Her Red-Carpet Romance (14 page)

He didn't want her to feel embarrassed. If anything, Lukkas felt touched that she'd let him into her world. “Easy. You needed someone to talk to and I just said something to trigger the release. Don't worry about it,” he assured her. “As a matter of fact, I kind of like the fact that you felt you could confide in me.” When she rolled her eyes in response, he went a step further. “No, really. I think I needed that to remind me just how good I have it.”

Glancing down at the table, Lukkas saw that she had finished her meal. That made two of them.

“Would you like any dessert?” he asked and then offered, “I can have the waitress bring back the menu.”

“I would
love
dessert,” Yohanna responded with feeling, then quickly held up her hand to stop him from waving over their waitress. “But I'd have to wear it. I'm so full, I couldn't fit in another bite—really,” she protested.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “We could get it to go.” Lukkas saw an impish smile, which totally charmed him. He wondered if she knew that when she smiled like that, she was really hard to resist. “What?”

“I could have it for breakfast.” She realized she probably wasn't making any sense to him, so she elaborated, “When I was a kid, I always thought having cake for breakfast was a dream come true. My mother, of course, had other thoughts on the matter. Not to mention that she was very militant about not consuming too much sugar or too many calories. She told me that no man would want to marry me if I looked like the Goodyear Blimp.

“What are you doing?” she asked when he raised his hand to catch the waitress's eye.

“Making a dream come true,” he told her simply. “And also asking for the check.”

When the waitress came to their table a couple of minutes later he said to her, “We'd like to see the dessert menu, please.”

“Right away.” The waitress plucked a menu from one of the other waitresses walking by. The other woman was carrying several to the reservation desk.

When she offered the menu to Lukkas, he nodded at Hanna. “It's for her.”

“No, really—” Yohanna began to beg off, waving away the menu.

“What kind of cake do you have?” he asked the waitress.

She rattled off four different kinds. When she came to vanilla with pecan sauce, Lukkas noticed a spark in Hanna's eyes. He had his answer.

“She'll take that one,” he told the waitress. “Make it to go. Wait, make that two slices to go,” Lukkas amended. He saw the quizzical way Hanna looked at him. “Hey, I like cake, too.”

“You really didn't have to do that,” Yohanna told him after the waitress left to prepare the desserts for transport.

“Sure I did,” he argued amicably. “After all, how often does a man get a chance to make a little girl's dream come true?”

She had no answer for that. She could only smile. She was seriously beginning to understand that if there was one thing that Lukkas Spader could do, it was make dreams come true.

For big girls as well as for little ones.

 

Chapter Fourteen

L
ukkas didn't need to look at a calendar.

He knew.

The very date had been burned into his brain, into his heart, since that horrible day three years ago.

Three years.

One thousand ninety-five days ago, his world had ended.

Part of him had desperately hoped that he would find a way to just move on, to block the numbing feelings of loss out of his awareness. For the most part, he'd succeeded.

There were whole chunks of time that he could function without those horrific feelings suddenly ambushing him, destroying everything in its path but the terrible memory of those first few hours, those first few days, where nothing, especially his existence, made any sense. Those first few days when he couldn't quite understand how he could go on breathing in a world without Natalie in it.

As time went by, the ambushes occurred less frequently. He found a way to function, to be useful. To even continue building his career.

But on the anniversary of his wife's death, it had all come crashing back with a vengeance that first year—and then again the second year.

This year was no exception.

Lukkas could feel himself shutting down even as he struggled not to let it happen.

This year, in an attempt to keep his feelings of loss at bay, Lukkas completely surrounded himself with work—or thought he did.

But because of Yohanna's efficiency, everything was moving so smoothly, he didn't even need to be out on location at this moment. Wasn't really needed anywhere.

Without these artificial roadblocks in place, the grief easily found him.

That morning, Yohanna saw the difference in Lukkas's deportment immediately. There had always been that slight hint of sadness in his eyes. She'd noticed it the very first day when she had interviewed for her job. However, it had been subdued. Today, that aura of sadness seemed to have created some sort of invisible, impenetrable force field around him.

Lukkas was unapproachable and, while not short-tempered, noticeably short with those around him. Including her.

Trying to get to the bottom of the cause, Yohanna waited until she knew he'd be alone in his trailer to broach the subject. Even as she told herself that she should just let things slide, she still found herself going to his trailer and knocking on his door.

She had to knock twice before she heard any response from within. At least, she
thought
she'd heard something, but it could have just been the noise coming from the set.

Taking a deep breath, she tried the door. It wasn't locked.

Because she'd ventured this far, she decided to let herself in.

