Chapter 19
"Visits are limited to fifteen minutes."
Lucky was shown into the room where, a week earlier, Devon had met briefly with her husband. "I understand," he said to the official. "Thank you for arranging this meeting on such short notice."
During the bleak hours of the night before, it had occurred to Lucky that the manly thing to do would be to confront Devon's husband.
He wasn't yet sure what he was going to say to Greg Shelby. Was he supposed to say that he was sorry for making love to Devon? What an appalling thought. He wasn't sorry for it in the slightest. To say so would be a lie. He supposed he would just come right out and tell the man that he was in love with his wife.
That, too, had occurred to him during the bleak hours of the night.
For all his philandering, he'd always figured that one day there would be a woman who would make sexual fidelity not only an obligation but a pleasure. Devon Haines was that woman. She had made monogamy the only form of sexual activity he wanted to engage in.
As Tanya had done for Chase, Devon had made all other women pale in comparison. She could fulfill his every need and make fulfilling hers a lifetime challenge that he would look forward to meeting.
The idea of his child growing inside Devon gave him goose bumps. It was probably the goose bumps, and the lump that had formed in his throat at the thought of making a baby with her, that convinced him it was love.
Hand in hand with love came honor. That was one lesson the Tyler children had been taught by both their parents. If you loved people, you might hurt them, disappoint them, anger them, but you never, ever, dishonored them.
It was that code of honor that had compelled him to drive through the gates of the country club prison to meet with her husband.
"Are you Tyler?"
At the sound of the voice, Lucky came around and got his first look at Greg Shelby. Mentally he sighed with relief. He'd dreaded meeting a Mel Gibson lookalike garbed in righteous martyrdom and prison stripes.
Instead, facing him was a tanned, nice-looking guy—but not one Sage would deem a hunk. It pleased him to note that Shelby's hair was thinning.
"Mr. Shelby?"
"That's right."
Carrying a chip on his shoulder the size of Mount Rushmore, he moved into the room and sat down on the sofa, laying his arm along the back of it. His nonchalance surprised Lucky. Surprised and provoked. Why wasn't the son of a bitch going for his throat? Didn't Devon deserve that?
Shelby said, "I don't have to ask what you want to see me about, do I?"
"I guess you don't. You read all about it in the newspapers."
"So did everybody else," he remarked bitterly.
Lucky sat down in a chair adjacent to the sofa. The two men squared off and eyed each other. "I'm sorry you found out about it that way," Lucky said, meaning it. "I know it couldn't have been easy on you, but it was a helluva lot worse on Devon."
Shelby snorted. "She's not in prison, though, is she?"
"She didn't commit a crime."
Lucky's bluntness momentarily took Shelby aback. Then he grinned slyly. "Some would think that what she did with you was a crime."
"I don't. And you don't either."
"How do you know what I think, Tyler?"
"If you were torn up over her adultery, we wouldn't be discussing it so casually."
Shelby gave him another wily grin and said sarcastically, "You're right. Devon's a veritable saint. Her only crime was marrying a guy destined for prison."
Lucky leaned back in his chair as though they were discussing the baseball season instead of an issue that, depending on the outcome, could determine his future.
"I wonder why she did that?"