Josie Day Is Coming Home (11 page)

“Is that the voice of experience talking?”

“Maybe.” Josie smiled. This guy was a mind-reader.
“Or maybe I’m just trying to jog your memory, Mystery Man. How about
working as an extra on a movie set? Building homes for the homeless? Flying on
a trapeze?”

Luke replaced the fireplace poker, then came toward her.
“How about having my house taken over by a down-on-her-luck showgirl?
That’s new. And unlikely.”

“Hey.” Offended, she lifted her chin. “I’m
not down on my luck.” True, she’d been a little…
squashed
…by the
events of her big homecoming. But she felt herself beginning to bounce back.
Bolstered by a few hours’ relaxation, the half pity-burger she’d wolfed down,
and the solid comfort of Blue Moon, Josie felt better equipped to deal with
everything. “But I do think it’s cute how you love this place so much, you
call it your own.”

“Yeah. Cute.” Wearing that frown again, Luke
strode across the spacious living room. “You’ve got one thing right. This
place is important to me.”

“See? That’s how I know I can trust you. You’re
dedicated to your work. That’s not something you see every day.”

He shot her a look. “You spent the whole day telling me
how crappy my handyman work was.”

“Well, you can’t hold that against me. It’s been a
pretty tough day.” Josie yawned. “Which means that now I deserve to
cut loose a little. What with being kidnapped, and all.”

“Come on. It hasn’t been so bad.” Luke hunkered
down beside the coffee table, adjusting the pair of pillows beneath her
propped-up ankle. “You got your choice of ground-floor servants’ bedrooms.
And you got to keep your cell phone.”

“True. That’s another reason I know I can trust you. A
homicidal maniac ax murderer would
never
have let me keep my trusty Nokia.”
Josie patted the customized pink-sparkle-plated phone on the sofa cushion
beside her. She’d called Parker with an update not two hours ago. “I
figure you must be okay.”

Actually, she figured he was more than okay. Strange as it
seemed, Josie trusted him, which was more than she could say for most of the
people she met. Unlike the high rollers, playboy gamblers, and
entitlement-obsessed CEOs who came to Vegas with the idea that everything there
was for sale—even the showgirls—he hadn’t patronized her. Or lied to her.

Also unlike them, Luke hadn’t tried to grab her ass.

She frowned, suddenly off-kilter by the realization.
Why
hadn’t Luke tried to grab her ass? Was she the only one feeling a buzz between
them?

Wondering, Josie tilted her head. Luke still crouched beside
the coffee table, now exchanging her limp bag of frozen corn for a package of
frozen peas. He patted it gently in place—the “icing” portion of her
sprained-ankle treatment. He glanced at his watch.

“What’s the matter? Got a hot date?” she teased.

He hesitated. Josie’s heart stuttered.

Get a grip,
she commanded herself.
You just met
him. He doesn’t even want to grab your ass
.

But that didn’t seem to matter. As aggravating as Luke
sometimes was—especially when arguing against her dance school idea—Josie had
to face facts. His was one of the few friendly faces she’d encountered since
setting out on her big adventure. Unlike another of those friendly faces—her
mother’s—
his
didn’t belong to someone who’d once scraped Gerber mashed
sweet potatoes out of her nose. That was a plus right there.

Besides, being with him just made her feel better.

“I’m timing the ice packs for your ankle,” he
said.

Great. She was getting sappy. He was getting practical.

What were the odds?

“Oh. Right. The ice packs.”

“But if you want me to leave, I will.”

Josie didn’t want him to leave. But she didn’t want to say
so. After all, the man had (kind of) kidnapped her. She was still officially
opposed to that.

Biting her lip, she glanced around the living room. Among
all the tarp-shrouded furniture, Luke had only uncovered the sofa. The fire was
great, but the shadows it cast in the corners and the whole
Scooby-Doo
atmosphere of Blue Moon at night was starting to spook her.

“I’ve got some things to do in the carriage
house,” Luke said. “I’ll check on you in twenty minutes.”

“Wait! You don’t have to rush off.”

He glanced over his shoulder, one eyebrow lifted.

“Umm, what’s all that for?” She pointed to the
things he’d brought. Yes, it was a lame distraction. It was all she could muster
on short notice. Being kidnapped had damaged her flirting abilities.

