A small stone had rolled down in front of them, perhaps dislodged by a raccoon or deer, and Luke began absentmindedly to kick it along as they walked. "Last year your father came through California on his way to mainland China," he went on. Randy didn't bother to mention that her parents had stopped in Los Angeles to see her en route back to New York. "He called me up and asked me to consider working for him. At first I said no, I was happy where I was. Then he offered me the vice presidency of Branch Operations." Luke glanced over at her. "It was an offer I couldn't refuse. Especially since Annie was married to a friend's younger brother and had moved to Poughkeepsie the year before. I missed her after she left—" He cut himself off, frowning.
"After she left where?" Randy asked.
"Nothing. Forget it."
There was no way Randy could forget it. She started to fit puzzle pieces together, beginning with the fact that Luke couldn't have missed his sister unless she'd once lived nearby. That meant she'd been in California with him, but for how long? Had she gone to college there and stayed? Or was she perhaps the "obligation" he'd mentioned earlier? She mentally picked up another piece of the puzzle—the reason he'd left the Peace Corps. What had made him rush away from Africa? His mother's death, perhaps?
"Is your mother still alive?" she asked.
"My mother?" He seemed surprised by the question, but not offended. "She lives in Florida with my stepfather. He's retired now."
There was a coldness in his voice when he referred to his stepfather that told Randy he didn't like the man. She tried to fit that in with everything she'd learned. Perhaps Luke hadn't rushed away from Africa, but back to New York. It sounded very much like he'd taken his fifteen-year-old sister with him when he'd gone to California, and his mother had obviously permitted it. Add the fact that he disliked his stepfather…
Randy started to feel a little sick. Maybe she was miles off-base, but she had to find out if she was right. "Did you leave the Peace Corps because you found out that your stepfather was… bothering your sister?"
Luke stopped dead in his tracks. Randy looked at him, then took a step or two backward at the icy expression on his face. "You're very quick," he said. "For some reason I didn't expect you to be."
He seemed to debate whether or not to fill in the details before finally continuing, "My mother was still working evenings and that left Annie at home with my stepfather. After he tried to touch her a few times she wrote to me. She was afraid to tell my mother and didn't know what else to do. I was on the next plane home. Fortunately things hadn't gone too far, or I would have…" He didn't bother to finish the sentence, but Randy shuddered to think what he might have done.
"Well, these are enlightened times," he went on sarcastically. "The man was obviously sick and he got himself some help. Maybe it's to my mother's credit that she stood by him, but you'd damn well better believe that I wanted my sister out of that house. Arthur Griffin couldn't have bought the farm at a better time."
"So you took Annie to California with you," Randy murmured. "No wonder you're so close."
Perhaps it was the wrong comment to make, since it reminded Luke Griffin of where that closeness had eventually led him. Randy could see him stiffen up next to her; even his stride took on an angry cast. "That's exactly right," he said, "and I'll tell you something else. Annie met Tom when he was seventeen and she was sixteen. From the day they first set eyes on each other there was never anyone else for either of them—until you got in the way." He stopped, catching Randy by the shoulders and turning her to face him. "They have two little kids at home, four and two. Their relationship isn't some game that you can wander in and out of, Linda. Or don't you even care how much damage you've done by picking on a guy who's scarcely even heard of the league you play in, and then making him so damn crazy about you that he—"
"Just a blasted minute," Randy interrupted. "Tom was the one who picked up the phone in the first place. No one forced him to do it. Did it ever occur to you that maybe your sister and brother-in-law have some real problems, problems Annie hasn't told you about, and that—"
"If they do, you certainly haven't helped matters," Luke snapped.
"On the contrary, Linda sat and talked to Tom—"
Luke cut her off with an angry curse. "Linda sat and talked… ! When are you going to stop that garbage and start to take responsibility for what you've done?" He gave Randy a little shake and then yanked his hands away, as though tempted to do far more.
