Star Crossed (31 page)

“You were fine,” Sven assured him. “All some celebrities do is grunt.”

“Well, enjoy yourself,” Luke said. “And please don’t miss out on the buffet.”

Sven seemed to understand this was his cue not to linger. He gave Luke a man-nod and stepped past them. A.J. noticed he treated her like she was invisible. Given his high-powered clientele, he was probably used to ignoring bodyguards.

“Okay,” Luke said. “Now that I have sustenance, I’m going to make nice with a few studio guys.”

He forged a path through the partygoers, smiling and slapping arms. A.J. watched faces but didn’t spy danger signs. Halfway across the patio toward the dance floor, her earpiece came alive.

“Sorry to break in, boss,” one of the tech’s voices said. “I’ve got an urgent call for you from your dad. He says it won’t keep.”

“Patch it through,” she said.

Luke stopped walking to look at her.

“Call from my dad,” she explained.

“Let’s grab some quiet.” He steered her toward the edge of the crowd, his palm making brief contact with the small of her back. Considering the show they planned to put on later, she supposed she couldn’t object to the PDA.

“You there, A.J.?” her dad asked.

“I’m here.” They’d reached a place they could stop. A.J. turned to face Luke’s sprawling house, its red-roofed Spanish glamour illuminated by small spotlights. “What did you find out?”

“All right. Just listen and don’t react. The woman who abducted Luke when he was a kid? Vivianne Danielson? Her father is still alive. I tracked him from Daniels, Minnesota, where he no longer lives. Judge Danielson isn’t retired anymore. He works as a landscaper. In LA.”

Shit
, A.J. thought, all her nerves abuzz. The image of Luke standing with an older man in a brown uniform rose vividly to mind. “Under his own name?”

“Under his own name. He’s runs a one-man firm: Danielson Greenspaces.”

They’d checked out all Luke’s employees, but if Danielson worked for Luke as an independent contractor . . . She worried the center of one eyebrow with her thumb. That line of reasoning didn’t track. Luke had to know who Danielson was. He’d warned the man to leave when A.J. spotted them together in his garden. Luke had purposefully left him off the list to vet.

Her father interrupted her racing thoughts. “I’m emailing you and everyone else a recent photo so you can keep an eye out. I don’t know for sure, but he could be our target. Viewed in a certain way, Luke ruined his daughter’s life. If Luke ever hired Danielson, he’ll know his way around the property.”

Luke had hired him all right, but tasking her team to find the judge right then might or might not be helpful. “Hold off on sending the photo. I need five minutes to talk to Luke.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’ll get right back to you,” she promised.

Even before she looked at him, she had Luke’s full attention. “What did your father say?”

“Lennart Danielson,” she answered succinctly. “He works as your gardener.”

Guilt flashed through Luke’s expression, confirming her suspicions. “A.J., I—” He sighed and started again. “I know I should have told you, but I swear it’s not him. He never pretended to be anyone but himself. He only came to California to ask for my forgiveness.”

“He’s your abductor’s father.”

“I know.”

“He misled the investigators who were trying to find you.”

“I know,” Luke repeated. “That’s why he wanted absolution.”

A.J. didn’t budge her gaze from his. “Sometimes you’re too willing to trust people.”

“Not this time. Lennart had a health scare. He thought he was dying. We talked and . . . I didn’t expect it to happen, but I liked him. He’s a brilliant man, and he was lonely. The shame of what his daughter did—and the part he thought he played—isolated him. He had no one to talk to about it. Neither did I, apart from my parents. I’m the one who encouraged him to start his gardening firm out here, so he wouldn’t spend the time he had left obsessing over decisions he couldn’t change. When he went into remission, all I felt was glad. Realizing I didn’t hate him took an incredible weight off me.”

“You’re certain he didn’t pretend to have health problems? That this isn’t part of an elaborate scheme?”

“I’ve spoken to his doctors. They said his recovery was unexpected enough to border on miraculous. I’ve broken bread with him, Alexandra. I know you think I’m too trusting, but I’ve taken his measure. His daughter’s mental issues were genetic. He raised her the best he could. He’d never harm me or that teenager from the restaurant. I didn’t tell you who he was to spare him having the past dug up. He doesn’t deserve that, and your team shouldn’t waste their time.”

