Best Laid Plans Read Online Free

and turned. Gray eyes collided with brown.
    He was no stranger.
    She blinked twice. "Lucas?"
The name was whispered, her memory questioned. Amanda stopped, cocked her head
and stared. "Lucas!" She began to run, literally skidding to a halt
in front of him.
    The hazel eyes that surveyed her were
as familiar as the truant dark curl that insisted on falling against his broad
forehead. Lines had etched his wide brow, crinkled the corners around his eyes,
subtly aging his rugged, sun-bronzed features. The rangy, long-legged,
loose-limbed body had filled out; the virile masculine physique was accented by
the impeccably tailored clothes.
    Amanda lifted her hand, a gentle
fingertip ruffled the thick, dark moustache that shrouded his firm upper lip.
"Lucas Crosse, whenever did you grow this?"
    Pulling his head back, he lunged
forward and snapped at her finger like a turtle. "I thought it would
toughen up this face. Give it that distinguished barrister look," Lucas
explained in his best sanctimonious, courtroom manner. His own pomposity made
him grin, and two dimples dented his lean cheeks, making a mockery of his
officious tone.
    "You look beautiful." Had
it really been two years since he'd last seen her? Funny, whenever he read her
letters or heard her melodic voice on the phone, his mind replayed visual
souvenirs. But the pictures weren't of this Amanda.
    If anything, she was more attractive
than he'd remembered. Her face had broadened, though the chin was still
pointedly determined. Her eyes had always reminded him of the mist on a
Highland moor - mysterious, patient, clouded with dreams. Today they sparked
with flames, reflecting the red suede outfit that defined a more womanly
anatomy. Two large hands cupped her face before rumpling the nimbus of sienna
curls. "Amanda Wyatt, whatever have you done to your hair?" Lucas'
deep voice mimicked.
    She wrinkled her pert nose. "It
was a birthday present: to me from me. That midback braid suddenly got very
heavy and old, so -" two fingers made a scissors-like movement through the
tousled curls. Amanda's smooth brow furled with consternation. "Lucas, what's
the matter? What's happened?" Her hands seized his jacket sleeves.
"Are your folks all right?"
    He captured her fingers, threading
them between his own. "Nothing is the matter, and my folks are just fine.
My mother is still raving over that peignoir set you sent her for
Christmas." He winked, "and so is my dad."
    Tilting her head, Amanda aimed an
accusing glance. "Then what are you doing here?"
    "You make it sound like I've
flown in from another planet instead of Dallas," Lucas teased. His
knuckles landed a velvet punch against her jaw. "On the expert advice of
my tax man, I've decided to contribute some hard-earned bucks to the Cancer
Society. I packed my black tie and came to view your latest triumph." His
arm made a gallant sweep toward the stage.
    "Lucas, I don't believe you for
a minute," came her peremptory announcement. "Your right eyebrow
always wiggles when you lie." Amanda folded her arms across her breasts;
the toe of her shoe tapped a censuring refrain against the gold-and-green
patterned carpet.
    "It's a damn good thing you'll
never sit on one of my juries," he grumbled, eyes half-hooded from her
ominous gaze. Lucas winced and rubbed his face. "All right, Mandy, if you
want to know the truth, I was damn worried about you."
    "Why?"
    "Why?" He gave an
exasperated snort. "Because when I called last week and sang 'Happy
Birthday,' my off-key baritone didn't get its usual laugh." It was his
turn to focus an interrogative stare. "I didn't even get a conciliatory
chuckle, just a polite thank you for the earrings." He sucked in his
cheeks. "Too polite."
    "Lucas, I love the
earrings." Her thumb and forefinger caressed the gold leafs that dangled
from her earlobe. "You mean you came here just because I didn't sound
right?"
    "Call it ESP. I remember flying
much farther on the same feeling."
    Amanda found herself blinking
rapidly,