"Hi Serena, I’m Lacey, and this is my mother, Diana," she said, as her mother stepped up beside her to admire the island. Serena smiled warmly, welcomed both ladies, and handed them each copies of the row-house information sheet. Lacey liked her instantly, but was curious why she didn’t introduce the tall, dark figure who was watching this scene unfold without saying a single word. Must be her boyfriend, she thought. Lucky, lucky girl. Who didn’t like the strong, silent type?
She tried not to stare. She really did. But the last time she had been this close to a guy who looked like he’d just stepped out of a beefcake calendar was probably at her friend Liz's thirtieth birthday party. Lacey had drank way too many lemon drop martinis and ended the evening by groping one of the sweaty Chippendales dancers, much to everyone’s amusement. And that was more than three years ago. So, while her mother chatted with Serena about the features of the home, and his attention was diverted by their conversation, Lacey allowed herself a sneaky side glance at him. A glance that turned into a stare which lingered for just a minute or two longer than was absolutely polite.
He was leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed across his wide chest. She could clearly see how the fabric of his blue plaid shirt strained against powerful biceps. The kitchen area was wide and airy and had extremely high vaulted ceilings, but he still seemed to dwarf the room. Casually, she pretended to look out the window next to him but was actually trying to see if his bottom half was as impressive as the top. It was. At least what she could see. Unfortunately, his shirt was too long do a thorough examination, but she noted that he wore loose dark jeans and extremely large suede boots.
His dark, silky hair was just a little too long to look professional and his nose looked like it had been broken more than once, but overall everything about him made her sigh inwardly in appreciation. This was not a pretty man. He was entirely too rugged to be called handsome or cute. He looked like the broody, intense type. Or perhaps he was more like a conquering warrior, bent on vengeance. Obviously she had been reading too many novels featuring highlanders lately. She resolved to read something less stimulating in the future. Her libido suddenly seemed to be in hyper-drive.
Deciding that she’d ogled him for long enough Lacey turned reluctantly back toward her mother and Serena. Joining the conversation seemed like a great distraction from staring at the silent, sexy giant. Hopefully he hadn't noticed that her attention had not been focused on the whatever Serena had been saying about the features of the home.
Did she honestly think that he was oblivious to the way she had been staring at him? Jackson thought to himself incredulously. The curvy little brunette with the biggest smile he’d ever seen had been eyeing him like a prime cut of beef at the supermarket for the past three minutes.
Her stare should have felt intrusive or even downright offensive, but instead he found himself liking the way her eyes wandered over him with such honest interest. He liked it a lot. But it had been so long since he’d even been aware of a woman that he really wasn’t sure how to react. What were the rules now? He had no idea. His last experience with this had been in college. Surely, things had changed in the 10 years since he’d graduated. Should he stare back at her? Ignore her? Wait and see what she did? Slip her his number? Cop a feel? No, definitely not. That would get him a slap for sure.
He’d been tempted to ask her if she liked what she saw, but was fairly certain she would have panicked and grown flustered if he’d acknowledged her blatant perusal of his body. It might have been amusing to watch her recover from her embarrassment, but he really wanted to feel her eyes on him again. And that was unlikely to happen if he confronted her. He was just glad he’d left his shirt untucked or she’d really have gotten an eyeful of his body’s reaction to being visually assaulted. Mr. Happy could pound nails right about now.
He couldn't figure it out. This woman wasn't even his type. His wife had been fair-skinned, ash-blonde and as tall and thin as a runway model. Lacey was olive-skinned and petite, maybe a few inches over five feet. Usually, his size made him feel clumsy around small women, but not with her. She was perfectly curved, and fit-looking with a small waist and gently flaring hips. Her face was expressive with huge vivid blue eyes that contrasted with her darker skin and hair. But the most striking thing about her was her smile. It was huge and open and made him want to amuse her, just so he could see it again and again. He had never seen someone smile so often and with such genuine warmth in such a short period of time. No denying it, he liked what he saw.
"I can’t believe all the high end finishes in this place. It’s like a miniature version of all of those lottery homes," Lacey said, admiring the travertine tile in the laundry room just off the kitchen. Jackson inwardly preened at the compliment. He’d picked out that tile himself, and his brothers had ribbed him for his extravagant taste.
“You wouldn’t happen to know the name of that color, would you?” Diana asked Serena, gesturing toward the wall beside the huge natural stone fireplace which looked like it belonged in a hunting lodge rather than a suburban townhouse. "It’s a beautiful shade. Neutral but so much warmer than plain beige, don’t you think, Lacey? I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”
Serena looked down at her notes and then glanced at the dark-haired man. “Jay, can you remember? I don’t seem to have it written down.”
He stepped forward and smiled at Lacey and her mother. “That’s called Biscotti,” he said, pointing toward the wall. "And the darker color leading up the stairs is called Espresso. I guess the paint manufacturer really had a thing for coffee.” On a less masculine man, this knowledge of specific paint shade would have seemed effeminate, but the deep rumble of his voice and the way his eyes warmed when he looked at Lacey left little doubt that his orientation was 100% heterosexual.
“This is one of the builders,” Serena explained, gesturing toward the dark-haired man. “So, if there’s anything you need to know, he would be the man to ask. He just popped in for a second to check on things, but I’m sure he’d be glad to answer your questions. Is there anything you’re curious about?”
Lacey was wildly curious to know his name, but it seemed rude to ask at this point in the conversation. Should she introduce herself again? Or would that seem odd considering she’d done that just a few minutes earlier. Better to just go with it, and hopefully he would volunteer his name later.
“Unfortunately, this place is a little bigger than what I was looking for,” Lacey said, tentatively. "But I would love a scaled down version. It’s just my dog and I, so we probably don’t need four bedrooms.” Was that too obvious? “Any chance of you guys doing a miniature version anytime soon?” Lacey asked, addressing him directly for the first time.
She was impressed with how cool and detached she sounded when all she wanted to do was stare at him for the next few years. And run her hands over his broad shoulders, and perhaps squeeze those big, hard thighs which were revealed when he stepped around the counter. Whew! This guy was something else. She really must focus on what he was saying.
“Have you seen the Alderbrook Townhouses?” he asked, apparently oblivious to Lacey’s lascivious fantasies about his various body parts. “My brothers and I built those too and they have a lot of the same features, but are a somewhat smaller. No basement and only two bedrooms. And a den.”
“Are they up on the Ridge?” Excellent. She was following the conversation. She could interact with him without accidentally licking his neck if she didn’t look directly at him.
“No, we don’t build up there.” His tone said the townhouse-riddled Ridge development was the equivalent of building igloos in hell.