This Loving Feeling (A Mirror Lake Novel)

by Miranda Liasson

  Just as she had him, once upon a time.

  Sam pushed the plate of pancakes back toward Stevie. “Oh, thanks, but I’m here for a meeting. You go ahead and enjoy.”

  “Will you come over later and see our house?”

  Sam looked a little incredulous, as if the idea of Lukas in a real house was too great a stretch of the imagination.

  Stevie shook his head. He had a blueberry smudge on his chin that made him look even sweeter. “Uncle Lukas got us a real house. And I’m going to have a whole bedroom to myself. Right, Uncle Lukas?”

  Samantha shot Lukas a dubious look. It saddened him to think she thought so little of him, something he’d actually encouraged in the past. Something he still needed to do, because God knew a woman so full of sunshine and light would have no business getting mixed up with him. But dammit, he was trying his best with Stevie. Somehow he wanted her to know that. “Right,” he said. “And you get to pick what color you want it painted.”

  “I told you, Uncle Lukas, I want black with flames.”

  “Well, that might be a little complicated, but we’ll see what we can do.”

  “Flames?” Sam said, her pretty mouth turning up in a half smile. She had a wholesome, fresh look, so unlike the mascara-lined, tatted-up groupies that waited so eagerly for him and his entourage after every show, in every city. The same screaming, worshipping women, hoping for a chance to say they fucked an up-and-comer. He couldn’t do it. Not that he didn’t ever sleep with women but never them. Not the adoring, desperate ones who wanted to do it for bragging rights.

  “Yeah, you know,” Stevie said. “Like big, huge, giant flames, all orange and red and purple.”

  “Why do you want flames?” Sam asked. Lukas was amused by the conversation, but his mind had wandered. Specifically to Samantha’s amazing rack. Not that the sundress was slutty at all but he couldn’t help noticing she’d filled out some in the past six years. Her breasts weren’t large by any means but they were . . . amazing. Each one would be . . . a perfect handful.

  “Because they’re really cool,” Stevie said. “And they look like The Fast and the Furious.”

  Sam stabbed Lukas with a glare, forcing his thoughts back. “He’s been watching R-rated movies?”

  Lukas felt his face heat again. She didn’t know the half of it, but now wasn’t the time to discuss that. So he deflected the question. “Tell you what, Steven, how about a nice shade of blue? All guys like blue, right? It’s a manly color.”

  Stevie’s brows knit together in a frown. “Uncle Lukas, you promised. Black with flames.”

  Sam rubbed the kid’s shoulder. Lukas could tell from the way her eyes went all mushy that she, too, was appalled by his boniness. “Tell you what,” she said. “I’m an art teacher. I actually know how to paint flames. Maybe I can come over and help when the time comes, okay?”

  Stevie nodded, very pleased, the little flirt. Great, just what Lukas didn’t want. Her at his house. A visual flitted through his mind of Sam pushing the paint roller along the plain white walls, moving that gorgeous little ass of hers as she reached up and down, up and down. He forced himself to shake off the thought.

  “Well, I’ve got to go,” Sam said. “I’ve got a breakfast meeting for the Mirror Lake Historical Society. See you guys later.” She was off with a wave and a smile.

  Sunshine had left the table. He couldn’t help noticing how that yellow dress brought out the natural red highlights in her auburn hair. And how her hips sashayed so softly in that dress. It took a minute for Lukas to realize both he and Stevie were staring after her.

  Saying that he’d always been attracted to Samantha was an understatement. She still drove him wild, maybe because she was so unlike all the other women he’d known. In the past, his common sense had prevailed. Breaking up with her had saved her and him from what would have been a disastrous match, a combustible scorcher of an affair that would have taken both of them down in flames, like Stevie’s imaginary paint job.

  She was from a different world than he was. She deserved someone who knew how to love, not a damaged man whose entire personality had been forged while being shuttled between one foster home and the next. That sentiment had made him leave six years ago. He just had to make sure he didn’t forget it now.

  Problem was, impulsiveness had always gotten him into trouble. And the intoxication of seeing her beautiful face again made him want to break all the rules.

