His wife.
It wasn’t the first time that idea had crossed his mind, and its appeal was growing with every minute he spent with her.
“I have an idea, all right,” she admitted, her shyness returning, “but it isn’t exactly politically correct.”
“Now you really have my interest.” He couldn’t help grinning. “You don’t have secret ambitions of becoming a stripper?”
Her startled laughter rippled across the yard like pennies dropped in a fountain. “Why would you say that?”
“It’s the only politically incorrect occupation for a woman I can think of on short notice.”
“Not only politically incorrect, but lethal, too,” Jennifer said.
His imagination kicked in, and the picture almost made his heart stop. “I know what you mean.”
“My grandparents would die of embarrassment.”
Luke reined in the provocative image of Jennifer in high heels and little else. “Seriously, what kind of career did you have in mind?”
“Promise you won’t laugh.”
Now she really had his curiosity piqued. “I promise.”
“I want to be a mother and a homemaker. Not very exciting, is it? Not like being an astronaut or a Nobel prize-winning scientist.”
His admiration of her jumped several notches. “Maybe not as exciting, but certainly more important.”
She cast him a wary glance. “You really think so?”
“Good parenting and happy homes do more to prevent crime than all the sheriff departments in this country put together.”
His answer was general, but his thoughts were specific. He pictured the home the two of them would build together, the children they would have—an interesting mix of her blond beauty and his dark coloring—
“Luke?”
Her voice broke his reverie. “Hmm?”
“The band sounds really great.”
He could take a hint. “Want to dance?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
He set aside their plates and took her hand. When they reached the barn, folks stood shoulder to shoulder in rows for a line dance.
“Uh-oh,” Luke heard Jennifer murmur under her breath.
“What’s wrong?”
“Line dancing wasn’t part of the curriculum at my school in Connecticut.”
“It’s easy,” he assured her. “Want to give it a try?”
A panicked look washed across her face before she squared her shoulders and threw him a brave smile. “Sure. Why not?”
For the next few minutes, they laughed together as Jennifer’s feet tangled, trying to imitate the intricate steps, and only Luke’s quick grasp kept her from falling. But she caught on—quicker than Luke had, he admitted to himself, when Vickie had tried to teach him—and soon Jennifer was dancing like a pro.
When the dance ended, her cheeks were flushed from exertion, but her eyes gleamed with triumph. “That was fun.”
Anything would be fun with you, he thought.
The band shifted to a slow tune, and he grabbed her hand and tugged her into his arms. She came willingly, easily, as if they’d come together a thousand times before.
He pulled her closer, and the seductive curves of her body melded to his, as if they were part of the same whole, broken apart in the distant past and only now reunited. Luke felt the strong stirring of desire, and only the remembrance of his promise to Henry kept his physical reaction under control, a response Jennifer surely would have noted, as tightly as he held her.
To lessen the tension building between them, he eased his grip so he could gaze into her eyes. “Why does motherhood and homemaking appeal to you?”
She wrinkled her brow in a slight frown, as if wondering if he were mocking her.
“I’m serious,” he said. “Why not some fancy career? You have the brains and the opportunity for education.”
“Why settle for less, you mean?” He could feel her bristling in his arms.
“Not less,” he said emphatically. “I’ve already told you I think parenting is the most important job there is.”
Apparently convinced of his sincerity, she relaxed. “Gramma Dolly made me a believer. She’s the happiest person I know, even if she’s just puttering around the kitchen or weeding her garden. She gets the greatest pleasure out of the simple things in life—a freshly washed sheet, a tomato she grew herself, a polished floor. And most of all, she loves making a home for Grandpa. She lights up like a Christmas tree whenever he’s around.”
“And the motherhood bit?”
“I’ve always loved children,” Jennifer admitted.
“That’s because you don’t have younger brothers or sisters,” he said with a wry smile.
She cocked her head and the twinkling mischief reappeared in her eyes. “You aren’t casting aspersions on my good friend Vickie, by any chance?”
