“Dave…”
Rose knew the moment Dave spotted the logo. Her stomach sank as her brother’s eyes frosted over and all semblance of a teasing smile slipped away.
“King Construction?” He stood up, still staring at the gold crown on the green shirt crumpled in his fist. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“No,” Rose said on a sigh as she tugged the shirt out of his grasp. So much for a touching brother-sister bonding moment. “It’s my private life and it’s none of your business, Dave.”
He stalked the short distance to the kitchen sink, turned around and stomped right back again. Glaring at her, he argued, “The hell it’s not. One of the Kings has been here. And left his shirt.”
“He wasn’t here,” Rose said tightly. “I went to his house. I…spilled something and had to borrow one of his shirts.”
“Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms over his chest and braced his feet wide apart. “And why were you at his house?”
“Cooking lessons.” Rose threw both hands high, realized she was waving the shirt around like a red flag in front of a bull and tossed it to the counter behind her. “It’s what I do, remember? He hired me to teach him to cook.”
“Sure he did.” Dave shook his head fiercely, and his mouth worked as if there were dozens of words clogged up inside him that he wouldn’t set free. He looked disgusted, worried and furious all at once. “Which one?” he said flatly. “Which King?”
Here it comes, she told herself. The argument of the century was about to get started.
Lifting her chin, she folded her arms over her chest, too, in a perfect imitation of his stance. Locking her gaze with his, she said simply, “Lucas.”
Astonishment filled his eyes and had his mouth dropping open. “Are you serious? Lucas King? Damn it, Rose! Why him?”
“Why not him, Dave?” she demanded. “You and Lucas used to be friends. Then you weren’t, and I never knew why.”
“You didn’t have to know,” he muttered, turning away from her to walk to the closest window. He braced his hands on the wall at either side of the glass and stared out at the rain-splotched night beyond.
Rose could see her brother’s reflection in the glass, and she felt a twinge of sympathy at the taut misery etched into his features. But that didn’t change the fact that it was past time for him to tell her the truth. What was the awful secret that had destroyed his friendship with Lucas? Why was the mere mention of the King name enough to shift Dave into defensive mode?
“I need to know now, Dave,” she said quietly, her words dropping into the silence like stones into a well.
“Why?” he asked just as quietly. “Why can’t you just take my word on it and stay away from the Kings? Especially Lucas?”
She took a breath and let it go on a sigh. “It’s too late for that.”
He turned around then and looked at her, hard and long. She held his gaze and when she saw the unmistakable question in his eyes, she nodded. “That bastard slept with you?”
“I slept with him, too. So if you’re going to be mad…”
Defeated, Dave’s shoulders slumped and he muttered, “Damn it, Rose, not Lucas.”
“Talk to me. Tell me what went wrong,” she said, laying one hand on her brother’s arm.
Absently, he gave her hand a pat, then turned away again, apparently not able to meet her gaze while he talked. “You’re right. You should know. Maybe if I’d been honest about this before, you would have kept your distance.”
“Just tell me,” she repeated.
“I paid one of the King assistants for insider information, and I used that information to undercut their bids on jobs.” Finally, he turned back around to look at her. “Basically, I stole from the Kings.”
Staggered, Rose could only stare at the man she had thought she knew. “I don’t believe this. Why?”
Sighing, Dave dropped into his chair again. “I have excuses. Reasons. Dad was sick, jobs were in short supply, we needed the money. We invested in a few bad deals and took a beating.” He braced his elbows on his thighs. “There were hospital bills, payrolls to be met and…like I said. I have excuses. But the bottom line is, I stole from Lucas. My friend.”
“He knew?” Rose asked, slumping into the chair beside her brother’s. Of course he knew, she told herself. Why else would Lucas’s features freeze up at the mention of his old friend’s name?
“He guessed,” Dave told her, looking into her eyes. “He couldn’t prove it. No evidence. But yeah, he knows.”
Rose was so shaken she didn’t know what to say. Or think. Her brother was a thief, and the man she loved was his victim. And to think that just a few hours ago, she had thought her life was as complicated as it could possibly get.
“Why didn’t he say anything?” she whispered. “I mean, I get why you didn’t, but why would Lucas keep quiet?”
“Like I said, no evidence. And without that, if he made accusations, he’d just look like a poor loser.” Dave blew out a breath and reached over to take her hand. “Rose, has it occurred to you that Lucas hired you and then romanced you not because he wanted you, but for revenge on me?”
“No.” She tugged her hand free of her brother’s and jumped to her feet. Walking across the room, she slapped both hands palm down onto the counter and felt the cold of the granite seep into her skin. “He wouldn’t.”
“You’re sure about that?”
She shot Dave a look as he stood up and came toward her. “Yes. Lucas wouldn’t have—he never would have…” Her words trailed off as her mind and heart began a silent battle.
Her brain insisted that Dave was right. Why else would a man like Lucas King be interested in “Saint Rose,” but for revenge? But her heart and body remembered every stroke of his hands, every kiss, every whispered word of passion and heat and would not believe that none of it had been real.
The storm pelted Long Beach for three days.
By the third day, Lucas was like a tiger in a too-small cage. He couldn’t get out to a job site because of the rain, and if he had to sit in the damn office and calm down one more client, his head was going to explode.
That afternoon, he got in his car and started driving. As if on automatic pilot, his SUV took him directly to Rose’s house. She hadn’t been hard to find. All he’d had to do was look up the name of her business and there she was.