Handsome Devil Read online

His compelling dark eyes conjured erotic images both shocking and alluring. Without conscious thought, Selena took a step toward Luke, mindlessly obeying his silent summons. Commanded by the force of his will, she might have walked straight into his arms, if a familiar voice hadn’t called to her, breaking the strange spell that mesmerized her mind and senses.

  “Selena!” Brenda shouted over the din of mingled voices. Selena saw that she, Dave, Will and a group of others were seated at a large table at the edge of the dance floor.

  Smiling and returning calls of greetings from friends as she went, Selena wove her way through the crowd. She gave Brenda a quick hug when she finally reached the table, then deliberately turned the chair they had saved for her so that her back was to the bar. The large table could comfortably seat ten people, and there was only one other empty chair—the one next to Selena. Absently wondering who they were saving the last chair for, she managed to produce a bright smile.

  “I hear congratulations are in order,” she said, shifting her glance from Brenda to Dave.

  Dave had a silly grin on his face and Brenda looked ecstatic. “Yes,” they answered in unison.

  “Isn’t it romantic and exciting?” the young woman seated next to Will asked in a bubbly, enthusiastic tone.

  Selena slid her gaze to the pretty woman. Her name was Marilyn Trent. She was an experienced river guide and had been working for Will for about eight months. Since Selena had been away for six of those months, she didn’t know Marilyn very well. But she had heard since her return that Marilyn was friendly, outgoing and popular with the locals as well as the tourists. Marilyn was also known for her tender heart—and less-than-virtuous behavior. Figuring the woman’s personal life was her own business, Selena liked her, although she didn’t agree with her opinion in this instance. However, she certainly had no intention of throwing a damper on the festivities by voicing her concerns. But some clearly did not share her reservations.

  “Romantic and exciting, Marilyn?” Luke spoke in a cool tone from behind Selena, startling her. “I’d say it was more impetuous and prosaic.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence, during which everyone except Selena stared in astonishment at Luke. Then Brenda eased the sudden tension with a burst of laughter.

  “Oh, Luke, you’re such a grinding wet blanket,” she said chidingly. “Why don’t you just keep your gloom-and-doom thoughts to yourself, sit down and pass out the drinks?”

  It was as he moved around her and closer to the table that Selena noticed the large tray Luke was holding. It was laden with glasses, some filled with wine and some empty, and two pitchers of beer. After setting the tray in the center of the table, he settled himself in the chair next to her.

  Even as she stifled a groan of protest against his proximity, Selena was forced to admit to herself that, of all of them, Luke had been the only one with the courage—or gall—to give voice to his true opinion of Brenda and Dave’s impulsive decision to get married. Conversely, knowing it was none of Luke’s or anybody else’s business, she silently endorsed Brenda’s advice that he keep his opinion to himself.

  “Dance?”

  Luke’s voice was close, too close, and pitched low, yet it jolted through Selena like an unexpected shout. While her mind rebelled at the idea of being held once again in his arms, her body quivered with anticipation. Cursing her physical reaction to him in silent frustration, she turned her head to stare at him with cool disdain. “After being treated to your style of dancing last night?” she asked, arching her eyebrows. “I don’t think so.”

  Luke had the grace to at least appear repentant, but his eyes gleamed with devilment, proving that appearances were often deceiving. “Would you reconsider if I promise to be very, very good?”

  Selena had no doubt that Luke could be exceptionally good, indeed. It was exactly what he was good at that bothered her. Her raised eyebrows took on a skeptical curve. “There’ll be no clutching or overt moves?”

  While his dark eyes continued to taunt, his expression grew somber. “You have my word.”

  “Uh-huh,” she drawled, not trusting him for an instant. But, while she harbored mental reservations, her body decided the issue by propelling her to her feet. “Okay, I’ll take you at your word,” she said, since she seemed to have little choice in the matter. “But I’m giving you fair warning,” she continued, allowing him to lead her onto the floor. “Make one move out of line and you’ll be dancing by yourself.”

