“On a dance floor?”
“Anywhere in my arms,” he murmured softly.
Her breath hitched in her throat, and fell from her lips on his name. “Luke–”
His lips pressed closer to her ear, his voice low and raspy. “You know I’m not letting you go home alone tonight. It could be dangerous.”
He was dangerous, but she didn’t say that, because, well, she couldn’t speak. The music turned slow and seductive and his hands settled possessively on her lower back, his h*ps nestled more firmly against hers. Her eyes fluttered shut as she rested her head on his chest. For just a few minutes, she wanted to forget the future, and the past. She wanted to simply enjoy the man who held her.
Laughter beside them drew their attention, breaking the sweet spell she burned to hold onto. Julie lifted her head and shared a moment of regret with Luke before turning toward the noise.
Blake was dancing with a rather tipsy, bosomy, redhead, and Julie wondered what it was about red haired women this past week.
“Hey, Luke,” Blake said and inclined his chin at Julie. “Julie. This is Farah.”
The woman smiled at Blake. “Sarah,” she said, “But for you honey, I’ll be Farah or whoever you want me to be.”
“That’s how I like my women,” Blake teased. “Agreeable.” He grinned at Julie. “Well, I guess I’ll make an exception for you and Lauren, Julie. Neither of you are ever agreeable.” Then he winked and twirled the woman in his arms into the crowd.
Julie shook her head laughing softly. “Fast cars and fast women, eh?” she asked.
Luke nodded and smiled faintly. “That’s my brother.”
“Not you?”
“No,” he said, a solemn quality to his voice. ”I’m not like Blake. I’ve had my share of fun, but I was never like him. Like I said, Blake has something very personal he’s dealing with that is his story to tell, not mine, but it seems to have impacted about how he feels about relationships. A lot like you, Julie.”
Julie stiffened, feeling instantly defensive. “Don’t pretend to know what motivates my actions.”
He stared down at her, unblinking in his assessment of her features. “You’re saying I’m wrong?” he asked with a soft challenge in his tone. “I don’t think so.” Julie tried to push out of his arms. “Don’t go.” His expression was intense, his jaw tight. “I just want you to let go, Julie. I just want you to let me in.”
The song ended and again, Julie tried to step out of his arms, but he held her firmly. “Running again?”
“I never ran,” she whispered, as the new song started to play, and she seemed to have lost control of her tongue because she said, “You left.”
“Not by choice,” he insisted. ”And you sure didn’t stop me.”
“You had to leave,” she argued.
“That’s my point,” he said. “Yet, you threw it out there like I chose to go.”
He had. He’d chosen to leave without asking for more, without fighting to stay in contact. She didn’t want to talk about this. She didn’t want to care, to remember, to...
They were standing in the middle of the dance floor, the only ones not moving, and she was acutely aware of how close they were to making a scene. “If we are going to stand here, then let’s dance.”
He pulled her close again, wrapped his arm fully around her waist, their bodies beginning to sway. “I’m not leaving this time. You have to deal with me.”
She didn’t even know what to say to that. “Deal with you?” she challenged.
“That’s right,” he said. “I’m here, sweetheart. What are you going to do with me?”
What was she going to do with him? A part of her reveled in that question, the part that had wondered at his desire for her, the part that still didn’t understand what he wanted from her or what she wanted from him. The answer had seemed so simple at one point. She’d have an affair with Luke, she’d enjoy him and send him off to the Navy. Now, she didn’t know.
“I think I’d prefer to contemplate that with a glass of champagne in my hand.”
He stopped moving, his expression unreadable as he stared down at her. Without a word, he drew her hand in his, and led her toward a bar. When he handed her a tall glass filled with bubbling liquid, she said, “You really don’t have to stay by my side all night, Luke. I know there are plenty of people who want to see you.”
“Trying to get rid of me?” he asked as he focused his eyes on hers. “That’s not the way to deal with me, I promise you.”
“No,” she said as her pulse kicked up a beat. “I’m not trying to get rid of you, Luke.” She was shocked at how much she meant the words, how much she didn’t want to get rid of him, how much she didn’t want him to let her get rid of him.
His eyes softened instantly. Her surrender had been clear, his approval certain. He set his glass down. Then he took hers and set it down as well. “Come with me.”
She let him lead her to wherever he intended, shocked when the destination was his mother’s side.
“Mom, you know Julie, of course.” His hand stayed on her back as if they were a couple.
His mother, Eleanor Walker, smiled. There was sweetness to her features, a softness that spoke of happiness. She was a pretty woman even in her sixties, her brown eyes so like Luke’s they were spellbinding.