“Are you all right?”
Donna realized that she had been staring out the window after Andrew. She turned to Luke. He was leaned against a corner of his desk, his arms casually crossed over his chest.
“Ah…yes, I guess so. I’m a little overwhelmed.” Overwhelmed, overawed, and overpowered, she added silently. She would never dream of fighting the both of them on any issue. The battle would be over before it began.
Luke shrugged, but his expression was pensive. “Come on,” he told her. “I’ll take you back to your hotel.”
“I’m sure I can get back—”
“But you know that I won’t let you go alone.”
Yes, she did, but she argued anyway. “Luke, I don’t understand what you’re worried about now. If this man Simson staged all the robberies to get away with murder, why would he keep going now—when he’s already managed his murder?”
He was very still. His lashes fell, shielding the green and gold fire of his eyes. “It isn’t really over yet,” he told her. “Not while Simson is still walking around.” He turned away from her and picked up the phone to call for a cab. Donna stood there numbly awaiting him. When he set the receiver down, his expression had changed again. Half amused. Half serious.
“What are you going to do?” he asked her.
“I—I don’t know,” she replied, floundering. “Wait, I guess.”
“You’re going to stay in New York.”
“That’s not exactly what I meant. It seems rather pointless for me to stay here especially now that Andrew has promised to keep in touch and let me know when it’s safe to see Lorna.”
“Don’t you think you should stay awhile?”
“Why?” Did the question sound as breathless as she felt? And what was the answer that she wanted? He made her feel that she should run, as far and as fast as she could. But even as she decided that she should, she was longing to reach out and touch him. To allow her fingertips to study the strong planes and angles of his face and search out the mystery of his charisma. She wanted to feel the rough velvet of his palms against her cheek, the warmth and sensual magic of his mouth….
“Why?” He raised a brow. “We both know, don’t we? Us, Donna. You and I.”
“I—I’m afraid—”
“Of me?” He asked her tensely.
She shook her head. “No,” she murmured hoarsely. “Of the feeling.”
He came to her then and caught her face between his hands. His eyes with all their power and magnetism stared probingly into hers. “If I were doctor, lawyer, or Indian chief, would it be different?”
“Yes,” she whispered honestly.
“Give it a chance, Donna,” he entreated huskily.
She nodded and when she managed to speak, she was still whispering. “I still don’t really know anything about you, Luke.”
He smiled and asked her, “Do you ever listen to music?”
“Ah…yes…” she murmured, trying to follow the abrupt change of conversation while lost in the mesmerization of his heated gaze and touch.
“There’s a song out now. I don’t know who wrote it, but Bette Midler sings it on one of her albums. I don’t recall the words exactly, but it’s rather fitting. Something like, ‘I may not know much, but I do know that I love you.’ And that might be all that anyone ever needs to know.”
“Love you”: He had used those words exactly. Beautiful words, encompassing her. And it was true. It was just there. The feeling. But was it enough?
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
“Then stay in New York awhile and find out.”
“But I’m still afraid of the feeling. Of being—”
He chuckled huskily. “Donna, we’ll go to the zoo, to the park, to the theater. I’ll keep my hands off you.” He shrugged dryly. “It will be like forty days of temptation, but I’ll manage.”
She found herself laughing nervously. “Fourteen days is all I can stay, Luke. I’ll have to go back to Massachusetts then, for a while at least. The fiscal year will be ending and they’ll need me.”
“That sounds fair,” he told her. Then, in a voice deep and low and that made her heart quiver, he said, “Come on. Let me get you out of here before I break my vow.”
In the cab it occurred to her that she could question him, if she chose. He had been the one to say that he loved her, that she could take the time to get to know him.
“Luke?” she asked quietly, aware of the taxi driver. “What happened to your wife?”
The back of the taxi was suddenly and conveniently cast into shadow, but she felt the tension seep into his body. And for a minute she was very frightened of him.
“She died,” he said harshly.
“Of what?” Donna persisted, refusing to lose her nerve.
Again he was silent for a long moment. “Cerebral hemorrhage,” he said brusquely, then added, “My turn. What happened to your marriage?”
She blinked, taken aback by the abrupt turnabout. “It was annulled,” she told him.
“Annulled?”
She couldn’t help but smile a little dryly, a little sadly, a little bitterly. “I told you my family is very, very Catholic. When I knew that it was over, it didn’t matter terribly to me how it ended but it did matter terribly to my family. So I filed for an annulment, and it was granted.”
“What went wrong with the marriage?”
Donna met his eyes levelly, aware that although he was cloaked in shadow, she was bathed in a streak of light from a neon sign. “I was very much in love with my husband. He is a charming man. Nice, bright, easy to live with.”
“Then?”
