Handsome Devil

by Amii Lorin

  In a bid to deny the flood of remembrance, Selena tore off the oversize T-shirt she used as a nightgown. Feeling frantic, she pulled on a smaller T-shirt, shorts and her sandals. Scooping her handbag from the floor, she ran from the room, and then the house. She heard, but ignored, the shattering, shrill sound of her ringing phone.

  Fortunately, the roads were deserted. Clutching the wheel of her sleek sports car, Selena tore through the early-morning darkness as if she were being pursued by the very devil himself—which, in a sense, she was.

  But even driving at a speed exceeding the legal limit, Selena could not outrun her churning thoughts. Memories, sharp and clear, unraveled inside her mind, mingling with the taunting image of a man too masculinely handsome for anyone’s good—especially hers.

  Selena didn’t want to remember, dreaded the very idea of those buried scenes. They infuriated and sickened her, but they were preferable to the new and frightening sensations the vision of Luke Branson created inside of her.

  * * * *

  Selena was fourteen, naive and too trusting, when she received her first lesson on the perfidy of men. The man was in his late thirties and had been a friend and neighbor of her family for over ten years. He and Selena’s father played golf together nearly every weekend. His wife and Selena’s mother were close companions. Being childless, the couple had been granted the honorary title of “aunt” and “uncle” to Selena and her sister and two brothers.

  And so, Selena was unwary and unaware of danger on the hot summer afternoon when her friendly neighbor just happened to drop in when she was alone in the house. Within minutes of his arrival, her honorary uncle was more than friendly—he seemed to be all hands, and every one of them was touching Selena in a shocking and intimate manner.

  Momentarily stunned by his advance, Selena had endured his rough caresses. Then panic exploded inside her, clearing her mind when he forced her down onto the kitchen floor. Weeping, mindless with fear, she fought him like a wild thing in an effort to free herself. Her struggles only served to inflame him, increasing his determination. Muttering words of assurance that all he wanted was to teach her about what could be shared by a man and woman, the man clamped his mouth over hers. Holding her still with one hand, he then began tearing at her clothing with the other.

  Selena’s stomach churned when she felt his hand clutch at her bared breast. She was teetering on the edge of panic-induced unconsciousness when she was saved by the sound of her young brother’s tearful voice.

  “Mom! Where are you? I’m hurt!”

  Her brother had been injured playing sandlot ball. His broken finger saved Selena’s virginity.

  Even now, fourteen years later, she felt a bewildering amazement at the memory of the swiftness of her neighbor’s retreat. Within the few minutes required for her brother to search her out in the kitchen, her uncle had set her on her feet, straightened her clothing and dashed for the back door. Before escaping, he had snarled a warning against telling anyone about what had happened between them. She never did, not even after he and his wife moved away from the neighborhood a few months later.

  * * * *

  Selena shuddered as the memory receded, then groaned in protest as another formed to take its place.

  * * * *

  It was July, she was eighteen and excited about being the maid of honor at her older sister’s wedding. Since Selena had been asked to stay overtime in the store where she was working for the summer, her future brother-in law had offered to pick her up and get her to the church for the wedding rehearsal.

  Selena had liked and trusted her sister’s future husband. He had quickly robbed her of both misplaced feelings.

  Innocently chattering away about the forthcoming ceremony, she had not questioned the deserted route he had taken, until he pulled the car off the narrow road and parked beneath the low, concealing branches of a willow tree. Feeling her throat close from a flaring sense of unease, Selena had to force herself to look at him.

  “Why have you stopped?” Selena heard the fear in her voice, and knew he heard it, too.

  “Because you are too beautiful to resist,” he answered, reaching for her.

  It was a nightmare for Selena, a replay of the ugliness she had endured at the hands of her neighbor. But this time she was saved by a passing farmer, who stopped his battered pickup truck thinking they were having mechanical difficulties. And, like her neighbor before him, her sister’s groom warned her about saying anything to anyone, smugly claiming she wouldn’t be believed if she did, since her sister was obviously head-over-heels in love with him. Suspecting the truth of his claim, Selena had remained silent.

