Читать книгу Automatic Proposal - Kelsey Roberts - Страница 10

Even drenched, Julia Garcia had the ability to still the breath in Luke’s chest. Why did I mention the wedding?

She was even more stunning than he remembered. Damp, dark curls framed the perfect oval of her face. As always, he was transfixed by her eyes—big, expressive and a pale, sultry shade of gray that were as hypnotic as a swirl of smoke.

She must hate him. Big time. Given what had happened on their aborted wedding day six years ago, it was no wonder she’d never returned his calls and was now staring at him as though he were something the cat had coughed up. He was the one who’d gotten her involved—granted, unintentionally—with a major drug dealer.

Summoning all of his courage, Luke willed his taut muscles to relax. No sense in making this any harder than it already was. He glanced around, realizing that all eyes were trained in their direction. Great. He’d been in her presence less than a minute and already he’d managed to screw it up.

Again.

“Let me give this another shot. Hi, Julia, good to see you again.”

She peered up at him warily. “Y-you, too.”

“I’m here to be fitted for a tux for Carmen’s wedding.”

He watched as Julia grabbed a towel off a hook hidden discreetly behind a curtain, and began drying her arms and legs. He swallowed, trying not to groan as he watched the hem of her skirt rise, revealing a good amount of toned, shapely thigh. He began lifting his gaze, which didn’t help. She was wearing those clinging T-shirts, the kind with the thin straps. Because the fabric was cotton and wet, very little was left to his imagination. And Luke had an excellent imagination. He’d been thinking about Julia, and what her top was exposing, for half a dozen years. His pump was already primed. He could easily make out the outline of her tiny waist as well as the full swell of her breasts.

This was not going well. Carmen was right, much to his chagrin. The Weddings Your Way seamstress was Julia Garcia. His Julia. His plan had been to waltz into the shop as the poster child for the fully evolved guy. He’d break the ice by making a joke, then apologize for the whole Vegas thing. Let her take his measurements and be on his way. No harm, no foul. That had been the plan. Too bad it wasn’t working real well. Still, he’d felt like a jackass for allowing himself to get involved with Esterhaus, a guy he hadn’t fully trusted. He’d let a lucrative business deal override his hard-won common sense.

Now Julia watched him with the carefully blank expression one gave a stranger. An unwelcome stranger at that. She smacked her sodden purse into his midsection. “Hold this while I dry off the worst of it.”

Luke obediently held her purse, wishing he was the towel she was stroking across her damp, tawny skin. Once she was no longer dripping, Julia slipped off her shoes, grabbed her purse and padded barefoot toward an elaborate marble staircase anchoring the center of the first floor. “My workroom is upstairs. Come on.”

Here, boy. She was treating him like the dog he was, he thought as he followed her. Nodding to the rest of the staff was considerably better than turning his attention to Julia’s butt as she climbed the stairs ahead of him.

Apparently fully evolved wasn’t working at all.

Nope, by the time Julia had reached the third step, he was pretty much a walking heap of needy testosterone. Not much had changed in the six years since he’d gotten them both tangled in the drug-trafficking Esterhaus mess.

He tried not to notice the gentle sway of her hips. Tried to ignore the faint scent of her tuberose perfume lingering in the air between them. Tried, but failed.

Miserably.

“Nice place,” he commented. Croaked, actually, making him really glad that her back was to him. As glad as he could be given that his eyes were now fixed on the tiny tattoo just above her left shoulder blade. He’d lived in Miami long enough to recognize the Cuban flag on sight.

“It is,” she agreed as she neared the top of the stairs. “My office is back this way.”

Luke realized the second floor was neatly sectioned into all things wedding. Thanks to Carmen, he was becoming an expert on the subject. She wasn’t just getting married, she was having an event. He was happy for her and all, but man, it took about the same amount of planning as a shuttle launch. He couldn’t believe he and Julia had pulled off their almost wedding in less than a week, drug dealers not withstanding. Their wedding would have been efficient, expedient and just as binding as the one his crazy sister was planning. Hell of a lot cheaper, too.

Passing through the area devoted to invitations and calligraphy, they reached an etched glass door with the word private stenciled in gold.

