Lucky (11 page)

“God almighty, sweetheart, do you think I didn’t know that?”

Sweetheart!
Lucky’s breathing stilled momentarily. That wasn’t what she’d expected to hear.

The gentleness of his touch softened the anger in his voice, and when she realized that his rage was not directed at her, she went limp with relief. Slowly, he removed her hands from her face until there were no barriers between them but the truth.

Lucky stared, searching his eyes for something she didn’t really believe existed.

“Did he actually, uh…are you…?”

Nick couldn’t get out the words he needed to say.

Lucky blushed. “No. I’m still as intact as I was the day I was born, no thanks to that sorry sonofabitch.”

Nick rocked back on his heels in shock, but it wasn’t from hearing her curse. It was what she’d said before that had him at a loss for words. If she was to be believed then no man had ever…

“Are you telling me that you’re a virgin?”

A second sweep of red went across her cheeks. “I guess I did, didn’t I?” she muttered. “Believe me, it slipped out. It’s not something I advertise on a daily basis.”

Nick didn’t know how he felt, but it was somewhere between pure joy and ungovernable fear. He’d already faced the fact that he more than wanted her. He desired, even yearned, to make love to this woman on a daily basis. But now, this bit of news added to the mess he’d already
made of trying to establish a relationship. If they ever made love, it would mean that he would be the first. His stomach rolled as he realized that it also meant he had to make another decision. Was he was also going to be the last man who loved her? Did he want that kind of commitment and complication in his life?

The waitress burst back into the office with a bucket of ice and a handful of clean white napkins from the restaurant. Another woman wasn’t far behind with a first-aid kit that security had provided.

Lucky sat up and made way for the cleanup crew to descend. She might have refused an ambulance, but the collage of makeshift paramedics her fellow employees had become would have put the doctors of
M*A*S*H
to shame.

When it was over, she was left with a bandage on her forehead, safety pins in place of buttons to hold her shirt in place, and a small ice pack for her bruises in her lap.

“Come with me, honey. It’s time to go,” Nick said.

“Where?”

“I’m taking you home,” he said.

Lucky didn’t argue. She desperately needed a refuge, and her home above Fluffy’s abode was all that she had.

They were nearly at their destination before Nick realized that he’d called her sweetheart and honey, and that she hadn’t refuted his slip of tongue. It was that little bit of knowledge that kept him silent all the way up the stairs. And when she unlocked the door and turned on the lights, he was right behind her.

“Thanks for bringing me home,” Lucky said. “Tonight, having to ride the bus would have been the last straw.” She
tried to laugh and only succeeded in making herself wince from the pain.

But Nick didn’t answer, and didn’t seem ready to leave.

“I’m all right,” she said. “You don’t need to—”

“Why don’t you take off your clothes,” Nick suggested.

Lucky gasped.
Not again
, she thought.

“And take that damned look off your face,” he growled. “I’m not leaving until I know for certain that you can manage on your own. Where’s your bedroom?”

Lucky shuddered. “I’m not getting into bed until I’ve washed Steve Lucas off my body.”

Nick went pale. What she’d gone through must have been devastating to her.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t think.”

And then before he could reconsider the wisdom of the notion, he knew he had to hold her.

“Please…let me have this much. You may not need it, but I damned sure do,” Nick said. Harshness deepened the tone of his voice as he held out his arms.

The shock on her face made him continue quickly, lest she misunderstand what he meant. “When I heard you scream, I thought I would die before I got to you. And then when I saw you, I was afraid to touch you for fear I’d injure something already hurt.”

She shuddered at the thought of going into another man’s arms and Nick saw it.

“Never mind,” he said softly. “I think I understand. We’ll save the hug for another day.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist, well aware that his embrace might have been much more comforting, and smiled slightly, hoping it softened her rejection
of his offer. “I seem to keep saying this, but…thank you.”

He wanted to hold her—to take away Steve Lucas’s touch from her body—but he settled for the smile that she gave him instead.

“It is of constant satisfaction to me that you will let me help you, girl. I just wish it were not always under such desperate circumstances…and I wish…” He frowned as his voice deepened slightly. “I wish I knew how to make you trust me.”

