Envious

by Lisa Jackson

  Luke’s gaze was thoughtful. Worried. Katie felt suddenly awkward. “Would you like ... some coffee or soda or . . . anything?” Why did the question sound so lame?

  “I’m fine.” Jaw set, he strode through the kitchen and into the living room to her desk. Without asking, he pushed the Play button on the answering machine.

  “Hey, wait! You can’t—”

  The machine clicked as someone hung up.

  Katie’s stomach curled and the hairs on the back of her neck rose. “Who was that?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know.” Luke scanned the desk area. “Just about everyone you know was at Bliss’s wedding tonight, right?”

  “Of course, but—”

  “So who would have expected you to be home?”

  “No one,” she thought aloud, her skin crawling at the thought that someone might actually be watching her. “You think it might have something to do with the letter?”

  “I don’t know. It could be just a mistake, a wrong number, but it might be a crank—either this Wells character or someone looking for him.” His gaze fastened on hers. He was stone-cold sober. “But your door was unlocked. Someone could have been in here.”

  Her knees threatened to give way at the thought.

  She laughed a little nervously. “I can’t believe—”

  “Sure you can. Now take a look around. Does anything seem out of place?”

  Walking slowly through her few cluttered rooms, she eyed her belongings, touched a few pieces of furniture and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Everything was just as she and Josh had left it when they had rushed out of the house and into J.D.’s Jeep. She would have sworn that, out of habit more than anything else, she had locked the door behind her.

  “Nothing seems to be missing or out of place,” she told Luke.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah. Pretty sure.”

  “Would your dog have allowed anyone inside?”

  “Probably, but I don’t really think anyone was here,” she said, though she had a severe case of the creeps. Thinking that an intruder, a stranger, had been in her house—in Josh’s room, for crying out loud—caused a chill in her blood as cold as all November.

  “Maybe you should call the police.”

  “And tell them what? That I left the door unlocked? That I think someone was in here, but nothing is missing or out of place, that someone has been calling and hanging up? What could they possibly do?”

  “Stake out the place?”

  “On what? Your hunch? Just because I got a letter from Isaac Wells?”

  “Yes.”

  She almost laughed. “Even in a small town like Bittersweet, the police have better things to do.”

  Scowling, he paced to the front window and stared through the plate glass to the yard. Even with the glow of the streetlamp at the corner, it was dark. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “I know I’m right. There’s nothing anyone can do.”

  “Sure, there is,” he said, slowly turning to face her. “I can stay here.”

  “What?” Was he out of his mind? “Here? No way.” She couldn’t believe her ears. Although a secret little part of her was pleased, the other saner, more rational side of her nature was scared to death.

  “On the couch.”

  “I don’t want a bodyguard!” she snapped, throwing up a hand. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. It’s . . . it’s ridiculous.”

  “I don’t think so.” He was firm, his jaw set, his gaze steady. He looked like a man who wouldn’t be swayed. But the thought of him in the house alone with her, even on the couch, was unnerving. “I’ll be fine. Blue’s here with me.”

  “What if the guy has a key?”

  “A key? Wait a minute. I don’t think there is a guy, and if there was, why would he have a key to my house?”

  “Don’t you have one hidden outside for Josh?”

  “Yes, but—” She felt the color drain from her face. Was it possible? “You’re spooking me, Gates.”

  “Just trying to get you to see the possibilities.”

  She went to the back porch, skimmed her fingers over the ledge above the door and found the key. “Still here,” she said, holding it up for Luke’s inspection. The metal glinted in the glare of the single bulb burning over the door.

  “Good. Bring it inside.”

  “No one was here,” she insisted as she tossed the key into a kitchen drawer and met him in the archway to the living room. “You’re borrowing trouble.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You can’t stay here.”

  “Why not?”

  A million reasons. I can’t trust myself around you. I don’t know you. Having you in my house is more emotionally dangerous than anything. “I hardly know you.”

