Secrets 01- Blackhawk’s Sweet Revenge

by Barbara Mccauley

  Nick straightened, raised his eyebrows as he stared back at Lucas. "Well, well. Don't that just beat all. You're jealous."

  "I'm asking you a question, Nick." Lucas knew he was being unreasonable, he just didn't much give a damn. "I want to know if you stepped over any lines while I was gone."

  Nick raised the chain still in his hands and walked toward Lucas. "You want this in your nose, buddy, or around your neck? Maybe we could make some nice earrings to match."

  Lucas knocked Nick's hands away and the chain went flying. Nick knew the punch was coming, so he went with it, then came back at Lucas with a flying tackle. Buckets crashed, a metal shelf unit toppled, and they landed in a pile of old tractor tires.

  Furious, Lucas struggled to loosen the bear hug that Nick had on him, but couldn't manage to break his arms free. They rolled onto a stack of smashed cardboard boxes, and still Nick held tight.

  "Dammit, Santos, let go of me."

  "But I haven't answered your question yet, Lucas.

  What was it you wanted to know? If Julianna and I slept together?"

  Just the thought gave him the strength to break the grip Nick had on him. "All right, all right." Lucas threw Nick off him, then sat, his breath heaving. "I was out of line. I'm sorry."

  "You should be." Nick rolled to a sitting position, then swung his fist and caught Lucas on the chin. When Lucas's head snapped back and he went down, Nick shook his arm. "Damn, that hurt good."

  Because Lucas knew he deserved it, he didn't bother to retaliate. He just sat, tested his jaw, then winced at the sting of pain. "I've been working a lot of hours lately. I admit I'm a little testy."

  "A little?" Nick's response was earthy and to the point. "I should deck you again for thinking what you were thinking. Just what the hell were you thinking?"

  "Hell, I don't know. I don't know anything anymore." Lucas sighed, dragged both hands through his hair and wondered how he would explain the grease all over his jeans and shirt. "All I ever wanted was Hadley ruined, just like he ruined my father. Julianna was... unexpected. "

  Nick gave a snort of laughter, then sat, resting his arms on his knees. "If I didn't know better, Blackhawk, I'd say that little old love bug has bit you in the butt."

  "Don't be an idiot." He thought about starting another fight rather than let the conversation go in this direction, but his hand was already scraped and his jaw was starting to throb. "You know our marriage isn't exactly what anyone would call ordinary. I married her to get to her father, and she married me for her grandparents' house."

  "Hmm. So you're not sleeping together, then." "Watch it, Santos."

  "And when you were in Dallas," Nick went on, ignoring the warning scowl from Lucas, "you went out with Diane or Susan, or whatever that girl's name it was you used to date?"

  "Diane was before Susan, and no, I sure as hell didn't go out with anyone."

  Lucas decided not to mention that both women had called him and suggested "getting together," but he turned them both down flat. There hadn't been a night in three weeks that he hadn't woken up in a cold sweat, thinking about Julianna, his body aching to be inside her. He could have found physical satisfaction elsewhere, but he'd only wanted Julianna.

  And the thing that had stunned him the most, the real kicker, was that it wasn't just sex. He missed her, not just in bed, but being in his life. He wanted her there when he woke up, when he went to bed, and he wanted her there in between. More than his next breath he wanted, he needed her.

  For the first time in his life, he needed someone, and the realization scared the hell out of him, made his chest ache.

  It also made him want to hit something again. At least that kind of emotion, that kind of pain, he understood and could handle.

  And speaking of hitting something, that stupid grin on Nick's face seemed like a good place to start. "You got something to say, buddy, just spit it out."

  Nick lifted his hands in an innocent gesture. "Would I stick my nose where it doesn't belong?"

  Lucas just rolled his eyes.

  "Okay, so I would." He stood, brushed off his jeans and T-shirt. "You've got Julianna, she's got her house. What's the problem?"

  Lucas stared at Nick in disbelief. Could one man really be so stupid? "The fumes have gotten to you, Santos. Let me use simple words and spell it out for you. It's not a real marriage. She doesn't love me."

