Luc (Rossi Brothers) Page 6
As Luc came to stop in front of her, her heart took off again. She plastered on a smile and aimed at teasing, hoping, somehow, it would ease her nerves if she treated him like a friend. What she really wanted to do was plaster her mouth on his again. “Are you stalking me now, Mr. Rossi?”
Luc arched a brow, mischief glinting in his dark eyes. “And if I am?”
“Oh, I think there are worse people to be stalked by than the likes of you.” Like the short, bald guy who showed up at every book signing with a creepy grin and a large bouquet of red roses. She’d made the mistake of telling her fans that her favorite flower was a red rose.
Luc chuckled, light and honest and sexy. “You are something else, you know that?”
They stood for a moment, watching each other, and heat flared between them, every bit as strong as it had the day before. Was he remembering their conversation too? She couldn’t forget the desire and promise etched in his tone. I’ve spent the last three days thinking things about you I sure as hell don’t think about Sam. It had sent a sliver of heat straight to her core and did so again now.
She hadn’t slept worth a damn last night. Wicked thoughts of his tall, lanky frame wrapped around hers had kept her up. Until she’d finally given in and sat down at her computer. Three thousand words later, she had one smoking sex scene. It wasn’t an entire book. Hell, she didn’t even have a plot. But it was more than she’d written in months.
Luc, it seemed, inspired her.
Alyssa turned from Bruce then, her eyes full of hope. “Play?”
The fantasy of a moment ago snapped shut like a slamming door. How did she answer that? How could she look into those beautiful eyes and tell the girl no? Just looking at her filled her mind with memories. Her daughter’s perfect face, her tiny fingers and toes. She’d looked so serene, like maybe she was just sleeping, but she hadn’t drawn that much-needed breath.
Luc bumped her shoulder. His fingers stroked hers where her hand rested at her side, inconspicuous yet powerful all the same. “You don’t have to, you know.”
Everything inside of her ground to a halt and melted at the same time. Yeah, that was exactly what she liked about him. He really was a decent guy.
She turned to Alyssa. The little girl looked between her and Luc and murmured another soft plea. “Pease? Play?”
How could she say no to such a simple request? In the girl’s soft plea, Sam’s words to her the evening of their blind date came back again. “It’s time, babe. You said it yourself. You need to get out and have a good time. Laugh. Feel good. It’s time to join the land of the living again.”
“All right. I guess we can stay and play for a bit.” Sam was right, and Liz couldn’t resist those eyes. She couldn’t resist Luc’s, either. Some day that would no doubt get her into big trouble, but she had to get over this pain at some point. She couldn’t live her life turning away friends with children because she was afraid of being reminded of her daughter. Why not now?
She removed her backpack and knelt in front of Alyssa, dug through the black sack, and pulled out one of Bruce’s favorite blue rubber balls. She never left without one.
“Here.” When she held the ball out to Alyssa, Bruce whined and immediately sat down beside her, his front paws prancing on the ground in his excitement. She knelt on the ground, unhooked Bruce’s leash, and then pointed toward the center of the field. “Throw it that way, into the grass.”
Alyssa cocked her arm and tossed the ball. It didn’t go far, merely a couple of feet, but Bruce took off like a light. Alyssa giggled and clapped and ran after him, meeting him halfway.
Liz pushed to her feet, watching for a moment. Bruce dropped the ball at the girl’s feet and sat down again. "How do you say no to that face?"
Luc laughed quietly. “I don't. The guilt usually gets me. I feel guilty for not being there for her and her mother."
The regret laden in his voice made her look over at him. His gaze was heavy.
She touched his arm. "It's not your fault she didn't tell you."
He shrugged. "Maybe. I still hate that I wasn't there for them. I know the life Michelle lived when I ended our relationship. I hate the thought of what Alyssa went through before I got her. If the way she reacted to me at first is anything to go by, she’s seen too much in her short life."
Liz turned her head, watching as Alyssa tossed the ball. Her little giggle floated on the wind, and more memories rose over Liz. The children she’d taught at Happy Heart Preschool. She’d loved her job. A preschool teacher was the only thing she’d ever wanted to be growing up.
“I miss seeing their smiling faces every day. The children at the small preschool I worked at, I mean. There’s something sweet and innocent about children. The small ones haven’t been taught to hate or taught prejudice or bullying. Life is all about discovery to them. They live in joy.”
“Why’d you quit?” Luc shifted closer, his voice low.
“They were a reminder of everything I’d lost, and at the time, I couldn’t handle it. It hurt too much.”
“You quit after your family died?”
She nodded, swallowing past the lump rising in her throat. “The staff hated seeing me go but understood. Truth be told, I miss every single one of them, every child and all the other teachers I worked with, but I lost my joy for teaching. I got lost in my grief.”
Her joy for living had deserted her for a while. She’d sunk into a deep depression from which she’d feared she would never recover. She’d spent months in her pajamas, had had to remind herself to eat and shower every day.
“I’d been writing for years. It was what I did when Daniel deployed. It got me through. So after I quit, that’s what I wanted to do. Write full time. Ironically, I haven’t written much since.”
