Yeah, he’d been happy to have the time with her. To prove to himself his sappy feelings for Charlotte were gone—or nearly so.
Connor laughed now. “You might want to roll your tongue back in, bro.”
Fine. Yeah, he was staring. That didn’t mean anything dire, did it? Any red-blooded male’s attention would be snagged by the miles of leg the woman had, light golden now. He wondered if she was still running.
That’s how they’d met. Both of them had signed on for a charity 10K. At mile 4, he’d twisted his ankle while avoiding a young mother in front of him who’d abruptly stopped pushing her jogging stroller. After giving his injured joint fifteen minutes of recovery, he’d started limping along the route. Runners passed all around him, but he’d found himself keeping pace with another of the walking wounded.
They’d both stopped at a water station. He’d looked over at the glossy-haired brunette hiding behind a pair of Hollywood-large dark glasses. They didn’t camouflage the cute, slightly sunburned nose, the soft mouth, the way her jersey clung to generous breasts. Luke had run his gaze down her long legs and detected her injury.
He’d winced at the bloody heel she’d slipped out of the back of a pair of mint-condition Nikes. “Ouch. Conventional wisdom says you shouldn’t wear a new pair of shoes on race day.”
She’d turned toward him, and with a pinky, slid the bridge of her glasses down her nose to look at him through amazing, crystal-blue eyes. “I hate when conventional wisdom’s right.”
Though race volunteers had offered to get them a ride to the finish, they’d both rejected that idea and set off side-by-side. He should have known right then, looking at her bloody foot and determined expression, that she had a mulish streak.
But by the time they’d reached the big time clock at the finish line, he’d been captivated by her good humor and intrigued by the fact she made her living writing. At the city park where the race ended, they’d shared frozen yogurt and exchanged phone numbers. By nightfall, he’d thrown caution to the wind—he had his own reasons to be wary—and invited her out.
Connor nudged him with an elbow now. “From the looks of that kiss, she’s just as hot for you as you are for her.”
To avoid responding, Luke abandoned his brother, heading toward Charlotte and the knot of bridesmaids. Was it true? Did the blasted woman still lust after him? They’d been compatible in the sack, that was for sure, but he’d wanted her as a partner beyond the sheets.
So sue him, he’d wanted her to meet his family, to share some holiday traditions, to build others that would be unique to the two of them. “I want a relationship,” he’d told Charlotte, “that’s heading toward a future.”
“A future?” Her expression had been horrified.
He’d sighed. “Charlotte, this is like the fifteenth time you’ve refused to have dinner with my folks. For God’s sake, you made an excuse last week to avoid meeting me and my brother for a simple after-work drink. We’ve been dating for months, but I’m beginning to feel like you’re just using me as a bed-buddy.”
She’d gone frosty at that ... but hadn’t denied it. Then his hold on his temper had frayed and he’d laid down an ultimatum. Either she’d arrive on his arm as his date to his dad’s sixtieth birthday party or they were over. Her face cast in stone, she’d shown him the door.
That same no-expression expression was in place now, just as it had been the morning he’d met with her and Audrey. He strolled closer, just as one of the bridesmaids reached into a huge tote and withdrew gauzy lengths of fabric. With much laughter—and a squeal or two—she passed them out to the other women.
They were—wedding veils? Apparently so, because the women were pinning them into each other’s hair with another round of laughter. A small mirror passed from hand to hand.
Charlotte stood outside their circle, the white material in her grasp floating in the breeze. Her own little island, Luke thought. She didn’t need anyone or anything.
Then Audrey turned to her ex-stepsister, cupped palm full of pins. “Your turn.”
Charlotte stepped back, her face reflecting her sudden unease. “Oh, no. I’m not the bride-type.”
Audrey was having none of that. She might be small, but she had the personality of a bulldozer. Before Charlotte could cut and run, Luke’s prospective sister-in-law had hold of her wrist. Going on tiptoe, she attached the froth of fabric on top of the fall of long dark hair.
