“I know what I did,” Deanna admitted. “I don’t remember much about the trial, but Mother told me about it and so did Mr. Lamar. The honest truth is that I don’t remember much of anything from the night Daddy was killed up until weeks after Luke’s trial. And I haven’t recalled anything in all these years, until recently. Nightmares are plaguing me several times a week now. And—and the memory flashes I’m having frighten me.”
“I’d like to believe you,” Kizzie said. “For Luke’s sake, I hope you’re telling him the truth. ’Cause, if you aren’t, Luke will make you rue the day you came back to Stone Creek. My stepson wants revenge against you. Are you willing to risk his wrath in order to get his help? Just how big a price are you willing to pay to unearth the truth about who really killed your daddy?”
“You think Luke intends to punish me?”
Deanna had wondered if Luke still hated her and last night had left no doubt in her mind that he did. He wanted revenge—against her and her family—and who could blame him, after what they’d done to him? If there was a price to pay for Luke’s help, she’d pay it willingly. And if she had to be the recipient of his revenge in order to discover the truth and regain her memory, then, so be it.
“I think your betrayal and those five years Luke spent in Huntsville destroyed a part of my boy that had just begun to grow, a part of him that allowed him to love and trust and feel like he was as good as anybody else.”
“Hasn’t there been anyone in Luke’s life—anyone special?”
“I’ll be blunt.” Kizzie glanced toward the empty fireplace, as if she weren’t quite comfortable looking directly at Deanna when she spoke. “Luke hasn’t been a monk. There have been a few women, but...well, there was no relationship of any kind with these women. You understand. A man has needs. But there’s no love in Luke to give anyone. He’s as alone as a man can be. And that kind of loneliness does things to a person.”
“Mrs. McClendon, I need to know the truth about the night Daddy died and I believe Luke is the key to unlocking that truth and restoring my memory.” Deanna said.
When Kizzie stared hard at Deanna, a look of doubt in her dark eyes, Deanna shivered involuntarily. It was as if Luke’s stepmother was sizing her up, trying to decide whether she was speaking the truth.
Kizzie slapped her hands on her thighs, then stood quickly. “Well, I’ve said more than enough. So whatever happens, remember that I warned you.”
As Kizzie walked away, Deanna shot up out of the recliner. “Mrs. McClendon!”
Kizzie paused, but didn’t turn around.
“I did love Luke. And I never meant to hurt him.”
As she sucked in a deep breath, Kizzie’s broad shoulders lifted, then stiffened. Turning slowly, she aimed her gaze squarely at Deanna’s face. “You might have thought you loved him, but you were far too spoiled, too pampered to love anybody but yourself. You were a weak, foolish girl, Deanna Atchley. I just pray to God, you’re wiser and stronger now.”
Deanna stood there, her mouth opened on a silent cry of denial, as Kizzie left the room, not once glancing back to check on her guest’s reaction. A sick, swimming feeling hit Deanna in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to scream at Kizzie, to deny the woman’s accusations, to swear fervently that she had loved Luke—loved him with all her heart. But the words died inside her, the denial as weak and foolish as she had once been.
She had been spoiled, terribly spoiled. Pampered by her parents, by her big brother, by Eddie and the servants, she had been denied nothing money could buy. She had been foolish and selfish and very weak. But she had loved Luke as much as her young heart had been capable of loving. Yet, when the showdown came, she hadn’t had the strength to take Luke’s side against her family.
She had paid a high price for that family loyalty—and she was still paying.
Luke hung his Stetson on the hat rack, came in through the back door and dusted off his feet on the daisy-print doormat. He had stalled as long as he could. It was nearly one-thirty, way past his usual lunchtime. But he hadn’t wanted to come home and face Deanna.
He’d been sure she’d wait for him. He just wondered how long she’d been here and if she was fit to be tied about his tardiness. The Deanna he’d known had been impatient and restless, wanting what she wanted immediately. He had known that Deanna like the back of his hand—her personality, her heart and every inch of her sexy body. He knew she was a spoiled brat, but he’d been so wild about her that he hadn’t cared. Not until it was too late.
