Texas Heroes: Volume 1

by Jean Brashear

  She’d walked away from him, and he’d wound up on the next bus out of town, determined to come back and take his family away from Houston—and Charles DeMille—forever.

  He’d done it, put his siblings through college, bought his mother a house, built a lucrative business. Now that he’d become successful, plenty of women considered him only too suitable. He wondered if they would be around if he’d still been poor.

  But none of them had been a woman who wanted to take on three kids and an alcoholic mother. Nor one who understood his drive to climb up from poverty and become so successful that no one would ever again say he wasn’t good enough.

  Lacey wouldn’t be any different, would she? She’d cut and run before. He’d made it out of the cesspool, on his own terms. So why the devil was he racing back toward the woman who had been part and parcel of the most painful period of his life?

  Dev didn’t have an answer that made any sense. So he simply drove.

  “Lacey, darling, are you feeling well?” her mother asked that night at dinner.

  It had been a hard week. She’d just found out from Christina’s social worker that an unknown aunt had popped up, wanting custody. The social worker suspected that state aid money was the aunt’s real goal, and Christina’s distress at the news had made Lacey wish she could take the child away and hide her so that no one would ever hurt her again.

  On top of that, Lacey hadn’t yet had the chance to discuss Philip with her parents, and she’d been dreading it. Nonetheless, she finished her bite and nodded. “Yes, I’m just fine.”

  “Sure nothing’s wrong, Princess?” her father inquired.

  “No, I…” She took a deep breath to settle herself. Christina’s plight had made her resolve to do this before they delved into the painful subject of Philip. “I wanted to thank you both.”

  Her parents looked startled. “For what?”

  “I simply wanted to tell you that I appreciate how lucky I am to have grown up here, to have been born to two people who love me, to—” She was going to cry if she didn’t watch out.

  Her mother looked uneasy. Her father set his napkin aside, frowning. “What brought this on?”

  Lacey looked away, blinking rapidly. With effort, her voice brightened. “I’m fine, Daddy.”

  “It’s that volunteer work, isn’t it?” Her mother’s incisive gaze sharpened. “I told you, Lacey, that world is not where you need to be. There are better places for you to put your efforts.”

  Her father nodded agreement. “Princess, I know you want to help those who need it, but isn’t there something easier you could do?”

  Remembering the little blonde girl who’d fallen asleep holding her hand, rebellious words rose to Lacey’s lips. Carefully, she drew a deep breath before answering.

  “I’m almost thirty-six years old. When am I going to make my life count, if not now?”

  “You could make your life count. You could have children by now, Lacey darling, if you would just say yes to Philip,” Margaret chided.

  “I don’t love Philip.”

  “Bah—” Her father waved it away. “You can grow to love him. That’s romantic folderol. You’re very well-suited. Know the same people, like the same things.”

  A sharp retort rose to her lips, but a lifetime’s habits didn’t vanish in an instant. Lacey rubbed one hand across her stomach and took another deep breath. She had come here to thank them for caring for her so well. They were simply trying to do the same thing now.

  But though Philip had apparently not told them anything, she couldn’t put this off any longer.

  “I’m not going to marry Philip, Daddy. I’ve already told him that.”

  “What?” Her parents exchanged sharp glances.

  “Lacey, how could you? What more could you want?” her mother asked.

  I want more. I want—

  What did she want?

  Someone who would love her if she were poor and in rags. The vine-covered cottage, maybe, much as it was maligned.

  Someone who saw inside her and didn’t care about her name or her face or her bank account.

  Someone to love Lacey and let her be herself. To make her feel like she belonged and wasn’t hiding behind a mask.

  “I want love, Mother. Real love.”

  “It’s Marlowe, isn’t it?” Her father’s face was thunderous. “He was never any good. Now he’s trying to ruin your life again.”

  “Again?” her mother echoed. “What does that mean?”

