by Jennie Jones
Luke put his backside against the kitchen counter and gripped the benchtop with his hands so he didn’t suddenly dart forwards and take hold of her. ‘But I hurt you.’
‘Only with a memory.’
‘I feel responsible for that memory.’
‘You’re not.’
‘Rachel, I’m the guy who helps people. I’m the guy who talks people through this stuff. Yesterday at the club I was some guy I didn’t know.’
Her features relaxed into the smallest of smiles. ‘I doubt there’s a bad part of you.’
‘Can we start again?’ he asked gently.
She nodded.
He closed his eyes briefly as some of the tension fell from his shoulders. ‘Thank you.’ He looked at one of her slender hands and wondered if she would let him hold it. But he wasn’t going to push it. He’d got to the horse, and the horse was willing to have him standing close. All he had to do now was keep whispering.
* * *
Where her thoughts were heading, Rachel had no idea, but there was an opportunity in front of her. Maybe for happiness—and how would she know unless she took her first step? She wasn’t going to lie to herself any longer. She enjoyed this man’s company—when the moments weren’t fraught with worry. She trusted his morals and values: those of the man and the cop. And she delighted in the leap of attraction that flared at the strength in his arms when they were around her, or when her hand was in his work-hardened grip. It was attraction, pure and immediate. A wave of warmth as she stood close to him or locked eyes with him. An instantaneous allure that touched her mind and her soul. She’d never imagined experiencing any of this. But it was happening, right now. He was looking at her with a serious expression, but he couldn’t hide the pent-up need to step towards her. His knuckles were white as he gripped the bench.
‘I’m tired of being ashamed,’ she began, opening the conversation they had to have. ‘I’m tired of knowing I was involved with him, and of the consequences.’
‘You didn’t attack that cop.’
‘It was my weapon. The one I carried in case he found me.’
‘It was also your weapon that Fletcher used on the other man you dated—the one in your flat. But you didn’t attack that guy, either.’
‘Those men were hurt because of me,’ she whispered. ‘I should never have gone out with anyone.’
‘No. Those men were hurt by an aggressive man. A mean bully.’
‘I ran.’
‘You were scared.’ He let go of the bench but didn’t move closer to her. ‘Why did you go out with him? The sergeant. Did you like him a lot?’
‘It was a short relationship—beneficial on both sides.’
‘What do you mean? You learnt how to handle a gun—what did he get?’
She must have turned beetroot red. ‘What do you think?’ But it hadn’t just been sex. Although she’d wanted that side of things too, after going so long without the touch of a man. ‘Stop looking at me like that.’
‘None of my business, I know, but I can’t believe how much it hurts to think of you with another man. Just the thought of it has me turning green. I’m green from the inside out.’
She put her hands to her hot cheeks, mostly to stifle the smile that rose, and the ridiculous satisfaction of knowing he was jealous. ‘It was hardly a relationship at all,’ she said. ‘And I didn’t walk into it just to learn how to shoot. Well,’ she added, slightly ashamed, ‘maybe a little. And no—I don’t have a gun. I wouldn’t know where to get one.’
His arms hung at his side, and she knew he was still holding back from taking hold of her. But she couldn’t do this if he was touching her. Couldn’t get through what she had to say if he was physically protecting her in any way.
‘I should have contacted the police,’ she said. ‘After I saw him three months ago.’
He must have sensed the tense reluctance suddenly between them, and he eased back a step. ‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘You should have. But you’re not the first person to evade the police and you’re not the first person to be blackmailed.’
‘Peter wasn’t blackmailing me.’
‘Of course he was. The worst kind—threats to harm. Threats he carried out. You’re not to blame and neither are you responsible for his actions.’
‘I’m still running though.’
He smiled; it was part crooked, part tender. ‘You’re not running any more. I won’t let you. And once you allow me to take you in my arms—I don’t think you’ll get out of my hold so easily.’
