wonderful with children.”
Lucy smiled, appreciating the praise. It was funny—six years ago, she probably would have been horrified at it.
Honestly, she wasn’t sure herself how it had happened. She just knew that, after two years in Paris, photographing cold-faced fashion models had lost all appeal. Same with old, lifeless buildings and stagnant landscapes.
Then Kate had started having kids. Lucy had visited for summers and holidays, becoming a devoted godmother and falling head-over-heels for those babies. She had delighted in taking their portraits, finding in children’s faces an energy and spontaneity she seldom found anywhere else.
So she’d gone back to New York. She’d set up a studio and begun exploring the amazingly creative world of little people. One thing had led to another, and then another. And soon she’d been getting calls from wealthy parents in other states, and had sold several shots to children’s catalogs and magazines.
Who’d’ve ever thought it?
Not her, that’s for sure. Nor would she ever have imagined that she’d really love what she was doing. But she did.
Life, it seemed, took some strange turns, led you in directions you’d never have imagined. It had taken her from the windy city, to the Big Apple, then to another continent. And now right back to where she’d started, in Chicago.
And back into Ross Marshall’s life.
No, don’t even go there, she reminded herself. She wasn’t back in his life. She was in the same building with him for another five minutes, max. Then she could go back to forgetting about the guy. Forgetting how good he still looked to her. How his sexy voice thrilled her senses. How his touch had sent her out of her mind.
How he’d once seemed like the guy she could love forever.
Then
New York, December 23, 2005
LUCY HAD TO give this very handsome stranger—Ross—credit. He didn’t stand up and walk out of the coffee shop when she admitted she’d been fantasizing about separating an ex-boyfriend from part of his anatomy. He didn’t yelp, cringe, or reflexively drop a protective hand on his lap. None of the above. Instead he simply stared for a second, then let a loud burst of laughter erupt from his mouth.
She smiled, too, especially because she hadn’t really been fantasizing about maiming Jude when this guy had walked up behind her. In fact, she’d been laughing at herself for having thought about it earlier. Somehow, her whole mood had shifted from the time she’d walked into the coffee shop until the moment this incredibly handsome man had approached her.
Incredibly. Handsome.
Around them, others in the café glanced over. Lucy wasn’t blind to the stares that lingered on him. Heaven knew, any woman with a broken-in vagina would stare. Heck, hers wasn’t broken-in and she could barely take her eyes off the guy!
He’d been super-hot from across the room. Up close, now that she could see the tiny flecks in his stunning green eyes, the dazzling white smile, the slight stubble on his cheeks, well, he went from hot and sexy to smoking and irresistible. She’d actually shivered when their hands had met, unable to think a single thought except to wonder how those strong, rough fingers would feel sliding across her skin.
Gorgeous, sexy, strong. And a sense of humor.
Why couldn’t she have met this guy on a day when she didn’t loathe every creature with a penis?
You don’t. Not every guy.
Truthfully? Not even one. She didn’t loathe Jude. She would have had to care about him to hate him, and, honestly, having really thought about it, she knew she hadn’t cared much at all.
“You’re serious?” he asked once his laughter had died down.
“Not about doing it.”
“But thinking it?”
“My turn to take the fifth.”
“Why?”
“Probably because it’s not very nice to admit you fantasize about dismembering someone.”
“No, I meant why do you want to, um…dismember him?”
“I didn’t, I was just indulging in a little mind-revenge. He wasn’t the most faithful guy.”
“I hate cheaters,” he said, his voice both sympathetic and disgusted.
“Speaking from personal experience?”
“Well, not exactly,” he admitted.
Yeah. Because any woman who cheated on him would have to have been recently lobotomized.
“Though, I did kinda get cheated on once…by a guy.”
She didn’t take the bait, knowing that there was no way Ross was gay. There wasn’t one nonheterosexual gene in his body; you could practically smell the masculine pheromones that surrounded him like a cloud, attracting every woman in the place.
“Let me guess…your best buddy in first grade decided he wanted to play dodgeball instead of tag and left you alone in the playground?”
“Almost,” he said, his eyes gleaming with approval that she hadn’t gone where most would have. “It was in high school. I wanted my best friend to stick with the wrestling team, he wanted to do the school musical.” He shook his head sadly. “I just couldn’t understand what he was thinking. It wasn’t until junior year that he finally told me the truth, and then I was so furious I didn’t speak to him for a week.”
Somehow disappointed in him, she stiffened slightly. “You were mad that he was gay?”
“Hell, no, he wasn’t gay! He told me he left wrestling and went to drama because, let me see if I remember this exactly, ‘Why would I want to roll around on the floor with a bunch of sweaty dudes, when I could be one of only a handful of guys surrounded by some of the prettiest girls in the school?’ Man, some of those theater chicks were cute…and he never told me, he kept them all for himself!”
She laughed out loud, liking both the story, and that he had told it. He was obviously trying to distract her, to amuse her. It was a nice thing to do for a guy so young and good-looking.
“So, your first bro-mance ended up in a bad breakup.”
“Yup. Now, back to yours… .”
“Not a bro-mance, obviously. But also unpleasant. I only wish it were something as simple as him preferring The Sound of Music to pinning and undercupping.”
His eyes widened. “Hey, you know wrestling!”
“Older brother.”
“So is he going to kick this cheating dude’s ass?”
