by Nancy Martin
“I’ll take that under advisement.” Grace turned and faced him, aware that she stood considerably shorter than he. “Is there a bathtub in this house? Because I’ve had a long day.”
He braced his hands on the kitchen island, as if to keep himself from getting too much closer. His gaze was steady. “Are you listening to me?”
“I’m listening, but I’m not going to argue with you. I hate arguing. It’s impolite, for one thing. I try to be civilized whenever possible. It’s my family business, so there you have it. You know, a nice hot bath might do you some good, too. You could relax. In a separate tub, of course. I didn’t mean—well, you know what I mean.”
“I do,” he said, glowering while he mulled over the situation.
“Upstairs,” he said finally.
The curved staircase took them to the second floor where two wings ran in different directions. Grace spotted a light already turned on in one room and assumed that was Luke’s bedroom. He led her in the opposite direction, though, past a couple of empty bedrooms until they reached a suite of rooms at the far end of the house.
“This is where my parents stay when they visit,” Luke said.
It looked like a hotel room. King-sized bed with a plush coverlet and matching draperies. Two cushy armchairs, a bathroom fit for a sultan. Someone had arranged three scented candles and a dish of colorful soaps on the edge of the swimming pool that was probably intended to be a bathtub. Grace guessed the ex-wife. It hardly looked like Luke’s handiwork.
“Very nice,” Grace said. “Thank you.”
He opened a cupboard and pulled out some towels. “If you need anything else, just call the maid. Except I don’t have a maid, so--”
“I’ll manage on my own.” Grace accepted the towels and hugged them. She held still for a moment, gathering her calm. At last, she said, “Thank you for not shouting at me.”
Luke hesitated. Then said, “I’m not a shouter.”
“I could have guessed that. I’m sorry if I was indiscreet about your friend. I’ll be more careful.”
“Okay,” he said.
For a second, Grace braced herself. If he was going to make a move, now was the time. Luke’s talk about screwing around after his divorce suddenly popped up in her mind. That, and his size. There was no way she was capable of fighting him off, if he suddenly decided to force himself on her. Locking herself in the bathroom might be her only escape if he decided to pounce.
But Grace figured she knew him well enough already not to be frightened. Although she’d certainly read all the media coverage about football players and their domestic abuse issues, this one was man who wasn’t capable of that. She knew it in her bones.
She summoned up her most gracious manners and said simply, “Thank you. Good night.”
“Yeah. G’night.”
He lingered for another heart-stopping moment, then abruptly spun around and left. He closed the door behind himself.
After he was gone, Grace counted to ten and locked the door.
Then on a dresser, she found a framed photo of a family. Very tall men gathered around a fireplace with some laughing women sitting at their feet on a braided rug. A collie with a lolling tongue sat in the center of the group. All the women held puppies. Luke stood in the back row with his long arms around the shoulders of two men who had to be his brothers. One was dressed in military fatigues. Everyone had lively blue eyes and the same curly hair with the widow’s peak. They all looked happy. Luke looked especially non-threatening.
Grace put the photo back on the table. She hoped he hadn’t heard her lock the door.
She wondered what it must be like to have a big, happy, well-adjusted family. With Todd gone, all she had was Mama now. Did big families have just as much strife, only multiplied? In that case, maybe a small family was better.
Her suitcase was already sitting on a luggage rack, and her carry-on bag was on the bed. She puttered for a while, unpacking her toilet articles and hanging clothes for the next day on the shower curtain rod. She ran hot water into the tub and added some bath salts from a pretty jar on a shelf. With a book from her suitcase, she sank into the tub to relax.
She couldn’t concentrate on reading, though. She could hear the storm whistling outside. At last, Grace laid the book on the edge of the tub and sank down to her chin in the fragrant water.
Why hadn’t Luke made a pass at her? Even a little one?
She ought to be pleased to discover that he was a gentleman, she argued with herself.
Or did she just not turn him on?
