Bed of Lies by Paula Roe Page B

zone in sight. “I have paying clients. And anyway, you can relax better without me around.”
    Luke looked dissatisfied with her reasoning. “You got something I can do around here?”
    “No.”
    “What about that?” He nodded in the direction of the pantry, where the door was off its hinges and resting against the stove.
    “It needs sanding then the hinges need to be realigned. I can do it.”
    “So can I.”
    “I’d rather you not—”
    “Don’t make me pull rank on you, Beth.” His words were soft but his eyes firm. “I own the place, remember?”
    Beth felt her face flush, but shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “Fine. Do what you want.” Now she sounded petulant and that annoyed her more than anything. But it irked her that he had every right to paint the place in pink polka dots if he so chose.
    “I got a call from Dylan last night,” Luke said. “He accessed your runaway’s cell-phone records. Plus, he’s also checking flight schedules.”
    Beth’s heart skipped a beat. “He could’ve left the country?”
    “What would you do if you’d stolen half a million?”
    Beth exhaled slowly. “So the money could be gone forever.”
    “Not necessarily. Let’s see what turns up.”
    She nodded absently, her head whirling. More waiting. She’d be a world champion by the end of it.
    “I’ll get started on that door, then chop that firewood in the backyard.” He massaged his shoulder. “Need to keep busy.”
    “Not used to being idle, huh?”
    “Hate it,” he admitted, and as she gave him a small smile, the lines on his face softened. “Lying on a beach with a book was my idea of hell.” He put his elbows on the counter and leaned back. “Until that massage.”
    She knew he wanted to add something more, make some comment about their kiss, but he let his eyes do all the talking.
    “I’ve got to go,” she muttered and beat a hasty retreat.
    Luke watched her leave, wondering for the umpteenth time since yesterday how one woman could be so damn frustrating.
    Connor would say it was because his obsession with fixing things had encountered a brick wall. Marco would add, “Because sometimes things can’t be solved with a charming smile, bro!” with a wink and a grin.
    Maybe.
    He grappled with the real reason, as if by wrestling with it he could reduce it to ashes. But he was plumb out of luck. The answer was purely selfish.
    Attraction.
    She wasn’t his type—too secretive, too stubborn, too take-charge. He liked everything straightforward, out in the open, no surprises. Yet there was something about her that got his blood pumping anyway.
    He missed having a woman in his life. Missed the way they felt, their smell, their laughter. Their softness.
    It was strange, having a woman refuse his help even when she was so obviously neck deep in problems. But Beth had made it clear she could function perfectly well without him and would continue to do so long after he was out of the picture.
    So why did that rub him the wrong way so much?
    Beth refused to spoil her day by thinking about her former bookkeeper. Instead, she focused on what she could control: namely, her attraction to Luke De Rossi. So when she picked up Laura she was on the receiving end of a one-sided conversation all the way to work. As she nodded and responded in the appropriate places, her conscience held up its end.
    Be honest—you want him. What do you have to lose if you succumb to temptation for once? If you let him kiss you, touch you?
    Her control. Not to mention her professional ethics and privacy.
    Ha. You were interested long before that massage. And no one can take something from you you’re not willing to give .
    Sure. It’d only take one eager reporter, one mistake, and your whole life could be exposed. Again.
    She focused on the road with exaggerated concentration just as she tried to convince herself she wouldn’t care when Luke was gone. She’d be glad. Glad.
    A hand waved in front of her face. “Still with me