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Lance hated not being adored, and distress flickered in his eyes. Good. “Send me an e-mail,” Georgie said. “I have guests, and I need to go back to the party.”
“Five minutes. That’s all.”
An alarming thought struck her. “Photographers are all over the place. If they spotted you driving in—”
“I’m not that stupid. I was driving my trainer’s car, and the windows are dark, so no one could see in. Somebody buzzed me through the gate.”
Georgie didn’t have any trouble figuring out whom. The kitchen had an intercom, and Chaz had to know how much Georgie would hate having Lance show up. Georgie slipped her thumb into the pocket of her chinos. “Does Jade know you’re here?”
“Of course. We tell each other everything, and she understands why I need to do this. She knows how I feel about you.”
“And exactly how is that?” Bram sauntered down the stairs. With his rumpled bronze hair, world-weary tanzanite eyes, and Gatsby whites, he looked like the jaded, overindulged, but potentially dangerous heir to a lost New England liquor fortune.
Lance moved closer to Georgie, as if he needed to protect her. “This is between Georgie and me.”
“Sorry, sport.” Bram ambled into the foyer. “You lost your opportunity for a private chat when you traded her in for Jade. You poor bastard.”
Lance took a menacing step forward. “Stop right there, Shepard. Don’t say another word about Jade.”
“Relax.” Bram rested an elbow on the newel post. “I have nothing but admiration for your wife, but that doesn’t mean I’d ever want to be married to her. Very high maintenance.”
“Nothing you need to worry about,” Lance said tightly.
Even though Bram was considerably taller than her ex-husband, Lance’s perfect physique should have made him a stronger presence. But somehow Bram’s lethal elegance gave him an edge in the macho wars. She couldn’t help wondering how a woman like herself had ended up married to two such impressive men.
She moved closer to Bram. “Say what you need to, Lance, and then leave me alone.”
“Could you…step outside for a minute?”
“Georgie and I
don’t have secrets from each other.” Bram let his voice slip into an Eastwood whisper, circa 1973. “I don’t like secrets. I don’t like them at all.”
She considered rising above her baser instincts, but only for a moment. “He’s very possessive. Mostly in a good way.”
Bram curled his fingers around the back of her neck. “And let’s keep it like that.”
Her flash of amusement proved she’d spent too much time living with the devil. Still, this was her fight, not Bram’s, and as much as she appreciated the support, she needed to handle it on her own. “Lance doesn’t seem like he’s leaving, so I might as well get this over with.”
“You don’t have to talk to him.” Bram dropped his hand from her neck. “I’d like nothing better than a good excuse to throw the son of a bitch out on his ass.”
“I know you would, sweetie, and I’m sorry to spoil your fun, but leave us alone for a few minutes, will you? I promise I’ll tell you everything. I know how much you love a good laugh.”
Meg shot Lance a glare and looped her arm through Bram’s. “Come on, pal. I’ll fix you another drink.”
Exactly what he didn’t need, but Meg’s intentions were good.
Bram gazed at Georgie, and she could see him trying to decide how long and how hard to kiss her. But he wisely underplayed the scene by merely touching her hand. “I’ll be nearby if you need me.”
She’d intended to stay in the foyer, but Lance had other ideas, and he walked ahead of her into the living room. His passion for clean surfaces and hard modern lines would make him contemptuous of this lovely room with its kumquat trees, Tibetan throws, and mirrored Indian pillows. And while Bram’s house was spacious, it could have fit inside one corner of the massive property she and Lance had shared.
She remembered something she should have thought of earlier. “I’m sorry about the baby. Truly.”
He stopped in front of the fireplace, so that the vine curling over the mantel looked as though it was growing from his head. “It’s been hard, but it was early, and Jade got pregnant so easy that we’re not letting ourselves get too upset. Everything happens for a reason.”
Georgie didn’t believe that. She believed things sometimes happened just because life could really suck. “Still, I’m sorry.”
His shrug made her suspect he was secretly relieved. She heard a distant rumble of thunder and wondered how she could ever have loved this man with his shallow emotions and flexible passions. She’d given him tears and entreaties, but she’d never once unleashed her anger. No time like the present to fix that.
