Home to Me

by LaVerne Clark

  Her friend’s laughter echoed in the small room. “Don’t worry.” She patted her arm. “Your secret’s safe with me. If it’s any consolation, I doubt he’s noticed. Men are hopeless like that. But since he’s here and you fancy the pants off him, why don’t you make the most of it?”

  Lucy frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, take the bull by the horns.” She bumped her shoulder and waggled her eyebrows. “And take that as literally as you like. Make him see you in a different light. You never know where it’ll lead.”

  The image of going up to Sam, pulling his head down, and kissing him played in her head. Her heart thudded in her chest, her breath caught, and her lips tingled. And then the memory of the time she’d done just that superseded it. Heat crawled up her throat in remembered humiliation at his less-than-enthusiastic response.

  “No.” She shook her head and smoothed her hair into place. “I can’t. You’ve just heard me tell you what happened between me and your cousin. Even if he didn’t push me away in disgust, what if I froze with him? I couldn’t bear it. It would ruin our relationship, and he’s too important to me to risk it.”

  “Mind if I give him a go, then?”

  Lucy recoiled as if she’d been slapped, her stomach dropping as she stared at her best friend in horror. Everything inside her froze. Suzie was everything she wasn’t. Sleek, elegant, and effortlessly sexy. When she wore her long, black hair loose as she had tonight, she’d walk into a room and all male eyes followed her. Within minutes, she would have an endless stream of suitors wanting to buy her a drink, ask for a dance or her number. It had never bothered Lucy before, until now when her sights had settled on Sam. Her hackles rose, and she straightened her shoulders, ready for battle.

  And then Suzie laughed. “Easy there, Luce. Just testing.” She stood back from the mirror, a satisfied smile on her face, and cocked her head. “Doesn’t your reaction tell you something? You need to do something about it before he’s snapped up. A good-looking man like that, it won’t take long. I’m going to head home, leave you two to catch up.”

  “Wait—you can’t do that.” Panic momentarily dulled her responses, and Suzie took advantage, slipping away before she could make a grab for her.

  “Yeah, I can. I’m gone. Talk to you tomorrow,” she added over her shoulder with a waggle of her fingers, and the door slapped closed behind her.

  Lucy took a couple of deep breaths, then squared her shoulders again. Her stomach swirled with nerves, but now the alcohol in her system was her friend, lending her courage. What was she so worried about? This was Sam. He’d seen her at her best, and he’d definitely seen her at her worst, and he was still here. So what if it was at the direction of her mother? No one could push him around or manipulate him to do something he didn’t want to do. He was here for her, and that meant something. Besides, he was still one of her most favorite people in the world. Why was she wasting time sulking in a pub bathroom when she could be spending time with him?

  She opened the door and stepped back out into the crowded bar. The music throbbed through her veins, the wooden floors vibrating under every step from the scores of dancing feet. Her gaze cut through the crowd and located Sam at their table, Suzie bent close to his ear. Jealousy flared briefly as he grinned at something she said in parting, then faded as his chin lifted, his eyes searching before locking on hers. The grin disappeared, and Lucy’s stomach clenched as they stared at each other across the room.

  Shaking off her earlier negative thoughts, she strode across the floorboards.

  “Hey, baby.”

  She jerked to a halt as a handsome, dark-skinned man stepped in front of her, halting her progress. His hand on her elbow tugged her closer so her hip pressed into his thigh. Someone jostled her from behind, pushing her forward, and he took advantage, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her full-length against him. Instinctively, her palms flattened on his chest and pushed, trying to create some distance.

  “Let me go,” she demanded as her body went rigid. A ripple of fear started low in her belly as he gave her a squeeze, his hands roaming low on her back and his eyes lost in her cleavage.

  “Eventually.” He grinned, his breath sour with stale beer. “I just wanted to know first, do you have any Maori in you?”

  “What?” Distracted at the strange question, she frowned. With her short blonde hair and pale skin, she didn’t think there was anyone less likely to be mistaken for a Maori woman. “No.”

  He leered down at her. “Want some?” His hips thrust against hers in case she mistook his meaning, then he bent his head and licked her from the base of her throat to chin.

