Lucky in Love

by JoAnn Ross

  Lucky ground his teeth on the elevator ride to the lobby, realizing there was no way he was going to escape having to apologize to his brother-in-law. Just one more thing Kate was going to have to answer for, he thought grimly.

  “I’m sorry I punched you.”

  Peterson shrugged shoulders clad in a pinstriped navy suit jacket that Lucky figured cost nearly as much as his best bull.

  “I don’t have any sisters. But if I did, I would have done the same thing if I’d been in your place.”

  Until his baby sister had gotten pregnant by this man, Lucky had never been one to hold a grudge. It was, he was realizing now, a tiring way to go through life.

  “I think I liked it better when you were a low-down snake of a sister seducer.”

  “And I was more comfortable thinking of you as some hick cowboy with manure on your boots and a plug of Redman stuck in your cheek.”

  “Never chewed tobacco. It’s nasty stuff.”

  The two men observed each other in the close confines of the elevator.

  “We’re never going to be friends,” Lucky warned, just in case Peterson might be thinking otherwise. “We don’t have hardly anything in common.” Now that was the understatement of the millennium.

  “True.” Jack rubbed his chin, where a purple bruise was beginning to bloom. “But we do have two very important things in common.”

  “Kate and Dillon,” Lucky said.

  “Exactly.”

  They exchanged another look. And although neither one said the words out loud, the two men from such disparate backgrounds each knew that a tentative peace accord had just been struck.

  Fifteen minutes later, they signed in with the guard in the marble-floored lobby, then took the elevator up to the sixty-eighth floor where the executive offices of Hunk of the Month magazine were located. When his ears popped, Lucky decided that high-rise buildings were like everything else in this city: about as user friendly as convertible submarines.

  The steel doors opened onto a lobby where white slate floors flowed like an arctic ice field and the molded furniture—none of which looked the slightest bit comfortable—was covered in shades of gray, white and black.

  “Hi, Megan,” Jack greeted the receptionist, who appeared to have dressed to match the room in a sleeveless black linen dress. “We’re here to see my wife.”

  “I’ll buzz her and tell her that you’re here.” As she reached for the phone, her interested gaze shifted to Lucky.

  “Don’t bother,” Jack said. “We’d prefer to surprise her.”

  “Fine.” From her distant tone, as she continued to stare at him, Lucky decided that his brother-in-law could have informed her that they were mad-dog serial killers come to murder everyone in the building, and she wouldn’t have uttered a single word of complaint.

  Since she was looking at him as if he were Bigfoot, or some green alien just arrived from Mars, he decided to give the lady what she so obviously expected.

  “Howdy, ma’am.” The drawl was rich and thick, unlike the way anyone talked in Wyoming. For an added bonus, he touched the brim of his hat.

  “Hi.” Her voice was a bit breathless. As if she’d just finished climbing those sixty-eight flights of stairs. “Are you a friend of Kate’s?”

  “I’m her big brother.”

  She regained her city girl composure quickly. A seductive glint came into gold eyes that took a slow, leisurely tour of him from the brim of the Stetson, down to the pointed toes of his polished Saturday night boots.

  “Well, you’re certainly that. I can see why Jude decided not to jump out the window after all.”

  “Jude?”

  “Hunk of the Month’s managing editor. She was so horribly upset when Harper ran off and got married, leaving her in the lurch. And when Kate came up with her idea, everyone thought it was a long shot, of course, but—”

  Internal alarms started blaring inside Lucky with the urgency of a bull-riding whistle. “What idea was that?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you don’t know?”

  “Know what?”

  Lucky was getting more and more frustrated. And confused. He also wasn’t at all wild about appearing ignorant in front of this sleek woman who now was observing him with a combination of misgiving and humor.

  “I believe I’d better let Kate fill you in,” she decided, “when you surprise her.” Her gaze slid to Jack. “You remember the way?”

  “Yeah.” He exchanged a pointed look with his brother-in-law, then headed off down the hall, Lucky right beside him.

