by Lisa Jackson
“See?” Katie said, looking up at him with eyes as green as a forest. “This isn’t so bad.”
“Could be worse,” he admitted and wondered why it felt so right to hold her.
“A lot worse.”
As if of their own accord, his arms tightened around her. She felt small, warm and pliant as she rested her head against his shoulder. Music and laughter swirled around them. The lights dimmed and Luke’s heart pounded. He imagined kissing her again, melding his lips over hers and sliding his tongue between her teeth; imagined slipping his hands beneath her dress and how her skin would feel as he peeled the blue folds of silk from her body.
Tiffany and J.D. glided past. Tiffany’s head was thrown back and she was laughing gaily, as if she had the world by its proverbial tail. In a glimmer she spied Katie and winked at her half-sister, as if the two women shared a private joke.
“Mind if I cut in?” John Cawthorne’s voice surprised him. “I’m making a point of dancing with each of my daughters.” Luke stepped aside, ended up with Brynnie in his arms and watched as the father of the bride made a big display of dancing with his third daughter. He’d already had a turn with Bliss, who had seemed radiant in her father’s arms—as well as with Tiffany, who had danced stiffly, no smile upon her face. Now Katie fell into step with her newfound father as if she’d been a part of his family for years.
“He loves them, you know. Each one,” Brynnie said as she and Luke paused for a glass of champagne. “All the hard feelings that existed between the girls and him, well, let me tell you, it’s taken its toll. Trying to put this scrappy family together has been hard on him.”
“And on his daughters,” Luke added.
“Oh, my, yes. Even Katie.” Brynnie sipped slowly. Her face was flushed and her fading red hair, precariously curled onto the top of her head, was starting to fall. “Here, would you mind holding this?” She handed him her glass, extracted a bobby pin from her crown and held it between her lips as she expertly tucked the falling loops of hair into place again. “There we go.” She pushed the bobby pin to the spot where it belonged, securing her tresses, then took her glass from him. “What I wouldn’t do for a smoke,” she admitted, “but I’m trying to quit, what with John’s condition and all. I suppose you know that he had himself a heart attack.”
“I’d heard,” Luke admitted, still watching John and Katie move easily around the dance floor.
“That’s what started all this—him and me getting together and his obsession with making us all one big happy family.” She glanced up at Luke. “I’m not a gambling woman, but I’d bet my life that our family’s a little bit like Humpty-Dumpty—darned near impossible to put together. At least, not as fast as he’d like it. Emotions take time to heal.... Oh, listen to me. This is a wedding, for goodness’ sake, and here I am gettin’ maudlin.” She blinked rapidly, sniffed, and swept a beringed finger under her eyes. “It’s so silly. I guess I just want John to be happy.”
“He looks like he is,” Luke observed as the music ended. Katie looped her arm through the crook of her father’s elbow and they maneuvered through the knots of people clustered around the ballroom floor.
“I hope so,” she said fervently as John and Katie approached. John and Brynnie moved off.
“So what did Mom tell you?” Katie asked. “I saw you two with your heads together.”
“She was just giving me some background on the family.”
“Such as?” she asked as his arms surrounded her again.
“Your mother seems to think there’s no hope of bringing your family together.” He held her tight and got lost in the scent of her perfume.
“Maybe not, but I think it’s time to bury the hatchet and get on with our lives. Bliss is married now, has her own life with Mason and his daughter, Dee Dee—that’s her, dancing with her father.” She pointed to Mason and a girl of about nine or ten, he guessed, as they danced together. Dee Dee was embarrassed, but Mason swung her off her feet and she couldn’t help but laugh. “Anyway, so Bliss is happy and now Tiffany and J.D. are going to tie the knot, so why dwell on the past? Don’t get me wrong—John and Mom should never have carried on an affair while he was married. Though, come to think of it, if they hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here, would I?” She grinned and the reflection of a thousand tiny bulbs in the chandelier overhead shone in her eyes.
