Waiting On You (Blue Heron #3)(32)

“Well, thanks for nothing,” Colleen grumbled.

And then the door opened, and bugger it all, there was Lucas Damien Campbell, Prince of Darkness. Alone. Black jeans. Black shirt. Black hair, black eyes (not in the hockey player way, but in the Heathcliff way). God, he was beautiful, a thuggish angel, the kind who did God’s dirty work. Beautiful with a side of scary.

You need to stop with the hyperbole, Connor’s voice informed her.

Colleen swallowed with an audible click, her throat dry as...as...something really dry, she couldn’t think just now.

She forced her eyes to the blond-haired, blue-eyed Jack.

“As of right now, you’re my boyfriend, Jack, and I will castrate you if you deny it.”

“And we wonder why you can’t find a man,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“I love you deeply, Colleen, and can’t take my eyes off you.” His words were undercut by the act of taking out his phone.

Lucas saw them, did a slight double take, and came over, all predatory masculine grace (now that was a great phrase, oh, mommy, yes, and even better live and in person).

“Hi,” he said.

“Lucas, what a pleasant surprise, do you know Jack Holland, my boyfriend?” Alas, Jack was texting. Colleen kicked him under the table.

“Ow!” he said. “Stop kicking me. I already have three sisters.”

Lucas smiled. The special places squeezed. The men shook hands, and Colleen couldn’t help being jealous of Jack, having Lucas’s hand squeeze his, that big, swarthy, beautiful hand, strong and sure and—

“Here’s your lava cake,” Jess said, setting it down. “Hey,” she added, looking at Lucas. “Did we go to school together?”

“No,” Colleen answered. “I mean, yes, but it was only for a little while.”

“Oh, right,” Jess said. “You guys were together. Nice to see you. Luke, right?”

“Lucas,” he corrected.

“Like George Lucas,” Colleen said. “Not like Luke Skywalker. Personally, I like Luke better, you know, like ‘Use the Force, Luke, the Force is strong within you,’ but Lucas isn’t bad. I’m not judging.”

“You’re cut off,” Jess said. “And here’s the check, whenever you’re ready.”

“Jack?” Colleen said. “Our cake is here, punkin.” She took a bite.

Unfortunately, lava cake tended to be, well...lava-hot. As her tongue shriveled in agony, Colleen reacted. Spit that cake right out.

“Pretty,” Jack murmured as she scraped her tongue free of the molten dessert.

“Thut up,” she said.

She gulped some ice water, some dribbling down her chin in her haste. Lovely. No napkin, where the hell was the napkin? She looked like a drooling freak. Fine. She used the tablecloth to dab her chin. And neck. And bosom, for the love of St. Patrick.

Lucas was watching the show, his eyes holding an irresistible hint of smile.

“Okay, fine. Lucas? Is there something I can help you with?”

“No,” he said. “Just getting something to eat.”

“Good. Because Jack and I want to get back to our romantic dinner, right Pooh Bear?”

Jack looked confused. “Are you talking to me?”

“You’re Faith’s brother, right?” Lucas asked.

“Afraid so. And Prudence’s, and Honor’s. Have we met?”

“I used to date him,” Colleen said. She took another forkful of cake, careful to blow on this one.

“Right,” Jack said. “You were talking about him in the bar the other—”

“No, I wasn’t,” she said. “Shut up, Jack.”

Jack sighed. “Babe? Sweetie-pie? Cuddlebuns? Can I leave now?”

Okay, so this wasn’t working. Time to surrender. “Just get out of here, Jack, and thanks for nothing.”

Her un-husband grinned, shook Lucas’s hand far too cheerfully and stopped to chat with Jess. “You better pay for dinner!” Colleen added.

He did. He might not want to marry her and sire three gorgeous children (possibly four, if one pregnancy was a set of twins, as Colleen would prefer), but he did pick up the tab.

“Can I join you?” Lucas asked.

“Sure,” she muttered. He slid into Jack’s vacated chair, and the air seemed to shimmer with the sheer force of...of them.

“I thought we should talk.”

“Are you stalking me?”

He gave her a slight smile. “Would you like me to?”

Yes, please. “Such an ego. Good to see that hasn’t changed.”

“There are two restaurants in this town, Colleen. You own one. I showed up here as a courtesy to you. Not to stalk you.”

“You can come to O’Rourke’s. I have no problem with that. I’m totally over you.”

Another almost-smile. The special places began to purr.

Jessica came over and cleared the table, her movements precise and efficient. Lucas ordered a glass of 2010 Fisher Cabernet Sauvignon that Robert Parker had anointed with a 96. It went well with Lucas’s whole fallen angel thing. He might as well have been drinking a soul.

Colleen looked around the restaurant, automatically smiling at the familiar faces scattered among the tourists. Hugo’s was the fancier restaurant in Manningsport, white tablecloths and flowers and a view of the lake. The sun was setting, the sky purple and slate, the lake darkening. A few boats glided toward the marina, white sails sharp in the dimming light. Hugo’s was busy tonight, and if Hugo’s was busy, it meant O’Rourke’s would be mobbed. She should go help out after this, even if it was her night off.