Texas! Chase #2 (10 page)

Lucky replaced the telephone receiver and to his wife said, "He still doesn't answer."

From the doorway that connected their bedroom with the bath, Devon tried to reassure him.

"That doesn't mean he's vanished again."

"But it might mean he's out getting blitzed."

"Not necessarily."

"Not necessarily, but probably."

"You're not showing much confidence in your older brother," she gently rebuked him.

"Well, in the past two years, name one thing he's done to inspire my confidence."

Devon turned on her bare heels and stamped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her so swiftly that it almost caught the hem of her peignoir.

Lucky went storming after her and threw open the door. Rather than finding her confrontational, she was seated at the dressing table, calmly pulling a hairbrush through her dark-auburn hair. Her loveliness squelched his anger.

She was an expert at igniting and defusing his temper and could do both instantly and effectively. Her reversals always came unexpectedly.

That spontaneity made his life interesting and was one of the reasons he had fallen in love with her.

Devon's unpredictability appealed to his own volatile nature.

He loved her madly, but hated when she was right. In this instance she was.

"That was a rotten thing for me to say, wasn't it?

"Hmm," she replied. That was another thing he liked about her—she never rubbed it in when she'd been right. "He did come home,

Lucky."

"Under duress."

"But it couldn't have been easy for him."

"He wasn't exactly dragging his tail between his legs."

"Wasn't he? I believe all his mumbling and grumbling was to cover up how embarrassed he was to show how glad he was to be home, surrounded by people who love him."

"Maybe," Lucky conceded.

"He went to the office today and showed an interest in the business."

"Which might be only a token interest."

"It might be. But I don't think so." She set her hairbrush aside and uncapped a jar of night cream.

Extending her arm, she began spreading on the scented cream. "I think we should give Chase the benefit of the doubt.

Maybe he's finally beginning to heal."

"I hope so."

Lucky took the jar of cream from her, scooped some out with his fingers, and began smoothing it on where she had left off. He pushed her robe off her shoulders, slipped down the straps of her nightgown, and massaged the cream into skin so smooth it really didn't need extra emollients.

"Well, Laurie is encouraged by his coming home. That in itself makes me glad he's back."

Devon bowed her head and moved aside her hair so he could rub her neck.

"But Mother doesn't know that he's out carousing tonight."

"Neither do you. He could be anywhere."

"It's not exactly a good night to take a drive."

"Even if he is out carousing, he's a grown man and accountable only to himself."

She looked up at him through her lashes, speaking to his reflection in the mirror. "Just like you used to be."

"Humph," he grunted.

Lucky's attention had been diverted to his wife's alluring image in the mirror. The neck line of her nightgown had caught on the tips of her breasts. A single motion of his hand left the nightgown pooled in her lap, her breasts completely bare.

Both hands reached around to caress her.

He watched his hands reshape, lift, stroke, and massage her breasts. When his touch began to have an effect, his own veins expanded with desire. "What did the doctor say today?" he asked in a soft voice.

"Baby and I are doing well," she told him, her lips curving into a madonna's sweet smile.

"I'm a full five months."

"How long do you think we can keep it a secret?" His hands smoothed over the convex curve of her abdomen.

"Not much longer. If Laurie hadn't been so preoccupied with Chase, she probably would have noticed my thickening waistline."

"She and Sage are going to be mad as hell that we didn't tell them as soon as we found out."

"Probably. But I still think doing it this way was better. In case something happened."

"Thank God nothing has." He bent his head and kissed her shoulder.

"I don't believe Laurie could have withstood the loss of another grandchild. It was better that we not tell her we were expecting until I was out of the dangerous first trimester."

"But now you're into the second and the doctor doesn't expect any complications." He met her eyes in the mirror and smiled as he splayed his hand over her lower body. "I want to announce to the world that I'm going to be a daddy."

"But think of this, Lucky," she said, her smile gradually fading. "Now that Chase is home, maybe we should put off making an announcement for a while longer."

"Hmm." His eyebrows drew together. "I

see what you mean. It's going to be tough on him to hear that we're going to have the first Tyler offspring."

Taking his hand, Devon kissed the palm.

"You know how much I want our baby. But my happiness is clouded whenever I think of the child that died with Tanya."

"Don't think about it," Lucky whispered.

He drew her up, turned her around, and kissed her while he rid her of the peignoir.

After stepping out of his briefs, he pulled her against him, letting her feel the strength of his erection. She sighed against his lips and suggested that he not waste any more time before taking her to bed.

Reclining together, he opened her thighs and kissed her there, testing her moisture with the tip of his tongue. Then he kissed his way up her body, pausing first to lay kisses across the slight mound of her abdomen, then lightly sucking the tips of her breasts, darkened and enlarged from pregnancy. At last he reached the welcome heat of her mouth and sent his tongue deep even as his sex delved into hers.

Marriage hadn't dimmed their physical passion for each other. It burned hotter than ever. Within minutes they both lay replete and satisfied.

Holding her close, Lucky gently stroked the area of her body where his child was nestled.

He whispered, "In light of what he lost, how can I blame Chase for anything he does or doesn't do?"

"You can't," she answered, patting his hand.

"You can only be patient until he finds a solution to his heartache."

"If there is a solution." He didn't sound too optimistic.

Devon stirred and said in that stubborn way of hers he found so endearing, "Oh, I have to believe there is."

Chase finally recovered his voice. His disbelieving stare was still fixed on his hostess.

"What?"

"Are you going to make me repeat it?"

Marcie asked. "All right. I said that you could save your business and keep it in the family if you married me. Because then, whatever I

had would be yours."

He returned his unfinished cookie to the plate, dusted the crumbs off his fingers, and stood up. Quickly retrieving his coat, he pulled it on and started making his way toward the front door.

