He’d always been one hell of a poker player. Sometimes half the truth would work. Lazily, he lifted an eyebrow. “I asked a few questions at the auction. The consensus seems to be that you’ll be Mrs. Doctor before long.”
“Who said that?”
“A woman who obviously hopes she’s wrong. I think she’s got her eye on your doctor.”
“He’s not my doctor,” she snapped. “My parents—”
“Your parents like him, right? Daddy approves? Doctor Blondie is just about good enough for his princess?” Dev shrugged elaborately, clamping down on the burn in his gut. “It’s a perfect fit. Society princess marries rich doctor. They have two point two children and live happily ever after in River Oaks.” It was cruel but it was true, and it enraged him. “That’s what you were raised to be, Lacey. So what’s your beef?”
Memories rose unbidden, and abruptly he was eighteen again, back in a moon-silvered gazebo being told he wasn’t good enough to touch the princess. The princess who’d turned away when he’d laid his heart at her feet.
“Go to hell, Devlin.” Her voice shook, but her eyes spit fire.
He gripped her by the arms and hauled her against his body. “I’ve been there,” he muttered. Then he covered her mouth with his.
And for an instant, that twice-damned mouth yielded to his hunger. For just a breath, he felt her respond as if all the years between had meant nothing. He’d expected resistance, anticipated ice.
Instead he got fire, and it scorched through his blood.
Gut-deep desire vaporized thought. His body responded so fast, his head spun. Caught between the past and the present, his only thought was to get closer—
She jerked her mouth away, and slapped him. Hard. Then she leapt to her feet.
“Don’t you ever touch me again.” Her voice was thready. Slivers of ice rose in her devastated gaze.
Dev jumped to his feet to grab her back, to—
To what? What the hell was he doing?
Lacey bent and retrieved her purse, then shot him a glare that should have sliced him to the bone. “I’ll—” Her voice shook, just slightly, then he watched as her mother’s training took control.
In a voice that could have frozen a blast furnace, she spoke. “I’ll call a cab. I think you got your money’s worth, and if you didn’t, I don’t care.” She turned to walk away.
“Lacey, wait—” When she didn’t, he raked a hand through his hair and clasped the back of his neck, afraid to touch her again. “I’ll drive you home.”
She kept walking, so he took off after her.
“If you touch me again, I’ll call the police.”
He could see she meant it. He wanted to blast her with angry words, wanted to have it all out right here. Right now.
But then he looked at her again and saw the one thing he couldn’t fight.
She was shaking. She was afraid of him, no matter what she said.
And that hit him where it hurt.
“Look, I’m sorry. I had no right to do that.”
But she was already hitting speed dial on her cell. “I’d like a cab right away. Hermann Park near the Museum of Fine Arts.” She listened for a moment. “Five minutes will be fine.” She punched it off.
“Lacey, I said I’m sorry.”
She stared straight ahead. “It doesn’t matter.”
Looking at her utterly blank expression, he could almost believe that was true.
“Call the cab off. I’ll drive you home. I won’t touch you.”
He saw her slender shoulders sag before she squared them again. “I don’t need the basket anymore. Enjoy your lunch, Dev. I hope it was everything you wanted.”
The nerves in her eyes stopped him cold.
Good God. If he had set out to screw everything up, he couldn’t have done any better.
He had to think what to do, had to readjust his plan. Had to—
“There’s a cab. Goodbye, Dev.” With the grace that was her trademark, she walked away across the grass without ever looking back.
Dev watched her go, feeling edgy and ragged with the debris of desire. Knowing he was the lowest form of scum. He’d started out to prove that he’d become civilized over the years. He thought he had. Would have sworn it.
Apparently not. Something about Lacey still spoke to him at a level far deeper than any acquired polish.
Score two points for the bad boy who’d just revealed his true colors.
Back to square one.
Chapter Five
Lacey stepped inside her front door and slipped off her shoes, padding across the entry in stocking feet as she flipped through her mail. It was Friday afternoon, and she’d been wrangling with bureaucrats all day over Christina. She was hardly in the mood to attend her parents’ cocktail party tonight, but not going was out of the question.