Lukkas was unapproachable and, while not short-tempered, noticeably short with those around him. Including her.
Trying to get to the bottom of the cause, Yohanna waited until she knew he’d be alone in his trailer to broach the subject. Even as she told herself that she should just let things slide, she still found herself going to his trailer and knocking on his door.
She had to knock twice before she heard any response from within. At least, she thought she’d heard something, but it could have just been the noise coming from the set.
Taking a deep breath, she tried the door. It wasn’t locked.
Because she’d ventured this far, she decided to let herself in.
“Lukkas?”
There was no answer.
Thinking that perhaps he hadn’t heard her, she made her way to the rear of the trailer, to the area that had been converted into his bedroom.
That was where she found him.
Lukkas was packing the suitcase he’d brought with him on the plane.
Surprised, Yohanna could only surmise they were flying back to California.
“Are we leaving?” It was the first thing she could think to ask.
Completely involved in his own heartache, Lukkas hadn’t heard her come in until she’d spoken. His nerves were very close to the surface and he jumped.
“Don’t you knock?” he demanded.
She had never seen him uptight or angry before. The image was unsettling.
“I did. I thought that maybe you hadn’t heard me so I tried the door. You didn’t lock it.”
“And so you thought you’d just waltz right in.” It was an accusation more than a statement of fact. An annoyed accusation.
“I think that’s self-evident,” she responded politely. Indicating the open suitcase, she asked again, “Are we going back to the studio?”
“I am.” His tone made it apparent that he completely excluded her from this.
Yohanna asked, “What about me?”
Lukkas shrugged. “You can do whatever you want to do,” he declared, biting the words off.
He wasn’t even looking at her, just addressing his words to the contents of his suitcase. But why was he so angry at her? What had she done to bring about such a drastic change?
Yohanna vacillated between just quietly withdrawing and remaining in the trailer for what was shaping up to be some sort of a confrontation.
Tempted, she almost went with the first option. But if she did, she knew that this raw feeling would always be there between them should she somehow still wind up staying in his employ.
For her own peace of mind, she needed to clear this up, whatever “this” was. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked.
He swung around to look at her. “No. You’re perfect. Absolutely perfect,” he snapped.
“If I’m so perfect, then why are you biting off my head and acting as if you’re angry at the whole world—me in particular?”
“Maybe because I am angry at the whole world,” he retorted.
Yohanna noticed that he hadn’t singled her out the way she had. She became more determined to find out what was going on.
“Because...?”
“Because!” he shouted, slamming down the lid of his suitcase. He did it so hard, the suitcase fell off the bed. The contents flew out all over the floor.
Yohanna automatically moved to pick up his clothes for him and Lukkas grabbed her by the shoulder, pulling her up.
“Don’t!” he ordered gruffly.
At that moment he saw his reflection in the mirror hanging over his bureau, saw the anger that all but distorted his face.
The sight was so startling it abruptly knocked the air out of him.
Dropping his hand to his side, he murmured, “I’m sorry,” to her. And then, in a stronger voice, he reinforced his apology. “I’m really sorry. I have no right to take this out on you.”
Because he’d apologized, she immediately forgave him. He appeared genuinely sorry and that only made her more determined than ever to find out what was going on. She had spent too much time in Lukkas’s company to believe that this was his true nature and the rest had just been a ruse.
Something had gotten to him in a way that she didn’t think anything could. Something that seemed to completely shatter him.
And then, suddenly, it hit her. She knew what had caused this transformation.
“Talk to me, Lukkas,” she urged him. “Please.”
He didn’t want to talk, to think, to in any way peel back the layers and make this any worse than it already was.
He tried to make her leave. “Look, I’ve done enough to you. Please, just go—”
“No,” she answered. With that, she planted herself on the edge of the bed, where she intended to remain until she got him to unload. “I’m not going anywhere. You need to get this out, to talk this through. Lukkas, you really need to get those feelings out before they wind up eating you alive.”
Lukkas said nothing as he looked at her, but she could almost feel him struggling with himself.
“I’ll start you off,” she offered, then quietly continued, “This has to do with your late wife, doesn’t it?”
The stricken expression in Lukkas’s eyes told her she had guessed correctly.
“What set you off?” she asked. “Did you come across something of hers you’d forgotten was there or—?”
“The accident was today,” he said hoarsely, his voice distant, as if he could somehow separate himself from the words he was saying.
Yohanna recalled the article she’d glimpsed on her tablet. He was talking about the car accident that had ended his wife’s life.
Her heart went out to him in empathy.
“Each year after my dad died,” she said quietly, “on the anniversary of his passing, I wound up reliving how I felt when I watched him slip away— We were at the hospital with him, my mom and I,” she interjected.
She saw fresh grief pass over Lukkas’s face.
