“Look, I’m sorry. I had no right to do that.”
But she was already hitting speed dial on her cell. “I’d like a cab right away. Hermann Park near the Museum of Fine Arts.” She listened for a moment. “Five minutes will be fine.” She punched it off.
“Lacey, I said I’m sorry.”
She stared straight ahead. “It doesn’t matter.”
Looking at her utterly blank expression, he could almost believe that was true.
“Call the cab off. I’ll drive you home. I won’t touch you.”
He saw her slender shoulders sag before she squared them again. “I don’t need the basket anymore. Enjoy your lunch, Dev. I hope it was everything you wanted.”
The nerves in her eyes stopped him cold.
Good God. If he had set out to screw everything up, he couldn’t have done any better.
He had to think what to do, had to readjust his plan. Had to—
“There’s a cab. Goodbye, Dev.” With the grace that was her trademark, she walked away across the grass without ever looking back.
Dev watched her go, feeling edgy and ragged with the debris of desire. Knowing he was the lowest form of scum. He’d started out to prove that he’d become civilized over the years. He thought he had. Would have sworn it.
Apparently not. Something about Lacey still spoke to him at a level far deeper than any acquired polish.
Score two points for the bad boy who’d just revealed his true colors.
Back to square one.
Chapter Five
Lacey stepped inside her front door and slipped off her shoes, padding across the entry in stocking feet as she flipped through her mail. It was Friday afternoon, and she’d been wrangling with bureaucrats all day over Christina. She was hardly in the mood to attend her parents’ cocktail party tonight, but not going was out of the question.
She dropped the entire stack of mail on the entry table, not caring what was in it. Maybe if she’d had a decent night’s sleep all week, things would be different.
But she hadn’t. Every time she closed her eyes, Dev was there, lying in wait. She could stay busy during her waking hours, busy enough to shove him away, to forget the fiasco of that picnic.
Of that kiss.
But at night…alone in the darkness, he leapt every barrier. Night had been their time. Under cover of darkness, Dev had shown her a world light-years away from her own. He’d shown her passion…and freedom…and made her question, tempted her to follow him away from the safe life she’d known.
Then he’d abandoned her. Never bothered to see if she was all right after the night she’d flown high in his arms—
And then crashed to earth.
So why, the one time she was back in those strong arms, had she yielded, even for one second? Why had he felt so treacherously right?
Lacey eyed the deep cushions of her sofa. She glanced in the mirror and didn’t like what she saw. Maybe a quick nap would help smooth out the rough edges. Her mother had eyes like heat-seeking missiles. Lacey needed to be sharp and on her toes.
She crossed the room and sank into the sofa’s embrace. It’s daylight, Dev. You have to leave me alone.
In seconds, she slid under, tired to the bone.
It seemed like only seconds later when she struggled to the surface, frowning as she tried to shake the cobwebs and figure out what had pulled her back.
The door. Someone was knocking.
Lacey closed her eyes. Go away.
But whoever it was didn’t give up. Staggering slightly, she made it from the sofa to the door, glancing through the glass and going stiff with shock.
No.
Lacey shook her head and squeezed her eyes. She was still dreaming, surely.
But she opened them again, and there he was.
Lacey drew a deep breath and pressed one hand to her stomach as she struggled for the mask she needed. She opened the door.
“Hello, Dev.” She tried to put in her tone all the detachment she wanted to feel.
From behind his back, he pulled out her basket, his tone light but his green eyes giving more away. “I brought back your basket.”
“I told you I didn’t need it.” Go away. Please. He was devastating in a black T-shirt and black slacks. The T-shirt clung to a very well-developed chest she could still feel against her body.
“I know.” With his free hand, he brushed at the errant lock that had always plagued him, his fingers raking through his raven hair. “I probably should have just shipped it back to you, but—” Emerald eyes pinned hers. “I owe you an apology. I needed to deliver it in person.”
