by Francis Ray
She unlocked the door and pushed it open. Hearing a vehicle motor behind her she turned and blinked, then blinked again on seeing Lucian’s SUV pull up. Seconds later he hopped out, closed the Navigator’s door, and started toward her with a pleased smile on his face.
“You followed me,” she accused.
“Guilty, but you left me with no choice.”
“What part of ‘no’ didn’t you understand?” she asked. She should have known he wouldn’t give up that easily.
“I understood the ‘no’ coming out of your mouth, but your eyes and body language were saying something entirely different,” he told her, inching closer. “It’s not over between us.”
Her heart thumped. “Yes, it is.”
“Seems I’ll have to prove it.”
Guessing his intention to try to kiss her, she took a hasty step backward. “Touch me and I’ll scream.”
His black eyes blazed with barely banked desire. “I remember your screams of release when I was buried deep inside you. I remember the way your body would clench around me. I remember thinking I was the luckiest man alive.”
Her eyes closed in helpless frustration. She remembered as well. “Please.”
“If you’re asking me to leave you alone, I can’t. I want to know why you suddenly cut me out of your life,” he demanded.
Her eyes opened and she stared into the face of the man she had once thought she loved, would love forever. “Because it was the only way to save myself.” Stepping inside the house, she closed the door.
Stunned, Lucian stood in front of the closed door. What did she mean? The thought that she could have been in some type of trouble or danger sent cold chills down his spine, quickly followed by a ruthless fury that anyone would harm Miranda.
Why hadn’t she come to him? Anger that she hadn’t asked him for help overtook his fury. Hadn’t she known he would have done anything for her? He needed answers. He lifted his hand to ring the doorbell, but let it fall on recalling the sadness in her eyes, the same sadness he’d seen in her face when she was at the bridal shower.
Somehow he knew the two were connected. If she hadn’t told him when they were in college, he didn’t hold out much hope that she’d tell him now. At least for the moment he knew where to find her.
Hands in his pockets, Lucian walked back to his SUV and got in. For a long moment he simply stared at the house. With everything within him he wished he were there with her, holding her, comforting her.
He frowned. In the past he’d wanted to do a lot of things to Miranda, but comforting her had never been one of them. He had offered her mind-blowing sex, but nothing else.
It didn’t sit well that he might have failed her. He rubbed the back of his neck. No woman had ever confused, and, yes, pleased him as much as Miranda had. He didn’t have to think long to recall him telling her in the past he’d thought he was the luckiest man alive when he was buried deep in her satin heat. He hadn’t realized until now that just being with her made him feel like he was on top of the world.
Blowing out a breath, Lucian rubbed his hand over his face. For a man who hadn’t made up his mind about going after Miranda, he was doing a lot of mental gymnastics.
“Miranda, why is it that only you can move me and make me as angry as hell?” Starting the motor, he turned around in the driveway, determined that she hadn’t seen the last of him. This time he’d find the answer to his question: What was bothering her?
Chapter Three
“YOU LOOK LIKE A MAN with a lot on his mind, bro.”
Lucian glanced up from his seat in the backyard to see his brother coming down the stone steps from the terrace, then past the end of the rectangular-shaped swimming pool. They usually got together every Sunday afternoon at Lucian’s place. Although they worked in the same building, they might not see each other for days at a time.
Two years younger, Devin had good looks and an easygoing smile that drew people to him. He was also a mathematical genius, which was probably for the best, since he had to juggle so many women. Lucian frowned as Devin took the chair across from him at the glass-topped table under the spreading branches of a maple tree.
“What?”
“You never seem to have problems with women,” Lucian said, still frowning.
Devin chuckled, then picked up the pitcher and poured himself a glass of iced tea. “So a woman put that look on your face.” He sipped and slouched in the chair. “Since we’re obviously not going to watch the baseball game now, do I know her?”
“Miranda.”
Devin’s eyes narrowed. Slowly he put the glass down. He’d been there ten years ago to hear his brother talk nonstop about a girl he’d met, a first for Lucian. Devin had finally met her and understood why. She had the kind of sultry, sexy beauty that would always turn heads. He’d also been there to see what her leaving had done to his brother. “When did you see her?”
Lucian told him everything, then waited for his brother’s response, but there was none. “Nothing to say?”
Devin placed both arms on the tabletop, his gaze level. “Depends.”
Lucian pushed his sunshades up on top of his head. “On what?”
“If you’ve still got a thing for her.” Devin plucked a few green grapes from the bowl of fruit on the table, but his sharp gaze remained on his brother.
Lucian might have expected as much. Devin was fiercely loyal, but he was also cautious. Lucian couldn’t ever remember Devin doing anything rash in his life. Lucian sighed. “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“It’s not like you to be indecisive.”
“Yeah.” Frustrated, Lucian leaned back against the chair. “Tell me something I don’t know. By the way, she said to tell you hello.”
Devin nodded. “If you’re doing this much thinking, I take it she’s still off the chart and still saying no.”
Lucian shot his brother a look. Another quality about his younger brother: He called them the way he saw them, no matter the consequences. “Right on both counts.” He chugged his tea.
