Bargain in Bronze

by Natalie Anderson

  “Um.”

  Her inability to articulate even a word dragged him back from his blatant lust-fest. Shy, oversensitive Lexie had needed gentleness and consideration seven years ago—no doubt she still did. Luke was suddenly glad of the counter between them, hiding how much he wanted her wide-awake in his bed. She’d turned her back to him anyway, going to the sink and rinsing her glass. Luke was riveted—oh yeah, her curves had filled out beautifully. She had the sweetest peach of a butt. He’d already noticed the breasts that deserved hours of attention. Hours and hours. And he was a sick, sick unit who didn’t have the heart to tell her the apron didn’t fully cover her rear.

  He’d nearly had a coronary when he’d seen her. And when he’d thought she was here with some other guy? A freak storm of rage had ripped through him. But there was no guy. Just Mango. That’s when he’d felt an insane amount of satisfaction.

  Lexie Peterson was the forbidden fruit of his youth. And a guy always wants what he can’t have. He definitely hadn’t been allowed to have Lexie. Being unable to have a girl had been something of a novelty for him even back then. Hence the extreme resurgence of that attraction now, right? This instant, extreme reaction was merely a throwback to that. No real biggie, he could just relax and step away.

  Then again, Luke deserved a little fun, didn’t he? After the huge disappointment of today, didn’t he deserve a sweet treat? Except there was no way he could perform right now. Any attempt would be lame—literally.

  “So what have you been doing these last few years?” he asked. “Got a twenty-second recap?” He could manage some normal conversation and not leer at her. Sure he could.

  “I’ve been traveling a bit. Worked in Australia for a while,” she answered. “After that exchange trip to the US, I really wanted to travel more, but stayed nearer to Mum and Dad.”

  Luke had heard snippets from Dani, had seen occasional pics. Now he was distracted from her answer by her hair—the glorious strawberry-blond length caught the lights above and seemed to spark. He was pretty sure it was her natural color too. It had been the same when she’d been a shy teen and she certainly hadn’t dyed it then. She hadn’t done anything to draw attention to herself. Which wasn’t to say she didn’t get it—then or now.

  “Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

  Her voice cut sharp. He focused on her face—her narrowed green eyes unwaveringly on his.

  Her bold look threw him—the shy kid who’d once been unable to say anything but “um” had suddenly upped her game.

  “Um.” Hell, now he was the one with the speechless problem.

  Luke pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to pull it back together, but he was frustrated that he couldn’t pace the way he needed, to release this ferocious energy surge. He’d been bitter enough before walking in the door, now—incomprehensibly—he was at the point of needing to punch something. Or screw someone into submission.

  “I’ll take the sofa for tonight,” she suddenly said in a chillier tone. “And I’ll move on tomorrow. You don’t need to worry. I can take care of myself.” Without breaking that killer eye contact, she leaned back against the sink as if she was too damn at ease.

  Could she now? Really? Because last he knew, Lexie Peterson had been a chicken. All scaredy-cat and too shy to look a guy in the eye.

  Okay, she was looking him in the eye now and was coolly provocative with it. He was almost overcome with the urge to scoop her up on the counter and spread her legs so he could step between them. But judging by that ice-queen look, Lexie didn’t want to play. Now why was that? Because she had once.

  Yeah. Once he’d kissed her and she’d been more than sweet. Her lips had clung, parted. She’d wanted. And he wanted her to want him again because there was no reason for him to be banned from her now. Instead he turned to the damn coffee machine just for something to do with himself—the last thing he needed was the caffeine.

  “Why are you limping?”

  Damn, he’d stood still for too long and now she’d caught him moving slower than a snail. He’d wanted to hide it as long as possible because he didn’t want to dwell on it. Didn’t want to admit defeat to anyone. Bitterness burned in his chest. He’d been such an idiot. But he couldn’t help glancing to see her reaction. “I fell in training. Wrecked my knee. I can’t run.”

