Authors: Paula Roe
Oh, sweet heaven.
He nipped at her jaw, following the trail left by his fingers. She let her eyes close in pleasure.
“Is this so bad?” His rough voice against her neck was doing a serious number on her nerves.
“No.”
Not bad…so very good.
“So you have no objections to this?” He reached the base of her throat and gently nuzzled her flesh. She groaned. “Or this?”
His hand slid up her body, past her waist, over her ribs. When he reached the swell of her breast, she released a hiss.
Every tingling pulse rushed through her veins, making it impossible to fight the feeling. She realized she didn’t want to fight it. Maybe it was because she’d been alone for so long and had missed the physical side of passion. Maybe she needed to be touched after an eternity of nothing. Maybe she was secretly wishing he would make love to her.
Maybe it was his hot breath whispering in her ear, the urgent press of his groin against hers.
Beth could taste him in every pore. Like a fire that had started in the pit of her belly, her body was hot and molten—and then she was wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him flush against her heat. She could see him behind her eyelids, could smell, feel, taste him.
It had been so long since she had been kissed.
Been wanted.
No one had touched her like this, in a way that she forgot all reason.
He was caressing the length of her back now and her skin itched for his fingers to touch her all over. Her breath came in short and irregular gasps, barely an inch away from his teasing lips. Was she whimpering like a love-starved virgin? She must be because Luke skimmed his bottom lip lightly over hers and whispered, “You want me to kiss you?”
“Mmm.”
Slowly, inch by aching inch, he covered her mouth with his.
Luke De Rossi not only looked like a kissing master, he was hands down one of the best. Her breath merged with his, stirring a long-forgotten ache deep inside, flaring up to lick her body in need. It attacked the part of her mind that controlled rational thought, eating away at her reservations.
He stroked his hands down her arms, creating shivering goose bumps in his wake.
“You want me to stop?” he muttered against her mouth. “I will if you want me to.”
She wanted to give in to him, so much that it made her chest ache. “I…”
She wanted him. For the first time in her life she wanted to leap on in and damn the consequences, grab everything he offered—every no-strings-attached kiss, every blood-boiling caress.
But that would mean giving something in return. Something she’d worked ten years to protect.
With a groan, she snapped open her eyes. Luke continued his assault on her neck as she tried to pull back, gasping as his teeth nibbled at her flesh.
Frantically, she pushed. “Stop.”
He stumbled but regained his feet quickly. The arousal in his heavy eyes held a shot of confusion.
“Beth—”
“We shouldn’t…” She cleared her throat. “This isn’t professional. My life is good. I’m happy. I don’t want—” She swallowed thickly. “I don’t do casual sex.”
“There’d be nothing casual about it.” His husky timbre sounded like a promise. It made her insides quiver.
“No.” She hated the way her denial came out breathy, almost expectant. Anger at her weakness gave her voice more strength when she said, “No. We’re in the middle of a crazy situation and I don’t need another distraction. Not now.”
“Is that all this would be—a distraction?”
“Yes.” She glanced away, wrapping her arms around her waist. She could still feel his heat, still smell his scent on her clothes. She still wanted his mouth on hers.
When he didn’t respond, she chanced a look.
He was shaking his head, a frown creasing his brow.
Her restraint faltered and she let out a breath. “Look,” she said, shoving a loose lock of hair back behind her ears with an efficient sweep. “What we’ve got is a basic physiological reaction to a stressful situation. It heightens senses and emotions.” She smiled tightly. “When there’s a sense of danger, the body’s response is to procreate.”
“Really.”
Beth shrugged. “Hey, it’s physiology.”
Luke studied her intently, but she just stood there, a firm smile on those lips he’d been devouring not twenty seconds ago. Hell, he ached for her like he’d been celibate for five years and not just three months. So it had to be
something.
He ran a hand through his hair, wishing it were hers.
“So, no more kissing,” he said.
“Right.” Beth nodded.
“Yes.”
“Mmm.”
Luke watched her gather up the oils and refold the table as if she were performing groundbreaking brain surgery. She wasn’t bothering to deny their attraction anymore and that should’ve pleased him. But it didn’t. Far from it.
He might have been fooled into thinking she delivered mind-numbing kisses often, ones that chewed up a guy’s insides and sent his heart racing. Until he caught a vague look of disappointment as she turned away. Sure, she could rationalize it all she wanted, but Luke knew the truth.
He wanted her. And she wanted him right back.
Beth Jones was unlike anyone he’d ever met. She didn’t disguise the fact that she wanted him out of her life. Yet she was physically attracted, an attraction they both sensed every time he got within arm’s length. When every other woman would have told him loud and clear how they felt, she hid it behind a biology lesson. Her blatant denial intrigued him.