“Who, me?” He pretended innocence. “Why, I just loved when she howled twenty-four-seven the first six weeks of her life. And as for eau de dirty diapers, there’s no other stink in the world like it.”
Jennifer’s puckered frown returned. “You don’t like children?”
“I’m sure if they were my own children I’d think them the most precious beings on earth.” He pictured a pudgy toddler—a girl with plump cheeks, eyes the aquamarine of a tropical sea and hair the color of sunshine—racing toward him with outstretched arms, calling “Daddy, Daddy,” and a yearning, as strong as the physical pull he felt toward Jennifer, welled up inside him.
He tugged her close again until her cheek rested on his chest, his chin on the glorious gold of her hair. He wanted this woman. In his bed. In his life. He wanted her to be the mother of his children. And he knew exactly what kind of children they would be, because he’d watched their mother grow up in front of his very eyes.
“So you don’t think I’m silly?” Jennifer asked, her breath warm on his throat.
“Sunshine, when I think of you, silly is the last thing that comes to mind.”
He hadn’t let her out of his embrace for the rest of that night. Now, ten years later, remembering, he felt his arms ache for her. He placed his dirty dishes in the sink, pushed through the swinging door and went in search of her. If only for one more time, he wanted to hold Jennifer in his arms again.
JENNIFER SAT on the sidelines with Finn and Dean while the band took a break. Relaxed and happy, she felt the most at home she had since before her grandmother died. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine her grandparents sitting at the dance with her, just as they had the year she was fourteen. Everything about Jester, every place she visited, every person she met, tugged at her to stay.
And why not? an inner voice demanded.
Two words, she told herself. Luke McNeil.
But Luke had come to the dance alone, something that surprised her.
“Where’s Cassie Lou Carwise?” Jennifer asked.
“Who?” Finn said.
“Cassie Lou Carwise is a paralegal in Hank Durham’s office,” Dean explained. With his lady friend in Pine Run, he apparently kept up with the residents of the county seat more than Finn did.
“If she’s from Pine Run, why would she be here?” Finn asked.
Jennifer sighed. “I heard she’s engaged to Luke. I thought she’d be his date.”
“Engaged to Luke?” Dean laughed, and Finn joined in.
“What’s so funny?” Jennifer demanded.
Finn tried to look serious. “The idea of Luke McNeil being engaged. The only thing that man’s married to is his job.”
“But I heard—”
“Tsk, tsk,” Finn said with a shake of his white head. “You should know better than to listen to gossip in this town. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, it’ll steer you wrong.”
Jennifer stifled a grin. Finn and Dean were among the worst gossips she knew. Practically every rumor ever started in Jester had its origin in Dean’s barbershop. But her affection for the two men she considered like uncles kept her fr
om making a pot-calling-the-kettle-black comparison.
“I saw the bride magazines on her desk.” Jennifer tried to squelch her surge of hope that Cassie wasn’t engaged to Luke. “She’s planning a wedding.”
“That young woman’s been on the verge of marriage to half the men in Pine Run,” Dean said knowingly. “I have it on good authority that any man who takes her out more than three times she considers her fiancé, whether the poor fool knows it or not.”
“Besides,” Finn added, “if Luke is engaged to Cassie Lou, why’s he headed this way, looking like a cat after cream?”
Jennifer glanced toward the kitchen, and, sure enough, Luke was striding across the floor toward her, his walk sleek and purposeful, but not like a housecat. More like a panther or a mountain lion, with easy grace in the movement of every muscle. When her gaze met his, the tiniest hint of a smile played across his face.
Her heart stuttered, then pounded in her chest as if trying to escape.
He stopped in front of her. “Would you like to dance?”
Only then did she realize the band had begun playing again, a slow, sensual waltz. As if mesmerized, she nodded, rose to her feet and stepped into his open arms.
Before Luke could take the first step, Dev Devlin appeared at his elbow.
