The Millionaire She Married. Christine Rimmer

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      Lacey talked a little about her stalled career dreams. She’d been living in L.A. for five years now. She shared a downtown loft—in a rather rough neighborhood that made Jenna nervous—with a friend, a fellow artist. Lacey painted every chance she got, and she was making connections, building a network of people who knew and liked her work. Every now and then she’d sell a painting. But as yet, her long string of jobs waiting tables and serving at private catered events were what paid the rent.

      Jenna really did believe her sister had talent. And Lacey had come a long way from the troubled, rebellious teenager who’d once been known by her teachers as the Scourge of Meadow Valley High. Now Lacey really cared about something.

      “You work hard,” Jenna told her. “And you love what you do. You just keep working. Someday you’ll get the recognition you deserve.”

      Lacey had what Jenna always thought of as a naughty angel’s face—wide blue eyes, a lush, full mouth, a delicate nose and beautiful pale skin. She liked to wear tight-fitting tops and flowing, semitransparent skirts. To Jenna, she always seemed a cross between a rock star and a fairy princess.

      Now the full mouth was stretched to a grin. “It’s obvious why I come home—to hear you tell me that I’m bound to succeed.”

      “And you are. I know you are. Do you need money?”

      “No, I do not. I’m managing just fine.”

      They shared a second bagel and Jenna poured them each more coffee.

      Then Lacey asked, “So what’s gone wrong in your life lately?”

      Jenna tensed, but tried her best not to let Lacey see it. “What do you mean?” She hoped she sounded breezy. “Everything’s fine.”

      Lacey leaned closer. “Come on. It’s me. Your bad baby sister. I grew up spying on you, remember? I saw you get your first kiss.”

      This was news to Jenna. “You did not.”

      “I did. You kissed that redheaded boy, the one with all the freckles, whose ears stuck out. Chuckie…”

      Jenna felt her cheeks coloring. “Oh, God. Chuckie Blevins.”

      “You were thirteen. And that Chuckie. He was some kisser. He slobbered all over you—and you wiped your mouth after. But in a very Jenna-like way, so considerately, waiting until Chuckie wasn’t looking.”

      “I can’t believe you were watching that.”

      “You bet I was. It was probably the most exciting thing I ever saw you do.” Lacey shoved a thick hank of curly blond hair back over her shoulder and sipped from her coffee cup. “And I still want an answer to my question. What’s going on?”

      “I don’t—”

      “Oh, stop it. Something is going on. You try to hide it, but you’ve got that worried, nervous look in those eyes of yours. It’s the way you looked when you ran away from Mack McGarrity.”

      Jenna stiffened. “I beg your pardon. I did not—”

      Lacey didn’t even let her finish. “You did, too. Okay, okay. You called it a visit home. But you brought your cat with you, for heaven’s sake. And you never did go back to New York. You bustled around here, inventing little cleaning and decorating projects to spiff up the house, acting busy but looking worried and sad, putting on fake smiles and trying to stay upbeat. But I could see. Anyone who cared about you could see. Something was very wrong.”

      “Well, my marriage was ending. Of course I was worried. And I didn’t go back to New York because there was no point in going back. It was over between Mack and me.”

      “Jenna. I’m saying that you’ve seemed the same way for the last couple of days—not sad this time so much, but worried and really preoccupied. And I want to know what’s bothering you.”

      Jenna looked at her sister for a long time, torn between the probable wisdom of keeping her own counsel and the real need to share her problem with someone she could trust.

      Need won out. “Mack’s in town.”

      Lacey set down her bagel without taking a bite of it. “You’re joking. It’s a joke, right?”

      “No. It’s no joke.”

      “In town? Where in town?”

      “He’s staying at the Northern Empire Inn.”

      “And he came to town to see you?”

      “Yes.”

      “Does Dr. Do-Right know?”

      “Lacey, I really wish you’d stop calling Logan Dr. Do-Right.”

      Lacey wrinkled her nose. “Sorry.” Then she put on a contrite look. “Let me try again. Does Logan know?”

      “I’m telling him as soon as he gets back from Seattle.”

      “Translation. You haven’t told him yet.” Lacey picked up her bagel again, looked at it, then dropped it for the second time. “I can’t stand it. Talk. Tell me everything.”

      “It’s awful,” Jenna warned. “It’s embarrassing and unfair and just plain wrong. And if I thought I could get away with it, I’d do something life-threatening to Mack McGarrity.”

      “Just tell me what’s going on.”

      So Jenna explained the whole mess to her sister.

      At the end, Lacey asked, “Have you called your lawyer about it?”

      Jenna sighed. “I don’t have a lawyer, not as of this moment. The lawyer I did have has apparently closed up shop and moved away. He’s not in the phone book anymore. And yesterday I drove by the address where he used to have his office. There’s a florist shop there now.”

      “Great,” Lacey remarked, in a tone that said it was anything but. “So you need a new lawyer.”

      “That’s right. And I’ll need a good one, I think. If I do end up having to divorce that man for the second time, he’s promised me he’ll think of a thousand ways to drag things out all over again.”

      “You know, he’s always been kind of an S.O.B.”

      “You said it, I didn’t.”

      “Maybe if you just hang tough, he’ll give up.”

      “I keep hoping the same thing. But…” Jenna let a weary shrug finish the thought.

      Lacey nodded. “Mack McGarrity is not the type who gives up.”

      “Exactly.”

      Lacey picked up her coffee mug and sipped. Then she set the mug down. “Can I ask you something?”

      “Go ahead.”

      “Didn’t you notice that you never got the final papers for your СКАЧАТЬ