Part 31 (2/2)
”I'm not upset. But you do have quite an imagination.”
”I'm a cop's daughter.”
He shot her a quick look. ”Did you conjure up that scenario out of thin air, or have you heard rumors I should know about?”
”Rumors?”
”About people taking bribes or squandering their money in casinos.”
Funny he should mention casinos. She hadn't.
”Current rumors, you mean? No. And certainly none involving the show circuit, since I'm an outsider. Believe me, if I had, I'd make sure whoever did this to you was arrested. I'm just reflecting on stories my father's spouted over the years. I apologize.”
”Don't.” Relief flooded his face. Relief - and something more. ”I enjoy hearing you stand up for me.”
An abrupt s.h.i.+ft in mood. A heightened sense of intimacy. James's fears had abated, and in his mind, he was back on track. On the road to seduction.
Warning bells sounded in Devon's head.
Sure enough, James plucked the champagne flute from her hand and set it down on the table along with his. ”I think we've talked enough, don't you?”
He reached for her.
Devon would have leaped off the sofa if she hadn't been fully aware it would make James suspicious. Fending him off wasn't a concern. Monty had taught her self-defense when she was ten. But the wire - if James found it, she was screwed.
”Excuse me for a minute.” She said it calmly, without blurting it out. Easing away from him, she rose. ”I'll be right back.”
Antic.i.p.ation glittered in James's eyes. ”Of course.”
Great. He thought she was readying herself for wild s.e.x.
Devon went to the powder room, checked on the microphone and transmitter. Still in place.
Fruit and cheese was not going to deter James. This interrogation had gone as far as it could. Time to call it a wrap.
Prepping for the last act, Devon pasted a contrite look on her face and walked back out.
James was lounging on the sofa, a suggestive gleam in his eye. ”Welcome back.”
She remained standing, launching into her speech without prelude. ”We need to talk.”
He patted the cus.h.i.+on beside him. ”Didn't I just say that we've talked enough?”
”Yes. But trust me, we haven't.” Devon rubbed her palms together. ”This is my fault. I let it go too far. It's just that I really like you. And I'm not good at drawing a line in the sand.”
One brow rose. ”Are you about to tell me you're still not ready?”
”Yes. No. Not in the way you mean.” She swallowed. ”James, you're a fantastic guy.”
Now he was frowning. ”Why do I sense a 'but'?”
”Because there is one.” She s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably. ”I have to tell you something, now, before this gets totally out of hand.”
”I'm listening.”
”Blake and I...we're...we've become involved.”
Icy silence permeated the room.
James just stared at her, his expression a literal version of the phrase if looks could kill.
”Since when?” he demanded.
”It just happened.” Devon gave a helpless shrug. ”We didn't plan it. It - ”
”Yeah, I heard you,” he bit out, rising from the sofa. ”It just happened. When did you plan on telling me - in bed?”
Devon felt like kicking him in the groin. ”Of course not,” she forced herself to say as he glared at her. ”I planned to tell you now, while we ate. It didn't occur to me that you'd move so fast.”
”Obviously not as fast as my cousin.”
”Don't be that way.”
”Which way should I be - understanding? Next you'll be saying you want to be friends.”
”The thought had occurred to me.”
”Then get rid of it. I'm not ready to be that magnanimous. Not yet.”
”I understand.” Devon's tone was pained. ”I'm sorry if I handled this badly. It wasn't to lead you on; it was to try to salvage some kind of relations.h.i.+p with you.”
”Does Blake know you're seeing me tonight?”
She nodded. ”I told him.”
”And he was okay with it?”
”Not really,” she answered honestly. ”But he understood.”
”Why shouldn't he? He won - again. That's the story of Blake's life.” Eyes glittering with resentment, James stalked out of the living room and grabbed his coat and duffel bag. ”There's no point in dragging this out,” he announced from the doorway. ”Let's just call it a night.”
Devon followed him to the door. ”I feel terrible about this. Especially if it hurts your relations.h.i.+p with Blake.”
”Not to worry. I'll survive. As for Blake, nothing between us will change. It never does.” James yanked open the door. ”It's still early. You've got the house to yourself and half a bottle of Dom Perignon. Call Blake. I'm sure he'll be glad to pick up where I left off. Good night, Devon.”
THE DRIVER OF the maroon coupe was dozing behind the wheel when James stalked out, jumped into the waiting limo, and took off.
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