“Mirror,” Audrey ordered, holding out her hand like a surgeon. As it was passed over, she caught Charlotte’s own fingers, already reaching to remove the veil. Then Audrey held up the reflective glass so the taller woman could see herself. “Now take a look.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes.
Audrey jiggled her hand. “Take a look.”
With a sigh, Charlotte obediently directed her gaze. Just then, a strong gust of wind blew the gauzy material over her face. She drew it away, stilled.
Luke did, too. He didn’t know what she saw in the mirror. He was only aware of what he saw. Charlotte’s beautiful face framed by bridal white. It made her mouth more pink, her cheeks more rosy, her eyes more arrestingly blue. As he watched, the expression on her face changed from vexed to ... vulnerable.
Something turned inside his chest. Vulnerable? It was the one way he’d never seen the obstinate lover who had refused to let him get too close.
As if sensing his regard, Charlotte’s gaze lifted. Over the mirror, their eyes met. Beneath his ribs, he felt another painful twist. It was his heart, he realized, in a last-ditch effort to shake off the knowledge that was sinking into his soul.
He wasn’t over her. Nowhere near.
Luke Harper was in love with Charlotte Bond. Still in love with her. It only took another moment for a certainty to surface. This time, by God, he wasn’t going to let her shove him away.
Charlotte scrambled into the very back seat of the very first vehicle in the carpool fleet. It was a minivan, and she figured wedging herself into the farthest corner would guarantee she’d share space with one of the other women, leaving the guys the more generous legroom up front. Charlotte was determined to dodge prolonged exposure to Luke.
She’d already risked enough with that kiss!
What had she been thinking? But of course she hadn’t been thinking at all. His lips had locked with hers and she’d sunk right back into the familiar sea of lust. She might have drowned in it if he hadn’t called her Charlie.
That had saved her. She didn’t like to be called Charlie.
Closing her eyes, she leaned against the head rest, then jerked forward as something jabbed her skull. Her hand found an errant bobby pin and she pulled it free, grimacing as it tugged at her long hair. The rest of the women were still wearing those ridiculous wedding veils, but she’d yanked hers off the moment Audrey’s back was turned.
Playing bride appealed as little as playing Luke’s girl—something she hoped to avoid for the rest of the weekend. The way she figured it, that kiss should have accomplished all the necessary sibling-convincing. Connor now had to believe the old romance was on again and would turn his attention elsewhere. Leaving Charlotte to safely spend the next three days keeping her distance from both Harper brothers.
The minivan rocked as another person stepped inside, quickly followed by another and then another. Before she could let out a peep, she was joined on the bench seat and all the other passenger places were claimed, as well.
It was Luke who settled beside her, damn it.
“Hello there,” he said, smiling. “Close quarters, huh?”
Charlotte glared at him as he shifted his legs. There were seat belts for three back here, but with the length of Luke’s limbs and the breadth of his shoulders, there wasn’t enough room left over for her to take a deep inhale. She was suddenly breathless, anyway.
“Why don’t you find a spot where you’ll be more comfortable?” she suggested.
He slid his arm along the back of the seat, his fingertips brushing her hair. �
�I’m good. You?”
She was not good! With Luke so close she could smell his aftershave and feel his body heat. Without her permission, her nerves reacted to him, the little hairs on her skin rising to the occasion and her memory dredging up all kinds of naughty thoughts. Luke, playing with her hair, drawing the ticklish ends over her breasts as they lay naked together. The morning after the first night they’d made love, she’d left him sleeping while she dashed to the bathroom for a shower and the scent of him on her skin had renewed a need for him so fast and so furious that she’d turned off the spray and run to awaken him, water still coursing down her skin.
“I’m tired,” she said, so she’d have an excuse to close her eyes. With his thigh nudging hers, not looking at him was her only defense.
“You can put your head on my shoulder, honey.”
