Summer Lovin' (7 page)

"Sure." Luke breathed in her tropical scent as he passed, tempted to press a kiss to her lips. Instead, he forced himself to relax, focusing on how best to plead his case.

She motioned him into the living room. "Unless you want to sit outside?"

"No, this is fine."

Mia took a deep breath and blew it out, then smiled as they both sat down. She fidgeted, smoothing her shorts. Even though Luke wanted to admire her sexy legs, he couldn't take his eyes away from her face.

She was so nervous, nibbling at her lip, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

All at once it hit him.

She was nervous
. Just like she had been before she'd kissed him the first time.

Luke grinned. In fact, he grinned until he thought his heart would burst from too much happiness. He knelt down next to Mia's chair and plopped Hellboy into her lap.

"I miss you," Luke said.

"Obviously he missed you, too," Mia answered, looking down while getting Hellboy situated. "Especially if he managed to get out of his own yard to find you."

He lifted her chin with his index finger. "Mia. I miss you. You've only been gone for several hours, but it feels like a decade."

She laughed, a little self-consciously. "Luke, I have so much I want to tell you—"

He hoped he knew what she would say. But he couldn't wait any longer. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers, stopping any further words. She sighed, a perfect sound of contentment, letting him know he hadn't guessed wrong.

Hellboy started fussing, but Mia didn't hesitate. She kept her mouth on Luke's, bending forward to put the puppy on the floor. The monster scampered off, but as far as Luke was concerned, he could tear up the whole house and Luke wouldn't care. He'd pay for the damage. He was too elated in that moment to worry about anything but Mia. He lifted her out of the chair, kissing her the entire time.

She crossed her arms behind his neck. His hands went right to her hips, holding her tight against him. She rocked slightly, and he loved the sensation, as well as the complete bliss on her face.

"Mia," he whispered, nibbling at her ear. He loved the way her skin reacted, goose bumps appearing at the same time he curved his arm around her waist.

"Luke, I tried, I really did. But today I finally realized—"

He braced himself, waiting for news he might not want to hear. Especially when she took a big breath, as if she was about to explain why they couldn't be together.

"I'm not a fling kind of girl after all."

Relief swamped him, and her sheepish expression made his hopes soar. "I'm not a fling kind of guy either."

His words made her face light up, obviously convincing her of his feelings.

"This was my first one," she admitted.

"I'm really flattered. How about we agree this will be the last?"

She beamed up at him, nodding slowly. Luke thought he might die of happiness in that moment.

"I'm crazy about you, Mia."

"I'm crazy about you, too. I know this won't be easy. With your job, and me living so far away. But I want to give it a try. I don't think I could live with myself if I didn't give it a chance."

"We'll make it work," Luke said, determined to do whatever it took. "Do you think you could stay with me for a while longer? Once Jim and Sondra are back from their honeymoon?"

"I'd love to," she answered. "But—"

"But?"

"I'll need to go home and get a few things." She brushed her hand over his hair. "When do you go back to work?"

"Next week. Tuesday." He kissed her fingers as they reached for his hair again. "But I've realized I'm not willing to put in the hours like I used to. It's always gonna be a little crazy. That's how restaurants are. But I've got a great staff. I need to let them show what they can do now, so I can have a life."

"Sounds like that took a while to admit," she teased.

"Just don't let them know I said it."

She drew a big X across her heart, setting his own to racing. "I promise."

"What about you?" he asked. "What are you going to do?"

"I've been thinking about it a lot, and I've deciding I'm creating a job. A business actually."

He lifted his eyebrows.

"I have mad skills running an office, but I don't want to be cooped up in one all day. Not after this taste of freedom." She smiled, and Luke could see how content she was with her decision. "I'm going to be a virtual assistant, helping people run their businesses, but on my terms. I can work where I want, and when I want."

He nodded. "That sounds great. Perfect, in fact. Do you think you can fit in another client?"

"Sure," she said with a laugh. "Since I don't have any yet, there's plenty of room."

"I've always wanted to work on a book, with my recipes, and my philosophy of food. Only I never had time for it, since I was always too busy with the restaurant. Maybe I could hire you to help me."

"I would love that!"

He kissed her, slowly, making both their temperatures rise to a boil.

"See," he whispered, "I told you we'd find a way to work it all out."

Mia rubbed her fingers across his chest, clearly not aware what she was doing to him. He was aware. Oh boy, was he aware. He tightened his arms, his arousal pressing against her.

She blinked. "It's hard—" She burst into a fit of giggles. "I mean, it's difficult to think about all the details right now."

"Maybe we can think later then."

Right now there was only thing he could think about, and from the expression in Mia's eyes, it was the same thing on her mind. He planted a hot urgent kiss on her open mouth.

"Come on. We need to go back to my place."

In the next heartbeat, he heard clicking sounds against the wood floor, followed by another burst of laughter from Mia.

"Come on, buddy." Luke bent and picked up the bundle of fur, turning Hellboy so he could look in his dark eyes. "Looks like you're not spending the night here after all. In fact, when your parents get home we may have to talk to them about joint custody."

"You are too adorable," Mia said.

Luke pretended to whimper like Hellboy usually did. "Adorable? I was going for sexy and irresistible."

"Oh, those are definitely at the top of the list."

He grinned, happier than he'd ever been in his life. "Are you sure? I'll be glad to demonstrate sexy and irresistible. For the rest of the day. And most of the night."