“Lukkas?”

There was no answer.

Thinking that perhaps he hadn't heard her, she made her way to the rear of the trailer, to the area that had been converted into his bedroom.

That was where she found him.

Lukkas was packing the suitcase he'd brought with him on the plane.

Surprised, Yohanna could only surmise they were flying back to California.

“Are we leaving?” It was the first thing she could think to ask.

Completely involved in his own heartache, Lukkas hadn't heard her come in until she'd spoken. His nerves were very close to the surface and he jumped.

“Don't you knock?” he demanded.

She had never seen him uptight or angry before. The image was unsettling.

“I did. I thought that maybe you hadn't heard me so I tried the door. You didn't lock it.”

“And so you thought you'd just waltz right in.” It was an accusation more than a statement of fact. An annoyed accusation.

“I think that's self-evident,” she responded politely. Indicating the open suitcase, she asked again, “Are we going back to the studio?”

“I am.” His tone made it apparent that he completely excluded her from this.

Yohanna asked, “What about me?”

Lukkas shrugged. “You can do whatever you want to do,” he declared, biting the words off.

He wasn't even looking at her, just addressing his words to the contents of his suitcase. But why was he so angry at her? What had she done to bring about such a drastic change?

Yohanna vacillated between just quietly withdrawing and remaining in the trailer for what was shaping up to be some sort of a confrontation.

Tempted, she almost went with the first option. But if she did, she knew that this raw feeling would always be there between them should she somehow still wind up staying in his employ.

For her own peace of mind, she needed to clear this up, whatever “this” was. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked.

He swung around to look at her. “No. You're perfect. Absolutely perfect,” he snapped.

“If I'm so perfect, then why are you biting off my head and acting as if you're angry at the whole world—me in particular?”

“Maybe because I am angry at the whole world,” he retorted.

Yohanna noticed that he hadn't singled her out the way she had. She became more determined to find out what was going on.

“Because...?”

“Because!” he shouted, slamming down the lid of his suitcase. He did it so hard, the suitcase fell off the bed. The contents flew out all over the floor.

Yohanna automatically moved to pick up his clothes for him and Lukkas grabbed her by the shoulder, pulling her up.

“Don't!” he ordered gruffly.

At that moment he saw his reflection in the mirror hanging over his bureau, saw the anger that all but distorted his face.

The sight was so startling it abruptly knocked the air out of him.

Dropping his hand to his side, he murmured, “I'm sorry,” to her. And then, in a stronger voice, he reinforced his apology. “I'm really sorry. I have no right to take this out on you.”

Because he'd apologized, she immediately forgave him. He appeared genuinely sorry and that only made her more determined than ever to find out what was going on. She had spent too much time in Lukkas's company to believe that this was his true nature and the rest had just been a ruse.

Something had gotten to him in a way that she didn't think anything could. Something that seemed to completely shatter him.

And then, suddenly, it hit her. She knew what had caused this transformation.

“Talk to me, Lukkas,” she urged him. “Please.”

He didn't want to talk, to think, to in any way peel back the layers and make this any worse than it already was.

He tried to make her leave. “Look, I've done enough to you. Please, just go—”

“No,” she answered. With that, she planted herself on the edge of the bed, where she intended to remain until she got him to unload. “I'm not going anywhere. You need to get this out, to talk this through. Lukkas, you really need to get those feelings out before they wind up eating you alive.”

Lukkas said nothing as he looked at her, but she could almost feel him struggling with himself.

“I'll start you off,” she offered, then quietly continued, “This has to do with your late wife, doesn't it?”

The stricken expression in Lukkas's eyes told her she had guessed correctly.

“What set you off?” she asked. “Did you come across something of hers you'd forgotten was there or—?”

“The accident was today,” he said hoarsely, his voice distant, as if he could somehow separate himself from the words he was saying.

Yohanna recalled the article she'd glimpsed on her tablet. He was talking about the car accident that had ended his wife's life.

Her heart went out to him in empathy.

“Each year after my dad died,” she said quietly, “on the anniversary of his passing, I wound up reliving how I felt when I watched him slip away— We were at the hospital with him, my mom and I,” she interjected.

She saw fresh grief pass over Lukkas's face.

“Well, I wasn't there when Natalie ‘slipped away.' I was busy being the big-shot producer on the set,” he told her bitterly. “I was supposed to be there with her, supposed to be the one who drove her to the doctor's office for her appointment—but I was too busy and I forgot all about her appointment. We were having our first baby and I
forgot
,” he told her, his self-disdain almost palpable. “So, ever the resourceful wife, she drove herself. The front tire had a blowout. Natalie plowed into a streetlight. She must have been so scared—” His voice broke.

