Lady Be Good by Nancy Martin Read Free Book Online

snow. One neighbor was out with a snow blower, but the rest of the street was blanketed with drifts. Luke turned into the last driveway, and the car spun sideways before getting some traction. The drive curved upwards and finally ended at a triple garage door, one of which opened when he hit a button under the sun visor.
    The garage was attached to a house big enough for four families.
    Luke pulled the limo as close to a side entrance as he could get and shut off the engine. He got out into the storm.
    “Wait there a minute,” he said before slamming his door.
    Grace knew he planned on carrying her to the door of the house, and she wasn’t prepared to find herself in his arms again.
    So she bailed out of the limousine and squeaked as her feet immediately sank into nearly knee-deep snow. She hopscotched over the snowy heaps, and in seconds she was safely out of the wind and inside a cold but quiet garage, her shoes soaked.
    “I told you to wait,” he protested when he had grabbed her luggage out of the back seat and met her in the garage, stamping snow from his boots. “I didn’t say please, did I? Okay, this way.”
    Two vehicles were parked in the garage—a big SUV and a low sports car, bright red. In the corner was a jet ski on a trailer, and the rafters were hung a sleek Trek bicycle, several sets of skis, and a collection of various balls—footballs, basketballs, soccer balls—in a big net. There might have been a kayak hanging in a distant corner, but Grace couldn’t be sure.
    Boys and their toys.
    “Do you ride that bike?” Grace pointed upwards.
    “Now and then.”
    “I love biking. I was hoping to ride across Ireland with some friends next summer.”
    “Was? You’re not going?”
    “I don’t know. It depends on book sales.” Grace didn’t feel like explaining more. She had tentatively planned the bike tour with her pal Jasmine and her husband Joe, but the Miss Vanderbine book tour might intrude on the plans.
    “This way.” Luke threaded his way between the cars. He pressed a button to lower the garage door and said over his shoulder, “I had to fire the butler for hassling the upstairs maid, so the place might be a little messy.”
    “You’re kidding about the butler, right?”
    He grinned. “Right.”
    They trooped through a darkened laundry room, the floor of which was littered with boots and shoes and what looked like a discarded pair of coveralls, a basketball, and a broken hockey stick. What might have been a shotgun hung by its trigger guard on a hook over the dryer, except that it was fluorescent yellow and Grace saw the name BUBBLE BLASTER written along the barrel. This room was, apparently, an extension of Luke Lazurnovich’s toy chest.
    Grace picked her way through the cheerful mess and asked, “I realize this might be an impertinent question, but does the Laser have any children?”
    “Impertinent, huh? Nope, no kids.”
    “It’s also a little late to ask if you’re married.”
    “Not anymore. You?”
    “No, I’m not married.”
    “Okay, then,” he said. “This way.”
    Grace crossed the threshold into the kitchen. Luke flipped on a light switch.
    His kitchen was big enough for cooking a state dinner. A huge stove, double refrigerator, two sinks that glittered with hardware that was pretty enough to be jewelry. Dramatic lights made the granite counters sparkle. An island was surrounded by sturdy steel stools, perfect for a party. The room was L shaped, with a two-story arched window over a breakfast table that might have served King Arthur and his knights. Or maybe a whole football team.
    “Wow,” Grace said, her breath almost taken away by the extravagance of a professional athlete’s home. “Are you a gourmet cook?”
    “Hell, no. I’m the king of sandwiches, though. My ex-wife did all the fancy stuff. This was her dream kitchen. Trouble is, she didn’t cook either. The only time we ever used the oven was when my mom came and roasted a ham one Easter.”
    Grace