For a treacherous instant, Dev thought about a fragile sylph in bed fast asleep. Frowning, he shook his head vehemently. Maybe she wasn’t just a job anymore, but he was far from ready to discuss her with anyone. So he smiled. “Not a chance, buddy. I’m footloose and fancy-free. You’re safe for the foreseeable future.”
“Well, now that that’s settled, want to go a few rounds?”
“Not unless you just like getting pummeled.”
“I could take you.”
“You and whose army?”
They both grinned, back on comfortable footing.
“Just because I don’t want this pretty face messed up so I’m butt-ugly like you…” Connor’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Besides, there’s this girl I promised to take flying. Better get going.”
“Running away, eh?” Dev chucked him on the chin. “Go on, Romeo. Have fun in the wild blue yonder.”
Connor turned to go, then turned back. “Oh, yeah—I forgot. There’s a message for you at the apartment from a guy at some museum. Says it’s all set for tomorrow night.” He cocked his head. “I didn’t know you were an art buff.”
Dev smiled. It was the centerpiece of a plan that could blow up in his face, but he felt a kick of excitement. “What you don’t know about me could fill an encyclopedia.”
“You ever get tired of being the voice of authority?” Connor grinned.
“Never.” Dev grinned back. “You looked at those papers yet?”
Connor glanced away. “This weekend, I promise.”
“Unless a woman shows up.”
Connor laughed. “Hey, I’m the lover.” He pointed toward the punching bag. “You’re the fighter. To each his own.”
Dev threw a mock punch at him. “Go on. I hear romance calling.”
“And I’m just the man to answer.” Connor waved and ambled off.
Dev watched him go. His little brother would laugh if he could see the butterflies in Dev’s stomach over what he had planned.
The date of a lifetime. An evening she’d never forget.
In the dark hours of the night, he’d quit kidding himself that the date meant nothing. He wanted one night to bind her to him enough so that maybe—just maybe—she’d forgive him when he had to tell her that she wasn’t who she’d always believed.
Dev had gambled on a lot of things in his life, but nothing that had ever turned him inside out this way.
One night. One roll of the dice.
One chance to give them the night that had been stolen seventeen years ago.
He could only pray it would be enough.
Chapter Eight
Nothing fancy. That’s what Dev had said when she’d asked what she should wear on their date. Their real date.
Until he’d called her last night, she’d wondered if she’d dreamed it. Even waking up in her underwear yesterday morning and finding a note telling her the coffeepot was set to go hadn’t convinced her that she hadn’t imagined his tender treatment, his whispered words about wanting to be in bed beside her.
Lacey shivered slightly as she stared into her closet. Though his hands had been careful and almost impersonal as he’d tended her, his eyes had been anything but.
Hot with promises. Dark with need.
Seeing Dev like that again brought back memories of a long-ago night when her body had cried out for his, when desire had shot past her fears to sear her very soul.
He should have been her first, should have been the one to conclude the lessons he’d begun, lessons that had taught a sheltered girl the meaning of passion.
He walked away, Lacey. He took—
Ruthlessly, she shoved those thoughts away. Maybe he’d done that once, but he was a grown man now. Maybe he regretted what he’d done. Maybe he wanted to make things right.
Or maybe she was a fool of the worst kind.
Lacey’s fingers trailed across garment after garment as her mind tried to sort through a jumble of feelings.
Maybe she was a fool, but within her, a recklessness was emerging. The same seed that had sprouted in defiance of her parents’ disapproval was growing again.
She was a grown woman, not a scared sixteen-year-old anymore. And from the mists of memories ruthlessly quashed for years, arose one she had buried deep. The look on Dev’s face as he’d confronted her father in the gazebo, his eyes and his words pleading with her to run away with him, to believe he’d take care of her.
Dear God. The eyes of a woman saw a different scene. Dev was not the strong, self-assured man then—he’d been a boy, only two years older than her, and he’d faced down her father like a lion protecting his mate.
And she’d walked away. To protect him—or herself?