The Last Heartbeat

Chapter 2

2

“If it puts you at ease…” Luke held out his hand and waited for Agathe’s dark-brown gaze to fuse with his. “My name’s Luke.”

He couldn’t help but steal another look at her. Her captivating hair, a mix of deep chocolate and fine, sandy-blonde streaks, fluttered in the night breeze. Her light-bronze skin, along with her delicate facial features, gave off a forest-nymph aura, mysterious and birdlike. She was slight and elegant, even if she did wield a strong amount of snark. Meanwhile, the air cracked around her like high-voltage lightning, especially as her gaze dropped to his outstretched hand, and she glowered.

“I’d say it’s nice to meet you” —she reached out all the same, her slender fingers curling around his, a fragile heat trailing from her soft skin— “but under the circumstances, I’d be lying.”

Despite a natural desire to laugh at her cynical reply, his gut clenched, and sickness rocked his insides. The gloom in her eyes reminded him that he’d almost shot her. That a decade in the British military would have counted for nothing if his earlier arrow hadn’t gone astray.

He pulled his hand back and rubbed his palm over the scruff of his two-day-old re-growth. Crossbow practice should have been safe at this ungodly hour and on his own land, but if Agathe had been hurt… Or worse…

Her split-second rustle of movement had veered his aim and saved them both. The gum tree he’d shot would recover, but she wouldn’t have.

He swallowed at the thick clump in his throat and vowed he’d used his bow for the very last time. Firearms practice had gone long ago; it wasn’t as though he was in the service anymore, so he could live without archery, too. “If there’s anything I can do… Please, let me make amends.”

Her dark stare washed over him, then lingered on his chest. The slow inspection sent a hot sting through his body, and he breathed deep, working hard to maintain focus.

Only a fool would assume she had the same salacious thoughts invading her mind, but he was clearly one goddamn fool. Why else had he made the incredibly stupid move of voicing his attraction to her?

Her drawn-out silence now shook him to the core. It brought attention to the growing gloom in her increasingly befuddled stare, and it highlighted there was something intrinsically different about Ms. Agathe Santos. Something greater than natural beauty and bronzed features. Or snark.

If nothing else, the drawn-out silence made him pray to a heaven he didn’t believe in that she might share a small fraction of attraction toward him.

“The key should be enough.” A deliciously husky whisper poured from her lips, and she held out her hand again, gaze sweeping the surrounding bush land, while her pupils pooled. “And maybe you can walk me back to my door, after all.”

Her attention slammed into him. The force of that stare detonated an imaginary explosion deep within his ears. He reached out and handed her the key, stifling an urge to wrap his hand around hers again, and not to let go this time. “Thanks for trusting me.”

Trust. There, he said it. Now he had no choice but to make good on his unvoiced promise not to creep her out.

He peered down at her scattered belongings on the ground and told the surge of blood through his body to calm the f**k down. She needed help, not some randy stranger breathing down her neck.

“Feel free to keep the spare key.” He knelt and collected the fallen items from her purse.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He stood and handed her the purse.

Her frown eased, and a small light entered her eyes. The cold air nipped at his cheeks, and he turned away, homing in on his task of leading her back to her cabin, anything to distract from the hormones wreaking hell on his body.

But even as he stalked ahead, he weighed the reality here. This woman had to be somewhere around her mid-twenties, with years of partying and maturing to get out of her system. He, on the other hand, had just turned thirty-six and had lost all interest in short-term flings.

He needed mature.

Someone to settle down with.

Yearned for the comfort and consistency of a lifelong partner.

Not that Agathe here would be interested in him, anyway. Not a young and beautiful woman like her, one sporting a restless demeanor and desires that probably went beyond a non-dramatic life, complete with children and shared domestic bliss.

He took the few steps onto the cabin’s front veranda and for some inexplicable reason paused in the doorway, cursing his inability to summon something witty to say.

So, he said nothing.

Agathe peered up at him, her features set in an already familiar frown. “I’ll continue the key-finding expedition tomorrow morning before I catch my train back to Melbourne.”

He stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets, halting his desire to reach out and reassure her. “This is my place now; you’re not about to get in trouble. I’ll find the key soon enough and change the locks if I don’t.”

Her shoulders dropped. “Thank you. And I’m sorry.”