Her temper aroused, Randy turned her back to Luke and marched on ahead of him, no longer even noticing the scenery. His totally exaggerated characterization of Linda was bad enough, but his refusal to believe that she was who she said she was was even worse. Luke followed behind her, making no attempt to match her pace. They were hiking up a moderate incline now and the combination of Randy's rapid strides and the pitch of the hill soon had her gasping for breath. She slowed down and then, suddenly dizzy, wrapped her arms around the trunk of a small pine tree to keep from falling down.
Several moments later Luke was beside her. He detached her arms from the tree and pulled her gently to the ground. "Sit down for a few minutes," he said. "You're probably not used to the altitude yet."
Randy, still breathing heavily, made no attempt to get up again. Luke sat back against a tree a few feet away, his legs sprawled out in front of him, apparently in full control of himself. "You know," he said, "I've been impossible to work with ever since my sister called to tell me Tom was having an affair. Your father called me in to find out what the problem was, and I told him. I had some pretty harsh words for both of you; he cursed right back at me and finally threw me out of his office. Even though I knew I'd gone too far I still couldn't figure out why he'd bother to defend you. But now I can. You're captivating, Linda. No wonder Tom couldn't resist you. You could make a saint succumb to temptation if you put your mind to it."
Randy might have been flattered if Luke had sounded the least bit tempted, but his tone was accusing rather than admiring. As for Randy, having witnessed the outcome of that violent session in her father's office and having heard her father's account of it, she was beginning to doubt that Luke had actually persuaded her father to agree to something so outrageous as hauling Linda off to Maine to curb her wanton ways.
"So you were lying when you said he knew about this," she said. "But I suppose you think you can get away with anything. Future president and all that."
Her irritation only amused him. "If you knew me better you'd know that I always get what I want. And after the second time Annie called me, hysterical because Tom had spent another weekend with you, I knew I wanted you out of the picture."
"Why are you so sure it was me?" Randy knew that Luke and his sister were correct in assigning Linda the scarlet woman role, but she wanted to find out how they'd guessed.
"Come off it, Linda! After the way you threw yourself at Tom at the picnic Annie didn't need to be psychic to figure out who he was with. To make matters worse, Tom is so naive that he doesn't even know how to manage an affair. He left his coat in that cozy little inn you shacked up in together. On Monday the owner called his home to say they would send it back. Naturally Annie took the call. Tom had told her he was in Buffalo on business during those weekends, not playing games with you in Massachusetts." Luke shook his head in utter incredulity. "I couldn't believe it. Not only does he leave his clothes scattered all over the East Coast, he gives his home address and phone instead of his office phone."
"Whereas you," Randy said irritably, "would have made none of those mistakes."
"I told you, I'm single. And I don't take out married women," Luke answered.
Of course not, Randy thought, picking up a stick to occupy her hands lest she be tempted to throw a rock at him. You're perfect. You never do anything hurtful or stupid. But aloud she merely remarked, "You never told me how you got my father to go along with all this."
"It wasn't hard," Luke said with a shrug. "He told me it would probably be hopeless t
o talk to you if you were infatuated with Tom, and I asked him if he minded whether I tried. He didn't do anything more than wish me luck. Around C & D rumor has it that he gave up trying to talk common sense into you years ago. I think he knows that somebody needs to take you in hand and if I can do it, he's not about to object. Your father has a great deal of affection for you, that's obvious. But how does it feel to know that he has almost no respect?"
As usual, Randy thought, Luke's assessment was only part of the truth. There were certainly things about Linda that gave Bill Dunne fits of parental anguish, but there were other things that he genuinely admired. Randy didn't bother to contradict Luke because she saw little point in arguing with a man who was sure he knew everything. She was only inches from losing her temper as it was, something Luke might have recognized had he noticed the vicious way that Randy was stripping the bark off her stick. One more word, she thought silently, staring at the denuded stick.
