by Shirley Wine
Heat mingled with tenderness as she gazed into his eyes. ‘I’ve only done what any caring person would do.’
‘I’m not so sure.’
‘Go have your shower and get out of your wet clothes.’
Amusement chased away his melancholy. ‘Have you come here to wash my back?’
Slowly she turned to face him, heat spiralling through her at an alarming rate.
He caught her arms and held her before leaning close and looking deep into her eyes. Ever so slowly, he lowered his mouth towards hers. He held her gaze; his mouth curved in a sexy grin. Brooke swallowed hard unable to believe this was happening.
‘The children—’
‘My guess is that they are busy.’ He grinned at her, his eyebrows quirking.
She nodded. ‘Dad is trying to beat Otto at chess and Rose is cooking up a storm in the kitchen with Rio.’
‘There you are then,’ he murmured. ‘Stop me now if you want to.’
She had no intention of calling a halt.
Luke’s smile spread in the moment before his lips covered hers. With a will of their own, her hands reached up and buried themselves in his wet hair.
Slowly he raised his head and framed her face between his big hands. ‘About that shower—’
A laugh bubbled from her as she spread both hands on his chest and pushed. ‘You’re soaking wet.’
Trying to push him away was about as ineffectual as her trying to move a granite boulder.
‘I know, and now so are you,’ he said in a wicked murmur, his lips continuing their assault on the tender skin of her neck. ‘Are you ready to help me out of these wet clothes or do you want me to catch cold?’
From the heat radiating off him, she figured there was no chance in hell that he could catch cold. Brooke unbuttoned his shirt and pushed aside the wet fabric, then splayed her hands across the chilled skin of his muscular chest. Strong hands wound through her hair as he twisted her head slightly so he could deepen their kiss. She moaned, the soft pleasure-filled sound lost in the cavern of his mouth.
Brooke melted against him, needing his strength to hold her upright. Lost in sensation, he plundered her mouth in a kiss that was hot, wet and explicit. This was the kiss of a man driven by an ungovernable hunger.
A belated caution surfaced. Is this wise?
Memories of past mistakes surfaced. Brooke shivered and tried to pull back, but Luke’s hold on her tightened in a convulsive movement.
‘Are you getting ready to bail on me?’ he murmured, his breath warm against her ear.
Brooke leaned back in his arms until she could see his face. ‘Where are we going with this?’
‘As far as that bed,’ Luke said, chuckling softly.
The sexy sound stroked across nerve ends already aroused, and the gleam in his eyes made the breath catch in her throat.
‘We need to talk.’
‘Now?’ he asked as he slid a hand down between them, undid the button of her jeans and tugged down the zipper. His hand dipped lower, stroking across already sensitised skin.
‘Later,’ she muttered. ‘If you stop now, I might just have to kill you.’
His throaty laugh made her shiver.
With one smooth movement, he pushed her jeans and underpants down her thighs; overwhelmed with sensation, she strained against his marauding hand.
‘Gently,’ he whispered as he kissed his way down her throat, pausing to nibble on the tender flesh beneath her ear, before the hollow juncture of her neck and shoulder attracted his attention.
He undid the buttons of her shirt and, in an impatient movement, pushed the garment off her shoulders and down her arms. He tossed it aside, pulling her close against him as if he begrudged even that brief separation.
His strong fingers played down her spine and disposed of her bra in a move that was both smooth and practised while her fingers, clumsy in their haste, pushed his wet shirt off his broad shoulders. In one swift movement, he yanked it off and tossed it aside and just as summarily pushed his wet jeans and boxers down his thighs and stepped out of them, kicking them aside.
His hands roved across her body testing the weight of her breasts in his hand, the silky skin of her back, the hollow of her waist.
Brooke floated on sensation.
In one smooth movement, he stripped back the coverlet and laid her on pale sheets. For one long moment he towered beside the bed, lean and taut and so flagrantly male. The sheets were cool against the heated flush of her skin as she lay there, as naked as a jaybird, while he looked down at her, a sexy smile softening his austere features.
