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Alyssa blinked. Luc was smooth. And that he’d said such things, press or no, amazed her.

“What dishes will you make for the restaurant’s opening?” another reporter asked.

Wow, with a little charm and some misdirection, the press had suddenly focused on something besides publicly branding her a whore. Of course, having a celebrity like Luc in town was news for Lafayette, but still . . .

“Who cares what he cooks?” Primpton shouted. “She’s whoring for him, and he’s allowing himself to be led down the sinner’s path. Pray for him; there’s time to save his immortal soul. But her!” Primpton speared a meaty finger toward Alyssa. “Condemn the devil’s mistress who’s infiltrated the good town of Lafayette and seeks to corrupt our community and its morality!”

“I’ll be cooking some new dishes I’m very excited about,” Luc continued as if Primpton had never spoken. “There’s an eggplant ravioli appetizer that’s to die for. I have a pan-seared fillet with pearl onions, feta cheese, and a rich burgundy glaze that will melt in your mouth. Dessert is a surprise. The whole menu is amazing, and I urge you to attend in the next week and see for yourself how special Bonheur is. You won’t be disappointed. The first hundred tables will receive a signed booklet with the week’s recipes.”

Alyssa did a double take. Booklets? That
was
generous of him.

Reporters shouted more questions at Luc after that, but he merely turned on the dazzling charm. Then he looked her way. With his first glance, his eyes nearly popped from his head.

Hmm. Was the pencil-slim skirt and white button-down blouse with classic pumps too ridiculous
?

Though Luc’s expression didn’t answer her unspoken question, he recovered quickly and gestured to her. “Here’s the lovely lady who can answer all of your questions. Alyssa Devereaux has worked incredibly hard to make Bonheur a reality. I don’t want to steal her thunder. Why don’t you tell them all the wonderful things about your new place?”

Something stung her eyes. Tears? Damn it! But there they were. Luc had done something . . . nice for her. And the press was transfixed by him.

She was no different. Alyssa blinked away her tears.

Out of the corner of her gaze, she caught Primpton and his followers fuming in silence. Rejoicing inside, she approached Luc, bursting with gratitude. For now, all she could do was mouth,
Thank you
.

Later, she’d show him exactly how much his support meant to her.

LUC had a headache, one that emanated from his clenched jaw and pounded in his temples. It clawed up the back of his neck and made his eyebrows throb. The source of the pain stood not five feet from him, dressed again in a saucy, up-to-there skirt and a come-hither smile.

After Primpton left in defeat, the action at Sexy Sirens started swinging. Now Alyssa smiled at a group of males all crowding around her. Luc couldn’t hear the conversation, but there was no missing the way she crossed those long legs slowly, rubbing one against the other, then perched on the edge of her chair with a coy glance. The men—of all ages—nearly swallowed their tongues. So did Luc.

Tyler hovered behind her chair protectively. That was his job. But one of the other guys edged too close to Alyssa and tried to steal a kiss. In a blink, the bouncer grabbed his jersey and shoved him back. Before the guy finished stumbling, Tyler had his hand resting possessively on Alyssa’s shoulder.

“No touching, boys. You know the rules.” Tyler looked only too happy to remind them.

That didn’t deter Alyssa’s audience. One guy dropped to his knees, a breath away from her thighs, and got an eyeful of her legs—and took the scenic route to her breasts.

Now it wasn’t just Luc’s head throbbing, but his blood as well. The asshole was completely objectifying her, staring at a collection of her body parts. What the fuck did he know about her as a woman?

Haven’t you been guilty of the same offense?
Luc shoved the voice in his head away.

As Tyler dragged the trash at Alyssa’s feet upright, the biggest of the younger men bent close. He braced one hand against the back of the chair and whispered in her ear.

She looked trapped against the chair. Tyler was still scuffling with the other scumbag. And Luc had seen enough.

Suppressing a growl, he stomped toward Alyssa, ready to bust heads. But Tyler got there first, knocking the would-be whisperer back with a snarled, “You know the rules. Back the fuck off, Peter.”

Peter? The guy she’d mentioned after they’d found the knife in her car?

Then Tyler lifted Alyssa, sat in her chair, and set her on his lap. His hand rested high on her thigh, the other on her waist. And the bouncer’s fingers weren’t still. They roamed, his thumb brushing the curve of her breast, his other palm disappearing under her skirt, over her hip.

Alyssa didn’t blink, much less fight him off.

This intimacy didn’t look as if it was purely for show, since Alyssa seemed entirely comfortable with the asshole’s touch. They looked like lovers.

Luc glanced at his watch. Shit. It was only 9:00. He couldn’t see this for another five hours without puking. Or hitting someone. Or grabbing her and staking a claim he couldn’t keep.

The phone in his pocket vibrated, and Luc grabbed it, thankful for anything to do. Deke.

“Where are you?”

“Hi to you, too, Cuz. I’ve had a great day; thanks for asking.”

Closing his eyes, Luc tried to get a handle on his temper. “Sorry. Just edgy. I thought you were coming today to look at Alyssa’s security system.”

“Nearly there. I need to talk to you for a few minutes. Meet me at the back door?”

Deke wasn’t the talking type. He’d almost rather cut his tongue out, so his request thumped into the pit of Luc’s stomach. Whatever it was couldn’t be good.

“On my way,” he answered grimly, glad to be out of eyesight of Tyler mauling Alyssa.

Within minutes, Deke pounded a fist on the back door. It was almost impossible to hear with Muse blasting in the background, but Luc swung the door wide for his cousin. Deke entered the club, all tense mien and watchful gaze.
You could take the man out of the military, but . . .

“What’s up?” Luc demanded.

With an uneasy glance around, Deke asked, “Is there someplace we can talk?”

