Morelli's Mistress (Harlequin Presents) Page 8

  Harley, she conceded, hearing the retriever pounding up the stairs. His paws pattered over the carpet, no doubt heading for his water bowl. He was always thirsty after a walk.

  She would have to go and close the door, and she hoped Luke had got the message. If he was hanging about outside, waiting for an invitation to come in, hard luck.

  But when she got to the top of the stairs and looked down, she saw Luke standing in the hallway. He was dripping water onto her doormat, his shoulder braced carelessly against the frame.

  * * *

  Luke saw the indignant expression that crossed Abby’s face when she saw him. But, hell, surely she hadn’t expected him to wait outside?

  Yet that was probably where he belonged, he mused grimly. He was still despising himself for coming here, but he’d had to see her again. If only to prove that he’d exaggerated the effect she’d had on him; exaggerated the chemistry between them that was interfering with his sleep.

  But, looking up at her, he had the distinct feeling he hadn’t.

  She was wearing jeans tonight, tight jeans that clung to her long legs and accentuated the provocative curve of her bottom. Her shirt was olive green and unfastened at the neck, exposing the delicious hollow between her breasts. She was wearing little make-up, but she didn’t need any. Her skin was as smooth and soft as a peach.

  Without giving her a chance to tell him to get out, he said quietly, ‘May I come up? I’d like to talk to you.’

  ‘Why ask me?’ said Abby coldly. ‘You seem to do exactly as you like whatever I say.’

  ‘Abby...’ He sighed, and then turned to close and lock the door before climbing the stairs. ‘I know I’ve upset you—’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘—but there are things we need to say to one another.’

  ‘Really?’ Abby turned as he reached her and went back into the apartment. ‘Goodbye would be a good beginning.’

  Luke shook his head, and, ignoring her words, he closed the living-room door behind him. Then, turning back to watch her as she went into the kitchen, he said, ‘I know I behaved like a heel the last time I was here. At least let me say, I’m sorry.’

  Abby took a bag of what appeared to be dog food out of the cupboard. Then she bent to fill the retriever’s food bowl.

  ‘There you go, Harls,’ she said, her tone much different from when she’d spoken to Luke. ‘You’re hungry, aren’t you?’

  Luke moved across the room. ‘Are you hungry, too?’

  ‘What’s it to you? I’m not inviting you for supper.’

  ‘I know that.’ Luke blew out a frustrated breath. ‘I was going to invite you to have dinner with me.’

  Abby’s eyes met his. ‘You’re not serious?’

  ‘I am.’ Luke hesitated. ‘According to my father, there’s a pub in the next village that serves a decent steak. At least let me do something to show you I’m not the selfish bastard you evidently think I am.’

  ‘You think buying me a steak will do that?’ Abby was incredulous.

  ‘No. But it might go some way to showing you I regret the way I behaved.’

  Abby’s lips twisted. ‘And, of course, this has nothing to do with the petition, which you’ve obviously heard about? Are you sure you’re not just here on a fact-finding mission again?’

  Luke scowled. ‘Dammit, my invitation has nothing to do with Hughes’ petition.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No.’ He stared into her disbelieving eyes, aware that what he really wanted to do was to touch her. ‘I’d like the chance to talk to you without Harley, or one of your customers, interrupting us.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ABBY HESITATED.

  She knew she ought to refuse—that she should refuse—but she defended her right to change her mind.

  Taking a breath, she said, ‘What do you want to talk about?’ Her lips twisted. ‘We could have talked the other morning, but you couldn’t wait to get out of here.’

  ‘Would you have wanted your neighbours to see me leaving before you opened the café, and come to the obvious conclusion?’ he demanded tersely.

  Abby gave a disbelieving laugh. ‘You’re not telling me you left here in the middle of the night to protect my reputation?’

  He had the decency to colour. ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘Not at all,’ she corrected him scornfully. ‘I’m amazed you had the nerve to come back.’

  ‘Which should tell you something about my character,’ he retorted. ‘Come on, Abby. Give me a break.’

