10. Luke
10
LUKE
H ere’s one thing I’ve learned in my time so far on this spinning rock: you have to protect whatever is important to you and your survival. You can’t count on anyone else to do it. You need to look out for threats to its continuation, even at risk to yourself. And if it’s important to you that a person be in the world, you need to protect that person from harm.
I fell down on that once and I’m not going to do it again.
So, even though it’s getting dark in Empire and Daph isn’t back from Toronto, even though the uncertainty of whether she succeeded in persuading Meredith MacRae to take the deal may just eat me alive, I’m not going to text or phone her.
Chances are good that the one person in the universe who doesn’t text and drive is Daph, but I’m not going to take any chances. I don’t need it to be my fault that her car ends up wrapped around the underside of a tractor trailer.
I need her in the world. It’s a purely selfish perspective when I think of it like that, but I’m still working on a broader view. She’s my ally and the key to making this whole scheme work.
More than that, beyond the Empire-rehabilitation plan, I need her.
She might end up being my muse, my friend or my lover. She might be my salvation. I want the chance to find out, and I’ll do whatever has to be done to make it so.
So, I sit on her porch and wait, like a dog faithfully awaiting its owner. (Or its dinner.) Once I’ve thought of the comparison, I can’t shake it, even though it’s not the most flattering perspective of yours truly.
What do I want from Daph? Easy. Pretty much everything.
What am I prepared to give up for the privilege?
I can’t see that it’s costing me very much, at least not yet. I’m surrendering secrets, which isn’t that easy for me, but she hasn’t demanded my soul or every cent I possess, my last breath or even my pride.
It would be very easy to fall head-over-heels with Daph.
It would probably be smart for me. Would it be smart for her?
I’m pondering this when a familiar silhouette comes into view, strolling up Forest Road. I’m surprised to see her dad walking home from the office, but then I remember that Daph took his car. His footsteps turn up her drive and if he’s surprised to find me on the porch, he hides it well.
He puts his briefcase down on the top step and stands there, looking at me.
I give him a jaunty fingertip wave and he nods acknowledgement.
He’s choosing his words and I let him take his time. I’m not going anywhere soon and I’ve known since this morning that he has something to say to me.
“I suppose it’s old-fashioned to ask after your intentions,” he says finally.
“Maybe, but the impulse is a fair one.”
He nods just a little, staring across the lawn. His posture is relaxed, his manner indifferent, but I’m not fooled. If I’m protective of his daughter, Richard Bradshaw is a thousand times more so. I have to wonder if he ever had a little heart-to-heart with Jerk Justin.
“And so?” he invites.
“You know my plan for the diner.”
“I’m talking about my daughter and I think you know it.” Mr. Bradshaw waits but I don’t leap in. I can appreciate that he wants to know, but I’m not ready to tell. Whatever is between me and Daph feels fragile and private. I don’t think she’d be happy with me talking to her dad about it either.
“Perhaps your plans aren’t my business,” he offers, clearly checking the temperature.
“I seldom make plans anymore.”
This amuses him. “So, when you steer your ship out of the harbor…”
“I put up the sails and let the wind take us where we need to be.” I deliberately speak in the plural and the slight narrowing of his eyes proves that he didn’t miss it.
“There are those who would suggest that you should have grown out of such impulses.”
“They’re probably those who don’t know me very well.”
He turns to face me then, his gaze sharp. “Why did you include the Foreman house in your list?”
Interesting question, and unexpected.
I hide my reaction. “To give Patrick something to eliminate, of course.”
Mr. Bradshaw shakes his head slowly, his gaze fixed upon me, and waits.
Daph comes honestly by her intellect, it seems.
I lean forward, bracing my elbows on my knees. “There are people who are very principled.”
“There are.”
