His announcement was punctuated by the sound of shattering glass, something that gave it a rather ominous implication. When Adam glanced up, it was to find Mack gazing at Lucas with wide eyes, her mouth slightly open, her face drained of all color—except for her cheeks, which were faintly stained with the hint of a blush. Strangely, she was holding her hand out before her, but her fingers, though curved, held nothing. Pushing himself up from his stool, Adam glanced over the top of the bar to find that, yep, just as he'd suspected, Mack was the one who had broken the glass. It lay in about a million pieces on the tile floor behind the bar.
As he sat back down, he tried to imagine what would have caused such a reaction in her. Not only did Mack never lose her composure over anything, but she never broke anything, either. She was amazing when it came to tending bar. Ultimately, all he could figure—and it was a lame deduction at best—was that maybe she had been overcome by Lucas's boyish good looks. In which case Adam would have no choice but to transfer the kid to the Spongemop, South Dakota , beat, thereby reducing the competition. Bad enough Adam had to sit around waiting for Mack's husband to go to his final reward. Man.
Then Adam remembered that he couldn't transfer Lucas to Spongemop , South Dakota . Because Lucas had single-handedly upped Man's Life subscriptions by six percent with that Wall Street exposé he'd written for the June issue. So if the kid wanted to turn his journalistic attentions—and intentions—to Lauren Grable-Monroe now, Adam sure as hell wasn't going to stop him. Then again, a story on Ms. Grable-Monroe meant Man's Life would be giving that damned book of hers free publicity. Did he really want to do that?
And why was Mack still staring at Lucas that way, her green eyes lambent—he could safely say he now knew what that word meant—her mouth full and ripe and luscious-looking, her face glowing with a mixture of caution and something he was hard-pressed to identify, and … and … and…
And, man, it was getting hot in here. What did Lindy have the thermostat set on? Jeez.
He reached up to loosen his already loosened necktie, then told Lucas, "I'm not sure I want Lauren Grable-Monroe in my magazine."
Lucas smiled but turned to Mack. "Gimme a Tanqueray and tonic."
Mack, of course, was way ahead of Lucas on that score. It was remarkable how she kept a catalogue of the drinking preferences of Drake's entire membership and began pouring the preferred beverage the moment she noted, the member's presence at the bar. She set Lucas's prepared drink before him, then dropped the Tanqueray bottle back into the well. But she didn't scurry off afterward, as Adam had assumed she would. Instead, she continued to study Lucas. With much interest.
Dammit .
"This is a story," Lucas finally continued, oblivious to Mack's interest, "that the readers of Man's Life would find very interesting."
"And that would be because…" Adam spurred him.
Lucas's smile turned predatory. "Because I intend to locate Ms. Lauren Grable-Monroe and find out just what her credentials—so to speak—are that would make her the self-appointed social guru of today's women."
Adam sighed heavily but said nothing. He was torn between the dread of giving space to Lauren Grable-Monroe in any form and the ecstasy of filling that space with what might be a really satisfying diatribe against her. If anyone could write a flaming exposé of Lauren Grable-Monroe, it would be Lucas Conaway. The kid was a truly gifted writer.
There were times when Adam frankly wondered what had made the kid accept a position at Man's Life when he could have gone pretty much anywhere he wanted. Certainly his salary was competitive with any number of similar publications. But Lucas was a writer who should be covering human rights violations and sneaky, underhanded governments. Not which Cuban cigars best complemented California cognacs.
"Why would you want to expose Lauren Grable-Monroe?"
The question came not from Adam but from Mack, who seemed to be genuinely curious about the answer.
Lucas sipped his drink and sighed with much contentment, then turned his attention to Mack. "Because she's fast becoming the latest icon of popular American culture," he pointed out. "She's a good sound bite. Like I said, she's topical. She's controversial." He hesitated for only a moment before adding. "And something tells me she is really hot, too. Have you read the book?"
Mack nodded, but once again her cheeks were stained faintly with pink. Adam thought it made her look rather adorable. Then he immediately berated himself for allowing the word "adorable" into his masculine verbal repertoire. What Mack looked, he corrected himself, was rather… Oh, dammit. Adorable. That was what she looked.
"So that means you read chapter seven, right?" Lucas asked. "The one called Keeping the Tycoon in the Bedroom. Man, that chapter alone's worth the price of the book." He turned to Adam. "You would not believe some of the stuff she writes in that chapter. And so matter-of-fact she is about it, too. There's this thing with crème de menthe…" He threw another look toward Mack, then halted himself. "Well, let's just say that that Lauren has got some mouth on her. And I'd like to have it on me, too. Very arousing reading material." He smiled wickedly.
"Arousing," Adam echoed blandly. He decided not to look and see how Mack had taken Lucas's mouth references. He was afraid she might have gone way beyond adorable by now. And that way lay madness. "I think 'annoying' would probably be a better word for Ms. Grable-Monroe," he concluded.
"Yeah, well, I guess I can't expect a man your age to respond to a sexy woman the way a man my age does. But, hey, you'll always have Viagra."
The last thing Adam wanted was to be part of a discussion about Viagra in front of Mack. "Please spare me. It probably hasn't been