“And that would be a shame.” Luke brushed a lock of her hair off her cheek and saw her smile slowly fade as she stared at him. The pulse at the base of her throat jumped a little and he was lost in her. He forgot the dozens of people in the room, was alone and intimate with her as the world around them slipped away.
“A . . . a big shame,” she said, trying and failing to lighten the mood. She avoided his eyes for a second and he forced himself to think of something, anything other than holding on to her and never letting go.
“So what about you? Both your half-sisters are getting married.”
“I have my career,” she said automatically and sensed her blood heat. Being this close to Luke, feeling the pressure of his fingers on her back caused her head to swim. Oh, Lord, how had she gotten this close to him?
“And that’s the most important thing in your life.”
“Second. Josh is first.” That was a given, but she didn’t want to discuss her son; not with this man who spoke little but asked questions that delved far too deep. Changing the subject was simple. “So, I guess you and I will be neighbors in a couple of weeks.”
“More than neighbors,” he said, and stupidly her heart took flight as the leader of the dance band announced that the musicians would be taking a break.
“More?”
“You’ll be my landlady.”
“Oh.” She let out her breath and laughed. “Good. It’ll give me a little bit of power, won’t it?”
His smile was off-center and sexy as all get-out. “A little. But I’ll be movin’ out myself soon.”
“I suspected as much,” she said and mentally gave herself a shake when she heard the note of disappointment in her voice. “Come on, it’s time you met some people around here.” She guided him through the throng where they not only spoke with her half-sisters, and Mason and J.D., but she introduced him to her half-brothers and three quarters of the town. While he seemed to recognize a sprinkling of the guests at the reception, Katie knew them all.
“It’s hard to believe there are this many citizens in the town,” he whispered to her as she located Josh, who was ignoring his crutches in favor of hanging out with Stephen and a couple of other boys.
“I should go and talk to my son,” she said, but hadn’t taken a step in Josh’s direction before Brynnie caught up with her.
“Come on, come on,” she said, tapping Katie’s shoulder. “We’ve got dinner in the dining room and it’ll go to waste if we don’t eat it.”
“In a minute—”
“Now or forever hold your peace.”
“I think we’d better not cross my mother,” Katie said with a teasing grin.
“Good idea,” Brynnie remarked as she beelined toward her twin sons and hustled them in the direction of the buffet.
They dined on salmon, prime rib and venison, though Katie’s appetite was nil. She was too keyed up, being with Luke. Touching him and smelling the faint odors of leather and musk that clung to him caused her heart to flutter, her mind to spin, and, apparently, her stomach to shrink. She played with her food, barely eating a bite, sipped a little more champagne, and after the meal, danced to a couple of songs. She then stood beside Luke as Bliss and Mason cut their five-tiered cake and fed each other enormous pieces that left smudges of frosting on their faces. Mason kissed the icing off Bliss’s cheeks and she repaid him by swiping a dab of the white confection onto his nose.
The crowd laughed and Katie glanced up at Luke, who managed a smile.
“Silly, huh?”
“But fun,” he conceded, staring so deeply into her eyes that she had to swallow hard and her mouth lost a
ll moisture. “I . . . I . . . uh, need to talk to Tiffany,” she said to break the spell, the pure madness that seemed to be a part of the night.
Sometime near eleven, Mr. and Mrs. Mason Lafferty ran out the front door of the hotel and, while being showered with birdseed, ducked into a long white limo that idled near the front steps. As the guests waved and shouted, the newlyweds roared away. Katie felt a faint twinge of envy, then told herself she was being a romantic twit. She was glad that Bliss and Mason were together, thrilled that Tiffany had found J.D. to become her husband as well as a stepfather to Stephen and Christina. What was right for her half-sisters didn’t necessarily mean that she wanted the same thing. She couldn’t. She didn’t dare let her heart be broken again.
They lingered for a while, dancing, talking with friends and sipping coffee as the crowd thinned. She wandered onto the veranda but Luke grabbed hold of her arm.
“Let’s stay inside.”
