Fixed Up (15 page)

Luke's truck crawled up the road at a snail's pace. Traffic was thick, hindered by pedestrians weaving in and out, but they finally pulled into the makeshift VIP parking lot. For a minute or so, neither of them moved or spoke. Then with a shake of his head, Luke turned to Harper, reaching out to take her hand.

‘Hope that wasn't too much of a downer for you. Listening to me drivel on.'

‘Are you serious? You had to listen to me the other day. I'd say we were about even.' She squeezed his hand and he realised why she was the worst person in the world he could possibly fall in love with.

‘You remind me of him,' Luke said.

‘Who? Your father?' Harper looked startled. ‘Was he short and stroppy too?'

‘No. He was great. But he always thought
his
way was the
only
way.' Luke smiled to soften his words, to soften the memory, then climbed out of the truck.

The blast of heat hit him like an oven wall as he closed the truck door on the aircon. Loud music carried from the stage, drums and wailing guitars from one of the warm-up acts. The smell of hot dogs and chips frying wafted towards them, making his stomach growl. Luke walked round from his side of the truck as Harper ejected herself from the truck's cab. He beeped the lock and grabbed her hand.

‘Come on. Enough serious shit. Time to rock‘n'roll,' he said, pulling her in the direction of the stage. The rest of the crowd seemed to be heading the same way and so Luke and Harper, holding tightly to each other's hands, flowed along in the throng of people. Loud thumping beats of a familiar-sounding band reverberated on the summer air, lifting Luke's mood. He smiled down at Harper, whose head bobbed in time.

He saw a few faces he recognised in the crowd, but made no move to head over and say hello. He knew a lot of people in Auckland and days like this drew large crowds making the most of the idyllic weather and cheap entertainment. Satisfied for now just to spend time with Harper, he steered her towards a more shaded side of the stage and they found a spot to sit on the grass, out of the crush.

‘The view's not quite as good here, but at least you won't get trampled.'

Harper adjusted her bag across her body so the strap sat between her breasts and the bag sat in her lap. Flicking her hair over one shoulder she leaned back on her hands, her legs stretched out before her. Face raised to the sky, she closed her eyes briefly in a sun-worshipper pose that brought a smile to his face and an ache to his heart. She was one damned hard woman to read. If he leaned over now and took those delectable lips in his, would she push him away, or welcome his kiss?

He resisted the urge and instead forced his gaze back to where a singer, dripping in sweat, cavorted across the sound stage, half singing, half yelling into a hand-held microphone. Beside him he felt Harper's position alter slightly, her leg moving to touch his. Without taking his eyes off the performance onstage, Luke placed his hand on her hip and pulled her closer to his side. He felt her stiffen for a split second before she relaxed in to lean against him. He wrapped his arm around her waist and they sat close, enjoying the music, the atmosphere and each other's company.

When the Jetts finally came on, Luke hauled Harper to her feet. ‘We can't sit for this one.'

‘No way!' She jumped up, excitedly, then let out a wail. ‘I'm so bloody short, I might as well be sitting. I can't see a thing.' All around them the crowd surged forward, eager for the main act to begin. Harper gripped Luke's hand as if terrified of being pulled away into the sea of sweaty, chanting people. Protectively, he pulled her in front of him. Her head hard against his chest, he wrapped his arms tightly around her. Either side of them the crowd continued to push forward for a better view.

‘Could you lift me up?'

Light in his arms, he hoisted her straight up, so her bottom rested against his right shoulder. Her hand pressed against his neck and he stood like that for a minute or so, Harper enjoying her view of the concert, Luke enjoying the sensation of holding Harper in his arms. When she'd seen enough he loosened his hold and he slid her slowly down, breathing her in. Her T-shirt tangled in his hands, which made contact with bare skin. As she stood once again on the ground he kept his hand where it was, across the smooth skin of her stomach. Her hand rose to meet his and they moved in time to the music, their bodies pressed together.

They stayed like that for a long time, connected by touch and by the beat of the music, which throbbed wildly through them. Talk was impossible, the music too loud and the crowd too tumultuous around them, jostling them into a movement that was half-dance, half-bob.

