Page 34 of This Loving Feeling (Mirror Lake)

“Like what?” Was he looking at her all lusty-like? Like he wanted to ravish her? Because that’s what he felt like doing. And he wasn’t sorry, either. But he tried to be a gentleman. “Like I’m judging you? I’m not. Relationships are complicated.” That sounded smart, but what did he know? He avoided them as fastidiously as he did expired cans of food.

“No, like—wolfish. Like you’re thinking of sex.”

Busted again.“I nearly always think of sex.” And how it would be with her. How it was, a very long time ago. Until he ended it. Stupid, stupid him.

Even in the wash from the pale bluish pool lights, he saw her blush. He said hurriedly, “But don’t take it personally. I’m a guy, that’s what we do.” He’d just insulted his entire sex as Neanderthals to cover up the fact that he was thinking of her. Only her.

He was startled to realize he wanted to comfort her. Make her smile. Take her beautiful face in his hands and feel the softness of her skin, run his thumb along the soft pillow of her lower lip. Then kiss her. She would taste sweet and cold like the ice cream with a trace of chocolate. Perfect.

“Trust me, Samantha. I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“That look is more like you want afling.”

Was the Pope Catholic? He shrugged his shoulders. “You’re not a fling kind of woman.” He flicked his eyes up, catching her off guard. “Are you?” He considered the end results of a quick, lusty affair. Getting her out of his system for good. Finally killing the holdover from his youthful fantasy. Reality couldn’t possibly be as good as how he’d built her up in his mind.

“No.” She dropped the spoon into the ice cream and he picked it up and took a bite.

Dammit. “Then we’re clear on that,” he said. “But that doesn’t make you any safer from me.” Whoa, where had that come from? Maybe Harris’s idiocy had made him bold. Or his own. Or maybe just sitting across from her had stirred him. After all, the heart wants what it wants. His had always wanted her and he expected it always would.

She snorted.Snorted. Good thing his ego was healthily overinflated. “Oh, come on, Lukas. I’m not nineteen any more. Don’t flatter yourself with having that much power over me.”

He put down the spoon and looked at her. “It’s not a matter of power. I’ve always thought you were beautiful, Samantha. I’ve always wanted you. That hasn’t changed.”

“You certainly had a funny way of showing that. You broke up with me right after my brother died.”

“Sam.” His voice cracked a little.Shit.No, couldn’t allow these old feelings he’d swept under the doormat for so many years to rear up and mess with both their lives again. “I didn’t have much going for me back then, and everyone knew it. Your family knew, if you didn’t. I took the opportunity to cut if off between us permanently so you wouldn’t try and get back together. It was the perfect opportunity to get you to hate me.”

“That is completely effed up and I do not understand.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I never hated you, Lukas. I hated what you did to us.” He saw her swallow. “Are you telling me after all this time that you didn’twantto break up with me?”

Of course he hadn’t. But he’d become obsessed with the fact that he was following down the same path as his parents. His greatest fear. Being a nothing, like his father had told him so many times. He had no money, no schooling, and he was out of a job. The only thing he had left was drive, and he swore he would use every drop of that to get himself out. At that time, he couldn’t see any way of doing that with her.

What if he came clean? Told her everything—that she was the one woman he wasn’t able to keep his feelings from tangling with. Pulling away from her had been the hardest thing he’d done, and he’d paid the price.

His angst had led to a thousand songs. Fueled all his creative energy. But that was a bitch of a muse to have, and he’d already said way too much.

“I ... I’m just saying that I felt I had nothing to offer you. You were out of my league.”

Things had changed. He’d become something. He’d grown up, become a man, knew who he was. But his career demanded him to be on the road. Even with the house he’d bought, how much time would he really be able to spend there? His plan was to take Stevie with him on tour at summer’s end. He was still trying to figure out how to be what Stevie needed; that was his priority. His life was on the road, while she fit in as snugly to Mirror Lake as Stevie’s omnipresent blanket.

He’d experienced the fluke of success. But deep down, he was still a man who wasn’t sure he had the capability to love anyone. He didn’t know how to love such a woman and a fling ... well, he wasn’t about to start that with her boyfriend in the picture. That would just muck up the waters even worse, wouldn’t it? And Stevie didn’t need anything more mucking up his life either.

Still, the temptation to touch her was strong. He wanted to reach up and smooth those tiny lines between her eyes. Hell, he wanted to drag his hands through all those thick curls and plant his mouth over hers and kiss her and claim her and make love to her right on the concrete, tell her he’d never gotten over her. That he probably never would.

Lukas forced his facial expression into neutral. He’d always prided himself on being a master of his own emotions. For so many years he’d hidden his feelings. Every time he didn’t get adopted. Every time he had to say good-bye to another family who might have been The Ones. He’d learned to hide his loneliness, his hurt. No reason to stop now, especially since there was still no way for them to be together.

“By the way,” he said, standing. “The remodelers and I came to a compromise on my art studio. It’s going to have two walls of windows instead of skylights. And the kitchen is almost done. We should be out of the guesthouse by the weekend.”

“No worries. You’re welcome here for as long as you need.”

“Thanks. And thanks for the ice cream.” He sucked at deep conversation, but he decided to give it a whirl. “Sam, I hope we can become friends one day. Let the past be the past.”

“Sure, Lukas. Of course,” she said. But she sounded tired and sad.

He was just about to walk into the house when a child’s cry pierced the air. Panicked, he slid the glass door open and ran into Stevie’s room, Sam trailing right behind him.

Stevie was standing by the bed rubbing his eyes and crying. Instinctively, Lukas knelt down beside him and held him by the shoulders. “Hey, buddy. What’s wrong?”

Stevie looked up. His eyes were wet with tears and full of fear. He catapulted into Lukas’s arms and wrapped his hands in a death grip around his neck.

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