Temper rising, she followed in the trespasser’s wake. “Yes. I’m testing a new recipe and I’d like to finish it. So buh-bye.”
She’d discovered if she didn’t focus one hundred percent on the recipe, she’d mess up something, and sometimes it wasn’t salvageable. Or edible. With her new budget she couldn’t afford to throw out food—something she would remember next time she went to an overpriced restaurant and left most of her meal on her plate.
It’ll be a long time before you hit another trendy restaurant. Forty-three weeks, to be exact.
Not a happy thought. Especially now that he’d turned up.
She reached for the bag again and again he eluded her. “May I have my groceries, please?”
“You couldn’t cook eleven years ago.” His gaze swept the homemade fettuccini waiting to be boiled and the bowl of unfinished brownie batter. He picked up the wooden spoon, stirred the pot then pursed his lips and sampled her sauce.
A territorial urge to growl rumbled through her. “Now I can. Lucas, I’m not interested in playing a childish game of keep-away. Hand over my nuts.”
“Invite me to lunch.” He scraped a finger along the edge of the brownie batter and licked the thick chocolate from the tip. “Mmm. And dessert.”
That was not sexy. It wasn’t.
She swallowed and closed her eyes against the shower of memories and hormones. Just because he’d had the most talented tongue on five continents didn’t mean she wanted to experience his skills again firsthand. How could she ever trust him? She couldn’t.
She planted her hands on her h*ps and scowled. “I don’t want your company.”
“You have more than enough for two and you know marinara is my favorite.”
She’d forgotten. Liar. Okay, she hadn’t. But she hadn’t cooked the sauce for him. She liked it, too. It was the easiest recipe in the book and the only one she’d had all the ingredients for in the apartment. Besides, she’d needed something to go with the pasta she’d made using the machine Mitch had sent. Her brothers kept sending her kitchen gadgets to entertain her. Their help made being independent difficult. But it kept her sane. Catch-22.
“I’m freezing the leftovers for later.”
His eyebrows lifted. “You’re planning ahead?”
His incredulous tone ticked her off. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“Frankly, yes.”
The sad fact was that two and a half months ago he would have been right. She hadn’t planned ahead as her father had so unkindly pointed out.
She sighed and pushed back her tangled mop of hair, which only reminded her she would not survive a year without her hairdresser to keep the unruly waves under control. She’d have to find someone local. And cheap.
“Go away, Lucas.”
He shrugged and headed back out the door—with her walnuts.
“Hey, hand over my groceries.”
“You know the price,” he called over his shoulder as he entered the open door of his place. Nadia plowed after him. She didn’t bother to close her door because no one could get upstairs without security calling first, which was cool because it meant she didn’t have to learn how to work the apartment’s electronic security system. She just left it turned off.
“Lucas. Come on.” Her steps stuttered to a stop inside his living room. She could see ReunionTower through the windows on the opposite wall, but the landmark wasn’t nearly as interesting as what lay on this side of the glass wall.
His place was even larger than hers. And more luxurious. Turning in place, she ran a quick mental tally of the imported carpets on the Brazilian cherry floor, the café au lait–colored suede sofas and chairs and the beveled glass-topped tables. Pricey. The original art on the walls hadn’t come cheaply either. His decor screamed “I’m a success,” but in an urban classic way instead of nouveau riche.
Wow. Someone had finally out-Kincaided her father who’d been a firm believer in appearances and accoutrements defining the man.
Lucas’s living and dining areas made her want to see the rest of his place. But that wasn’t going to happen. She wanted nothing—repeat, nothing—to do with Lucas Stone, the mercenary deserter.
“I can’t finish my brownies without the ingredients in that bag.”
“I like brownies.”
She’d remembered his sweet tooth and his love of chocolate chip cookies. That’s why she’d chosen to try baking brownies today instead of cookies. Besides, her Sub-Zero freezer was already full of cookie dough that she didn’t know what to do with since she could no longer share it with the people downstairs.
She folded her arms. “I don’t care.”
He erased the distance between them, stopping only inches from her. Her senses went on full alert, but she stood her ground. Not even sheer will could stop her breathing and pulse rates from quickening, her mouth from moistening or her muscles from tensing.
Lucas lifted his hand and stroked her cheek before pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. That simple touch reverberated all the way to the pit of her stomach. Damn him. He knew her middle melted when he played with her earlobe like that. She jerked her head away from that lingering fingertip.
You are not attracted to him. Not anymore. You can’t be.
“You care, Nadia. And from what the security team tells me you could use the company.”
