Irresistible You

by Barbara Boswell

  “It’s hard to argue with someone who’s arguing that you’re not crazy.” Brenna’s voice was tinged with irony.

  “Yeah, it is. So stop arguing and go to sleep.”

  “Will you be here in the morning?” Brenna’s heart hammered wildly in her chest.

  “I’ll be here, Brenna.”

  He didn’t say anything else, and neither did she.

  Was Luke right? Brenna wondered, confused. Did she really want him to stay here with her?

  Already she was beginning to reconstruct those invisible walls around her heart. She reminded herself how much she cherished her privacy and how much time alone she required.

  As for sharing a bed all night with him…well, that wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t. At the school in Denver, she’d had a terrible time sleeping while sharing a room with another girl and hadn’t shared a room with anyone since. Let alone a bed.

  Brenna tried not to think of what she’d done with Luke today. Her mind was already on overload. Reliving the wild, hot memories would probably short-circuit it! But try as she might to suppress them, those feelings sneaked past her guard, evoking everything.

  What they’d done. What they’d said. How wonderful it all had been.

  And he was still here, holding her in the dark silence of her room, warming her with his body heat. His steady breathing echoed in her ears. It was a calming, reassuring sound.

  She would lie here for just a little longer and then convince him to leave.

  But wrapped in Luke’s arms, Brenna felt as if her tired mind and her satiated body were floating away as she slowly drifted into sleep.

  “The good news is that it’s stopped snowing and the roads have been cleared,” Luke announced the next morning.

  Brenna, who’d awakened moments earlier, struggled to a sitting position in bed and watched him look out the window.

  He was dressed in his clothes from yesterday, but his face was smoothly shaven and his hair still damp from the shower. He looked vigorous and alert and cheerful—whereas she felt nowhere near any of those enviable states.

  “The bad news is that it’s stopped snowing and the roads have been cleared—and everything is open and running on time today,” Luke continued. “I heard it on the radio, which means we have jury duty today. Ready for another go-round of Gimme That Ring?”

  Brenna closed her eyes and tried to stifle a moan. She didn’t quite succeed.

  “My sentiments exactly.” Luke chuckled. “When we jurors get together to deliberate, I’m going to suggest that the court confiscate the damn ring and donate it to charity.”

  Should she try to explain that it wasn’t the prospect of serving on the jury and listening to Amber’s and Brad’s attorneys do their best to portray each other’s clients as greedy/stingy, shameless/shameful wretches who did/did not deserve the diamond ring?

  No, it was the thought of having to sit next to Luke Minteer in the jury box all day, and wondering what to say and do after the courtroom session ended.

  Brenna gnawed nervously on her lower lip.

  Suppose he asked—no, Luke didn’t ask, he just did as he pleased—and suppose it pleased him to come back to her house with her again tonight? To make love to her and spend the night with her again? Why, she’d intended to send him on his way last night—except she’d fallen asleep first.

  And for it to occur two nights in a row? She couldn’t handle so much intimacy. Brenna shivered. The very idea made her claustrophobic.

  But suppose it didn’t please him to be with her? Suppose yesterday had been both the beginning and the end of her involvement with Luke Minteer?

  She couldn’t handle that, either!

  For the first time in her life, Brenna felt a sharp flicker of recognition. This awful uncertainty must have been what her mother’s chaotic romantic life had been like.

  Brenna was aghast. She had spent years avoiding men to save herself from falling into the same traps that had constantly ensnared her mother. Yet here she was, so like Marly, falling in love and into bed with a man she hadn’t known long enough. Wasting her time and brain cells worrying about what would happen next. Would he call? Wouldn’t he? What did every nuance of his every word and expression mean?

  Brenna steeled herself against it. She would not subject herself or her baby to any of that futile nonsense.

  “You went into the bathroom about four times last night,” Luke said.