“You gonna let her call the shots this time?”
Lucian’s eyes narrowed. There was no mistaking the challenge in his brother’s voice. A slow grin spread across Lucian’s face. Everything clicked into place. He made his decision: He was going after Miranda and this time she wasn’t getting away from him. “No. I’m not,” he finally answered.
Devin grinned, stood, and picked up his glass. “Now that that’s settled, let’s go in and watch the game. Sandy said she left a spiral ham, potato salad, and a peach cobbler for us.”
Lucian shook his head and followed his brother inside the ultramodern home filled with sleek furniture in tones of black, beige, and slate. “How is it you know more about what my cook and housekeeper prepared than I do?”
“Maybe because I asked,” Devin said easily on his way to the kitchen.
Lucian stopped dead in his tracks. Could it be that easy? He rushed after his brother to find him pulling the spiral ham and potato salad out of the built-in stainless-steel refrigerator. He placed both on the elongated slate-covered island. “You asked?”
Devin pulled two plates from the frosted-glass cabinets, then picked up two trays on the granite counter already prepared with napkins and flatware. “Women want to be needed; they want to feel they have value. I have never understood why men can’t see that simple fact.”
Lucian eased down onto a backless barstool. He couldn’t remember any of his and Miranda’s conversations except when she had started brushing him off. Even now all he had talked about was their hitting the sheets again. He winced.
Devin saw his brother’s expression. “I thought you were smarter.”
“I thought I was too,” Lucian mumbled.
Devin handed Lucian his tray, then pulled two beers from the Sub-Zero wine chiller. “Don’t worry. Nothing a woman likes better than to see a man groveling after he’s made a mistake and worked up the courage to admit it.”
Lucian took his bee
r and studied his brother. He thought he knew the answer, but he asked anyway. “I take it you never had to grovel?”
Devin looked offended. “That will be the day.” He headed for the den and the fifty-one-inch plasma TV.
Lucian didn’t know whether to laugh or give his brother a swift kick for being so arrogant, but considering he might have helped him with Miranda, he decided to let it slide. If there was any justice, there was a woman out there somewhere who would give Devin a run for his money. It didn’t seem fair that Lucian was having all the problems with a woman.
As for himself, Lucian knew he had better start thinking about ways to get Miranda to talk to him. He followed his brother, but he paid little attention to the unfolding baseball game. He’d done a lot of thinking since leaving Miranda last evening. One thing that kept running through his mind was her saying she didn’t want to be the subject of gossip for the next month.
He couldn’t imagine that word of his taking her to the house would reach New York, or interest anyone, for that matter. On the other hand, if she were here in Dallas, it would be of interest. He didn’t like to think about it, but he was considered, along with Devin, to be among the most eligible bachelors in the state. There had even been an article in a national magazine. Her concern could mean only one thing.
“She’s staying here,” he murmured to himself.
“Are you blind?” Devin was on his feet, yelling at the TV and the umpire who’d called the Red Sox player out on third base. “He was safe by a country mile.”
“I have to make a run. Lock up if I’m not back by the time the game is over.” Lucian stood with his untouched plate.
Devin’s dark brow lifted. He grinned. “Going to grovel?”
Lucian didn’t like the sound of that. “Talk.”
“So you say. Get out of here, and tell Miranda I said hi.”
“I will.” The crack of a bat against a fastball had already drawn Devin’s attention back to the game. Lucian was about to put the food back in the refrigerator when a thought struck. Placing the stoneware on the granite counter, he went in search of a picnic basket.
Miranda hadn’t slept well. She’d wakened Sunday morning as restless and uncertain as she had when she’d fallen asleep. She didn’t take long to think of the reason: Lucian.
Arms folded, she stared out at the huge backyard bursting with flowers. She loved flowers. They filled her terrace at her Manhattan apartment during the summers. She had a standing order for a fresh bouquet to be delivered every Monday to her office. They were one of the few extravagances she allowed herself. The lean years growing up had taught her to save as much as possible.
She’d learned that lesson, so why couldn’t she learn to forget Lucian? Shoving her hand through her hair, she picked up her sketch pad from the chair beside the open French door, this time determined to make progress in creating a design for the finale of her fall/winter collection. Her pen remained motionless, just as it had for the past two weeks.
In her New York office her drafting table faced the Hudson River. Looking south, she enjoyed a magnificent view of the Empire State Building and downtown Manhattan, yet it didn’t inspire her as it once had. Fear momentarily seized her before she determinedly shook it away. She just had to concentrate. Everything was in place for the fall/winter runway show. If she didn’t create that last gown no one would know . . . except her.
The ringing of the doorbell spun her around. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Very few people in Dallas knew she was staying in Simone’s house while her friend was on a modeling assignment in Paris. Miranda had thought the change of scene might break her mental block, thought that getting away from the demands of her business and friends might help. So far it hadn’t.
The doorbell sounded again. Tossing the pad back into the chair, she went to the front door and opened it.
“Hi, Miranda.”
