by Maddie Jane
***
Doing it yourself wasn’t just about home maintenance, thought Luke. With the emphasis firmly on the doing, it could encompass all aspects of life. From his spot at the back of the classroom he’d embraced Harper’s philosophy and incorporated it into his romantic scheming. She clearly wasn’t going to fall at his feet, which meant it would be up to him to make it happen. He had to do it himself.
After a couple of days the women had got used to his presence and pretty much forgotten about him. He was as much a part of the furniture as the old floral-cushioned window seat and the tatty community centre curtains. At the end of each session he’d succeeded in getting some time alone with Harper—his mother had cooperated by waiting in the car for him—and progress had been made.
Harper liked him. She just didn’t know it yet.
They’d slipped into what he regarded as a semi-comfortable routine. He alternated between reading the paper, checking work emails and avoiding Harper’s dirty looks each time he made a noise during the teaching part of the session, and then he joined the women at the end for cups of tea and what they jokingly called builders’ biscuits. Although Harper didn’t talk directly to him during tea time, it allowed him to observe her out of teaching mode.
And he liked what he saw.
Someone not afraid to speak her mind, who worked hard, and was generous with her time and energy. She was modest, kind and her enthusiasm was downright inspirational. If Luke hadn’t already mastered the tasks she set he knew she’d be able to teach him. Even if he’d been useless. Which of course he wasn’t.
He added a heaped spoonful of sugar to the steaming cup of tea someone had passed him. Dunked a biscuit. ‘How’s it going?’ he asked Shelia. ‘Lucky you wore your old clothes for today’s session.’
His mother’s grin widened as she looked down at the emulsion splattering her trousers. ‘Such fun,’ she said.
When they’d arrived on day three, Harper had split the class in half and they’d set up large A-frames as mock walls. Half the class had painted the miniature windows and skirting boards and the other half had tackled wallpapering.
Today, day four, they’d swapped over. Luke, although no expert, couldn’t fault Harper’s technique as she talked the women through the wallpapering. They worked in pairs, folding the pasting paper to carry it carefully to the wall and used a spirit level to ensure it was straight.
He’d been unable to help himself when his mother and aunt forgot about the direction of the wallpaper pattern. He’d rushed over to help, earning a dark look from the teacher. When he thought she wasn’t looking he’d assisted them to trim the corners of the paper and stood back with them to admire the wall.
‘Not bad,’ he said, ignoring the slightly wonky pattern and the air bubble.
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Shelia. ‘I can’t wait to try it at home.’
‘Hmm,’ he said, not wanting to encourage or openly discourage. He caught Harper’s eye, unapologetic at aiding the older women. Nothing wrong with helping. If anything, Harper could let up on the girls-going-it-alone theme and accept some help herself. Running the class, dashing back and forth between the groups, was hard and she definitely had her hands full.
And he was just sitting there twiddling his thumbs most of the time; a waste of human resources.
Tea over, Luke started to gather up the cups. Behind him he heard the ladies calling out their goodbyes and packing up their bags to leave. He gave his mum a quick nod and followed Harper out to the little storeroom. He gave the door a nudge, quietly closing it behind him so they were alone in the tiny room. She hadn’t noticed, too engrossed in rinsing off the cups and saucers and placing them in the draining tray. Luke dumped the remainder of the cups on the bench and picked up the tea towel.
‘You don’t have to do that,’ said Harper.
‘And you don’t have to do everything yourself. I’m just drying the dishes, not laying concrete. It’ll free you up to do whatever else you need to do before you head off for the day.’
Yet Harper didn’t seem to be in any hurry now that the classroom was silent and empty. Her hands made swirling patterns in the hot water as she washed and rinsed cups. White detergent bubbles pouffed up her tanned forearms.
‘Has your mother said anything about the class? Is she enjoying it?’ Harper placed the last cup on the tray and put her arms under the tap. Tiny freckles revealed themselves as the bubbles disappeared down the plughole.