  The walls of the hallway were lined with enormous framed photos of men in various stages of undress. Although none of them showed full frontal nudity, they sure didn’t leave much to the imagination.

  Lucky paused in front of a photograph of a fireman posed in front of a shiny red ladder truck, dressed in black rubber boots, helmet and a skimpy pair of dotted briefs that just barely covered the essentials. The guy had his arm around a Dalmatian and wouldn’t you just know it, the dog’s coat matched the underwear.

  “Doesn’t it get to you?” he asked.

  “What?” Jack paused beside him.

  “Having your wife work at a place where she’s looking at nearly naked men all day?” Lucky was sure having trouble thinking of his sister working here. Then again, he still hadn’t quite gotten used to the idea of her having sex on a regular basis. Which she undoubtedly did, now that she was married and a mother.

  “Nah. The way I figure it, it’s not so bad if hunks like this turn her on. So long as I reap the benefits at the end of the day.”

  Lucky cringed and rubbed his jaw. “You know, the idea of you getting lucky with my sister is one of those roads I really don’t want to go down.”

  “Sorry. But you did ask.”

  “Yeah.” Lucky had overheard two of the hired ranch hands talking much the same way about taking their girlfriends to see Alan Jackson perform at the state fair. Jackson was a surefire way of getting lucky that night, they’d agreed, trading winks and leers.

  “I still don’t think I’d like it,” he decided.

  “Of course you wouldn’t. Because you’re a throwback to another century.” Jack began walking again. “No offense, O’Neill, but you’re definitely out of sync with the thinking of modern women.”

  Lucky figured that was probably the case. He caught a quick glance of a blowup of one of the magazine covers, featuring a buffed-up guy working on the engine of a classic Corvette clad only in a black leather G-string, and decided that if modern men really needed another guy to warm up their women, then the world was in an even sorrier state than he’d thought.

  He saw Kate, seated at a small black desk. She had her back to them and was talking on the phone; if he hadn’t known it was his baby sister, he wasn’t certain he’d recognize the young woman with the tied-back bright red hair and severely cut tobacco brown suit.

  “I know it’s going to be a problem, Zach,” she said, obviously trying to soothe the man on the other end of the phone. “But Jude says that if we all work together...

  “Yes, I understand you aren’t used to working with amateur models and I realize it might take a lot longer to get some usable shots, however...”

  When Jack cleared his throat, she swiveled the chair around. Then paled and dropped the receiver onto the desk with a clatter.

  The way the color had drained from her face assured Lucky that Kate was guilty. Of what, he still didn’t know. But the proof of her falsehood was written across her expressive face in bold script.

  Lucky picked up the receiver and held it out to her. “Say goodbye, Katie.” It was an order—softly couched, but etched in granite.

  Her eyes were as huge and white as a horse’s who’d just gotten a whiff of smoke; her hand, as she took the receiver from his, was trembling.

  �
�I’m afraid something’s come up,” she murmured into the phone. “I’ll have to get back to you. I promise, ten minutes.” She eyed her brother with obvious trepidation. “On second thought, better make it twenty.” She exhaled a long, weary breath. “Believe me, Zach, I understand exactly how you feel. It’s a difficult situation for all of us.”

  That said, she hung up. Apparently deciding that Jack was the safer person to deal with at this moment, she turned toward her husband.

  “Hi, honey. I hadn’t realized you were coming home this morning.” The little tremor in her voice matched the one Lucky had noticed in her hands.

  “I caught an earlier flight than planned. I missed you,” he said simply. “Lucky showed up at the apartment while I was still unpacking.”

  When he rubbed his visibly swollen chin with chagrin, Kate’s attention narrowed in on the dark blue-and-purple bruise.

  “Oh, no! He didn’t...he couldn’t...” She shot her brother an imploring look. “Lucky, please tell me that you wouldn’t—”

  “I slugged him.” Lucky’s glower dared her to criticize what, at the time, had seemed appropriate behavior. He rubbed his skinned knuckles and reminded himself that it was, after all, her damn fault for having lied to him in the first place. “For running out on you.”