The bitter twist of her lips said it all. “So do I, boss. So do I.”

L
ucky soaked in the bath Nick had drawn and tried not to think of how easy it would be to give in to his persuasive tactics. Using the rim of the ancient tub for a head-rest, she stretched, letting the water’s warmth ease her aches. It was daunting to know that she lay naked as the day she was born, with only a closed door between herself and Nick Chenault. His determination to stay with her was clearly stronger than her will to remain detached. At this moment she was so tired of being lonely…and so tired of being afraid.

And while the water felt good to her weary bones, by the time she crawled out of the tub, the muscles in her back and legs had started to knot, and a headache that seemed to have no intention of going away was throbbing at the base of her skull. Thanks to Steve Lucas, she was going to have a hell of a night.

Reminding herself to ignore the man who waited for
her, she emerged from the bathroom, wearing little more than an oversize T-shirt and smelling of baby powder and lilac, thanks to the bath salts Fluffy had given her days ago. She walked into the living room a much calmer woman.

Nick took one look at her wan expression and the dark bruise on her chin, and he wanted to hit something, preferably Steve Lucas’s face. Unfortunately, he’d already done that, and had to settle for a simmering rage instead.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

Lucky shook her head. “I just want to lie down. I ache all over.”

And then she waited, expecting that he would take that as his cue to leave. But Nick had other plans.

“Then go to bed, honey,” he said softly.

“But aren’t you…?”

“Don’t make me leave,” he said. “I promise not to overstep any bounds, but someone needs to be here for you…please let it be me.” And when he saw instant refusal, he felt compelled to add, lest she suspect him of ulterior motives, “I promise that you’ll be safe.”

His dark eyes begged further in a way he could not. Lucky told herself this was probably a mistake, but she had to admit that she was afraid to stay alone.

“My sofa is very small for someone your size.”

“Get in bed before you fall on your face, and quit worrying about where I’ll sleep.”

She did as she was told.

Later, alone in the dark, she could still feel the imprint of his hand as he’d cupped her cheek before tucking her
in. The way the pad of his thumb had gently grazed the place on her mouth where Steve Lucas had struck. The shadows of the room had prevented her from seeing his expression, but she had felt him tremble.

Weary beyond words, she rolled over on her side and closed her eyes. Seconds later she was asleep.

Which was more than Nick could claim. He paced from window to window in her apartment, looking through the curtains without seeing the brightly lit skyline of Las Vegas, or noticing the dark, constant shadows of the mountains that circled the city. All he could see was a replay of the terror on her face as she’d barreled into his outstretched arms at the club. He closed his eyes and still saw blood seeping from her lip, and that bruise…that purple, spreading stain beneath her skin that marked the beginning of pain.

Intermittent squeaks of bedsprings drifted up the hall and into the room where he was. Lucky seemed to be suffering some restlessness of her own.

Unable to find a comfort zone, Nick gave up and undressed, hoping that freeing his body from restrictive clothing would alleviate some of the tension he was feeling. It didn’t help. He paced, wide-eyed and aching, quietly going crazy with worry.

A short time later, he gave up his solitary patrol and sat nursing a can of soda with the sounds of an aging house for company.

The occasional squeak a board would make as the old building shifted on its beams seemed oddly comforting, as did the sigh of the wind through windows loose on
their frames. Even the countless lingering emotions of people long since gone seemed to hover in the air. The house was, in itself, a mirage of life.

Nick’s gray suit coat was on the back of a chair, his shoes beneath. The silk, charcoal-colored tie he’d been wearing lay across the table, as out of place in this woman’s world as he felt.

His eyes burned, his chest ached. But it was not from exhaustion. It was from a need he would not give name to. The room felt close, yet he decided not to open any windows, lest it would make Lucky feel unsafe. Instead, he shucked his shirt and took off his belt. The urge to undress completely was tempting, but stripping down to his natural state and getting caught by Lucky hours later was out of the question. After what she’d been through, he guessed it would scare the hell out of her.