The vehicle began to move and she ignored his offer, wiggling farther into the corner. “Ouch!” Something sharp dug at her hip and she reached beneath her to unearth a handful of tiny plastic bricks.
Luke peered at the colored blocks. “You sure have a way of annihilating men, don’t you?”
Puzzled, she looked from her palm to Luke’s face. Was he implying she’d annihilated him? How could that be when it was he who’d left the country?
He plucked the objects from her hand. “And here I thought all the girls had crushes on Captain Jack Sparrow. Leave it to you, Charlotte, to be the one woman who crushes a pirate of the Caribbean.”
The little speech became clear as Luke deftly handled the pieces, assembling them into a recognizable one-inch plunderer of the seas. Charlotte experienced another of those odd little pains in her chest. Luke would make a good father, she thought. He’d be the kind of dad who joined in his kids’ play. She could see him building pretend cities and tree forts and telling ghost stories that weren’t too gory, but just scary enough to engender delicious shivers.
Some woman would be the mother to those kids of his.
Some other woman.
“Lift up,” Luke said to her now.
She stared at him blankly. With a small shrug, he snaked a hand under her bottom. “Hey!” she protested, heat flushing her face.
It was only a quick goose. In a second, his hand was free and he held a tricorn hat-shaped piece of plastic that he popped onto the captain’s head. Contemplating the completed Jack, Luke’s lips curved in a small smile.
He had great lips. An incredible smile.
“Weddings, Ink. going well?” he asked, his gaze still on the toy.
“What? Huh?” Charlotte started, her brain not on business.
“Your work? It’s keeping you busy?”
She cleared her throat and transferred her gaze from the face she’d been ogling. “Sure. Yeah. Turns out the nuptials industry is nearly impervious to economic ups and downs. People want their perfectly romantic I do’s.”
“Not you, though,” Luke said.
“Not me, what?”
“You’re not interested in marriage. You made that clear to me.”
She shrugged, then looked out the window. She’d wanted to avoid him and this kind of conversation. “How about those Dodgers?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Luke said. “I just got back into the country last week.”
“That’s right. Qatar.” She slid a glance at him.
He raised an eyebrow. “You know about that?”
“Someone mentioned it.” She’d dialed his work number when her calls to his cell went unanswered. It had been a ... relief to know he was out of the country, his absence saving her from herself. Two months after he’d walked out on her she’d had a lonely couple of days, and weak, tried to make contact with him. That he’d been unreachable had been best.
“My year there is how Connor and Audrey met, you know.” He tilted his head. “Or maybe the credit all goes to you.”
Charlotte blinked. “Why’s that?”
“Connor took it into his head that he could patch things up between us. When I wouldn’t give him your number, he found his way to your mother.”
“My mother!”
“And instead of passing along your contact info, she gave him Audrey’s by mistake. The initial confusion quickly gave way to mutual attraction. And lucky for us, that attraction distracted him from his original mission.”
“Oh, God.” Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Mom will be insufferable if she learns her error ended in a marriage. She’ll claim she was the agent of Fate or some similar sentimental drivel.”
“Like your clients, she’s another believer in romantic I do’s?”
“I suppose,” Charlotte said, her voice wry. “She’s said them herself often enough. She takes credit for my career, you know, because I was pressed into vow-writing service the last three of the five times she married.”
“I didn’t know,” Luke said, his voice quiet. “You never talked about your mom. Or your father. That’s the first I’ve heard of five marriages. I only know that you and Audrey were once connected because she told me.”
The reproof was clear. Charlotte waved it away. “When you and I were together we had other things to talk about.”
Luke caught her hand. “We didn’t talk much at all, as I remember.”
There went her naughty thoughts again. Charlotte felt her face heat as she recalled how quickly she’d fallen into bed with him. They’d met at a bar the night after their 10K run. Within moments, Luke had been obliged to buy her a replacement glass of wine when an obnoxious dude, overexcited about Monday Night Football, had bumped their table and knocked over her glass.