The side of the bed dipped as he kneeled beside her.
She needed to touch him, to reassure herself that this was real and not some vivid dream. She traced trembling fingers across his chest and down his belly. He caught her hand and kissed her fingers, his blue eyes glittering in his tanned face. He smoothed the wild curls away from her face with a hand that trembled, then he traced the line of her cheek, lips and jaw.
Outside, the storm raged. Wind-driven rain sheeted against the windows. Inside the homestead’s sturdy walls, protected from the elements, the lovers created a storm of their own.
Brooke’s heartbeat drummed in her ears. Beneath her palms, she felt the heavy thud of Luke’s heart. His deep, ragged breaths vibrated through her body.
She closed her eyes, giving her body and her trust into his keeping.
He was all tension, heat and need.
Her own need, the likes of which she’d never experienced, coursed through her in a debilitating tide, raw and untrammelled.
He crushed her close, his arms tightening to the point of pain, their bodies so close it was difficult to know where she ended and he began.
In one powerful movement, he joined his body with hers and, lifting his head, demanded, ‘Look at me, Brooke.’
Helpless against his demand, she obeyed.
For what seemed like eternity, their gazes held in wordless communication.
‘Mine.’
Luke’s guttural murmur had an instinctive protest bubbling up Brooke’s throat, but he bent his head and kissed her, hard, and the words remained unspoken.
Slowly he began to move and all thought of protest was lost in the age-old dance of love, and with a trust too long repudiated, Brooke gave herself up to Luke’s passion.
Chapter Nineteen
Spent, satiated and floating on the haze that was the aftermath of passion, Brooke rested her head in the crook of Luke’s shoulder. Outside, the storm raged. Lightning flashes streaked across black clouds, thunder grumbled and belly-ached, and rain beat a remorseless tattoo on the iron roof.
Inside, the lovers lay cocooned in sated bliss in the cosy nest of Luke’s bed. Under the hand splayed across his chest, Brooke felt his heartbeats gradually slow to a more normal rhythm. He toyed with one of her unruly strands of hair.
‘Wow,’ she whispered.
‘Wow, indeed.’ His chest vibrated with a soft chuckle and the arm curved around her tightened. ‘Tell me about Thornton.’
She drew a deep, trembling breath before exhaling slowly. She knew they needed to talk, but now?
‘What do you want to know?’
Luke turned on his side, pulled her close and bunched a pillow under his head. ‘Whatever you want to share.’
‘I don’t know where to start.’ She concentrated her attention on the naked chest so tantalising close.
‘The beginning is as good a place as any,’ he said with wry humour.
‘Every year, for as long as anyone here can remember, Sweetwater has held a summer carnival. It’s still is a big feature of this town’s life,’ she said quietly. ‘For years a chess tournament was part and parcel of it.’
‘Frank told us you were a cracking chess player.’
‘Once maybe, but I rarely play now.’
‘Because of Thornton?’
The question startled her. ‘Who told you that? Dad?’
‘Yeah, I asked him,
but Frank said it was your story to tell.’
Brooke sighed softly. ‘For several years running, while I was still in high school, I won the tournament. After I left home to study and then to work, I’d return every year to play. Me winning became something of a ritual.’
‘So why was the chess tournament dropped?’
‘Because I brought Brad here,’ she said bitterly. ‘After he was exposed, chess around here became synonymous with me, and Brad’s cheating. None of the townsfolk wanted a bar of it.’
‘So how did you meet Thornton?’
‘At the clinic, I worked with a teenage boy who had been seriously injured in a hit and run,’ she said, sighing softly. ‘Alex was the sweetest kid, and I quickly became very fond of him. Heck, everyone at the clinic had a real soft spot for him. Several times Brad brought Alex to the clinic for his physio.’
‘Was Thornton the officer assigned to the boy’s case?’
