It Had to Be You (19 page)

She sighed. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a little nosy too?”

He smiled. “You’ll do, Ali. You’ll do. Here’s some advice—he thinks he’s so big and bad, thinks that nothing can get to him. But we both know otherwise. He’s been hurt and disappointed by people who’ve claimed to care about him. You won’t do that. You love him. You’re good for him.”

She stared at him. “I don’t—” She closed her mouth, her heart picking up speed. She couldn’t find her words. “We’re not…” She shook her head and spoke the one truth she knew for a fact. “He’s leaving.”

“You’re good for him,” Edward repeated with utter steel. “We all see it.”

She was almost afraid to ask. “Who’s all?”

“I take it you don’t go to Facebook very much.” He smiled again. “Probably for the best.”

Shaken, Ali went inside. The house was empty, but Luke had painted the living room. She walked through the kitchen, where her attention was caught by a movement outside the window. She grabbed a flashlight and headed out to the dock, finding Luke sitting there in the dark, feet dangling in the water, head tipped up, staring at the stars as if they held the secrets of the universe.

There was a bottle of Scotch at his side. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Drinking.”

Hmmm. She sat next to him and eyed the bottle. One-third gone. She eyed Luke. Probably also one-third gone. He’d been on the water, she guessed, given that he was in his board shorts, which were so low tonight as to be almost indecent. His long-sleeved T-shirt was thin and fit to his leanly muscled torso, his mouth turned up in a trouble-filled smile as he studied her right back.

He looked like sex walking, and at just the thought, her body quivered. “I’m mad at you.”

“You might have to get in line,” he said. He hesitated. “I’m sorry I was a dick.”

She sighed. “You weren’t. I care about you, Luke.”

Tilting his head up, he met her gaze, his own fathomless. “Ali—”

“I care,” she repeated. “But I’m not going to let what I feel for you—no matter how it turns out—define my happiness. No one but me can do that.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then the corners of his mouth quirked. “You’re the strongest person I know, did you know that?”

She stared at him, stunned. “No.”

“You are.” He tipped the bottle back and took a long swallow. When he was done, she held out her hand for the bottle.

With an amused glint in his eye, he handed it over.

It took less than a second for the liquor to burn a hole clear to her belly, and she coughed.

He patted her on the back and took the bottle back, and also another shot. She looked at his profile, barely outlined by the night sky, and felt her heart clench. Either she was having a heart attack or everyone else was right—she really was falling for him hard and fast. “Do you believe in love?” she asked.

It was his turn to choke, and he lowered the bottle, swiping his mouth with his arm as he stared at her.

“I’m just asking,” she said quickly. “Not declaring or anything.”

“Okay, but
why
are you asking?”

Fair enough question, but she’d sort of hoped he’d let it go. “People keep suggesting that maybe I’m falling for you.”

He stared at her. “I don’t think I’m authorized to have this conversation.”

“Hey, I’m not saying it’s true or anything,” she said defensively.
Sheesh
. “But I guess now I know how you feel about it.”

He caught her when she would have made her escape, moving faster than a man with a third of a bottle of Scotch in him should be able to move. He held her next to him on the dock in the dark, with the crickets singing and the water slapping up against the pylons below them.

So peaceful. So devastatingly peaceful.

“I enjoy your company,” he finally said.

She turned her head and gave him a glare—wasted on him because he was staring out at the water as if transfixed.

“I even crave it,” he said, sounding insultingly surprised. “More than I’d thought possible.”

“Well gee,” she said, “thanks.”

He looked at her then. “But much as I do, you know that this isn’t leading to a walk down the aisle, a tricycle in the yard, or us getting old and sharing dentures.”

“Do people actually do that? Share dentures?” The alcohol had made its way through her system now so that she felt nice and…buzzed. “Because that’s kind of ick…”

“Ali.”

“Yeah.” She blew out a breath and nodded. “I guess I knew all that already, since we’re supposedly not going to have more sex, even though we already blew that.” She paused. “But tell me again why we’re supposedly not going to have more sex?”

He paused, like he was having trouble remembering himself. “Because someone’s going to get hurt.”

“Ah.” She nodded and was relieved to find that Scotch was good for more than just a buzz. It worked as a numbing agent as well. “Something we can agree on then, because that does happen to me. Sex, then hurt. Every time so far, actually.”