  The marriage had lasted less than a year. Selena’s sister divorced her husband for his numerous infidelities.

  * * * *

  Driving through the pitch-black night, Selena heaved a sigh of regret for her sister’s unhappiness, then released the bitter memory, making room for yet another.

  * * * *

  It was late August and Selena had recently returned to campus for her senior year of college. Though still a virgin, she was no longer innocent or trustful, which made the encounter with her roommate’s boyfriend all the more humiliating.

  He was the quarterback of the football team. He was tall, lean and boyishly handsome. Selena’s friend was madly in love with him. Having learned her lesson the hard way about what she believed was the true nature of men, Selena was cynical but tolerant. In that state of mind, she had reluctantly agreed to meet with him when he’d requested her assistance in choosing a special gift for her friend.

  It was only after the debacle that Selena realized that she should have followed her cynical bent and bagged the tendency toward tolerance.

  The athletic hero made advances, revealing a penchant for physical domination.

  “You know you want it,” he had the unmitigated gall to say while attempting to force her thighs apart. “I’m good,” he had boasted. “Just relax and I’ll show you how much fun we can have.”

  Older and eons wiser, Selena did relax—-just long enough to position her right leg between his thighs. A moment later, he doubled over, bellowing in pain. Selena scrambled to her feet and walked away from the whimpering “hero,” satisfied that it would be a while before he offered to show another unwary woman how much fun he could bestow upon her.

  * * * *

  A traffic light, flickering from green to amber to red, caught Selena’s attention. She slammed on the brake, bringing the car to a rocking halt at the intersection.

  Intersection!

  Selena blinked. Where in the world of Texas was she? Collecting her scattered wits, she glanced around. Her startled gaze came to rest on a highway

  Alpine! Selena frowned. She had driven close to a hundred miles and didn’t remember a minute of it! Wondering what time it was, she glanced to the east The first blush of pink stained the horizon.

  The traffic light flicked again, from red to green. Still frowning, Selena set the car in motion and eased at a sedate speed through the intersection. Staying within the posted twenty-five-mile limit, she circled the block, intending to return home. She was approaching the intersection again when weariness struck her a staggering blow. Shoulders slumping, she headed the car in the direction of a familiar motel.

  The night clerk was an acquaintance of Selena’s. He gave her a room without hesitation or question. Clutching the room key, she mumbled her thanks, then made a beeline for the ground-floor room.

  The room was clean and cool. Selena barely noticed. Not bothering to undress, she dropped onto the bed. Her last thoughts before sleep claimed her were of the tall, handsome man her body craved.

  Her defenses undermined, Selena sighed and accepted the desire she was feeling for what it was. She wanted Luke Branson, wanted his caress, his mouth, his body.

  Damn the devil.

  The woman was driving him crazy.

  The thought inciting action, Luke slammed the telephone receiver onto the cradle. Where i
n hell was she? He had rung her number at least ten times since somewhere around three-thirty that morning, each time hoping to hear the maddening sound of Selena’s voice. It was now almost seven o’clock, and the only sound he’d heard was the ringing at the other end of the line.

  Where was she? Who was she with?

  Frustrated, angry and generally at his wits’ end, Luke resumed his night-into-morning pacing.

  Who was she with?

  Luke came to an abrupt halt, his eyes narrowing as he examined the thought. The possibilities were endless. In addition to the regulars in and around the area, there was a constant turnover of male tourists in varying ages, shapes and sizes, unattached and unspoken for.

  Luke scowled as he suddenly recalled one particular tourist. The young, attractive man had been with the tour group the day before, though assigned to one of the other rafts. In retrospect, Luke remembered that the young man hadn’t seemed too happy about his raft placement.

  Had the man approached Selena either before or after the party last night? Luke mused. Further, had Selena gone off with him after she left the party? Could that have been her reason for slipping away so early?

  More than half convinced his deductions were correct, Luke tormented himself by carrying them to what he considered to be their natural conclusion.

