by Sarah Morgan
‘Tell you what,’ Luke suggested. ‘I’ll cook for you.’
‘What?’ No man had ever cooked for her, or even offered.
‘I’m not Michelin, but I make a decent steak and chips.’
‘I don’t have any steak.’
‘Do you eat it?’
‘Yes—’
‘Then I’ll go out and buy some. And over a meal we’ll discuss Asia.’
It sounded so pleasant, so normal, and yet still she hesitated. Pleasant and normal were out of her realm of experience. Then she thought of what Luke was offering her—an actual chance—and she nodded. Grudgingly. ‘Okay.’
‘Good.’ He turned to go. ‘I’ll be back in half an hour.’
Thirty minutes’ respite. ‘Okay,’ she said again, and then he was gone.
* * *
Luke gave her nearly an hour. He thought she needed the break. Hell, he did too. He took his time choosing two thick fillets, a bag of potatoes, some salad. He thought about buying a bottle of wine, but decided against it. This was a business dinner. Strictly business, no matter how much his libido acted up or how much he remembered that mind-blowing kiss—
Hell.
He stopped right there in the drinks aisle and asked himself just what he was doing here. His brain might be insisting it was just business, but his body said otherwise. His body remembered the feel of her lips, the smoke of her voice, the emotion in her eyes. His body remembered and wanted, and that was dangerous. Crazy.
He straightened, forced himself to think as logically as he always did. All right, yes, he desired her. He’d admitted it. But this was still business. If Aurelie’s performance at Bryant’s gave her the kind of comeback he envisioned, it would create fantastic publicity for the store. It was, pure and simple, a good business move. That was why he was here.
As he resolutely turned towards the checkout, he felt a prickle of unease, even guilt. He’d told Aurelie he didn’t lie, but right then he was pretty sure he was lying to himself.
By the time he made it back to the house on the end of the little town’s sleepiest street it was early evening, the sun’s rays just starting to mellow. The air was turning crisp, and he could see a few scarlet leaves on the maple outside the weathered clapboard house Aurelie called home.
He rang the doorbell, listened to it wheeze and then her light footsteps. She opened the door and he saw that she’d showered—squash that vision right now—and her hair was damp and tucked behind her ears. She’d changed into a pale green cashmere sweater and a pair of skinny jeans, and when he glanced down he saw she was wearing fuzzy pink socks. Fuchsia, actually.
He nodded towards the socks. ‘Those look cosy.’
She gave him the smallest of smiles, but at least it felt real. ‘My feet get cold.’
‘May I come in?’
She nodded, and he sensed the lack of artifice from her. Liked it. Who is Aurelie Schmidt? Maybe he’d find out.
But did he really want to?
She moved aside and he came in with the bag of groceries. ‘Do you mind if I make myself comfortable in your kitchen?’
She hesitated, and he could almost imagine her suggestive response. You go ahead and make yourself comfortable anywhere, Luke. He could practically write the script for her, because he was pretty sure now that was all it was: a script. Lines. This time she didn’t give them to him; she just shrugged. ‘Sure.’
He nodded and headed towards the back of the house.
Fifteen minutes later he had the steaks brushed with olive oil and in the oven, the potatoes sliced into wedges and frying on the stove, and he was tossing a salad. Aurelie perched on a stool, her fuzzy feet hooked around the rungs, and watched him.
‘Do you like to cook?’
‘Sometimes. I’m not a gourmet, by any means. Not like my brother Chase.’
‘He’s good?’
Luke shrugged. He wished he hadn’t mentioned Chase, or anything to do with his family. He preferred not to dredge those dark memories up; he’d determinedly pushed them way, way down. Yet something about this woman—her fragility, perhaps—brought them swimming up again. ‘He’s good at most things,’ he replied with a shrug. He reached for some vinaigrette. ‘Do you have brothers or sisters?’
‘No.’ From the flat way she spoke Luke guessed she was as reluctant to talk about her family as he was to talk about his. Fine with him.
He finished tossing the salad. ‘Everything should be ready in a few minutes.’
Aurelie slid off her stool to get the plates. ‘It smells pretty good.’
He glanced up, smiling wryly. ‘Are we actually having a civil conversation?’
‘Sounds like it.’ She didn’t smile back, just took a deep breath, the plates held to her chest. ‘Look, if you came here on some kind of mercy mission, just forget it. I don’t need your pity.’
He stilled. ‘I don’t pity you.’
‘If not pity, then what?’
A muscle bunched in his jaw. ‘What are you saying?’
She lifted her chin. ‘I find it hard to believe you came all the way to Vermont to ask me to sing. You hadn’t even heard that song. It could have sucked. Maybe it does.’
‘I admit, it was a risk.’
‘So why did you come? What’s the real reason?’ Suspicion sharpened her voice, twisted inside him like a knife. Did she actually think he’d come here to get her into bed?
Had he?
No, damn it, this was about business. About helping the store and helping Aurelie. The ultimate reinvention. Luke laid his hands flat on the counter. ‘I don’t have some sexual agenda, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
She cocked her head. ‘You’re sure about that?’
He shook his head slowly. ‘What kind of men have you known?’