  As if he could read her mind, he grinned—a wide, sexy smile that did considerable damage to her self-control. “Maybe this is a way to get to know me better.”

  “I’m not sure I want to.”

  His eyes said he didn’t believe her. “I’ll stay on the couch. Believe me, your virtue is safe with me.”

  “My ‘virtue’?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “My virtue? Are you crazy, or what? You think I’m worried about my inability to say no to you?” If it wasn’t so near the truth, it would have been funny.

  “Something like that, yeah.”

  “Of all the conceited, self-centered, egotistical ideas I’ve ever heard ... Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, following him down the short hallway to her bedroom. He shoved open the door and strode inside as if he’d done it all his life, as if it were his damned right!

  Her heart was in her throat as he strode to her sleigh bed in the center of the room. “Luke, you can’t—”

  He threw back the covers, grabbed a pillow, then reached for the blanket folded over the foot of her bed, an antique quilt her great-great-grandmother had pieced from scraps seventy-five years earlier. “I’ll be out there,” he said, his smile disappearing as he hitched his chin toward the door, “in the living room. You stay in the bedroom.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t argue.” To her surprise he reached forward, grabbed hold of her arms, yanked her close and kissed her hard. She opened her mouth to protest and his tongue slid past her lips and beyond the barrier of her teeth. Steely fingers clenched her forearms. She tried to concentrate, to find the words to disagree with his high-handed tactics, to tell him exactly what he could do with all his good intentions, but she was lost.

  A small moan escaped his throat and her heart pounded expectantly. His tongue touched hers, explored the roof of her mouth and a thrill, hot and wanton, swept through her blood. She told herself she was being foolish, that she shouldn’t let him touch her, but she couldn’t stop herself. She heard the zipper of her dress hiss open, felt the cool air touch her back where the silky fabric parted, experienced a rush of desire as the tips of his fingers, callused and blunt, brushed across her skin.

  A thousand warning bells rang through her mind as he kissed her cheeks and eyes and throat, but she ignored them all. Her neck arched as her head lolled back and his lips found the shell of her ear.

  Don’t! Don’t! Don’t! Her mind screamed as her legs buckled and Luke caught her, sweeping her off her feet. This is madness! Katie, use your head! But the alarms ringing through her head couldn’t chase away the wonder of the feel of him, the heat of his body, the smell of sweat and musk that lingered on his skin. He placed her on the bed and slipped her dress over her shoulders.

  “I—I don’t know about this,” she whispered, but her words caught in her throat. Kneeling next to the bed, he leaned forward. His lips brushed the tops of her breasts and an ache deep within the most feminine core of her began to pulse.

  “Me, neither.” His tongue skimmed her breastbone and her skin turned to fire. Nudging the silk bodice of her dress even lower, he kissed her breasts where they bulged above her bra. Inside her, something d
ark and painful broke. She closed her eyes as the dress slid down, exposing her to the warm lamplight.

  Don’t do this, Katie! Don’t.

  Desire, long slumberous, rose and seeped through her veins. His breath was warm, the scent of him arousing. With gentle fingers he edged one breast from its confines. Her nipple puckered in anticipation. As he placed his lips over the hard little nub, she drew in a swift breath. His tongue encircled her nipple until he began to suck slowly, seductively.

  Katie’s fingers slid through his hair and she fought the urge to cry out as his teeth tugged and pulled and one of his hands pushed her dress past her ribs to her waist. She was breathing fast and hard, her body quivering inside.

  “Katie,” he whispered, his voice rough as he lifted his head. “I—”

  “Shh.”

  “Oh, hell.” The muscles of his face tightened as he battled between good intentions and self-control. “I—I think we should stop. While I still can.”

  Disappointment welled inside her as he gently pulled the dress back up and over her breasts. His gaze, still bright with passion, touched hers. “I’ll be in the living room.”

  She fought the urge to mew in protest, to beg him to finish what he’d started, to make love to her all night long, and she watched in fascination as he straightened, turned his back to her, and with long, swift strides crossed the room and closed the bedroom door behind him.

