Lies That Bind

by Shirley Wine

  Luke vowed to protect them, or die trying.

  He paused in the doorway of the large airy sunroom that opened directly onto the north-facing verandah. Rose and Otto had claimed this room as their den the day Luke had brought them here to live with him.

  The pair sat on a sofa, their backs to the door and heads close together in a heated, whispered discussion. Watching them unobserved, the hairs on Luke’s arms stood to attention. Something about this hushed, secretive exchange and the way their heads all but touched sent all his covert cop instincts whirling into overdrive.

  ‘You have to tell Uncle Luke.’

  Luke caught Otto’s whisper. Rose muttered something in reply that Luke didn’t catch.

  What does Otto think Rose should tell me?

  Some latent parental instinct Luke was unaware he possessed flared into life, full-blown. He didn’t know exactly what these two were discussing, but he sure as heck knew he was right to be wary and tread carefully. Once again, he had the uncanny feeling that far more than the accident was preying on Rose’s mind. If that interview with Charlotte left him feeling a failure; McLellan’s tirade filled Luke with fear.

  Will a judge consider me ill-equipped to raise two traumatised adolescents?

  While he may not know what the hell he was doing, Luke did know that if he allowed secrets to fester it would not be conducive to family harmony.

  ‘Is this a private discussion or can I join in?’ Luke deliberately kept his voice soft and unthreatening as he walked into the room and stopped behind the sofa.

  The kids gave a guilty start; a painful blush stained Rose’s face; Otto looked up at him with wide, scared eyes. Their reaction confirmed that he was right in wanting to know what they were discussing so earnestly.

  On slow, measured steps, Luke rounded the sofa, pulled up a chair and sat down facing them. ‘What does Otto think you need to tell me, Rose?’

  Otto scooted closer to his sister and gripped her hand tightly. ‘Go on, sis, you need to tell Uncle Luke.’

  It took all Uncle Luke’s self-control not to scowl. The boy’s protective stance accelerated the churning in his gut. Are these kids afraid of me?

  Luke wanted to punch something to vent his frustration; instead he sucked in a slow, calming breath. His apprehension and misgivings were his alone to deal with. He knew with terrifying certainty that should he come across as demanding or aggressive, it would be disastrous to the fledgling relationship they were forging. Rose gnawed on her lower lip and stared at him, her eyes wide and wary, and suspiciously moist.

  Please God, don’t let those tears fall. Rose in tears will surely bring me to my knees.

  ‘Do you like your own cooking, Uncle Luke?’ she asked in a hesitant whisper.

  This was so far from anything he’d imagined that Luke didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Perhaps he would feel better if he resorted to both. To him, the meals he prepared were fuel for his body; beyond that he didn’t care what he ate, but it was obvious that Rose didn’t feel quite the same way.

  ‘Why do you ask?’ His voice sounded rusty, even in his own ears.

  ‘I’m a vegetarian, Uncle Luke,’ she blurted, her face going a bright shade of poppy as she added, in case he needed clarification, ‘I don’t eat meat.’

  Does Rose like the food you prepare? Have you asked her? Brooke’s words were a hollow echo.

  Relief vied with chagrin.

  Diet was such an easy thing to rectify—much easier than some of the other nightmarish scenarios that had flitted through his feverish thoughts.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Rose mumbled, leaping to her feet.

  Jerked back into the moment, Luke caught the girl’s arm before she could run away, leaned forward and pulled her into an awkward one-armed hug.

  ‘No, Rose,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have asked you about your food preferences, and not taken it for granted that what I eat would suit you.’

  ‘See, I told you Uncle Luke wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘Of course I don’t mind.’ Luke looked at Otto and extended his other arm and pulled the boy into a tight three-way hug. ‘You can come to me any time if something worries you. You’re free to tell me anything, okay?’

  Rose looked up at him, her eyes swimming with tears. ‘Dad was pretty sliced up in that accident and every time I see meat—’ She broke off with an eloquent shudder.

