New Arrivals: His Inherited Family: Billionaire Baby Dilemma / His Ring, Her Baby / Cowgirl Makes Three

Lucas took a bite of his own burger. No meat in that section, but all in all, not bad.

“You sent Steve packing,” she observed, biting down on a quarter-cut pickle.

Lucas swallowed, deciding to put his cards on the table. “Absolutely. He’s trying to co-opt you to his side.”

“And you?” she asked. “Are you trying to get me on your side?”

“Mine’s the side of truth and justice,” he responded.

Co-opting Devin was not his preferred plan. He needed a decisive win when it came to Amelia. He couldn’t take the chance that Devin might support him now, and then later change her mind because someone had convinced her of the merits of a particular lame-assed project.

“Not from where I’m sitting,” she told him.

“Yeah?” He was curious to hear how she’d couch his side versus Steve’s.

“So far, of the two of you, Steve looks like the good guy.” Lucas set down his burger. “And you wonder why I have to fight you? “

The woman had absolutely no frame of reference. She was a babe in the woods, vulnerable to whomever might sell her a bill of goods.

“We can compromise,” she offered.

“You want me to compromise? You’re so confused, you think Steve is the good guy.” Lucas took a swallow of the wine. It really was pretty bad.

“If I made an agreement with you up front, I’d stick to it.”

He didn’t believe that. Not for one moment. “Until some point in the future when you disagreed with me.”

Devin took another contemplative bite of her pickle. “I suppose that’s true. I mean if you were really wrong about something.”

She was everything he feared—erratic, unreliable and illogical.

Lucas pushed back his chair. “You are impossible.”

“No. It’s the situation that’s impossible.”

Lucas hated to admit it, but he could see her point. “I don’t have an answer that’s going to satisfy you,” he admitted out loud. “All I know for sure is that I can trust me.”

She gave a small, rueful smile. “And I can trust me.”

They both stared at each other for a long moment of silence.

“Stalemate,” he stated fatalistically.

“New topic,” she told him, lifting her glass. “Nice rescue on the catamaran. Lexi asked me to thank you again.”

“I haven’t been sailing in a while,” he answered, itching to continue the debate until she capitulated, but knowing the time wasn’t right. “That part was fun.”

“Sorry about the suit,” Devin offered.

“Funny how I keep losing my clothes around you.”

She glanced away, and he realized his double entendre had embarrassed her. Hell, he hadn’t meant it that way. Not that he hadn’t thought about it. Truth was, he had.

Damn it. Not good.

He took another sip of the wine. The taste seemed to be growing on him.

“Do you like sailing?” he asked, trying to bring the conversation onto some neutral ground.

She picked up the conversation thread, obviously relieved to move on. “Yes, I do. And Amelia seems to love it. She’s a water baby.”

“You’ll have to come out on the Sound someday.” “You have a sailboat?”

“A little bigger than the catamaran,” he said. “We’d probably have to bring a crew.” “A crew? “

“Three or four guys.”

“Just how big is this sailboat?”

“Forty-six feet.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, I’d say it’s a little bigger than the catamaran.”

“We could do dinner,” he offered, knowing it sounded like a date, but not particularly caring. He found himself liking the idea of an evening sailing with Devin. And Steve certainly wouldn’t be able to get his hands on her if they were on the water.

“With a boat that size, we could sail all the way to Vancouver.”

“Sure,” he said, shrugging. They could go wherever she liked.

She sat back in her chair, twirling her wineglass between her fingers. “It’s some life you’re living, Lucas Demarco.”

Lucas glanced around the deck, realizing the homey atmosphere was growing on him. “It’s a nice life you’re living here, too.”

“Not at the moment,” she returned tartly.

He sighed. “You want to fight with me or accept my compliment on your house? “

“My house can’t possibly impress you.”

Lucas leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table. “You, Devin Hartley, are an extraordinarily difficult person with whom to carry on a pleasant conversation.”

She set down her glass and leaned forward to match his posture. “And you, Lucas Demarco, are extraordinarily bad at hiding your condescension.”

“I like your house,” he protested. “Well, not the bathroom.” He glanced up. “And these patio lanterns? Well, let’s just say it’s a good thing you’re—”

He stopped himself.

Had he been about to tell her she was beautiful? What the hell was going on in his mind? “You have a great view.” He gave a mock toast to the moon and the darkened lake.