Luc (Rossi Brothers) Read online

  She pulled her hand back, tucking her fists beneath her arms instead. “Why did you bring me out here?”

  “Because you were uncomfortable, and I didn’t want to have this conversation in front of Nosy Rosie in there.” Luc rested his elbows on his knees, folded his hands between them, and grinned, boyish and charming.

  Okay, she hadn’t expected him to say that. She’d expected … judgment. The ladies at church would’ve had a field day with the knowledge that she wrote “mommy porn.” Yet he looked at her like she’d merely told him she worked in a coffee shop. “Does it bother you? What I do, I mean.”

  He shrugged. “I think what you do for a living is nobody’s business but yours. And trust me. I understand what it’s like when everybody sticks their nose in your business. Since I gained custody of my daughter, I’ve gotten advice from every mother in town, young and old. And according to half of them, I’m doing it all wrong.”

  She ought to thank him for understanding, but her mind stuck on one point. “You have a daughter?”

  For a moment, she struggled to breathe as the wound she hadn’t let go of yet throbbed to life in her heart. Just when she was sure she was finally putting it behind her, this was all it took. Seeing the children playing in the park where she walked Bruce in the morning. Hearing a baby’s cry in the grocery store. It never failed to remind her of everything she’d lost. What she wanted, deep down inside, was the husband to grow old with and a backyard full of blond-haired, blue-eyed babies. She’d had it and lost them both. Life was such a cruel mistress.

  Well damn. She didn’t have any intention of seeing Luc again after tonight, but if ever she’d needed a reason, that right there was it. She could never date a man with a child. It was probably rude to judge him for it. He was probably a terrific father. And maybe someday she’d be a big enough person to get over it. But that time wasn’t now.

  Luc stared again, eyes widened slightly, as if she’d caught him off guard. After a moment, he smiled. “Alyssa. She’s three.” He moved over on the lounger and patted the spot beside him. “Sit. I promise I won’t bite.”

  As she sank to the lounger beside him, his scent assaulted her senses. Vanilla and brown sugar and warm, musky male. It went to her head in a rush, and she couldn’t help inhaling again. God, she’d forgotten that, too. How good a man could smell.

  She folded her hands in her lap and stiffened her spine, trying desperately to not let him know he did naughty but delicious things to her insides. “You smell like cookies, you know that?”

  One shoulder hitched in halfhearted fashion. “Trade hazard. At the end of the night at the restaurant my daughter tells me I smell like pizza.”

  She smiled. “I prefer cookies.”

  “You obviously haven’t had my pizza yet.” He bumped her shoulder with his.

  The soft contact sent another electric jolt sizzling through her system. The heat simmering in the depths of those dark eyes told her none too subtly that he’d felt it too. The addicting pull of attraction. In another time and place, Luc would probably be exactly what she needed. A hot fling with a sexy younger man.

  Time to steer this conversation back into safer territory. “You haven’t finished telling me what you think.”

  He leaned back on his hands, his expression solemn. “You really want to know what I think about your career choice?”

  Despite her stomach twisting itself into knots, she nodded. “Please.”

  “Okay, I’ll admit it. For a minute I did the guy thing. You write erotic fantasies for a living. That tells me you’re comfortable with your sexuality.” That lone corner of his mouth lifted. “Frankly, that’s damn sexy. I’ll even admit for a moment, it filled me with questions.”

  She caught the hidden meaning in his statement and couldn’t help her quiet laugh. “You want to know if what I write comes from experience.”

  “I wouldn’t have asked, but yeah, the thought did occur to me.”

  He’d all but admitted he’d thought about her and sex. She wanted to blush. The part of her that had given her virginity to her husband on her wedding night told her she ought to. The vixen within who penned her imagination’s wicked fantasies but hadn’t had actual sex since before Daniel left on deployment couldn’t drum up the emotion.

  His gaze flicked over her body before settling on hers again. “Is that what makes you nervous about people finding out?”