But Luke didn’t know this Deanna, the woman waiting for him. Who was she? Where had she been and what had she been doing for the past fifteen years?
Does it really matter? he asked himself. She could have turned herself into a copy of Mother Teresa and it wouldn’t change the way he felt about her. And it sure as hell wouldn’t change what she’d done to him.
He hoped she’d been waiting for him a long time. Hoped that she had squirmed, wondering when he’d come home—or if he’d come home. It would serve her right if he told her he had no intention of helping her in any way. But if he did that, she wouldn’t be vulnerable to him. She wouldn’t owe him. And what he wanted from Deanna he could get only if she felt obligated to pay the price for his cooperation. And his price was going to be steep. He wanted Deanna Atchley to come running whenever he snapped his fingers. He wanted her to know what it felt like to be used and then tossed aside.
Hell, he wanted revenge. Plain and simple. Revenge against Deanna and the whole damn Atchley family.
Alva gave him a condemning look as he entered the kitchen. “Did you wipe your feet?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am, I did.” Luke lifted one boot and then the other showing her the condition of the soles.
“Mrs. McClendon’s been running in here every ten minutes asking if you had come home, yet,” Alva said. “She and Miss Atchley waited until one o’clock, then they ate their lunch. I kept yours warm in the oven.”
“Where is Kizzie?” Luke asked. So, his stepmother had invited his guest for lunch. He hadn’t considered the possibility that Kizzie would be that cordial to Deanna. But then Kizzie was a good woman, with a kind heart.
“She and Miss Atchley are having dessert out on the side porch.” Alva wiped her fleshy hands on her big, flowered apron. “Do you want me to bring your lunch out there so you can join them?”
“Yeah, sure,” Luke said. “I’ll go wash up. Tell Kizzie I’m home and I’ll be outside in a few minutes.”
Luke gave the housekeeper a halfhearted smile, then walked out of the kitchen and down the hall to the rest room. While he washed his hands, he took a quick look at himself in the mirror. Maybe he should have shaved this morning. And maybe he should have gotten a haircut while he was in town. After all, he hadn’t had any dealings with a real lady in fifteen years, and Deanna might object to his scruffy appearance. The women of his acquaintance didn’t object to a two-days’ growth of beard or shaggy hair or the smell of sweat. When he and Deanna had been lovers, he had jumped through hoops for her, trying to be the man she wanted. God, what a young fool he’d been.
Luke grinned at his reflection. “This time around, she’ll have to take me just the way I am...and like it.”
By the time he walked out onto the side porch, just off the dining room, Alva had laid a place for him at the wooden table. The minute he emerged from the house, Deanna turned and watched him, her gaze both apprehensive and curious.
“I was about to call Tyler and have him check the hospital and the jail,” Kizzie said. “What took you so long?”
“I had a lot to do,” Luke said, totally ignoring Deanna, yet seeing her in his peripheral vision. Sitting down, he drew his chair up to the table and lifted his fork. “This looks delicious. I’m mighty hungry.”
“Did you have any luck talking Old Man Cooley into parting with Hercules?” Kizzie asked.
Filling his mouth with roast beef and creamed potatoes, he chewed slowly, still not acknowledging Deanna’s pr
esence. “I think I’m wearing Cooley down. Today, he named a price. More than anybody in their right mind would pay, even for a prize bull like ole Hercules, but it’s the first time Cooley’s talked money.”
“Well, you could have called to let us know how late you were going to be.” Kizzie nodded toward their silent guest. “Deanna’s been here since ten o’clock this morning.”
He glanced in her direction then and a part of him rejoiced at the sad, solemn look on her beautiful face. And another part of him saw only that beauty. Not the delicate, unblemished beauty of a girl, but the vibrant, powerful beauty of a woman.
Luke gripped the silver fork in his hand so hard that he almost bent it. Realizing what he’d done, he laid the fork beside his plate and glared at Deanna.
