On the Steamy Side - Louisa Edwards [76]
Looking at Devon in repose now, all Lilah could think about were the marble statues in the Greek and Roman hallway. He embodied the classical ideal of male perfection in a way that was truly unfair, and more than a little intimidating.
Lilah traced with her eyes the broad, straight forehead, the sloping nose, the strong chin, the high cheekbones. He could almost be too handsome, verging on the beautiful androgyny favored by the Greek masters, but there was a sharpness to the lines of his face that rendered them indisputably masculine.
And then there was his mouth.
Hellfire and damnation, but Devon Sparks had a mouth shaped to tempt a woman to sin.
Lilah reached a stealthy hand to the rear-controlled air vents. Surely there was a higher setting they could be on.
In a display of the sort of awareness of his surroundings that made Lilah think Devon was sobering right up, he opened his eyes at the exact moment she started fumbling with the A/C.
“Feeling a tad overheated?” he said in a lazy, bourbon-soaked voice. His eyes, though, were intent and hot as a touch on her skin.
Lilah snatched her hand back from the vent. “I’m fine. How much longer till we get home?”
Devon’s eyes darkened to molten silver, something like satisfaction flickering through his expression, but all he said was, “I think we’re almost there. Right, Paolo?”
“Nearly, sir. The garage is a few blocks away.”
“Excellent,” Devon said. Lilah was in bone-deep agreement with the relief in his tone. “Drop us off, then go home and get some sleep, man. Sorry to keep you out so late.”
“That’s my job, sir. What time tomorrow?”
Devon slid Lilah a sideways glance that ignited a ball of fire in her belly. “Let’s sleep in,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. “Call it ten.” His lips curled. “It’s not like it did me any good to get to the restaurant early, anyway.”
To distract herself from the embarrassing liquid heat melting her insides, Lilah said, “What went wrong at the restaurant tonight?”
“What went right?” Devon parried. “My timing was off, my food was for shit, my sous chef resents the hell out of me, the bartender has my manager in a snit, and, oh, yeah, I’m suddenly a father.” He pinched his forefinger and thumb together and squinted one eye at her. “I’m under just a smidge of pressure.”
“You were always a father,” Lilah couldn’t help pointing out. “Your problem was you didn’t have the chance to do much about it.”
“Birthday presents. That was it. Well, Christmas, too.” Dropping his hands to his lap, Devon picked at a dried splatter of something purple and sticky-looking. Without glancing away from his pants, he said, “So. What kinds of things did you two do today?”
Lilah knew better than to openly display her happiness at this chink in Devon’s armor. “Oh, nothing much,” she said as casually as she could. “Tucker spent a few hours drawing—he can be amazingly focused when he’s trying to get his rendition of a T-Rex just right.”
The corner of Devon’s mouth kicked up a little. “Yeah, that backpack of his is full of colored pencils and stuff. I always bought him video games, remote-control cars, things like that. Guess I was way off.”
“It’s hard to buy a gift for someone you don’t know very well.” Lilah couldn’t think of a more tactful way to put it, so she just said it.
Instead of getting angry and defensive, as she’d half-feared, Devon scrubbed his hands over his face and said, “Yeah. I know. Fuck, I should’ve just let my assistant shop for Tucker. Daniel would’ve had as good a shot as I did at picking the right presents.”
But Devon hadn’t farmed out that task—he’d done it himself. It wasn’t much, Lilah knew. Certainly, it wasn’t close to everything he ought to have done. But the fact that Devon guarded even that tenuous connection to Tucker gave her hope.
“I was thinking,” she said, putting a hand on his arm and drawing her fingers in light circles over the slick material of his