Forever Blue

“I assumed Andy was harmless,” Lucy was saying with a frown. “I focused on Leroy and didn’t pay Andy any attention. That was my big mistake.”

“Never assume anything,” Blue said. He could tell from the way she met his gaze, then suddenly looked away, that she had gotten a glimpse of the fire in his eyes. She blushed, a tinge of pink darkening her cheeks as she looked down at the mud-encrusted radio and ticket pad she still held in her hands. She slipped the pad into her belt and tried to wipe the radio clean. She appeared to be intent on fixing her equipment, but she couldn’t keep from glancing at him out of the corners of her eyes.

Suddenly, Blue remembered the rumor he’d heard his senior year in high school that the little Yankee freshman girl had a crush on him. He’d been flattered and amused, and as kind to the girl as he could be without leading her on.

Was it possible that Lucy’s high-school crush had survived all these years?

Blue had noticed right from the first moment he’d spotted her sitting in the Grill that she wasn’t wearing a wedding band. Was it possible that Lucy was still single, still unattached?

Blue had come to Hatboro Creek today out of obligation. He’d come with every intention of enduring his visit—he hadn’t planned to enjoy any of it. But he was on leave, and his leave time was infrequent and irregular. Why not take hold of an opportunity and have a little pleasure, especially since that pleasure seemed to be handing itself to him on a silver platter? Why not? Especially since the attraction he was feeling right now was stronger than anything he’d felt in a long, long time.

“I, um, I better go,” Lucy said. “I’ll need to fill out a report and…” She turned toward him, using the back of one hand to push her wet hair from her face, but succeeding in leaving a streak of mud on her cheek. “Can I give you a ride somewhere? Are you staying at your brother’s?”

As Lucy watched, Blue glanced up at the cloudy sky as if noticing the rain for the first time. It was finally starting to let up. He pushed his hair back from his face but didn’t meet Lucy’s eyes again. “No,” he said. “Jenny Lee has already moved into Gerry’s place. I thought it would be better if I stayed at the motel. And it’s not far. I can walk there probably faster than you could drive.”

Lucy nodded, wishing almost inanely that he would smile at her again, or that he would look at her and let her get a second glance at that slow-burning heat she’d imagined she’d seen in his eyes. But it had to be just that—imagined. Blue McCoy would never be interested in her.

Would he?

“I wish I could think of a way to thank you properly for what you did,” she said, backing away.

He stepped toward her, following. “I can think of a way,” he said in his soft drawl. “There’s a party tonight at the country club, a sort of rehearsal dinner for Saturday’s wedding. Come as my date.”

Lucy stopped short. Her first reaction was to laugh. This had to be some sort of joke. Go to Hatboro Creek’s exclusive country club—on a date with Blue McCoy, her childhood hero? But Blue wasn’t laughing. He was…serious?

Why? Lucy searched his eyes, looking for the reason he’d asked her out. Why? There had to be a reason.

She found the answer in the heat in his eyes, as clear as day.

Sex.

He was a man and she was a woman, and although his invitation had been to attend a fancy, high-society party, what he really wanted to do with her wouldn’t require any kind of party dress at all. She could see all that in his eyes—and more.

Lucy was floored.

Blue McCoy wanted her. He wanted her. He was actually physically attracted to and interested in the tall, skinny, gawky, awkward Yankee tomboy, Lucy Tait.

Oh, she had no misconceptions about the extent of his desire. It was purely sexual. There were no emotions involved. At least not from his end. But it was clear from the look in his eyes that if she went on this date with him, he was going to do his damnedest to see that she didn’t get home tonight until well after dawn.

A clear and extremely erotic image of Blue pulling her down with him onto his bed at the Lighthouse Motel flashed through Lucy’s mind. Tangled arms and legs, seeking mouths, straining bodies, skin slick with sweat and desire… Strobelike pictures bombarded Lucy’s senses, along with a thousand other thoughts.

She had been plenty reckless and wild before—but never in her personal life. As crazy as she’d been with her career, Lucy had always been extremely careful when it came to relationships. But ever since she’d first laid eyes on Blue McCoy at age fifteen, she’d desperately wanted to run her fingers through his thick, dark blond hair.

