“Spare me the details, Lukas,” I interrupt him. “The request is denied. Your nights are all taken.”
He tilts his head to the side as he exhales hard. I think he’s about to let me have it, but he stays quiet.
“Jules, am I right here?” I’m starting to regret the almost desperate tone I’ve taken. I sound almost like a girlfriend. He gets me so turned around.
“You all need to talk. I have to get back to work,” Jules says as she takes my hand in hers to calm me no doubt. I hate the way she’s looking at me right now. Like she knows some secret. There’s nothing to know! I’ll have to make that completely clear to her later.
“Really? Already?” I say with pleading eyes.
“This is a work day, girlie,” she says. “And Momma has to pay the bills.”
“We didn’t even find a dress,” I say.
“We will,” she says before turning to Lukas. “Listen, big guy, don’t be so fucking complicated. Make this easier for her. Our Nora can be a little high strung. She better be smiling next time I see her. You feel me?”
Lukas holds up both hands in surrender to the tiny woman glaring at him. And with that, Jules kisses my cheek and walks away in heels.
I appreciate her going all Tiger Mom but I could have done without the high strung comment. Jules thinks I’m vulnerable. That pisses me off.
“I’m not high strung,” I say.
Lukas puts his hands in his pockets. “I have a surprise for you,” he says with a fresh smile. It’s as if the last two minutes never happened. “I think you’ll like it, but what do I know?”
The beating of my heart quickens. The clash of frustration and excitement around Lukas can be dizzying. “A surprise?” I say, arching my brow.
“You’ll have to see it to believe it,” he says, taking my hand.
Stepping out onto Rodeo Drive, my lungs fill with the warm midday air. We take a dozen steps before Lukas releases my hand.
“Wait here,” he says and takes off.
A moment later a red sedan rolls to stop in front of me. The passenger door pops open. Lukas stretches out a welcoming hand.
“Is this your carriage?” I say, unable to suppress my pleasure.
“Close,” he says with his beautiful face. It’s Chevy Camaro.”
“Did you hotwire it?” I meant that as a joke, but am immediately worried I have yet again offended him with my awkward mutterings.
“I don’t possess that skill,” Lukas says as I step into the car. “So I had to purchase it. It’s a 2002. They were asking for ten thousand. I got it for nine with only five hundred down. Does it live up to your standards?”
He pulls quickly away from the curb. I feel it in my belly.
“I like them with four wheels,” I quip.
“Not just four tires,” he says. “These are on 11-inch rims.”
“That’s good?”
He shakes his head. “Beyond good. It’s totally bitchin’.”
“Okay,” I say, “taking your word for it.”
*
The smell of old books hits my nostrils the moment Lukas opens the all glass door, causing my heart to swell. My eyes close as I inhale the sweet, musty fragrance of a thousand stories set in a thousand worlds.
The first floor of the used bookstore is jammed full of books from the floor to the ceiling. Paperbacks and hardbacks are crammed onto the shelves. Handwritten labels taped to the shelves read things like thriller, mystery, romance, nineteenth century and fantasy. This would be a chamber of my heaven.
Lukas directs me up the wooden staircase.
“What’s this all about?” I ask him when we make it to the quiet second floor loft. It’s as if time has stopped here. A tranquility and stillness hang in the air between tomes of poetry, history, philosophy and vintage children’s books.
“Close your eyes,” Lukas whispers as he steps behind me, his mouth a breath away from my ear.
“I’m not sure…” I begin to say when he covers my eyes softly with the palm of his hand. The hairs on my neck bristle.
He gently guides my steps with his hand on my hip until we stop.
I can feel my heart beating in my throat as he removes his hand. My eyes fill up with the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. A single book on a small shelf cart. The book’s golden embossed cover shimmers in a bath of sunlight angling in from a small window.
My eyes find Lukas’ eyes. He slowly nods, encouraging me.
I gently take my grandfather’s book in my hands. The Adventures of Flynn and Marge, the title reads. A Tale of Two Ducks.
