Anything but Love

THREE

“A cab?”

“Had to get from the airport to your place somehow and since I don’t know the area and my time was limited, I opted for a cab.”

Rae shifted anxiously on her heels as Luke opened the rear door for her—mad as hell but still a gentleman. Heart pounding, she eased inside. “But a taxi from LAX to Bel Air? And you asked him to wait? We’re talking a lot of money, Luke.”

“Don’t talk to me about money right now, Rachel … Reagan … whatever the hell your name is. Not now.” He closed her door and rounded to the other side.

She swallowed hard as he slid in and buckled up. As supportive as he’d been inside where Geoffrey was concerned, in private he’d reverted to the angry man she’d greeted at the door. Six feet of hunky fury. “Rae,” she managed.

“What?”

“Call me Rae.”

Luke glared then shifted his attention to the driver. “Back to the airport, please.”

Rae blinked. “Flying in and out of LA in one day?”

“Skipped out on my family for Christmas Eve,” Luke said. “Need to be back for Christmas.”

“Why did you skip out at all?”

“Because I only just learned of your whereabouts and I had to know if…” He shook his head then dragged both hands down his face.

The man’s frustration crashed over Rae in suffocating waves. Unsettled, she cracked open the window and reminded herself to breathe. “Why are you here, Luke?”

“I need to know why you lied to us Rach … Rae. I need to know why you pretended to be someone you aren’t. Why you played us … me, Sam, the Cupcake Lovers … for suckers.”

“I didn’t—”

“You did.”

“It might seem that way, but it wasn’t intentional.”

“I’m all ears.”

Rae worried the handle of her purse, averted her gaze. She’d never been one to talk about her troubles. Luke’s scornful attitude wasn’t much of an enticement to change her ways. “How are things between you and Sam?”

“Not great.”

Luke’s cousin, a man who’d been smitten with Rae, had walked in on the one kiss she’d shared with Luke. Sam was above making a scene, but she’d felt the ferocity of his disappointment. It hadn’t been pretty. “I wrote him a letter. I apologized—”

“I know. He told me. It’s the only reason I knew you weren’t dead in a ditch somewhere.”

Rae’s heart warmed even as her stomach clenched. “You were worried about me?”

That whipped Luke’s head around. “Are you serious? You lived in Sugar Creek for a year. You were part of the community. A Cupcake Lover. A beloved teaching assistant. Maybe you didn’t care about us, but we cared about you!”

Another stab to her gut. Except they hadn’t cared about Rae, they’d cared about Rachel.

“So what?” he plowed on. “We were some kind of joy ride? Or maybe you lived in Sugar Creek on a dare? Wait. Let me guess. You were slumming. Seeing how the yokels live. Why Sugar Creek?”

“I threw a flipping dart at the map.” Rae was seething now. She’d had enough of Luke’s venom. If she wanted ugly, she would’ve hung back and joined her mother and Geoffrey.

He cast her a fiery glance.

Angry? Confused? Intrigued? Disgusted?

Rae couldn’t read Luke and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Where was the charitable playboy she’d fallen in love with just months ago?

This cynical man jammed his hand through his already messy hair. “I need a drink.”

“Join the club.” Furious, disillusioned, Rae crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the window. She wished Luke would have stayed away. Her memories of Sugar Creek and the people who lived there were sacred. Luke was tainting the best year of her life. Plus, warping her vision of him as her knight in shining armor. The only man who’d ever defended her was now attacking her. The luxury homes lining Stone Canyon Road blurred as Rae fought back tears. She refused to cry. Do. Not. Cry.

“What’s up with your mom’s friend?” Luke asked in a tight voice.

“Geoffrey’s her husband. Her fourth husband. Don’t you read the tabloids?”

“No.”

Still facing away, Rae closed her burning eyes and cursed her flippancy. Of course he didn’t read the tabloids. He probably skipped respected periodicals as well. Luke had a reading problem. She didn’t know to what extent. She’d picked up on the signs when she’d applied for a job at the Sugar Shack, his popular pub and restaurant. He actually had a keen knack for disguising the disability, but she had a stepbrother who’d suffered with dyslexia and she’d also studied learning disorders while earning her teaching degree.

“Is he always a dick?” Luke pressed. “Or did I just bring out his worst?”

Rae’s stomach knotted. She didn’t want to talk about Geoffrey. “How’s Daisy?” The eccentric but lovable matriarch of the Monroe family had been the first member of the Cupcake Lovers to praise Rae’s baking talents. The senior member’s glowing compliments warmed Rae to this day. If only Olivia had been half as nurturing.

“Gram’s fine,” Luke said. “She moved in with Vince.”

