Texas! Lucky (20 page)

He took a menacing step forward. "If you tell me you were pretending that I was your husband, I'll strangle you."

"No," she said tearfully, "I wasn't pretending that."

Unable to meet his stare, she lowered her eyes. The silence in the house pressed in on her suffocatingly. His sheer physicality overwhelmed her.

To put essential space between them, she began to wander restlessly around the room, restacking magazines on the end table, looking for any task that would keep her hands occupied and her eyes off him.

"They used to stone women for doing what you did."

Fluffing the sofa pillows, she sprang erect. "What
we
did, Mr. Tyler. You were in that bed too."

"I remember," he said tightly. "I'm willing to take my share of the responsibility for what happened. You're not."

Placing her hands on her hips, she confronted him belligerently. "What would you suggest I do? Go through the city passing out rocks to everyone? Or start wearing a red letter
A
on my chest? In some cultures, they behead adulterers. Do you think justice would be served then? If so, are you willing to place your head on the same chopping block? Because it sure as hell was on the same pillow."

That reminder abruptly ended the shouting match. She turned her back on him.

"I had a lapse of judgment and made a mistake," she said. "Believe me, my conscience has been punishing me ever since."

He moved in behind her and spoke her name, his voice soft and consoling now. Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her around to face him and tilted her head up with a finger beneath her chin.

"I don't want to punish you. Whether you believe it or not, I blame myself a whole lot more than I blame you. I could confess ten sins to every one of yours, I'm sure. Adultery has never been one of them before, but…" As their gazes moved together and locked, his voice dwindled to nothingness.

"Never?" she said hoarsely.

"Never."

"If you had known I was married…"

He pondered his answer for several seconds before saying, "I'm not sure it would have mattered."

Then, not only did their stares merge, but their recollections as well. Each remembered the smell and touch and taste of the other. Each had actively participated in what happened in that motel-room bed. Each had to accept his share of the blame, take responsibility for it.

"I have to vouch for you," she whispered, "I really don't have a choice, do I?"

"Yes, you do," he replied, surprising her. "I won't force you to, Devon."

"But if I don't, it'll mean so much more hardship on you and your family. I can't let that happen. Ever since you told me yesterday about the fire, I've known I would eventually have to come forward as your alibi. It's the right thing to do." She gave a wistful little smile. "I guess I was hoping for a miracle that would make it unnecessary."

He touched the corner of her smile with his fingertip. "Your husband will never have to know. We'll keep your identity a secret. I haven't been officially charged. I'm just a prime suspect. Once you've told them that I was with you from dusk to dawn that night, I'll be cleared, and you'll be free to go. It'll never become a matter of public record."

Situations of this magnitude were rarely resolved that easily, she knew. Still, she didn't want to throw a cloak of pessimism over his expectations. "I'll take tomorrow off and come to Milton Point. I want to get it over with as soon as possible."

"I would appreciate that too," he said. "The sooner I'm off the hook, the better."

His mouth split into the same sort of grin he'd first given her from the end of her booth in the bar. It made him dashingly, piratically handsome.

Since the night she had spent with him, she had asked herself a million times how she could have done such a foolhardy thing. The more time she spent with him, the more reasonable the explanations became. What woman, no matter how level-headed and self-reliant, could resist that smile? Even though she was still suffering the consequences of submitting to it, she felt her body once again growing warm and fluid as a result of it. "Where should I go when I get to Milton Point?" she asked, forcing herself to think pragmatically.

"Why don't you come to the house around noon? I'll call Pat and have him bring out the investigators to take your deposition or whatever they need."

"Who's Pat?"

"The sheriff, Pat Bush. You met him, remember? It's a good thing, too, because he can positively identify you as the woman I picked up in the place."

"You didn't exactly pick me up."

"Figure of speech. No call to get riled."

"Well, I am riled. I've agreed to do what you want, so please leave now." She marched to the front door and pulled it open.

"Don't you need directions to my house?"

"I'll look up the address in the phone book."

"Suit yourself."

"I always do," she retorted, unwilling to let him have the last word.

He got it anyway. Before he stepped across the threshold, his hand shot out and curved around the nape of her neck. He hauled her mouth up to his for a scorching kiss. "'Night, Dovey," he whispered before releasing her and ambling down the sidewalk.

