Page 69 of Just Like in the Movies

‘It felt like I’d taken advantage of you.’

‘What?’ he croaked. Jesus, seriously?

‘At a time when you were obviously very vulnerable.’

‘Vulnerable how?’ he asked, because his brain was starting to knot.

‘After everything your mother had told you about your father and Matty that day,’ she said and the fog of confusion started to lift.

Shit! Of course. He’d let slip that he was the one who had found his father’s bloated corpse hanging from a light fixture in his Montecito bathroom.

Thank Christ he hadn’t gone into any of the details.

But even so, he should have figured this might be Ruby’s reaction. Because she was that kind of a woman. Unlike most of the people he knew, she took responsibility for her actions, and faced the consequences without complaint. Wasn’t that exactly how she’d reacted when they’d gotten arrested after scattering Matty’s ashes? Taken all the blame and made no excuses.

He should have realised by spilling his guts she’d somehow feel responsible for his shit now, too.

‘What your mother told you had obviously upset you quite a lot,’ she continued. ‘And given what had happened before, with your father, your emotional equilibrium was shot that night. You needed comfort and support and …’ She sighed, a heavy sigh which reverberated in the pit of his stomach, making the twist of embarrassment and incredulity burn. But beneath the burn was a weird glow.

Sure he’d been surprised – maybe even a little shocked – by what his mom had told him. And, yeah, he’d wanted Ruby that night so he could forget about it all. But vulnerable? Heck no.

He just wasn’t the vulnerable type.

You had to grow a thick skin fast – and learn basic survival skills at an early age – to deal with the kind of nomadic rootless childhood he’d been given. And become mature ahead of schedule if both your parents had treated responsibility like a disease. But there wasn’t a thing about his childhood he regretted. That thick skin and those survival skills and that hard-won maturity had stood him in good stead over the years. Give or take the odd panic attack, it had made him a wealthy man before he’d hit thirty, put him in charge of his own destiny, given him options and best of all the stability he’d always craved during the chaos of his childhood.

But even knowing he didn’t need Ruby’s sympathy or her concern, he was still kind of touched she’d offered it so willingly and without any expectation of a reward.

No one had ever thought he needed protecting before – mostly because they knew him well enough to know he didn’t. Ruby didn’t know him that well, which was why she’d read way too much into his over-sharing the morning after their epic night. Her sympathy and her concern were misguided, but even so the glow in his gut spread, obliterating the burn of embarrassment, and the twist of humiliation until all that was left was the bubble under his breastbone he recognized but hadn’t experienced since they’d laid the cornerstone on Devlin Properties first fully funded new build in Manhattan eight years ago.

He’d certainly never experienced this kind of euphoria during his interactions with a woman.

He’d probably be a little concerned about the novelty of that another time.

But as Ruby’s gaze met his, so honest and forthright, the bubble of euphoria expanded … and felt way too good to regret.

‘And given all that, I totally took advantage of you that night,’ she continued, her transparent expression a picture of contrition and shame. ‘And I didn’t want to risk doing it again.’

A chuckle formed in his chest. Going with instinct he pressed his palms to Ruby’s cheeks. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t draw bac

k. And the chuckle worked its way up his torso.

He stroked her cheeks, feeling the guilty heat on her skin, but as she leaned into the caress, he could see the need she couldn’t disguise, and the chuckle burst out of his mouth.

‘Jesus, Ruby. Do you have any idea how goddamn adorable you are?’

***

Adorable? Really? What does that mean? Does he think I’m cute? Or does he think I’m special?

The questions whizzed around in Ruby’s head.

She’d been trying so hard to steer clear of Luke in the last week while she and Jacie had worked up a proposal for The Rialto in every spare moment in between all the usual chores of running a busy neighbourhood picture palace.

But she’d deliberately scheduled all the meetings with Jacie in the last few days first thing in the morning, when she would usually be checking stock or helping Errol in the projection room transferring any digitally stored films to the main drive and adding the cues in a desperate attempt to avoid the torture of seeing Luke.

Ultimately, she’d been forced to take drastic action, because trying not to notice him, not to objectify him, not to pressure him or pine after him or flirt with him had been absolute agony with him right there, in her movie theatre, in their movie theatre, doing amazing things with his strong capable hands wearing a bloody tool belt – especially now she knew what it felt like to have all that focused attention and those strong capable hands on her, instead of the wet rot in the foyer.

As she struggled to process any kind of coherent answer for him now, Luke’s lips touched hers again.

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