by Sandra Brown
"If it's all the same to you, I'd just as soon not discuss our escapades in front of Tanya."
"Those escapades aren't the point," Lucky said irritably. "Tanya knows you were a hell-raiser before she came along. My point is that for all my carousing, I have never slept with a married woman. I drew the line at that." Mindlessly he rubbed his stomach, as though the very thought of adultery made him queasy. "I never would even go out with a divorcee until the final, final papers were final. So this broad," he said irreverently, aiming his index finger in the general direction of Dallas, "not only duped me with the phony name bit, but tricked me into doing something that, old-fashioned as it sounds, I believe is morally wrong."
He returned to his seat, dejectedly throwing himself onto the padded cushion. Eyes vacant and bleary, he contemplated near space.
"Lucky," Chase ventured after a lengthy period of silence, "what are you going to do?"
"Probably ten to twenty for arson."
"Don't say that!" Tanya cried. "You can't go to prison for something you didn't do."
"You know what I meant, Lucky," Chase said. "You can't let her off the hook that easily. She fooled around, so she can damn well pay the consequences."
"I used that argument."
"And?"
"It got me nowhere."
"Appeal to her basic human decency."
"I did that too. Didn't shake her a smidgen. If she would run around on her husband, I doubt she has a sense of decency. Although," he added on a mumble, "she seemed decent enough at first."
"Well, if worse comes to worst, Pat Bush could subpoena her."
"To appear before a federal grand jury." Lucky sighed and tiredly dug his fingertips into his eye sockets, which were shadowed by fatigue. "I was hoping it wouldn't have to go even that far. With business so bad…" He lowered his hands and looked at his brother. "I'm sorry, Chase. I really screwed up this time. And the worst of it is that I'm dragging Tyler Drilling, you, and everybody else down with me."
Chase rose from his barstool and affectionately slapped his younger brother between the shoulder blades. "Your hide is more valuable to me than the business. I'm worried about the guy who actually set the fire. What's the bastard planning to do next?" He consulted the wall clock. "Guess I'd better get on out there and baby-sit those investigators."
"I'll be along later."
"Uh-uh. You're taking the day off."
"Says who?"
"Says me."
"You're not my boss."
"Today I am."
They'd been playing that universal sibling game almost since they were old enough to talk. Lucky gave in much sooner than usual.
Chase said, "You look like hell. Stay home today. Get some sleep." Turning, he headed for the bedroom. "If you're gone by the time I get out of the shower, I'll be in touch later today."
After Chase had withdrawn, Tanya smiled at her brother-in-law. "What would you like for breakfast?"
"Nothing," he replied, getting to his feet. "Thanks, though." At the front door of the apartment, he pulled her into a hug. "I should take a cue from my big brother, find a woman like you, marry her, and quit screwing around for good. Problem is, since you've been taken, there aren't any good broads left."
Laughing, she shoved him away. "Lucky, I seriously doubt you'll sweep a woman off her feet by referring to her as a broad."
He smiled, but there was more chagrin than humor behind it. His blue eyes were tired and dull and puzzled. "Tanya, why would a married woman share a motel room with a total stranger in the first place, then let him make love to her?"
"It happens all the time, Lucky. Don't you read the statistics?"
"I know, but…" He gauged her worried frown. "I know you probably feel uncomfortable talking about this with me, but I feel like a jerk discussing it with another man, even Chase. Will you listen? Please?"
"Of course."
He hesitated, but only momentarily. "Devon just wasn't the type to pick up a stranger and go to bed with him. I've been with plenty of women who do it routinely, and she was different."
"How so?"
"In every way. Looks. Attitude. Actions." He shook his head in bafflement. "Why would she take a life-threatening risk like that? For all she knew, I was a psychopath, or had a venereal disease or God knows what else. She's married. She and her husband live well. She's got a successful career. Why would she risk all that? And if she's got the guts to do it, why get squeamish when it's time to 'fess up?"
"I don't know, Lucky," Tanya said, sounding genuinely sorry that she couldn't provide him with an answer. "I can't imagine being unfaithful to Chase. I can't imagine even being tempted."
He squinted his eyes with concentration. "I don't think she planned it to happen. It wasn't like she was on the make. In fact, she tried everything she could to avoid me. She's almost militant in her feminism, takes issue with sexual labels, things like that. Real defensive about it." He paused, carefully choosing words to describe Devon Haines to Tanya.
"She's put together well, you know? Dresses professionally. Seems to have every situation under control. I certainly couldn't call her flighty." He blew out a gust of air, indicative of the depth of his confusion. "She's just not whimsical. And it's not like she seduced me, or even vice-versa. I mean, it just sorta happened. We were both half-asleep and kinda rolled toward each other, and I started touching her, kissing her, and she started responding, and before we knew it, we were … you know."
During his speech Tanya had been watching him closely. "Lucky," she asked softly, "which bothers you most? The fact that she declines to come forward and clear you? Or the fact that she's married?"
He abruptly pulled his chin back a notch. "What do you mean by that?"
"For the past week you've been obsessed with finding out who this woman is and where she lives."
