A Stormy Spring (8 page)

Becca might not want a relationship with him, but it appeared she was in the middle of one whether she liked it or not.

And that suited Lucas just fine.

Becca woke too hot with a heavy weight wound around her like ivy.

She lifted the duvet to let in cool air and felt his rock hard erection jerk against her hip bone.

Surely he couldn’t need her again? He’d woken her three times during the night and she ached in places she never knew existed. But it was a lovely, deep and satiated ache. She couldn’t accuse Lucas of being selfish or thoughtless with her. He’d been amazing, attentive and so gentle after his initial loss of control.

Wondering what time it was, she lifted his wrist – the man was out for the count - and checked the time on his slim watch. Seven o’clock, she sighed in relief and let his arm drop on her like a stone.

Each Saturday she became the pupil again. She had two hours before her first class, modern jazz. Later she’d take a high level and intense improvisation ballet session with one of the greats. It was important to keep her mind and body in peak condition.

A muffled curse in Spanish above her head made her smile.

‘Why are you awake,
querida
?’

Turning her head she pressed a soft kiss to a broad shoulder.

Covering her mouth with her hand Becca yawned hugely arching her back, stretching like a cat.

‘Checking the time. I have a class in two hours.’

The thigh between her legs pressed up into her centre as he rolled his hips.

‘No. You are spending the day in my bed.’ The deep voice was petulant.

He sounded like a little boy and Becca bit back a laugh.

‘Sorry. But I have two classes today. I’ll be finished by one o’clock. You can buy me lunch.’

She’d fought to keep humour from her voice, but by the rumble of annoyance in his chest she hadn’t fooled him.

Dark eyes heavy with sleep studied her as his fingers played with a too sensitive nipple that speared arousal straight to her womb.

‘You do not want to make love with me?’ he wondered in a disbelieving tone even as his fingers slid between her legs to find her wet and ready.

Her breath caught in her throat again as his big body moved over and slid into her, too thick as he over-stretched her too sensitive flesh, circling his hips in a way that rocked her world. How did he
do
that? How did he send her body straight to that place every single time? Her breath came in jerky little gasps. His mouth captured hers as their hips and hearts pumped in complete harmony. Her low moan of completion had his lips make a smile on her neck. She felt it, felt him shudder and cry as he released his seed deep within her.

It felt so wonderful, so right, so... Shit!

Reality smacked her too hard.

Panic had her push him away.

‘Oh my God, Lucas!’

Satiated dark eyes frowned into hers.

‘What is the matter?’

She struggled out from under his heavy body and stumbled out of the bed to stand before him running desperate fingers through her hair.

‘What’s the matter? CONDOMS!’

‘I used protection.’

Shaking her head Becca wanted to throw something at him, something heavy to wake him up.

‘We did earlier, but not right now you didn’t.’

With a panicked little sob, she rushed into the bathroom.

Lucas lay on his back and clutched his hair blinking at the ceiling.

Madre de Dios!

He’d
never
forgotten to use protection in his life.
Cristo!

The power shower spurted into life as he leapt from the bed and followed her into the bathroom to find her furiously scrubbing her body. And for some unaccountable reason the fact she was trying to clean his seed from her hurt and upset him in a way he’d have found impossible to explain if anyone had asked him.

Was he
insane
?

He seriously needed to get a grip.

She was angry and had every right to be. He’d let both of them down because he couldn’t control his raging libido. What the hell had she done to him?

Becca slapped off the shower and hauled on a too big bath robe. She didn’t look at him as she brushed past to return to the bedroom.

Lucas showered quickly before wrapping a towel around his waist and joining her.

Bone white she sat huddled against a river of pillows, staring unseeing into space, her hands fisted on her lap.

He sat next to her and took one of those small fists in his, just in case she wanted to punch him.

‘I am sorry,
querida
. That has never happened before. I can tell you I am perfectly healthy. I had my last medical two months ago and you are the only woman I have slept with.’

Those eyes looked too big for her face as she stared up at him.