‘Lots. And they’re all the same.’
‘I’m different.’ And he’d prove it to her. He took the plates from her, his gaze steady on her own stormy one. ‘Let’s eat.’
Luke dished out the meal and carried it over to the table in the alcove of the kitchen. Twilight was settling softly outside, the sky awash in violet. Used to the frantic sounds of the city, he felt the silence all around him, just like he felt Aurelie’s loneliness and suspicion. ‘Do you live here most of the time?’ he asked.
‘I do now.’
‘Do you like it?’
‘It’d be a pretty sad life if I didn’t.’
He sat opposite her and picked up his fork and knife. ‘You’re not much of a one for straight answers, are you?’
She met his gaze squarely, gave a small nod of acknowledgement. ‘I guess not.’
‘All right. Business.’ Luke forced himself to focus on the one thing he’d always focused on, and was now finding so bizarrely hard. He wanted to ask her questions about the house, her life, how she’d got to where she was. He wanted to go back in the hallway and look at the photographs on the walls, he wanted to hear her play that song, he wanted—
Business.
‘It’s pretty simple,’ he said. ‘Four engagements over a period of ten days. You sing one or two of your new songs.’
‘The audience won’t be expecting that.’
‘I know.’
‘And you’re okay with that?’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Because your Head of PR definitely wasn’t.’
‘Good thing I’m CEO of the company, then,’ Luke said evenly.
‘You know,’ Aurelie said slowly, ‘people want things to be how they expect. They want me to be what they expect. What they think I am.’
‘Which is exactly why I want you to be different,’ Luke countered. ‘Bryant’s is an institution in America and other parts of the world. So are you.’
‘Now that’s something I haven’t been compared to befo
re.’
‘If you can change your image, then anyone can.’
‘Judging by the papers, you’ve already changed the store’s image successfully. You don’t need me.’
Luke hesitated because he knew she was right, at least in part. ‘I didn’t like the way the press spun it,’ he said after a moment.
‘The whole self-deprecating thing?’ she said with a twisted smile. ‘Former celebrity?’
‘Exactly. I want a clean sweep, home run. No backhanded compliments.’
‘Maybe you should just take what you can get.’
He shook his head. ‘That’s not how I do business.’
She glanced away. When she spoke, her voice was low. ‘What if I can’t change?’
‘There’s only one way to find out.’ Aurelie didn’t say anything, but he could see her thinking about it. Wondering. Hoping, even. He decided to let her mull it over. Briskly, he continued, ‘Your accommodation will be provided, and we can negotiate a new rate for the—’
‘I don’t care about the money.’
‘I want to be fair.’
She toyed with her fork, pushing the food around on her plate. He saw she hadn’t eaten much. ‘This still feels like pity.’
‘It isn’t.’
She glanced up and he saw the ghost of a smile on her face, like a remnant of who she had once been, a whisper of who she could be, if she smiled more. If she were happy. ‘And you can’t tell a lie, can you?’
‘I won’t tell a lie.’
She eyed him narrowly. ‘But it’s something close to pity.’
‘Sympathy, perhaps.’
‘Which is just a nicer word for pity.’
‘Semantics.’
‘Exactly.’
His lips twitched in a smile of his own. ‘Okay, look. I told you, I don’t pity you. I feel—’
‘Sorry for me.’
‘Stop putting words in my mouth. I feel...’ He let out a whoosh of exasperated breath. He didn’t like talking about feelings. He never did. His mother had died when he was thirteen, his father had never got close, and his brothers didn’t ask. But here he was, and she was right, he couldn’t lie. Not to her. ‘I know how you feel,’ he said at last, and she raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised by that admission. Hell, he was surprised too.
‘How so?’
‘I know what it feels like to want to change.’
‘You’ve wanted to change?’
‘Hasn’t everybody?’
‘That’s no answer.’
He shrugged. ‘I’ve had my own obstacles to overcome.’
‘Like what?’
He should never have started this. The last thing he wanted to do was rake up his own tortured memories. ‘A difficult childhood.’
Her mouth pursed. ‘Poor little rich boy?’
He tensed, and then forced himself to relax. ‘Something like that.’
She lifted her chin, challenge sparking in her eyes. ‘Well, maybe I don’t want to change.’
It was such obvious bravado that Luke almost laughed. ‘Then why write a different kind of song? Why ask to sing it? Why accept the Bryant’s booking when you haven’t performed publicly in years?’
Her mouth twisted. ‘Done a little Internet stalking, have you?’
‘I didn’t need to look on the Internet to know that.’ She shook her head, said nothing. ‘Anyway,’ he continued in a brisker voice, ‘the point is, I’ve been trying to reinvent Bryant’s for years and—’
‘What’s been stopping you?’
Luke hesitated. He didn’t want to bring up Aaron and his constant quest for control. ‘Change doesn’t happen overnight,’ he finally said. ‘And Bryant’s has a century-old reputation. There’s been resistance.’
‘There always is.’
‘So see? We have something else in common.’
‘You want to reinvent a store and I want to reinvent myself.’
Luke didn’t answer, because there was an edge to her voice that made him think a simple agreement was not the right choice here. He waited, wondered why it mattered to him so much.
