After wiping his hands on a tea towel, he turned his back to the counter as he answered. “Hello?”
“You’re not an easy man to track down, Lucas Dempsey.”
Holcomb.
“Sorry, sir. There’s no cell service here on the island.”
“How the hell do people live down there?” his boss asked, voice laced with disgust. “Do they have electricity and indoor plumbing or is that too civilized?”
Lucas remained cordial. Barely. “We have all the other amenities, yes sir.”
“I’m sure you know why I’m calling,” his boss continued, getting right to the point. “Calvin Bainbridge tells me he’s explained the situation we have here.”
“Yes, I know about the case. Sir, my father is still recovering from his heart attack. Surely you understand that I’m needed here.”
“Since you’re not working in this family restaurant today, which is supposedly the reason you’re there, I can only assume they no longer need you.”
Lucas didn’t even question how his boss had gotten Sid’s number. He must have called the restaurant first. But who had he spoken with?
“We’ve hired some new help so I’m able to take a day off, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still needed.” But he wasn’t. Will could handle his shifts from here on out. There was no real reason for him to stay.
But one.
“Do you think I’m calling you personally to debate whether you need to be washing dishes or running this defense team?” Davis Holcomb rarely raised his voice. Just as he rarely made his own calls. “You’ve been an asset to this firm, Lucas, with a promising career ahead of you. But our patience will stretch only so far. We need you on this case and we need you now.”
“Sir, are you saying if I don’t return immediately—”
“We’re giving you until Monday. Wrap up whatever you need to do down there between now and then.”
Three days just wasn’t enough time.
“If I could have one more week.”
“Monday, Lucas. Or you can return a week later and collect your things.”
He’d never actually believed they’d fire him. Not after everything he’d done for the firm. The days, weeks, years he’d given to make sure they almost never lost a case. His record was better than any other lawyer on the payroll.
And it would all have been for nothing if he didn’t go back.
“Yes, sir. I understand.” Lucas looked down to see Drillbit rubbing against his leg. “I’ll be there Monday morning.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Sid pulled into her drive, tired and in dire need of a shower. She hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. Having the whole bed to herself again should have been liberating. Instead it felt wrong. The weight missing on the other side. The lack of heat pressed against her back. She’d have to buy one of those body pillows once Lucas left for good.
Which would apparently be sooner than expected. She still didn’t know if the Holcomb guy had found him. Her heart told her not to ask. Not to pass along the message. But her head, or maybe her conscience, argued how wrong it would be not to say something.
The question was, would she sabotage his career to keep him? That was an easy answer. Absolutely not. Besides, he’d hate her if she did and then she’d lose him anyway.
Sid hoped she had time to clean up. Surely he didn’t expect her to face his big surprise smelling like french fries and beer. The front door was open and the scent of something delicious hit her before she’d even stepped through the screen. Definitely not fries or beer. As the door slammed shut behind her, Lucas appeared from the kitchen.
“You can’t come in here.”
“Excuse me? This is my house. I can go wherever I want.”
Lucas rolled his eyes, which made him look like a teenage drama queen, and herded her toward the bedroom. “I mean you can’t come in the kitchen. Take a shower. I’ve laid out some clothes on the bed.”
Sid applied the brakes. “You what?” she asked, spinning around. “Since when do I need you to pick out my clothes?”
She could almost see him mentally counting to ten. “Fine. The clothes are merely a suggestion. Wear anything you want.” Then he mumbled something that ended with “stubborn ass.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be making up to me? Rolling eyes and name calling isn’t going to do it.”
Before she could say another word, he met her mouth in a kiss that sent heat down to her toes, and made her feel as if gravity had lost its effect on her body. When he pulled away, she was out of breath and not sure where she was.
“Now,” he said, forehead pressed to hers. “When you’re done with your shower, we’ll get this evening started.”
Sid nodded, the will to argue gone. “I’ll be quick.”
Lucas chuckled. “Take your time. I have a few things to finish up.”
His order to stay out of the kitchen combined with the awesome smell in the air finally registered. “Are you cooking?”
“Don’t look so surprised. A bachelor has to eat, and I don’t do fast food.”
“Not even pizza?” Sid asked, perplexed as to how anyone could not like pizza.
Lucas gave her a gentle nudge. “Pizza doesn’t count as fast food. Maybe tomorrow I’ll make my focaccia bread pizza with roasted tomatoes and black peppercorns.”
That sounded … fancy. “Wait,” she stopped just before her bedroom door. “Why have you not cooked before now? You’ve been here every night for two weeks and only now decide to show off your cooking skills. What gives?”
“Would you go take a shower,” he huffed, heading back to the kitchen. “If my sauce is burned …”
Sid couldn’t hear the rest of the rant, but wondered when her live-in lover had turned into a Docker-wearing Julia Child. When she returned to the living room fifteen minutes later, wearing the black wraparound number Lucas had left on the bed, he was nowhere to be found. The only clue to his whereabouts was a Post-It note stuck on the range hood.
Dinner awaits on the pier.
The pier? What the hell were they …? But then she stepped out on the back deck and her breath stopped. She should have known Lucas would never do anything simple. As she walked across the yard in bare feet, feeling awkward with the dress whipping around her legs, she held her hair out of her eyes and took in the scene.
A table stood at the foot of the pier, a patio umbrella posted at each end leaning in, presumably to protect the diners from the elements. Or maybe to dissuade the birds. There were two tablecloths—the white one brushed the boards of the pier, while a shorter, blue square hung only halfway down.
Wine glasses reflected the setting sun, and as she arrived at the table she spotted silver domes covering each plate. He definitely hadn’t found those in her kitchen. How much trouble had he gone to? No one had ever done anything this nice just for her.
“I wanted the setting to be as beautiful as the woman it was for,” Lucas said, stepping out from under the far umbrella and sliding his hands into his pockets. “But I should have known better.” He’d changed into black pants and a white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled nearly to the elbows. It was as if he’d stepped out of her dreams.
“I’m afraid I can’t compare to all this,” she said, feeling small and inadequate. Lucas was the epitome of sophistication. Her opposite in every way.
“There is no comparison,” he said, pulling out her chair. “Thank you for wearing the dress.”
That’s when she noticed they matched, except Lucas wore shiny black dress shoes. “I didn’t have any shoes—”
“It’s perfect,” he said, then leaned forward. “You’re perfect.”
A snort threatened, but the look in his eyes said he meant the words. Butterflies the size of seagulls took flight in her stomach. “Thank you,” she whispered, sinking as ladylike as she could into the seat he offered.