Yeah, but you’ve gotta think with your head, Luke.
Your career is everything, always has been. And that’s the way you like it. Face it—you’re a disaster when it comes to relationships.
And he didn’t want to hurt Beth.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Luke finally said.
She remained silent until he raised one questioning eyebrow.
“Towels are in the cupboard above the sink.”
He took the stairs two at a time and Beth managed to keep her composure. But when he disappeared into the bathroom, she collapsed into the couch with a mutter of dismay.
His skin, the play of his muscles beneath her fingers, had been better than she imagined. A scar in the shape of a circular constellation marred the perfection, along with another silver slash of puckered skin low on his waist. She’d bitten her lip to stop from leaning down and gently kissing away the massage oil.
Beth heard the shower turn on…and an image swam into her mind of Luke naked, water running over his chest, abdomen…
Stop it. Stop it now.
With a grievous sigh, she stood and headed off to the kitchen, unsure and unsettled.
Much later that night, after she’d eaten a quick chicken sandwich alone in the kitchen, Beth ran herself a bath and sank into the warm bubbles with a relieved groan.
Behind her head, scented candles flickered on a small shelf, their reflection bouncing from the huge, gold-edged mirror opposite and ending in a subtle play of light on the water’s surface.
The bathroom was her thinking space and she loved it best of all—from the high whitewashed ceiling, the Grecian tiles framing the doorway, the hanging green plants, to the skylight that showed off a clear starry night.
It should have been a haven tonight. But escape was impossible. The house was still and quiet, but an underlying anticipation hung in the air, as if it was waiting to see what changes the newcomer would bring.
Luke dwarfed her spare room, just as he was dwarfing her life, helping himself to a part of it as if she was an amicable participant. She took a deep breath, her lungs filling with steam and scent, and exhaled in a rush.
Luke had to know how out of place he was here, how much he disrupted her sense of order. She’d told him straight what she wanted. Now she had to
persuade.
She’d show him she belonged here, that her stamp was firmly on this place, in every book, every cup, every comfy cushion. It was her task to convince him, so when he went back to work, he’d soon forget whatever attraction this place held and take her up on her offer.
Peace and sanity would return. Even if it meant working long hours for the next twenty years to pay him off, she’d do it.
Yet why did that give her such an unsatisfied feeling in the pit of her stomach? The cooling water washed over her breasts as she shifted in the tub. She shivered and quickly stood, then slowly stepped out.
She
had
to do this. Getting hysterical or wishing the situation could be different wouldn’t change anything. At her mother’s funeral she’d made a solemn eighteen-year-old vow: never give in to the dark well of depression and self-doubt her mother had suffered, thanks in part to her father’s infidelities and mind games.
Well,
she
wasn’t going to crumble, Beth decided as she padded into her bedroom. She stood strong and fought for what she wanted.
It was just a matter of waiting it out.
After she put on her pajamas and lay staring at the ceiling for ages, exhaustion that came with thinking too much finally claimed her.
Eight
“H
ey, Beth, can I catch a lift with you this morning?”
Her store assistant, Laura, sounded flustered. Beth balanced the phone at her ear as she smeared peanut butter on her toast. “Car troubles again? Have you called the mechanic?”
“Yeah. They won’t be here until after ten.”
Beth watched Luke walk silently into the kitchen, clad in a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. Memories of yesterday’s kiss came flooding back and with it, heat to parts of her body she didn’t want to think of him touching.
“No problem. See you soon.” She hung up and poured a glass of juice. “Morning.”
“Morning.” His all-seeing eyes swept over her, sending her pulse rocketing. “Sleep well?”
“Yeah,” she lied. “You?”
“Like a log for once. And I don’t have that nagging ache here.” He cupped the back of his neck.
“I told you it’d work. Now all you need is a couple more days’ rest and you’ll be as good as new.”
Luke helped himself to coffee, looking much too at-home as he leaned against her counter.
“Going to work?” He nodded, taking in her business shirt, short skirt and flat sandals.
“Yep.”
“Is that wise?”
A hell of a lot wiser than being cooped up here with you, no buffer zone in sight.
“I have paying clients. And anyway, you can relax better without me around.”
Luke looked dissatisfied with her reasoning. “You got something I can do around here?”
“No.”
“What about that?” He nodded in the direction of the pantry, where the door was off its hinges and resting against the stove.
“It needs sanding then the hinges need to be realigned. I can do it.”
“So can I.”
“I’d rather you not—”
“Don’t make me pull rank on you, Beth.” His words were soft but his eyes firm. “I own the place, remember?”