  Lacey and her father exchanged glances. Her mother hadn’t questioned her sudden acquiescence to Margaret’s desire for Lacey to attend finishing school in Europe all those years ago. Lacey had often suspected that her father hadn’t divulged what he’d found that night. Her mother would have taken it badly.

  She remained silent. It would be his story to tell.

  “Nothing, Margaret. I simply didn’t like young Marlowe paying too much attention to Lacey when she was so young.”

  “I told you not to put him to work around here. He was not supposed to go near her. His father was a criminal, after all.” Her mother turned to her. “Darling, you can’t possibly be involved with that hoodlum.”

  “He’s not a hoodlum, Mother. He’s a successful businessman.” She swallowed hard. “And we’re not involved.”

  Her mother’s laser-sharp eyes studied her, clearly not believing what she said.

  Her father spoke first. “You know what he did before.” The air went still and dark with memory. Dev had taken money to walk away. Her father’s eyes bored into hers. “He cannot be trusted.”

  Maybe not. Probably not. But a small voice inside her said differently.

  Regardless, it was none of their business. “This is not about Dev. This is about me, about my life.”

  “Lacey, I refuse to let you fall victim to him again,” her father commanded. “Wasn’t Luc lesson enough? Do I have to bail you out every time you show poor judgment?”

  Every word drove a stake into her heart. Both their faces were set and angry. Her stomach twisted.

  But within Lacey, a tiny seed sprouted. The seed that remembered riding down the highway with the top down in an old Caddy. Climbing down a trellis. Making donuts.

  She liked that Lacey. She didn’t want to bury that Lacey so deeply that she could never find her.

  She pushed back from the table and rose. Voice shaking, she spoke. “I’m sorry you have so little faith in me. I’ve tried very hard to be what you want, but I never seem to manage it.” She looked up at her mother’s frown, her father’s dark stare. “I love you both, but I cannot live my life for you forever.”

  “Lacey…” her mother warned.

  Her father’s visage darkened more. “I’m warning you, Princess. Marlowe is no good. You stay away from him, or I’ll—”

  She forced herself to meet his gaze, her knees trembling, her throat dry as dust. “Or what, Daddy? You’ll send me away again?”

  She pressed her hands together to stop the shaking. “You don’t seem to understand that it doesn’t have to be a choice. I can live my own life and still love you both.” Then the good little girl emerged once again. “Can’t you believe that? Please, can’t you let me be who I am and still love me, even if I’m not perfect?”

  But all that met her was her mother’s silence, and her father’s stony stare.

  “I’ll let myself out,” she said quietly.

  And walked away. Before she could crumble.

  Dev knew he was a fool to do it, but as the night deepened, he left Connor’s apartment and drove toward Lacey’s townhouse.

  At the four-way stop nearest her place, a sporty red convertible zipped through the intersection first.

  He knew the driver.

  She took the next corner too fast, and he frowned as he followed her. When he arrived at her townhouse, Lacey emerged from her car, slamming the door and sinking against it, burying her face in her hands.

  Dev parked quickly and raced across the gras
s.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She raised tear-swollen eyes to his, her face a study in misery. “What are you doing here?” she whispered. But on her face, he saw need.

  It didn’t matter anymore what had happened in the past. Right now, Lacey needed him. He pulled her into his arms and held her close, murmuring nonsense words as he had once comforted his siblings. Without thinking, he set up a rocking motion, widening his stance so that she nestled between his legs, her face against his neck.

  Stroking her back with long, slow strokes, Dev let her cry. She felt good against him, better than she should. Something deep inside Dev felt a click that should have scared him off.

  Later, he’d think about it, this sense of rightness, but for now, his attention was solely on her.

  When the storm of tears abated, she snuffled and tried to pull away. Dev loosened his grip, but kept her within the circle of his arms.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice was low and shaky. She sniffled again, and he dug in his back pocket for a handkerchief, handing it to her.

  “Thank you. I’m really sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. Do you want to talk about it?”

  She lifted her face to him, ravaged by tears, and he thought she’d never looked more beautiful.

