The Man From her Wayward Past

Tossing the phone on the bed, she grabbed her birthday shawl—which she’d slept with all night. Wrapping it round her shoulders, she arranged it carefully over a mountainous expanse of unfettered breast, crimping it into folds over her already Luke-eager nipples. Clutching her chest, as if that would somehow hold her heart steady, she remained frozen in place for around two seconds, and then sprang into action with a frantic scramble to clear up the mess. Not that there was much mess, as she didn’t have many possessions.

Seizing a hairband from the side, she arranged her wild black bed-hair in what she hoped was a sexy, messy up-do—then groaned when she caught sight of herself in the flyblown mirror. How would Luke like her early-morning look? Not a lot, she guessed, fumbling with a tube of toothpaste. There was no time to clean her teeth, but she could rub some on her gums.

A glance out of the window confirmed that Luke had arrived from Planet Fabulous, where no one rose late or looked anything other than their best. Snug-fitting jeans moulded his powerful legs and displayed those alarming contours, while his cowboy boots only added to the sense of a man who didn’t give a damn what anyone thought, let alone cared about fashion. Although the red sweater beneath his heavy-duty jacket gave a surprisingly cuddly twist to a man who looked strong enough to crush a rock in his fist.

Chomping on her lips to make them pinker, she already knew that any preparation she might make was too little too late. Luke looked amazing—even better than last night.

Sweeping a hopeless jumble of empty take-out boxes, crisp packets, chocolate wrappers and soda cans from the table onto the floor, she heeled them under the seat, making it to the door with barely a second to spare.

‘Luke,’ she said, forcing the tin door open with a well-timed kick. She stood, arms crossed, barring his way.

‘Are we going to move inside, or are we going to stand out here getting wet?’ he said, glancing up as a particularly malevolent storm cloud emptied its payload on the impossibly wide sweep of his shoulders.

‘I’m sorry. Come in.’

Luke took in everything as he mounted the steps.

‘Welcome to my world,’ she said, fingers tensely white as she clutched the shawl.

‘I hope you’re joking.’

‘Why would I be?’ she said defensively.

‘Where do I begin?’ Luke cast a critical glance around.

‘Well, you can leave right now if all you’re here for is to find fault.’

Luke only had to ease position slightly to assure her that he had no intention of going anywhere.

CHAPTER SEVEN

He loves me … He loves me not. He loves me … He loves me not. At least not in the way I need him to love me.

LUKE’S expression might be fierce and dark, but she was ready for him. Remembering his teasing kisses, she so wasn’t up for brotherly concern.

‘Why are you here?’ She tried to keep her voice light, remembering her determination that, whatever happened, somehow they must remain friends.

‘Can’t I even visit you now?’ Luke’s black brows snapped together.

‘That depends.’

‘On what?’ He looked angrier than she had ever seen him. ‘Whether I shake my head and tell you how this really looks to me, or if I pussyfoot around and pat you on the back for doing so well for yourself, Lucia?’

‘That’s hardly fair—’

‘Can I sit down?’ he interrupted.

‘I think you better had,’ she agreed tensely.

Luke couldn’t even stand straight in the van, the ceiling was so low. And his shoulders took up most of the width. He was one of the few men, apart from her brothers, who could make her feel small. Bringing the cover down, he avoided sitting on her sheets. She liked that—but not the way Luke was acting. It reminded her too much of her brothers when they were in we-must-bring-Lucia-back-into-line mode.

‘I can’t believe you’re living here, Lucia,’ Luke ground out, confirming her thoughts.

‘And what’s wrong with here?’ she said tensely.

‘I doubt it’s even safe.’

‘Of course it’s safe.’