Lusting For Luke_A Billionaires of Palm Beach Story Page 2

  “What do we want?” Helen’s scratchy voice echoed over the megaphone.

  “Equality!” The crowd roared back the familiar call-and-response cheer.

  “When do we want it?”

  “Now!”

  My mom turned to me. From behind oversized black sunglasses, she said, “I’m so proud of Helen. This is a great statement. She’s really done it.”

  “She should be proud.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Aunt Helen wasn’t like me. She felt things. She knew things. She had conviction. And she had hope that life would get better, that the future could be brighter than the past.

  I admired her for all of it.

  “We can’t march to city hall, like we had originally planned, because of the traffic.” Helen still dominated the crowd. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t command attention and make a statement. From here, we’re going to travel a short distance up and down Flagler, and make our voices heard to those who would pretend we don’t exist—those who would continue their barbaric and cruel practices! Those who would keep us from our pursuit of justice and equality for all Americans!”

  The crowd cheered some more as DJ Freeze, a celebrity performer from South Beach, chimed in with perfectly timed music. Soon, the marchers had set off on their route. We were all together. Focused. Fighting for our beliefs. Nothing in the world could get in our way.

  Nothing.

  “You did an amazing job.” I tossed a few pieces of trash into a garbage bag and hugged Helen. We’d returned to the amphitheater to clean up after the march, and her flushed cheeks magnified her bright eyes. “You should be so happy.”

  She pulled away from me. “The police said they counted over 1200 people. Twelve hundred. Can you believe that? It’s one of the biggest rallies they’ve had in West Palm Beach all winter season.”

  “They’ll force us to make this an annual event if you’re not careful.”

  She grinned. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled back at her. “I think we’re about cleaned up here.”

  “Almost. One more bag or so.” She gestured at my mom, also cleaning trash about two dozen yards away. “Do you want to go to lunch with us after this? Your mom mentioned Rocco’s Tacos on Clematis.”

  “She never met a margarita she didn’t like.” I glanced at my watch. It was 12:13 PM. Because of the rally, we had canceled all the classes at the studio that morning, and didn’t have one until five. “What the heck? We’ve got a couple of hours.”

  “I’ll go tell her the plan.”

  As she took a few steps away from me, I remembered that I needed to pick up an order at the local grocery. “Aunt Helen—hold on.”

  She turned back to me.

  “I’ve got to get something at the store. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Can you get it later?”

  I shook my head.

  “Are you sure? We can wait for you.”

  “No. Let me put this bag in the dumpster.” I pointed across the lawn. “And I’ll meet you at the restaurant. I’ll be less than five minutes behind you.”

  The Publix supermarket pharmacy had my birth control prescription waiting, and twenty minutes later, I slipped it into my purse as I stepped outside the store. It wouldn’t take long to walk to Rocco’s Tacos, and I welcomed the chance to clear my head. Despite my aunt’s successful rally, I still had worries pooling in the pit of my stomach. When I’d looked at my budget that morning, I still had a five-thousand-dollar balance on a credit card with no plan to pay it off anytime soon. Two letters in the mail the day before had told me that my insurance company planned to drop out of the Florida health insurance exchange, and my landlord wanted to raise my rent when the lease came up in two months. I also only had $231.66 saved of my $450 student loan payment.

  Not good.

  I desperately needed a way out of this mess, and I didn’t know where to find one. I couldn’t ask my mom to help me—her job at the hospital didn’t give her much breathing room. Taking even fifty dollars from her would make me feel awful. And with things tight at the yoga studio, I couldn’t ask Helen for a raise or extra shifts, either.

  There was something so irrevocably shitty about being screwed and knowing it.

  As I walked to the restaurant on some of the less-traveled side streets of downtown West Palm Beach, I pulled my phone out of my cross-body bag, opened my banking app, and checked the account balance. I hoped to find more in there than I saw that morning. No luck. No miracle. No rescue.

  Still a measly three hundred fifty bucks—

  “Hey! Watch where you’re going!”