  "And you don't love her."

  Lucas frowned, ignored the hand that Nick offered and stood by himself. "She's a beautiful woman. I wanted her."

  "So now you have her. Like I said, what's the problem, Lucas?"

  Lucas knew when he was being baited. He didn't like it one little bit. "Therapy session is over, Dr. Santos. I'm going home. May you and your 427 be blissfully happy."

  Nick glanced over at the engine, then smiled as he looked back at Lucas. "Who'd have thought I'd find a treasure like that in all this mess. Wonders never cease, Blackhawk."

  Lucas had the distinct impression that somehow Nick was comparing his marriage to a car engine. The absurdity of it made him smile.

  "You're one of a kind, Nick," Lucas said with a laugh, then slapped his friend on the back. "Welcome home."

  He was still smiling as he pulled onto the highway. Nick Santos, entrepreneur. Who'd have ever thought?

  Sort of like Lucas Blackhawk being married to Julianna Hadley. That was something no one would have ever conceived. Especially himself.

  What's the problem, Blackhawk?

  Nick's words had Lucas pulling over to the side of the road. Leave it to Nick to try to simplify a matter as complicated as his marriage to Julianna.

  But the question still nagged at him.

  What's the problem?

  He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, felt the rumble of a hay truck passing by. He had a beautiful wife, they were great in bed together. It was more than he'd ever expected.

  So what the hell did he want?

  His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he stared blindly at the truck disappearing down the highway.

  What the hell did he want?

  And then he suddenly knew exactly what he wanted, could finally admit it to himself. Wondered why he hadn't seen it before, when it was staring him in the face all along. He knew what he wanted, all right.

  And he also knew that what he wanted he could never have unless he let Julianna go.

  The tightness that had settled in his chest squeezed the breath from him. Jaw set, eyes narrowed, he turned the car around and headed back to town.

  She set the scene for seduction on pure instinct alone. Linen tablecloth, crystal goblets, candles and red wine. A roast was warming in the oven, and she'd made a strawberry pie with whipped-cream topping.

  And if none of that caught his attention, the outfit she'd bought this afternoon most certainly would.

  It had to be the single most daring thing she'd ever worn. A tight-fitting turtleneck jumpsuit of royal blue velvet, with cutaway sleeves that bared her arms and shoulders. Because she couldn't wear a bra under it, she decided against underpants, as well. Her heels were high, her perfume exotic, her hair curly and piled on top of her head.

  She'd give Lucas Blackhawk a night to remember, dammit.

  She'd stood in the drugstore, staring at the hotel entrance long after he'd disappeared inside with that redhead. She considered marching right into his office and confronting him, but couldn't bear the scenario of the jealous, jilted wife. Then she'd thought about walking calmly in, pretending nothing at all was wrong, acting as if she didn't care, then casually mentioning she'd just come from the doctor and guess what?

  She liked that plan much better, but knew that in the end she would have ended up a pathetic puddle in front of Lucas and his "friend." And that would certainly not bring him back to her.

  So this was the plan she'd settled on. His message on the machine had said he'd be home around six. At five minutes after six she'd started to worry he wouldn't show. It was six-thirty now, and she
was in a near state of panic.

  She paced across the kitchen floor as best she could in high heels, while she nibbled on a fingernail.

  When she heard the front door open and close, her stomach flipped twice and her heart raced.

  No turning back.

  She drew in a slow, 'deep breath, another, then picked up the wineglass she'd already filled for him and strolled calmly out of the kitchen.

  If Lucas had seen her coming he might have had a chance to gather his wits before he spoke, but he'd been focused on the romantic table setting, complete with flickering candles and red roses in a cut crystal vase. When he turned, the blood literally drained from his head.

  She sauntered toward him, something between a slink and a slither, a glass of wine in one hand and a cool smile on her red lips. His eyes followed the high heels up mile-long legs encased in deep blue velvet. What she wore screamed sex, and with a jolt he realized that she wasn't wearing anything underneath. Her hair, twisted up on her head like it was, made him want to pull it all down and drag his hands through the soft curls.

