"And now, by proxy, a toast from Killian Shawnessy." Nick cleared his throat. "May you never forget what is worth remembering, or remember what is best forgotten."
Lucas raised an eyebrow, but sipped from his glass. "You've heard from Ian?"
"Unreachable," Nick replied, and at the look exchanged between the two men, Julianna had the feeling that "unreachable" meant more than it implied.
In high school, Lucas Blackhawk, Nick Santos and Ian Shawnessy were the bad-boy threesome. Other girls whispered and giggled about just how "good" they were at being "bad." Not that Julianna had ever been included in those conversations. Her shyness and her father's money had always set her apart. She'd never fit in anywhere, with anyone. Nor had she tried. She'd chosen a cool facade, a casual dismissal of her peers, to protect herself from the cruel snubs and sly looks. The Ice Princess, she'd been called, as often to her face as behind her back. And every time, it hurt as deeply, as painfully, as the time before.
And speaking of bad memories from high school, Julianna thought miserably, here came two right now. MaryAnn Johnson and Stephanie Roberts. They'd both been married and divorced. Stephanie twice.
Hips swaying, smiles dazzling, they brazenly sidled up to the table. "Why, hello, Julianna, long time no see." They never even bothered to look at her. "And if it isn't Lucas Blackhawk and Nick Santos. What a sight for sore eyes. Heard you're driving a Ferrari, Lucas, and you, Nick, a famous motorcycle racer. What in the world brings you boys back to Wolf River?"
Stephanie and MaryAnn were all but licking their shiny red lips.
Nick smiled brightly. "Toasting the newlyweds."
Both women's mouths fell open. This time they did look at Julianna, their eyes wide.
"You and Lucas?" MaryAnn sputtered.
Julianna's heart stopped. How perfectly this would fit into Lucas's plan. Public rejection and humiliation. She held her breath, waited...
He slipped an arm around her, pulled her close and nuzzled her cheek. "Thought I'd never get her to say yes. Wonders never cease, do they, sweetheart?"
She stared at him, too stunned to speak.
"Show them that little rock on your finger, Julianna." Nick leaned back in his seat, obviously enjoying the entertainment.
Stephanie and MaryAnn zeroed in on Julianna's hand, their gazes like zoom lenses. Only proper upbringing and their need to display indifference, kept them from drooling.
With no other choice, Julianna held out her hand. She'd been too nervous during the ceremony to really look at the ring he'd slipped on her finger. The diamond was huge, she realized, and the cluster. of smaller diamonds surrounding it were exquisite.
Appearances again, she realized, and as beautiful as the ring was, it only reminded her of the lie she'd committed herself to. The ring meant nothing more to Lucas than she did. They were both assets to him, long-term investments. That's what he'd told her.
"So are you two lovebirds off on a honeymoon?" Stephanie asked, her voice still hinged with disbelief.
"Well, we—" She looked at Lucas.
"We thought we'd wait until after summer." He covered her hand with his and looked into her eyes. "Find a deserted beach where we can be alone."
The look he gave her—a look of sheer male hunger—had her heart pounding. It didn't even matter that it wasn't real, that he didn't mean a word of what he was saying. She was caught under the spell just the same. She smelled his aftershave, something subtle but masculine, felt his hard, muscled body against her own, the warmth of his long, strong fingers over hers. A fantasy, that's all this was.
A fantasy she might as well play along with, she thought, and gave herself up to it.
"I'm counting the days, darling," she whispered and pressed her mouth softly to his.
She felt the surprise on his lips, the hesitation, and might have felt a moment's satisfaction at catching him off guard if he hadn't suddenly pulled her closer and deepened the kiss.
At some deep feminine level Julianna had known it would be like this. Exhilarating, exciting. Her lips parted under his, her mind melted along with her bones. A woman could lose herself, body and soul, to a man like Lucas Blackhawk. And she was sinking fast.
A loud clearing of a masculine throat, Nick, she realized, brought her crashing back. Her eyes fluttered open, and she stared into Lucas's intense gaze. There was a smile on his lips, lips still moist from their kiss, but there was anger in his eyes. His body was stiff against hers, and when she tried to jerk away, he held her tightly.
