by Linz, Cathie
In an instant he had the offender in a choke hold, back against the bar.
“Yo, man, chill out!” Algee gasped.
Luke immediately set him free.
“If I’d known you had such an aversion to having your picture taken, I wouldn’t have done it,” Algee said.
“Sorry about that,” Luke muttered. “You startled me.”
“Ditto.”
The flash had come from a Polaroid camera, not a weapon.
“Here.” Algee handed him the now almost fully developed photo. “Don’t you kids look cute.”
Algee had taken the shot right before Luke had reacted, so he didn’t look like a maniac on the attack. But he did look like a guy falling for a girl who was gazing at him with stars in her eyes. Or maybe that was the flash?
“I can’t believe all these flowers,” Julia was saying.
“Algee told Pam about this and she donated them,” Luke absently replied, still uncomfortable with what the photo in his hand showed.
“Pam knew? She didn’t say a word.”
“She wasn’t supposed to. This was all meant to be a big surprise.”
“Normally I don’t like surprises,” Julia admitted, “but this . . . this is . . . I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything.” Luke dropped the picture on the table and took her hand. “Just dance with me.”
“Luke has assured me that he doesn’t look like a frog in a blender when he dances, so you should be okay,” Algee reassured Julia.
Luke glared at him in exasperation. “Don’t you have someplace else you have to be?”
“No, not really.”
“I can’t believe you went to all this trouble,” Julia said.
“I was glad to do it,” Algee replied.
“She was talking to me,” Luke said.
“He was glad to do it, too,” Algee quickly added. “It was his idea to begin with. Even if he didn’t have a clue. The man was going to go with a Harley theme.” Algee just shook his head. “Then he was going to go with a glitter ball and some crepe paper. I expanded on that theme somewhat.”
“Quite a bit. I’m stunned. Is this what your prom was like, Algee?” she asked.
“I didn’t go.”
“Only because he’d asked two girls and they both found out and dumped him,” Luke inserted.
Algee shrugged. “What can I say? I find it hard to say no to a pretty face.”
“Maybe you should have an event at Maguire’s for everyone who missed their prom,” Julia suggested with the excitement of someone who’d just had a lightbulb moment. “Then you could use the decorations again.”
“How did this supposedly romantic evening turn into a business discussion? Come on, let’s dance. They’re playing our song.” He wasn’t really listening to the music, he just wanted her in his arms.
Julia grinned. “ ‘I’m Too Sexy’ is our song?”
“I had no idea you were a Right Said Fred fan, Luke,” Algee noted from his position near the bar.
“I don’t need an audience here,” Luke growled.
“You mean I can’t stay and make fun of the way a white boy dances?” Algee looked crushed.
“Affirmative, squid.”
“Roger that, jarhead.”
“Am I missing something here?” Julia asked, confused by their conversation.
“Algee was just leaving,” Luke said.
The big guy had no sooner walked out the door than Adele joined them from the kitchen. “Pretty fancy stuff, huh?”
Julia nodded. “It’s incredible.”
“Wait until you eat the dinner I’ve prepared for you two. It’s ready now if you are.”
“I guess we can dance later,” Luke said, holding a chair out for Julia.
They dined on filet mignon, baby asparagus, and Adele’s famous sweet potato fries, which Luke hand fed her. Dessert was a melt-in-your-mouth chocolate mousse accompanied by a bowl of cherries.
Luke took great pleasure in placing a cherry between her lips and then kissing her, nibbling on her and the fruit. She felt it was only fair to reciprocate. Meanwhile, the music from her high school years continued with Elton John’s “The One.”
“We never did get that dance,” Luke murmured once the cherries were all gone. “Come on.” He gently tugged her to her feet and into his arms.
At seventeen, Julia never imagined she’d ever be dancing with a hottie like Luke. The first time she heard “Take My Breath Away” by Berlin, she hadn’t envisioned being held like this—so close to Luke that she could feel every breath he took. Even then, it wasn’t close enough.
Adele cleared her throat. “Uh, I’m leaving now. Just thought I’d let you know.”
“Thanks, Adele, for the delicious meal,” Julia said without leaving Luke’s arms.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Good night.”
“Our chaperon is gone,” Luke whispered against Julia’s temple. “Want to make out?”
“Make out?”
“Mmmm. You know how to make out, don’t you?”
“Put your lips together and blow?”
He cracked up. “I’ve turned you into a wanton woman.”
“Are you complaining?”
“No way.”
“Good.”
“I just want this night to be special for you.”
“It already is,” she whispered.
“Then maybe we should continue this upstairs . . .” He swept her off her feet and lifted her in his arms to carry her upstairs. He had to lean down so she could open the apartment door, then he pretended to almost drop her, making her clutch her arms around his neck even tighter.
“I’ve gotta say, the view from here is great,” he noted as he carried her inside.
“Are you looking down my dress?”
“Guilty as charged.” He set her on her feet next to his bed.
“Maybe you should take a closer look,” she suggested.
“Maybe I should.”
