Texas Heroes_ Volume 1(138)

He almost thought he saw a quick flare of hurt. He started to drop his hand and tell her to forget the whole thing—but then, very slowly, her hand rose from her side and slid against his skin.

And Dev felt like someone had plowed a fist straight into his gut.

For one treacherous second, his mind was filled with silvered moonlight on pale, smooth skin. With hot, deep kisses and a longing he’d never felt before—or since.

It was all Dev could do not to drop her hand like a hot potato, but instead, he even surprised himself. He drew her hand up to his lips. He breathed in her scent, redolent of spices and tropical flowers, and closed his eyes so she wouldn’t see how much he wanted her. How much memory claimed him. How much she had the power to hurt him.

Still.

He pressed his mouth to her knuckles and heard her tiny gasp.

Then he let her go and summoned the strength to smile as though nothing mattered.

“I know you want to back out. I hope you won’t.” He waited a beat. “The decision is yours. I’ll call you.”

Then he walked away, feeling like he’d just stepped back from the edge of a very steep cliff.

He was not dashing his body on the rocks for Lacey DeMille ever again.





Chapter Two





In a packed ballroom steamy with the heat of many bodies, Lacey shivered as she watched him walk away.

But her palm was hot where he had touched her, and on her knuckles she could feel the imprint of his mouth. Her body quivered with the lightning bolt that had arced from his body to hers.

And she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or scream that Devlin Marlowe had walked back into her life.

“Lacey, darling, who is that man and why is he here?” Her mother’s voice grated across nerves already strained past bearing. Then Philip walked up to her other side and turned her toward him.

“Is that him?” he demanded. “The one who—”

Bought me? Lacey fought a laugh wrenched up from the rawness within her, remembering Dev’s bold statement. He had been the same back then, full of daring and mischief. He had made her want to be like him, so unafraid, so ready take on anything. Anyone.

Come with me now, tonight. I’ll take care of you, I swear I will. Words she’d buried deep rose to the surface and taunted. Lacey bit her lip to stem tears she couldn’t explain.

Why, Dev? Why did you leave?

She hadn’t believed her father at first, but when Dev never even checked to see if she was all right after that horrible night, she’d known the truth.

Lust at first sight, a youthful impulse—and a painful mistake.

Dev had asked her to go away with him that night, not seeing how impossible it was. Her father would have hunted them to the ends of the earth. She’d been packed off to school in Europe, her heart in tatters. Foolish little girl.

Lacey had been a fool not once, but twice. She didn’t want to hurt like that ever again. She was always careful now.

“What’s wrong? What did he say to you?” Philip demanded. “He is the one, isn’t he?”

“I can’t believe he made such a spectacle,” her mother complained. “I hope you set him straight and canceled that ridiculous arrangement.”

Lacey was drowning in voices, in demands. All she wanted was to be alone, to go someplace quiet where she could try to absorb what had happened.

“Lacey?” Philip’s hand was on her elbow. “What is wrong with you?”

She did laugh then, one short burst, quickly stifled. Her mother and Philip stared at her as though she’d lost her mind.

And another laugh leaked out of her, then grew stronger. Soon she was laughing hard enough that it seemed reasonable that tears would escape and roll off her lashes.

“That’s it,” Philip grated. “I’m taking you home.”

“I’ll call Dr. Byrne,” her mother offered. “He’ll prescribe something to settle your nerves.”

Lacey wiped her eyes and tried to compose herself to answer, but before she could, her father had intervened.

“She doesn’t need a doctor, Margaret. I’ll take care of this.” He pulled her to the side and shot back an order. “Go get her a glass of water, Philip.”

Her father led her away from the crowd looking on with avid glances. When they were at the edge of the room, he turned her to face him, his expression stern.

“That was Marlowe, wasn’t it?” He didn’t have to say the name. “Was he the bidder?”

Lacey could only nod. Memories held her fast in their grip. She felt almost as naked now as she had that night.

“What did you tell him?”

Nothing seemed real. Not her father standing in front of her, not her mother’s horror, not Philip’s presumption. Not the touch she could still feel on her skin. Or the green eyes that could still claim her.