by Paula Roe
“I’m going to kiss you.”
Luke swallowed. “You have any idea what you’re doing?”
“No,” she muttered, her lips hovering close to his, hesitant, waiting.
With a soft groan Luke leaned in and captured her mouth.
There was heat again, that gut-sucking, toe-curling heat licking him from head to feet. She was kissing him back, her mouth sweetly opening underneath his, her arms wrapping around his neck.
They moved up against the counter and his back hit the warm humming dishwasher door. Her damp hands tangled in his hair, her breasts pushed into his chest. As he slid one knee between her legs, he felt himself go hard.
He placed small kisses on her mouth, teasing her bottom lip. He was so deeply intent, transfixed by her smell and delicious taste; her tiny moan of pleasure sent his pulse skyrocketing.
Beth jumped as Luke started exploring her waist with his fingers, then drew his lips along her cheek, grazing it with kisses.
“You smell like that face cream in the bathroom,” he murmured, inhaling deeply. “Lemon. Nice.”
She shivered with pleasure as his mouth feathered over hers then began a slow descent down her neck.
At some stage he must have hiked up her skirt, because suddenly she felt his hand on her bare thigh, easing up, up, until he was cupping her intimately through the thin cotton of her panties.
She gasped. It felt so good. So reckless. So unlike her sensible, perfectly ordered life.
She wanted more.
With a soft murmur, she eased her legs apart and moved her hips, urging him to continue. And without hesitation, he did, his fingers working under the elastic until suddenly they hit her damp, aroused flesh and she gasped aloud.
He stilled, his eyes black with passion boring into hers. Between their clothes she felt the urgent pounding of his heart, the sear of heat and the rise and fall of his chest.
His breath grazed her cheek. “You want me to continue?”
She stared right into his eyes and fell over the edge. “Oh, yes.”
With a low guttural moan, he pulled down her panties, cupped her bottom and slid her onto the countertop. She hissed as the warm top made contact with her sensitive skin, the dishwasher vibrating gently on her calves. Then heat engulfed her as Luke eased her knees apart and slid his finger inside her wet core.
So tight. So hot. Luke’s breath hissed out, simultaneously echoing her own ecstasy. His groin was rock hard and throbbing, but he ignored it, instead taking delight in her intimate flesh wrapped around his finger, her arousal as he scraped his palm against her swollen nub. He withdrew then plunged back in, again and again and she threw her head back, a groan of pleasure rolling deep within her throat.
He grabbed the back of her head and dragged her back for a kiss, a deep, soul-searing kiss full of hot passion and desperate longing. She murmured beneath his mouth, her tongue tangling with his as her arms snaked around his neck. Her musky smell, her hot wetness, her murmur of enjoyment surrounded him, infused his skin, burrowed inside until he could feel the pressure build and build. Still he continued to taste, to feel, to tease until she began to tremble and whimper beneath him.
He dragged his lips down her neck and gritted his teeth, begging for control as he finally felt her go over the edge.
The orgasm ripped through Beth, stealing her breath and her control in one thundering swoop.
Joy. Pure unadulterated joy singing in her veins, heating her blood, skyrocketing her heart. It had never, ever been like that before. She felt as if she could take on the world, run a marathon, fly for hours and hours.
She waited out the trembling, until her breath became slower, until her heart calmed and an inevitable wave of uncertainty slowly flooded in.
What on earth had she done?
“Beth.”
Her name stirred the damp strands of hair on her cheek, sent a shiver across her skin. He slowly eased his finger from her and she couldn’t stop her small disappointed murmur as cool air rushed in. But when he gently closed her legs, reality came crashing back in one disastrous wave.
“Beth,” he said again. “Look at me.”
Reluctantly she opened her eyes. His were dark and unreadable.
“I…ah…” She paused. Dammit, how could she focus when he’d taken her on the dishwasher and he’d seen her fall to pieces beneath his hand? With a heated flush, she slid from the counter and scooped up her abandoned underwear. “Okay, so that was a bad idea. We’ve both been under a lot of pressure and—”
His hands on her shoulders stopped her midsentence, but she refused to meet his eyes, instead looking down.
