Lucifer's Lover Page 7

  He drew her along, pushed by his hand on her back. His right hand he stuck out, grasping the offered hand of the man whose glance he had caught.

  “Hi. Luke Pierse. I’m with the hotel.”

  It was that easy. Suddenly the others were all echoing their own names and affiliations. A hand was offered to her and she shook it. “Lindsay Eden, Director of Marketing.”

  “Really?” Myopic blue eyes behind thick lenses stared at her. “I’m in marketing, myself. Small electronics firm—try to compete with the Valley in California. You should know something about big city competition. How do you compete, way up here in the mountains?”

  The sudden interest, the intense stare and on-point questions threw her. She swallowed, feeling the edges of panic returning.

  “Lindsay has turned our remoteness into a marketing bonanza,” she heard Luke say. “For a hotel, location can be everything. Right, Lindsay?”

  His hand slid across the back of her hip, warm and reassuring. Without thinking about it, she found herself moving back a few inches until she bumped up against Luke, her shoulders and buttocks firmly against him. It was like a wall of warmth and reassurance behind her and she was gratified when his hand slid around her waist to lie over her hip, in an intimate, possessive gesture.

  “We’ve got bloody great big mountains all around us and snow that never fails. And sun that rarely quits. No city can offer that,” she answered the man in front of her.

  He blinked at her forcefulness, then smiled. “Well, yes. Put that way…”

  “It’s just a matter of figuring out what you offer that the competition can’t. Marketing isn’t rocket science, after all.”

  Another man in the group—she hadn’t caught his name—laughed a little. “Know a bit about rocket science do you?” he asked.

  “I should,” Lindsay said. “My father is a rocket scientist.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence.

  Luke laughed. “The worst of it is, she means every word too.”

  “Really?” asked the myopic man. “Your father works for NASA?”

  “He worked for anyone who could afford him—including NASA,” Lindsay admitted. “Astronomical physicists are pretty thin on the ground, so he moved around a lot, trying to help out everyone.”

  Again there was the stunned little silence and then something unexpected happened. A chuckle passed amongst them.

  “And did you get your father’s genes?” she was asked. “Are you a professor of quantum physics in real life?”

  Again, Luke answered for her. “Radcliffe. She graduated summa cum laude, in mathematics and physics and has a masters in mathematics.”

  She looked up at him, utterly astonished.

  “That’s right, isn’t it?” he asked her.

  “Yes,” she said and the word came out a little breathlessly. How did Luke know that, though?

  “What on earth are you doing running the marketing department of a little hotel like this?” Blue Eyes asked her.

  Before she could answer, the other smart alec snorted. “Remind me not to tell any blonde jokes while you’re around.”

  Irritation bit into her. “Oh, don’t restrain yourself on my behalf. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on all that mental stimulation.”

  She felt Luke pat her hip. A warning. Heedlessly, she finished. “Haven’t you heard? Most blonde jokes are one liners so men can remember them.”

  Again there was a little stunned silence and she knew she’d done it again.

  “Smile,” Luke breathed in her ear.

  She plastered a brilliant smile on her face, while her heart skittered along unhappily and she held her breath, waiting for the fallout.

  But somehow, the smile converted them. There was a nervous twitter and clearing of throats and a general easing of tension. Blue eyes laughed out loud. “Serves me right for judging by appearances, and such a lovely appearance it is, Miss Eden. One day, we must talk more about marketing. I suspect you could teach me a great deal.” And he nodded. It was an acknowledgment.

  Lindsay nodded back and pretended to sip her champagne but she wasn’t really drinking it, for she was heady enough.

  She didn’t need Luke’s warm “Well done,” murmured in her ear to know she had made it. This time.

  * * * * *

  She was still trembling when she got behind the wheel of the car to drive home but it was a heady mix of elation and relief, not the undiluted fear she had been feeling before. She tried to push the key home twice and failed.

  Luke’s hand rested on hers a moment. “I’ll drive,” he said. “You relax and recover.”

  No one had ever driven her car before except her but she silently climbed out and moved around to the passenger side, handing Luke the keys as they passed in front of the hood.

  The drive to Luke’s place was silent and in the silence and the warmth from the car’s heater, she felt her body relax, her mind quiet and her nerves go off-line. By the time he halted the car in front of his apartment block, she was actually sleepy, tiredness gnawing at her.

  “It’s nice,” she said, as he turned the engine off.

  “What is?”

  “You know how to be silent. And when. I didn’t realize that until tonight. You always seemed to be running off at the mouth whenever I saw you before.”

  “Thanks. I think.” He handed her the keys. “It’s nerves,” he added.

  “What is?”

  “When I run off at the mouth.”

  “You? Nervous?”

  He shrugged. “As unlikely as it sounds.” He went to get out and paused, his hand on the door handle. “Is it true, about your father?”

  “You mean the rocket scientist bit?”

  He smiled. “Yes.”

  “It’s true. He’s retired now. He makes furniture for charities.”

  “That’s quite a change.”

