Ready for King's Seduction

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?”

“Not particularly,” she admitted.

She knew all too well what he’d heard about the end of her marriage. Rose shifted uncomfortably, remembering the humiliation of her marriage and the horrific ending of it. She’d married the wrong man for all the wrong reasons. She’d gone along with her family because that’s who she had always been.

The pleaser. That was Rose. Always going out of her way to make sure everyone around her was happy. She’d subjugated her own wants and needs in favor of everyone else’s. Well, those days were gone. She’d learned her lesson the hard way, but now, she was determined to make herself happy.

He tore his gaze away from the spice shelf and shot a quick look at her. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought she saw a quick flash of regret in his eyes. But it was gone almost immediately, so she dismissed it as a trick of the overhead lights. “I didn’t mean—”

“Sure you did,” Rose interrupted, then pointed. “There’s the rosemary. Get the big bottle.”

As he did, she watched him. “You wanted to point out that I was being a sunshine-and-rainbow girl with nothing to back it up.”

He nodded, then turned his head to look at her. His black hair fell across his forehead and his eyes narrowed on her. “I suppose I did.”

“Thanks for admitting it, anyway,” she told him. “And you’re right. I absolutely don’t have any personal experience with a happy marriage.” Reaching out, she picked up a box of blueberry muffin mix, read the back and wrinkled her nose before setting it back down. “Look, my marriage was a disaster, but I went into it for all the wrong reasons—”

“What were they?”

She looked at him. “None of your business. The point is,” she continued, “just because my marriage didn’t work, doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with the whole institution.”

“Institution,” he muttered. “That word says it all.”

“Is that how Rafe sees it?”

He laughed shortly, checked his list again and glanced at her. The amusement in his eyes was real this time and the curve of his lips did something amazing to the pit of her stomach. “He’s too crazy about Katie to think anything at this point. And my brother Sean is ecstatic because now he’s related to the cookie queen and has all kinds of expectations for free food.”

“What about you? Any expectations?”

He stilled, looked her up and down and, in that blink of time, Rose felt her skin begin to hum and sizzle. “Not where Katie’s concerned, no.”

They had really veered into what could quickly become uncomfortable territory. Funny, to be having such a deep conversation in the middle of the baking aisle, with Muzak pouring down from overhead and a child still screaming in fury somewhere in the distance.

Seconds ticked past and neither of them looked away. Rose felt the searing heat of his gaze licking at her skin and in another minute or two, she might just melt into a puddle.

Thankfully, she was spared that humiliation when Lucas spoke up.

“I’ve got all the spices. What’s next?”

Spices. Spicy. Sexy. Sex …

“What? Oh. Right.” She shook her head hard, ridding herself of the images rushing through her mind. Images of Lucas, bending down, kissing her, holding her, leaning her back onto a bed and … “First we’ll get some olive oil, then we’ll head to the butcher department.”

She walked farther down the aisle, silently lecturing herself about hormonal surges and inappropriate behavior with a client and anything else she could think of to take her mind off of Lucas. Naked.

God.

He followed behind her with the cart and stopped when she did. Staring at the long shelf crowded with dozens of types of oils, Lucas looked about as lost as a man could get. “Why do we need so many different kinds of oil? How’re you supposed to know what to get?”

“Always get the extra virgin,” she said.

His eyebrows lifted and his mouth quirked. “There’s extra virgin?”

He was amused again. Perfect. She was simmering, he was chuckling. Oh, this was going just fabulously well.

“Just get this one,” she said and reached for a bottle on the top shelf.

He went for it at the same time and their hands brushed over the heavy plastic bottle. That one instant of contact was all she needed to kick that smoldering fire inside her into an inferno. Rose was really tempted to take him down the ice cream aisle. At least there, the frigid air might do something to help quash the heat threatening to engulf her. Instead, she led him to the butcher department and tried to keep her mind on cuts of beef and pork loins.

A half hour later, they were finishing up in the produce section. Lucas couldn’t have been less interested as she explained what to look for in fresh broccoli. “You want dark green florets and thinnish stalks.”

“Thinnish?”

“Yes. Not too skinny, not too fat.”

His gaze raked her up and down again, and Rose had to take a deep breath. She was beginning to think he was deliberately trying to get her all jangled up. He was making her nervous and clearly enjoying himself at the same time.

“You know, not everything I say is intended as a come-on of some kind.”

“Just a happy accident, then?” he inquired.

“Lucas?” A high-pitched, completely surprised feminine voice stopped whatever Rose might have said in return. Instead, she turned to watch a voluptuous redhead in skin-tight jeans and three-inch black heels scurrying toward them, a beaming smile on her gorgeous face. The woman was made up as if she were going to an opera. Yet, she had a small basket tucked over her arm, the single tomato and avocado inside rolling from one side to the other in her agitation.

“Marsha,” Lucas said stiffly. “Nice to see you.”

The words were right, Rose thought, but the tone in his voice should have warned the redhead off.

“I can’t believe you’re in a grocery store, of all places,” the redhead crooned, leaning in to brush an air kiss in the vicinity of his cheek.

Rose took a step backward, sliding away to give the two of them a minute alone. Maybe Lucas didn’t seem happy about running into the woman, but she doubted that Marsha would miss her presence. Rose had every intention of hiding behind the bin of Vidalia onions, but Lucas stopped her cold with one hand on her arm. His grip tightened as she tried to squirm free, but the redhead never noticed. Her big green eyes were fixed on Lucas as if he were a Prada bag on a seventy-five-percent-off table.

“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?”

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