When she’d bent to clean up the mess on the floor, Luke had been there first. His simple courtesy had gotten to her. From sodden napkins to a second glass of sauvignon blanc to a scorching night between his sheets. “I never do things like that,” she mumbled now. “Never on a first date.”
He squeezed her hand. “You mean you haven’t made some other man thank the day he was born?”
Charlotte slipped her fingers free and stared out the window. “What about you? Are you seeing someone?” It was merely a polite question.
“Honey, I just spent a year with the same dozen guys who often didn’t bother showering, let alone shaving.”
“So I suppose any woman looks good to you now.” She meant it to sound funny or flip. Casual. But her voice was hoarse and the words were scratchy. Damn air-conditioning.
“I—“
“Who’s up for a game of spotting out-of-state license plates?” Charlotte called out to the rest of the passengers. “I’m desperate for something to do to pass the time.”
Desperate to stop getting so personal with Luke. She was supposed to be avoiding him, remember?
The other people in the vehicle embraced her suggestion. They played silly road games until they pulled into the courtyard of the boutique hotel. It was a lovely place, the stucco painted a pale pink that was offset by the vibrant green of the ubiquitous palm fronds. Through an ironwork gate, Charlotte could see the sparkling aquamarine pool.
Lounge chairs. Sunscreen. Fruity drinks.
With all that, surely it would be easy to keep her distance from Luke.
They all shuffled up to the front desk, rolling their bags behind them. Audrey took care of the check-in process, then distributed the card keys that were slipped into small envelopes with room numbers written on their fronts. She passed one to Luke. Charlotte held out her hand, received another. Her eyes dropped to the handwritten numerals.
“We’re in 12,” Luke said, grabbing the handle of her suitcase.
We?
He smiled at her over his shoulder, then glanced at his brother, who was standing nearby. “C’mon, sweetheart. Our room’s this way.”
Our room?
CHAPTER THREE
Charlotte wasn’t feeling very reasonable, even when Luke exhorted her to be so for the fifteenth time. “What’s the big deal? The bed’s plenty big,” he said, indicating the king-sized mattress topped with a white feather
duvet and two mountains of pillows.
The Indian Ocean was plenty big, too, but that hadn’t stopped Charlotte from yearning for Luke long after he’d strolled out of her life for a stint in the Middle East. “There’s got to be a free room,” she answered, shifting her gaze from that dangerous place he was suggesting they both sleep for the next two nights.
“It’s a boutique hotel,” he responded patiently. “The wedding party has filled all the rooms.”
“I’ll sleep with one of the other women.” Her eyebrows slammed together. “Audrey. She owes me.”
“Audrey’s sharing a room with Connor. And she doesn’t want him to suspect your true purpose here, remember?”
Those damn wedding vows. Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest. “I have the words ready right now,” she told Luke. “ ‘I, Audrey Langford, promise to be a self-centered shrew of a wife for the rest of my days.’ ”
Luke was staring at her.
Embarrassment washed over Charlotte in a flush of heat. “Okay,” she muttered, “the self-centered shrew might be me.”
He raised a brow. “I just don’t get what has you so worked up. You know me well enough to share a room with me, don’t you? I don’t have any habits you found disgusting before.”
Before was the problem! Before, they were lovers. Before, they’d spent Sunday afternoons playing Scrabble. She knew words like qintar (15 points) and capiz (18 points). He could take N, I, V, A, J, L, find a floating S somewhere, and thanks to clever placement turn JAVELINS into a triple-letter, triple-word score. Sunday nights, they’d both splurge on ice cream. Luke didn’t like her favorite Ben & Jerry flavor; she despised his. Perfect harmony entered a relationship when one’s partner could be counted on never to filch the last spoonful of one’s preferred dessert.
But “relationship” turned out to be the sticking point. She’d been content with board games and separate bowls of frozen treats. He’d started talking about comingled closet space and shared holiday plans.
Kiss the Bride Page 13