Read Barefoot in Pearls (Barefoot Bay Brides Book 3) Online
Authors: Roxanne St. Claire
He looked down, tapping one boot on the other. “Sorry for the mud. I’ve been at the job site,” he said. “I’ll take them off.” He toed off one boot, revealing a thick white sock, then the other.
She stepped away, rooting for the right small talk that didn’t include,
Gee, your stockinged feet are sexy, too! Imagine that!
“You want a drink?”
He frowned a little, letting his gaze slide over her, making her crazy aware of how little she wore. “If you’re having something.”
“Pinot noir.”
He made a face. “Any chance you have a beer?”
“Yes, of course.” She went to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of Amber Bock. Without turning, she was somehow aware of him moving through the apartment, taking the very seat on the sofa where she’d been.
“Researching the Calusa Indians?”
And, obviously, reading her laptop screen. “I’m going up to a place called Mound House tomorrow to take the crate to an archaeologist there,” she said, fishing through the utensil drawer for the bottle opener. “He’ll be able to look at the artifacts we found and, with some study and tests, determine their age and authenticity.”
She snapped the top off, making the beer hiss while she waited for him to reply. Finally, she turned, expecting to find him focused on the laptop. Instead, he was watching her from the sofa, his eyes narrow. Intense. Inescapable.
A million fire flashes fired through her veins, sharp and hot and…annoying. How the hell long would she have to
feel
all this?
“Can I come with you?” he asked.
And she damn near dropped the beer.
Corraling control, she went back into the living area and handed him the bottle over the back of the sofa. “Sure, but why do you want to?” Their fingers brushed, and of course it felt like she’d touched a lightning rod in a storm.
“More information. You’re not the only one doing research on this land.” He held the bottle up in a toast. “Did you know that up in Mound Key, which is another place believed to be inhabited by the Calusa and was, in fact, the home of tribe headquarters, that they have not found a single burial mound?”
He looked a little too smug. And cute. A lot too cute. “They’re shell mounds,” she said, knowing this already.
“Exactly.” He let the word fall between them as she rounded the sofa and took a seat not quite on the other end, not quite next to him, but close enough to reach her wine.
She lifted the glass and touched his bottle with a soft clink. “Is that what you came here to tell me?”
He shook his head. “I came here to tell you I acted like an ass last night.”
The honesty in his voice caught her off guard, and she tried to cover with a sip of wine. Setting the glass down, she inched back into the sofa. “I wouldn’t call it an ‘ass.’”
“What would you call it?”
“A guy.” She smiled. “A normal guy, even. A guy who wants to, you know, fool around and have fun and not be bogged down by some woo-woo shit about fated destiny.”
“You’re being too easy on me,” he said with a soft laugh of appreciation. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I do. I’m the one—”
“No, apparently,
I’m
the one, Arielle.” He pinned her with those green-gold eyes again, holding her, no accusation in the expression, just…understanding. Which just about did her in.
“Well,” she said quickly, reaching for the laptop, hoping if she ignored the whole thing, he would, too. “I have learned an awful lot about the Native Americans who lived here, and I’m more certain than ever that we found at least some worthwhile—”
“Arielle.” He put his hand on her forearm, capturing it the very way he did the moment they’d met. And nothing since then had changed—she was still electrified.
“Don’t change the subject,” he said.
“Don’t embarrass me,” she replied.
“You? How do you think I feel?”
She choked in disbelief. “Are you serious?”
“Listen to me.” He put the beer bottle on the table with a thud, still not taking his eyes off her. “’Cause I’m here to tell you, you…” He blew out a breath as though it pained him to finish. “You picked the wrong guy.”
She didn’t
pick
anyone, but obviously he didn’t get that.
“I…I can’t be that person for you,” he said.
A little light popped in her head, and this had nothing to do with the Great White Lights of attraction. “Luke, I haven’t asked you for a thing,” she said. “I haven’t made any pronouncements about who or what you are to me.”
“I know that—”
“You don’t know anything,” she shot back. “You’ve jumped to conclusions, and you’re basing them on two things—the fact that I told you I wanted to have sex only with the man I’m destined to love and the assumption that I have some kind of supernatural ability to know that man when I meet him.”
He still didn’t take his eyes from her. “Are those conclusions or assumptions wrong?”
No
. “It doesn’t matter. You’ve made them, and it’s embarrassing, as I said, and none of this really matters because—”
He kissed her so hard she gasped, the contact hot and fast and unexpected. She tried to back away, but he came with her, intent and serious.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He stayed perfectly still for a moment before whispering, “I feel it, too.”
What
? She mouthed the word, but she was certain he got the idea.
After a second, he dropped back on the sofa, clearly bewildered. “Are you sure this isn’t just plain old run-of-the-mill lust?”
“No, I’m not sure of that. Not sure of anything,” she admitted. Except that kiss was perfection and not nearly long enough. “What did you feel, Luke?”
“When I kissed you? All kinds of stupid things that I never felt before. Snapping, popping sounds in my head. An ache in my…my…here.” He tapped his chest hard, as though the feeling angered the shit out of him. “My arms are, like, weak.” Disgust darkened his voice. “And what the hell is that buzzing in my head?”
She couldn’t help it. A laugh slipped out.
He glared at her.
“I’m sorry, I know it’s not funny, but…”
It’s real
. She almost jumped up and danced around the room and reached up her hands to thank the universe. “I know how you feel,” she said instead, unbelievably calm on the outside considering what was going on inside.
Very slowly, he started shaking his head. “I don’t do love.”
