In fact, to give Dave his due, once she had set down ground rules and let him know that she wouldn’t be bossed around for the rest of her life, he had actually backed off. Oh, he was still authoritarian, but half the time she didn’t listen and he didn’t really expect her to anymore.
Which was a victory of sorts, wasn’t it?
But Lucas…he was a different matter. She could still see him in his bedroom, glaring at her as he told her that if she were pregnant, they’d be getting married, like it or not.
Resentment jumped into life inside her. She straightened up in the chair and unconsciously squared her shoulders. Rose wouldn’t trade one bossy man for another. She wouldn’t stand her ground against her brother and then cave for Lucas.
Rose had already done marriage for the wrong reasons. The next time she said I do, it would be because she was madly in love—and loved just as fiercely in return. She wouldn’t accept less and if she did turn out to be pregnant, she certainly wouldn’t marry him just because of their child.
Her mind racing with arguments she couldn’t use because Lucas wasn’t there, Rose couldn’t sit still another minute. Dropping the shirt on the chair back again, she got up and walked out to the living room.
Mindlessly, she straightened the already tidy room, fluffing pillows, stacking magazines on the corner of the coffee table. She could have turned on the stereo for company, but her thoughts were already so busy, she didn’t need the extra distraction. A little silence, she told herself, was probably just what she needed. She should have known it wouldn’t last.
When the doorbell rang, she jumped and whirled around. Her silly heart raced suddenly as her first thought was that Lucas was there. But in the next instant, that hope died.
“Rose!” her brother called out, hitting the doorbell again just for good measure. “Rose! I know you’re home. I see your skillet car in the driveway.”
Just what she needed, she thought, the other hard-headed man in her life. Hurrying to the door, she threw it open and instantly, wind-driven rain slapped at her with icy needles of wet. “Dave, what’re you doing here?”
“Nice to see you, too, sis.” He bent down and briefly kissed her forehead before walking past her into the house. He shook his head, swiped one hand through his wet hair and asked, “Wow, what smells so good?”
Rose sighed. Looked like she would be having company for dinner. “Beef-and-barley soup.”
He looked at her and his eyebrows lifted. “Homemade?”
She had to smile at his hopeful expression. “Of course. You want some?”
“That’d be great.” He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on one of the hooks behind her front door. As he followed her to the kitchen, he kept up a running monologue. “This storm’s got lousy timing. I’ve got a crew out on Pacific Coast Highway trying to shore up a retaining wall before the rain gets too bad. There’s a mud hole where another family’s new den was going to be and I’ve been out at a site helping the crew tack plastic up on a torn-off roof before the house flooded. The rain caught everybody by surprise.”
Rain clattered at the windows, and the wind moaned as it swept under the eaves of Rose’s old bungalow. The lights in the kitchen were bright against the dark, and the scent of the bubbling soup welcomed them into the room.
“Did you get the roof covered?”
“Yeah, but it was close,” he said, scrubbing both hands over his face as if trying to rub away the memory. “We’re putting in a second story, so we had the tarps ready to go—they just had to go up a lot faster than we thought. And did you notice? Not one damn weatherman predicted this storm?”
Rose was used to hearing construction stories. She’d grown up on them. And usually, Southern California weather cooperated nicely with builders. But every once in a while…
“Sounds like you’ve had a busy day,” she said, going directly to a cabinet and taking down two soup bowls. She grabbed spoons from a drawer and carried them to the narrow table. Then taking the bowls to the stove, she filled each of them with the soup that had been simmering most of the afternoon.
“Busier than I’d like,” Dave admitted, arms braced on her narrow table. “What about you?”
“Hmm?”
“Haven’t talked to you in a couple of weeks, so thought I’d stop by and—”
“Get dinner?” Rose finished for him as she carried the steaming bowls of soup to the table.
He grinned, and she couldn’t help returning his smile. She loved her brother. She really did. Rose just wished they had the kind of relationship that would allow her to tell him what was happening in her life. But not only could she not talk to Dave about a man, she also knew only too well how he would react to the mention of Lucas King. She just wished she knew why.
Dave pulled one of the four chairs out for her to sit down and that’s when he spotted the green T-shirt.
Rose held her breath and then made a grab for the shirt before he could get a good look at it. But Dave was faster. He held it up and immediately saw it was a man’s shirt.
“So who’s the guy, Rose?” he asked, smiling at her in a way that made her think this might turn out all right after all. “Is he a secret? Because as the big brother, I should be able to check him out before you get too attached. Make sure he’s good enough for my baby sister.”
“Dave…”
Rose knew the moment Dave spotted the logo. Her stomach sank as her brother’s eyes frosted over and all semblance of a teasing smile slipped away.
“King Construction?” He stood up, still staring at the gold crown on the green shirt crumpled in his fist. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“No,” Rose said on a sigh as she tugged the shirt out of his grasp. So much for a touching brother-sister bonding moment. “It’s my private life and it’s none of your business, Dave.”
He stalked the short distance to the kitchen sink, turned around and stomped right back again. Glaring at her, he argued, “The hell it’s not. One of the Kings has been here. And left his shirt.”
