by Carol Rose
"They're not an 'audience'," Lillie corrected, drawing on irritation to buffer the effect he had on her. "They're guests. And you can't expect them to drive all the way out here, park their cars in a soggy meadow, climb over hedges and rose bushes just to sit in chairs that'll sink eighteen inches into the ground."
"I thought optimism was your specialty, Pollyanna," Luke teased as a sudden gust of wind swirled around them.
Out of the blue, a loud clap of thunder shook the meadow. Both Luke and Lillie looked up at the sky only to have their faces washed by a startling curtain of rain. Lillie heard herself gasp as she instinctively dove for the closest cover, a spindly tree halfway up the meadow from the river.
She leaned back against the small trunk, trying to huddle under the thickest part of the sapling. Behind her, his back braced against the other side of the tree trunk, Luke started to laugh.
"I'm glad you find this so amusing--" she started, her words cut off by a spray of rain over her face as the sapling's limited leaf cover gave way. Thunder rolled overhead again, louder than before.
Lillie felt his hand on her arm, urging her around. To her dismay, he pulled her into his arms, sheltering her face against his shoulder. The smell of rain mingled with the scent of Luke, the heat and texture of him swirled all around her. She drew in a shuddering breath, her body on full sensual alert.
His hand trailed a warm path down her back, pausing to rest at her waist. The contrast between his touch and the chill of the rain made her shiver.
Huddled between Luke and the increasing rain, Lillie wrestled with the urge to lift her face to his, to feel his lips on hers.
Above them, thunder sounded again as a crack of lightning split the atmosphere.
"Come on," Luke ordered abruptly as he grabbed her by the wrist. "We've got to get to some shelter."
Before Lillie knew it, he dragged her around hedges and over small shrubs. A stone surface loomed in front of her briefly as she felt herself being lifted and tossed on to the covered porch of the abandoned house.
She slumped there, leaning against the solid building like a rag doll, shivering and gasping for air, her hair once more in a tangle on her shoulders. A twig of something green was tucked in her left shoe.
"This must be some sort of karma," she declared in a disgusted voice. "It's too much of a coincidence. You coming into my life to torment me, and occasionally subjecting me to drenching rainstorms."
"Wait a sec," he said, brushing back his damp hair. "I didn't get you into the first one. You did that yourself, and I just happened to come along and rescue you."
"And you'll never let me forget it," she muttered.
"No," Luke agreed, leaning his head against the house, his gaze brushing her face. "And, other than rainstorms, just exactly how do I torment you?"
"I've never seen rain hit so fast," she commented, ignoring his question.
"Maybe I torment you the same way you get to me," he said softly, as if she hadn't spoken. "Do I make you feel restless? Stir up fantasies that make you ache? That's what you do to me."
Lillie felt his smoldering gaze like a touch, making her suddenly aware of how damply her silky shirt clung, the thin polyester plastered against her body like a jealous lover. She felt her nipples bead up against the chill of the rain and the husky tone in his voice.
Her arms rose in automatic defense, crossing over her chest as she leaned on her raised knees. The scent of damp earth filtered up to where they sat, the fresh smell of rain mingled with the texture of growing things.
"We have voltage running between us," Luke murmured. "A hot current that just hums. You can't ignore it."
"Yes, I can," Lillie said, her voice unsteady.
The rain covered everything around them, splashing off the waxy leaves of magnolia trees and beading up on the silken petal of a rose nearly sheltered by the porch overhang. They were curtained off, perched on an island of wood and stone, and surrounded by the voluptuous sounds of nature's renewal.
The tension that lay between them, the smell of temptation, thick and sweet, seemed to rise and thicken.
She heard the slow drumbeat of her own heart, heard Luke's breathing, soft and rhythmic beside her. Lillie drew in her breath and tried to dispel the illusion of intimacy, tried to forget the feel of his embrace and arm herself against the warm sound of his voice brushing her ear.
