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His lips found her hairline and pressed against it in a simple kiss. An act of wordless sympathy but with the full force of Lucas behind those lips, it singed her skin, drawing heat into her cheeks, enflaming them. She was very aware of his fingertips trailing absently along her bare arm and very aware an engaged man had every reason to do it.
Except he’d never done it to her before and the little sparks his fingers generated panged through her abdomen.
“Oh, no, of course,” Fran said. “I’m so sorry to bring up bad memories. Let’s talk about something fun. Tell me about your wedding dress.”
In a desperate attempt to reorient, Cia zeroed in on Fran’s animated face. Lucas had not inherited his magnetism from his father, as she’d assumed, but from his mother. They shared a charisma that made it impossible to look away.
Lucas groaned, “Mama. That’s not fun—that’s worse than water torture. Daddy and Matthew don’t want to hear about a dress. I don’t even want to hear about that.”
“Well, forgive me for trying to get to know my new daughter,” Fran scolded and smiled at Cia conspiratorially. “I love my sons, but sometimes just because the good Lord said I have to. You I can love because I want to. The daughter of my heart instead of my blood. We’ll have lunch next week and leave the party poopers at home, won’t we?”
Cia nodded because her throat seized up and speaking wasn’t an option.
Fran already thought of her as a daughter.
Never had she envisioned them liking each other or that Lucas’s mother might want to become family by choice instead of only by law. The women at the shelter described their husbands’ mothers as difficult, interfering. Quick to take their sons’ sides. She’d assumed all new wives struggled to coexist. Must have horrible mother should have been on her criteria list.
And as long as she was redoing the list, Zero sex appeal was numero uno.
“Isn’t it time for dinner?” Lucas said brightly, and everyone’s gaze slid off her as Fran agreed.
The yeasty scent of baked bread had permeated the air a few minutes ago and must have jump-started Lucas’s appetite. She smiled at him, grateful for the diversion, and took a minute to settle her stomach.
Andy and Matthew followed Fran’s lead into the dining room adjacent to the living area, where a middle-aged woman in a black-and-white uniform bustled around the twelve-seat formal dining table. A whole roasted chicken held court in the center, flanked by white serving dishes containing more wonderful food.
Lucas didn’t move. He should move. Plenty of couch on the other side of his thigh.
“Be there in a minute,” he called to his family and took Cia’s hand in his, casually running a thumb over her knuckles. “You okay? You don’t have to have lunch with my mother. She means well, but she can be overbearing.”
“No.” She shook her head, barely able to form words around the sudden pounding of her pulse. “Your mother is lovely. I’m...well—we’re lying to her. To your whole family. Lying to my grandfather is one thing because he’s the one who came up with those ridiculous trust provisions. But this...”
“Is necessary,” he finished for her. “It would be weird if I never introduced you to my parents. For now it’s important to play it like a real couple. I’ll handle them later. Make something up.”
He didn’t understand. Because he’d had a mother his whole life.
“More lies. It’s clear you’re all close. How many other grown sons go to their mother’s birthday party and then to dinner at her house in the same week?” Cia vaulted off the couch, and Lucas rose a split second later. “I’m sorry I put you in this position. How do we do this? How do I go in there and eat dinner like we’re a happy, desperately in love couple?”
“Well, when I’m in an impossible situation, and I have no idea how to do it, I think to myself, ‘What would Scooby do?’”
In spite of the ache behind her eyes, a shuddery laugh slipped out. A laugh, when she could hardly breathe around the fierce longing swimming through her heart to belong to such a family unit for real.
“Scooby would eat.”
“Yep.” Lucas flashed an approval-laden smile. “So here’s a crazy idea. Don’t take this so seriously. Let’s have fun tonight. Eat a good meal with some people I happen to be related to. Once it’s over, you’ll be one step closer to your money and I’ll be one step closer to Manzanares, which will make both of us happy. Voilà. Now we’re a happy couple. Okay?”
“We’re still lying to them.”