Leaving the door ajar, Julia rounded a cluttered desk and sat down to face him—moving rather stiffly, Luke decided. He took one of the two chairs opposite hers, gripping the armrests as he leaned back against the cushion.

Almost every inch of wall space was utilized by fabric samples, bits of ribbon and lace and various drawings. Most were affixed with push pins. Beneath the tacked items, he spied some photographs. “Your work?” he asked, pointing to a glossy magazine cover in a Lucite frame.

She nodded. “Yes.” Her chair swiveled as she opened one drawer of the credenza behind her desk to retrieve a thick file folder. “Carmen Lopez and Dalton Mitchell, right?”

“Dalton Mitchell the third,” Luke remarked wryly. “I’m told the numeral is a big deal in the Mitchell family.”

He watched as her features softened. Not so much so that he could consider it a smile, but she no longer looked as if her face was set in concrete.

Her head tilted to one side, causing a curly tendril to fall free from the thick mass of damp hair she’d twisted into a knot at the nape of her long, tapered neck. Luke battled the urge to reach across the desk to tuck it behind her ear. Better for both of them if he stuck to business. He shifted in his seat.

“Carmen said something about a wool tux?” He grimaced. “She was kidding, right? That sure will be comfortable on a hot June day.”

Pulling a catalog page from inside the folder, Julia slipped it across the desk, then grabbed a pencil from a holder and used the eraser end as a pointer. “It’s luxe wool, very lightweight and breathable. I think you’ll be pleased.”

He met her eyes and smiled sincerely. “The key is for Carmen to be pleased. She started planning this day in elementary school.”

His heart skipped a few times when Julia rewarded him with a grudging smile. God, but she was beautiful. Perfect white teeth set against smooth, bronzed skin. And that mouth. Full, pouty lips sheened with a slick gloss that made him want to vault over the desk and kiss her senseless.

One of her perfectly arched brows rose questioningly. “Why did you keep your sister a secret?”

He shrugged and sat back, letting out a long breath as he redirected his thoughts. “Technically, I didn’t. Carmen and I aren’t blood relations. We spent several years together in the same foster home.”

“She adores you.” Julia stiffened slightly. “I never would have guessed that you were the wonderful brother she raves about all the time. Not in a million years.”

Luke frowned. He’d been hoping for some understanding. “I’m not a schmuck, Julia. That whole Vegas thing was—”

She held up one hand. The bracelets on her wrist clanked loudly in the sudden silence. “Let’s not go there.”

“I’d like to explain.”

“No need,” she assured him, opening a drawer and pulling out a bright yellow, cloth tape measure that she draped around her shoulders. “It was a long time ago, Luke. Let’s just be glad we didn’t go through with what would have been a monumental mistake.”

It rankled to hear the undiluted certainty in her tone. Not that he didn’t agree, he just didn’t like hearing it. “I didn’t know Esterhaus was a drug dealer.” Annoyed, he raked his fingers through his hair. “Something I would have explained at length if you hadn’t disappeared.”

She blew out a quick, irritated puff of air. “The DEA agents told me all that. Really, Luke, let’s not rehash our brief past. So…” She paused and stood up. “If you’ll step into the next room, I’ll take your measurements and you can be on your way.”

He rose and the chair legs scraped loudly against the tiled floor in the process. “I’m trying to apologize, Julia.”

“No need,” she repeated, though there was still a hint of frost in her voice. “Really.”

The instant Luke Young touched her arm, Julia felt a zing directly into the center of her being. Six years had done nothing to stifle her primal and instinctual attraction to this man. And what that was all about, she had no clue.

“Hang on.” Luke gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “Hear me out. I really am trying to clear the air.”

The air I can’t breathe when you’re standing so close? she wondered. Slowly, Julia lifted her eyes, looking directly into his. The sincerity she read in his steady gaze whittled away all pretext. Relenting, she offered him a smile. “You’re right. There’s no reason we can’t be…civil.”

Cocking his head to one side, Luke studied her, his dark eyes never wavering. “Civil, eh?” he repeated, openly amused. “In this kind of explosive situation? That could mean anything.”

She attempted to shrug out of his grasp. It didn’t work. “It means,” she said mendaciously, “you should let go.”

