Handsome Devil Read online

  HANDSOME DEVIL

  Amii Lorin

  Chapter One

  She had the gleaming black hair and glittering green eyes of a cat...or a witch.

  Squinting against the rays from the setting sun, Luke Branson studied the woman sitting cross-legged on the flagstone patio opposite him.

  He disapproved of her, of this type of woman— confident, independent, flip, supremely able to hold her own with her contemporaries, both male and female. But then, Luke disapproved of most women, whatever their type. He admitted that there were exceptions to the rule, but he was convinced they were few and far between.

  Luke had reason for his disapproval and disdain of the feminine gender. One beautiful, seemingly sweet, loving and caring woman had not only put a knife through his heart, twisting it mercilessly into his guts and his mind—she had slashed his soul to dark ribbons of bitterness and loathing. And then she had administered the final, crushing blow by taking his child.

  Even after six years, Luke believed his feelings of antipathy for women were viable and valid. But, while disdaining most females over the age of consent, he felt no compunction about using them in the only way he felt they were useful—to appease a man’s natural hungers.

  And this woman, this cat-witch woman, appeared to Luke to be more useful than most in that respect

  Selena McInnes was exquisite—small, delicate, stunning. She appeared fragile, dainty almost childlike. Her appearance was deceiving.

  Her laughter sparkled on the hot, dry air, causing a shiver deep inside Luke. Instead of quenching the heat in a deeper, more vulnerable section of his body, the chill intensified his searing ache.

  Damn, shifting uncomfortably in the plastic webbed lawn chair, Luke cursed in silence and tightened his grip around the icy can in his hand. Raising the beer to his lips, he took a long swallow, but the cold liquid proved unequal to the fire burning in his loins.

  He wanted her. In the worst way. In the best way. In every way imaginable. The yearning had begun the first time Luke saw Selena two weeks ago. It had increased by degrees every time he’d seen her since.

  And he would have her, Luke vowed, tilting the can for another swig. The only questions in his mind were when and where. The consideration of how he would have her didn’t enter into his contemplation—Luke planned to have Selena in every way possible. Whether he could have her at all didn’t enter into it, either. Without a shred of conceit, Luke was well aware of his attraction to the opposite sex. In the six years since his divorce, more than one woman had called him a handsome devil, and the words were applicable to both his looks and character. Luke didn’t resent the connotations implied. On the contrary, he relished them.

  An anticipatory smile softened his hard-looking lips. Behind the shield of sunglasses, his dark eyes glittered with intent as his heated gaze skimmed her small, inviting body.

  And Selena presented a great deal of her slender body for his, or anyone else’s, inspection. She was dressed—or almost dressed—in what Luke had begun to think of as her daily working uniform of short shorts and a sleeveless cotton knit pullover. The shorts were fire-engine red the skimpy top was canary yellow. Flat, nylon-strapped sandals lay forgotten next to her oversize denim shoulder bag on the patio floor behind her. Her feet were bare, as were her enticingly curved legs, which appeared incredibly long, considering her height of just under five feet, two inches.

  Fanning the flame that flared ever hotter inside him, Luke allowed himself the pleasure of examining the length of Selena’s legs, from her trim ankles to her smooth, silky-looking thighs. His gaze, hidden by the dark lenses, paused on the evocative curve of red material covering the gentle mound at the apex of her thighs. Gulping at the warming beer, he dragged his eyes away from the center of his desire. Restless, he looked away only to find himself staring at the swell of her breasts, braless beneath the thin shirt. Like the rest of her, her breasts were small, delicately formed, exquisitely enticing. Luke swallowed the last of his beer after his hot-eyed gaze had devoured the tips of her breasts impudently poking against the soft material of her pullover. Absently crushing the empty can with his fingers, he raised his eyes to her face. His body stilled. His breath caught in his throat. His eyes narrowed behind the smoky glass.

  Framed by a waist-long mass of shimmering black hair, Selena’s face was stunning. Her features were delicate. Her skin was soft. Her small nose complemented her perfectly-shaped full lips. And, set in her beautiful face, her green eyes held a mysterious depth into which Luke longed to lose himself.