“Sorry you had to wait so long,” he said unconvincingly. “I didn’t know whether you’d even show up today.”
Deanna slid her chair back and stood. Glowering at Luke, she snorted mockingly. “You’re not sorry you kept me waiting. And you knew without a doubt that I’d show up here today. I came here last night to ask for your help because I truly believe we can unearth the truth together. If you don’t want to help me, I can’t make you. And if you gained any pleasure out of making me sit around here for hours waiting for you, then I’m glad. But you should know this, Luke McClendon—with or without your help, I’m not leaving Stone Creek until I remember what happened the night my father was killed.”
Deanna rushed into the house, leaving Luke and Kizzie alone on the porch.
“I suppose I’d better go see her out,” Luke said.
“You’re going to help her, aren’t you?” Kizzie let out a long sigh.
“If she’s willing to pay my price.” Luke stood and followed Deanna inside, not once daring to glance back at his stepmother. He knew Kizzie wasn’t pleased with his decision and would have plenty to say on the subject later. But right now, he had to catch up with Deanna.
He called to her just as she was heading out the front door. “Deanna. Wait!”
She whirled around, fire in her eyes. “Why should I wait? I’ve been waiting for nearly four hours!”
“If you and I are going to work together, you’ll have to get used to taking whatever I dish out. If I agree to help you, then I’ll call the shots. Do you understand?”
Deanna stared at him, her eyes wide with a combination of fear and hope. “Are you going to help me?”
“For a price.” Luke took several steps toward her, backing her against the foyer wall.
With his big body leaning into her, she looked up into Luke’s cold eyes and trembled. “What’s your price?”
“First, I want answers to a few questions. Then once we’ve got that out of the way, I’ll consider helping you. I might even see if I can enlist Tyler’s help. Unofficially, of course.”
“That’s all you want, the answers to a few questions?”
She was trembling in apprehension. He liked that. She was afraid of him. And she had every right to be.
“No, that’s not all I want,” he said. “Once we start spending time together, I’ll expect you to be available whenever I need you.”
She stared at him questioningly, as if she wasn’t quite sure of his meaning.
He grinned. “Let me rephrase that. I’ll expect you to be ready, willing and able whenever I need a woman.”
Deanna’s cheeks flushed. Her mouth opened into a crooked oval. “You—you expect me to—to be your...You aren’t talking about being lovers again, are you, Luke? You want me to be your whore!”
“Yeah, something like that.” He could tell by the look in her eyes and the way she’d knotted her hands into tight little fists that she wanted to slap his face. He almost wished she would.
“You really do hate me, don’t you?”
He pressed into her, crushing her breasts against his chest, pushing his arousal against her mound. Lowering his head to her ear, he whispered, “Yeah, babe. I really do hate you.”
And then he took her mouth in a raw, savage kiss that stole her breath and robbed her of coherent thought. While his lips ravaged hers and his body trapped her against the wall, he didn’t touch her with his hands.
He didn’t dare touch her. If he did, he wasn’t sure whether he would caress her or strangle her. Desire blended with anger and hatred, creating a burning rage inside him, a rage that he barely controlled as he deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue inside her warm, wet mouth.
Although she trembled in his arms, she didn’t fight him and made no protest of any kind. She allowed him to do as he wanted. And when he was on the verge of touching her, of ripping open her silk blouse and seeking her breasts, she responded to him. Her tongue slid against his, hesitantly at first, then more boldly. Luke’s insides quivered and his sex hardened painfully. He wanted her. Here. Now. Up against the wall. Fast and furious.
Or better yet, on her knees, in front of him, pleasuring him the way an experienced woman could. Ending the kiss, Luke grasped her by the back of her neck and pulled her away from him.
“Now’s not the time and this isn’t the place for what I want,” he said. “You think over my proposition and let me know what you decide. If you want to make a deal for my help, then meet me tonight at the Stone Creek Motel. Nine o’clock.”
For a split second, when he saw the stricken look on her face, he regretted being so ruthless with her. But then he remembered just who this woman was and what she’d done to him.
