LITMIR.BIZ

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      “You look very beautiful, Devin.”

      Though she knew she should, she couldn’t bring herself to look away from him, and it was a struggle to maintain her equilibrium. He was being polite, nothing more. It was appropriate to compliment a woman while escorting her for the evening. He didn’t mean she was beautiful in, say, comparison to the supermodels and trophy wives in ten-thousand-dollar dresses who were swirling around the room.

      He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I believe the words you’re looking for are thank you.”

      Her throat was dry, but she swallowed to clear it. “Thank you.”

      He smiled and straightened. “That wasn’t fair,” she admonished. Amusement still lurked in his eyes. “Not fair?” This time, she was the one who leaned in. “You promised.”

      “Not to compliment you?”

      “Not to…” She struggled for the right words. “This isn’t supposed to be a date.”

      “You didn’t want to talk about nannies,” he responded with a shrug, like there were only two topics in the world.

      “Fine. Let’s talk about nannies.”

      “And spoil the mood?”

      “Please. Go ahead and spoil the mood.” She didn’t care that she sounded petulant.

      The danger in pretending she was a princess was that it made Lucas the prince. And it was all too easy to let the fantasy meander into perilous territory.

      They’d arrived at the party tonight in a limo. Later, they’d go home to his castle. And if she wasn’t careful, she’d start thinking about a kiss good-night.

      “The interviews begin at ten,” he said.

      She shook off her wayward thoughts. “Not with the prison matrons.”

      “I gave the agency both your specifications and mine. They’re sending people who are available immediately.”

      She supposed she’d have to be content with that.

      They danced a few more steps, swaying under shimmering lights.

      “Did you have a nanny?” she found herself asking.

      “Yes, I did,” he told her. “Several of them.”

      “And did you like them?”

      “Sometimes.”

      “What does that mean?”

      “It means I was little boy. Nannies don’t like little boys to climb trees, throw rocks, jump bicycles and climb on the garage roof.”

      Devin couldn’t help but smile at the images. “I take it you did all those things anyway?”

      “Those and more. And so did Konrad. Looking back, I’m thinking that might be why we went through so many nannies.” The small orchestra switched to a slower song, and Lucas settled her a bit closer. “What about you?”

      Devin shook her head. “No nanny for the Hartleys.”

      “What were you like as a kid?”

      “I don’t know. Normal, I guess.”

      “Did you grow up at Lake Westmire?”

      “Same house I live in now. With my mom and Monica. We swam, built sand castles, baked cookies, designed elaborate dollhouses all over the yard.”

      Devin had moved away from Lake Westmire to attend college. She came back five years ago when her mother was diagnosed with cancer. But tonight wasn’t the time to think about that.

      Instead, she fixed her memories on their teenage years. Monica had been a year younger, and the neighborhood had been full of kids around their ages.

      “When we were teenagers,” she continued, remembering, “Monica and I sat with our friends around weekend bonfires down at the park by Sunny Bay.”

      “And kissed the boys?” Lucas asked in a teasing tone.

      “Tommy McGuire,” Devin admitted. “Ninth grade. It was a dare, and he cut my nose with his glasses.”

      Lucas laughed at that.

      “I bet your first kiss wasn’t perfect, either,” she retorted. “You be the judge. I have videotape.” “Are you kidding me? “

      “Steve secretly took it. He threatened to show my mother, until I beat the crap out of him and took the camera away.” “You beat up Steve?”

      “He was a Peeping Tom. I’m surprised he didn’t grow up to be a member of the paparazzi.” “He was a kid.” “He hasn’t changed.”

      “Is this another of your warnings about the evil Steve?”

      “No. This is an offer for you to review the game tape and tell me what you think of my first kiss.”

      Devin chuckled low, even while she shook her head. “I’m not watching a videotape of your first kiss.”

      “Why not? Maybe you could give me some pointers.”

      “I’m sure your technique has changed considerably since you were… How old were you?”

      “I don’t remember.” His gaze shifted to her lips, and she could tell from the glow in his gray eyes exactly what he was remembering.

      She was remembering it, too.

      “Lucas.” A hearty male voice interrupted the moment.

      Lucas glanced to the side, while Devin tamped down the buzz of sexual awareness lighting up her body.

      “Mr. Mayor.” After what felt like a brief hesitation, Lucas let go of Devin to shake the man’s hand.

      “I wanted to thank you personally for your generous donation to the hospital.” The mayor’s curious glance went to Devin for a brief second.

      The man was in his midfifties. His full head of distinguished gray hair topped a tall physique that he kept in shape through highly publicized biking and rowing sessions.

      “Mr. Mayor, this is Devin Hartley.”

      “Ms. Hartley.” The mayor took her hand and gave it a gentle shake.

      Nobody acknowledged or introduced the well-groomed man standing behind and to the left of the mayor. Devin assumed he was either an aide or security.

      “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Devin. “This is a wonderful party.”

      “We have the hospital board to thank for that,” the mayor responded as he released her hand. “And we have donors like Lucas to thank for the new pediatric wing. Please, enjoy yourselves tonight. You’ll be at the ground-breaking next weekend?” he asked Lucas.

      “Wouldn’t miss it,” Lucas responded.

      With a final nod, the mayor withdrew.

      The band had started a break, and a recorded, soft rock song wafted through the speakers.

      “Thirsty?” asked Lucas, stepping close, one hand going to the small of her back as the crowd made their way off the dance floor.

      “Sure,” she responded, taking his lead back toward their table. “I take it you gave a big donation?” She couldn’t help wondering if her words at the barbecue had influenced Lucas on that front.

      “Pacific Robotics made a big donation,” Lucas corrected. “That includes Amelia.”

      Was it thousands? Tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands? “How did you decide? I mean, how do you decide how much to donate? “

      “It’s tough,” Lucas acknowledged. He flagged a passing waiter and they ordered a bottle of sparkling water. “I bet we get a dozen

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