He’d been glancing around the room, but his head whipped toward her, his look intense. When he saw the curve of her lips, for a fleeting instant his lips answered, his smile wry. “I’d better stay away from Chardonnay. Seems to make me do stupid things.” His chest rose. “Lacey, I—”
She wasn’t ready. “Iced tea it is, then.” She headed for the kitchen, willing strength into legs that had gone weak with the force of that crooked smile.
But he followed her. As she put ice in glasses, he stood in the center of her kitchen looking too good. Hands thrust in his pockets, he scanned the room. “Can I help?”
She shook her head and concentrated on the glasses.
“Nice place you have. Good decorator.”
She arched one eyebrow and turned before she poured. “I did it myself.”
The crooked grin became a rueful smile. “I just keep putting my foot in it, don’t I?”
She poured carefully, then replaced the pitcher in the refrigerator. Grasping both glasses, she turned. “You can’t help being a snob, I suppose.” She handed him a glass.
Dev took it but frowned. “Snob? Me?”
“You assume you know me, assume I’m simply part of a group who behave in a predictable way. But you don’t know me, Dev.” She met his gaze evenly, her stomach burning from her daring.
He looked into his glass. “I’m finding that out.” He fixed his eyes on her again. “Listen, Lacey, about the park…”
“Forget it, Dev. It’s over.”
Green eyes darkened. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
Suddenly, her sunny kitchen crowded with memories, shadowed by the past. “Please, Dev. Don’t.” I can’t talk about any of it. I can’t bear it.
“But—” He frowned and studied her closely.
She waited for an eternity, praying he wouldn’t continue. She didn’t know how to be around him, how to forget, how to proceed. How to cover the maelstrom he generated inside her.
Dev exhaled sharply, then nodded. “All right. But I am sorry. I’d like to make it up to you. If that’s possible. You don’t know it, but that wasn’t like me. I don’t—” He caught her look. “All right, I’ll stop. But I would like to show you that I know how to behave. Let me take you to dinner.”
“I’m sorry. I have plans. My parents are having a party tonight.” And thank God for that. How would she make it through an entire evening with him?
“A raincheck, then?”
This was Dev, but it wasn’t. This man was far more serious, much less reckless. Time had wrought changes in them both. He’d had pride, even when he had nothing else. Could she trade his pride for her comfort and still think well of herself?
She was her mother’s daughter. She’d weathered many difficult occasions with a smile firmly in place. Dev would be her biggest challenge, but a part of her wanted to try.
“All right. But you live in Dallas, right?”
That killer smile returned. “It’s only three hours, and I’m in and out of Houston on business all the time.”
Suddenly memory and shadow fled, and he was simply a very attractive man asking her for a date.
Maybe they could do this. Maybe it wouldn’t be as hard as she feared.
He chuckled. “I see second thoughts. I promise I’ll be on my best behavior. Scout’s honor.” He held up three fingers.
Lacey had to smile at that. “You were never a Boy Scout, Devlin Marlowe.”
He chuckled. “Ouch. I resemble that remark.”
The moment spun out on a filament of shared laughter. Something inside her chest eased just a little.
The doorbell rang. Lacey glanced at the clock. “Oh, dear. I’m late. My parents are throwing their annual cocktail party for half of Houston.” She knew she was babbling, but that would be Philip at the door.
“Doctor Blondie, I presume?” Dev cocked one dark eyebrow in challenge.
Lacey stifled her grin, setting her glass down hastily. “I’m sorry, Dev. You’ll have to excuse—”
Philip walked in the front door without waiting, his glance darting between the two of them. “It was unlocked. You didn’t answer.”
Lacey straightened carefully, her hand settling against her stomach. “Hello, Philip,” she said brightly. “I’m sorry. I’m running late.”
Dressed for the party, he took in her appearance, his gaze sharp. “So I see.” He fastened on Dev, his face turning hard. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Dr. Philip Forrester.” He extended his hand.
It was like being caught between two warring stallions. The atmosphere crackled with challenge.