Talking Dirty With the Boss (Talking Dirty#3) Read online

  …

  Luke straightened the coaster under his beer glass. Then straightened it a little more because it wasn’t quite right. He knew he’d been doing it a lot for the past while, but the pub where they were having their Friday lunchtime drink was noisy and he couldn’t concentrate.

  “Okay, hold it, Cal,” Joseph said, interrupting Caleb’s monologue on the trials of organizing a wedding. “What’s up, Luke?”

  Luke glanced up from his study of the coaster to find both his friends staring at him. “What? What do you mean what’s up?”

  Joseph raised a brow. “You’ve been straightening that damn coaster for the past hour. Something’s the matter.”

  His fingers itched, wanted to creep out and move the stupid thing again. He clenched them instead, trying to bury the compulsion. “Nothing’s the matter.”

  “Oh yeah?” Caleb shook his head. “Come on, mate. You didn’t say anything when I complained about Judith’s wedding budget. I even gave you some figures.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. It’s too noisy in here.” Because it was. Also, there was a woman at the bar with long blond curls who kept tossing her head. And each time she did he had to check that it wasn’t Marisa. It wasn’t. Yet he had to keep checking in case he hadn’t seen her properly.

  Fine? You’re a wreck and you have been for the past week.

  The woman laughed and he found himself turning again. To make sure it wasn’t her.

  “Ah,” Joseph said, his eyes widening.

  “Ah?” Luke asked flatly. “What does that mean?”

  “It’s Marisa, isn’t it?”

  Caleb leaned forward. “Marisa? What’s Marisa got to do with this?”

  “She was staying with Luke,” Joseph explained, not waiting for Luke to either confirm or deny. “At least that’s what Christie told me.”

  “Well, she’s not anymore,” Luke was compelled to point out. “She left last week.”

  “Wait,” Caleb said, holding up a hand. “Back up a step. Why the hell was Marisa staying with you? I thought you weren’t interested in her?”

  Luke clenched his fingers tighter. Bloody coaster still wasn’t right. Ignoring Caleb’s questions, he said, “What makes you think it’s got anything to do with Marisa?”

  “Because you keep checking out that blond chick by the bar,” Joseph replied.

  “I could find her attractive.”

  “If you found her attractive, then why are you looking so pissed off?”

  “Oh,” Caleb said. “Mate…”

  Luke scowled. “Fine. You want to know? Here’s the deal. Marisa and I had a one-night stand. She got pregnant. I asked her to come and live with me because of the checking behaviors and we agreed. It didn’t work out so she left. That’s what happened.”

  The other two men stared at him.

  “What?” Luke demanded.

  “Well, finally,” Joseph said at last. “I wondered whether you were ever going to tell me yourself. Relying on Christie for information about one of my best friends was getting dull. You should have said something.”

  He straightened the coaster. Again. “It didn’t come up.” Was it time to leave? He had things to do. Lots of things to do.

  Caleb picked up his beer and raised bottle. “Uh, congratulations? Or not?”

  Luke didn’t look at him. “Thank you.” The woman at the bar was laughing again, and again he glanced at her. Again she wasn’t Marisa.

  This wasn’t going to stop, was it? He was going to have to check all the bloody blondes in the world wherever he was to make certain it wasn’t her. Crazy.

  What he needed to do was forget her, not search for her everywhere he went.

  The legs of Joseph’s chair thumped back on the floor. “You’ve got it bad, haven’t you?”

  Luke tore his gaze from the woman at the bar. “I haven’t got it—”

  “Bullshit. You think I can’t see it? I’ve been there, man. I know the signs.”

  Caleb nodded sagely. “Besides, you don’t check women out like that, bro. But it’s okay, I know how that goes. You’re making sure it’s not her, right?”

  Luke gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to talk about this. He’d managed to rationalize his emotions totally and he wasn’t keen on bringing them out now for his friends to pick apart. “It’s not her, and I’m fine about it,” he said, fiddling with the coaster. “I thought we might have…something more, but it turns out we don’t.”

