Anger filled him, seeped through every pore in his body. Lucia Conyers had a hell of a lot of explaining to do. She better have a good reason for getting into bed with him that night two weeks ago.
He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and punched in the number to his sister-in-law’s magazine. “Simply Irresistible, may I help you?”
“Yes, I’d like to speak to Lucia Conyers, please,” he said, trying to control his anger.
“Sorry, but Ms. Conyers just stepped out for lunch.”
“Did she say where she was going?” he asked.
The receptionist paused and then asked. “Who may I ask is calling?”
“This is Mr. Westmoreland.”
“Oh, Mr. Westmoreland, how are you? Your wife and baby were here a couple of days ago, and your daughter looks just like you.”
Derringer shook his head. Evidently the woman thought he was Ramsey, which was okay with him if he could get the information he wanted out of her.
“I take that as a compliment. Did Lucia say where she was going for lunch?”
“Yes, sir. She’s dining at McKay’s today.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, sir.”
Derringer hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair as an idea formed in his mind. He wouldn’t let her know he had found out the truth about her visit. He would let her assume that she had gotten away with it and that he didn’t have a clue that she was the woman who’d taken advantage of him that night.
And then when she least expected it, he would play his hand.
Three
Something, Lucia wasn’t sure exactly what, made her glance over her menu and look straight into the eyes of Derringer Westmoreland. She went completely still as he moved in fluid precision toward her, with an unreadable expression on his face.
Staring at him, taking him all in, all six-three of him, while broad shoulders flexed beneath a blue Western shirt, and a pair of jeans clung to him like a second layer of skin and showed the iron muscles in his thighs. And then there was his face, too handsome for words, with his medium-brown skin tone, dark coffee-colored eyes and firm and luscious-looking lips.
For the moment she couldn’t move; she was trans-fixed. A part of her wanted to get up quickly and run in another direction, but she felt glued to the chair. But that didn’t stop liquid heat from pooling between her thighs when her gaze locked onto his face and she looked at the same features she had seen almost two weeks ago in his bed.
Why was he here and approaching her table? Had he found her panties and figured out she was the woman who had left them behind? She swallowed, thinking there was no way he could have discovered her identity, but then she asked herself why else would he seek her out?
He finally came to a stop at her table and she nervously moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. She could swear his gaze was following her every movement. She swallowed again, thinking she had to be imagining things, and opened her mouth to speak. “Derringer? What are you doing here? Chloe mentioned you had taken a nasty fall a couple of weeks ago.”
“Yes, but a man has to eat sometime. I was told McKay’s serves the best potpie on Thursdays for lunch and there’s always a huge crowd. I saw you sitting over here alone and thought the least we can do is help the place out,” he said.
She was trying hard to follow him and not focus on the way his Adam’s apple moved with every word he said, as if it was on some sensuous beat. She lifted a brow. “Help the place out in what way?”
He gave her a smooth smile. “Freeing up a table by us sharing one.”
Lucia was trying really hard not to show any emotion—especially utter astonishment and disbelief—as well as not to let the menu she was holding fall to the floor. Had he just suggested that they share a table during lunch? Breathe the same air?