His smile broadened as he began to stroke slow, tantalizing circles against her suddenly flushed skin. How was it possible that this man could make her want to melt into a puddle of need with just the pad of his thumb? Julia’s blood sang in her veins at his barely there touch. Warmth radiated from her arm, sending a surge of heat the full length of her spine. He’d always affected her like this, only six years ago she hadn’t appreciated how rare that heat was. In fact, she’d never been so instantly turned on since.

Swallowing audibly, she fidgeted in his light grasp, torn between the intelligent choice of jumping out of reach and the very real desire to press herself against him. She was conflicted.

How did he do this? How could Luke walk back into her life and in under five minutes have her respiration up and her knees threatening to buckle? Every one of her nerve endings pulsated as she stood rigidly, feeling his warm breath wash over her upturned face. Lifting her hand, she placed her palm tentatively against his forearm, and felt singed by the electric current passing between them.

His mouth pulled into a lopsided, cocky half smile that was surprisingly heart-wrenching and familiar. Looking into his eyes, she knew immediately that he recognized her attraction and a lot of good old-fashioned lust. The spark was still there. But how could it be?

Nonsense, she told herself very firmly. She was reading more into this chance meeting than actually existed. She wanted to believe that her overly emotional reaction was due to her concern over Sonya’s kidnapping.

But she didn’t believe that at all. She knew the powerful sensations assailing her from every angle were due to…Luke. Tall, gorgeous Luke.

“Still want me to let go?” he asked softly.

So softly that her addled brain nearly didn’t register the deep, soothing timbre of his voice. She was, however, keenly aware of the precise nanosecond that his fingers slipped away.

“If you’ll follow me this way…” she said curtly, almost stumbling toward the deep aqua, Lily Pulitzer fabric curtain separating her office from her workroom.

She wanted her composure, but just then, she’d have settled for her shoes. Especially when she stubbed her toe on the corner of the stepladder she kept next to the carpeted platform adjacent to the changing room. The metal clanged loudly, echoing off the mirrored walls.

“You seem nervous,” Luke remarked.

He was right behind her, so close that she could feel the breezy tickle of his breath against the nape of her neck. She stepped out of range, but it was impossible to not look at him. He was reflected in all the mirrors.

“You don’t need to be.”

She took a deep, hopefully calming breath and tried to find her center. A pretty daunting task when she turned and found herself standing in the shadow of six feet four inches of absolute male perfection. Luke had a kind of casual masculinity that drew her like a tractor beam. When he looked at her with those sensual brown eyes, she was half tempted to tear her clothes off right then and there and toss him down onto the floor.

“Where do you want me?” he asked.

Suppressing the obvious retort, Julia pointed in the direction of the platform. “Step up there. This won’t take but a minute.”

“Take all the time you need.”

Kneeling down, Julia pulled the tape measure off her shoulders and realized that her hands were shaking. “I forgot the order form,” she lied, spinning and fairly racing back to her office.

After brushing past the curtain, she squished the tape measure in one hand while banging the heel of her other hand against her forehead. Stop. Stop. Stop! He’s just a man. Get a grip on yourself. Julia stopped pounding her head, realizing that a) it hurt and b) it didn’t change the fact that she had a job to do. She rolled her eyes as she let out a frustrated sigh. Why did Luke have to walk into her life at the most inopportune times? Why couldn’t they have run into each other in a grocery store? Or at a park, or the beach? Something normal. At a time when she wouldn’t have to push him away. She couldn’t keep Luke now for the same reasons she couldn’t keep him then. She had to put the job first. Would there ever be a right time for them?

“Not likely,” she grumbled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been at the beach, and since there was nothing but a jar of mustard dying of loneliness in her refrigerator, the whole grocery store thing wasn’t looking very good, either.

“Okay,” she whispered, needing a personal pep talk. “I can make this calm, professional and quick.” Stretching the tape measure taut between her hands, she plastered a smile on her face and went back to her workroom.

Luke noticed the precision with which each bolt of fabric was stacked against the next. He hadn’t known that Julia could sew. Or that she’d be so good at giving other people the happy-ever-after wedding she hadn’t gotten. Fact was, he knew less about Julia than he did about those fancy fabrics. All he knew about fabric was that it could be cotton or dirty, so the fancy stuff was pretty much lost on him.

