he had adored. Rachel had had depth, vitality. She was interested in everything. So curious, so smart, so real.
So unbelievably beautiful. Tall enough with full, gentle curves that had always taken his breath away. The amber eyes, the apricot skin. The miles and miles of thick brown hair that Lucas had always thought of as chocolate silk. How he had loved to bury his face in it, combing his fingers through its softness.
And her scent: she’d always smelled of vanilla. Vanilla and a little spice. Natural and sweet and warm. It stirred him to remember, to think of what had drawn him to her in the first place.
She’d been a bad choice for a wife, though. For him, anyway. His parents had warned him, over and over, but he hadn’t listened to them. He had fallen for her so hard, nothing else had mattered. But she hadn’t understood the requirements of society life. She hadn’t found them important or interesting. She hadn’t supported her husband as she should have.
Lucas’s parents had simply said she wasn’t capable of it. They had always pointed to her “background” as being the cause. Sometimes, when they felt bold, they actually mentioned her “ethnicity.” What they really meant was that she was Mexican-American, not “pure” American. That was simply unforgivable where they were concerned.
Privately Lucas had always found their prejudice ironic. After all, his family was only a couple of generations away from being working-class immigrants themselves. Lucas’s own colorings—his charcoal-gray eyes and inky black hair—looked more Hispanic than did Rachel’s.
Lucas had viewed his parents’ attitude as something he couldn’t change even if he didn’t agree with them. His parents belonged to a certain segment of society that stroked itself, reassured itself, with ethnic prejudice. That was not Lucas’s way. Still, what they had said about Rachel not fitting in with his family had had a certain ring of truth to it.
Several years later, reeling from his wife’s departure, Lucas had finally agreed with his parents.
His reverie was interrupted by a sudden whoosh of air, announcing the uninvited arrival of Alana Winston.
Gorgeous, glamorous Alana, with her silvery blond hair, her sky-blue eyes and the statuesque body she kept perfectly sculpted with the help of a personal trainer and, Lucas suspected, a plastic surgeon. He didn’t know for sure. Didn’t care that much.
And it didn’t matter anyway. Alana simply understood the value of her appearance, particularly when she was a man’s companion. She’d started working for Neuman Industries shortly before Lucas, just after she’d finished school. She still worked for Neuman Industries, although Lucas had asked himself more than once what it was, exactly, she did. His father always assured him that she “knew how to take care of people,” but had never been more specific than that.
Lucas glanced toward Alana again when he heard the unmistakable sound of her clicking the lock on the door.
“Oh, Luke, darling,” she gushed, approaching, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I just heard.”
“Heard what, Alana?”
She pressed her hips against him, linking her fingers through his belt loops. “Why, Luke, about her, of course! Trashy little Rachel showed up here today! Forced her way in to see you, until Arnold tossed her out!”
Impossibly long red acrylic fingernails locked around his waist, keeping his body tight against hers.
Grabbing her wrists, disconnecting her fingers from his pants, Lucas said, “Watch what you say, Alana. Watch your mouth.”
“Are you watching my mouth, Lucas?” she said, smiling suggestively, licking her lips. “I’m sure my mouth could provide you with some…distraction.” She pushed her body against him again, tipping her head back to look into his face, exposing her exquisite bare neck.
“Stop, Alana.” Lucas pulled away, wondering at some level if this was part of Alana’s official job description. She reached for him again, believing she knew exactly how to seduce him, how to change his reluctant mind and resistant body. She did, of course. That was Alana.
He extricated himself from her grasp again. “I said stop, Alana. I’m not interested.”
“Of course you are, darling,” she purred. “You’ve always been interested. You already know there is nothing I won’t do to soothe you. Let me help take your mind off all that unpleasantness.” She removed her blazer, tossing it carelessly onto the chair behind her. Her ivory silk blouse did nothing to conceal the black lacy bra she wore underneath—a fact of which she was perfectly aware. She stretched her arms over her head, arching her back, ruffling her cloud of ash-blond hair, knowing that the silk of her blouse would outline the hardened state of her nipples. Licking her lips again, she said, “Well, Luke? What’s it going to be?”
“Stop it, Alana, and get the hell out of my office.” He turned away, disgust rocketing through him.
His body apparently had other ideas—physically, a response was possible. She left nothing to the imagination, and he was feeling ragged after Rachel’s visit.
“You know, Lucas, you’ve been mad at the world for what seems like years now. Why is that, do you suppose?” From behind him, her arms curled around his waist, stroking slowly downward. She pressed her breasts into his back, the purr returning to her voice. “I bet I could make a guess, Lucas. You’ve been without a woman for too long, haven’t you? Quite a while, if the gossip is true. I could help you.” She whipped around him then, to stand in front of him, her arms still locked around his waist, her body pressed tight against his. “You’d like it, Lucas. What do you say?”
Hadn’t he just decided that he needed to be with a woman? What was there to stop him accepting Alana’s offer? The release might help.
Sex with Alana would be hot, and…a little dirty. That was part of the appeal, he knew.
And suddenly this moment lost all of its attraction for him. It was cheap and meaningless, and he didn’t need that. That was the reason he’d not been with a woman in so long. Sex, as an animal act or as a means of release, had no appeal for him. A mere physical coupling wasn’t the answer to his perpetual bad mood. While he wouldn’t contemplate what the answer might be, he knew it wasn’t tawdry sex.
Pushing Alana away from him, he straightened his clothes. “Dammit, Alana. Get away from me.” He glared at her, hoping he looked as repulsed as he felt. More calmly he continued, “Rachel had an appointment, Alana. She didn’t barge in. She left. Dad didn’t throw her out.”
He picked up the envelope Rachel had brought him, scooping the contents back inside.
“Do you want me to wait for you, Luke? Or go with you someplace else?”
“No, Alana, I do not. I don’t want you at all, in any way.”
“You could if you tried.” She stood with her breasts thrust forward, her hands on her hips, sure she could change his mind.
Lucas looked at her, taking in her undeniably sexy presentation, her blatant invitation. “No, I don’t want you, Alana. It has been a long time since I’ve had sex, but I certainly don’t want to be reinitiated by you.”
She laughed. “Right, Luke. Like I said, I’ll be ready when you are.” She was purring again. “Just keep thinking
