Page 53 of Just One Look

“Oh,” she said, and sighed.

“Wait for it.” His voice was dark and quiet, because he was close. “Let it dry.”

“I don’t have to let it dry.” The scent was soft. Feminine. Floral, and more. “It smells like my Memaw’s garden in summer. The most relaxing place in the world. And like red roses, where they’re not just sweet, they’re spicy. And … rich.”

He said, “I want to find out for myself. I’m going to smell both of them, if that’s all right.”

The lady behind the counter was eyeing them. They must have looked a little ridiculous. Luka, even in a collared shirt, looked like no possible perfume shopper ever. He looked, in fact, like a tough man who used his body to make a living. The hand that cradled her face, especially, was big and rough and strong. She knew enough about human bodies to know that fingers could be strong, and his were. The hand had thirty-four muscles and over a hundred tendons and ligaments, and all of his were at maximum fitness.

And then, of course, there was her, in her black pants and a white shirt that was a little crumpled, because it had fallen from its hook during the twelve-plus hours she’d been at work today.

She felt the brush of his hair against hers as he bent his head, and she forgot about what the Chanel lady thought.

His lips touching her skin, lighting up her neural pathways. His warmth, so close to hers. He lifted his head and said, his eyes at full wattage, “That’s nice.”

“Uh … Which one was that?” She knew her voice was too breathy. Not in command at all.

“No. 5. Warm. Sexy. I like that on you. Now let’s do the one you like best, because this is all about what you like best. It’s all about pleasing you.”

He was on her other side, and it was the whole thing again. His hand. His mouth. This time, he stayed there. His lips at her neck, as if he wanted to breathe her in. And she was about to faint.

When he came up, he said, “That’s the one. For me, it’s the one. Flowers and spice. Just like you.”

“I can’t … tell,” she said. “I’ve smelled too many again.” She was barely steady on herfeet.This was ridiculous.

“Go wash them all off again, then,” he said. “Come back and spray yourself just with this one. We’ll walk around, do a bit of shopping, and you’ll see if you can wear it. If you want to live in it. Though there’s no shame in buying a few scents, or heaps of them. The fun’s in the choosing. Who do you want to be tonight? You can decide.”

“I’ll do that. Wash my arms off, I mean, not buy more. And we could go …” She hesitated again. She needed tostopwith the hesitating, and the breathiness, and the ridiculous flutters in her belly. She needed to buy that bossy one, that bold one.Thatwas the person she should want to be. It was the person shewas.The person she’d made herself.

She didn’t want the bossy one, though, not right now. She wanted the beautiful one, the one that made him want to bury his face in her neck. She wasn’t buying this perfume to wear at work. She was buying it to wearoutsideof work. To wear in her new, fully developed outside-of-work life.

All right, the outside-of-work life wasn’t developed. It was still, in fact, almost purely hypothetical, but she was here, wasn’t she? Buying perfume and flirting? That was some serious coloring outside the lines.

“We could go where?” he asked.

“To look for a dress, And shoes. I need going-out clothes. Not going out with you,” she hastened to add. “Going out with whoever. Or by myself. Whatever. Casual clothes for going out casually.”

“We could do that,” he said. “And then we could go out.”

“Casually,” she said.

“Or not,” he said.

A voice from behind her said,“Luka?What on earth are you doing lurking around the Chanel counter?”

He closed his eyes, opened them again, and said, “Hi, Sofia,” without even turning around.

Elizabeth thought,Not another one,and fought the insane urge to giggle. She didn’t giggle. She’dnevergiggled. She definitely wanted to giggle now, though.

Luka said, his tone resigned, “Sofia, meet my neurosurgeon. Elizabeth, meet my sister.”

“Bloody hell, you do stink of scent,” the dark, fortyish woman said. She wasn’t dressed any more excitingly than Elizabeth herself. In black leggings and a tunic, to be exact, and she wasn’t wearing much makeup, either. “This is how you spend your time now? I won’t tell Mum. Hi,” she said to Elizabeth. “Probably best you’re his neurosurgeon, unless that was a joke. You don’t look like a neurosurgeon, I have to say. You don’t smell like one, either. His ex is somewhere around here, though, or one of them. Just saw her on the escalator. Could be a scene, but that’s Luka, eh. Surrounded by women.”

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that,” Elizabeth said. “I already met at least two of those, and I’ve known the guy less than two weeks.” She still wanted to laugh, maybe because the other half of her was more than a little crushed. She couldn’t even have amoment.She couldn’t even have afantasy.

“His first ex,” Sofia said. “His main ex. The love of your life, Luka. Piper.”