20. Luke
20
LUKE
A date.
An actual date.
How long has it been? Truth be told, I’m not sure I’ve ever gone on a date. It’s just been hook-up after hook-up for all of my adult life, and while I liked that just fine at the time, I’m ready for something different.
Ha. Maybe I’m becoming an adult.
Maybe Daph is good for me.
Either way, I knew this had to be the place. My mom and I usually come here when I’m in town. It’s one of her favourites and with good cause. Family-owned for a couple of generations, good food at good prices, friendly and clean. I like that Daph is a little unpredictable tonight, maybe feeling punch-drunk like I am after Sylvia’s confession.
I still want to have Sierra’s back. I still want to support that kid, whatever she has to face in town. But I am relieved that she’s not mine. I feel that I can start fresh with Daph.
And there’s something different between us tonight, something electric and powerful. It shouldn’t be this way. We’ve been together already. One-and-done should have killed the tingle of anticipation. There shouldn’t be any mysteries left.
But there are. There are thousands of them, just waiting to be unravelled.
The theory that she could be The One is gaining ground.
How is it that I had no clue she looked like a goddess in jeans and boots? How could I not anticipate how she would wrap herself around me on the bike, shifting her weight instinctively, like we’d been riding together for years? How can it take my breath away when her hair tumbles in auburn waves halfway down her back? Her eyes glow when she looks at me, and I feel astonished by her all over again. She’s beautiful and smart and mischievous, both logical and passionate. I’m so honoured that she’s with me, and I never want that awe to vanish.
Tonight, she’s the bold twin of the sleek professional I’ve been seeing at the office. She’s tougher and more urban than the enticingly soft—but fierce—woman who seduced me that first time at her house. How many thousands of women are part of Daphne Bradshaw? How long will it take me to meet them all?
We sit at a corner table, our knees bumping underneath, and just talk. It’s easy, the conversation flowing readily. I tell her about progress at the café, then show her some pictures on my phone. I tell her about Noah’s pitch and love that I can make her laugh so hard. She tells me about Mike keeping the news of my arrest from Patrick and I’m surprised.
We share a big salad and a pizza that’s ridiculously good. I pass on the wine because I couldn’t bear to make a mistake on the drive home and she has water, too.
I’m more surprised when she tells me about her dad buying the Foreman place and giving it to her. I never imagined I could have any influence over someone like Richard Bradshaw, but I think it’s his love for his daughter that’s driving everything.
I’d love to have had a dad like that.
I want to be a dad like that.
“You look concerned,” she says, not missing a thing.
“It’s Sierra,” I admit.
“Aren’t you relieved?”
“Yes and no. I know how it might be for her in Empire.” I falter to silence, unable to put the tumult I’m feeling into words.
Daph’s hand closes over mine. “And you feel protective of her.”
“How can you know that?”
“It’s what you do.” She smiles. “I admire that.”
“But she’s not my daughter.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t be friends. That doesn’t mean that she can’t count on you for anything.”
“Why would she?”
“Maybe because you offer.”
It’s such a simple solution, yet one that makes perfect sense. “She can choose.”
Daph smiles a mysterious little smile.
“What? What did I say?”
“It’s another thing you do that I like a lot. You let women choose.” She sits back, that little smile making me want to chuck her over my shoulder and carry her away. “It’s very hot, by the way.”
I look away to regain control over the direction of my thoughts, something that cannot happen when my gaze is locked with Daph’s and she’s smiling like that. She shouldn’t be allowed to say things like that to me in a public place, but on one level, I appreciate how much she enjoys provoking me.
When I look at her again, she’s the one averting her gaze, pushing around the last piece of pizza, the one that neither of us want. “Are there others?” she asks quietly, her gaze lifting to mine, and I have to respect that she asked the tough question.
“Not that I know of. I suppose it’s not impossible.” I lean closer. “But I’ll do the same as this time, if I learn otherwise.”
She nods with welcome confidence. “I know. You’re nice, Luke.”
Nice?
“I am not nice,” I reply. “I’ve never been nice and I don’t want to be nice.”
“What then?” She’s teasing me, but I’ll play. Anything to bring back any one of her smiles.
“How do you think the band got its name?”
“Mad, Bad & Dangerous 2 Know.”
“That’s what Taylor called me.”
“You don’t seem that dangerous to me.”
“Maybe I’m getting over it. Maybe I want to be something else.”
“Like?”