“If you had been with her, the front tire would have still had a blowout,” she pointed out. “As horrible as it was, her death wasn't your fault,” she insisted. “Stop beating yourself up over it.”

Yohanna could see that she just wasn't getting through to him. “From what I can piece together, your wife was a wonderful, kind person. She wouldn't have wanted you to do this to yourself. She would have wanted you to honor her memory by being strong and going on with your life,” she told him.

He said nothing, but she saw the unshed tears shimmering in his eyes.

Without fully realizing what she was doing, only motivated by the need to offer comfort, Yohanna rose to her feet and put her arms around him. He tried to shrug her off, but she persisted. Slowly, she felt him stop resisting.

“Let it go so you can heal,” she urged softly, hugging him harder, doing her best to break through all the layers he'd thrown up around himself, shutting grief in, shutting compassion out.

She wasn't sure just how long she stood there, offering him solace as best she could.

Nor was she really clear as to who made the next move after that.

Whether it was her—or Lukkas.

Whichever did, one minute she was trying valiantly to give him some of her own strength, the strength she'd built up to help her deal with life after losing the father she adored. The very next moment it was as if some sort of spell had been cast, some sort of floodgate had been opened, because that was when her lips were pressed against his.

She could taste his tears—and his pain. Something within her opened up as well, something that not only could offer comfort in the face of grief, but that actually
drew
comfort from the very act of offering it to someone else.

It progressed at almost a breakneck speed immediately after that.

Wanting only to help give voice to his very real pain and, just maybe, to diminish it and its hold on him by that very act, she discovered that there was a solid ache within her, as well. An ache that craved having some sort of real contact, to touch and be touched by another human being in a way that allowed actual souls to touch.

* * *

A real sense of urgency all but throbbed in his veins.

Lukkas slanted his mouth over hers over and over again. Each time he did, the stakes were raised. And so was the promise of a reward.

Lukkas had had no idea how much he really needed this sort of contact, a contact he had denied himself because he'd believed that part of him—the part that could be reached by only a woman's touch—had been snuffed out the day his wife had been killed. To find out that it hadn't, that it was, instead, alive and in need of thriving, both dismayed him and thrilled him. To that end he felt utterly confused but alive for perhaps the first time in three years.

Suddenly very much in need to complete this exotic journey he had started, Lukkas undid buttons, coaxed articles of clothing away from the areas that they covered. The warm flesh he discovered underneath the banished clothing easily started his pulse racing.

And fed a desire for more.

He ran his hands along Hanna's body, his own responding to it the way he hadn't responded to anyone in so long.

It was not unlike coming out of a deep sleep then becoming aware of limbs that had been all but paralyzed such a short while ago. There was no such paralysis, no such numbness, afflicting him now.

Every part of his body was alive and
feeling
every subtle nuance that being here like this with Hanna had created.

In its grip, Lukkas found himself racing to consummate this feeling, to capture it quickly before it was gone and he returned to the isolated, cold, lonely chamber he had existed in until just now.

Yohanna gave him no resistance.

Just the opposite was true.

She enflamed him, fanning the growing fire he had within him until the flames filled out every single corner of his being, leaving no room for grief or regrets of any kind.

Afraid of losing this feeling, of becoming trapped within his self-created prison once again, Lukkas ceased exploring the subtleties of her body and gave in to the overwhelming desire to unite it with his.

One moment his eyes were on hers, their hands delicately interlaced. The next he was driving himself into her and so creating a union where none had been before.

Ever mindful of her, Lukkas watched her face as he began to move. If for any reason at all, she had changed her mind about this, he'd be able to see it and, as hard as it would be for him, he would stop.

There would be deep regret, but he would stop.

But there was no such sign from her.

Instead, Yohanna instantly matched his rhythm. He stepped up the pace.

So did she.

They rose together at breakneck speed, taking the summit together. His arms tightened around her as the internal fireworks came to a head.

For one brief, shining moment, he felt himself both excited and at peace.

Yohanna kissed him, urgently pressing her mouth against his with every fiber of her being. It was as if she wanted Lukkas to know that whatever might come afterward, in this one moment, they belonged to one another and all was perfect in the tiny universe populated only by the two of them.

Yohanna nestled her body against his. She remained there even as the euphoria began to slip away, withdrawing into the same shadows where it had lay hidden, waiting for just that one opportunity to emerge.

Lukkas slowly became aware of everything.

Of the scent of her hair, of the light, sweet taste that her lips had brought to his, of the softness of her skin as her body remained curled into his.