“You realize you’re a fricking saint,” she said.

“I’m not. He and I have been good for each other. He knows the real me, the one who doesn’t have to sell himself all the time. I confess I like being ‘Charming Channing,’ but not every minute I’m drawing breath.”

She touched his face, her thumb gently stroking the tense line beside his mouth. She knew she had to make a choice. “Okay, I’m going to put my faith in your judgment. We’ll proceed with tonight as planned. No splitting our focus by chasing down Lennart unless he pops up with a rifle.”

“He won’t,” Luke said. “I know this isn’t him. Also, he’d use a shovel.”

A.J. grimaced uncomfortably.

“Too soon?” he suggested.

“Maybe I’ll laugh tomorrow.” She tapped her earpiece and relayed her decision to her dad. He questioned her but not as much as she’d questioned Luke.

Apparently, everyone was better at trusting than she was.

Martin’s voice coming through her earpiece caused her to jump. “Look alive, troops. Luke’s got a full house, and the band’s going on its break.”

“We’re on,” A.J. relayed to her companion.

Luke pretended the front of his tuxedo needed resettling. “Showtime,” he said with every sign of looking forward to the next few minutes. He laughed at her expression. “Don’t be nervous. If there’s one acting job I can pull off, it’s convincing every person here that I’m in love with you.”

Too wired to attempt a quip, A.J. clenched her jaw.

He laughed again and strode toward the emptying bandshell.

“Dude!” greeted the drummer, high-fiving Luke as they passed on the platform stairs. He gave A.J. a look that said she wasn’t invisible, for which she could probably thank the LBD.

“Zones report when you’re in place,” Martin ordered through the network.

A.J. took up position slightly behind Luke and to one side. The bandshell’s lights blurred her view of the crowd. That made her nervous, though she knew Martin and the team had the scene covered. Her reduced vision was probably for the best. She and Luke had to concentrate on each other to sell their pre-planned drama.

You’re in love
, she told herself.
Luke is the man of your dreams, and you can’t believe how happy he’s made you
.

She couldn’t believe something, for certain. A bead of sweat rolled down her back. Resplendent in his designer tux, Luke was in prime Charming Channing mode. With the ease of having performed the task many times, he pulled one of the mike stands taller. He tapped the head to make sure it was working.

“Hello, everyone! If you could gather around the dance floor, I have a small announcement.”

He waited for his guests to draw near before glancing back at her. A.J. nodded. The zones had reported in. Luke returned his gaze to the crowd and smiled. He didn’t have to shout for attention. His natural magnetism quieted everyone.

“Thank you,” he said. “As you know, the
Final
family has faced some challenges recently. I’m very thankful we’ve come through them stronger than some might have predicted. My friend, Naomi, is back on her beautiful high-heeled feet. My stalwart partner at Two Dudes is four days sober.” A smattering of applause broke out, which Reyes acknowledged by raising his Perrier. A.J. concluded he and Luke had cleared announcing this beforehand. In a town like this, maybe people knowing why you weren’t throwing back a martini was easier.

“Yes,” Luke went on, “let’s give them both a hand. I’m also happy to announce that, from what our friendly number crunchers at Galaxy can glean,
Final Death
is on track to exceed—at least somewhat—its box office projections.”

This was a Hollywood crowd, on top of which a lot of
Final Death’s
cast and crew were in attendance. The cheers for his last announcement were rowdy. Luke indulged the whistling for a moment and then lifted his hand for quiet.

“What I’d really like to share with you tonight is more personal. Sometimes even the most committed bachelor is shown a better way. Sometimes the woman who crosses his path is so amazing, so strong and loving and smart that trying not to fall for her is futile. I’ve been blessed—” His voice roughened convincingly as he said the word. “I’ve been blessed many times in my life, but never so deeply as when Alexandra Hoyt consented to be my wife.”

Understandably, since the majority of his listeners had no idea who she was, murmurs of confusion broke through the crowd. They swelled to murmurs of shock when he turned to indicate that
Alexandra Hoyt
was his bodyguard. Luke wasn’t deaf to their reaction. His smile was wry as he met her gaze. When she grinned back, to her surprise, her emotion felt genuine. She couldn’t miss the affection in his eyes—or the twinkle of delight. He enjoyed putting her on the spot like this.

