How to Trap a Tycoon(29)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

She laughed—spiritedly.

"Come on," he cajoled. "Admit it."

"I’m not a Stepford Wife," she denied—good-naturedly.

"Then you must be one of those pod people from outer space," he decided. "The real Edie Mulholland has to be snoozing in a space pod somewhere, where the body-snatchers left her. I bet she wakes up in bad mood. If she ever wakes up again."

Edie’s eyes twinkled—gleefully. "I’m not a pod person from outer space, either. I just don’t see the point in carrying around a lot of negative energy, that’s all."

Lucas gaped at her in disbelief. "Hey, negative energy is what made this country great," he told her. "Negative energy has been responsible for some truly significant historical achievements all over the world."

"Like what?" she asked—dubiously but nonetheless cheerily.

He thought for a moment. "Well, like the Roman Empire , for example," he said. "Talk about your negative energy. Those guys had downright bloodlust going for them. Gladiators fighting to the death, peasant-eating lions, crucifixion. And look at all the amazing things they accomplished. That was one phenomenal civilization."

Edie eyed him—pleasantly. "The Romans actually learned everything they knew from the Etruscans," she pointed out. "And the Etruscans were pretty easygoing people. Well, except for that pesky human sacrifice business," she qualified. Hastily, she added, "But they were a primitive people. At any rate, they knew the value of living a good life."

Lucas narrowed his eyes at her. "Okay, I’ll give you that one," he conceded. "But once the Romans got things up and running, nobody messed with them. Nobody."

"Actually, the Celts did," Edie objected—mildly. "They kicked Roman butt."

Lucas frowned. "Oh. Yeah. I forgot about that."

"And the Celts," Edie continued, blithely, "wild men though they were, still appreciated the beauty and tranquility of the natural world that surrounded them."

Lucas thought for a moment more. "Okay. Then how about the race for space? We landed men on the moon because we were pissed off at the Soviet Union . Negative energy, I’m tellin’ ya."

But Edie only smiled again—joyfully—and waved a hand—jovially—in front of herself. "We didn’t put men on the moon because we were mad at the Soviets," she told him sweetly. "We did it because we were optimistic that we could. Positive energy. Positive energy did that. Not negative."

Clearly, there was no point in arguing with her, Lucas thought. No matter which way he looked at things, Edie was bound to see them from the opposite side. To her, the glass would always be half full. To him, it would always be … well, quite frankly, it would always be empty.

Thankfully, another one of Drake’s members summoned her from the other end of the bar then, and Lucas glanced up to see … Davenport , he thought the guy’s name was … beckoning to her. Funny, but he’d never seen the guy in here at night before, only in the afternoons … when Edie was working.

So he was one of those, was he? A man who lusted after his bartender. Nothing so unusual about that, though, Lucas conceded. Hell, he himself lusted after most of the women who worked at Drake’s. Except for Little Edie Sunshine, of course.

Who could possibly lust after someone who was so sweet and nice and kind and happy and blond and nauseating? Not Lucas. No way. She wasn’t his type at all. He liked his women dark and brooding and convenient and temporary. Edie, he was certain, was the kind of woman who pined for wedding cakes and rugrats and white picket fences.

He shrugged off his ruminations before they could wander into the realm of forbidden fantasizing, then went back to moping in silence. Unfortunately, his moping was shortly interrupted by Edie’s lyrical and, inescapably, happy laughter.

Involuntarily, he turned his attention to the end of the bar, where she was laughing at something Davenport had said to her. Davenport was laughing, too, then he uttered something that Lucas had heard him say a million times before: "Edie, you need someone to take care of you." And then it was with no small amount of surprise that Lucas watched the man reach over the bar and run the pad of his thumb lightly and with great affection—or something—over Edie’s cheek.

And it was with no small amount of astonishment that Lucas watched Edie jerk her entire body back in response out of Davenport ‘s reach, lifting her own hand to her face as if she’d just suffered a bad burn.

She recovered quickly, seeming to realize how much she’d overreacted—at least, Davenport seemed to think she’d overreacted, judging by the stark surprise etched on his face. Lucas, on the other hand, was thinking she should have heaved a coffeepot at the guy. But she forced a quick smile and mumbled something Lucas couldn’t hear, something that made Davenport smile in return. Nevertheless, Edie, Lucas could tell, was still pretty shaken by the man’s action.

Something inside him tightened coldly at witnessing the episode. Not just because Davenport had broken one of Lindy Aubrey’s clear but unspoken rules of Drake’s membership—nobody, but nobody, touched her employees—but because of the way the man continued to look at Edie. As if he knew something she didn’t know. As if he planned to act on whatever that something was. As if he intended to make Edie his own, in whatever way he could.

It gave Lucas the creeps.

And it took a hell of a lot to give Lucas Conaway the creeps. Davenport , with one simple action, had set off every alarm bell Lucas possessed. And hell, it wasn’t even Lucas the man was bothering.

"Hey, Edie, come here," Lucas called out, unsure when exactly or even why he had decided to divert her attention that way.

Clearly puzzled, but seeming nonetheless grateful, she excused herself to Davenport and carefully made her way back down to where Lucas was holding his—he just now realized—barely touched drink. Well, hell, now what was he supposed to say when she got there? What other reason would he possibly have for catching her attention, if not because he wanted another drink? Without thinking, he lifted the glass to his mouth and tipped it back, consuming the entire contents in three hasty gulps.

If Edie’s expression had been puzzled before, now it was absolutely flummoxed. Flummoxed also described how he felt when two ounces of good gin splashed hotly into his belly. Wow. That was actually kind of cool. He should do that more often.

"Yes, Mr. Conaway?" Edie asked as she approached him.

For the first time since he’d met her, she wasn’t quite so annoyingly chipper. But she was still smiling, he noted. And really, he supposed, when he got right down to it, it wasn’t such a bad smile after all. Not nearly as irritating as he’d initially thought it. Of course, the fact that he currently had two ounces of good gin buzzing into his system might have something to do with taking the edges off Edie. It was certainly taking the edges off him.