He wanted to live every dream he had put into cold storage when he had overheard Jennifer telling her best friend thirteen years ago how she had manipulated him into their engagement and how she intended to use him for her own benefit after they were married.
He wanted to change his life now, take it out of cold storage, feel the sunlight in his soul once again. He was doing things he hadn't done in years. Just before Jane's call, he had actually been scanning the newspaper ads for a storefront office somewhere in downtown Brooklyn where the people who needed and could not afford good legal help lived.
It had been his secret dream, the dream that appalled his parents, horrified Jennifer, made Ellen erupt into laughter, and enabled Margo to play him for all he was worth.
But still, it was his dream. Was he going to let other people keep him forever from what he really wanted in his life?
"Luke? Luke?"
"Hm?" Luke looked up to find his paralegal standing in his office doorway. "Sorry, Carol. What is it?"
"Newest duplicate files from the district attorney on the Wallingham case," she replied, setting a banker's box on his desk. "I've gone through and sorted it for you."
"You're an angel."
"You pay me well."
Luke smiled, and jumped off the train track. "So, tell me, Carol, how much more would I have to pay you to get you to work for me in downtown Brooklyn?"
Her hazel eyes widened. "Are you serious?"
"Very."
"Wow. Which side of downtown Brooklyn?"
"The wrong side."
"Figures," Carol said with a grimace. But she couldn't hide her growing excitement. "I'd have to acquire a whole new level of expertise: grand-theft auto, robbery—"
"The whole gamut," Luke agreed.
"Would Roger come along, too?"
"And Harriet, if I can convince her."
"What about Mr. Roper and his staff?"
Luke smiled gently. "It would be a new office, Carol. Just l'il ol' me spreading my wings and relying on the best legal staff in New York."
"Okay," Carol said decisively. At twenty-nine, Carol was the most assured person Luke had ever met. She must have put her parents through hell as a kid. "I'll want to be reimbursed for cab fare home every night because only a woman with a death wish would take the subway. I'll want a strong security system and a security guard to handle any client or defendant who gets a little out of hand, and I'll want ten thousand more a year."
"Six."
"Eight."
"Done."
Carol looked at him in the utmost astonishment, and then grinned. "You've lost your mind, boss, but I intend to take full advantage of it. I'll go type up the new employment contract while you've still taken leave of your senses."
"Send Roger in before you start and don't say a word about this to Harriet."
"My lips are sealed. How on earth are you going to support me on pro bono cases? That's mostly what you'll be working on, you know."
Luke leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head, nearly giddy now that he had begun this new adventure. "I know. I've got a dandy little trust fund that should support you in style for the next hundred years, Carol. And Harriet and Roger, too."
"Geez, I feel like salaaming or something. Can I break the story to the papers? Please? This is practically headline stuff: Scion of Old New York Family Goes Bonkers."
"Once I've made all the arrangements, I'll give you the go-ahead."
"You're a prince."
"I'm psychotic."
"Yeah," Carol said with a crooked grin, "but it gets the old heart pumping again, I've got to tell you, Luke."
He stared at the door after she left. Oh yes, indeed, his scarred heart was pumping at full blast. His blood was so oxygenated he felt light-headed. A thief—a sexy, talented, haunted thief—had derailed him from the straight and narrow with an ease that would have been shocking a month ago, and now seemed inevitable and right. The desire to thank her welled within him. Whatever game she was playing, Tess Alcott had rescued him from himself in the middle of it. There weren't words to express this surge of gratitude within him. Which god had he pleased that Tess should enter his life? What good had he done that so much good should come to him?
He left the office at five, his staff staring at him in openmouthed astonishment. He wanted to see Tess again, had to, now. He needed her soft scent to inundate him, her sassy voice to energize him, her blue eyes to blaze with a passion that matched his own.
But when he reached the Cushman mansion and his gaze collided with Tess seated across from him at the dinner table, he found a wall, not passion. Tess was closed in on herself, almost depressed. She had passed the physical, why would she be anxious now?