  Brenna’s eyes flew open, and she felt a hot blush spread over every inch of her skin. She saw Luke studying her, and she didn’t meet his eyes. She couldn’t. The physical intimacy they’d shared last night didn’t extend to this morning—nor to pointed observations on her bathroom habits!

  “Was it because you’re so far along in the pregnancy or because of the sex?” Luke’s brows narrowed in concern.

  “The pregnancy,” Brenna replied brusquely. “I’ve been getting up a lot at night for the past month or so.” She threw off the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

  She was naked, a fact she’d forgotten. Looking down at herself while making an ungainly escape into the sanctuary of the bathroom made her cringe.

  But she made a successful, if ungainly, escape to the sanctuary of the bathroom, closed the door and locked it.

  “I’ll make some breakfast,” Luke called through the door. “What do you want?”

  “Anything. Whatever you’re going to have.” She turned on the shower, and the roaring sound of the water precluded any further conversation.

  After a quick breakfast of juice and cereal, they drove to the courthouse in silence. There had been an argument about taking two cars. Brenna insisted on driving herself. Luke said it made no sense as parking was sure to be scarce since the snowplows had been utilized to clear the district’s roads, not the parking lots. However, the VIP spots in front of the courthouse would surely be cleared.

  Why should Brenna drive around town, searching for what might be a nonexistent parking space? Luke argued. Even if she found one, there would be a long cold walk to the courthouse, and the sidewalks might be slippery. If she fell, she could hurt herself or the baby.

  Brenna accused him of being manipulative for bringing the baby into this. Luke replied it was impossible not to bring the baby into this, as it was inside her.

  In the end Brenna decided it was easier simply to ride to the courthouse with Luke. His points were too valid to ignore. Besides, she could tell he wasn’t going to budge on the issue. He assured her that he wouldn’t, and she’d come to realize that he always meant what he said.

  Luke swung the Dodge Durango into the cleared VIP spot directly in front of the courthouse, came around to her side and lifted her out of the truck.

  “There’s just one thing,” Brenna said, as he set her on the ground.

  She was breathless from being handled by him and wanted nothing more than to lean into him and tuck her hand into his. But she kept it at her side.

  “And what’s that?” Luke reached for her hand and slipped it into his pocket, pulling her closer to him in the process.

  Brenna felt his body brush hers and a honeyed warmth oozed through her. “I want to go right home after we’re finished here for the day.”

  “Okay, I’ll take you right home,” he replied easily.

  “And—I don’t want you to come into my house or ask if you can. Because my answer will be no,” she finished in a rush.

  “Well, I guess this is one of those damned-if-you-do or damned-if-you-don’t situations.” He sounded more resigned than angry or sad. “If I agree to drop you off without any protest, you’ll assume I want to leave you. If I refuse and insist on coming in with you, you’ll accuse me of stalking you. Of not knowing how to take no for an answer.”

  “You don’t know how to take no for an answer. I don’t have to prove that,” she added.

  Even to her own ears she sounded cranky and ill-tempered. She really wouldn’t blame Luke if he dropped her hand and stomped off in
side the courthouse.

  Instead, Luke laughed. They kept on walking together, up the stairs and into the building.

  In the jury box, the jurors exchanged tales of yesterday’s storm and how they’d weathered it. Everybody but Luke and Brenna complained about the lack of accessible parking spaces since the lots had only been partially plowed.

  Brad and Amber and their attorneys sat at their respective tables, ignoring each other.

  Everybody rose when the judge entered the courtroom.

  “Your Honor, yesterday afternoon the Pennsylvania Supreme Court upheld a ruling by the Superior Court that pertains to this case,” Brad’s lawyer announced, looking very pleased. “If I may cite the ruling…”

  Brad, clearly aware of what was to come, grinned from ear to ear.

  Amber’s lawyer looked as if he knew, too. He grimaced and seemed to brace himself as he whispered something in his client’s ear.

  “Amber looks ready to hit something, or somebody, probably Brad or his lawyer,” Luke whispered to Brenna. “Maybe both.”