‘Yeah, and I was so impressed,’ she admitted with a wry smile. ‘Brad was kind and thoughtful, and determined to find the cretin who’d injured the kid and left him to die. I looked on Brad as some sort of white knight …’ She flexed her hand, staring at it.
‘Because he was good to the kid you liked?’
‘More or less,’ she conceded, sighing. ‘Brad turned his charm on me, and I was stupid enough to fall for it. He literally bowled me over.’
‘Young and naive perhaps, but definitely not stupid,’ he said, catching her fist and prising it open and threading his fingers through hers.
The gentle words were a balm to her bruised psyche.
‘When he discovered my prowess at chess, Brad told me that he’d won the police chess tournament. I, like a fool, challenged him to come to Sweetwater where I’d whip his butt.’
‘Did you?’
She glanced up at Luke and gave a shaky laugh. ‘Yeah, I trounced him.’
‘Good for you.’
They were silent for a spell.
‘Did he tell you about his investment schemes?’
Hearing nothing more than curious enquiry in Luke’s question, Brooke huffed out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding.
‘No, never,’ she said vehemently. ‘He never once mentioned money or investments to me.’
‘Then—’ Luke broke off.
‘How could I not know?’ She gave him a bitter look. ‘The three Fs are very effective.’
He raised his dark brows in question.
‘Flattered, fooled and fucked,’ she said bitterly. ‘Looking back now, I can see that Brad deliberately kept me off balance with lavish gifts and flowers, and I, trusting little fool that I was, swallowed every lie he told me. He exerted his charm on my parents and their friends. Later I learned that he’d wooed them with extravagant promises of great returns, promises he had no intention of keeping, and all the while he was robbing them blind.’
Luke massaged her tense hand with gentle fingers.
She looked up at him through a mist of tears. ‘And as you know if you’ve read the official reports, the castle Brad built came crashing down when he was arrested for selling drugs.’
‘This was when you learned he was married?’
She gave him a swift glance veiled through her eyelashes. ‘A wife and young family were just two more little details he forgot to mention to me.’
As the bitter words faded Luke cradled her against his chest. ‘You need to let it go,’ he said, his breath moving her hair. ‘You were young, Brooke. You were only guilty of making an error of judgement.’
‘My lack of judgement hurt a lot of people.’
Luke sat up and hauled her up, the sheet pooling around her waist. The abrupt movement made her gasp and open her eyes wide.
‘Let it go! You’re not responsible for the choices other people made.’ He gave her a little shake. ‘You introduced Thornton to your parents in good faith. What they, and others in this district, then chose to do was between them and Thornton. Their decisions, their responsibility. Did you ask, or expect, anyone to invest in his schemes?’
‘No, of course I didn’t,’ she said, horrified.
‘Then what on God’s green earth do you have to feel guilty about? Let it go.’
Brooke stared at his naked chest, shaking her head.
‘A few days ago a wise lady told me that I was too close to an investigation to clearly see the big picture.’ Luke gave her another little shake. ‘You need to take your own advice, Brooke.’
Heat crept up her neck and into her face. Could it be so simple?
Luke curved his palm around her cheek, and gently tugged at a lock of her hair. ‘Sure, you brought Thornton here, but that’s where your responsibility begins and ends.’
A sigh trembled from her.
For years her dad had told her this, but hearing it from Luke shifted the weighty burden and set her free.
She sighed and snuggled even closer. Her knee slipped between his, and her fingertips touched the scar that ran from his knee up his thigh.
‘This must have hurt,’ she whispered. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen the scar, but they’d not talked about it.
‘It would have been worse had the machete reached its target.’
Brooke winced as she splayed her hand across his thigh. ‘Who took a swipe at you?’
‘A kid high on meth.’ He covered her hand with his. ‘A poor kid lured by the promise of quick money. After being recruited to sell the stuff, he got hooked.’
She sighed. ‘You worked the drug scene?’
Luke lay back, crooked an arm and laid it over his eyes. ‘Yeah, for far too many years.’
‘Was that where you ran across Olivia?’