  She hitched a shoulder. “Kind of. This is a side of me nobody here has seen before. I’ve always been the quiet girl, done what’s expected of me.”

  “It takes guts to admit that to someone. You didn’t shy away from it, either. You looked me right in the eye and dared me to judge you.”

  “I appreciate that. Thank you.” His reaction gave her hope. Maybe one day she’d find the courage to own her writing rather than treating it like a dirty little secret.

  For a moment, they watched each other in silence. Before tonight, she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel desire again, was sure her body had simply dried up, lost in grief. Yet here it was, a familiar warmth seeping into her limbs, a delicious little flutter in her belly as her body responded to him.

  “I’m curious. Why’d you stay? Once you found out she’d set us up, I mean. You could easily have left. To be honest, the thought did occur to me.”

  He cocked a brow. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  She jerked her gaze to the dark wooden boards beneath her feet, a safer alternative than those chocolate eyes and all the things within them she shouldn’t be noticing. “Because Sam’s right. It’s time to put my husband’s death behind me and move on with my life.”

  “So why haven’t you moved on?” A softly spoken question filled with curiosity but lacking judgment.

  Looking at him, she found the same in his expression. His features were relaxed and only a quiet curiosity showed in his eyes. This was why she’d stayed. He could easily have made a scene and left, but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d made her laugh and rolled with the punches. She’d never admit it to Sam, but she liked him. What harm could come from gaining another friend? Sam was also right in that she spent far too much time alone. She needed this night. To get away from the painful reminders of the emptiness of her life.

  She shrugged. “To be honest, I feel guilty. For twenty years, he was my whole life. Now I have to move on without him a whole lot sooner than I thought I’d have to. I was supposed to be somewhere around eighty when that happened, and I’m not. Moving on now, at barely forty, feels wrong, like I’m leaving him behind, which I suppose I am. Do you always do that? Divert the conversation away from yourself?”

  He flashed a wistful smile. “It’s easier.”

  “Than?”

  He lay back in the lounger and settled his hands behind his head, staring up at the sky. The sun hadn’t set yet, the sky clear and bright above them. “Admitting I still give a crap."

  “What was her name?”

  His gaze flicked to hers. He stared for a moment before turning back to the sky. “Maria. I met her in Italy. I have family in Tuscany, and I’d always wanted to go see them, to learn. I met Maria in the small ristorante I worked in. Maria’s death left me in an odd place.”

  He didn’t look at her, but heaviness settled over him. The playful, flirty guy she’d met in the hallway disappeared. More to the point, now she understood why Sam had set them up. She and Luc had something in common. He’d lost someone, too.

  If she decided to date again, the last thing she needed was another someone like her. Someone lost in pain. She wanted someone different. Someone fun who'd pull her out of her grief.

  “I’m sorry.” She turned sideways on the lounger, facing him, and placed a hand on his knee. The muscle beneath her fingers tensed. Liz pulled her hand back, heat climbing into her face. She shouldn’t have touched him there. “How’d she die?”

  “Brain aneurysm. She collapsed in my apartment one morning. I was taking a shower when she cried out. I found her on the kitchen floor
.”

  One thing she’d been glad of: she hadn’t had to watch Daniel die. She didn’t know if she’d have been strong enough. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been horrible.”

  He stared at the sky above him as if it contained the answers to the mysteries of life. “Thanks. Though I’m not sure our relationship was as close as I thought.”

  “May I ask why not?”

  His body tensed beside her. “Nothing. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  She nudged his thigh. “Sometimes talking is good.”

  He turned his head, studying her again, then cocked a brow. “Do you talk openly about your problems?”

  “Sometimes.”

  He tilted his head. “Really?”

  “Not as much as I should,” she admitted. “Sam says I tend to bottle things up. But she’s usually right. It always helps to get it out. Makes the burden not feel quite so big.”

  He made a sound at the back of his throat and turned his gaze to the sky again. “Well, this is something I don’t want everybody knowing.”