  Tires screeched, and a horn sounded. I looked up from the phone and leaped backward. A white McLaren stopped in the street just inches away from me, less than a half second or so from colliding with my left knee. A breath caught in my throat, then I scrambled onto the uneven sidewalk.

  The man behind the wheel stopped the car then stepped out of it. “I’m so sorry. Jesus, I—”

  Our eyes met…then broke contact and we studied one another. He wore a pair of tan pants, sandals, a gray polo shirt, and aviator sunglasses. Even before he took off the shades, I knew this would be one of the most gorgeous men I had ever seen. And in the last few years, I’d seen a lot of good-looking men float in and out of South Florida.

  “Are you okay?” He walked a few steps toward me.

  “I-I don’t know—” The words caught in my throat, so I took a few gulps of air.

  My miniscule bank balance had distracted me so much that I’d wandered off the sidewalk and into the street—against traffic. I put another half foot between the white sports car and me. Between him and me.

  “I just—oh, my god. I’m so sorry!” the man said with a tone of alarm. “But I didn’t hit you, did I?”

  I thumped my chest with the heel of my hand. “No, no, I-I’m fine.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.” I tried once again to slow down my ragged breaths. I could have hurt myself, or died. “Luckily. You stopped just in time.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t get injured.” He took off the designer eyewear and moved closer, giving me a full view of his flawless tan, hooded eyes, and wavy black hair. “That wouldn’t have been good. Wouldn’t want that.”

  “You wouldn’t?”

  I glanced down at the car. A personalized license plate adorned the front, and the glossy vehicle headlights reminded me of cat eyes. How much did these types of cars cost? A hundred thousand? Two? A half million? A minor scratch probably cost ten grand. Yikes.

  “I wouldn’t want to damage your car,” I said. “I can’t imagine the bills—”

  “You mean you don’t have universal damage insurance? I thought everyone did.”

  I frowned. “Damage insurance?”

  “Yes, of course. You don’t have a policy? It’s the law in the state of Florida.”

  “Is it?” I recoiled. Universal damage insurance? What was he talking about? Was this something else to add to my long list of expenses? “Is that a new thing?”

  “Brand new.”

  My face fell. “Oh, I hadn’t heard about it—”

  His deep chuckle interrupted me. “Don’t worry. I’m joking. It’s a joke. I promise.”

  “A joke?” A pulse of relief pushed through me. “Oh, right. A joke. You’re kidding.”

  “What? You don’t get it?” He shoved a hand in his pants pocket and his gaze met mine. “My apologies. Sometimes I forget that others don’t share my sense of humor.”

  “No… I’m glad…” I couldn’t help but smile at him. “You just caught me on a bad day. I’m not thinking straight.”

  “Really? This is Palm Beach in February. It’s seventy-five degrees and sunny. Every other place in the US is a popsicle compared to here, so how could you be having a bad day?”

  “Real life doesn’t stop because of the weather. I just… I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

&nbs
p; “Don’t we all?” He paused. “Were you at the march earlier?”

  “Yes. How’d you know?”

  He pointed at the top of my head. “You’re still wearing your hat.”

  “Oh, god, I forgot to take this off.” I ripped the pink, pussycat-shaped cap off my head. A knitting club from Jupiter had given them out to marchers as they arrived at the amphitheater that morning. I hadn’t even noticed how hot it made my head. Embarrassed, I shoved it into the Publix plastic shopping bag.

  The man’s gaze hadn’t strayed, and the way he looked at me sent a delicious shiver up my spine. Whoever this guy was, he had a knack for commanding attention.

  “Anyway,” he said after a beat, “if you’re fine, I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.”

  I gestured in the direction of Clematis Street. “I absolutely can’t keep the margaritas waiting any longer.”

  “Margaritas?”

  “At Rocco’s Tacos. Saturday Funday. Gotta pregame for… Sunday Funday.” I silently cursed myself. Leave it to me to sound like an idiot in front of Mr. I’m-Too-Sexy-With-My-Aviators.