Her attention held a gentler stare, eyes lacking their hardened edge. So he offered a half-hearted smile. “You have a nice night, Agathe.”

He turned away and told himself to let this woman be. If he were lucky, his sanity would return once he’d found his own house and some sleep, alone, in his own bed.

“Luke.”

The shaky, clipped sound of her voice held him paused at the veranda’s edge. He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed an expletive. His name from her lips made a shiver of need wash over him, and he had little choice but to spin around and give her his focus.

“I don’t know how to say this. I…” Her arms wrapped around the elbows of her green cardigan, the flared sleeves pulled over her fingertips. “Please don’t leave.”

An invisible force hit him square in the chest, one that had him glaring at the cabin’s door, pulse racing at the possibility of some unseen threat. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head, luscious waves falling about her face. “No. Actually, yes.” Her cheeks lifted with a tight grimace. “I guess this is where I invite you in for coffee, even though we both know coffee isn’t the real reason for the invitation.”

Something deep within him jolted, while his feet stayed fixed to the veranda. Time had stopped and taken him along with it. Not such a bad thing since he needed a moment to replay what she’d just said.

Her suddenly pale lips hinted that he’d heard right; this otherwise stony woman had just propositioned him for s*x. Actual s*x! The rush of subsequent thoughts swarming his mind stopped any chance of making any real sense of her offer.

An inner voice told him to keep his distance. Clearly one of them wasn’t thinking straight, and he couldn’t decide which one. Keeping his distance would have been the sensible thing to do, but his legs worked of their own volition and walked him toward her, his mouth adopting an uncharacteristic need to talk. “I’m not sure that’s what you want.”

The scent of sunflowers and rain, watery and sweet, floated off her rich, dark skin. He pressed his eyes shut and sniffed at the surrounding smell of smoky gum trees, diverting his senses to something other than this soul-capturing woman. Only his efforts weren’t enough, not when light footsteps thudded against timber in his ears.

He reopened his eyes to her blinking back up at him, those deep-brown pupils reeling him in again. “I’m not completely sure either, but it’s time, and I need to do this.”

His chest muscles bunched at her mixed response. What am I supposed to do with that?

She lifted a hand and rested it on his shoulder. Pure, instinctual need prompted his own hand around her slender waist.

“Excuse me if I’m used to a little more enthusiasm.” Despite those words, his thumb stroked the soft, thin wool of her cardigan, his touch designed to coax her closer, to possess her, regardless of his doubts. A bastard move if ever there was one.

She shook her head, fingertips tracking a slow line down his neck. “I do want this.” Her voice lowered and dripped with promise, while her careful touch drifted over his throbbing pulse, igniting heat throughout his body. And still, he had no idea what mystical turn of events had provoked this stunning creature into his arms or what he should do about it.

He frowned at the small crease between her brows. “There’ll be no regrets?”

She gave a small shake of her head, her eyes glistening, less hesitant now, more a hint at her vulnerability. “No regrets. I just don’t know how to start.”

That statement didn’t match his initial impressions of her, though the innocent honesty did stir his blood. She was less a wild child, more a lost deer searching for the comfort of companionship.

“Then let me help.” He brushed his lips to hers, though even his line about help felt like a lie. He wanted her, pure and simple and selfish as that.

Her fingertips dug into his shoulder with light pressure, and her lithe frame curved like a delicate bundle of softness against his much larger body. He stroked his palm over her tense muscles. At her back, her gentle easing urged him to escalate the light grazing of lips into an all-consuming kiss.

Her mouth matched his own hungry passion, a simple miracle in itself, each fine sweep of her tongue stoked a flame and turned his body impossibly hard. A quiet groan broke from her, and he fought a burning impulse to have her right there and then on the cold veranda floor.

Agathe Santos was something else. Something magical. His wondrous forest nymph. A gift. A reward. And a sure contradiction to who he’d thought himself to be. She reduced him down to pure and present pleasure, his dreams of home and family damned. His only real justification was that he was cutting himself slack for all the years he’d visited hell and endured the worst humans could offer.

Truth was, he didn’t care about why exactly she’d fallen into his arms; she made his heart thud and his body soar. And God help him, he didn’t want a one-night stand, but right about now, all he did want was for desire to fill her dusky eyes and to hear those exquisite lips call his name, over and over, and over again.