Page 25 of This Loving Feeling (Mirror Lake)

Oh, yes, she’d love to try him. A million different ways.No! Where were these thoughts coming from? She shook her head to stave them away. “My committee for the theater has botched the entertainment for the benefit, which is just under three weeks away, on June first. The lounge singer they asked can’t come and the only other choice is Victor Irving.” She was pleased when he winced at the name. “I hate to ask but ...”

“Consider it done.”

“Really?” Her heart gave a foolish thump. She was more pleased that he seemed to want to do it for her rather than the fact that she’d just scored a major star for the benefit.

“Anything for you, babe.”

“Thank you,” she managed. What remarkable eyes he had, depths of rich brown with a fathomless intensity that made her breathless. His gaze raked slowly over her in a way that started a smolder in the pit of her stomach that spread out to flame her cheeks. And other areas. “I—appreciate it.”

They whipped up breakfast in companionable silence. He worked efficiently, finishing the eggs, making toast, cutting strawberries, humming some catchy tune she’d never heard before. Probably his latest song. He’d surprised her—he didn’t seem like the type to know his way around a kitchen. Harris certainly played the helpless male around unprepared food, but then, his mom and three sisters had made fending for himself unnecessary.

She, meanwhile, tried to focus on not burning the bacon in light of the fact that she’d accidentally bumped into him a few times and had come way too close to that snake tattoo that wove its way around his arm. She fought the impulse to trace it ... with her tongue.

Oops, he was saying something. She had to stop her mind from wandering. She found him looking at her expectantly. “Wh ... what did you say?”

He was holding two plates. “Stevie’s still asleep. Let’s take our plates outside and eat, want to?”

It shocked her how easy it was to fall back into their old ways together. To pretend to forget the old wounds—not that she hadn’t forgiven, because Sam was a forgiving person, and she’d long ago accepted that they were done—

Well, it didn’t matter, right? They’d both moved on. She was so confident in that that she decidedwhy not. He was holding a steaming plate of eggs under her nose and a coveted cup of coffee. So she took both and headed outside.

They walked onto a stone patio, where there was a large round table covered with a big red umbrella. It skirted a large swimming pool where her nieces and nephews loved to swim on the weekends. Dr.Donaldson, the CEO of Mirror Lake Hospital, and his wife had been grateful that she was taking care of their house all summer. Sam didn’t mind keeping an eye on things and the place did have its perks. Living here temporarily was a nice bridge between her apartment lease running out and moving to Boston to be with Harris.

Lukas had just sat down when he said, “Be right back,” and ran into the house, returning a few seconds later with napkins.

“You went back for that?”

“And to make sure the other door is locked. I don’t want Stevie wandering out around the pool. I doubt he knows how to swim.”

“You can sign him up for lessons at the community pool. It’s where my nieces and nephews go. I don’t think lessons start till June.”

“Great idea.” They reached for their coffees at the same time. Sam stared out over the lake, watching early summer boaters cutting trails of white in the calm blue water. Felt the bright morning sun warm her skin. She loved summer here. Such a relief after the harsh winter, such a blessing.

They ate for a few minutes in silence, listening to the birdsong and the distant drone of boat engines putt-putting around the lake. She tried to focus on the lake and not his naked torso, which was very, very distracting.

Sam wasn’t very brave, but she realized that life only gave you a few rare opportunities to understand the past. Maybe because of all the confusion Lukas had stirred up in her, she trulywantedto understand. So she could sweep all those old tangled memories out of her brain. Lay them—and him—to rest.

She needed resolution. She owed that much to Harris. She wanted to bring a clean slate to their future. Not a nagging splinter in her finger that resurfaced every so often and drove her crazy.

“Why did you never call me, Lukas?”

He literally choked on his eggs, and she found herself patting his back—oh, God, she touched that warm, muscley skin, and why the hell could he not have put on a shirt?—until finally he took a swig of coffee and stopped.

She didn’t miss the flash of panic in his eyes. It gave her a little edge and made her sit up a little straighter. “I want to know. Six years ago you handed me a car and some keys and a cryptic message and left forever.”

He had the decency to blush. Which was hard to detect with his olive skin, but she saw it, and it pleased her. “I was in love with you,” she said. “I kept hoping you’d come back. I even went to one of your concerts, about a year later, all the way to New York City, hoping to run into you.”

His eyes looked a little watery, but of course it was from the choking. He reached across the table and grasped her hand. She gasped from the shock of it—the strength of his grip, the warmth of his fingers, the coolness of all those silver rings. A sizzling sensation of electricity passed between them. Instinctively, she tried to pull away, but he held on tightly.

“I never meant to hurt you, Samantha.” He seemed like he meant it, meant every word. If only she could believe him.

“But you did. I...I’m just trying to understand.”

“I was a nothing and a nobody.” A bitter edge cut through his voice. “I had nothing to offer you.”

The idea that he ever would have thought of himself as nothing saddened her.Hereyes really did tear up, which was ridiculous, and she swiped at them with her free hand. “I never thought that. You—you saved me from making terrible mistakes. If you wouldn’t have come along when you did I don’t know what I—”

“You would’ve been fine without me,” he said gently, and his voice, that beautiful, amazing voice, low and deep and perfect—it just slayed her. Part of her felt like she was twenty again, sitting here, thrilled by his touch.

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