Ready for King's Seduction. Maureen Child

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.