Texas! Lucky (17 page)

"Well? What was that all about?"

"None of your business. Will you kindly haul yourself off my bed, so I can get up and get dressed?"

"How juvenile. I've seen you in skivvies before."

"For your information, Miss Sophistication, I came to bed straight from the shower, and am buck naked beneath this sheet. Now, unless you want to be educated, get the hell out of here. I told Susan I'd be at her house in an hour."

"Really!" said Sage, taking umbrage. "Do you think I've lived under a rock? Male nudity doesn't shock or offend me. I know what all the parts look like and how they work."

Lucky frowned as he took in her skimpy attire. "Listen here, young lady, I expect you to behave yourself in a manner becoming a lady when it comes to the opposite sex," he said sternly.

"Ha! You're a fine one to talk. Do you behave yourself like a gentleman?"

"Do you run around the wild young studs dressed like that?" he demanded, nodding down at her bikini.

"You gawk at women in bikinis."

"So? Male prerogative."

"Like hell!" Sage exclaimed. "That's a double standard."

A mental image of Devon emerging from the swimming pool, peeling back her wet hair with both hands; buttocks and mound covered by triangles of bronze, metallic fabric; breasts bare, heavy, gleaming, beaded with sparkling drops of water.

Sage was right. He had gawked, and it was a double standard. But that didn't keep his body from reacting to the alluring mental picture.

"You gotta leave now," he said in a voice so low it sounded like a growl.

"Here lately, you're such a grouch." She left the bed and flounced toward the door. However, she pulled up short and turned back, her expression no longer irritable, but sympathetic.

"Chase came by at lunch to check on you. Mother and I told him you were sleeping. He said not to wake you up, that you needed the rest. He, uh, he told us about the Haines woman, Lucky. I'm sorry."

Despite his foul mood, he winked at her. "Thanks, brat. I appreciate your concern."

Once Sage had closed the door, he flung back the sheet and went to his bureau. It took him a long time to dress because he often found himself standing motionless staring into space, or forgetting what he'd gone to the closet for, or wondering why he was searching through a particular drawer. His mind kept straying back to Devon. Damn, he still wanted to see her.

Instead, he had to go see Susan. After avoiding her and her preposterous marriage proposal for more than a week, he acknowledged that he couldn't delay dealing with it any longer.

"Jeez, I dread this," he muttered to himself as he finally left his bedroom and loped down the stairs.

He didn't realize until later just how much his dread had been warranted.

Chapter 11

I
t was almost as though she had expected him.

Devon didn't react with as much surprise as he had anticipated. Her car rolled to a halt beside his where he was parked at the curb in front of her condo. She gazed at him for a moment, her expression revealing little, before she pulled into the driveway.

Lucky stepped out of his Mustang and moved toward the garage door that had opened automatically for Devon's car. They met in the driveway. Obviously she had just come from work. She was dressed in a suit, although she was carrying, not wearing, the jacket. Sunglasses held her hair away from her face. Her other hand held a large, flat pizza box.

"Hi," he said, his expression solemn.

"Hello."

"I, uh…" He shuffled and glanced up at the storm clouds darkening the sky. "Is your husband at home?"

"No."

"I don't want to make this any more difficult for you than it has to be."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I've got to talk to you." He drew his lips tight and said through his teeth, "Dammit, you've got to help me, Devon."

She glanced around worriedly, as though prying eyes might be peeking at them from the other houses on the block. Finally she nodded curtly.

"Come on in." She led him through the garage, lowered the door by depressing the switch on the wall, and asked him to hold the pizza while she unlocked the kitchen door. He followed her inside and deposited the pizza on the white tile countertop.

She nicked another switch. Cold blue fluorescent lighting nickered on. "I'll be back in a minute."

She disappeared through a doorway. Lucky moved to the window overlooking her backyard. It had started to rain. Fat drops bounced on the water in the pool and splattered on the deck. They were such opulent drops, they bent down the leaves of her plants. A jagged streak of lightning divided the sky just above the horizon. Moments later it was followed by a drumroll of thunder.

"Are you hungry?"

He turned. She had come into the kitchen behind him, having changed into a pair of old jeans, a loose pullover, and a pair of soft leather moccasins. Her hair looked freshly brushed. Without the armor of her business suit she looked younger, more vulnerable.

