She came out wearing the shirt and with her wet hair smoothed back in a ponytail. “Thanks for helping me. I should have worn a bathing suit but all I have are bikinis and I didn’t think that was appropriate. I should have known better not to act like one of the kids.”
Oh my God. Bikinis. His favorite. “You were just having fun. Nothing wrong with that, and I don’t think anyone even noticed.” Except for him. He’d noticed, all right. So had certain parts of his anatomy.
She gave her wet ponytail a squeeze. “Thanks for showing up today,” she said. “The kids loved it and from the looks of it, we’ll be washing cars for hours.”
He shrugged. “Always good to drum up some business. Stevie’s having a ball, too. I want him meeting people.”
“The kids love him.” She was looking around the bus, the leather seats, the bar, the big-screen TV. “Well, I should get back. I appreciate your using your celebrity to help us.”
“It’s a good cause.”
Sam tugged down the shirt and self-consciously crossed her arms, covering up the “Lukas Live.” With the way she made him feel, maybe it should say “Lukas Alive.”
“What was it like after you left here?” she asked, studying a few posters up on the walls from events his band had played.
He leaned against a tabletop and crossed his arms. Her gaze traveled up his arm, checking out his sleeve tattoo. He put the left arm over the right so she couldn’t see it too closely. “Lonely, especially at first. I took any gig I could find. Slept anywhere. I played backup for any band that would have me, any gig I could get. Made friends, connections. Worked my way up.”
“You always were a hard worker.”
He quirked up his mouth in an ironic smile. “That’s one thing I can thank my old man for. I promised myself from an early age to do whatever it took not to be like him.”
Suddenly she reached out and grasped his right arm, catching him by surprise. She examined the elaborate scrolls of artwork, the musical notes inked so intricately there. He let her flip his arm so she could see the underside and trace the pattern near his wrist. Her touch was butterfly-light, and invoked a wave of warmth that spread from his arm to someplace deep in his belly.
“Oh, Lukas,” she said. Her brilliant green eyes were full of pity.
“Don’t feel sorry for me.”
“You did it to cover up the scars.”
Her touch was too gentle to make him wince, but he did anyway. “I didn’t want to spend every day of my life reminded of how I got those cigarette burns, and I didn’t want anyone else to either. Problem solved.”
Lukas withdrew his arm from her touch and stepped across the narrow aisle. He stood very close, so close he could make out the vibrant green of her eyes, the soft sheen of her silky thick hair. Reflexively, she stepped back.
He advanced another step forward.
She was backed up against the banquette now, her arms holding on to the tabletop. He picked up a random curl. Twirled it slowly between his fingers. She simply stared at him.
“Like I said, don’t waste your time feeling sorry for me. You may think I’m nice but I’m not.” He dropped the curl and stared at her. “I’m a wolf. I’m not going to pretend I have nice intentions toward you. Assuming you are wearing the hot pink panties that match the bra, if that guy wasn’t in the picture, I’d have them off you in the next heartbeat, and you’d be on that bed back there writhing and crying out my name. You’ve been warned.”
She gasped. He’d been audacious. Crazy bold. And entirely socially unacceptable. But he had no regrets.
He reached over and pulled a ball cap off a shelf above her and tugged it onto her head. “Don’t get sunburnt,” he said as he walked past her toward the door, lightly grazing her shoulder on purpose. The fact that he shouldn’t want her was irrelevant now. He did, and this time, he wasn’t going to let anything or anyone stand in his way.
CHAPTER 10
Any honorable man would have had the decency to leave after making those outrageous remarks, but when did Lukas Spikonos ever follow any rules? No, he hung around, singing until he’d attracted a huge crowd, on foot and in cars. He helped wash cars and then ordered everyone pizza, even though Sam insisted it was in the school’s budget to buy it. Teddy Lawrence, the owner of Mona’s Bakery, even brought over a ton of cookies for everyone.
For the rest of the afternoon, Sam kept away from Lukas. Or at least she tried to. The annoying thing was, his shirt smelled just like him. It was infused with the spicy, rich scent of his soap or cologne, the same one he used all those years ago, which evoked all kinds of wild, unwanted memories. Surprising that he hadn’t upgraded to a more elite brand.