"I'm counting on it." Mia wrapped her arm around Luke's waist, and gave Hellboy's ears a scratch. "Do you think he had anything to do with this? With us?"

Luke pulled her close, to give her another kiss. "I'm happy to give him all the credit."

Hellboy barked, twice, wagging his tail with approval.

Here’s an excerpt from an upcoming release, LORD MIDNIGHT, a Regency historical about a highwayman set on revenge, and the spirited young woman who steals his heart:

Yorkshire, 1812

Only a miracle could halt the wedding now.

Marisa Dunsmore whispered another hopeful prayer, though it did nothing to slow the carriage racing towards Westbrook Hall, the home of her betrothed. Soon she would have to abandon dreams of aid, divine or otherwise, but for the moment optimism was still a comfort.

She glanced at her brother Bernard, sleeping across from her, his head lolling in a most undignified fashion against the gold silk interior. He would be horrified to learn his meticulously arranged blond curls had flattened on one side, while his cravat was crushed beyond repair. Marisa bit back a grin. Since Bernard had refused every appeal to help her escape the wedding to Lord Westbrook, she would not inform him of his sartorial
faux
pas
.

After all, betrayal did have its price.

They were still several miles from Westbrook Hall, though there would be no further stops, or chances to escape. Freedom had been so near at hand at the last posting inn. As soon as the carriage had stopped, Marisa had exclaimed the interminable trip from London had shattered her nerves, putting her in dire need of the necessary. She had clapped a hand over her mouth and run to the back of the inn. Once there, she detoured for the stables, ready to borrow one of the horses awaiting its turn in the traces. She reached toward the nearest mount, her heart leaping with elation, until Bernard's hand clamped around her arm, a triumphant expression lighting his features.

Marisa closed her eyes, weary at the reminder of her latest setback, and what it meant for her poor Aunt Althea. She tugged her red wool cloak closer, though the chill she tried to ward off was not due to any deficiency in Lord Westbrook's carriage. In truth, the coach's only defect was its inability to speed her away from the upcoming nuptials. Was it too much to hope for a small portion of divine intervention?

A single gunshot exploded, piercing the stillness with a loud crack.

"Stand and deliver!"

The coach skidded to a halt, the coachman yelling out to the York horses squealing in protest. Marisa bounced on the bench seat, grabbing for something, anything, to keep herself in place. She flew across the carriage, landing atop her brother, her elbow slamming into the side of his head. Bernard sat upright, blinking as he rubbed the newly inflicted injury.

Marisa's stomach tumbled with excitement.

Her prayers had been answered, and so quickly.

She darted toward the side glass, eager to glimpse the highwaymen accosting them. The carriage lamps reflected little except her own likeness, and she was not at all interested in the blue eyes and unruly blonde curls mirrored there. She rubbed the glass for a better view. The moon proved to be a brilliant lantern, illuminating the dozen or more brigands as they galloped from the surrounding beech trees, positioning their mounts around the coach.

"It is fortunate Lord Westbrook insisted on covering his crest on the carriage door," Bernard said in a tight voice.

Marisa swiveled to look at her brother. He tugged the ends of his cravat, frowning as the ruined linen drooped even further.

"Why should the crest matter? They have stopped the carriage regardless."

"You are quite valuable to your future husband," Bernard said, running his fingers through his hair.

"Do you think they will abduct me?"

"I apologize, poppet." He stopped his primping and reached a hand towards her. "I did not mean to frighten you. I can assure you that will not happen."

"Oh." Marisa sagged against the silk cushions.

Bernard laughed. "Any other female would be clawing through her reticule for her smelling salts. Yet, rather than being terrified, you are irrationally hopeful."

"I am quite serious about not wedding Lord Westbrook."

She could see he was ready to retort, most likely something he had uttered earlier, such as the maddening "You must marry some man, why not a wealthy one?" or the infuriating "I suppose you must insist on marrying for love".

Before he could incense her with the phrases again, the carriage door was thrown open, flooding the coach with the chill of a spring night, and the exhilarating prospect of freedom.

"Come join me under the stars this evening," a seductive voice invited.

Marisa's heart raced. Some deity had heard her prayer, and answered it in a most extraordinary fashion. She stepped forward, eager to set eyes on her rescuer.

Bernard's arm shot out and blocked the doorway.

"I shall descend first," he said.

"Of course," Marisa demurred, retreating to her side of the carriage.

Bernard's eyes narrowed. "Do not attempt anything foolish, poppet."

Marisa donned her most innocent expression. The widened eyes and raised eyebrows often deceived her father into believing she had submitted to his will. However, her brother had experienced it too many times to be duped anymore.

"I am serious," Bernard warned, but the corner of his mouth tilted up, spoiling the admonition.

Marisa fought off her own grin. "As am I, Bernard."

He studied her a few moments before vaulting through the open door.

She heard Bernard's boots hit the hard ground, followed by the highwayman's cultured tones. "Thank you for your cooperation, my good man. And your traveling companions? Have they been overcome by shyness?"

Marisa giggled. She had been labeled many things in her twenty years, but shy was never atop the list. "Headstrong" and "hoydenish" were frequent descriptors, as was "devil's handmaiden", particularly when she refused to agree to her father's demands.

Such as his insistence on this wedding to Lord Westbrook, a man twice her age.

She placed a gloved hand at the opening of the carriage, her stomach fluttering with renewed optimism. She stretched her foot down to the metal step, but it had managed to disappear in the darkness, and she tumbled towards the paved roadway.