“They make a cute couple. Speaking of, how are your brother and Chloe doing?”

“If you’d bothered to stay in touch with any one of us you’d know,” Luke snapped. “Why the hell did you tell your mom you spent the last year in China? Volunteering with underprivileged children in a remote area.” He snorted. “Quite the story. What are you? A chronic liar? Disconnected with reality?”

Rae finally turned and, eyes now dry, glared at Luke. In all his scenarios he hadn’t once given her the benefit of the doubt. Yes, she’d lived in Sugar Creek under an assumed identity, but she’d lived a good life. She’d been a good person. Inheriting a fortune didn’t change who she was inside. How could Luke think so little of her? How had she thought so highly of him? “Better a chronic liar than a judgmental jerk.” Rae bolstered her shoulders then turned and beckoned the driver. “Pull in up ahead, please. The Hotel Bel Air.” She’d be hanged if she’d spend another minute in Luke Monroe’s irritating company.

“What are you doing?” he asked as she dug in her purse.

“Thank you for saving me from an awkward moment with Geoffrey. Have a safe flight home, Luke.”

Rae leaned forward and passed the driver two fifties then shoved open her door and swung out with as much grace as she could muster. Apparently she was doomed to a lifetime of crappy birthdays. This was the worst by far. To hell with Luke. To hell with going back to her mother’s mausoleum of a house. She’d treat herself to a night of pampering. A deluxe room with a flat screen TV and a stocked minibar. Dinner at Wolfgang Puck. A full body massage. Maybe a swim. She could purchase whatever she needed in the Boutique. Her fortune couldn’t buy her happiness, but it could certainly buy her comfort.

“What the hell?” Luke watched as Rae strode toward the doors of the luxury hotel. Stunned by her hasty exit. Mesmerized by her sensual body. Call him a dog, but Luke had a longtime obsession with the female form. Rachel Lacey had hidden her considerable assets beneath baggy ankle-length dresses, whereas Reagan Deveraux showcased her curves. Not in a slutty way, but that almost made things worse. Rae was class on designer heels.

And she just called him a judgmental jerk.

“Son of a—”

“LAX?” the driver asked.

“What?”

“Still going to the airport?”

“Yes. No. Not yet.” Luke unbuckled his seat belt.

“Want me to wait?”

“Yes.” Luke noted several taxicabs parked near the lobby. “No.” He hadn’t flown all this way to get the bum’s rush. “How much do I owe you?”

“Your lady covered it.”

“She’s not my lady.”

She’d duped Luke and all of Sugar Creek. She’d run off and left them all to worry. Where did she get off giving Luke attitude? She hadn’t given Luke a straight answer to any one of his questions. “How much did she give you?”

“A hundred.”

She’d paid his entire tab. As if he couldn’t afford it. Luke’s pride reared. He passed the man a generous tip, nabbed his backpack and jacket, and hit the pavement. He blew through the doors of the swanky hotel feeling severely underdressed.

Damn.

So this was how the other half lived. Even though the lobby had a cozy vibe—hardwood floors, comfortable furniture, raging hearth—this hotel reeked of sophistication and money. Similar to Rae’s house. Or rather her mom’s house.

He’d been so angry when he’d first confronted Rae, he hadn’t paid much mind to her posh digs. He’d been too focused on the gorgeous redhead with the kickass curves and impeccable style. He still couldn’t believe the extent of her physical transformation. Jayce Bello, Luke’s almost brother-in-law and an ace private eye, had not only, finally, traced this woman to Bel Air, he’d also filled Luke in on her real background and had shown him a “pre-Rachel” photo. Luke had barely recognized the stunning woman. Reagan Devereaux was hot. Even more so in person. Luke hated that he’d noticed and kept on noticing. On their short cab ride it was all he could do not to stare at her sexy legs. And now those sexy legs had taken her … where?

Luke did a three-sixty. No Rae. He approached the concierge. “I’m looking for a woman who just came in. Gorgeous redhead in a green dress?”

The man raised a brow and Luke realized he probably sounded like a stalker.

“Reagan Deveraux,” Luke added. “I was supposed to meet her in the lobby.”

“I believe the woman you’re looking for went into the lounge.”

Luke thanked the man and headed toward where he pointed. He found Rae sitting at the bar throwing back a shot of tequila. He had no idea she did shots. He’d only ever seen her sip beer. Now she was licking salt from her hand like a pro. He watched, transfixed, as her red lips closed over a wedge of lime and sucked.

He wasn’t the only man watching.

Luke felt a jab of jealously when a designer-suited dude eased in and offered to buy her a drink. Then a surge of relief when Rae turned the man away. Luke cursed his whacked-out emotions. He shouldn’t be feeling anything for Rae aside from betrayal and confusion.