Another flush, this one inside her, at the thought of stepping into his arms right now. But what if she had to leave? What if she was never accepted again? What would that do to Luke’s reputation?
‘I can’t stay in Mt Maria. I have to go—nobody will want me here.’
‘I don’t think that’s true. But if there’s any need to go, we’ll go together.’
Did he mean he’d take her somewhere for safety? She stared at him, wondering how to handle this and how to say what she had to say, now the conversation had really begun. ‘I might be overreacting,’ she said, ‘and I haven’t seen Peter—only that one time three months ago—but I’m scared. I can’t explain it, but I think he’s around.’ She wasn’t going to step into anything with Luke, whether it be his arms or the future, until she knew Peter wouldn’t be able to find her. ‘I wasn’t lying to harm,’ she said, ‘I was lying to protect. Not myself,’ she added, making it clear. ‘I can look after myself.’
‘Not this time, Rachel,’ he said with a shake of his head.
‘Do I need to talk to the people you were referring to? The police who are looking for me?’
‘No need. I’m talking to you.’
She firmed her mouth as her lips trembled. ‘If he’s around, he’ll go for others first. To hurt me in the worst way. He’ll want to teach me a lesson.’
Luke’s features hardened in a flash. ‘You think the punches, the bruises and the broken bones weren’t enough for him?’ He spat the words, as though he had his own confusion and anger to deal with. ‘Peter Fletcher is a bastard.’ He took a step towards her.
Hearing Luke say her ex-husband’s name sent a shiver through her. ‘You have to be careful too, Luke.’ Because Peter would get to Luke, if he knew they were standing here like this, so close she could feel the warmth of him.
She closed her eyes and ordered herself to go back to the necessaries of this conversation. How much did he need to know? How she felt? Why she sometimes reacted with a startled jump when people touched her? ‘It’s my arm,’ she said, turning to Luke. ‘He used to take my arm in his hands and twist—it’s what he did the most. That’s why I slapped that man. I thought he was going to do the same thing. It’s like a reflex.’
His eyes darkened. ‘Didn’t someone help you through all this?’
‘Yes.’ She shook her head. ‘No, not really. I wouldn’t let them into my head, I just wanted out of it all.’
‘Why?’
‘Frightened …’ Her voice wobbled. ‘Not for myself.’ She shook her head. ‘Others. People I worked with.’
He watched her, as though attempting to evaluate her emotional state. Something flew over his features, wiping away the cop. He took another step towards her.
‘I married him at nineteen,’ she said, halting him. She didn’t want him touching her, not while she had to do this. ‘He left me when I was twenty. I didn’t see him for another five years until the police got in touch with me because he was in prison …’ The dates and facts blurred in her memory. Concentrate.
‘Take it easy on yourself.’
‘I’m fine.’ She brushed his concern away. ‘He was a con artist.’
‘Taking what? Valuables? Money?’
‘Anything.’
‘Was it women?’
‘Mostly.’ She kept her gaze averted in case one look at Luke’s face destroyed the courage she was holding onto so tightly. This wasn’t the way she’d wanted to hold the conversation. She’d
have told him the same things, but it wouldn’t have been under duress. Now, she had to go through it all again as she had when speaking to police and counsellors two years ago. List it, don’t feel it as you speak. ‘I didn’t know enough for sure. I guessed some things, and even then I thought I was wrong. I couldn’t prove anything. All I knew were the bits and pieces I overheard when he was on the phone, and snippets of the conversations he had when his victims were around.’
‘He brought them home?’
She snapped up her head to look at him. ‘It was never a home.’
‘I apologise—’
‘Only in the first few months of the marriage,’ she carried on, not wanting to feel anything. ‘The months where he was still playing me, too.’ Just looking into Luke’s eyes was enough to pull her up and out of the depths of the feelings she’d buried. ‘He preyed on lonely hearts. Some were down on their luck, or perhaps they never got the right chance. I wasn’t allowed to talk to the women he brought to the house, but I overheard him. He used to tell them he was their friend and he’d like to do something to help them.’ Which is what he’d told the young, innocent and naïve Rosalind. ‘And he was smart. He was careful. He never raised his voice. Not even to me.’ Only his hand. ‘It was as though he was able to divorce himself from recognising his behaviour.’