Lucy knew she meant nothing to Blue and would no doubt continue to mean nothing to him, even if he slept with her. She’d never made love to a man before without knowing that their relationship was going to grow, without hoping for some kind of permanence. Yet Blue was in town for only a few days—a week at the most. Chances were that he wouldn’t be back. Maybe not for another twelve years.

As she gazed up at Blue, he reached out and touched the side of her face, gently wiping what was no doubt a smudge of dirt from her cheek with his thumb. His hand was warm, warmer even than the rain, and his touch sent a wave of fire spiraling through her, down to the depths of her very soul.

She couldn’t help herself. She reached up and touched his hair. It was wet, but still soft and thick. It was remarkable. One small movement and she was living one of her wildest dreams.

Blue’s eyelids grew heavy at her touch, heavy with pleasure—and satisfaction. He’d won, and he knew it.

“I’ll pick you up at 1900…seven o’clock,” Blue said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “Or would you rather meet me over there, at the club?”

Lucy found herself nodding. Yes. “I’ll meet you there,” she breathed. Dear God, yes, she was going to do this. She was going to go to this party with Blue McCoy, and later… Later, she was going to live out one of her most powerful, most decadent fantasies.

It wasn’t until after he walked her back to her patrol car, until after he went inside the Grill for the rest of his lunch and his duffel bag and with a nod headed toward the motel, and until after Sarah drove by in her little black Honda Accord, giving Lucy a toot of her horn and a big thumbs-up, that reality crashed in.

What the hell did Lucy think she was doing? Was a one-night stand with Blue McCoy—no matter that he was the man of her hottest dreams—worth the talk and gossip and speculative looks she’d have to endure weeks and even months after he’d gone? Was one night—or even two or three nights—worth the silence that was sure to follow? Because Lucy had no false expectations. Blue would not write. He would not call. He could be killed on a training mission, and she’d be the very last to know.

Could she really love a man she knew would be loving someone else, some other woman, this time next month—or hell, maybe even next week?

She wished she could call Edgar, wished she could tell him about Blue’s invitation, wished they could talk it over, hash it out. But even though Edgar wasn’t around, Lucy knew exactly what he would have said.

Go for it.

Edgar was the only person Lucy had ever told about her high-school crush on Blue. He was the only one who had known that she still carried a torch for a guy she never even really knew.

Yeah, go for it was what Edgar would have said.

And then he would have reminded her to have safe sex.

Safe sex. Now there was an oxymoron if Lucy had ever heard one. A condom would help with some of the physical dangers. But what about her emotional safety? What kind of protection could she use to ensure herself that?

Down at the police station, Lucy went through the motions, taking a shower; putting on a clean, dry uniform; filling out the forms and reports. But all afternoon, she asked herself the same questions over and over again. Could she really go out with Blue tonight, knowing damn well where it was going to lead?

The answer wavered between Edgar’s possible go for it and no. No, it wasn’t worth it. No, she couldn’t do this. Could she? How could she pass up her wildest, hottest sexual fantasy?

But every time she told herself no and started to pick up the phone to dial the Lighthouse Motel, where Blue was staying, Lucy remembered the liquid desire in his eyes and the hot touch of his hand on her face.

She remembered the answering pull of her own longing and need, the promise of a wild, reckless passion the likes of which she’d never known.

And she knew exactly why she’d said yes.

CHAPTER 2

Lucy pulled her truck into the Hatboro Country Club’s elegant driveway, feeling out of place. She parked in the back lot, unwilling to leave the keys to her trusty but beat-up old Ford four-by-four with the valets. She couldn’t stand the thought of them snickering as they pulled it alongside the Town Cars and Cadillacs. She also wasn’t sure she could handle walking in the front entrance of the posh country club wearing this little black dress she’d borrowed from Sarah. Little was the key word. It was sleeveless, with a sweetheart neckline and a keyhole back, and it hugged Lucy’s body, ending many, many inches above her knees. On Sarah, the tight skirt had been short, but Lucy was at least four inches taller than her friend. Aided further by high heels, the dress made Lucy’s long legs appear as if they went on forever—an effect, Sarah had pointed out, that would not be lost on Blue McCoy.

