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LENGTH:Novella
SENSUALITY:Carnal

Cover art (c)
ISBN 978-1-60394-182-2
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Luke thought his past would haunt him forever until he found Chere, a woman willing to accept the man he’d become, not reject him for what he had been.

Chere thought she’d already given up on men—on love, passion, companionship—but there was something about Luke that she found irresistible, something that made her think that if she wasn’t willing to take even one more chance, she would always regret it.

Rating: Carnal. Adult situations and content. Some explicit language.

LOVING LUKE

By

Rayne Forrest

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s

imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or

events is merely coincidence.

Chapter One

It was just more proof that the universe continually had too much fun at her expense. Somewhere along the line, for reasons yet unknown, the Joker had stacked the deck again and given her the number that lived in infamy.

867-5309

Chere Palmer wrote her new cell phone number on the back of her business cared, handed it to her so-called best friend, and waited. Brandi’s laughter, for once, grated on her nerves.

There wasn’t any point in saying anything until Brandi finished crowing. They’d been best friends since the sixth grade and Chere knew her buddy pretty well. She leaned back and settled in against the rich, warm leather of the bench and glanced out O’Malley’s darkly tinted windows at the orange and purple sunset.

“Try not to lose the card or forget where you put it, Brandi.”

“Lose it?” Brandi fell off into another fit of laughter, falling over sideways in their booth and holding her stomach, gasping for air. “I won’t forget it. That’s just too funny.”

Chere put her hands on her hips, giving Brandi her very best glare. This signaled the beginning of what would surely be a long, downhill slide. No doubt about it. Even her mother would get that the joke was on her.

Brandi finally took a deep breath and wiped the tears that streamed from her eyes. “Didn’t you ask them for another number?”

“Of course I did. Jeez. I even threatened not to renew my contract with them so they tossed in free activation of my new cell phone and one month free.” She dropped her face into her hands and rubbed her temples.

867-5309. She’d heard all the horror stories of someone being given an infamous phone number. No amount of pleading, whining or threats had been effective to convince her cell phone company to issue her a different number. The computer had generated that number and she had to take it.

“Look on the bright side, Chere. Maybe some guy will call you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. Just think of the kind of guy that would call the number for giggles and laughs.” She smiled up at the waiter as he handed her a menu. Brandi started flirting. Imagine that.

Chere scanned the menu specials. The Friday specials and the Bloody Mary’s were why she and Brandi ate at O’Malley’s every week. That and the incredible atmosphere created by a mix of highly polished old barn wood flooring, lots of leather, stylish lighting, and a top of the line sound system. They ordered their drinks and watched the waiter swagger off.

“I bet he gets good tips.” Brandi sighed and shook her head.

“His butt is too skinny for my taste. And he’s too young. He’s probably working here to pay for tuition.”

Brandi laughed at her again. “What? Like we’re old and washed up at thirty-one? I don’t think so, Chere.” Her attention shifted back to the young man setting their drinks on the table.

Chere sighed. The waiter appeared to be maybe all the way to the ripe old age of twenty. She wanted something different, something older and more experienced. She didn’t want to have to housebreak another man. Her success record with that could not be called successful. Nope. She didn’t want anyone named Donny, Tommy, Johnny - no more average Joeys for her.

Damn. Had she finished that whole drink already? The waiter hadn’t even been back for their order. She’d be tipsy if she sucked down too many of those. They were just too good with the perfect amount of seasoning and hot sauce to tease the palette and not so much vodka that you choked.

They sat and talked for a while, not paying attention to the time until Brandi checked her watch.

“We’ve been here an hour. I’m going to ask the hostess what’s going on.” She slid out of her seat and bounded towards the lobby.

Chere leaned back and closed her eyes. She didn’t have anywhere else to go tonight. Nowhere else to go or no one else to see. Boring best described her life.

Her cell phone rang, jarring her from her reverie. Who’d be calling her? Only Brandi had the new number and she could see her friend chatting with the hostess. It had to be a wrong number and the caller would realize that when they heard her recorded message.

Brandi’s schmoozing proved successful. The hostess came over and gave them each a free Bloody Mary and told them their dinners would be reduced. Chere shook her head after the woman walked off. Trust Brandi to be able to pull off getting a freebie.

The band finished setting up before they were finished their dinners. They knew one of the guitarists and the gregarious Brandi went over to say hello while he tuned.

Chere’s cell phone rang again, and she continued to ignore it. She ran her fingers through her hair, annoyed. She’d go back in to the wireless company tomorrow and beg, or better yet, she’d take Brandi along and let her buddy work her magic.

The band knew their stuff, especially the lead guitarist, making Chere content to stay until the very last number. The room clapped and cheered as they hit the last chord. Brandi excused herself to go to the ladies room.

She jumped when the cell phone rang yet again. Enough was enough. Just how Brandi managed to perpetrate this little joke, she didn’t know, but it was time to tell her to stop trying to be funny. She grabbed her purse intending to follow Brandi and spotted her friend’s cell phone lying on the table.

Great. Just great. It was some stranger trying to be funny. Well, she wasn’t amused.

She picked up Brandi’s phone and met her as she was coming out of the restroom.

“Come on. We’re leaving. I’m beat.”

Brandi didn’t argue as they walked out into the muggy air of a summer night. “Me, too. Have you given any thought to what we talked about?”