Suddenly Luke was no longer sprawled against the tree, but was striding over to Randy, glaring down at her. "Okay, so you don't care what anybody thinks of you," he growled, "even your own father. He even warned me how irresistible you are, and I could well believe it—I'd seen your picture. At the time I had no objections to taking you to bed, but now—I find your morals almost as contemptible as your lack of regret. You may look like an angel, but I wouldn't touch you if you begged me to."
His arrogant rejection was the last straw. Randy was either going to slap him or taunt him, and the second was definitely safer. She pulled herself up and faced Luke, who was standing only inches away, then nonchalantly trailed a finger down the bare, blond-haired arm revealed by his rolled-up sleeve. "Wouldn't you, Luke?" she mocked. Her fingers reached up to play with his mouth. "You'll forgive me if I don't believe you."
His response was to angrily push her away from him. "Believe it, lady. I intend to see to it that by the time I'm through with you you'll think twice about hurting an innocent, decent woman like my sister." Without another word he turned away and started back to the cabin.
For a long time Randy made no attempt to follow. At first anger kept her standing alone in the Maine woods, and then fear. Up till now she hadn't had any problem standing up to Luke Griffin, but he'd made the kind of threat that made her shiver. For a long time she was simply too frightened to go back to the cabin, but then the sun dropped lower in the sky and the air turned cooler, and she knew she couldn't continue to stay on the mountain indefinitely.
As she started back down she reminded herself that Luke had a hot temper that fortunately cooled down quite quickly. She recognized the pattern by now. By the time she got back to the cabin the worst of his anger would have passed.
She slowly made her way through the trees, but lost her bearings in the unfamiliar terrain and never managed to find the trail. When she finally spotted the edge of the woods she realized that she was several hundred yards from where she'd started. Her face and arms were covered with scratches by now, the result of too many unfriendly brambles. And to make matters worse she either had to cross the stream at a point where it was far wider and deeper than before, or else fight her way upstream through the underbrush. Tired and a little depressed, she elected the first option, removing her shoes and rolling up her jeans before she waded in. Halfway across she lost her balance on the algae-covered rocks along the stream bed, tumbling into the water. She had to fight her way to shore against the current, and emerged soaked and shivering from the icy water.
If Luke were worried about her or concerned about the condition she arrived in he gave absolutely no sign of it. When Randy opened the door he merely looked over his shoulder and then ordered, "Get out of that wet clothing and fix dinner." He stuck his head back into his book.
If nothing else, cooking kept Randy busy and took her mind off her troubles. She prepared what she considered to be an excellent lamb curry, but for once a good meal failed to improve Luke's mood. And this time he left Randy to wash the dishes. Both the cut on her thumb and the scratches left by the underbrush stung uncomfortably, so by the time she was through her mood was considerably more resentful than subdued.
Dinnertime conversation had consisted of Luke's "Very good" when he finished eating. When he stuck his nose back into his book Randy walked over to a bookcase that stood in the corner of the living room and started to inspect the ancient magazines and bestsellers it held. But the moment Luke realized what she was doing he stood up and said firmly, "No."
Randy looked back at him. "No what?"
"No reading. This isn't a vacation. You can either do some work or go to sleep."
Her patience frazzled, Randy threw the book on the floor and stalked off to the bathroom. She showered and washed her hair, taking care to keep the hot water away from her scratches and on her sore muscles. It felt marvelous. It wasn't only cutting and carrying the wood that had tired her out; the long walk in the woods had left her legs aching and feet sore. Daily dance classes had never been like this.
She emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a large bath sheet, a smaller towel covering her wet hair. A little more relaxed now, she was determined not to lose her temper. For a minute she stood in the doorway, indecisive, but then Luke sensed her presence and glanced over at her.
"Is there—do you have a blow dryer?" she asked in what she felt was an entirely reasonable tone of voice.
He looked disgusted. "This is the middle of nowhere, Linda, not some damn penthouse. Get to bed!"
His sarcasm was her undoing. Sorely provoked, she marched into her room, grabbed her brush and stalked back out to the living room to kneel down in front of the fire, her back to Luke. She could feel his eyes on her bare skin as she brushed the tangles out of her hair and let the heat from the fire start to dry it.
