07 It Had to Be You Read online

  Lowering his head, he concentrated on removing her apron, swearing when he had trouble with the knot. “This wasn’t my intent tonight,” he said, and giving up on the string, he tore it with his hands, giving her a little thrill deep in her belly.

  “It’s not your fault,” she murmured. “Clay is sexy.”

  He laughed low and rough. “I’m pretty sure it’s you, Ali.”

  She took in a deep, slow breath, smelling the wet clay and the scent of clean, heated male, and experienced a wave of desire that had her quivering.

  When Luke finally freed her of the apron, he tossed it over his shoulder. Her sundress followed shortly, and then her bra. “Christ, you’re beautiful.” He snagged her bikini panties and slid them down her legs, leaving her in nothing but mud boots.

  And a lot of clay.

  A ragged groan rumbled from his chest. “My favorite look on you,” he said, taking her in from his prime position between her dangling legs, which were spread and held open by his lean hips. “It’s like a feast.” He bent over her, a hand on either side of her hips. “And I am starving.” He kissed first one breast and then the other, lingering to nuzzle.

  His jeans were rubbing against her inner thighs and between, and she shivered. There was something incredibly erotic and completely sinful about being naked and sprawled out for him while he was still fully dressed. Even more so when he dropped to his knees on the garage floor and used his tongue. She might have come right off the table, but Luke caught her hips in his big hands, holding her in place so he could devastate her with slow, purposeful care. It took an embarrassingly little amount of time for her to completely fly apart. Even less the second time.

  And then he was inside her. Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her so that they were chest to chest, and began a slow, delicious glide in and out of her body.

  “How?” she managed, breathless. “How is this better every single time? Is it because we don’t want it to be?”

  Latching his lips onto her throat, he shook his head. The gentle tugs of his mouth sent shock waves straight through her, and she cried out and clutched at him, tightening around him.

  “Oh fuck, Ali…” he growled, tightening his grip. “Not going to last if you keep that up.”

  She did it again. In retaliation, he nipped at her shoulder, her collarbone, the swell of her breast, wrenching a moan from her as heat and pleasure spiraled. Somehow she managed to open her eyes and watch the intensity on his face as he moved inside her, which proved to be her undoing.

  He came with her this time, hard, shuddering as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. She trembled, little aftershocks of pure pleasure, and Luke tightened his grip in a soothing, protective embrace. His heat seeped through her, consuming her until she felt like she might burst again as he breathed her in, nuzzling, kissing, nibbling her throat and jaw and ear.

  Loving her.

  Not that he’d admit it. Unable to help herself, she clung for a few minutes, trying to remember everything about this moment. Everything.

  He let her cling for long moments, as if he felt the same. Finally he raised his head and met her gaze. She knew he was checking to see if she was okay, so she reached up, brought his face back to hers, and kissed him.

  Because she wasn’t okay.

  He was leaving.

  Chapter 23

  The next morning, Ali woke up entangled with a big, warm, hard body.

  Luke.

  After their garage foray, they’d eaten, and then he’d taken her to bed.

  His.

  He was still deeply asleep on his back, one arm bent with his hand beneath his head, the other gripping her butt like he owned it.

  She took a good, long last look at him, ignored the ache in her heart, and she slid out of the bed.

  He mumbled something and rolled over, burying his head beneath his pillow. The rest of him was bared to the world, that strong back, those mile-long legs, and the best ass she’d ever had the pleasure of viewing. With a sigh, she slipped out of his bedroom.

  He was leaving today, and her sadness had nothing to do with the distance between San Francisco and Lucky Harbor. It was that there’d been no mention of continuing this. Whatever this was. So really, the distance was irrelevant.

  But she refused to watch him go.

  She drove to Eat Me and had the now-famous Grace’s chocolate chip pancakes. Lucille was there with her blue-haired posse. She came over to Ali and gave her a hug. “Heard Detective Lieutenant Stud Muffin is leaving,” she said. “Thought you could use some TLC.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Good. Because men don’t make the world go around. Although,” she said, eying Mr. Wykowski as he entered the café, “they do make it more interesting.”

  To say the least.

  “Been meaning to ask you about your ceramics,” Lucille said. “A little birdie told me that Russell isn’t interested in selling your stuff in his shop.”

  “A little birdie?”

  Lucille grinned. “Okay, Leah. And the truth is, I covet your ceramics. I thought you might be interested in having a show at my gallery. If we price things right, you might even be able to pay that fancy attorney of yours.”

  “You’d do that?” Ali asked.

  “Of course. You’re good.”

  Ali smiled. “And if I wasn’t?”

  “Well, then, this conversation would have stopped at Detective Lieutenant Stud Muffin.”

  Ali’s phone rang. Russell wanted to see her, so she headed to the flower shop. It wasn’t open. It wouldn’t ever be open again, at least in this version. Russell had boxed everything up and was standing at the front counter. He didn’t look as sad as she felt. He didn’t look sad at all. He was happy.

  And she was very happy for him. And devastated for herself.

  Russell smiled and pulled her in for a hug. Then he handed her…the book.

  She stared down at it. The thing was ancient and frayed at the edges, with notes and pieces of paper sticking out everywhere. “Your business?”

  “Yep. Lucky Harbor Flowers is yours, what there is of it. All you need is a place.”

  “But I don’t have money to pay you,” she said.

  “Consider it severance.”

  She hugged the book, then thrust it back. “I can’t take it, Russell. It wouldn’t be right.”

  He didn’t take the book. “Then pay me when you get the shop open and in the black.”

  She lifted her gaze to his. “How do you know I’ll get to open a shop?”

  “I know,” he said, confident. “Of course, you’d have to stay in Lucky Harbor for that book to have any value…”

  Ali looked down the street. It was very early. The strings of white lights were still on, twinkling like Christmas in June on the pine trees lining the walk. Until the theft of the money, she’d loved it here. Loved the people, the way it felt like home. And her three S’s were here: stability, security, and safety.

  So hell if she’d let herself run off with her tail between her legs when she’d done nothing wrong. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I’m staying.”

  Russell smiled and hugged her again. “Keep in touch.”

  She would. And someday soon, although she had no idea how, she would open the flower shop. Her flower shop. It was what she wanted, with all her heart.

  There were other things she wanted too. She wanted the money mystery solved. She wanted people to know she wasn’t a thief. She wanted her mom and sister to be safe and happy.

  She wanted…

  Luke.

  She drove home.

  Home.

  She parked and stared at the big, old, beautiful house. Granted, she was a sucker for a place with character but…home?

  This wasn’t her home. It was Luke’s.

  Yet there was no denying that she’d fallen for the place and the man, despite knowing better. Luke didn’t want her to feel this way, except that particular message wasn’t exactly sticking to her brain. The