Lacey’s hand went slack on the door handle. She felt like ten miles of bad road and probably looked worse. She needed all her defenses to handle Dev, and sleep still fogged her brain. “I—Dev, it’s been a long week. I don’t—”
“Please, Lacey.” On his too-interesting face, she read real regret. “Let me talk to you for just a minute.”
She glanced down at her wrinkled linen suit, her unshod feet. “Can you give me a minute? I—I’m afraid I fell asleep. I must look dreadful.” She stepped away from the door and gestured him inside.
His piercing eyes studied her. His voice was slightly husky as he spoke. “You look beautiful, as always.” Then his gaze softened, his voice dropping low. “Are you all right?”
She realized she had one hand pressed against her abdomen and instantly yanked it away. “I’m perfectly fine. Just let me—” Turning, she cast over her shoulder, “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
In her bedroom, she shed her suit jacket, then headed for the bathroom and carefully splashed cold water on her face. Patting it dry, she stared at herself in the mirror, taking in the dark shadows beneath her eyes. She applied new lipstick and spritzed on perfume, then cursed herself for caring how she looked.
Good grooming is a woman’s best armor, darling. Margaret DeMille would sooner be drawn and quartered than appear before the eyes of another human without impeccable makeup and perfectly-coifed hair.
The way Lacey looked, Dev would be out there for hours if she were to meet her mother’s goal. Turning away from the mirror with a sigh, she headed back to the living room, detouring by the entry table to slip on her heels.
Reaching for composure, she drew in a deep breath, then headed for Dev. “Would you care for something to drink?” She stopped with the coffee table securely between them.
“No, I—” He stopped abruptly, then exhaled. “All right. Sure.”
He was nervous, Lacey marveled. Dev. Seeing it steadied her. “Iced tea, or something stronger?” Wondering at herself for the urge, she gave in and teased. “I might be able to find a good Chardonnay.”
He’d been glancing around the room, but his head whipped toward her, his look intense. When he saw the curve of her lips, for a fleeting instant his lips answered, his smile wry. “I’d better stay away from Chardonnay. Seems to make me do stupid things.” His chest rose. “Lacey, I—”
She wasn’t ready. “Iced tea it is, then.” She headed for the kitchen, willing strength into legs that had gone weak with the force of that crooked smile.
But he followed her. As she put ice in glasses, he stood in the center of her kitchen looking too good. Hands thrust in his pockets, he scanned the room. “Can I help?”
She shook her head and concentrated on the glasses.
“Nice place you have. Good decorator.”
She arched one eyebrow and turned before she poured. “I did it myself.”
The crooked grin became a rueful smile. “I just keep putting my foot in it, don’t I?”
She poured carefully, then replaced the pitcher in the refrigerator. Grasping both glasses, she turned. “You can’t help being a snob, I suppose.” She handed him a glass.
Dev took it but frowned. “Snob? Me?”
“You assume you know me, assume I’m simply part of a group who behave in a predictable way. But you don’t know me, Dev.” She met his gaze evenly,
her stomach burning from her daring.
He looked into his glass. “I’m finding that out.” He fixed his eyes on her again. “Listen, Lacey, about the park…”
“Forget it, Dev. It’s over.”
Green eyes darkened. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
Suddenly, her sunny kitchen crowded with memories, shadowed by the past. “Please, Dev. Don’t.” I can’t talk about any of it. I can’t bear it.
“But—” He frowned and studied her closely.
She waited for an eternity, praying he wouldn’t continue. She didn’t know how to be around him, how to forget, how to proceed. How to cover the maelstrom he generated inside her.
Dev exhaled sharply, then nodded. “All right. But I am sorry. I’d like to make it up to you. If that’s possible. You don’t know it, but that wasn’t like me. I don’t—” He caught her look. “All right, I’ll stop. But I would like to show you that I know how to behave. Let me take you to dinner.”
“I’m sorry. I have plans. My parents are having a party tonight.” And thank God for that. How would she make it through an entire evening with him?
“A raincheck, then?”
