Just Like in the Movies

by Heidi Rice

  ‘You can be intrigued all you want, we’re still not going to be dating any time soon,’ he said. ‘She’s not my type. Way too sweet and adorable,’ he added, with a theatrical shudder.

  His mother laughed, the deep throaty laugh he had once adored as a kid because it usually meant she was about to spring something fun on them – like a spur-of-the-moment trip to Disney World, or VIP tickets to see the Yankees in the play-offs, or a road trip to Maine so they could hang out with Bill Newman, Jack’s dad, for the summer. But he’d learned to like that laugh less and less as he grew older and discovered the fun almost always came with a price. A price which he would usually be forced to pay.

  ‘Touché,’ his mother said. ‘But I believe the fact she’s not your usual type is another thing which makes her so intriguing. Is she pretty?’

  Stunning.

  The thought echoed in his head, as the memory of her a week ago with wet hair and a saucy smile echoed in his groin. And of the days since, whenever he’d bumped into her at the theatre. He’d spent far too much time in the last seven days watching her go about her business each morning, usually while humming a show tune, as she held her grief in check.

  ‘She’s okay, I guess.’ He shrugged. ‘If you like wholesome.’ And built and hot and honest and smart and brave.

  ‘Hmmm, I see,’ his mother said, her eagle-eyed gaze not buying his indifference. ‘Funny that for such a wholesome girl she managed to get you arrested.’

  ‘She didn’t get me arrested. I got me arrested. And it was only a misdemeanour.’

  ‘A misdemeanour that got you slapped with community service that you’ve relocated to London and rearranged your whole schedule to accommodate. And you’re still speaking to her. In fact, you’re not just speaking to her …’ She ladled fresh coffee in the machine and flicked on the switch. ‘Don’t think I didn’t notice how you rode to her rescue last week when your big bad mother started harassing her with her over-sharing.’

  ‘She was crying. I needed to close it down. You know how tears freak me out.’ Not true, but he wasn’t above using his mom’s fake-shrink shit against her. ‘And I agreed to do the community service because it was a court order, and The Royale needs work – most of which is cosmetic, luckily – before she can sell it.’

  His mother’s hand jerked, splashing milk over the two china cups she’d laid out on the sideboard. ‘Why is she selling Matty’s Cinema?’

  ‘Because we have to. It hasn’t been economically viable as a business for over a decade, and there are a ton of debts to pay,’ he said, glad to offer up the information if it would shove his mom off the topic of him and Ruby. Weirdly, though, he’d heard the distress in his mother’s voice when she’d mentioned her brother’s name and for once, it didn’t sound like an act.

  ‘We?’ She wiped the milk off her fingers. ‘Why we? Did Matty leave a share of the cinema to you?’

  Shit.

  He’d been busted, giving up information he hadn’t intended to give up. But what surprised him was his mother had jumped so quickly to that conclusion thanks to his slip, that was spooky intuitive, even for her … unless …

  Maybe she knew more about her brother’s bequest and the reasons behind it? Hadn’t she said something last week on the phone, about a story she had to tell him and Ruby about Matty and her and Falcone? He shook off the moment of curiosity.

  Whatever story she had to tell – and he was sure it was a doozy because his mom’s stories always were – he’d already figured out the reason behind his uncle’s surprise bequest.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Your brother left me a half-share in the movie theatre in his will. And the rest to Ruby. He must have figured I’d cover the debts. But that’s not happening,’ he reiterated, for his own benefit as much as his mother’s. ‘I’m a property developer, not a cinema owner. And I’m not interested in becoming one.’

  He braced himself for his mom to attempt to change his mind. She was the queen of emotional investments after all – one of the reasons he’d spent so much of his childhood living out of a suitcase. But instead of commenting, she sat down in the chair opposite him. Not sat, kind of collapsed. Gracefully, because she did everything with grace. But her hands were shaking and her face had gone a sickly shade of grey. For a moment, he tried to convince himself it was another of her acts. But even she wasn’t that good an actress he decided. Her lucid eyes lifted to his and when she spoke, her voice quivered with emotion – genuine heartbreaking emotion.

