get a phone call before Mrs. Turner even made it inside Frank’s. She sighed. She’d get her own call in a matter of minutes after that, and spend a half an hour calming her mother all over nothing.
So much for a relaxing evening.
Ben came back around and stood, hands in pockets, staring at her engine. Finally he lifted his gaze. “What did you trade in?”
Not exactly sure how to interpret his tone, she spoke carefully. “A Mercedes. After my divorce.”
She didn’t mention the sleek little car had been a bribe—an attempt to keep her in the marriage. Getting rid of it had been a victory of sorts. One of the very few she’d managed.
She caught a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “That’s funny?”
He rocked back on his heels. “Not the divorce. The car. I wouldn’t think—” He stopped and she frowned.
“Think what?”
He looked at her, amusement gone, and seemed actually to see straight into her. The full effect of his gaze caused a funny little hitch in her breath. “I think you can start the engine now,” he said, and she swallowed a surge of disappointment.
Which was crazy. She didn’t care what he thought of her.
She slid into the car and tried not to notice when he braced one arm on the roof of the car and the other on the top of the door. When he leaned down she got a tantalizing glimpse of the smooth, hard muscles of his chest through the gap in his partially unbuttoned shirt.
Her mouth went dry.
“Go ahead and see if it’ll start.”
His voice slid over her skin and she gave a little shiver. She caught a whiff of his scent—a yummy combination of soap and spice. A little curl of heat slipped through her belly. She reached for the ignition and hoped he didn’t notice her shaking hand. The engine turned over on the first try.
“You should be all set now,” he said, straightening up. “Drive it around a bit to let the battery charge up.”
“I will. Thank you,” she said, and meant it. “I appreciate it.”
He shrugged and stepped back. “No problem. I’d have done it for anyone.”
Her little hormonal buzz evaporated. Of course he would. After all, she’d practically attacked him when he came out of the store.
“Well, see you around,” she said, and he gave her a nod and then disappeared around the front of her car.
She sat for a moment, waiting for him to unhook the cables, and gave herself a reality check. She was two months pregnant. Being attracted to a man right now couldn’t be more foolish—and she’d learned the hard way what a poor judge of men she was. She’d paid dearly for that mistake. Her focus was her shop, her baby, and making her life work without her parents hovering over her, waiting for her to fail.
Clearly these pregnancy hormones threw her off balance.
The hood of the car dropped with a thud and the sudden glare of headlights made her blink. With a little wave, in case he could see, she put her car in gear and backed out of her spot, then drove the long way through town back to her apartment. Ben stayed a respectable distance behind, but the thoughtful gesture gave her an unwelcome frisson of warmth.
Under his gruff exterior, Ben Lawless was a gentleman.
Somehow that made him more dangerous.
Lainey let herself in to her apartment, not allowing herself to glance after Ben’s truck as he drove on by. Her phone rang. She dug it out of her bag and checked the display. Ah, here was the call she’d been dreading.
“Hi, Mother,” she said into the phone, as a purring Panda wound between her feet.
“Hi, dear,” Jacqui Keeler trilled. “I’m almost there. Let me in, love.”
That hadn’t taken long. Mrs. Turner must have really run up the alarm if she was getting a visit, too. Lainey dumped her bags on the counter with a little more force than necessary. “Here? Why?”
“Can’t I simply visit with my daughter?”
Oh, if only. “Of course, Mother. I’ll be down in a sec.”
She dropped the phone back in her purse and glanced around her cozy space. Her apartment was neat, for all the good it did. It would never meet her mother’s standards, no matter what. She’d learned that years ago.
She hurried down the front stairs to unlock the street-level door just as her mother walked up.
“Lainey.” Jacqui kissed her cheek, her usual cloud of sweet perfume tickling Lainey’s nose. “You look tired.”
She bit back a laugh. If her mother only knew. “Thanks,” she said dryly as the trim older woman swept past her up the stairs. Jacqui, as always, was impeccably groomed. She wore a pale pink suit and her smooth blond hair swung smartly at her chin. Lainey ran her hand down her ponytail and tried not to feel inferior in her non-branded jeans and tee shirt.
Damn it. She’d given that life up. But, oh, sometimes she did miss designer clothes.
“Have a meeting tonight, Mother?”
“I did.” Jacqui tucked her monster-sized bag securely under her arm, as if she expected to be robbed right there on the stairs. “For the Auxiliary at the hospital. The gala.”
No surprise there. For all their differences, Lainey still admired her mother’s energy. “When is it?”
“Two weeks. Don’t forget you are expected to be there.”
Right. Just what she wanted. “Who did the floral arrangements?”
“Gail, of course. She does a lovely job.”
Implying that The Lily Pad didn’t. Disappointment clogged her vision for a moment. Lainey opened her mouth, snapped it closed. Frustration rushed through her. She’d never get through to her mother until the woman took her seriously. When would that be? What would it take?
“You really should move back home, honey,” Jacqui said, her gaze drifting around the living room. “We have plenty of space. You could have your old room back. We’d love to have you.”
Lainey stifled a sigh. More like they’d love to micromanage her life into one that met their standards. Been there, tried that, failed spectacularly.
“I know you would. I’m very happy here, though.” Lainey saw her mother’s hand twitch, as it did when she was stressed. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thank you.” Jacqui perched on the edge of the sofa, the monster bag set primly on her lap, and Lainey sank down on a nearby chair. “Now, I received a disturbing phone call from Martha this evening. You had car trouble? Why didn’t you call?”
Lainey smoothed her hand on her jeans. “It was nothing. Really. A dead battery. Not worth bothering you over. Rose’s grandson Ben helped me out.”
