by Lisa Jackson
The question caught her off guard. “How would you know?”
“Seen you around,” he said.
“Where?” She was surprised he’d noticed. She knew she didn’t exactly meld into the wallpaper, but she didn’t think Luke Gates was the type of man who paid attention to most women. He seemed too aloof; too distant.
She took a seat at the table as the smell of French roast filled the air.
“I’ve seen you over at the apartment house with your sister and a couple of times in town. That convertible of yours is hard to miss.”
“It’s been a good friend,” she admitted. “I hope it isn’t dead for good.”
“I’m sure it can be resurrected, but it might cost you a bit.”
“Doesn’t everything?” she thought aloud and reached for half a sandwich.
“I suppose.”
The phone rang as the coffee brewed and Katie spent a few minutes explaining to the soccer coach about Josh’s ankle. Gary Miller was concerned and they decided that Josh should forgo practice and games until he’d received a clean bill of health from the doctor. “Here, I’ll let you speak with him yourself,” Katie offered, and carried the portable phone into the bedroom. Josh talked for a few minutes, handed her the phone again and turned back to his program. By the time she’d returned to the kitchen, the coffee had brewed. She was pouring two cups when the phone jangled again.
“Could you?” she asked as dark liquid splashed into her favorite mug.
“Sure.” Luke snagged the receiver. “Hello?” He waited, then said, “Kinkaid residence . . . Hello . . . ? Hello?” He paused and his eyebrows drew together. “Is someone there?” He paused again. “Hello? Oh, for the love of Mike.” He hung up and stared at the phone.
“No one?”
“Oh, there was someone on the line,” Luke said, glaring at the instrument as if he could see through the phone to the face of the person on the other end. “But he was put off when he heard my voice.”
“Or she.”
“Or she,” he agreed, rubbing the side of his face thoughtfully.
Katie lifted a shoulder. “They’ll call back if they really want me. Probably thought they got the wrong number when you answered.”
“Maybe.” He didn’t seem convinced and his demeanor made her edgy. “You get many hang-ups?”
“My share: Along with solicitations and wrong numbers. Come on, eat. We don’t have a lot of time if we’re gonna pick up my car.” She handed him a cup of coffee, then settled back into her chair.
“I guess you’re right.” He reached for half a sandwich and they ate in relative silence. It was odd, she thought, to have a man other than one of her brothers sitting across the table in her tiny kitchen. She’d grown up with three half-brothers and more than a handful of stepfathers, but she’d never settled down with a man, never felt comfortable with one in her house. There had been other boys and men in her life, of course, before and after Dave. She’d dated on and off over the past ten years but she’d never allowed herself to fall in love; had always found an excuse to break off a relationship before it deepened into something emotionally dangerous.
She’d been accused of being “too picky” by her oft-married mother, or “too flighty” by the twins, and “too bullheaded about that damned job,” by Jarrod, but the real reason she hadn’t settled down was that she hadn’t wanted to. She believed a woman should stand on her own two feet before she started leaning on a man. Any man.
Besides, she had Josh to consider and a career to promote. Just because Luke Gates was interesting didn’t mean anything.
He checked his watch and finished a gulp of coffee. “I think we’d better get rollin’ if we want to meet the tow truck.”
“You don’t have to do this,” she said, giving him another out. “I have dozens of relatives who would help me.”
Luke nodded as he carried his plate to the sink. “I know, but let’s just say I like to finish what I start.”
She thought about arguing with him, but changed her mind. For whatever reason, he was willing to help her, and she decided to accept his aid. She dumped the dishes into the sink, told Josh what was going on, then locked the door behind her on the way to Luke’s pickup.
As they drove away from town, the night seemed to close in around them. Stars twinkled seductively in the blackened heavens and a slice of moon cast a shimmering silver glow over the countryside. The dark shapes of cattle and horses moved against the bleached grass of the surrounding fields and hillsides and only a few headlights from oncoming cars illuminated the truck’s cab as they passed.