Heat steamed her face like a ship’s boiler. “All I did was drop in downstairs to say hello.”
“You made a nuisance of yourself until security escorted you from the premises and banned you from the lower floors.”
Sad. But true. “I wasn’t after company secrets. I wanted to share my cookies. I can’t eat as many as I bake. It’s not like I was trying to poison anybody.”
“My employees don’t need you telling them how to run a more efficient business.”
Guilty. So she’d offered a few pointers…Wait a minute. Did he say—“Your employees?”
This time she knew she didn’t imagine his hesitation or the slight narrowing of his eyes. “This building houses several of my companies.”
“Companies. Plural? How many do you own?”
“A few.”
Interesting. And vague. Deliberately? Definitely. She could see the guardedness in his baby blues. His evasion piqued her curiosity. Lucas had been ambitious before. But back then his goal had been to eventually own his own landscaping company. He’d been attending college part-time in the evenings earning a degree in horticulture to help him.
She’d have to do a Google search on him as soon as she returned to her apartment and see what she could find.
“I’m good at what I do, Lucas. I could help.”
“Get a job.”
“I already have a job with KCL. Only Dad’s stupid will has forced me to take a leave of absence, and I’m not allowed to—” she made quotation marks in the air with her fingers “—seek other paid employment.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
Oh right. As if she’d admit that her father had ordered her to grow up. “It’s just his way of tormenting us from the grave. He assigned Rand, Mitch and me tasks we have to complete before we can settle his estate.”
“What kinds of tasks?”
“None of your business. My life ceased to be your concern when you sold out.”
The flare of his nostrils and compression of his lips told her she’d ticked him off. Good.
“What happens if you fail?”
“I’m not going to fail. If you remember, I can be quite persistent when there’s something I want.” Once upon a time she’d wanted him. But not anymore. “Now please, give me my food.”
He kept the bag behind his back. Short of an undignified struggle, which would involve the kind of body contact she wasn’t interested in, she couldn’t retrieve it.
“Lunch…and dessert, Nadia.”
The suggestive pause between the words combined with his deepening voice and the intent in his eyes made her heart thump harder. He wasn’t talking about brownies. And her double-dealing hormones wanted to strip nak*d and dance around the room for him.
But that wasn’t ever going to happen again.
“That seductive half smile is wasted on me, Lucas Stone. You’ve shown your true colors. I have enough backstabbing users in my life already.”
Or she had before her father had cut her off from her “friends,” none of whom had made an effort to call or visit her in Dallas. Would they even remember her when she returned home? Did she want them to?
“All I want is lunch and a chance to find out if our divorce is valid.”
What? Her stomach hit rock bottom. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“If you believed I was dead, then why would you sign divorce papers?”
She winced and wished she could remember what—if anything—she’d signed. “Good point.”
“Feed me and we’ll talk.”
When he put it like that what choice did she have? But first she needed to lock herself in a closet and scream bloody murder.
“Give me a minute.” Nadia forced the words through the panic tightening her throat.
She bolted from Lucas’s place and back to her own. She really, really didn’t want to call Mitch to bail her out of this one, but if anyone could fix this the middle Kincaid—aka Peacemaker—could. She grabbed her cell phone and dialed her brother’s direct line.
Her neck prickled. What if Mitch was in on the whole deceitful deal?
“Mitch Kin—”
“Lucas isn’t dead,” she blurted. “Did you know?”
“What?”
“He lives in the penthouse across the hall from Dad’s and he owns this building. Did you know?” she repeated.
“Nadia, calm down. You’re not making sense. Are you okay?”
She heard the concern in his voice elicited by the hysteria in her own and struggled to regain her composure before continuing. “I haven’t lost my mind. Lucas isn’t dead. Dad lied and he paid Lucas two million to dump me and disappear.”
“That sorry bastard.” She didn’t ask whether he referred to her father or Lucas as the bastard. As far as she was concerned the term applied to both men. But her brother’s shock and anger sounded genuine, giving her a small measure of relief. Maybe Mitch hadn’t betrayed her.
“Mitch, Lucas made a valid point. If I thought he was dead, I wouldn’t have signed divorce papers. I certainly don’t remember signing anything. I need you to get your hands on whatever paperwork you can find that’s related to my marriage, specifically the ending of it, and send me copies of everything. And I’m probably going to need a lawyer licensed to practice in Texas.”
“Don’t panic before we have all the facts.”
“Don’t panic? Are you kidding me? My husband just rose from the dead.”
Three
A hand plucked the cell phone from Nadia’s fingers. She screamed, nearly jumped out of her skin and spun around to face her phone snatcher.