Lying on the sofa proved to be as difficult and uncomfortable as she’d warned, but Nick Chenault had long ago refused to ever admit defeat. With his arm for a pillow, and his long legs hanging over the armrest at the other end, he closed his eyes and gave in to the weariness he was feeling.

Hours later, somewhere downstairs in Fluffy’s part of the house, a clock chimed three times as Nick rolled off the sofa and onto the floor with a thump. He groaned as he crawled to his knees, cursing short furniture and long legs as a matter of course, then staggered into the kitchen and leaned over the sink, letting the water run swift. When it was as cold as the aging pipes would allow, he splashed it on his face and arms, letting the overflow run
unheeded down his bare chest. The refreshing sensation was just what he needed to clear his head.

Water tunneled down the ridge between his ribs. He grabbed at a towel to stop its flow, then heard a sound that sent him running down the hall where Lucky was sleeping.

For a moment he stood silently outside her room…waiting…listening…unwilling to disturb her slumber if she was not in need. And then he heard it again. Heartbreak and despair were woven into the sound that drifted out from the crack beneath the door. A shudder rippled through him as he pushed it open, half expecting to be sent packing by her for the intrusion.

She was nothing more than a slight mound beneath the sheet, unmoving in her slumber. And then the sound came again, full force, with nothing between them but the truth. She was crying in her sleep.

“Ah God,” Nick groaned. In seconds he was at her bedside.

“Lucky…honey…wake up.” His hands traced the paths of her tears as he leaned down and touched her damp cheeks.

She moaned, muttering a name he couldn’t decipher, and then sighed as the tears continued to fall. From the streetlight shining through the old lace curtains at her window, he saw her lower lip quiver.

“Dammit to hell,” he growled. Seconds later he’d crawled into the bed beside her and had pulled her into his arms.

“Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered. “Don’t cry. I’ve got
you. If you would let me, I’d never let you go.” And it was at that moment that he faced the depth of his feelings for her.

Through the darkness of her dream, Lucky heard a voice. Its promise was sweet, its tone gentle and undemanding. She turned toward it with unerring accuracy and held out her arms. He caught her from falling into the ache of the past.

Cursing softly beneath his breath from a want he couldn’t admit to, he waited while Lucky fit herself against him and then seemed to hold on for dear life. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, silently reminding himself that this could go no further than an embrace.

And oddly enough, sleep returned, even as daylight arrived. But neither Lucky nor Nick was aware of the sunshine streaming through the windows or of the garbage trucks on the streets below making their early morning rounds. They were lost in a place where loneliness did not exist. Asleep in each other’s arms.

Lucky came to her senses slowly. In her entire life, she’d never awakened with her nose pressed against a man’s bare chest. Her first thought, on realization, was why had it taken her so long to try it.

Warm, tan skin pillowed her cheek, and the hands that splayed across her back held her firmly and safely in place. The heartbeat against her ear was rock-steady and soothing. She knew she should have been wondering why Nick Chenault was in her bed, and why she was in his arms. But for the life of her, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She felt too good to move.

Nick knew she was awake. He felt the change in her
breathing, as well as the tickle of her eyelashes against the bare skin on his chest when she blinked. The first thing he’d expected her to do was rail at him for invading her territory. But she proved him wrong. If anything, she snuggled just the least bit closer. Reluctant to move, unwilling to talk, he settled for savoring the moment, knowing all too soon it would have to end.

Lucky sighed. He was awake. She’d known it the instant his hands had gently lifted the hair from her cheek so that he could look at the damage to her face. His body tensed and his breathing changed in evidence of how he moved by what he saw.

“Why the hell are you in my bed?” she asked quietly.

“Good morning, honey,” he whispered, and gave her shoulder a gentle pat before raising himself on one elbow so that their conversation could continue face-to-face. “You were having bad dreams. I couldn’t stand to see you cry.”

Lucky grimaced and turned away. She didn’t want him to know how deeply his tenderness affected her. But in her limited experience, trusting a man was one step shy of stupid.

“This morning may be good to some, but personally, if I look as bad as I feel, I don’t think my customers are going to be able to keep their minds on the game.”