  Luke’s only response was a muscle-clenching, mind-bending rumble of soft laughter. Bemoaning the unfairness of any man possessing a laugh that sexy and appealing, Selena moved with extreme trepidation into his waiting arms.

  As it turned out, Selena’s fears were groundless, Luke was the soul of propriety throughout the series of slow romantic songs someone had selected on the jukebox. Perversely, she felt a confusing sense of disappointment when he escorted her back, to their table.

  Luke did not ask her to dance again. Instead, he spent the rest of the evening dancing and flirting with Marilyn—in a manner Selena considered both obvious and outrageous. Not surprisingly, the other woman reveled in his attention, and clung to his lean body while on the dance floor—and to his every word while off it.

  Determined to ignore the sight of Luke and Marilyn laughing together, along with the unsettling pangs it was causing deep insider her, Selena concentrated on enjoying the party. She danced with Dave, Will, Jasper Chance and even The Kid. She talked and laughed. She even managed a few minutes in private with Brenda when they went to the ladies’ room, although their conversation was brief and mainly concerned Brenda’s future sleeping arrangements.

  “I’m staying with Dave,” Brenda said when Selena asked if she’d be coming back to the house that night. “But I’ll still pay my share of the rent for the month.”

  “I’m not worried about the money,” Selena said, dismissing the idea with a shrug.

  Brenda smiled and gave her an impulsive hug. “You’ve been a good friend, Lena, and I don’t want you worrying about me, either.”

  “Because I’m your friend, I can’t help but worry,” Selena murmured, returning the hug.

  “Well, don’t,” Brenda said briskly, stepping back. “Will it be okay if I come over tomorrow to collect my junk?”

  Selena laughed, “Of course. I’ll even help you, since I’ll be free for three whole days.”

  “Are you going to lecture me?” Brenda demanded, grinning impishly.

  “Discuss,” Selena replied, grinning back at her.

  “Well, in that case, no problem.” Brenda’s grin wobbled. “Will you stand beside me at my wedding, Selena?”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Selena said, grasping Brenda’s hand. “And, if you hadn’t, you would have been in trouble. Of course I’ll be beside you, you nit.”

  Arm in arm, laughing together, they returned to the celebration.

  To her annoyance, the first thing Selena noticed was that Luke was once again on the dance floor with Marilyn, his head lowered over hers, as if in intimate conversation.

  “I’m sorry, Marilyn, I couldn’t hear you over the music.” Cursing himself for his lack of attention, as well as the other woman who was causing his distraction, Luke gazed down into the sparkling blue eyes raised to his—and wished they were green. “What did you say?”

  “I asked you what you’re thinking about” Marilyn’s tone and smile were at once conspiratorial and suggestive. “Or can I guess?” she said, moving her hips into alignment with his as she trailed her fingers up his spine.

  Luke had to control an urge to stiffen under her too-familiar touch. “I’m thinking that this situation is getting too hot too soon.” He forced a languid smile when he felt her fingers brush his collar. “I wouldn’t want to be accused of rushing you into anything.”

  “Oh, rush me, rush me.” Marilyn’s voice was little more than a breathless murmur.

  Luke barely heard her. From the corner of his eye, he caught Selena�
�s movement as she headed for the door. Cursing to himself, he dragged his attention back to the eager woman rubbing against him. “No.” Though he infused a rueful note into his tone, his voice was adamant. “You’ve had too much to drink and I can’t allow myself to take advantage.”

  Marilyn muttered something, but this time, Luke didn’t hear her at all. Turning her in rhythm with the slow music, he watched in narrow-eyed frustration as Selena made her way toward the door to slip away from the party—and him.

  The pangs pulsing inside Selena intensified to a definite ache when she saw Marilyn slide her fingers up the back of Luke’s neck and into his hair.

  She didn’t care what they did, of course, Selena told herself, dragging her narrowed green eyes away from the couple. It was just that their display was so blatant, so damned obvious in intent. There probably wasn’t any question in anybody’s mind where Marilyn would be spending her night!