  She reared back from the waist, shock and disgust leaving her speechless, and then the panic that had been idling since he touched her flared to life. Before she could raise her knee in a move designed to emasculate him, he was pulled away with great force.

  Clothing bunched at his throat, the man gagged, his hands flying to his neck as his eyes bulged. Sam towered behind him, his face menacing and teeth bared. Twisting the material tighter in his fist, Sam lowered his head to the man’s ear. “I see you put your tongue anywhere it’s not wanted again and I’ll rip it out, understand?” The words were a snarl, and at the man’s frantic nod, Sam released him with a shove. Reaching out, he drew Lucy against his side, his touch possessive. “Apologize to her.”

  The man sucked in air and massaged his throat. Like an obedient child, he turned his gaze on her, his naturally tanned skin now a sickly shade of gray. “I’m sorry, miss. If I’d known your boyfriend was here, I’d never have touched you.”

  A growl reverberated from Sam’s chest. “Not good enough.”

  The other man fled, and Sam lunged as if to give chase.

  “No.” Lucy snagged his wrist and pulled him back to her side. “Guys like that just don’t get it, and they certainly aren’t worth it. I’m sure to him that was an apology.” She smiled up at him, then ducked her head quickly when it wobbled a little around the edges.

  “Hey.” His eyes sharpened on her. “You’re shaking.” Gentle fingers under her chin forced her to meet his concerned gaze. “Did he hurt you?” His body tensed as he waited for her answer, only relaxing fractionally when she shook her head.

  “No. But can we get out of here? I’ve had enough.”

  “Right away.” Without another word, his hand closed over hers and guided her through the throng of people and out onto the street. After the door closed behind them, the world hushed. Crisp air slapped her cheeks, reminding her winter was once again approaching. The season of death. A reminder that life wasn’t guaranteed and it certainly shouldn’t be wasted.

  Sam hailed a taxi as it came toward them. It slowed, then pulled into a U-turn to park next to them.

  “I don’t want to go home just yet,” she blurted, her hand halting him as he bent to address the driver. “Can I come to yours instead? It’ll give us a chance to catch up on the years we’ve missed with each other.”

  He stared at her for a few beats, one brow raised. Then as if he’d seen something on her face to his liking, a smile ghosted his lips. “Sounds good.”

  He held the door open for her, and she scrambled in, expecting him to close it after her and get into the front with the driver. Instead, he followed her. Biting down on her lip to prevent a squeak, she shuffled over until her hip hit the door.

  He gave her an amused look. “Relax, Luce. It’s just me.”

  She tried. Lord, did she try, but that was the problem. It was him. Then he leaned forward, his hand resting on the space between them as he gave instructions to the driver, fingers inches from her thigh. Her throat convulsed with that funny dry click again. When he sat back, his hand remained there. To stop from staring at it, to curb the fantasies that jumped into her head, she turned her gaze out the window, pretending interest in the shadows and light blurring like warp speed past the glass.

  Chapter Two

  Sam sat back and watched Lucy with
a faint smile. A small movement drew his gaze to her lap. Her left thumb rubbed at the palm of her right, a nervous habit he recognized from years ago. He frowned. Was she afraid of being alone with him? Just then, she stole a look at him under her lashes, and her face paled. She jerked her gaze back to the window, and her thumb dug harder into her palm. He remembered her frantic movements as she tried to push that jerk off her, how fast her breathing had been, and the trembling in her body as he held her. And now she was looking at him with that same expression.

  Unsure what he’d done, he laid his palm over her hands, stilling the movement. They were icy cold. He cupped them, bringing them up to his mouth, and blew to warm them. Bright blue eyes widened on his, and soft pink lips parted in surprise, drawing his gaze like a magnet. The sudden and unexpected urge to lean forward and kiss her blindsided him, and he had to forcibly relax and shuffle farther back into the seat. Where did that come from? Here she was, looking at him all round-eyed and innocent, while his thoughts were the complete opposite. Disappointment in himself was an understatement. He’d worked hard to rein in that kind of thinking years ago.

  He cleared his throat. “You don’t need to be scared of me, Lucy. I’d never hurt you. You know that, right?”

  Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them back and swallowed, hard enough he could hear her throat working. “I know.” She gave him a wan smile and pulled her hands out from under his in the pretense of smoothing her hair. So different from how it had been when last he’d seen her. Then it had been girlishly long and to her waist. Now it was short and layered around her face in feathery wisps. It suited her. She looked more womanly, more composed and sure of herself. Just one of the many subtle changes he’d noticed about her, but this one was a good one.

  Arriving at his address, he paid the cabbie and led the way up the overgrown path bordered by half-dead rose bushes to his front door. As he jiggled the key in the lock, he caught Lucy studying the mess of weeds and neglect and gave a self-deprecating grin. “I know. It’s a good thing my clients don’t see this, or I’d never get any work.”

  Amusement sparkled from her eyes. “Just like a builder’s home is forever a project.”

  He snorted. “Exactly. I keep meaning to do something about it but can’t seem to find the time.” He pushed the door wide and gestured for her to enter, glad he’d thought to leave the lounge room light on. She made a beeline for it and stopped dead in the middle, her handbag dropping at her feet.

  “Oh, wow.” She turned to face him, her smile so wide and unaffected his chest gave that funny ache again. There she was. The girl he’d known. He’d missed her. “That view is spectacular.”

  “It’s pretty good, huh?” He stepped down into the sunken lounge and joined her before the picture window. The bay spread out before them, lights from houses on the opposite shore reflecting on the dark, calm water. They stood in companionable silence for a minute before Sam noticed the tension returning to Lucy’s body in small increments.

  “Have a seat,” he offered, his hand going to her back. She stiffened under his touch, and he broke contact immediately, doing his best to keep his expression neutral even as his belly roiled and his hands wanted to clench into fists. Something was going on with her. The comment he’d overheard her make in the pub had set all his internal alerts off in a big way. What had happened to make a flinch her first reaction to an innocent touch? “I’m going to put some coffee on unless you want something lighter.”

  “Got any whiskey?”

  Now he allowed his frown full rein. “I think you’ve had more than enough for the evening, don’t you?”

  “I was enjoying it.”

  “A little too much from what I saw. There were a lot of empty glasses in front of you. The girl I knew would be falling over her own feet and uttering, ‘I love you,’ to everyone within spitting distance with half of what you must have consumed.”

  Her eyes flashed, her mouth thinning. “Yeah, well. That girl you knew no longer exists, Sam. I’ve grown up some since then.”

  “So I’ve noticed,” he murmured under his breath before raising his voice. “I’m hoping she still exists somewhere. I liked her.”

  Before she could answer with the snarky comment he sensed brewing, he turned his back and strode to the kitchen. Coffee beans measured and ground, he poured them into the machine and switched it on. While he waited, he braced his hands on the cold marble and closed his eyes, letting his head drop forward between his shoulders.

  Years ago, he’d vowed to protect Lucy, but anyone with eyes could see she’d been hurt. Badly. And he hadn’t been there to stop it. Overhearing her say to Suzie she could do with never having sex again made his jaw grind. It was just plain wrong. She’d been a passionate girl once. The memory of the way she’d thrown herself at him at Jordan’s funeral proved it. Her kiss had been full of heat and fervor. The way her whole body had strained toward him, demanding his response, had been at once innocent and unbearably seductive. She’d been young and guileless, but she’d been anything but cold that day.

  His body grew warm, his lower half stirring as it did every time he thought about that moment, and his eyes snapped open. Cursing under his breath, he pushed off from the marble and straightened. Once already he’d failed Jordan. No way was he going to let that happen again. No matter how uncomfortable it made him, now she was back home, he would be there for her, just as he’d promised.

  Taking a tray from a cupboard, he placed the carafe, coffee cups, milk, and biscuits on it and carried it through to where she sat on the couch, her legs curled up underneath her, gazing out at the view. She looked so right in his lounge that his step faltered. Hearing him, she turned her head and gave him a soft smile.

  “You remembered I don’t have sugar?”

  “How could I forget? You’ve always been sweet enough.”

