She pushed the disturbing questions from her mind and went to stand at the open door again, looking out into the night as if she might see an answer shining like a star in the darkness. «He says the plant would employ two hundred fifty locals to start.»
«That's bullshit,» Lucky said. «A hundred, mebbe. Seventy-five, probably. The rest would be company men. There aren't a lotta chemists and engineers standin' around on street corners here lookin' for jobs.»
«Still, that's more jobs than Gifford can provide. The boost to the local economy would be tremendous.»
«And the damage to the local environment would be devastating.»
Serena sighed and brought her hands up to rub the tension from her forehead. «It's not as simple as I thought it would be.»
«It is simple,» Lucky argued adamantly. «It's stupid simple. Black and white. Good guys and bad guys.»
Serena turned and faced him. «Which are you, Lucky? I thought you didn't care about anyone or anything. You tell me you're a bad guy, then I find out you're out playing Lone Ranger in the night. You let me think you're some bad-ass poacher, then turn around and spout environmentalist propaganda at me. Who are you really?»
«Trust me, sugar,» he said. «You don't wanna know.»
She met his scowl without flinching. «I do want to know.»
«I told you before, Doc,» he said darkly, raising a finger in warning. «Don' go lookin' inside my head. You won't like what you find.»
Serena stared at him, taking in the fierce set of his jaw, the intimidation in his stance… the brief flicker of uncertainty in his eyes-a wariness of her or of himself?
She could feel the dangerous desire to reach out to him shifting through her, a need to know that went beyond curiosity. A smart woman would have taken heed of his warning. A smart woman would have kept her distance. He had drawn the boundary line between them, and like a fool she stepped across it again, figuratively and literally, moving toward him, needing to know, needing to touch him.
«And what would I find in your heart?» she asked softly as she closed the distance between them.
«That I haven't got one,» he said, his face carefully blank.
Serena shook her head. «I don't believe that. You go out of your way to help people. My God,» she said, gesturing to the bandanna still tied around his injured arm, «you risk your life to help people.»
«Don' make me out to be some hero,» Lucky snapped, just barely resisting the urge to back away from her. «I get paid back for what I do.»
«In French bread and cookies?»
«In privacy. People wander into my life and I get them out. That's all I do. That's all I care about,» he insisted, his inner tension crackling in his low, rough voice.
«Is that what you tell yourself, Lucky? You're a liar.»
«It's the truth.» He brought his hands up to take Serena by the shoulders, his fingers pressing on silk and tender flesh as if he might be able to physically force his opinion on her. His heart pounded with the necessity of it, the urgency of it. He leaned over her, his eyes as bright as a zealots. «I'm a devil, not a saint, and whatever heart I might have had once got ripped out by the roots a long time ago, sugar. Don' go lookin' for things that aren't there.»
Serena said nothing, but lifted a hand and splayed it across his chest, her fingers small and white against the black of his T-shirt. Her eyes locked on his as they both felt the frantic pounding behind his ribs, the evidence that shattered his lie more than any words could have.
Lucky gave a snarl of frustration and rage and battled within himself as fear swelled like a balloon inside him. He kicked it down, checked it ruthlessly, hardening himself against it with an effort that trembled through him like an earthquake. He gave Serena a shake.
«I don' give a rat's ass if you don' believe it,» he said in a voice like smoke. «You wanna go diggin' through your psych books for explanations, do it on your own time. I didn't come here to get analyzed; I came here to get laid.»
His mouth swept down on hers, hard, seeking to punish, but he was met with no resistance, no fear. She was soft and sweet, melting against him, and that undid his anger as nothing else could have. He softened the kiss, making a sound of surrender in his throat as her lips parted beneath his in invitation. The kiss deepened and he felt himself going under, losing himself. His heart pounded and he clutched Serena to him, his mind swirling with the question of whether she was the stone that would sink him or the branch that would save him from drowning.
Neither, he told himself. She could be neither because this was desire and nothing more. She couldn't hurt him; she couldn't heal him. She could give him pleasure and he could help her forget her problems for a few hours. It was simple. Stupid simple. Black and white.
«I want you,» he whispered against her mouth.
He brushed his lips against her temple and turned her in his arms so she faced the mirror above the dresser. Serena stared at their reflections-Lucky, big and masculine behind her, his arms around her, his head bent down, his eyes on hers in the glass; and herself, dainty and feminine in his shadow, golden and white beside his darkness. She watched as his fingers untied the belt of her robe and stood motionless as he drew the garment back off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. The gown she wore beneath it was silk and lace, a sheer white mist clinging to the curves of her body and hanging past her knees.
He stroked his hands down the front of her, cupping her breasts through the lace cups, kneading her stomach through the silk, sliding down over her hips, tracing every curve and line that expressed her femininity. He lowered his mouth to her shoulder, nibbling at her flesh, catching the narrow strap of the gown in his teeth and drawing it down. Serena watched as he feasted on her skin, kissing, nipping, licking, devouring every exposed inch. She bent her head to the side to give him access to her throat and moaned as he took it, his mouth moving fervently along the ivory column. He caught the other strap of her gown with his fingers and drew it down, then peeled the lace bodice away from her, letting it pool in a drift of white at her waist. He captured her breasts in his hands, lifting and squeezing them, plumping them together and flicking his thumbs across her nipples.
Serena's breath caught in her throat. She'd never been a parry to anything so erotic. Her eyes, heavy-lidded and dark with passion, were locked on the image in the mirror. Lucky s big, tanned hands kneading her breasts, her nipples thrusting out swollen and red between his fingers. Arousal seared through her, hot and thick as she watched her own seduction and experienced every sensation at the same time.
He slid one hand down her rib cage and over her belly, pressing the white silk of her gown taut over her feminine mound. Serena leaned back against him, letting her thighs part as he slid his hand between them. He caressed her through the silk, moving the cool slick fabric against her most sensitive heated flesh. Then the gown was gone and through the haze of desire she watched his fingers stroke through the delta of tawny curls as the fever of need intensified inside her. With one arm banded across her ribs, he lifted her up against him and her head lolled back against his shoulder, rolling from side to side as he eased a finger deep into the warm, wet channel of her womanhood.
«Watch,» he whispered. «Watch,» he said, his voice as smooth and smoky as whiskey, as seductive as a siren s song. «This is what I want from you, mon ange.»
His eyes locked on hers in the mirror. He stroked her deeply, rhythmically, in time with her harsh breathing. Serena moaned and moved against his hand, her control gone, her instincts overwhelming her as Lucky took her closer to the edge.