Stevie, on the other hand, was another matter. He devoted himself to being her personal assistant, helping to wash out rags, handing her fresh ones, and lugging buckets of fresh water for the kids. Even bringing her a Coke. He was a precious child. Tying Bobby around his head like a bandana, he was happy and sweet.
Sam wondered if the hardships in his life made him like that—almost too perfect. Like he knew he had to please or he feared he’d be out on his butt. All her other nieces and nephews would have been protesting mutinously at this stage. She made sure he had plenty of sunblock on and when he got tired, she asked two of the senior girls to take him to the bus and read stories to him until he nodded off for a nap.
“Hey, babe,” her sister-in-law Meg said to Sam as she pulled up in a red van around midafternoon with James, who was five, and Sophie, eighteen months. “How are you doing?” she asked. “You look a little tense.”
Sam said hi and blew kisses to her niece and nephew. Tense? Ha! Meg had no idea.
Sometimes people had attractions to other people, but they didn’t allow that—sex, chemistry, hormones, whatever you wanted to call it—to ruin their lives with the people they loved. True love was always stronger, right?
Harris had everything she wanted. He was smart and handsome and he treasured her. Why else would he bring her flowers for no reason or surprise her with reservations at a beautiful outdoor winery an hour away? Or an overnight at a quaint bed and breakfast when she was stressed? Then there was his century-old family compound, not to mention his intact, traditional family. And his aspirations to be the best he could be. So he was a little edgy lately. She might be, too, with all that stress.
Then why, oh why, was her body so traitorous? She’d always had a thing for bad boys. Well, that bad boy in particular. But she’d worked hard to flush all that out of her system. Hadn’t she learned anything from life? From heartbreak?
This grown-up Lukas seemed . . . a whole lot more complicated. Trying so hard for Stevie, kind to her students . . . he was so much more than the sexy swagger, the low, sensual voice, and those warm brown eyes that showed every feeling. Not to mention all that thick black John Stamos hair (circa 1993), and oh, God, that body. Lean and muscular with all those badass tattoos . . .
“Oh, Meg,” she said, feeling a little desperate.
They both watched Lukas cross to the next car in line in front of them. “Wow, Sam,” Meg said, “he’s a lot hotter than he was six years ago.”
“Meg!”
“Just saying. I’ve always liked Lukas. I always thought of him as a diamond in the rough. I’m proud of him for achieving so much with the hard start he had in life.”
“Even though he left six years ago. Gone with nothing left behind but a rusty Camaro and a key chain.” And me.
Meg gave her that worried big-sister look. It was one of the reasons Sam loved her so much. They were sisters-in-law but Meg from the beginning had always felt like the sister she’d never had. “Look, come over later. The kiddos are in bed by eight thirty. We’ll have a glass of wine and talk, okay?”
“Well, I’ll try, but—” Just then Sam felt a bump on her shoulder. Lukas grinned and said a quick “excuse me” and put his arm around her to steady her as he came up next to her at the car window. His skin was wet and warm from the sun, and he sm
elled like summer. Sam tried for nonchalance, but it was just so hard when he was touching her.
“Hey, Meg,” Lukas said with a grin. Meg immediately reached over her door to hug him.
“Mommy, is he a real rock star?” James asked.
Lukas scanned the back seat. “Wow, Meg, you and Dr. Ben have been busy.”
“Lukas, it’s so nice to see you,” Meg said. “Meet James and Sophie.”
“Are you a real rock star?” James asked, his eyes wide.
“I’m a rock musician,” Lukas said. “Are you Batman?” he asked, clearly noticing the shirt and cape James wore.
“Me Batman,” Sophie said evilly.
“She’s not Batman,” James said a little forcefully.
“Okay, it’s nap time,” Meg said pleasantly. She turned toward Lukas. “We’re having a big family birthday party for James tomorrow. Why don’t you come and bring your little guy, too?”
Lukas looked reluctant.
“There will be a lot of little kids there—he’ll meet friends.” And Rushford brothers. Lots and lots of them. That would be a minefield for Lukas. Especially Brad.