"Ah, they're back," Julianna heard Nick say with good humor.
Stephanie and MaryAnn, slack-jawed, were staring at Lucas with open lust.
"Well, ah—" MaryAnn knocked over a crystal pepper shaker, fumbled to right it again. "Congratulations, then. We'll, uh, see you around."
Stephanie was still staring. MaryAnn grabbed her friend's arm, then backed into a waiter, who dropped the basket of rolls he'd been carrying. Mumbling an apology, MaryAnn dragged Stephanie off.
Nick grinned widely. "You guys sure know how to liven up a bachelor's life. I think I might stick around for a while, just to comfort some of these poor women devastated over your marital status."
As if Nick Santos needed any help finding a woman, Julianna thought. She was sitting between the two most handsome men in Wolf River.
And the one with the angry eyes, the one that had just made her toes curl and her insides ache, was her husband.
The only way to get through this dinner, she decided, was to pretend she was unaffected by his closeness, by the knowledge that they'd soon be sharing a bed. She'd spent a lifetime pretending, hadn't she? What was one more evening?
She turned her attention to Nick, ignoring Lucas and his dark mood. She had no idea why he was suddenly so angry at her, and she was certain she didn't want to know. It was his problem. He could deal with it. She sipped her champagne and laughed at Nick's outrageous stories of life on a motorcycle racetrack.
She was going to enjoy the evening, even if it killed her.
He had thoughts of murder. His victim alternated between a cool, beautiful blond, and a dark-haired motorcycle racer. By the. end of the evening he decided he would simply kill them both.
"Lucas," he heard her say as they stepped off the elevator onto their floor, "you're hurting me."
He loosened his grip on her arm, but still kept a firm hold as they moved down the hallway to his suite. His legs were longer than hers, and she had to struggle to keep up with him.
Inside the room he tossed the keys on an entry table, flipped on a soft lamp in the living area and headed for the bar. He left Julianna standing inside the front door.
He kept his back to her while he poured a shot of whiskey. She flipped on the light in the bar from the entry panel. "Turn it off," he said roughly, and he was in darkness again.
Turning, he studied her over the rim of his glass. She looked so small standing in the entryway, so uncertain. So damn innocent.
She wasn't, of course. It was just an illusion. One of many that had him wanting more than he'd ever intended. He'd almost fallen for that shy, demure act she'd been putting on. She'd kissed him earlier to torment him. She knew the effect she had on him. He was certain she'd use that power to get at him, to sink those beautiful sharp claws into him and gain the upper hand.
He wanted her as he'd never wanted a woman before. And that only made him more angry.
She started for the bedroom, her stride hesitant, uncertain.
"Julianna."
She stopped at his harsh call, slowly lifted her gaze to his. The soft light of the living room light illuminated her, almost gave her an ethereal glow.
"Julianna." He lowered the glass in his hand. "Take off your clothes."
Chapter Four
Oh, dear God, had he really said what she thought he'd said? He didn't mean right here, right now, did he?
"I...I was just going into the bedroom to change."
"You don't need to change." She couldn't see
his face in the shadows, could barely make out his shape in the dark. But she could hear his voice, deep and whiskey-rich. Confident. "Right here, Julianna. I want to watch you undress for me."
Escape was her only thought. The only problem was that her legs were shaking too badly too move.
She could do this. She had to. She was sick of being a coward.
She faced him again, tossed her small white purse on the armchair behind her and reached for the top button of her suit jacket.
"What, no bump and grind music, Lucas?" It was
some other woman speaking to Lucas, Julianna thought dimly as she opened the second button. Another woman who sounded like her, even looked like her, but this woman was calm, composed. "I would have brought my feather boa and fan if you'd have told me you were into this."
"All men enjoy watching a beautiful woman undress, Jule. Certainly you know that."
He wouldn't believe her if she told him she didn't know. But what did it matter? He'd find out soon enough.