“And those people, sometimes, are underwhelmed by mere money, even if it’s fair compensation offered for a task they will do well.” He lifts a brow and I nod. “If you have wealth, they may think that you throw money around, that cash isn’t important to you. If they’re principled or idealistic, or if you ask them for something that takes a little more, they might appreciate some other form of compensation.” I pause for a beat. “Something they think costs you more than just cash. Something…more interesting.”
He’s watching me and listening.
“And in my experience, what makes such people particularly happy is the chance to have whatever it is that they really want. Even better, they love if you figure it out without them telling you, and you offer their heart’s desire.”
“Instead of just cash.”
“It might cost less than their usual fee, or it might cost more, but the fact that you thought of it gains their support. It makes the exchange more than a contract or an agreement.”
“It creates a bond of understanding,” he says and I nod.
“Exactly. I didn’t expect Daph to be impressed if I paid her fee, whatever it is. I knew for her to really think well of whatever we achieved, she’d want more than a timely payment in full.”
“And what exactly is my daughter’s dream that you intend to facilitate?”
“Her own practice, here in Empire.” He’s not surprised by the suggestion, but I think he’s surprised that I named it. “I was going to give her the title to that building as her compensation, to do with it whatever she wished. I thought she might set up shop on the main floor and rent out the apartment.”
“She has no reason to set up her own practice…”
“So, I’ve heard. She explained it all to me the first day I arrived, how it made sense to be your junior lawyer and wait to inherit the business, but you know, it sounded like she was repeating someone else’s argument instead of making her own.”
He straightens just a little and stares down the road again.
“I was surprised to find her here,” I admit. “Abbie was always telling me that Daph was top of the class all through high school. She said she graduated summa cum laude from U of T.”
“Top percentile on the bar exam,” he adds with a touch of pride.
“Articling and then working at one of the big firms in the city.” Again, I watch him nod. “On the fast track to a successful future, until some loser broke her heart and she came home to heal.”
Now he looks at me, surprised that I know this.
“But why would she stay here?” I ask when his gaze meets mine.
“She came home…”
“Yes, she came home to heal, and not to see the jerk again, and that’s fair. But after she finds her footing again, what’s going to make her stay?”
He frowns.
“What’s here for Daph? What’s going to challenge her and interest her? She’s not the kind of person who will be happy filling in paperwork forever.”
“She has friends here. She has a house.”
“A nice house, that didn’t cost much comparatively and might sell quickly, even in Empire. The new kitchen is great. And she has other friends, like my sister in Vancouver. Would she really stay here if someone offered her a great job, one far away from the offices of her former fiancé?”
He winces though he tries to hide it.
“She needs more and you have to know it, even better than I do.”
“She might marry.”
“She might not.”
His brows rise. “I’m beginning to realize why Patrick thinks you’re so much trouble.” He eyes me. “You don’t care how much truth you tell or who you challenge.”
I shrug.
“Are you staying?” His gaze is searching.
“I’m here for the moment, until I finish what I’ve started.”
“And then you’ll hoist your sail and let the wind take you where you belong,” he concludes. “I see. Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Jones. I hope your venture is successful.”
“But it’s not my venture,” I correct before he leaves and he stops to glance back. “If Daph convinces Meredith to take on the diner and Meredith makes a success of it, that won’t be to my credit. I’m just creating an opportunity and whatever comes of it will be due to Meredith and to Daph.”
He shakes his head a little, and I continue.
“I think the most meaningful thing I can do is open the door to possibilities and I’ll keep doing it as long as I can. I love watching people flourish. I love watching them grab opportunity with both hands and take it places I could never have imagined.” I take a breath. “I like having a teeny tiny part in making people happier, maybe even in making the world a better place. Imagine if we all tried that once in a while, if we all gave someone a hand when we could.” I pause for a second. “Imagine what the world could be.”
Mr. Bradshaw stares at me, and I think for a minute that he looks like a man awakened from a dream. I can see that he’s never considered this before and I wonder if I’ve made a convert.
Then I remind myself that he’s in Patrick’s pocket, today and every possible tomorrow.