“Mommy,” James said in a singsongy voice. “It stinks in here.”
“Honey, we’ll be home in just . . .”
“Sophie pooped.”
“No poop,” said Sophie, looking alarmed.
“Aha. You pooped,” James said. Then he got in her face. “Poop, poop, poop!”
Sophie started to cry.
“Well, time to go!” Meg said cheerily. “Call me crazy, but I’m determined to get through this car wash. Great to see you, Lukas,” she said, pulling the van forward.
Lukas straightened. He tapped his hands on the car door. “Hey, great to see you. Maybe I will. Bye, kids!” He gave the kids a goofy grin and a wave, then went back to tend to the cars.
Sam watched Lukas tirelessly sign autographs on baseball caps, T-shirts, a child’s teddy bear, and even a reusable shopping bag in lieu of paper. Her kids were having the time of their lives and so was Stevie, who was going to crash hard tonight judging by all the excitement and laughing going on.
No, this grown-up Lukas was nothing like who she thought he was. He’d claimed he left her back then because he’d had nothing to offer. He’d sounded genuinely remorseful about it, yet he’d made a bunch of teenagers very happy today, and saved their car wash. She had to remind herself that this was the same man who’d stolen her words and left without a trace. But somehow she found it impossible to hate him. Far from it.
And that was the scariest thought of all.
The next day, Sam answered Meg and Ben’s front door, pushing aside a batch of bobbing helium-filled balloons to a shocking sight. Lukas was on the front step, grabbing Stevie by the back of his button-down shirt to prevent him from bolting into the house. Lukas had a look on his face like he was pining for a smoke and wished he were, oh, just about anywhere else but here. Stevie was red-faced and just plain mad. How Lukas had managed to get cute little shorts and dress shoes on the little boy was beyond comprehension. “Hold up a second, there, bud,” Lukas reprimanded in a firm voice.
Wow. In a parental voice. Stevie obeyed but not happily, crossing his arms and pulling out his lower lip, his omnipresent blanket wedged in between his arms and his hip. She couldn’t help smiling. They both seemed so . . . irritated.
“Aren’t you boys handsome. But did Vineyard Vines go out of business?”
Lukas scowled, but she couldn’t help but enjoy the torment. He appeared to be as uncomfortable as Stevie. His baby-blue oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up a little, covering most of his sleeve tattoo, looked great with his coloring, and the sight of his sexy arm muscles peeking out from under the cuffs was positively Sexiest Man Alive.
But he had on these . . . shorts. They were seersucker, with blue and white stripes, with whales interspersed throughout the stripes. Yes, whales. Spouting whales. Her rebel rocker had gone . . . preppy on her. What the . . .
Stevie tugged on Lukas’s shorts. “I want to see the kids, Uncle Lukas. I seen ’em all in the backyard. Sam, let me go, okay?”
He pleaded with her, making full use of those big brown eyes that made her heart melt and want to tell this adorable child who’d had it so tough sure, honey, whatever you want. But she’d had lots of practice watching her brothers and sisters-in-law with their kids. She knew you didn’t interfere with discipline.
“If it’s okay with your uncle, I can walk you back there and introduce you to everyone.” She looked up at Lukas. “Would that be okay?”
Stevie wiggled out of Lukas’s grasp. “He’s making me wear this stupid tie. I want it off.” He gave a vicious tug.
Lukas shifted his weight back and forth. He raked an impatient hand through his hair. “Mrs. Panagakos dressed him. Meg invited her, too, but she has an event at church today.”
Sam swept her gaze up and down Lukas’s lean body, trying hard not to smile. “Did she dress you, too?”
He shot her a murderous glare that promised retaliation, but she didn’t care. This was far too much fun to stop.
“She doesn’t know how to dress boys,” Stevie said, stomping his feet on the front stoop. “Everyone’s gonna laugh at me.”
Sam bent down and wrapped an arm around him. “She just wanted you to put your best foot forward. Do you know what that means?”
His frown deepened, but he leaned into her a little. Sam wasn’t unaware that Stevie had a soft spot for her almost as big as the one she had for him. “Well, it means that it’s kind of fun to dress up and look your best when you’re about to meet new friends.”