He turned his head, his eyes reflecting regret and sorrow. “Ali—”

Not wanting sympathy, she grabbed the Scotch and toasted him. “To…” She broke off and considered. “Not having any more mind-blowing sex.” She took another sip. This one didn’t burn nearly as badly. In fact, it went down smoothly, and a delicious warmth began to spread within her.

Luke let out a low laugh and took the bottle back from her.

“You think I’m funny?” she asked.

“No. I think you’re dangerous as hell. And sexy as hell. And smart as hell, smarter than me.” He toasted her now. “To you, Ali.”

“For what? Driving you crazy?”

“Well, you are
very
good at it,” he said.

Now she laughed, and tried to reach for the bottle again, but she missed.
Huh.
And that’s when she noticed that her vision was blurry. She blinked, but it didn’t help, so she used both hands to try to make a double-fisted grab for the bottle and
still
missed.

He grinned. “You’re wrecked.”

“Am not.” Little bit… “So what’s the pity party about?”

“Not a pity party.” The alcohol hadn’t seemed to affect him all that greatly, though the way he was easily slouched back on the dock was evidence he was feeling pretty damn relaxed.

“All alone on the dock with a bottle of booze feels like a pity party,” she said. “What’s the matter?”

He looked at her for a minute and then shook his head. “What the hell, you’re not going to remember this anyway.”

“I’m not
that
drunk.”

“Yeah you are. You’re a lightweight.”

She’d have attempted to dispute that, but her tongue wasn’t cooperating. “Tell me.”

“It’s Thursday.”

“All day,” she agreed with a nod. In truth, she couldn’t remember
what
day it was.

“I have to go to San Francisco by this weekend,” Luke said.

“To visit?”

“No. I’m visiting here. I’m going back to stay.”

Her smile faded. “Oh,” she said softly, “right.” She’d almost forgotten there for a minute.

He tossed back another shot.

She grabbed the bottle and did the same, and then went to set it down—or at least that’s what she meant to do, but she missed the dock and it fell into the water below.

She stared down at the black, choppy water swirling beneath them. “Whoops.”

He stared at the water too. “I wasn’t done with that.”

“I’m so sorry!” She turned to fully face him, surprised to find her world spinning good now. Apparently she
was
a lightweight. “Want to go in after it?”

“Hell no. That water is damn cold tonight.”

She looked up into his face, taking in the square, scruffy jaw, the mouth that could be both firm and soft, the eyes that missed nothing, and felt her breath catch.

He was leaving.

And her mom and Edward were right. She
was
in love with him. “Luke?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re so pretty.”

He smiled. It was an uninhibited smile. A wolf smile. And it made her nipples get very perky. “I think I’m indicated.”

“Intoxicated?”

“Yeah, that.”

His smile widened.

Oh my, she thought, heart fluttering at the sight. Trying to be cool, she leaned back and ended up going the same way as the Scotch—ass over kettle backward into the waves.

Luke was right, she thought with a gasp that filled her mouth with water. The ocean was damn cold tonight.

S
hit,” Luke said, rising to his feet as Ali surfaced, sputtered, and went back under. “Shit,” he said again, and dove into the water after her.

The shock of the cold water sucked the air from his lungs as he hauled Ali into his arms, treading water for the both of them.

She was shivering, but not hurt or scared—or so he assumed by the way she laughed with abandon and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“You didn’t have to come in,” she said. “I can swim.”

Except she wasn’t. Still laughing, she was holding onto him, making no attempt to keep herself afloat. Her sundress clung to her skin, and her hair lay in dark tendrils on her shoulders.

And his.

“You weren’t kidding about the water,” she said. Clueless to the fact that he was the only thing holding her up, she wrapped herself around him like Saran Wrap. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’ll let you know when my balls defrost.”

This set her off laughing again, and she dropped her head to his chest.

Shaking his head and smiling in spite of himself, he gathered her in close and got them both to the shore. When he dragged her out of the water, she dropped to her knees.

“That was fun,” she said. “Let’s do it again.”

He took in her grinning face. Her eyes were shining as bright as the stars, and just looking at her was a kick in the gut.