  She laughed again. Luke groaned in silent protest. His lips tightened into an unrelenting line of decision. He wanted her laughing mouth, wanted to taste it, ravish it, then suck all the sweetness out of it,. And it would have to be soon, or he’d go out of his mind with desire. Frustration eating him alive, Luke tossed the mangled can into the plastic-lined empty oil drum used for trash.

  “Another beer, Luke?”

  With an odd sense of relief, Luke shifted his attention from the object of his raging passion to the lazily sprawled figure of his host and employer, “Yeah.” Luke caught the cold can tossed to him, popped the top, then tilted it in salute. “Thanks, Will.”

  The older man nodded. “What the hell would we do without beer out here?” he muttered. “Or anywhere else, for mat matter?”

  Luke grinned, revealing hard, even teeth that flashed startling white in contrast to his sun-bronzed skin. “Get damned thirsty, I suspect,” he drawled.

  “Right,” Will nodded again, emphatically. “I sometimes ask myself what the hell I’m doing out here in this Godforsaken corner of Texas.” His sun-weathered face creased in a wide smile. “Other times, I wonder if there’s any other place in the world to be.”

  “I know what you mean.” With the murmured comment, Luke transferred his gaze to the purple-hued mountains in the distance. Unlike the forest-covered mountains he was accustomed to in the East the starkly bare range in the Big Bend fascinated him. The sensation was similar to what he felt for Selena—the impact of both on his senses had been immediate and strong.

  However, the impact of the mountains had come almost five months before the impact of the woman.

  Like his host and many of the others gathered on the patio of the house overlooking the Rio Grande, Luke was a dropout, burned by life and circumstances.

  Turning from the jagged range, now becoming a dark silhouette against the crimson sky of sunset, Luke glanced over the laughing, murmuring group around him. He knew the personal histories of only three of the ten people who had put in an appearance that afternoon, and two of those were sketchy.

  Luke’s gaze settled on two men lounging against the protective rail rimming the patio. The youngest was in his early twenties. His name was Carlton Ames III, dubbed “The Kid” by Will. The Kid had dropped out of a wealthy environment and away from a smothering mother. He earned enough to survive by waiting tables at a nearby restaurant-bar frequented by the tourists, natives and part-time residents of the tiny community of Study Butte.

  The other man was older, tougher looking. Jasper Chance—called “Main” by his friends—a native Texan from Tyler, had dropped out of a lucrative position with a brokerage firm in New York City, burned out by the intensity of the stock exchange. Main now earned his living by managing the general store and stable.

  Luke switched his gaze to his host and employer. William Rightmyer was the oldest member of the group. At 54, Will had dropped out of the grueling, fourteen-hour-a-day position as president of a large textile firm in the South. Rich by anybody’s standards, Will had purchased a store, the stable managed by Main, the restaurant-bar in which The Kid waited tables, and a river and trail tour business. All of the assembled group worked for Will in one capacit
y or another, including Luke.

  Luke had not dropped out of a mind-burning career, but away from the soul-singeing experience of divorce, followed by losing custody of his daughter to his ex-wife and her wealthy new British husband. Considered by many experts to be one of the leading architects in the world, Luke loved and was still working at his profession. In addition to designing a house he planned to eventually build for himself, Luke occasionally worked the counter at both the general store and the tour office for Will. It was while doing a stint behind the counter of the tour office that he had first met Selena McInnes.

  She had strolled into the office as if she owned the place and had been greeted by Will with enthusiasm and undisguised affection.

  “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming back,” Will had barked, swinging the woman into the air before crushing her in a bear hug. “How was South America?”

  “Hot, steamy and wild.” Selena had laughed and tossed her head, sending her mass of silky black hair swirling around her shoulders—and a dark hunger swirling around Luke’s insides. She looked slightly wild herself. He felt an immediate need to taste her wildness.