  If Selena had met with the young tourist after leaving the party, had she then spent the night with him?

  Images flashed into Luke’s mind, explicit and erotic images of Selena, naked and vulnerable, in another man’s bed. His muscles clenched around a queasy sensation invading his stomach as the images expanded against his will, filling him with green sickness and red rage.

  “No!” Luke was unaware of crying the denial aloud, but he was painfully aware of the punishment he inflicted on his knuckles by ramming his fist into the adobe wall. “Dammit! Dammit!” he swore in a soft, lethal voice. “She is mine.”

  The sound of his own voice, the content of his muttered words, brought him to stillness. His? Luke frowned. The possessiveness in the concept startled him.

  He wanted to possess Selena, yes, but...his, as in exclusively?

  The answer came swift and positive from deep within his consciousness. Yes...his, as in exclusively, selectively, completely.... If any man was going to have Selena naked and vulnerable in his bed, that man had damned well better be Luke Branson.

  Glaring at the phone as he passed it, Luke strode into his bedroom. Selena would have to come home sometime, and when she did... Cursing aloud, he flung himself onto the bed. He was dead to the world within seconds.

  A burst of feminine laughter right outside her window startled Selena from a restless sleep. Confused, disoriented and wondering where she was, she glanced sleepily around the room. Memory returned as she absorbed her surroundings.

  Pushing herself up on one elbow, she peered at the digital clock in the TV. It said 9:26. Since the edge of the drapes were rimmed with sunlight, Selena had to assume it was 9:26 in the morning, which meant that she had slept a grand total of four hours.

  Selena didn’t feel rested—in fact, she felt lousy.

  Delving into the unsavory encounters of her past had left a bad taste in her mouth. Deciding she needed about nine more hours of sleep, she eased back onto the bed. She was drifting off when another memory flashed into her head.

  Brenda! She had told Brenda she would help her pack this morning! Scrambling up, she sat on the edge of the bed, lifted the phone receiver and punched in her home number. Brenda answered on the third ring.

  “Selena!” Brenda exclaimed. “I’ve been worrying myself sick ever since I got here. Where are you?”

  “In...Alpine,” Selena answered reluctantly.

  “Alpine! What are you doing in Alpine?” Brenda asked in a tone of amazement, then added, “Or is that an indiscreet question?”

  “No,” Selena said, smiling wryly. “I didn’t have a secret rendezvous or anything like that. I couldn’t sleep and decided to take a drive,” she explained. “When I got to Alpine, I felt too tired to drive back, so I checked into a motel.”

  “Oh.”

  Brenda’s blank response brought a smile to Selena’s lips. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you arrived at the house,” she apologized.

  “Not to worry,” Brenda said. “I’ve already collected all my assorted stuff and junk. Dave will be here to pick me up in a while.”

  “Well, in that case—” Selena paused, then thinking fast, continued “—I think I’ll drive into San Antonio and do some shopping. A friend of mine is getting married, you know, and I want to buy a special dress for the occasion.”

  Brenda laughed, “Nothing too fancy,” she cautioned. “Dave and I both prefer a simple affair.”

  “Okay, you’re the bride.” Selena shrugged. “Oh, and by the way, I’ll probably be staying at the motel on the river, in case you or Will should want to reach me.”

  “Good luck,” Brenda drawled. “Or had you forgotten this is the week of Fiesta?”

  Selena groaned aloud. She had forgotten. “Oh, well, I’ll just have to take my chances. If you don’t hear from me, that’s where I’ll be. If I can’t get a room, I’ll call you after I get there and let you know where I’m staying.”

  A simple affair. The phrase ran through Selena’s mind repeatedly as she tooled along Route 10 a few hours later. There wasn’t a simple thing about the idea, in her opinion. Marriage to any man had to be the most difficult thing imaginable.

  But then, marriage and an affair were two altogether different things, weren’t they? She mused, fighting a persistent image of a tall, handsome devil of a man.