Luke took his time with her, celebrating each moment as if it were the first. The first time he’d kissed her collarbone. The first time he’d nibbled on her earlobe. The first time he’d tickled the roof of her mouth with his tongue.
His hands moved to her dress, slowly undoing the ties that held the wrap-around bodice together. He unwrapped her as if she were the most precious and valuable of gifts. Where before they’d often tossed their clothes out of the way, now they lived in the moment, building the anticipation step by step. He slid the dress off one shoulder, kissing every inch of skin as he revealed it.
She responded by undoing his tie and slowly sliding it . . . bit by bit . . . out from under his shirt collar.
Luke slid her dress off the other shoulder as their mutual slow-motion striptease continued. Now every inch of bare skin revealed on that side had to have equal attention, his mouth caressing the rounded tip of her shoulder.
Julia unbuttoned his top shirt button and slipped her index finger beneath to trace his collarbone with the tip of her nail.
He moved to her lacy black bra.
She undid more of his shirt buttons.
He toyed with the bra’s front fastening, trailing his fingers along the edge of her lingerie.
She tugged the shirt from the waistband of his pants.
He lowered his head and kissed his way from the hollow of her throat down to the shadowy valley between her breasts.
She shoved his shirt off one shoulder.
He placed his open mouth directly over her lace-covered nipple.
She moaned with pleasure and threaded her fingers through his dark, silky hair.
He moved to her other breast and treated it with equal reverence.
She held him tight.
He undid her bra.
She shimmied out of it.
He lowered her dress past her hips until it fell in a silken heap on the floor.
She finally removed his shirt and undid the zipper on his trousers.
He murmured his appreciation of her thigh-high stockings and black satin bikini underwear.
She showed her appreciation of his arousal by reaching inside his black cotton briefs to hold his velvety hard sex in her hand.
Luke traced his fingertip along the edge of her tiny panties, teasing her, stroking her near her core but never quite touching her there.
Julia trembled under the sweet torture and ran her fingertips along his throbbing length.
“Enough!” he growled, tumbling her back onto his bed.
Shoes were kicked off. His pants yanked off by them both. A condom rolled on with his guidance and her seductive help.
By now Julia’s need for him was at a fever pitch. Every nerve in her body was at a heightened state and hypersensitive. He trailed his fingers up her inner thigh, removing her underwear as if unlocking the secrets of the world. He cupped her feminine mound, the palm of his hand creating a rhythmic pressure that made her burn inside.
“Now,” she said.
“Now what?” He exquisitely tortured her, his skillful fingers brushing the crisp curls guarding her silken folds. “This?” He slipped one finger inside. “Or this?” He seduced her with two fingers now.
“No, this.” She rolled him onto his back and sat atop him, using one hand to guide him to her and then easing down until the entire throbbing length of him was buried deep deep within her.
Their bodies slipped into a steady rhythm as she rocked on top of him and he met her thrust for thrust. Yes, the passion was intense. Yes, the pleasure was powerful.
But there was more. Julia felt more than just the physical connection with Luke. She felt bound to him heart and soul. Her hand was braced on his chest, where she could feel the thundering beat of his heart. Staring down at his face from this position, she marveled at the emotion in his mysterious eyes. At the raw passion etched on his face.
And when she finally came, she experienced the kind of remarkable seventh-chakra orgasm she’d only read about—the ultimate union of male and female energy.
Not because Luke was such an extraordinary lover, although he was. But because she loved him.
Exhausted, she collapsed beside him and cuddled close, murmuring the words against his shoulder before drifting off to sleep.
Luke froze. Had she just said she loved him?
He should have seen this coming. He should have done something to prevent it. Because she was in love with a man who didn’t exist. He wasn’t the man she thought he was. She looked at him with such faith and happiness, and he didn’t have the heart to hurt her by telling her the truth.
Which meant he was as bad as Angel was, deceiving Julia in the name of protecting her. Not from danger, but from reality.
Maybe he’d just imagined she’d said the words. Maybe he was looking for trouble where none existed.
He’d take a wait-and-see position. He didn’t want to examine his own emotions too closely, let alone hers. Doing that only complicated things.
If he were a better man, he’d walk away. But he couldn’t do that. Not yet.
Chapter Sixteen
“This meeting is called to order,” Walt proclaimed.
The March town meeting was held the fourth Tuesday night of the month in the courthouse, a white-columned building with an imposing brick facade. The room was unusually crowded this evening.
Normally Julia would rather eat Angel’s awful yellow squash cookies than attend one of these things, but she’d gotten an official-looking notice in the mail advising her to be here tonight. So she’d come. And brought Pam with her for moral support.
Luke had come, too. He’d also gotten a notice and claimed he didn’t want to miss the floor show.
The only empty seats left by the time they got there were in the front row. Luke actually brought a box of popcorn with him and leaned back in his chair as if he were attending a movie.
“Is it true that you’re going to ban people showing their underwear in public?” The question came from Julia’s neighbor Val.
“Blue-footed boobies don’t wear underwear.” Mr. Soames, who’d been quiet lately and hadn’t visited the library much over the winter, was apparently back in his customary form.
