Texas Heroes: Volume 1 (67 page)

Dev touched his nose lightly. “I wish. Brawling on a weekend pass, I’m afraid. Not too pretty, is it?”

“I like it,” she said. “Gives you character.”

He grinned. “I’m starting to get wrinkles, too. Think I should go see Blondie?”

Then he stopped suddenly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned him. I guess it went badly with your parents, huh?”

She was quiet for a moment.

“Never mind,” he offered.

Lacey remembered his tender care, how good she’d felt in his arms. The brushfire that had ignited.

“No, it’s all right. It—it wasn’t pretty.”

“You want to talk about it?”

It helped that those mesmerizing green eyes were looking at the road and only occasionally at her. She sighed. “They mean well, and I know they love me. They just…” She searched for a way to express the complicated relationship between herself and her parents.

“I’ve always felt as if there was something not quite right with me, like I can’t ever quite do everything properly, no matter how hard I try. I’ve been such a dutiful daughter, but all it’s done is to make them less tolerant of the ways I want to be different from them and their whole set.”

Dev glanced over at her. “What ways?”

For some reason, she felt as though she could confide in Dev a thought so secret that she’d never dared voice it, even to herself. “I want to adopt Christina.”

His head whipped around again. “The little girl you told me about?”

She nodded. “I know—it’s crazy, not to mention complicated. I’d have to resign as her advocate.”

“So what? If you want it, why can’t you do it? Will Daddy yank away your allowance?”

His words hurt so much that she fell silent.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that as badly as it sounded. It’s just that, as far as I know, you don’t have a paying job.”

“I know you think I’m unbearably spoiled and pampered.” She looked out the window, wondering why she’d ever agreed to come.

He pulled his car into a parking place in the museum district. Turning slightly, he placed on hand on hers. He wouldn’t let go when she tried to yank it away. “It was a low blow, Lacey. I guess I’ve still got some splinters buried in my skin. But you didn’t deserve that.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “I’m the rich girl. I should be used to it.”

He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “But you’re not, are you?” It was a revelation to him. Her life looked like she had it wired.

She turned to face him, finally. “No, I’m not. I’m really tired of being judged on where I live and what my last name is.”

A faint hope stirred in Dev. Maybe she wouldn’t hate the news he bore.

Lacey lifted her chin as though making an admission of darkest sin. “I know I’m very fortunate that I have a trust fund from my grandfather. It’s ample for my needs and I feel that my time is better spent giving it to those who have less instead of trying to earn more.” She was braced as though waiting for him to sneer.

He clasped her hand tightly and lifted it to his lips. “I think that’s admirable.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? Not frivolous?”

“I’ll bet your friend at the plastic surgeon’s office doesn’t do anything nearly as tough as working with the advocate’s office.”

Lacey smiled. “You’re right. She works as a docent at a museum.”

Dev pressed his lips against her knuckles. “If you want to adopt that little girl, I say go for it. She’d be damn lucky to have you.”

Her eyes went dark and sad, and she pulled her hand away, gripping it with the other. “She had an aunt show up two days ago. The aunt wants Christina to come live with her.”

“Is that bad?”

Lacey’s head lifted from her perusal of her hands. “I think she only wants the money the state would pay her. Christina doesn’t like her.”

“So how do you deal with that?”

“I need to find some way to prove she’s not a good guardian for Christina.” Her eyes were fierce. “I’m going to figure out how to accomplish that.”

“Want some help?”

Lacey’s head whipped around. “You would do that? Is it difficult? I’m still pretty new at this.”

Dev snapped his fingers. “Piece of cake. You just say the word.”

“I don’t care what it costs. I just keep remembering how scared Christina was when I met her and how shaky she is still. She’s so sweet, Dev, and she needs someone to love her—really love her for who she is inside.”

He thought Lacey’s wish for Christina might mirror a wish of her own. There was a very big heart inside that slender frame. Dev would have given a lot to have someone fight for him like that.

“I work cheap for my friends. And tonight I’m running a special. You only need to agree to have dinner with me.”

Lacey’s mouth quirked. “I already agreed to that.”

“Lucky you. You get off really cheap.”