“Just had a customer come into the bar, Sheriff. He says teenagers are drag racing on the Pine Run highway. Thought you might want to check it out before somebody gets hurt.”
“Thanks, Dev.” Luke dropped his arms and stepped away from her. If he was disappointed, his stoic expression didn’t show it. “I’ll take a rain check on that dance, Jennifer.”
“Sure, Luke.” Her voice was light but her heart was heavy. If she followed through on her plans, she’d never dance with Luke again.
CHAPTER TEN
THE NEXT MORNING, Jennifer loaded the last bag from the Stop N’ Shop into the back of Vickie’s car alongside her luggage they’d collected at the boardinghouse, then climbed into the passenger seat.
“All set?” her friend asked. “Looks like you only bought half the store. Sure you don’t want to go back for the rest?”
“Most of it is cleaning supplies,” Jennifer explained. “I hope a good wash will set the farmhouse right. I’m no expert at painting.”
“You could always ask Luke,” Vickie suggested. “He’s handy with a paintbrush.”
Luke, Jennifer thought with a sigh, was good at anything he set his mind to. She still stung with disappointment over their missed dance last night. Although she’d waited until the band played their final song, Luke hadn’t returned. And she’d seen no sign of him on Main Street this morning as she’d purchased supplies before catching a ride to Cottonwood Farm with Vickie.
“Luke’s too busy preserving truth, justice and the American way to have time for mundane chores.” Jennifer kept her voice light, not wanting her friend to suspect her disappointment.
“You’re right,” Vickie agreed. “My brother works too hard.”
“He needs a hobby,” Jennifer suggested.
“He needs a wife,” Vickie retorted. “Someone who’ll make him take care of himself.”
“I can’t see any woman making Luke do something he doesn’t want to do.”
“The right woman would.” Vickie glanced across at her as the car passed the church and headed northeast out of Jester. “At one time, I thought you were the right woman for him, Jennifer.”
“So did I.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. “Luke, apparently, had other plans.”
Vickie looked as if she wanted to say more, but thankfully didn’t. Jennifer didn’t like the turn the conversation had taken, and was grateful that it had ended. She gazed out the window at the familiar landscape as they sped down the highway toward the turnoff to Cottonwood Farm ten miles out of town. The sky was a deep, cloudless blue, the morning delightfully warm and springlike, but a glance in the side mirror revealed an ominous line of dark clouds approaching from the west.
They passed the entrance to what had once been the McNeil farm, and myriad memories tugged at Jennifer.
“Do you miss the old place?” she asked Vickie.
“Sometimes. Especially at holidays and birthdays,” her friend said, “but Mom and Dad are well and happy in Orlando. Farming’s a hard life. I’m glad it’s behind them.”
Within minutes of passing the old McNeil road, they reached the dirt road that led from the highway to Cottonwood Farm. Vickie turned in, and the vehicle bounced over water-filled ruts created by melted snow, frost and neglect. Large patches of snow dotted the fields on either side of the road, and ahead, nestled among the gigantic prize maples that Gramma Dolly had coaxed into growing despite the unforgiving climate, stood the farmhouse. The peeling paint made its two-story facade appear sad and neglected.
Behind the house, past the barn and other outbuildings, the cottonwoods for which the farm was named, and a stand of willows, lined the creek.
Jennifer had known coming home would be hard, but she hadn’t been prepared for the sledgehammer blow to her heart caused by the deserted homestead. Fighting the impulse to ask Vickie to turn around and take her away from the dismal spot, she breathed deeply to avoid bursting into tears in front of her friend.
“Pull around back,” Jennifer suggested. “We’ll unload everything onto the back porch.”
The women made several trips from the car to the house, and soon all the bags from the Stop N’ Shop as well as Jennifer’s belongings were stowed on the porch.
“I can stay and help you unpack. Even help with the cleaning, if you like,” Vickie offered. “Nathan’s with the kids, so I have the whole morning free.”