She slipped off her jacket, let it dangle in her fingers for a moment before dropping it on the floor. She felt as if she were moving in slow motion, like the nightmares she'd often had where someone was after her and her legs and arms were too heavy to move.
But this was no dream. Someone was after her.
"White lace," she heard him say over the wild pounding of her heart. "What do you call that thing?"
"A camisole."
"Very pretty," he murmured. "Take it off."
Warm air drifted in from the open balcony window, teasing the loose strands of hair on her neck, gliding like a whisper over her bare skin. Breath held, she raised her arms and slid the camisole over her head.
Her bra was lace, too. Cut low, with satin straps.
"The skirt, Julianna." His voice was deeper, rougher. Amazingly masculine and incredibly arousing.
Arousing? No. That couldn't be. How could she possibly find this humiliation arousing? He wasn't touching her. She couldn't even see him.
She felt his eyes on her, touching her, watching her. Heat spread through her body, pooled low in her stomach, between her legs. She left her heels on, unzipped her skirt and let it fall, then stepped clear of the silken fabric.
Part of her wished she'd worn cotton, anything less revealing, less feminine than the lacy strips of her bra and underwear. Even the tops of her stockings—also lace—only came to her thighs. But there was another part of her, the part that had been waiting, that had been wanting, for too long.
She closed her eyes and waited now, her heart pounding furiously in her ears, her breathing shallow, and she wanted.
"Lucas?" she whispered, realized that several moments had passed.
There was only silence.
She moved away from the light, into the shadows. He was gone.
She choked back a sob as she sank to the floor. She'd thought one time that there was nothing worse he could possibly do to her than take her grandparents' house away from her.
She'd been wrong.
Lucas found a dark corner booth in the lounge of the hotel, ordered a bottle of whiskey and set about his one and only goal for the remainder of the evening: to get rip-roaring, fried to his tonsils drunk.
Short of death, nothing else would erase the image of Julianna standing in the suite wearing little more than two slivers of white lace. He could still hear the whisper of silk over silk as she'd removed her skirt, smell the soft, sweet scent of her perfume that had drifted to him on the night breeze.
He slammed back the first shot, relished the burn of whiskey all the way to his gut.
He'd never realized how long her legs were. Long and curvy, showcased in silk and high heels. Legs that were made for a man's touch.
His touch.
He swore, threw back another shot.
He certainly hadn't planned to ask her to undress for him. But she'd stood there in the living room, looking the part of the virginal queen, and something just came over him. Something dark and desperate. Something he'd denied until this very moment.
Need. Gut-wrenching, soul-shattering need.
Of course he'd known he'd wanted her. What man wouldn't? She was the ultimate fantasy, the stuff that dreams were made of. Cool smoky-blue eyes, sultry lips, smooth, creamy skin. To want her—any woman—was something he understood, took pleasure in. But not need. He'd never needed any woman like that.
He'd wanted to watch her take her clothes off to prove to himself that he could control the beast clawing at his gut. That he could walk away or take her into the bedroom with equal indifference.
What a fool he'd been.
Wouldn't she laugh if she knew? he thought bitterly. Wouldn't it be the supreme joke if she had even a clue of the power she held over him? But she would never know, he'd make certain of that. Damned certain.
"You want to tell me what the hell you're doing hiding back here all alone?"
Brow furrowed, jacket and tie gone, Nick towered over him.
"No, I don't want to tell you, and I'm not alone." Lucas grabbed the bottle and poured another shot.
"Lucas, it's your wedding night."
"Gee, pal, thanks for the info. What are you, the honeymoon police?"
Nick raised a brow, then turned to MaryAnn and Stephanie, who were smiling anxiously. Their smiles faded when Nick gave them a wave and an apologetic shrug of his shoulders.
Lucas swore as Nick dropped into the booth and signaled the waiter for another glass.
"Go away, Nick."
"She kick you out already?" Nick topped off the shot glass that appeared on the table. "Glad to see she got smart before it was too late."
"I'm going to have to hurt you if you don't back off, Nick. Real bad." In fact, the idea of drawing blood lightened his mood.
"Well, I suppose you could try. But then, I'd really hate for that pretty little wife of yours to be mad at me when I send you back with a broken nose."