  "Julianna?" It was all he could manage through the knot in his throat.

  "Welcome home, Lucas." She handed him the wine and kissed him softly on the lips. When he moved forward to deepen the kiss, she stepped away. "You've changed."

  Changed? His gaze slid down to her round, firm bottom as she moved to the table and leaned forward to adjust the roses. The blood that had left his head shot directly to a different part of his anatomy. Did she mean change, as in become a different person? Or did she mean his clothes? She had no way of knowing that he'd gone back to town and changed into a suit he kept at the suite.

  He would have asked her what she meant, but when she turned back around with a look in her eye that all but devoured him, he forgot what he wanted to say.

  "Dinner's ready." She pulled out a chair, ran her fingers back and forth over the smooth, carved wood. "Why don't you sit and I'll be right back."

  He did as she asked. Hell, he would have stood on his head and barked if she'd asked him to. Besides, he enjoyed watching her walk, or whatever you could call that hip thing she was doing.

  When she had his plate filled with meat and potatoes, she set a bread basket on the table, then sat across from him. "The buns are warm," she said, her voice breathless. "Try one."

  He would have groaned, but his air had been long cut off, making sound impossible. How could he possibly go through with what he'd planned with her looking at him like she was? He was only human, for God's sake. A mere mortal. And she was...a goddess, he thought, watching the candlelight flicker on her face. Her eyes smoldered, her lips curved into a seductive smile.

  He was lost. Completely, hopelessly lost.

  Maybe he could postpone what he'd intended until tomorrow. His mind would be more clear, he'd be able to think better without the fierce pounding in his head. And she'd be his, even if it was this one last time, even if it was only in bed, she'd belong to him.

  He knew she was talking, making idle conversation about the weather and the garden, but he couldn't quite pull the words together to form any specific meaning. He started to rise, knew that if he even touched her they'd never make it upstairs. He'd take her right here, exactly the way he'd thought about for the past three weeks. Fast and hard.

  He sat back down. Dammit, he couldn't do that to her. Couldn't make love lo her like that, then hand her walking papers. He had to live with himself, had to look at himself in the mirror every day. Sex had been so simple for him all his life. Both parties gave and took and received mutual satisfaction. With Julianna it suddenly became complicated. Because it wasn't just sex anymore, he realized. It went much deeper and meant much more.

  "Is there something I can get for you?" she asked when he sat back down.

  That question alone was enough to make him break out into a sweat. "No," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm fine."

  A few more minutes wouldn't make any difference, he decided. He should at least try the food she'd put in front of him. She'd obviously gone to a lot of work. He scooped up a bite of mashed potatoes, was certain that they tasted wonderful, but his throat was too dry to tell.

  Nerves had her chatting mindlessly, babbling on about nothing. She'd done little more than push her own food around her plate, somehow managing a calm demeanor when inside she wanted to cry.

  She'd at least had the satisfaction of seeing his mouth drop open when he'd watched her come out of the kitchen. She'd recognized that look in his eyes as she'd moved toward him, the raw hunger and unconcealed lust. It was a small victory, perhaps an empty one, but she was grasping at even the tiniest thread of hope.

  And even that thread of hope was quickly slipping from her fingers. He'd barely said two words, and he wouldn't look at her. That was the worst, she decided, her chest aching. That he couldn't even look her in the eyes.

  She wouldn't cry, dammit. She wouldn't.

  "I finished scraping the wallpaper in the far bedroom," she said casually. "I've got a few sample books from the wallpaper store if you'd like to look at them."

  "Sure."

  His response lacked sincerity, but at least it was a response. Damn you, Lucas, look at me!

  As if she'd spoken the words out loud, he did look at her. But what she saw in his dark, narrowed eyes, the taut, emotionless expression, terrified her.

  "Julianna, there's something we need to talk about."

  "All right." She let the cold settle over her, then set her fork down and folded her hands in her lap.

  "I have something for you."

  Those were hardly the words she expected to hear, but she waited, refusing to allow herself to interpret his meaning.