  “No.” With a shuddery breath, she went on. “Why are you here, Dev?” Her smile was faint and watery. “Do you plan to be my knight in shining armor every time I’m in trouble?”

  Realizing that he wanted that too much shook Dev as badly as anything had in years.

  He kept things light. “Galahad Marlowe, at your service. You want to make me a cup of coffee? Or how about a visit to Shorty’s? His donuts cure a multitude of ills.”

  Lacey’s tremulous smile widened. “I don’t want to scare him, the way I look.”

  Dev cupped her jaw in his hand. “You look beautiful, Lacey.”

  Her eyes sparked gratitude, but within their depths he saw her devastation.

  It was the worst kind of madness, but he wanted to soothe away her pain. So he held her face in his hands and lowered his mouth, brushing a simple, gentle kiss on her lips.

  “Oh, Dev…” she sobbed, then gripped his wrists and opened to him, turning the simple kiss into something far deeper.

  Dev closed his eyes to reason and sanity and gave himself over to the rush of emotion that swept through him like flames through dry tinder. This was her, the girl he’d never forgotten, the one who’d opened herself to him and granted him the right to be her first.

  That he’d been robbed of that chance mattered not at the moment. That she’d had no faith in him and walked away didn’t figure. All he could feel, all he could think was that she was here, in his arms. Where she belonged.

  He never wanted to let her go again. He tightened his arms around her so fast, so hard, that her breath escaped in a whoosh.

  The tiniest sliver of reason tried to surface. But when he tried to recover his mind and pull back, Lacey moaned and slid her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his as though they could become part of one another.

  Then a few doors down, a car door slammed, and Dev and Lacey bolted apart.

  Her eyes were huge and dark, her breasts rising with every breath, her lips moist from his.

  Dev stared at her and tried to remember that this was all wrong, that the timing couldn’t be worse. That he had to walk away. Now.

  For an endless moment, they stared at one another, the air around them alive and crackling with hunger and longing. In Lacey’s eyes, he saw pain and knew he couldn’t walk away from her now. He would pay the piper later.

  Dev turned away from her, breathing harshly, and reached inside her car for her purse. Gripping her slender shoulders in one arm, he spoke, his voice rough. “Let’s go inside, sweetheart.”

  Lacey leaned into him and let him lead her inside.

  But once there, neither knew what to do. Lacey pulled away from Dev and didn’t look at him as she offered. “I’ll make coffee. Why don’t you wait in here?” She fled down the hall.

  Dev waited for a moment, calling himself ten kinds of fool, and eyed the door for escape.

  Then he cursed, low and vividly, and threw caution to the wind, striding down the hallway after her.

  Lacey’s hands were shaking as she tried to fill the grinder with beans. She wasn’t sure her legs would hold her. How could she have done that, thrown herself into the arms of the man who’d taken money to leave her once before?

  She’d wanted to stay in those arms forever. Dev’s arms felt like the safest place in the world. Like the paradise she’d been banished from, just as she’d reached the gates. She’d searched for it, ever since.

  How could that be?

  She spilled grounds all over the counter and dropped her hands helplessly at her side, blinded by tears.

  Was her father right about him? No. No. There was an explanation, there had to be. But she couldn’t discuss it. That would require telling Dev what had happened tonight. She couldn’t bear it.

  She hadn’t heard Dev come in over the noise from the grinder, but he grasped her shoulders, settled her in the closest chair and began assembling the contents of the pot.

  Lacey sank back gratefully. She couldn’t stand to think about all that she’d lost tonight.

  Once he’d started the pot dripping, he turned around, and the silence was deafening. Lacey could feel his gaze on her, but she couldn’t meet it yet. She was drained, feeling like she could sleep for a hundred years.

  “You don’t need coffee,” he said. “You need a good night’s sleep.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She could fall asleep right in this chair.

  As decisively as always, Dev acted. “You’re going to bed. We can talk tomorrow. You’re done for the night.”