Katie hugged the passenger door. Even with the window rolled down, the pickup seemed too small; too intimate. She told herself she was overreacting, but she noticed the position of Luke’s hand on the gearshift lever, the way his fingers clutched the knob and how his sleeve was pushed up to his elbow, allowing her a glimpse of tanned skin dusted with gold hair.
So male.
So close.
Don’t be ridiculous. He’s just doing you a favor, for goodness’ sake. There’s nothing more to it than that. All her life her silly imagination had run away with her and she’d been forever reining it in. Tonight; it seemed, her fantasy was that Luke Gates, sexy and mysterious, was trying to think of ways to be alone with her. What a joke. Yet she felt her heart pounding in the pulse at her neck, and couldn’t ignore the sensual, all-male scents of hay, dust and leather that clung to him.
Get over it, Kinkaid. The last complication you, need in your life right now is a man—especially a quiet, mysterious stranger you don’t have one scrap of solid information about. Think about Josh. Think about the Isaac Wells story. Think about your career. And for God’s sake, forget any silly romantic fantasies you have about this man!
She bit her lip and, drumming her fingers on the edge of the window, she stared into the night until they crested a small rise. Her car, looking abandoned and lonely, was parked just where she’d left it.
Luke pulled onto the shoulder on the opposite side of the road. “Let’s try it one more time,” he suggested as he helped her out of the cab. His fingers as he grabbed her hand were warm.
“And what if it starts?” She hopped lithely to the ground.
“We pay the tow-truck driver and send him on his way.” “Just my luck—having to pay for service I don’t need.” She let go of his hand.
“It hasn’t happened yet.”
“It’s not going to.” Crossing her fingers, she unlocked the car and climbed into the dark interior. “Here goes nothing,” she said under her breath and discovered as she turned the ignition that she was right. The engine didn’t so much as spark. “Satisfied?” she asked Luke.
“I guess I have to be.” He leaned one hip against the fender and tried not to notice the shape of her leg as she climbed out of her beater. She slammed the door shut with a quick movement of her hip and his crotch tightened. A million questions about her pricked at his mind, but he ignored most of them. He wasn’t interested in her. Just as he wasn’t interested in any woman.
He caught the scent of her perfume on the breeze and wondered what it would be like to kiss her. She was different from the kind of woman who usually attracted him—small and compact rather than tall and slim. He’d convinced himself that he liked a woman who was as quiet as he, thoughtful and soft-spoken, but this redheaded dynamo had changed his mind.
Not that he’d do anything about it.
“You’re sure the towing company knows where we are?” she asked, her eyebrows puckering together in concern.
“Yep.”
She checked her watch, glanced up the road and frowned. He imagined a dozen thoughts streaking through her mind all at once. “Your last name’s Kinkaid,” he finally said.
“Uh-huh.”
“But your father’s John Cawthorne, right?”
“Don’t you know the story?” She turned eyes that were as dark as emeralds in his direction. “I thought everyone did.”
; “I’m new in town.”
“But you know that Tiffany is my sister—er, half-sister.”
“That much I gathered.”
“I guess I should be embarrassed about all of this,” she confided, as if glad for something to talk about. “The truth is, my family is what you might call ‘different’—well, way beyond conventional. I didn’t even know I had half-sisters until this year.” She explained how her father had sired three different daughters with three different women, Bliss being the only legitimate one.
“No way around it, the whole thing was a scandal,” Katie admitted, “because rather than break up John’s marriage, which would have been horrible, Mom married Hal Kinkaid and told him I was his. The only other person who knew the truth was John.”
“And he allowed it?” Luke asked, disgusted with the man.
“At least he didn’t put up a fight,” she allowed, obviously trying not to show the little bit of pain she still felt over the fact that her biological father hadn’t claimed her for most of her life. “John didn’t want a divorce or to lose Bliss. So . . .”
“You grew up living a lie.”
She lifted a shoulder and sighed sadly. The breeze caught in her hair, lifting it from her face, and Luke felt a possessive need to place an arm around her shoulders and pull her close, to hold her and comfort her.