He stuck his fingers between the collar of his shirt and his neck. “I’m choking. To death!” Oh, the rebellion to conformity. Must be genetic.
Lukas did not look amused. In fact, he looked downright uncomfortable, glancing about and fiddling with his sleeves. Sam stood up and got right to the point. “Okay, Lukas, can he lose the tie?”
“Fine.” Lukas bent and unpinned it. “There, can you breathe now?”
Stevie frowned in response.
“Here,” Lukas said to Stevie, handing him a wrapped rectangular package. “Take the present with you.”
Stevie slung the brightly colored package under his arm and took hold of Sam’s hand. She glanced at Lukas. “Why don’t you come with us? We can say hi to my brothers.”
“Can’t wait,” he said under his breath, but he followed her into the house. He made a funny clearing-his-throat noise that made her turn around.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “They only hated you seven years ago when you dumped me. I’m sure they’re over it by now.”
Was Lukas going pale? Sam blinked to be sure. Yep, there was definitely a gray cast to that dark olive skin. Throwing him to the Rushford brothers was going to be so much fun.
She felt a tug on her hand and glanced downward.
“Remember,” Stevie said. “I’m Stevie today. Not Stavros. Got it?”
“Got it.” Smiling, she relented a little and put her other hand on Lukas’s arm. A mistake, because it felt warm from the sun and so . . . muscular, not like Hugo’s oversized muscles, yet covered with a soft masculine layer of hair. Startled by her touch, he looked up. She found herself gazing into his warm brown eyes, all irritation replaced by something much darker that suddenly gave her goose bumps. “Cheer up.” Somehow she managed to keep her tone light. “Olivia made mimosas for the grown-ups. I’ll get you one in a minute.”
Actually, she could use one herself. Now that they had finally gotten through the door, the fun was about to begin.
Lukas had never seen such pandemonium. Not that he was a stranger to rock-world pandemonium. Stoned musicians, out of control fans, the inevitable groupies screaming and grabbing at them and trying to get to them backstage . . . all that he could handle, but here—parents, presents, strewn toys, lots of little kids milling around everywhere—he was completely out of his element. Lukas started to go with Stevie, to make su
re he was okay and that the other kids didn’t beat up on him, but Stevie took off with Sam, and judging by the evil look the kid just tossed him, he was not keen on Lukas following him. And that made him realize what he’d already guessed: that parenthood was indeed a thankless job.
He walked through a grand old house that he knew Meg and Ben had saved from the wrecking ball. A bright white kitchen occupied by the Rushford women opened up onto a smallish backyard that was currently overrun with kids, many of them Rushford progeny. (These people reproduced like bunnies.) Effie and Meg’s grandma, Gloria, sat on the patio chatting with Gloria’s husband, Maurice.
Then the Rushford Mafia was eyeballing him from across the yard. Three strapping guys, each drinking a beer and watching over the kids running circles around the big backyard. God, he could use one of those beers. And a cigarette. Make that a shot of Jack. And a cigarette. He fingered his upper arm, where his nicotine patch was doing nothing at all as far as he could discern.
From the kitchen, two of the sisters-in-law, Alex and Olivia, just sort of stared, and he could swear Alex scowled. Meg was the only one who smiled. Before he could pick which particular hell he’d like to expose himself to first, two moms who had just dropped off kids saw him standing in a doorway. They began to squeal and giggle and point to him.
Shit. In some ways the cougar moms were worse than the screaming teens.
He started to make a break for the brothers but too late—he was mobbed.
“Oh my God,” one of the women said. She was blonde and very tanned and wore a silky orange halter top overflowing with—um, her breasts. She immediately grabbed his arm and started feeling up his muscles. He gritted his teeth, forced a smile and tried not to pull away. “You are a hundred times more handsome than you are on YouTube. I read that you got your sleeve tattoo because of a love affair gone sour that you never wanted to forget. Is that true?”
“I never kiss and tell,” he said. He’d do the usual shtick he did for fans and get himself the hell out of Dodge.
This Loving Feeling (A Mirror Lake Novel) Page 14