She let that new information settle over her like an itchy, uncomfortable drape of mohair. Who didn’t “do” love?
Reaching for the wine, she took another deep drink, fortifying herself. He did the same with his beer, probably because this was a really weird conversation to have with someone you’ve known for only three days.
Except that it wasn’t, which made it weirder.
“Okay, I’ll bite… Why don’t you ‘do’ love?” She couldn’t help mocking the word. Who “did” love? It just happened. Or not.
He rubbed his lips together, as if he had to taste the beer on them again. “I’m going to tell you what I can. There’s a…code, for lack of a better word, that prevents me from telling you more.”
A Foreign Legion code or his personal code? Better not to ask, at least not yet. “Okay.”
He finished the beer in another slug, then dropped back to recline on the armrest, where it would be so damn easy and fun and nice to…join him. Climb on top or next to him. Stroke his rough whiskers and rub his big chest and touch his—
“I had a bad experience with love.”
She coughed softly. “As excuses go, that’s pretty crappy.”
He closed his eyes, so she used the freedom to drink in the length of his torso, his narrow hips, angled as he half-sat, half-lay on her sofa. He lifted his arms and locked his hands under his head, the position accentuating his sizable biceps and giving her an uninterrupted view of his chest.
Had she really promised herself celibacy? Couldn’t that promise be broken…
just this once
?
“I was in love once,” he said, ripping her lusty thoughts from his body back to his words. He lifted his head an inch, looking at her from under thick lashes. “Have you been?”
Did
this
count? No, of course not. She shook her head, and he let his fall back. “Well, I’m here to tell you that it’s painful when it ends”—he rooted around for a word—“
unpleasantly
. Viciously painful.” His voice cracked as if he felt that pain right now, and Ari’s heart tipped from side to side as she imagined what kind of woman could inflict pain on this special man.
“I learned that you can love someone with your entire heart and soul and still not trust them.” His words were rough, as though they shredded his throat on the way out. “And that makes me wonder if there really is such a thing as love. Because I thought it was love, but it wasn’t…real.”
Welcome to my life
, she thought wryly. “So what happened?”
For what felt like five minutes—but was probably less than one—he didn’t move. His chest didn’t rise or fall, his pulse didn’t appear to beat, his jaw didn’t tighten or relax. He stayed still.
And then he sat up enough that she could see the moisture in his eyes, and when he blinked, a single tear meandered from the corner of one.
Instantly, her heart folded, because she just knew. That look could mean only one thing. Without thinking, she crawled right over that torso she’d been studying, reaching up to him, lying on top of him, needing to do everything to comfort him.
“Oh, Luke. She died?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was…” He swallowed again, clearly fighting tears. “Don’t be sorry for me.”
And then she realized what was wrong. He was The One for her, but he’d already met his destined love…and lost her. “Sometimes the universe isn’t fair.” This time, it was her throat ripped by the words.
“No shit.”
* * *
Just letting the story out—a bit of the story—should have made Luke feel better, but his body betrayed him. Every cell was on fire for Arielle when he should be at least
remembering
Cerisse.
He sighed into the pressure of her body, the softness of her breasts right there under a flimsy top, her nipples practically screaming,
Touch me!
—all of it making him feel like shit. After Cerisse, he’d sworn off relationships, especially with incredible women who had love on the brain.
“Trust me, I’m not cut out for what you have in mind,” he said.
“I think we’ve established that you don’t know what I have in mind.” Arielle tried to sit up, but Luke instinctively snatched her back, wrapping both arms like steel bands around her, refusing to let her go.
He lifted his legs from the floor, grateful to have ditched his shoes, and stretched out on the sofa, getting her right where he wanted her, where he
needed
her. Because he’d never needed anything so much as the womanly curves of her body on his, crushing out his admissions and making him remember how good a female could feel.
Really
good.
“No,” he agreed. “But if what you’re thinking has anything to do with
love
, it’s not going to happen.” He kissed the top of her head, as if that could take the sting out of his words, and slid her an inch to the left so she wasn’t directly over his dick, which might decide it didn’t care a bit about love or loss or
what she had in mind
.
“You need to tell me more,” she said, leaning up enough to look at him. “And quit moving. Or…not.”
He smiled at the bit of innuendo. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
She narrowed her eyes to near slits. “There has to be more you can tell me.”
Maybe he could tell her some, but not all. He couldn’t tell her what happened, or how it ended. Mostly because he couldn’t stand to relive the moment and watch the sexy compassion in her eyes fade to horror and disappointment when she learned the truth about him.
He brushed some hairs off her face, stroking the strands he liked so much, taking a few seconds to let his knuckles brush her cheek. He had to take this conversation in another direction…the obvious and only direction. “God, you’re beautiful.”
“Thank you. Good delay tactic.”
“It’s not.” But it was. “You
are
beautiful.” He wrapped a long, silken thread of hair around his finger, searching her face, looking for a flaw that wasn’t there.
“Was she?”
He swallowed. “Very.”
“You’re not over her.”
“I’m over her,” he assured her. “It’s been four years.” He pulled her closer. “Four long, dry years.” Oh, shit. Why did he tell her that? Now she’d think he was some kind of weird monk desperado.
She blinked. “You haven’t been with anyone since then?”
“Is this the celibate girl sounding shocked?”
“But…but…you’re…”
“A guy, I know.”
“And a hot one.”
His mouth softened into a grin. “You’re hot, too, but it hasn’t made you go out and get lucky.”
“I’m serious.” She tried to sit up again, but he refused to release even an inch of her. “What are you waiting for?”