“It’s not that big a deal now. I never much liked Hal, anyway. He was a jerk, so I didn’t cry many tears when he and Mom split up. You have to remember, it was kind of a tradition with my mother to marry a guy for a few years, then divorce him and marry someone else.”
Katie shook her head as if to dismiss the negative sound of her last statement. “Mom isn’t a bad person, just kind of flighty. Impulsive, I guess you’d say, especially when it comes to men. To her credit, though, she always loved John.”
“Even though he was married to someone else.”
“Yeah. Weird, huh?”
“To each his own,” he said, though he didn’t believe it. Marriage was marriage. You didn’t step over the line. You didn’t cheat. He’d felt the sting of that whip himself and had vowed at the time that he’d never be flogged again. “So . . . what about you?” he asked. “I thought Kinkaid was your married name.”
“My what?” she demanded. “I’ve never gotten married, but I see what you thought—because my name is different from anyone else’s in my family.” She laughed nervously. The subject was touchy.
“Yep.”
“I guess you’d say I never met the right guy.”
She glanced away as if embarrassed and he mentally kicked himself from one side of hell to the other for the look of pain he’d brought to her pixie-like features. Still, he couldn’t give up. There were just too many unanswered questions. “So . . . what happened between you and Josh’s father?”
“Josh’s father,” she repeated, then cleared her throat and looked away. “He and I . . . We were just kids.” Nervously she rubbed her arms and the sound of a truck’s engine cut through the night.
Headlights appeared over the rise and Katie let out a sigh of relief—whether it was because help was on the way or because she’d managed to avoid a painful topic, he couldn’t guess. “Thank God,” she said, then forced a smile. “The cavalry did make it, after all.”
With a squeal of brakes, the big tow truck slowed, then idled in the road while Katie looked up to the driver in the raised cab and explained how her car had died. He was a kid—barely out of high school, it looked like—but he wheeled his big rig around like a pro. Within a few minutes he’d winched the disabled car onto the bed of his truck. Once the convertible was secure, he filled out the paperwork to ensure that Katie’s wheels would end up at Len’s Service Station.
“I hope this doesn’t cost me an arm and a leg,” she thought aloud as the tow truck eased onto the road and was off in a cloud of dust and exhaust.
“Shouldn’t.”
“I’ve got my fingers crossed.” The worry etching tiny lines across her smooth forehead gave him pause. He noticed the pulse beating at the base of her throat and the way the wind snatched at her hair.
For a second the urge to take her into his arms was so strong he nearly gave in. Standing alone at the side of the road with the sound of the truck’s engine fading in the distance and the stars flickering in the sky, he was tempted to pull her against his chest and rest his chin on her crown. She was small and warm, smelling of lilacs and honey, and he knew she’d feel like heaven against him.
She glanced up at him with those luminous eyes and he had to set his jaw against the overpowering urge to kiss her until they both couldn’t breathe.
The thought struck him hard and he shoved it quickly aside. He cleared his throat. “We’d better get a move on.”
“Oh, right.” She, as if having read his mind, couldn’t get to the pickup fast enough. The entire way back to her house she sat pressed against the passenger door, as if she, too, was touched by the growing intimacy between them, and it scared her to death. She looked like she hoped to bolt the minute he pulled into her driveway.
He switched on the radio, played with the buttons and finally settled for a rock station that was usually more heavy-metal than he liked. They didn’t talk much and he tried to ignore her, but his mind was racing down a path that was as dark as midnight; a path he didn’t like.
Who was Josh’s father?
The kid was ten or eleven. Just the right age.
But it would be too much of a coincidence for Josh to be Dave Sorenson’s son. Too much. There were dozens of kids Josh’s age who didn’t live with their dads. Besides, Ralph wasn’t sure if Dave had fathered a boy or girl or any kid at all, for that matter. Ralph Sorenson’s grandchild might be just a figment of the old man’s imagination, a pipe dream that he couldn’t yet give up.
