Texas Heroes: Volume 1

by Jean Brashear

  Dev led her forward, seating her on thick, fluffy jewel-tone cushions lying on top of a Persian rug sprinkled with ruby-red rose petals. Arrayed before them was a bucket of champagne and a spread she couldn’t possibly eat, as the butterflies in her stomach were dodging the needle-sharp teeth of desire.

  But somehow she did it, helped by Dev taking a position across from her, carefully out of reach. His physical presence was so powerful, she needed all the distance she could get.

  It only helped a little. The soft weave of his slacks did not disguise his long, muscular legs, nor could his shirt adequately hide the breadth of his shoulders or the strength of his arms. Watching his long well-formed fingers wrapped around his flute of champagne made something deep and low in her burn.

  Those hands had been on her once in complete abandon.

  She wanted them on her again.

  “How’s the champagne?” he asked, but in his voice, she heard a darker shading that had her pulse kicking up.

  Lacey made herself meet his gaze and wanted to sigh.

  Dev was not classically handsome, but he was so magnetic, so undeniably male, so comfortable inside his skin that she envied him almost as much as she wanted to sigh like a teenage girl.

  The teenage Lacey had been overwhelmed by Devlin Marlowe. The woman she was now was barely more able to keep from melting into a puddle.

  “Lacey?” he prompted.

  “What? Oh yes—the champagne. It’s good, Dev.” Though she’d scarcely registered the taste.

  He filled in where her social skills failed her, turning turned the conversation to cases he’d had, amusing anecdotes about clients. Soon he had her laughing and forgetting that she was nervous.

  Forgetting that she wanted his hands on her, though—well, even Dev wasn’t a miracle worker.

  They teased and talked and laughed for at least an hour, then finally Dev sat up from where he’d reclined on pillows like a pasha and reached for something behind him.

  “All right. The pièce de résistance—” His French accent wasn’t bad at all. With flair, he crossed the small space between them and opened a basket lined with satin.

  Dark ovals lay inside, glowing in the candlelight. The scent was straight from heaven.

  Lacey inhaled it like oxygen in a vacuum.

  Dev set the lid down and plucked one oval from the basket, holding it above her lips. “Somewhere I got the idea that you’re fond of chocolate.”

  Lacey grinned in memory. “I love chocolate, the darker the better.”

  Dev watched her mouth form the words and felt them right down to his groin. Stifling a groan of pure pain, he continued to tease her lush lips, wondering who he was actually torturing.

  Her mouth parted slightly in anticipation, and it was all Dev could do to recall that they were not alone.

  He touched her lips lightly with the oval of dark chocolate, sliding it over that full lower lip of a mouth that ought to be against the law, then trailing it over the upper one slowly.

  Lacey’s pink tongue lapped out, tracing the chocolate—and his fingers.

  Dev did groan aloud, then.

  And cursed himself for a twice-damned fool.

  With mingled mischief and heat in her eyes, Lacey licked out and sucked it from between his fingers, her warm, wet tongue scalding his skin. Dev dropped the basket to the rug and jerked her close, holding her head imprisoned as he sought surcease from her mouth.

  She tasted of chocolate and champagne and sin. Dev’s mind roared white-hot without a thought of where they were or who they were, edgy, dark need wind-whipping his control into shreds.

  Lacey rose to her knees and pressed herself against him, her whimpers sounding as lost as he felt.

  He had to have her. Had to be inside her at last. Too many years had gone by, but they were as nothing now. He was a man full-grown, with a man’s needs, but he was also a lovesick young boy who only cared that a foretaste of heaven lay in his arms under moonlight’s glow.

  A siren screamed through the street outside and dimly penetrated the buzz in Dev’s brain. He ignored it and shifted to slant his mouth against hers to go deeper, to reach for something that only Lacey could provide.

  But the sound had registered on Lacey and she stiffened slightly, sighing against his lips.

  Dev forced himself away, his chest heaving. He shoved to his feet before he took her right there, heedless of any audience. Need clawed at his chest and made him angry and uncaring of any cost he might bear.