  Bile stung Luke’s throat at the hellishly gruesome picture Rose’s whispered words conjured up. He hugged her close and buried his face in her hair. She felt so damn frail it scared the bejesus out of him.

  And I’m surprised that so many people are concerned.

  Luke closed his eyes, but the fear didn’t miraculously disappear.

  I will not fail my sister or her beloved daughter.

  As he made the vow, Luke knew it had absolutely nothing to do with McLellan’s threats and everything to do with this fragile child’s welfare.

  ‘Shhh, honey, it’s okay,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘This is something we can easily fix. I have already arranged for someone to housekeep and cook for us.’

  And I’m acting as if I know what constitutes a vegetarian diet? Will this Rio Jacobs be any more capable of addressing Rose’s dietary needs than I am?

  Luke could never remember feeling quite this helpless; the weight of responsibility grew heavier.

  ‘Who?’ The girl turned her head and looked up at him, her expression one of naked vulnerability.

  In that instant, Luke knew that if he went ahead and employed a male housekeeper without addressing the gender imbalance in their home, he would be making a grave mistake. The last thing Rose needed was one more insensitive male to add to her distress. He shoved aside the thought. ‘I thought I would ask Brooke.’

  Now where in the blue blazes had that cockamamie idea sprung from?

  Luke winced.

  Brooke had made her thoughts about accepting a live-in position at Whitby Downs only too plain.

  Rose’s expression exploded into wreathed smiles. ‘True? Brooke will cook and housekeep for us?’

  ‘Not exactly. Mrs Daintry has found us a cook-cum-housekeeper, but I thought I’d ask Brooke and her father to come out to Whitby Downs for a long-term visit to help with your therapy if you’re both okay with this.’

  ‘Way cool.’ Otto punched a fist in the air and Rose beamed.

  One glance at his niece’s animated face and Luke knew that, by fair means or foul, he had to persuade Brooke to reconsider her decision.

  If only I wasn’t so damned inept in the kitchen I wouldn’t need to go cap in hand to the darn woman.

  Chapter Six

  Luke pulled in and parked across the street from Frank Galbraith’s house on Sweetwater’s main street. He sat in his vehicle with the engine idling, in no particular hurry to have one more confrontation with the man’s contrary daughter. Brooke was out in the front yard hunched over an aging lawnmower, yanking fruitlessly on the cord.

  As he cut the engine, he couldn’t help appreciating the rounded curve of the shapely derriere clad in form-fitting denim that she presented to him. Just looking at her had him shifting to ease the uncomfortable tightness of his jeans.

  The woman sent him so many mixed signals that she had him tied in knots.

  One moment she refused any attempt at co-operation, the next she was freely handing out unsolicited advice. She thought nothing of grabbing his arm to make her point, but when he’d caught her arm she went almost catatonic.

  She was a walking contradiction, as annoying as hell, interfering, far too sexy, and too secretive to afford him the barest modicum of peace of mind. But she appeared to be what Rose and Otto needed, and this should be the focus of his attention, not her deliciously sexy body. Swearing luridly beneath his breath, Luke wished like hell that Brooke didn’t distract him with such wildly inappropriate thoughts. From their first meeting and her point-blank refusal to visit Whitby Downs to oversee the children’s physical
therapy, Brooke had been a thorn in his side. At her insistence he’d been committed to bringing them into Sweetwater three times weekly, a time-consuming and downright annoying exercise.

  So what the hell possessed me to tell Rose that Brooke would live-in with us?

  With a frustrated grunt, Luke alighted from his ute. Sitting here wouldn’t get the job done. He was well aware of the gossip swirling around Brooke, and yet this talk was at odds with the caring, hardworking physiotherapist he was coming to know. When he checked her credentials, he’d not heard one negative word about her professional ability, or about her character.

  Brooke’s employers in the upmarket Epsom clinic couldn’t speak highly enough of her expertise. They assured Luke she was not only dedicated, but that she had an uncanny ability to achieve great results with the most difficult and seriously injured patients. The one question everyone asked: when is Brooke coming back?

