He located a couple of stemmed glasses, then figured out how the spigot worked and filled them up.
He sniffed the bouquet, swirled it to check the legs and finally took an experimental sip of the deep burgundy liquid identified on the box as “Red Wine.” It was a bit sharp, but not horribly objectionable. Probably not a lot of time for the tannins to mellow prior to the boxing process.
He gave a shrug as he lifted both glasses and headed back to the deck. When in Rome.
He set the wineglasses down on Devin’s round table. It had a glass top and was surrounded by four thickly padded chairs.
“Can you grab the condiments?” she asked without turning from the grill.
“Sure.”
“I’m toasting the buns,” she called from behind him. “They were frozen. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind,” he assured her. “Anything else you need from the kitchen?”
“Not that I can think of.”
Lucas returned to the small kitchen and located mustard, ketchup and relish in the refrigerator.
He balanced them in his hands and ambled back to the deck once more, finding Devin setting toasted buns and burger patties on plastic plates on the round table.
“We’ll need a knife,” she told him.
He shot her a look of impatience. Had he not just asked if there was anything else?
“What?” she challenged.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“How did you expect to spread it on your bun? Oh, and grab the mayo, will you?”
He gave his head a shake.
“What’s the matter, Lucas. You miss the serving staff?”
He kind of did. But he wasn’t about to answer that. So instead, he retrieved a couple of knives and a jar of mayonnaise.
When he got back, Devin was folding her body into one of the padded chairs.
The wind had died down, leaving the air crystal clear above the water, accenting the view across the darkened lake.
“Thanks,” she told him briskly, snagging one of the knives and starting to prepare her bun.
Lucas checked out the array of condiments and decided…what the heck? He loaded up his bun, adding a slice of cheese to boot.
The burger patty itself looked a little crisp on the outside, blackened in spots and shriveled rather small in comparison to the bun.
Devin took a big bite. “Mmm,” she murmured in appreciation. “I’m starving.”
“Busy day?” he asked. He’d followed Steve’s LoJack beacon out here the minute he’d realized where the man was going. He had no intention of giving him time alone with Devin to indoctrinate her into the Steve Foster view of Pacific Robotics.
“Long time since lunch,” she responded.
Lucas took a bite of his own burger. No meat in that section, but all in all, not bad.
“You sent Steve packing,” she observed, biting down on a quarter-cut pickle.
Lucas swallowed, deciding to put his cards on the table. “Absolutely. He’s trying to co-opt you to his side.”
“And you?” she asked. “Are you trying to get me on your side?”
“Mine’s the side of truth and justice,” he responded.
Co-opting Devin was not his preferred plan. He needed a decisive win when it came to Amelia. He couldn’t take the chance that Devin might support him now, and then later change her mind because someone had convinced her of the merits of a particular lame-assed project.
“Not from where I’m sitting,” she told him.
“Yeah?” He was curious to hear how she’d couch his side versus Steve’s.
“So far, of the two of you, Steve looks like the good guy.”
Lucas set down his burger. “And you wonder why I have to fight you?”
The woman had absolutely no frame of reference. She was a babe in the woods, vulnerable to whomever might sell her a bill of goods.
“We can compromise,” she offered.
“You want me to compromise? You’re so confused, you think Steve is the good guy.” Lucas took a swallow of the wine. It really was pretty bad.
“If I made an agreement with you up front, I’d stick to it.”
He didn’t believe that. Not for one moment. “Until some point in the future when you disagreed with me.”
Devin took another contemplative bite of her pickle. “I suppose that’s true. I mean if you were really wrong about something.”
She was everything he feared—erratic, unreliable and illogical.
Lucas pushed back his chair. “You are impossible.”
“No. It’s the situation that’s impossible.”
Lucas hated to admit it, but he could see her point. “I don’t have an answer that’s going to satisfy you,” he admitted out loud. “All I know for sure is that I can trust me.”
She gave a small, rueful smile. “And I can trust me.”
They both stared at each other for a long moment of silence.
“Stalemate,” he stated fatalistically.
“New topic,” she told him, lifting her glass. “Nice rescue on the catamaran. Lexi asked me to thank you again.”
“I haven’t been sailing in a while,” he answered, itching to continue the debate until she capitulated, but knowing the time wasn’t right. “That part was fun.”
“Sorry about the suit,” Devin offered.
“Funny how I keep losing my clothes around you.”
She glanced away, and he realized his double entendre had embarrassed her. Hell, he hadn’t meant it that way. Not that he hadn’t thought about it. Truth was, he had.
Damn it. Not good.
He took another sip of the wine. The taste seemed to be growing on him.
“Do you like sailing?” he asked, trying to bring the conversation onto some neutral ground.
She picked up the conversation thread, obviously relieved to move on. “Yes, I do. And Amelia seems to love it. She’s a water baby.”
“You’ll have to come out on the Sound someday.”
“You have a sailboat?”
“A little bigger than the catamaran,” he said. “We’d probably have to bring a crew.”
“A crew?”
“Three or four guys.”