She drew in a breath, hard. Bad mistake. The telltale bulge in his pants was all too obvious.
With a finger under her chin, he tilted her face up to meet his, but when he went to place a gentle kiss on her cheek Beth pulled away.
“Look, Luke,” she began and stepped back, trying to regain control. “What happened here…” She felt her face flush but forged on. “I think it’s just… We had a…”
“A purely physiological response under stress.”
She blinked, astonished. “Exactly.”
Except he now knew what she tasted like, felt like. And she still desperately wanted her house more than ever.
“So let’s just focus on what we need to do,” he added, then turned back to the table and began stacking the place mats.
She stared at him, her stomach a confusing mixture of uncertainty, relief…disappointment?
He glanced up with a smile. “Right?”
“Right.” Nothing had changed. He still wanted to sell her home. And she still couldn’t afford it.
But how exactly could she focus on talking him around after that?
Nine
As she drove to work the next day, Beth made a firm decision. Avoid Luke whenever possible. There was way too much at risk, a risk that could have the potential to end in disaster.
With new resolve, she got through the day with barely a stray thought to the night before. Yet when she returned home and found dinner warming in the oven and Luke nowhere to be seen, it took all of a few seconds to realize he’d come to the same conclusion.
She wasn’t disappointed. No. That would be ridiculous. And anyway, she still saw him later that night, even if it was just in passing, where she couldn’t meet his eyes as she awkwardly thanked him for the meal. He nodded with a brief smile and kept right on going, gently closing his door with a soft click.
Still his presence overwhelmed, from the faint cologne that made her senses growl, to the cooked meals and painfully clean state of her kitchen. And with each passing day, the tension wound inexorably tighter until she was itching for something—anything—to happen.
Then it was Sunday night and they were both on their way to the Corellis’ in Beth’s car.
“Dylan called.” Luke finally broke the silence as they drove south on the Gold Coast Highway. “Looks like Foster withdrew big at a Coolangatta ATM then flew down to Melbourne.”
“Is he still there now?”
“As far as I know. He’s looking into it.”
Her stomach swooped, hope fluttering, but with a firm swallow Beth reined it in. Things were far from over. She shifted gears, trying to ignore the brush of her knuckles along Luke’s thigh. Her small car did nothing to maintain that distance she’d so determinedly forged these last few days. More irritating, the closer they got to the Corelli estate, the more her body hummed at the thought of Luke in touchable distance for the night.
They’d taken the Ashmore turnoff and were driving along Cotlew Road when Luke pointed to a parked news van ahead.
“Reporters. Take a left at the next corner.”
She did, and they passed a few double-storied houses, then a few gates until the road curved again.
“Here.” Luke nodded.
They parked on the side of the road and switched off the lights. The street was quiet, streetlamps casting a dim glow in the evening�
��s warmth as upper-class suburbia sprawled on the opposite side. Next to the car, a long, high, brick wall stretched down the road, flanked by trees that swayed and rustled, a ghostly whisper as the wind picked up. All around, the vegetation muttered and moved in the night. Above, black clouds rolled in like waves on a beach. A storm was brewing.
“This is the back end of the estate. We can get in over there.” Luke pointed to a large tree. “But we need to climb. Feel up to it?”
Beth looked down at her tailored pants and soft sparkly shift top and nodded.
As they picked their way through the grass and uneven ground, Luke automatically took her hand, tightening his grip when she stumbled. She barely had time to catch her breath before he let her go and began boosting himself up into the tree.
She looked up skeptically at the outspread branches. “You sure this is safe?”
“Who do you think hammered the wooden rungs into the trunk? Frankly, I’m surprised Marco hasn’t chopped the tree down. Or at least taken the steps off.”
He held out his hand, wriggling his fingers in encouragement.