  “Saturday and Sunday Fundays, huh? Wouldn’t want anything to get in the way of weekend fun like that.” A wry smile crossed his face, and he took a few steps backward. “You know, that restaurant is not far from here. Why don’t I drive you?”

  My mouth dropped open before I could stop myself, and he laughed again. “I’m not a serial killer or anything like that. I’m a nice guy.” He leaned a little closer to me. “Some of the time.”

  My stomach twisted, but I liked the way it felt. I also loved the way he smelled, which reminded me of cedar and cherries. If I let it, the scent would intoxicate me. “I’m sure you are.”

  “You can trust me.” He opened the passenger door of the car. “So? Why don’t you get in?”

  Hitching a ride with a guy I’d just met wasn’t something I normally did, but what could I say? I’d never seen anyone this hot in West Palm Beach. Ever. I couldn’t have turned down this offer if I’d tried.

  “Thank you.”

  I slipped into the seat and ignored the faint warning signs going off in my head, the ones any woman should heed when getting in a car with a stranger. But the soft, red leather beckoned to me. It kissed my legs and enveloped me in instant luxury when I slid across the cool, smooth surface. I’d only seen cars like this from a distance. As the man made his way to the driver side, I took in the small details on the car console, and noticed his gold iPhone resting in the cup holder between the two front seats.

  “I’m Luke,” he informed me as he climbed in the car and shut the door. “Luke Rothschild.” He revved up the engine and held out his right hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Likewise.” I shook his strong hand, and by then, any misgivings I might have had were pacified by his warm grip. “And I’m Natalie. Natalie Johnson.”

  Luke grinned at me one more time before he accelerated the car.

  Anyone driving a McLaren with the last name Rothschild had to be at least a millionaire. Everything about this guy screamed “rich,” but that wasn’t what kept me stealing glances at him as he drove the few blocks to the restaurant. I kept thinking about the slight hint of a New Yorker’s accent in his voice and the way his eyes seemed to see right into my soul when he looked at me.

  Sexy. Damn sexy.

  So, when he steered the car onto Clematis Street, my heart sank a little. Not much time left with this hunk of a man.

  “This is it,” I announced as the Rocco’s Tacos sign came into view. “Where I get out.”

  “Make sure you get the guacamole.” He signaled and parked the car in an open on-street spot. “It’s out of this world.”

  “Agreed. It’s my favorite. It’s not the typical diet of a yoga instructor, but maybe I’ll make this my cheat meal.”

  “You’re a yoga instructor?”

  I nodded.

  “So, you’re an expert at downward dog?” His gaze captured mine for another moment, and my stomach flipped again.

  “Yes,” I managed. “An expert.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.”

  My breath caught in my throat. I didn’t want to leave the car. I didn’t want to leave this man’s sight.

  “I’m also great at toppling tree. I have a lot of balance.”

  “That’s always been a hard position for me.” Luke’s gaze roamed my body. “Well, Natalie, the yoga instructor, have a good afternoon.”

  “You, too.”

  I couldn’t delay any longer. Time to get out of the most expensive sports car I’d ever been in and leave behind its intoxicatingly handsome owner. I hooked two fingers into the latch and opened the door.

  “Goodbye,” I murmured.

  “Goodbye.”

  Once I stepped out of the car and shut the door behind me, Luke put his sunglasses on again and drove away in the direction of Palm Beach. I was alone, standing there, a normal twenty-five-year-old woman once more.

  Picking up random women on the side of the street wasn’t a habit of mine, but so what? Lately, the usual hadn’t been working; no one knew that more than me. Besides, Natalie had a way about her—an aura, almost—that made her interesting. Plus, a little chivalry never hurt anyone, and I was out of practice.

  Truth told, I liked having Natalie in my car more than I expected I would.

  In fact, I was still thinking about her a few days later while I tried to finish out a quick round of eighteen holes on the golf course.

