As Analise and Olivia sat side by side waiting for Cole to be moved, Analise felt as if she’d been run over by a truck. Olivia’s eyes were still alert and her step lively. Someone had given her a set of blue scrubs and she looked like a duty nurse at the beginning of her shift.
Analise asked, “How do you do it?”
“Do what?” Olivia smiled.
“Keep going. You’ve had so much . . . tragedy, and still you can sit here and smile at me.”
Olivia sighed and patted Analise on the knee. “Oh, my dear, it’s the fact that I have lost so much—I suppose I see things differently. When you get to be my age, you appreciate every moment, no matter how painful. That means you still have something you care about enough to hurt. I’m grateful for those I have left, they’re all the more precious to me. Cole is alive. We didn’t lose him. We’re still a family. That’s what matters.”
Luke walked up to them and Analise looked into his eyes once again. He smiled sweetly down at her, making her heart ache in a way she hadn’t experienced in a very long time.
Too bad there wasn’t anything she could do about it.
Chapter 11
The hospital arranged for a cot so Olivia could spend the night in Cole’s room. He’d been pretty doped up most of the day, in and out of drugged sleep. The doctor had confirmed with a CT scan that there was no damage hidden in Cole’s brain and he would probably be dismissed tomorrow by noon. Nonetheless, Olivia wanted to remain nearby in case he had a fitful night.
She insisted that Luke take Analise home and make her get some sleep. She assured them that Dave was going to stop by at the end of his shift; if she needed anything, he could take care of it.
Reluctantly, Analise followed Luke out of the hospital. She moved with leaden feet. For the past hour, Luke had noticed her rotating her shoulders as if they were cramping. She looked ready to drop face first on the floor.
Luke’s knee hampered his steps as they walked across the parking lot, but he was pretty sure she was too tired to notice. As he neared the car, he glanced at the sky. It was as breathtaking as it had been this morning. He stopped to say something about it to Analise and she ran right into the back of him.
“Oops. Sorry.” Her words sounded slightly muffled by fatigue.
He took her by the shoulders and pointed her west. He was now standing behind her. “Look there. We’ve watched both sunrise and sunset today.” He massaged the tight muscles in her shoulders. “Tomorrow will be better.”
She leaned back against him, a little moan riding out on her breath. “I hope so.”
They stood that way for a long moment. Luke wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her close to his chest. But the middle of the hospital parking lot was hardly the place, so he finally guided her to the car and opened the door.
As they drove out of town, they passed the site of the accident. Luke didn’t slow, but he saw Analise’s head turn as she held the skid marks and the deep gouges in the grass in her sight.
She said, “I don’t know why Olivia insisted I go home. I’ll never be able to sleep.”
Luke knew how she felt. It was familiar enough to him. But he also knew that at some point, no matter what the level of stress, the body takes over and gets what it needs. He’d been on three-day missions that required constant movement. On about the second day, at every five-minute breather, he fell completely and totally asleep, sometimes while still on his feet.
“You’ll sleep,” he said.
Even as she shook her head, he could see her eyelids grow heavier. By the time he pulled in the driveway, she’d fallen asleep against the door. When she didn’t awaken immediately when he shut off the engine, he took a few moments to sit in the quiet and just study her. Twilight was deepening, casting a shadow in the delicate hollow of her throat. The sheer vulnerability of that spot made Luke want to taste it, to allow his lips to linger there until she awakened. Would she welcome his advance, or turn him away?
He shook the fanciful thoughts out of his head; it was all moot speculation. He would never dare cross that line with her—unless she deliberately led him across. Fat chance.
Since sunset, a chill had risen. He should get her inside. “Ana?”
She curled deeper into the door.
He shook her slightly. “Analise. We’re here.”
She mumbled, “Slow down . . . too fast.”
He decided he’d just carry her in. But first he had to sit her upright or she’d fall out the door when he opened it. He put his arms around her, pulling her toward him.
She shivered. Then she screamed, “No!”
He touched her cheek. “Ana. It’s all right. You’re home.”
Shaking her head blearily, she said, “I was dreaming.”
“Let’s get you inside.” He unfastened her seat belt.
She fumbled for the door latch like a drunk. He reached across and lifted it for her. He started to straighten back up when she grabbed a fistful of his shirt, stopping him with his face right in front of hers. He became aware of her chest rising and falling with her breath. Was her breathing faster, or was that just his own?
She licked her lips and pulled him slightly closer. “I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered. “You make me feel safe”—she inched her lips closer to his—“and in danger at the same time.”
When she kissed him, it was with none of the tentativeness of the previous night. The way her lips sought his, the way her hands clutched his shoulders, spoke of desperate yearning. He responded with equal hunger when she opened her mouth to him.
This had to stop, he told himself, even as he slid his hands into her hair.
She rolled against him, turning until his back was against the seat and she was cradled against his chest. He cupped the back of her head with his hand and kissed his way closer to that hollow in her throat that had been so tempting just seconds earlier. When his tongue flicked gently there, she buried her hands in his hair, pulling him closer as she dropped her head back, offering more of herself to him.