Lucy glanced in one of the mirrors that lined the hall as she went in the country club’s back door.

Sarah had fixed her hair, too, piling it on top of her head. It seemed as if Lucy had casually swept it up off her neck, but in reality the carefree look had taken the solid part of a half hour to achieve.

She was also wearing more than her usual dab of lip gloss. Mascara, liner and shadow adorned her brown eyes, and blush accentuated her wide cheekbones.

Lucy looked like…somebody else. Instead of skinny, she looked slender, her legs long and graceful. Instead of girl-next-door average, she looked exotic, glamorous and mysteriously sexy.

Blue probably wasn’t going to recognize her. She could barely recognize herself.

Which made sense, because Lucy certainly didn’t recognize this odd sensation she felt, knowing that she was here to meet a man who was practically a stranger—a stranger who could very well be her lover before the night was through.

Blue McCoy.

But he wasn’t a stranger. Not really. After all, he’d been her hero for years. He was pure masculine perfection—if you went for the big, brooding, enigmatic type. And Lucy definitely did.

Music was playing in the country club’s big ballroom, and it filtered down toward Lucy. She started up the stairs, heart pounding; she knew that Blue was somewhere up there near that pulsating music.

The country club had undergone changes in its interior decor since the last time she had been there. She couldn’t remember what color the thick wall-to-wall carpeting had been, but she was positive that it hadn’t been this deep, almost smoky shade of pink. The wallpaper was different, too, a muted collection of flowers and squiggles, in tasteful off-whites and beiges and various shades of that same dark pink.

Her high heels made no noise at all on the plush carpeting as she moved down the corridor toward the ballroom.

The lights in the ballroom had been dimmed, and hundreds of candles had been placed around the room—on the dining tables, on the serving tables, even in candlesticks mounted on the walls. The effect was lovely, giving the entire room a flickering, golden, fairy-tale like glow.

The dining tables covered half the room, leaving the other half of the hardwood floor open for dancing. A small band—drums, keyboard and guitar—was set up in the corner opposite the bar.

Lucy recognized many of the people scattered about the big room. It was a who’s who of the county’s wealthiest and most powerful citizens. The police chief and his wife were there, as was the president of the bank. The mayor and his wife were chatting with the owner of Carolina Island, the seaside resort located several miles north of the Hatboro Creek town line.

The women wore glittering gowns and the men were dressed in black tuxedos—all except for one. One man—Blue McCoy—was dressed in the resplendent, almost shimmering white of a naval dress uniform. As he turned, the candlelight gleamed on the rows and rows and rows of ribbons and medals he wore on his chest.

His shoulders appeared impossibly broad, with his well-tailored uniform jacket tapering down to his lean hips. He wore officer’s insignia, and Lucy was reminded that Blue was a full lieutenant—unless he’d been even further promoted since the last time she’d asked Gerry about his stepbrother’s naval career.

He was carrying a white hat in his hands. His hair, a dark, shining golden blond, reflected the dim light. He was talking to Mitch Casey, the chairman of Hatboro Creek’s chamber of commerce. Blue’s tanned face looked so serious, so stern, as he nodded at something Casey was saying. He was listening intently, but his blue eyes kept straying toward the front entrance, as if he were waiting for someone. Her? Lucy felt a flash of pleasure. He was. Blue McCoy was watching and waiting for her.

He held himself slightly stiffly, as if he wasn’t quite comfortable in his surroundings. But why should he be? Gerry and his father were the ones who had had the memberships to the country club. Throughout high school, Blue had chosen to hang out and work down by the docks where he kept his little powerboat.

Even when Blue was dating Jenny Lee Beaumont he had stayed away from the country-club set. He’d been a loner back in high school, with only one or two friends who were also outcasts or misfits. He wore a leather jacket and rode a motorcycle that he’d rebuilt from parts, yet unlike the other tough kids, his grades were exceptionally above average. Still, he had a reputation for being a troublemaker simply because he looked the part.