  “Oh, God.” She buried her distressed face in her hands.

  Neither Lucky nor Jack said a word. They just waited. And waited. Then, waited some more.

  Finally, as if unable to take the suspense any longer, Kate peeked out from between her fingers. “I suppose I owe you both an explanation.”

  “That’d be a start,” Jack agreed mildly.

  “Damn right you do,” Lucky said at the same time.

  Kate sighed. And lowered her hands. “It seemed like such a good idea, when I first thought of it.”

  “What?”

  Another sigh. She rubbed her temples with her fingers and didn’t answer right away. “Perhaps,” she suggested cautiously, “it might be best if Jude explained things.”

  Along with being the woman the receptionist had told him had decided not to jump out the window, Lucky now remembered that Jude Lancaster was also Kate’s immediate supervisor at the magazine.

  “If someone doesn’t explain something in the next five minutes, I’m out of here.”

  “Oh, you can’t do that!” Although he never would have guessed it possible, Kate went even paler. She was now the same white shade as the papers scattered all over her desk. She looked so much like a ghost that Lucky wouldn’t have been at all surprised to be able to put his hand through her face. “Let me just let Jude know you’re here....”

  She picked up the receiver again.

  Again, Lucky plucked it out of her hand. “I had more of an ambush in mind.”

  “Oh, God,” Kate murmured again.

  She looked, Lucky thought, as if she were contemplating jumping out a window. He considered assuring her everything would be all right, but decided that after dragging him all the way across the country on what was turning out to be a wild-goose chase, his baby sister deserved to sweat for a while.

  She stood up, walked the few feet to a black-lacquered door and knocked.

  “Come on in,” the female voice, edged with obvious aggravation called out.

  Kate entered, flanked on both sides by her husband and brother. “Jude, this is my brother, Lucky. Lucky, this is Jude Lancaster. My boss.”

  The first thought that flashed through Jude’s mind was that Kate definitely hadn’t been exaggerating. Her second was that with Lucky O’Neill on the cover, she’d no longer have to worry about making Tycoon Mary’s new sales goals.

  The candid photograph on Kate’s desk hadn’t begun to do him justice. It was as though the Marlboro Man had suddenly stepped down from that old billboard in Times Square. But impossibly, this cowboy was even better looking, in an unassuming, naturally sexy way.

  “Hello, Lucky. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She kept her voice calm when what she wanted to do was sing hosannas.

  “Ma’am.” His voice was deep and rough.

  Jude stood up, came around her desk and slowly circled Lucky, appraising his potential with an expert eye. He was tall—six foot two, she’d guess—putting his weight around 205 pounds and from what she could see, he was all lean sinew and muscle without an ounce of superfluous fat.

  He was wearing ebony boots polished to a sheen a drill sergeant would have admired, stacked jeans, a wide hand-tooled leather belt with a huge gaudy silver-and-gold embossed buckle, a white snap-front shirt, and a low-crowned silver-gray cowboy hat.

  Even though she spent her day looking at pictures of near-naked hunks and should be immune to their masculine appeal, Jude suddenly felt in imminent danger of estrogen poisoning.

  “Why don’t you take off that shirt?” she suggested, forcing her mind back to the business at hand. They were, after all, running out of time. “So I can see what you’ve got.”

  Not that she couldn’t already. The twill shirt was a trim cut that displayed his body to mouthwatering advantage. Even with his clothes on, he was definitely in the running for the magazine’s annual Hunk of the Year award.

  “What?”

  His brows went crashing toward a nose that looked as if it had been broken. Rather than detract from his looks, it only made him even more sexy.

  “As delicious as you admittedly look in that cowboy outfit, I need to check out your credentials, so to speak.”