  But the strength of that very need reminded him that the barbarian in him was never far from the surface—and Lacey was a lady.

  He risked a glance at her, seeing swollen lips and night-dark eyes, nerves skittering past the heaving breath of desire. He held out his hand. “I won’t apologize for that.”

  Placing her hand in his, she looked up, humor scampering past nerves. “I won’t ask you to.”

  That touch of humor shot down his spine worse than a blatant statement of desire ever could. “Damn. You’re killing me. But I’ve got something else planned first.”

  “Really?” she smiled, her eyes lighting up as he helped her rise. “More?”

  Her pleasure was more seductive than a hundred naked women parading past his view. He wanted to delight her, to challenge her notion of him, to show her that he was more than just a boy from the wrong side of the tracks, the one who hadn’t been good enough for a princess to risk.

  So he nodded and drew her toward the door. “More.”

  “Dev?” She dragged her feet behind him.

  He turned, hope fading in his chest.

  But those witchy silvery eyes were glowing. “Can we take the chocolate with us?”

  Dev chuckled and returned for the basket. “You got it, babe.” He returned to her side and glanced at her shoes. “Those things comfortable?”

  Surprised, she glanced down. “Pretty much.”

  “Good.” He led her back through the museum.

  “Why?”

  “’Cause we’re going dancin’, darlin’.”

  “Dancing?” She sounded thrilled.

  He nodded. “From the sublime—” he gestured at the artwork on the walls around them. “—to the Supremes. We’re going to take in the music of our youth.”

  She giggled. “Dev, those were the Sixties. We weren’t even born.”

  He quirked a grin. “Yeah, but I refuse to claim eighties hair bands. I stake my turf in Motown. So come on, get moving, girl—those shoes are going to pay their dues.”

  She couldn’t match his long strides, so he picked her up in his arms, handing her the basket of chocolates. She popped one in her mouth and moaned like pure sex just as the security guard appeared.

  The guard’s grin was a mile wide. “You two have fun now.” His gaze traveled down Lacey’s long, slender legs, and his face turned wistful.

  Dev cast him a warning glance, then grinned smugly. The best girl was his, at least for the night. “We plan to.”

  Then they were through the door and out on the sidewalk. Reaching the car, Dev slid her over the side without opening the door. Lacey reached up and popped a chocolate in his mouth, then rose to her knees on the seat and licked his lips, her breath sweet and dark.

  Dev gripped her shoulders and eased her away from him before they got arrested for public lewdness. Violent need hummed beneath his skin, and he couldn’t be responsible for the consequences if he answered that kiss.

  Her sparking eyes told him she knew that.

  “You, Ms. DeMille, are no lady, I’m beginning to think.”

  “Really?”

  “You could sound a little more disgruntled.”

  Lacey grinned. “I don’t want to be a lady tonight, Dev. I’ve been a lady too long.” Her eyes taunted him.

  The air went electric around them. Dev sucked in a ragged breath. “You are going to be in big trouble if you don’t quit looking at me like that.”

  “Really?” She sounded more thrilled than ever.


  Dev groaned aloud as he got in and started the car.

  “Dev?”

  “What?” He gritted his teeth, wondering why the devil he didn’t just take her home and do what they were both craving.

  Then he remembered that they were only on this magic island for a few hours. Then he would have to tell her.

  If he were any kind of man, he’d take her home and tell her now.

  But you owe us this, he snarled at the heavens. Our one magic night was stolen from us, and this is the only one we might ever get.

  He hoped he was wrong. That maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to give them a fighting chance. He knew now that he wanted that chance more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Hm?” Dev shook off his torment, realizing she’d said something he hadn’t heard. He forced his thoughts to lighten. “Oh, sorry. Yeah, I’m fine.” He gripped her hand probably a little too tightly, pressing a hot, wet kiss to her knuckles.

  “So, Devlin Marlowe, you haven’t answered my question.” But her voice was just the tiniest bit shaky.

  “What question?”

