Rose took a step backward, sliding away to give the two of them a minute alone. Maybe Lucas didn’t seem happy about running into the woman, but she doubted that Marsha would miss her presence. Rose had every intention of hiding behind the bin of Vidalia onions, but Lucas stopped her cold with one hand on her arm. His grip tightened as she tried to squirm free, but the redhead never noticed. Her big green eyes were fixed on Lucas as if he were a Prada bag on a seventy-five-percent-off table.
“Imagine, running into you here, of all places.”
“Yeah,” he said, “you said that already. Not really surprising, Marsha, I do eat.”
“Yes,” she agreed on a seductive chuckle, “but you forget, I’ve seen your refrigerator for myself.”
Perfect, Rose thought. Nothing like standing here witnessing one of Lucas’s bedmates trying to metaphorically lick him in the produce aisle. And could she have looked any more hideous, Rose wondered furiously. Why was her hair in a ponytail, of all things? And why hadn’t she worn her new jeans … instead of her favorite, often-washed, faded pair?
And why, she demanded silently, did she care?
She wasn’t on a date, for heaven’s sake. She and Lucas weren’t a couple. He was a client. A customer. She was his cooking teacher, nothing more.
Which should have made her feel better but it so didn’t.
“You look wonderful, Lucas,” Marsha said, her voice dropping to a low purr of interest.
Behind Lucas, Rose rolled her eyes and willed herself to sink into the floor. Nothing happened.
“Thanks, you, too,” Lucas said brusquely. Then he added, “You’ll have to excuse us, though, we’ve got to finish shopping and get home.”
“We?” For the first time, Marsha’s gaze slid past Lucas to notice Rose. Surprise flickered across her eyes briefly.
“Marsha Hancock, this is Rose Clancy. Rose, Marsha.”
“Hi. Nice to meet you,” Rose said when she couldn’t avoid it.
“Uh-huh,” Marsha murmured, then turned her renewed interest on Lucas. “Like I was saying, you look wonderful and if you’re not busy this Friday, I’m having a small, intimate party at my place and—”
“We’ll be busy,” Lucas told her, then looked at Rose. “What do you think, honey, we done here?”
Honey? He’d called her honey? Rose’s mouth opened and closed a few times while she tried to think of something clever—heck, anything to say. Then Lucas dropped one arm around her shoulders and gave her a hard hug. Keeping her tucked in close to his side, he looked at the redhead and said, “Yep, guess we’re done. Good seeing you, Marsha.”
He pushed the laden cart one-handed, still keeping one arm draped around Rose. She walked right beside him, trying to figure out what had just happened. Risking a quick glance backward, she could see that the beautiful Marsha was trying to understand the same thing.
Rose stood beside him while he paid for the groceries, then followed him out to the parking lot and his car when he was finished. A cold night wind blew in off the ocean, and, overhead, the stars were glittering.
She turned her face into the wind as he loaded up the trunk of his SUV and didn’t say a word until he’d finished and closed the lid again with a solid thunk.
“What was that about? Inside there, with Marsha?”
He shrugged, and pushed the shopping cart into the area set aside for them. “Marsha’s annoying. Letting her believe you and I were together was the easiest way of getting rid of her.”
He might think she was annoying now, but the redhead had made it all too clear that at one point in the not so distant past, Lucas had found her much more interesting.
“And you had to call me ‘honey’ to get that point across?”
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