I wasn’t his woman. It was time to stop acting like I was.
“He says you should back off from Dom, he’ll take care of it,” I told him, instantly going back on my pledge never to tell him that, ever.
Luke’s fingers tensed at my neck. “That it?”
I took hold of my liberated woman and shared further. “He’s taking me out to dinner on Tuesday to apologize for everything.”
I felt Luke’s body go still as he stared at me. “You’re tellin’ me you made a date with Zano while you were standin’ in my living room?”
I was not going to think “Eek!”
“It isn’t a date. I don’t date. I’ve sworn off men. This is an apology dinner.”
Luke stared at me, one beat then two. Then surprisingly he dropped his hand from my neck and walked away. I watched as he lifted his hands to his shoulder blades, pulled off his tee and dropped it to the floor (incidentally this annoyed me, considering I’d spent ten minutes that afternoon gathering his clothes and throwing them in the laundry hamper in the utility area that was tucked behind the bathroom). Then he sat on the bed and yanked off his boots. Then he stood and started to unbuckle his pants.
Oh crap.
I turned and sat back down at the desk, ignoring what his actions might mean to me. I heard drawers opening and closing then rustling. When I heard the elevator doors slide open, I twisted in my chair and saw Luke walk into the elevator, wearing running clothes (all black, except his shoes). The elevator doors closed and he was gone.
Weird.
Way weird.
I took a deep breath, got back to work and tried not to wonder about Luke (and failed).
About an hour later he came back. I watched from my chair as he walked directly to the bathroom without a word to me. I heard the shower running while I closed down my files and shut down the computer. I decided to move away from Sailor Jerry because I needed to be drunk for whatever was going to happen next like I needed a hole in the head. I found a box of Sandra Whoever-She-Was’s peppermint tea and was boiling the kettle when Luke came out of the shower, wearing nothing but a silvery-gray towel around his hips.
Seriously, he was worse than Captain Kirk. Luke hardly ever had a shirt on.
I looked away from his body, bit my bottom lip and watched the kettle boil. I felt him behind me and tensed. My hair was swept off my shoulders and his lips touched my neck.
Um.
What?
His arm slid around my waist and he pulled me into his body. “You want to order Chinese or pizza?” he asked.
I blinked at the kettle.
What was happening? Where was Pissed Off Luke? He sounded completely calm, normal, un-pissed-off.
“You have tons of food in your fridge. You don’t eat it, it’ll go bad,” I told him.
“You wanna cook?” he asked.
“I could cook,” I answered.
“Works for me,” he said and let me go.
Holy cramoly.
What was going on?
I made tea. Luke put on black sweatpants with a thick line of dark gray running up the sides and a black tee with a black insignia you could barely see on the front that looked like a set of wings. I made dinner (Sandra’s long and happy life with Luke healthy living options of salmon fillets, broccoli and cous cous). I brought the food to the couch where Luke was watching TV. I sat down and we both ate silently. Then I took the plates back to the kitchen and did the dishes. When I was done, I came back and sat on the couch.
This was freaking me out. He didn’t carry me around, making grand statements about how he was going to f**k me, how I belonged to him, demanding I not go out with Ren. He seemed relaxed and mellow. I didn’t like it and I didn’t trust it one bit.
I started to watch the game, my mind sliding from thought to thought when Luke’s arm came out and pulled me against his side. He was slouched into the couch, feet up on the coffee table. I decided not to poke the sleeping tiger by struggling. I slouched pressed next to him and put feet up on the coffee table by his.