Julia’s return was not. His heart thumped in his chest when he turned and caught sight of the smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. He might not know her favorite color, but he knew she felt the same pull he did. Now what could he do about it so that she didn’t run again? Cocking his head in the direction of the bolts, he said, “I never knew there were so many variations on white.”

“Brides like choices,” she stated, giving him a tellingly wide berth as he stepped back up on the carpeted platform.

“Brides like checkbooks,” he countered. “I could feed a small third-world country on what this wedding is gonna cost.”

She peeked up at him through her lashes as she knelt beside him and fixed the tape measure to an imaginary spot on the floor next to the heel of his boot. “Feed a lot of third-world countries, do you? Stand naturally.”

She rose, bringing the tape up to his shoulders and the smell of her perfume close enough to make him dizzy. In the process, her hair brushed against his forearm. It was a whisper of silky softness that very nearly made him groan. The black tendrils were still damp from the rain. He could smell the remnants of a citrusy shampoo. Luke instantly imagined her standing under the strong spray of his shower, naked and—

“Legs apart, please.”

He looked up at the ceiling so that his body focused on something other than his sexual fantasies. He practically gnawed through his lower lip as Julia tortured him by running her deft fingers along his inseam. Luke stood stick straight while she measured every inch of his body. Hopefully, she hadn’t noticed that he’d been holding his breath.

“You’re all done,” she announced, reaching for the small acrylic clipboard hanging on the wall. “We can schedule an appointment with Vicki on your way out.”

Luke felt…dismissed. “For what?”

“In about a week, I need you to come by and try on the tux. We can make any last minute adjustments before the wedding next Saturday.”

“It’s a suit,” Luke countered. “Besides, it’s Carmen’s day, right? No one will care what I’m wearing.”

“Carmen will care. The photographer will care. I’ll care.”

“Really?” he asked, stroking his chin. “Why?”

“Reputation,” she answered, tucking the nub of a pencil behind her ear. “Weddings Your Way prides itself on one hundred percent customer satisfaction.”

He found himself hurrying down off the platform to follow her back to her office. Julia had that effect on him. Ever since that first night, Luke had felt as if he was running in a circle, trying to catch up.

Unsuccessfully.

Maybe a different tactic. Instead of going to the door, he sat back down in the chair opposite her desk.

Her brows rose. “Is there something else?”

“I’m not one hundred percent satisfied.”

Her smile slipped fractionally. “Excuse me?”

“My customer satisfaction is dependent on…” he paused and glanced at his bulky, utilitarian watch “…five minutes of your time.”

“Um…okay.” She studied him guardedly as she slipped behind her desk and slowly took her seat. Propping her fingertips together, she met and held his gaze. “What do you need five minutes for?”

Rubbing his palms against his jean-clad thighs, Luke thought rapidly. He had one shot and couldn’t blow it. “Well, we can start with Vegas.”

Her head shook slightly, just enough for that distracting curl to fall forward and catch in her lashes. “Not necessary, Luke, really, I—”

He unintentionally silenced her when he reached out and brushed the lock of hair from her face. “Necessary for me,” he countered, letting his hand fall away even though he wanted very much to trace his finger from her high cheekbone down the length of her throat. “My satisfaction level is slipping. Remember, I am the customer.”

“Technically, Carmen and her fiancé are the customers.”

“And Carmen loves me,” he said with a satisfied sigh. “She’d be really upset if I—”

Julia held up her hand. “I get the point. So, do you really want to rehash the whole Vegas mess?”

“I want to apologize. Wanted to for years. I really didn’t know about Esterhaus’s sideline. I never would have done business with him, let alone put you in a position where you could have been hurt.”

She nodded, her expression bland and guarded. “I believe you.”

“Then why’d you disappear?”

She shrugged and looked away. “Seeing those DEA agents rush inside that chapel, well, I guess it just reminded me that we didn’t really know anything about one another.” When she glanced back in his direction, her features seemed more relaxed. “C’mon, Luke, you’ve got to admit that getting married back then would have been a huge disaster.”

“I do admit that,” he agreed easily. “Upon reflection.” He paused when one dark brow arched at his word choice. “What, you don’t think a guy can reflect between beers?” he joked. “Anyway, after some thought, I knew that the DEA crashing our wedding was a blessing. We didn’t know enough about each other to make a marriage last.” But we could have learned, he thought.

