Lie to Me (Pearl Island Trilogy #4)(16)

“You grew up in the French Quarter?” Wariness built in her eyes again. He braced himself, wondering if there was any chance in hell she wouldn’t ask…

“Where’d you go to school?”

Apparently no chance. His chest deflated in defeat. “Newman,” he admitted. “I went to Newman.”

Her wariness turned to scrutiny as her gaze moved over his face until her eyes widened. “Oh my God. You’re not Lucas. You’re Luc. Luc Renard.”

“Actually, my name really is Lucas. I just go by Luc.”

“I can’t believe this.” Horror flooded her face, way out of proportion to what he’d expected. A death to her interest, yeah. But horror? Had his former nerd self really repelled her that much?

She opened her mouth to speak, then snapped it shut. Without a word, she strode off down the sidewalk, then turned and came back. Anger blazed from the eyes that had flirted with him all through dinner. “Why didn’t you tell me that? I didn’t recognize you, but you clearly recognized me. You’ve intentionally hid your identity from me all evening. Why?”

“You react like this, and then you have to ask?” His anger rose as well, driven by disappointment. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to cancel our date the second you recognized me.”

“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I wouldn’t have done that. But at least I wouldn’t have spent the whole evening thinking I was talking to someone who doesn’t know who I am. Who my family is.”

“Okay, so now you know I was the rube whose parents could barely afford to send him to Newman. The geek who didn’t fit in. Does that make you happy?”

“Do you think I care about that?”

“What, that I was the school dork?”

“No. That your family had trouble paying your tuition. And you weren’t a dork. You were… you were… brilliant!”

“Ah, so that’s why all the cool kids wanted to hang out with me.”

“I didn’t exactly see you ever trying to hang out with us.”

“Because you snubbed me,” he shot back.

“Who snubbed you?” she demanded, as if ready to do battle for him.

“You!”

“I did not!” She drew up straight.

“Fine. Rewrite history however you want. But this right here is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“You mean me getting pissed off because you intentionally misled me?”

“I mean—” He broke off abruptly. The distrust in her eyes told him he’d blown it. Big time. “Never mind. I’ll take you home.”

“Why?”

“Because…” He stared at her in total confusion. Because you just proved I was right about my fantasy evening ending the second you remembered me, he thought. “Because it’s getting late,” he growled instead, and tipped his wrist to check his watch. The ice cream he’d forgotten all about dropped from his cone to the sidewalk with a splat. Righting the half-eaten cone made what was left of the ice cream dribble onto his hand.

“Perfect,” he mumbled to himself. “Way to look slick.” Well, if he was going to blow the end of the best date he’d ever had, he might as well top it off with a scoop of embarrassment.

To further his mortification, Chloe laughed. Sort of. Actually, it sounded more like breathy incredulity. Looking up, he found her shaking her head, amusement struggling with her anger. He stepped to the nearest trashcan and tossed the remains of the cone in it, then stared at his sticky hand.

“Hang on,” Chloe said. Joining him at the trashcan, she tossed what was left of her own cone away as well.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he protested.

Ignoring him, she dug through her purse and came out with some hand wipes.

“You come prepared,” he muttered.

“In case you’ve forgotten, I have a pack of young cousins,” she explained, her voice tight with annoyance. Taking his sticky hand in hers, she wiped it with practiced efficiency.

As she bent to the task, he gazed down on the top of her head, so close to his chin. Her hair smelled of floral scented shampoo. Inhaling the scent made remorse twist through him. He longed to run his hands through the silky, mahogany strands, but he’d lost that chance.

Chloe’s brisk movement stilled suddenly, making him aware that she held his hand in both of hers. Warmth and need spread out from the point of contact. She looked up abruptly. Standing so close, he saw every facet of her hazel eyes, all the flecks of green and gold and brown. Felt the probing questions swimming in their depths. Panic hit him at what she might see in his own eyes. All the desire and longing coursing through him.

To his humiliation, amusement softened her face, tugging at her lips. Apparently she found it funny that Luc Renard from Newman wanted her.

He snatched his hand out of hers and struggled to hide his disappointment behind a mask of indifference.

A frown fell over her features and she looked oddly hurt. Why the hell would she be hurt, when he was the one getting rejected?

“Thank you,” he said with a brief glance at his now clean hand. Having no idea what to do with it or his other one, he shoved them both into his pants pockets.

“Luc…” Her searching gaze shifted to confusion, followed slowly by understanding. And then came an indulgent smile.