‘Oh, sorry.’ Luke pulled himself together and offered an apologetic smile. ‘I was just wool-gathering, that’s all.’
‘It must have been some pretty serious wool-gathering, then,’ Ben remarked, an amused expression on his face. ‘If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say a female was involved.’ He paused. ‘Am I right?’
Luke pushed a frustrated hand through his dark hair. ‘There are women involved in this petition; of course, there are. But so what?’ He avoided the other man’s eyes. ‘In any case, I’d better get going if I want to get anything done today.’
‘Okay.’ Ben got up from his desk. ‘You’ll let me know as soon as there are any developments, if you’ll excuse the pun?’
‘Yeah, right.’ Luke shook the other man’s hand and headed for the door. ‘And if you do happen to run into anyone who knows about these things, perhaps you’d ask him to give me a call.’
‘Will do.’ Ben grinned, and then added provocatively, ‘And give the lady my best, won’t you?’
* * *
Abby was returning from her usual evening walk with Harley when she saw the sleek silver Bentley parked at the end of the road.
The sky was overcast and once again it was starting to rain, but Abby halted at the sight of the car. No one she wanted to know drove a Bentley. But that didn’t alter the fact that it was there.
It was over a week since that evening Luke had come to her apartment. And since then, she’d made it her business to find out all about the petition Greg Hughes had initiated. She guessed that was why Luke had come to see her that evening. Had he wondered if she might be behind it? Surely not.
And yet...
Harley was getting impatient. She’d been standing like a statue for the past couple of minutes and the retriever was waiting for his supper. Was that Luke’s car, or was she being paranoid? And even if it was his vehicle, there was more than one property on this block.
The Bentley’s door opened and Abby stiffened instinctively. The miserable weather meant there were few people about. She was on her own.
When a man’s voice hailed her, her mouth dried. She didn’t need to hear Harley’s joyful bark of recognition to identify the man. She watched, with a certain amount of trepidation, as Luke swung one leg and then the other out of the car.
It was an effort to hang on to Harley’s leash when he wanted so badly to get away, but somehow she managed it. She watched tensely as Luke straightened, pausing for a moment to speak to someone still inside the car. His girlfriend? she wondered, anger stirring. Were all men as unscrupulous as Harry if they could get away with it?
Luke stood there, lean and dark and painfully familiar in a navy business suit, a bronze silk shirt and navy tie. Abby could feel her pulse quickening automatically and despised herself for it. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been naked; his hips pumping urgently between her thighs; his body joined to hers in mutual need.
Or mutual lust, she amended bitterly, steeling herself against the sensual attraction that still had the power to weaken her knees. But he had an incredible nerve coming back here. Did he expect her to behave as if that night over a week ago had never happened?
Now he said coolly, ‘Come on, Abby. I’ll give you a lift back to the café. You’re getting soaked and so am I.’
‘An occupational hazard where you’re concerned,’ she responded tartly. ‘What do you want, Luke? If you’re worried about the petition, go and speak to Greg.’
Luke stepped away from the car, apparently uncaring that once again his clothes were getting wet, and the retriever went wild with excitement.
Luke saw the problem she was having in controlling him and said impatiently, ‘Let him go, Abby. Or do you want to end up with your butt in a puddle?’
Abby ignored him, but she had to pass the car to reach her home. She determinedly avoided looking into the car as she tugged Harley past Luke, but the retriever became so unmanageable, she had to let him go.
In the inevitable melee that ensued, Abby was able to hurry along the street to her door. Fishing her keys out of her pocket, she couldn’t prevent a smirk of satisfaction at the thought of what the retriever’s paws might do to that expensive suit.
She had to leave the door open for Harley. She had no doubt the dog would find his way home, if only because his supper was due. Kicking off her wet shoes, she picked them up and hurried up the stairs to the apartment. She didn’t think even Luke would have the nerve to follow her there.
Going into the kitchen, she took off her coat and draped it over a chair. It would dry in the warmth, once she put the pizza she’d bought for her own supper in the oven. A rub-down with a towel was all Harley would need.
She avoided looking at her reflection in the mirror above the fireplace. But her bedraggled braid and pale face drew her eyes. So what? she thought, smoothing her hair with rain-wet fingers. Why should she care what she looked like? It wasn’t as if she wanted Luke to show any interest in her again.
She heard the downstairs door bang back on its hinges.
Harley, she conceded, hearing the retriever pounding up the stairs. His paws pattered over the carpet, no doubt heading for his water bowl. He was always thirsty after a walk.
She would have to go and close the door, and she hoped Luke had got the message. If he was hanging about outside, waiting for an invitation to come in, hard luck.
But when she got to the top of the stairs and looked down, she saw Luke standing in the hallway. He was dripping water onto her doormat, his shoulder braced carelessly against the frame.
* * *
Luke saw the indignant expression that crossed Abby’s face when she saw him. But, hell, surely she hadn’t expected him to wait outside?
Yet that was probably where he belonged, he mused grimly. He was still despising himself for coming here, but he’d had to see her again. If only to prove that he’d exaggerated the effect she’d had on him; exaggerated the chemistry between them that was interfering with his sleep.
But, looking up at her, he had the distinct feeling he hadn’t.
She was wearing jeans tonight, tight jeans that clung to her long legs and accentuated the provocative curve of her bottom. Her shirt was olive green and unfastened at the neck, exposing the delicious hollow between her breasts. She was wearing little make-up, but she didn’t need any. Her skin was as smooth and soft as a peach.
Without giving her a chance to tell him to get out, he said quietly, ‘May I come up? I’d like to talk to you.’
‘Why ask me?’ said Abby coldly. ‘You seem to do exactly as you like whatever I say.’
‘Abby...’ He sighed, and then turned to close and lock the door before climbing the stairs. ‘I know I’ve upset you—’
‘You think?’
‘—but there are things we need to say to one another.’
‘Really?’
