Texas! Lucky

by Sandra Brown

  "I suppose I could spare you a moment."

  "Smart choice."

  He took her arm the minute she rounded the desk and escorted her through the city room, where the onlookers made no pretense of subtlety. Speculative conversation resumed the instant Lucky and Devon cleared the doorway.

  "Here are the elevators." She feebly pointed them out when he marched past them without even slowing down.

  Propelling her toward the heavy fire door marked stairs, he took hold of the knob and pushed it open. "This'll do." He guided her through the doorway and followed closely behind.

  She spun around to confront him. "I don't know what you're doing here, or what you expect to gain by—"

  "You'll know in good time. First things first."

  He shoved his fingers up through her hair and cupped her head. Tipping it back, he captured her surprised lips in a fiery kiss. Inexorably moving forward, he backed her into the wall without decreasing the pressure of his lips on hers. She strangled on her protests and ground the heels of her hands against his shoulders, trying to push him off.

  "Stop!" she managed to rasp out when he came up for air.

  Lucky, however, had a week's worth of pent-up frustration to expend, a week's worth of lust to slake, and he couldn't have been budged by a Sherman tank.

  "I'm not finished yet."

  He sealed their mouths together again, employing the technique he'd begun developing with the preacher's daughter and over the years had mastered to an enviable expertise. The pads of his fingertips pressed into her scalp, while his thumbs met beneath her chin to stroke the smoothest expanse of skin he'd ever felt except for the insides of her thighs. She never had a chance.

  Her protests grew fainter, until they no longer qualified as gargled threats, but sounded more like whimpers of arousal. She stopped resisting the thrusts of his tongue as it hungrily plumbed her mouth again and again.

  His first taste of her in more than a week reawakened an appetite that had been whetted but far from satisfied. He angled his body closer to hers, sent his tongue deeper into her mouth, and tilted his hips forward, nudging the cleft of her thighs, wanting, wanting, wanting…

  Suddenly coming to his senses, he raised his head and smiled down at her. Gently he flicked his tongue against the corner of her lips, savoring the flavor of her kiss, and whispered, "You're the one, all right. I'd know you anywhere."

  "What are you doing?"

  "Trying to figure out a convenient way into your blouse." He frowned at the back buttons. "Later."

  She raised a hand to her lips and touched them gingerly. "You shouldn't have kissed me like that, Mr. Tyler."

  "My mother tells me I've always been guilty of doing things I shouldn't do. My conscience doesn't have a very loud speaking voice. Sometimes I don't hear it." He smiled engagingly and ducked his head for another kiss.

  Devon staved him off. "Please don't."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I don't want you to."

  "Liar."

  "How dare—"

  "You want it as much as I do."

  Her eyes flashed like summer lightning, the kind of hot white lightning that brings no rain. She slipped around him and made a beeline for the door leading back into the corridor. Before she could pull it open, he reached beyond her shoulder and flattened his hand against it.

  She executed a stiff military about-face. "I don't know what you hoped to gain by finding me, Mr. Tyler, but you're in for a disappointment. What happened last week was a fluke."

  "You'll have to be more specific. Are you talking about the barroom brawl or our night together?"

  "Our … our night together," she repeated, all but choking on the words. "I want to forget it ever happened."

  "Sorry. No can do, Dovey."

  "Stop calling me Dovey! Now that you know it isn't my real name, it sounds ridiculous."

  "Right. I can't believe I ever took you for a woman named something as whimsical as Dovey."

  "If you persist in bothering me, I'll have to call—"

  "Security? Great, call them. I'm sure they'd love to hear all about my business with you." The ruse worked. He watched as she obviously considered several options and hastily discarded them all. Finally, crossing her arms over her middle, she looked up at him and demanded, "Well, what do you want?"

  "If you're still in doubt, hug me real tight." Her eyes skittered down the front of his body, then hastily came back up to meet his.

  "Besides the obvious," she said ungraciously, "what do you want?"

  "To talk to you. But not here. Is there someplace we can go?"