  “According to my father, building and creating things is more profound than physics, which merely describes the things he builds. I believe him. He gets very involved with his projects.”

  He opened the door and Lindsay shivered at the cold rush of air. She opened her own door and went around to the driver’s side. Luke was already a few paces away, preparing to leave.

  “Well…” he said. “It’s been an interesting date.”

  “I’m glad you got your money’s worth.”

  He put his hands in his coat pocket. “I don’t think I’m the only one who did that,” he said, his breath fogging the air.

  True.

  The impulse struck her suddenly, without warning. She crossed the crisp snow to stand in front of him and reached up to grasp his lapels. She felt him pull his hands out of his pockets and thought for a moment he was going to push her away but he laid them on top of hers. His eyes were completely black in the light.

  She tugged a little, trying to pull herself up and him down.

  “You don’t have to do this,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “It wasn’t a real date. Not in the proper sense. I tricked you into it. You know that.”

  “I know.” She pulled a little harder.

  “Just so we’re perfectly clear on this. This isn’t part of the fake date thing, is it? Or is it some sort of thank you?”

  “No.”

  “It’s just that I wouldn’t want to take it the wrong way. That could lead to all sorts of ugly complications—”

  “Luke, you’re running off at the mouth again.”

  “God, yes,” he said, his voice low.

  She pulled again and this time he let her. She kissed him, exploring his taste, the shape of his mouth, the novelty of the kiss. Then, from an unknown quarter, an intense, heavy, sweet wave of pleasure spilled through her and all the intellectual curiosity about the kiss washed away beneath it. She was drawn into it, coherent thought scattered to the four winds.

  She lost sense of time. When the kiss ended, it was very much like she was reviving from a drug-induced haze. Her
lips were swollen and her whole body throbbed with unfulfilled tension. Luke’s arms were around her, holding her up, lifting her to his lips.

  She held her breath for a second, then pushed it out with a heavy sigh.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “You kissed me.”

  “Is that what it was?”

  “I think so.”

  She licked her swollen lips, tasting his lingering flavor just a little. Sense was beginning to return. “I have to go.”

  He nodded. His hands cupped her face and his fingers smoothed their way down her cheek, caressing it. His eyes were very dark. Unrevealing.

  “We’ll freeze,” she said.

  “I’m not cold.”

  Neither am I, she thought.

  She stepped back. His hands reluctantly dropped from her face.

  “’Night.”

  “Yes.”

  She climbed back into the car and tried to fit the key back into the slot and failed again. Her hands felt big, clumsy and heavy. She concentrated and slid the key in and started the car.

  Luke was still standing there and watched her leave.

  Now what? she wondered, exploring her lips with her fingertips as she drove.

  The kiss changed everything.

  But she had fulfilled her obligation and now there was no unfinished business between them.

  Except for that kiss.

  And just like at the Christmas party, she had no idea what to do next.

  Chapter Six

  Christmas shopping was a simple affair for Lindsay. She only had her father to shop for and she had decided what to get him weeks before. During her lunch hour she walked down to the hardware store and paid the final deposit on the bench router her father had been yearning after for months.

  Just anticipating his surprise and delight brought a smile to her lips. And today she was enjoying the crisply cold, perfectly sunny day. She was beginning to appreciate “knockout” days now—and her sunglasses took the edge off the dazzling light.

  She walked back to the hotel, kicking through the snow as she went. As she stepped under the portico and stamped the snow off her boots, a taxi delivered its passenger, a disheveled, unshaved man in a black coat with no luggage. He adjusted his sunglasses as she watched and her breath caught.

  Luke.

  Back from this weekend’s New York trip and only half a day late for work.

  He was peering inside at the lobby through the banks of glass doors, as if he was scouting out the land. Was he trying to avoid her?

  She pursed her lips, feeling an annoying mix of both irritation and delight. The irritation had been building steadily since their pseudo-date. The next day after the Christmas party, they had come face to face with each other in the corridor outside her office.

  It was as if she was looking at a stranger. She couldn’t believe that this man who plagued her days in the office was the man she had kissed last night. Simply looking at him made her blood begin to boil on most occasions. Now, with the memory of that kiss lodged in the forefront of her brain, in bright neon lights, all she could feel was an acute discomfort and a longing to be far, far away from here.

  What had she been thinking, last night? What on earth had possessed her to kiss him?

  Looking at him now, she couldn’t even begin to reconstruct the reasoning she had used to justify such an insane course of action.

  She cleared her throat.

  Luke seemed just as awkward.

  “You’re late,” she snapped when he stayed silent.

  “Gimme a break, boss. I was out working all last night.”

  She felt her face flush deeply red and hot. Was the kiss work as well?

  “You have a production meeting with your medicos at ten. Don’t be late for them. I won’t have you jeopardizing all that hard work.”

  She didn’t wait for his answer but stepped past him and headed for her office. She slipped inside and shut the door gratefully, wondering yet again how on earth she had even considered kissing him, let alone enjoying it the way she had.

  What did Luke think of that kiss?