  He couldn’t forget the reasons he was back—to try to make a home for Stevie in the closest place to a home he’d ever had himself. To find a place where they could escape when they weren’t on the road. To find Stevie—and himself—some normalcy. Not to obsess about an old love who was already spoken for.

  She’s not married yet, a voice taunted from inside his head. Why hadn’t that idiot married her after six years?

  Lukas reached over to sneak a bite of pancake from Stevie’s plate. It tasted like sweet nostalgia. He had to stop this foolishness and focus on his goals. Stevie watched him silently, then reached over and grabbed Lukas’s coffee and took a big gulp. He set it down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Don’t like milk,” he said with a big grin.

  He was a charmer, all right, with those big long lashes and that angelic smile. Lukas slid back his mug and took his own sip. “Whatever you do, don’t tell that to Mrs. Panagakos.”

  Samantha plopped down on the orange vinyl seat next to her sweet little grandmother, Effie, and gave her a quick side hug. She said hi to Effie’s best friend, Gloria, and Mrs. Panagakos, who were seated across the table. Gloria wore a regal-looking Queen Elizabethesque red suit and matching hat overlain with red netting. Alethea patted her own poof of hairsprayed hair and adjusted her big glasses to see the menu. Effie, in a fuzzy pink sweater and matching orthopedic sneakers, eyeballed Sam up and down in her no-nonsense way that made Sam know it was only a matter of time before the interrogation began.

  Jess slipped into the booth next to Sam. “Are you all right?” she whispered as the older ladies talked loudly among themselves as always.

  “Of course I’m all right,” Sam said, sounding a little too passionate. She was not all right. Her heart was pumping crazily, knocking hard against her chest the way it always did whenever she came within twenty feet of Lukas Spikonos. Her body always seemed to react to him like it hadn’t gotten the memo that Lukas Spikonos was out of bounds, off limits, and, in general, really bad for her.

  “Oh, my God, you haven’t seen it, have you?” Jess said.

  In response to Sam’s confused look, Jess slid her phone across the table. There, recorded for posterity, was the evidence of her indiscretion. No, just to be clear, of Lukas’s indiscretion. It was a stunning photo, a sensuous lip lock of a couple bathed in a spotlight and surrounded by darkness. The photographer had captured the kiss in such a way that a beam of light shone between their two faces, as if the sun were between them. Lukas’s hand was reaching behind her neck, pulling her close. It was romantic and ethereal and sent goose bumps pinpricking up and down her spine.

  Good thing she hadn’t eaten breakfast yet because she suddenly felt queasy. It was a scandalous shot. A shame, because her hair looked really good in that picture and in an alternate universe, she would have been proud to show it around. She blinked as she looked at the bottom of the screen. It had been retweeted a thousand times.

  A thousand?

  Before she could process that, her phone rang. Harris’s name lit up on the screen. The old ladies stopped their chatter, no doubt sensing some big, juicy conversation.

  Sam watched the phone buzz in her hand. She did not ask for Lukas to kiss her in front of the entire school, and now, apparently, most of the world. She’d been an innocent bystander. Harris would understand that, right?

  Of course he would. He was the love of her life and he of all people would understand. She would tell him it was all a mistake, a silly stunt, and he would offer wisdom in that soothing tone of his.

  �
�My God, Samantha, what is going on there?” Harris’s voice was higher pitched than usual and irritated. Okay, so he didn’t sound very happy. Or forgiving. Or in the mood to soothe. The ladies stared like they’d heard every word. Which they probably had, because Harris was practically shouting.

  She wanted to tell him she had nothing to do with it. That she’d had to go up there, and she couldn’t possibly have predicted that Lukas would kiss her. For longer than was appropriate. In front of the entire student body. Who had happily tweeted and Facebooked and Instagrammed it into the wild.

  But she couldn’t say that. Not only because it sounded weak, but because another emotion besides embarrassment over the ridiculous picture was engulfing her. Guilt, which had settled in her stomach like a lump of sodden oatmeal. She might not have been able to predict that audacious kiss, but dammit, it had been one hell of a kiss. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t stop replaying it over and over in her mind. And she was so, so afraid she’d actually enjoyed it.