  "There's a sandwich shop across the street."

  "Good. I haven't eaten lunch. Lead the way."

  * * *

  "What'll you have?" Lucky asked, consulting her from across the diner's turquoise tile table.

  "Nothing."

  To the waitress, he said, "One cheeseburger, cooked medium." He glanced down at Devon, looked pointedly at her mouth, and added, "Cut the onions. French fries, chocolate shake." Politely addressing Devon again, he asked, "Sure you don't want something?"

  "I'm sure."

  Handing the menus back to the waitress, he said, "Bring us two coffees, too."

  "You don't take no for an answer, do you?" Devon asked, after the waitress had withdrawn.

  "Rarely from a woman," he admitted.

  "I thought as much."

  "What makes you think so?"

  "You're the overbearing, macho type."

  To her irritation, he smiled. "That's me. Caveman Tyler."

  Lucky was having the time of his life just looking at her. She was wearing a loose, soft blouse that buttoned down the back. It was primly styled and had full long sleeves, cuffed at her wrists. Beneath the sheer ivory fabric, he could see the outline of quality lingerie. She was wearing the blouse with a plain straight black skirt. For all its practicality and austerity, the outfit was as sexy as hell.

  "I suppose sharing a motel bedroom with a stranger is nothing new to you," she remarked.

  "It's happened."

  "Not to me."

  The waitress arrived with their coffees.

  Lucky watched Devon mindlessly raise hers to her lips and sip at it before she remembered that she had originally declined it. Coffee sloshed over the rim of the cup and into the saucer when she set it down emphatically.

  "Now that we're alone, will you please tell me what we have to talk about?"

  "What were you doing in the place?" he asked.

  "That dive where we happened to meet?"

  "Right."

  "Did you read my story in this morning's paper?"

  He cocked his head to one side, unsure what relevance her question had to his. "No. I didn't get past the picture of you."

  "If you had read it, you would have realized I was in that tavern doing research."

  He settled his cheek in the palm of his hand, propped his elbow on the table, and regarded her calmly as he silently invited her to elaborate. She took a deep breath.

  "My column this week was on the rights still denied women, despite the strides we've taken in the past two decades toward achieving equality."

  "You went into the place and bought a drink. What right were you denied?"

  "My right to be left alone."

  He grunted noncommittally.

  She continued, "A woman still can't go into a bar alone without every man in there assuming that she's on the make, to pick up a man or be picked up. The thesis of my article was that there are still bastions of our society that women have yet to infiltrate, much less conquer.

  "What took place in the bar proved my point. I did nothing to encourage the attention of those two rednecks. I sat quietly in my booth, drinking my beer, until they came over and started hassling me. It wasn't…" She paused and glared at him. "What are you laughing at?"

  "I was just thinking that if you were missing a few teeth, and had acne and thick ankles, you probably could have drunk your beer in peac
e."

  The waitress arrived with his food. Once she had set the platters in front of him, Devon picked up her argument.

  "In other words, a woman who isn't particularly attractive is safe from male attention."

  "You look mad," he said, all innocence. "I thought I was being complimentary."

  "How much more sexist could you be than to judge a woman's worth—or a man's for that matter—strictly on the basis of looks?"

  She brushed locks of her thick, lustrous hair off her shoulders. If she wanted him to judge her on the merits of her mind, Lucky thought, she should stop practicing feminine witchcraft like tossing around that mass of dark red hair and looking so damned seductive.

  "Sorry, Devon, it's just not in my genes to think of you as anything but a beautiful, exciting woman."

  "Is that spelled g-e-n-e-s or jeans?"

  Casually he shook salt and pepper over the patty of the cheeseburger, then placed the top bun on it—all without ever taking his eyes off her. "Both. Better not ask which one makes the most convincing argument." He bit into the cheeseburger and derived satisfaction not only from its taste, but from her obvious discomfiture.

  "Tell me, then," she said, making a stab at being composed, "if I had been missing teeth, et cetera, would you still have come to my rescue?"