  “Are you going to teach me how to dirty dance?”

  Dev shot her a look, drinking in the delight fracturing the shadows in her eyes.

  They deserved this night, and he was going to see that they got it.

  “Yeah,” he answered, his voice rough. “I’m going to show you a lot of things you’ve never seen before.”

  Some of them even while we’re still dressed.

  The T-bird shot through the night.

  Chapter Nine

  Lacey had no idea where they were heading. They’d long ago left any part of town she’d ever seen.

  “Don’t be scared. I promise it’s not as bad as it looks,” Dev said, his voice tight.

  She touched his arm gently. “I’m not afraid. I’m with you.”

  He muttered under his breath, something about the wrong side of the tracks. “You don’t belong here. This is a bad idea.”

  “Dev…” She touched his hand. “I loved Shorty’s donuts, didn’t I? Stop treating me like I’m made of glass.”

  She saw the tension in his jaw ease slightly.

  “If you don’t like it, we don’t have to stay.”

  “And if I do?”

  He glanced at her. “It’s not your kind of place, Lacey. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “Stop it, Dev. I want to be someone new.”

  An odd look crossed his face at those words.

  “I mean it.” She spread her arms wide, throwing her arms back and wishing her hair were long so it could whip in the wind like a banner.

  “If you don’t stop looking like seven kinds of sin, I will not be responsible for my actions,” he growled.

  A slow, lazy smile spread across her lips. She arched one eyebrow. “Really?”

  “And if you say really one more time like you’re licking your chops over forbidden thrills, I definitely won’t be responsible.”

  She couldn’t resist. “Really?” She threw back her head and laughed.

  He slammed to a stop in a parking lot and yanked her against him, covering her mouth in a kiss so hot she was sure her lungs were scorched.

  But Lacey didn’t care. This was the best night of her whole life, and she was going to live it to the fullest. She’d never felt more alive, her nerve endings sizzling like severed high wires dancing on the ground in a shower of sparks.

  Dev took her under again, and she thought she’d lost the ability to breathe…but she didn’t care. Giddy laughter bubbled up her throat, and she wanted to sing and shout and dance.

  He pulled away slightly; she gripped his hair in her hands and nibbled at his lower lip. “Don’t stop.”

  Was that her voice, so low and hungry?

  “I have to, or we’re not making it out of this car.” Dev sounded a little breathless, and Lacey was inordinately pleased to think she could have that effect on him.

  “Am I a femme fatale, Dev?” she asked innocently.

  Dev growled low in his throat. “You are pure hell-born trouble. I’m shocked at you.” But he was grinning, even as his eyes sparked with something dark and dangerous.

  She inhaled to speak—

  “Do not say really…”

  Lacey laughed. She’d only had one glass of champagne but she felt like she could fly. “Take me dancing, Dev.” Her voice lowered. “And then take me home.”

  His nostrils flared. “When I do, I’m going to want to stay,” he warned.

  She licked her lips, loving the way he sucked in a breath as he watched her. “I hope so.”

  Dev cursed under his breath and broke from the car as though demons were after him. He stood outside with his hands on the door, his knuckles white. “Don’t tease me, Lacey. Not about this.” Suddenly his eyes were that boy’s eyes, almost pleading.

  She crawled over his seat and emerged from the car, settling her hands on his. “Never about this, Dev.” She took a deep breath. “Never.”

  Dev shut the car door and grasped her hand, pulling her into his side. “If I last one dance, it’ll be a miracle.” He sounded thoroughly disgruntled, and Lacey giggled.

  But he lasted a lot more than one dance. The place could only politely be called a dive, but Lacey had more fun than she’d had at any expensive society function. They didn’t talk much—the music was too loud for that. But it was great music, fast and full of energy and fun.

  Dev taught her dances with names she couldn’t possibly remember, but she didn’t care. He was a superb dancer, gliding and whirling her around the floor with muscular grace. He even did something she’d wanted to do all her life: have her partner slide her between his legs, then lift her over his head as they jitterbugged like crazy.