‘It’s as much my fault as it is yours. What on earth are we doing, Lucas?’

He wished to hell he knew.

‘Is there a possibility you might become pregnant?’

Her hard laugh made him wince. ‘Yes.’

But what totally confused him was the heart wrenching distress he recognised in those blue eyes.

Feeling his way, he kept his voice soft and low.

‘What do you want to do,
querida
?’

She blinked twice like an owl and tucked a silky curl behind her ear as her furious eyes met his.

‘I need to go to a pharmacy and get the morning after pill.’ Her voice broke and she heaved in a shaky breath.

Okay, but why was she almost crying?

He actually couldn’t believe he was going to say this, but he did,

‘At your age, would it be such a disaster if you were pregnant?’

Colour flared into her cheeks then bled from her face, leaving her too pale as a raw emotion he couldn’t identify pooled in her eyes.

Becca leapt from the bed.

She stalked around the room gathering up her clothes. She pulled on her panties and sweatshirt. Her eyes were filled to the brim with agonised emotions he couldn’t read or begin to understand.

‘Are you
crazy
? I’m twenty-eight not thirty-eight.’

With jerky moves she thrust her legs into her jeans and zipped them up. Lucas desperately wanted to go to her, to hold her, to tell her everything was going to be all right. But he’d made a serious misstep and didn’t have a clue what to do about it.

He tried again. ‘
Querida
, we need to talk about this in a calm manner.’

A hysterical laugh was wrenched from her throat and she shook her head looking at him as if he’d lost his mind. Perhaps he had. Would it be the end of the fucking world if she
was
pregnant? He had no idea why the thought of her terminating the possibility of his child hurt him at such a visceral level, but it did. If he couldn’t explain his feelings to himself how was he expected to explain them to a scared and livid Becca who was looking at him as if he’d grown another head?

He hadn’t been the same from the moment he’d met her and things between them were running so madly out of control even he could see it. He’d morphed into a dominating, possessive fucking jerk.

She stood before him now and she was leaving him for good.

He could tell by her face, how she held herself and the determination in those big eyes.

Lifting up the palms of her hands to emphasise her point, her voice shook.

‘I don’t know what planet you’re from, Lucas. Maybe you’re having a midlife crisis, who knows! But there is no way I want a baby now or in the future. You know
nothing
about me. This
thing
between us is over. Do not come near me. Do not call me. Do I make myself clear?’

She thrust her arms in her jacket, picked up her bag and left.

He heard her steps running down the stairs and moments later the front door banged.

In a daze, he wondered how he’d gone from being the happiest in his life to stunned misery within minutes. He picked up the scrap of fabric that was her wrecked little vest and bunched it in his fist. He lay on his back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Putting his fist to his mouth he inhaled her scent. At least she’d left him with something. She’d asked him to leave her alone and he’d do it if it killed him. It was the least he could do. This fixation he had with her couldn’t possibly be healthy, he knew it. He’d scared her and God knew he was scaring himself.

Emotion prickled his eyes. Tears?
Cristo
, when was the last time he’d cried? But he couldn’t help it. He’d lost something rare, something precious because of his own fucking stupidity.

But he knew something with an absolute certainty. He would get her back. He had no idea how or when, but she was his. She needed space and time. Fine. He would give her all the time she needed.

As he rolled to his feet and took a deep breath, Lucas remembered something Tobin always said, ‘What didn’t kill you made you stronger.’

Ten hours later Lucas was in New York, his fist pounding on the door to Tobin’s penthouse apartment.

His friend yanked open the door wearing grey running shorts and T-shirt damp with sweat.

‘What the ...?’ He took one look at his face and held the door wide. ‘Aw, hell, Lucas. Come in.’

Keeping an eye on him, Tobin went to his open plan state-of-the-art kitchen and opened a new bottle of twenty-five year old Scotch.

‘I think it might be too early for that,’ Lucas told him as he laid his weary head on the back of a suede couch the colour of honey.

Tobin poured a two of fingers of the water of life into a couple of chunky glasses.