Jennifer hugged her friend. “You’re sweet to volunteer, but I’m guessing you don’t get to spend much time with the busy doctor. I’ll be fine on my own.”
“You’re sure?” Vickie’s gaze searched her face. “I don’t mind staying.”
“I know, but, really, I can manage.”
Jennifer didn’t say that she needed to travel this portion of her sentimental journey on her own, but Vickie must have sensed her feelings. After returning her hug, she climbed back into her car.
“At least you have the phone. Call if you need me.” With a cheerful toot of the horn, she circled the barnyard and drove away.
Jennifer watched her go, feeling suddenly lonely and abandoned. The approaching storm and icy bite of the freshening wind did nothing to improve her mood. This time there was no Grandpa Henry to welcome her home, no Gramma Dolly to caution her to wipe her feet before entering the house or to envelop her in a smothering embrace. Reluctant to go inside and face the solitude, Jennifer decided to survey the grounds and outbuildings.
First she circled the house, stopping at the front steps to gaze at the bare branches of the maples. They had been thick with leaves that summer long ago after the Masons’ barbecue, when Luke had kissed her for the first time, in their shadow. Years before, Grandpa Henry had hung a swing from one of the branches. Soaring high in that swing had been one of the special delights of Jennifer’s childhood, but that thrill had paled into insignificance compared to the sensation she’d experienced when Luke had pulled her into his lap on that swing and kissed her until her bones melted.
Shaking away the memory that made her ache, she continued her inspection of the farmhouse from the outside, noting missing roof shingles and cracked windowpanes.
When she returned to the back of the house, she crossed the yard to the barn and eased open one of the wide double doors. In the dim light, she could make out the stalls, long empty of animals, and the hulking outline of Grandpa’s Chevy pickup, the same one he’d driven for years before she left the farm.
Sneezing in the dusty air, she hurried outside. The air had turned even more frigid in just the past few minutes, and if she continued to avoid the house, she was going to freeze to death. Bracing herself to enter the abandoned house, she recalled that she might find papers there that identified the
person to whom her grandfather owed his huge debt. Better still, she might find some message left by Grandpa Henry that explained why he’d sent her away.
Halfway across the yard, she stopped, struck by an anomaly in the familiar landscape. Gazing to the northeast, across the fields where Grandpa had planted sugar beets in the fertile soil along the creek, Jennifer spotted a strange black silhouette.
It was moving toward her.
As she watched, she realized the object was a large vehicle on the far side of the field, a monstrous SUV. She recalled the strangers Dean had seen in town yesterday, the men Luke had tried to follow—unsuccessfully, as he’d lost their trail. If these were the same men, what were they doing on Cottonwood Farm?
The vehicle stopped, still too far away for her to tell whether it was a black Expedition, and two men climbed out. The taller one pointed toward the farmhouse, and she wondered if they could see her, hidden in its shadow. The only reason she could view them so clearly at that distance was that they stood on the horizon, backlit by the morning sun.
Fear shivered through her, and although she tried to convince herself she had no reason to be frightened, she couldn’t help remembering Luke’s worries about criminals who might be after the Main Street Millionaires’ money. She was miles from nowhere, alone, with two strange men trespassing on her property.
She sidled around the house again, remaining in the shadows, and climbed the front steps. After retrieving from her jeans’ pocket the keys Hank Durham had given her, she unlocked the front door and stepped inside. A blast of cold air, several degrees cooler than the outside temperature, hit her, and she couldn’t tell if her teeth were chattering from cold or fear.
With little notice of her surroundings, she headed straight for the phone on the hall table. When she picked up the receiver, she almost whimpered with relief at the sound of a dial tone. Sunlight streaming from the living room windows illuminated a list of telephone numbers, posted in Gramma Dolly’s neat handwriting, tacked on the wall above the phone. The top number was the sheriff’s office.
Luke answered on the first ring.
“Luke…”
Surprise Inheritance Page 13