For all their similarities, Tess remained an enigma hidden in a puzzle wrapped in a mystery. She did her best to avoid his gaze, his conversation, him. He wasn't hurt by this—thank God he wasn't that far gone. But still, he was curious. So he allowed himself the pleasure of studying her until she finally finished eating and escaped to her room.
* * *
Tess slowly dressed for bed, feeling edgy, ill at ease.
How had she passed the physical? The question had been a litany that had haunted her all day, and she still had no answer. How could she have a scar on the back of her right knee identical to a scar that Elizabeth had? Nothing in the voluminous materials Bert had gathered for her to study had mentioned that particular scar, and the reports Bert had gathered had been very thorough about every physical mark and ailment Elizabeth had ever had. Had he known about the scar? Oh, he must have! So, why hadn't he discussed it with her? What game was he playing?
Or was this Jane's game? Or Luke's? He had studied her so relentlessly tonight. Or was Elizabeth's supposed scar a phony? Had the doctor used one of Tess's own marks as a sham tie to Elizabeth to set her up … for what? The biggest fall of her career?
"Oh God, why do I feel like I'm the only one who doesn't know what's going on?" Tess muttered. Wearily she slid into bed and curled into a tight ball under the covers.
Nothing was going as she had expected! She had planned to be on top of everything from her first meeting with Bert, and instead she felt as if she were drowning in a combination of confusion, guilt, fear … and happiness.
"What the hell?" Tess said, sitting upright.
How could she be happy? Why should she be happy? She was a con and a thief. She didn't deserve happiness!
But there it was.
"Well, I'll be damned," Tess murmured as she slowly stretched out under the covers. She had always wanted to belong to a place, to a person, anything. Rationally, of course, a mongrel jewel thief and con artist did not belong in this house in Luke and Jane's company. A grin curled across her mouth.
But somehow she did belong and she was glad she had taken this job because she was tasting, however briefly, what it was like to have a sense of place and time and belonging. She was glad she had taken this awful job because now she knew what she wanted to be when she grew old: she wanted to be Jane.
And she was glad she had taken this job because of all the things Luke had taught her about herself. She liked this woman she was discovering with his help. Yes, she loathed conning Jane and Luke. But this other self that was being rediscovered and reclaimed, this woman who loved the challenge of Luke's conversation and company, this woman who delighted in making Jane charge into battle, this woman who burned with the most delicious fever in Luke's arms, this woman she liked quite a lot.
"Well, what do you know about that?" Tess said, grinning into the darkness.
She had never really liked herself before. Somehow Luke had changed all that. He had changed everything, really. She was a different woman because of him. Newborn, in some ways. The emptiness that had been her soul for so many years, that her work could not banish, that she had refused to feed with friends, had been filled. Luke had derailed her from her intended path the first moment his eyes had met hers, switching her onto a new roa
d, a rougher road she hadn't even acknowledged until now.
She had no idea where it would end or how it would end. But it seemed to be important to follow it, whether she won the Farleigh or not, whether she landed in jail or not, whether Luke and Jane damned her in their prayers every night or not.
This rough, scary, devious road was where she belonged.
"I'd rather be in Philadelphia," Tess stated as she rolled over. But a faint smile touched her lips.
She was not at all surprised when sleep didn't come. For two hours she tossed and turned, alternately happy whenever she thought of Luke and Jane, and miserable whenever she thought about her job. She hadn't known until now that happiness and guilt could live side by side within her.
With a groan, Tess rolled onto her side and allowed exhaustion to finally lead her to sleep.
And the nightmare came.
It was always the same. Some details might be hazy, but the plot never varied. She was a princess in a medieval world of bright sunshine, knights galloping about on horses, maidens laughing and dancing upon the grass, her parents seated together, royal heads touching as they shared confidences and joined in the laughter all around them.
Suddenly storm clouds blotted out the sun. As everyone looked everywhere but at Tess, a large hand clamped itself over her mouth while an arm encircled her waist and lifted her off her feet.