  “Why not?” Joseph demanded. “Because I’m getting the distinct impression that you’re not fine about it.”

  Luke put one hand in his pocket, fingers closing around the object he kept in there. Yet another thing he kept checking on. Holding it made him feel better so he obeyed the impulse, the bead of Marisa’s necklace cool against his palm. “Whether I’m fine about it or not doesn’t matter. The OCD makes relationships difficult so I decided we were both better off not seeing each other. She agreed.”

  “You know that’s more bullshit, don’t you?”

  “It’s not bullshit. You’re lucky with the ADHD. And you’re lucky with Christie. You’re—”

  “Luke,” Joseph interrupted, putting his hands on the table, “those are excuses and you know it. Do you love her?”

  He opened his mouth, ready with a denial. But the word felt wrong.

  That’s because it is wrong.

  “Yes,” he said instead.

  “Then what’s worse?” Joseph looked him in the eye. “The OCD or not having her in your life?”

  The blue bead rested in his palm, not so cool now, warming up through contact with his skin. It felt smooth and silky, like she did. A reminder of dreams.

  She’d made him aware of those dreams. Of a life beyond the day-to-day management of his condition. A life that included teasing and flirting and laughter. And ice cream and making love on the bonnet of his car. And a woman who undressed him and folded his clothes up because she knew he couldn’t concentrate if it wasn’t done right.

  He could live without all those things. Had done so for years.

  But it’s not much of a life, is it?

  Luke caught his breath suddenly, the ache in his chest becoming deeper, more intense.

  No. It wasn’t. It was only a half life. Wanting nothing, expecting nothing. Feeling nothing…

  The blue bead pressed painfully against his palm and he realized he was clutching it so tightly it was amazing the thing hadn’t shattered.

  No, God, he didn’t want nothing. He didn’t want to go back to that day-to-day, minute-by-minute life where there was nothing to look forward to and nothing special to remember. He wanted ice cream. He wanted sex on the bonnet of his Ferrari. He wanted her folding his clothes and touching him as though he was precious.

  He wanted Marisa.

  He didn’t have much to give her in return, only the studio he’d built for her and his own obsessive, compulsive heart. She was a princess who deserved more than that but it was all he had to give. And if she thought he was crazy, if she couldn’t deal with him and his issues, then he’d have to risk it. He had to try.

  “I think,” he said, “I think I have somewhere to be.” He pushed back his chair and got to his feet suddenly. It tipped over with a crash but he didn’t turn around—he was already heading to the exit.

  Behind him, he heard Caleb say, “Mate, you should give up IT and open a relationship counseling service. You’d make millions.”

  He only caught the first word of Joseph’s reply. It started with F.

  …

  “What do you think?” Marisa did a little twirl in front of the mirrors, layers of white tulle swirling around her.

  “Oh my God,” Christie exclaimed from her position on the sofa the bridal shop had for clients who were waiting. “You’re wearing a freaking meringue!”

  Judith, in an elegant ivory sheath dress, raised an eyebrow. “It is definitely meringue-like.”

  Marisa looked down at the frothy confection she’d
tried on. Yes, it was meringue-like. And definitely not to Judith’s taste, admittedly—which was kind of the whole reason they were in the wedding shop in the first place. But she hadn’t been able to resist trying it on because it was pretty. Not that she’d ever come close to having the opportunity to wear this, of course. Marriage wasn’t ever going to be in her future.

  “Nothing wrong with meringues.” She smoothed the tulle, watching the crystals sewn into the voluminous skirts sparkle. “They’re sweet and light and fat-free.”

  Christie screwed up her nose, examining the dress. “I should have brought my sparkly Docs. They would give it more of a hard edge.”

  Perhaps they would. But it wasn’t the kind of dress you wore if you wanted a hard edge. This was a dress for fairy tales. The kind of dress princesses wore.

  It’s missing something. You’re missing your crown, princess.

