Page 42 of Rainshadow Road

“Yes.”

“What kind of kiss?”

“What do you mean, what kind of kiss? Just a regular kiss.”

“A friendly kiss, or a romantic kiss? Are we supposed to be going out together, or—”

“Oh,for heaven’s sake,” she exclaimed, and pulled his head down to hers.

Eleven

Sam responded without hesitation as he felt Lucy’s small hand grip the back of his neck. He had wanted her all during lunch, fascinated by her prickly vulnerability, the way her smiles never quite reached her eyes. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way she had glowed when she’d talked about her work, her fingers unconsciously stroking a sheet of glass as if it was a lover’s skin.

He wanted to take Lucy to bed and keep her there, until all the wary tension was gone and she was soft and satiated in his arms. Needing to taste her, Sam increased the pressure of the kiss and touched the tip of his tongue to hers. The glassy softness aroused him instantly, filling him with hard-charging heat. Her body was fine-boned but strong, not quite yielding to his. That hint of resistant tautness made him long to grip her, force her close until she was molded against him.

Realizing the public display of affection was going to spiral out of control—at least on his part—he broke off the kiss and lifted his head just enough to look into her dazed green eyes. Her porcelain skin was infused with color. Her breath struck his lips in hot surges, teasing his senses.

Lucy’s gaze shifted. “They’ve seen us,” she whispered.

Still absorbed in thoughts of what he wanted to do with her, Sam felt a surge of annoyance. He didn’t want to deal with that pair of idiots, didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to do anything but take his woman to bed.

A warning chill raced through him.Hiswoman…? He’d never thought such a thing in his life. He was not the possessive type. The need to claim one particular woman, to insist on exclusive rights to her, was just not in him. And it never would be.

So why the hell had he made such a slip?

He slung an arm around Lucy’s shoulders and turned to face Kevin and Alice, who wore near-comical expressions of dismay.

“Nolan,” Kevin said, not quite able to look at Lucy.

“Pearson.”

Awkwardly Kevin made an introduction. “Sam Nolan, this is my… friend, Alice.”

Alice reached out a slender arm, and Sam shook her hand amid a clatter of stacked bracelets. She was as fine-boned as Lucy, with the same rich dark hair. But she was matchstick-thin and angular, teetering on high-heeled cork wedges, her cheekbones as prominent as guardrails. A heavy application of makeup had left her raccoon-eyed and disconcertingly shimmery. Although Sam was predisposed not to like Alice, he felt a touch of sympathy. She gave him the impression of a woman who was trying a little too hard—a woman whose insecurity was revealed by her zealous efforts to conceal it.

“I’m his fiancée,” Alice said in a brittle tone.

“Congratulations,” Lucy said. Although she was trying her best to look inscrutable, hurt, anger, and vulnerability chased over her features in quicksilver progression.

Alice looked at her. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you.”

“I’ve already talked to Mom about it,” Lucy replied. “Have you set a date yet?”

“We’re looking at the end of summer.”

Sam decided that was enough conversation. Time to end it before any fireworks started. “Good luck,” he said briskly, urging Lucy with him. “We have to be going.”

“Have a nice lunch,” Lucy added in a monotone.

Sam kept Lucy’s hand in his as they left the restaurant. A weird, distant expression had appeared on her face. He felt somehow that if he let go of Lucy she might wander off somewhere in a daze, like an abandoned shopping cart rolling through a grocery store parking lot.

They crossed the street and headed in the direction of the art studio.

“Why did I say that?” Lucy asked abruptly.

“What?”

“‘Have a nice lunch.’ I didn’t mean it at all. I hope they have a terrible lunch. I hope they choke on it.”

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