  Blaming her disgruntled feelings on the blaring music and the raucous talk and laughter, Selena called a general good-night to her companions and headed for the door, adroitly skirting the dance floor, where Luke and Marilyn were plastered together, moving as one to the evocative music.

  Although she was disgusted with herself for doing it, Selena kept glancing into the rearview mirror throughout the drive from the restaurant to her house. The road behind her remained dark, free of two high-set headlights.

  Chapter Four

  It was late—or early, depending on one’s point of view. Except for the occasional trailing wisps of clouds, the night was clear, the spring breeze refreshing and cool. The glow from millions of stars and a three-quarter moon illuminated the landscape, casting the rugged mountainous terrain into sharp relief of light and shadows. It was a night for poets... or lovers.

  Pacing the length of the patio of the house he was renting from Will, Luke was too sensitive, too attuned to the sensuous allure of the soft night.

  Luke was neither poet nor lover. The absence of the former talent didn’t bother him. The abstinence imposed by the privation of the latter was the reason he was awake, restless and prowling the patio.

  His body was tight, and he felt too large for his taut skin. The ache deep inside him was more intense and unnerving than a sore, throbbing tooth. He craved release, yet had denied himself the satiation his body demanded by rejecting the opportunity when it had been offered to him.

  Throughout the course of the evening, Marilyn had made it clear, without actually saying it aloud, that she would be more than willing to spend the night with him. But, although he had deliberately centered the majority of his attention on the eager young woman, Luke had left the party alone, less than a half hour after Selena had gone.

  What had he hoped to prove, anyway, by playing up to Marilyn? Luke grimaced and retraced his pacing steps across the patio. He didn’t have to delve too deeply into his motives to come up with the answer to his question. He had been trying to prove his own adage, which was that any woman would do if the need was great enough.

  The fact that he was alone and hurting merely underlined the utter failure of his exercise. Even now, hours later, Luke could hardly believe that he had not taken advantage of Marilyn’s willingness. He needed a woman. The need was a living torment to his mind and body. A week ago, twenty-four hours ago, he probably wouldn’t have hesitated in accepting her invitation, since it had been issued with obvious, if silent, honesty and with no strings attached.

  Luke knew himself. He was a sensuous man by nature. He loved making love. His nature had caused the initial rift in the early days of their marriage, because his wife was the exact opposite. She found the sexual side of marriage too earthy and was not averse to voicing her opinion, often and disparagingly.

  Of course, Luke had known almost at once that the marriage was in trouble—he was living in a near-constant state of frustration, so he couldn’t help but know. What had amazed him was the realization that he hadn’t discerned his wife’s true character, even though she had played the part of eager partner before the legal knot was tied.

  But, if he was sensuous by nature, Luke was also moral, ethical and loyal. He would not have as much as contemplated alleviating his frustration with any woman other than his wife.

  But Selena wasn’t his wife.

  The startling thought brought Luke’s pacing to a dead stop. Scowling, he stared into the darkness beyond the wall enclosing the patio. He was doing it again! In reliving the frustration he had suffered at his former wife’s coolness, Luke realized that he was denying himself satisfaction in exactly the same manner as he had during the cold, empty years of his marriage.

  The mere idea was preposterous, Luke thought, shaking his head in negation of the concept. Why would he inflict torment on himself out of a sense of loyalty to a woman he hardly knew? It was more than preposterous, it was absolutely nuts.

  Selena McInnes was a stunning woman. Luke knew his initial reaction to her beauty was as natural as breathing. He was a healthy man and like most healthy men, his body responded of its own volition to a beautiful, sexy-looking woman. It was as simple and physical as that. But beyond that immediate response, there had been, and continued to be, an undeniable and strong attraction between them. Luke felt it, and intuitively knew that Selena felt it, too.

  His sense of loyalty didn’t come into play, he assured himself, resuming his measured paces.

  Then why had he rejected Marilyn’s offer?

  The unwelcome and unpalatable question stabbed at Luke’s mind and again brought his restless motion to a halt.