Beth felt her face flush, but shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “Fine. Do what you want.” Now she sounded petulant and that annoyed her more than anything. But it irked her that he had every right to paint the place in pink polka dots if he so chose.
“I got a call from Dylan last night,” Luke said. “He accessed your runaway’s cell-phone records. Plus, he’s also checking flight schedules.”
Beth’s heart skipped a beat. “He could’ve left the country?”
“What would you do if you’d stolen half a million?”
Beth exhaled slowly. “So the money could be gone forever.”
“Not necessarily. Let’s see what turns up.”
She nodded absently, her head whirling. More waiting. She’d be a world champion by the end of it.
“I’ll get started on that door, then chop that firewood in the backyard.” He massaged his shoulder. “Need to keep busy.”
“Not used to being idle, huh?”
“Hate it,” he admitted, and as she gave him a small smile, the lines on his face softened. “Lying on a beach with a book was my idea of hell.” He put his elbows on the counter and leaned back. “Until that massage.”
She knew he wanted to add something more, make some comment about their kiss, but he let his eyes do all the talking.
“I’ve got to go,” she muttered and beat a hasty retreat.
Luke watched her leave, wondering for the umpteenth time since yesterday how one woman could be so damn frustrating.
Connor would say it was because his obsession with fixing things had encountered a brick wall. Marco would add, “Because sometimes things can’t be solved with a charming smile, bro!” with a wink and a grin.
Maybe.
He grappled with the real reason, as if by wrestling with it he could reduce it to ashes. But he was plumb out of luck. The answer was purely selfish.
Attraction.
She wasn’t his type—too secretive, too stubborn, too take-charge. He liked everything straightforward, out in the open, no surprises. Yet there was something about her that got his blood pumping anyway.
He missed having a woman in his life. Missed the way they felt, their smell, their laughter. Their softness.
It was strange, having a woman refuse his help even when she was so obviously neck deep in problems. But Beth had made it clear she could function perfectly well without him and would continue to do so long after he was out of the picture.
So why did that rub him the wrong way so much?
Beth refused to spoil her day by thinking about her former bookkeeper. Instead, she focused on what she could control: namely, her attraction to Luke De Rossi. So when she picked up Laura she was on the receiving end of a one-sided conversation all the way to work. As she nodded and responded in the appropriate places, her conscience held up its end.
Be honest—you want him. What do you have to lose if you succumb to temptation for once? If you let him kiss you, touch you?
Her control. Not to mention her professional ethics and privacy.
Ha. You were interested long before that massage. And
no one can take something from you you’re not willing to give
.
Sure. It’d only take one eager reporter, one mistake, and your whole life could be exposed. Again.
She focused on the road with exaggerated concentration just as she tried to convince herself she wouldn’t care when Luke was gone. She’d be glad. Glad.
A hand waved in front of her face. “Still with me here?”
“Huh?” Beth blinked.
Laura rolled her eyes. “The light’s green. I asked if we need to do a double order on our cranberry oils for Christmas.”
“No.” Beth tempered her abruptness with an apologetic smile and pressed the accelerator. “Sorry. I have a lot on my mind.”
Laura shot her a sideways glance. “Anything to do with that sneaky little rat Ben?”
“Got it in one.” She smiled weakly.
“Well, thank me for clearing your morning appointments today. I rescheduled everyone so we could go through yesterday’s new shipment. Oh, and Jack Benson says he hopes you feel better.”
Ahh, Jack, her plantar fasciitis retiree. “Am I sick?”
“Nope. People just assumed anything else wouldn’t keep you away.”
As the traffic ground to a halt again, Beth gave the younger girl her full attention. Her employee had the kind of personality and looks that could coax a smile from a statue—she’d be dangerous if she were self-centered. But Laura was the nicest person she’d ever known.
“Do you think I’m a workaholic?” Beth asked.
“
Weeeell…
You are. A bit.”
And honest to a fault.
“I see.”
“The last time you took a day off was… Actually, you’ve never taken a day off. Since when’ve you had the chance to just lie on the beach and veg? Or come to think of it, been out on a date?”
Beth snorted. “And why haven’t you said anything before?”
Laura shrugged. “You never asked before. And you
like
working. The weird thing is you’re our target market, but you don’t practice what you preach.”
“And you think I need a man.”
“No. I think you need a little fun.” Laura grinned again. “And a little sex wouldn’t hurt.”
They pulled into the parking lot and Beth wound down her window for the ticket, effectively cutting off Laura’s train of thought.
If someone had told her a week ago she’d be sharing a house with Luke De Rossi, running from reporters and hunting down an ex-employee and a missing half-million dollars, she would’ve laughed in their face.