  Reaching into the pocket of his suit jacket, he pulled out a thick envelope and set it on the table between them. "This is yours."

  She met his dark gaze again as she picked up the envelope and opened it. How strange it seemed that her fingers were still, when her insides were shaking so badly. The cold inside her turned to numbness as she stared at the papers inside.

  They were the deed to her grandparents' house, signed over to her name only.

  She stood calmly, papers still in her hand, somehow managed a smile. "Thank you, Lucas."

  Without looking back, she turned and walked upstairs.

  Chapter Eleven

  Thank you, Lucas?

  He blinked, then-stared at the chair where she'd sat only a moment before she'd walked up the stairs. He'd had no idea what her response would be, but he hadn't expected such cool composure.

  Thank you, Lucas?

  How could she be so damn calm? God knew his own insides were twisted into one giant knot. He'd just given her an out to their marriage if she wanted it, and she hadn't even blinked. She'd simply smiled and thanked him as if he*d given her the answer to a crossword puzzle instead of the deed to a house.

  He stood abruptly, hands fisted, and paced the dining room. He deserved some kind of reaction. Pleasure, tears, anger. Anything would be better than her quiet dismissal.

  Well, he wouldn't be dismissed, dammit. She was still his wife, whether she liked it or not. They were going to have this out, once and for all. If she wanted out, then he'd let her go.

  But not without a fight. A big one.

  By the time he reached the bedroom, his temper was in high gear. He threw open the door, flipped on the light as he roared her name. She was sitting on the bed, her stiff back to him.

  "Leave me alone, Lucas."

  "Like hell I will." He stormed into the room, took her by the shoulders and lifted her off the bed. That's when he realized she was crying.

  Anger forgotten, he loosened his hold and sat her gently back down on the bed, then knelt beside her. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

  "Am I hurt?" The sound she made was a mixture of a laugh and a sob. "I can't imagine why I'd be hurt."

  He was at a complete loss. It tore him up to see her so upset. He had no idea what to do, what to say. "Can I
get you anything?" he asked helplessly.

  "You've already given me enough," she said fiercely, then reached for a white box on the bed wrapped with a big green ribbon. "Now I have something for you. Open it."

  He stared at the box, pulled the ribbon loose and lifted the top. Inside the tissue paper was a soft pink and blue blanket.

  A baby blanket.

  Jaw slack, eyes wide, he touched the blanket. "Are you telling me that you're pregnant?"

  "Seven weeks." She covered her face with her hands and started to cry again.

  But her tears weren't tears of happiness, he realized. She was miserable. Cold dread filled him. He had to swallow before he could get the words out. "Do you want the baby?"

  She stopped crying, went completely still, then looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Damn you, Lucas Blackhawk."

  She caught him off guard with a hard shove to his chest. He went down, stunned, and looked up at her from the floor. She spun, marched halfway across the room, then turned and bent down to tug off one high heel. She fired it at him, then pulled off the other one and threw that, too. He ducked both missiles, but couldn't get a word out before she marched back over and stood over him, hands on her hips, her blue eyes blazing.

  "To think I did this for you." She lifted her hands, looked down at the jumpsuit and made a sound of disgust. "Made a complete fool out of myself, sacrificed what little pride I had left just to try to keep you from leaving me."

  Leaving her? Why would she think he was leaving her? He started to open his mouth, but she pointed a finger sharply at him.

  "Be quiet. I've had three weeks to think about this, Blackhawk. Three weeks of heartache, wondering if you'd come back, if you'd still want me if you did. Well, I guess we both know what the answer to that is, don't we?"

  Once again, he started to speak, and she silenced him. "You let me finish, Lucas, or so help me, I'll hurt you."

  He closed his mouth, decided he'd simply have to wait this out.

  She folded her arms then, turned away and paced the bedroom. "I've loved you since I was fourteen," she said, her voice calmer now, though no less emotional. "Hard to believe, isn't it? The Ice Princess in love with Lucas Blackhawk. You were everything I could never be. Brave, determined, honorable. I was a coward. Mason Hadley's daughter. Just to say it makes me sick to my stomach."