Another few seconds. “Hey, how are you?”
Even from the distance she could hear the anxious tones of the woman on the other end. Asking about Luke, voicing her fears. Seeking his reassurance.
And he gave it.
“Don’t be crazy. Of course you can do it. You never needed me. It’s all within you.” He listened some more. “So he’s taller than me? Well then, that’s perfect. It’s going to be fine.” He leaned forward, rubbing his face with the palm of his hand. “Yeah, no, I’m fine. Just needs time to heal. I’ll be watching you on the day and shouting loud. But you just need to forget about me and get on with it. Focus. You can do it.”
As if anyone could forget about Luke?
He ended the call and Lexie knew she couldn’t ignore the different—difficult—tension that emanated from him now. Nor could she ignore the fact that he’d just proved her wrong—he did care about other people. Some, anyway.
“That was your runner?” she couldn’t resist asking the obvious, wanting to open up the conversation.
“Kate, yeah.”
“Is she okay?”
“She will be,” he answered briefly. “She’s got drive.”
Lexie hesitated, unsure if she should pry—but then asked anyway. “Why do you do it?”
He sat back and breathed a long sigh out. “The chance to help someone reach their goal? Achieve something they’ve always wanted to?” He shook his head. “That’s an amazing feeling.”
“But what about you? You just said you wanted to win. You were an amazing runner at school.”
He laughed. “I’m good, but I’m not that good.” He stretched out his sore leg. “Helping Kate was the best thing I could do with what talent I have. Helping her win is how I get to win.”
Okay, so he was totally Mr. Perfect. And so damn easy to fall for. The trouble was that so many women fell for him. Lexie tensed at the thought. Then it hit her—the recognition that in part she shared the same drive as him—the desire to win. She wanted to win, to be the one—the only—woman who had him. Except for Luke there would never be just one.
Defiance bubbled. She hadn’t realized she’d been on slow burn, but suddenly anger threatened to boil over. He liked a challenge? Well, maybe she did now, too. Hadn’t that been Vietnam and Africa and China to her? Challenges? Maybe she was looking at Luke all wrong. He was challenging her, but maybe she could challenge him right back.
He seemed to want her, or to toy with her at any rate. But he wasn’t having her. For once he wasn’t getting his own way. And she wanted to make him pay for trying it on again—to call him on it at the very least. This time it wasn’t going to be Luke walking off without a second glance. It would be Lexie.
…
Luke inched away from her, ruing the way the bus seats had them sitting so close to each other. He’d been mistaken in thinking he could flirt with her—that he could have all that was forbidden the last time they’d shared a roof. This time with her today had been sweet torment. But though she might be Ms. Independent Traveler, Lexie Petersen was still a good girl who deserved a great guy. Definitely a ring not a fling woman. He’d better back off. Anyway, she’d made him feel uncomfortable with the way she looked at him. As though she was seeing right through him and wasn’t sure she liked what she saw.
Because he liked her. He really liked her—it wasn’t all just physical lust. And he didn’t want to mess her life up any more than it was already. She’d had a raw deal in her last job and she was here to find her feet. She didn’t need him playing with her—because that’s all he was doing, right? Looking for some light fun.
But Lexie had this dignity about her. And suddenly he didn’t feel as if he could live up to her high standards.
They got off the bus. It was only a short walk around the corner to his apartment in Chelsea. Even so, he had to go embarrassingly slowly.
As they got to the stairs inside his building, she turned to him. “You need to lean on me to get up here?” she asked him, a distinct challenge in her tone.
“Of course not.” He took each step slowly. Given that he was already in a bad mood, it didn’t take much to get outraged. “I might limp, but I don’t need a crutch.”
“Oh, I wondered…” she sent him a look. “Seeing how you’ve been leaning on me all day.”
He stopped in the hallway outside his door. “Leaning on you?”
She reached up on tiptoes and practically purred at him. “Yeah, you know, holding my hand, putting your arm along my shoulders. Touching all the time. You know, Luke, if you’re going to start a fire, you better be sure you can put it out.” She didn’t step back as he advanced a pace.
He gaped—what the hell was she doing? For a second he thought he’d imagined it, but as he stepped closer he could see the way her nipples had tightened and could feel her warm breath on his neck. Luke was well used to reading a woman’s signals, but this wasn’t what he’d expected from Lexie this second, and he wasn’t sure he could trust his intuition. “Do you want it to be put out?” he asked. Did she want him to put out her fire?
She merely shrugged. But then she nearly floored him. “Are you hungry, Luke?”
Luke wasn’t sure whether to take the question literally or not. She had a look in her eye he’d never seen before. Adrenaline shot down his spine, sending every sense on high alert. “Uh…”
She smiled. It was that impish Lexie smile that had always been so damn elusive. And right now it held a touch of wicked. “I’ll make us dinner.” She stepped aside and waited for him to unlock the door. He fumbled, his brain struggling to relay the instructions to his fingers. It was too busy replaying her little purring speech of a second ago.
But as soon as he got the door open, she walked toward the kitchen. “I’d like to cook. It’s the least I can do given you’re putting me up.”
Damn. She’d really meant hungry for food, then.
“Uh, okay.” He hobbled down the hall and hid his disappointment by scooping up a ridiculously ecstatic Mango and carrying him into the kitchen after Lexie.
She was already fishing in the cupboard. Luke eased onto a stool on the far side of the counter, unable to resist staying to watch. Shame she wasn’t in the gold lace thing. He’d never be able to stand in his kitchen again without remembering the sight of her reaching up to a cupboard in that apron that didn’t quite hide all the good bits.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said weakly. “We can order in.”
“It’s my pleasure,” she lifted her face and smiled at him.
Oh hell, he was screwed. How was a guy supposed to hold back from trying when she gave him a look like that? “What are you making?”
She had a bowl out and was shaking flour into it.
“You still love pizza?” she asked.
He smiled, felt something hot kick in his chest. “I’m a Marchetti, aren’t I?”
Her smile widened. “Everyone loves pizza.”
“Yeah, but only a Kiwi like you would put potato on it.” His mother and Dani had been the ones to teach her how to make a good thick-crust, homemade pizza. Family recipe and everything—one that he knew by heart too. And to their collective horror Lexie had then put thick slices of potato on it. Though in fairness it had tasted quite good. Extremely filling, but good.
She laughed, obviously remembering that incident too. “Well, you need to carbo-load for your running.”
“I’m not running now.” But that didn’t eat him up as much as it had yesterday—he was too consumed by thoughts of her.
“You still need to keep your energy up.”
Had she emphasized the word “up” or was he just spacing out? But he hadn’t had the painkillers yet—it couldn’t be drugs making him think lustfully all the time.
“To help your recovery, of course,” she added softly.