Still, the thought that Josh Kinkaid might be Ralph Sorenson’s grandson burned deep in Luke’s brain. Like it or not, he’d have to check out the kid’s birth records. He slid a glance at Katie as the lights of Bittersweet glowed ever closer. She leaned against the window of the passenger door and chewed nervously on a fingernail.
As if sensing him watching her, she dropped her hand and Luke turned all his attention to winding through the tree-lined streets of the small town. From what he understood, she’d lived here all her life. It shouldn’t be too hard to check out the truth. The knot in his gut bothered him; she’d reacted strongly to the news of Dave’s death, with the emotion of someone who was more than just a casual acquaintance.
Was it possible?
Could she and Dave have been high-school sweethearts? Lovers? His fingers tightened over the steering wheel in a death grip as he cruised around the final corner to her house. Hell, what a mess.
He wheeled into the driveway and parked inches from the sagging door of her dilapidated garage. From the open window of Josh’s bedroom, Blue gave out a sharp, no-nonsense bark.
“Guard dog,” Luke observed, switching off the ignition and trying to ignore the tension that seemed to invade the pickup’s dark interior.
“He thinks he is, I guess.” Katie managed a smile that was feeble at best. Nonetheless, that slight twitching of her lips touched Luke in a place he’d long forgotten. “My guess is that if Joe Burglar ever did show up, Blue would turn tail and run. Deep inside he’s a chicken.” She leaned her head against the back of the seat. “But he’s loyal and good-hearted. Always glad to see me.” She nodded slightly, to herself. “I’ve had him longer than I’ve had Josh. Mom gave Blue to me on my sixteenth birthday.” She shoved her hair from her eyes. “Most of the kids were hoping for a car and all I wanted was a puppy to love and . . .” Her voice trailed off as if she’d said too much, as if she’d let a little of her soul slip past her outgoing, breezy, take-the-world-by-storm facade.
“Anyway, Mom gave me this gray bundle of energy with the brightest eyes you’ve ever seen. He wiggled like mad, peed on the floor and washed my face with his tongue and I . . . I just fell in love
with him. He’s been with me ever since.” She cleared her throat and slapped her hands on her thighs as if to change the subject. “Well, so much for soppy, maudlin puppy stories. I, uh, guess I should thank you.” Turning to face him, her eyes shining with a bit of unwanted moisture, her lips full over a forced smile, she started to speak again. “You’ve been—”
He lost all control. The resistance he’d so painstakingly constructed disintegrated as quickly as a match striking and bursting into flame.
“Wonderful—Oh!” Without thinking he placed his hands on either side of her face and kissed her with an intensity that he hadn’t felt in years.
Her lips were warm and pliant, her skin soft beneath the calluses of his fingers. Her breath caught in a swift, sharp intake and Luke felt a rush of desire, warm and seductive, flow through his bloodstream.
She moaned, then pulled back to lean against the passenger door. He dropped his hands and inwardly called himself a dozen kinds of fool. What had he been thinking? Kissing her, for God’s sake! He couldn’t, wouldn’t be distracted by a woman—any woman. Especially not one who might just be the mother of Dave Sorenson’s kid.
“I . . . I . . . I don’t know what to say.... And that—being tongue-tied, that is—doesn’t happen to me very often.” She bit her lip and stared at him with wide, forest-green eyes.
“Don’t say anything.” He grabbed the steering wheel. “I was out of line.”
She reached for the door handle of the pickup. “Maybe we both were. I”—she hooked her thumb toward the house—“I’ve got to go. Thanks. Thanks again.” She was out of the truck and up the path to the back of the house as quick as lightning.
He watched her hurry up the steps, her shorts white in the moonlight, her hair bouncing as she ran. At the porch she cast one final, fleeting glance in his direction, then, with a quick wave, opened the door and disappeared into the cozy, cluttered little bungalow.
“Idiot,” he growled under his breath as he flicked on the ignition. “Damned fool moron.” Throwing his rig into reverse, he rolled back to the street, flipped on his lights and headed toward his rented rooms in the old carriage house.