It seemed perfectly natural to put her trust in him. They climbed the tree slowly, finally reaching a branch that overhung the wall. He placed one foot on the brick surface then turned to her.
“Come on,” he gestured. “Come over.”
Beth took a deep breath and went for it.
Her heart pounded as she broke out in a sweat. Then she took that step into thin air, just before he grabbed her and pulled her tightly to him.
She took a couple of gulping breaths.
“You okay?”
Beth nodded into the warmth of his chest, breathing in his smell. His arms were a reassuring harbor and slowly her panic petered out.
“I’ll go down first, then you jump and I’ll catch you.”
Beth glanced around, seeing a large estate with glowing night-lights sprawled on the crest of the hill, the perimeter dotted with security lamps. Then she looked down and choked out a nervous laugh. “I’d like to see you try that one.”
“You and me both, sweetheart.”
A man stepped out of the shadows, accompanied by two beefy security guards.
Luke, to his credit, looked unflappable. “Be a sport and help us down, Marco.”
The man laughed sharply then took a drag of his cigarette. “I don’t think so. I want to see you manage this one.”
Luke gave Marco a scowl, muttered something under his breath then said to Beth, “Hold on. I’m going down.”
He lowered himself until his legs were dangling over the edge, then tested the brick and concrete below with his foot. Finding a hold, he settled his toe into the worn hole and slowly picked his way down until he was nearly to the ground. With one push, he jumped the rest of the way.
Beth released her held breath as he landed solidly with both feet. He gave her a grin and a thumbs-up. “Jump down and I’ll catch you.”
She shook her head. “No. You can’t.”
“I will,” he said, exasperated. “Just jump.”
“Come on,” Marco said as he ground his half-finished cigarette underfoot. “We haven’t got all night.”
Beth sighed. “I warned you.” And she squatted on her heels, took a breath and jumped off the wall.
With a whoosh and a grunt, she landed on Luke. He stumbled, wavering, and she tightened her arms around his neck.
His legs buckled and they ended up sprawling on the grass.
Marco roared with laughter and gave a slow clap. “Well done, Luke! Super catch!”
Beth had a death hold on Luke’s neck, her eyes squeezed shut.
“You can look now,” Luke murmured.
Her eyes flew open. “Thanks.”
“You got a problem with the front door?” Marco was asking as Luke helped Beth up.
“No. Just a problem with the reporters.” And he started toward the house.
Marco nodded a dismissal to the security guys then followed Luke, matching him stride for stride. “So the press are finally getting to you.” His voice held the gruff resonance of frustration. “Now you know how it feels.”
Luke gave a noncommittal grunt. Marco, meanwhile, slowly turned to peruse Beth with hooded eyes.
The eyes and height were Luke’s, but that’s where the resemblance ended. Marco Corelli was dressed in a light linen suit and cotton shirt, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail that emphasized a stunningly beautiful angular face, complete with sharp cheekbones and sensual mouth.
Beth blinked, frowning. “You look familiar—have we met before?”
“Pretty sure I’d have remembered, bella.” Marco winked.
At Luke’s sharp look, Marco laughed. “Relax, mate. I’m just winding you up.” He turned back to Beth and grinned, offering his hand. “Marco Corelli. And you are…?”
“Beth. Beth Jones.”
“Marco plays football for Manchester United,” Luke said.
“Played. I’ve retired.”
Luke’s eyebrows rose. “Since when?”
“Four weeks ago. Too many injuries.” He shrugged and kept right on walking, his expression neutral.
“No, that’s not it,” Beth insisted, frowning. “Have you been on TV or…?”
Luke snorted, choking back a sudden grin. “Underpants.”
“Sorry?”
“Marco’s the face of Skins. You know, the expensive guy’s underwear?”
Of course! She stared at Marco, who was now scowling at Luke in earnest. Tanned, ripped abs, seductive smile, stacked set of y-fronts. He totally sizzled on that huge Gold Coast Highway billboard.
Marco stuck his hands in his pockets. “So where did you two meet?”
“None of your business,” Luke retorted before Beth could open her mouth.