  He’d hired her—parting with a good portion of his handsome salary—because she was reputed to be one of the best physiotherapists at the Sunrise Clinic, a position she’d regretfully relinquished so she could assist her father with his rehabilitation.

  Luke had to concede that her expertise was beyond reproach. He’d seen, first-hand, the wonders she’d wrought in the short time—one single, solitary session—she’d spent working with Rose and Otto.

  Brooke had astonished him.

  Her fearless championship of two needy children, strangers to her at that, and the way she’d lit into him on their behalf, had surprised the heck out of him.

  The sunburnt grass crunched under his boots as he crossed to her side. ‘Do you need some help there?’

  She jerked upright and spun around as if she’d been shot. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

  Uh oh, the lady wasn’t prepared to forgive his bad manners. ‘What’s the problem with the mower?’

  ‘It won’t start.’ She blistered him with a look hot enough to turn him into a cinder. With a shrug, she turned her back on him, scowling down at the mower, the ends of her dark hair swinging in the hot, eddying breeze scooting between her father’s house and the one next door.

  Luke walked to the other side of the machine, watching as she banged on the mower’s housing with a well-worn crescent spanner, a splotch of black grease smeared across the back of one of her strong, supple hands.

  How would those hands feel on me?

  Luke shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the wayward thought.

  I’m one damn sick puppy.

  He cleared his throat. ‘Is that helping?’

  ‘Does it look like it?’ Her withering glance questioned his intelligence. A few more clangs rang out in the hot, dry air. ‘You didn’t say what brought you here. The children’s next therapy session isn’t until Thursday.’

  ‘I’m well aware of this.’ He rubbed at his chin as he studied her down-bent head.

  ‘Then why are you here?’

  ‘I need to ask you a favour.’

  ‘A favour?’ Startled, she stared at him, the jut of her chin mutinous as she pushed a lock of dark hair behind one ear, leaving a smudge of grease on her earlobe.

  Luke crouched beside the mower, his face level with hers—her dark eyes wide and wary—and nodded.

  ‘I can’t imagine what you could possibly want from me.’ Brooke sniffed and leaned towards the mower. She tried to undo the nuts on the housing, but they refused to budge.

  Luke watched her fruitless struggle for long, interminable minutes before reaching across and pulling the spanner from her grasp. ‘Let me do that.’

  ‘Suit yourself.’

  She sat back on her heels, watching, as with a few deft twists he loosened the nuts. The mower housing slipped free and he set it on the grass to one side.

  Brooke made an undignified sound. He glanced up, resisting the urge to grin at her disgruntled expression, and thought better of joshing her about his manly strength.

  ‘So where are Otto and Rose?’

  ‘They’re at the pool cooling off. Charlotte brought all the kids into town for a swim.’

  ‘At the pool?’ Brooke’s brows scrunched in a frown. ‘Otto’s nowhere near steady enough on his feet to negotiate his way around wet concrete without close supervision and help to get in and out of the pool.’

  Luke fought down a lick of temper at the assumption that he was somehow derelict in his duty of care. ‘Matt’s also with them; I’d trust him with Otto’s safety in and around the pool any day.’

  Dull colour ran up under her tan and when she avoided meeting his eyes, Luke was struck by a horrifying thought. ‘Swimming won’t harm him or slow his progress, will it?’

  ‘No,’ she said, her tone grudging. ‘I intended to ask permission to take Otto to the pool. Water therapy is an excellent way for him to rebuild muscle strength without stressing his joints.’

  Luke exhaled a soft relieved sigh. ‘I didn’t think it would harm him from what I’ve read online.’

  ‘How’s he managing?’

  ‘He’s on his crutches for a good deal of his time now.’

  ‘He’s not overdoing it?’ Her annoyance gave way to concern.

  Luke decided to broach the elephant on the lawn. ‘Would it help if I apologised?’

  She made a very rude noise and scalded him with another of those blistering looks as she waggled an ear with her fingers. ‘Another cop who thinks a meaningless apology will undo or unsay thoughtless words and actions.’