He hefts his briefcase and starts to turn away, then glances back. “Daphne texted me that she was stuck in traffic. She didn’t expect to be back before eight.”
“Thank you,” I say and mean it, because relief is flooding through me.
She’s okay.
He must hear some of that in my tone because he gives me another look, a long considering one, then he nods and heads off. I sit and watch until he’s out of sight. He walks with purpose, not rushing, and I see him wave a greeting to someone on the way.
Then the evening closes around me again, the astonishing quiet of Empire on a spring evening. I can almost hear the frogs in the river in the woods behind me. Someone has lit a wood fire because I can smell it and I hear the distant crack of sparks. Is it Una? Daph’s house hides the woods behind from my view. I sit and I think, and I smile at the little bit of melody chasing its tail in the back of my thoughts, hoping against hope that it won’t vanish unexpectedly.
And so, when the big silver car finally pulls into her driveway, I’m immediately on my feet. Daph swings those divine legs out of the car. She doesn’t realize I’m sitting on the darkened porch: she rolls her shoulders and stretches like a cat. Then she reaches back into the car, slings her briefcase over her shoulder and heads for the door, sorting through her keys. She’s wearing a black suit with a straight skirt, which gives her a retro look with her hair twisted up. A few strands of hair are loose, silhouetted against her neck by the streetlight. I feel a wave of desire that is primal and almost potent enough to take me to my knees.
She’s okay.
“Well?” I say, stepping into the puddle of light from the streetlight.
She jumps, then smiles. “Done,” she says softly and I give a hoot of triumph that makes her laugh.
Her laughter is all the encouragement I need to let loose. I jump off the porch and catch her up to swing her around, ignoring her protests. I shout and holler and she laughs like I’m insane and maybe I am.
“You did it!”
“It was your plan.”
“But you made it work.”
I put her down and she smiles up at me. “She was easy to convince. I think you offered the one thing she really wanted.”
“That is the key to success,” I say with enthusiasm.
“Maybe it is.” Her gaze dances over me, something in her eyes that encourages me to take a chance.
I lean so close that our noses almost touch. I smell her skin and hear her gasp, and suddenly there is only Daphne Bradshaw in my world. “She really signed?”
“She really signed.” She reaches into her pocket and offers me five wrinkled twenties. “Down payment. She said she’ll be here tomorrow.”
“You are amazing!” I kiss her before she can even think about arguing, because it’s the only possible way to celebrate such a victory. I kiss her, intending that it will be short and sweet, not that her lips will be soft and seductive, realizing too late that I’ll end up wanting to scoop her up and carry her off, spending all night seducing her.
But she puts her hand on my chest, flat, and gives me a nudge. “You don’t have to do this, Luke” she says, her eyes dark. “You don’t have to pretend.”
“What exactly am I pretending?”
“That you want this. That you want me. Remember about honesty? It’s okay…” she starts, but I lean in and steal another quick kiss. I feel her melt toward me and I know that she needs this as much as I do. She’s delicious, welcoming…
I break the kiss reluctantly, then kiss her ear, grazing her skin with my teeth. “I want this,” I whisper. “We’re consenting adults, so if you want this half as much as I do, it’s your move.”
“But yesterday…”
“I was trying—and failing, it should be noted—to be a gentleman.”
“You didn’t fail. You walked away.”
“Only possible way to manage it.”
She smiles a witchy little smile, one that lights her eyes and is all glorious mischief. “Maybe gentlemanly restraint just isn’t your style,” she says. Her hand slides down my chest at the same time and I catch my breath when she reaches the front of my jeans. She hesitates then, and it’s fair to want a little reassurance.
“No one but you Daph,” I murmur. “Not now.”
Maybe not ever, but given her skepticism about the long game, I don’t say that part.