  He reached for the catsup. "Damn right. I would have. But," he said, aiming his finger toward the ceiling to emphasize that he was about to make the most important point of his argument, "I probably wouldn't have followed you afterward. I wouldn't have stretched out on your bed." He lowered his voice and leaned across the table, bringing them nose to nose. "I wouldn't have wanted you to go on blowing on my belly forever, and I wouldn't have woken up later wanting to blow on yours."

  For a moment she was too stunned to move. Then she grabbed her purse and scooted toward the opening of the booth. Lucky raised his booted foot beneath the table and propped it on the opposite bench, blocking her escape.

  "Hey, you asked, remember? I was just being honest, Devon."

  "Spare me your honesty from now on. I want to leave. Now."

  "Uh-uh. We've still got a lot to talk about."

  In no apparent hurry, he took another bite of his cheeseburger and dunked a French fry into the blob of catsup he'd poured into his plate. "Why'd you get mad when I intervened?"

  "Because I wanted to handle the situation myself. Part of my research was to see how a woman could get out of a situation like that if forced into one. You took away my opportunity of seeing it through."

  "I took away your opportunity of getting to know Little Alvin and Jack Ed better."

  "Possibly," she admitted with chagrin. "They were a bit more than I bargained for. I had expected wolf whistles, perhaps a pass or two. I hadn't expected to be manhandled.

  "And I'll tell you beforehand," she went on, "that you're mentioned in the article, too. Not by name, of course. You're referred to as a man with the White Knight syndrome."

  "What's that?"

  "He makes it his personal crusade to rescue damsels in distress."

  "Hey, I like that." He sucked on the straw in his milk shake. "Why'd you use the phony name to check into the motel?"

  Apparently she hadn't intended him to take the White Knight reference as a compliment. Dropping her forehead into her hand, she began massaging her temples. "I don't know. Whim. Sometimes people recognize my name and want to take issue with one article or another. I didn't feel up to conversation that evening."

  He polished off the milk shake and pushed aside the glass, along with his empty plate. The waitress passed with a carafe of fresh coffee and refilled their cups before taking his dishes away.

  "You never thought it would matter what name you used," Lucky said softly.

  She raised her head. "No. I never thought it would matter. I never expected to see you again."

  "That's because you don't know me very well."

  His simple statement caused a worried frown to appear between her brows. "What do you want? Why have you come here looking for me?"

  "You know what I want, Devon." His eyes slowly moved from the top of her head, over her face and throat, to her breasts. When his eyes reconnected with hers, he said, "I want another night in bed with you. This time we'll both be naked. I'll be looking at you with two clear eyes. And I won't waste any time sleeping."

  "That's impossible." Her voice was so husky it was barely audible. "I'm telling you now, so you'll know and won't waste my time or yours. It is impossible. If that's all you came for—"

  "It isn't."

  "Then what? Hush money? Do you plan to blackmail me now that you know my name means something in this city?"

  He ground his teeth in an effort to control his temper. "Don't ever say anything like that to me again, Devon. My name means something in my own town. The Tylers don't need anything or anybody badly enough to resort to blackmail."

  "I'm sorry I offended you and your family name."

  She said it as if she meant it, as if it was out of character for her to deliver such a low blow unless she was terribly upset. Lucky believed she was. Her original anxiety over seeing him had returned. It showed on her lovely features and in the depth of her green eyes.

  "Just please tell me what you want, so I can go back to work and you can leave."

  "You weren't just another pickup, Devon."

  "Am I supposed to be flattered by that?"

  "I'd like for you to be."

  She shook her head. "I can't accommodate you. Being a one-night stand made me feel cheap."

  "You were more than a one-night stand. My night with you is very significant to my future."

  "Oh please," she groaned. "Don't add insult to injury by feeding me juvenile lines like that."

  "You are my alibi."

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  "Alibi? Like in a crime?"

  "Exactly like in a crime."

  Devon shook her head. "I don't understand."