  ‘That’s not why Matty left you a half-share in The Royale, Luke.’

  The tension in his stomach twisted, but he still couldn’t prevent himself from asking the obvious next question. ‘Then why did he?’

  ‘Because you were Rafe’s son. And Rafe was the love of Matty’s life.’

  The information had Luke’s discomfort at the original bequest increasing tenfold, along with his outrage on Ruby’s behalf.

  ‘That’s kind of an extreme thing to do, even if Falcone was an idol of his …’ he murmured.

  What kind of a best friend gave half of what should rightfully have been yours to some random relative just because he looked like the movie icon they’d once had a crush on? He’d always known the Falcone nuts were nuts. But Matty Devlin’s bullshit bequest took that insane devotion to a whole new level.

  ‘You don’t understand, Luke,’ his mother said, still looking stricken. ‘Rafe wasn’t just the love of Matty’s life. Matty was the love of Rafe’s life. And I destroyed their relationship, when I got pregnant with you.’

  Chapter 11

  ‘I can’t believe Devlin didn’t come back this afternoon like he promised,’ Jacie said as she loaded the hoover back into the supply cupboard after the final clean-up. ‘Do you know where he went?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’ Ruby sighed. ‘I’m not his keeper, Jace.’ Not even close.

  Luke had left before lunch saying he’d be back in an hour and then never reappeared. And she’d missed him. Too much. How had he become such an important fixture after only two weeks? His steady, capable, competent, mostly silent presence, something she had come to rely on? And that was without even factoring in last week’s shock hug while she was having her Matty meltdown after his mother’s call.

  Being able to sink into his strong arms, feel his warm breath on the back of her neck and hear the solid thud of his heartbeat pounding against her ear had been pretty much the best thing that had happened to her for a long long time. Well, the best PG-rated thing to happen to her.

  Don’t think about Hairgate.

  She needed to get over needing him, and missing him, because sooner rather than later Luke and his strong arms and steel buns and steady, capable presence would be gone. And today had been a timely reminder of that fact, for them all.

  ‘Perhaps we should inform the magistrate’s court of his no-show?’ Jace said, propping her fists on her hips. ‘He is supposed to be doing three hundred hours you know.’

  Ruby shut the safe where they kept the night’s takings and whizzed the dial to lock it.

  ‘We most certainly are not going to be doing any such thing, Jace,’ she said as calmly as she could. Jacie’s heart was in the right place, but she needed to get over her animosity towards Luke. The guy had been The Royale’s very own super-hero so far, working long hours, fixing seats and toilets and a host of other equipment that had been broken for a long time, not to mention starting to return the theatre’s infrastructure to its former glory. ‘From the schedule Luke’s outlined,’ she continued, because Jacie still looked like she wanted to argue, ‘he’s going to be doing five times that number of hours over the next few weeks. I don’t even want to think how much money it’s costing him to rent a house in Chepstow Villas and keep his business in New York on hold. He probably had a boardroom emergency today he couldn’t tell us about …’

  The tickle of anxiety, which had been getting worse ever since Luke had failed to turn up at one thirty that afternoon, clawed at Ruby’s throat.
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  ‘All I care about is that it’s not any other kind of emergency …’ If he’d been hurt, or injured in any way, she’d never forgive herself. Perhaps he’d had to return to America. Was that the real reason his mother had called? To inform Luke of some family disaster? Because Ruby still couldn’t get her head around the idea of Helena Devlin ringing The Royale to talk to her. Or why Luke had spoken to his mother so harshly …

  Stop right there, Rubes, not your business.

  Ruby steered Jacie through the bar, into the foyer and towards the front door. ‘Why don’t you head home, I can finish locking up. I’ve got a long hot bubble bath and a chilled glass of pinot waiting for me before I crash headlong into bed.’ Running a cinema and panicking at the same time were exhausting.