“He was too charming.” Donna laughed. “I believe that he loved me, it just wasn’t enough for him. One month into it, I found out that he was still keeping half of his clothing at another woman’s apartment. He told me he’d try to leave her but he couldn’t.” Donna grimaced. “It hurt terribly at first. I think I spent a solid week crying and trying to find friends who would assure me that he could change. Then he told me that he had broken off with her, that it was really me whom he loved. But the next week, he was out again until three A.M. I knew then that he would never really leave me; he liked the security of marriage. I could have him but be miserable all my life. He would always be back, but he would always be gone again. I didn’t want to spend my life like that—crying for sympathy, knowing inside that things would never be right. And so I left him.” She smiled again. “And I really do believe Mark did love me in his way, because he didn’t fight the annulment. He knew how much it meant to me.”
He didn’t say anything to her; he just squeezed her hand.
When they reached the Plaza, he kissed her chastely on the forehead, told her to lock her door, and walked away.
Donna lay awake half the night. She felt as if she were on fire, alive with electric currents of excitement that wouldn’t allow her to sleep.
She was sure that she was falling in love but there was something a little dark and a little scary about it. She sensed that he was hiding things from her, but the longing surpassed the fear.
She spent a lot of time reminding herself that she should still be worrying about Lorna. And she was worried. But Lorna had Andrew looking after her, and that somehow made things better. It relieved her of the responsibility in a way. She couldn’t do anything, except shiver with fear when she thought about the situation. And it was so easy to combat that shivering with warm and heated thoughts about Luke. Sexy thoughts. Very sexy. But it was all right to have them now….
She didn’t see him on Monday, but on Tuesday they went to the zoo. Tuesday night to the theater. Wednesday they took a helicopter ride around Manhattan.
On Friday, she met the three other priests who were assigned to St. Philip’s—Fathers Frank, Jaime, and Paddy—when Luke invited them over for coffee. She learned that his house really wasn’t the rectory—there was another building by the church that was the real rectory—but that Luke used his house for church purpose
s so frequently that it was called “Luke’s rectory.” Donna was intrigued by his associate fathers. The first two were young men in their twenties; both married and, like Luke, very personable. The third man—Father Paddy—was a delightful older man, enjoying duty at St. Philip’s because the “youngsters,” as he called the others, kept his workload low. All three men were wonderful to Donna.
Luke spoke freely to her, but she still kept that uneasy suspicion that she was seeing only the tip of the iceberg. Over lunch on Saturday she asked him to explain about his house, and it seemed that he chewed a piece of a sandwich for a long, long time before answering her.
“What we call the ‘real’ rectory is comprised of offices, storerooms, and the like. Paddy lives there. He has a little studio with a kitchenette fixed up. The rest of us all have our own homes—I was able to buy one near the church. I guess I have to admit to you, though, that my door, though locked, is always open. Does that bother you?”
Donna shook her head. “No, I like it,” she whispered. She had come upon him that morning when his “open-door” policy had been in effect. She heard him talking to a young man who had apparently run away from home. There had been no patronizing, no answer so simple as “pray for guidance, son.” Luke had bluntly outlined the world for the boy. It was fine to be young, but not stupid. To err was human, but “to continue to wreck his own life was idiocy,” Luke had said.
Then there were softer words, words she didn’t catch. But when she had seen Luke, she had been thrilled by him all over again because she had felt such a pride in him. He didn’t have to try, he didn’t have to practice any techniques. He was just himself, and he brought people flocking to him. And for the first time, she had seen how very right it was for him to be a priest.
But now she was suddenly more interested in his house. “How does a priest afford such a place?”
He hesitated only briefly, then shrugged, laughing. “My family is disgustingly wealthy.”
But then he changed the subject again, away from himself.
“Why don’t you ever let me ask you questions?” she asked him with dismay.
“Because asking questions won’t tell you what you need to know,” he told her briefly.
On Sunday night, he just appeared at her door, smiling. “I’ve got something for you,” he told her.
“What?”
He handed her an envelope. Her heart began to thump wildly when she saw her name written in Lorna’s beautiful, flourishing script.
“Oh, Luke, thank you!” She cried out, impulsively hugging him. She ripped open the note and read quickly.
Donna,
I should have known you would come! Bless you, you are a love for caring, and I’m so very grateful to have you for a friend.
But I feel terrible for being so stupid too! I could have put you in danger. Well, I get bored something awful now and then, but I’m really fine—and anxious to see you soon.
All my love,
Lorna
“Oh, Luke!” Donna threw herself into his arms again, forgetting that he had promised not to touch her. Then everything that happened was natural. He was kissing her deeply, like a man who thirsted for knowledge and was determined to have it. She was able to touch him as she longed to, running her fingers over his face, entwining them in his hair, running them over the rippling muscles of his back and shoulders.
Her body seemed to change as he held her, to soften, to mold to his. The fire of his eyes was inside her, burning low, engulfing her. She knew a need for him so fierce that her mind seemed to crystallize, to fly away with his windswept touch. She tasted his teeth with her tongue, sought hungrily to have all his mouth, his lips, his scent and his taste.
“Donna…”
She heard her name whispered against her lips, a silken breath against her throat. Then she was moaning his, a sound that caught in her throat, becoming a whimper.
At some point they reached the bed. He was lying beside her, and his lips were fused to hers again, igniting that explosive fire. Her body changed again. It was vibrant, quivering as he touched her breast. Cupping it, skimming the nipple to a hard peak of arousal and drawing again moans that were muffled cries of his name from her lips. It was enough and she knew she loved him….