Out in front of them, Alyssa threw the ball and Bruce ran to fetch it, the two lost in their game. Liz’s story was now laid out in front of him like a road of shame. She and Luc stood quietly together.
Thick, masculine fingers slipped into hers where her hand hung at her side. He turned his head, his gaze connecting with hers. Getting involved with him was a bad idea all around. When the relationship eventually reached its natural conclusion—and it would, of that she was certain—she’d lose not only him, but his daughter as well. She’d be left to grieve all over again.
Still, for this one moment, she wanted to allow herself to enjoy him. What would be the harm in that? Why couldn’t she be the heroine of her one of her novels and give herself permission to take back her life?
• • •
“Thanks, Mr. Smythe.” Luc smiled at the old mailman, watching for a moment as he ambled back to his truck parked along the curb, before closing the front door and peeling open the flap on the yellow, padded envelope. He tipped the contents into his palm; a small paperback book dropped out. On the front cover was the image of a man and a woman, half naked and wrapped in an intimate embrace.
Though he suspected whom the book was from, he peered inside the envelope, hoping to find a note. Finding none, he opened the front cover. On the title page was the note he’d been looking for.
For being such a gentleman that night at Sam’s.
~Liz
The book’s provocative image and her long, flowing handwriting brought up everything he tried hard not to think about. Every time he closed his eyes, the heat in hers stared back at him. The way her fingers fit into his had burned into his memory.
Since Maria’s death, no woman had managed to even make him look twice, let alone leave him awake at midnight, too aroused to sleep. But every night since he’d last seen her, he’d lain awake staring at the ceiling, replaying Liz’s every reaction. Every hitch of breath. The way she trembled when he touched her.
The comfort her presence gave him scared the hell out of him, but playing ball with Bruce the other day had tugged at the side of him that wanted … more. Liz was so open—about who she was, what she felt, what she wanted—it was a breath of fresh air. He relaxed with her.
Alyssa would always be his top priority, but Liz reminded him that he was human. That he was man. He needed … the comfort of a gentle touch. The softness and warmth of a woman’s curves beside him. Despite Maria’s betrayal, he couldn’t deny he’d see Liz again in a heartbeat.
Getting her book seemed a shove from the powers that be.
He flipped the book open to a random page and began to read. Damn. She was actually good at this. Her words were visceral and emotive, painting the scene—in this case, a sex scene—in vivid images. He couldn’t stop imagining her in the woman’s place …
“What’s dat?”
Luc jumped like a teenager caught with a Playboy magazine and slammed the book closed. Heart lodged in his throat, he shoved it back inside the padded envelope before glancing down into Alyssa’s upturned face. He dragged a shaking hand through his hair and forced a smile for his daughter’s sake.
“It’s a book from a friend.” Before she could ask him to read it, he tucked the package under an arm and held out his free hand. “Come on. Let’s go make those pancakes.”
When she nodded and took his hand, letting him lead her down the hallway, Luc released his held breath.
In the kitchen, he set Alyssa up at the table with a coloring book and crayons, then got out the ingredients for pancakes. Halfway through cooking the first batch, his phone vibrated on the counter beside him, an unfamiliar number flashing across the lighted display. Grateful for another distraction, he snatched it up and tapped ANSWER before bringing the phone to his ear. “Goooood, morning.”
“Okay.”
Liz’s soft voice halted him in his tracks, flowing along the phone line like a caress. He leaned back against the counter. “Liz. It’s good to hear from you.”
Okay, so that was the truth. Mostly. Never mind that the simple act of saying her name made every inch of him buzz with anticipation, and his mind filled with things he shouldn’t be thinking about right then. Namely, her sexy, curvy body and the flavor of her mouth, or what sounds she’d make when he buried himself inside of her …
“Hi.” This word came softer than the first, timid, with an uncertain edge. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“Nope. I’ve been up for an hour now. Alyssa gets me up at the crack of dawn.” He kept his tone light, steering the conversation into safe territory. The last thing he needed was to get all hot and bothered in front of his daughter. But he yearned to tell her he wouldn’t mind if she had woken him. He wouldn’t mind discovering what she looked like first thing in the morning.
Or falling asleep beside her after making love to her until they were both too sated to walk.
“I’m glad. I called to ask you to teach me. To cook, I mean. I’ve decided I want to learn.”
Surprised, he stepped sideways, picked up some butter with a knife, and set it to melt in the skillet. “What changed your mind?”
“I promised my husband I’d learn. We had a bucket list. Like the movie, you know? Things we told each other we’d do before we died. Cooking was one of mine.”
Her quiet admission had the memory rising. The trees in the backyard blurred, and for a moment, he was back in that hospital room with Gia. Holding his baby sister’s hand, listening to the blips of too many damn machines, all them attempting to keep her comfortable for one more day.
Gia’s quiet, raspy words filled his head, as did the desperateness in her big brown eyes.
“Promise me, Aldo.”
He shook off the memory and refocused on the heated pan, adding a ladleful of batter. “Well, I meant what I said. I’d be happy to teach you, but if I’m being honest, I promised someone something similar once.”
“You lost someone else.”
He tucked the phone between his chin and his shoulder and flipped the pancake. “My baby sister died about eleven years ago. She was only fourteen.”