  Ah. She knew how that felt. Too well. “Back in high school I was voted most likely to keep a secret, you know.”

  One corner of his mouth quirked upward. “You don’t say …”

  She shrugged. “Had to. My father was the county sheriff. If I wanted friends, I had to keep secrets.”

  His gaze flicked to her. “Who was your father?”

  “Carl Roberts? He was on the force for twenty years before he retired.”

  A thoughtful expression crossed his face. “Huh. I remember him. Nice old guy. What ever happened to him? I haven’t seen him in years.”

  “Alzheimer’s. He’s in a beautiful little care center down in California now.” Thoughts of her father always made her heart grow heavy. He had moments of lucidity, but most of the time, he didn’t remember who she was.

  “That’s tough. I’m sorry.”

  She straightened in her seat. “The point being, I kept every single one of those secrets.”

  He lifted a brow. “Did you really?”

  She made a crisscross motion over her heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”

  This time he laughed, but the lightness that settled over him slipped away as quickly as it had come. “So I can trust you with a secret? Not a word to anybody, and I mean nobody.”

  She nodded once. “You have my word.”

  He sighed. “I found out at her funeral that she was married.”

  Ouch. “It take it she told you she was single?”

  “She told me she was divorced. Turns out they separated six months before I met her but hadn’t actually gotten a divorce. If you ask me, that’s still married, and I don’t go there.” He pulled himself upright, sitting beside her again and let out a huff of a laugh. “I had an affair with a married woman. There’s something you don’t admit out loud every day. Not many people know. My brother knows, but that’s about it. I didn’t want it get back to my nonna. I don’t have the heart to disappoint her.”

  She laid a hand over his arm, firmly ignoring the jolt the warm suppleness of his skin against hers gave her. “Surely your grandmother wouldn’t judge you for something that wasn’t your fault.”

  He ducked his head, staring at the deck beneath him, shoulders rounded as if the weight of the world pressed down on him. “Truth be told, I don’t want to find out.”

  “Well, it won’t come from me.”

  Bruce trotted up onto the deck then, tail wagging, and dropped one of his balls at their feet. Luc smiled, ruffled Bruce’s head, and then tossed the ball into the grass. Bruce took off after it.

  “Was she your daughter’s mother?”

  “No. Until she showed up on my doorstep six months ago, I hadn’t seen Alyssa’s mother in more than three years. It was just a relationship that didn’t work out.”

  Bruce came to a skidding halt in front of them, dropping the ball in her lap this time, and whined. Liz tossed the ball before answering. “She didn’t tell you she was pregnant?”

  “No. One day she showed up on my doorstep, shoved this terrified little girl at me, and said, ‘She’s your problem now.’” A quiet, nervous laugh rumbled out of him. He darted a glance at her. “Are you sure you want to hear all this? I don’t exactly have the best track record.”

  “Actually, I kind of like that you’re talking to me. It’s nice to find someone else who’s not so perfect either. Who’s a bit ...” She paused, unable to find the right word.

  “Fucked up?”

  She laughed quietly. “Not the word I would’ve used, but yes.”

  “Forgive the language. My nonna would cuff my head if she heard me. But it fits how I feel these days. Like I’m one step from losing my mind. I want to move on, I need to, but I have no idea how to do it.”

  “It’s hard moving on.” The pain of those first few months after Daniel’s death filled her chest. “I’m in the same place. It’s been two years, and I know it’s time, but I’m not sure I know how. Some part of me is still waiting to wake up and find out it was all just a horrible dream.”

  He didn’t say anything. Several beats passed as they sat in awkward silence. Finally, he looked over at her and bumped her shoulder with his. “I meant it when I said I could teach you to cook, you know.”

  She searched his face. “Why would you offer? I’m a stranger to you.”

  “Because for me, cooking is as essential as breathing. I can’t imagine not being able to do it. I run a beginners class in the summer, have even taught people privately. Besides. If your husband did all the cooking, I imagine going into a restaurant by yourself only serves as a painful reminder that he’s not there anymore. And I know how that feels.”

