LITMIR.BIZ

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the camera to make that disappointment go away.”

      “Lucas McCoy, you’re an engaged man,” she chastised, her neck burning at the volley. Lucas’s good looks hadn’t been lost on Doreen. She had always been attracted to tall men, considering she was five-ten.

      He looked like the corporate type, too, with short hair and a sexy goatee, and smooth, chocolate-colored skin that reminded her of melted kisses. She knew from her boss that he was thirty; in fact, Emma had boasted about dating a man nine years younger. But Lucas was the perfect age for her, only a year older.

      “Doreen, where has that wandering mind taken you?”

      She shook herself. “Nowhere, Lucas. What did you say?” Guiltily she paid attention.

      “You know my fiancée hasn’t been down here in eight months, and if she doesn’t get her butt down here soon, there’ll be hell to pay.”

      “Emma wants to see you, but her promotion means big things here at Regents Cable.” Doreen sat back in her chair and crossed her legs, relieved he still sounded playful. “She’s the first black woman to hold the title of VP of urban development, and they’re expecting great things from her.”

      “I know.” Lucas didn’t look like he cared one thing about the excuse. “I’m not begrudging her career success. Not for a second. But a man needs his woman, especially one he’s proposed to. Anyway, we’ll work it out. Meanwhile, let me update you on the renovations.”

      Happy to be on safer ground, Doreen rested her elbow on the desk and sighed. “Let me guess. Which wall have you knocked down now?”

      “I haven’t knocked down any walls. All fifteen rooms have walls. The library, great room, game room, kitchen, laundry room, both offices, tackle room and—”

      “Hold it. What’s a tackle room?”

      “A room for when I come in from fishing. I need a room for my tackle.” He looked serious as he said it until he started laughing. “I needed a couple sinks to gut and clean the fish, too. Not unless she wants me in the kitchen, and I just don’t see that happening.”

      He sounded like the old Lucas now. The fun-loving, happy guy who used to call several times a day seeking Emma’s advice. Initially Emma had sounded happy about the house Lucas had been renovating for them in Key West, then she’d come in one day and confessed over a nonfat latte that she wasn’t interested in wallpaper swatches and drywall width, so she’d dropped the whole project and his calls into Doreen’s lap. Now they talked about everything from wood to wallpaper every day.

      Doreen pretended to shiver. “I’ve seen one fish gutted and I don’t ever have to see it again,” she said. His laughter conjured up for her sexy, if illicit, images of him. “Go on.”

      “The formal dining and breakfast rooms are done. Oh, and the master suite is done. One bedroom upstairs is done, but we’re still working on the foyer. The floor in the powder room on the main level needs a little work, and of course the other three bedrooms are unfinished. Those are rooms Emma won’t want to use right away, but if I have my say…”

      He was talking about children, of course. Which Emma had confessed to her just last week she’d never really wanted.

      “I’m sure you’ll compromise,” Doreen said, hating knowing Emma’s side while hearing the wistful dreams in Lucas’s voice. Doreen couldn’t look at him. Who wouldn’t want kids with him? She’d grown up alone and had longed for brothers and sisters, if only to fill the loneliness of losing her mother early.

      “Doreen, I can practically hear my biological clock ticking.”

      Laughter snaked out of her like a curl of smoke. “You are out of your mind today, Lucas. What’s up with you?”

      He groaned. “The question is what’s right. Nothing. Must be this Hurricane Ana. Gorgeous name for a woman, but the storm’s a real witch. She came through a couple days ago and she’s still dogging our island. We need a break. I need some vitamin D, some sunshine, wine and a good woman.”

      “I’ve heard the reports, Lucas. But I thought you grew up in Key West. You’re not used to the weather down there?”

      “I am, but I spent a lot of time in New York as a young man. My father was from Harlem and my mother from the Keys. My father wanted me to be a stockbroker like him. I became one and hated it.”

      “When did you have time for that and school to become an architect?”

      “You have to have a major and a minor,” he said, smiling.

      “My goodness,” she said, impressed. “You must have been some type of genius.”

      Lucas pretended to straighten a tie he wasn’t wearing. “You know I try to tell my best friends, Stephen and Terrence, to bow to my brilliance, but they don’t give a damn. They’re always telling me to shut up.”

      Doreen burst out laughing. “Do they beat you up a little, too?”

      “They know better.”

      “So, what’s going on with the marble? You never told me. Are you still holding out hope that it will come in? If you are, forget it. It’s not too late to go with bamboo. Innovative, right?”

      She nervously fingered her hair, hoping he’d take the bait and not want to talk about Emma. Doreen didn’t think she could handle a talk about what he should do about her boss.

      “More like crazy. Stop worrying. I’ve got a guy.”

      Doreen started laughing again. She loved the expression “I’ve got a guy.” Here in the city, having “a guy” usually involved something illegal. “Lucas, I’m hanging up now. I’m not listening to your story about how something fell off the back of a truck.”

      “Ms. Gamble, I’m appalled at the direction of your thoughts. I would never participate in anything unsavory.”

      “What about Mo?”

      “I plead the Fifth on Mo. I don’t know what the hell he does,” he said, and they both chuckled. “I thought you wanted to hear about your sink?”

      Her sink.

      Now that was quite an oxymoron. The sink was no more hers than the house was. She was merely stepping in for her boss. Emma had cringed at the idea of domestication, preferring the big paycheck. She’d been unflinching in her quest for success, practicing her acquired skill set of delegating with executive aplomb.

      “Lucas to Doreen,” he singsonged when her attention wavered again. “What’s with you today?”

      “Just thinking of all the things I have to do when I get home. Forgive me. Please tell me about m—the sink.”

      “Okay.” The excitement was all over his face. “The Italian-designed, ceramic-valve construction and polished chrome fit perfectly in that small space. It totally complements the wall coloring you suggested last month.”

      Lucas’s voice had dropped as if he were now reading poetry.

      “It’s sexy, if I can use that term to describe a bathroom sink. One of the best choices you made for this house.”

      Joy was one of those emotions Doreen rarely felt, but Lucas’s compliment made her feel a deep sense of satisfaction. She could hardly stop herself from floating out of her West Forty-Fourth Street window. Doreen planted her cheek on her hand. “You flatter me. Please, make me feel good some more.”

      “When you say it like that, I feel obligated to tell you that I’m promised to another woman—but if I weren’t, I’d take you up on your offer.”

      Doreen couldn’t believe that a tiny scream leapt out of her mouth. Lucas’s voice had struck the right note at the heart of her loneliness. “I’d better go. I believe that I have a brain leak that needs to be plugged with food and sleep.”

      “No

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