  Their gazes caught, and she bit her lip. Her cheeks blushed a rosy pink, and she ducked her head. He grinned as he passed her a cup and sat next to her, not too close, but enough he could make out the faint echo of the freckles that had dotted her nose. She brought the mug to her mouth and took a sip. Her eyes closed momentarily, then smiled into his.

  “Real coffee,” she sighed. “I’d forgotten how much of a coffee snob you were, but boy, am I glad. Mum still drinks that instant crap. You know, the kind you can still taste in your mouth the morning after.” She shuddered, then lifted her cup in salute. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” he murmured and took a sip of his own, enjoying the slide of caffeine down his throat, the slight buzz as it hit his bloodstream. A comfortable silence descended. He glanced over at her and smiled. Totally relaxed, her eyes held the dreamy quality one gained from being pleasantly sloshed. As casually as he could, he broached the subject that had been eating at him all night. “So what was with the conversation you were having with Suzie when I interrupted? It sounded interesting.”

  Like an animal caught in headlights, her eyes widened, and her cup froze midway to her mouth. Then she blinked, and it was as if a curtain had come down over them. “Oh, that.” Her laugh, which would have sounded natural to anyone who didn’t know her, sounded brittle and false to his ears. It was a little too loud, too careless, and ended too abruptly. “It was nothing. I just didn’t want Suzie to think badly of her cousin. He’s a good man.”

  He quirked a brow and let the silence grow until it bordered on uncomfortable, a strategy that had worked multiple times in the past. As he knew she would, she squirmed, trying to appear nonchalant, and he held back a grin at the telling reaction. It still worked.

  “Fine.” She placed her cup on the coffee table with a thud, hugged her legs into her chest, and rested her chin on her knees. “So it wasn’t nothing—but I don’t want to talk about it—especially with you. It’s too embarrassing.”

  “Oh, come on, Lucy,” he cajoled. “You can trust me. Let me help you.”

  The blue of her eyes darkened as they leveled on him, the mixture of sadness
and resignation in their depths stopping him in his tracks. The lazy grin dropped from his face as his gut clenched.

  “You can’t. And you need to stop playing big brother with me.”

  Big brother? That was the second time tonight she’d made such a comment. He straightened and turned more fully to face her. “What?”

  “Come on, Sam. I know you feel obligated to Jordan since he’s dead and all, but I’m telling you now, I don’t want your protection, and the last thing I want is for you to treat me like your little sister.”

  Acutely aware of his heart thumping hard against the wall of his chest, he stared at her. Feeling like he was navigating dangerous waters, he spoke softly, his gaze never leaving hers, willing her to trust him, to share the pain he clearly saw in her eyes. “I don’t think of you like that, Lucy. I never have. Yes, I promised Jordan I’d look out for you, but I’d do that anyway. You’re special to me. It kills me to see you hurting.” At the negative shake of her head, he clicked his tongue. “Don’t pretend with me, Luce. You forget I know you. You’re hurting. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from whatever happened, but maybe I can help you now.”

  Her beautiful eyes filled up with tears, and this time, they were too plentiful to blink away. It didn’t stop her from trying, though, and his heart broke a little at the effort she made. Even though she pressed her lips together hard enough to turn them bloodless, it wasn’t enough to prevent the first sob from escaping.

  “Aw, brat. Come here.” Scooting closer, he pulled her into a hug. As if by osmosis, his chest ached with the pain he felt coming off her in waves. Shudders racked her body, and he held her tight, stroking a palm up and down her back, as if he could take the pain away by touch alone. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he inhaled, and his nostrils filled with a delicious smell, one that tugged at his memory, and he closed his eyes to better concentrate on it. Pomegranate, blackberry, and amber—her signature scent.

  For her thirteenth birthday, he’d gifted her with a basket of body lotions from one of the natural stores in town that were all the rage, telling her that now she was a teenager, she should have a scent signifying that. He remembered the look of adoration on her face when he gave her the gift, the blush that had stolen over her cheeks, and in that moment, he’d gotten a glimpse of the woman she was destined to be. It both thrilled and scared him shitless. Not that his teenage self had any clue why, he just knew it did. Little did he know how he’d grow to associate that scent with her. Just a hint of one of the undertones would have him distracted from whatever he was doing, lifting his head to find the source.