Her silvery eyes glowed. “We’ll talk money later. I’m not letting you work for free.”

“You don’t have any choice. You ready?”

“For what?”

“Dinner.”

Lacey looked around her at the darkened street. “Where are we going?”

He gestured to the stone building in front of them. “Right here.”

Lacey couldn’t help gaping. “Here? Dev, it’s a museum. It’s closed.”

He smiled that cocky smile she’d seen so many times, years ago. “Not to me. In my business, who you know is everything.” He got out of the car and came around to help her alight. “This way, milady. The evening begins.”

She felt a bubble of laughter rise in her throat. “Why is it, Devlin Marlowe, that you’ve always dared more than anyone else I’ve ever met?”

He tucked her hand under his elbow and looked down at her, his eyes hot and mysterious, his voice husky. “When the prize is worth it, a man will dare a lot.”

Am I worth it, Dev?
Her heart fluttered, but she didn’t ask as Dev drew her forward.

The door opened as if by magic. “Good evening, Mr. Marlowe. Everything’s in place.” The security guard’s tone was respectful. He tipped his hat to Lacey. “Evening, miss.”

Lacey could barely get out a greeting, her mind whirling with wonder. “What have you done, Dev?”

He merely grinned. “You’ll see.”

He led her past paintings and sculptures, and she realized that he was leading her toward the courtyard. Anticipation bubbled like champagne in her blood.

The glow didn’t register at first, but when it did, Lacey gasped in shock and went stock-still.

And then sighed.

The courtyard was alive with candlelight. There must have been hundreds of them placed strategically to create one island of light in the greenest corner of this space. Some were fat candles set in torches, some tapers in hurricane glass. Dozens more floated in the still fountain nearby.

Several tall urns were filled with long-stemmed roses allowed to open enough to share their fragrance, perfuming the night around them.

“Dev…” She pressed her hand to her breast, but she couldn’t find the words.

His hand slid around her waist. “Do you like it?”

She heard a surprising edge of nerves in his voice and turned to face him. “I’ve never seen anything this beautiful in my life.”

“I have.” He gazed at her, his eyes glowing as much from within as from the candlelight around them. He lifted his free hand to her chin and leaned toward her. “I’m looking at her now.”

And then he brushed one soft kiss over her lips, tracing the moisture left behind with the pad of his thumb.

Lacey’s heart was racing. “Oh, Dev…” She leaned toward him, wanting more.

But he pulled away, his look regretful. He cleared his throat. “We might have an audience, I’m afraid. My connections don’t extend far enough for them to abandon the place to us.” He pressed one finger against her lips. “But hold that thought. I’m sure as hell going to.”

The slight edge of disgruntlement in his tone made her want to giggle. She needed something, anything, to cool her own rapidly-heating blood.

Dev led her forward, seating her on thick, fluffy jewel-tone cushions lying on top of a Persian rug sprinkled with ruby-red rose petals. Arrayed before them was a bucket of champagne and a spread she couldn’t possibly eat, as the butterflies in her stomach were dodging the needle-sharp teeth of desire.

But somehow she did it, helped by Dev taking a position across from her, carefully out of reach. His physical presence was so powerful, she needed all the distance she could get.

It only helped a little. The soft weave of his slacks did not disguise his long, muscular legs, nor could his shirt adequately hide the breadth of his shoulders or the strength of his arms. Watching his long well-formed fingers wrapped around his flute of champagne made something deep and low in her burn.

Those hands had been on her once in complete abandon.

She wanted them on her again.

“How’s the champagne?” he asked, but in his voice, she heard a darker shading that had her pulse kicking up.

Lacey made herself meet his gaze and wanted to sigh.

Dev was not classically handsome, but he was so magnetic, so undeniably male, so comfortable inside his skin that she envied him almost as much as she wanted to sigh like a teenage girl.

The teenage Lacey had been overwhelmed by Devlin Marlowe. The woman she was now was barely more able to keep from melting into a puddle.

“Lacey?” he prompted.

“What? Oh yes—the champagne. It’s good, Dev.” Though she’d scarcely registered the taste.

He filled in where her social skills failed her, turning turned the conversation to cases he’d had, amusing anecdotes about clients. Soon he had her laughing and forgetting that she was nervous.

