No more, she vowed with determination—most likely because she knew already that tomorrow offered yet another reprieve. She would use the time in Boston to think through the best way to broach things with Kevin. She would organize her thoughts, if not her emotions.
Her plan decided, Lacey tried to sleep. Unfortunately the emotions she’d vowed to dismiss wouldn’t release their hold so easily. Every sigh of the wind, each creak of the bedsprings, every crash of waves was enough to bring her wide awake again.
And awake, Kevin’s face was always there, and the memories of his caresses were as tantalizing as the reality.
When dawn broke at last, she couldn’t wait to run.
Chapter Ten
After the unending tension of the previous evening and the sleepless night, swinging a hammer actually felt good to Lacey. Admittedly she was doing it with more energy than accuracy, but she relished the pull on her muscles, the warmth of the sun on her shoulders.
All around her were the sounds of electric saws, hammers and the blare of sixties rock ‘n’ roll. The hammering seemed to take on the rhythm of the music.
Simply being among a group that was mostly strangers made it easier not to think about Kevin. During their time on Cape Cod, there had been too many bold glances that unnerved her, too many innocent caresses that tempted, too many whispered words designed to lure.
Especially yesterday. That kiss had very nearly been her undoing. Lacey felt as if she’d been walking a tightrope, trying to maintain her equilibrium above a sea of temptations.
Now with sweat beading on her brow and tracking between her breasts, she put all of those confusing sensations out of her mind to concentrate on the task at hand. It was either that or risk slamming the hammer on her thumb instead of hitting the nails she was supposed to drive into place in the drywall. She’d already done that twice. The result was a throbbing, black and blue thumb, but she was determined not to quit until her assigned section of the house was complete. She knew how anxiously some family was waiting for the day they could move in.
When Paula Gethers had called months ago and pleaded with her to pitch in on a unique housing project that would ultimately provide renovated, low-income homes, the concept had intrigued Lacey. And the timing couldn’t have been better. She had just left Kevin, and her days were filled with endless hours of loneliness and regrets.
When Paula had said she didn’t want Lacey to do fund-raising, didn’t want her to write a check, Lacey had regarded her skeptically.
“What then?”
“I need you to hit nails, paint, maybe lay some tiles. Who knows, maybe I’ll have you learn to install plumbing.”
Lacey had burst out laughing at that. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
Paula had shaken her head. “Nope. Come take a look.”
Lacey had gone that day and been relegated to wielding a paintbrush. She’d ended up with more paint in her hair and on her clothes than on the walls, but she’d been hooked.
The calls had come steadily after that until Lacey was involved almost as closely with the project as her old friend. Last night’s call had been more welcome than all the others because it provided her with an excuse to put that much-needed space between herself and Kevin.
At one time she had been on a dozen different committees, all of them demanding, all of them worthwhile. With none of them, though, had she felt such an immediate sense of satisfaction. Never before had she been able to stand back at the end of the day and look at the results of her labors and see so clearly that her contribution of time and energy truly made a difference for some family. Lacey felt good knowing that each house might become a first home for a family previously relegated to a ramshackle public-housing project.
Admittedly there had also been a sense of poignancy. Maybe if such a program had existed years ago, there would have been help for her own family. They had lived in a cramped, run-down, rented apartment, unable to afford anything better, yet too well-off to qualify for assistance.
Lacey would never forget the first time she had gone home with Kevin. She had circled the huge Halloran home as if it were a museum, studying the paintings in Brandon’s collection with a sense of awe. The furnishings were perfect, down to the last crystal vase and the matching gold lighter and cigarette case. It was the first time she had truly realized how very different their lives were, and it had terrified her.
For weeks after the visit, she had tried to break things off, tried to put some distance between them. Kevin would have none of it. Intuitively he had known how she felt and even at eighteen he had been determined.
To her horror, he had spoken to her mother and wrangled an invitation to her home for dinner. There, amidst the garage-sale collection of furnishings and the strong aroma of garlic, he had looked as out of place as a Renoir amidst paintings on velvet.
If he had been appalled, though, he hid it well. He had been lavish with his praise of her mother’s cooking. With the composure of someone who’d been brought up with all the social graces, he had talked about unemployment with her father, an assembly line worker who feared each and every day would be his last on the job.
Slowly Lacey had relaxed as his charm had touched them all. The evening had been a resounding success. Only later had she realized that that