Luc hesitated. “Come with me.”

Circling back across the club’s floor, Luc was grateful that the crowd around Alyssa had swelled until he could no longer see Tyler touch her. He kept heading toward the front, then paused at the bar, sliding a fifty-dollar bill across the surface.

“Give me as many Heinekens as this buys.”

The bartender, whom Luc had met only in passing, shrugged and deposited the money in the till, then slid eight longneck bottles across the smooth, well-worn surface.

Luc handed the first four to his cousin, then picked up the rest. “Come with me.”

Deke raised a brow but said nothing as he followed Luc to Alyssa’s private, soundproofed office. Luc kicked the door shut, slammed the bottles on Alyssa’s desk, and tore one open. He drank the whole thing in three swallows.

“Jesus!” Deke stared in shock. “You okay?”

How the hell did he answer that? “Crappy day.”

Deke set the bottles in his hands down, then lowered himself into a chair. He looked nervous. Damn nervous. Luc instantly regretted his behavior. Deke clearly had something weighing on his mind, far beyond petty jealousy for a woman who wasn’t even his.

“It will pass. What did you want to talk about?”

Deke grabbed a beer, opened it . . . stalled for time. “Man, I don’t know where to start. I meant to be out here sooner today.” He swallowed. “But instead we dropped in on Kimber’s family this morning.”

Long drive for an impromptu visit. “Is everything okay with her father?”

“Yeah, Edgington is a tough old bastard.” Deke took a long drag on his beer.

Luc felt ready to scream. What the hell did Deke need to tell him that he didn’t want to? “Hunter? Logan?”

“Kimber’s brothers are fine. We just thought we owed them—Damn it.” Deke leaned forward in his chair, set his beer aside, and shot Luc a direct, apologetic glance. “I wanted to tell you face-to-face. Myself.” He swallowed. “Kimber is six weeks’ pregnant.”

“
W
HAT’S wrong?” Alyssa asked as Luc sped through the night, toward her house.

Three a.m. wasn’t the best time for a heart-to-heart, but he exuded a fuck-off vibe like she’d never felt from him before. Something grim rolled off him in choking waves, and though she knew he wouldn’t welcome the conversation, she felt his pain and couldn’t remain quiet.

“Nothing.” He bit out the word.

“So you always run red lights for the hell of it?”

Luc’s body tensed. “Shit. Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Did He-Man say something to upset you?”

His hands tensed on the wheel. “Deke is still looking at your security system. He’ll call in a few when he’s done.”

A non-answer. Luc was good at evasion. Then again, maybe this had nothing to do with his cousin.

“Look, if your foul mood has anything to do with what happened in the kitchen earlier—”

“It’s over, it’s done, and it’s not happening again.”

Like hell
. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I gotta tell you, Chef, I don’t think your new girlfriend is keeping you satisfied.”

“Keep her out of this.”

“If there’s one thing I know, it’s men. And if you were happy, today wouldn’t have happened.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Something
almost
did.”

Luc was quiet for long seconds. Alyssa cursed under her breath. She’d pushed too hard. Maybe tomorrow would be a better time to talk.

“We haven’t been seeing each other long. We haven’t . . . Sex isn’t the point of the relationship.”

Translation: He hadn’t slept with this woman. As sexual as Luc was, seriously? Alyssa was happier about that than she should have been.

“What? You two play Scrabble together?”

“Just drop it,” he growled.

For now
. “All right. Thank you for helping me with Primpton today. I didn’t get a chance to tell you how much I appreciate you defending me.”

“He’s a disingenuous prick trying to stir up trouble to either elevate himself or his bullshit cause. I would have defended anyone he trashed.”

Maybe that was true. But if Luc had nothing but contempt for her, he wouldn’t bother. He must have some other feelings for her. She just had to figure out what and how to grow them.

“Which is part of the reason you attract me,” she said softly. “You have a good heart.”

“Alyssa—”

“Yeah, I know. I was a good fuck, and now you don’t want to talk about it.”

Damn it, she should have been subtler. She had to keep control of her emotions and use her head, or he would bolt.

Silent minutes slid by again; then he surprised her by asking, “What happened to your mom?”

“Who told—?” She sighed. “Fucking Tyler. He doesn’t know when to shut up.”

“Two weeks isn’t long to grieve.”

Alyssa hesitated. Answer him and open up a potential door of pain? Shut him out and end the rapport and another chance to show him that she was a real woman under the garters?

“We weren’t close. Her absence doesn’t alter my day-to-day life. She was my blood, and I know I should feel like part of me is missing . . . and in a way, I guess I do. When I first heard, I went through the shock and denial. Anger consumed me for a few days. Now I just feel . . . numb.”

His gaze softened. “You’re still processing.”

“I guess. I’ve never really lost anyone before.” She wrapped her arms around her middle.

When she thought of her mother’s death, a tight emptiness cramped her gut. But she couldn’t manage to cry. Maybe too many years had gone by. Maybe she was still too angry.

“Allergic reaction,” she murmured. “My mother was violently allergic to peanuts. Somehow a trace of them made it into her food and . . . she didn’t get medication in time.”

“I’m sorry.” He reached across the distance separating them and grabbed her hand.

She squeezed it. Now that she was talking about her mother, it wasn’t
that
hard. “I think what bothers me the most is knowing that, because she’s gone, we can’t resolve what was wrong between us. It can never be fixed.”

“And you regret the time you spent apart?”

Big, tough question. “Yes and no. I wish things could have been different, but they couldn’t.”

Luc released her hand to focus on driving again, and she felt the withdrawal of his touch like a pang. Why did she crave this man who wanted her far more than he liked her? And way, way more than he respected her?

“I know it’s none of my business, but did she . . . disapprove of your career?”