He scanned the room until he found her, and the smile that landed on his mouth when he did unlatched the butterflies caged in her stomach. They erupted in her abdomen with a force that should have been concerning, if she could have thought of anything beyond the conversation she’d just had.
As per usual, everyone vied for his attention the moment he entered the bar. Immediately, he was waylaid by a group of party planners, his sister gripping his arm to keep him in place as she pointed to the tables and chairs, outlining her plan for the set up. When he finally broke free from Hope, Gabe called to him from behind the bar, shouting something about beverage options for the next day. Even her mother stopped him, patting his cheek and laughing as she spoke. He responded with a kind smile and murmured something that had her blushing.
He’s all yours, her sister had said. But was he? Or would he always be everyone’s? The hero who everyone shared and needed?
Her thoughts spiraled even as Joel found her gaze again. This time he held it, a faint crease appearing between his eyebrows.
Despite her frustration and apprehension, one look from him was all it took for her body to respond. Heat bloomed low in her belly, working its way up to her heart and throat, and she caught her lip between her teeth as she watched him watch her.
This relentless desire, the heat and the need, hadn’t been enough before, and it wouldn’t be enough this time.
Was it selfish that she didn’t want to spend a lifetime competing with whoever needed Joel Morgan most? Or the paparazzi making her second guess herself, making her wonder if she was just another project to him.
Her frown was making her brain hurt, and Joel must have noticed, because he disentangled himself from Maria’s grip and turned toward Lucy with intent in his eyes. Removing his suit jacket as he stalked toward her, he dropped it on a nearby chair at an empty table, loosened his tie and started rolling up his shirt sleeves. She didn’t realize she hadn’t taken a breath until he was standing in front of her, and then his scent slammed into her, the intoxicating intensity of it sending a fog over every thought ricocheting in her head.
“You’re overthinking,” he whispered so only she could hear, dipping his head until his lips brushed against hers. When he straightened, he addressed her sister. “Vanessa,” he acknowledged with a nod.
“BIL,” she replied.
“Pardon me?” His voice was a rumble of confusion.
“B. I. L. Brother-in-law. It’s what I’m calling you from now on. Since, you know, you are. And you’re my favorite one, too.” Her smirk matched the twinkle in her eye. She was loving this. Scooting off the bar stool, she adjusted the skirt that had climbed its way up her thighs when she sat. “I’m going to let you love birds”—she waved her hand between them— “do whatever it is you need to do. I’m going to convince Mom and Zia it’s time to go home and make me pasta.Ciao.” She air kissed their cheeks and sashayed off.
“She’s trouble,” Joel said, as they watched Vanessa strut over to the older women.
“Since the day she was born, I’m afraid,” Lucy agreed, trying to ignore the kaleidoscopic of emotions churning inher chest. “Some days I wonder whose heart she’s going to eventually lock down.”
“Hopefully someone who knows that her kind of trouble is worth it, then sticks around to fight for her instead of with her.”
Lucy swiveled her head toward him. What a typical Joel thing to say. Both elusive and insightful. Like he knew things no one else knew, except this was her sister, and she wanted to know. But before she could interrogate him, he turned and braced a palm against either side of her on the table, sheltering her in the circle of his arms. “So, what were you overthinking about? Your mother?”
“For once, no.” His intoxicating closeness made the truth fall right from her lips, all thought of Vanessa, or anyone else for that matter, completely evaporating from her mind. “I was thinking about you. About us.”
“And…” His breath fanned her face as he leaned in, tracing his nose along her cheek. “What conclusion did you come to?”
Her heart hammered in her chest, and she was sure if he focused on her neck, he’d see the beat pounding under her skin. Had she come to any other conclusion than he smelled fantastic? She couldn’t remember.
“I can’t think when you do that,” she admitted hoarsely, turning her cheek toward his, until the corners of their mouths brushed.
“I can’t help it. I’ve missed you,” he whispered, his lips now directly over hers. “All day I’ve been thinking about this exact moment. With you, I’m like a fucking moth to a flame. I can’t stay away, even when I know I’m going to get burned. And I’ll take the pain every time, because being burned by you is a thousand times less agonizing than being apart from you.”
There was no time to ask him what he meant, no time to even fully digest his words, because he kissed her, and not soft or gently, not inconspicuous, or appropriate for the public setting they were in, but passionate and ravenous. As if he truly could not wait another second for this kiss. His mouth devoured hers, but even through the heated embrace he still exercised his control, his arms braced against the table, keeping a distance. If she wanted, she could have pulled away and ducked out of his hold. She considered it.
What had he meant when he’d said he couldn’t stay away even if he knew he’d be burned? Did he expect her to hurt him? Did he honestly think she had that power? Half the time, she was at his mercy. If anyone was going to be hurt here, surely it would be her. The sharp edge of pain traced around the frayed edges of her heart, reminding her that she already was.
She pressed the palm of her hand into the firm wall of muscle protecting his heart.
“Joel.” She pulled away, breathless. “We need to talk.” So much to talk about, so little ability to concentrate when his face was suctioned to hers.
“Talk, yes. We should, shouldn’t we?” He drew back enough so she could focus in on his eyes.
She tried to read what was in them, but they were immediately guarded. Somewhere between their kiss and her palm on his chest, he’d reassembled himself.
“You kiss like that tomorrow and you’ll set the fire alarms off,” Carter said, sidling up behind them. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the tabletop, chin resting in his palms, watching them casually. “I’m thinking of creating a cocktail to name after the two of you,Jucy, you know, for Joel and Lucy.” He looked back and forth betweenthem. “Too tacky? I thought of merging the two last names, butMoronejust sounded—no.”
Lucy turned her head to the side to look at Carter. Even though she meant what she said to Joel, and she did want to talk, she had to defend her culture. “I’ll have you know Morone is a very respectable Italian surname.”
“Really?” Carter narrowed his eyes, considering. “Nah, Jucy is way better.”