‘Who cares? It’s Saturday and you look as if you need one or four. Wanna tell me about it?’

‘I fucked up.’

‘Yeah? There’s news. Join the fucked-up-club, pal.’

Lucas shook his head, knowing where this was going.

‘What happened with Sophie was not your fault.’

Tobin gave him wide eyes and pointed at him. ‘
You
know that and
I
know that. But try telling
her
that.’ He knocked back half the whisky and crossed his eyes. ‘Whoa, get that down you, my son. Here’s to women. Cheers!’

Two hours later, listening to ‘Coldplay’ blasting out of Tobin’s iPod deck and feasting on New York’s finest pizza, Lucas felt almost human. Almost. Luckily, they’d moved onto beers after Tobin had offered cognac ‘
Never mix the grape and the grain
’ his father’s words played hazily in Lucas’s mind.

‘So, whatyagonnado?’ Tobin demanded.

‘Give her space.’

Tobin passed mighty fine wind.

‘Sounds like a plan.’ He slitted his eyes as he looked at Lucas and shook his head. ‘Why does that face tell me you’re up to something dark and dastardly?’

Lucas sucked on his beer, met his eyes.

‘I am going to woo her.’

Tobin grinned. ‘Yeah? And would this wooing entail gifts of a sparkly nature, silky underwear, flowers etcetera?’

‘Nope. It entails my PA and a Blackberry.’

Tobin’s shoulders shook. ‘You’re going to unleash Margo on Becca? Christ, you’re a dog, Lucas. I like that about you.’

‘Margo adores me.’

‘She’s too old for you.’

‘I am godfather to her youngest child,’ Lucas said in a silky voice.

‘I’m taking the piss. Wind your neck in, my son.’

‘What I mean is that she will do anything for me. Margo is a sensible woman. She will help me with Becca.’

Baffled, Tobin simply stared.

‘Observe me amazed at the intricate workings of your complex mind. What’s with the Blackberry?’

Lucas smiled. ‘Becca is resistant to technology. I need to keep in touch without seeing her and without calling her. She said nothing about email.’

‘I suspect Becca meant do not contact her using any form of communication in the known universe.’

Lucas gave him a contented look feeling much better about himself and the world at large.

It always helped to have a plan.

‘She has not yet met Margo.’

Tobin gave that statement some hazy thought before he clinked his bottle with Lucas’s.

‘True, very true. Here’s to Becca and heaven help her.’

‘For the love of God, Becca. Concentrate!’

The horrible hollow feeling in Becca’s belly wound even tighter and brought her out in a cold sweat. Justin’s handsome face was flushed with annoyance.

When he was in one of his moods he could be difficult.

She swallowed, bent from the hips and placed her palms flat on the floor.

The transition in this dance was a complicated one and today it appeared her brain was refusing to co-operate with her body.

A body that was supple, toned and flexible. It was also relentlessly trained, obedient and resilient with an endurance that would put a Special Forces commando to shame.

And it had never let her down, except once. But she’d bounced back, stronger, harder and tougher.

Over the years of learning her craft she’d dealt with the misery of rejection by a relentless work ethic to improve.

She wasn’t afraid of long hours or paying her dues.

If some said she got to where she was because of her mother, she’d pushed herself even harder to prove them wrong. Fame was a burden for the children of the famous; constantly being judged, analysed and compared, made true success harder to attain.

Life was not fair.

Becca understood that particular rule. She had the battle scars, emotional and physical to prove it.

Dance was her life – it enriched her body and her mind. And if her heart was dead what did it matter? What use was an organ that caused nothing but destruction, pain and grief?

Instead of professional ballet she’d veered down a different path with Justin, rejecting performing, embracing the craft that fed her soul – choreography.

No one compared her to her mother in this niche. Here she’d found her wings, flying fast and high. Until tragedy had struck. Now she was back.

None could touch them as a team. Sure, working with Justin had more than its fair share of challenges but she was a part of the best and that was all that mattered.