“I don’t think that. What I want is to look after you. Is that such a bad thing?”
Marisa fiddled with the knot of her robe, uncomfortable. Okay, so apart from his two-week lover limit reputation, Luke was nothing like Alistair. So why was she thinking these things? “You look after people a lot?” she asked, trying to be casual.
He’d gone back to finding plates and boiling jugs, setting out food and getting utensils. “The people who matter, yes.”
Oh. Which meant… She swallowed. “So I matter then?”
Luke put down the jug he’d been using to pour boiling water into a French press and looked at her. “You’re pregnant with my child. Of course you matter.”
She didn’t know why it was so important to her to believe that, when he was still a relative stranger to her. But for some reason, it was.
Of course I love you, Marisa. You’re the only one in my life, don’t you know that?
Alistair’s charming voice swam out of the depths of memory like a shark scenting blood in the water. What a damn lie that had been.
Marisa forced the thought away, pulling her robe tighter around herself. “Okay. Good.” Time to change the subject. “I’ve got another question for you.”
“What?”
“Why do you collect sports cars?”
Unexpectedly, that gleam of what could have been amusement glinted in the depths of his eyes. “Stress relief.”
Curiosity shifted inside her. “Stress relief? How does that work?”
“Because there’s nothing like buying a new car then driving it very fast around a track for letting off steam.” He paused. “The past couple of weeks have been very expensive.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re already responsible for the Ferrari sitting in my garage. Another year and you’ll probably make me go bankrupt.” This time that gleam was very definitely amusement.
Marisa narrowed her gaze at him. “Did you just make a joke?”
“No.” He raised a brow. “Why would you think that?”
Oh yes, he had. And now…God. Was he flirting with her? She swallowed, the thought making her feel a little breathless all of a sudden, which she so did not need right now. Not after the intriguing confession about his cars.
She didn’t quite understand why the thought of Luke McNamara liking speed should be so…interesting. Maybe because he seemed like the type of guy who never let himself get wild and reckless.
But then she knew that wasn’t true, did she? She’d seen him with the reins off. When he held her in his arms, his mouth on hers, he’d been both wild and reckless.
And you loved it, didn’t you? Loved that you could drive him to that point…
She was conscious that her heartbeat had accelerated, her skin sensitized. That he was watching her, the physical awareness between them almost palpable.
“I think I might go and sit down now,” she said, apropos of nothing at all.
“Good idea,” Luke replied, his voice not quite as cool as it had been before. “I think you should also put some clothes on.”
Yes. And a suit of armor over the clothes. Marisa lifted her chin. “I can control myself,” she mimicked. “Can you?”
For a long second Luke studied her. Then his mouth curved. Not by much, but it was enough to hint at the kind of smile that would make grown women cast themselves onto the ground in front of him so he could use them as a rug.
Jeez. If he ever actually smiled, she was going to be so dead.
Marisa quickly turned and got out of the kitchen area before she completely lost her head.
…
Luke frowned at Marisa’s little dining table. Like everything else in her small town house, it was a mess of cheerful chaos, the surface cluttered with bills, magazines and books, newspapers and pamphlets, plus a few empty coffee cups. It desperately needed ordering. Really, the sooner she moved into his place, the better for everyone.
The better for you, you mean.
Well, that was true. It would make it better for him.
He’d woken up that morning with the need to go check on her at the forefront of his brain, and because it involved a special trip and time, he’d had to rearrange his already-tight schedule. He’d canceled his gym session and had gone for a run extra early so he could get in some sort of exercise. The afternoon he liked to keep for himself, especially this afternoon. He had some time booked on the track at Hampton Downs to try out one of the only Bugatti Veyrons in the country, and he couldn’t reschedule it because the car was in Auckland for only a couple of days.
Dealing with the Marisa-baby situation immediately was therefore imperative.
And also because you wanted to see her. Don’t pretend you didn’t.