Texas! Lucky

by Sandra Brown

  He rubbed her between the shoulder blades. "What happened, Devon?" Instinctively he knew that she had never talked about this with anyone. He was flattered, but it hurt him to see her in such emotional distress.

  She pulled in a choppy breath and lowered her hands. "She was dead within two weeks. Inoperable stomach cancer."

  "Oh, damn."

  She took a clean tissue from the pocket of the jumper and blotted her eyes and nose. Her pretty features were etched with misery and guilt.

  "You couldn't have known," he said softly.

  "I should have."

  "Not based on your past experience."

  "I should have listened to her. I should have done something."

  "The result would probably have been the same, Devon." His father had died of cancer after fighting it for months.

  "Yes, probably," Devon said. "But if I hadn't disregarded her, she wouldn't have suffered. I turned my back on her at a time when she needed someone to believe her."

  "From what you said, she had turned her back on you first."

  She dusted her hands of the leaf she had shredded. "We weren't tuned in to each other the way you Tylers are. So I can't relate to the camaraderie your family shares, but I think the way you rally together is enviable."

  He sensed that the topic of her mother's death was now closed. He wouldn't press. She had opened up to him. It had been too brief a glimpse into Devon's psyche, but he coveted information about her.

  He matched her more lighthearted tone. "You don't think we're loud, boisterous, and overwhelming?"

  She laughed softly. "A little, perhaps."

  "Yeah, we can get pretty rambunctious."

  "But it must be nice, knowing you have someone you can count on to stand up for you, no matter what."

  "You don't?" He caught her beneath the chin with his fingertip and turned her head to face him. "What about your husband?"

  "He's not in a position to rally to my aid now, is he?"

  "What if he were in a position to? Would he?"

  She lifted her chin off the perch of his finger and turned away again. Lucky dropped his arm to his side. The emotional turmoil on her face was plain. He hated to think he was the one responsible for it.

  "You'll have to tell him about us now, won't you?" he asked softly.

  "Yes."

  "I'm sorry, Devon. I had hoped to prevent that." If he had hoped it badly enough, he would have left her alone, he thought wryly. He wouldn't have asked her to come to Milton Point and counter Susan's lie with the truth. But thinking primarily of himself, he had coerced her to come. He was confident of acquittal; Devon, however, would suffer permanent consequences. "When will you see him?"

  "Tomorrow. I don't want him to hear about it from someone else before I've had a chance to explain. That's why I accepted your mother's invitation to spend the night here. Since I'm this close to the prison, it would be silly to drive back to Dallas, only to have to return to East Texas in the morning."

  Lucky wasn't as interested in the logistics of travel as he was in what form her explanation would take. "What are you going to say to him?"

  Ruefully she shook her head. "I don't know yet."

  "What are you going to tell him about me?"

  "As little as possible."

  "Are you going to tell him how we met?"

  "I suppose that'll be a start."

  "About Little Alvin, Jack Ed, the fight?"

  "I suppose."

  "You'll explain why you were in the place."

  "He'll understand that part."

  "But not the rest. What'll you tell him about the motel?"

  "I don't know," she admitted with increasing impatience.

  "Well, you'd better think of something."

  She turned on him with agitation. "Tell me, Lucky, what should I say? What can I say? What words could possibly make this situation easier for him to accept, hmm? Put yourself in his place. He's in prison. How would you react if your roles were reversed? How would you feel if I were your wife and had slept with another man?"

  He reached for her and pulled her against him, snarling, "If you were my wife, you wouldn't have slept with another man."

  She deflected his kiss. "Don't." He could tell by her tone that she wasn't being coy. He gazed into her eyes. "Don't," she repeated firmly. "Let me go."

  He relaxed his embrace; she stepped out of it. "For reasons I can't comprehend, your family has been cordial to me when all I deserve from them is scorn and contempt. I expected to be shunned like a woman of the streets. Instead, they've been inordinately kind. I won't betray their consideration by playing your tramp."