He joined her at the bar. “What are you doing?”

“Treating myself to a birthday drink.” She barely cast him a glance while attacking her second shot.

Luke clenched his jaw as she repeated the ritual. Salt, tequila, lime. Lick, drink, suck. Not overtly sexy, but sexy all the same. He gestured to the bartender. “Two Coronas, please.” Then he looked back to Rae. “Drinking alone on your birthday is sort of pathetic.”

“I’m not alone.” She met his gaze. “Unfortunately.”

Luke searched her eyes, his gut clenching when he caught a glimpse of Rachel Lacey, the same vulnerability that had intrigued him all those months ago. He had a weakness for women in need. Hell, he had a weakness for women period.

The bartender served two longnecks.

Luke waved off the glasses.

“Put it on my tab,” Rae said.

“It’s on me.” Luke paid cash for two of the most expensive beers he’d ever bought in his life. “As for the cab,” he said to Rae, “thank you, but I can manage.” He pulled five twenties from his wallet and when she refused, he shoved the money in her purse. “Three months ago you were desperate for money. Or so you said. Jayce called you a trust fund baby. You might not have inherited your fortune until today, but you must have had access to a monthly allowance.”

“I didn’t want to touch that money.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t believe you had me investigated.”

She sounded somewhere between hurt and outraged. Luke knew the feeling. “I had you tracked, which I wouldn’t have done if you had had the decency to say good-bye.”

Gaze averted, she sipped her beer then ordered another shot. “I felt awful about hurting Sam. Plus I was compromising the success of the Cupcake Lover’s recipe book by refusing to participate in any publicity.”

“So you ran away?”

“I didn’t think I’d be missed.”

What the freaking hell? “Are you that insecure or that oblivious?”

“People come and go all the time, Luke.”

“You’re missing the point, Rae.” He nabbed her wrist as she reached for the salt shaker. Her pulse raced beneath his thumb. His own heart bucked. He’d always had a talent for reading and finessing women. He had no clue how to handle Rae. Did she have the tolerance to withstand a third shot? He didn’t want to take the chance. He grabbed her shooter and downed the Cuervo himself. “Why don’t we sit at one of those tables and talk?”

“Why aren’t you on your way to the airport?”

“Why won’t you tell me why you paid for a false identity?

She glanced away, picked at the label on the beer bottle. “I needed to be someone else for a while.”

“Why?”

“It’s personal.”

One thing hadn’t changed. Reagan Devereaux was every bit as aloof as Rachel Lacey. Luke wanted to shake the crap out of her. Kissing her came to mind, too. He’d never been so angry and turned on at the same time. He told himself it was because she was smoking hot and he’d been celibate for weeks. Aching to jump her bones was natural. It wasn’t because he was jonesing to re-create the magic he’d felt the one and only time they’d locked lips. Who needed that kind of misery? Having a thing for a woman beyond his reach. A woman of privileged birth. A woman who’d earned a master’s degree. A woman worth a freaking million!

Hit the road, Monroe.

He wasn’t getting the answers he wanted so why was he wasting his time? As it was he’d be lucky if he got home before Christmas morning. Part of him had been desperate to see for himself that Rae was okay. She was more than okay. Except for her obsessive lying and the tension between her and her mom and that dickhead Geoffrey Stein. Every family had drama, right? The Monroes certainly had their fair share. More often than not, Luke played mediator. He should be home making peace, not here waging war. Besides, reasoning with this woman was a losing battle.

Luke reached down for his backpack and when he straightened the infuriating enigma was finishing off another shot.

For the love of …

He couldn’t leave Rae in this bar. What if she drank herself under the table? What if one of the several men watching took advantage?

“Do you think your mom and Stein left the house yet?”

“I’m sure of it. God forbid they miss a moment of the party.”

“Then come on. I’ll drop you home before I head to the airport.”

“I’m not going home.” She flashed a key card. “I’m staying here tonight.”

“Then I’ll walk you to your room.”

“Not necessary.” She stood, swaying a little on those sexy four-inch heels.

Luke groaned. “Humor me.”

She wasn’t drunk, but she was buzzed. The longer Luke had sat next to Rae, the more she’d wanted to numb her senses. He made her ache for Sugar Creek and the simple life she’d created there. She missed her friends in the Cupcake Lovers. She missed the children she’d bonded with through Sugar Tots. She mourned the fact that she’d probably never find the kind of love that existed between Chloe and Dev, Rocky and Jayce, Monica and Leo. She’d had the misfortune of falling for Luke Monroe, who clearly thought the worst of her and who wasn’t at all who she’d built him up to be.

