Page 7 of Just Trouble

LUKE

Daphne Bradshaw is looking at me like I’m a lunatic, and I can’t entirely blame her. I could have presented this idea more coherently if I hadn’t been so surprised—and distracted. I knew, of course, that she’d grown up, at least in theory, but I wasn’t expecting the reality.

She’s as brilliant as ever. Intimidatingly so. I’ll bet that she’s just as idealistic and principled.

But she’s also gorgeous.

And inscrutable. She’s watching me like I’m an alien specimen, one that defies all logic. Maybe I do.

I was ready for her to be smarter than me, but this new combination is throwing my game.

And that’s a novelty, too.

I love women. I love how they smell and how they feel, how they think and how they taste, and how so many of them make little sounds when they’re surprised. I love how different they are from me and from each other, and I could argue that I’ve had a plan to appreciate each and every one of them individually. I’m not intimidated by women and even the most beautiful of them never throws my game.

But then there’s Daph. I have no idea what she’s thinking, and that worries me.

It undermines any strategy I might have. It’s prompting me to tell her more than I should, because my thoughts have gone straight to the gutter. She’s one person I should never ever mess with, she’s always been off-limits, and yet…and yet, I think being with her would be awesome.

Even more incredible is that this side of me died along with Taylor. I haven’t been with a woman since that night. I don’t think I’ve looked at a woman since—well, not in that way, anyway. (Granted, I looked at Sylvia when she gave me a very cold bath, but there was nothing sexy about that exchange.)

Daph has jolted that back to life again. I could very easily become fascinated by her—which would be exactly the wrong tactic. She’s not the kind of person who responds to charm, who can be seduced or beguiled or persuaded by anything other than cold hard logic. I’m trying to get Spock to help me here and she has the advantage.

I remember that seriousness about her. I remember a girl with braces, a cloud of red hair and legs that went on for days. I remember a good girl with a little secretive smile, one that hinted she wasn’t always such an angel. I was intrigued by her, my sister’s best friend, but knew better than to get close. She was beyond my reach, and even if that was the very best way to get my attention back in the day—it still works pretty well now, evidently—I knew better than to mess with Richard Bradshaw’s daughter.

And here she is, sleek and professional like she’s corporate counsel for a Fortune 100 company. Her hair has darkened to auburn and is twisted up in a sleek updo. Her silver-gray suit is conservative, polished and expensive. Her legs still go on forever, and when she folds her arms across her chest to give me a look, the pose hints at some sweet curves hidden away.

Does she know that suit perfectly matches the gray of her eyes?

Does she ever wear purple or teal, or any other rich tone that would make her a knock-out?

Is her hair still long and wavy? What is it about that pale pink lipstick that makes me want to eat it off her? (Hint—it’s the lips beneath it.) I want to know all the details and more—what kind of lingerie does she wear, and will I ever get to see it?—but alienating the only possible ally I might have in this venture is every kind of stupid.

I’ve been a lot of things in my time, but I’ve never been stupid.

I push impulse aside and focus on the plan. I can smell her skepticism, but even if it’s at record levels for Daph, she’s got nothing on Patrick and my half-brothers.

“Let me backtrack a bit,” I say.

She looks at her watch pointedly and I start talking faster.

“So, Sylvia is still mad at me. Fair enough, if surprising. I called Una to find out more, maybe to learn how I could make amends.”

“Sylvia’s grandmother.”

I nod.

“Inspired by your friend’s ‘do better’ talk.”

Exactly. We’re on the same proverbial page, at least. “And Una, I’ve got to tell you, needs more people to talk to. I listened to her for an hour and she wasn’t nearly done.”

Daph bites back a smile. “When you live alone in the forest and never leave home, conversation can be hard to come by.”

“True enough. She told me two salient things.” I count them off on my fingers. “First, she has cancer.”

Daph straightens and I get a peek behind the mask. She’s concerned. I’m glad for any sign that she’s alive in there. “I didn’t know…”

“No, she’s not telling anyone, least of all Sylvia, because she doesn’t want Sylvia to feel compelled to come back to Empire for any reason.”

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