  ‘I’m not ready,’ she said, buying time to think about the craziness of accepting his invitation. ‘And you’ve got wet marks on your trousers.’

  ‘I’ll dry,’ said Luke easily. ‘And you look pretty good to me.’

  Abby gave him a conservative look. ‘Yeah, right.’

  ‘I mean it.’ His eyes darkened. ‘You can’t have any doubts that I’m sincere after we slept together.’

  Abby hesitated. ‘I’m not going to sleep with you again.’

  ‘Okay.’ She suspected Luke would have agreed to anything in this mood. ‘Will you come for dinner with me?’

  ‘I need a shower,’ she said, half hoping he would lose patience and leave.

  ‘Have it later,’ Luke advised flatly, tucking his cold hands under his arms. ‘It’s raining, as you know.’ He paused. ‘Humour me, Abby. You’re going to get wet, anyway.’

  Abby could have argued some more, but her heart wasn’t really in it. Where was the harm? she asked herself. She was a grown woman, not a child. Didn’t he owe her something for the way he’d behaved?

  Or was she only making excuses to spend more time with a man she knew she should despise?

  ‘Okay,’ she said at last, heading towards her bedroom. ‘I won’t be a minute. I just want to tidy my hair.’

  But she closed the door securely, letting him hear the latch click into place, before going into the bathroom. No matter how she tried to justify what she was doing, she couldn’t deny the fear that if he followed her, they’d end up in bed again.

  Fool!

  Downstairs, with Harley not-so-happily secured in the living room of the apartment, Abby suddenly remembered that Luke hadn’t been alone. She knew she hadn’t mistaken the way he’d spoken to someone in the car as he was getting out.

  ‘Wait,’ she said, touching his sleeve as he was opening the outer door. ‘You’ve not come on your own, have you? And if it’s one of your girlfriends—’

  ‘I don’t have girlfriends,’ muttered Luke irritably, shaking off her hand. ‘Come and meet Felix.’ He opened the door and to her surprise Abby found the Bentley waiting outside, apparently indifferent to the ‘No Parking’ signs.

  As they approached the driver’s side door opened and a man got out. He was older than Luke, but not by a lot; thin and balding, with a likeable face, he was dressed all in black.

  He grinned when he saw them and came round to open the rear door. ‘Good evening, miss,’ he said politely, evidently waiting for her to get inside. ‘Crappy evening, isn’t it?’

  Abby’s lips parted in surprise, and Luke grinned, too. ‘Don’t mind Felix,’ he said humorously. ‘He forgets he’s in service.’

  Abby shook her head. ‘He works for you?’

  ‘Sure does,’ said Luke, following her into the back of the vehicle. ‘Meet Felix Laidlaw, chauffeur, butler, and even cook on occasion. Isn’t that right, Felix?’

  ‘If you say so.’ Felix’s tone was non-committal. ‘But don’t take what he says too seriously, miss. Luke and I go way back. And we were in the services in those days. The real services, isn’t that right, Luke?’

  If Abby hadn’t been looking at him at that moment, she’d have missed Luke’s grimace. But with the door still open, the interior light
was on in the car. And she noticed the way Luke’s brows drew together, as if warning Felix not to go on.

  But he did.

  ‘Saved my life, he did. In Afghanistan. Must be over ten years ago now, right, Luke?’

  Luke’s frown had turned into a scowl. ‘Just drive,’ he said, slamming the car door and successfully hiding his expression. ‘The Bell, in Chitterford. I think you know it.’

  Evidently Felix wasn’t offended and he kept up a stream of small talk until they reached their destination.

  Actually, Abby was grateful. It removed any need for her to make conversation, and judging by the way Luke stared out of the car’s windows for the whole of the journey, he felt the same.

  The Bell turned out to be a small pub, whose restaurant had a big reputation. As soon as they stepped through the door they were assailed by the most delicious smell of food. And although Abby had been sure she had no appetite, the dishes on offer were too tantalising to refuse.

  The chauffeur wasn’t with them, of course. Luke had said he would give the man a ring when they were ready to leave, and Felix had appeared happy with that arrangement.

