THE MISSING (L.A.P.D. Special Investigations Book 4) (15 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

LUKE WISHED he could snatch back the words, but as usual, it was too late. And he wasn’t going to apologize. His feelings about his father and that woman had nothing to do with Jules.

After a long silence, she finally said, “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business and I should know better. I’d blame it on my journalist training, but I’d be lying. I really wanted to know more about you.”

He stopped eating mid-bite. “Jules, if anyone knows about me, it’s you. You know me better than anyone.”

“Better than Jordan?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “Better than Jordan. And better than Rico.”

Stabbing a piece of crabmeat with the tip of her fork, she looked over. “Things change.” She dipped the meat in melted butter and lifted it to her mouth.

As he watched her slowly nip the succulent morsel between her perfect white teeth, his groin tightened. “Some things never change, no matter how much we want them to.” Like his pure animal lust for her. Like his love. His need. Which suddenly seemed overwhelming.

She glanced away. “Do you want me to check on a flight out tomorrow?”

“Yes, but we can’t go until after I talk to a couple people.”

Between Rico getting the computer information and making arrangements to set up a wiretap on Jules’s home phone in San Francisco, he figured he had all bases covered. If the guy threatening Jules was truly serious, they’d soon find out.

After dinner, they decided against coffee and opted to walk off their meal by going the long way home down the boardwalk. As they strolled, Jules popped into one tiny store after another, marveling at all the funky items for sale. They stopped to watch an artist named Tony who’d been selling his work on the beach ever since Luke moved there.

Tony’s hands glided over the paper as he created pastel sketches of tourists who wanted a memory of their visit to Venice Beach. When the last person got up, Tony urged Julianna to come sit for him.

She balked at first, but then said, “What the hell,” and plonked down in the director’s chair.

Luke watched as the artist sketched her fine cheekbones, her wide-set brandy-colored eyes and long sooty lashes. The artist captured her perfectly and when he finished, he held the sketch up for Julianna to see.

“Oh,” she said, blinking at the sketch.

“You don’t like it?” the artist asked.

She reached out for the picture. “Oh, no. I love it. It’s just that…”

Luke paid the man and said, “Just nothing. It’s beautiful.”

They walked home without saying much. The night was crisp and the air snapped with potential. He hadn’t been so relaxed…hadn’t felt so alive, since…since before Jules left.

Getting out his keys, he stopped at the front steps. “What is it about the picture you don’t like?”

She climbed to the top step, gave him a quizzical look and unrolled the picture. “I do like it…only it doesn’t look very much like me.” She tipped her head for another glance. “The woman in this picture is beautiful.”

He remembered she’d always thought she wasn’t as pretty or as smart as her sister, but he’d never taken it seriously. How could she not know what she looked like? He stepped up next to her, took her by the arms and looked directly into her eyes. “It looks exactly like you, Jules. You are beautiful.”

She’d been pretty before, but now she
was
beautiful, and he wanted to kiss her in the worst way, wanted to hold her in his arms again, and just as he was thinking it, her lips met his. Warm and soft and inviting.

It was all the encouragement he needed. He deepened the kiss, breathing in the scent of the woman he’d never been able to forget. When she melted into him, he couldn’t help the moan that escaped, couldn’t help thinking she wanted this as much as he did, and even if this was going to be the most stupid thing he’d ever done, he couldn’t stop. The only way that would happen was if she objected.

She didn’t.

Still kissing her, he fumbled to get the key into the door with his left hand and the second it was open, they moved inside as one. Her heart beat like a drum against his chest, her breathing came in short passionate spurts, and he crushed her against him, unable to get enough of her. When she reciprocated, he scooped her into his arms and headed for the bedroom. Her skin was hot.
He
was hot.

His need was so intense, they didn’t make the bedroom. He dropped onto the couch in the living room with her still in his arms. She unbuttoned his shirt, her hands like an inferno on his chest. He kissed her mouth, her ears, her eyes, her neck and her fingertips. So long. It had been so long. He wanted to devour her, to get inside her and never leave.

Dammit. He’d told himself he wasn’t going to let this happen, that he wouldn’t fall back on old feelings. But he hadn’t anticipated that she’d be so willing. And that she would fuel the fire that burned inside him. The emotional fire. It wasn’t all about sex. It was about sex with
her.

Her small moans of pleasure spurred him on. He wanted to feel her, taste her, plunge inside her. Some part of his rational mind said he should stop. Get up and walk away. But when her legs wrapped around him, he kissed her long and hard, condensing the passion, desire and frustration of all the lost years into this one moment.