Chapter 13

S
he was still miffed when he greeted her at his front door at noon the following day. He had known the goodnight kiss would make her mad. That's why he'd done it. He took mischievous pleasure in provoking her simply because she was so easily and delightfully provoked. He was challenged to see how many different ways he could do it.

Besides, he had wanted to kiss her. He wanted to now too. But that didn't seem a very good idea, not when she took care not even to let her clothes brush against him as she entered the hallway of his home. She was dressed for business in a pale yellow linen suit with a straight skirt, the hemline just at her knees, and a tailored jacket decorated with a silver lapel pin. Her matching silver earrings showed up well in her ears, because she had pulled her hair back into a no-nonsense bun. Her expression was just shy of combative.

"Hello," she said coolly.

"Hi." He gave her the cocky grin he knew she found aggravating.

"You failed to mention that you lived outside the city limits in the country."

"I offered to give directions, remember? You wouldn't let me. Did you get lost?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yeah, you're here, looking more like the preacher's wife come calling than an overnight alibi. Who's gonna believe I tumbled you?" The devil in him was kicking up his heels, goading him to say things he knew damn well would rub her the wrong way. But he felt he was justified in being ornery. He didn't particularly like her attitude either.

"What did you expect me to wear? A negligee?"

"Lucky, has our guest arrived?"

Laurie Tyler entered the hallway through an arched opening. "Hello," she said pleasantly, extending her hand to Devon. "I'm Laurie Tyler, Lucky's mother."

"I'm Devon Haines."

"Come in, Ms. Haines. Everybody's out in the kitchen. I don't know why we have so many extra rooms in this house. I think we'd have been better off just building one enormous kitchen. Seems like that's where everybody always ends up."

"Are the investigators here already?" Devon asked with uncertainty, glancing over her shoulder at the cars parked in the semicircular driveway.

"Not yet. Those belong to family," Laurie told her.

"Curious onlookers," Lucky said sardonically. "You've drawn a crowd."

He received a reproving look from his mother before she took Devon by the forearm and led the way. "Lunch is a casual meal around here. Chicken salad is on the menu today. I thought that sounded good since the weather is so muggy. You're hungry, I hope?"

"Well, I, yes, I suppose. I hadn't counted on eating lunch."

Lucky observed the two women as he followed them through the formal dining room, which was reserved for holidays, birthdays, and special parties. His mother's unqualified friendliness had flustered Devon. Laurie often had that effect on strangers. Until given grounds to change her mind, she was always accepting of people, and had a knack for putting them at ease.

She propelled Devon into the kitchen and announced her to the rest as though she were a new preacher's wife come calling. "Everybody, this is Devon Haines, who has so unselfishly agreed to help Lucky out of this trouble he's in. Devon, that's Tanya, my daughter-in-law; Sage, my youngest child; and Chase, Lucky's older brother."

They regarded her with unabashed curiosity, but murmured polite hellos, knowing that Laurie would tolerate nothing less.

"Sage, scoot your chair over and let Devon sit there between you and Lucky. Devon, would you like iced tea or lemonade?"

"Uh, iced tea, please."

"Fine, I'll get it. Sugar and lemon are on the table. Lucky, hand her that plate out of the refrigerator. And you can start on your lunch now that she's here." As she passed the glass of iced tea to Devon she added, "He was too nervous to eat before you arrived."

"I wasn't nervous," he remarked crossly. He set the pre-filled plates on the table and threw his leg over the seat of his chair, straddling it. "I was afraid she wouldn't show."

Devon reacted as though she'd been goosed. "I said I would, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but you've been known to skip without giving prior notice."

"Well, she's here and that's the important thing," Chase said, intervening when Tanya gouged him in the ribs with her elbow. "We're all very glad that you agreed to clear Lucky, Ms. Haines. At no small expense to yourself.

"Because you're married and all." Sage, who had remained blessedly silent, could restrain herself no longer. "You sure don't look like what I thought one of Lucky's pickups would."

"Sage!"

"I didn't mean to be rude, Mother. I know you're as surprised as I am that she's not wearing dragon-green eyeshadow and fishnet stockings. I like your suit, by the way," she said, smiling at Devon guilelessly.

"Th-thank you," Devon stammered.

Having wanted to agitate Devon himself a few moments ago, Lucky now wanted to throttle his little sister for being so rude. Devon's cheeks were flushed and her eyes abnormally bright, but her lips looked pale beneath her pearly beige lipstick.