  Will had given her a close, frowning look. “You didn’t lose anybody, did you?”

  She’d sobered at once. “No. But right before I left, I heard that a group that went down the river the week after I did ran into some trouble. Two were lost.”

  “Lost?” Luke had asked. “How? I mean...in what way?”

  Selena had turned to give him a level stare from her cool green eyes. Her voice was brisk, devoid of emotion. “In the usual way when a raft runs into trouble on a river.”

  “Drowned?” he demanded.

  “Yes.” She maintained her aloofness,

  “But where were the guides?”

  Her coolness thawed in a flash of anger. “One of the men lost was a guide. And who the hell are you?”

  Luke was about to tell her, but Will beat him to it. He made the introductions, then gave Luke a brief explanation. “Selena was on a busman’s holiday. Went off to explore the rivers in the jungles of South America about a month before you arrived.” He draped one arm around her shoulders and grinned at Luke. “Except for the odd jaunts she takes now and again, Lena’s been with me for over four years.” He transferred his gaze to her and smiled. “She’s the best guide I’ve got”

  Now, recalling the shock and amazement he had experienced that afternoon two weeks ago, Luke slid his gaze to her animated face. Unbelievable as it still seemed, this delicate, beautiful woman—who had at once stolen his breath and kicked his libido into overdrive—held the status of expert river-and-trail guide. She had been called upon to rescue numerous tourists who had become lost or hurt while on the trail or the river.

  Try as he would, Luke couldn’t imagine the small woman rescuing anybody, except perhaps a child. Yet Will had assured Luke that she had, and very capably, too.

  Dropping his hooded gaze, Luke was contemplating the possible strength in her delicate shoulders and slim arms when his reverie was broken by a blast of loud music, followed by a brash-voiced command.

  “C’mon, Lena, let’s show ‘em how it’s done.” The order came from one of the men, a recently hired river guide named Dave, who had evidently had more than his share of the beer. Grabbing one of her hands, he hauled Selena to her feet. “Swing your pretty tush, baby. Rock and roll!”

  Laughing, Selena moved with smooth grace into the rhythm.

  Brooding, disgruntled, Luke watched her. His pulse thrummed in time with the sensuous gyrations of her lithe body. His throat went bone dry. Parched, he emptied the can with long swallows of beer. As he tossed it into the oil drum, Luke saw several of the others joining in with the two dancers. Eyes narrowed, he watched as Dave, eyes burning with a lascivious light, turned his attention to a tall, ultra-slim woman who was undulating across the patio toward him.

  Luke knew the woman, they all knew her. Her name was Brenda. She tended bar at Will’s place and shared space and the expenses in the small house Selena was buying near the tour office, Brenda had light hair and dark, sleepy-looking eyes, a tiny waist and large, unbelievably high breasts that jiggled enticingly as she moved.

  A cynical smile curved Luke’s lips as he observed the jiggling woman’s effect on Dave, who appeared on the point of salivating. The music suddenly changed to a slow, sultry tempo. Dave pulled Brenda into his arms. Left alone, Selena closed her eyes and swayed to the evocative music.

  Reacting to impulse, Luke stood and walked to her. A dreamy smile feathered over her soft mouth when he slid his hands around her waist but her dreamy expression vanished and her eyes flew open when he drew her into a close embrace, molding the softness of her curves to the hard lines of his body.

  “Oh!” Selena gasped then tried to recapture her smile. “Luke...isn’t it?” she asked, silently cursing the sudden huskiness of her voice.

  “Right.” He didn’t smile. “Branson,” he reminded her. “We’ve met several times in the tour office.”

  “Yes, of course. I remember now.” Selena worked at a casual tone. In truth, she was trying to forget those chance meetings in the office. She hadn’t wanted or appreciated the effect the mere sight of him had on her mind and body.

  “Will you dance with me?”

  Selena wasn’t wild about the effect his low voice had on her, either. Squashing an urge to run for her life, she flashed her most brilliant smile at him. “Do I have a choice?” Since they were already moving in time with the music, she told herself the question was utterly ridiculous.

