leesa! Why didn’t you tell me? I’m so happy for you! What’s he like? What’s his name?”

  “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want the third degree. And because I wasn’t sure. . .I wasn’t sure how it was going to stick. But he seems to like me, and God, Jacks, he’s like nerd-sexy. His name is Harold. You might not look at him twice if you passed him on the street, but when we’re together, he gives me his complete attention. And let me tell you. . .in bed, he gives me his total attention. And the boy does his homework.”

  I fanned myself with my hand. “Stop. I’m about to combust. Leese, I’m so glad. It almost makes me want to fly up there and meet him.”

  “You totally should. I have to confess, I told him all about you and Lucas, and the whole Spiderman scenario was his idea. He’d love to meet you both.”

  “Some day, maybe. For now. . .tell me more about your sexy nerd lover. I’m completely jealous.”

  Since Leesa was not one to spare details, I spent the next hour hearing all the blush-inducing juicy stories. By the time we hung up, I’d finished my second beer of the night and was seriously in need of some attention myself.

  I dropped the phone onto an end table and lay back, closing my eyes. My dreams of Lucas had amped up the heat lately, making it harder to be around him during our porch evenings. I wanted his hands on me. I wanted to touch his chest, run my hands down those tight abs and see where they took me.

  Sitting up, I peered out the window into the dark, looking for any clue that Lucas was still inside his house, awake. The alcohol made me bold enough to slide my feet into flip-flops, grab another two beers and venture across the yard.

  I climbed up to the deck and knocked on the back door. My heart began to pound a little faster, whether it was in anticipation of what might happen—hot damn—or from nerves that I was actually doing this.

  I didn’t hear anything at first. I began to think Leesa was right: he was a super-hero, and he was still out on some risky mission, not knowing I was here at his door, ready to offer him—

  “Jackie?” The door swung open, and Lucas stood before me, his eyes bleary and confused. “What are you doing here? It’s nearly midnight.”

  “Yeah, I know. I just. . .” I swallowed hard. Now that he was right in front of me, I was about to lose my nerve. I thought about Leesa and Harold and plunged ahead. “You had to leave so suddenly. I brought over a couple of beers for us to drink. Can I come in?”

  He glanced over my shoulder, all around us, and then down at me. Caution warred with some other compelling emotion on his face until he stepped back. “Of course.”

  Only one dim light burned in the kitchen. I set the two bottles of beer on the table and turned to face him. “Did I wake you up?”

  “No, I just got back.” His eyes widened, as if he realized he’d said more than he’d intended.

  “Where did you go?” I pulled out a chair and sat down, twisting the top of one of the beers. “When you practically sprinted off my porch a few hours ago, I mean.”

  Lucas regarded me solemnly before he joined me at the table. He opened his beer and took a long pull. “I can’t tell you, Jackie. I’m sorry.”

  I kept my eyes on his, steady and serious. “Okay. But can I ask you one more question?”

  “You can ask. I can’t promise I’ll answer.”

  “Are you a superhero?”

  Lucas choked on his beer, coughing and sputtering as he set it down. “What? Am I a what?”

  I smiled. “A superhero. I mean, look at the evidence.” I held up my fingers. “You’re secretive about who you are and what you do. You take off suddenly, and you can’t tell me why. You ha
ve this chick making some kind of mysterious deliveries to you. That all adds up to superhero.”

  He shook his head. “You’ve been reading too many comics. No, Jackie, I promise you. I’m not a superhero. I wish that were it.”

  “Then what? I don’t understand why you can’t at least give me a clue. I’ve been trying to give you space. Let you tell me in your own time. But it’s getting old, Lucas.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “I know. You’ve been patient. You don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to just tell you. We sit in the dark together night after night, and each time, it’s harder for me to stop myself from spilling my guts. Mostly because I know if I did, you might end up hating me. And I’m selfish enough that I can’t take that chance. Because as difficult as it is to keep my secret. . .” He raised his eyes to meet mine. “It’s even harder to harder to keep myself from touching you.”

  I took another swig of my beer and set it down. Taking a deep breath, I stood up and stepped closer to the chair where Lucas watched me with hooded eyes. I slid my arms around his neck and brought my lips close to his ear.

  “I could never hate you, Lucas. I want you to touch me. I want you.”

  Straddling his chair, I sat down on his lap and trailed my mouth down his neck. His skin was an intoxicating mix of salt and lime, making me think of a margarita. I let my tongue dart out, tracing circles on his skin.

  Lucas groaned. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me closer to him. “Jackie. . .” He turned his head just in time to meet my lips with his as I raised my chin from his throat.

  There was no hesitation. Every worry I’d had about him rejecting me vanished as his mouth consumed me. One hand shot up to the back of my neck, holding me in place as his lips stroked, sucked and caressed. I pressed my breasts against him, wanting more, suffocated by a longing unlike any I’d ever known.

  I reached between us, all thoughts of finesse gone. I only wanted, wanted now. My fingers fumbled at the button of his jeans.

  “Jackie.” Lucas dragged his mouth away from me. His eyes were wide and frantic. “You’ve got to stop. I don’t know if—you’ve got to stop now. You have to step back. I can’t, but you have to. Please.”