Cooperatively, Luke lifted the soda. “Refreshment.
Seven-Up is the only thing to drink when you’re under the weather. At least
according to Marta.”

Finally. A personal detail. “Marta?”

“My…babysitter. When I was a kid.”

“Ah.”

Next, Luke lifted a Ding Dong. “Sustenance.” He
lifted the deck of cards. “And entertainment. But I’m having second
thoughts about these. Playing cards might make this whole kidnapping thing too
much fun for you. You’ll never leave.”

“Only if you’re lucky.” Josie smiled. “Come
on. I need some distraction and you’re all that’s available. You owe me.”

He hesitated, then ran a hand through his hair. Was it her
imagination, or was he reluctant to leave?

“What do you have in mind?”

“Seven-card stud.” Her favorite card game.
“Aces high, no limit, minimum bet…one Ding Dong.”

With her good toe, she pushed a cellophane-wrapped chocolate
cake into the kitty. Then she looked at Luke.

He put his hands on his hips. He arched his eyebrow.
“Poker? With a Las Vegas showgirl? I’d have to be crazy.”

“Showgirl?” That was the second time he’d
mentioned that tonight. “I never told you that.”

“You didn’t have to.” Hunkering down again, he picked up the cards and plucked them from the box. He executed a perfect two-handed riffle shuffle. “After getting all the gossip in town and listening to your mom jabber about you, I figured it out. Just because I work with my hands doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

He dragged over an ottoman and sat on it, settling in. Josie
watched his hands as he shuffled.

“I like that you work with your hands.” To her,
doing the kind of work he did suggested trustworthiness. Plus, it positively
demonstrated studliness.

“I like that you work with your body.” He waggled
his eyebrows teasingly.

“Yeah. Most men do. But just for the record, that makes
me a dancer,
not
a stripper.” Reminded again of the day’s events,
Josie frowned. “I wish people in this town would get that through their
thick heads.”

“They might if you stuck around to show them.”
Luke dealt the cards. “But you’re leaving once you’re healed, right?”

“Damned straight, I am. Of course. Sure.”

He gazed at her, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“Add in a ‘definitely’ and I might believe you.”

She snorted. “Shows what you know. I’m not staying
here. I’ve already been through all that. For a minute, Tallulah’s offer made
me forget. But Donovan’s Corner doesn’t like me and I don’t like it. End of
story.”

“You must come back here pretty often,” he said.
“To visit your folks.”

Josie squinted at her cards. She gestured for another one,
then wagered a second Ding Dong. Maybe if she pretended he wasn’t going all
Barbara
Walters Special
on her, he’d quit it.

Luke didn’t even glance at his hand. “Or do they come
to see you in Vegas instead?”

“Look, are you going to play cards or not?”

“Do they think you’re a stripper, too?”

Exasperated, Josie met his gaze. “You’re awfully
inquisitive. For a guy, I mean. Most men would rather gnaw off their own
toenails than have a conversation. Especially on purpose.”

He wagered a Ding Dong, unbothered by her dig at his
manhood. “Most women never shut up.”

She pursed her lips demonstratively.

“Women are the ones who invented talking to
plants.”

She rolled her eyes.

“You must have something to hide.”

“Fine.” Josie raised her chin. She rattled off the
facts. “I haven’t seen my dad for a few years. He’s happier that way. My
mom sneaks off to Las Vegas every six months or so for a visit. She sees a few
shows, throws a few quarters in the slots, and commandeers my bed for a few
days while I sleep on the couch. Then she goes back to her life and I go back
to mine. Sometimes my sister comes with her.”

“What’s she like?”

“My sister? Three years older than me and twice as
perfect. So that’s it in a nutshell. My life, from Donovan’s Corner until
today. Happy now?”

Luke examined the kitty, then spread out his cards.
“Yeah. I’m happy. Full house, king high.”

Josie gawked. It was going to be a very long night.

Usually she excelled at poker—a perk of spending so much
time in casinos and of having accidentally dated a compulsive gambler when
she’d first arrived in Vegas. But pitted against Luke, Josie found her game was
off.