Forgetting that she wanted his hands on her, though—well, even Dev wasn’t a miracle worker.

They teased and talked and laughed for at least an hour, then finally Dev sat up from where he’d reclined on pillows like a pasha and reached for something behind him.

“All right. The
pièce de résistance
—” His French accent wasn’t bad at all. With flair, he crossed the small space between them and opened a basket lined with satin.

Dark ovals lay inside, glowing in the candlelight. The scent was straight from heaven.

Lacey inhaled it like oxygen in a vacuum.

Dev set the lid down and plucked one oval from the basket, holding it above her lips. “Somewhere I got the idea that you’re fond of chocolate.”

Lacey grinned in memory. “I love chocolate, the darker the better.”

Dev watched her mouth form the words and felt them right down to his groin. Stifling a groan of pure pain, he continued to tease her lush lips, wondering who he was actually torturing.

Her mouth parted slightly in anticipation, and it was all Dev could do to recall that they were not alone.

He touched her lips lightly with the oval of dark chocolate, sliding it over that full lower lip of a mouth that ought to be against the law, then trailing it over the upper one slowly.

Lacey’s pink tongue lapped out, tracing the chocolate—and his fingers.

Dev did groan aloud, then.

And cursed himself for a twice-damned fool.

With mingled mischief and heat in her eyes, Lacey licked out and sucked it from between his fingers, her warm, wet tongue scalding his skin. Dev dropped the basket to the rug and jerked her close, holding her head imprisoned as he sought surcease from her mouth.

She tasted of chocolate and champagne and sin. Dev’s mind roared white-hot without a thought of where they were or who they were, edgy, dark need wind-whipping his control into shreds.

Lacey rose to her knees and pressed herself against him, her whimpers sounding as lost as he felt.

He had to have her. Had to be inside her at last. Too many years had gone by, but they were as nothing now. He was a man full-grown, with a man’s needs, but he was also a lovesick young boy who only cared that a foretaste of heaven lay in his arms under moonlight’s glow.

A siren screamed through the street outside and dimly penetrated the buzz in Dev’s brain. He ignored it and shifted to slant his mouth against hers to go deeper, to reach for something that only Lacey could provide.

But the sound had registered on Lacey and she stiffened slightly, sighing against his lips.

Dev forced himself away, his chest heaving. He shoved to his feet before he took her right there, heedless of any audience. Need clawed at his chest and made him angry and uncaring of any cost he might bear.

But the strength of that very need reminded him that the barbarian in him was never far from the surface—and Lacey was a lady.

He risked a glance at her, seeing swollen lips and night-dark eyes, nerves skittering past the heaving breath of desire. He held out his hand. “I won’t apologize for that.”

Placing her hand in his, she looked up, humor scampering past nerves. “I won’t ask you to.”

That touch of humor shot down his spine worse than a blatant statement of desire ever could. “Damn. You’re killing me. But I’ve got something else planned first.”

“Really?” she smiled, her eyes lighting up as he helped her rise. “More?”

Her pleasure was more seductive than a hundred naked women parading past his view. He wanted to delight her, to challenge her notion of him, to show her that he was more than just a boy from the wrong side of the tracks, the one who hadn’t been good enough for a princess to risk.

So he nodded and drew her toward the door. “More.”

“Dev?” She dragged her feet behind him.

He turned, hope fading in his chest.

But those witchy silvery eyes were glowing. “Can we take the chocolate with us?”

Dev chuckled and returned for the basket. “You got it, babe.” He returned to her side and glanced at her shoes. “Those things comfortable?”

Surprised, she glanced down. “Pretty much.”

“Good.” He led her back through the museum.

“Why?”

“’Cause we’re going dancin’, darlin’.”

“Dancing?” She sounded thrilled.

He nodded. “From the sublime—” he gestured at the artwork on the walls around them. “—to the Supremes. We’re going to take in the music of our youth.”

She giggled. “Dev, those were the Sixties. We weren’t even born.”

He quirked a grin. “Yeah, but I refuse to claim eighties hair bands. I stake my turf in Motown. So come on, get moving, girl—those shoes are going to pay their dues.”