He thought of their dinner together, how Julianna had smiled and laughed with Nick. She'd never smiled or laughed for him. But then, he'd hardly given her reason. "I'll just bet you'd hate her being mad at you, you two being the good chums that you are," he said sourly and belted back another shot. Julianna would probably love nothing more than seeing him black-and-blue.
"Lucas Blackhawk jealous?" Nick sipped at his drink and, with a broad grin, leaned back in his seat. "Well, well. So you do love her, then."
"Don't be such an ass, Santos." "You don't love her."
"Just shut the hell up." He was seriously going to kill Nick. He'd still have Ian, and he really didn't need two best friends, anyway.
"The thing is," Nick went on casually, as if they were discussing the weather, "I can see why you'd marry her. She's drop-dead gorgeous, intelligent, great sense of humor and so damn hot she should come with a warning label."
That did it. Lucas reached across the table and grabbed Nick by the collar. "Outside, Santos. Now."
"But what I can't figure out," Nick continued without batting an eye, "is why she would marry you. It just beats the hell out of me."
"No, I'm going to beat the hell out of you." Lucas tightened his hold. "Starting right now."
He took a swing, but Nick had known it was coming and dodged right. Lucas sprawled across the table, drawing frowns from the older man and woman at the table beside them. As if Lucas hadn't been humiliated enough, Nick had to help him sit straight again. So maybe he'd have to beat him up tomorrow, Lucas thought angrily. Twice.
Nick shook his head, then poured Lucas another glass. "Well, if you're going to insist on getting drunk, the least I can do is make sure you do it right. Now, why don't you tell me what it is that you're really ticked off about."
Lucas stared at the whiskey in his hand, felt his hand tighten around the glass. He let the rage pour through him, the fury. A long moment passed, long enough for Lucas to relive Mason Hadley's visit at the courthouse.
"He hit her, Nick," Lucas finally said with deadly quiet. "That
son of a bitch hit her, and I couldn't even stop it."
Nick sighed heavily, downed his own drink. "There was nothing you could have done, Lucas. If you hadn't moved as fast as you had, he would have nailed her a second time."
"I wanted to kill him." A muscle jumped in Lucas's jaw. "I should have."
"What?" Nick smiled. "And spend your wedding night in jail, instead of shooting the bull with me in a bar?"
The absurdity of the situation hit Lucas straight between the eyes. The whiskey hit him smack-dab in the funny bone. He started to laugh, a low, deep rumble at first, then uncontrollably. Five hours ago he'd married the most beautiful, desirable woman in Texas and here he was, in a bar, getting drunk with his best friend. Not exactly what one would call a conventional wedding night.
But then, there was nothing conventional about their marriage.
"Oh, God, Santos." Lucas scrubbed a hand over his face. "What the hell have I gotten myself into?"
"I don't know, Blackhawk." Nick settled back and refilled their glasses. "Why don't you tell me?"
He burst into the suite at 2:00 a.m. like a wounded bull on a rampage. From the bedroom, Julianna heard him crashing around, several earthy swear words, then the shattering of glass.
She sat up abruptly, holding the blanket tightly to her chin, and waited for the bedroom door to fly open.
Then she heard Nick's voice. Reaching for her robe, she moved to the door and listened.
"Now you did it, Blackhawk. Serenading that young couple in the elevator was bad enough. Now you're breaking things. Keep it up and you'll get us all kicked out of here. ' '
"They can't kick me out," Lucas insisted loudly, though his words were slurred and running together. "I own this place. Didn't I tell you that?"
"You must have forgotten to mention it. Here we go." She opened the door a crack and watched Nick lower Lucas to the couch. "Off with your shoes, pal."
Lucas was drunk? Somehow, she'd never quite pictured Lucas Blackhawk inebriated. And what had he just said? That he owned the Four Winds? She'd heard the company that built the hotel was based in Dallas, a large corporation that built business centers. And she remembered that Lucas had threatened to build a business center on Double H land, hadn't he?
Secrets 01- Blackhawk’s Sweet Revenge Page 4
