"A whole hell of a lot."
"He won't."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure. He won't be home tonight." She pulled her hand back, reached for her glass, and sipped the wine.
The mingling, mouth-watering aromas of oregano and mozzarella had reminded Lucky that he hadn't eaten all day. He took a huge bite of pizza and washed it down with a swallow of wine. Wine wasn't his beverage of choice, but it seemed appropriate to drink when the woman he was sharing his meal with had hair the same deep red color.
"It's good," he said politely.
"Thank you."
"Do you do this often?"
She bit into a slice of pizza, pulling on the stringy cheese until it eventually broke off.
"What? Bring pizza home for dinner?"
Lucky munched on his own chewy bite, swallowed, and said with a patience he didn't feel, "No, have men over for dinner when your husband is out of town."
"I didn't say he was out of town. I just said he wouldn't be home tonight."
Tired of her word games, he set his fists on either side of his plate and glared at her until she looked up at him. "Do you do this often?"
She held out for a few moments more before answering. Even
tually her stubbornness surrendered to his. "You're the first man I've had to dinner in this house. Now, does that salve your ego, or whatever the hell it is that causes you to badger me about things that are none of your business?"
"Yeah, thanks."
"You're welcome."
"I'm flattered."
"Don't be. I just knew you wouldn't go away without first having your 'talk.' I was hungry." She shrugged, letting him draw his own conclusion. "It's certainly not a violation of the marriage vows for two adults to share a pizza."
"Unless those same two adults have shared a pillow."
Her eyes connected with his and reflected the glazed shock of a nocturnal animal caught in headlights bearing down on it.
To increase her astonishment even more, lightning struck nearby. Following a rending sound like the cracking of a bullwhip, all the lights went out except for the steadily burning flame of the candle.
"Are you all right?" Lucky asked, stunned by the sudden absence of the sterile fluorescent lighting.
"Of course. I'm fine." She didn't look fine. The hand that reached for her wineglass was trembling.
"Devon." Acting on instinct, he reached across the table to capture her hand. It was cold. He enfolded it in the warmth of his. After glancing over each of her chilled fingertips with his thumb, he settled it in the cup of her palm, stroking evocatively. "About that, Devon…"
"About what?"
"About us sharing a pillow, a bed. You don't have anything to worry about." Her head tilted quizzically. "I mean about birth control or anything. I took care of that. I didn't know if you were aware of—"
"Yes, yes, I was," she stammered. "Thank you. You behaved…" She faltered and swallowed with difficulty. "You were a perfect gentleman about that."
His crooked grin was self-deprecating. "If I'd been a perfect gentleman, I wouldn't have tracked you down, tricked my way into your room, and coerced you into letting me stay the night."
"You were injured. By the way, how's the knife wound?" She lowered her gaze to his midsection.