His hand slipped beneath her blouse and touched her flesh. It was a touch like no other she had ever known. Hot…so hot…and so good, she could have wept with the pleasure of it. She felt his length against her, and she knew his desire. She wanted him to go on and on to love her, to give her the heights of ecstasy. He was very much a man, one who could make love with a passion and strength that would create the wildest beauty imaginable.
But suddenly it was wrong because of her life, of all the years of a priest being taboo, of not knowing if she had the strength to be the woman he could love. Because…she didn’t really know. There were secrets. Dark mysteries. He was a man of God, but like a devil he could compel and hold, and his power over her was frightening.
She did love him, she thought with a twisting pain that knifed through her like a razor. But suddenly she was crying out his name again, and fighting his strength, and his kiss. “Luke! No!”
At the sound of her anguished voice, he released her. Shaking, Donna rolled away from him, and stared at him.
There was anger in his eyes, controlled anger, tempered with a frown of confusion. “What is it?” he asked her quietly.
“Luke—there’s something about you that I—I don’t understand,” Donna stammered.
“What!” he demanded. “Are we back to the priest bit?” Sitting up, he raked his fingers through his hair. “Donna, I think you’re trying real hard to turn me into a saint.”
She shook her head miserably. “That’s not even it,” she murmured.
“Then what?”
“I still don’t really know you. I don’t think that many people do. Maybe I will—soon. But it’s going so fast….”
He sighed, “Donna, I would have stopped…oh, never mind.” He stood up, no longer angry. “I’m really not such a mystery. And maybe…maybe I’m a little afraid of you too.” He touched the silken locks of hair that were tumbling over her forehead in disarray. “I’ve got to get back tonight. Want to have dinner tomorrow?”
Donna nodded mutely. He offered her a vague smile, collected his coat, and walked to the door.
“Luke?”
He turned around.
“At dinner…will you answer some questions for me?”
His smile became an amused grin. “Sure.”
“Promise me, Luke, please?”
“Scout’s honor.”
“Luke!”
“All right, all right—I swear to God!”
“Very amusing!”
“Donna, just what do you want?”
She lowered her lashes. “You,” she whispered honestly. “I’m just not sure I know how to have you.”
She felt his eyes on her but she couldn’t look up. “I love you, Donna,” he said softly, then she heard the door click quietly closed.
CHAPTER NINE
LUKE ARRIVED AT HER hotel room door at exactly seven. Donna had been ready for a long time. When his knock came, she grabbed her jacket and purse and slid outside the door quickly, before he could enter. If he noticed her somewhat panicked behavior, he didn’t comment on it.
But she was sure he noticed. He had that knowing gleam to his eyes, and his lips were set in a small, almost secretive smile. She definitely amused him, but at least he wasn’t rude enough to comment on it this evening.
“Where are we going?” she asked him quickly, huffing a little as she kept up with his long strides down the hallway.
“A place I think you’ll like,” he told her.
The elevator opened for them, and he ushered her in. It was crowded, and she had the choice of squeezing closely against him or squeezing against a very pregnant young woman in a plush sable fur. She was sure she’d sneeze all over the sable. So she crowded as close as she c
ould to Luke. He glanced down at her, offered her a little grin, and slipped an arm about her shoulders to pull her against him.
She couldn’t deny that it made her happy to be with him, to have his arm about her, to breathe his pleasant scent, feel the warmth and wiry strength of his body. And he was so incredibly good-looking. Tonight he was wearing dark trousers and a beige kidskin jacket. Soft. Nice to touch. It had that enticing smell of new leather, and the feel of it against her cheek when she was tempted to rest her head against it was wonderfully sensual.
Donna took a shaky breath as the elevator slid to a smooth halt. Everyone bustled out. His arm remained around her as he led her to the main doors and managed to efficiently charm the doorman into acquiring them a taxi instantly.
“What’s the name of the restaurant?” Donna asked when she was seated next to him and the cab jerked into what she considered to be a too-speedy action.
“Caro’s.”
“Italian?”
“Of course,” he murmured, brushing her knuckles with a light kiss that fired her entire body with a disturbing heat. “Where else does one take a gorgeous Italian?”
Donna laughed. “Am I gorgeous?”
“Beyond a doubt,” he told her softly.
She turned away from him and stared at the city buildings through the neon glow of nighttime. She wanted him, cared for him, and liked him but she barely knew him. She liked his teasing banter. She liked him as a man, she was often shocked by him, but she respected his stands. And what was between them was honest; it was real. He liked her, cared for her, wanted her. She felt very feminine in his company, very much a woman.
But where did they go from there? He was a priest. To someone else, it might mean nothing. For Donna, it was a lot to handle. All of her life, a priest had been a man sworn to God never to be thought of as a man. Even though he was a Protestant—and she could accept it all on a rational level—she still felt…strange. And her family! She could just imagine walking into the old triple decker house and announcing that she was in love with a Protestant priest!
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