She shrank from him now as quickly as she had turned to him last night. When she looked away, he knew it was time to put some distance between them before she completely resented him. He rolled to the side of the bed, giving her all the space she needed between them to feel safe.

“You aren’t going to work until you feel up to it,” he said. “With no reduction in pay, I might add. You were injured on the job, remember?”

“I would like to forget the whole thing happened,” she said. “But somehow, I feel like I should have seen that one coming. Steve Lucas has been stepping over the line almost from the first day.”

“I wish I’d known,” Nick said. “Maybe it could have been prevented.”

Lucky shrugged. “I doubt it. Besides, Johnny always said…don’t cry over spilt milk. It just makes a bigger mess.”

Nick smiled and wanted to touch her, but wisely kept the action to himself. “I wish I’d known your Johnny. He sounds a lot like my dad.”

Her laugh was short and her words filled with disbelief. “I seriously doubt it. There’s an awfully big difference between Las Vegas and Cradle Creek. I can’t imagine our fathers—or our lives—being anything alike.”

Nick frowned at the way she’d reminded him of his wealth and her lack of it. He responded in sudden anger.

“We are born into this world with little choice, lady. It’s what we do with our own shot at life that matters.”

When he caught a glimmer of tears in her eyes, he sensed it was time to change the subject. “Thank you for letting me stay last night. You may not have needed it, but it made me feel better.”

Lucky watched the way his lips moved around his words. She knew he was talking, but for the life of her, she couldn’t seem to concentrate on what he was saying. All
she could remember was that those lips had once been on hers, and for a heartbeat, he’d been in her blood.

Nick chuckled. “Just like a woman. You aren’t listening to a word I say.”

Lucky blinked, then allowed herself a grin. “I thought that was supposed to be the woman’s line.”

Nick laughed aloud, surprised by her jest, and then bent his head. He meant for the kiss to be friendly, and nowhere near her lips. But it didn’t work. It seemed that every time they touched, the act became one of urgency.

When his mouth slid across her lips, marking their texture and shape with the touch of his own, she forgot to react. But when he moaned and wrapped her back in his arms, then took her with him as he rolled across her bed, she went as naturally as if they’d been attached at the heart.

Deeper needs triggered by the alignment of their bodies began to make themselves known. His burgeoning manhood tested the limits of metal zippers and expensive material, while her body warmed to a sweet honey flow. Their hands moved across bare skin with the skill of a sculptor, exploring a broad chest and generous breasts. Their breathing quickened along with their desire.

But when Nick’s knee slid between Lucky’s legs and pushed gently at the mound beneath the scrap of nylon across her hips, it was too close to what she’d endured yesterday at Steve Lucas’s hands. The mood was broken and Nick sensed it immediately and cursed himself for going too far.

“All I can say is, I didn’t mean to do that. You make me
lose control of everything I am,” he said softly, brushing a tendril of curl away from her face. “I would never, never hurt you. Just don’t be afraid of me. Please.”

He held his breath and waited.

She stared at the flare of his nostrils and the need etched across his face, and then admitted something she should have kept to herself.

“You could very easily destroy me, you know,” she said.

“Not in a million years, Lucky Lady,” he said, and cupped her cheek.

She shook her head and caught his hand in her own before it strayed any farther south. “No. You don’t understand. It would be too easy to fall in love with you, Nick.”

He buried his nose against the curve of her neck, nuzzling beneath her earlobe in a gentle, teasing gesture.

“You make that sound like a bad thing,” he said.

Her voice shook from warning…and from regret. “I can’t fall in love with you. You’re a gambler.”

He wondered where that sound of distaste in her voice came from. Again, he realized how little he really knew of the woman he held in his arms.

“What’s so bad about that?” he asked. “I rarely play, honey. I just furnish the place for others to enjoy themselves.”

“Johnny gambled. It ruined our lives.”

Nick sat up again. This was getting serious. He felt a wall going up between them that he didn’t know how to climb.

“You work in the business. How can you just lie there and place a blanket judgment on everyone…including me?”