  The judge, giving nothing away by his expression, told Brad’s attorney to continue.

  “In a case with circumstances closely paralleling this one, the Superior Court ordered the fiancée to give back the engagement ring after the engagement was terminated,” the lawyer continued in a majestic baritone. “The Superior Court considered this case to be a ‘case of first impression.”’

  He turned to the jury and added in an aside, “That means the Court’s ruling would be the standard for similar cases in the future.”

  “I read the ruling, Counselor,” chimed in the judge. “The Supreme Court justices said that the state had adopted a no-fault divorce statute back in 1980 and should apply similar principles to cases spawned by broken engagements.”

  “It’s long overdue for these personal issues of blame and fault to be removed from the courtroom, Your Honor,” Brad’s attorney said smugly.

  The judge shot him a warning look. “I hereby order the ring returned and dismiss this case.”

  “No!” shrieked Amber, jumping to her feet. “That’s not fair!”

  “Sit down and be quiet, young lady,” ordered the judge, pounding his gavel. He turned to the jury. “The jurors are dismissed with the Commonwealth’s thanks for performing your civic duty.”

  “They didn’t do anything but sit there and stare at me!” howled Amber.

  “You see why I broke up with her?” Brad addressed the jury himself. “Would any of you guys want to marry her?”

  “She’s pretty hot, though,” one Jason chortled to the other.

  After another pound of the gavel and another demand for silence, the judge departed. The attorneys attempted to shepherd their bickering clients from the courtroom as Amber cursed furiously at the preening, triumphant Brad.

  The jurors filed out of the jury box.

  “Let’s go before we’re witnesses to a homicide and have to come back to testify,” joked one of the older women.

  Beside her, Brenna felt Luke freeze in place. She glanced up at him to see him staring down at her, a look of concern on his face.

  “Brenna, what she said…” Luke murmured. “She didn’t know about your—”

  “I know,” Brenna said quietly. “I don’t take jokes like that personally.” Her lips tightened. “But when it comes to books that make crime seem exciting and criminals seem interesting, those I take those personally.”

  Roger, the jury’s elected foreman, invited everybody to Peglady’s to celebrate their unexpected freedom.

  “Do you want to go?” Luke asked Brenna.

  She shook her head. “I want to go home. Alone!”

  “Anything you want, you’ve got it,” said Luke. Then he hummed a few bars of it.

  As she’d requested—demanded!—Luke drove directly to her house. He politely assisted her to the front door, and when Brenna opened it, he made no move to come inside.

  Her heart sinking, she watched him stroll back down the walk. This was the way she wanted it, Brenna reminded herself sternly.

  It was just that she didn’t want him to want it that way, too! Brenna realized she was on the verge of tears. She fought against them, appalled by her weakness.

  “Do you want me to pick you up at six or six-thirty for dinner tonight?” Luke called to her, just before he climbed behind the wheel.

  The jolt of relief she felt was palpable, throwing her so off balance that she feared she would lose her already tenuous control and start to cry, if she attempted to speak.

  Oh, the effect of all these hormones, causing her moods to shift crazily from low to high!

  Or was it the effect of Luke Minteer?

  “Okay, six it is,” Luke answered for her. “See you then, Brenna.”

  Nine

  Luke’s phone was ringing as he walked into his house. It was cold inside, and he kept his coat on. All those hours without electrical power gave the place the ambience of an igloo.

  He made it to the phone just before his answering machine was set to pick up. And was astonished to find Steve Saraceni, a Harrisburg lobbyist and pal from his bad old days in the state capital, on the other end of the line.

  “Hey, Luke. Hope I’m not interrupting your perp in the middle of slicing and dicing his latest victim,” joked Steve.

  Luke tried to recall the last time he’d talked to Steve Saraceni. Probably while he was still working for Matt and living in D.C., wheeling and dealing in the world of politics. Among other things.

