Chapter Six
Nothing could have prepared Luna for the grandeur of a private jet. She looked around as if she was in a museum, and it took all of her will not to poke into every corner, impressed and awed by the luxury. It was simply all so grand, and she had no idea how one man could own it all.
“Do the accommodations meet your approval?” asked Tucker, lounging on one of the enormous cushioned seats. These were some distant relation to the airplane seats she had sat in a few times, but they had more in common with a recliner. Except for the sturdy seat belts, they would not have been out of place in an elegant living room.
“You must know that they do,” she said, casting a look at the billionaire before taking her place in the seat across from him.
“One never knows,” he said with a shrug. “You're an artist, you likely have quite refined sensibilities when it comes to art and beauty and design.”
“Given the fact that I ate a packet of ramen for dinner last night, I don't think I have much to say about any of this,” she said with a wry laugh. “It's gorgeous. I feel pretty out of place.”
Tucker gave her a long and lingering look up and down, and she could feel a pink blush rising up on her cheeks. She had been told that they were flying today, and so she had pulled out a black dress, soft and long, to wear. Now she could see how shabby it looked, but she could see nothing but appreciation in Tucker's eyes.
“You look just fine to me,” he said softly, and forcibly, she was reminded of their conversation after she had signed the contract, after she had come to realize in no uncertain terms that she was bound to Tucker Keene in a way that was hard to even comprehend...
“I see no reason to delay,” Tucker said with a shrug. “I want to start trying to conceive immediately. If you can wrap up your affairs in forty-eight hours, we can be on a flight by the end of the week.”
“Why... why do we need a flight?” Luna stammered.
He shot her an amused look.
“I don't know about you, little one, but I have been looking forward to this. When I take you, I don't want it to be in Chicago. I am looking for something a little more exciting.”
“You really won't reconsider in vitro fertilization?” she asked, aware that her voice was wavering a little. It would be so much easier if he were simply willing to let things go, to reduce it all to a bunch of shots.
“Not at all,” Tucker said, and the look on his face was frankly hungry. “Perhaps in a few months, if we don't get any results, we can try something like that. Before that, however, I don't see any real problem with doing things the old-fashioned way at all.”
“Old-fashioned.”
He touched the point of her chin, making her look up at him. The look on his face made her swallow hard, and it was as if she could feel him touching her already, running his hands along her body, making her gasp.
“That means that I am going to fuck you,” Tucker said, his voice hard and flat. She flinched from it, but then his hand shot out, quick as a lash from a bullwhip. She couldn't move or think. Instead, all she could do was stare up at him, feeling like a rabbit pinned under the teeth and claws of a true predator.
“You knew what the contract was before you signed it,” he said roughly. “You knew exactly what it was all about. If you think that you are going to get out of it by batting your pretty green eyes at me, you should think again, and then perhaps you should get a lawyer because...”
“No!” she burst out. “I know what it means!”
“Do you?” he whispered, and then he was kissing her.
Luna was convinced that no matter how many times it happened, no matter how many times he kissed her, there would never be a time when she was ready for it. She would always feel as if she had been swept up by a whirlwind, as if she was being whipped with heat and need. He awoke feelings in her that she couldn't even begin to understand. All she knew was Tucker was someone she needed in an incredibly elemental way.
Luna gasped as he took her hand and drew it down between their bodies. For a moment, she had no idea what he was doing, and then she felt the hardness of his male desire. It was unmistakable proof that he wanted her, and it shook her to the core.
“Make no mistake about what we are going to be doing,” he had growled, and she understood.
“Thank you,” she said softly, looking down. “I never know what to wear when I'm not sitting on a jewelry bench. Clothes always seemed... I don't know. To be something that wasn't meant for me to worry about.”
He shrugged.
“I'll have someone come to take your measurements when we get to Florence,” he said. “There are people who can give you an entire wardrobe from a few numbers on a piece of paper if they are the right numbers, after all.”
“Oh, you don't have to...”
“I want to,” he said with a slightly toothy grin. “I like to go out, to eat, to the theater, to the clubs, and frankly, you can't come with me if you're wearing, well...”
“My wardrobe,” she guessed with a wince, and he nodded, smiling wryly.
“I'm always willing to volunteer to stay home,” she muttered, and he laughed at her. It was a friendly laugh, but there was definitely something to it that made her think of a worldly man laughing at a bumpkin from the country. Well, so what? It didn't matter at all.
“So what is it you occupy yourself with when you are at home on your own?” he asked.
“Oh! Well, I can certainly show you...”
She had figured that there would probably be some time and space to kill when they were in the air, and she started to pull a few things from her large and distinctly unfashionable bag. She could feel Tucker's eyes on her in amused fascination, but she didn't care. This was what she had made her life's work, and nothing in the world was going to make her feel ashamed of it or doubt it at all.
“So what's all this?”