  “Yes. Say the word and I’ll walk away.”

  Like a coward, Selena longed to leap at the offer of escape, but she didn’t. Dancing with him would be a test of her hard-won composure—a test that she fully expected to pass. Rising to her own challenge, she manufactured a light, careless laugh. “You needn’t take a walk,” she said with more confidence than she was feeling. “It’s only a dance.”

  “Only a dance?” Luke smiled. “We’ll see.”

  Selena didn’t like either the sound of his remark, or his smile. Both did strange things to her equilibrium. Her breath caught in her throat as he tightened his arms, drawing her into intimate contact with his taut body. Shock streaked through her as she was made aware of his state or arousal. Shock, and a frightening sense of excitement.

  Caught, trapped within the confining circle of his arms and her own hardheaded pride, Selena automatically followed his lead. Her stomach churned when he placed one muscular leg between her thighs, and she was forced to clench her teeth to keep from crying out in protest against the flashfire his action ignited deep within her. Since her face was level with his chest, she had to tilt her head back to look at him.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded in a harsh whisper, silently damning the dark glasses concealing his eyes from her.

  “Dancing?” Luke’s soft voice held mocking laughter.

  Selena snorted derisively and he laughed aloud. “I think you are being blatantly obvious,” she said in a scathing tone. “And take those glasses off so I can see your eyes.”

  In one smooth motion, Luke raised one hand, whipped the sunglasses from his face then replaced his hand exactly where it had been before...burning a hole in the sensitive skin at the base of her spine. “Is that better?”

  “No.” Selena managed a wry smile. “Better would be at least a foot of space between us.”

  “Not for me.” Luke’s eyes glittered in the semi-darkness, making Selena sorry she’d demanded he remove the dark lenses. “For me, better would be closer.” He enforced his statement by thrusting his hips into hers.

  She gasped at the feeling of the power confined within the tautly-stretched jeans hugging his hips. Luke Branson was making his desire for her crystal clear. He was making her uneasy—and very angry.

  Resentment shimmered through her and blazed like green fire from her eyes. “I’ll ask you politely, one time, to back it up, Luke,” she said i
n a fierce, raspy tone.

  “And if I don’t, what will you do? Scream?” He arched his eyebrows and smiled with taunting arrogance.

  “Oh, no, I wouldn’t dream of raising my voice.” Selena gave him an innocent look and a sugary smile. “But I wouldn’t hesitate over raising my knee...forcefully.” Her soft voice resembled the low purring sound of a feline. “Are you receiving my message?”

  “Loud and clear,” Luke muttered, withdrawing his intrusive thigh with extreme caution from between her legs.

  Selena’s expression turned wry. “I thought you might.” With the heat of him removed, she resumed breathing and even managed a genuine smile. “Oh, dear, what a shame,” she continued in a bright tone. “The music’s ending and we didn’t get our dance.” He scowled. She laughed and slipped out of his arms. “Pity.” Wiggling her fingers at him, she sauntered into the midst of the other dancers, out of harm’s way.

  Luke didn’t appreciate feeling the fool...especially when the feeling was self-inflicted. His face hot, his mind cold, he walked to the edge of the patio and stared sightlessly at the river, running slow and sluggish from the extended drought.

  Damned stupid ass, Luke raged at himself. Coming on to her like a sex-starved idiot was a dumb-kid thing to do. What had happened to his sense of subtlety?

  Luke heaved a sigh of disgust and scowled at the placid river. He hadn’t planned on making a pass at her—at least not this evening, and certainly not here in front of anybody who happened to be glancing their way. He had lost his legendary control, and that bothered him almost as much as looking the fool. Luke took particular pride in the fact that he never lost his cool.

  But, damn, Selena did turn him on something fierce.

  Across the width of the patio, Selena was chattering away like a magpie, laughing and even flirting a little with the blushing young man they all called The Kid. Inside, she was fighting a combined feeling of heightened excitement and raw panic that was too intense to tolerate.