Around them the rain drummed steadily, filling the air with a damp softness. Swallowing, she stared unseeing at the rain.
"Lillie...." His voice was low and husky beside her.
She turned, pulled by a force she couldn't understand. He was so near, so provocative and tempting. Her gaze met his and locked there, common sense deserting her as she leaned toward him, drawn by the urgency in his eyes.
Just one kiss. Just to cure herself of her attraction to him. One kiss to dispel the illusion of magic when she looked into his jaded eyes.
CHAPTER THREE
"Lillie," he whispered again, bending to kiss her.
She felt the thud of his heartbeat, his closeness surrounding her like the dark of night. His mouth fit against hers, warm and seeking, not the touch of a stranger, but something almost familiar...yet like no other kiss she'd known.
Luke pulled her into his arms, fitting her body against his until she lay in the crook of his arm, her face tilted for his caress. A shiver ran through her, a shimmer of sensation that skated over the surface of her skin before pooling into a warm glow in her midsection.
Without knowing why, she parted her lips and curled an arm around his neck. It was a mistake. She knew it the second she felt his shudder.
He entered her mouth slowly, tasting and savoring, brushing his mouth against hers in an agonizing torment of intensity. Lillie met his every move like a choreographed dance, falling freely into the teasing, drugging influence of his kiss.
It took the slow stroke of his hand on her arm to break the spell. In one instant, she absorbed the pleasure of his bare hand on her skin and a hundred lusty possibilities burst into her mind, all heated and hungry.
She pulled back, tearing her mouth from his as she gasped for air.
"I can't," Lillie muttered.
He groaned. "If that kiss is any sign, you surely can."
Luke's arms tightened around her.
"Stop." She braced her hands against his hard chest. "You're very...attractive," she hoped he couldn't feel the fluttering beating of her heart, "but I'm not interested in just scratching an itch."
Slowly he released her, his face enigmatic. "Sweetheart, the word itch doesn't begin to do this justice."
"Maybe not," Lillie tried to straighten her tumbled hair, "but I'm still not interested."
A sensual smile spread across his face. "At the risk of being ungentlemanly, I have to point out that we've proved you're very interested."
Lillie felt the boil of anger running up under her skin. "Why don't we just drop it," she snapped. "I'm not having a fling with you."
"First it's an itch, now a fling?"
"Well, what exactly would you call it?" she demanded, feeling flustered.
Luke ran a finger down her arm, the caress sending screaming signals through every nerve. "I'd say we're embarking on a mutually pleasurable relationship."
"Relationship?" The word bounded out of her mouth. "I was under the impression you didn't use the 'R' word."
He leaned back against the wall. "Wrong. I'm against Melanie getting married--"
"You said you didn't believe in true love," Lillie accused.
"--I also think that sexual attraction and compatible lifestyles are better foundations for marriage and family than something as unreliable as romantic love."
"Unreliable?" she said incredulously.
His smile took on a darker twist. "People fall into and out of it with equal frequency. Seems like a pretty foolish way to conduct a relationship."
"I see." Lillie stared into the wet garden, the rain still drumming down in sheets. She struggled wit
h the feeling that she'd just been given a significant piece to the puzzle of Luke's locked up heart, but her senses were so jumbled, she couldn't make use of it.
He was too disturbing, too close. Right now, she needed to put some distance between them--sixty or seventy miles might be enough.
Was the rejection Luke suffered at the hands of his first love powerful enough to destroy his trust in love forever? It hardly seemed possible, although Lillie knew how susceptible a young man could be to the depths of a heart-wrenching loss. Wasn't she trying to keep her brother from just such a catastrophe?
Even so, she had to resist the temptation Luke offered or lose her own sense of direction in life. Knowing some of the reasons behind his dismissal of love left her paradoxically wary and tender toward him.
Despite how it may appear to Luke, she wasn't an uptight prude. If he'd given indication of being a man seeking a soul mate, Lillie might very well have allowed herself to succumb to the deep pull of his attraction. But as things stood, it could only be self-destructive to fall for and make love with a man who hoarded his emotions as fiercely as a miser.