“All’s well that ends well.”

“Great fortune cookie sentiment,” he teased, determined to go easy. “I’m just curious as to why you refused to take my calls. I felt like an ass, and wanted to apologize to you in person. I’m sorry it ended the way it did.”

“Esterhaus going to prison?”

“Forget Esterhaus. I’m talking about us. Why didn’t you return my calls, Julia?”

“What was I supposed to say?”

“Oh, ‘I accept your apology, Luke’ would have been a great start. At least then I wouldn’t have felt so guilty about dragging you into that mess.”

“You didn’t need to feel guilty,” she assured him.

“Of course I did. You were a sweet, naive young woman working her tail off at that Vegas restaurant. You deserved better than getting drawn into some big thing with a major drug trafficker.”

“You’re falling on your sword pretty hard, there,” Julia ribbed good-naturedly. “Your version of history makes me sound like I fell from a turnip truck onto the Vegas strip. I was young. I like to think I can be sweet. But I don’t ever remember being naive.”

“You were,” Luke insisted. “You were what? All of twenty-four?”

“You aren’t exactly ready for a retirement home,” she remarked. “It was Vegas, Luke. We had a week of fun and it just got out of hand. No need for long-term therapy as a result.”

“Good, then we can start over.”

He watched as she froze in mid-exhale. To her credit, Julia recovered quickly. “Start what over?”

Luke wagged his finger in the air between them. “Us. You and me. We can date.”

“No, I…I don’t think—”

“You said you didn’t hold me responsible for Esterhaus.”

“I don’t.”

“You seemed like you were having fun when we were together, so what’s the problem?”

She blinked. “We almost got married.” God, how often had she thought of that day? Wondered what it would have been like? If he was half the man she remembered and admired in her dreams.

“Almost being the operative word there. I like you, Julia.”

“You don’t know me.”

He smiled, hoping to put her at ease. “Hence the need for dating. See, we date, get to know one another. See what happens.” Discover if the heat between us will fizzle or sizzle.

“Nothing’s going to happen,” she insisted as she got to her feet. “Your five minutes will be up by the time we stop by Vicki’s desk to make your follow-up appointment.” Grabbing his shirtsleeve, she practically dragged him from the room. “Besides, I can’t date a client.”

“Technically, I’m not the client, remember?” he asked with a satisfied smile. He practically whistled as they walked down the marble steps to the desk, where a pretty redhead adeptly manned multiple telephone lines.

Julia hurriedly penciled him in for the following week, two days shy of the wedding. He liked seeing her flustered. It was the only peek he got into her closely guarded thoughts. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Not good enough,” he responded. Even though he’d kept his voice low, his remark perked the receptionist right up. She practically crawled up on the desk in order to listen in on the conversation.

Julia’s eyes darted around the room. Her jaw clenched behind a stiff smile. “It will have to be good enough, Luke. The matter is closed.” She turned, spine regally straight, and took two steps toward the stairs.

“Julia, I can’t let you walk away.”

She turned, her eyes blazing smoky fire. “Excuse me?”

“You’re blocking me.”

“What?”

He pointed in the direction of the stone courtyard and the driveway beyond. “Your Jeep, right?”

She nodded.

“You’re blocking my SUV.”

She looked pretty pissed as she marched over, grabbed her keys from her soggy purse and went out the door. “I should have known you were the inconsiderate person who parked in front of the garage,” she muttered as she stomped along the stones.

“I didn’t make it rain on you, Julia,” he said as he fell into step beside her. “It isn’t like there’s a No Parking sign, either.”

“It’s a driveway,” she grumbled. “Luke, you need to st— Get down!”

He wasn’t sure what surprised him the most, her strength or what precipitated it.

Julia lunged at him, her shoulder catching him just beneath the rib cage, forcing the breath from his lungs as she toppled him onto the hard ground. His head bounced once against the pavement, sending strobes of bright white specks into his field of vision.

At first he thought the crack he’d heard was the sound of his skull fracturing. Then he pieced the sound together with the acrid smell of gunpowder and realized what had happened. What was still happening.

He rolled, covering Julia’s body with his own as three more shots ricocheted off the stucco, showering them with a stinging spray of cement.