“Let’s go inside,” she said breathlessly, her intent clear.
For one brief second, he struggled. But he kissed her lips again, slowly, then said, “All right.”
Once out of the car, she took his hand and led him to the back door.
He stopped her just before she opened it. “We forgot to lock it.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “It’s all right. We hardly ever lock this door.”
He grunted. “You’ve never had anyone throw a rock through your window before.” He stepped around her. “I’ll go first.”
She let out a little snort. “This is Grover, not Guatemala.”
Snapping his head around to look at her, he said, “Don’t be fooled. Crazy people are everywhere.”
“Okay. You go first,” she said, mocking a dare.
“I’m not joking.”
She gave a contrite frown. “Sorry.”
He went in, holding her hand and flipping on lights. He kept her with him as he went through the house. Once he was satisfied nothing looked amiss, he returned and locked the back door while she fed the cats, Skippy and Rufus.
The temporary interruption in their passion allowed Luke to regain his control. Shit, he’d been ready to have sex with her right there in his car. The whole idea made him ashamed. All of his high ideals about how Calvin should have cherished this woman somehow had taken flight. She deserved better than Luke could give—she deserved honesty.
She let Rufus out the back door and relocked it.
When she came back to Luke, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him lightly. He returned the kiss, swearing to himself this would be the last one. Then she took his hand and led him up the stairs.
As she led him through her bedroom door, he stopped.
She turned around, a questioning expression on her face.
“I don’t think we should.”
She faced him and touched his cheek. “I don’t want to be alo
ne.”
Oh, God, he didn’t want to be alone, either. He wanted to be with her.
He looked beyond her, to where the moonlight fell onto her bed—the bed she’d shared with Calvin.
Her gaze followed his. As if she could read his thoughts, she said, “We can go to your room.”
“You don’t know how much I want to.”
“But . . . ?” she said.
“But this isn’t the time. You’re exhausted, emotionally drained.”
She looked down, her lashes casting delicate shadows on her cheeks. “Luke, I really don’t want to be alone.”
“All right.” He took her hand and led her to his room and closed the door on the rest of Calvin’s house.
She took her shoes off and lay down on the bed.
Covering her body with his, he kissed her once. Then he rolled them over, so he was on his back and she on her side against him. He pulled her close. “Go to sleep, Ana.”
She laid a hand over his heart. “You’ll stay with me?”
“Yes.” As long as you need me.
Analise awakened sometime in the gray hours before dawn; much too early to call the hospital. She was spooned with her back against Luke’s chest, his hand draped over her waist. She lay perfectly still, listening to his steady breathing, unwilling to ruin the illusion that she would wake up this way every morning for the rest of her life.
How could this man, this stranger, make her feel more loved, more cherished with one chaste night than her husband of eight years ever did?
With that thought, the guilt, the sense of disloyalty, came crashing home. Olivia and Cole were her family. Her responsibility. She could never openly love Luke in Olivia’s household—and she could never leave.
She’d made a bargain, a trade. She’d been over the moon for Calvin, but he’d wrung that love out of her one neglectful day at a time. And she’d decided she would stay anyway. She took what she’d found here, a warm home, a loving family, as a substitute for an attentive husband. For several years, she’d been happy with that trade.
Then Luke had come and awakened things she’d convinced herself no longer existed within her. And now she lay with the heat of him pressed against her back, his gentle caring having guarded her through the night. It would be so easy to love him.
Temptation bloomed, her desire to feel like a woman flaring to bright life. She couldn’t have forever with this man, but if she was going to have anything at all, it had to be now. Later today Olivia and Cole would come home. In a couple of weeks, the job for the county would be done and Luke would be gone.
Slowly, carefully, she turned in his arms. She settled her head next to his on the pillow. His eyes opened.
For a long time, he just looked at her, his expression unreadable. Then she put her hand on his cheek. It was rough from two days’ stubble. It felt wonderful and masculine. She allowed her fingers to toy with the coarseness, first with the soft skin on the back of her fingers, then with her fingertips. Still he held her gaze, unblinking, not giving anything away.
Her heart sped up with the prospect of what she was about to do; her breath seemed to squeeze through her chest. It had been so long since she’d felt this way, her body throbbing with a single purpose, her heart aching in her chest.
What if he refused her, as he had last night?
For an instant she wavered. Could she stand the humiliation?
Her body answered for her. She knew if she didn’t take this chance, she would forever regret it. Humiliation be damned, she was doing this.
Ask him. Four words, that was all it would take. Make love to me. If he refused her, she would have lost little. A few days of strained misery—and then he’d be gone.
She gathered her courage and parted her lips to speak the words that, once said, would be irretrievable.
At that moment he finally moved, turning his head slightly, kissing the palm of her hand. He kept his gaze locked on hers as he did it, as if he were gauging her willingness, too.
Biting her lip to keep from begging for more, she waited.