“He wasn’t here,” Rose said tightly. “I went to his house. I…spilled something and had to borrow one of his shirts.”
“Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms over his chest and braced his feet wide apart. “And why were you at his house?”
“Cooking lessons.” Rose threw both hands high, realized she was waving the shirt around like a red flag in front of a bull and tossed it to the counter behind her. “It’s what I do, remember? He hired me to teach him to cook.”
“Sure he did.” Dave shook his head fiercely, and his mouth worked as if there were dozens of words clogged up inside him that he wouldn’t set free. He looked disgusted, worried and furious all at once. “Which one?” he said flatly. “Which King?”
Here it comes, she told herself. The argument of the century was about to get started.
Lifting her chin, she folded her arms over her chest, too, in a perfect imitation of his stance. Locking her gaze with his, she said simply, “Lucas.”
Astonishment filled his eyes and had his mouth dropping open. “Are you serious? Lucas King? Damn it, Rose! Why him?”
“Why not him, Dave?” she demanded. “You and Lucas used to be friends. Then you weren’t, and I never knew why.”
“You didn’t have to know,” he muttered, turning away from her to walk to the closest window. He braced his hands on the wall at either side of the glass and stared out at the rain-splotched night beyond.
Rose could see her brother’s reflection in the glass, and she felt a twinge of sympathy at the taut misery etched into his features. But that didn’t change the fact that it was past time for him to tell her the truth. What was the awful secret that had destroyed his friendship with Lucas? Why was the mere mention of the King name enough to shift Dave into defensive mode?
“I need to know now, Dave,” she said quietly, her words dropping into the silence like stones into a well.
“Why?” he asked just as quietly. “Why can’t you just
take my word on it and stay away from the Kings? Especially Lucas?”
She took a breath and let it go on a sigh. “It’s too late for that.”
He turned around then and looked at her, hard and long. She held his gaze and when she saw the unmistakable question in his eyes, she nodded. “That bastard slept with you?”
“I slept with him, too. So if you’re going to be mad…”
Defeated, Dave’s shoulders slumped and he muttered, “Damn it, Rose, not Lucas.”
“Talk to me. Tell me what went wrong,” she said, laying one hand on her brother’s arm.
Absently, he gave her hand a pat, then turned away again, apparently not able to meet her gaze while he talked. “You’re right. You should know. Maybe if I’d been honest about this before, you would have kept your distance.”
“Just tell me,” she repeated.
“I paid one of the King assistants for insider information, and I used that information to undercut their bids on jobs.” Finally, he turned back around to look at her. “Basically, I stole from the Kings.”
Staggered, Rose could only stare at the man she had thought she knew. “I don’t believe this. Why?”
Sighing, Dave dropped into his chair again. “I have excuses. Reasons. Dad was sick, jobs were in short supply, we needed the money. We invested in a few bad deals and took a beating.” He braced his elbows on his thighs. “There were hospital bills, payrolls to be met and…like I said. I have excuses. But the bottom line is, I stole from Lucas. My friend.”
“He knew?” Rose asked, slumping into the chair beside her brother’s. Of course he knew, she told herself. Why else would Lucas’s features freeze up at the mention of his old friend’s name?
“He guessed,” Dave told her, looking into her eyes. “He couldn’t prove it. No evidence. But yeah, he knows.”
Rose was so shaken she didn’t know what to say. Or think. Her brother was a thief, and the man she loved was his victim. And to think that just a few hours ago, she had thought her life was as complicated as it could possibly get.
“Why didn’t he say anything?” she whispered. “I mean, I get why you didn’t, but why would Lucas keep quiet?”
“Like I said, no evidence. And without that, if he made accusations, he’d just look like a poor loser.” Dave blew out a breath and reached over to take her hand. “Rose, has it occurred to you that Lucas hired you and then romanced you not because he wanted you, but for revenge on me?”
“No.” She tugged her hand free of her brother’s and jumped to her feet. Walking across the room, she slapped both hands palm down onto the counter and felt the cold of the granite seep into her skin. “He wouldn’t.”
“You’re sure about that?”
She shot Dave a look as he stood up and came toward her. “Yes. Lucas wouldn’t have—he never would have…” Her words trailed off as her mind and heart began a silent battle.
Her brain insisted that Dave was right. Why else would a man like Lucas King be interested in “Saint Rose,” but for revenge? But her heart and body remembered every stroke of his hands, every kiss, every whispered word of passion and heat and would not believe that none of it had been real.
The storm pelted Long Beach for three days.
By the third day, Lucas was like a tiger in a too-small cage. He couldn’t get out to a job site because of the rain, and if he had to sit in the damn office and calm down one more client, his head was going to explode.
That afternoon, he got in his car and started driving. As if on automatic pilot, his SUV took him directly to Rose’s house. She hadn’t been hard to find. All he’d had to do was look up the name of her business and there she was.
Now he sat outside the tiny, sky-blue bungalow, listening to the rain beat against the roof of his car. She was inside, he knew. The skillet car was in the driveway. A reluctant smile curved his mouth as he looked at the ridiculous thing. Only Rose would drive that car. And only Rose could have turned him inside out as she had.