  Her eyes prickled. Damn pregnancy hormones.

  She turned to stare at herself in the mirror, blinking furiously. Why was she thinking of him? She should not be thinking of him.

  He hadn’t contacted her and she hadn’t contacted him. They’d both kept their distance from each other. And yet that hadn’t stopped her stupid brain from circling around and around him.

  Wondering what he was doing. How he was coping. Whether or not he missed her. Whether or not he’d found her necklace and whether he’d kept it.

  She presumed he had because she hadn’t received it back. Either that, or it was still in the guest room of his house.

  Dammit. And there she went, thinking of him again. She was getting Obsessive-Compulsive Thoughts of Luke McNamara Disorder.

  Annoyed with herself, Marisa swallowed and tried to think about other things. But in the mirror, she saw Christie’s expression turn sympathetic and knew her friend had spotted her distress.

  “Hey,” Christie said softly, getting up off the couch and coming over to her. “What’s up? It’s Luke again, huh?”

  They hadn’t talked about what happened with Luke in depth because Marisa hadn’t wanted to. And Christie hadn’t pressed. Good thing, too, because she knew what Christie would have said. Christie would have told her to go for it, which was the one thing she didn’t want to hear.

  Because you’re too afraid. Afraid you won’t be enough for him.

  Yeah, she was. Three cheers for cowards.

  “How do you do it, Chris?” Marisa heard herself ask. “How do you manage with Joseph’s ADHD?”

  “It’s not easy,” her friend said after a moment. “But we love each other. So we make it work.”

  “But what if it doesn’t?”

  Her friend grinned but behind it, Marisa caught a glimpse of her friend’s iron determination. “That is not an option.”

  It was wonderful to see Christie, who’d hadn’t had much confidence in herself, suddenly blossom with it. And ironic that she, who always thought she had lots of it, in the end had none.

  Thinking of Luke, thinking of trying to find him and talk to him, was like being in her father’s studio once again. Gazing at all the beautiful things she wouldn’t be able to make. Because, deep down, she was afraid she just didn’t have the ability.

  “So,” Christie said. “Why d’you ask that?”

  “Uh-oh,” Judith interrupted quietly. “Marisa. I think there’s someone here to see you.”

  Marisa turned, realizing that the shop had gotten quiet.

  A man was striding through the doorway. A tall man with immaculately coiffed black hair and a perfectly pressed suit. And gray eyes as focused as a beam of sunlight through a magnifying glass.

  Luke. How the hell did he know she was here?

  “He texted me trying to find you,” Christie murmured to her. “So I told him. Now’s your chance, Mar. Do it.”

  He came to a dead stop, staring at her, and the look in his eyes became scorching. His focus even more intent.

  And she wanted to run away, but he was blocking the door and she was wearing this stupid, stupid dress. God, what had she been thinking? But really, more importantly, what the hell was he doing here?

  “Luke,” she began. “I don’t know what you’re—”

  “Do you like it?”

  “What?”

  “The dress. Do you like the dress?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I’ll take it,” Luke said shortly to the saleswoman who was hovering at his elbow. He dug into his trousers, took out his wallet, and handed the woman his credit card.

  “Which one?” the woman asked him.

  “All of them.”

  “Hey,” Judith held up her hands. “You’re not buying my wedding dress.”

  “Fine,” Luke said without blinking. “Just the princess one, then.”

  Marisa stood there, openmouthed. He was buying her the dress? What the hell was he thinking?

  “Luke,” she started again.

  But before she could continue, he strode over to her, took her hands in his. “I want to show you something.”

  “I…What… Luke, I…”

  “Come with me, Marisa.”

  “What? Now?”

  “Yes.” His fingers threaded through hers, leading her toward the exit. And she knew she should pull away but there was something about the warmth of his fingers that made it impossible.

  “But my clothes…I need to get changed.”

  “No you don’t. What you’re wearing is perfect.”

  “Luke, I can’t…”

  “Come on, the taxi’s waiting.”

