Page 35 of Such A Good Guy

“Please never mention what happened in Nunavut ever again,” I begged, my face flaming.

“But I want to do it again,” Luke objected. “I want everything with you, Luna. I want to be your husband and the best father to your children.”

I sniffed and tossed my head. Luke could not seriously want to settle down. He would change his mind when he saw the stunning women I found after the show.

Perhaps he was just too gentlemanly to try to fuck anyone in front of me.

Well, I would make it impossible to resist.

Obviously, I would find a good variety of women and then he could pick between them.

The show went perfectly as usual. Luke had such natural, easy stage presence, and he fitted his performance easily for a smaller, more intimate venue like this.

I was busy trying to pick the hottest women out of the audience for a meet and greet, which meant I could ignore the way his strong fingers moved over the guitar strings, and the way I now knew exactly how those strong fingers could move over me, too.

Ignatius sidled up to me as I was writing down seat numbers and locations.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

“Fine,” I answered distractedly. I had been thinking of him as a mysterious and attractive romantic possibility, but orgasming from Luke spanking me had complicated matters. If Ignatius spanked me, would it have the same effect? I wished I was the sort of person who could go around asking men to spank them. I wanted to prove it wasn’t that I was attracted to Luke.

“What do you want?” I asked when he seemed reluctant to speak.

“How much do you know about Luke O’Neill?” he said in a low tone.

I glanced at the stage, where Luke had brought up a 95-year-old granny to dance with him, her face looking like she had just won a million dollars as he moved back and forth, his fingers strumming that guitar with easy, unmistakable talent, his face and energy unmatchable.

“A pretty long time,” I said. “Why?”

“Just. . .be careful,” he said, his dark eyes looking down earnestly at me.

“Be careful of what?” I asked.

“Just—be careful, that’s all,” he said again.

“Of what?” I repeated, but he refused to say.

I wished I was a more romantic type of person so I could appreciate this pointless warning, but unfortunately it just pissed me off.

Be careful of what?

After the show, I went up to the women I had picked out and invited them back for a fan meet and greet.

They were all absolutely thrilled, and I talked up how great of a guy Luke was confidently to each one.

“You would think he was full of himself,” I confided, “but really he is so down-to-earth and humble.”

Well, that was true anyways.

“You might think he’s a playboy,” I continued, “but he isn’t. He really just wants a traditional relationship with a family and children.”

Could that seriously be true? I began to worry.

Luke wasn’t a playboy, but he had had other girlfriends, right? Right?

I tried desperately to remember college days. I’d literally never seen him so much as talk to another girl. Fuck fuck fuck. How long had he been interested in me? He was making me uneasy with how he was talking like it was a sure thing I’d change my mind. He hadn’t beenthatobsessed, had he?

I found a tiny black-haired woman with braids, a statuesque brunette, a tall blonde with broad shoulders and a lovely baritone voice, even twin sisters with pink hair. There were dozens of the absolutely hottest women in the entire city of Montreal for his sampling pleasure.

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