“So young. I’m sorry. How did she die?”
“Acute myelogenous leukemia. She put up a good fight, but in the end, it took her. We made her a promise, Nic and I, that we’d do all the things she’d never be able to. It was half the reason I went to Italy, because she’d always wanted to. So I understand the need.”
He took a moment to pull the pancake from the pan and cut it up, then slid it onto Alyssa’s plate. As she forked a bite, he turned off the burner and leaned back against the counter.
“We’d have to do it on a Monday or a Tuesday, because those are my days off. And I like my mornings with Alyssa, so I was thinking I’d come over around noon. It would be more useful to you if I could teach you in your kitchen, but we could just as easily do it at my grandmother’s house. It’s where I teach the kids in the summer. Her kitchen is bigger than mine.”
She was silent for a moment. Was she thinking the same things he was? Was she looking forward to seeing him as much as he was her?
“My place would be fine. You’re right. I’d rather learn how to cook using what I’ve got. Monday would be great.”
A beat of silence echoed across the phone line, filling with a fine, sweet aching, all but crackling with the attraction that flowed like water between them.
“Luc?”
She said his name as if she was about to share an intimate secret while lying beside him in the dark, and oh, how he ached to hear it. “Yeah?”
“May I be honest with you?”
“Never be afraid to tell me something, Liz.”
“I look forward to seeing you.”
Warmth bloomed in his stomach and then settled a few inches lower. Merely a few soft-spoken words from her breathless voice, and he was pulsing behind his zipper like a seventeen- year-old kid. And all she’d done was admit she looked forward to seeing him, too.
He dragged a shaky hand through his hair as he stared across the kitchen, watching a tree in the backyard sway in a breeze. It was a typical day on the island, gray and overcast, but the only heat he could think of was hers. He yearned to wrap himself around her, simply to know what would light in her eyes when she tipped over the edge. “You’re killing me here, you know. Do you have any idea how much restraint it took to walk away from you the other day?”
“Yes.”
He pushed away from the counter and moved to the windows overlooking the small backyard, trying in vain to regain some semblance of control over his runaway hormones. “It’s my turn to ask you something now.”
“Okay.”
It was a bold question, but he had to know the answer. “Is it an excuse, me teaching you to cook?”
Her soft exhalation rustled along the phone line. “To be honest, I don’t know.”
The slight tremor in her voice, the breathy uncertainty, as if she weren’t sure she ought to be admitting that, had him swallowing a groan. At this rate, they’d never make it to the actual cooking. “I guess we’ll find out then.”
Chapter Seven
A low growl rumbled out of Bruce from where he lay on the loveseat in the corner of her home office. Liz lifted her gaze from the computer screen in front of her. Bruce’s warning meant someone was out front. She didn’t need to look to know who. It was Monday morning. A glance at the clock on her computer told her it was five minutes before noon. The only person she expected was Luc.
Footsteps finally sounded on the porch’s old wooden boards. Bruce leapt from the loveseat, let out another growl, this one low and menacing, and raced for the front door. Liz’s heart skipped a beat.
Four days had passed since she’d spoken to him. Four days to mull over their conversation, to replay his delicious reactions. He’d lit a fire under her muse again. She’d spent the morning frantically trying to get down the words that seemed to pour from the tips of her fingers. After the heat she’d written, the idea of him being in the house had every nerve ending tingling in anticipation.
When the doorbell sounded, she pushed out of her seat, following Bruce’s barking. She paused on the mat to calm the wild thumping of her heart and pulled open the door.
Luc
stood on the porch, looking more gorgeous than any man had a right to. His faded jeans hugged all the right places, and his navy T-shirt revealed enough muscle to tease her senses. Oh, how she yearned to mold herself to that long, lean frame …
Clearly recognizing a friend, Bruce surged forward, a wiggling mass of excitement. His entire rear end wagged from side to side in time with his tail as he pranced around Luc, licking any part of the man he could reach.
Luc smiled and squatted, rubbing Bruce vigorously with both hands. “Hey there, boy.”
His gaze lifted, colliding with hers. Desire flared in his dark eyes, and the air between them sizzled. The man was ten years younger. She ought to be turning around, closing the door, and by God, she should not be contemplating the things she was.
Like dragging him upstairs and discovering the lean muscle beneath that damn T-shirt.
Luc rose to his feet, and Bruce sat down at his side like he belonged there. “Hey.”
“Hi.” It was all she could manage right then. She was caught in those chocolate eyes, in the simplicity of the attraction flowing between them. When she’d called him, she had every intention of learning to cook. She just wanted to do it while spending time with someone who made her feel something besides pain for the first time in two years. He made her laugh. Made her forget.
But was it a wise decision? They were two people caught in difficult places in their lives, needing that connection to another person to get through, to help them feel human again. Eventually, the fire would burn itself out.
Yet she’d lain in bed last night, fantasizing about him. That long, hard frame pinning her to the mattress. Those rough hands on her skin. The luscious groan he’d let out when he joined her in oblivion. The desire in his eyes now was delicious, arrowing straight to her core and making her nipples strain against the lace on her bra.