  He didn’t let go of her hand, only pausing by the counter to take back his credit card, before pushing out of the door and pulling her with him.

  “Go get him, Mar!” Christie yelled as the door closed.

  But she didn’t want to get him. She was standing on the sidewalk in a freaking wedding dress for God’s sake. And some crazy man, yes some crazy, beautiful man, was trying to make her get into a taxi.

  “Luke, for God’s sake,” she tried again as he pulled her into the cab with him.

  “Do up your seat belt,” he said, and she had to sit there while he rearranged the ridiculous tulle skirts to draw across the belt before securing it firmly.

  “If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to scream,” she finally said with what she thought was supreme patience.

  Making a final check on her belt, he looked at her. “I’m taking you back to my place.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I love you.”

  Unwanted tears started in her eyes. “I don’t…what has that got to do with anything?”

  “Wait. Only wait until you see what I have to show you.”

  Wait? He told her he loved her then expected her to wait? For what? She swallowed past the lump in her throat, blinked against the stupid tears. Then teared up again as he took hold of one of her hands while pressing another pristine white handkerchief into the other.

  Bloody man. Insane, crazy man.

  Luke didn’t speak for the rest of the journey and she wasn’t able to, too busy trying not to get her running mascara from ruining the dress. In the rearview mirror the driver kept staring at them, which didn’t help.

  “Congratulations,” the guy said at the end of the journey, and Luke actually smiled at him.

  God. It was true, he was insane.

  Clutching his handkerchief firmly, Marisa let herself be led through the front gate of his house.

  “Luke, for God’s sake. The driver—”

  “I’m sorry about the taxi. I didn’t want to be anxious about the drive. Come with me.”

  So she had no choice but to shut up as he led her around the side of the house and down a small path along the cliff top, to where a small flat space had been cleared. And where a little studio stood with big windows facing the view over the harbor.

  “What’s this?” she asked, finding it difficult to speak.

  “Go and look inside,” he said.

  So she did, cautiously pushing op
en the door. And her heart dropped away.

  There was a long bench set up with a whole lot of equipment around the walls. Familiar equipment. A kiln. A wet belt sander. A sandblaster. A special saw for cutting glass. All the things needed in a glass studio.

  Then everything began to run, more ridiculous tears filling her eyes so she could hardly see. She could sense him step up behind her, a tall warm presence at her back.

  “I know I don’t have much to offer you, Marisa Clair,” he said quietly. “The OCD makes me hell to live with and that’s not ever going to change. My parents hated it and God knows a lot of other people did, too. But I thought…if I could give you a shot at fulfilling your dreams, then maybe you might consider giving me a shot at fulfilling mine.”

  She didn’t turn, the tears running down her face, the sodden hankie making absolutely no impression on them. “I thought you said it was better that I go,” she said thickly. “I thought you didn’t want me to see you like that.”

  His hands on her shoulders, his touch so warm. Turning her around to face him. She didn’t want to, but he took her chin in his fingers, holding her so she couldn’t look away.

  “I thought so, too. But I was wrong, Marisa. Yes, the OCD is hard to live with and I hate that you had to see me when it was at its worst but…living without you is even worse than that. Living without you is impossible.”

  She blinked again but the tears wouldn’t stop. “It won’t work. You know it won’t. How can I be enough to help you with—”

  “No, I don’t know it won’t work. I can accept that managing the OCD won’t make it go away. I can accept that it will always be there. But I can’t accept not having you. I want everything. I want you to have your dreams and I want me to have mine. I want you in my life. You and our child. You’re enough. You’re more than enough, and if you need proof then I’ll do whatever I have to do to show you.”

  Her throat closed up, the emotions inside her so intense she couldn’t force out the words. He’d put her first. Put her dreams within reach. And yet now that the moment was here, all she felt was fear.

  Luke frowned, then took the hankie out of her nerveless fingers and wiped away the tears on her face. “Princesses shouldn’t cry,” he murmured.