“Come on,” he coaxed, his hand extended. “No need to stand behind me now.”

She took the hand he held out. His grip squeezed her palm, his hold warm and confident.

“Sucker,” he teased, his grin broadening.

She didn’t know what he meant until his other hand slid a ring onto her third finger.

Light caught the massive blue diamond, nearly blinding her as it flashed.

“Holy crap,” she said, startled into saying exactly what came to mind. Why hadn’t he warned her he planned to do this? “Luke! This ring is completely impractical. What if I have to draw my gun?”

Titters broke out in the crowd. Luke chuckled and pulled her to him, both arms snug behind her waist.

Conscious that the microphone was beside her, she tried to speak sotto voce as she pushed at his starched white shirt. “I’m serious. It’s a hazard. I could catch a car bumper on this rock.”

The laughter her complaint inspired warned her she hadn’t spoken quietly enough.

“Ladies and gentleman,” Luke announced teasingly. “I present my very responsible fiancée.”

He dipped her back for a suave Valentino kiss. Because they’d planned this part, A.J. was able to wrench herself back on script.

“Keep that up,” Martin instructed through her earpiece. “I need a clearer read on something.”

A.J. immediately wanted to turn her head and see.
Hell
, she thought, forcing herself not to. Instead, she twined her forearms behind Luke’s neck. If Martin wanted a better show, she’d damn well give him one.

Luke let out a low noise as her kiss changed from accepting to active. She experienced an extraordinary thought: that without his kisses, her life would lose her new favorite colors. No more laughing at herself. No more ridiculous romance. No more tender impulses. For that matter, no more wanting to forgive others like he did. Her life without him hadn’t been awful. With him, though, it was multilayered and rich.

Her feelings must have conveyed to him. His arms tightened on her back to plaster her front to his. Her breasts were flattened, her nipples as hard as her new diamond. His tongue took possession of her mouth. She squirmed with pleasure at his enthusiasm, perfectly happy to match it. The kiss turned fervent, neither of them able to control it. Movement nudged her pubis: Luke’s cock swelling with erection. He hardened fast, her being glued to him the only thing that kept everyone from seeing. Luke might not be shy, but A.J. doubted he meant to make so graphic a spectacle.

The thought that he couldn’t stop his body’s reaction excited her. Unable to squelch her own response, she clutched his back and shivered with arousal.

The comments that shot through the receiver in her ear were as intelligible as Urdu.

When Luke finally let her go and straightened, she knew she looked as dazed as him. To her dismay, her lashes couldn’t stop fluttering.

His cognitive processing recovered before hers. A catlike smile stretched across his face.

“Well,” he said for her ears only. “Maybe you
do
love me.”

Her lips parted in protest. He shouldn’t draw conclusions that might end up hurting him. She couldn’t say so, of course. Not with everyone watching.

Not when you know he’s right
, something unruly inside her said.

She was already gasping in surprise when Martin dropped his bombshell.

“It’s Wilhelmina. Repeat: the masseuse is our target. She’s tall. Wearing black pants, black silk blouse, and upswept brown hair. She’s displaying major rage indicators. Zone 2: move in with caution but move now. Use minimum necessary force. We want to hand her over to the police unharmed.”

“Martin thinks it’s Wilhelmina,” A.J. repeated quietly to Luke.

Luke’s eyes went round. “No.”

His amazement made her doubt, but a second later she realized something else. “‘
HHNDS
.’ Her online handle. Wilhelmina let people think it stood for Hellhounds, but it really means Healing Hands. She runs the inner circle for the Listie shippers. Tanisha broke the case without knowing it.”

Luke started to respond but was cut off. The sound of a thousand light bulbs exploding in quick succession yanked everyone’s heads around. The twinkly Cessna plane display was shorting out in a blaze of sparks. It looked like fireworks. The people closest to it yelped in alarm as hot sparks showered them.

“It’s a distraction,” A.J. said even as another of her team spat profanity through her earpiece.

“She’s getting away,” he panted as if he were running. “Repeat: Zone 2 doesn’t have target. She’s heading east, possibly toward the gate. I think she’s making a run for it.”

A.J. grabbed Luke’s arm. “We need to go. I’m getting you to safety.”

She drew her gun, holding it low beside her leg.