Page 2 of Just Trouble

It’s what I do. The moat is filled and the gates are closed. Always and forever. Lesson learned.

It’s when his hand closes over mine—warm, firm, a solid grip—that I notice it. It’s Luke butnotLuke. Sure, he’s broader and older, and looks a bit more disgruntled than I ever remember him being. Determined, maybe. But there’s another change, something I can’t quite name. His lips are firm and drawn in a tight line right now, as if maybe he wanted to see my dad and is displeased to be forced to face the junior partner instead.

I could explain the merit of making an appointment to him, but I have no words.

He seems…wounded.

Oh.

There’s no oxygen left in my office after Mrs. Prescott shuts the door behind him, and not nearly enough space for two when one is Luke. “How about that,” Luke rumbles, sparing me a glance as he puts his helmet on my desk. “Abbie said you’d come back, but I didn’t believe it.” He’s talking about his sister and my best friend. The corner of his mouth almost lifts in a smile, one that makes me hot and cold. It’s the gleam in his eyes, the way he’s treating us like allies before I even know what he wants. I’m reminded of sleek predators—panthers maybe—who pounce on their victims before anyone even knows the hunt is on. “Don’t tell me you missed our hometown.”

“I did,” I say crisply. “Looks like you did, too.”

“Not a chance, Daph,” he says, making my name his own. I’m tempted to correct him, to tell him that everyone here calls me Ms. Bradshaw and that my friends call me Daphne, but I let it go.

For now.

What hurt him so badly? I want, against every speck of good sense I possess, to fix it.

His very presence shorts my circuits, proof positive I need to send him on his way ASAP.

“You could say I’m here for a good time, but not a long time.”

Excellent. We already agree on something.

He glances at the chair for clients and I invite him to take a seat with a gesture, then sit down behind my own desk. He pulls out a document from his portfolio. He’s watching me, but pretending not to.

I’m intrigued that he’s uncertain what I will do. I’m not the unpredictable one here.

“I may not be available for your schedule,” I say, hating how prim I sound.

Luke’s smile flashes, dazzling me for a moment. “Or you might be.” He nods at the document he’s holding. “Never take a pass on something before you’re certain what you’ll miss, Daph.”

It’s not bad advice and I have no quick answer.

I take the document.

It’s a list of addresses.

“It’s not a huge obligation, Daph. I want to buy these five properties from Cavendish Enterprises, and I need some help with both the offer and its execution…”

He’s referring to the corporation run by his father and brothers, which makes my reply automatic. “That would be a conflict of interest, as Cavendish Enterprises has Weatherby & Bradshaw on retainer.”

Luke pauses, impaling me with a very blue glance. It gives me shivers of the most excellent variety. “That’s your dad, though, right?”

“He is senior partner here since Mr. Weatherby retired.”

“What about you?” He braces an elbow on the chair and studies me. I wonder what he sees—or how much—and I don’t dare blink.

“What about me?” I repeat politely. “Cavendish Enterprises fill all of my billing hours.” I shrug, gesturing to the pile of paperwork. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Are you?” he asks under his breath and I flush, even though he isn’t expecting an answer. Luke shakes his head, still studying me, as if he can’t make sense of my presence at all. “You know, I didn’t believe Abbie. I was sure you’d have a big shiny condo in Toronto and a great job. Or maybe have a successful lawyer destined for great things by your side, and two adorable toddlers, a massive house in Lawrence Park. Maybe an even bigger one in Moore Park or Rosedale if the mister was doingwell.” I’m surprised that he knows that much about Toronto real estate. “But you’rehere.”

“I like it here.” I’m a little too vehement, but it’s done.

“Nobody likes it here,” Luke counters, impatient with the idea. “Anyone here just hasn’t figured out how to escape yet.” It’s a stunning condemnation of our hometown, but there’s truth in it too, enough truth to silence my objections. Empire isn’t what it was. It’s faded and become tired, a place of resignation, not of opportunity. I hate that. Luke fixes a look on me. “Did your lovesick lawyer follow you home?”

“No.” Too late I realize I should have denied the existence of said lawyer.

---