Then the tempo changed, and the crowd slowed, winding back. Luke found himself swaying to a more gentle rhythm, his chin resting gently on top of Harper's satiny, dark hair.

She felt silky smooth. All of her—her hair, her skin—if he let go she'd slip through his fingers and disappear into the dusk.

They left not long after, satisfied and dusty, neither of them appreciative of the more hard-core entertainment on the evening line-up. Luke drove Harper home, parked the truck in her driveway. His heart leapt as she edged out of the truck, her index finger crooked and beckoning. By the time he was out and round the side of the truck she had made her way up her front steps, where she threw a look over her shoulder, which could only be described as the world's most obvious ‘come hither'.

She unlocked the door, taking his hand and pulling him inside. She dumped her bag, her keys clattering noisily to the hard floorboards as she turned towards him. He made a move to kiss her, but she stopped him with a look, part-teasing, mostly serious. ‘We're going to take it slow this time.'

‘I didn't know you did slow.'

‘You don't know what I can do.' Her hands inched to his wrists, then fluttered to his elbows. He stood still. He didn't know what she could do, but whatever it was, he was more than happy to let her lead wherever she wanted to go. Heat pulsed off her in beats and his ears still rang from the loud rock music, pushing him off-kilter as her hands slid further up his biceps to reach into the sleeves of his T-shirt. She smiled up into his eyes and he noticed she'd caught the sun; splashes of pink across her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose.

She leaned up on tip-toes to reach her face to his. He bent down and met her halfway, holding back for a gentle, unhurried kiss. He let her set the pace, all the while feeling the building impatience of hands that wanted to strip her bare; body and soul.

Harper stepped away, taking a deep breath that seemed more like a sigh. Her dark gaze burned into his as she led him into her bedroom, her hips swaying gently with every step. He itched to feast his lips on her soft skin, to hear her moan with pleasure as he kissed his way down her neck. Instead, he sat on her bed in the half-darkness and waited for her next move.

He could've flipped her onto her back in a millisecond but he let her tease him, enjoyed the burn when she slowly peeled off her T-shirt, tantalising him with the view of her creamy breasts encased in a black bra. With mock severity she pushed his hands back down when they wandered upwards, unable to resist the allure of her naked skin, luminescent in the half-light.

‘Not yet,' she said, taking a step back to discard her tight jeans with a wiggle and then she stood before him in nothing more than her underwear and a sweet, self-conscious smile. His eyes lapped her up. Pale skin contrasted with black underwear—fairly utilitarian, with just the barest hint of lace at the edges—her arms and legs slim and toned, the skin there slightly more tanned than the white of her stomach. He reached out a hand and caressed his finger slowly downwards, following her curves, the flare of her hip. This time she didn't push his hand away, but moved closer to stand in between his thighs, her hands brushing up gently into his hair, fingers massaging his scalp.

A thousand tingles shot through him and he closed his eyes, leaning his head back into her hands to absorb the neck-dissolving pleasure. He might've groaned slightly but he wasn't sure. He pulled her towards him, his hands tight on her hips, his face drifting across her cleavage, breathing in her warm, musky scent. Her hands swept across his shoulders, pulling his T-shirt up and over his head, never stopping the circling movements that sent ripples buzzing through his veins. ‘Your hands are magic,' he said, a lingering huskiness to his tone.

‘Your hands are naughty.'

His had wandered again; without his knowledge they'd strayed up her back, now caught in the act of undoing her bra strap. ‘My hands have no concept of slow. They find you too irresistible. Look, they're still at it.' Harper's bra flicked down her arms and across the room. Luke sighed in ecstasy as her naked breasts, released from lace and underwire, bobbed before him. Irresistible, the sight of her, the scent of her, the feel of her warm body beneath his hands. He could never get enough of her.

‘God, I love you.' The words broke from him in a hoarse whisper. He wanted her to know how much she meant to him. He wanted her to understand he'd loved her almost instantly when they met. She was all he'd ever need.

He wanted to hear her say it back.

