Instead of finding his persistence flattering, it irritated her.
"Positive."
"Well, I'll call you."
"Goodbye, Adam. Luke."
She couldn't wait to see the backside of both of them and sort through this jumbled mess.
Luke's gaze swept her lazily. "Nice shirt. It's the same color as your … cheeks. Nice and rosy. See you tomorrow."
Horrible, horrible man. Teasing her, taunting her, turning her on…
* * *
9
« ^ »
Olivia pulled into her driveway, mentally and emotionally spent. By the time she walked to her unpainted front door, Beth had hotfooted across her lawn. "Tell me everything," she panted as Olivia opened the door.
"I need a cup of tea. Do you want one as well?"
"I want the scoop. But I'll take a cup too."
Beth ploughed ahead to the kitchen and settled on a bar stool.
Olivia filled the kettle. For the first time, the black-and-red tile and industrial chrome appliances failed to cheer her. She waited until the stove's blue flame hissed beneath the kettle to start her saga.
Olivia measured out a blend of oolong and sassafras while she recapped her afternoon. She dropped the stainless-steel tea balls into sleek, ceramic mugs.
"When Tammy took me to River Oaks to pick up my car, she offered how-to advice on juggling two men at one time." Olivia sat on the other stool and propped her chin in her hand.
"Your sister's definitely the expert in that department. Did you take notes?"
"I don't need to take notes because I have no intention of juggling either one of them. I plan to break things off with Adam—although, he's pursuing me harder than he ever did before. There's nothing to juggle with Luke because there's nothing…" The kettle shrilled its protest.
Even inanimate objects refuted her denial. Olivia hopped up and poured boiling water into the mugs.
"Then what's the big deal with Tammy going after him?"
"Luke and Tammy? The idea is beyond repugnant."
"Does that mean gross?"
"Close enough." Olivia paced in front of the sink.
"But why? No one knows except for you and Luke. And you yourself said it was a mistake and there's nothing there. You know what I think?"
"No. But let me guess—you're going to tell me." There seemed to be a lot of that going around today.
"Yep, I'm gonna tell you. You won't admit you want him, but you don't want anyone else to have him."
"That's not true." Was it? And why did Beth and Luke keep drawing the same conclusions?
"Listen, sister. I was in the same room with you two. I offered to leave because it was smoking hot. I don't think either one of you even knew I was there."
Merely thinking about Luke and his intense blue eyes sparked a flame low in her belly. "Okay. There's something there," she conceded, "but it scares me. I don't like feeling out of control. And Tammy's living proof that relationships based on physical attraction don't last."
"Tammy's living proof that she's desperate for someone to love her. She's just confused that physical love equates to emotional love." Beth dumped an obscene amount of sugar into her tea.
Emotional fragments shifted inside Olivia, straining to come together. "But, she…"
"What? You think she's just a sex maniac? Come on, Olivia. Your mother left and your father was hardly ever home sober. You looked for whatever it was you needed by taking care of everyone and everything. As long as everyone approves of you, all is right with your world."
Her world rocked on its axis. She'd never thought of herself or her sister in that context. Olivia shuddered at hearing herself described in such blunt, needy terms. "I sound so pathetic."
"You're far from pathetic. You compensate by giving. Tammy compensates by taking attention or affection from wherever she can find it. Tammy, who happens to be a little older, looked for love in all the wrong places. She still does. Look at the nails, the hair, the clothes, the belly button ring. She's like a little kid everyone ignores. Any attention, even if it's negative, is better than no attention."
"Oh." Tammy's words echoed in her head. I'm not stupid. I just make stupid choices. She toyed with the stainless-steel ball containing the spent tea leaves and stumbled through the thoughts swirling through her. "That makes sense—what motivates Tammy. But it doesn't change the fact that I don't want to make the same bad choices she does, based solely on a fleeting physical relationship."
Beth reached over and stilled Olivia's hand on the infuser. "That's getting on my nerves." Olivia put her hand in her lap. Beth continued, "Who's to say it's only physical attraction?"