For days, all he’d been able to do was think about her. He saw her in his sleep. Caught traces of her scent in his kitchen and every time he lay down on his bed, he wanted to reach out and find her there. He’d actually come to care about Rose.
Which told him it was time to end this.
His plan had worked fine, so it was done. He wasn’t looking for a relationship. Wasn’t the marrying kind and if he was, he sure as hell wouldn’t be marrying into Dave Clancy’s family. So there was no point in leaving things between he and Rose up in the air. It was time to cut and run.
If it turned out she was pregnant, he’d worry about it then.
Getting out of the car, he walked slowly through the driving rain, his gaze fixed on the windows where lamplight played behind sheer curtains. Before he made it to the front porch, the door opened and Rose was standing on the threshold, watching him.
Everything in him eased as his gaze moved over her. Her blond hair was loose around her shoulders, and she wore faded blue jeans and a scoop-necked red blouse that displayed just the tops of her full breasts. Her eyes were guarded and she had such a tight grip on the door that her knuckles were white.
“Lucas.”
“Hi.”
“You’re soaked.”
“What?” He glanced up at the sky as if surprised to find himself getting wet. “Yeah. Guess I am.”
She stepped back, farther into the house. “You want to come in?”
He nodded and took the steps in one long stride. Then he was brushing past her, his upper arm sliding across her breasts as he walked into her house. The jolt of heat from that minor touch of their bodies stayed with him as he peeled off his jacket and handed it to her. She hung it on a hook and then stood there, staring up at him. Waiting.
Everything in him wanted to grab her. To forget about his plan. To forget about Dave and revenge and anything else that wasn’t as real as she was. But that wasn’t why he was here.
He followed after her, not much caring for the stiff formality that was suddenly between them. She led him down a short hall into the smallest living room he’d ever seen.
Stepping into that room, he felt like Gulliver. Everything was too small for him. The couch, the chairs, the tables. The walls were covered in framed posters and a few family photos and the scent of something amazing was coming from the kitchen.
It was warm and cozy and he felt like the intruder he was. There was no welcome for him here. Clearly, he didn’t belong and judging from the chill of her reception, he wouldn’t be staying long, either. The sting of that thought vanished when he told himself that was how he wanted it, anyway.
When Rose turned to look at him, her eyes were dry, but there were shadows in those blue depths that bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
“Why are you here, Lucas?”
Good question. He’d come to say goodbye, but now all he wanted to do was reach for her. He fisted his hands at his sides to keep from giving in to that urge.
Lucas looked at her, and, for the first time, noticed that she appeared to be nervous. Uneasy. Hell, maybe the last few days had been hard on her, too. They’d left too many things in the air that night. Too many things unsaid. And there was still a major question hanging over both of their heads. No wonder she looked as ragged as he felt.
She’d probably be as grateful as he would to have the unfinished business between them straightened up. To make a clean break. “Look, I only came to say that I won’t be seeing you again.”
“Is that right?”
Not a flicker of emotion showed on her features, and Rose, he had already learned, wasn’t a woman to hide from what she was feeling. Her laughter was always genuine and her anger just as up-front and easily recognizable. But right now, she looked…empty. As if she’d been drained of all emotion and left to deal with a hollow sensation inside, like the one he’d been carrying around in his chest the last few days.
He frowned, not caring for that image, but he kept talking, wanting to make h
imself clear. He had to make her understand that whatever there had been between them was now over. And maybe then, they could both just put the past couple of weeks behind them. “I won’t be needing any more cooking lessons, either.”
“I see.”
His scowl went deeper. Damn it, didn’t she feel a thing? He was having a hard time saying this, the least she could do was look as though it mattered to her. “It’s nothing against you, Rose. I just don’t see how anything good can come from what’s between us.”
“Right. Of course not.”
Again, her words were flat, her eyes cool and distant.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he blurted out, wondering where the woman he knew had gone. This woman—detached, aloof—was someone he didn’t even recognize. Reaching out to her, he went to grab her shoulders, but she took a hasty step to the side, avoiding his touch. “Rose, what’s going on?”
“You tell me,” she said quietly, her gaze locked with his. “The reason you won’t be seeing me again…is it because my brother stole from you?”
Stunned, Lucas felt her words like a blow to the chest. How… He stared at her, hardly able to process this. The only way she could have found out that information was from her brother. “Dave told you?”
“So it’s true,” she whispered, shifting her gaze from his as if she just couldn’t look at him any longer. Scraping her hands up and down her arms, she added, “Yes. Dave told me.”
This he hadn’t expected. Who knew that Dave would finally come clean? After two years of keeping his silence, what had pushed him into a confession? To Rose, of all people? And if her brother and she had been talking, did that mean that Dave knew about Lucas and Rose?
Grinding his teeth against the anger and frustration pumping through him, he asked, “Did you tell your brother about us?”
“Why?” she asked, now wrapping her arms around her middle as if needing something to hold on to, even if it was only herself. “Was that a secret, too?”
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