"I guess. Hadn't thought about it."

"Do you like pepperoni pizza?"

"Sure."

"Give me a minute to make a salad."

Lucky was dumbfounded. Was she actually inviting him to stay for supper? He'd expected her to slam the door in his face—if she'd been the one to answer it. If he had encountered her husband on the other side of the threshold, he planned to ask directions or something equally as ludicrous.

When he hadn't got an answer after ringing her doorbell, he had decided to wait and see who turned up first and play it by ear from there. Being invited to dinner hadn't even crossed his mind as a possibility.

She had removed salad greens and tomatoes from the refrigerator and was calmly tearing lettuce into a bowl. He said, "You don't seem surprised to see me."

"I'm not."

He propped his hip against the counter. "How come?"

"You said you never take no for an answer from a woman." She lifted her eyes to his. "I believe you. Excuse me." She nudged him aside, reached into the refrigerator again and took out a bottle of salad dressing, and, to his further astonishment, a bottle of red wine.

She passed it to him, along with a corkscrew, which she took from a drawer. "Would you please?"

Mystified by her composure, Lucky peeled the sealing material off the wine bottle and twisted the corkscrew into the cork. He watched her set the table with two place settings. She placed several slices of pizza in the microwave oven to warm.

"Glasses?"

"Beneath the cabinet."

He noticed then that two rows of wineglass stems were hanging upside down from a rack mounted on the underside of the cabinet. He slid out two and poured each of them a glass of wine. Devon lighted a candle, placed it in the center of the table, and motioned him into a chair.

Lucky approached the table, bringing with him the two glasses of wine, along with the bottle, and sat down in the chair she'd indicated. She sat down across from him and began serving his plate from the large salad bowl. Once both their plates were filled with salad and pizza, he reached across the table and caught her hand in the act of reaching for her wineglass.

"What gives with you?" he asked tautly.

"What do you mean?"

"What happens if your husband comes home and finds us sharing a cozy candlelight dinner?"

"Would that bother you?"

"A whole hell of a lot."

"He won't."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. He won't be home tonight." She pulled her hand back, reached for her glass, and sipped the wine.

The mingling, mouth-watering aromas of oregano and mozzarella had reminded Lucky that he hadn't eaten all day. He took a huge bite of pizza and washed it down with a swallow of wine. Wine wasn't his beverage of choice, but it seemed appropriate to drink when the woman he was sharing his meal with had hair the same deep red color.

"It's good," he said politely.

"Thank you."

"Do you do this often?"

She bit into a slice of pizza, pulling on the stringy cheese until it eventually broke off.

"What? Bring pizza home for dinner?"

Lucky munched on his own chewy bite, swallowed, and said with a patience he didn't feel, "No, have men over for dinner when your husband is out of town."

"I didn't say he was out of town. I just said he wouldn't be home tonight."

Tired of her word games, he set his fists on either side of his plate and glared at her until she looked up at him. "Do you do this often?"

She held out for a few moments more before answering. Eventually her stubbornness surrendered to his. "You're the first man I've had to dinner in this house. Now, does that salve your ego, or whatever the hell it is that causes you to badger me about things that are none of your business?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"You're welcome."

"I'm flattered."

"Don't be. I just knew you wouldn't go away without first having your 'talk.' I was hungry." She shrugged, letting him draw his own conclusion. "It's certainly not a violation of the marriage vows for two adults to share a pizza."

"Unless those same two adults have shared a pillow."

Her eyes connected with his and reflected the glazed shock of a nocturnal animal caught in headlights bearing down on it.

To increase her astonishment even more, lightning struck nearby. Following a rending sound like the cracking of a bullwhip, all the lights went out except for the steadily burning flame of the candle.

"Are you all right?" Lucky asked, stunned by the sudden absence of the sterile fluorescent lighting.

"Of course. I'm fine." She didn't look fine. The hand that reached for her wineglass was trembling.

"Devon." Acting on instinct, he reached across the table to capture her hand. It was cold. He enfolded it in the warmth of his. After glancing over each of her chilled fingertips with his thumb, he settled it in the cup of her palm, stroking evocatively. "About that, Devon…"

"About what?"

"About us sharing a pillow, a bed. You don't have anything to worry about." Her head tilted quizzically. "I mean about birth control or anything. I took care of that. I didn't know if you were aware of—"