Page 5 of This Loving Feeling (Mirror Lake)

CHAPTER 2

“Be there in a sec,” Lukas Spikonos said to his bodyguards as he exited the gym and stood beneath an old beech tree. Charles and James—not everChuckorJim—were the most tight-assed guys he knew, and from the looks they were giving him, they were not happy he was standing alone in plain sight and not locked up in his tour bus across the parking lot safe and sound. Sure, it had taken a while to clear away all the kids, but they were just being kids and he’d been happy to spend time with them.

It wasn’t like midnight in the Mirror Lake High School parking lot was a dangerous place. He snorted, thinking it might be if Samantha ever came out. He tugged a cigarette out of his jacket pocket and flicked his wrist at the guys to at least get them to stop standing ten feet away staring at him while he snuck a smoke. He took a long pull and closed his eyes, trying to conjure the image that he was a normal person standing by himself under a tree. When he opened his eyes, the guys were still there, with their backs to him but standing sentinel nevertheless. “Hey, guys,” he called. “No one’s here. Okay to leave.”

They exchanged worried glances.

“Seriously. This isMirror Lake.” The two men stepped into the shadows of the trees between him and the bus. At least he couldn’t see them anymore. Even if he still felt their presence.

Privacy was nonexistent in this business, one of the things Lukas disliked the most about it. Not that it didn’t have its moments—he often experienced a freedom when he sang that he’d never felt doing anything else. Music spoke to him in a language that he felt down to his soul. Lately, though, he’d felt restless. Lonely. Confined by the fact that since his fame had skyrocketed, he could no longer walk around in public without a disguise and a lot of planning. He was grateful to take a few more minutes in the fresh air before he could bring himself to retire for the evening inside that claustrophobic bus.

What the hell had he been thinking, dragging Sam up on stage? That was audacious and impulsive, a side effect of his passionate Greek nature. Judging by the number of cell phone camera flashes, he’d pay for it tomorrow.

He’d needed to know so many things. What she looked like after six years—still just as beautiful in that all-American-girl way, with her coppery spiral curls springing everywhere, her vibrant green eyes warm and wide. They didn’t hold even a trace of welcome, at least not for him, and who could blame her? But man oh man, the woman still stirred him and set his blood on fire. If calling her up there had been a test, he’d gotten an F.For completely effed up. If he’d thought that six years could dim the feelings he’d buried down deep for so long, he was completely, completely wrong.

He didn’t blame her for being angry. He’d left without explanation. Actually, he’d ripped himself away. She’d never know what leaving her had cost him. Later, when he’d combined his music with her words on a lark, he’d had no idea the resulting song would hit big and make him into a star. No wonder she hated him. What she didn’t know was that every song he’d written since had a piece of her in it.

Not that he was coming back to be with her. From what he knew, she was practically engaged. He just wanted ... he wasn’t sure what. Forgiveness? Friendship? Maybe the freedom from being tormented by her memory all these years. All he knew was that if he could see her, talk to her, make some kind of amends ...

Oh, hell. Who was he kidding? The moment he’d seen her, he’d lost all control. He’d kissed her like it was his last act on earth. He’d been simply ... overcome. Overwhelmed. Another reason for her to be furious at him. What thehellhad he been thinking, coming back here?

He didn’t really have a choice, did he? Mirror Lake was as close to home as he’d ever come. And right now he desperately needed a home.

Before anyone had noticed his entrance, when his men were still staking out the place for safety, he’d spied her talking to students, laughing and gesturing with her hands in that big way of hers. When she talked, her whole body talked, too—her eyes danced, her arms waved. As a girl of nineteen, she’d barely been able to rein in that exuberant nature.

He’d wanted her badly back then, when he was a low-on-the-totem-pole car mechanic with no family and no money. No parents to help him get to college. Or anyone to give him any kind of help or advice. A target for the more well-off kids to mock.

Then a miracle had happened. In a few years, he’d sung his way out of obscurity and become unconscionably rich. His face was a front-and-center staple on the grocery store tabloids. As his fame grew, his privacy shrunk. He’d never realized how much he’d valued solitude and privacy—until they’d vanished.

Tonight he’d hung around the gym for a long time after his performance, talking with the kids. Dancing with any and all of them. Trying to deflect the words of admiration and praise that made him so uncomfortable. Lukas didn’t want to be worshipped. He wanted—no, he needed—a place where he could have a bit of privacy and recharge before he faced the crowds. And Mirror Lake would be perfect for that.

His roadies carried his guitar and props back to the bus. From his spot under the tree, he watched the last of the kids trickle out of the gym. Finally,shewalked out. He took one last drag on his cigarette, pulled it from his lips, and crushed it beneath his foot.

Samantha said good-bye to the fellow teacher she’d walked out with and headed to her car, which was parked close to his tree.

He waited until she put the key into the lock to speak. “Nice night to put the top down.”

She startled. Dropped the keys. Bent slowly to pick them up and when she straightened, her face was calm. Too calm. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Waiting for you.” It was the truth. He was no good at lying, although he’d done his share of it to her in the past. A frown creased her brow. The wind had blown her curls into her face and she pushed them back with her hand.

“It was nice of you to come back for the kids, Spike,” she said warily. Despite her fury, she’d found something nice to say. That was just like her.

He laughed.

“What is it?” She sounded offended.

“No one’s called me that in a long time.” He stopped himself from pacing, a nervous habit, and took a good look at her. Same fresh face, same big, stunning eyes that were giving him a look.

He hated that look. Like he was a spider that had climbed the wall near her bed and she was about to bolt. Or squash him into a tiny, juicy streak on the wall.

“Don’t be angry with me,” he said. It came out sounding more like pleading. God, what mistake wouldn’t he make tonight? He should just pack it up now. Except he needed to talk to her.

“Angry?” She snorted. “Just because you left with barely a word and used my poem without permission to make yourself famous. Why should I be angry?”

“So youdidmiss me.” He couldn’t help smiling. She was still so full of all that fabulous passion. He wanted to tell her how often he’d thought of her—every single time he sang that godforsaken song, for starters—but that would make her run screaming for sure.

He reached forward and pulled the keys out of her hand. She allowed it but stabbed him with a glare. He examined the key chain he’d made for her years ago. A pair of hammered silver wings. Had she taken flight, as he’d wished her to those fateful years ago? Had she spread her wings so she could really fly? From the information he’d gathered on her, he didn’t think so.

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