“Well, I wasn’t there when Natalie ‘slipped away.’ I was busy being the big-shot producer on the set,” he told her bitterly. “I was supposed to be there with her, supposed to be the one who drove her to the doctor’s office for her appointment—but I was too busy and I forgot all about her appointment. We were having our first baby and I forgot,” he told her, his self-disdain almost palpable. “So, ever the resourceful wife, she drove herself. The front tire had a blowout. Natalie plowed into a streetlight. She must have been so scared—” His voice broke.
“If you had been with her, the front tire would have still had a blowout,” she pointed out. “As horrible as it was, her death wasn’t your fault,” she insisted. “Stop beating yourself up over it.”
Yohanna could see that she just wasn’t getting through to him. “From what I can piece together, your wife was a wonderful, kind person. She wouldn’t have wanted you to do this to yourself. She would have wanted you to honor her memory by being strong and going on with your life,” she told him.
He said nothing, but she saw the unshed tears shimmering in his eyes.
Without fully realizing what she was doing, only motivated by the need to offer comfort, Yohanna rose to her feet and put her arms around him. He tried to shrug her off, but she persisted. Slowly, she felt him stop resisting.
“Let it go so you can heal,” she urged softly, hugging him harder, doing her best to break through all the layers he’d thrown up around himself, shutting grief in, shutting compassion out.
She wasn’t sure just how long she stood there, offering him solace as best she could.
Nor was she really clear as to who made the next move after that.
Whether it was her—or Lukkas.
Whichever did, one minute she was trying valiantly t
o give him some of her own strength, the strength she’d built up to help her deal with life after losing the father she adored. The very next moment it was as if some sort of spell had been cast, some sort of floodgate had been opened, because that was when her lips were pressed against his.
She could taste his tears—and his pain. Something within her opened up as well, something that not only could offer comfort in the face of grief, but that actually drew comfort from the very act of offering it to someone else.
It progressed at almost a breakneck speed immediately after that.
Wanting only to help give voice to his very real pain and, just maybe, to diminish it and its hold on him by that very act, she discovered that there was a solid ache within her, as well. An ache that craved having some sort of real contact, to touch and be touched by another human being in a way that allowed actual souls to touch.
* * *
A real sense of urgency all but throbbed in his veins.
Lukkas slanted his mouth over hers over and over again. Each time he did, the stakes were raised. And so was the promise of a reward.
Lukkas had had no idea how much he really needed this sort of contact, a contact he had denied himself because he’d believed that part of him—the part that could be reached by only a woman’s touch—had been snuffed out the day his wife had been killed. To find out that it hadn’t, that it was, instead, alive and in need of thriving, both dismayed him and thrilled him. To that end he felt utterly confused but alive for perhaps the first time in three years.
Suddenly very much in need to complete this exotic journey he had started, Lukkas undid buttons, coaxed articles of clothing away from the areas that they covered. The warm flesh he discovered underneath the banished clothing easily started his pulse racing.
And fed a desire for more.
He ran his hands along Hanna’s body, his own responding to it the way he hadn’t responded to anyone in so long.
It was not unlike coming out of a deep sleep then becoming aware of limbs that had been all but paralyzed such a short while ago. There was no such paralysis, no such numbness, afflicting him now.
Every part of his body was alive and feeling every subtle nuance that being here like this with Hanna had created.
In its grip, Lukkas found himself racing to consummate this feeling, to capture it quickly before it was gone and he returned to the isolated, cold, lonely chamber he had existed in until just now.
Yohanna gave him no resistance.
Just the opposite was true.
She enflamed him, fanning the growing fire he had within him until the flames filled out every single corner of his being, leaving no room for grief or regrets of any kind.
Afraid of losing this feeling, of becoming trapped within his self-created prison once again, Lukkas ceased exploring the subtleties of her body and gave in to the overwhelming desire to unite it with his.
One moment his eyes were on hers, their hands delicately interlaced. The next he was driving himself into her and so creating a union where none had been before.
Ever mindful of her, Lukkas watched her face as he began to move. If for any reason at all, she had changed her mind about this, he’d be able to see it and, as hard as it would be for him, he would stop.
There would be deep regret, but he would stop.
But there was no such sign from her.
Instead, Yohanna instantly matched his rhythm. He stepped up the pace.
So did she.
They rose together at breakneck speed, taking the summit together. His arms tightened around her as the internal fireworks came to a head.
For one brief, shining moment, he felt himself both excited and at peace.
Yohanna kissed him, urgently pressing her mouth against his with every fiber of her being. It was as if she wanted Lukkas to know that whatever might come afterward, in this one moment, they belonged to one another and all was perfect in the tiny universe populated only by the two of them.