“Well, you are lucky that I simply didn't try to bring my bench along,” she said with a laugh. “At the moment, I just wanted to do some beading. Simple, easy, and an easy sell later on, mostly because I can't charge that much for them unless I have far nicer materials than I do right now.”
Of course that didn't mean that she didn't have nice materials at all. . Her findings were real gold and silver, and some of the semi-precious stones that she had were surprisingly beautiful. She glanced up at where Tucker was watching her, and she wondered if the interest was a put-on. It didn't matter at all. She would be doing the same thing whether he was watching her or not, and so she put him out of her mind. Well, as much out of her mind as she could. There was a part of her that would always feel as if it were tuned to Tucker, focused on him and what he wanted, what he looked for.
As always, however, the creation of jewelry soothed the rough and jagged parts of her. It helped her feel more stable and more focused, and her gaze shrunk down to the components in her hands. There was something wonderfully meditative about all of it, and soon enough, her hands were moving quickly and smoothly.
Let's see, I've not made anything for a man in a while. And I love the morganite and the larimar, but they're really not masculine, are they? Well, I would say that the tiger's eye suits very well, and oh neat, I still have a chunk of that ox eye as well...
“I started making jewelry when I was just a little girl, you know,” she said absently, barely knowing that she was talking at all. “I used to find old costume jewelry at garage sales and take it apart and put it back together in new ways, and I loved that. When my parents were fighting, and after my mom took off, I made jewelry to feel as if I could bring order to my world. At the very least, I could make something pretty, something that would make someone smile a little when they saw it. That was important to me.”
“What did you do with them?” asked Tucker, making her look up at him briefly. “I could see you being a little girl, all decked out in old necklaces.”
“Ha, I won't say that I never did that,” she said with a laugh, “but more often than not, I simply gave them away. I mean, what the heck do I need to look pretty for? Some of my friendship bracelets and first necklaces were my initial way to make friends, to show people that I could do pretty things, and to hopefully make people like me.”
“That sounds sad,” Tucker said, and she shrugged.
“Maybe. But that was how I learned what I wanted to do with my life and how I figured out what my calling was. I don't begrudge a little bit of sadness if that's what I got out of it, after all.”
She worked in silence for a little while, her needle plucking out the small rectangular beads with skill. The plane was steady enough that she did not have to worry about escaping beads, and her ordered tray kept everything in good shape.
At the end of it, she had a bracelet that was thin, but nonetheless masculine. Small, rectangular tiger's eye beads were strung with gold spacers, and at the center of the design was a slightly larger piece of ox eye, a stunning red gem with the same shimmering iridescence that the tiger's eye had. When she finished putting on the clasps and snipping the end of the wires, she held it up to the light for a moment, examining it minutely. It was lovely, a competent example of her work for all that it was so simple. It was nothing special, necessarily, but she could be proud that she had made it.
She looked up to find that Tucker was still watching her. He had his phone in his hand as if he had thought about checking something, but he was still watching her curiously. She had forgotten all about him while she was working, and for a moment, she wondered how often that happened to him, that people simply ignored him. Not often, probably.
“Hey, let me have your wrist,” she said, inspiration striking.
He raised his eyebrow but he did as she said. She realized as she reached for him that this was the first time they had really touched without kissing being involved, and she was startled at how there was still that little trickle of heat and electricity that ran between them. She ignored it, however, and instead simply looped the small bracelet around his wrist.
She was startled at how well the colors complemented his tanned skin. The bracelet fit him as if she had made it with him in mind, and when she looked up, she could see that the tiger's eye matched Tucker's own eyes with a startling degree of accuracy.
“Is this for me?” he asked, and though she was primed for some kind of mockery, there was something that sounded surprisingly touched in his gaze.
“It is,” she said with a small laugh. “After all, I want you to like me, and as I mentioned before, this does work pretty well. Um, I think it looks good on you. I don't know if you are a man who will wear jewelry, but maybe sometimes...”
She trailed off because he was looking at the bracelet speculatively, smiling a little before finally turning to her.
“Thank you. You are good at what you do.”
At that, Luna had to laugh.
“That's kind of you to say, but believe me, I can do far better when you actually let me get some of my tools in front of me. There are so many things that I would like to make, so many things that I would love to build from scratch...”
She paused, feeling surprisingly vulnerable and glancing at him before she continued. There were plenty of people who thought that her obsession with her work was more than a little irritating, and even if they liked what she produced, they did not necessarily want to hear all about it.
“Please continue,” Tucker said, and though she searched for it, she could not find any sarcasm or mockery in it. She started tentatively, watching him as she talked about necklaces and pendants and bracelets, and then she forgot all about being careful as she went on to describe the studio layout that she had always wanted, what kind of clients she wanted to bring in, the classes she wanted to offer and the teen outreach that she wanted to do someday, introducing the youth to the magic of simply creating something from your own mind and bringing it into reality.