He didn’t need Aurelie. He didn’t need her to open a store or sing a damn song. He didn’t need her at all.
Yet as she gazed at him with those rain-washed eyes he felt a tug deep inside that he couldn’t begin to understand. More than lust, deeper than need. Despite having had three long-term satisfying relationships, he’d never felt this whirlpool of emotion before, as if he were being dragged under by the force of his own feelings. Never mind her being scared. He was terrified.
The smart thing to do right now would be to get out of this chair, out of this house. Walk away from Aurelie and all her crazy complications and go about his business, his life, the way he always had. Calm and in control, getting things done, never going too deep.
He didn’t move.
Aurelie drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. ‘Let me play you my song,’ she finally said and, surprised and even touched, Luke nodded.
‘I’d like that.’
She smiled faintly, that whisper of a promise, and wordlessly Luke followed her out of the room.
CHAPTER FOUR
AURELIE led Luke into the music room at the front of the house, her heart thudding, her skin turning clammy. She felt dizzy with nerves, and silently prayed that she wouldn’t pass out. The last thing she needed was Luke Bryant to think she’d ODed again.
She paused in front of the piano, half-regretting her suggestion already. No, not even half—totally. Why was she opening herself up to this? She didn’t need money. She didn’t need to sing in public again. She didn’t need any of this.
But she wanted it. She actually wanted to share something that was important to her, share it with this man, never mind the public, even as it scared her near witless.
‘Aurelie?’
There was something about the way he said her name, so quietly, so gently, that made her ache deep inside. She swallowed, her face turned away from him. ‘It sounds better with guitar.’
‘Okay.’
She reached for her acoustic guitar, the one her grandmother had bought her just before she’d died. Don’t forget who you really are, Aurie. Don’t let them turn your head. But she had let them. She’d forgotten completely. Her fingers curled around the neck of the guitar and, unable to look at Luke—afraid to see the expression on his face—she bent her head and busied herself with tuning the instrument. Needlessly, since she’d played it that afternoon.
After a few taut minutes she knew she couldn’t wait any longer. Yet she was terrified to play the song, terrified to have Luke reject it. Her. He’d let her down easily because, no matter what he said, she knew he did feel sorry for her. But it would still hurt.
‘So has this song got some kind of long silent intro or what?’
She let out a little huff of laughter, glad he’d jolted her out of her ridiculous stage fright. ‘Patience.’ And taking a deep breath, she began. The first few melancholy chords seemed to flow through her, out into the room. And then she began to sing, not one of the belt-it-out numbers of her pop star days, but something low and intimate and tender. ‘Winter came so early, it caught me by surprise. I stand alone till the cold wind blows the tears into my eyes.’ She hesitated for a tiny second, trying to gauge Luke’s reaction, but the song seemed to take up all the space. ‘I turn my face into the wind and listen to the sound. Never give your heart away. It will only bring you down.’ And then she forgot about Luke, and just sang. The song took over everything.
Yet when the last chord died away and the room seemed to bristle with silence, she felt her heart thud again and she couldn’t look at him. Staring down at her guitar, she idly picked a few strings. ‘It’s kind of a downer of a song, isn’t it?’ she sa
id with an unsteady little laugh. ‘Probably not the best number to open a store with.’
‘That doesn’t matter.’ She couldn’t tell a thing from his tone, and she still couldn’t look at him. ‘Of course, if you had another one, maybe a bit more hopeful, you could sing that one too.’
Something leapt inside her, a mongrel beast of hope and fear. A dangerous animal. She looked up, saw him gazing at her steadily, yet without any expression she could define. ‘I could?’
‘Yes.’
‘So...’ She swallowed. ‘What did you think? Of the song?’
‘I thought,’ Luke said quietly, with obvious and utter sincerity, ‘it was amazing.’
‘Oh.’ She looked back down at her guitar, felt tears sting her eyes and blinked hard to keep them back. Damn it, she was not going to cry in front of this man. Not now. Not ever. ‘Well...good.’ She kept her head lowered, and then she felt Luke shift. He’d been sitting across from her, but now he leaned forward, his knee almost nudging hers.
‘I can understand why you’re scared.’
Instinct kicked in. ‘I never actually said I was scared.’ And then she sniffed, loudly, which basically blew her cover.
‘You didn’t have to.’ He placed one hand on her knee, and she gazed down at it, large, brown, strong. Comforting. ‘That song is very personal.’
Which was why she felt so...naked right now, every protective layer peeled away. She swallowed, stared at his hand, mesmerised by the long, lean fingers curled unconsciously around her knee. ‘It’s just a song.’
‘Is it?’
And then she looked up at him, and knew she was in trouble. He was gazing at her with such gentle understanding, such tender compassion, that she felt completely exposed and accepted at the same time. It was such a weird feeling, such an overwhelming feeling, that it was almost painful. She swallowed. ‘Luke...’ Her voice came out husky, and she saw his pupils flare. Felt the very air tauten. This tender moment was turning into something else, something Aurelie knew and understood.
This was about sex. It was always about sex. And while part of her felt disappointed, another part flared to life.