“Imagine, running into you here, of all places.”
“Yeah,” he said, “you said that already. Not really surprising, Marsha, I do eat.”
“Yes,” she agreed on a seductive chuckle, “but you forget, I’ve seen your refrigerator for myself.”
Perfect, Rose thought. Nothing like standing here witnessing one of Lucas’s bedmates trying to metaphorically lick him in the produce aisle. And could she have looked any more hideous, Rose wondered furiously. Why was her hair in a ponytail, of all things? And why hadn’t she worn her new jeans…instead of her favorite, often-washed, faded pair? And why, she demanded silently, did she care?
She wasn’t on a date, for heaven’s sake. She and Lucas weren’t a couple. He was a client. A customer. She was his cooking teacher, nothing more.
Which should have made her feel better but it so didn’t.
“You look wonderful, Lucas,” Marsha said, her voice dropping to a low purr of interest.
Behind Lucas, Rose rolled her eyes and willed herself to sink into the floor. Nothing happened.
“Thanks, you, too,” Lucas said brusquely. Then he added, “You’ll have to excuse us, though, we’ve got to finish shopping and get home.”
“We?” For the first time, Marsha’s gaze slid past Lucas to notice Rose. Surprise flickered across her eyes briefly.
“Marsha Hancock, this is Rose Clancy. Rose, Marsha.”
“Hi. Nice to meet you,” Rose said when she couldn’t avoid it.
“Uh-huh,” Marsha murmured, then turned her renewed interest on Lucas. “Like I was saying, you look wonderful and if you’re not busy this Friday, I’m having a small, intimate party at my place and—”
“We’ll be busy,” Lucas told her, then looked at Rose. “What do you think, honey, we done here?”
Honey? He’d called her honey? Rose’s mouth opened and closed a few times while she tried to think of something clever—heck, anything to say. Then Lucas dropped one arm around her shoulders and gave her a hard hug. Keeping her tucked in close to his side, he looked at the redhead and said, “Yep, guess we’re done. Good seeing you, Marsha.”
He pushed the laden cart one-handed, still keeping one arm draped around Rose. She walked right beside him, trying to figure out what had just happened. Risking a quick glance backward, she could see that the beautiful Marsha was trying to understand the same thing.
Rose stood beside him while he paid for the groceries, then followed him out to the parking lot and his car when he was finished. A cold night wind blew in off the ocean, and, overhead, the stars were glittering.
She turned her face into the wind as he loaded up the trunk of his SUV and didn’t say a word until he’d finished and closed the lid again with a solid thunk.
“What was that about? Inside there, with Marsha?”
He shrugged, and pushed the shopping cart into the area set aside for them. “Marsha’s annoying. Letting her believe you and I were together was the easiest way of getting rid of her.”
He might think she was annoying now, but the redhead had made it all too clear that at one point in the not so distant past, Lucas had found her much more interesting.
“And you had to call me ‘honey’ to get that point across?”
“Seemed like a good idea at the time.” He tilted his head and looked at her as one corner of his mouth turned up. He took a few steps closer and with every step, he asked, “You object to ‘honey’? How about ‘babe’? ‘Darlin’?’ ‘Sweetie’?”
Her insides were shaking, and her mouth was dry. Rose looked up into those blue eyes of his and couldn’t read what he was thinking. Not enough lights in this parking lot. Too many shadows in his eyes, on his features.
“But I’m not any of those things to you, Lucas,” she pointed out and backed up until she bumped into his SUV. “What if she starts telling people that she saw us together? That you called me ‘honey’? That we looked like a couple?”
“That would be bad?” he asked.
“It wouldn’t be honest.”
“And you’re always honest.”
“Try to be.”
“Fine,” he said, leaning into her and bracing both hands on his car at either side of her, “answer me this, then. And try to be honest. What would you do right now if I kissed you?”
Her knees went weak.
This was just ridiculous.
She was a grown woman. A divorced woman. She was no shy virgin sighing with eagerness because the captain of the football team happened to notice she was alive.
She was still looking up into his eyes, and he was still waiting for an answer to his question. His scent swirled around her, something spicy and all too male. His face was just a breath away from hers. The heat of his body seeped into hers and she felt that smoldering fire inside her erupt into something a lot more volcanic.
Rose had a choice here. She could be completely professional, and tell him that she didn’t want him to kiss her. But that would be a big, fat lie. Or, she could be honest and tell him that if he kissed her, she’d probably explode with all of the banked sexual energy she was feeling at the moment.
So what was it going to be?
He licked his lips and just like that, her decision was made. Three years ago, when she had first met him, she’d daydreamed about being kissed by Lucas King.
Now, she was about to find out if her fantasies were as good as the reality. “Well, Rose?”
“You want honest?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Okay then.” She grabbed the lapels of his black leather jacket and yanked him down to her.
His mouth closed over hers and what felt like an electrical charge blasted them both.
Rose wrapped her arms around his neck and held on while his tongue parted her lips and slipped into the heat of her mouth. She sighed into him and instantly tangled her tongue with his, as eager and hungry for him as he seemed to be for her.
Her stomach flipped, her heartbeat staggered in heavy beats and the knees that had been weak before turned to water under the onslaught of too many sensations to count.
He pulled her close, pressing her to his length, and she felt every hard, muscled inch of him imprinting itself on her body. A throbbing ache settled between her thighs as he swept his hands up and down her back, caressing her behind.
She couldn’t breathe. Could hardly stand.
But at least, she thought idly, she had her answer.