Annoyed, Grace sat up and reached for a washcloth. She scrubbed her skin until it glowed, but she couldn’t wash the thought out of her head. He hadn’t found her attractive, that was it. She had come into his house wearing Chanel, and looking fabulous enough to wow the television cameras, but he didn’t find her attractive enough to—to---well, she wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted him to do, but saying good night and closing the door just didn’t cut it.
Maybe Luke the Laser preferred his women in tight jeans and sequins. Or team shirts and sneakers? Did he like girls who looked like pole dancers?
On the other hand.
What would Mama make of Luke Lazurnovich? She’d probably find him wrong, wrong, wrong.
With a sigh, Grace climbed out of the tub and let the water run down the drain.
She dried off with a luxurious towel and pulled on her flannel pajama bottoms and—to counter balance the flannel--the sexy red camisole Kip had bought her two Christmases ago. At least, she thought it was sexy. She looked critically at herself in the mirror, though, and noticed a hole in the fabric just above her belly button. Grace got into the large bed and settled between the sensuously silky sheets. Maybe it was time to upgrade her wardrobe. How was any man supposed to find her appealing if she had holes in her nightwear?
While learning to become the newest incarnation of Dear Miss Vanderbine, had she lost something along the way?
She turned off the lamp. To the slowly diminishing noise of the blizzard, Grace tried to sleep.
Eventually, she had a weird dream about wrestling with a large, cuddly bear in the back seat of a limousine.
Her phone alarm went off at six. In the bathroom, she checked her face and decided she could forgo makeup before going downstairs. She combed her hair, though. Brushed her teeth, too. And a little lip gloss never hurt.
After pulling on Luke’s warm socks again, she swiped her phone off the bedside table and checked her airline status. Still on stand-by. Phone in hand, she padded down the staircase to the kitchen.
Coffee was steaming in the machine. A good sign he was already awake. But otherwise, there was no sign of her host. Sunlight already peeking over the hilltop drew her to the breakfast room’s tall arched window. The first rays sparkled on newly fallen snow. Not a cloud in the sky. She guessed there was a swimming pool under all the snow. Already, birds were flitting around a bird feeder hanging from one of the trees.
The sunlight glinted off Luke’s Super Bowl ring.
She gave the ring a playful swat and sent it swinging.
With a yawn—and still enjoying a certain early morning euphoria before all the self-doubts started--she made two slices of whole wheat toast and poured some orange juice from the fridge. She had just sat down at the granite counter when she heard a thump and crash from somewhere under her feet. She sat very still and waited.
More thudding footfalls on the basement steps, and then Luke himself came catapulting through a doorway and into the kitchen, breathing hard. He stopped short, his startled eyes going wide when he saw Grace. He wore a damp T-shirt emblazoned with a team logo, a pair of loose sweat pants and running shoes. A towel was slung around his neck.
“Good morning,” she said. “Where have you been already?”
“Working out,” he said, as if stating the obvious. He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “I have a gym in the basement.”
He had a set of earbuds in his ears, and Grace cou
ld hear the beat of rock and roll. He pulled them out and let them dangle against his chest. The T-shirt made no secret of his physique. Grace found her attention wandering across the contours of the shirt, and she felt her mouth go a little dry. But she managed to say, “Do you work out every day?”
“Of course. Don’t you? I mean, you look like you do.”
Grace certainly did not work out every day and in fact avoided perspiration at all costs. There was a yoga class she enjoyed a few times a week, although that probably didn’t qualify as working out to someone who had been a professional athlete.
Grace decided to save herself the embarrassment by not answering the question. “Did you sleep well?”
“Not really, no.”
He headed to the kitchen sink and turned on the tap full blast. He cupped his hands and bent forward to slosh the water over his face and down his neck. She could almost see steam rising from his skin.
Luke finished washing up and dried his face without turning around. The rear view of him was just as spectacular as the front. A wide back, slim hips, and the kind of behind underwear models worked hard for.