I remember this story. Grandpa wrote it when I was eight. He gifted me a copy on the fourth of July. I open the book and discover he’s signed it.
To Ernest Pollock. Grandpa’s oldest friend from high school. I can’t believe it ended up in a used bookstore in Pasadena.
“How on earth did you find this?” I ask Lukas, still in a daze.
“He who seeks finds,” he says, stepping in front of me.
I nod dumbly, trying not to let emotion spill onto my face or into my voice. I lower my trembling hands, hoping he doesn’t see how deeply touched his gesture has left me.
The Adventures of Flynn and Marge is one of the books that were lost in the fire and although Mom kept my copy, it’s nice to see another one has survived. This is my true inheritance and an immense part of who I am and who I hope to be one day.
I manage to keep tears from spilling onto my cheeks. Lukas watches my every expression. He tucks away a strand of hair from my forehead.
“It’s yours, Nora,” he finally says. “I had them hold the copy for you. They loved the story about your grandfather and his books.”
I lift the book closer to my face to smell the illustrated pages.
“It’s not the book,” Lukas says, “but I hope it’ll give you hope.”
“It does, Lukas. In more ways than you know.”
“Then there’s nothing more to say.”
My skin tightens and tingles as his hands lightly caress my shoulders. I lift my eyes to him. He’s so tall when he stands right next to me. I put my hand against his chest, unsure whether I want to push him away or pull him closer. I want him to kiss me. I want to disappear or start over.
His lips move closer to mine but change course at the last nanosecond, and land softly on my cheek. I feel the warm moisture of his kiss. I do not move. He could do as he likes, but I know he’ll be a gentleman. He’ll step away. It’s in everyone’s best interest to keep this relationship strictly professional.
I decide that this is what I should keep repeating to myself. “Thank you again, Lukas,” I say as I spin slowly away from him. “This is just amazing. I can’t wait to tell Mom.”
“I just played my part,” he says. “Who knows? Maybe someday you’ll help me find something I have lost.”
“I would happily,” I say, as I hold Grandpa’s book close to my chest. I would, too. I owe him one.
Chapter 6
Nora
Dreams must feel like this. I stand quietly in the door frame of my apartment, gazing at any woman’s fantasy. Lukas Dupree in nothing but dark blue boxer briefs. His tan back is muscled in so many delicious ways. He’s like a sculpture with incredible detail. Smooth and powerful. Velvety and mouthwatering. The tattoo that runs from the top of his left shoulder down to where his right kidney would be is an added bonus.
He does not acknowledge my presence. It must be a dream. When he turns slightly, his abs cause an electricity surge to race up my spine and tickle the back of my neck. I feel delicate and combustible.
He’s dancing a little. I notice he’s wearing ear buds and holding his phone. Maybe this is real. Maybe I’m here with Lukas. Maybe my eyes are enjoying his explosive pecs, deltoids, biceps, triceps, the entire gamut of sinews and tendons. So much for a woman to admire in a single man.
Too much. Entirely too much.
He stops his little groove when he spots me. His eyes bust me and capture my r
acing heartbeat. He takes the buds out of both ears.
“Oh, hey,” he says. “I didn’t hear you.”
Because I didn’t say anything. Good that he thinks I did, instead of just silently staring at his offerings like a lusting stalker.
“Yeah,” I say, finally finding the strength to lift my eyes to his face and keep them there. “Sorry to interrupt your little groove.”
I remember now that I’m holding bags of groceries. I look away from his magnificent physique and head straight toward the kitchen. He moves behind me to close the door. I can clearly imagine every single muscle in his athletic legs moving together as he walks.
“And sorry about the casual dress,” he says. “I always sweat after a hot shower. I need ten minutes to cool off.”
I don’t know how to respond so I don’t. And if I were to complain, he would see right through me. In fact, I try not to look at him at all. He reads people too well for me to give him another glance into the hot mess of my dizzy mind right now.