Instead, he felt her paralysis. It pushed against him for the barest of seconds, as if he'd hit the kill switch. Even as she continued to hold him, to kiss him, there was distance between them. Distance he'd created with the shit timing of his confession. He should've kept his big mouth shut. Was it too late to pretend he suffered from Tourette syndrome?

All he wanted was for whatever lay frozen inside her to thaw. For love to be welcomed, embraced, and returned. Instead, it seemed his words terrified her and although he felt her heart hammering as erratically as before he spoke, he saw the anxiety she tried to hide flickering in her eyes.

The knowledge dulled the pleasure that coursed through him even as they continued in the physical act of giving and receiving; even as his body shuddered in completion. He lay with her in his arms, breathing heavily, damp and sated, but assaulted by a bitter dismay that of the two people in this bed, only one was committed to this relationship.

‘You're sure you don't want to meet for lunch today? I'm going to be on your side of town about then,' said Annie.

Harper shook her head as if Annie could see her down the phone. ‘Sorry, I've only got a couple more days with this class and we've still got loads to get through. I need every minute I've got to stay ahead of everyone. They've proved a really keen bunch.'

And staying ahead of anything right now was almost impossible. Thoughts of Luke kept intruding. Popping up at impossible times. Replays running through her head like crazy video clips on an endless loop.

God, I love you.

His words were out there now and it changed things between them.

She'd hidden her shock, determined he wouldn't see her succumb to the old fears and inadequacies. But they were too ingrained to let her
believe
him, just because he said so.

She'd scrunched her eyes shut to avoid the heartbreaking tenderness in his gaze and twisted into his arms, feeling her way with feverish hands and lips, drowning her fears and his words, locking her legs tightly around him and dragging him with her to an explosive release.

Harper closed her eyes. Remembered how afterwards they'd held each other and she'd nestled into him, the length of her nakedness against him. There but not there. Barely sleeping a wink all night and aware that Luke tossed restlessly beside her.

Her hand gripped the telephone.

‘Harper? Are you still there?'
Annie
. Harper's mind raced to catch up.

‘Are you going to take a holiday soon? It's over halfway through the summer and you haven't been to the beach once,' said Annie.

‘More importantly, it's over halfway through the summer and I still don't have a plan for the year. I've got a classroom full of enthusiastic women, wobbly bench seats, and a few extra dollars in my pocket—hardly enough to build a future on.'

Much like Luke's blurted expression of love … yet something deep inside her fought to believe it was true.

She stood with the phone in her hand long after Annie rung off, staring out the window at her newly stacked firewood. She was still standing there when the phone rang again, jolting her from her reverie. An unknown number flashed up.

‘DIY Divas, Harper speaking.'

‘Hello Harper. This is Cathy George from Cliff King's office at King of the Castle.'

Harper's mind went blank for a second before revving into overdrive.
Cathy George from Cliff King's office
. Her heart pounded in her chest and her hand shook slightly as she reached across the kitchen bench for a pad and pen. They'd read her brochures, seen her proposal and taken her idea seriously!

She did a little fist pump in the air before taking a deep breath.

Professional voice, professional attitude.
She took another deep breath, hanging on Cathy's every word.

‘—calling to set up a meeting between yourself and Mr King. He can see you next Tuesday at three o'clock at his offices.'

‘That's great, thank you.' Harper's feet wanted to dance. ‘How long is the meeting?'

‘You have thirty minutes.'
Use them wisely.
The unsaid words echoed down the phone at Harper.

‘Thank you so much for returning my call and giving me this opportunity. I really appreciate it,' she said.

‘Don't thank me. Thank Mr Colton. He's the one who persuaded Mr King to see you.'

‘Mr Colton?
Luke
Colton?' Harper's hand clenched the phone, pressing it hard against her ear. ‘Did you say Luke Colton
persuaded
Mr King to see me?'

‘Persuaded. Engineered. Pulled strings. Something like that. Anyway, see you on Tuesday at three.' Click. Harper was left standing at her kitchen counter, phone in hand, her mouth hanging open.