  ‘Fine,’ Jacie said as they reached the front door. ‘But if he’s a no-show again tomorrow, we should probably …’

  ‘If he’s a no-show tomorrow, I’m going to start calling hospitals,’ Ruby said, as the anxiety sunk its claws into her chest.

  Whatever the emergency was, Luke would have let her know, unless he couldn’t let her know.

  ‘Now, piss off so I can panic in peace,’ she said, as she shoved her assistant manager out the front door.

  ‘He’s not hurt, he’s just a rich, arrogant, entitled guy,’ Jacie said, but even she looked concerned now. ‘With great bone structure.’

  ‘Don’t forget the buns of steel,’ Ruby said as Jacie stepped out of the door.

  Jacie nodded. ‘I hope we get to ogle them some more tomorrow.’

  ‘Ditto. See you at eleven,’ Ruby said, as she closed the door then pressed the button on the inside to engage the outer metal shutters.

  Jacie saluted before heading off down the street to the tube.

  Ruby listened to the electric clatter of the shutter descending, and swallowed past the ball of anxiety.

  Luke Devlin was not lying on a hospital slab somewhere, she told herself. He was probably on a first-class flight to New York, or negotiating some mega-deal at his luxury home in Chepstow Villas. If he didn’t show tomorrow, she could always phone his assistant Gwen, and make a polite enquiry as to his whereabouts.

  She needed to start looking on the bright side again, and being practical and pragmatic and optimistic instead of heading straight to Death and Destruction Street without passing Go every time something when awry.

  Not every unexpected event ends in tragedy.

  She was still trying to convince herself, when the toes of a pair of work boots she recognized appeared on the pavement below the descending shutter.

  ‘Luke?’ She gasped, all of her fear sucked into a vortex of relief and joined by the shimmer of excitement which always sprinted up her spine when Luke arrived each morning.

  ‘Ruby? Hey, can you open up, I’m here to finish the moulding.’

  To finish the moulding … Was he serious? In the middle of the night?

  She flipped the shutter button in the opposite direction, excitement rippling across her nerve endings despite her confusion, as his long, rangy, stupidly gorgeous body – broad and dependable in shirt, jeans, T-shirt and work boots – was slowly revealed. Even backlit by the street light, he looked glorious. And upset about something, she realised as his striking face was finally illuminated by the security lighting in the lobby.

  ‘Luke is everything okay?’ she said as she unlocked the door and flung it open.

  ‘I missed our date,’ he said.

  Date? What date? They’d had a date and she’d forgotten about it?

  ‘I should have been here …’ He tugged his phone out of his back pocket, his movements more deliberate and a little less graceful than usual. ‘Shit!’ He thrust his fingers through his hair, making the silky strands stand up in sexy tufts. ‘Ten hours ago. I’m sorry. But I can work through the night.’

  Right, he was talking about their DIY date. Ruby’s excitement downgraded a notch. But her relief he was not dead from an undiagnosed heart condition was still palpable. Add that to the common or garden sizzles that always occurred whenever Luke was in the building and Ruby was dangerously on edge.

  ‘You don’t have to do that Luke, it’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  She should get him to leave, before her need got the better of her again and she started to beg.

  ‘But I want to do it, for you,’ he said. His hand lifted and he cupped her cheek. ‘Jesus, you’re so beautiful.’

  ‘I am?’ she choked. Then wanted to slap herself.

  Way to sound like you’re shamelessly fishing for a compliment, Rubes.

  ‘Yeah, how come you don’t know that?’ he said, the rough calluses stroking her skin making the sizzles become seismic waves. ‘Surely a ton of guys must have told you that already?’

  ‘Well, not exactly a ton,’ she said, seamlessly switching from shameless to coy.

  He lifted his other hand to cradle her face and hold it steady, his wild blue eyes so full of sexual promise she thought her knickers might actually explode.

  ‘Can I kiss you?’ he murmured, his breath skimming over her lips as he lowered his head. ‘Watching Jake and Heath go for it last week with you sitting right next to me squirming got me so hot. Tasting you is all I’ve been thinking about ever since.’

  Tasting you?