‘So he took their money?’
‘He somehow persuaded them to hand it over. He might have suggested he was going to invest it for them. I’m not sure …’
‘Take your time.’
‘I feel responsible.’ The words were out before she could choke them down. She closed her eyes.
‘You’re not.’
‘I know that.’ This was not the time to think about herself but it pained her that she hadn’t known what was really happening. Maybe she’d stayed in the dark on purpose, not wanting to feel, just wanting to protect herself. ‘I can see that I wasn’t responsible, but I was there and he was doing these things and I didn’t do anything to help anyone.’
‘How could you? If he kept you secluded—and locked up,’ he added, his voice taking on a bitter edge.
‘I was naïve. Not that I’m excusing myself for that, but I was an innocent and I regret that with all my heart.’ Bewilderment at having lived with a man like Peter rushed to the fore in a wave of shame. ‘I’m not even sure that he forced them, physically, to hand over their money. He talked it out of them.’
Luke hung his head, as though taking his time to digest all this. It must be different, she thought, watching him stare at the tiled floor, when you were hearing it and not reading about it.
‘Are you very angry with me, Luke?’ she asked, afraid of the answer but needing to hear it. He didn’t look angry but he was good at covering his feelings—he was all cop, at all times. That’s just who he was. He knew she’d lied, but now he knew she was damaged goods too. This is why she’d never told any of the few men she’d dated that she’d been physically abused. She hadn’t wanted their anger or their pity or their contempt.
‘No,’ he said so softly she hardly heard it, but even so, there was anger in his tone. ‘I’m not angry with you.’
‘Have they already spoken to you?’ she asked. ‘The police in Melbourne. Do you know more?’
‘I’ll tell you later. We’ve got something else to discuss first.’
He pulled his radio across the bench and made a call. ‘Will—anything?’
‘It’s still early, mate. Take those few hours. I’ll call you if something happens.’
He paused, maybe considering Will’s advice. ‘Okay,’ he said at last. He put the mic down and looked at Rachel.
‘I’ll be fine if you need to go,’ she said. ‘I’ll go home and wait. I’m not going to run away.’
He shook his head and moved to her, his shoulders relaxed, his breathing even and slow. Something had changed in him. She felt it too. Something in the air. All around them. Inside her. He looked so in command of whatever was about to happen that it heightened her awareness of him as a man. She couldn’t hold her eyes on his face and her gaze went to his body. His naked chest, tight with muscle. His shoulders, so wide and full of strength.
‘Are we done now, Rachel?’ he asked, and she dragged her gaze to his face.
‘Can we move on from this difficulty between us?’ he asked. ‘Can we forget it—or forgive at least? I apologise for everything I had to do behind your back.’
Her mouth was full of sudden moisture and she had to swallow it. ‘I apologise for not telling you before you had to do that.’
‘I’ve forgotten already,’ he said. ‘But I haven’t forgotten this—I told you once that I like you for more than being a pleasure to look at—but right this minute, I just want to look at you and enjoy looking at you. Are you all right with that?’
She nodded, riveted. He was only looking at her but it felt like he had his hands all over her. Heat rose on her skin. Her heart beat faster.
‘I’ll never raise a hand to you,’ he said.
‘Why are you saying this?’
‘Do you understand?’
‘I do.’
‘It’s important.’
‘I understand,’ she repeated. ‘I’m not scared of being alone with you.’ She never had been, he gave her confidence, but she was tense with expectation: wanted to touch him, reach out for him.
‘You’ve got my protection,’ he told her. ‘And my hand. My hand of loyalty and friendship.’