  They were shown to a table for two. The crisp white tablecloth and the bud vase of roses were complemented by a lamp with a rose-coloured shade.

  ‘This is lovely,’ said Abby, glancing about her. Anything to avoid looking into Luke’s eyes. ‘Have you been here before?’

  ‘No, but my father has,’ replied Luke as a waitress came to ask if they would like a drink before their meal. Then, apparently remembering her liking for white wine, he ordered a glass of chardonnay for her and a beer for himself.

  The waitress departed and Abby nodded. ‘Of course. You said your father lives in Bath,’ she continued, hoping to keep the conversation light. ‘It seems very nice.’

  ‘So do you,’ said Luke in a dangerously bland tone, bringing an immediate flush of heat to her cheeks.

  ‘You don’t have to say that,’ she said shortly, annoyed with herself for allowing anything he said to disconcert her. Then, determinedly, ‘Tell me about Felix.’

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  Abby gave him an enquiring look. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said casually. ‘How you saved his life, perhaps?’

  ‘Felix exaggerates.’

  ‘Does he?’ Abby arched an inquiring brow. ‘I didn’t get that impression.’

  ‘The helicopter I was flying had to ditch in southern Afghanistan,’ he said shortly. ‘Felix was hurt, and I dragged him out of the aircraft.’

  ‘Was it on fire?’

  Luke’s mouth turned down. ‘Don’t make me out to be a hero, Abby.’

  Abby stared at him. ‘But you can fly a helicopter?’

  Luke shook his head. ‘Let’s talk about something else.’ He paused. ‘Do your parents live near Ashford?’

  ‘No.’ Abby hesitated. Then she said, ‘My father was killed in a car accident when I was five, and my mother died—a few years ago.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Luke sounded as if he meant it. There was a moment’s silence, then he picked up the menu the waitress had left. ‘So—what would you like to eat?’

  It was difficult to choose, but Abby finally settled on avocado and prosciutto, followed by sea bass, with a scallop and butter sauce. When the waitress returned with their drinks, Luke gave the order, barely glancing at the menu before ordering the avocado, too, and a steak.

  Once again, there was silence for a few minutes, and then Abby, who had been tasting her wine, said, ‘How about you? You said your father lives in Bath, but you didn’t mention your mother.’

  ‘That’s because my mother doesn’t live with us,’ replied Luke tersely. ‘She walked out when I was ten years old. My father’s not a poor man, but my mother found herself a man with more money than he had.’

  ‘So do you see her now?’

  ‘No.’ Luke clearly didn’t want to talk about it. ‘The last I heard, she was on her fourth husband. I don’t know where the hell she is and I don’t particularly care.’

  Abby suspected he did care as she absorbed his words.

  She hesitated and then ventured daringly, ‘Is that why you’ve never married?’

  The vehemence of his response startled her. ‘I’ve been married, Abby,’ he said bitterly. ‘As a matter of fact, I married the girl I’d been going out with before you came on the scene.’

  ‘Ah.’ Now it was Abby’s turn to be confused. She pressed her lips together before saying challengingly, ‘So you weren’t free when we met either.’

  Luke’s expression darkened. ‘Oh, I was free, Abby. I didn’t do commitment. Anyone could have told you that.’

  ‘Then—’

  ‘But I was stupid enough to think that you were as innocent as you looked.’ He snorted. ‘And then, guess what? I found out you weren’t.’

  Abby didn’t say anything and after a few moments he went on, ‘The marriage didn’t last. Like I said, I don’t do commitment. But Sonia didn’t suffer by it. I’m pretty sure she’d checked out my bank balance before she accepted my ring.’

  Abby shook her head. ‘You’re very cynical.’

  ‘Do you blame me? I guess you’re going to tell me that you’re not.’

  ‘I hope I’m not,’ said Abby at once. ‘And I probably have more reason to be so than you.’

  Luke regarded her scornfully. ‘I’m sure you believe you can justify what you did. Forgive me, if I don’t shed any tears on your behalf.’

