“You didn’t cancel?”
“The photographer wants to push ahead. He has a deadline and thinks there will still be enough light, but I need to be there as soon as possible.”
“Are you sure you aren’t hurt?” Luke asked again. “I yanked your arm pretty hard.”
She gave him a crooked smile. “Better than a flat head.”
Luke still had bits of cement clinging to the top of his head, and she reached out and plucked them from his dark hair. Inches apart, his gray eyes met hers, and they both froze. It’s just the adrenaline, Dahlia told herself. Like yesterday. It doesn’t mean anything.
Except this time, it wasn’t just her hormones. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her so that she could feel safe. What was happening to her life?
“You’ve ruined another suit,” Dahlia said, to cover her thoughts.
Luke looked down at his filthy clothes. “At the rate we’re going, I won’t have any left.” He smiled. “Edgar was right. One of us is definitely having a dangerous stretch of bad luck.”
“Well, I’m one up on you. The robbery.” She reminded him when he raised his eyebrow.
“Good thing I’m here to save you, then. You’ll have to keep me around after today,” he teased. Dahlia knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but she felt a tug in her chest. The photo shoot was the last of the arranged press events before she was to sign her deal with the district attorney. She wouldn’t need Luke as a lawyer any longer.
Dahlia had grown used to his company over the past few days. She hated the reminder that it was ending. A new hopeful thought intruded. “You won’t be my lawyer anymore.”
Luke stilled, his eyes bouncing between hers as if he were trying to read her mind. “No, I won’t be.” His voice was husky, and her nerve endings lit up.
Trouble, the voice in her head whispered.You’re asking for trouble.
Edgar pulled up to her townhouse, and she and Luke hurried inside. Dahlia tossed her purse on the kitchen counter and pointed to the opposite side of the residence, toward her guest bedroom. “I don’t have any clothes for you, but you might want to get cleaned up,” she called, as she sprinted to her bathroom.
After taking the quickest shower of her life, Dahlia combed her hair to remove the snarls and tiny bits of cement still clinging in the thick mass. She decided there wasn’t time to wash and dry it, so she had to settle for a good brushing. She shook her hair out, and with a face free of makeup, she slipped into a loose, blue skirt and a white T-shirt.
Luke was rubbing his hair with a towel in her kitchen. For a split second, the hectic day fell away, and she took a moment to admire his muscular chest and the way a few droplets still clung to his bronzed skin.
She swallowed hard as a throb of lust pulsed through her and her mouth went dry. Luke looked up and caught her watching. His lips parting slightly as he stared at her.
“What?” she asked self-consciously, touching her face.
Dahlia rarely left the house without makeup. Early in her career Victor had harped on how important it was to be camera ready at all times. You never knew when the paparazzi would be waiting, he’d said. Not that they ever were—until this week, anyway. She suddenly regretted not taking the time to put on at least the basics.
“You’re beautiful.” His fervent voice sent a wave of heat through her. Luke’s eyes burned as they skimmed down her skirt to her bare feet. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he cleared his throat. “I mean, you’re always beautiful, but…” He trailed off as if he weren’t sure what he wanted to say.
Her heart turned over, and the butterflies stormed through her belly. There was no mistaking the look in his eyes.
“Not my normal look,” she said shyly, scooping up a pair of sandals. She grabbed her purse, aware that Luke hadn’t taken his eyes off her. Dahlia turned her head when she reached the door. “We need to go.”
Luke shook his head, red appearing high on his cheekbones. “Right.” He returned the towel to the guest bathroom and joined her at the door, buttoning up his shirt.
Dahlia sat next to him in the back seat and tried not to fixate on the muscled torso now hidden beneath the dirty dress shirt. Every time she peeked at him, she found his gaze already on her.
“Stop staring.” She whispered so Edgar wouldn’t hear.
Luke blinked. “You look so different. So much younger.”
Dahlia’s mouth fell open. “Once is a compliment, but you’re starting to make me wonder what I normally look like.”
“You look like a person,” Luke said in a low voice.
“I don’t normally look like a person?” Dahlia darted a glance to see if Edgar was listening. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Luke was staring at her like she was a puzzle he was dying to solve. “Normally, you look like how you’d expect a movie star to.”