right now,” she said. “But even a lawyer has to draw the line at taking on a pregnant woman.”
“Very noble of you.”
“I’m good like that. You coming in to watch Desperate Housewives with us?” she asked.
Lucy shot a look toward her laptop. She had her accounts in order, but her nerves demanded she go over them one last time, just to be sure.
“I think I’ve got too much work to do,” she said.
Rosie’s face immediately creased with concern. “Everything okay? You’re all good for the bank?”
“Sure. No problems,” Lucy said, careful to keep her voice casual.
“I can still cancel my afternoon appointment and come with you,” Rosie said.
While a part of Lucy wanted her support more than anything, she knew she had to do this alone. The whole point of getting the loan and growing the business was to become more independent and self-sufficient. Lucy didn’t want to be a charity case for the rest of her life. She owed her baby a better start than that.
“It’s all good. Really. I’ve already ironed my shirt and everything,” she said.
Rosie looked like she wanted to argue some more, so Lucy said the first thing that popped into her head.
“Hey, guess who’s back in town? Dominic Bianco. Saw him at the market this morning.”
As she’d hoped, her sister stopped frowning and got a salacious, speculative look in her eye. Rosie had always had a thing for Dom Bianco.
“How long was he away? And is he as hot as ever?” Rosie asked.
“Six months. And he looks the same as always,” Lucy said.
“Ow. Must have been some divorce that he needed six months time-out to recover,” Rosie said with a wince. “Nice to know he hasn’t lost his looks, though. Tell me, does he still wear those tight little jeans?”
“At this point I feel honor-bound to remind you that you’re a married woman.”
“I can still admire from a distance. And Dominic Bianco is worth admiring. Those cheekbones. And those black eyes of his. And that body.” Rosie fanned herself theatrically.
“Careful or I’m going to have to hose you down.”
“How can you look at that man and not have sweaty, carnal thoughts?”
“Um, because I’m four months pregnant,” Lucy said, “and about to become a walking whale?”
“Irrelevant.”
“Maybe he’s not my type.”
“You have twenty-twenty vision and a pulse, and you’re pregnant so it proves you’re heterosexual. He’s your type. Next,” Rosie said, wiggling her fingers in a gimme-more gesture.
Lucy frowned. She’d never seriously given the matter much thought before. In fact, she’d never really paid much attention to Dominic, truth be told. He’d been married until recently, and she’d been living with Marcus, and Rosie had always had a thing for him—he’d been out of bounds for a bunch of reasons, really. And Lucy wasn’t the kind of person who got off on lusting after the forbidden.
“I don’t know. Maybe I never let myself notice,” she said finally.
“Ha!” Rosie said triumphantly. “I knew it!”
“You want to share what you know? ‘Cause I’m still in the dark here.”
“You have the hots for him. Only someone who really has the hots for someone would completely block out the other person’s attractiveness like that. And The Bianco definitely qualifies as attractive. The man is a god. Sex on legs. H-O-T.”
“Okay, I got it.” Lucy shook her head at both her sister’s convoluted logic and her use of her teen code name for Dom. “Is this the kind of argument you try on in court, by the way? Do judges buy this crap?”
“It’s the only explanation,” Rosie said, crossing her arms smugly over her chest.
“Really? How about this—you’ve been hot for Dom for so many years that you’re trying to live vicariously through me?”
Rosie cocked her head. “Hmmm. That’s not bad.”
They both laughed.
“You’re a dirty birdy,” Lucy said, reaching out and tugging on her sister’s shoulder-length hair.
“Thank you. I do try.” Rosie turned toward the door. “Sure you’re not up for ice cream and Housewives?”
Lucy bit her lip, tempted now that she’d let go of some of her anxiety. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t already gone over and over her application. “What flavor have you got?”
“New York cheesecake and macadamia toffee,” Rosie said.
Lucy slung an arm around her sister’s neck. “Have I told you lately that I love you?” she said, planting a kiss on her sister’s cheek.
“You, my dear, are an ice-cream hussy,” Rosie said. Then she slung her arm around Lucy’s fast-disappearing waist and kissed her back. “Love you, too.”
LATER THAT NIGHT, Rosie finished smoothing moisturizer into her face as she sat in bed. She dropped her hands into her lap, her thoughts on her sister. Lucy was so strong and bright and determined, but Rosie couldn’t help worrying about her. It was part of the job description of elder sister, but it also came down to simple empathy. Her sister was in a tough situation and Rosie would feel for any woman faced with the same challenges. The difference was, Lucy was her sister, and Rosie had a lifetime of feeling responsible for her to add to her natural sympathy. It made her want to move mountains for her, even though she knew her sister was determined to stand on her own two feet.
If only Marcus wasn’t such a loser. It wasn’t the first time Rosie had had the thought, and it wouldn’t be the last. From the moment she’d met him she’d spotted him for what he was—a moocher, content to pursue his “art” while someone else footed the bill for all the everyday things like food, water, shelter. That someone else had been Lucy for so many years that Rosie had almost gone crazy biting her tongue. And now Marcus had shown his true colors and bailed on her sister when she needed him the most.
What an asshole. Lucy deserved so much better.
“What time are the Johnsons coming in tomorrow?” Andrew asked as he exited the ensuite bathroom.
He had stripped down to his boxers, and as usual the sight of his solid, muscular body filled Rosie with a warm sense of comfort and proprietorial pride. He worked hard to stay fit, and she made a point of admiring the results as often as possible because she knew that, like her, he’d been an overweight teen and the ghosts of past shame still lurked in the corners of his mind.
“Looking fine, Mr. James. Looking fine,” she said, giving him her best leer.
Andrew