Somehow she’d known it would be Lucian. He was as sexy as ever in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled back to reveal his strong wrists. His long-fingered hands were beautifully shaped and could be gentle or demanding on her skin, but always, always arousing. She shivered in remembrance, then frowned on seeing the picnic basket in his hand.
“Lunch—or dinner, as the case may be,” he said with a dimpled smile as he held up the wicker basket. “It occurred to me that you didn’t have a car to go out to eat. I wasn’t sure what the food situation was here,” he explained.
It was a roundabout way of asking about her living arrangements, but it was also sweet and unexpected. “I’m house-sitting for a friend who exists on cottage cheese, fruit, and yogurt.”
“Then this should come in handy.” He held the basket out to her. “Ham, potato salad, and a special treat.”
“Lucian—”
“I don’t have to share.” He gestured with the basket, and this time she took it. “No strings.”
“Thank you,” she said, still trying to find the catch. Lucian had never been the spontaneous type while they were dating.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to whatever it was you were doing.”
Thinking of you and being scared.
He frowned. “Is everything all right?” He glanced behind her as if expecting to see someone.
He’d also never been able to read her so easily. “Fine. I’m just having trouble with a design,” she admitted, tired of holding her fear in.
“That can drive you crazy,” he acknowledged. “I’m having a bit of a problem myself. I want to bring out a new confection with a new look for the box, but nothing sticks.” He tilted his dark head to one side. “Maybe we could toss some ideas around . . . if you have time?”
“I’m not sure.” Spending time with Lucian wasn’t a good idea.
“Well, think about it. I put my card inside. Enjoy.” Lucian took a couple of steps, then turned. “Almost forgot—Devin said to tell you hi.”
He was halfway back to his SUV before she realized he was really leaving. “You don’t want to stay?”
Stopping, he turned. Even from a distance of fifteen feet she felt the heat of his gaze. “More than anything, but it’s what you want that’s more important.” He opened the door to the SUV.
She was no longer sure what she wanted. She wasn’t supposed to feel this strange yearning or this aching loneliness that had begun when she saw his picture in a magazine over a month ago. She’d been shocked that he had remained single. “Thank you.”
She looked as confused as he’d once felt. “You’re welcome. Take care.”
Miranda watched him drive away, then went to the kitchen and began removing the items from the basket. The special treat was thick slices of fudge bursting with almonds. There was a note in Lucian’s neat handwriting. One temptation deserves another. Lucian.
“Oh, Lucian.” Her eyes closed, her throat clogged. “Don’t do this to me. I’m not strong enough to resist or get over you again.”
By 8:15 Monday morning Lucian was in the massive commercial kitchen of A Chocolate Affair. Once he’d stopped fighting the irrefutable truth that he’d never gotten over Miranda, he’d decided to go all out to get her back. This time she wasn’t walking away from him.
Heads and questions followed him, his executive secretary, the production manager, and the pastry chef. Everyone knew that Lucian detested wearing the disposable paper cap required of everybody in that area and that he came only for his routine monthly inspection, as he did for every part of the plant operations.
Since he had been there just the week before, the employees were understandably concerned. The intense look on his usually smiling face wasn’t comforting as he went from one handmade chocolate confection to the next. Suddenly Lucian stopped and smiled.
“A miniature of that goes out today,” he said. “I want it wrapped in chocolate-colored foil and tied with a huge white organza-and-satin ribbon.”
There was a collective sigh of relief from the production manager, the pastry chef, the kitchen staff, and the woman putting
the final touches on a chocolate espresso cake—drizzling chocolate syrup over the whole pecans an inch high.
“Certainly, Mr. Faulkner,” chorused the production manager and the pastry chef.
LaWanna Johnson, Lucian’s longtime executive secretary, studied the pleased smile on her boss’s handsome face over the gold rims of her glasses, then noted the requirements. He was a man on a mission, and if her guess was right, he was about to launch an all-out campaign to dazzle some lucky woman.
“Now, let’s see about tomorrow and the rest of the week,” Lucian said, setting off again.
The two men traded confused glances, then quickly hurried after Lucian. LaWanna simply smiled. It was always so satisfying when she was right.
Miranda held the beautifully wrapped box with hands that refused to stop trembling. Her legs weren’t much better. She’d known it was from Lucian even before the messenger handed her the heavy vellum envelope embossed with a black swan and Lucian’s name and title. She didn’t stop until she was outside at the small wrought-iron table where she liked to sit and think.
Placing the box on the table, she moved aside the terra-cotta garden bowl overflowing with pink geraniums and English ivy, then moved the box to the center. Why her heart was beating so fast she didn’t know.
Yes, she did. She’d always been a sucker for gifts. They’d been few and far between after her parents divorced. Picking up the envelope, she removed the notecard.
Studies have shown that a deep love of chocolate may lead to a happier life. I agree, but there is one other thing that I require; the pleasure of your company for dinner.
Lucian
Miranda sighed. He’d put a telephone number at the bottom. If only it were possible to throw caution to the wind and to accept. Laying the note aside, she took a deep breath and slowly lifted the top of the box, glad she didn’t have to dismantle the lush white bow that had at least two yards of ribbon.