‘Yeah. She’s loving it. She thinks you’re great.’ So do I, he wanted to add. He handed her the towel to dry herself, realised how small the storeroom was, how close they stood. Harper’s expression softened at his words and the usual ‘piss off’ vibes she emitted were absent. Hope filled his chest. Maybe his plan to hang round for the week was paying off. He’d wanted to get under her skin the way she’d gotten under his.
He tugged the towel back, pulling her off balance towards him. Their feet bumped, her knee nudged into his shins and she let out a small yelp. Laughing, he grabbed her elbows to steady her, his hands slipping slightly on soft wet skin. He felt her tense, but she didn’t move away, just looked up at him with her big brown eyes. Something in those eyes begged him to kiss her. He knew enough about women to know she wanted him.
He slipped his hands a little higher up her arms, pulling her closer into his sphere. She didn’t help, but she didn’t resist either. His thumbs slipped along her skin. She was close enough now he could almost have buried his face into her neck and breathed her in—natural woman, herbal shampoo and a faint lick of paint. Wanting her would drive him crazy.
And still she didn’t move away. Frozen like a deer in the headlights, waiting to see what he would do next. Waiting; her lips parted. His pulse pounded through his fingertips eliciting a responding shiver from her; a welcoming sign he couldn’t ignore. An opportunity too good not to take. And man, he wanted to take. Take her hard, take her gently, take her anyway, as long as he had her. He pulled her into his arms, bending his head low to taste those pink kissable lips. Gently. Testing the water. Then with increasing pressure as she yielded to him and responded in kind. Her lips soft, yet insistent as they met his.
She shuddered and his heart thumped an erratic beat as he pulled her hard against him, wrapping his arms around her slim waist to hold her tight in his embrace. He lifted her, adjusting her small, perfect form to his large frame till she melded into him, her soft curves pressed against him. Her arms reached to wind around his neck, her fingers in his hair as she pulled his head towards her. She gave herself to him in a passionate and intoxicating kiss.
He was on fire.
Lips crushed against lips, demanding and heady. His hands explored her slender back, moving to stroke up and down her spine. Heated sensation after heated sensation burned through him, and he couldn’t get enough. He buried his face into her delicate neck, revelling in the tiny whimper of sound she made as his breath whispered across satiny skin. She melted into his touch when he found a sensitive spot at the base of her throat, tasting her, breathing her in, before trailing up her neck to explore her mouth again, seducing with his tongue.
The crash of the door behind them and a startled ‘woops’ jolted him back to reality. The door slammed shut again, but the moment was gone. Harper ripped her mouth away and shoved him back so hard he’d have toppled over if he hadn’t grabbed hold of the bench.
‘Crap, crap, crap,’ she said. Her eyes filled with panic, followed by an icy fury. She glared up at him, swiping her hands desperately at her swollen mouth as if she could remove all evidence of his branding kisses. Then she turned, smoothing her hair and her clothes and pushed back into the classroom.
Chapter 7
How could she have been so brainless? So unprofessional. So … so obvious. She’d completely lost the plot and now one of her students had seen her kissing Luke. Or maybe Mr Thompson had dropped by to see her as he occasionally did after class. Surreptitiously checking up on her. Harper rushed through the c
lassroom to look down the corridor. Empty.
She pressed her hands to her face, rubbing her eyes with a moan. Resisted the urge to bang her head on the doorframe to smash some sense into it. Too late for that. The damage was done and now she had to fix it. Or at least deal with the fall out.
She sensed Luke behind her. ‘This is a disaster,’ she said blasting the polar chill of her anger on him.
‘It’s a kiss, Harper, not a world crisis.’
‘It might just be a kiss to you, but it’s a total professional disaster to me. It makes me look ridiculous.’
‘Who saw us? I’ll ask them not to say anything. I’ll sort it.’
‘I didn’t see anyone. They legged it down the corridor. God, this is a nightmare.’ Harper felt sick. She pressed her hand to her mouth. Don’t puke in front of Luke.