It’s been four days since Lukas led me to my grandfather’s book. I must have read it a dozen times by now and every syllable of my Grandpa’s prose reminds me of Lukas and his kind gesture.
This morning he showed up at my apartment as planned, though an hour early, which meant I still had to run out and grab a few things. Today’s the day I’m presenting him to my family and friends. We should be leaving soon.
“Can you be ready in fifteen minutes?” I yell from the kitchen.
“On it,” he yells.
I feel almost sad he’s going to get dressed. Okay, I need to get it together quick. Trying to forget the way he filled out that one tiny piece of clothing he had on is proving difficult. Thank God for my breathing technique.
When I calm down, I return to the living room. Lukas is just stepping into his suit pants. I assumed he would dress in the bathroom. Damn.
I can’t help but stare as the pants slide slowly up his legs and get stuck on his bulge. Oh, come on! He grins and raises his eyebrows sheepishly.
I’m furious and thrilled at the same time. I glare at him, but my eyes can’t help but watch as he uses his right hand to push his bulge down so he can pull the pants over the obstacle until he finally gets them to his waist.
“Still too hot in the bathroom to dress in there,” he says.
I march past him in an angry panic. “We’re going to be late,” I say quietly through my suddenly parched throat.
My dress is waiting for me on the bed, but I have to sit next to it and catch my bearings. I get up quickly and shut my door. I lock it. Only then can I exhale. I feel like screaming. This should all be much easier than this.
I shake my head and grab my dress. We’re running late now. I did my hair and makeup earlier. I can touch myself up when I get there.
He knocks on the door. I watch the door handle. It doesn’t move. He doesn’t try it. “What?” I say.
“Need help with my tie,” he says.
Now I really want to scream. He’s enjoying all of this. He’s doing it all on purpose. He would love the victory of conquering me just like every other girl who has ever seen him in his briefs.
“I’m a little bit busy,” I finally say. “You’ll have to wait.”
He just stands outside my door saying nothing. I can feel him standing there. I can feel him thinking, imagining me behind the door, imagining me half undressed I am sure.
“Yeah, okay,” he says.
I take my time before I open the door, half expecting to find him there. He’s gone. I’m both relieved and disappointed. Of course I find him shirtless in the living room. A blue shirt with a tie and an elegant light gray suit jacket have been carefully splayed out on the couch. He picks up the shirt, shaking out the wrinkles gently.
He turns his body for just a moment but it’s long enough for me to catch a better glimpse of the tattoo on his back—a brown and green serpent I have never seen before—as well as a glimpse of his perfectly toned ass still breathtaking in those pants.
I watch as he extends one arm to get it through the sleeve of the shirt. His pecs and abs move like they have life of their own. My lips want to crash into them. Shit. My breath catches in my throat again, my chest expands to take in more oxygen. “I need to find my purse,” I mutter and take a step or two towards the bedroom.
“No, stay,” he says, taking my wrist in his hand. “I’d like your opinion.”
He winks at me as he buttons the shirt, slowly, skillfully like his fingers have been trained just for that reason. I swallow hard, finally free to explore his goodness with permission.
He’s stunning. There’s no other way to put it. I feel totally ordinary next to him. Will anyone really believe this man is interested in me? I’m not without charm but Lukas is in a different league, a league where super models and celebrities swim under waterfalls naked or whatever they do.
His fingers find each button one by one until his shirt is snug on his wide chest. He hands me the jacket and I dizzily help slide it onto his strong arms.
Despite the obvious tricks of seduction, he remains gentle and graceful in all that he does. I catch a glimpse of savagery and darkness in those eyes for the first time. I have to admit, I’m curious, but a second later his eyes brighten and he smiles widely. “Well?” he says.
Well what? Ah, my opinion on the suit. “It’s a good fit,” I say. “Makes you look nifty and ready to party.” That was my attempt at sounding casual.