  And with those words, he swept her up in his arms and strode to her bedroom. Quickly and efficiently, he stripped her and settled her under the covers in her underwear, tucking the comforter close around her neck.

  “Will you stay?” she asked, her eyes drifting shut. The storm of emotion had rendered her boneless.

  He knelt beside her bed and smoothed her hair. “I don’t dare. You need sleep.”

  “You could sleep with me,” she offered, yawning hugely.

  Dev chuckled. “Babe, if I’m in this bed with you, there will be no sleeping going on, trust me.” He brushed a gentle kiss over her lips and murmured against them. “But Friday night, we’re going to have a real date. In the meantime, you get some rest. I’ll turn off the coffee and let myself out.”

  Lacey wasn’t sure what she mumbled as she fell headlong into sleep.

  Dev swung hard at the punching bag, droplets of sweat blurring his vision. He’d given up on sleep after four restless hours and decided to burn off excess energy at the gym near Connor’s apartment, where he was staying on this trip. He’d already been training for an hour.

  But nothing was helping.

  You’d better not blow it, dumbass. This job was complicated enough without getting his libido involved. He couldn’t hold Maddie off much longer. Hurricane Maddie would be in Houston soon, if he didn’t give her the sister she so desperately longed to know.

  He didn’t know what had happened last night, but Lacey was in no shape for a surprise raid by a sister she didn’t know she had. But he, who seldom doubted himself, wondered yet again if he were the right person to be handling the revelation.

  For one second, he remembered the feel of her against him, so delicate, so ravaged. Remembered the rightness, the fierce need to protect her.

  But he, and the knowledge he possessed, could do her more harm than anyone. With that thought, Dev threw himself back into his workout with the punching bag.

  “Somebody get crossways with you, big brother?” Connor Marlowe’s voice broke into his thoughts a few minutes later.

  Dev accepted the towel in his brother’s hands, wiping down his face and neck. “Just making up for missing a couple of
workouts.” He studied Connor’s blue eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  Connor raked his fingers through shaggy hair as black as Dev’s, a sure sign, if Dev had needed it, that he was troubled. “Why do you think something’s wrong?”

  “I changed your diapers, buddy. Not much about you I don’t know.” He grinned. “The other dead giveaway is you being up before noon.”

  Connor flushed. “I’m not a college kid anymore. I’m a contributing member of society.”

  “Yeah, but you took the day off. It’s six…” Dev squinted at the clock across the gym. “Seven o’clock in the morning. What’s up?” He motioned to his water bottle, and Connor squeezed a long stream into Dev’s mouth that Dev gulped greedily.

  “I really wish you’d quit acting like my father.” Traces of Connor’s teenage rebellion skipped across his features.

  “I practically am your father. So what’s up?”

  Connor’s jaw worked tightly. He was silent for a time. Then he looked up. “I had a fight with Kathleen last night while you were gone.”

  “Over what?”

  “Mom. Kath thinks Mom should move in with you or me. She’s afraid Mom won’t make it this time, either. I told her to back off. It’s easy for her to say—she’s in L.A. I mean, you’ve done enough. Mom will make it or won’t, but you deserve your freedom.”

  Dev wasn’t sure he trusted his voice. He couldn’t recall the last time someone had come to his defense. He tapped Connor’s shoulder with one glove, remembering the little boy who used to crawl into bed with him on stormy nights. In some ways, Connor was the son he’d never had. “I, uh—thanks.” Dev cleared his throat. “I mean it.”

  Then he forced a grin. “Tell you what—while you’re battling it out, why don’t you tell Deirdre to lay off the matchmaking?”

  His brother answered with a smile and a shake of the head. “Not on your life, big brother. I’m grateful, but that’s going too far. You’re all that stands between me and serious heat.”

  They both fell silent in the wake of strong emotion. Then Connor looked up, blue eyes sparkling. “Tell me there’s no candidate to take you out of the game. I’d like a few more years to play around.”