This was Dev, but it wasn’t. This man was far more serious, much less reckless. Time had wrought changes in them both. He’d had pride, even when he had nothing else. Could she trade his pride for her comfort and still think well of herself?
She was her mother’s daughter. She’d weathered many difficult occasions with a smile firmly in place. Dev would be her biggest challenge, but a part of her wanted to try.
“All right. But you live in Dallas, right?”
That killer smile returned. “It’s only three hours, and I’m in and out of Houston on business all the time.”
Suddenly memory and shadow fled, and he was simply a very attractive man asking her for a date.
Maybe they could do this. Maybe it wouldn’t be as hard as she feared.
He chuckled. “I see second thoughts. I promise I’ll be on my best behavior. Scout’s honor.” He held up three fingers.
Lacey had to smile at that. “You were never a Boy Scout, Devlin Marlowe.”
He chuckled. “Ouch. I resemble that remark.”
The moment spun out on a filament of shared laughter. Something inside her chest eased just a little.
The doorbell rang. Lacey glanced at the clock. “Oh, dear. I’m late. My parents are throwing their annual cocktail party for half of Houston.” She knew she was babbling, but that would be Philip at the door.
“Doctor Blondie, I presume?” Dev cocked one dark eyebrow in challenge.
Lacey stifled her grin, setting her glass down hastily. “I’m sorry, Dev. You’ll have to excuse—”
Philip walked in the front door without waiting, his glance darting between the two of them. “It was unlocked. You didn’t answer.”
Lacey straightened carefully, her hand settling against her stomach. “Hello, Philip,” she said brightly. “I’m sorry. I’m running late.”
Dressed for the party, he took in her appearance, his gaze sharp. “So I see.” He fastened on Dev, his face turning hard. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Dr. Philip Forrester.” He extended his hand.
It was like being caught between two warring stallions. The atmosphere crackled with challenge.
“Devlin Marlowe.” Dev shook his hand firmly but didn’t explain his presence. Inside the man, she could still see the rebellious teen, chin jutting forward.
Philip seemed taken aback, but he covered it smoothly. “Lacey, you’ll need to get ready. We’ll be late.” He turned toward Dev, smooth and urbane. “You must be the fellow who bought my fiancée’s basket.”
She wanted to strangle him.
“And you’re the loser,” Dev answered.
Lacey wanted to laugh. Or maybe strangle Dev, too. Hastily, she intervened. “Dev was just returning the basket. I forgot it.”
Philip turned his attention from her to Dev. “Well, that’s done now. I suppose you’ll be leaving.”
Dev didn’t answer him. He turned toward Lacey, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles like a brand of possession. “I’m sorry I made you late for your party, Lacey. I’ll call you soon.” His mouth burned her skin.
Philip looked as if he might explode, but his impeccable manners kept him frozen in place. “I don’t think you’ll need to be doing that. Lacey doesn’t date. We’re going to be married.”
Dev looked up at her, his green eyes bright with a devilish glint. One eyebrow lifted. He squeezed her hand, then turned toward Philip. “That’s not what Lacey says.”
An unhealthy red rose in Philip’s face. His jaw hardened, his eyes sparking fire.
She cleared her throat. “Thank you for returning the basket, Dev. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see you out before I go dress.”
Thank heaven he complied—finally. With an audacious wink, he left.
Lacey resisted the urge to slam the door. She drew a deep breath and turned to face Philip.
“What the devil was he talking about, Lacey? This is an outrage,” he spluttered.
“I have to get ready, Philip. You know how Mother gets. We’ll have to discuss this later.” Maybe there’ll be a hurricane. Maybe time will stop. Maybe I’ll never have to try to explain what just happened. I don’t know, myself. She only knew that despite her aggravation with Dev, an unwelcome thrill had raced through her at his audacity.
Without waiting for Philip’s answer, Lacey raced for her bedroom, cursing men in general.
If he had a damn suit with him, he’d crash the party. Maybe he would, anyway.
Then Lacey’s anxious features rose up before Dev again. No matter how he wanted to punch that supercilious jerk in the face, it wasn’t fair to put her under that pressure.