  His body was pulled taut, as though he were held back by an invisible leash. "You're not a tramp," he said meaningfully. "I never thought of you that way. I never treated you that way. Didn't I nearly throttle someone today for suggesting that you were?"

  Suddenly she ducked her head, and he thought it might be because of the tears that had filled her eyes. "So far," she said in a low, stirring voice, "I've got only one sin to confess to my husband. Please don't make it any worse, Lucky."

  "That's the first time you've called me by name," he murmured, taking a step nearer. "That's a beginning."

  She raised her head. Their eyes met and held. Eventually she moistened her lips, pulled the lower one through her teeth, and whispered, "We aren't allowed a beginning." Having said that, she turned and headed for the house.

  "My, my. Wonders never cease."

  At the sound of his sister's voice, Lucky angrily spun around. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

  Sage stepped from behind one of the peach trees. "There's actually a woman who can say no to Lucky Tyler. My faith in womankind has been restored."

  "Shut up, brat," he grumbled. "How long have you been there?"

  "Long enough to set my heart to palpitating."

  "Why were you spying on us?"

  "I wasn't. Mother sent me out to tell you that Chase and Tanya are leaving. She thought you'd want to say congratulations one more time. I sensed the nature of your conversation, and decided it would be imprudent to interrupt."

  "So you eavesdropped."

  Unfazed, she fell into step beside her brother as he stamped toward the house.

  "Poor Lucky," she sighed theatrically. "He finally finds a woman he really wants, and she turns out to have the loathsome three."

  "Loathsome three?"

  "A brain, a conscience, and a husband."

  Lucky glowered at her. "You know, the day Mother and Dad brought you home from the hospital, Chase and I considered tying you up in a gunnysack and tossing it into the stock pond. Too bad we didn't."

  * * *

  "Lucky looked ready to kill Sage when they came in," Tanya remarked.

  Chase and she were driving home in their car. He'd left the truck at the house, unwilling to subject his wife to its rankness, rattles, and rough ride.

  "Sage has always been a pain," he said, but with a grudgingly affectionate smile. "She must've said something to him about their houseguest."

  "I like her."

  "Sage?"

  "No." Tanya corrected him indulgently, knowing he had intentionally misunderstood her. "Their house guest."

  "Hmm. She's okay, I guess. She pulled through for us today. Didn't crack under pressure, and stayed as cool as a cucumber. I believed every word she said. A jury will, too."

  "Do you think she's attractive?"

  Hearing the uncertainty in his wife's voice, Chase parked in their designated space at the apartment complex and turned to face her. "I think you are attractive," he avowed softly, stretching across the seat to gently kiss her forehead.

  "But Devon's so smart and sophisticated."

  "And you're so pregnant with my baby." Working his way inside her clothing, Chase laid his hand on her bare abdomen. "When did you first suspect?"

  "Last week. My period was more than two weeks late. I took a home pregnancy test yesterday, but didn't want to trust i
t entirely, no matter how reliable the guarantee on the box claimed it was. So I called the doctor and made an appointment for this morning. He confirmed it."

  "You don't feel any different," he whispered as he caressed her.

  Laughing, she ran her fingers through his hair. "I hope not. Not yet."

  His caresses increased in intensity. Their kisses became prolonged. Finally Tanya pushed him away. "Maybe we had better go inside."

  "Maybe we'd better," he agreed on a suggestive growl.

  As soon as they had cleared the door to their apartment, he pulled her toward the living-room sofa. "Chase," she protested, "it's only a few more steps to the bedroom."

  "That's too many."

  He had already stripped off his shirt. Easing his zipper over his swollen sex, he pulled off his pants and underwear. Impatiently he removed Tanya's clothes, too. It wasn't until he was poised between her thighs that reason penetrated his passion.

  "I won't hurt you, will I?"

  "No."

  "You'll tell me, won't you?"

  "Yes, Chase."

  "Promise?"

