notion that kept sliding into her mind that there was still a chance for them. She had to get it through her skull that there was no hope. She was the one who got lost in useless emotion, while Lucas remained coolly elusive.
Her gaze flashed. “We were finished, weren’t we?” In more ways than one . “Or was there something else you wanted?”
Heat burned along his cheekbones. “You know I never viewed you that way.”
“How, then?”
He said something low and taut in Medinian that she was pretty sure was a swear word or phrase of some kind. Not for the first time it occurred to her that for her own peace of mind she really should learn some of that language.
His palm curved around the base of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair. A split second later his mouth closed over hers.
A series of flashes, the slick, motorized clicking of a high-speed camera jerked them apart. A reporter with an expensive-looking camera had just emerged from a parked car.
A shudder of horror swept Carla. When the press recognized her they would put one and one together and make seven. Before she arrived back at her apartment they would have her entangled in a second-time-around affair with Lucas. By morning they would have her cast off and pregnant or, more probably, since Lucas was involved with Lilah, caught up in some trashy love triangle.
Most of it, unfortunately, was embarrassingly true.
A strangled sound jerked her head around. Bare meters away, directly behind Lucas, Lilah was caught in an awkward freeze-frame.
Carla’s stomach lurched as if she’d just stepped into a high-speed elevator on its way down. That was a definite “go” on the love triangle.
Lilah spun on her heel and walked quickly away.
With a final, manic series of clicks the reporter slid back into the car from which he had emerged. With a high-pitched whine reminiscent of a kitchen appliance the tiny hatchback sped away.
Lucas swore softly, this time in English, and released his grip on her nape. His gaze was weary. “Did you know he was out here?”
Her temper soared at what she could only view as an accusation. She gestured at her crumpled clothing and hair, the smeared makeup. “Do I look like I’m ready to be photographed by some sleazy tabloid reporter?”
Lucas’s brows jerked together. “You did it once before.”
A tide of heat swept her at his reference to her admittedly outrageous behavior in making their first breakup public and the resulting scandal that had followed. “You deserved that for the way you treated me.”
“I apologized.”
He had apologized. And she had forgiven him, then continued to sleep with him. There was a pattern there, somewhere.
His head jerked around as he spotted Lilah climbing into a small sedan. Slipping a cell phone out of his pants pocket, he punched in a number.
Carla blinked at his sudden change of focus. Feeling oddly deflated and emptied of emotion, she rummaged in her purse to find her car keys. “Before you ask the question, the reporter didn’t follow me. Why would he? I’m not your girlfriend.”
Lucas frowned and gave up on the call, which clearly wasn’t being picked up.
He was no doubt calling Lilah, trying to soothe her hurt and explain away his mistake. Despite the fact that Carla knew she was the one in the wrong for sleeping with Lucas, she found she couldn’t bear the thought of Lucas trivializing what they had just shared.
He had the nerve to try the phone number again.
A red mist swam before her eyes. Before she even registered what she was about to do, her hand shot out, closed around the phone and she flung it as hard as she could onto the road. It bounced and flew into several pieces. A split second later a truck ran over the main body of the phone, smashing it flat.
There was a moment of silence.
Lucas’s expression was curiously devoid of emotion. “That was an expensive phone.”
“So sue me, but I find it insulting and objectionable that the man I’ve
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