  “Oh, Luke.” Her defensive attitude melted away as her eyes warmed with compassion. She lifted away from the counter as if she were about to come hug him. Only she paused, and slowly leaned back again. “I’m sorry.” Her mouth softened but then she lifted her hand, rubbing her thumbnail over her lower lip. He really wished she wouldn’t do that. She’d done it all the time all those years ago and he’d always wanted to soothe her lips with his own. Clearly she hadn’t broken her habit—and his reaction remained the same, too. “You must be disappointed.”

  Major understatement.

  He looked away, forcing his throat to swallow. Yeah, this was the Lexie he remembered. The pretty girl with the world’s most expressive eyes. Sensitive and caring and sweet. He’d seen it several times—but never once directed at him like this. It had always been Dani. Lexie had been there that dreadful day when Dani’s dog had been hit by a car. Dani had been beside herself but Lexie had been so empathetic, helping more than either Luke or his parents could. Very, very sweet. And unfortunately, as sexy as hell. For a youth only still learning such a thing as self-control, she’d been pure torment.

  “I feel bad for Kate.” He focused on the mess of the last twenty-four hours.

  “She’s your runner?”

  He nodded. Dani must have told her. Kate had been born blind. She was also a born runner. He had the privilege of being her guide runner—tethered together for the marathon.

  Lexie was silent for a moment. “Does she have another guide?”

  “They’ve found one for her.” He sighed. He and Kate had worked so hard, training together for over a year. Running so many events. She was like a sister to him. He’d wanted to help her get there—to the London Paralympics—across the finish line, on the podium. The whole big dream. And he’d let her down with a stupid mistake.

  “Is she okay?” Lexie moved closer.

  “She’ll be fine. A few training sessions with her new guide and it’ll be great again.” He hoped.

  “What about your knee?”

  “Six weeks.” Six weeks of almost nothing when he should have been taking on the marathon.

  “Bet that feels like forever.”

  It felt like a bitch. “I’m going to take a shower.” He had to get away from her before he did something he’d regret. He was in no shape to try it on with Lexie. If—when—that was going to happen, he needed to be in top form.

  “Okay,” she said softly.

  Luke walked down the hall, his knee throbbing now. He went into his bedroom, leaning back against the door to close it. He noticed the changes immediately—even the scent in the room.

  Lexie.

  She was right inside his space, right in his head. He painfully stalked to his bathroom and hell, a bag spilling all kinds of personal stuff was sitting beside the sink. Her shampoo and conditioner bottles stood on the shower floor. He closed his eyes and willed resistance. But that subtle scent still got to him. Hell, had he gone psycho stalker? Getting turned on by the mere scent of the woman? He screwed his eyelids more tightly together. It wasn’t just the scent. It was the knowledge that she was there—in his home, wearing not a hell of a lot. All grown up and even more luscious.

  Hotter than he’d ever been in his life, he flicked the shower to ice-cold. He soaped down, sighing as he encountered the erection that just wasn’t going away. He could indulge in a bit of self-gratification to take the edge off—because he didn’t see how the hell else he was going to get a wink of sleep tonight. But he wanted to be more in control of himself. It was his damn body and he could deal with it. There was no need for him to be teen-boy-at-the-mercy-of-unruly-hormones all over again. He could will it away,
of course he could. He wasn’t that weak.

  He withstood the icy water for a full ten minutes. Blocking wayward thoughts by reliving the moment he’d slipped on the muddy track in training today. He’d shouted out to Kate, releasing the tether that connected them so he didn’t take her down with him. But he’d twisted, ripping tendons and messing everything up.

  Kate had cried—the way he’d wanted to, until the medic dulled the pain with some gas. It had taken Kate’s husband, Johnny, a good hour to get her to calm down, and Luke had felt like he’d ruined everything. He hadn’t though—he believed in Kate. She’d do it anyway. She was unstoppable. He’d gotten out of there as quickly as he could, catching the last train even though he hurt and was exhausted. The sooner Kate got back on the track with a new guide, the better.

