by Lisa Jackson
“What now?” she asked, but watched him leave again and didn’t argue. There was something enchanting about spending some time alone with him here.
Careful, you’ll only get yourself into trouble, her mind warned as she tipped the bottle and the rich, dark Merlot streamed into the two stemmed glasses.
“I wouldn’t have thought of you as having anything like these,” she observed, holding up one of the goblets and twisting its stem between her fingers as he returned carrying chunks of firewood and kindling. He leaned over the grate and cast a glance in her direction. Over his shoulder he muttered, “Castoffs from the divorce.”
“Oh.” She didn’t want to be reminded that he’d been married once. Not tonight. “I just meant that you seem more like a guy who drinks beer.”
“Sometimes. Whatever suits the mood.” He looked over his shoulder again, his eyes a deep, glittering blue. “I think it’s good to mix things up, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Good.” He turned his attention back to the fire and she noticed the darker streaks of blond where rainwater had run, from the top of his head and the way his neck, at its base, spread into strong shoulder muscles that disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt.
She remembered seeing his bare chest and muscular back and at the thought her pulse elevated and she fought the urge to run. This was too close, too intimate. He was squatting, the worn heels of his boots above the carpet as he leaned forward. His jeans were low on his hips, his waistband gaping at his spine, but, unfortunately, the tail of his shirt never moved, remained tucked while he struck a match against the sole of one boot and lit the fire. She realized that being alone with him was dammed close to emotional suicide, that her fascination for him was running far too deep, and yet she couldn’t resist staying with him.
With a spark and a crackle, flames began to devour the dry kindling and wood. Smoke billowed into the room. “Dammit,” he said, reaching quickly above the hungry, snapping flames to open the flue. “I forget some people close these things.” The chimney began to draw. “You didn’t know that my plan was to asphyxiate you, did you?”
She laughed as he straightened, dusted his hands together, then cracked one of the windows. “Better?”
“Much.”
“So much for being suave and debonair.” He sat on the floor next to her and accepted a glass.
“That’s okay. I’m not into the sleek-and-sophisticated type.”
“Lucky for me.” He offered her a crooked smile that drilled right to the core of her. “How about a toast?”
“A toast? I can’t wait to hear this.”
“Here’s to you, Katie Kinkaid.” He touched the rim of his glass to hers and looked deep into her eyes. “May you find your happiness here and may you always be safe.”
Her heart nearly crumpled and her throat grew thick, but she managed a frail smile. “And here’s to you, Luke Gates,” she said, again nudging his glass with hers. “Man of mystery, cowboy and Bittersweet’s newest entrepreneur. May the ranch be a raving success.”
“It will be.” He grinned crookedly, his gaze still holding hers as he took the first sip. Katie’s heart thrummed, her throat was as dry as a desert and she sipped from her glass, feeling the red wine slide down her throat more easily than she’d expected. She shouldn’t be doing this; the room was much too intimate, the atmosphere seductive.
Firelight played in Luke’s hair, reflecting in his eyes and gilding his skin. He stretched out, boots nearly touching the marble hearth, one elbow propping his shoulders upright.
“Tell me about yourself,” he suggested.
“Not much more to tell.” She took another swallow. “I think you know most of the high points.”
“Do I?” One of his eyebrows arched and her stomach rolled over. He was so damned sexy, so raw and male. As he drank from his glass she watched his Adam’s apple move and she found the involuntary motion decidedly seductive. What was wrong with her? Why did she always see Luke Gates as a raw, sexual man; not just someone she wanted as a friend. “How about the men in your life?”
“‘The men’?” she repeated and smiled. “The dozens of men?” When his smile faded she shook her head. “The truth of the matter is, there just haven’t been many.”
“There was Josh’s father.”
Dave. Her heart twisted a bit. “He was a long time ago. I was in high school.”
“And since?”