  The next two days were unsettling repeats of the first, making Lindsay wonder what was going on. Was she going mad? Her intention to get Luke to one side and speak frankly with him grew firmer.

  But trying to achieve that intention was another matter entirely. Luke was like a shadow—easy to see but impossible to grasp. Every time she thought she’d found a moment to speak to him, he seemed to melt away.

  By the time she’d thought to phone him at home and corner him that way, the weekend had arrived and he was gone—the five thirty-five flight out of Deerfoot Falls, heading for New York.

  Well, now he was back.

  Lindsay hurried across to the front of the hotel doors where he was standing and grasped his elbow.

  “Could we have a talk?” she asked. “Thank you. This way.” She tugged him toward the doors, intending to draw him into the lobby and find a quiet corner somewhere to sit him down and ask a few choice questions.

  “Lindsay! Look, this isn’t a great time—”

  “It never is with you, apparently. Now is as good as it’s going to get.”

  He let himself be led. That was a small victory. At least he wasn’t digging in his heels and protesting loudly. But for right now, she didn’t really care.

  “You’re late,” she pointed out. “By, oh, five hours. Planning on making them up?”

  “Of course I will,” he said tiredly. “Listen, Lynds, I’ve had a really crappy weekend and—”

  “And your Monday is not about to improve,” she said, sweetly.

  The monstrous great fireplace in the lobby was alight and crackling with good cheer and one of the couches drawn up to it was empty. She led him over to it and pointed to the corner.

  “Sit.”

  He sat and scrubbed at his prickly chin and rubbed at his eyes. He really did look terrible, she realized.

  “I’m confused,” Lindsay told him. “I thought you might be able to explain things for me. For instance, the night of the party…”

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” He pulled at his shirt collar and tie and rubbed his temple. “Is that pine they’re burning in the fireplace?”

  “I’ve no idea. Why?”

  He took a deep breath. “I can’t stand the smell of burning pinewood.”

  “How can you even tell the difference?” She grimaced. He was distracting her. Luke was the master of distraction. She kept forgetting that. “About the party. Did I miss something that night? Did you give out any press releases I missed? You’ve been trying to avoid me since then and I’d just like to know why.”

  “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

  “You’re lying, Pierse.”

  He pulled at his tie again and closed his eyes. “It’s pine,” he muttered.

  Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead as she watched. She stared, as it finally sunk in that he wasn’t trying to distract her.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Goddam Christmas time,” he muttered and pushed himself up from the sofa with one arm and staggered toward the doors.

  He leaned against the cold tiling of one of the portico support pillars and drew in big, cold, fresh lungfuls of air, untainted by the cloying, sickly smell of pinewood. Gradually, he felt his blood pressure recede and his heart return to a steadier beat.

  “Luke?”

  She’d followed him out here. He felt her hand on his arm, hesitant.

  “I’m okay,” he told her. “Fresh air, that’s all.”

  “I’m worried,” she said softly.

  He couldn’t fail to miss the genuine concern in her voice, or her face when he spared a glance at her.

  “I said I’m fine!” he repeated and was surprised at the tinge of anger in his voice. But, stars above!—he’d just said he was okay.

  He watched her step back and shrink into herself and mentally
sighed. Jerk. Idiot. Fool. He held out his hand, trying to appease her. “Really. Don’t fuss.”

  “I’m the last woman on earth to fuss over anyone,” she shot back. “Especially you, Pierse.”

  “Good.”

  “Well, back to normal then, huh?” She crossed her arms, looking at him with the diamond sharp green eyes that haunted his dreams.

  “For heaven’s sake, Lynds.” He said it tiredly. The idea of going back to the old way of shooting from the hip whenever they saw each other had suddenly lost all its charm and excitement.

  “Well, what then?” she demanded.

  He rubbed at his neck. The last of the dizziness was fading now. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  She stood silently for a minute, the eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Dinner, then,” she declared.

  “Dinner?”

  “Food. Wine. Conversation. Above all, we talk. I think that sounds something like middle ground, don’t you?”

  “It sounds like another date.”

  “As you appear to be allergic to them, I’d hardly force-feed a date on you. It’s just dinner.” She paused, weighing something up. “If you must know, it’s another working occasion. I want to scout out this new restaurant that everyone’s talking about, the one up on the top of Valleyview Road. They’re stealing some of our business.”

  “Heaven help them,” Luke muttered. He considered the proposition. “A working dinner?”

  “Absolutely.” Her expression was very sincere.

  “I could help out, I guess.”

  “I would appreciate it.”

  He nodded. “Okay. Fine. Shall I pick you up?”

  “Hell, no. We’re leaving from the office, straight after work. Tonight.”

  “You mean, after you finish work. What time do you finish, anyway?”

  “Oh, six-thirty, seven. Make it seven.”

  “I’ve got things to do after work. I’ll come back to the office at seven.”

  “Fine.” She looked at her watch and frowned. “I have an appointment. I’ll see you back at the office, Pierse.” She turned on her heel and paused to drop the next comment over her shoulder. “Get rid of the stubble before you return to your desk too.”