His tongue tasted her palm, then he guided her hand until it rested over his heart. He pressed it flat on his chest until she could feel it beating strongly, rapidly. “See what you do to me?”
She pushed against his chest until he rolled onto his back. Straddling him, she gathered her hair and pulled it over her right shoulder.
He wrapped a length of it around his hand. “Beautiful.”
And the way he looked at her, she truly felt she was. Unbuttoning his shirt, she pulled it open and ran her hands over his chest and across his shoulders. “Beautiful.”
He laughed, a soft, languid, thoroughly masculine sound that stirred the fires deep within her.
She leaned down and kissed the flesh over his heart. Then she took his hand and placed it over her heart, which felt as if it were about to throb out of her chest. “See what you do to me?”
The heat in his eyes told her that her hesitation had been foolish. His hand cupped her breast through her clothing and she thought she’d burst into flame. How had she gone so long thinking this didn’t matter?
She rocked slightly against him, until he grabbed her waist and stopped her. “I want this to last,” he said as he cradled her face and drew her down for a kiss. “It has to last.” The way he said the words brought tears to her eyes. It was as if he, too, knew this was something that was only going to happen once. And his tone resonated with regret.
With a slowness that bordered on torture, they undressed one another. When she tugged with impatience, he stilled her, whispered calming words in her ears. And then he fired her need all the more with his own unhurried fingers, followed by lingering lips.
He was right. This had to last. Analise gave herself over to wrapping herself in every sensation, every touch, pushing away her driving need to rush to completion.
Once she slowed her pace, Analise explored his body. He was thickly muscled and fit, even though he’d spent a good deal of the past months in a hospital bed. Tenderly she traced every scar—and there were many more than she’d imagined. At first he tensed and started to pull away, but she persisted, loving every wound, every surgical scar, until she felt him tremble beneath her touch. He’d lived a life so far removed from what she understood, a life of hardship and sacrifice. She loved him gently, hoping to compensate for his pain.
His hands on her body began to be less gentle, more urgent. His kisses demanding. She welcomed the change, was thrilled by the prospect that he was as desperate as she to have their bodies truly joined.
Taking her hands in his, he placed them beside her head and raised himself up to look into her eyes as he completed their union. The caring that Analise saw in those eyes stole her breath. She wanted to freeze this moment in time, to have his heated gaze hold her in everlasting love, to remain in this wondrous moment, never to have to come back down to earth.
As the first brilliant rays of the morning sun shone through the window, he took her to the place she’d yearned for, with an intensity and passion she’d never even imagined possible.
The day brightened, illuminating the reality of Analise’s life in every detail of the room that surrounded her. She closed her eyes so she didn’t have to see the quilt made by Granny Lejeune, or the fresh flowers Olivia had slipped into the room sometime late yesterday, or the shelf that Calvin had made in high school shop class.
She lay in Luke’s arms with her head resting on his chest, putting off the inevitable, enjoying the rare feel of masculine skin against her own.
Once her breathing returned to normal and the perspiration on her skin cooled, she said, “I don’t want you to misunderstand.” Pausing, she waited, hoping that Luke would take it from there and she wouldn’t have to explain.
But he didn’t say, I know what a difficult position you’re in, or I’m really not interested in anything permanent, either. He stroked her back and remained quiet. She did detect a slight tightening of his muscles, though, as
if dreading her next words.
She rolled away from Luke, pulling the covers around her. “I have Olivia and Cole to think of.” Although she didn’t say his name, Calvin landed on the bed between them. There was no way for them to be together, here in this house, without his ghostly presence. Calvin was their link, his death the only reason they lay together here now.
Luke sighed and picked up her hand. He kissed the days-old burn on the back of it. She’d gotten the injury while working on the bench that she and Luke had shared in the garden last night. She’d only finished it and placed it in the yard the day before he came to Magnolia Mile. It astounded her to see that her life had been totally turned upside down, her heart irrevocably changed, in less time than it took a blister to fade.
He said, “You have a life here—there’s no way I’ll fit into it. I never thought I would.”
She couldn’t help the feeling of relief, as if she were a schoolgirl and had just been assured her misbehavior wouldn’t be discovered.
He caressed her hand with his thumb, then laid it back on the bed by her side. “I don’t want to make things more difficult for you.” He paused and she felt him shift on the bed. “But I’m going to tell you right now, I’m not sorry we did this—I’m only sorry if you’re going to suffer for it.”
She twisted around to look at him. A tightness squeezed her heart. “Oh, I’m going to suffer.” When a shadow crossed his face, she said, “I’m going to suffer every time you’re close and I can’t touch you, every time you look at me like you are right now and I can’t kiss you.”
He traced his fingers along her jawline. “Would you rather I leave?”
“Yes.” As she kissed him, she knew as well as he did, he wasn’t going anywhere. Not until the county project was complete—how would Magnolia Mile manage otherwise?
Analise couldn’t decide which would create the illusion of innocence more convincingly: if she went back to the hospital alone, or if Luke came with her. In the end, she asked him to come along, mostly because she wanted to spend a few more private minutes with him.
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