When she was finished she shot Luke an exasperated look that accelerated into anger when he smiled rather smugly at her. "You're really angry," he said.
"Yes. Also tired," she agreed. "So far today I've been a lumberjack, a packhorse, a cook, a maid, a hiker and, much against my will, a diver. Frankly, the company around here is a drag and I'm going to sleep."
As she got to her feet she was suddenly aware that she'd gone too far. Luke was no longer amused—he was flat-out aroused. She'd issued a challenge and he meant to accept it.
"Oh no you're not," he told her. "Not yet. So I'm a drag? Well then, let's see if I can't find something to entertain you. I'm going to tell you exactly what's going to happen. I'm going to carry you into my bedroom. I'm going to take a good look at what's under that towel. And then I'm going to make love to you, and I'm not going to stop until you're so turned on that you'll beg me to change my mind when I throw you out. Then you can leave."
Randy started to run away, but before she'd taken three steps Luke had scooped her up and was carrying her into the bedroom. He ignored her struggles and tossed her onto the bed like a battered old duffel bag. Her attempts at escape succeeded only in exhausting her and she lay there, unable to move, trying to catch her breath.
When Luke yanked off the towel and threw it on the floor Randy stiffened and stared at him in alarm. He was inspecting her with aggressive eyes, drinking in her narrow waist, small, high breasts and rounded hips. Her mouth went dry and her heart started pounding double-time. She slid off the bed just as Luke began to remove his shirt.
She grabbed for the towel but Luke simply put one large foot on it to prevent her from picking it up. He shrugged out of his shirt, which joined the towel on the floor, and started on his belt. Randy bolted toward the door, but Luke got there first, standing in front of it to prevent her from leaving.
She backed slowly away as Luke removed the rest of his clothing. He was even more intimidating stripped-down than fully dressed. His legs were firm and powerful, his arms sleekly muscled, his chest broad and covered with a light hazing of hair. Randy wasn't immune to sheer male appeal, but she'd made herself a promise and she intended to keep it. She picked up the towel and held it protectively
in front of her. "I don't want you," she said coldly. "Let me out of here."
"We'll see," Luke replied. He strolled over to her, pulled the towel from her clenched fingers and picked her up.
As he tossed her onto the bed he yanked the string of the bedside lamp to turn it off, then lay down beside her and pinned her down. "You don't seem to be fighting me anymore," he murmured, nuzzling Randy's neck.
Randy was glad that the light was out so he couldn't see her face turn red. The weight of his leg across her thighs and the feel of his mouth nipping at her ear lobe were enough to make her forget her efforts at escape. "It's called passive resistance," she lied, wondering how she could possibly not respond when even a hand accidentally brushed across her breast had the power to scorch her down to her toes.
Luke proceeded to explore every inch of her body, his touch both deft and gentle. He began by running his fingers lightly over her breasts and she was powerless to keep the nipples from hardening with pleasure. She choked back a moan as he massaged each one in turn with his thumb and index finger, but her enjoyment must have been perfectly obvious to him. For a moment his mouth stroked her lips, rubbing softly back and forth, but when she kept her mouth tightly closed he simply returned to her ear, his tongue tracing the intricate curves outside and the sensitive area within.
In the meantime his hands went on with their exploration, fondling the soft curve of her stomach, caressing the bones of her hips and brushing up and down her thighs. Periodically he would return to tease her mouth with his lips, as if he knew perfectly well that sooner or later she would welcome his kiss.
Randy didn't suppose that she was fooling him. She was trying not to move but her body insisted on arching hungrily and her heart beat wildly. Her skin was covered with a thin film of perspiration by now. At one point Luke picked up her wrist, stroked the back of her hand and then placed his thumb over her pulse. "Is it getting any more tolerable yet?" he murmured.
"No," she lied, the word sounding admirably forceful considering the fact that she felt as though she were lying in the middle of a raging fire.
An Act of Love Page 8