By the time she stopped, Luna realized that they were winging their way over the Atlantic, the water a black sheet of glass below them.
“But this must all be very dull for you,” she said by way of apology.
Tucker shook his head.
“Don't do that,” he said, and she looked up at his sharp words.
“What do you mean by that?” she asked in surprise.
“Just that. Don't make yourself or your art small for anyone, not even for me. It's a good dream. Believe me when I say that I hear about more terrible ones and ones that have far less chances of getting funded every day. You're going to be just fine.”
Then Tucker looked away, and she wondered if he was embarrassed about speaking to her like that.
“Thank you,” she said softly, touched in a way that she couldn't explain.
“I've got some work to do,” he said abruptly. “If you like, you can go lie down in the sleeping chamber at the back of the plane.”
His careless words made her heart start to beat faster, and she bit her lip.
“What is it?” he asked with a frown, and she tried to find words that would not be too terribly crude.
“Well, um, are you planning on joining me?” she asked, and she was at least pleased when her voice didn't come out to a squeak.
He frowned at her as if he had no idea what she was talking about, and then he chuckled. There was something warm and living about that chuckle that made her want to reach for him, but she hung back a little, nervous and more shy than she would have believed.
“No,” Tucker said, and there was a surprising amount of kindness in his voice. “I really do have work that needs to get done, and chances are good that I'm going to stay right where I am until we make it to Florence. You shall sleep as undisturbed as you ever have. I'll wake you when we get close so you can watch the descent into Italy. You will like it, I think.”
Luna let out a breath she wasn't at all sure that she had been holding. She wasn't sure whether she felt disappointed or relieved, and she resolved not to think about it.
“Oh, well, um, that's all right then. I guess... I guess I'll go lie down at least. Um. Good night.”
“Good night, little one,” he said, and she hurried off to the sleeping chamber he had indicated before she could embarrass herself further.
Once there was a door between the two of them, she exhaled. Luna deliberately avoided thinking about the man on the other side of the door. She didn't have a nightgown on her, but she would be damned if she forced herself to sleep in a dress. After a moment of deliberation, she stripped down to her panties and climbed into the bed.
She had a moment of regret, strange and nebulous, that Tucker wasn't sharing it with her, and then, more tired than she thought, she drifted off to sleep.
***
They would be landing in the next hour or so, and Tucker stretched, cracking his back as he stood up. The morning light spilling in through the jet's window caught on his new bracelet, and he looked at it with bemusement. It was a lovely piece of jewelry, and even if he was not a man who typically wore jewelry, he could appreciate the work and design that had gone into it. Regardless of whether he wore jewelry, it was a piece that suited him, and he wouldn't deny it.
His thoughts shifted from the bracelet to its maker, and Tucker frowned for a moment. He thought of her anxiety, some of the traces of fear in her eyes, and he scowled.
I wonder if she could be...He dismissed the thought. It was incredibly unlikely in this day and age after all.
He paused for a moment. If he were a truly good man, he might simply get a cup of coffee and buzz her over the intercom. He had never even pretended to be such, however, and he made his way back to the sleeping chamber at the rear of the plane. The door was even cracked open slightly, and he had absolutely no compunctions about sliding it open a little more.
“Luna, it's...”
He paused, his words falling out of his mouth.
In the dim light of the room, Luna's pale skin practically glowed. She was sprawled out on the bed on her back, her head tossed to one side and her red hair a riot of colors cascading over the pillows. She was bare to the waist, the sheet draped tantalizing over her hips, and he could see the curves of her generous breasts, tipped with pearly pink nipples.
Tucker was a man who typically gave in to his impulses, but right now, he had to rein them back in. He refused to give in to the urge to simply crawl into bed with her, to shape his hands to those breasts, to find out how her nipples would taste when he pulled one into his mouth.
Christ, I'm as hard as a boy with his first goddamn porn mag, Tucker thought, but even that thought didn't make the sudden craving he had for her dissipate. The sheer need and craving he had for her was difficult to understand, especially to a man who had had his pick of the most beautiful women on the continent for most of his adult life.
Finally, somehow, he managed to take a step back and close the door behind him. A part of him had no idea why he wasn't giving in to his urge to crawl into bed with her, but he shook his head, backing away. Tucker took a few deep breaths and then went looking for that coffee. When he found it, he drank it down black, letting the bitterness wake him up, bringing him to his senses before he pressed the intercom button.
“Good morning, little one,” he said. “You should get up if you want to see the descent into Italy...”
“Oh! Thank you,” she said, and he could hear Luna rustling around in the bedroom.
By the time Luna revealed herself, she was dressed in the same black dress from the night before, rumpled but wholly presentable. This time, however, he knew exactly the secrets that shabby black dress hid, and he couldn't help but long for the time not far from now when he would see them again.