His chin rested on the top of her head. “You’ve had a rough couple of days, Luce. It’ll get better.”
“No, it won’t.” Her voice was heavy with tears. “Don’t you see? It’s me.”
“You?” He drew back to look at her.
“Donald never loved me. Worse, I never loved him. What kind of person would marry someone she didn’t love? But that’s exactly what I was going to do. What kind of a person does that make me?”
He opened his mouth. Said nothing.
“Awful, that’s what.” She hiccupped. “I fully intended to marry him, have his children, for God’s sake. I planned a life with a man I didn’t love.”
He thought of today’s list. That’s what planning will get you. But he said nothing, simply handed her another tissue and waited till she’d wiped her eyes again and swiped at her nose.
“Lucy—”
“How can you even stand to be around me?”
“Wait a minute. You’re talking to a guy who’s lyin’ to his granny here, remember?”
“Yeah, but for a good reason.”
“Still, a lie’s a lie. Whether you tell it to yourself or to someone else.”
She stared at him through tear-reddened eyes. “What do you mean?”
“You lied to yourself. For whatever reason, you convinced yourself you and the jerk were meant for each other. Me, I’m tellin’ my gram a fib. It’s to make her happy, give her peace, but still… It’s a fib.”
Sighing, she laid her head on his shoulder, her breath whispering along his neck. “I’m a wreck.”
“You’re allowed to be. I’m surprised this meltdown didn’t happen sooner. I expected it last night.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He touched his lips to her hair.
His body reacted violently to her touch. His system out of control, he still managed to bite back the groan that bubbled up inside him. She’d been engaged. She had to know what she was doing to him with her closeness, her touch, her smell. She had to feel it too.
“You know, Luce, this whole charade thing. It doesn’t all have to be a lie. Be with me. Make that part real.” He twisted just enough that his lips could find hers. Gently, ever so gently, he tasted her.
He swore the earth moved.
When she tried to draw away, he held her firm. Then, with a soft moan, she raised her arms, wrapped them around him and moved into the kiss. Opened for him.
He’d never tasted anything sweeter, anything hotter. If he died this instant, he’d die a happy man.
She pulled away, fresh tears starting. “See what I’m doing? I’m despicable. How can I trust myself? One day, one lousy day after I walked away from my groom, left him standing at the altar, I’m in bed with you, kissing you.”
“No. You didn’t leave him. He left you. For his ex. Donald Kimball is a jerk.”
She frowned.
“You’re free, Lucy. Free to be anything you want, with anyone you want.”
He drew back, startled by the emotions swimming through him. What was happening here?
Lust, he assured himself. Pure and simple. Lucinda Darling was a real looker and one heck of a woman. Any man would want her.
And he did.
But that didn’t mean she was good for him or that he should indulge. She was, after all, part of her daddy’s empire. And the apple usually didn’t fall far from the tree.
“I didn’t mean me, Lucy. It was a generic thing.” He pulled away. Time to get some distance. “I think we’ve both gotten caught up in the moment.” He stood up, walked away from her. “See you in the morning.” He closed the door behind him, heard the soft thud as the pillow hit the wood.
She was mad. Good. Better that than sad.
He went back to his room but sleep continued to elude him.
Lucinda Darling spelled trouble with a capital T.
He hadn’t lied to her. He had brought strays home before. A few of them had even been the two-legged variety. But they’d been guys. Friends who had needed a place to park for a day or two, usually while the women in their lives cooled off. Forgave them for whatever transgression they’d committed.
What he had here, though, was a stray who would tempt a saint. And he sure as heck had never claimed to be that.
On top of that, regardless of who her father was, she was a hurt and very vulnerable stray.
He’d be a heel to try anything with her.
That kiss had been over the line.
He wished he could regret it. He didn’t.
Chapter Six
Barefoot, his shirt hanging open and faded jeans unsnapped and riding low on his hips, Jake stood in front of the coffeepot, willing it to brew faster. He needed caffeine. Badly.