  Luke cursed beneath his breath. As much as he disliked being lumped in with the likes of Thornton, he knew his barely disguised suspicion had caused Brooke to doubt his integrity and motives. ‘Otto called me out over it.’

  She sat back on her haunches, staring at him as if he’d sprouted horns. ‘Otto?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He grinned and shook his head. ‘I suspect that young man is in the throes of his first crush.’

  Delicate colour painted a rosy glow on her cheeks and those dark, fathomless eyes opened very wide. ‘You’re not serious?’

  Her shocked dismay made him chuckle. ‘Very. And it pleases me to know Otto already shows discerning taste.’

  The colour in her cheeks deepened. ‘Get away with you.’

  He chuckled as she bent her head and a sweep of dark hair shielded her face.

  ‘I’m sure you consider me a bad influence on your wards.’

  Luke winced. Surely he hadn’t come across as a prejudiced jerk.

  Of course I did.

  Acknowledging this increased his discomfort. ‘I’ve never thought that.’

  ‘Sure you did.’ She lifted her head in challenge. ‘Why else would you hustle us out of your home with such indecent haste?’

  The direct question didn’t surprise him. He’d come to expect this bluntness from her even though it put him on the spot. No way was he prepared to admit that a burst of juvenile jealousy lay behind his boorish behaviour. It shamed him to know that his breach of courtesy was so obvious that even an eleven-year-old boy had noticed and called him on it. Brooke made a grab for the spanner, but Luke held firm. With a frustrated huff, she leaned across the mower and tugged at the pull cord.

  Whoa!

  The way she moved afforded him a great view down the neck of the skimpy green vest she was wearing.

  Good Lord! I can see her breasts. And she doesn’t have a clue!

  Luke dragged his gaze away from the enticing sight. He looked anywhere but at the woman struggling with the pull cord of the recalcitrant mower.

  Oh yeah, Otto, I surely do notice Brooke and her stunning attributes.

  Luke was a normal male with a healthy sexual appetite. And he knew it would be darn near impossible to banish the image of Brooke’s lush breasts and dusky nipples from his mind any time soon.

  Brooke took advantage of his momentary distraction and wrenched the spanner from his grasp. She sat back on her haunches again and studied the mower as if she was deciding what part to attack next. She wrenched at one of the fue
l lines as she muttered, ‘This is hopeless.’

  Luke twisted the spanner from her hand. ‘For God’s sake, give me that before you wreck the mower.’

  ‘My mower, my problem.’

  ‘Have you any idea what you’re doing?’

  ‘What does it matter to you?’ Brooke held his gaze for a few moments before she shrugged and looked away.

  ‘Your father won’t appreciate you wrecking his mower because you’re peeved with me.’

  Brooke sighed and seemed to deflate. ‘It’s not like my dad will ever be able to use it again.’

  There was no mistaking the wealth of pain in the soft words. Instinctively, Luke reached for her hand, then recalling her reaction to his touch, he stayed the impulse. ‘Frank has made a great recovery.’

  ‘He has.’ Brooke kept her head bent, refusing to look at him as she nibbled on her lower lip. ‘But not enough to ever be able to manage living alone again.’

  The reluctant admission gave him a glimmer of hope. Could Brooke’s worry about her father work to his advantage? Would she accept his proposition, if he included Frank? Luke was desperate enough to play on her obvious concern. ‘You asked me why I’m here.’

  Brooke’s head snapped up and her eyes narrowed as she looked at him.

  ‘Otto is worried that you may not want him and Rose to return for their therapy.’

  Clearly surprised, she asked, ‘Why would he think such a thing?’

  ‘He’s sure I’ve offended you,’ Luke admitted, silently cursing the heat coursing up his neck, ‘to the point where you won’t welcome him or Rose.’

  ‘Why would he think this, I wonder?’ She leaned a little closer. ‘For all I know, it may be normal for you to hustle guests out of your hallowed abode as if you’re afraid they may pollute the sanctified air you breathe.’

  This caustic observation made it difficult to meet her clear, condemning gaze. ‘Look, it was a bad day for me, okay?’