“Huh. Always secretive, especially where women are concerned,” Marco said. “Ever since Gabrielle—”
“Don’t.” Luke stopped dead in his tracks, the air crackling with sudden tension. “Don’t go there, Marco.”
Marco’s expression turned dark as he met Luke’s angry glare with one of his own. With an inaudible mutter, he shrugged and resumed walking.
“How’s Rosa?” Luke finally said.
“Better.” Marco kept right on walking, and Beth could just make out the tightening line of his jaw. “Not that you’d know. You’ve avoided her calls for days.”
They emerged from the line of trees, and whatever response Luke gave was lost on the coastal breeze.
The gleaming three-story mansion, all cream-colored pillars, shiny glass and strategically placed downlights, screamed wealth from every nook and cranny.
The immaculate gardens were resplendent with palm trees and native gums. A gently cascading fountain sat in the middle of the circular driveway and behind that, a stucco path led to a pair of huge glass-and-oak doors.
She stood there, admiring the beautiful simplicity, until Luke’s gruff voice broke through her thoughts.
“I didn’t start this,” he was saying.
“But you could stop it.”
“No, I can’t. I’ve been suspended, remember?”
Marco snorted. “Last time I checked, you were flavor of the month at Jackson and Blair. Today you can do nothing?”
“It’d only make things worse.”
“How in hell could it get any worse?” Marco growled. “Gino is dead, for chrissakes, Luke! He can’t defend himself and you won’t defend him.”
“I. Am. On. Suspension,” Luke enunciated clearly.
Marco snorted. “That didn’t stop you from barging in to see Gino the night he died.” At Luke’s look, he said, “Yeah, I know all about that.”
There was a long pause before Luke said cautiously, “What do you know?”
“Employees talk. And you were there when the medics arrived, so you can’t deny it.”
“So?”
“So I got to thinking—”
“Marco…”
“I wondered why you would risk you
r precious reputation that night of all nights.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?” Marco’s eyes narrowed, his hands going to his hips. “It was the same day Gino’s story hit the papers. You went to give Gino a piece of your mind, didn’t you? You were furious, that I know. You’ve always had a problem hiding your anger, Luke. My bet is you and Gino argued, Gino had a heart attack and Lucky Luke hides behind his precious reputation.”
“Marco! Lucio! That is enough!”
They all turned in unison to the small round figure framed by the huge glass doors. And when she stepped outside, into the full light of the patio, Beth gasped.
“Oh, my God… Connie?”
“Beth?”
Luke frowned. “You two know each other?”
“Yes.” Beth shoved her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed as a whirling dervish of questions and suspicion started to swell. “She’s one of my clients and her name is Connie Lisone.”
Ten
“What?” Stunned, Luke stared at Beth then whipped back to his aunt.
“What are you doing here, Beth?” Rosa said, her face full of bewilderment. “What—”
“What’s going on?” Marco said behind them.
“I have no idea—Connie? Or—it’s Rosa, right?” Beth retorted.
Rosa took a sharp breath, her eyes rounding. “The house. Caro dio, the house!”
“Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Marco yelled behind them.
Luke glared from Rosa to Beth, his jaw tight. “Go on then. Let’s hear it.”
Rosa pushed the doors wider with a shaky hand. “Come in. Please.”
Unbelievable. Un-fricking-believable. The anger in Luke simmered as they followed Rosa down the plush hallway, past the familiar blue-washed walls, the classic works of art, the stylish furnishings, before they stopped in the living room.
“Please, sit.”
Beth perched on the edge of an elegant Louis XIV chair and crossed her arms. Luke chose to stand.
“Stop glaring at me, Lucio, and sit.” She waved to the sofa. With a soft snort, he finally sat.
Rosa sighed, smoothing back her salt-and-pepper hair. “You all know the kind of attention the Corelli name attracts. So for many years I’ve been using a fake one—for appointments, for bookings.” She shrugged. “It allows me a small freedom I wouldn’t normally have.”