  At that very moment, he could have been reveling in the bounty of Marilyn’s lush curves, or savoring the sweet exhaustion of afterglow. He could be rested and satisfied, rather than prowling his patio like some wild animal.

  Selena.

  Dammit! That black-haired, green-eyed woman was the reason he couldn’t rest. Selena and her mind-bending, on-again-off-again, don’t-get-too-close attitude. After her startling, exciting response to him in the arroyo, Luke was convinced that, deny it though she may, Selena felt the same strong attraction to him. And yet she persisted in keeping him at arm’s length—which was exactly why he had deliberately given his attention to Marilyn.

  But his ploy hadn’t worked. Though Luke genuinely liked Marilyn, his body hadn’t responded to hers, not even while in the most intimate embrace while they were dancing.

  Yet the mere thought of Selena set his pulse pounding and his body on fire.

  Damn the woman for having the power to turn off his natural inclinations and screw up his thinking.

  Disgusted with himself and his own mind-abrading thoughts, Luke made a growl deep in his tight throat. The feral sound was absorbed by the predawn silence.

  It was quiet, too quiet. Angry, aching, restless, Luke glared into the darkness in defiance of a creeping, inner sensation that he was the only living being in the world.

  Would the night ever end?

  Cradling a mug of coffee in her palms, Selena stood at the wide window in her dark bedroom, staring into a more complete darkness beyond the pane. Behind her, her bed had a rumpled, deserted look. Inside, Selena felt rumpled.

  She yearned for sleep. Her eyes felt gritty, her eyelids heavy and puffy. Yet sleep had eluded every method of inducement she had employed.

  Selena self-righteously placed the blame for her nocturnal disquiet at the feet of the handsome, tormenting devil masquerading as Luke Branson.

  She had tried counting sheep, only to find a two-horned wolf laughing at her.

  She had tried the premeditation exercise of relaxing her muscles from the feet upward. But instead of being enfolded within a blanket of relaxation, she was a prisoner of the image of a tall, dark-eyed seducer.

  Exhaling a deep, tired sigh, Selena sipped at the cooling brew, then grimaced as the tepid liquid burned its way from her throat to her stomach.

  Indigestion. It happened every time she drank cup after cup of coffee, especially at night. Selena shuddered an
d made a face of distaste at the sour, burning sensation in her chest and throat. Her soft lips growing tight with determination, she turned away from the window.

  Her hinges must be loose and her gate swinging free, she decided, striding out of the bedroom. She needed sleep, not the added agitation of coffee-induced heartburn. She glanced at the clock as she swept into the small kitchen.

  Five past three. Selena groaned and marched to the sink. It wasn’t fair, she railed in silent protest, dumping the contents of her cup and the coffee remaining in the pot down the drain. It just wasn’t fair that Luke had the singular power to rattle her mind like this, keeping her sleepless and aroused.

  Aroused?

  Selena stiffened and became still, appearing frozen in place at the sink.

  Aroused? She repeated the word in silent, fearful wonder. Aroused? Selena probed her emotions for an answer. It came, swift and blunt. Yes, dammit, she was physically, sensuously aroused, and had been since she had walked into the tour office two weeks ago to find Luke lounging against the counter. Selena didn’t like the sensation of acute physical awareness.

  A tremor snaked down her spine. She was never turned on by a man—any man. In fact, until now, she had believed herself immune to the erotic attractions of the opposite sex. Yet, here she was, sleepless and trembling at the mere consideration of a particular male of the species.

  Uneasy, her breath constricted, Selena spun away from the sink and rushed into her bedroom. Her thoughts pursued her, stabbing with unrelenting persistence into her mind.

  She wanted Luke Branson. She was longing to experience the thrill and excitement of feeling her mouth and her body crushed beneath his. She was burning with a sudden, raging need to have his strength fill the emptiness inside her.

  But this wasn’t possible! The silent protest screamed inside Selena’s head. She had been cured of sensuous attraction to men, not once but on three separate occasions. Her memories of those humiliating encounters didn’t bear thinking about.