But it wasn’t only friendship she wanted from him. He had created a desire inside her. For comfort and protection, yes—but much more than that. His arms wouldn’t only offer reassurance, they could hold her for other reasons. He was the sort who would step in front of her to save her, but his body could protect in other ways. Loving ways. Sensual ways.
He looked at her, his eyes warm. Then he took a step and he was so close that if she inhaled, his bare chest would touch hers.
‘I don’t understand.’ She ached to run her hands over the taut muscles in his shoulders and down his arms.
‘Then let me explain.’ He took her hands in his and held them. ‘I’m in love with you.’
She blinked, shock coursing through her. ‘You’re what?’
‘Yeah, I know.’ His mouth curved in a smile. ‘It’s surprised me too. What are your thoughts on it?’
* * *
‘Me too,’ she said. At least Luke thought that’s what she’d said.
He kept his smile slight, and cocked his head. ‘Could you repeat that?’
They stared into each other’s eyes and he almost didn’t want to let the moment end. The complete and ideal moment where emotion and apology came together and no longer mattered because love took over and swamped the rest.
She shook her head, her eyes still full of uncertainty.
‘Not ready to?’ he asked. ‘Or afraid to?’
Before she could reply, he tipped his head and kissed her.
He kept it tender. Not much more than a touch, but that otherworldly, swept-away sensation ripped through him as though for the first time.
Falling in love was full of newness.
‘I’ve never felt this sort of emotion,’ she said. ‘Never.’
‘I’ve got you, Rachel. I’m not letting you go.’ He tightened his hold of her hands.
‘I don’t want to leave,’ she said, a sudden plea in her eyes.
‘You’re not leaving. You’re with me.’
‘I want to stay here …’
‘You’re not going anywhere.’
‘I want it so badly, Luke.’
‘And you’ll get it. You’ll get everything you want. I promise you.’
She looked away and moistened her lips with her tongue, then raised her eyes to his. ‘Is this really happening? I mean you and me?’
‘Yes. We’ve got a bit of time now, and we need to take it. I’m not letting this moment go. I’m not letting you go. I love you,’ he said quietly. ‘Now say it back. Tell me again what you almost t
old me a couple of minutes ago.’
‘I love you,’ she said in a whisper.
He stilled, hearing it so clearly made his heart bounce and his head swim. ‘Say it again.’
‘I love you.’
She stepped into his arms and he caught her hard in his embrace and held her against him, his mouth on her hair.
‘I love you, Luke.’
He cupped her head and angled her face to his so he could kiss her. She kissed him back and he softened his mouth on hers. His heart kept filling. It couldn’t get any bigger in his chest. This was his Rachel, the real one, full of sensuality and softness, and—incredibly—it was all for him. Just holding her was a thrill. Having her against him like this, the warmth of her body, the soft, sensual tremor of physical contact between them, made him speechless. It was going to take him a few moments before he could breathe enough to speak more than one sentence.
‘Does it turn you off?’ she asked as she pulled away from the kiss, her voice full of concern. ‘I mean what happened to me.’
‘Christ, no! No way.’ He smiled down at her. ‘This is going to be a big beautiful relationship but we’re going to take it slow.’
‘I won’t break, Luke.’
‘You might if I crush you to me the way I want to.’
‘You can touch me. I want you to.’
He inhaled, dragging it out until air filled his lungs. ‘I can stand here and tell you how much I want to touch you and hold you—and make love to you—but you need to know I can wait. That’s my job. My end of the beautiful-relationship bargain.’
Her mouth curved, and he saw a tease in her eyes.
‘What?’ he asked.
Her smile broke, lighting up her face and flipping his heart. ‘Let’s not wait.’ She launched at him and he steadied himself and caught her so neither of them fell. He enfolded her in his arms, skimming her hair with his lips.
‘What are you doing to me?’ She was silky, warm and feminine and smelled like a field in spring. ‘You smell amazing,’ he murmured, placing kisses on her head.
‘You feel amazing,’ she said with a shy laugh as she pressed the flat of her hands into his back.