Yohanna nestled her body against his. She remained there even as the euphoria began to slip away, withdrawing into the same shadows where it had lay hidden, waiting for just that one opportunity to emerge.
Lukkas slowly became aware of everything.
Of the scent of her hair, of the light, sweet taste that her lips had brought to his, of the softness of her skin as her body remained curled into his.
Everything.
No doubt sensing the lull in what they’d just shared, Yohanna raised herself up just enough to lean her arm against his chest and look into Lukkas’s eyes.
“So are we still going back to the studio?” she asked, pretending to act as if they hadn’t just blown out all the stops and made torrid love together. “Because if the answer’s yes, I’m going to need five minutes to pack. Make that ten,” she amended, reconsidering, “because I have to put some clothes on first. I don’t think your pilot would appreciate my boarding his plane naked.”
“I can’t see him complaining about that,” Lukkas said, playing along. And then he laughed at the absurdity of the conversation. Stroking her hair, which was splayed against his chest, he apologized. “I’m sorry about before.”
“Which before?” Yohanna asked cautiously. “Because part of that ‘before’ was really terrific.”
Lukkas was focused on making amends. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”
He felt a slight flutter across his skin and realized that she was smiling against his chest. Why that would suddenly make his heart feel full, he had no idea.
“I’ve endured worse,” she told him. “Besides, I’d say that you kind of made up for it.” Raising her head again, her eyes met his. Hers twinkled with humor—and maybe a little something more. Whatever it was, it seemed to reel him in.
“I meant what I said the other day, you know,” Yohanna told him.
“You said a lot of things on a lot of days,” he pointed out, patiently waiting for her to clarify her words.
“You have a point,” she conceded. “When I told you that you could talk to me if something were bothering you, I meant it. I really am a good listener and I promise you that whatever you say to me won’t go any further than my own ears.”
Even though she was trying to have a serious conversation with him, he could feel himself responding to her again. Responding not just to her physically, but to her kindness, her understanding. She was the whole package. Beauty, brains and compassion. And that was rare.
Raising his head a little, he lightly skimmed the tip of his tongue along the outline of her ear. “This ear?” he asked, his warm breath caressing her skin.
She surprised him by maneuvering her body and flipping him onto his back.
“And this ear,” she said, turning her head just enough to make her other ear accessible to him.
This time when he mimicked his previous movement, she could feel her whole body responding with a warm shiver that ran the length of it.
She didn’t remember all that much immediately after that, except that it was spectacular.
Chapter Fifteen
“So this is the way I find out? When were you going to tell me? Or did you just decide that I didn’t need to know?”
Her mother’s voice vacillated between sounding indignant and really hurt. Long ago Yohanna had learned that when it came to wielding guilt, her mother was in a class all by herself.
And Elizabeth Andrzejewski had not mellowed with age.
Yohanna frowned. She and Lukkas had returned to Southern California late yesterday. He’d dropped her off at her house while he had gone on to his because he needed to take care of several things.
The blinking light on the answering machine part of her landline had caught her eye the moment she’d entered her house, but for the sake of her own peace of mind, Yohan
na had deliberately put off listening to the messages until morning.
Well, now it was morning and here she was listening to her mother lay on the guilt with expert precision. Her mother hadn’t been able to reach her while she’d been on location because she’d consciously left her cell phone off. Because unforeseen things had a way of happening, she had left a message on her mother’s machine that she was going out of town and couldn’t be reached. However, if some kind of real emergency came up, her mother could call Lukkas’s office at the studio and leave a message. That message would then be forwarded to her as quickly as possible.
Yohanna made sure that her mother would be out having lunch with her friends—something she did every Thursday—before calling. That way she was assured of getting the answering machine. Her reason for this roundabout approach was to avoid fielding the thousand-and-one questions she knew her mother was capable of asking.
The questions that apparently were coming her way now.
“Tell you what, Mom?” Yohanna murmured to her answering machine as it went on playing her mother’s far from brief message.
Even though she’d voiced the question out loud, it was purely a rhetorical one. She had a sinking feeling she knew exactly what her mother was referring to and had no doubts that she would be listening to recriminations regarding her “oversight” at length for weeks—possibly months—to come.
The next moment she was proved right. Yohanna took no joy in that.
“You went to a real Hollywood movie premiere with that man, your boss,” her mother all but squealed. “Best-looking man you’ve ever gone out with and did you even think to give me a call to let me know? Of course not. I had to find out my daughter was dating a celebrity by watching Today’s Hollywood,” her mother complained bitterly.
“I wasn’t ‘dating’ him, Mother,” Yohanna retorted to the answering machine. “I was shielding him.”
And now? What are you doing with him now? she asked herself. She honestly didn’t have an answer to that, other than the obvious one: that what she was doing with him was having a good time.
Her Red-Carpet Romance Page 15