“Are you kidding? It must be a hundred degrees in here.” She winked at him and tugging on his hand, dragged him outside. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid to be alone with me, Gates.”
“That’s not it—”
“Good.”
Ignoring the look of unwarranted consternation that twisted his features, she walked across the flagstones and leaned over the rail. From far below, the sound of the creek tumbling over stones and exposed roots reached her ears.
“Tell me about the letter you got,” he said, resting a hip against the stone railing and folding his arms over his chest. He stared down into the canyon, his eyes narrowing as if he were searching for something. Or someone. “The one that’s supposed to be from Isaac Wells.”
“I take it you read the article in the Review.”
“Every word.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” she teased, then added,
“Really, there’s not much more to say. I received the note, gave the original to the police and wrote the article. I don’t know if it’s phony or real.” She turned her palms upward. “I guess time will tell.”
“Could be dangerous,” Luke mused aloud, though his gaze was still searching, his eyes narrowed against the darkness that escaped the wash of light from the hotel’s security lamps. “A nutcase.”
“You sound like Jarrod.”
“Just be careful.”
She lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “You think I’m in some kind of danger?”
“I don’t know that you’re in danger, Katie, but, yeah, it could be trouble.”
“Maybe.” A needle of fear pierced her heart. How many times had she told herself just the same thing?
“It doesn’t worry you? You’re a mother and—”
“And what I do shouldn’t worry you,” she interrupted as her anger suddenly flared. Who was he to insinuate that she was messing up her life? She couldn’t control her tongue. “If I didn’t make it clear before, let me assure you I don’t need another brother, okay? Three half-brothers add up to too many—way too many when it comes to giving advice about my life.” Turning quickly and seething deep inside, she headed toward the French doors. The last thing she needed—the very last thing—was a man telling her what to do.
Before she’d taken three steps he grabbed her elbow, spun her around and kissed her so hard she didn’t know what hit her. She gasped as hot, demanding lips crashed over hers and strong arms surrounded her waist, dragging her close. She started to protest, to push away, but his hands splayed against the exposed skin of her back and a tingle of excitement sped through her blood.
Don’t do this, Katie. Don’t kiss him. This was what was dangerous—emotionally dangerous. Not the Isaac Wells case.
But she didn’t stop and the sound of wanting that reached her ears came from her own throat. Oh, Lord, what was she thinking?
With all her strength she pushed away. “Is—is that what you do?” she asked, drawing in a shaky breath and hating herself for how weak she was when it came to him. “When a woman gets into an argument with you, do you always grab her and kiss her just to make her shut up?”
“Most women don’t get me so riled up,” he admitted.
“Don’t they? Well, good. That’s very good. For you. Because these Neanderthal, 1950s B-movie tactics are ... are . . .” Damn the man! He was actually smiling, amused by her reaction. Her fists balled in frustration.
“Are what? Effective?”
“I was going to say boorish, or antiquated, or at the very least rude and entirely unacceptable!”
He laughed then. Threw back his head so that his blond hair brushed the collar of his shirt and he laughed.
“This is not funny!” She almost stomped her foot, then decided she’d look even more adolescent than she felt. “Good night, Luke. The evening has been ... entertaining, but I think I’d better leave now.”
“And back off from a fight?” he challenged.
Though she knew she was being goaded, she couldn’t stop herself. Like a trout spying a salmon fly on a hook, she rose swiftly to the bait. “I’m not backing off from anything, Gates. If you don’t know anything else about me, you should at least figure out that I’m dogged, not afraid of too much, and never, never duck an argument.” She was about to say more when Josh, who had somehow rediscovered his crutches, hobbled onto the patio and Katie, wondering if her skin was as inflamed as it felt, told herself to count to ten and cool off.
“Is it okay if I spend the night with Stephen?” he asked.
“But you’re still recovering.”
“I’ll be good. Promise.” Josh flashed her his most engaging smile just as Stephen, eating a piece of wedding cake, sauntered outside. His hair was unruly, his tie was dangling from his neck and he licked a spot of icing from the corner of his mouth.