  "Promise," she groaned, urging him forward and receiving him fully.

  "God, I love you," he whispered into her hair several minutes later as they held each other in the sultry afterglow of their lovemaking.

  "I love you too." Snuggling closer to him, she pressed her mouth against his chest. "I feel sorry for anybody who isn't as happy as we are. Especially Devon and Lucky."

  Tanya didn't have an envious bone in her body. She was unselfish and generous to a fault. However, she harbored insecurities the same as any other human being. Hers stemmed from her background.

  She came from a large, hardworking, but always poor farming family. Schooling beyond high school graduation had been out of the question, and she regarded anyone who had earned a college degree with disproportionate admiration.

  It had been Tanya's sweet nature and unpretentiousness that had first attracted Chase. He recognized her insecurities and found them endearing, though he never discussed them with her. It was characteristic of her nature that while being awed by Devon Haines's panache, she could still feel sorry for her.

  He said, "You link their names as though they're a pair."

  "I think they would be if they could be," she said softly.

  "Tanya," he said gruffly, smoothing back her fair hair, "you're going to make a wonderful mother."

  "What makes you think so?"

  "Because you have such a huge capacity for loving."

  Her eyes grew misty as her fingers glided over the strong features of his face. "What a lovely thing to say, Chase."

  "It's true."

  Before they became too maudlin, she smiled. "You know, one thing that has limited capacity is this apartment. I spoke with a realtor a few weeks ago, before Lucky's troubles started. She said when we were ready to start looking for a house to contact her."

  "She?"

  "An old friend of yours. Marcie Johns."

  "Goosey Johns!" he exclaimed on a laugh.

  "Goosey?"

  "That's what we used to call her."

  "How awful."

  "Naw. It was all in fun."

  "She's very nice."

  "Oh, I know that," he agreed. "She always was. We just goaded her because she was tall and skinny, wore glasses and braces, and studied all the time."

  "Apparently she's getting the last laugh. She's a very successful businesswoman."

  "So I've heard. She's got her own realty company now, doesn't she?"

  "Mm-hmm. And even after robbing the kitty to pay Lucky's bail, I believe we'll have enough for a down payment. Know what?" Tanya said, propping herself up to look down at him. "I think Marcie had a crush on you when you were in school."

  "Really?" No longer listening, he cupped one of her breasts and fanned the crest with his thumb. "Lord, that's beautiful."

  "She asked a lot of questions about you, was curious to know how you were, that kind of thing."

  "Goosey Johns was interested in books, not boys. Especially horny boys like me," he added, pulling Tanya astride his middle. Her body sheathed his hardness again. Breathlessly he asked, "Now can we talk about something else?"

  They didn't talk about anything at all.

  * * *

  Chapter 15

  It had a tennis court, a nine-hole golf course, a weight room, a jogging track, a library stocked with current best-sellers. For all its amenities, however, it was still a prison. Using her telephone credit card, Devon had called the warden's office from the Tylers' home the day before and scheduled a meeting with her husband for 9:00 A.M.

  She had got up early, dressed, and gone downstairs. Laurie had insisted that she drink a cup of coffee before leaving. Sage was still asleep. She was told, without having asked, that Lucky had left early to return the company truck to headquarters in case it was needed.

  A morning drive through the East Texas countryside in early summer should have been a pleasurable experience. Wildflowers dotted the pastures in which dairy and beef cattle grazed. She'd driven with the car windows rolled down. The south wind carried the scent of pine and honeysuckle. The peaceful hour it had required to arrive at those iron gates should have calmed her nerves and prepared her for the dreaded forthcoming visit with her husband. It hadn't.

  Her palms were slick with perspiration as she was led into the room where inmates were allowed to greet their visitors. It was a large, airy room, having unadorned windows that overlooked the flower and vegetable gardens tended by the inmates themselves.

  The easy chairs and sofas were functional but comfortable. Current magazines were scattered around the various accent tables. There was a coffee maker with a freshly brewed carafe and, this morning, a box of doughnuts nearby.