“Just how big is this sailboat?”
“Forty-six feet.”
She chuckled. “Yeah, I’d say it’s a little bigger than the catamaran.”
“We could do dinner,” he offered, knowing it sounded like a date, but not particularly caring. He found himself liking the idea of an evening sailing with Devin. And Steve certainly wouldn’t be able to get his hands on her if they were on the water.
“With a boat that size, we could sail all the way to Vancouver.”
“Sure,” he said, shrugging. They could go wherever she liked.
She sat back in her chair, twirling her wineglass between her fingers. “It’s some life you’re living, Lucas Demarco.”
Lucas glanced around the deck, realizing the homey atmosphere was growing on him. “It’s a nice life you’re living here, too.”
“Not at the moment,” she returned tartly.
He sighed. “You want to fight with me or accept my compliment on your house?”
“My house can’t possibly impress you.”
Lucas leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table. “You, Devin Hartley, are an extraordinarily difficult person with whom to carry on a pleasant conversation.”
She set down her glass and leaned forward to match his posture. “And you, Lucas Demarco, are extraordinarily bad at hiding your condescension.”
“I like your house,” he protested. “Well, not the bathroom.” He glanced up. “And these patio lanterns? Well, let’s just say it’s a good thing you’re—”
He stopped himself.
Had he been about to tell her she was beautiful? What the hell was going on in his mind? “You have a great view.” He gave a mock toast to the moon and the darkened lake.
She tipped her head back
to look. “What’s wrong with the lanterns?”
He checked out the faded plastic blobs, some of them warped, and the sagging wire where they hung. “They look like a fire hazard,” he pointed out.
“My mother bought those lanterns.”
Lucas didn’t now how to respond to that.
Devin’s voice rose. “My mother loved those lanterns.”
“I’m uh…sorry?”
“Sorry that you insulted my home, or sorry that my mother has bad taste?”
There was something in her incredulous tone that didn’t quite ring true, and Lucas realized she was fighting not to laugh.
“You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”
She grinned and shrugged her shoulders. “They came with the house,” she admitted. “But I like them. They make it, I don’t know, festive out here. It feels like we’re having a party every night.”
“Is that how you see life?” Lucas was genuinely curious. “One big party.”
“This, from the playboy of the Pacific Northwest?”
“Playboy?” He raised his brows.
“I’ve seen the pictures. I’ve read the articles. Your party schedule is a lot fuller than mine.” She waggled her finger at him. “You have had a very long list of girlfriends.”
“Most of them were just dates.”
“You mean one-night stands?”
“Like I’m going to tell you about my sex life.”
She lowered her voice to a whisper, glancing dramatically from side to side. “Too embarrassing?”
He leaned closer. “Too boring.”
A burst of laughter jumped out of her, and she rocked back in her chair. He noticed her wineglass was empty. So was his.
“That was not what I was expecting you to say,” she admitted.
“More wine?” he asked, reaching for her glass.
She contemplated the question for a second. “Sure.”
He rose to head back to the kitchen.
“Is this your way out of an embarrassing conversation?” she called after him.
He set the glasses down on her counter and refilled them, not about to shout back to her and wake Amelia.
But when he stepped back on the patio, she was clearly waiting to see how he’d respond.
“What’s embarrassing about dating beautiful women?” He set both glasses down on the table.
“I was talking about your boring sex life.”
“You going to tell me about yours?” he challenged.
“Nothing to tell.”
“And that’s not boring?” Truth was, he was more than intrigued by her answer. Nothing to tell? What did she mean by that?
“I’m taking care of a baby,” she told him. “Not a lot of time left over for dating.”
“And before that?” Amelia had only been Devin’s responsibility for three months.
“Before that, my sister was going through a rough time. Your brother’s fault, as you well know. The last thing she needed was to see me dressing up all bright and glittery, and prancing out the door to dance the night away with some random guy.”
“All bright and glittery?” He kept it light, but he was intrigued by her decision to skip dating for months on end because of her sister. It had definitely not occurred to Lucas to give up dating because Konrad’s marriage was in trouble.
“Jewelry,” she explained. “Makeup, a dress, and I have this cute little pair of high-heeled, rhinestone sandals.” She lifted one of her bare feet, twisting it back and forth in the lantern light. “Perfect for dancing.”
“You dress up?” So far, Lucas hadn’t seen her in anything but casual cotton. Well, that and the bikini. Devin in that pale blue bikini was seared indelibly into his brain.
“I dress up damn good,” she told him, wrinkling her nose and sipping her wine.
“Then we should get you a date.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sure. Because that’s exactly what’s missing in my life right now.”
“You wouldn’t like to go out for dinner, a little dancing, maybe a play or a concert?”
“And leave Amelia?”
“We’re getting a nanny, remember?”
Devin waved her glass for emphasis. “We are not hiring some Eastern European prison matron to run roughshod over poor little Amelia.”
Lucas shook his head. He pushed the empty chair opposite Devin out to the side and propped his bare feet, lounging back. “You have a gift for hyperbole.”