A shiver shot down her back. Yes, Luke seemed to be helping with her Ben problem. And she was attracted to him. But the issue wasn’t physical, it was mental. She didn’t want to let him into her life, into her secrets. Her head screamed danger every time she laid eyes on him.
Even if her body screamed the opposite.
At exactly nine-thirty, Beth and Laura walked down the mall toward a darkened shop front.
“Smell that,” Laura said softly as Beth unlocked the doors and whooshed them open.
Beth took a deep breath, punching in a security code as Laura flicked on the lights. “Frangipani, lavender. Lemongrass.”
“I can smell coffee,” Laura singsonged, dangling a bag of gourmet beans between two fingers. They both grinned.
“You fill the pot and I’ll fix things up here,” said Beth. She selected a key and switched on the cash register, straightened the flyers on the counter, then placed an errant pen in a cup.
Casting an eye over the familiar interior, she breathed in again with a smile, loving the crazy mix of scents that hit her senses. The place wasn’t huge, but she’d made use of every available space. A giant oak tree mural decorated the walls, each branch a protruding glass shelf that displayed various jellies, lotions and powders. Bath bombs, frothies and bottles of shower gel were divided in four tiers on the trunk and a small white sink sat discreetly in the wall, a half-empty body-wash tester bottle on the side.
As usual, everything was in its place.
This was her reality. It was just another normal day.
Please
.
Crossing her fingers, she turned to the office, drawn in by the delicious coffee bean and mocha aroma.
Laura turned from the kitchenette and held out a packet of cookies. “Biscuit?”
“This early?”
“It’s never too early for Tim Tams.”
Beth grinned, plucked out a chocolate-covered cookie and munched slowly. “You want to check out the stock while we eat and drink?”
“Thought you’d never ask. I’ve got my eye on those new bath bombs.”
Beth made good use of the internet on her lunch break, searching for anything and everything on Luke De Rossi and Gino Corelli, then making a call to the titles office and local legal aid. Armed with new knowledge, she felt the rest of the day fly by until finally, at five-thirty, she dropped Laura off at her apartment then made her way home.
The sensationalist articles were no surprise. But what she hadn’t expected was the absence of Luke in the society and gossip columns.
She sighed, reluctant admiration warring with self-preservation as she pulled into her driveway. Despite how she personally felt about him, Luke was the quintessential high achiever and proud of it. A perfectionist. A man who was doing everything to protect his career. Who still reminded her of every arrogant, demanding suit she’d met, despite the man’s overwhelming charm.
Yet he’d still ended up poking holes in her prejudices. He could’ve stepped back and called in his high-flying lawyers but he hadn’t. He could’ve left her on the airport tarmac. And he could’ve escaped that reporter crush alone, but instead he’d shielded her from the cameras, even offered to help her with the missing money. For all his alleged faults gleefully detailed in the press, actions spoke louder than tainted words.
And Beth felt like a certifiable ingrate.
As she slammed the car door and strode up the porch steps, the mouthwatering smell of garlic and onions hit her as soon as she swung the door open.
With a thick swallow and deep breath, she walked into the kitchen then peeked in the oven.
Lasagna.
Her smile stretched as she caught sight of the newly hinged pantry door, then the clean sink, the dust-free countertop....
And a bunch of potted gerberas in the center of the kitchen table.
Luke had certainly made himself at home.
“Luke?” She walked slowly into the living room only to finally notice the ominous silence.
“Hello?” She went to the back door and looked out. The silence was so thick she could have walked on it. Despite her quiet reassurances, panic slowly bubbled to the surface.
She was about to race up the stairs, but opted to explore the backyard further. It sloped down toward the riverbank and could obscure her vision of a fully grown man.
Sure enough, when she strode over the rise there he sat on the grass, his back to her, reclining on his elbows, his face accepting the late sunshine in lazy worship.
Beth had to take another inward breath to calm her pounding heart, gently tugging on her necklace as the beat gradually slowed.
Luke must have sensed her, because he turned, sending her a smile that heated her quicker than a January summer’s day—and her heart picked up again. “Hey, there.”
She swallowed, shading her eyes with a hand. “Hi.”
He turned fully this time, sprang to his feet with all the fluid motion of a man who kept his body in perfect shape. “You cooked,” she said faintly.
“I did promise you lasagna.”
She returned his smile, clamping down on the sudden surge of need. Nervously, she rubbed one palm against her leg.
Luke shoved his hands into his back pockets and the T-shirt pulled taut across his chest, leaving her breath in a hitch as muscles strained against well-worn cotton.
“How was work?”
“Good.”
“No phone calls, no problems?”
“If you don’t count the usual ‘where’s our money?’ call from the bank.”