"Don't you think it warrants some discussion?"

Marcie asked, following him.

No.

She caught up with him before he could pull open the front door, placing her slim body between it and him. "Chase, please. If I

had enough gumption to suggest it, the least you could do is have enough gumption to talk about it."

"Why waste my time and yours?"

"I don't feel like a discussion of my future is a waste of time."

He slapped the pair of chamois gloves against his other palm, trying to figure out how he was going to get away from there without hurting her feelings.

"Marcie, I don't know what prompted you to say such an outlandish thing. I can't imagine what was going through your mind. I'd like to think you were joking."

"I wasn't. I was serious."

"Then you leave me no choice but to say no thanks."

"Without even discussing it?"

"Without anything. It doesn't bear talking about."

"I disagree. I don't go around whimsically proposing marriage to eligible men. If I hadn't thought it was a workable idea, I would never have mentioned it."

"It isn't a workable idea."

"Why not?"

"Damn," he muttered with supreme exasperation.

"You're forcing me to be unkind."

"If you have something to say, don't worry about sparing my feelings. I told you yesterday that I have a tough veneer when it comes to insults. They bounce right off me."

"Okay," he said, shifting from one foot to

the other, but keeping his eyes on hers, "I'll be blunt. I don't want to get married again.

Ever."

"Why?"

"Because I had a wife. I had a child. They're lost to me. No one can take Tanya's place.

And besides all that, I don't love you."

"I couldn't possibly hope to take Tanya's place. In any event, I wouldn't want to. We are two entirely different individuals. And I

certainly never imagined that you love me,

Chase. People get married for a variety of reasons, the least of which, I believe, is love."

He stared at her, dumbfounded. "Why in hell would you want that, though? Knowing that I don't love you, that I'm still in love with my wife, why would you make such an offer?"

"Because, as you've pointed out numerous times just over the course of the last couple days, I'm an old maid. And even in this day and age, no matter how progressive our thinking, if you're a single person, you're odd man out. It's still a couples' world. People move through life in pairs. I'm tired of being a party of one."

"That argument doesn't wash, Marcie. You told me yesterday that you almost got married but backed out at the last minute because you didn't love the guy."

"That's true. But that was several years ago. I was still in my twenties."

"So?"

"So now I'm thirty-five. A thirty-five-year-

old single who is either divorced or widowed isn't that much of a rarity. Even a thirty-five year-old bachelor doesn't attract much attention.

But a woman who is still unmarried at thirty-five is an old maid, especially if she lives alone and rarely goes out." She cast her eyes downward and added softly, "Especially if she's Goosey Johns."

Chase mumbled another curse. He regretted ever calling her that. He could argue now that the nickname no longer applied, but she would think he was just being kind.

"I know I'm not a raving beauty. Chase. My figure isn't the stuff fantasies and centerfolds are made of.

But I can give you what you need most."

"Money?" he asked scathingly.

Companionship.''

"Get a dog."

"I'm allergic to them. Besides, we're talking about what you need, not what I need." she said. "We're friends, aren't we? We always got along. I believe we'd make a good team."

"If you want to be part of a team, join a bowling league."

His sarcasm didn't faze her. "You've had a year and a half of wandering, and though you haven't admitted it, I think you're sick of being a nomad. I can give you stability. I have a home," she said, spreading her arms to encompass the house. "I love it, but it would be so much nicer if I were sharing it with someone."

"Get a roommate."

"I'm trying."

"I meant another woman."

"I would hate living with another woman."

She laughed without humor. "Besides, God only knows what the gossips of Milton Point would say about me if another woman moved in here."

He awarded her that point because she was right. Generally speaking, people were small-minded and always looking for scandal even where there wasn't any. But that was Marcie's problem and he wasn't the solution to it.

Still, chivalry required him to let her down easy. If nothing else, he respected her for having the courage to broach the subject of marriage with him. It couldn't have been an easy thing for her to do. She had had to swallow a hell of a lot of pride.

"Look, Marcie—"

"You're going to say no, aren't you?"

He blew out a gust of air. "Yeah. I'm going to say no."

She lowered her head, but raised it almost immediately. There was challenge in her eyes.

"Think about it, Chase."

"There's nothing to think about."

"Tyler Drilling."

He placed his hands on his hips and leaned in close. "Don't you realize what you're doing?

You're trying to buy a husband!"

"If I'm not worried about that, why should you be? I've got lots of money. More than I need. What am I going to do with it? Who am

I going to leave it to? What good has it done me to work hard and achieve success if I can't share the dividends with someone who needs them?"

Jerking on his gloves, he said, "You won't have to look hard to find somebody. I'm sure there are plenty of men around who'd love a free ride."

She laid her hand on his arm. "Is that what you think this is about? Do you think I'd want you under my roof if you were content to be a kept man? Not on your life, Chase Tyler! I know you'll continue to work as hard as you ever have. I'm not trying to rob you of your masculinity or your pride. I don't want to be the man of the house. If I did, I would be satisfied to leave things as they are."

She softened her tone. "I don't want to grow old alone, Chase. I don't think you want to either.'And since you can't marry for love, you'd just as well marry for money."

He contemplated her earnest face for a moment, then shook his head. "I'm not your man, Marcie."

"You are. You're exactly what I want."

"Me? A broken, beaten man? Bad tempered?

Bereaved? What could you possibly want me for? I'd make your life miserable."

"You didn't make me miserable tonight. I

liked having you here."

She just wasn't going to let him do this gracefully, was she? The only alternative she had left him was to say an abrupt no and get

the hell out. "Sorry, Marcie. The answer is no."

He yanked open the door and went out into the storm. After hours of sitting idle, the truck was more reluctant than ever to start. It finally came to life and chugged home. The apartment was dark and cold.