I’ve dated a little. Nothing serious. I had Josh to think about, to protect, and of course, my job. I . . . I told myself I couldn’t get involved with anyone, I had too many responsibilities and maybe it was just a defense mechanism, but the truth of the matter is that no one interested me.” Until you.
“Most women want a man to be a father to their kids.”
“I’m not most women,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly.
“I noticed.” His eyes locked with hers and in that instant she knew she would make love to him. It was inevitable, like the ebb and flow of the tide. The wine was beginning to warm her blood and the intimacy of the room enfolded her in a soft, seductive cocoon. Raindrops sparkling with firelight trailed down the windowpanes and she felt as if she and Luke were the only two people on earth. She licked a drop of Merlot from her lips and his gaze followed her movement.
Slowly he took her glass from her hand, set it along with his in a corner near the fireplace, then stretched out beside her on the carpet and wrapped his arms around her. She turned her head up expectantly but wasn’t prepared for the onslaught on her senses as his lips met hers, his tongue delved between her teeth and a rush of desire as hot as lava sped through her blood.
This time there were no excuses, no interruptions. His tongue and hands were everywhere and without a thought she kissed him back, her arms drawing him closer still, her mind swimming with erotic images as he pressed wet, warm kisses onto her eyes, her neck, her shoulders. He stripped her clothes from her body, leaving her naked, her skin shimmering with perspiration before the fire. And she, too, worked at the buttons of his shirt, tore open the waistband of his jeans, pulled hard and heard a sexy series of pops as his fly gave way.
His body was lean and sinewy, sleek muscles visible through skin that was tanned except for a strip of white over his buttocks. Golden hair covered his chest and his manhood, which was strong, erect and ready.
His fingers caressed her, his lips and tongue exploring each intimate crevice and curve. She tingled inside as she, tentatively at first, and then with more confidence, touched him and heard him moan with deep, hungry pleasure.
She didn’t think about the consequences as he rolled atop her, didn’t consider recriminations. She arched as he placed his big, callused hands on either side of her rib cage, his fingers splaying around her ribs, his thumbs rubbing her nipples seductively. His hair fell forward, streaked gold and red by the firelight as he bent forward and kissed the tip of each breast. The world began to tilt. He pushed his tongue through the valley of her sternum; then, with his lips, climbed each mound and lingered, laving and sucking at her nipples. Desire, dark and insistent, curled deep inside her, and brought with it a moistness, a wild yearning she hadn’t felt in years.
“Katie,” he rasped, lifting his head as her fingers dug into the hard, sinewy muscles of his buttocks. “Sweet, sweet Katie.”
She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t form a word.
“Is this what you want?”
“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate. It had been so long. Too long. Winding an arm around his neck, she pulled his head down to hers and kissed him, her mouth open and waiting, her body quivering with a passion she’d feared she’d lost.
His knees parted her legs and he looked one last time into her eyes before he thrust into her as if he’d wanted to make love to her all his life. She gasped as he entered her, holding tightly to the arms planted on either side of her head, and as he withdrew and entered again, rose to meet him. She held his gaze as their bodies joined
, moved her hips to his rhythm, felt the sting of anticipation in her bloodstream. All her doubts fled, all her worries disappeared and she was lost in the single purpose of loving this lone, tough man.
Faster and faster he moved and she could scarcely breathe, gasping in short, sharp bursts that matched the crazy beating of her heart.
“Katie,” he cried, throwing back his head as he spilled himself into her. “Katie!”
She clung to him, her body convulsing, her universe shattering deep in her soul. He fell against her, breathing hard and holding her close as he rolled to the side.
Tears welled deep in her eyes and he leaned over and kissed each eyelid. “Regrets?” he asked, his expression clouding.
“Relief.”
“Good.” He held her close, in strong arms that made her feel safe and secure, and she closed her eyes, knowing that the moment would soon end, but making it last for as long as she could. He sighed across her hair and she snuggled close. She wouldn’t believe that making love to Luke Gates was anything but wonderful.
