Page 78 of Just Trouble

“But if I told you to smile more, youwouldsmite me.”

I have to cede that. Our gazes lock for one of those electric moments and I smile right into his eyes, a veritable welcome mat. He takes the hint and places his arm around my shoulders, leaning in to nuzzle me beneath my ear. He sighs contentment. “You smell good, Daph.”

“So do you. I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“I was missing you.” He presses a kiss to the top of my shoulder and I don’t care which parts of me he was missing. If he’s just here for sex, that’s fine by me. I’m going to make the most of his presence, for as long as it lasts. Those lashes sweep up and his gaze bores into mine. “But I’ll go, if you’d rather.”

I love that he gives me the choice.

“I was missing you, too,” I admit, watching his eyes light.

His gaze clings to mine. “Huge relief.”

“I’m not that scary.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself,” Luke replies in the low growl that makes me flutter.

I don’t understand how it can be both reassuring and thrilling to sit with him like this in the shadows, but I’ll go with it.

“You could have texted me, Daph.”

“Sex on demand?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Not what you want?”

“Notallthat I want.” We eye each other and then he kisses me, one of those smouldering slow ones that could start a conflagration. It certainly sets a fire in me.

He’s the one who pulls back and clears his throat. “Have dinner with me?” he asks finally.

“Oh. Boo. Just dinner?” I feign a pout.

Luke chuckles. “Daph, I’m trying to be a gentleman and court you…”

“Court me?” I sit up to look at him, assuming he’s joking. He looks completely serious. “How nineteenth century of you.”

“Court you,” he repeats with resolve. “I want more than a hook-up and I want you to know that it’s about more than sex. I didn’t make that clear by jumping right in, so we’ll start over.”

“I want more, too,” I admit and hear him catch his breath. “How are we starting over?

“With a dinner date. Friday night, if you’re free.”

I’m surprised and pleased by this. I like that he’s not taking me—or sex with me—for granted, and I can tell by his manner that this is important to him.

I have no objections to courtship, it turns out. “Okay.”

“I know just the place. You can’t wear a skirt.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m driving.” I realize he means we’re going on his bike, and that doubles up my anticipation. “I’ll pick you up at six.”

“What if it rains?”

“Then we’ll get wet. Suit up appropriately. Such are the limitations of motorcycles.”

I don’t tell him that Cameron calls them ‘donorcycles’. He’s probably heard the term before. “I could drive if it rains.”

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