Even back in high school Blue had been slow to smile. He’d been serious and quietly watchful, missing nothing but rarely stepping in. Unless, of course, the cruel teenaged teasing and rudeness went beyond the limits—like the time five members of the boys’ junior-varsity baseball team decided to demonstrate just how unhappy they were that a girl, a Yankee girl, had made the cut and gotten onto the team.

Lucy could hold her own in a fair fight, but five to one were tough odds.

Until Blue fearlessly stepped in, ending the violence with his mere presence. The other kids had learned to keep their distance from him, wary of his quietly seething temper and his ability—and willingness—to fight. And to fight dirty, if he had to.

Apparently he’d had to more than a few times.

According to the story Lucy had heard, Blue had been five when Gerry’s father had adopted the little boy out of obligation. Apparently neither Blue nor Mr. McCoy had been overly happy about that, but Blue had had nowhere else to go. Blue had grown up in his elder stepbrother’s shadow, clearly a burden to his stepfather. Was it any wonder that the little boy should have quickly become self-sufficient and self-reliant? And quietly grim?

Was it any wonder that both the boy and the man he’d become were watchful, intensely serious and slow to smile?

Lucy remembered the way Blue had smiled at her that afternoon. Had Blue smiled at Jenny Lee that way back in high school? It was hard to believe that he had. If he had, with a smile like that, surely Jenny would be marrying Blue this coming Saturday rather than his elder stepbrother.

As Lucy watched, Blue’s attention was pulled away from both the main entrance and Mitch Casey when Gerry McCoy and Jenny Lee Beaumont swept onto the dance floor.

Jenny was wearing a long, pink dress that set off her soft, blond curls and her peaches-and-cream complexion. It had been fifteen years since she’d been in high school, but her skin was still smooth and clear. She still looked like the captain of the cheerleading squad, with her sweet smile and perfect, beautiful features—a fact that no doubt had helped her land her job as entertainment news reporter for the local TV station.

Gerry, however, looked tense, his smile forced as he led his bride-to-be in a slow dance. Was he feeling threatened, perhaps, by his stepbrother’s larger-than-life presence?

Physically, the two men couldn’t have been less alike. Gerry was taller than Blue but slighter, almost willowy, if that word could be used to describe a man. Although they both had blond hair, Gerry’s was a lighter, paler shade, and his hair was fine and slightly thinning on top, not thick and wavy like Blue’s. And though Blue’s smiles were scarce, Gerry’s were almost constant. In fact, Gerry’s carefree, fun-time, no-worries attitude contrasted so sharply with Blue’s serious intensity that Lucy found it hard to believe the two men had lived under the same roof as young boys. It seemed almost impossible that they’d shared a home and not driven each other crazy with their different approaches to life.

But the talk around town was that despite their differences, Gerry and Blue had been closer than many blood brothers, that their strengths and weaknesses had complemented one another. Lucy didn’t know for sure that that was true. By the time she and her mother had moved to Hatboro Creek, Gerry was off at college, and by the time Gerry returned after college, Blue had already left to join the Navy.

Lucy gazed across the ballroom, studying Blue’s face, watching him as he watched Gerry dance with Jenny Lee.

His gaze swept around the room, passing directly over Lucy with no glint of recognition, as if she weren’t even there—or as if he’d forgotten that she even existed, as if she paled so absolutely compared with Jenny Lee.

Lucy’s stomach clenched in disappointment. But really now, she scolded herself. What did she expect? Did she honestly think she’d be anything to Blue but a poor substitute for the woman he truly wanted? She had to keep her imagination in line here. If she wasn’t careful, she’d start believing that Blue had unconsciously reached out to her because deep down he was searching desperately for a good woman to love. Or she might start believing that she could make Blue fall in love with her, that just one glorious night of lovemaking with Lucy would soften his damaged heart.

No, the sad truth was, Lucy had come here tonight with her eyes wide open. She knew exactly what Blue wanted from her. He wanted sex. No strings, no desperate search, no falling in love, no softening hearts.

She knew that, and she’d come anyway.

Except now the way Blue’s eyes seemed to look right through her signified a decided lack of interest on his part.

Lucy was a fool for thinking she could ever compete with Jenny Lee. Even though Jenny was engaged to marry another man, she was so pretty and sweet it was crazy to think that Blue wouldn’t be carrying a torch for her. No doubt he’d asked Lucy here tonight hoping for a distraction—a distraction that she’d failed to provide.