He expected her to spill her guts, to share her most intimate problems as though he were her friend. A friend wouldn’t make her feel like the most selfish person on earth. Christmas Eve, her birthday, was always difficult. Luke had made it intolerable.

To make matters worse, all she could think about was their one spontaneous kiss and what might have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted. Luke’s presence rekindled the burning desires she’d worked weeks to snuff.

“This is it.” The number on the door was a little fuzzy, but she heard a click when she swiped the key card and the handle moved, so good. This was good. She’d found her room. He could go and maybe she’d be able to breathe. She turned to say good-bye, only her heel caught in the carpet and she teetered and knocked into the hard chest of Luke.

Tall, sexy, handsome-as-sin Luke.

He steadied her and … bam.

Suddenly they were kissing. She wasn’t sure who started it but no one was ending it. The kiss was frenzied, impassioned. He backed her into the room and against the wall.

The door snicked closed, shutting out the world, muting reality. Not the heiress and the bartender. Just two people in crazy blind lust.

He dropped his bag and coat.

She ditched her purse and shoes.

Her senses exploded as they grappled and soul-kissed.

The same spark as before, only more.

More was not enough.

Rae shoved Luke’s shirt off his shoulders then fumbled with the fly of his jeans.

He unzipped her dress, unhooked her bra.

His palm seared the bare skin of her back while his other hand smoothed up her thigh, under her dress.

His lips, his tongue … Heaven.

But then he broke off. “Tell me to go.”

She couldn’t. Not yet.

“Dammit.”

She backed him against the opposite wall, her actions frantic as she tugged at his clothes and ate him up like a starving sexaholic.

Feel me. Take me.

Pent-up yearning and frustration overshadowed rational thought.

They had no future.

But I can have now.

His mouth was magic, his touch perfection. Skilled. Seductive. The earth moved. No, she moved. Luke spun their position, pinning her between his hard body and the solid wall. She nearly lost it when he tugged at her thong. When the tip of his shaft grazed and … God.

One swift thrust. Luke was inside her, filling her, rocking her, taking her hard against the wall.

Her heart nearly burst through her ribs, her lungs burned. Every fiber of her being vibrated with heady pleasure. So primal. So perfect.

Rae shuddered with a mind-blowing orgasm. A wondrous sensation that echoed through her being like a never-ending aftershock. Luke peaked with her. It was powerful and amazing, wonderfully amazing.

Until he froze.

She felt the tension in his shoulders, sensed a rising darkness.

He still held her close, was still inside of her, but his forehead banged to the wall. “Christ.”

The horror in his tone twisted her heart into a bleeding knot.

“Why didn’t you stop me? Why…” Another head bang. “Dammit!”

Rae was too stunned, too dazed to speak. Why was he so upset? So they’d had sex. So it was a onetime thing. Luke Monroe was a notorious hound. He typically juggled three girls at a time. He was no stranger to casual sex. She knew his motto. Everyone in Sugar Creek knew his motto. No strings attached.

“Are you protected?”

Her reeling mind glitched. “What?”

“Christ, Rae. No condom.”

Her heart and brain stuttered back to life. Her stomach churned. “I’m on birth control.”

“Great. Good. That’s something.”

His attitude was less than romantic. All she sensed was remorse on his part whereas she was still semiflying from the greatest orgasm of her life. Why was that anyway? She refused to attach it to love. Loving Luke would only end in heartbreak. He’d already done a pretty good job of crushing her tender feelings.

Suddenly, painfully aware that her dress was hiked to her waist and his jeans were around his ankles, Rae tried to disentangle herself from Luke with some modicum of dignity.

Earning her master’s had been easier.

Luke—handsome-as-sin, confident, jovial, playboy Luke Monroe—looked at Rae as if she were a two-headed monster of seduction. “Why—”

“Maybe I just needed to get you out of my system. Thank you for that. Happy birthday to me.”

She wasn’t sure why she’d been so flip, so crass. It wasn’t like her. Except her pride was smarting. She hated that Luke was looking at her like she was the biggest mistake of his life when he was her bona fide favorite.

Drawing on her mother’s questionable acting skills, Rae rolled her eyes. “It was sex, just sex, and not even great sex at that. Go home, Luke.”

She slipped into the bathroom and locked the door, fighting tears, fighting nausea. Now, in addition to thinking she was a lying, selfish rich bitch, he also thought her a slut. People were always labeling her something or another based on stereotypes. She shouldn’t care.

She cared.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

Luke knocked on the door.

Rae turned on the shower.

When at long last the outer door finally opened and shut, Rae cried.