  None of which explained why the lobbyist was calling him now.

  “What can I do for you, Steve?” Luke was curious.

  “For me? Nothing, actually. I’m calling because my sister called me earlier today and—” Steve paused and cleared his throat. “I guess I should explain that my sister, Cassie Walsh, lives next door to a, um, a friend of yours. A very special friend of yours.”

  “My very special friend,” Luke repeated, putting together the pieces.

  It seemed that Steve Saraceni’s sister had done some piece fitting herself—and Luke’s instincts told him that she’d come up with the wrong picture.

  “Oh, damn, Luke, we’ve known each other too long and too well for me not to come straight to the point. Cassie is irate because she says you’re the father of this girl’s unborn baby, and not only do you refuse to take responsibility, but for months you’ve been pretending you didn’t even know her. According to Cassie, this young mother-to-be has to deal with everything, including all expenses, completely on her own.”

  Luke sank down on a chair, clutching the phone. His instincts had been right on target.

  “Luke, are you still there?”

  Steve’s voice seemed to reverberate in Luke’s head. “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “Go ahead, tell me it’s none of my business.” Steve heaved a sigh. “Because I know it isn’t. I just wanted to—well, I wanted to find out if it’s true, or if my sister might have misconstrued things.”

  “And why would she do that, Steve?”

  “This girl is pregnant and Cassie saw her with you, the only man who’s ever even visited her. She found the girl crying after you left, and you’ve spent the night over there.”

  “And that’s all the evidence?” Luke drawled. “Don’t know if you could indict me with that, Steve.”

  “I know. Cassie is a sweetheart, but she gets downright militant on the subject of fathers’ responsibilities toward kids. She had a bad experience with her sons’ deadbeat dad and can be evangelical about looking out for…for—”

  “—children whose fathers abandon them?” Luke filled in. “Who can blame her? Certainly not me.”

  “You still haven’t denied anything, Luke,” Steve pointed out. “You’ve done some dodging and weaving but no denying.”

  “And we both know that a nondenial might as well be a blatant confirmation. I might not be playing anymore, but I haven’t forgotten the rules of the game, Steve,” Luke added with a wry, remini
scent chuckle.

  “So it’s true, then?” Steve audibly gulped. “You and this girl are—”

  “Her name is Brenna. And your sister is right about Brenna being pregnant. She’s due within a month.”

  There was a long silence. When Steve spoke again, his characteristic silky-smooth tone held a distinctly disapproving note. “You’re pretty cavalier about the whole thing, Minteer. Does your brother know?”

  “Matt? Of course not. Until now, nobody in Harrisburg knew, either. But you’re about to change that situation, right, Steve?” Luke gave a sharp laugh. “After all, we also both know that in the political world, information is valuable currency. And you know how to spend it better than anybody.”

  “Same old Luke,” Steve said, with a touch of malice. “Don’t say I didn’t check for the facts first. And I promise that I’ll spend this currency to the best of my ability.” Then he hung up.

  Which meant that there would be a discreet, immediate phone call placed to Congressman Matthew Minteer’s office in D.C. from Steve Saraceni himself.

  Luke could almost hear the oh-so-congenial-and-concerned lobbyist say to his brother, “Just wanted to give you a heads-up on a certain rumor circulating in your district, Matt.”

  In this district of traditional values and strong family ties, rumors of a Minteer getting a young woman pregnant and then leaving her to fend for herself would go over about as well as a nude orgy on a church lawn.

  Congressman Minteer would be indebted to Steve Saraceni for tipping him off in time to do some damage control, and in the political world a personal debt was golden. Even better than information.

  Same old Luke. The phrase echoed in Luke’s head.

  Except he wasn’t the same old Luke. That Luke, the one Steve Saraceni had known, would have had nothing to do with a pregnant Brenna Morgan in the first place. Apart from the obligatory hello and goodbye bestowed on all his fellow jurors, the same old Luke would not have bothered talking to Brenna at all.