Keeping his voice lighter than the tension filling him would ordinarily warrant, he said, “I like Katie fine. She’s way too good for Rafe, if you ask me.”
“So it’s just marriage in general you’re against?”
“Pretty much.” He stopped dead, and she crashed into him.
“Sorry.”
He ignored the increased buzzing in his blood and told himself to get a grip on the situation. To get his mind off what his body was clamoring for, he scanned the shelves of spices and was instantly irritated. “How can there be so many?”
“Ah,” she said with an understanding grin, “life outside the narrow confines of garlic, salt and pepper.”
He frowned. “Nothing wrong with salt and pepper. It’s basic. Classic.”
“Boring.”
“Fine,” he said. Anything to get out of here that much sooner. “What do we need? I mean, what do I need?”
“It’s all there on the list,” she urged and stood by, deliberately letting him find his way through the spice racks.
He squinted at labels and hissed at the elevated prices of some of the more esoteric spices. Who knew this stuff was so expensive? Thoughts rolled through his mind even as he continued to read labels. The Kings should look into this. If they could set up suppliers, they could move into the spice industry and really take it over. King Spice, he thought with a half smile. It could work.
Now here was where he felt comfortable, Lucas thought. Planning, focusing on business and growing the ever-expanding King empire. Get him the hell out of a grocery store and there was nothing that could stop him once his mind was set on something. He slid a glance in Rose’s direction. Her big blue eyes were fixed on him, a quiet smile tugging at her lips. Even in this hideous lighting, her skin was like porcelain and the long ponytail she habitually wore spilled across one shoulder, her thick blond hair a tempting mass of waves and loose curls.
She was enough to make any red-blooded male take a long, second look. Hell, he’d looked plenty himself when he had first met her. But Dave had practically wrapped her up in barbed wire and posted a No Trespassing sign over her head. So Lucas had kept his distance out of respect for his friend.
That respect was long dead, though, and soon he’d have this luscious-looking woman right where he wanted her. In his bed. Under him.
Until then, he’d just focus on the task at hand, he told himself, as he shifted his gaze back to the damned racks of spices.
Rose couldn’t seem to tear her gaze off of Lucas. His black leather jacket was open to reveal the plain white T-shirt beneath. Black jeans clung to his long, muscular legs and he was wearing the same scuffed boots she had noticed the day before. What was it, she wondered, about a gorgeous man in jeans and cowboy boots? Was it instinctive? Did it pull at something primal in a woman?
Or was it simply that Lucas King would look too good in absolutely anything? Sadly, she thought, the latter was probably closer to the truth.
“I don’t see peppercorns,” he muttered, “and why can’t I just use ground-up pepper? Why do I have to grind it myself? Haven’t we come further than that as a society?”
“Funny,” she said and reached out to tap one fingernail against the peppercorns. Right in front of him. Somehow, she found that thought comforting. Lucas was so…formidable, that finding out he was like other men in the can’t-find-something-directly-in-front-of-him way made him seem…not ordinary by any means. But more touchable.
Not that she was thinking about touching him. All right, she was. But what woman wouldn’t when she was standing right beside Lucas King? Still, if there was one thing Rose had learned in the last year or so, it was that she didn’t want anything to do with another alpha male.
Lucas picked up the bottle of peppercorns, tossed it into the cart then consulted his list again. “Kosher salt? I’m not Jewish. You know that, right?”
Was he trying to be charming, she wondered, or was it just part of who he was? And if he was trying, why? Three years ago, when they first met, he had never made a move on her. And back then, she would definitely have been interested.
“Kosher salt is pure,” she said, still studying him, trying to figure him out. “No chemicals. It’s better for you.”
“Fine.”
“So why do you hate marriage?” she asked, returning to their earlier conversation.
“Didn’t say I hated it,” he told her, not even bothering to glance her way.
“Really didn’t have to,” she pointed out.
“Why are you such a fan?” He straightened up, turned his head and gave her a flat stare. “Didn’t you get divorced yourself only last year?”
His eyes were sharp and cool and distant. There was accusation in their depths, and she frowned to herself at the justice in it. He was right, after all. She wasn’t exactly a stellar example of a good marriage. “Fine, you’re right. I did get divorced last year. But how did you know about it? You and Dave never talk and oh…never mind. Gossip columns. I know I made all the papers and even a few of the tabloids when I divorced Henry.”
“Please. I don’t read that crap. But word does get around.” He looked at her for a moment or two longer before he said, “Never did understand why you married that guy in the first place, if you don’t mind my saying.”
“Nope, don’t mind,” she said with a sigh. Henry Porter had been a mistake from the jump. But the real mistake had been in allowing her father and brother to talk her into marrying the jerk for the sake of the family. Henry’s business had aligned nicely with theirs, since he was an architect with a string of successful upscale housing developments in his portfolio. Dave had figured that by working with Porter’s Palaces—idiotic name for a company, in Rose’s opinion—Clancy Construction would take the next step up the proverbial ladder.
Of course, then her father died, Henry showed his true colors and Rose had reclaimed her life, leaving Dave fuming.
“So?” he asked again, his voice quiet beneath the Muzak constantly pumped through the store. “Why’d you do it? And don’t try to tell me you actually loved that pompous twit Porter.”
“No,” she said with a rueful smile. “That’s one mistake I didn’t make.”
When she didn’t elaborate further, Lucas shrugged and grabbed a tiny plastic jar of cloves. He tossed it into the cart before searching for the next one on his list. “Don’t want to talk about it?”