  Wait a minute. Who were Jake and—? Oh, goodness, Brokeback Mountain.

  Embarrassment scorched her cheeks.

  So, he’d felt her squirming while they’d watched Jack and Ennis finally release all of their pent-up passion in that pup tent. But the rush of mortification was swift and short-lived.

  Had he just said it had made him hot, too?

  He had, he definitely had.

  The kissing action in that film was so passionate and so urgent. But not as passionate and urgent as the intent in Luke’s for once unguarded gaze as he searched her face waiting for her permission.

  ‘Yes please,’ she said, before she could second-guess herself.

  And then his lips were on hers. Hot, firm, ravenous and tasting of spiced rum.

  Was Luke foxed?

  The thought occurred to her, but she had no time to engage with it, before he was ravishing her mouth, his tongue licking across her lips to demand entry.

  She opened for him, feeling more than a little drunk herself on the pheromones racing round her body.

  She gripped his shirt, pressing against his muscular body, feeling the distinct shiver of response.

  His fingers delved into her hair and tugged her head back, exposing her neck. His lips fastened on her pulse point, sucking, nipping, caressing, until her rapid pants echoed around the foyer.

  She dragged in a shaky breath. Was this actually happening? And did it have any right to feel this astonishing?

  He stopped suddenly, lifting his head, and met her gaze.

  She waited, seeing the knowledge in his expression. Waited for him to tell her this wasn’t happening, that it was a mistake.

  If he was drunk, she probably ought to call a halt to it herself.

  But he didn’t look drunk. Despite the sweet aroma of the rum on his breath. He looked entirely in charge of his faculties, just more urgent, more passionate, more volatile than she’d ever seen him before.

  So she waited, his harsh breathing matching her own. And worked out a convincing argument for why they had to take this to its logical conclusion. They could do this, even if it was just for one night, one quickie, one more kiss. It didn’t have to be a big deal, a lifelong commitment. She knew he was rich and successful and looked like a god …

  Okay, maybe don’t say that.

  Luke was touchy about his looks and he still thought she was a Falcone nut, even though she’d been a Luke nut exclusively for a week.

  Perhaps she should beg. Mortification was a price she would happily pay if he’d let her jump him, just for tonight.

  His hands dropped, and he stepped back. She braced herself, all of her arguments ganging up so fast she couldn’t quite sp
it them out.

  But then he grasped her hand and leading her back to the door, leaned over to flick the switch.

  The shutter roared down again.

  Did this mean what she thought it did? Were Thunderbirds Go?

  Anticipation and excitement and panic combined in the pit of her stomach to create a perfect storm of anxiety and need.

  The shutter hit the ground and rattled, shocking her out of her desperate conversation with herself. Luke pressed the button to lock it then marched across the foyer towards the door to her flat, her hand still grasped tightly in his. As if he would never let it go.

  They climbed the stairs in silence.

  The flat was dark, but he didn’t stop to turn on any lights, simply headed down the corridor, past her kitchen, the bathroom, the boiler cupboard, to the bedroom at the back.

  She had a momentary panic the room might be a tip. But when he opened the door wide, the light from the street outside illuminated the waterfall of throw cushions, and the fairy lights she must have left on when she’d come up to have her dinner during the evening show. The room looked magical, especially when he swung her round and grasped her hips.

  She could feel the thick erection she’d felt once before. He glanced around the room, then his gaze landed back on her.

  Pressing his hands to her cheeks, tucking her hair behind her ears, his face sunk into the soft skin under her ear lobe and he murmured against her neck.

  ‘Thank fuck you haven’t got any posters of my old man in here or I would have had to jump you on the fire escape.’

  She laughed, the giddy joy of being wanted, of being needed, of feeling sexy and desired, enough to send her excitement into the stratosphere.

  ‘Don’t worry, I would have chucked it out the window if necessary,’ she said gasping as his lips worked their magic on her pulse point, and his wide, callused capable hands lifted her dress and sunk into her knickers.

  She hissed, as one blunt finger found the slick seam of her sex.