"Because she's my alibi."
"Are you sure that's the only reason?"
"Yes. Hell yes." He reached for the doorknob and pulled the door open. "Listen, Tanya, I don't want you or anybody else to get any romantic notions about her."
"I see."
"I mean it."
"I understand."
"That's it. She's my alibi. Period." Standing silhouetted in the open doorway, he made an umpire's "safe" motion with his hands. When he did, he rapped his knuckles against the doorframe. "Ouch! Damn!" Sucking on an injured knuckle, he added, "Besides, as it turns out, she's married."
A few moments later Chase, rubbing dry his dark hair with a towel, wearing another around his middle, came to Tanya's side. She was standing in the doorway, watching Lucky's taillights disappear around the nearest corner.
"What was all the shouting about?" he asked.
"That was Lucky," she said, closing the door. "He was adamantly denying that this woman means anything more to him than an alibi."
"Does he think you're hard of hearing?"
She laughed. "No, but I think he is."
"Huh?"
"He's not listening to his heart."
"I don't get your meaning."
"You're not supposed to," she replied coyly. "You're a man."
"You know, that secret little smile of yours drives me crazy." He bent down to nuzzle her neck. "Makes me horny as hell."
"I know," she whispered back, moving against him seductively. "Why do you think I wear it so often?"
Chase dropped both the towels and carried her into their bedroom.
Half an hour later the covers were helplessly tangled around their naked bodies, but neither noticed or cared. They were sated. While Tanya lay on her back, eyes closed, Chase idly caressed her breasts, which bore the faint, rosy markings of recent lovemaking.
"I feel sorry for Lucky," she remarked dreamily.
"So do I. He's got himself in a real jam."
"I'm not talking strictly about the fire. One way or another, he'll be exonerated. This might represent a setback in his life, but that's all it'll be."
"Then why do you feel sorr
y for him?"
She opened her eyes and looked at her husband, reaching up to lovingly brush damp strands of hair off his forehead. "I think the encounter with this Haines woman has had more of an impact than he's willing to admit. And even if he does admit it, whether publicly or to himself, there's nothing he can do about it. It was finished before it started."
"Define 'it.'"
She shrugged. "A meaningful relationship, I suppose."
"A meaningful relationship? With a woman? My brother?" Laughing, Chase rolled onto his back.
Tanya propped herself up on one elbow. "You think the notion is that ridiculous?"
"As long as there's more than one living, breathing female alive on planet Earth, Lucky will never be faithful to just one."
"I think you're doing him an injustice. He's more sensitive than you think. And he can be very loyal."
"Oh, I agree. He can be very loyal to several women at one time." Laughter lurked beneath his serious words. "Did I ever tell you how Lucky got his nickname?"
"Come to think of it, no."
"You never wondered why a James Lawrence would be nicknamed Lucky?"
"I took it for granted. For as long as I've known you, that's what you and everyone else has called him."
Stacking both hands behind his head, Chase laughed softly. "I was in tenth grade. He was in ninth, about fourteen, I guess. There was this girl, a woman really, about twenty, who lived in Kilgore. To put it bluntly, she was a tramp. She worked at being a tramp. Real hot-looking. Dressed to display her endowments. She kept all the boys in several counties in a constant state of arousal, but never came across with the goods.
"So one night, me and some of my friends decided to take a car—we couldn't legally drive yet—and go to Kilgore for a look-see at this gal. Lucky begged to come along. We finally agreed after he threatened to squeal our plans to our parents.
"Off we went. After driving around Kilgore for an hour, we found her. She was strutting her stuff at one of the local bowling alleys. All of us ogled until our eyes were bugging out and our tongues were lolling. But Lucky was the only one who worked up the courage to speak to her. Damned if the rascal didn't end up smooth-talking his way into her car, then into her house.
"Positively awestruck, we followed them there. He stayed inside for two hours. The kid who'd sneaked out the family car was in a panic to get back to Milton Point before his folks discovered it missing. He finally started honking the horn. When Lucky came out from around back, he was pulling on his shirt and wearing this very smug grin on his face.
"It made me mad as hell that my little brother had succeeded in doing what so many others had tried to do and failed. I said, 'Quit grinning, you little bastard. You just lucked out, is all.' 'Call me Lucky,' he said, still wearing that complacent grin."
Tanya was trying to look horrified while suppressing a giggle. "You're both incorrigible. How did you explain his new nickname to your parents?"
"I forget now what explanation we came up with. Anyway, from that night forward, the name stuck. He's been Lucky to everybody."
Tanya sighed, resting her head on Chase's hairy chest and sadly recalling what had prompted the story. "I don't think he's feeling very lucky these days."
"No," Chase agreed. Folding his arms around her, he held her close. "But I am."
* * *
Devon had reams of research material to read, dozens of periodicals to peruse, and thousands of words to compose, but she couldn't concentrate on anything except her encounter with Lucky the evening before.
In her mind she continued to see his face as it had looked when she told him she was married. His expression had been a mix of incredulity and outrage. His eyes, initially blank with stupefaction, had grown frigid by degrees, until they achieved that hard, cold glare that she shivered beneath even in recollection.