“Nifty?” he says, searching my eyes for more. “Interesting word.”
“My grandfather used that word,” I say. “In the book. Been reading it all week. I like that word. And you really look quite nifty.”
He puts his tie on as easily and perfectly as I’ve ever seen before. So much for needing help. He’s such a bull shitter.
“Nice tie,” I say with a grin. I can’t help it.
I can see him suddenly remember his plea for help at my door.
“Whoa, yellow is your color,” he says, changing the subject.
My dress. Right. “Thanks, but I’m a brunette,” I remind him. “Yellow can’t possibly be my color.”
“What I’m trying to say, Nora,” he says, putting distinct emphasis on each of my name’s two syllables, “is that you look stunning.”
He studies me from head to toe. It feels like I’m on pins and needles. To be under Lukas Dupree’s scrutiny is utterly intoxicating.
“You’re too kind,” I say, walking past him, hoping he’ll stop staring at me like I’m his next meal. It must be all that sexual frustration he keeps talking about. “I hope you’ll feel the same about the actual dress I’m wearing at the wedding because it’s not yellow, you know.”
“You’d look gorgeous in a potato sack,” he says.
“Really?” I say, “The plastic kind or the old burlap ones?”
“Definitely plastic,” he says with a wink.
“Okay, great,” I say. “I’m fake marrying Dexter. Just my luck.”
He grins and just stares at me. “Jules warned me about you.”
My Jules? Huh? “Jules did? What was her warning?”
“She said you were sneaky awesome,” he says. “And be careful not to fall for your many charms, because that’s not part of the contract.”
Fuck. I just realized Jules and Lukas are the same person operating out of two completely different bodies.
“Jules likes messing with people. She’s a lawyer. And a horrible matchmaker. She is totally messing with you, dude. She has a good heart. She means well, but I think when other people screw up their lives, it makes her feel better about her own. She avoids ever putting herself out there.”
“And you put yourself out there?”
I begin to think about his question sincerely, but immediately make myself stop. “I’m getting married in the most out there way possible. Enough heart-to-heart, Lukas. We need to get moving. We’re late.”
I gather my things up quickly. After I lock my apartment, I lea
d the way to the car, the whole time wondering if he’s staring at my butt. I’m wearing heels and a short dress, barely covering my upper thighs. Men can’t take their eyes off such an outfit. The thought of his eyes on my backside exhilarates me.
Lukas Dupree is a professional, an artist of seduction. There’s nothing he doesn’t know about pleasing women—our needs, our desires, our frailties. I doubt there’s any female personality or body type with which he’s not intimately familiar. If I allowed him, he could convince me of anything.
He opens the passenger-side door of his Chevy Camaro. I sit down carefully in the bucket seat in my short dress. I hold my purse in my lap to give my legs a little extra cover. The door shuts gently and he hurries around and pops into the seat next to me. He turns the key, puts the car into gear and spins his tires until we screech off into the city. He drives aggressively. Last time he drove me, I clutched onto the seat. Now I just let go.
His speed feels strong and young to me today. I close my eyes. I trust him. I let the movement lull me. This must be the way a magic carpet ride feels. A peaceful terror.
“Do you think your father killed himself?”
I didn’t see that one coming. My eyes flash open. “Are you really asking me that? Can’t we just drive?”
“You’re right,” he says. “We can just listen to some tunes.”
I close my eyes again and let myself think I will not answer him. It doesn’t last.
“That was the conclusion of the investigation,” I say. “They never asked me what I thought.” I exhale and turn to him. “Apparently my perspective was not considered material evidence.”
“If I were a cop, I would have asked you that,” he says.
“You should be a cop,” I say. “You never met a question you didn’t like.”
He grins and stares at me tenderly. This guy must have been really fucking good at his escort job. “I’d be a terrible cop. I’d never want to put anyone in jail. I’d be afraid they were innocent.”
“You’re the strangest boy I ever met,” I say.
“Cool,” he says.
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