“Take off your clothes,” Julianna whispered. And as he stood to undress, she began removing her clothes, too. He was stunned at her beauty and for a moment, simply stood there watching her.

“Do it,” she reminded him.

As Julianna watched him remove his pants, she was reminded of how much she loved looking at him, always had. His body was perfect, except for two scars he’d gotten from a sting gone bad. His hard muscles were evidence that he took great care to keep them that way. Workouts. He’d always been vigilant in his workouts.

But this was insane. One kiss and she was disrobing him. One kiss and she was wet, and she ached to have him inside her. She had to admit, she’d wanted to make love with Luke from the moment she’d seen him again. She’d been convinced she had enough self-control to keep her wits about her when he was around. And she had. She’d maintained her distance, both physically and emotionally. Or thought she had.

What made tonight different? As she thought it, she knew. Luke had shown a side of himself she hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t the fact that he’d said she was beautiful, but more that he’d cared enough to say it to make her feel better. And at this moment, all the self-convincing in the world couldn’t make her feelings for Luke disappear.

Without a word, he dropped down next to her, his eyes hungry and filled with something primal, as if he wanted to consume her. And, oh, man…she was more than willing to let him do it.

Still gazing into her eyes, he touched her breasts with his fingertips, gently, almost reverently. He hadn’t forgotten that she liked their lovemaking slow. Slow and seductive. Tantalizing. But tonight, she wasn’t waiting.

As they lay side by side on the couch, she reached to touch him and almost fell onto the floor. “Bedroom,” she said quickly, then got up and pulled him to his feet along with her.

The next thing she knew they were on the bed, their bodies entwined. He kissed her mouth, her earlobes, her neck, her breasts, taking time to tease the tip of one nipple with his tongue, then he kissed her belly and her thighs, all the way to her toes. On the way back up, he stopped midway, right there, pressing his lips and his tongue against her in a way she remembered oh, so well.

Her muscles contracted, her body thrummed with anticipation until she thought she might explode. He continued to tease her, bringing her just to the edge…and then he stopped and she felt his fingers, alternately stroking, then slipping inside.

A small moan of desperation escaped her throat. The combination of emotion and physical pleasure took her to another plane where the frenzied sensations brought her to the brink of ecstasy. Within seconds, her body convulsed with pleasure and she closed her eyes, giving in to the insatiable need inside her. A primitive need. A need for
him.
And only him.

Coming around, she realized he’d been watching her, but she wasn’t embarrassed. Nor repentant. She reached for him, wanting to make him desire her as much as she desired him, to need her as much as she needed him. She had to have him inside her. Now.

As her hand curved around him. he was exactly as she remembered. Her memory hadn’t played tricks on her. When he moaned, she relaxed. They were good together. So good.

In the next instant, he was on top of her, spreading her legs. He reached to get something from the nightstand. “I hope those aren’t from five years ago,” she teased.

“Nope. But they’re not new either. I’ve been saving myself.”

“Me, too,” she said, her voice low and husky. She hoped they were both talking about the same thing, but right now, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was this moment. Everything else faded into the background.

Finished sheathing himself, he kissed her again, his tongue exploring her mouth, and she kissed him back in exactly the same way and at once she was lost in the passions she remembered so well.

She’d never imagined their lovemaking could improve, but she’d been wrong. So very wrong.

His mouth raged over hers and she felt him against her, hard and ready as he entered her. It took two seconds to find the familiar rhythm they knew so well and not much longer for her to reach the point of climax again. Her body stiffened under him, muscles taut, desire rising and rising to that pinnacle when she shuddered and a thousand searing sensations ripped through her.

He moved slowly inside her, and her muscles again tightened around him as he brought her amazingly quickly to another point of no return and simultaneously gave a guttural moan, stiffened and erupted in a tempest of liquid heat.

Her heart pounded wildly, his eyes raked over her with blistering intensity. Then he lowered himself next to her, resting at her side, their breathing heavy. Making love didn’t get any better than this.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

LUKE LAY AWAKE watching Julianna sleep, her dark hair splayed across the pillow, her lips parted. Moonlight streamed through the dormer windows, highlighting her flawless skin. He reached to touch her, wanting to feel that smooth flesh under his fingers once again, then resisted and pulled his hand back.