  Hot tears starred her lashes. Whether the tears were from embarrassment, regret or just plain frustration, she didn’t know or care to analyze. She slapped them away with her fingers and told herself she was every kind of fool known to womankind. What had she been thinking, letting this man—this virtual stranger—into her home, into her bedroom and darned close to into her bed? “Oh, Kinkaid, you’re really losing it,” she chided herself, then decided not to dwell on what had happened between them. He was here, on the couch, presumably to help her and that, as they said, was that.

  She pulled off her dress, hung it haphazardly on a hanger, then tossed her favorite nightgown over her head. She needed to wash her face, but that would mean walking into the hallway. “So what?” she growled under her breath. Just because Luke was in the house, didn’t mean she couldn’t do what she had to do. The man wasn’t going to intimidate her, for goodness’ sake! This was her house. Her life. She snagged her bathrobe from a hook on the closet door, flung her arms into the sleeves and cinched the belt snugly around her waist. She crossed the hall, slipped into the bathroom and went through her nightly ablutions with one ear cocked to the door.

  Luke didn’t disturb her. A few minutes later she crawled into bed, pulled the covers to her neck and wondered how she’d get one second of sleep knowing that he was just down the hall. Blue, who had padded into the room when she was in the bathroom, circled and dropped into a sleeping position at the foot of her bed. “Good dog,” she said around a yawn and he thumped his tail. Sighing, she closed her eyes and the exhaustion of the day took hold. She was asleep within minutes.

  * * *

  A sharp pain in his neck drove Luke to consciousness. He blinked, focusing on the small living room, and realized he was in Katie’s house.

  The smell of coffee drifted from the kitchen and as he lifted his head, Katie, her hair wound into a knot atop her head, her face scrubbed free of makeup, peeked around the corner.

  “Good morning,” she said, her eyes sparkling in the dawn light.

  “Mornin’.”

  “Some bodyguard you turned out to be.” She giggled and he should have felt irritated by her ribbing, but he managed a thin smile.

  “You’re safe, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t think it’s because of you.”

  “Well, then, you’re wrong. I chased away all sorts of evil types last night.”

  “Did you?” She laughed and ducked back into the kitchen as some bell rang.

  He got up from the couch, rubbed the kinks out of his neck and back, then ambled into the kitchen where she was busy tossing slices of bread into an ancient toaster.

  “Breakfast?” Katie asked him.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “No trouble,” she insisted with a lift of one shoulder. “Consider it payment for protecting me. Ham and eggs okay?”

  She didn’t know that he’d stayed awake until dawn, only falling asleep when he’d felt certain that there was no one skulking in the night to threaten her. “Great.” He couldn’t help noticing the long, graceful arch of her neck, the feminine slope of her shoulders and the nip of her waist where her robe was tied. Beneath the soft velour fabric her hips shifted as she twisted to look at him.

  Her eyes caught his for a second and she blushed, a fetching pink hue that climbed her throat and colored her cheeks. In a flash, he was reminded of kissing her breasts. He’d thought of little else all night and had fought the urge to return to her bedroom, press his lips to hers until she couldn’t protest and make love to her over and over again. His crotch tightened. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to step through the shower.”

  She hesitated for a second, then said, “Sure. There’re extra towels in the hall closet.”

  “Thanks.” In less than two minutes he was under the spray of the showerhead, silently damning himself for his wayward thoughts and the hardness in his crotch. What was wrong with him? Every time he looked at Katie Kinkaid, he wanted to start kissing her and never stop.

  It had been just too long since he’d been with a woman. Way too long. He let the hot water work out the kinks in his muscles, washed as best he could, toweled off and dressed. As he opened the bathroom door, he heard Katie’s voice.