* * *
A few days later Katie was still thinking about making love to Luke, wondering if it would ever happen again as she carried a box of pots and pans onto the back porch. She stacked the box on top of the growing pile of assorted crates and cartons that waited for Jarrod, Nathan and Trevor on the back porch of her little cottage. Sweat drizzled down her nape and forehead. She mopped her brow, then swiped at a cobweb that dangled from the rafters of the roof. The rainstorm of a few nights before was long gone and the temperature had soared into the nineties again, proof that summer wasn’t ready to give up its searing hold on the Rogue River Valley.
The yard was patchy and yellow, the leaves on the trees just starting to turn gold with the promise of autumn. She’d miss this place, she thought, as she squinted against the sun and watched Blue sniff in the shrubbery for a squirrel or bird hidden deep in the foliage. The old dog moved his head to look at her, wagged his tail, then turned back to smelling the underbrush.
But it was time to move, she decided. Things were changing. Josh on the threshold of adolescence, was dealing with the new changes in his life—about his father’s death and accepting a grandfather he hadn’t known. Brynnie had gotten through to him. Within a few more years he’d slowly be pulling away from his mother.
Katie had already run an advertisement in the “For Rent” column of the Review’s Classified section. It was time to move on in many ways.
She went inside her sweltering kitchen, turned on the tap and holding her hair away from her face, drank from the faucet. She swiped the back of her hand over her mouth, then walked to Josh’s room. With a rap of her fingers, she called through the door. “Need any help in there?”
There was a pause. Her hand was on the doorknob when he answered. “Nope.”
“Jarrod and the twins will be here soon.”
“I know.”
She wanted to reprimand him, to tell him to try and stop punishing her; but she bit her tongue and decided to give him some space. For the past few days—ever since Katie had told him about his father—Josh had been upset and sullen, offering her the juvenile equivalent to the cold shoulder.
Katie had tried to broach the subject of Dave several times since she’d first told her son about his father, but Josh had retreated into disgusted silence and had spent his time either at school or with his friends. When he was at home, he kept to his room, watching the small television, playing video games and generally indulging his bad mood. But, the good news was that he was off crutches for good; the doctor had called the Monday after Bliss’s wedding with a report that the specialists who had read his X ray had found no indication of fracture in his ankle and physically he was solid again.
And today was different. They were moving and she’d forced Josh into a halfway-decent mood. He’d even offered to help her pack up her desk. A small olive branch, but one that she’d quickly accepted.
Their lives were changing in other ways. As of this day, Katie would live next door to Luke.
Which was another problem.
She’d seen Luke several times since the late afternoon when they’d made love. Each time, he’d been cordial and warm, a sexy, affectionate smile creasing his jaw whenever they’d run into each other. But he hadn’t called and hadn’t so much as touched her again.
It was almost as if something had come between them, an invisible barrier she didn’t understand. She filled another cardboard box with memorabilia from her kitchen, piling in knickknacks and pictures, cookbooks and a few pot holders.
She heard the truck before she saw its rear end back into the drive. As it slowed and parked several feet away from the garage, she heard her half-brothers’ shouts.
“Start with the big things—washer and dryer,” Jarrod ordered as he climbed out of the cab. “And don’t forget the refrigerator.”
“As if I’d let them forget anything.” Katie stepped onto the back porch as her twin brothers leaped past the two steps and barreled into the kitchen. “But don’t worry about the refrigerator. It stays with the place.”
“Good. Just point us in the right direction,” Nathan told her. His hair was a dark brown, stick straight and flopped over a high forehead beneath which intense hazel eyes bored into her.
She followed her brothers inside and from the archway in the kitchen looked down the hallway to where Trevor was already unhooking the hoses to the washing machine that was wedged into what was euphemistically called a “laundry closet.”
Jarrod pushed open the screen door and frowned at the torn, jagged mesh. “I think I made some wild promise about fixing this,” he said, sticking a finger through the hole.