  Luke stepped out of the shower and toweled off, wincing as he brushed his bandaged knee. At least he was “relaxed” again. He’d go sleep on the sofa. Not Lexie. Somehow he’d sleep, right?

  He grabbed the packet of painkillers the medic had given him and hoped they’d numb more than the pain in his knee.

  Chapter Three

  She’d sleep on the sofa. Or even better, the cool wooden floor. Actually, who did she think she was kidding? She wouldn’t sleep a wink tonight. And as soon as the morning came, she was out of here. Hanging around Luke Marchetti wasn’t a good idea. Fantasy Luke lingered in her head and she didn’t want start believing things that weren’t actually real. He might be nice, but he was still a player. And she wasn’t being played by him—or any other guy—again.

  Of course she’d wanted him from the first time she’d laid eyes on him—all this time he’d had the secret starring role in her erotic fantasies. Good thing it was never going to happen because he’d never be able to live up to those dreams.

  She steeled herself, putting on some armor against his charm. The way he’d looked at her in her slip—well, he wasn’t getting it. Not when he’d never truly been interested before. Not when he’d kissed her and walked away without a backward glance. She’d been so naïve back then. But she’d grown up since. That’s why she recognized the look. Other men had worn it. And there was no way she was going to fall for it now. The silk slip was the only reason Luke’s expression had sharpened.

  She’d keep herself together and get over the whole nightmare of a night. She’d had a complete flashback to her timid self when he’d teased her before. She hadn’t been able to look him in the eye or been able to answer him—so pathetic. She wasn’t letting him get to her that bad again.

  So, to bed—on the sofa. But her things were all in his room.

  While he was in the shower she nipped in there, grabbed a couple of things from her pack and changed super quickly, too aware of how big his room was. There were a couple of doors in the far wall. One led to the bathroom he was now in, another to a walk-in wardrobe. But in the bedroom proper, there was only a small bedside table and the massive bed itself.

  Lexie swiped a pillow up from the pile. Hell, for a split second when he’d said they could share she’d thought he meant his bed. And he’d looked so relaxed, as though it was no big deal. Sharing more than the apartment probably wouldn’t be a big deal to him. In fact, she’d probably read that “hunting” look on his face totally wrong. After all, he’d kissed her once and she’d clearly done nothing for him, given that he never tried to do it again. Or ever referred to it. He’d hardly spoken to her after that night.

  So yeah, he probably wouldn’t be at all bothered at the thought of sharing a bed with her. Hell, he’d probably suggest they sleep top and tail—head to toe. She clenched her thighs at that thought. To sixty-nine with Luke Marchetti? She pressed the cool pillow to her face in an effort to cool her crazy self down.

  She lifted her face at the sound of the bathroom door opening.

  Oh, someone have mercy. He wore nothing but boxers. Blue cotton boxers that showed off his tanned, nothing-but-muscle legs. The big white bandage around his knee stood out, his discomfort obvious as he favored the stronger leg.

  “Don’t you wear anything else to bed?” She blurted the first coherent thought that sprang to mind.

  “I don’t usually wear anything at all.” He shrugged. “But I thought it would be best under the circumstances.”

  “What about a T-shirt?” She couldn’t look at his body for another second.

  He paused halfway across the floor. “It’s a hot night.”

  “Right.” It certainly was. “Of course.” She clutched the pillow closer to her chest. “I’m going to sleep on the sofa.” She turned her head away from him so not even her peripheral vision could swamp her with a view of all his damn skin.

  “No, I’ll take the sofa,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Not with that knee you won’t,” she snapped back at him.

  Honestly, like she’d do that to him? But he frowned, clearly about to dig in. She lifted her chin and glared at him, holding his equally hard gaze. No longer so shy that she’d break away at any kind of eye contact. She was right about this and they both knew it.