‘It’s embarrassing, I agree. But it’s not the end of the world—’
Harper cut him off. ‘It should never have happened. What was I thinking? I’m so stupid. You have to leave now and you can’t come back tomorrow.’
Luke reached out towards her, his handsome face full of concern. ‘Really? If that’s how you want to play it, I won’t come tomorrow. But I’d rather be here. If anyone says anything, I’ll knock it on the head. It’ll all be forgotten by the weekend.’
‘Choice gossip fodder like this? I doubt it.’ Harper dropped her head into her hands with a moan. ‘Crap, crap, crap.’
Luke placed his hand on her shoulder, offering comfort she so wanted to take, but she shook him off. ‘Don’t touch me. You’ve done enough damage already.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘That we got busted, I mean. Not for the kiss—that was hot.’
God, Luke’s kiss was hot, some part of her mind thought. The same destructive part that’d got her into this lamentable position in the first place. She had to shut that part down immediately. It had no right leading her astray, making her forget what was important.
Luke turned her to mush. Made her knees weak and her resolve even weaker.
‘I am sorry for the kiss. It won’t happen again. Ever,’ she said.
‘Come on. It’s not like we were going at it hammer and tongs on the workbench. You’re blowing everything out of proportion. One kiss between consenting adults in their own free time. That’s all it was.’
Was it? It was difficult to think when Luke stood before her, tempting her with his hard body. Reminding her that he tasted of chocolate biscuits and warm, clean skin. The twinkle had returned to his eyes, turning them more blue than grey, which somehow confused her even more.
‘It might’ve been just any old kiss to you …’ she said, suddenly incensed. How dare he be all twinkly eyed with her professional name at stake. ‘But—’
He interrupted her. ‘One awesome kiss. And there’s plenty more where that came from, Princess.’
‘So not interested,’ she said, seething now. Was he deliberately being facetious? Did he not see it from her side? Career-crushing, reputation-wrecking kisses couldn’t be swept casually under the rug.
She wasn’t her mother.
‘I work my arse off and I won’t have you damaging my business and giving my clients cause to gossip about me.’ Harper stomped over to hold the door open wide. ‘Don’t you have somewhere else to be?’
***
Much to Harper’s surprise Luke kept his word and stayed away from her class the next day. A relief, she thought. It would’ve been too embarrassing to have the women watch them, looking for signs there was something going on between them when Harper knew there was nothing.
So definitely a relief.
Except not having him lurking up the back where he’d consistently been for all four days of the course so far seemed to make it more obvious something was up. Almost as if he became more conspicuous through his absence. Did it highlight the fact that maybe there was something going on between them?
Crap. He’d wanted to come today. Harper hated to think he might have been right. Her mind swirled as it batted the possibilities back and forth.
And what was with all the whispering? She was pretty sure no one whispered in her class before today. Oh God. What must they think? She scanned the faces of her students, trying to ascertain if anyone looked more … knowingly at her.
‘Less gossip, more work please,’ she said sharply. She blushed at her own unfortunate choice of words. Someone tittered and she turned to hide her face. They all needed to pull their heads in and get back on track. Today’s topic, tiling, required precision, focus and a bit more skill than previous activities.
‘Use your spirit level to draw a vertical line from the centre-point to the top,’ she said. ‘No, not there, the top of the area to be tiled.’ She walked around the room, checking, straightening, offering advice. ‘Watch that adhesive. Try not to get it on the face of the tiles.’
Keeping her mind on the job helped. Issuing instructions and answering questions made the session fly by and Harper began to feel more normal as her control returned and her anxiety levels dropped. As the class ended for the day she couldn’t help thinking she’d had a close call but that maybe there wouldn’t be terrible repercussions. As long as it never happened again and she retained a thoroughly professional relationship with her students and no relationship at all with Luke, it would be okay.
But as she farewelled everyone at the end of the session and wished them all a successful DIY-filled weekend, she realised her ordeal hadn’t ended yet.
Joan and Shelia loitered at their workbench. Usually the first out the door each day, Harper watched them with deep suspicion.
Suck it up, Harper. ‘Can I help you with something?’