“Honourable,” I say on a whim, the first word that rises to my lips, but it’s right. I follow impulse and say the next bit. “And maybe one day, a good dad.”
Her brows rise.
“You can’t change the past, Daph. But you can own it, and you can take what you’ve learned to change the future.”
“They write songs about that.”
“Michael Jackson. Man in the Mirror. Too high for me but a solid strategy.” I scroll through my playlist on my phone, noticing how much it’s changed, then add that one.
Daph turns her head to read it. “Simple Minds Alive & Kicking ,” she says. “R.E.M. Stand . Dream Academy. Life in a Northern Town .”
“Love the chorus,” I say. “Serious earworm, though. It should have a warning label.”
“What’s that?” she asks, noticing what I’d rather she didn’t.
“Nothing.”
“Not nothing. That’s my name.”
Do I have a playlist for when I’m thinking of Daph. Yes, yes I do. Don’t shoot. I sigh, open it and let her look.
“Fine Young Cannibals. She Drives Me Crazy .” I get a smile for that one. “Roxy Music. More Than This . Berlin. Take My Breath Away . Chris de Burgh. Lady in Red .” She gives me a look. “I don’t wear red.”
“It’s the sentiment, not the technicalities.”
She smiles a little, letting me have that one. “Roy Orbison. Pretty Woman. ”
“Mercy,” I murmur and we smile at each other for a long hot moment.
“Tracy Chapman. Give Me One Reason.”
I get a searching look for that one before she gives me back my phone and our fingers brush. “I, uh, don’t suppose you have a playlist for me.”
It can’t hurt to ask, right?
“Just one song.” She leans back in the booth, as inscrutable as ever. “The one you sing to someone at the end.”
“Used to sing to someone.” I feel the need to correct her on that.
She studies me, her eyes darkening as her voice softens. “I can’t be the only one who ever wondered what it would be like.”
I am struck dumb that Daph could have ever been thinking of me—but in a good way.
She’s watching me, probably reading me like a book but I can’t guess her thoughts. “My dad calls you my young man,” she says.
I have to smile. “I would have expected him to call me something else.”
Daph shakes her head, her eyes shining. “He likes you.”
“No accounting for taste,” I say, just to make her laugh and it does. We’re high on each other and that makes me think of Taylor. I tell her a few more stories about him and she holds my hand when my throat tightens.
“I’m proud of you,” she says softly and I feel like my heart will burst.
“Your fault,” I say, my voice husky. “You make me want to do better.”
“You know, this might be the wrong thing to say,” she begins.
“Go for it, Daph.”
“But Patrick might have done you a huge favour.”
“Never!” I protest but she shakes her head.
“Think about it. He could have married your mom, and you wouldn’t have been able to escape him.”
Bloody hell. She’s right.
“Maybe I should send flowers,” I say and she laughs.
We do that thing of smiling at each other for a thousand years, then the waitress brings the bill, breaking the spell. We’re heading out, her hand in mine, when the owner steps forward. They’ve recognized me and want autographs and selfies. Daph nods and steps aside, watching as I do the honours. It doesn’t take long and they’re very nice, leaving Daph out of the whole thing when I ask them to. We wave goodnight and head back to the bike, where she pulls me to a halt.
“You’re so good at that,” she says.
“At what?”
“At talking to people. At just owning the moment. You’re genuine and approachable, and so gracious. Don’t you get tired of fans approaching you?”
“They weren’t being intrusive. Most of the band’s fans are like that. And they’re the whole reason the band was a success.”
“It’s in your interest to indulge them?”
“More than that. It’s a small gesture. I don’t mind.”
“I like how you do it. They were nervous, but you put them at ease so quickly.” She smiles. “Like that interview you did with Noah. You spoke so fluidly, like you knew what to say. Do you rehearse ahead of time?”
“No, of course not,” I say but as soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize that she would. “It’s another way that we’re different, Daph. You plan.”
“And you just jump,” she says with a smile.
I pull her into my arms, loving this mutual admiration society, wanting her to smile again. “So, maybe I’ll take some tips from you and learn to think ahead a bit more.”
Daph catches her breath, her gaze falling to my mouth before she looks into my eyes again. “And I can be a little more impulsive,” she suggests, her voice husky. Before I can reply, she leans against me, sliding her hands up my chest and throat, into my hair, then pulling my mouth down to hers. She kisses me with a power that makes me dizzy, her tongue wicked and seductive, the taste and feel of her enough to dismiss everything from my world but her.