She tried to concentrate on the cards, and noticed Luke’s
incredible blue eyes instead. She tried to focus on winning, and got distracted
by his husky laugh, his easy way with victory, his tattoos. She attempted to
play her most cutthroat game of seven-card stud ever, and only succeeded in
wishing Luke would scoot closer. Preferably to her side of the table.

Oblivious to her wishes, he sat opposite her on the ottoman
with perfect casualness, legs cocked at the knee. Only a man could sit that way
and still look so good. Drawn by his pose, Josie gave up concentrating on
cards. Instead, she concentrated on
him
—which, as it turned out, was a
lot more enjoyable.

Although Luke was big, he possessed none of the awkwardness
that sometimes came with size. He seemed completely at ease in his skin, his
posture relaxed and his movements purposeful. He also seemed strangely
competent—as though he could fix something, carry something, or cradle
something with equal ease.

She didn’t know what it was about him that intrigued her so
much. Was it the hard angle of his jaw, suggesting stubborn machismo? The
rumpled darkness of his hair, suggesting uninhibited bed head? The sheer dazzle
of his smile, suggesting he enjoyed himself…no matter what?

Probably it was all those things. And more.

Hours of manual labor at Blue Moon had definitely done Luke
good, Josie observed. His whole body looked taut—his arms, his belly, his
thighs. He rested his elbows on them and then pondered his cards, his face a
study in shadows and light.

There was something about him. Something about a man who
seemed to know what he wanted and how to get it…something Josie wanted to get
closer to. Especially now that she was free to get to know her former handyman
a little better.

“If you’re trying to distract me by staring like
that,” he said without lifting his gaze from his cards, “it won’t work.
I have awesome powers of concentration.”

Whoops. Caught. “Is that right?”

He nodded. “I’m undistractible.”

That sounded like a challenge. “Wow. Impressive.”

“Yeah.” Luke added a Ding Dong to the kitty.
“So whatever kind of showgirl hypnosis you’re working on over there, you
can just knock it off.”

“‘Showgirl hypnosis.’” She smiled. “Well,
now, there’s one tiny problem with that. It only works if you actually look at
me.”

Pointedly, he frowned at his cards.

Experimentally, Josie nudged her shoulder. Her tank top
strap slipped a few inches.

His poker-player’s grasp tightened.

Josie’s smile widened. “Peripheral vision counts.”

Obviously realizing he was caught, too, he looked up.
Somehow, the impact of his full attention took her breath away. Her whole body
tensed expectantly. This was it. He was going to do…
something
.

“You need another bag of frozen corn.” Luke headed
for the house’s distant kitchen.

Arrgh. Josie grabbed the Seven-Up and took a swig straight
from the gigantic two-liter bottle. He
had
to be doing this
deliberately. The accidental-on-purpose tank top strap maneuver was one of her
best. It wasn’t possible Luke was immune.

When he returned bearing a mushy refrozen bag of niblets,
she tested her theory.

“If this were a real date,” she said, watching him
replace her makeshift sprained-ankle ice pack, “I’d have decided to let
you kiss me good night by now.”

Almost imperceptibly, his fingers fumbled.

She went on. “I’d start leaning in to give you an
opportunity. I’d probably look at your mouth a lot to give you a hint. Like
this.”

Josie leaned nearer, her gaze fixed on his lips.

He squinted. “If you did that, most guys would think we
had something stuck in our teeth.”

He was the most obtuse man on the planet. In the universe.
Josie persisted. “‘Most guys,’” she said seductively, “don’t get
this treatment.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“No, I’m not.” She put down her cards, wishing she
could get a little closer to him. Stupid ankle. It prevented her from just
climbing over the coffee table and sitting on his lap. Then he’d be sure to get
the message. “Really, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” Luke nodded toward their poker
game. He snapped his cards on the table with a flourish. “My straight
beats your royal flush. I knew you didn’t have the hand to back up that
bet.”

Oh. He was talking about the game. Giving up all hope of
ever winning at poker again, Josie sighed. She settled back on the sofa,
watching him scoop up the rest of his Ding Dong jackpot. It figured. In
this—just like in the rest of her life—she’d overplayed her hand.

Luke had never believed a simple game of seven-card stud
could be fatal. But after four hands, three swigs of Seven-Up, and countless
trips to the kitchen for vegetable ice pack replacements, he realized the
truth. He was never going to survive this night.