“Why doesn’t Stephen come over to our house?” Katie asked, trying not to remember that Luke was standing only inches from her, that he’d kissed her like no other man had ever kissed her, that she didn’t know quite how to handle her wayward emotions whenever he was near.
“’Cause we’re gonna camp out in the backyard.”
Tiffany and J.D. joined the group. J.D. was carrying an exhausted Christina, whose usually springy curls were as droopy as her eyelids. Her head was nestled against J.D.’s shoulder and she yawned broadly. “I take it you’ve already heard?” Tiffany asked, nodding toward the boys.
“Sounds like they’ve already cooked up plans,” Katie eyed her son and his crutches. “He really should come home and elevate the foot and—”
“Aw, Mom . . . I’m okay.” To prove his point, Josh lifted both crutches in the air and walked without so much as a limp. “I’m better. A lot better. Besides, it’s almost our house, isn’t it?”
“Not quite,” Katie said, but shrugged. “It’s all right with me if you’re sure—” She looked at Tiffany who nodded. “I’ll see he takes care of that ankle and in the morning, if he’s up to it, he can help Stephen pack his room.”
“He doesn’t have his pajamas—”
“Don’t need ’em,” Josh said.
“But I don’t want you sleeping in your church clothes. I’ll stop by the cottage and pick up anything you need.”
“I said I don’t need anything,” Josh insisted.
“He’s probably right,” Tiffany agreed. “We have double of just about anything he could want. He can have something Stephen’s grown out of.”
Josh threw Katie a look that begged her to give in.
“If you’re sure,” she said to Tiffany.
“Positive.”
“Okay. I’ll call you in the morning.” Katie planted a kiss on her son’s cheek and he made a hasty retreat on his crutches. Tiffany and J.D. ushered the kids through the ballroom and out a side entrance. As Katie watched them leave, she realized that she’d just lost her ride. “Oh, wait,” she called after them. “I need a lift home. . . .”
Luke grabbed her again. “Don’t worry about it,” he said as she turned and saw the smoky blue of his eyes.
&n
bsp; “But—”
“I’ll take you home, Katie. It would be my pleasure.”
Chapter Seven
In her driveway, Luke braked and cut the engine of his pickup. Katie reached for the door handle. Once before, she’d been in this very truck with the night closing in on them and had felt the sheer intimacy of the moment as he’d kissed her. She didn’t want a repeat of that incident. Or at least, she tried to convince herself that she didn’t. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Maybe I should come in and see that everything’s okay.”
Her heart nearly stopped. She heard the ticking of the engine as it cooled and the jingle of his keys as he pulled them from the ignition.
“Okay? What wouldn’t be okay?” she asked, buying time. Part of her was tempted to invite him in, to take a chance; the other, more sane portion of her mind warned her that she was only asking for trouble. Begging for it. The kind of trouble she didn’t need and couldn’t deal with. This man was linked to Ralph Sorenson, Josh’s grandfather. “For what?” she asked, shoving her shoulder against the door while trying to ignore her elevating pulse and dry mouth. Come on, Katie, let him in. What would it hurt?
“I’m not sure. But it’s just a feeling I’ve got that something isn’t right.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a worrywart?”
“A few people,” he said and climbed out of the cab. Blue gave a soft bark as Katie inserted her key into the dead bolt and discovered the door unlocked. “That’s odd,” she said, dropping her keys into her purse. Frowning to herself she walked into the kitchen.
“I’m sure I locked it.”
“You remember doing it?”
“No . . .” Flipping on the kitchen lights she tried to think over the rapid beating of her heart. Blue’s toenails clicked on the linoleum as he greeted her with a wagging tail and lowered head. “It was real crazy,” she said, dropping her purse on the table as she scratched Blue behind his ears. “We were running late. Josh had trouble with the knot of his tie and then had a fit about having to use the crutches and the next thing I knew, Tiffany was knocking on the back door.” She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. “I don’t remember, but I always lock it. It’s habit.”