  Abby pressed her lips together. She was tempted to walk out of the restaurant at that moment, but the waitress returned with their food and she felt obliged to stay in her seat.

  Instead, she had to content herself with glaring at him until the woman had gone. Then she said grimly, ‘Do you really think I’ll stay and eat with you after that?’

  Luke sighed. ‘I’m not going to apologise for what I said.’

  ‘I wouldn’t expect you to.’ She paused. ‘I’ll get a taxi to take me home.’

  But when she would have got up from her seat, Luke put out a hand and restrained her.

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have brought up all that old stuff now. But you started it, asking about my mother. She almost ruined my father’s life.’

  Abby’s tongue appeared to moisten her lips. ‘And that’s your excuse?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Are you implying that I almost ruined your life?’

  He looked taken aback at that. ‘Uh, no,’ he muttered unwillingly. Then his hand tightened on her wrist and Abby felt the undeniable rush of awareness. ‘Don’t go,’ he said huskily, and heat like liquid fire ran through her blood. ‘Whatever happened in the past, I still want you.’

  Abby looked down at the lean brown hand gripping her wrist and felt her stomach tighten. It was useless to pretend she didn’t want him, too.

  But want and need were two very different bedfellows. An appalling pun, she acknowledged, but this time she intended to keep her head.

  Withdrawing her wrist with an effort, she said quietly, ‘What do you expect me to do, Luke?’

  ‘Stay,’ he said at once. ‘If I promise to behave, we could try and enjoy the evening. The food smells good, you must admit, and, despite words to the contrary, I do enjoy your company.’

  ‘Do you?’

  His eyes consumed her. ‘You know I do.’

  Abby expelled an uneven breath. ‘All right,’ she said, almost convinced she was going to regret this. ‘It would be a shame to waste the food.’

  ‘Your magnanimity is overwhelming,’ he said drily, and then raised a hand, palm towards her, when she looked as if she was about to protest again. ‘Eat. And drink your wine. What is it they say? Alcohol has charms to soothe the savage beast?’

  ‘I think that wa
s music,’ said Abby, unable to deny a small smile. ‘But I must admit, this wine is really delicious.’

  After such a contentious beginning, surprisingly the hours they stayed at the pub were some of the most enjoyable Abby had ever spent.

  When he wasn’t being provocative or sarcastic, Luke was really good company. But she’d known that, she mused, remembering the first night she’d met him at the wine bar.

  She could have loved him, she thought rather wistfully; would have divorced her abusive husband in a heartbeat, if her mother’s circumstances hadn’t been so grave.

  Felix drove them back to Ashford-St-James soon after ten o’clock. Abby had confessed she had to be up by five a.m. the next morning, to get to the wholesalers to pick up supplies. And when she added that she had to prepare the scones and muffins, and set the coffee machine in operation before she opened the café at seven-thirty, Luke understood her desire not to be out too late.

  However, when they got back to her apartment, she felt obliged to invite him in for coffee. They hadn’t waited to have coffee at the restaurant, and she knew it was the least she could do after such a delicious meal.

  ‘Felix, too, if you like,’ she added, half hoping the chauffeur would join them.

  But Felix demurred, saying he was going for a late supper at a fast-food establishment. And Luke said he would ring him again when he was ready to leave.

  Abby was glad of Harley to provide a distraction when they got into the apartment. The retriever was eager to greet their visitor, and he threaded his way around Luke’s legs, uttering little woofs of pleasure.

  Meanwhile, Abby went into the kitchen and set the water running through the filter. It would have been easier to make instant, but it didn’t smell half so nice.

  Only belatedly did she become aware that Luke had come into the kitchen, too, and was now standing, hips propped against one of the units. He’d loosened his tie and unfastened the top button on his shirt; his forearms, lightly spread with dark hair, bare below rolled-back cuffs.

  When had he removed his jacket? she wondered. Did he feel he had the right to be here? And why, when he was fully dressed in his navy suit trousers and that very attractive bronze silk shirt, was she picturing him without any clothes at all?