No More Mr. Nice - By Renee Roszel Page 0,70

in a charcoal gray suit. As he strode toward her front porch, his hawklike features came into view, as classic and riveting as she remembered. Lucas!

What was he doing here? Jess felt her heart lurch with foolish longing. She was so alone, so frightened. If only he were there to enfold her in his arms, tell her everything was all right. “Lucas?” she whispered in disbelief, he took the porch steps two at a time.

Grabbing her by the hand, he said, “Come with me,” and all but dragged her away.

Fifteen minutes later in growing dusk, they were creeping down a narrow section road in a deep wood. Because of the tree cover, there was only a light powdering of snow on the dirt lane.

“Do you really think she might be there? Mother only saw it that once, on the hayride,” Jess ventured. The trip had been awkwardly quiet. Lucas’s stern expression discouraged idle chatter. He’d sat in brooding silence, as though he were fighting some internal battle. Now she watched his stark profile, fearful, waiting for him to respond.

Lucas had told her that just as they’d driven up to her house to offer to help, the car phone had rung. It had been Maxim, relaying a message from Jack, that when he’d gone in search of Moron, he’d seen smoke coming from the cottage chimney. Lucas had thought it might be Mamie.

“We’ll know soon enough,” he answered finally, startling Jess from her thoughts. Jerry pulled to a halt. “Through those trees. Here.” He lifted his cashmere overcoat and indicated that she put it on. “The cottage is about a hundred yards up that path.”

She slid her arms into the huge, soft coat as Jerry opened her door. She and Lucas hurried up the barely discernible trail. Luckily, she was wearing jeans and tennis shoes, so the going was easy, even over the uneven terrain.

Hoping against hope, Jess ran on ahead and burst open the door. Inside she was met by an outlandish sight. Mamie sat on the horse-blanketed couch, a china tea service before her on the small table. Jack was beside her, holding a mug. A wet dog sprawled contentedly before a blazing fire. Nearby sat a washtub filled with a murky red substance.

Mamie peered at them, startled by the intrusion. “Well,” she admonished, “You two are late. We’ve gone ahead without you.”

Jess sagged against the wall in relief as Lucas closed the door. “Mother,” she managed, through a sigh. “I’ve been worried sick.”

Mamie poured from the pot into Jack’s mug. “There you are, dear. Would you care for milk and lemon?”

Jack sipped. “Mrs. Ritter,” he replied with a lopsided grin, “it’s cocoa.”

She tittered. “Oh, my, yes. Silly me.” Glowering at Jess, she scolded, “You befuddled me, Jessica. And just what sort of outfit is that? You look like a Secret Service agent with bad dandruff.”

Moron sat up and barked, wagging his tail.

“Mother, what are you doing here?” Jess asked, too relieved to be angry.

“Why, I’m having a Summit meeting. This is Boris What’s-It and this—” she indicated the dog “—is…” She screwed up her face. “Who is this, Boris?” she asked Jack. “My mind’s a blank.”

“That’s a stupid dog,” Jack said, looking fondly at the mutt.

“Now, now, Boris,” she reproved, taking a sip of her cocoa. “We shall get nowhere near world peace with that cheeky attitude. I’ll have no name-calling at my Summit.”

Jess felt a tug on her arm, and turned to see Lucas looking down at her, doing his best not to smile. “I don’t think we have the security clearance for this,” he said. “Why don’t we go let the police know she’s safe?”

Jess nodded, feeling oddly breathless. It was the first time he had smiled at her in so very long. Reluctantly turning away, she called, “Mother, we’ll be back later. Okay?”

Mamie waved them off with grandiose impatience. “Go. Go. My press secretary will have a statement for you this evening.”

“Yeah,” Jack added. “He’ll bark.” With a look that plainly said he thought Mamie was weird, but likable, he took a gulp of his cocoa.

As Jess and Lucas went down the steps, he shouted over the wind, “Looks like she finally got her white house.”

Jess shook her head helplessly. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with her.” Then, facing him, she asked the question that had been plaguing her mind ever since he grabbed her hand on her front porch. “What are you doing here?” Her voice sounded fairly steady, considering her