Irresistibly Exotic Men: Bed of Lies / Falling For Dr Dimitriou / Her Little Spanish Secret. Laura Iding
she slammed the car door and strode up the porch steps, the mouthwatering smell of garlic and onions hit her as soon as she swung the door open.
With a thick swallow and deep breath, she walked into the kitchen then peeked in the oven.
Lasagna.
Her smile stretched as she caught sight of the newly hinged pantry door, then the clean sink, the dust-free countertop….
And a bunch of potted gerberas in the center of the kitchen table.
Luke had certainly made himself at home.
“Luke?” She walked slowly into the living room only to finally notice the ominous silence.
“Hello?” She went to the back door and looked out. The silence was so thick she could have walked on it. Despite her quiet reassurances, panic slowly bubbled to the surface.
She was about to race up the stairs, but opted to explore the backyard further. It sloped down toward the riverbank and could obscure her vision of a fully grown man.
Sure enough, when she strode over the rise there he sat on the grass, his back to her, reclining on his elbows, his face accepting the late sunshine in lazy worship.
Beth had to take another inward breath to calm her pounding heart, gently tugging on her necklace as the beat gradually slowed.
Luke must have sensed her, because he turned, sending her a smile that heated her quicker than a January summer’s day—and her heart picked up again. “Hey, there.”
She swallowed, shading her eyes with a hand. “Hi.”
He turned fully this time, sprang to his feet with all the fluid motion of a man who kept his body in perfect shape. “You cooked,” she said faintly.
“I did promise you lasagna.”
She returned his smile, clamping down on the sudden surge of need. Nervously, she rubbed one palm against her leg.
Luke shoved his hands into his back pockets and the T-shirt pulled taut across his chest, leaving her breath in a hitch as muscles strained against well-worn cotton.
“How was work?”
“Good.”
“No phone calls, no problems?”
“If you don’t count the usual ‘where’s our money?’ call from the bank.”
He frowned. “I can fix that.”
Beth shrugged. “I’ve handled much worse.”
“Yeah, but they’re not allowed to harass you. Let me deal with it.”
Suddenly tired of fighting, Beth nodded. “Okay.”
His eyes arrowed in on hers, surprise flaring.
“Why are you so quick to distrust everyone, cara?”
She closed her eyes briefly and considered dancing around that question. Honesty seemed less draining.
“Look, my dad was a serial cheater. He left when I was five then came back a year later. My mum took him back and for a while, it was good … until I turned ten and he left again. Mum finally had enough and we moved away and got on with our lives.”
If he sensed more to her story, he didn’t let on. “And all this—me, your runaway employee—isn’t helping, right?”
“Right.”
Her gaze skittered away, telling Luke there was more but she wasn’t about to share.
The sudden urge to throttle someone flared. Irrational, absurd, yeah, but he felt it nonetheless.
“My parents moved from Italy to Australia when I was six,” he said instead, shifting his weight to the back foot. She blinked but said nothing, and Luke continued. “They struggled all their lives to make a living. I mean, really struggled—we lived in a small rural town, trying to survive on the takings from their small fruit-and-veg store. But with the cyclones, drought and rain, plus the huge supermarket chains pushing us out, we were frequently without power and water. It was—” he dragged a hand through his hair, pushing back all those old memories “—frustrating. And after they died, I started to hate them for that.”
“Why?”
“Because they never told me about my mother’s brother, Gino. Apparently, he’d offered them money, a house and a job when they first got here, but they refused. They were deeply proud and deeply religious, and gambling was a huge sin. So when they died and Gino and Rosa suddenly appeared, it just gave me two more people to blame.”
Beth bit down on her lip, watching him shift uncomfortably then glance away. She wanted to go to him, to hold him, to connect and soothe and comfort. She’d even started to move, rolling her weight forward in anticipation, until he suddenly turned to the house and she stopped dead.
“I should go and check on dinner,” he said with a half smile over his shoulder. “Coming?”
She tucked her hair behind her ears, feeling foolish. “Yeah.”
And then she followed him inside.
They ate dinner in a strange, uncomfortable silence, almost as if Luke had regretted sharing and was waiting for the right moment to take it all back.
That kiss had started it. Since then, their simmering attraction had cooled to arm’s-length standoffishness, and despite the good talking-to she’d given herself, Beth felt oddly disappointed.
But instead of meeting the challenge when she felt his eyes infrequently graze over her, she focused on the tabletop, at the small knots and flaws in the heavy pine, at the scores of marks worn into the wood over the years.
Finally she finished her food, and with an inward sigh of relief, stood. Luke followed.
“Let me clear up,” he offered.
“There’s no need.”
“I want to do it.”
She clamped down on her frustration. “Okay. You can stack the dishwasher.”
They let the mundane task of clearing away the table fill the void, until she went for a plate at the same time as Luke.
Once again their hands met, then their eyes.
Beth didn’t know where to look. If she stepped back, he’d know she was nervous, and if she stayed where she was, he’d think she didn’t mind him touching her. But the truth was, she was minding less and less.
“Sorry,” she muttered and relinquished the plate.
As he stacked the dishwasher, she busied herself with the coffee.
You’re hopeless at trying to pretend he isn’t affecting you, that his kiss was no big deal.
And for every good reason she came up with for keeping her distance, she had only one very strong one why she shouldn’t.
You want him.
“I called Rosa,” Luke said suddenly. “I’m seeing her Sunday night.”
“Just you?”
At his nod, she shook her head. “Oh, no. You are not leaving me out of this.”
“Beth …”
“No, Luke.”
He scowled, and finally his eyes revealed something more—anger. “This is personal. To me. Okay?”
Great, throw her words back in her face. “And what about our promise to share information?” The heat from his scrutiny made her cheeks warm, and for a second she stood there in guilty silence, thinking he’d call her on it. “Look, we’re in it together. Right?”
Those seductive eyes were blacker than a starless night and revealed nothing. “I don’t want you involved in my