  Lucky told her about the fire. "Several pieces of large machinery were destroyed. The damage is estimated at close to seven figures. At this point Tyler Drilling is stuck with the loss."

  As always, whenever he thought about it, he became frustrated. "It's crazy. If the local authorities were handling the investigation alone, we, my family and I, would never have fallen under suspicion. But with the feds in on it…

  "See, apparently a lot of oilmen who are in financial straits are taking desperate measures. I'm sure fraud is rampant. So, the insurance companies are on the alert. Of course their suspicions are unfounded in this case, but we've got to prove them wrong. My brother can verify his whereabouts that night. I can't. Not without you."

  She regarded him closely for several moments before averting her head to gaze through the window at the traffic moving along the congested downtown boulevard.

  "So you want me to go on record as your alibi. You couldn't have been in Milton Point setting fire to the garage because you were in bed with me all night."

  "That sums it up."

  She swung her gaze back to him. "I can't do it."

  Before he could react, she slid from the booth and headed for the door of the diner.

  "Hey, what the—" Standing, he worked his hand into the pocket of his jeans and tossed a ten-dollar bill onto the table. "Thanks!" he shouted to the waitress as he bolted through the door in pursuit of Devon Haines.

  He caught up with her at the intersection where she was jaywalking. "What the hell do you mean you can't?" He took hold of her upper arm and halted her in the middle of the street. Horns began blaring around them. A beer truck swerved to avoid a collision.

  Lucky ushered her to the curb. Once they had reached the sidewalk, he drew her out of the flow of pedestrian traffic and repeated his question. "This time I really can't take no for an answer, Devon."

  "You'll have to. I can't vouch for your whereabouts that night."

  "The hell you can't," he ground out. Pulling her against him, he lowered his
head to within whispering distance of hers. "You know I was lying beside you all night. I fell asleep before you did. You were gone by the time I woke up the following morning. And if you've forgotten what happened in between, I'll be happy to refresh your memory."

  She nervously dampened her lips with her tongue. "I don't need to be reminded, thank you."

  "At least you're not denying it happened."

  "No, it happened, but I wish it hadn't. I'm not proud of it. I'm certainly not going to confess it to the world." She wrested her arm free. "I'm sorry you're in trouble. Truly I am. But that fire has nothing to do with me."

  "Maybe not, but you're the only thing standing between jail and me."

  "Oh, I doubt that. A man like you always lands on his feet. I'm sure that before you're formally charged, you'll see a way out." She began backing away from him. "In any event I won't be able to help you."

  She turned and entered the newspaper building through the revolving bronze doors. Lucky charged after her. By the time he was disgorged into the lobby by the rapidly turning doors, she was about to step onto the elevator. He raced for it.

  Two uniformed guards lunged for him, catching him by the arms from behind. "Hey, buddy, you bothering Ms. Haines?" Apparently they'd been asked to intercept him.

  "This won't help, Devon!" Lucky shouted to the closing elevator doors. She refused to meet his eyes as she punched the button for her floor.

  He struggled with the security guards. "Let go of me. I'm leaving, I'm leaving." They didn't take his word for it, but pushed him through the revolving doors.

  "If you come back, we'll call the police!" one shouted after him.

  Lucky yelled back an obscenity, then stood glaring at the front of the building while pedestrians eddied around him. "Now what?" he muttered. What the hell did she mean by "I can't"?

  * * *

  Using the transmitter, Devon lowered the automatic garage door, then let herself into the condo through the connecting kitchen door. Once inside, she ran through the dim, silent rooms until she reached the living room, where she watched the street through the shutters until she was satisfied that Lucky Tyler hadn't followed her home. She wouldn't put it past him to try something like that. She'd driven home with one eye on the road and the other on her rearview mirror. The shock of seeing him standing at the edge of her desk this afternoon had affected her more than she wanted to admit. Usually adept at masking her feelings, she feared she hadn't been successful in hiding her reaction to his unexpected appearance. Several of her cohorts had noticed how rattled she was and had teased her about it when she returned to her office.