"It couldn't be anything else. Adam is much more my type. Or at least he was. Adam and I share the same values. We want the same thing."
"And Luke doesn't?"
Their conversation after Marion Turner left had so clearly illustrated their differences. They viewed the world in totally different ways. "Luke's a law unto himself. I live according to society's mores. The only common ground we've found so far has been physical."
"You never know where it might lead. And if it doesn't lead anywhere, then you've had one heck of a good time. You know, chalk it up to one of those wild hairs you get occasionally."
Olivia scraped back her stool and gathered up the empty mugs. And what if he broke her heart in the process? Given the intensity that marked every exchange between them, it wouldn't be just a broken heart. It would be absolute devastation. Simply dating him would earmark her for gossip. An affair gone sour would shred her reputation. That didn't sound like such a good time to her. "I have to live here. This is my home and my work on the literacy council is important. My library programs are important. I refuse to jeopardize them for some fleeting chemical reaction." She rinsed out the cups in the sink. "And let's not forget, I slept with him under false circumstances."
"And it sure did feel good didn't it?" Beth emptied the tea leaves into the compost jar and turned to face Olivia. "If you could turn back time, would you go back and give up that against-the-door experience?"
* * *
Luke spread the architectural plans for the Colther County Library expansion on his coffee table. Three weeks to complete the addition, three and a half tops. Then Olivia would remain in her new tower and he'd be off to middle Florida for a new project. Would she miss him when he left? Would she welcome him when he returned? Every time he took a step forward with her, he wound up two steps back.
He scowled as he heard a car approach. He owned a couple of hundred acres at the end of a dirt road because he valued his solitude. No one just dropped by.
He left the plans on the table and crossed the room, his curtainless window offering a view of the front yard. Adam had parked his car and was walking toward the house. Luke could count on one hand—even missing a few fingers—the number of times his brother had stopped by. This was about the last damn thing he needed now.
He met Adam on the front porch, closing the door behind him. They could conduct whatever business Adam had—and there was an agenda, no doubt—on the front porch. "What's up?"
Adam shrugged as he mounted the stairs. "Just a brotherly visit." He settled into a rocking chair without an invitation.
For the life of him, he'd never understood why Adam couldn't just speak to the matter at hand. Hell no. Adam always danced around an issue—a little soft shoe shuffle and double-talk. "Visit away."
Luke fished out his knife, grabbed a piece of wood out of the pile he kept on the porch for whittling and dropped to the top step. May as well whittle while he waited for Adam's song and dance routine to warm up.
"Nice piece of property here."
"Yep. Usually it's nice and private."
Adam ignored his blatant reference and ploughed ahead. "Bennett Cooper owns a nice spread as well." Adam brushed at his creased jeans. "I didn't know ya'll were such friends."
"I check in on Bennett now and again."
"He's a drun
k." Adam couldn't quite mask the sneer in his voice.
"Yep. So is Uncle Jack."
"You should help him."
Luke was deliberately obtuse. "Who? Jack?"
Adam's nostrils flared. "Uncle Jack's different. He doesn't wind up in jail."
Olivia's words that privilege afforded the freedom to disregard convention whispered in the wind swaying the green-needled pines. "I believe he can thank the Rutledge name and money for that."
"Jack's a social drinker." Adam refused to entertain the notion that a Rutledge might share common drinking problems with a plebeian Cooper. "But you should help Bennett. He's really got a problem."
"Does he beat his kids? Other men's kids? Does he destroy property?"
"You know he doesn't. But it's your civic duty."
"A man's got to make his own choices. If you mean I should preach to him, then I'll forego my civic duty." Wood chips flew from the point of his knife. "Bennett knows I'm his friend. If he ever needs help with anything, whether it's giving up booze or mowing his pasture, he knows he only has to call me."
"That's a big place for a man Bennett's age to keep up with." Ah, Adam was starting the soft shoe. Shuffle twice to the right.
