Chapter 12
Lucky blinked several times. Watching him, Devon realized it was from shock as much as from the sudden glare of the fluorescent tubes overhead. The stark light was offensive and unwelcome. It revealed too much. She edged out from between Lucky and the counter and switched it off. She was more comfortable with only the glow from the single candle on the table. It made her feel less exposed.
"Prison?" He remained in the same spot, as though his boots were nailed to the floor.
"The minimum-security federal prison in East Texas. It's only about fifty miles from—"
"I know where it is."
"I'd been there to see him and was on my way home when I decided to do some research for my article. I figured that a tavern in a less urban area would better prove my theory. As it turned out, I was right."
That was all the explanation he needed.
At least, it was all he was going to get. She wasn't going to provide him with a detailed account of her visit with her husband, which had left her terribly upset. It was none of his business to know how shattering that visit had been.
By pure chance Lucky Tyler had happened to be at the right place at the right time—or the wrong place and time, depending on one's point of view—to take advantage of her highly emotional state.
"What's he in the pen for?"
"Insider trading. SEC violations."
"Did he do it?"
"Of course not!" she lied. "Do you think I'd marry a criminal?" At least she'd believed in his innocence when she'd married him.
"How the hell do I know?" He moved then, bearing down on her angrily. "All I really know about you is that you cheat on your husband."
The accusation sounded ugly. Because she couldn't tell him the truth, she pretended to be angry and responded with a quick denial. "I do not!"
"That's not the way I remember it."
Moving to the door, she jerked it open. "You can leave the same way you came in—through the back door. I'll open the garage for you."
"Not that easy, Devon."
"Now that you understand the awkward position you've placed me in, I'm asking you to go."
"I don't understand anything!" he shouted, reaching beyond her shoulder to slam the door closed again. It created a waft of air that disturbed the candle and made it flicker, projecting wavering shadows of them onto the walls. "We're about to have our second night together."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm not leaving until I have a full explanation from you."
"I don't owe you—"
"Is Haines your name or his?"
"Mine. His name is Shelby. Greg Shelby."
"How long have you been married?"
She was in no mood to be grilled, but he wasn't going to leave without the full picture, and, she admitted, she couldn't blame him. If their positions were reversed, she would be just as frustrated as he. He wouldn't have to know all of it. Just some of it. That would pacify him.
Or would it? When she fell victim to his compelling blue stare, as now, his eyes seemed to see straight through her. It was unsettling, even frightening. What if she accidentally let her guard down and by way of a look, a sigh, prompted him to guess or learn the single most important fact of that night that he didn't seem to remember?
To cover her uneasiness, she politely asked, "Would you like some coffee?"
"No."