Luca's Bad Girl - By Amy Andrews Page 0,37

again until she’d slunk very carefully out of his bed and tiptoed out of his room. Thankfully the central heating was still on because it looked like a frosty old day through those big bay windows as a stiff breeze blew across the harbour, rippling the surface like goose-bumps on flesh.

She strode to the centre of the room and scooped up her jacket, shrugging into it, again ignoring the buttons as she tied it at the waist.

Now, where the hell were her shoes?

She quickly scanned the shoeless route from the lounge to Luca’s bedroom. Her gaze stopped at his doorway.

Please, don’t make me go back there.

She didn’t need the temptation of a sleeping Luca. She hadn’t looked back as she’d fled the room and she didn’t want to know now either. She needed to get out.

She’d leave her bloody shoes if she had to. Even if her feet would be half-frozen by the time she reached her apartment.

Yes, she needed to tell him this wouldn’t be happening again. Especially now. Especially after last night.

But she could leave that for tomorrow. For now she needed to get out. And quickly.

Her panicked gaze backtracked, sweeping a broader area than before. It snagged on a partially obscured heel somehow under the bar stools that lined the central kitchen bench.

Wow. She must have kicked them off wildly—or had Luca pulled them off then tossed them across the room?

Her mind had been mush at the time.

Mia quickly retrieved it, trying not to think about just what she and Luca had done on that kitchen bench. How he’d swept aside the dirty dishes and taken her right there on the cold granite bench top.

Stop it! Don’t go there!

Mia shook herself. One shoe down, one to go. She refined her search—if one had ended up near the kitchen, the other one could be anywhere. She dropped to her knees in front of the lounge suite and looked under the chairs.

Bingo!

She reached under for it but the lounge didn’t have a lot of clearance and she had to get down lower to even get her fingers to it. She extended her arm further and finally dragged it out, giving a triumphant murmur as she sat back on her haunches.

‘What are you doing?’

Mia lurched abruptly to her feet. Luca was leaning against the doorframe, in nothing but underpants, his arms crossed, a small frown making a harsh line out of his beautiful mouth. There was a shadow in his eyes that was a perfect foil for the one darkening his jaw and seemed to match his serious countenance.

‘Luca.’ Mia, excruciatingly aware of her nakedness beneath the coat, absently kicked first one foot up behind her and then the other as she slid the shoes in place, ‘Sorry … couldn’t find my shoes.’

Luca watched as she shimmied into her stilettos. Usually he liked the way women did that. It was sexy. But this morning the death of his grandmother and the burden of guilt he felt over his absence in her life weighed heavily.

As did Mia being witness to it all.

This morning he was immune to sexy.

When he’d woken alone he’d been relieved. His vulnerability last night had shaken him. He wasn’t used to being that emotionally exposed to anyone, least of all a woman. Marissa had burned him for life in that regard and he had no desire to repeat the experience.

The last thing he needed this morning was to see pity in Mia’s eyes.

He needed to be alone.

‘I need coffee,’ he said abruptly, pushing away from the doorframe.

Mia watched him stride to the kitchen, a very different man from the post-coital Luca she’d come to know. No sexy smile, no lazy laugh, no knowing gaze. And certainly very different from the man she’d held last night, who’d fallen asleep in her arms.

He seemed to have erected a wall and was putting her firmly on the outside.

Which was great. Exactly what she wanted. Exactly what she’d been hoping for. No need for the big talk after all. Just slip out of his apartment and consider it over.

Perfect.

If only her body wasn’t rebelling. The site of his strong, naked back, the way the muscles played beneath the fine moulding of copper flesh, the sexy indentation of the small of his back was causing a riot amongst her hormones. She ground her feet into the carpet to stop herself taking a step towards him.

When had her body started to crave his like this? It was so … base.

‘I’m going to go,’