"He seems to manage."
"For God's sake, the front door is held on with duct tape," Adam proclaimed, as if Bennett had violated a sacred code of home ownership.
Luke grinned at Adam's outrage. "That's just Bennett. He could be thirty years younger and living across the hall from you at River Oaks and he'd probably duct tape his door."
Adam visibly blanched at the prospect.
"You've got to look beneath the duct tape and the Wild Turkey to the heart of the man. Can you do that?"
"I have. And I'm worried about Bennett. Just like I'm concerned that Olivia runs herself ragged taking care of her family."
Yeah, right. Adam was concerned about Adam. And if it somehow affected him, he was concerned.
Luke shifted until his back was braced against the porch post. Olivia was a lot of things—exasperating, exhilarating, enchanting, stubborn as hell, but she was no one's martyr. "That's her choice."
"Duty and obligation seldom leave some of us a choice. It's one of the things Olivia and I have in common."
Adam lent new meaning to supercilious. And he could damn well leave the martyr shtick at home or try it out on someone else.
"Damn, bro, I've been confused for a long time. I thought you lived at home because you have a staff to cook and clean for you and wash your car and the house is so big you have absolute privacy. And then there's the free-rent factor." Luke shook his head in mocking admiration. "Instead, I discover you've spent years chained to River Oaks, bound by duty and obligation to a mother who heads the Garden Club, the Ladies' Auxiliary, the Fine Arts Committee and walks about five miles a day and a father who manages to squeeze in at least five rounds of golf a week, both of whom are waited on hand and foot by the same staff that serves you. Glad you cleared that up for me."
Adam scowled. "You make me sound like a parasite. I'm speaking to the Rotarians on Monday, you know."
Ah, there was some logic. Apparently parasites weren't allowed to address the Rotarians. And yes, he did know, since his warm, caring, brother had allowed someone else to accompany his sick girlfriend rather than risk germ exposure and blow his Rotarian appearance.
"Hmm." He'd learned a long time ago it was often best to not fully engage his family in conversation.
"So, I've been concerned about both Olivia and Bennett."
"Civic duty?"
"It's much more personal than that."
Luke ached to share just how personal he'd been with Olivia and wipe that smug look right off Adam's face, but he'd promised Olivia.
"Yes. And because I care for both of them, I've worked out a plan that I feel suits everyone's needs."
Translation: Adam's needs. He couldn't wait to hear how deep this shit was about to get.
"Really? Well, let's hear it."
"If I buy Bennett's property, we can relocate him to a house in town, something closer to Olivia. I'll invest the funds for him, manage his portfolio and he'll never have another worry for the rest of his days."
Which would number few because Bennett would croak if he was taken off his land.
"And you'd be willing to do that for them?"
"Olivia is special to me."
Yeah, her father had property Adam desperately wanted. "How special?"
Adam stood, hopefully to take his leave. Luke snapped his pocketknife closed and hauled himself to his feet as well.
"She's very special. Would you be willing to sort of soften Bennett up? You know, put in a good word for the plan? Maybe you could introduce the idea of selling. Do you think you could talk to him in the next day or two?"
"No problem." The more Adam regarded him as an accomplice, the more he would find out.
"Great." Adam sauntered down the steps, turning at the edge of the grass. "By the way, I saw the way you looked at Olivia earlier today." Adam chuckled and shook his head. "Forget about it."
With that one comment, Adam slid beneath his skin. "Give me one good reason why I should."
"Because I can offer Olivia the one thing you never can—the thing she values more than anything else." Adam opened his car door and braced one loafered foot on the floorboard. "Respectability."
Adam got in the car, throwing him a mocking salute.
Luke kept his face impassive. Luke couldn't offer her respectability, that much was true. He'd ruined his reputation years ago. But brother Adam shouldn't be so arrogantly sure that respectability was the most important thing to Olivia.
As Adam's car disappeared in a cloud of dust down his dirt road, he glanced down at the wood in his hand. He held a rough, miniature replica of a mask.