“Don’t put that in the official minutes,” Walt instructed Edith. “I didn’t recognize Mr. Soames . . .”
“What do you mean you don’t recognize me?” the octogenarian demanded. “I’ve known you since before you were born.”
“That’s not actually possible,” Walt replied.
“You never could see the big picture,” Mr. Soames retorted.
“Maybe Walt needs to go over to the Goodwin Eye Care Center and get his vision tested like Sue Ellen did,” someone in the back row suggested.
“Who said that?” Walt demanded in irritation.
Julia’s neighbor Val raised her hand.
“You said that?” Walt’s face showed his disbelief.
“No, I just wanted to point out that you never answered my question. About the underwear issue.”
“It’s obviously a good idea,” Alice stood to inform everyone. “I’ve already discussed it with our U.S. Representative when I visited her in Washington, D.C., a few months back. The way some people are dressing these days, it’s simply outrageous.”
Alice was looking at Julia as she said that last word, even though Julia had never shown a centimeter of her underwear in public . . .
Wait, there was that one time when she’d worn the Bo Peep costume and Luke had carried her home.
But surely if Alice had spotted her then, she’d have said something before now.
“Your nephew, the mayor’s son, wears clothing that shows the elastic band of his underwear,” Mr. Soames of all people pointed out. “It even has some name on it. I don’t need to have my vision tested,” the old man added with a cackle.
“We don’t have time for further discussion on this issue at the moment,” Walt decided. “We’ll shelve it for future discussion.”
“Where do you plan on shelving it?” Mr. Soames demanded. “In the library? Because I heard a rumor that you were threatening to burn books there, Mr. Mayor. Is that true?”
Walt paused to give Luke a dirty look before replying. “Of course it’s not true. It’s a vicious lie, and if you’ll tell me who said such a thing, I’ll make sure they’re punished.”
“It was your son.”
“Oh. Well, moving on . . .”
“Billy and I both enjoy extreme snowboarding, you know. We were really stoked about the world Superpipe last month.”
Walt cleared his throat, clearly at a loss as to how to handle Mr. Soames. “Yes, well, as I said, moving on to the next item on the agenda tonight. It has come to our attention that a business or businesses were being run out of a private home in an area zoned as residential. The residence in question is located on Cherry Lane. 160 Cherry Lane, to be precise.”
Pam elbowed Julia. “Hey, that’s your address.”
Julia stood up. “That’s my house.”
Walt nodded. “I believe it is.”
“Are you talking about the llamas? You told me to keep them because you wanted to get on the Late Show. And because you wanted them as prognosticators.”
“No, I’m not talking about the llamas.”
“Good, because they’re not living with me any longer and haven’t been for a long time now.”
Walt nodded again. “So I’ve heard.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“A school being run out of your home.”
“A school?” Julia repeated, at a total loss.
“That’s right.” Walt tugged his reading glasses down from the top of his head where he’d shoved them and consulted his ever-ready clipboard of notes. “A yoga school and a belly-dancing school.”
“There’s no school.”
“No?” He stared at her over the rim of his glasses. “It’s my understanding that yoga and belly-dancing lessons were being offered.”
�
��Well, yes they were, but . . .”
“And that a fee was involved?”
“In some cases, perhaps . . .”
“Then that’s a business,” Walt stated.
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is.”
To Julia’s surprise, Mrs. Selznick came to her rescue. “Then what about your sister, Walt, doing manicures in her home? Or Mabel giving perms in her living room? Or you, Edith, giving piano lessons at home?”
“She has a point,” Edith reluctantly admitted.
“Those yoga lessons were great,” Dora Abernathy from the corner of Cherry Lane declared. “They really helped my arthritis.”
“So did the belly-dancing,” Sue Ellen stood up to say. “Helped my physical condition, I mean. Of course, I’m much too young to have arthritis yet.” She paused to preen a moment. “My doctor says I’ve never been in better shape. And I’ve got new glasses, too,” she added. “The Eye Care Center is running a two-for-one sale now through the end of the month, so be sure to check it out.”
“The yoga lessons lowered my blood pressure,” Patty from the library stated.
“Mine, too,” Frasier the library director raised his hand to join to crowd.
“Both the belly-dancing and the yoga helped with my lower back pain.” Laurie from the library added her two cents’ worth.
“I think perhaps we’d better drop this item from the agenda,” Edith suggested with a stern look at Walt. “It wasn’t on my copy to begin with.”
“Fine. Let’s move on to complaint against the business establishment known as Maguire’s. We are all in agreement that this is a business, correct?” The five members of the town council all nodded. “Then the complaint concerns the lascivious illustration on the premises.”
“Hey, I took down that bikini babe calendar from Joe’s Garage a long time ago,” Luke said.
“We’re not talking about a calendar. We’re talking about the mural you had commissioned.”
“I don’t know that commissioned is the right word to use . . .”
“Whatever word you used, you told Tyler to paint it and he did.”
“Who told you that?”
“It’s a logical assumption to make.”
“Hey, I never claimed to be logical,” Luke said.
“You’re saying you don’t have a mural on your wall?”