He was leaving.

How was he going to leave her?

And why did it matter so much? They’d known each other for a blink in time. But already she was a tie, binding him here to this place he loved so much. He felt his mouth curve in genuine amusement when she stared at him. “Whoa,” she said, “you’re making my world spin.”

“Pretty sure that’s the Scotch,” he said, but he dropped to his knees next to her.

She leaned into him, letting out a soft, dreamy sigh. “I’m pretty sure it’s you,” she said softly. Then she cupped his face, pulled it to hers, and kissed him, long and hot and wet.

He let himself get lost in her for a deliciously long moment, then pulled free. “You’re toasted.”

“Mmm…toast,” she purred. “I really like peanut butter toast. When I first moved out on my own, I used to eat peanut butter for dinner ’cuz it was cheap. I’d stick a spoon in the jar and lick it slowly, like a lollipop, to make it last.”

He felt his heart clench again, hard. And utterly unable to help himself, he tugged her back in and kissed her again. She tasted of Scotch and warm, sweet Ali. And something else.

She tasted like his.

“You know,” she said very seriously, “you’re all wet.”

He laughed.

She grinned up at him, clearly pleased at the sound. She spread her arms and lay back, eyeing the sky. “You don’t see this many stars in White Center, you know. Too many lights. Plus going outside at night was a huge, big, no-no. My cousin Lacey went outside at night once, to get her schoolbooks out of her mom’s car, and never came back.”

“Jesus,” he said, all amusement fading. “What happened?”

With a sigh, she closed her eyes. “They found her body two days later in the river.”

He leaned over her, stroking the wet hair from her face. He wanted to erase all the bad in her world and leave only the good, but as he was a part of the bad, he had no idea how to do that. “Tell me they caught the guy,” he said.

“It was her boyfriend. Turned out, he’d won a big pile of cash at the slots that day, and she’d stolen it from him.” She sighed again, maybe thinking about the money she was accused of stealing. “Can I have another shot?”

“It’s gone.” He stroked the wet hair from her face. “And besides, that’s not what you need.”

“No?”

“No,” he said, and picked her up into his arms.

“Oh,” she said, clutching at him. “Are you taking me in, Officer?”

“Yes.”

“Are you gonna interrogate me?”

“No, you’re going to exercise your right to be silent.” He carried her into the house, set her down by her bed and stared at her sundress, which was clinging to her like a second skin.

A
sheer
skin, and there were no buttons or zipper on the front.

“I don’t do silent so well,” she said.

No shit.

“Maybe you should get out your cuffs,” she said kinda hopefully.

His body went from zero to sixty at the image of her cuffed to his bed, begging him to take her however he wanted.

And he wanted. He wanted her in every possible way. With a hand to her hips, he turned her away from him and finally located a zipper. He slid it down and gulped.

No bra.

Thong panties.

Close your eyes, asshole
, he told himself as he peeled the drenched and clinging dress down her curvy bod.

But he didn’t close his eyes.

Biting back the groan at the perfection in front of him, he reached past her, pulled the blankets down, and poured her into the bed.

“Can’t go to bed with wet hair,” she said, rolling to her back, exposing her breasts. “It’ll get crazy.”

He wasn’t sure how she could tell the difference, but he loved her crazy hair. “It’s good,” he said, stroking it from her face.

“Really?”

“Really.” Her nipples were hard, two perfect gumdrops, and his mouth watered. He yanked the covers up to her chin.
There.
He was sweating, and feeling like he should be awarded a medal for being a saint.

Ali made a soft, disagreeable sound and kicked the blankets off, revealing her glorious body again. And then, before he could stop her, she grabbed his hand and tugged until he fell on top of her.

Well, okay, so he
could
have stopped her, but he didn’t, and he didn’t really want to think about that, because then she wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding him there.

“Mmm,” she said dreamily.

He let out a low laugh against her temple and tried to extricate himself, but every time he freed a limb, she tightened another. She was silent through this, eyes closed. Then suddenly she opened them and looked right into his. “You haven’t left yet.”

Sucker punched right in the gut because he knew she didn’t mean right this moment. She meant that the men in her life left her. All of them. “It’s my house,” he teased, not in any shape to have this conversation.

