His Sister's Wedding (15 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Luke woke slowly, conscious of the filtered morning light teasing at his eyelids.
Resisting wakefulness, he ducked his head against the pillow, burying his face in
Lillie's curls.

God, she smelled good. Warm and sexy. Womanly.

His senses slowly coming alert, memory sprang into his mind. Lillie teasing him at
the office the day before. Their wild, laughing chase. That first hot kiss, the sudden
roaring hunger that sprang up between them like wild fire.

He'd taken her against a stack of peat moss. Right there in his storage area, gripped
in the heat of an uncontrolled lust. What a way to win a woman's favor. Vertical sex
in a semi-public place. And he probably hadn't lasted long, either.

Not that she'd seemed to mind.

Next to him, Lillie murmured in her sleep, turning her head to snuggle into his pillow.

Luke rolled onto his back careful not to disturb the beauty beside him.

Glancing over at her, he found himself studying the perfection of her profile, peaceful
and serene in sleep. She was so many women, all rolled up into a delectable package.
One moment indignant and righteous, the next instant panting and crying his name as
he plunged into her hot, welcoming body.

She had started it the second time they'd made love. Hell, they hadn't even gotten
out of his office. But, at least, that time he'd locked the doors and closed the blinds
before giving into her very effective seduction. He'd owed her some kind of protection.
And the last thing he'd wanted was one of his workers to come bursting in on them
without warning.

He'd never again look at his desk without remembering her splayed across the top of
it, all long, slender legs and beautiful breasts. Within a matter of minutes, they'd
both been as naked as blue jays.

That time had been longer, he thought with satisfaction, remembering her cries of
pleasure as she lie back on the paper-strewn surface.

Luke turned toward her, his gaze sliding over her bare shoulder and rosy-tipped breast.
She was perfect. Beautiful in a real living, breathing way that no pin-up could match.

Reaching out, he softly stroked her arm, careful not to wake her. She felt delicious
beneath his fingers, the smooth slide of her skin an indescribable pleasure.

Something about Lillie made him feel bigger and better. Stronger, somehow. He felt
it lying here next to her now. Luke chuckled to himself. She certainly brought out
the beast in him. Never before--not even in his college years--had he made love to
a woman three times in an hour.

Oh, that last time. Long and slow. So sweet the memory made him bend now to brush
a kiss along her shoulder. If the other times had been all fire and heat and total
lust, the last time had been the best. Long and so good. Here beneath her white eyelet
canopy, lost in a welter of pillows and lace, Lillie cried out his name in the throes
of her peak.

Never before had he been distracted from his own passion to watch a lover's ecstasy.
Her total and complete submission to the moment between them had driven him wild.

Reaching out now, Luke gathered her closer to him, loving her sleepy, incoherent murmur,
the instant way her body molded to his. He just wanted to hold her, to cement the
magic somehow.

Life killed these moments so effectively. He'd never figured out how to hold on to
this piercing, throat-clogging sense of well-being.

Hell, he'd never actually ever felt this good before. It made him want to lock the
door and stay like this with her forever. Lillie, naked in his arms, the beautiful,
warm woman-smell of her filling his lungs.

He'd known it would be great between them. Known the sparks they raised signaled a
terrific compatibility. This kind of thing didn't come along everyday.

Lillie stirred in his arms, her sleepy blue eyes unfocused as she looked up at him.

"Good morning," he said, his voice husky as he bent to brush a kiss against her cheek.

She smiled at him, a deeply satisfied glow lighting up her face.

Luke felt his gut tighten with a wave of tenderness. And relief. She didn't have regrets,
apparently. She wasn't going to rise up like a wrathful goddess of Valentines past
and demand that he leave her sanctuary immediately.

It was going to be okay.

"I'm starving," Lillie said in a sleepy voice. "I don't suppose you cook?"

*   *   *

How could he not realize he loved her?

Lillie sat wrapped in nothing but her chenille robe, watching Luke destroy her kitchen.

But the man was actually cooking her breakfast, much to her shock. Standing there,
whistling to himself, making her eggs. She wasn't going to complain if he splattered
grease on the stove top, left egg shells in the sink and spilled orange juice on the
floor.

Sipping the small glass of juice, she smiled in response when he threw a grin over
his shoulder.

His bare shoulder.

He went back to whistling.

Luke at this moment was a sight to gladden any woman's heart, she reflected. Wearing
nothing but boxers, an apron and a sexy stubble on his handsome face, he looked like
a fantasy come true. Her fantasy, anyway. Her love.

She'd never actually expected him to take her seriously when she'd asked him about
breakfast. How many men would? Even after a night like they'd just shared.

"Is the juice okay?" he asked, wielding the spatula with a flair that obviously owed
little to practice.

"It's great," she responded, taking another sip.

"I wasn't sure how many cans of water to add," he commented, his attention still on
the skillet of eggs.

Lillie hid a smile. It said how much water to add right there on the side of the frozen
can of juice, but that would mean reading directions. And, despite his "Kiss the Cook"
apron, Luke was too much of a man to actually look for directions.

In a flash of remembered heat, Lillie acknowledged to herself that Luke was more a
man than she'd realized before.

Of course, she'd never doubted his masculinity. No woman could. But now she knew all
that driving virility and passion came mixed with a consideration and tenderness that
still left her feeling breathless. And very, very warm.

Her testosterone-laden, romance-hating lover made love with a fierce, passionate intensity,
a vulnerable soul-grabbing totality that left her stunned.

She loved him completely.