“That you did.” She winked at him. “And just because I’m moving doesn’t let you off the hook, you know. This is still my house and you made a promise.”
“Consider it done.”
“Oh, sure. Promises, promises,” she quipped blithely.
“Hey, are we gonna get some help in here?” Trevor, the more hotheaded of the twins, yelled.
“Duty calls.” Jarrod was already halfway there. “Hey, kid. How about giving your uncles a hand?”
Josh, hearing the commotion had poked his head out of his room. Upon spying Katie’s half-brothers, he joined in and forgot to cast his mother a disparaging glance before he helped unhook the dryer. Katie mentally crossed her fingers that he’d forgive her.
As the men handled the bigger items, the beds, couches, tables and chairs Katie kept filling boxes from the few cupboards that she hadn’t already cleared out.
“I can’t believe how much junk you’ve got,” Trevor observed on one trip to the truck. “Can’t you get rid of half of it?”
“Didn’t have time for a garage sale.” She carried a kitchen chair to the loading area at the rear of the big truck. “Besides, I don’t like living as spartan as you.”
“Easier that way.”
Nathan laughed. He handed an end table to Jarrod who was standing inside the truck. “Yeah. Trevor thinks that a person can get by with a bedroll, a mess kit, and a television.”
“Don’t need much more,” Trevor said, his hawkish features identical to his brother’s. The difference in the twins was in their temperament. Nathan was steadier and levelheaded while Trevor was the hothead, always ready for a fight.
They finished loading and the house was nearly empty. Jarrod, Nathan and Josh rode over to the new place in the truck while Katie, with Trevor in the passenger seat and Blue in the back, followed in the Jeep.
“This is gonna be weird,” Josh said, once they’d parked and everyone began unloading the furniture. Josh commandeered Stephen’s old room while Katie set up her home office in Christina’s bedroom.
Josh was right; it felt strange to see her bed and bureau in Tiffany’s old room and stranger still to look out the window at the carriage house where Luke Gates lived. As she instructed her brothers on the placement of chairs, tables and lamps in the parlor, she noticed the ash
es in the grate, testament to her afternoon of lovemaking with Luke. Their two empty wineglasses stood next to the once-full bottle of Merlot on the hearth.
Images of making love with Luke, of his corded muscles gleaming in the firelight, shot through her mind.
“Looks like someone had themselves a private party,” Trevor observed as he and Nathan carried in a bookcase.
“That it does.” Quickly Katie reached down, picked up the goblets and bottle, and hoped the back of her neck didn’t look as warm as it felt.
Trevor didn’t let up. “I wonder who—”
“Hey, pay attention!” Nathan, who was holding one end of the bookcase, wasn’t in the mood for conjecture.
“Just put it there, to the side of the window,” Katie said, and silently counted her lucky stars that the conversation was dropped. She carried the evidence of her evening with Luke into the kitchen and hoped Trevor’s curiosity was sated. She didn’t want to think about Luke and what had happened between them. Not now. Nor did she want to explain it to anyone. Especially her half-brothers.
She had too much to do.
An installer from the phone company came and hooked up the telephone and fax line while she was organizing the kitchen. In the midst of the pure chaos of wadded newspapers on the counters and floors, dishes in every available space and cupboards half filled, the easygoing man worked on the outlets, kept up a steady stream of conversation about his grandchildren and managed to install three phones.
Once they were installed, she found her courage along with Ralph Sorenson’s phone number and she dialed. One ring, two, three and so on. No answer. No answering machine. She hung up disappointed, but told herself she’d try again.
A few minutes later Tiffany and J.D. came over and they, along with Katie’s half-brothers, finished putting things in order. Christina was confused, but contented herself in chasing a nervous Blue through the house and Stephen and Josh holed up in Josh’s new room. Though Stephen was three years older and in high school, he didn’t seem to mind hanging out with his younger half-cousin when they weren’t in school.