  Sam got up and walked through the aisle of the diner and out onto Main Street. She stepped into an alley between two brick buildings and took a deep breath. “It’s not what it seems.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The kids were chanting to get me up there, so I went, and Lukas thought he was being funny. I never thought it would go that far.”

  She heard a heavy sigh that made her cringe a little. “I was hoping to get engaged soon, Sam, but I’m afraid to say that this sets us back. I can’t possibly ask you to marry me with this bad publicity. A man like me with a big political career in front of him has got to be very, very careful. And so do you.”

  Sam rubbed her forehead. “I’m so sorry.” She would never want to derail his career. Yet his words galled. He was basing when he popped the question on bad press? On how she presented herself publicly? That hurt. She tried to understand. This was the man she loved. His career was stressful and important. His life was a clean slate, and he wanted to marry someone who had one, too. And up until yesterday, except for that old trouble in high school, she did.

  Harris cleared his throat, a habit he had when he was all business. “It’s just that I don’t like him being back here, Sam. The last time he came back I almost lost you.”

  Aww. His words touched her and deflated her anger. He did love her. He was worried about losing her. She opened her mouth to say he didn’t have to worry about that when he spoke again. “I don’t want you near him, okay? That guy’s bad news.”

  For a town the size of a football field, that was pretty near impossible, unless Lukas was a recluse. Which, if she was lucky, he just might just be, because he’d always been a loner. “I’ll do my best. Are you still coming next weekend?” She wished Harris didn’t have to be in Boston, working on a court case. She needed to see him now, to be with him. He would put this all in perspective and those rogue thoughts of a certain tattooed rocker would be driven right out of her mind.

  “I’ll be there Sunday morning and we’ll spend the whole day together. I can’t wait to see you, sweetheart.”

  “Me, too.” Harris would come, and everything would be all right. Wouldn’t it?

  When Sam reentered the diner and took her seat, Jess shot her a concerned look. “I’d get you a drink if they sold liquor here,” she said in a low voice, then louder, “How about a shot of espresso?”

  Gloria didn’t give her a chance to answer. “Your boyfriend is jealous about that kiss.”

  “A little jealousy is good,” Alethea said. “It makes a man realize what he’s got, if you know what I mean.” This was accompanied by a knowing nod, to which the other women solemnly bobbed their heads in return.

  Effie, her lovely, white-haired grandma, eagerly piped in. “Maybe this little incident will help Harris see how special you are.”

  “If he thought you were special,” Gloria said, “he’d buy you a tiara. All the princesses get one. The man you love should treat you like royalty.”

  “This isn’t England, Gloria,” Alethea said. “American men don’t even know what tiaras are.”

  “Well, maybe they should,” Gloria said. “Does he know what an engagement ring is?”

  Not even five minutes, and this was getting out of control. “Gran, Harris does think I’m special,” Sam said. “Just because he tells me in private doesn’t make it any less meaningful.” It troubled Sam that Grandma Effie, who loved everyone and who never had a bad word to say, disliked Harris. Maybe because she’d always distrusted wealth. Effie didn’t understand that Harris had picked her, plain old unremarkable her, who’d been raised by her grandma and her crazy band of brothers, who’d never been anything special.

  After she’d been bullied in high school, she never thought she’d find someone who wouldn’t judge her, who wanted her for who she was, much less find a decent, respectable man who met everyone in her family’s approval . . . well, except Effie’s, that is. Or at least, Effie was the only vocal one about her feelings. Sometimes her sisters-in-law cast each other worried looks when they thought she wasn’t looking. It was just their way of wanting to make sure she was happy and being treated well, and she was. She really was.

  “I don’t blame him for being upset,” Sam said. “What Lukas did was outrageous. It was completely inappropriate. I mean, I’d be angry, too.”

  Alethea spoke next. “I like men who are brazen and bold. Besides, who can resist a handsome Greek man like that? Even if he does have tattoos everywhere.”