  They were completely different things, Selena assured herself. Marriage demanded total commitment, while all that was required in an affair was the commitment of one’s body. And, after ruthlessly examining her feelings throughout every mile traversed between Alpine and San Antonio, she was almost, but not quite, prepared to commit her body to an affair.

  Selena still wanted Luke Branson. It was as simple—and scary—as that. But wanting him and bringing herself to the point of indulging were also two entirely different things. She was scared and running, and she knew it. Which was the reason she had decided to give herself some breathing space by going to San Antonio.

  Chapter Five

  “San Antonio?” Luke frowned. “What’s she doing in San Antonio?”

  “The Mexican hat dance.” Brenda shot back in a breezy, mind-your-own-business tone. “Who wants to know, anyway?”

  Luke didn’t know Brenda very well, but he knew her well enough to realize that flippant though she might be, she wouldn’t tell him anything unless he identified himself. “It’s Luke Branson, Brenda,” he said, struggling to control his tone. After only three hours of sleep, Luke was not the most patient of men.

  “Oh. Hi, Luke, what’s up?” Brenda’s voice was still breezy, but the suspicious edge was gone. Before he could respond, she asked, “Is Will looking for Selena?”

  “No. At least, not as far as I know,” he added truthfully. “I’m not in the tour office, I’m at home.” Catching sight of his hand, Luke scowled and loosened the stranglehold his fingers had on the telephone cord. “I...er, just called to ask Selena something,” he explained, improvising, since he wasn’t about to tell Brenda that the “something” had to do with his bed—and the lady in question.

  “Well, as I said, she’s not here,” Brenda said. “And I won’t be, either, in a few minutes. Sorry.”

  Not as sorry as I am. Luke didn’t voice the disgruntled thought. Instead, afraid she was about to hang up, he said, “When did she leave? I mean, it’s not noon yet, and she was at the party last night.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Brenda laughed. “She must have taken off soon after she left the parry. She told me she spent the night in a motel in Alpine.”

  With who? Luke bit back the question and a searing expletive. His narrow gaze scored his rumpled bed. Dammit! From all indications, it seemed that while he
’d been sweating out the long hours of the night, Selena had probably been laughing and partying in a motel room some distance away. “And now she’s in San Antonio?” Luke asked in a pleasant tone that he pushed through his gritted teeth.

  “I doubt she’s there yet!” Brenda laughed. “I know Selena drives fast, but she doesn’t drive that fast! I expect she’ll get there around dinnertime.”

  Unless she and whoever she’s with stop along the way. Luke again kept the thought inside his head, and blandly said, “I see. Okay. Thanks, Brenda.”

  “You bet,” she replied. He was about to hang up when he heard her call, “Oh, Luke!”

  “Yeah?”

  “Tell Will that if he wants to reach Selena, she’ll probably be at the motel on the river.”

  “Probably?” he asked.

  “Yes, probably,” Brenda answered. “She said she was going to give the place a try, even though it is Fiesta Week.”

  Luke frowned. “Fiesta Week?”

  “Sure, you know,” she said. “Fiesta San Antonio? It’s a yearly event in Texas. It draws thousands of tourists from all over the country.”

  Although Luke did recall reading something in the paper about the Fiesta, he had forgotten the dates. “Big time, huh?”

  “Party time,” Brenda said on a laugh. “There’s lots of entertainment and great food. You ought to check it out while you’re here in Texas.”

  Luke’s smile was grim. “I just might do that,” he said, knowing there was no “might” about it. “Thanks again, Brenda, I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Right. Bye now,”

  After depressing the disconnect button, Luke punched the number for the tour office, Will answered on the first ring.

  “It’s me, Will,” Luke said. “I won’t be able to help out in the office for a few days. I have some personal business I have to take care of.”

  “What are you trying to do, Branson, bring me out of retirement?” Will asked in a mock growl.

  Luke’s set expression was softened by a smile. Will was the least retired retiree Luke had ever run across. “A little work will do you good,” he retorted. “You don’t want to get too lazy and comfortable, do you?”