Lucy knew she should turn away, walk out of the room and down the long corridor to the stairs that led out to the back parking lot. But she couldn’t move. She could only gaze at Blue and wish that things were different.

His rugged features were impassive, his eyes revealing nothing—no emotion, nothing. And that, of course, convinced Lucy that there was something Blue was working so hard to hide.

On the other hand, she had to admit it was a no-win situation for Blue. She knew that she was not the only person in the room watching him for his reaction to his stepbrother and his former sweetheart’s dance. If he smiled, it would be with “bittersweet longing.” If he frowned, it would be with “barely concealed jealousy.”

No, Blue’s were not easy shoes to be in right now, and Lucy had to give the man credit for showing up in the first place.

Shoes. Blue wasn’t wearing shoes, Lucy realized suddenly. He was wearing sandals. He was wearing his gleaming white navy dress uniform with rows and rows of ribbons and medals on his chest, and a pair of leather sandals on his feet.

As more and more people moved out onto the dance floor, Blue turned away and headed for the French doors that led out onto the patio. The doors were closed tonight. It was too hot to keep them open. The air-conditioning would escape and the muggy night air would be let in.

With his hand on the doorknob, Blue turned back and looked across the room—directly at Lucy. This time he didn’t look through her. This time he met her eyes. He moved his head almost imperceptibly, but his message was clear. Follow him outside.

Lucy’s heart was pounding as she moved along the ballroom wall toward the patio doors. Perhaps she’d been wrong. Blue did recognize her. He did know she was here. It took her several minutes to work her way around the room, but finally she reached the French doors and slipped out onto the patio.

The sounds of the music and laughter from the party became muffled and distant as she shut the door behind her. The heat brushed against her face and arms like something solid. The moon was nearly full and it glowed through a haze of high clouds.

The patio was wide and made of carefully evened-off flagstones, with a decorative cast-iron railing surrounding it. Several chairs and tables with flickering citronella candles were set up around the edges. Japanese lanterns were strung overhead, but the pale light they cast couldn’t compete with the moonlight.

As Lucy stood and let her eyes grow accustomed to the dimness, she saw Blue in the shadows, leaning against the railing, just watching her.

Blue couldn’t believe his eyes. That was strange, because he’d been a lot of places, seen both the best and the worst that humanity could offer, and he’d begun to think that nothing could ever surprise him.

But Lucy Tait, dressed to kill in a sexy black dress, with her legs looking at least seven miles long, with her hair piled sophisticatedly atop her head and her brown eyes made up and smoldering, had proven him wrong.

He’d expected her to arrive at the country club wearing something demure and functional. He’d expected he would have to use his imagination to see beyond her clothing to the woman he suspected was underneath.

She started toward him, and he felt his pulse kick into the double time of anticipation, which he immediately tried to squelch. He hadn’t been thinking straight when he’d asked her to come to this party with him. It wasn’t until he arrived and realized that he was the focus of covert—and some not so covert—attention that it occurred to him that, as his date, Lucy would be subjected to the same curious stares and speculation.

She didn’t deserve that. He had to send her home before anyone saw them together.

That was why, when he first noticed her standing on the other side of the room, he didn’t allow himself to react. He didn’t even let himself do the double take he so desperately wanted to do.

But here in the darkness, away from all the prying eyes, Blue could do all the double takes he wanted.

Mercy.

She could have been the poster model for carnal desire. But as he gazed into her eyes, he realized that it was entirely possible that Lucy didn’t know how incredibly sexy she looked. He could see hesitation in her eyes, and a kind of vulnerability that, combined with her incredible outfit, made her seem a curious mix of experience and innocence.

Blue couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a woman and wanted her more than the way he wanted Lucy right now.

He pushed himself up off the railing as she drew closer. The sexy black spike heels of her shoes made her nearly his own height and she gazed directly into his eyes.

“Seems I’ve been away from town longer than I thought,” Blue said softly. He felt his body tighten as he dropped his gaze to her mouth to watch her nervously moisten her lips with the pink tip of her tongue.