Joan’s eyes gleamed as she gave Shelia a look of excitement, nudging her. The sisters had the giggles, reminding Harper of two hyperactive kindergarteners. Just spit it out and get it over with. Harper shoved her fidgeting hands into her jeans pockets and focused on calming the fluttery feeling in her stomach. Luke’s relatives clearly thought something was funny. What had he told them?
Shelia stepped forward with a big smile, clasping her hands to her chest. ‘I wanted to say how happy I was to hear the news about you and Luke,’ she said.
Harper felt all her blood rush to her face and she dug her fingernails into her palms. Her gaze flicked round the room before she forced it back to Shelia’s face. Awkward.
‘What news is that?’ said Harper.
Shelia’s tone was cryptic. ‘You know, about you and Luke.’
Despite a massive internal cringe Harper managed to retain a neutral expression on her face and not outwardly flinch, twitch or hyperventilate. It’d taken years of practice to master hiding the embarrassment inflicted on her by her mother’s behaviour and it had become second nature: look casual, twist the situation around. Not such a piece of cake when the embarrassment was self-inflicted. She took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know what Luke said to you, but in my opinion a man shouldn’t be so quick to kiss and tell.’
‘Ooh, I told you it was true,’ Joan blurted out. ‘You owe me ten dollars.’ She held her hand up to high five her sister, and got a filthy look in return.
‘You made a bet about Luke and me?’ Harper shook her head. Unbelievable!
‘It was just a little bet. I wanted to run a sweepstake but Shelia thought it was tacky.’
‘And what did Luke think? Did he think it was tacky? Or was he all set to make a killing off me?’
Joan looked confused. ‘Luke doesn’t need money, not with that massive trust fund he inherited.’ Shelia frowned and kicked Joan most unsubtly in the ankle.
O—kay, thought Harper. Luke’s mother doesn’t want me to know he has a trust fund, yet seems to think it perfectly acceptable for her son to kiss me and brag to the world about it.
That surprised her too. She’d come to like Shelia and enjoyed having her in the class. The Colton family seemed like decent people. In fact, more than decent, quite lovely, kind, caring people. But maybe it was a façade? Wh
o knew better than she that families weren’t all they appeared behind closed doors.
Harper’s heart shrank a little, squeezed in her tightening chest. She should’ve known Luke was too good to be true. People always were. They found a multitude of different ways to disappoint and leave you stranded.
She blamed herself. She’d let him sit in her class. She’d let him make a spectacle of her. She’d let herself down; her behaviour as heedlessly predictable as her mother or sister. Her mum and Annie were so easily swayed by an attractive face, a promise, a distraction from the mundane reality of everyday life. They believed in the fairy tale. The prince. The rescue.
Harper knew it all to be a big fat steaming pile of crap.
If you wanted something in this world, you had to get it yourself.
***
Luke spent the weekend sweating. Confident weather forecasters had promised high temperatures with even higher humidity and for once they hadn’t been wrong. The sky hung oppressively over Auckland, close and smothering.
He switched the radio off, sick of hearing doom and gloom. Sick of feeling sticky. The weather would get worse before it got better. Talk of cyclone-strength winds due to hit the city on Sunday night dominated news reports on all channels.
An electric charge in the atmosphere made him feel like he’d been plugged into a wall socket and only added to the foul mood he’d been in since Harper turfed him out on Thursday. He hadn’t seen or heard anything from her for three days. Not even from his mother, who’d suddenly gone quiet on him. He didn’t dare open himself up to humiliation by asking Joan if anyone had said anything in class on Friday.
Guilt swept through him. Harper’s reaction to being seen with him had initially seemed ridiculous, but time and distance had him wondering if maybe there was something in it. Something remiss in his own behaviour.
It was unusual for him to forget—to forget not everyone had the luxury he did of doing whatever they wanted when they wanted. It looked to all the world like he had it easy. But inheriting his trust fund, inheriting his business, had come at a high price. He’d gladly give it all back in a heartbeat.