Feeling restless, she left the enclosure of her office and took the long route through the city room to the alcove of vending machines. Desultorily she inserted the required coinage into the refrigerated box. The coins dropped into the concealed bin with a metallic echo that sounded as hollow as she felt. Coworkers spoke to her as she passed their desks on her way back. She pretended not to hear.
"Hey, Devon, what happened with the blond hunk yesterday?"
Ignoring that question, she closed her office door behind her to discourage interruption and returned to her desk, setting aside the cold drink. She hadn't really been thirsty. Getting the drink had merely been a diversion from her haunting thoughts.
"I'm married."
Bending her head over her desk and holding it between her hands, she repeated the words. "I'm married. I'm married."
And yet she wasn't. The license was signed. The judge had pronounced her wed. It was official. As far as the sovereign state of Texas was concerned, she was married.
"But I'm not," she whispered with frustration. It was a marriage she could easily get out of. She certainly had the grounds to seek an annulment. Anyone who heard her case would sympathize. No one acquainted with the facts would condemn her.
She, Devon Haines alone, was standing in the way of her own freedom from a marriage that amounted to no more than a piece of paper. But it was the right thing to do. She had walked into it with both eyes open.
Whether or not it was a bad decision, she had to live with it.
Lucky Tyler didn't know the conditions of her marital status. He probably wouldn't care. He condemned her for being an unfaithful married woman who had duped him into sharing a night of sin and was now unwilling to pay the price. There was no way she could help him without jeopardizing herself and her husband.
She'd seen the contempt in Lucky's eyes. She could have dispelled it with a few simple sentences of explanation, but she had held her silence.
He hadn't realized the truth.
When he entered her, he had mistaken the reason for the sudden tensing of her body. He had obviously taken it for passion, not pain. He had misinterpreted her sharp, gasping breath. His previous kisses had prepared her to receive him too well. She was so moist, he hadn't noticed the snugness.
By the time he was buried deep inside her and moving within, it had been too late to consider the consequences of what she was doing. Like him, she had become oblivious to everything except the undulating, swelling sensations that had engulfed them.
She was glad the alarming truth had been obscured by eroticism. If he knew that she was a virgin, this cloudy situation could turn turbulent. Then again, she wished with all her heart that he knew.
Memories of their lovemaking caused a bittersweet ache in the center of her soul. She marveled over it, exulted in the pleasure, and lamented its brevity.
Her office door was suddenly flung open. "You asked to see this article when the copy editor was finished."
She raised her head and brushed the tears off her cheeks, reaching for the papers. "Oh yes, thanks," she told the gofer.
"Say, are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"Sure?"
She gave him a watery smile and reassured him before he left. Self-pity was an emotion she refused to surrender to. She had welcomed Lucky's fierce, yet tender loving. Because on that night, above all other nights, she had so desperately needed loving.
But wasn't it poignantly ironic that in the arms of a stranger she had glimpsed what could be—should be—and wasn't?
* * *
"Lucky!"
He groaned and covered his tousled head with his pillow. It was immediately wrestled from his grasp. "Go away," he snarled.
"Will you please wake up and tell this woman to stop calling?"
He rolled to his back and blinked his disgruntled sister into focus. She was standing beside his bed, glaring down at him, her mood as tenuous as the narrow straps of her bikini.
"What woman?" he asked hopefully, reaching for the receiver of the telephone extension on his nightstand.
"Susan Young."
If the telephone had suddenly turned int
o a cobra ready to strike, he couldn't have snatched his hand back any quicker.
Sage, with supreme exasperation, plugged in the cord he had previously disconnected, lifted the receiver, and, without bothering to cover the mouthpiece, said, "She's been making a nuisance of herself by calling every hour on the hour for two whole days. Will you please talk to her so I can sunbathe in peace?"
She thrust the phone at him. He caught it, juggled it against his bare chest, then mouthed "brat" as he raised it to his ear. "Susan," he said in a voice that would melt butter twenty yards away, "how are you? Thanks for calling. I was just thinking about you."
Sage poked her index finger into her open mouth, mimicking gagging herself, then sat down on the edge of the mattress, unabashedly eavesdropping on her brother's conversation.
His temperament was touchy at best, but she wasn't intimidated by his formidable frown. "What's been going on?" he said into the receiver.
He listened for a moment, but cut into Susan's diatribe. "I know I haven't been around and haven't called. I wanted to protect you from this mess."
"If she falls for that, she's not only devious, she's stupid."
Lucky shot his sister a threatening look. "Until this mess blows over, I didn't think we should see each other. I didn't want to involve you… Yeah, I know what you offered to tell them, but—" He listened for another while. "Susan, I can't let you do that. I think too much of you."
"Oh please." Sage groaned. "What's she offering to do? Bed the feds?"
Overriding his sister's sarcastic words, Lucky said, "Give me an hour… Promise. I'll be there in an hour." Thoughtfully he replaced the receiver and continued to stare at it until Sage spoke.
"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."
