Lucas’s mouth tightened, his eyes a fierce silver. ‘His mother decided it wasn’t suitable for him and exchanged it for something else,’ he rasped.
Christi gave a pained frown, sure that the toy had been perfectly suitable for Robin. She had gone with Lucas to shop for the sturdy toy, Lucas having taken care not to buy anything with guns, respecting, and agreeing with, Marsha’s decision that Robin had plenty of time before he needed to be introduced to the violence in life. The Transformer they had finally chosen did no more than change from a robust truck into a robot. What possible harm could Marsha have found in that? The obvious thing seemed to be that his father had bought it for him. The other woman wasn’t averse to taking what she could from Lucas—the monthly allowance she received from him was enough to keep most families for a year!—but she wasn’t about to let Lucas take the praise for anything. Christi didn’t know how Lucas managed to control the anger he must feel towards his ex-wife!
‘I’m sure he liked what he had instead,’ she bit out tautly.
‘He didn’t say,’ Lucas said grimly, glancing at his wristwatch as he stood up. ‘I have an appointment at ten, so I have to go now,’ he told her lightly, bringing back the smiling Lucas with effort. ‘Good luck with the audition this afternoon.’ He nudged her gently under the chin with his fist. ‘Break a leg,’ he teased.
She returned his smile. ‘Thanks for looking after the pets for me.’ She walked him to the door.
‘My pleasure.’ He moved with leashed vitality, grinning at her as they reached the door. ‘And I shall expect a full report on your dates this week,’ he derided. ‘And remember, as an honorary brother, I expect an invitation to the wedding,’ came his parting shot.
Christi watched him stride off down the corridor to the lift, returning his brief salute before the doors closed behind him.
Oh, she would honour the dates she had made with the three men while they were in the Lake District, but she knew with certainty that a wedding wouldn’t result from seeing any of them again.
How could she marry anyone when it was Lucas she loved, that she had always loved?
PERHAPS always was putting it a little strongly, but Christi had certainly loved Lucas from the time he had first introduced himself as her neighbour almost four years ago.
Her parents had only recently died, the full impact of that not hitting her until weeks later, and her move from her parents’ house to a smaller, more manageable apartment had been made with something like detachment. Certainly, it hadn’t been until some of the suitable furniture from her parents’ home was being moved into the apartment that she suddenly realised her mother would never be coming back to sit behind the delicate writing-table as she answered all her overdue correspondence, that her father—her dear, absent-minded father—wouldn’t ever again have a need for the display cabinet that had housed his most precious objects, those artefacts now given to museums, as he had requested they should be in his will.
But seeing all that furniture moved into these strange surroundings had been the end for her. She had run from the apartment with a choked cry, coming to an abrupt halt as she crashed into a hard, but somehow soft, wall. Lucas’s chest …
She had been eighteen years old, sheltered and cosseted all her life by over-indulgent parents, the men she had so far had in her life only a passing amusement at best. But, as she looked up into the harshly beautiful face of the man that held her so tightly against his chest, she had felt her heart leave her body and join with his. Not even a word had passed between them, but Christi knew she was looking into the face of the man she loved.
And when he had spoken it had been with gentle kindness, introducing himself as Lucas Kingsley, her new neighbour, insisting she join him in his apartment for a drink of some kind while the removal men finished bringing up her furniture.
Christi had felt wrapped in a protective glow, huskily explaining her recent loss, held tightly in his arms as she cried on his broad shoulder, her senses wallowing in the clean smell of him that was mingled with another smell that was all Lucas, a completely masculine aura that seduced and tempted, drawing her more fully into his spell.
He had left her only briefly, and that was to tip the removal men when they knocked on the door to say they had finished, returning instantly to take her in his arms once again.
But, during that time, or the many times afterwards when he had offered her the same comfort, it had never been the sort of embrace she wanted from him. He treated her more like the little sister he had never had, taking her firmly under his wing until she felt able to stand on her own two shaky feet, even then continuing to be the shoulder she could always cry on if she felt the need.
She had watched with dismay as first one woman entered his life, and then another, none of them lasting very long, all of them maintaining a friendship even once the relationship was over. With each new woman that entered his life, Christi lived in dread of this one being the one he decided to settle down with.
After two years of loving him that hopelessly, when it seemed he would never see her as more than the ‘little girl next door,’ she had decided something would have to be done to make him see she was all grown up now, a woman in every sense of the word. If she couldn’t have Lucas, she was going to make sure he saw her with enough men to be convinced of her maturity.
The next year had been full of those men, but, instead of Lucas accepting she was no longer a child, he had merely offered her his shoulder to cry on whenever one of those friendships broke up!
After more careful thought, she had decided that it had to be the fact that she still had a guardian, in the shape of her uncle Zach, that prevented Lucas seeing her maturity, and consequently her love for him. That decision had provoked an elaborate—and, she accepted now a ridiculous—plan, that would show her uncle just how adept she was at taking responsibility for her own life. The result of that had been her uncle and Dizzy—who she had somehow managed to persuade to enter into the madcap scheme to hoodwink her uncle—falling in love with each other, her uncle releasing his guardianship of her and her inheritance into her own control at twenty-one, instead of the twenty-five it could have been—and with Lucas’s attitude not changing towards her in the least!
She had been at a loss to know what to do after that, had drifted along for another six months, lost in a sea of self-pity. Then, as a last desperate plea for Lucas’s love, she had stopped dating other men altogether, concentrating on her career, hoping that would finally make him sit up and take notice of her. Months later, she had to admit it hadn’t affected him in the slightest.
And neither had the idea of her possibly becoming involved with Dick Crosby, Barry Robbins, or David Kendrick! He had even invited himself to the wedding!
She would just have to accept it, she didn’t have anything to interest a man of thirty-seven who had been married and had a couple of children.
She couldn’t accept that! She loved Lucas, had loved him for four long years, would go on loving him until the day she died. And she wouldn’t give up trying to get him to return that love until that day came!
The last thing she felt like doing at the end of another exhausting—and disappointing—day, was getting dressed up to go out on a date with Dick Crosby.
She freely admitted that she had got out of the habit of going out on dates the last six months. Not that it had been too difficult; until last week she had had a one-line part in a long-running play, which had taken up most of her evenings. But last week the play had come to an end, and so she was back looking for work, or ‘resting’, as most people knew it. She knew she was one of the lucky ones; her allowance, and then her full inheritance, meant that she was never going to be one of the ‘starving’ actors who had to find work to survive. But she wanted to make a success of her career, and loved to act, going for any of the