"I respect your right to have a different outlook on this thing," Lillie said finally. "But I'm not going to have a sexual relationship with you."
Luke met her determined gaze, a hint of amusement lurking in his dark eyes. "If you're so much in favor of love and marriage, why aren't you married yourself?"
"There's a little matter of finding the right man," she said stiffly, hating the defensive note in her voice.
"I see. You're looking and you just haven't found Mr. Right. But I'd think a beautiful woman like yourself would have plenty of guys willing to 'fall in love' with you." He lifted a taunting eyebrow, waiting for her response.
"There have been one or two," she replied even more stiffly.
"What was the problem, then? Didn't they measure up either?"
"It isn't a matter of 'measuring up,'" Lillie retorted. "I don't think it's asking too much to want to be important to the man you marry."
"So you had unrealistic expectations in your past relationships, and when the guys didn't meet them, you gave them the boot, Pollyanna?"
"Don't call me that!" Lillie felt her face flush as words crowded hotly on her tongue. "There's no crime in having high expectations. At least when mine are met I'll have something worth hanging on to. You're deliberately setting your expectations low so you won't get hurt, but you also won't know the deep, lifelong love my parents had."
Luke shook his head, a faint bitterness at the back of his eyes. "The illusion of love being all, conquering all."
"Love can conquer all," she said, hating the faint shakiness in her voice. "I've witnessed it."
Luke met her gaze after a moment of silence, his smile enigmatic. "So," he leaned back against the wall, "we'll use the garden for Mel's wedding. If it comes off."
"What? I never agreed to that," Lillie denied, struggling to keep pace with his sudden change of subject. "I still think it's an impractical idea. A nightmare from a coordinator's perspective."
"I tell you what," he offered, "I happen to have a key to the house with me. We'll inspect the kitchens and the dressing space. If you still think it's a lousy idea, I'll consider other sites--" He raised a hand when she opened her mouth to speak. "But none of those bland, regulation church places."
"This doesn't sound like much of a compromise," Lillie commented with irony.
"Have I told you I'm not good at making concessions?"
"No, but it doesn't come as a surprise." She stared out at the garden absently. "Okay, I'll at least look at the inside of the house. But if it's a mess, which I'm convinced it will be, we find somewhere else and this wedding will 'come off'."
Luke wondered if she knew how easy she was to read. Her cheeks still held a peachy flush from his kiss, her mouth trembled ever so slightly. God, she had a great mouth. Small and heart-shaped, as sweet as candy. Who'd have guessed she kissed like a witch's apprentice, as sinful as midnight and as dangerous as black magic.
"If you think the inside of the house isn't workable, we'll talk about alternatives." Luke's mouth twitched but he managed to keep the satisfied smile from spreading.
Lillie looked at him through narrowed eyes, apparently aware he was hedging his bets. She was a sharp cookie, all right. Still too romantic and ridiculously optimistic, but not as drifty as he'd first thought. She stood by her lovesick brother with the fierce loyalty of a woman who held tightly to her convictions. But her expectations were as high as the moon.
Still that kind of loyalty made her attractive on some levels. He could see her mothering a loving family. For sure, a child growing up with her brand of affection would never doubt his mother's love.
If he could cure her of her idealistic nonsense about "falling in love," she might be a woman worth getting to know better.
The sound of drumming rain filled the sudden silence, awareness running like a fine wire between them.
His gaze shifted over her pale heart-shaped face, surrounded by the delicious tangle of hair. How would it feel to lose himself in that glorious mass of hair? She'd be an intelligent lover, he knew. A woman who gave as good as she got. Luke hated to admit it, but she intrigued him. He loved to poke at her cherished beliefs just to get a rise out of her.
"So, after coordinating all these weddings, you must have come up with some ideas for you own marital event," he commented when the silence between them lengthened.