But she didn’t laugh, and that took him aback. He stopped trying to free himself. “Ali,” he said, low. Desperate. “I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

“Well, don’t.” She rocked up into him and moaned.

The sound gave him a rush. “You’re going to sleep,” he said firmly.

“Who will keep my feet warm?”

“I’ll get you an extra blanket.”

“A stick in the mud,” she muttered. “Who’d have thought that the hot, sexy Luke Hanover’s nothing but a stick in the mud?”

“You’ll thank me in the morning.” Again he pulled the blanket up to her chin, firmly tucking her in so that he wasn’t tempted to do anything stupid.

“My panties are wet.”

He dropped his forehead to hers.

“And my shoes are still on.”

He sat back on his heels. Again she kicked the covers off and lifted her foot for him to remove her sandal.

He pressed her foot to his chest and went to work on the buckle over her ankle, doing his damnedest not to notice that her panties were as sheer as her dress had been.

A white lace thong that barely covered her mound.

She smiled up at him, her eyes soft and dreamy and glazed over. He felt the helpless smile curve his mouth in return. “You’re trouble,” he said. “You know that?”

“I’ve been told.”

An innocent response, but it reminded him of exactly how often she’d been disappointed and hurt. He was
not
going to be one of those men.

Ever.

“I also tend to drive people crazy,” she said. “Especially men. I drove all my mom’s men right off. She’d say ‘Oh, Ali-gator, there goes another one.’ I’m pretty good at doing it to my own men too, driving them off.” She sat up and tried to pile her hair on top of her head using the hair band she’d had around her wrist, but she was having some coordination issues. And then the thing got stuck in her hair, so there she sat, in her barely there panties, arms up over her head, hands entangled in her hair, looking like a walking/talking wet dream.

“Luke?”

Deciding it was safest to leave her hands restrained, he ignored her, the same way he was trying to ignore the unintentionally gut-wrenching tales of her life, as he fought her sandal off.

“Hey,” she said, tugging on her hair.

“Hey, yourself.” When he finally got her sandals off, he leaned in carefully to take over the hair fiasco. He managed some sort of bun, though it was lopsided.

She smiled at him in gratitude, all flushed, a little damp, and looking hotter than anything he could possibly imagine. “Kiss me, Luke.”

A demanding drunk, he thought, amused, and gave her a short, sweet smackeroo.

But he’d greatly underestimated her determination.

“Mmm,” she said, wrapping him up tight in her arms, deepening the kiss, drawing him into her nefarious plans like a moth to the flame. He let her have her way—hell, who was he kidding, he probably wanted it even more than she did—but when she slid her hands beneath his shirt and then paused, he sucked in a breath. A few moments ago he’d been trying to extract himself but now all he could think was:
Up or down, Ali?

She chose up first, brushing his nipples, tugging a low groan from him. Then down, over his abs and farther, her fingers playing with the tie on his board shorts.

When she tugged, he caught her hands and pinned them above her head. He had no idea where the hell he found the strength, but he couldn’t let her do this. He kept trying not to get sucked in by her.

And kept failing. But she had the singular ability to both break his heart and make him yearn and burn.

He’d told Sara she was work, but she wasn’t work at all. Nor was she a vacation diversion. She was…real. The first real thing in his life in far too long.

Ali fought a hand free and touched his face. “You’re a good man, Luke, you know that?”

With a groan, he tried to concentrate on anything besides the sexy, warm woman beneath him. Her curves were pressed up against him, chest to chest, hips to hips, thighs to thighs.

But that’s not what was grabbing him by the throat and holding on. As always, it was her eyes. And all the things he could see there, which was everything, every single thing, including the fact that she cared about him.

Far more than he deserved.

He dropped his head to the pillow beside hers, thinking here she was, all sweet and sleepy, snuggling up to him. And here
he
was, wanting to fuck her until she screamed his name.

Some good guy.

“Ali.” She didn’t answer.

He lifted his head to kiss her goodnight because he
was
leaving.

Right now.

But caressing her hair from her face, he had to laugh softly. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, her limbs loose and relaxed.

She was fast asleep.

And he hurt just looking at her. Pressing his lips to her temple, he breathed her in. “You’re perfect,” he whispered, “just the way you are.”