  "He'll be right here," she was told by the prison guard. "Help yourself to coffee and doughnuts while you wait."

  "Thank you."

  She wanted neither. Her stomach was roiling. Resting her purse on one of the chairs, she clasped her damp hands together and moved toward the windows.

  What to say?

  Greg, I've had an affair.

  It hadn't been an affair. It had been a single night.

  Greg, I had a one-night stand.

  No, that sounded worse.

  Greg, I was swept up in the passion of the moment.

  Passion?

  Passion.

  Whatever else it had been, it had been passionate. How else could it have happened? Reason hadn't entered into it. Not even romance. Common sense had played no part. Morality hadn't been considered. She'd been governed strictly by her passions.

  And it had been glorious.

  Ever since her night with Lucky, that traitorous thought had been throwing itself against the doors of her consciousness like a deranged beast trying to break down the barriers and get out to celebrate the event. That's why she felt compelled to confess it to Greg. Whether he was likely to find out or not, she would have eventually told him. If her emotions hadn't got as tangled up as the sheets of the bed she had shared with Lucky Tyler, she might have kept the secret for the rest of her life, never divulging it to anyone. But her emotions had become involved.

  Because they were, her conscience was. She felt guilty about it; therefore, she had to discuss it with Greg.

  Her marriage to Greg was certainly unorthodox, but the legal document still decreed them husband and wife. She'd freely recited the vows to him, and just as freely she had broken those vows.

  What Greg had done or hadn't done, whether or not he was innocent or guilty, whether or not he had used her and her newspaper column—none of that mattered. She was an adulterous wife.

  Perhaps if he had given her a wedding night as she had wanted and expected him to…

  Perhaps if her body hadn't been so starved for the loving attention he had withheld…

  Perhaps if he hadn't declined his conjugal visits…

  That had been the crushing blow. Only hours before s
he had met Lucky, she had discovered that Greg had been refusing conjugal visits with her. When asked why, he couldn't give her a satisfactory answer.

  "Why, Greg, why?" He provided no answers, and only became angry when she persisted.

  More than her father's self-absorption, more than her mother's neglect, more than anything in her life, that had been the ultimate rejection. Her self-confidence had been shattered, her self-esteem crushed. Was she so undesirable that even her prisoner husband wouldn't avail himself of her?

  While she was in that frame of mind, fate maliciously matched her with Lucky Tyler. He had revived her dying spirit.

  Still, no one had forced her at gunpoint to make love with him. Sure, she had needs; everyone had needs. But society would be plunged into chaos if people went around incontinently gratifying their needs.

  Down the hallway she heard approaching footsteps and murmured conversation. Turning from the window, she lowered her hands to her sides, but reflexively clasped them together again. She moistened her lips, wondering if she should be smiling when he walked in. She wasn't sure she could even form a smile. Her features felt wooden.

  Laurie Tyler had graciously pressed her suit for her. Devon always took special pains with her appearance when she came to see Greg, wanting her visits to be as pleasurable for him as possible. This morning, however, even the quality cosmetics Sage had loaned her didn't conceal the dark circles beneath her eyes, which hours of sleeplessness had left there.

  The footsteps became more pronounced and the voices louder. Devon's heart began to thud painfully inside her chest. She swallowed with difficulty, though her mouth was so dry her saliva glands seemed to have been dammed. She tried to hold her lips still, but they quivered around a tentative smile.

  Greg and the guard appeared in the doorway. "Have a good visit," the official said before withdrawing.

  Greg looked trim and fit. He had told her that he played a lot of tennis during free time. His tanned skin always came as a mild surprise to her. He spent more time out-of-doors now than he had during the days of his trial, when he'd had a pallor. The inmates here didn't wear prison garb, but their own clothing. Greg was always immaculately dressed, though his three-piece suits had been replaced by casual clothes and his Italian leather loafers by sneakers.