Her eyes glow with pleasure and she lifts her chin a little, inviting me to kiss her again. I’m not going to decline. I bend down and capture her lips, the taste of her almost making me dizzy. I’m not expecting that she’ll open her mouth a little, much less that I’ll feel the tip of her tongue.
It destroys me completely.
And then there’s no chance of anything short and sweet. I spear my fingers into her hair and hold her captive as I deepen my kiss, loving how Daph makes a little sound of capitulation, how she drops her bag and wraps her arms around my neck in surrender.
She doesn’t drop the money. She jams it into the pocket of my jacket, then locks her hands in my hair, kissing me back as if her life depends upon it. I swing her up into my arms and head for the door, bending to scoop up her briefcase on the way. I turn around so she can get the door unlocked, even hung over my shoulder, and that makes her laugh. I carry her inside and she shuts the door, turning the deadbolt before I let her slide down into my arms.
She looks disheveled and wonderful, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushed. “I need a shower,” she says but I crush her into the wall, almost devouring her. It’s a great hungry kiss, one that goes on for half of forever and isn’t nearly enough, one that lights my blood on fire.
“You need an orgasm, not a shower,” I growl against her throat and kiss her again.
“Can’t I have both?” she demands, breathless, when she has a chance. I don’t have time to agree because she slides her hands under my jacket, then beneath my shirt, the feel of her fingers on my skin enough to make me spontaneously combust.
I pull her toward the stairs and we start stripping each other, kissing all the while. Daph kicks off her shoes and I shed my boots and jacket. Her jacket is flung over the couch and I tug the pins from her hair as she wriggles out of her blouse. Her hands are on my belt buckle and I’m unfastening her skirt, then I stop cold to admire her lingerie.
Black lace. Her skin is as pale as alabaster and almost glows in the partial light. Her hair is a loose tumble of auburn over her shoulders and her lips are swollen a little from our kisses.
“Irresistible,” I murmur then trap her against the wall with my hips. She feels so good. She smiles as she slides her hands under my T-shirt again and pushes it up, hands spread flat against my chest. She tosses it away, bending to kiss my nipple, eyes dancing with mischief. She’s wearing that pink lipstick again and her eye make-up is all smoky—just like the sultry expression in her eyes. She’s a temptress, a siren, a pin-up girl, a fantasy come to life and I want everything she has to share.
“Me first,” I growl, holding her gaze as I lower my head and flick my tongue across her nipple through the lace. It tightens immediately, as if in welcome, and I smile as I cup that breast in my hand, loving how perfectly her curve fills my hand. I kiss it and worry it, teasing it until she moans in my ear. I love how she’s gripping my hair, how she’s squirming between me and the wall, how I can smell her arousal. My hands slide around her and I find the clasp of her bra, flicking it open and watching as her breasts spill into my palms.
I catch my breath at their perfection. She’s watching me, her eyes dark, her satisfaction clear. “I’m going to eat you until you scream,” I threaten and Daph grins. “And then I’m going to do it again, until you come and come and come.”
“Promises, promises,” she says playfully. She flicks my nipple with a fingertip. “I can be very hard to please.”
She’s teasing and I know it, but I’ll take that challenge. I pick her up so quickly that she gasps in surprise and toss her over my shoulder, heading up the stairs in my jeans. She’s wearing her panties and stockings and one shoe, but it’ll take me seconds to strip her bare.
She laughs at me when I toss her on the bed, then picks up a brown paper bag tossed on the floor. She reaches into it and tosses a colourful collection of small packages at me. Condoms in every size and colour, ribbed and not, lubricated and not. All the options are present and accounted for.
“Courtesy of Cameron,” Daph says.
“She thinks we need two dozen, does she?” I strip off my jeans, aware of Daph’s assessing gaze. “Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint your friends,” I growl, then ease down on top of her, my hands on her thighs. She tastes like heaven and sighs exquisitely when my mouth closes over her. It’s like we’re exactly where we need to be and I believe it with all my heart.
And that’s the last coherent thought I have for quite a while.