"Yes." A faint expression of wariness crept into her eyes.
"Tell me about it," he invited, drawn to solve her like a puzzle.
"You can't possibly be interested in that," Lillie declared.
"Oh, but I am," he teased. "Just think of it as me giving you the opportunity to convert me."
"I don't go in for lost causes," she informed him, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"Come on," he coaxed. "You're refusing to make out with me. The least you can do is make conversation."
"I thought we were going to look at the house."
"We are," he promised. "I just have to recoup my strength after dragging you out of the storm. Tell me about your wedding."
She glared at him a moment before her face relaxed. "Okay, but only if you promise not to laugh."
"Scouts' honor."
That brought the laughter to her eyes. In the best of times, he was a long way from being a boy scout.
"Okay, but you have to try to envision it."
"All right." But he didn't close his eyes, not wanting to miss the shifting expressiveness of her face.
"Imagine pink roses. Old-fashioned ones, big and heavy with lots of open petals. All colors of pink and red and white, their perfume heavy in the air, but so natural you just can't get enough."
"I'm imagining," he murmured, enduring the urge to bend closer to sample her scent. The memory of it clung to his senses, a teasing, haunting glimpse of her sensuality. She smelled better than roses.
"It would be a garden wedding--"
"Ahhhh." Luke couldn't resist making the satisfied sound. He knew she'd love this setting, even if she needed to disagree at first, as a matter of principle.
"But not an overgrown place like this," Lillie hastily added. "Someplace courtly and historic, like one of the Victorian houses around here."
"Go on," he prodded.
"I don't really have the specifics," she admitted almost shyly. "I've always thought that the groom should have as much input as he wants. So some of the details will be added by whoever I marry."
She leaned her head back against the wall. "I just know the feeling I want. Children, laughter, friends. A natural, open expression of our mutual love celebrated in the presence of those we cherish. I know that's how my groom will feel about it. He won't be afraid to be sentimental and tender, to let his feelings show."
"He'll probably be so overcome, he'll cry all the way through the honeymoon," Luke commented, irritated at the thought of this unknown superhero.
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Lillie stiffened. "I might have known you'd see it that way. I'm ready to look at the house now." Scrambling away from the porch wall, she got to her feet and stalked to the front door, disgust obvious in her every move.
Hormones were a terrible burden to a man. Luke knew he should feel repentant, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything but grin.
* * *
Lillie wiggled the key in the lock of her front door. "Hang on a second. Sometimes this lock is stubborn."
Luke stood behind her, his nearness setting off her internal radar. It had taken her two weeks after their interlude in the rain to set up a time to view other possible wedding sites. The hours in his presence this afternoon, driving from one church to another, had tried her endurance. Somehow, without ever really getting out of line, he'd managed to make her hypersensitive to every nuance between them.
She couldn't forget that kiss, couldn't banish the melting sensation from the pit of her stomach. More than that, she couldn't help thinking about Luke's fiancée dumping him. Somehow he didn't seem the type to let one fickle woman warp his whole life outlook.
"Here, let me do it," he offered as her fingers fumbled with the lock.
"I'll have it open in a second and get those brochures for you. It just needs a certain twist."
"It needs to be replaced," Luke corrected. "If you had a man around here, he could take care of these kinds of things."
"Locksmiths are less trouble," she retorted.
He laughed. "Don't be so sure."
"I'm sure--" Lillie broke off as the sound of footsteps on the sidewalk caught her attention. Both she and Luke turned, the steps drawing nearer.
An attractive woman in her mid-fifties stood on the walk to Lillie's bungalow, her dark hair and delicate features strangely familiar.
"Excuse me, are you Lillie Parker?"
"Yes, I am." Lillie took a step forward.
The woman smiled, her face relaxing as she offered her hand. "Good. I'm Janet Howard. I understand you're coordinating..." Her words trailed off as her gaze traveled to Luke for the first time.
"Luke?" the woman asked, incredulous and shaken at the same time.