  “I certainly wouldn’t even try to resist him,” Jess said, after which Sam elbowed her in the ribs. Whose side was she on, anyway?

  “I can’t help it,” Jess said, rubbing her side. “The tattoos are hot.”

  Sam couldn’t deny Lukas’s heavily tattooed arms added just the right touch of danger to his dark chocolate eyes, his gypsy black hair, and his Mediterranean skin. No wonder why, in her misguided youth, he’d appealed to her so intensely. She’d been begging for escape from the short cords of her brothers’ scrutiny and he’d been the perfect foil.

  That was in the past. Perhaps Effie should spend her time counseling Jess on choosing the right man instead of chastising Sam for choosing someone who was reliable, upstanding, and steadfast.

  “Maybe you should live a little,” Effie said, looking right at her. Oh, God, this was coming from her grandmother? Really? “I just don’t want you to be stuck in an unhappy marriage.” Effie patted her hand. As if that would take away the sting of her comment.

  Gloria nodded. “There’s nothing worse. Look at Charles and Diana. A tragedy all around.”

  “Okay, ladies,” Sam said, “thanks very much, but I think we need to get down to business.” She opened her purse and pulled out a folder. “The donor dinner for the Palace Theater restoration is just two weeks away. And the big benefit concert is a week after that.”

  Mirror Lake was home to one of only a handful of atmospheric theaters left in the United States, former movie palaces built in the 1920s and made to look like exotic places. Theirs was a Moorish palace adorned with alabaster sculptures, elaborate carvings, and, the crowning glory, the dome of a night sky complete with twinkling stars and passing wisps of clouds. The theater was one of her favorite places in the world, and she was head of the committee in charge of raising money for its restoration.

  “We’re still a million dollars short to get matching funds from the state grant that expires this year,” Alethea said. “We could use a high-profile star to perform at the benefit to bring in the bucks.”

  “Wait,” Sam said. “What do you mean we need a star? I thought we were going with that actor who had a little run on Broadway.”

  “The one that sings in that lounge off Route 95?” Jess asked.

  “He had a wedding to sing at,” Alethea said.

  Effie sighed. “And John Mayer said no.”

  What? Did they actually think John Mayer would come to Mirror Lake?

  “Maybe we should try Barbra Streisand,” Gloria said.
“She’d look so regal standing there in our beautiful theater, with the exotic palace setting and the twinkling stars and her glorious voice . . .”

  “I can’t deny Babs is like buttah, Gloria,” Jess said, “but she hardly ever does live appearances. Ed Sheeran’s in New York that weekend. Maybe he could stop over for a couple hours.”

  John Mayer? Ed Sheeran? Barbra? They were shooting for the stars with no time left to spare. She could understand the old ladies being too far out to reel back in but Jess too? “Jess, do you really think—”

  “Oh, I love that young man,” Gloria clapped her hands together. “He’s got that lovely red hair like Prince Harry.”

  Something caught Sam’s eye. Stevie was waving both his arms wildly, trying to attract her attention. “Sam. Sammy. Watch this!” He’d wound his blanket around his head to look like a mummy (with all the holes and shreds it came very close to looking exactly like that), and he’d flung his arms out stiffly in front of him and swayed back and forth.

  “Now there’s a cute boyfriend for you,” Effie said. “That child is adorable.”

  At that moment Lukas turned around, maybe sensing that all five women were staring his way. His gaze suddenly locked with Sam’s. She immediately looked down and studied the contents of her folder.

  “I think someone else has an eye out for you, too,” Effie said in a singsong voice.

  “Speaking of the devil, maybe you should ask Lukas if he’d sing at the benefit,” Jess said in a dead-serious voice. “Time is getting short.”

  Sam sent her now-former best friend the Glare of Death.

  Jess held her hands up in defense. “Just an idea. We need a commitment on paper or this theater project is going to flop, right when we’re down to the last stretch.”

  Sam bit her lip, lest she remind them that procuring the entertainment hadn’t been her job. It was their job. Which they’d failed to do.