"I'm guessing it's not ready by that reaction. I hate to say it, but I wouldn't hold your breath on hearing about that anytime soon."
"I know, I know. It's Saturday, so Wayne's drunk." I rolled my eyes. "It doesn't take long to learn the ins and outs of a place like this."
He stiffened and paused, still in the process of nuzzling my hair. "Something wrong with that?"
I wanted to bite my tongue off. "Not at all," I said, shaking my head. "What does Saturday normally look like for you?"
"When there's a beautiful woman in my house, I tend not to leave the bed. Especially since she was asleep when I got home last night." He laced his fingers with mine and spun me around to face him. "What do you say, beautiful? Want to go get dirty together?"
"I'd say that would be perfect," I murmured as he leaned in to kiss me, but I put my finger on his lips, calling on every bit of my willpower to hold him in place. "If we didn't have so much work to do. You said you wanted my help, and I want to help you. Now tell me, where do you work best?"
With a long-suffering sigh and the promise of a reward when we were done, Luke arranged all the papers and forms I needed on his dining room table, and I settled in to work. For the next couple of hours, we pored over the papers and drew out designs.
When the morning became the afternoon, Luke disappeared into the kitchen to make us sandwiches, leaving me alone to take a break. I found myself glancing around his house, still sort of pinching myself that I was there.
It really was a sweet little place-bright and cheery with all the homey touches I would never have expected in a bachelor pad. It was a house built for a family, and as I stared around the table, I pictured tiny little Lukes sitting in those empty chairs, all joining hands and saying grace before their Sunday meal.
It was like a fantasy family life, certainly not anything I'd grown up with, and for the first time I felt a little envious of Luke. His parents were gone but he still had Duke and Molly, and the legacy of that early family life would always be with them. They could all still sit around this table, and if he went missing . . .
Well, there was no doubt that one of his loved ones would at least ask where he was.
My heart gave a squeeze and I gnawed on my lower lip, trying to push the thoughts of my family from my mind. Luckily, Luke reappeared a few seconds later and sat a turkey sandwich in front of me, the crusts cut off and the sandwich itself cut into four perfect triangles.
I laughed, my melancholy evaporating under the warmth of his boyish grin. "Wow, gourmet."
"Only the best for you, city girl."
There was no malice in his words, though, and I picked up the sandwich and bit in. It had been years since someone had made me a sandwich like this, but there was no denying the simple goodness.
He took a seat across from me and dug in as we talked. He told stories about his friends and the business, and about Duke and Molly. Suddenly, the image of all of us sitting around the table became even clearer in my mind, and I got so wrapped up in the flow of conversation that I found myself speaking before I stopped to think.
"What do you think the odds are of your wife having twins like you and Duke?" I asked, taking a hasty bite of my sandwich to distract from my reddening face.
Oh Lord, I'd really done it now. He was going to think I was some sort of loony stalker, naming our twins after what amounted to nothing more than a little fling.
He shot me a quizzical glance. "I don't know. Why do you ask?"
"No reason at all," I said brightly, shaking my head. "I just feel bad for her and her vag and all. Probably rough on the old girl, squeezing out doubles, you know?"
Luke laughed and then groaned. "Oh my God, that was funny until I had to think of it in terms of my own mom, so thanks for that."
It was better than the alternative, so I swept my arm out and executed a little half bow. "You're quite welcome. And there's plenty more where that came from. I'll be here all weekend."
Taking advantage of the reprieve from pure humiliation, I quickly shifted gears, steering the conversation back toward the safety of work again.
But then, as we worked and talked, Luke's chair seemed to inch closer and closer to mine. As afternoon turned into evening, the sun that had shone through the wide windows was replaced with twinkling stars, and I lost focus of everything.
Everything . . . except exactly how close he was sitting. How it would take nothing at all for him to close the space between us, slide our papers to the floor, and splay me out on the dining room table right then and there.