  Heaven help her, try as she might, Jude couldn’t keep her rebellious eyes from taking a quick, naughty tour downward from his face to where his masculine credentials were enticingly cupped in soft blue denim. If Lucky O’Neill was any indication, it was definitely true what they said about everything being bigger out west.

  “It’s important to make certain you don’t have any scars or tattoos anywhere on your body,” she explained as she returned her assessing gaze back up to his strangely stony one.

  He was looking at her in the same way an old-time movie sheriff might look at the desperados who’d just ridden into town with bank robbing on their minds. With a great deal of distrust and more than a little dislike.

  “Not that any you might have couldn’t be concealed with a little computer magic,” she assured him quickly, “but—”

  “Are you saying you expect me to get naked?”

  His still mild tone had taken on a dangerous edge. He shot a lethal, questioning glance at Kate, who had wisely moved out of range and was now standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling corner window.

  “Well, not exactly naked,” Jude replied, deciding the obvious misunderstanding must be the cause for his glower. “Our editorial policy has always been to leave certain things to our readers’ imaginations. However, since you’re going to be our Hunk of the Month—”

  “I’m going to be what?”

  It was a roar. During a long-ago trip to the Serengeti Plain with her father, Jude had heard a lion sound much the same way.

  “I haven’t had a chance to tell him yet,” Kate said in a quiet, miserable little voice.

  “Uh-oh.” Jude looked at the granite face with the clefted chin that was a larger, rougher version of his sister’s and worried that perhaps this simple cowboy might not be as easily handled as she’d originally believed.

  “Well, then, in that case, I suppose it’s up to me to explain things.” She flashed him a bright, professional smile that had always succeeded with everyone but Tycoon Mary. And, apparently, Lucky O’Neill.

  His expression didn’t change. Ignoring a glower as hot as a branding iron, Jude glanced down at her watch.

  “It’s nearly lunchtime. Why don’t I have Kate book us a table at the Four Seasons, or Lutece, and—”

  “No offense intended, ma’am...” Lucky cut her off with a wave of a dark, banged-up hand roughened from years of
hard physical work. Despite this latest little glitch in her plans, despite the fact that valuable time was slipping away, Jude found herself wondering if he’d submit to a manicure. “But I’m not real hungry right now. I just want to know what kind of trouble you and Kate have been cooking up.”

  “Oh, I promise you, Lucky, it’s no trouble.” She paused, momentarily distracted by the sound of a fire-engine siren coming from the street below. “In fact, if you’d only listen—”

  “I’d appreciate it if you could make it short, ma’am.” Squint lines fanned out from eyes that were as brown as Bambi’s but far more dangerous as he looked at Jude as if sighting down a rifle scope. “Because I have an afternoon flight booked on American Airlines back to Wyoming.”

  All Jude’s pretense at professional calm fled at hearing his plans. She pressed a suddenly ice-cold hand against the front zipper of her suit jacket, trying to forestall the heart attack that was imminent. Down on the street another fire truck raced by, causing her anxiety level to spike even higher.

  “Oh, you can’t leave!”

  “Please, Lucky,” Kate said at the same time. “If you’ll just sit down and listen to Jude, you’ll see that I didn’t have any choice.”

  His eyes softened briefly as they turned toward his sister. But Jude didn’t witness any softening of spirit. “There’s never any good reason for lying.”

  “Dammit, that’s always been the problem with you, Lucky O’Neill.” Kate flared in an uncharacteristic display of temper that had Jude thinking that they’d all become stressed out since Tycoon Mary had blown onto the scene.

  “You see everything in terms of black and white,” Kate accused hotly. “You’ve never, in your entire life, been able to see any gray.”

  “Now there’s where you’re wrong,” he shot back, his own temper firing. “That’s all I’ve been seeing since I got off the elevator. Along with black and white. All except for this office.”

  The fury in his eyes turned uncharacteristically arctic as his gaze skimmed disdainfully around the room that had cost a fortune to redecorate. “I don’t know how anyone could work in here without going snow-blind in the first week.”