I break the kiss with an effort and ease her hair back from her cheek with a fingertip. “We still have to get home,” I remind her and her smile flashes.
“Your place or mine?”
“Yours,” I say because a motel is a motel and that’s not what I want with Daph. She nods and we climb on the bike, her arms wrapped around me and her heat against my back.
This is the good stuff.
And I still want more.
In fact, I realize as we approach Empire, I want it all. That’s new, but it’s still true.
That makes this more than a courtship: it’s a new adventure.
It’s fast this time, because Daph is a tigress. Once again, I’m seeing another side of her and I’m completely beguiled. We do it twice, barely making it to the bedroom for the first time, then again actually in the bed.
Then she rolls over to look at me, her hair a tangle and her cheeks flushed. “What’s it like?” she asks.
“What?” I’m stretched out beside her, wondering if a third time is in the cards. I slide my hand down the length of her, then leave it resting on the indent of her waist. I let my thumb trace circles against the softness of her stomach, having noticed how much she likes that.
She practically purrs.
“Having fangirls. Being the stuff of fantasies.” She pauses for a moment. “Man-candy.”
I snort. “I don’t think about it much.”
“You have to. All those women throwing their lingerie at you.”
Does she imagine that she’ll ever have any competition? If that’s her concern, I have to put it to rest.
“Okay, maybe I used to think about it. It meant I tried to stay fit, but on tour, that’s a given. Beyond that, it just was.” I shrug, then gives me a look. “You must attract your share of attention from guys.”
She winces. “When it’s based on looks alone, I don’t like it. I feel objectified, like a piece of meat.”
I get that. “But you look ,” I say. “I look. Everyone looks. It’s part of the mating process.”
“It shouldn’t be the sum of it, though.”
“Of course not.” I bend down so our eyes are level. “But I like you so I look more. It’s not just about appearances. It’s about the whole package.”
“What do you mean?”
“That smile, for example.” I touch the corner of her mouth with a fingertip. “There’s a whole lot of innuendo in that smile. It’s not just that you have the most luscious mouth ever. It’s that expression, like you have a secret that’s not at all what I expect. So, when you smile like that–” I take a deep breath and exhale. “I want to kiss you. I want to ravish you, actually, and when you do it in public, you destroy me completely.”
She looks pleased by this so I’m on the right track. “You’re not without your own arsenal, you know.”
“Like what?”
“You don’t mind me admiring your assets?”
“I’d love to be your man-candy, Daph. Look away. Tell me what you like—and what needs work. I can’t imagine anything better than being the stuff of your fantasies.” Her eyes are dark, his gaze so intent that I wonder if she’s guessed that she owns my fantasies. Every single one.
I should tell her.
Maybe I already did, in a way. She did see the Daph playlist.
She runs a fingertip down my arm from elbow to wrist, watching its progress. “I like your forearms,” she admits.
This is not what I was expecting. “Go on .”
“No, really.” She flattens her hand and strokes across my skin, then her fingertip gets lost in the labyrinth of my tattoo. “Just the right amount of hair. Muscled. Tanned.”
“Glad to hear it,” I say, aware of the tumult she’s stirring within me. A third time is a definite possibility.
She threads her fingers between mine. “And these are hands that get things done.”
I smile at the approval in her tone. “Is that right? Tell me more.”
She tips her head back to consider me. “I like your eyelashes.”
I laugh at that, then stop as she reaches up and pushes her hand through my hair. It’s a proprietary gesture, a bit rough, and feels good.
“I like that your hair is a bit long, a bit unruly. And the colour of it.” Her fingertip slides down my neck to my shoulder, then down the middle of my chest, vanishing in my chest hair. She nods approval as she walks her fingers down my torso. “I like the six-pack.”
“Good thing I started working out again.”
She flattens her hand again, her palm spanning my hip, and there’s a definite sign of my enthusiasm. “But the vee,” she whispers. “The vee is very good stuff.” And she bends over me, touching her lips to my hip. Her hair falls over me, all silken softness, and I have to close my eyes to get control again.
When I open them, she’s watching me, sultry and seductive.
“I’m glad to hear you approve of the packaging,” I manage to say. “It bodes good results for the courtship.”
She parts her lips and I think she’s going to say something, maybe make a confession that I can echo, but she closes her eyes and sighs, and the moment passes.
Damn. What did I miss out on?
And why?