He stepped back from her and allowed her space to maneuver. When she straightened her hair, smoothed out the wrinkles in her blouse and then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, Luke waited.
She turned, opened the door and walked outside. He followed her, pausing in the doorway. “I’ll be waiting for you tonight.”
She didn’t respond, didn’t look back at him as she ran to her car, got inside and drove away. A trail of dust rose in the air behind the little white Mustang as it rounded a bend in the road and disappeared.
Luke watched her go, thinking that now he’d either get what he wanted from Deanna Atchley or he’d never have to see her again.
Chapter 4
Luke had never before brought a woman to the Stone Creek Motel. The place was too public to suit his usual need for privacy. The small, neat motel was situated right on the main street that ran through the town. The single-story units, laid out in a U-shape, were used mainly by out-of-town visitors. But the Stone Creek Motel was perfect for his tryst with Deanna. Anyone passing by—going in or out of town—would see Luke’s old truck and Deanna Atchley’s white Mustang. By morning, the whole county would know the two had spent the night together. The Atchleys would be outraged and Deanna would be disgraced. And that’s exactly what he wanted. He wanted Deanna and her family to get a little taste the hurt and humiliation the McClendons had gone through fifteen years ago. His very soul cried out for revenge.
Tonight Deanna would make the down payment on her debt to him. He figured that by the time she admitted that she’d always known who really killed Rayburn Atchley, he’d be able to mark Deanna’s account “paid in full.” By then, he’d be finished with her. He could close the door on the past forever!
Luke checked his watch. Eight-fifty. He wasn’t going to keep her waiting for this meeting. As much as he had dreaded seeing her today, he looked forward just as much to having her come to him tonight.
He supposed there was a possibility she wouldn’t show up, but his gut instincts told him that Deanna would do whatever he asked of her, if she really wanted his help that desperately. If she didn’t show up, he’d know the whole thing had been a ruse, her plea for help just another of her lies. But if she put in an appearance, as he felt she would, then he’d have reason to believe her. And although discovering the identity of Rayburn Atchley’s real killer after all these years wouldn’t change the past, it would clear his name. His family’s name. McClendon. A name that had been honored in Texas for generations. A name that his manslaughter c
onviction had tarnished.
Luke opened and closed the door, making sure he’d left it unlocked. When she knocked on the door, he’d wouldn’t walk over and open it for her. He’d just call out for her to come in. And he’d be there, sprawled out across the bed, waiting.
He’d been thinking about it all afternoon and evening. About how she’d look and what she’d say. And what he’d make her do. She’d protest at first, but if this Deanna was anything like the wild girl who’d been his lover, then she’d warm up lightning quick. The very thought of what years of experience had surely taught her made Luke’s body tighten with anticipation and his sex harden with desire. He’d been aroused since he’d walked into room 12.
He unbuttoned his shirt, took it off and tossed it on the brown tweed chair in the corner, then he unbuckled his belt, removed it and laid it on top of his shirt. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he inspected the room. Typical small-town motel. A king-size bed, flanked by nightstands that held two large, ugly lamps. A nineteen-inch TV sat in the middle of a cheap wooden dresser.
After removing his boots and socks, he strolled into the bathroom and checked out the shower stall. It was big enough for two.
Unwanted memories rushed in on him, forcing him to recall another time when he and Deanna had bathed together. In the cabin. After the first time they’d made love. He had lifted her in his arms and carried her into the bathroom. She hadn’t been the least bit self-conscious about her nudity and he’d loved that about her—her lack of shyness or false modesty. They had made love again, standing in the old claw-foot tub, while the rickety showerhead attached to the wall spewed lukewarm water over their hot, sweaty bodies.
Love mixed with hate and created a boiling anger inside him. He couldn’t let the sweet memories—moments of love that had turned out to be false—affect his actions tonight. Luke slammed his fist against the tiled bathroom wall.
Damn her! Damn her for making him care about her! Damn her for making promises she’d never intended to keep. And damn her most of all for betraying him!
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