* * *
Olivia double-checked the concealer caked beneath her eyes. Hmm. Dark circles magnified by her glasses, further accentuated by the library's fluorescent lighting. Beth's question, "Would you give up that against-the-door experience?" had nagged her. The memories it provoked had tormented her. One sleepless night and she looked liked death warmed over. Mercifully groundbreaking ceremony photos didn't involve closeups.
Her assistant, Cindy, poked her head around the bathroom door.
"The newspaper photographer's here. We're still waiting on some of the chamber members and Mrs. Turner from the Literacy Committee."
"Thanks for letting me know."
Cindy shuffled from foot to foot, her florid complexion turning redder yet. "And, uh, Mr. Rutledge—the one with the construction company—told me to tell you to quit hiding in the bathroom."
Olivia bit back a distinctly un-librarian-like, four-letter word. Rather than share with Cindy where a particular Mr. Rutledge could put his jackhammer, she pasted on what she hoped was a civil smile. "I'll be out in just a minute."
Luke. He kept her up at night and tormented her during the day. It would be a shame if after six years of college and a degree she lost her mind—she didn't want to even consider her heart—to Luke. And her job. And her position on the committee.
She'd reached three conclusions during her restless night. One, she wouldn't give up that against-the-door experience, even if she could turn back the clock. It had been incredible. There. She admitted it. And she had a new door, sofa and mattress to boot.
Second conclusion. There wouldn't be any more against-the-door experiences. Something powerful blazed between her and Luke, but those things didn't have any lasting power. And the immediate gratification wasn't worth the ultimate cost. An affair with Luke could destroy her socially and emotionally. It was rather like skydiving. She'd done it once and survived. She wasn't willing to take the risk again.
So, she'd remain civil. And distant. If she could just keep him from talking to her she'd be fine. It was when he started talking that she got in trouble…
Third conclusion. She had to extricate herself from her relationship with Adam.
>
Olivia left the bathroom and approached the group gathered by the front door. Somewhere in the midst of her conclusions and resolutions, she'd obviously overlooked passing the message along to her senses, which shifted to red alert. She felt Luke's presence before she spotted him, as if she'd entered some private magnetic field. The low murmur of his voice drew her. Even in the crowd, she perceived the scent particular to him.
The group shifted and her heart trip-hammered. This was a new side of Luke. He looked every inch the successful owner of a construction firm. A stonewashed denim shirt—the sleeves rolled up to expose bare, sexy hair-sprinkled, tanned forearms—was tucked into khaki work pants. His thick-soled work boots were worn, but polished to a high shine. His hair was pulled back neatly with a leather strip, throwing his features into harsh relief. Everything about him was hard and lean. Despite the air of success, an untamed element clung to him.
Beside him, Adam appeared slightly paunchy and fussy, with everything from his hair down to his khakis starched to the nth degree. Did he starch his boxers as well?
Adam caught her eye on the end of her ungracious thought. A guilty blush stained her face. Adam left the small group and hurried across the carpeted floor to greet her. Olivia noted the slightest pause as he checked his reflection in the glass separating the reference room from the main library.
"How's my girl this morning?" Adam's hearty tone and possessive attitude scraped on her sleep-deprived nerves.
"I have no idea. But I'm fine." Olivia countered her irritability with a smile.
"I missed having dinner with you last night." Adam moued his mouth into a pout of disappointment. A pouting man was patently unattractive. "Did you enjoy your plans?"
"They were fine." Washing her hair had proved uneventful.
"Why don't I treat you to dinner out tomorrow night?" Adam offered.
Olivia, not particularly up to speed on the intricacies of the male-female relationship, finally caught a clue. Brushing Adam off wasn't going to work. The more unavailable she made herself, the more intently he pursued her.
"Okay."
Undaunted by her lack of enthusiasm, Adam beamed. "I thought something nice and romantic, maybe Cristo's."
BARELY MISTAKEN Page 12