The memory of her delicate hand pressing her stomach intervened. As a girl, Lacey had tried so hard—too hard—to be perfect. To be everything that was expected of her. With her parents, everything was a crushing burden.
It had taken careful wooing years before to break her free. In the end, he discovered he hadn’t freed her at all. It had been an illusion.
But he could still remember her breathless shock and exhilaration the first time he’d helped her sneak out of her house. There had been a risk-taker locked up inside the princess.
Was there still?
You’re on a case, Dev. This is a job. You’re here to figure out the best way to break the news, then get the hell out of Dodge. As he sat in his car tucked away just down the block from her townhouse, waiting for her and Dr. Blondie to emerge, Dev wondered what he thought he was doing.
But all the sleepless nights since the picnic made him edgy and reckless again. Made him want to forget the Gallaghers, forget the case, forget—
Betrayal.
The thought sobered him. Why should he feel protective toward her? She hadn’t stood up for him. He’d been on a bus the next morning headed for basic training, and the next two years had made a hard man out of a boy. He’d done his stint, come back to Houston, and worked like a dog until he could move the whole family to Dallas.
Then he’d worked like a dog again.
What did the princess know of hard times? She’d chosen this life of ease over his love, and she was welcome to it. Dev reached for the ignition switch, ready to leave for Dallas, though he’d only arrived this afternoon.
A movement at the door of Lacey’s townhouse grabbed his attention. As the couple emerged, he could see the tension between them, the way Forrester’s jaw was locked, his face hard. He had a tight grip on Lacey’s elbow.
And she had her hand on her stomach again.
Damn it all. He had no right to intervene, but he really did want to smash his fist in Forrester’s face.
Stand up for yourself, Lacey. Come on. You can do it.
But he’d caused this trouble, calling Forrester a loser. Flinging it in his face, questioning their involvement.
He watched Lacey’s grace as she settl
ed into the luxury sedan, long, slender legs emphasized by the high heels. A simple sleeveless black cocktail dress with a strand of pearls spoke of restrained elegance, of a fit that only money could buy.
She looked delicate and ethereal, once again unapproachable and remote. Dev could make a king’s ransom worth of money, and he’d still be the kid from the wrong side of the tracks. Wrong for her.
He’d tail them, just to make sure she was all right, but he’d nip foolish fancies in the bud. She was the princess. He was the peasant. She might not have the blue blood that she thought, but she belonged in this world in a way he never would.
And he still had a job to do, blasting her world apart as gently as possible. Jaw rigid, Dev pulled away from the curb, wondering again what the hell kind of magician he thought he was.
Alighting from Philip’s car, Lacey spared a quick glance for the wide porch of her parents’ home. She’d had childhood tea parties there, gotten her first kiss behind one wide column. This house had been her refuge for all of her life, an existence so sheltered, so different from Christina’s.
Before they reached the door, Murphy opened it. “Well, Miss Lacey, haven’t seen you in a while,” he nodded. The gentle reproof made her feel right at home. Murphy had been delivering lectures since she was tiny. “Dr. Forrester.” Murphy’s eyes were cooler, looking at Philip. For the first time in years, she remembered that he’d had a soft spot for the young, rebellious Dev.
“Hello, Murphy.” She bussed his cheek, knowing it would unsettle him—and horrify her mother.
It did.
“Hello, Lacey.” Margaret DeMille’s brows drew together less than a millimeter, but it was enough to convey the message. She stood near the doorway, greeting her guests, trim and straight as ever. She flicked a glance over Lacey’s demure little black dress, and her frown eased…at least a little.
“Hello, Mother.” Lacey crossed the foyer and exchanged air kisses.
Her father turned from another guest, and she was pulled into strong arms. Charles was aging, but he still had the vigor of a younger man. “Princess, you look beautiful, as always. Philip, glad to see you.” He shook Philip’s hand, then leaned closer to Lacey. “When are you going to let him make an honest woman of you?”
Texas Heroes: Volume 1 Page 40