  He was right. It was why she usually called ahead and ordered carry out. Then she could go home and eat in peace. “Always has.”

  Something banged on the wall inside the house, and she glanced at the window beside them in time to see the blinds fall back into place.

  She rolled her eyes. “Sam’s in there watching us. The rat.”

  Luc chuckled. “Yeah. Has been since we came out here.”

  She eyed Luc as an idea settled in her mind. It would be so easy to tease Sam. Not allowing the more rational side of her brain to talk her out of it, she leaned toward him and lowered her voice, in case Sam could hear them inside the house. “I have an idea. I want to have a little fun with my best friend. A little payback. You game?”

  He smiled, slow and lopsided. “Oh, count me in.”

  Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and her heart tripped over itself. In about two seconds, she was going to plaster herself all over those luscious lips. Had she lost her mind?

  She straightened her shoulders. “Kiss me. Like you mean it.”

  For a moment, he simply stared, and a fierce heat climbed into her cheeks. If he turned her down now, she’d die of embarrassment.

  “I think I can do that.” He settled his elbows on his knees, meeting her halfway across the space between them. “Baciami, bella.”

  He leaned closer, his scent drifting across her path. Thoughts of that full lower lip caressing hers made her tingle, and she suddenly ached to taste him. What was she doing?

  “What’s that mean?” She needed to think. “The thing you just said.”

  He leaned closer. “Kiss me, beautiful.”

  His warm breath whispered over her cheek, and goose bumps shivered across the surface of her skin.

  “You’re enjoying this too much.” Although only to herself would she admit that she was, too.

  “I can’t resist teasing Sam. I also love that you have such a wicked mind.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you going to kiss me or what?”

  Her heart hammered, becoming a dull throbbing in her ears. It was only a tease. She was only toying with her best friend. This wasn’t even a real kiss.

  At least, that’s what she told herself, but when he cupped her chin in the warmth of his palm, she shivered all the same. H
e pressed his mouth to hers, a lingering peck, soft and gentle, once, twice, and then stopped. Nose to nose, a hairsbreadth separating them, he stared at her, and she couldn’t do anything but stare back. An electric current arced between them in that small space, hot and tangible.

  When Luc leaned in again, every reason why she shouldn’t be doing this deserted her. His tongue traced the seam of her mouth, asking the silent, ancient question, and hers fell open of its own accord. A whisper-soft shudder of exhalation left her, and she sagged toward him.

  He let out a quiet groan. His mouth slanted, claiming hers. His hot tongue swept inside, flicking, stroking, and teasing. Every cell in her body liquefied. Despite the part of her brain screaming at her to pull away, to stop it now, her limbs refused to obey. The first intimate touch in over two years, and God help her, he was heaven. His lips were soft, his mouth moving over hers with infinite patience. God, she could get lost in him, in this …

  Something banged against the wall behind her again, and Liz came screeching back to reality. She wrenched her mouth from his and jerked upright. Her heart hammered a panicky rhythm. The instant she met his dark gaze, every bit as stunned as hers was, guilt rose like a tidal wave, threatening to drown her.

  What the hell was she doing? She was a married woman! How dare she kiss another man? How dare she like it? And it all coupled with the pain of remembering that Daniel was dead. He was gone and never coming back.

  An avalanche of grief and confusion collapsed on top of her. Tears welled in her eyes as the moment she’d arrived at slammed into her. She’d been right. Too young or too old, child or no child, she wasn’t ready for this kind of moving on.

  She opened her mouth, to tell him what she didn’t know, because no sound would come out of the tangled mess in her head. Instead, she shot him an apologetic glance and pushed to her feet, striding across the deck and back inside the house as fast as her wobbly legs would carry her. Bruce followed on her heels, his nails tip-tapping behind her.

  She passed Sam, who stood in the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen, the look in her eyes a cross between stunned and concerned. “You all right, sweetie?”