He’d thought that quenching his desire for her would be the end of it. But it wasn’t. He wanted her again. And again. Nothing had changed in that respect.

It was stupid, but where Jules was concerned his hormones had never listened to reason. Why should they now?

They’d both succumbed to desire, to the need of the moment. It wasn’t the first time that had happened and it was stupid to make any more of it. Once after they’d separated, they’d bumped into each other at a friend’s party and at her coaxing, ended up in a hotel room together. The sex had been great and he’d thought it was her attempt to mend their relationship.

Two days later he’d been served with divorce papers.

He wasn’t going to make the emotional assumption that one night together had some deeper significance. Not again. Whatever need had driven her to make love with him five years ago was probably the same as last night. He’d be kidding himself to think of it as anything more. But he’d damn sure enjoyed it.

While he hadn’t been celibate for the past five years, he’d stopped trying to find solace through sex a long time ago, and it’d been over a year since he’d slept with a woman. He had needs and so did she. Last night they’d
needed
each other.

Still asleep, she snuggled closer. On his side, he spooned himself against her and rested his arm across her waist. Her hair smelled good and he wanted to bury his face in it. God, he missed this.

Luke’s chest constricted in pain, as if a giant python had wrapped around him and was squeezing the life away. He missed being with her, missed the way she touched him, the way she used to look at him. He missed being a family…and the closeness they shared. He missed the feeling he got knowing that someone knew everything about him…and loved him anyway.

An ache of longing gripped him.

But she was here now. They were together now. It didn’t matter what happened in a few hours when they returned to business as usual. Right now he just wanted to feel her next to him…to ease the ache in his soul.

~~~

JULIANNA ROLLED OVER, stretched her arms out on the other side of the bed. Empty. She touched his pillow. Cold. Luke had been gone a while, though his scent still lingered in the sheets. She’d slept so soundly, hadn’t awakened even once as she usually did, and she hadn’t even heard Luke get up.

She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Seven a.m. She usually worked at night, and then slept until about nine, but since Luke was already up, she should do the same, see what his plans were.

His plans. He was making all the plans. While it was a good feeling not to be in this alone, she’d gotten used to doing things for herself, making her own decisions. It was part of the personal transformation she’d desperately needed to make in order to go on.

Her blood rushed as another thought hit her. What was she going to say to Luke about last night? Nothing. Maybe it was best not to say anything. Their lovemaking had filled a need, she wasn’t going to make it into any more than that. And she hoped he wouldn’t either. Still…

Rolling over, she snuggled in for few more minutes, tugged a handful of the sheets to her face and inhaled. Couldn’t help smiling. Her libido had been dormant for so long, his every touch, every kiss, was twice as intense as the one before—as if each one might be the last and it had to be memorable. Ironic.

Being with Luke was warm and familiar, like coming home, like being with an old friend…and yet everything about last night was new and exciting.

She could see why some people got back together after a divorce. The familiarity made it easy. She didn’t need to worry about being on her best behavior or engage in all the game playing that single people did when getting to know one another. There was no pretending. They had history.

But just because they’d found comfort together for one night didn’t mean anything else had changed. They were the same two people with the same baggage as before.

Soft light filtered through the gauzy curtains covering the narrow windows, reminding her of other mornings in this room. The morning when she told Luke she was pregnant. The morning of their first anniversary when he brought her breakfast in bed. Nights after Michael was born and slept in a bassinet at their side.

Good memories, she reminded herself as she glanced around the room. It was a small room, with the big king-sized bed taking up most of the space. The old rocker that belonged to Luke’s grandmother, the dressing table where Julianna used to sit and comb her hair and…she glanced to the wall beside the door…the matching chest of drawers with the silver-framed photo on top. Her mouth went dry.

She tore her gaze away. She had many old photos herself, but in an effort to get on with her life, she’d packed them away. Except the one of Michael she kept in her wallet.

She stared at the photo, until drawn like the proverbial steel to a magnet, she slipped out of bed and crossed to the dresser. Her hand shook as she picked up the picture.

In the photo, Luke had one arm around her and was holding Michael in the other. It was a simple snapshot, taken in the back yard by one of Luke’s friends during a party. Michael’s toys were strewn in the grass around them.

With the pad of her little finger, she lightly touched Michael’s face. Her heart wrenched. Tears filled her eyes.

Mourn him, and then let him go.
Her therapist’s words intruded. With a jerky motion, she put the photo back, then walked across the hall to the shower.

Love him. Then let him go.