Read Online Tidewater Lover by Janet Dailey - Free Book Online Page B

agreement to his suggestion, but offered no words of goodbye. She couldn't very well say "I'll see you later"—not without aggravating the situation.
    His departure left an uneasy silence in his wake. Below her, Lacey could hear the opening of the garage door, followed by the sound of Cole's car reversing into the driveway. She glanced at Mike's profile, determined not to apologize for this situation that was so completely innocent.
    "I can't believe you've actually agreed to this," Mike declared, slapping his palm on the railing in a mixture of anger and confusion.
    "Honestly, Mike," Lacey sighed, "you make it sound as though I've suddenly deserted to the enemy camp! It isn't like that at all."
    "I know," he admitted grudgingly. "It was just such a shock, seeing Whitfield here with you, then finding out that the two of you are living together."
    Lacey bridled at his continued use of that term to describe their arrangement. "You wouldn't consider it living together if we were both living in the same apartment building or staying in the same hotel. This isn't any different."
    "It doesn't matter how you put it, Lacey," Mike retorted, "sharing a house is not the same as living in the same building. Good God, you cooked breakfast for the man. You don't do that for someone who is only living under the same roof."
    "That's not the way I see it."
    "You're a fool," he muttered beneath his breath.
    "Look, we can argue about this all night, but I'm not going to change my mind," Lacey flashed, her chin stubbornly thrust forward.
    Mike turned from the rail to confront her. "What do you want me to do, Lacey? Do you want me to leave?" he challenged. "It's apparent that you forgot you invited me today, so if you'd rather forget about dinner, I'll go."
    "I don't want to forget about dinner," she insisted, because she didn't want to give Mike the impression that she preferred Cole's company for the evening—a conclusion he would surely reach no matter how she tried to deny it. "I want you to stay for dinner—as long as you agree to drop this subject. After all, you don't have any right to criticize my behavior."
    Breathing in deeply, he eyed her for several seconds. "All right," he agreed tautly. "No more discussion about this."
    Pretending that something didn't exist didn't make it go away. It was like sweeping dirt under the rug: it couldn't be seen, but it was still there. Subsequently it was one of the most miserable afternoons and evenings Lacey had ever spent. The atmosphere had crackled with Mike's disapproval, stringing Lacey's nerves to a fine tension.
    They were both relieved when he left early. The time they had spent together had been uncomfortable rather than like the companionable good times they had previously known. Even after he had left, Lacey remained irritated with Mike for making her feel guilty about a situation that was completely innocent.
    She walked the beach to try to rid herself of her inner agitation with no success. The rush of the surf did not soothe her nerves. There was no magic in the play of the moonlight on the ocean swells. The tangy salt breeze didn't change the sour taste in her mouth. Finally Lacey returned to the house, but the vision of the night's dinner haunted her. She chose to stare out the window at the empty beach.
    Absently she heard the sound of a car driving into the garage, but it was Cole's footsteps on the stairs that finally broke her brooding stance in front of the windows facing the ocean.
    She remembered too late that she had intended to be in bed before Cole returned. She glanced at the watch on her wrist. It was nearly eleven. She turned as Cole paused at the top of the stairs to glance around.
    "Bowman's left?" he asked for her confirmation.
    "A couple, three hours ago," acknowledged Lacey, unaware of the vaguely dejected note that had crept into her voice.
    His gaze became fixed on her, the electric blue of his eyes so intent that she had to turn away, afraid of what he might be