  “I know it’s tough, especially for you, but it’s something we all have to face, Tiff. Whether you like it or not, John’s your father and you have to deal with him. Just like I do.” There was a pause, then she added, “Yeah, I know. Okay, I’ll start moving stuff over in a few days. I’ve still got Dad—er, John’s Jeep. The convertible is officially dead. Len at the gas station is going to try and sell it or scrap it out and I’ll find something else soon. But while I’ve got John’s rig, I may as well start moving.” There was a short pause, then she added, “Just let Josh know that I’ll pick him up by noon. Thanks again.”

  She was replacing the receiver when he entered the kitchen. Her face was drawn in concentration until she saw him and grinned. “Well, well, Mr. Gates,” she teased, “don’t you clean up nice.”

  “Do I?”

  “Here.” She handed him a cup of coffee. “Now, sit.” At the table were two place settings complete with orange juice, toast, ham, eggs, and hash brown potatoes.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he drawled in his best Texan accent and she laughed, the sound as musical as wind chimes in a summer breeze.

  They ate and talked as Blue sat on the floor at Katie’s side, his brown eyes following each morsel that she forked into her mouth. Every once in a while, she’d toss the dog a tidbit and he’d deftly catch the treat with a snap of his jaws.

  It felt comfortable and right in the cozy kitchen. In her fluffy bathrobe and slippers, Katie was innocently seductive, expressive with her hands and eyes as she talked about her job, her son, her ambitions and her family.

  “So it’s all rather complicated,” she admitted as she poured the last cup of coffee. “All those years I’d grown up with and tolerated my half-brothers, never dreaming that I’d end up with not one, but two half-sisters.” She grinned, showing off the sexy overlap of her teeth. “Kind of weird, when you think about it. How about you? Any siblings?” She munched on a bite of toast.

  “Nope.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

  “So where are your parents?”

  He felt his eyebrows quirk and drained his cup. “My mom took off with some other guy when I was two and my old man was killed in Vietnam when I wasn’t much older.”

  He noticed the color drain from her face. “I was kicked around between a couple of aunts and pretty much raised myself.”

>   “I—I’m sorry.”

  “Nothin’ to be sorry about.” He saw the pain in her eyes and refused to let her pity him. “Trust me, it was harder on them than it was on me. I was in and out of juvenile homes for a while until I met my wife.”

  “Your . . . wife?” she repeated, stunned.

  “Ex-wife.” He shoved his chair back. “I’ve been divorced for years.”

  “Oh.” She forced a smile that didn’t seem genuine and tiny lines deepened between her eyebrows.

  “It’s over, Katie. Been over a long time.” Why he felt compelled to explain, he didn’t understand. “We didn’t have any kids together and the last I heard, Celia had divorced her second husband and was on her way to marrying a third—not that I care. I don’t even know where she’s living now.”

  She seemed troubled and he felt something tug at his heart. Katie Kinkaid, for all her tough-as-nails-investigative-reporter inclinations, was soft inside, couldn’t stand to see anyone hurt.

  He went to her chair, reached under her arms and drew her to her feet. “Thanks for breakfast,” he said, bending down so that the tip of his nose brushed hers.

  “Thanks . . . Thanks for staying here last night.” Katie could scarcely breathe. His hands, big and possessive, held her on either side of her rib cage. One corner of his mouth lifted into that smile she found so damnably sexy.

  “My pleasure, Ms. Kinkaid.”

  “Mine, as well.” Cocking her head to the side she looked up at him, heard a deep, heartfelt groan develop from somewhere around his lungs, then gasped as he pulled her roughly to him and pressed hard, insistent lips against hers.

  In a heartbeat her blood was rushing through her veins, her bones began to melt and she sagged against him, only to be released quickly. She nearly lost her balance and glanced up to find his eyes a smoky blue. “I gotta go,” he said.

  “Y-yes.”

  With another quick kiss to her cheek, he turned and walked through the back door. Katie was left with her heart pounding wildly, her thoughts tumbling disconcertingly and a new hunger burning deep in the most womanly part of her. She dropped into her chair and held her head in her hands as she realized that she was starting to fall in love with a man she barely knew.