  Silence stretched between them. She could see the muscle work in his jaw and the annoyance flicker in his eyes. He wanted to resist? Well, he might be looking lean and mean, but he also looked in pain and she was winning this one. “The sofa might be big, but it’s still not big enough for you,” she said firmly. “You’d have to crunch up and you don’t need that.”

  He drew in a deep breath and then sighed. The tension in his body eased and he took a couple of limping steps toward the bed. “Nice pajamas,” he drawled.

  Kitten-stamped pink flannel pj’s covered her from her neck to just above her ankles. Darn things always shrank in the wash. But she could be a gracious winner and let him get away with the comment. She was determined to be unaffected by any flirt. “Thanks.”

  “You didn’t need to change for me,” he said, wincing as he took another slow step.

  Oh, yes she did. And she shouldn’t have taken so long in his room. “I was going to strip—” She coughed to clear the sudden itch in her throat and inwardly cursed the sudden rush of heat in her cheeks. “The bed.”

  “Don’t worry,” he chuckled. He glanced up and a wicked look chased away the grimace of pain. “You know, my bed’s big enough for four people. We could both be in there and we wouldn’t even touch each other.” His voice was far too smooth. “It’s much more comfortable than that sofa.”

  Remaining unaffected was impossible.

  “Is that how many you usually have in there? Three at once?” she asked snarkily. His bed was huge—a couple could lie diagonally or sideways and still not have feet falling off the end. Plenty big enough for wild monkey sexobatics.

  His brows flashed up. “Would that shock you?”

  Now she smiled, because now he was the one looking slightly shocked. “Nothing about you would shock me.”

  “Is that right?” he asked softly, finally making it to the bed. “Admit it, you’re mortified at being in here with me right this second.”

  “I’m not mortified,” she lied, curling her fingers into the soft pillow. “I’m not bothered at all.”

  “So why not sleep in here then? The sofa really isn’t that comfortable.” He grimaced again as he sat on the side of the bed. He swung his legs up and covered himself with the sheet she’d pulled back. “You’ve got nothing to fear from me, you know.”

  Probably not, though she couldn’t quite make up her mind about that. She glanced at him suspiciously. His face was as pale as it had been this afternoon.

  Okay, he was right—she had nothing to fear from him. And she couldn’t be feeling any kind of disappointment about that. Not even a teensy bit. All she felt was a spot of empathy for him, right?

  “Is your knee sore?” Dumb question. Of course it was sore.

  He smiled but it went wonky as he winced. He looked down and adjusted the sheet. She wished he’d pull it right up to his neck—all that muscled, bare, bronze torso made her
brain spin.

  “Tell me why you’ve landed in London. What’s the plan? You got a job?”

  “No job yet,” she said, faking a bright answer. “I thought it would be a cool time to be in the city.” The place was dynamic with the influx of tourists, media, and athletes.

  “So you’re here a while?”

  She really wanted to leave his room right now, but guessed he was talking to take his mind off his knee. She had to help with that if she could. She could manage to chat for a couple more minutes. “It depends, I guess. I need to find a job.”

  “What were you doing in Australia?”

  She’d had a great job—until it all fell apart. She hadn’t told anyone the truth of what had happened; not even Dani knew how bad it was. But she felt the weirdest urge to confide all to Luke. She wanted him to know she’d faced some serious challenges but that she was fully capable of getting herself back together. She wasn’t the weakling she’d been. And she wasn’t going to fall for him again. It didn’t matter how damn sexy he was in his boxer shorts.

  “I was working for an online travel agency.” She hugged the pillow to her chest.

  “People still use travel agencies?” he frowned.

  “It was boutique, catering to a select client base. It was very successful. And I was really good at it,” she said proudly. She’d had excellent feedback from her clients.

  “Was?”

  Lexie bit her lip and then gave into the temptation to park her butt on the bed. No point in standing when this was going to a take a few minutes. She sat with her back against the headrest, her feet out in front of her. That way she was parallel and wouldn’t have to look at him. It might not have been such a great idea to get into this discussion. “It’s gone under.”