She couldn't breathe, she couldn't scream, but she could see. A faceless giant lifted her high into the air, high above the trees, high above the castle. She was in the black clouds, the giant's hand still over her mouth.
She couldn't breathe!
Looking down at her world, she saw that no one knew of her abduction. Everyone was scurrying inside the castle to warm themselves. She was abandoned to the mercy of this monstrous, faceless giant.
Suddenly he threw her from him and she was falling down and down and down. She knew when she reached the ground she would die and there was nothing, absolutely nothing, she could do to prevent it. The ground came closer, and closer, hurtling at her.
Tess's strangled scream jerked her awake. She sat up in bed, her skin cold, her breath ragged in the dark room. "Damn Elizabeth!" Tess swore through clenched teeth, her fist hitting the mattress again and again. "Damn her, damn her, damn her!"
The nightmare had been a constant in Tess's childhood. It had plagued her until, at the age of fifteen, she had forcibly put it away from her through a combination of self-hypnosis and pure blind rage at such weakness. Now, in Elizabeth Cushman's bedroom, the nightmare had returned. Every night it had returned.
The dream was at least twenty years old and in all the nights she had endured it, never had there been anyone to hold her, to comfort her, to tell her it would be all right.
Her heart finally slowing, her lungs filling easily with oxygen once more, Tess pushed herself from her bed and started downstairs for a book, not even bothering with slippers or a robe. It was after two in the morning, the house was still, and Tess intended to get a firmer grip on reality. Crime and Punishment seemed in order.
And then she entered the library.
Luke was standing at the fireplace, one hand on the mantel as he gazed down into the empty grate. He turned suddenly and stared at her, his welcoming smile fading as worry shadowed his eyes. "What's wrong, Tess?" he asked gently.
Oh, how she longed to throw herself into his arms and weep away every fear.
"I just … woke up and couldn't get back to sleep."
"Is that all?"
"Sure," Tess blithely replied, turning so he wouldn't see the longing in her eyes. "What are you doing up so late?"
"I think"—and then Luke smiled—"I've been conducting an experiment to see if mental telepathy really works." His smile grew. "It does."
"Sorry to interrupt—" Tess began nervously. She had never seen him use quite that smile before. "I just wanted—" She ground to a halt as he walked to within a foot of her, his green gaze raking her from head to toe.
"Those pajamas are the sexiest things I've ever seen," he said, his voice ragged.
He pulled Tess into his arms before she could form a coherent protest, or even think that she ought to form a coherent protest.
"Dr. Jekyll, I presume?" Tess said, staring up at him, her heart shuddering in her breast as she luxuriated in his strength and warmth.
"Aha. You've met my evil twin, I take it?" His hand glided through her hair and cupped the back of her neck.
"He—" Tess gasped. It was becoming harder to breathe. "He actually made a good deal of sense."
"He acted like a fool," he said as he pulled her closer. "I'm sorry, Tess. I won't be that scared or that stupid again."
She moved easily, naturally against him, her body eagerly absorbing his heat. Oh yes, this was what she wanted. "But Luke, this isn't safe, this isn't sane, this isn't even smart!"
"I know," he said, his hand gently sifting through her hair. "But I can't stop it. Can you?"
She looked up at him and trembled as the truth found its voice. "No."
"Good," he said, lowering his head to hers, "I don't want to be in this alone."
His arms enfolded her and she went joyfully. She needed to feel him, all of him. Needed to feel branded and claimed and wanted. This was real, this was honest, this was true. His kisses burned everything away, until there was only this spiraling joy that made everything seem right.
"Tess," Luke murmured, his lips pressing a scorching trail across her cheek, her throat. "Tess."
And everything that was in her cried Yes to his touch, to his hunger, to his unvoiced need.
As if in a dream, she watched him reach out and shut the door behind her. Then he pulled her roughly back into his arms, his mouth devouring hers as Tess arched mindlessly against him, all confusion and nightmare swept away by the ferocity of her need for him and by the joy his need released.