  She was sweaty and hot and out of breath when he declared a rest break. Gratefully, they sank into chairs as Dev ordered beers for both of them.

  “Sorry,” he shrugged. “No wine in this place.”

  She lifted the beer bottle to her lips and took several deep swallows.

  Dev’s eyebrows rose. “You like it?”

  She shook her head. “It tastes terrible. But it’s wet.” And then she laughed and pulled his head toward hers, sinking into a beery kiss. “I’m having so much fun, Dev,” she murmured. “Thank you for this.”

  He hesitated before he answered, staring at his beer bottle and picking at the label. “This is who I am, Lacey. I’ve got money now, and I make a good living. But losing everything when my dad died taught me that none of that’s important.” He lifted his bottle for another swallow, but paused. “You have to know that about me. I don’t want your money. I don’t like it, or what it makes people think about who they are compared to others.” He tipped the bottle back, his strong throat moving with each swallow.

  Lacey’s mouth went dry with lust, but she was more shaken than she could say by his words. “Is that what you think of me, Dev? That I’m like them?”

  He set the bottle down and slanted her a glance. “I used to.” He exhaled. “I don’t want to, now.”

  Lacey covered his hand with hers, the long, strong fingers so beautiful to her that they made her want to weep. “Don’t,” she whispered. “See me as me.”

  Dev curled his fingers around hers. “You want to go?”

  Lacey nodded. “If you do.” Her heart skipped, thinking of what might happen next.

  Then Dev drew to attention, as if scenting the wind. The band had begun the first few notes of a slow song. He turned back to her. “We can’t leave yet. This is my favorite song in the whole wide world.” He drew her onto the dance floor again, and into his arms.

  Then Lacey recognized it, and whatever was left of her heart tumbled at Dev’s feet. “My Girl,” the song by the Temptations that had made millions of women swoon.

  Lacey swayed in Dev’s arms, held close and safe as he moved them gracefully across the floor, humming the words in her ear
. Her throat filled with something that felt a lot like tears.

  They should have been dancing to this song for the last nineteen years. They should have been making love and having babies and holding each other in the night.

  Lacey burrowed into Dev’s chest and wanted to weep for all the lost years, for all that had been taken from them on that dark, terrible night. She should have stood up for him, should have seen the man he would become. If she had, maybe he would never have been forced into that fateful decision, but she knew now that whatever his reason, she would give him a fair audience because she had played a part in all of it. If she had been honest with her father and not sneaked around with Dev, perhaps her parents would have accepted him. Perhaps they could have—

  “Shh,” Dev murmured, his voice smoky and low. With his fingers, he dried her tears. “Don’t think about the past, Lacey.” It was as if he had read her thoughts. “Think about now…tonight.” He lowered his head. “Think about this.”

  Then Dev covered her mouth with a kiss of such poignant sweetness that her heart felt as though it would explode from the press of all she wanted to say to him.

  He pulled back slightly. “This is our song now. And tonight is our night.” He brushed her lips with his thumb. “Let me take you home, Lacey. Let me love you tonight. Whatever else happens, we deserve this much.”

  In his voice she heard a note of foreboding, and she wanted to tell him that nothing outside them would ever matter again. She would not let it.

  But his eyes pleaded for a ceasefire from the past. So Lacey merely nodded, lifting to her tiptoes and giving him back a soft kiss. “Please, Dev. Take me home. I want the night we should have had.”

  She saw a shiver ripple up his spine and felt a rush of gratitude that she could affect him so deeply.

  Tonight is ours, Dev. But I want more.

  But it was too soon to say such a thing, so Lacey merely smiled and rested her head against his chest.

  Dev pulled her tightly under his arm and headed for the car.

  The ride to her townhouse was silent, but the silence was charged with layers of emotion: the low hum of intense desire, the yearning after so many years lost, the newly-discovered comfort of each other’s presence. Dev held Lacey’s hand the entire way, keenly aware that—even after what she’d done to him back then—he never wanted to let her go. He’d been kidding himself to think he didn’t still love her.