“I have veto power over the nanny.”
“So do I.”
“This ought to be interesting.” She selected another quarter-slice of pickle and took a bite.
Lucas cringed at the taste combination of wine and pickles. Then again, the wine was nearly vinegar anyway. It was hard to believe he was on his second glass.
Devin propped one heel up on her chair, wrapping an arm around her upraised knee. “Dueling nannies,” she joked.
“I’ve been invited to a charity ball Saturday night.”
“Bully for you. Another gorgeous supermodel on your arm? You’d better give generously to make for your decadent behavior.”
“It’s for the children’s hospital.”
She crunched down on another bite of the pickle. “Then give more than generously.”
“It’s at the Saturna Club. A very hot ticket.”
“Quit bragging.”
“I’m not bragging.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m inviting you.”
She drew back, swallowing, her expression registering stupefaction. “What?”
It was an excellent question. What the heck was he doing? Was he asking Devin on a date? Was he crazy? Was he so beguiled by the thought of seeing her dance in high-heeled, rhinestone sandals that he’d lost his mind?
“A girl needs to get out once in a while,” he explained, carefully keeping his face impassive.
It was official. He’d lost his mind.
“I’m not going to date you.”
“It’s not a date. It’s a charity ball. We’ll be there to give away my money.”
“Forget it.” She rose from her chair, picking up her plate and her near empty glass.
He jumped up, putting a hand on her arm to stop her. Surely inviting her to a charity ball couldn’t have made her that angry. “What’s wrong?”
All the humor was gone from her sapphire eyes. “You’re up to something,” she accused.
“I’m not.” He shook his head in denial, but that only made her eyes narrow in suspicion.
“There’s not a single reason for you to invite me out.”
“Then tell me what I’m up to.” He knew he should take his hand off her arm now, but he really didn’t want to. “What could I possibly gain by inviting you to a dance?”
She hesitated, and he could see her mind working over that one.
“Nothing.” He answered his own question.
“Then why do it?”
Fair point. “Impulse,” he answered honestly. “I was moved by your commitment to celibacy for the benefit of your sister. I found it sweet and self-sacrificing.” Why didn’t he shut up?
“You’re not ending my celibacy, Lucas. No way, no how.”
Lucas felt his jaw drop open. He’d had no intention… He hadn’t even thought about… Okay, he’d thought about it, but that was only last night after their kiss, it had nothing to do with his invitation to the dance. Nothing.
“Your celibacy is safe with me,” he told her, forcing himself to keep eyes front. If he gave in to temptation and let his gaze dip, she’d probably deck him. And she’d be justified.
She seemed to relax a bit. “Then you might want to stop salivating.”
“Dream on.”
She tilted her head. “You can’t kiss me.”
“I’m not going to kiss you.” Did she mean right now, or at the dance?
“It’s not a date,” she warned.
“It’s not a date,” he agreed.
He could
see her hesitating. “How many months since your last one?” he dared to ask.
Her blue eyes flared. “Don’t rub it in.”
“I’m trying to convince you to get out and have some fun.” He forced himself to remove his hand from her arm and took a step back, giving her some space. “You’re the one who thinks life should be a perpetual party.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Trust me, the Saturna Club will be way better than faded patio lanterns, wine in a box and burnt hamburger.”
“The burgers weren’t burnt.”
He shot her a skeptical look.
She stuck her nose in the air. “They were well done, that’s all.”
He couldn’t help but grin.
And she socked him in the arm. “Fine. I’ll come to your stupid ball.”
He chuckled. “Aren’t you just the little charm school graduate?”
She stared to walk away. “I’m doing the dishes now.”
He gathered up a load and followed her. “I’ll do the dishes for you.”
She called back over her shoulder, “Do you even know how?”
He did. Sort of. It had been a while. Probably quite a few years, now that he thought about it.
“You go sit down,” he told her.
She looked tired. And he’d been reminded of how tough the last few months must have been for her. He didn’t exactly feel guilty about her troubles, but he was willing to do the dishes for her.
To his surprise, she was finished fighting. She plopped herself down on the couch, pulled a pattered blanket over her bare legs and let him tackle the cleanup himself.
By the time he was finished, she’d fallen asleep right there on the worn striped sofa. It was nearly ten o’clock, and it was a long drive back for the three of them. They needed to get going.
He whispered her name, but she didn’t stir.
He reached out to shake her, but he didn’t have the heart.
Instead, he bundled her up with the blanket and carried her into her bedroom. Her feet were bare, and he caught himself gazing at her legs, the curve of her hip and her rounded breasts beneath the white tank top before he could bring himself to pull the quilt over her.
He could have easily left her there and headed home. He was certain she’d bring Amelia back to his place in the morning. But as he headed back down the hall, he found a small guest room, with a hard narrow bed, a white painted dresser and the ugliest gauzy curtains he’d ever seen. The blankets were scratchy, and the sheets were worn, but for some reason he couldn’t think of anywhere else he wanted to be.
Billionaire Baby Dilemma Page 7