Probably had loved him since the first few days. All this time, she'd felt both drawn
to him and fearful of giving him a hold on her heart. She'd tried to fight his pull...and
failed.

Yes, he still didn't want his sister to marry her brother. He hadn't renounced his
cynicism, nor had he promised her undying devotion.

But she loved him with an intensity that kept hope burning in her like a bonfire.
Everything she had was his. All of her, body and soul. Last night, she'd turned a
corner and there was no going back. She didn't even want to.

Their night together had proved Luke had it in him to be the man she needed. How could
he think himself immune to love? All that talk of his, the adamant denunciations of
romance. His refusal to admit to that sweetest of vulnerabilities. Even his rejection
of his mother and his denial of Melanie and Scott's devotion. It was all just a way
to try and shield his wounded heart.

He'd loved before and been hurt in the most terrible way. First by his own mother
who had put her interests before her childrens' and then by the first girl he'd allowed
himself to care about.

Luke had a right to his battered, wary heart. He'd earned it the old-fashioned way.
But Lillie loved him and she wasn't giving him up for anything.

Somehow, she'd find a way to make him trust his heart again.

*   *   *

Two weeks later, Lillie hitched up her paint-splattered overalls while Luke shut the
bathroom door, closing the two of them in the small space. He got out his measuring
tape.

"You're sure you want to spend your Saturday like this?" He raised an eyebrow in inquiry.
"Because I know guys who do this sort of thing for a living. We can just give one
of them a call."

Lillie giggled. "I'm so glad you're helping me with this. I've always pictured this
bathroom with wallpaper."

"Don't sound so excited," he admonished, stepping around the toilet to measure again.
"This place is like a closet."

"It was a closet originally," she said, letting a roll of wallpaper uncoil. "But a
large closet."

"Don't do that in here. First, we measure, then we cut and the cutting can be done
out in the living room."

"I was just seeing how it looked," she said mildly, scooting to her right as he brushed
past her, the now-familiar scent of him filtering up to her.

From her perspective, the last two weeks had been a kind of heaven, mixed with a nagging
uncertainty. On the one hand, they spent a lot of time together making love and talking
about inconsequential things. On the other hand, she hadn't been able to tell just
how aware Luke was of his feelings for her.

She knew he loved her, but did he know?

"Cut me a seventy-two inch strip," Luke directed. "Remember to start at the little
blue flower. It repeats through the pattern. I'll get the pan set up to wet the strip.
We can put it in the bathtub."

"Okay." Slipping out of the tiny bathroom, she let the floral wallpaper unroll and
set about measuring it.

For all his lack of wallpaper enthusiasm, Luke had actually volunteered to help her
with the project. She'd been surprised, but she shouldn't have been. From the night
they first made love, Luke had been nothing but a loving partner.

He'd been thoughtful in a hundred ways, making her tea in the morning, calling her
in the middle of the day for no reason. Coming home to her bed every night.

He was also a very generous lover.

Lillie sighed.

But if she discounted the mutterings in the heat of passion, he'd said nothing to
her that couldn't be said to a friend. To her disgust, she found herself longing for
those sweet words in the daylight hours when they both had their clothes on.

Rolling up the strip of wallpaper, she slipped back into the bathroom. "Here."

"Thanks." He bent over the tub. "Now we drop this into the pan, keeping it rolled
loosely. There. And now all we have to do is put it on the wall. Keeping it perfectly
straight."

Lillie scooted back, out of his way. "So, how's the proposal for Unicom coming?"

He carefully positioned the wallpaper. "The proposal itself is all done. I just have
to get an appointment with the Vice President of Unicom."

"Have you called and talked with him?"

Luke shot her a sardonic glance over his shoulder. "You mean in person? No. But his
secretary and I are becoming good friends."

A foolish streak of jealousy shot through Lillie, but she quickly squelched it. "That's
a good plan. I've always thought secretaries are powerful in ways most people don't
realize."

"Maybe so," he said as he ran a sponge over the strip of wallpaper, "but Thelma hasn't
been any too eager to use her power for my good."

"Thelma?" Lillie echoed, laughing.

"Yes, a very efficient woman from what I can tell." Luke took the measuring tape off
his belt and began measuring the second strip. "I'm hoping she'll come to love me
like a son, but it'll have to be soon. I have to get the appointment in the next month."

Lillie sat on the edge of the tub, watching the play and flex of his muscles under
his shirt. "It's really important to get this account?"

"Yes," he agreed immediately. "It would be a tremendous expansion of the business."

"And that's what you want?" she asked, probing to understand him better. "I mean,
you're hoping to expand the business quite a bit?"

"Of course," he said, shooting her a surprised grin. "Isn't that what you want for
your business?"

"Not really," Lillie responded slowly. "I don't envision franchises or anything. I
just want to do what I enjoy and make a decent living at it."

"I guess that's in the nature of your business," he commented. "Wedding consulting
is more of a personal service field. But the landscaping business is wide open for
an ambitious guy. Particularly commercial accounts."

"So major business success is one of your goals in life," she said, trying to assimilate
the different sides of his personality. Strong family loyalty, if she didn't count
his mother, and a drive to succeed in his chosen field.

Straight forward aims and ambitions, neither of which held any murky emotional depths.
But she knew the depths were there, all the same.

Luke let the measuring tape recoil into its case. "That's me. Determined to make a
million. Here, cut me a strip that's seventy-two and a half inches."

Cutting the wallpaper, she wondered about the woman who'd almost married Luke. What
had she looked like and why had she left him?