Grace took a swift, vicious bite of her toast and looked out the window.
Trying to sound calm, she said, “I took the liberty of making breakfast for myself. Shall I make something for you?”
“No, thanks. I had a protein shake a while ago. I’ll spin you one, if you want.”
Grace had a feeling his protein shake would involve a lot of uber-healthy ingredients she didn’t want to think about in such early hours. “Toast is fine.”
“Coffee?”
“I don’t usually drink coffee. I’m a tea person.”
“I don’t have any tea, sorry.”
“I don’t need any, thank you.”
Mundane conversation completed, he poured himself a mug of coffee and finally turned around, leaning against the counter to look down at her. The shirt hung loosely around his midsection, and a prodigious stain of sweat darkened his chest.
Wait. Was he teasing her with all this resplendent masculinity? If she wasn’t mistaken, there was a tiny twinkle at the back of his eyes. Grace looked out the window at the bird feeder again and hoped he hadn’t guessed that he was succeeding in blowing a fuse in her brain.
Composed, she re-arranged her toast on the plate. “I slept like a baby last night. The bed was heaven.”
Luke looked as if he hadn’t heard. Was he standing close enough to catch the scent of last night’s bath salts? Had he noticed her hair? The red camisole? Or maybe his attention had wandered back down to his gym. She couldn’t be sure. She picked up a wedge of toast again.
Suddenly, he seemed to snap out of his reverie. “I called the airport. There’s a guy I call when I need a travel favor. He says there’s a flight at ten-thirty. He can get you a seat, if you want it.”
“Oh.” Grace put down her toast.
He noted her reaction and frowned. “I thought you’d be pleased, after last night.”
Grace met his gaze and blinked. “After last night?”
He set his coffee on the counter and ducked his head into the refrigerator. “Yeah. Staying here, I mean.”
“I—” Grace floundered for a moment. “I apologize if I wasn’t appropriately grateful. You’ve been more than hospitable. The bathroom is especially lovely. I soaked for an hour. It was very relaxing.”
Luke straightened to his full height, casually tossing a grapefruit from one hand to the other like a juggler. “That’s not what I mean. Do you want some grapefruit?”
“No, thank you.” Grace was having a hard time figuring out what he was trying to say. “Honestly, Mr. Lazur—I mean Luke, you’ve been charming and very gracious, and I appreciate what you’ve done for me. I’m sorry if I didn’t express—”
“Don’t say you’re sorry.” He began to peel the fruit with his bare hands. Juice spurted out, spraying the already damp front of his shirt, but he didn’t appear to notice. “We kinda didn’t say good night under the best terms. I mean, I come from a family that does a fair amount of arguing, but it’s over fast. You, though—you don’t want to argue at all. It’s—unsatisfying.”
“Actually, I find it perfectly satisfying.”
“Princess,” he began. Then, “No. Look, I get that we’re from two different worlds. I’ve never spent much time around anyone like you. Last night we had kind of a cultural exchange—you know, lost tribe of Borneo meets royal family of Sweden, or something.”
Grace frowned. She really didn’t want to be cast as the royal family of anywhere, but Sweden made her sound awfully … remote. “I don’t understand where you’re going with this.”
“Thing is, I’m sorry if I came on strong about Jake Kendall. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You may have noticed I didn’t exactly faint with fright. But I’ll finish my breakfast and dress and call a cab. You may have your lovely house to yourself again.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Luke came over and straddled the stool on the opposite side of the island. He put both his elbows on the counter and began to tear the skin off his grapefruit, unaware of her puzzled scrutiny. “Things might have gone differently if we hadn’t, you know, had that disagreement about Jake.”
“Gone differently how?”
