Texas Heroes: Volume 1 (55 page)

And he wanted her again. Wanted her still.

Damn it.

She had betrayed him. Had chosen comfort and luxury over love. Had walked away from him without a backward glance and chosen Daddy’s money. Daddy’s approval.

“Dev?”

Those eyes. Her sister’s eyes, he saw now. Silver, with the black ring around the iris. No wonder he’d felt Maddie Gallagher’s draw when he’d first met her, though it would never have occurred to him to make a connection then. Their hair was the same chestnut, though Lacey’s was a short, gamine cut feathering around her delicate features. Maddie’s was long and wild, in tune with her earthy exuberance.

For a moment, Lacey looked almost…vulnerable.
Don’t be vulnerable, Lacey. I have news that’s going to shatter your world. You have to be strong
.

“Is it really you?” she asked.

That mouth. That impossibly lush mouth, fit more for a courtesan than a Junior Leaguer. It was the other feature she shared with Maddie—and the irony struck him. He’d seen Boone Gallagher’s brain turned to mush more than once by that mouth. He’d been amused.

He was amused no longer.

“Yeah,” he spoke, finally. But his voice was rusty. Hoarse. “It’s me.”

It’s a job, Dev. Just a job. Forget the past. It will only make things worse
.

He grinned to cover the rawness he hadn’t expected to feel. “How are you?”

“Why are you here, Dev?”

The inference that he was out of place stung. Anger rode to his rescue. “Don’t worry—I can afford the price of admission now.”

For a fleeting instant, he thought he saw shame flicker in her eyes, but it was gone so quickly, he could easily have imagined it.

When silver eyes turned to frost, he knew he had. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to take care of my donation. It was nice seeing you again, Dev,” she said, as if he were just a casual acquaintance.

As if he’d never seen her naked. Or heard her moan into his kiss.

She turned to go, and Dev’s hand shot out to stop her.

Lacey stepped away from him before he could touch her. One eyebrow tilted in his direction.
Princess to peasant: You dare to touch me?

Dev nearly lost it then. “Not so fast, Ms. DeMille.”

She glanced in the direction of the perfectly-groomed blond he’d seen her with earlier. The man was exactly her type, and it made Dev burn.

“What is it?” Her shoulders stiffened, just a fraction. They were too slender, if intimidation was the effect she wanted.

And for a moment, Dev had a crazy urge to protect her from what must come.

Then her mother looked out at him through Lacey’s eyes. Margaret DeMille, with all her Southern propriety and perfect manners, might not be Lacey’s blood mother, but she had molded Lacey in all the ways that counted, down to the way she’d taught her daughter to look down her nose, even though Dev was half a foot taller.

And fury shot through his veins. Fury for all the lost years, for all the suffering. For Charles DeMille’s contempt for Dev’s efforts to protect his family—and for telling Dev to keep his filthy hands off DeMille’s precious daughter. Fury for laying his heart at this woman’s feet and having her turn away as though he’d offered something dirty and unworthy.

That fury made him rough. “We have a date to set, Ms. DeMille.”

That got to her. Shock rippled across the too-perfect features. “What?”

At last, Dev got a little taste of revenge. “I bought you.”

Her eyes closed, then flew open again. “
You
,” she accused. “It was you.”

He smiled with satisfaction. The look on her face was worth every penny. “Yeah. It was me.” He wouldn’t charge the Gallaghers for his exorbitant bid. This one was on him.

She was something to behold, all right. Dev watched her struggle to cover her shock and dismay with those perfect, elegant manners. And if her struggle twisted something inside his chest, at least he had a measure of satisfaction for all that he and his family had suffered. It was a long way from justice, but it would have to do. He had a job to complete, and he couldn’t make this personal.

“Very well.” She had it all back now, every feature composed, the slate wiped clean as if he were a total stranger. “If you’ll give me your card, I’ll call to make arrangements to be available when it’s most convenient for you and your friends.”

“There will only be two of us. And I’d better call you. I live in Dallas now, and I travel a lot. What’s your number?” Though he already had it. Unlisted numbers were little challenge for a private investigator.

When she gave him a cell phone number instead, he resisted the urge to counter with her home number just to rattle her.

“Do you need a piece of paper?” she asked.

“No.” He caught her gaze, full on. “I have an excellent memory.”

For a moment, shadows darkened her eyes, but she recovered quickly. “Fine. Does your guest have any dietary restrictions?”

Oh, Lacey. You make it too easy
.

“I don’t know,” he replied, grinning in anticipation. “You tell me.”

A tiny frown appeared between her brows, but he saw the moment she understood his meaning. Saw her shrink back the tiniest fraction. “Oh, no. That won’t be possible.”

“It’s a worthy cause, right? I’d hate to have to withdraw my bid. There was no mention that I couldn’t pick my own guests.”

This time the struggle wasn’t so easily mastered. For a moment, Dev wished he could rewind and try this again. Figure out another way. Wished he could kill the need that even now, after what she’d done, made his body crave hers.

She swallowed hard and shook her head. “No. There wasn’t.” She lifted her head, and he was surprised to find himself proud of her strength. “Dev, if this is about what hap—”

He broke in. “No, Lacey. The past is the past. No point in rehashing. It doesn’t have anything to do with who we are now.” It couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Not anymore. Too much was at stake.

Confusion swirled in her gaze, and he cursed himself silently. He’d lost his cool. That couldn’t happen again. “Let’s start all over.” He held out his hand. “Ms. DeMille, pleased to meet you. The name’s Devlin Marlowe.”

She looked at his hand as if it were a rattlesnake, poised to strike. Then she glanced back up at him, and he wished he knew what she was thinking. “Maybe we should talk, Dev…”

“No.” If he knew one thing, it was that nothing was to be gained by digging into their past. She had too much ahead of her to deal with, and he had to keep his emotions in check. “It was nothing. We were kids. Life goes on.”

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

I
n 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.

“It will be fine, Daddy. I can handle it.”

“You’re going to do this?” His voice rose, and the little girl she’d been shrank from his disapproval. “I forbid it. I’ll take care of this, Lacey. He won’t bother you again.”

Just the way her father had taken care of her other mistake, obtaining an annulment and hushing up her ill-fated elopement. He had the connections to do it.

He’d been right, of course. She and Luc could never have made it. They were too different—and that, of course, was the attraction. He was a race car driver she met during her last year in Europe. A reprobate, a bad boy all the way, he had made her blood run hot. Just like Dev.

He’d made her want to dare things she shouldn’t. Just like Dev.

Then he had taken her father’s money and vanished like smoke.

Just like Dev.

It doesn’t have anything to do with who we are now
.