  “So, I’m thinking. I have a new IPO I’d like you to invest in.” Aaron Shields, my closest friend on Palm Beach, took a swing at the ball with his club, and it sailed through the air. He winced as it landed on the edge of the green. “Damn, this is not my day.” He turned back to me. “Kinetic Strategy Fund is doing well. Actually, better than I expected.”

  “That’s great.”

  “And I wanted to talk with you about doubling down. We should buy some more shares. It’s outperforming, and had a 12 percent return last month.”

  “Great.”

  “So, you’re in for more?”

  “That’s fine.”

  “We’re talking about an investment of about 350 grand, or so. I think there’s a decent chance of gains like what we’ve been seeing—I might even double your money.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  Aaron braced himself against his golf club. “You sure?”

  “Yep.”

  He gave me a meaningful look. “You know what, buddy? You’ve been a lot quieter than normal. Something bothering you?”

  I pulled a golf ball from the pocket of my pants and walked up to the tee. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m good.”

  “Bullshit. This is our second round on the links at Everglades in a week, and you’re not enjoying it. Everglades, for Christ sakes. It’s the best, most exclusive course in Palm Beach County.” Aaron put a hand on his hip. “So, tell me what’s up.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Everything’s complicated when it comes to you.”

  Aaron had known me for fifteen years. For the last five, he’d managed the investment portfolio that contained the remains of my trust fund and the few million I’d made after college in a short stint as a venture capitalist in Silicon Valley. I considered him my best friend, and he was one of the few who ever saw the real me. I also owed him a lot, and he never let me forget it.

  “You might be a Rothschild,” he often said. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t need a shield.”

  Aaron had a certain way with words. And men. He also loved Palm Beach more than I did. “All the women here look like Patsy from Absolutely Fabulous,” he’d told me once. “It’s a gay man’s heaven.” Aaron made his way from New York to South Florida as often as he could during the winter, and he spent most of his evenings escorting the town’s aging ladies to charity balls and fundraising dinners. Even at forty-two, he still looked decent in a tuxedo.

  “The other day, I met someon
e,” I said as I watched the golf ball I’d just hit soar across the golf course. Another wide shot. At this rate, I’d be lucky to make par. “A woman.”

  “Hold on.” Aaron held up a hand. “You never talk about the women you meet, or the ones you sleep with. Ever.”

  “Nope. But I like this one. And, I didn’t sleep with her.” I decided to leave out the fact that I hadn’t stopped thinking about this woman since I’d watched her disappear into Rocco’s Tacos. “She almost ran into my car. That’s how we met.”

  “The McLaren?”

  I nodded.

  “Oh, god, she didn’t scratch it, did she?” Aaron’s mouth lifted into a half-smile that highlighted the crow’s feet around his eyes. “That would be a shame.”

  “No, she didn’t damage it. She was…cute. Natalie…something. She’d been at the women’s march downtown.”

  “The women’s march? For god sakes, when is this protesting going to stop?” Aaron shuddered. “It’s such an ugly look for people. I can’t even go on Instagram anymore. People are protesting there, of all places. Every other post is this or that—”

  “They have legitimate beefs.”

  “But it’s so boring. If they keep this up, they’re going to have to protest the whole world.”

  “Says the guy who marched in New York the day they overturned same-sex marriage at the Supreme Court.”

  “You know I support gay rights. Transgender rights. Women’s rights. All of it. I’m just saying…” Aaron spread his hands. “Protesting works, but at some point, you have to live your life.”

  “Speaking of living…we have a hole to finish.” I set off toward the golf cart, and Aaron followed me. Before I got into the driver’s seat, I said over my shoulder, “Oh, and by the way, she works out at Yoga Ohm. Maybe even teaches there. She had their logo on her shirt.”

  I’d noticed other things about her, too, like the way her black ankle pants showed off her curves, the small flecks of green in her blue eyes, and the spray of moles that danced across her upper chest, inviting me to look closer.