Damn. She’d hoped Brandi had forgotten her proposal that she and Chere move in together to share expenses. The offer was tempting. Brandi had a great condo in a swanky neighborhood, but Chere enjoyed her privacy.

“Yeah, I have, but my lease still has seven months to go. I’d forfeit my security deposit if I moved out now. But I’m thinking about it. Besides, Wimp-boy called you three days ago. What if you two get back together?”

“I’m not taking him back. You’d make a much better roomie. You’d never cheat on me.”

“Very true.” Chere hugged her friend as they reached their cars. “Call me tomorrow. Maybe we can take in a movie.”

“Okay. See ya!” Brandi hopped into her car, fired up the engine and sped away. Chere sighed.

“Thanks for waiting to make sure my car started,” she muttered at the rapidly disappearing taillights. She unlocked her door and dropped into the driver’s seat. Her blasted cell phone rang again.

She almost didn’t answer, but this time it really could be Brandi. She flipped it open.

“Hello?”

* * * *

The proverbial bad day had spilled over into a less than stellar evening for Luke Fisher. One little disaster after another had besieged him from the time he’d opened his eyes to bright sunshine and not the golden-pink of dawn.

The electric had been off when he’d gotten up this morning, which meant no shower before going to work – late. Getting to work late equated to no parking space on the company lot so he parked on the street – a block away - and walked. His luck held steady and it started to rain before he reached the office and he spent the morning wearing a damp shirt and sitting in an air-conditioned building.

Going home for lunch, something he did regularly, gave him the chance to take a very quick shower, and put on a clean, dry shirt. The water in the shower was barely warm because the water heater hadn’t caught up from the power being off. He drove back to work and discovered the only available parking space in a three-block radius on the O’Malley’s lot.

His cousin Earl owned O’Malley’s so he parked his car in the back row and walked again. Then the computer network went wonky when maintenance made an unlikely blunder fixing an electrical outlet and he worked until midnight to restore the system.

Thinking the universe had had enough fun with him for one day, he arrived at his car and found out he was wrong. He had a flat tire, and to add insult to injury, his spare wasn’t in good shape either. Of course, that was his fault and he knew it.

As to how the tire had gone flat, he didn’t want to give in to conjecture. It had been fine when he’d parked the car. Dwelling on it meant delving into his past and he didn’t have the energy for that right now. He’d worry tomorrow, in the daylight, when his speculations were more manageable.

Climbing into the car, he dropped the seat back and settled in to call the tow truck and maybe snap a nap until they arrived. At least he could run the engine and create a cool breeze with the air conditioning system and avoid the humid night air and the mosquitoes. He keyed in the number on his roadside assistance card and waited for someone to answer.

A silky smooth voice, with just the barest whisper of the South said hello. He rattled off his name and roadside assistance insurance number and waited for her to ask all the usual questions for filling out her forms. There was silence on the other end of the connection.

“Did you get all that?” he asked her. Her reply startled him.

“I’m sure you think you’re funny, but you’re not. Don’t call this number again.”

The connection went dead with a click. What the fuck?

He dialed the number again and the same voice answered, only a little less pleasant this time. Well, he was feeling a bit less pleasant, too. He paid a lot of money for roadside service and he expected to get it when he called for it. He was too tired, too hot and sweaty waiting for the car’s air conditioning to get up to speed, to tolerate games.

“Listen, whoever you are, I need roadside assistance. Just stop playing your little game and send the tow truck. You got that?”

“Me? I’m playing games? Listen, bucko, I don’t know who you think you’re calling, but I’m not a tow truck driver and you’re bloody well on your own.” The connection broke.

He looked at his phone, dismayed. Could he just have one thing go his way between now and dawn? He hit the redial. When she answered this time, she was hopping mad

“Now you listen to me you smarmy son-of-a-bitch. You call me again and I’ll have the cops on you so fast you won’t know what the hell happened to you. Do you hear me?”

Well. Maybe he’d better try to be very nice and see where it got him. He felt more human since the air conditioning was finally blowing cool air at him.

“Ma’am, I hear you. I need a tow truck and I dialed the number on my roadside assistance card. I’m really sorry to be bothering you if you’re not the agency listed.”

Nothing but complete silence. Had she disconnected again? “Hello?”

“Mister, are you telling me the truth?” Some of the anger had left her voice.

“Lady, I don’t have the energy to be jerking your chain and I wouldn’t lie unless there was a sub-machine gun pointed at my head. I need a tow truck.” He gave her the name of his insurance company. “Are you someplace you could maybe look up that number for me?”

He looked over at the only other car left on the lot, parked under a bright pole light. A pretty woman with long dark hair sat behind the wheel talking on a cell phone. She turned her head just enough that he could see most of her face.

“I’m sorry but I don’t have a phonebook in my purse. Call information, why don’t you?”

His mouth dropped open. He snapped it closed.

“Ma’am, I’m sitting in the parking lot of O’Malley’s with a flat tire --”

The woman in the other car jumped then turned to face him fully. Even across twelve dark parking spaces he could see the surprise on her face. He got out of his car and walked around to the passenger side and pointed at his front tire.

“See? It’s really flat.”

“Um, I see that.”

Luke hopped up on the hood of his car and waved at her. “Hi. I’m Luke.”

She held up her hand and wiggled her fingers at him, waving back. “Hi. I’m Chere.”