Luke jerked, staring at her unable to mask his shock. ‘What the hell do you know about Olivia?’
‘I overheard Dwyer razzing you about her.’
‘I never pegged you for a snoop.’ The dangerous glint in his narrowed eyes made her pulse race.
‘I was not snooping,’ she retorted, stung. ‘That conversation between you and Dwyer wasn’t exactly quiet!’
His anger subsided. ‘Fair enough.’
‘So who was Olivia?’
‘Olivia was beautiful. Young, fresh-faced and seemingly innocent, and I fell for her.’ He rolled over, putting some distance between then and stared at the ceiling at something only he could see. ‘I never looked; hell I could never imagine such a beautiful face could mask—’
Jealousy slithered through Brooke. ‘She meant something to you, this woman?’
Luke snorted and threw an arm over his eyes. ‘I thought so at the time, but by the time I escaped her clutches I realised the truth. Olivia may have been young—but she was also a cold-hearted assassin.’
Brooke’s breath was shaky as she slid her hand over his chest until it rested over his heart. ‘I don’t need you to tell me this, Luke. Not if you don’t want to share.’
‘Maybe I need to talk about it.’ He caught her hand in his, threading his fingers through hers.
And in that moment Brooke realised that he was holding on to her just as much as she was holding onto him.
‘I worked undercover in gangs. I lived with them, ate at their table and slept with them, and worked at their grubby trade. Hell if anyone should’ve known better than to trust anyone in that lifestyle, it was me.’
‘No-one is infallible.’
His derisive snort echoed in the dimly lit room. ‘In Olivia, I saw a shadow of my young self and, like a stupid Galahad, I wanted to protect her, save her from sinking into that sordid lifestyle. What I considered a subtle attempt to draw her away and out of that place proved not to be subtle at all.’ He crushed her fingers. ‘She was a moll tasked with my murder. She pulled a knife on me—’ he fingered a fine white scar on his neck.
Brooke shivered as her gaze followed the movement. ‘She did that?’
‘Yeah, somehow I managed to deflect her aim, but it was a close-run thing. My cover was blown and months of work were
scuppered. The details got out pretty quick. I was the guy who fell for a moll and fucked up a major investigation.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘I went on extended leave. Nobody wanted to work with me. Hell, I didn’t want to work with me. I almost left the Force then, only Ian talked me into staying. And yesterday, Dwyer razzed me over it, rubbing my nose in my biggest failure.’
‘What happened about the girl?’
‘They found her, gave her a smack on the wrist and she’s back with the gang.’
Brooke slid her leg over his, curling her arm around his chest. ‘You can’t save everyone, Luke.’
Chapter Twenty
Someone hammering on the bedroom door jerked Luke and Brooke awake.
‘Luke? Brooke? You awake?’
‘Coming.’ Luke threw back the covers, jerked on his jeans and wrenched open the door.
‘That’s Rio! What’s wrong?’ Brooke was out of bed and shrugging into her robe, blinking in the bright light streaming into their room from the hallway.
Rio stood silhouetted by the light, his hand raised to hammer on the door again.
‘Rose and Otto are gone,’ he said harshly.
Brooke’s heart slammed against her ribcage.
‘What do you mean they’re gone?’ Luke demanded, pushing past Rio and sprinting down the passage.
‘They’ve been kidnapped.’ Rio kept pace with Luke.
Brooke, breathing in short, shaky pants, struggled to keep pace with the men.
Otto and Rose are gone … gone … gone … gone … echoed every thudding heartbeat.
How can they be gone? The words bubbled in her throat. I tucked them into bed myself.
And she could still feel Rose’s strangling hug, and hear her whispered words, I love you, Brooke.
Luke strode into Otto’s room.
Brooke followed, abruptly halting at the sight of the boy’s empty bed.
‘Noooooo!’ The long keening wail exploded past her clenched fist.
The window was open. Curtains swept in and out the aperture in the brisk wind, the rain splattering them.
Luke swore a low vicious curse, shoved past her and raced to Rose’s room.