"Luke," she murmured, her voice heavy with passion and unfamiliar to her. She cried out as Luke's teeth grazed one sensitive earlobe before sampling her arched throat. Need burned away everything else.
Desperately Tess's fingers tore at the buttons of his dress shirt. Her fingers glided across his smooth, broad chest, absorbing the ripple of muscles hidden beneath the clothed sheen of civilization. Her lips feasted on his skin as Luke gasped, his hands at her hips dragging her hard between his legs, to feel his own uncontrolled need.
With a driving urgency, her mouth closed around one of his hard male nipples and she sucked, glorying at the groan this caress tore from his throat.
His hands swept up to cup her face and he pulled her mouth to his greedily, his tongue sinking into her again and again with an erotic rhythm that her hips unconsciously matched. His mouth left hers to trail hot, fevered kisses down her throat as one hand swept up under her cotton pajama top. Long male fingers glided across the underside of one breast that swelled eagerly in his hand, her nipple tightening as his thumb brushed against it.
"Tess, Tess, beautiful Tess," Luke murmured as his hands molded her eager breasts. "I want you so much. I need you. Need me."
"I do," Tess cried. "I need all of you." Her breath became a sob as Luke's fingers quickly unbuttoned her top and pushed it off her shoulders.
"Want me, Tess," Luke murmured, his tongue sampling the silky skin of her breasts.
"I do," she moaned, her head sinking back as she arched toward his mouth. "I want… I can't— Oh Luke!" she cried out as his lips captured the pink bud of one nipple and drew it into his mouth, sucking to an ancient rhythm that reverberated into the very core of her being. Her hands swept around to his back, her fingers digging in, holding on to him.
"My golden woman," Luke murmured against her skin, his tongue hot and wet, gliding across the nipple of her other breast. His mouth captured it, drawing it in, sucking as his hand swept down over her belly and within the waistband of her pajama bottoms, moving slowly, deliberately.
"Luke!" Tess gasped as his fingers brushed against the swollen locus of her de
sire. Her knees buckled.
His strong arms held her as he gently lowered her to the floor. "I want to make love with you, Tess," he whispered, his lips pressed to her sensitive ear. "I've wanted you from the first moment our eyes met."
"Is that what I felt?" Tess demanded, almost frantically. "Is that why the world dropped away from my feet?"
"That's why," Luke groaned just before his mouth closed on hers, hard and demanding.
"Oh yes," Tess cried and they both knew she was agreeing to more than the kiss.
It was a breathless, vital race to see who could strip the clothes off the other first. Luke won, but just barely, and in the end it didn't matter for they were sitting on the floor, legs crossed over each other, breast to breast, skin to skin. Where they wanted to be.
This first embrace of her flesh against his was, for Tess, a revelation. Luke was heat and hard muscles and velvet skin against her and perfect. The other half of her soul sliding into place. For the first time in her life she felt wholly within her body and alive, gloriously alive. His fingers returned to that hot, tender core of her passion, his mouth once again suckled her breast as Tess, her head arched back, her fingers clenched in his thick chestnut hair to hold him tight against her breast, rocked with the flaming waves his fingers sent pouring through her veins. Tension coiled in her belly.
She had never known anything like this. She felt as if she were being torn apart inside and she longed for it, hungered for that shattering end to this heated torment because she couldn't bear this pleasure a moment longer.
And couldn't give it up.
"Luke!" she implored.
His lips left her breast, his mouth claiming hers with a hard, savage need. "Come to me, Tess," he urged, his fingers tightening the coil of tension within her until Tess thought she would scream, or shatter, or both. "I want you so much. Give yourself to me. All of you. I want all of you now."
Her sharp cry was stark in the silent room.
Luke's strong arms and gentle kisses tenderly pulled her boneless body back together again as she shuddered against him, rocked by a release that left everything clear.
STOLEN HEARTS Page 12