He thought about how to explain and finally said, “Last night you saw how people around here react when they see me, right? Everybody makes a fuss, which is nice, I get it. But you only saw half of it. Women—Well, if you hadn’t been with me in the bar last night, I’d probably have had six offers to get my passport stamped, you know what I mean? You’re just about the only woman I’ve bumped into in the last ten years who didn’t try to give me a lap dance on the spot. Okay, I’ve had a couple of pretty great lap dances in my lifetime, and I’m not opposed in theory, but, c’mon, I don’t need one from every woman I meet.”
Grace tried to say something, but the only thing that came out was a squeak.
Luke went on. “You’re different. I catch you looking at me out of the corners of your eyes and blushing, and that’s cute. It’s a little sexy, too. But you’re not taking off your clothes in my kitchen and getting down on your knees to prove something. Last night when I turned around and you were unbuttoning your blouse, that’s where I thought you were headed. But I was wrong. Which was, y’know, new for me. And, bottom line, except for the Jake discussion, we hit it off, right?”
“Right,” Grace said, hoping she wasn’t blushing at that exact moment. “What are you trying to say?”
“Okay, here it is. I’m not ready to put you on a plane and never see you again.”
Flustered, Grace said, “That’s very—it’s nice of you to say that, but I have places to go.
Not just today. Tomorrow, too. For weeks, actually.”
“I know that. So I’ve got a suggestion.”
Mesmerized by the way he thrust his thumbs down into the grapefruit to section it, Grace knew her voice sounded unsteady. “A suggestion?”
He popped a section of fruit into his mouth. With the back of his hand he caught a dribble of juice before it left his lip. “Why don’t I take you?”
Grace stared at him across the counter, hoping that something was going to make sense soon. “Take me?” she said blankly.
“To Philadelphia.” At last, his blue eyes met hers directly. “I’ll drive you.”
“The whole way to Philadelphia? I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering. The weather’s beautiful—couldn’t be better. The roads are clear and the sun’s out already. It’ll be a nice ride.”
“You’re very kind, but I couldn’t possibly—”
“Quit being so damn polite and think about it.” He tore off another section of grapefruit and held it out to her. “If we leave in half an hour or so, you’ll be in Philly by noon.”
Grace accepted the grapefruit without thinking. She couldn’t quite get her mind around hi
s proposition. “What if I say up front there’s no way I’m going to—er—stamp your passport? Would you still want to spend a whole day driving me across the state?”
He shrugged. “Nothing ventured, right?”
“Luke —” Grace stopped. She heard an odd note in her own voice. The way she’d said his name sounded different as soon as it popped out of her mouth--almost too intimate, too soon.
He said, “I like you. You’re smart. You’re funny in a nice way. And you look great this morning. Like you’re still warm from your bed. I love your mouth. If I wasn’t sweating like a horse right now, I’d be trying to kiss you.”
Grace blinked at him. “I thought that you…”
“That I hadn’t noticed?” Luke smiled. “I noticed. You’re beautiful. Without getting your face injected with stuff and false eyelashes and everything else that other women do to themselves nowadays. And you’re a little sexy when you aren’t acting like Queen Victoria in a truss.”
Grace sat up straight and summoned a glare. “I realize that I might be a bit chilly from time to time, but—”
“Chilly? Princess, you’re Frigidaire’s biggest competition.” Luke dried his hands on the towel. “I’m intimidated as hell, in fact. But I’d kinda like to know if you’ve got a warm spot under all that good manners routine, you know?”
“And if I don’t?”
He smiled. “I think it’s worth a shot. So what about it? Think you can spend a little more time with me?”
“Are you asking if I’m attracted to you?”
“Okay, if you want to be blunt about it, yeah.”
Grace took her time responding. She liked his smile. She liked that he changed tires for stranded motorists. She liked that he signed autographs no matter how many times he was asked. And those shoulders. The way he moved. If she blushed every time she looked at him, it was probably because her body temperature went up a few degrees.
But she kept it simple and said, “I’m willing to give it a shot.”
He laughed. “See? You’re funny.”
“They say a sense of humor is the first element of sexual chemistry.”
“Whoever ‘they’ are hasn’t gotten laid in a long time.”
