His Sister's Wedding

by Carol Rose

  In that instant, she couldn't deny herself his kiss. Just one more, then she'd strengthen her defenses. But right at this moment, she craved his caress more than chocolate.

  Lillie felt herself sway toward him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Luke brushed her mouth with his, softly at first, a tantalizing shift of lips. Lillie felt the world spin slower, the tick of time rush by without notice. He felt like velvet, warm and lush, his kiss impossibly soft and mesmerizing.

  It didn't matter that they were on a dance floor with other people. It didn't matter that she was in the middle of a job. Her only consciousness was of him--Luke holding her, kissing her.

  He pulled her closer and the kiss turned darker, an intimate tumble into midnight. Lillie's arms slid up around his neck as she angled her mouth to meet him.

  The earthquake should have been felt in China. Lillie certainly felt it, every particle of her being shaken with the hum and vibration of a shifting vortex that consumed them both, locked in each other's arms.

  It wasn't until lust began curling through her belly that sanity returned. Somehow she knew this sensation, knew the heady desire to shed her clothing and have her way with him. It seemed as familiar as her own heartbeat.

  Lillie braced her hands on his shoulders. Shocked and disturbed by the feelings that rocked her, she pushed against him and broke their contact.

  Her eyes flew open, her startled gaze locking with his. Even as she backed away, she registered the dazed, primitive desire in his eyes. And it excited her more than she would have thought possible.

  How could a kiss feel so right when the man was so wrong?

  "I, uh, I have to clean up," she mumbled, almost stumbling in her haste to get away from him. "I need to clean up."

  Pivoting away, she fled the dance floor, heading blindly for the kitchen. Reaching the service door, she stopped abruptly and felt the solid thud of Luke against her back. Had he been following that closely through her whole escape?

  Lillie swiveled around as his hands came up to steady her. She knew her face still held a strange mix of passion and horror. "I have to take care of some things before we can...leave to check out the band."

  "Let me help," he murmured, his hands strong and steady on her arms.

  "No!" she said with a sense of panic. She needed to catch her breath, needed space for sanity to return. "I won't be long."

  "I'll help you," he insisted, the warmth of his touch seeping into her. "Think of it as a gesture of goodwill between the sexes."

  * * *

  The night club door swung shut behind them, dimming the vibration of the band as they stepped out into the clean night air. Lillie filled her lungs with its freshness, trying to erase the lingering scent of cigarette smoke and loosen the tension that held her tight.

  Beside her, Luke walked in silence. The impact of his presence thrummed through her veins. All through the evening, the memory of being in his arms refused to diminish, sensations hovering in her brain like a permanent imprint. Sitting in the dark atmosphere of the club with the mournful notes of a saxophone winding sensuously between them, she'd felt the tension in her body thrumming like the strings of the guitar.

  She drew in another breath, this time trying to calm her agitation as the night closed in around them, intimate and soft as a sigh.

  They walked across the parking lot to his car. Lillie struggled with a sense of inevitability, the inescapable feeling of connection with Luke Morgan. Nothing about it was reasonable. He was a man who'd locked his emotions away so effectively, he'd shut out his own mother.

  And yet, it hung there between them, an awareness of possibilities, an ache for something beyond passion. Everything seemed jumbled, her feelings toward him a tangled mess. How could she want to comfort him when she wanted to strangle him? And through it all came a drumbeat of longing for his touch.

  Impelled by her nervousness, Lillie groped for conversation. "What did you think of the band? They were really in good form tonight. Don't you think they would work for the wedding? Not too stuffy, but not too wild?"

  "The band is okay," Luke said, his words brief in comparison to her anxious chattiness. He unlocked the car door for her.

  "Good. Do you want me to schedule them for the reception?" she asked when they'd both gotten in and Luke started the motor.

  "I guess they'll do," he said indifferently.

  His lack of enthusiasm wasn't very encouraging, but the awareness that hummed between them kept Lillie from commenting.

  They drove to her house in silence, the tension in Lillie tightening like a cord. When Luke stopped his car in front of the bungalow, he turned off the engine and looked at her, his face shadowed.

  "Are you going to invite me in?" His words held the brush of velvet and moonlight.

  It was just like Luke to ask her so directly, no pretense of coffee or a nightcap. He looked at her as if they were already making love, his eyes dark and heavy with desire. He looked at her as if nothing could be more natural, more right, than to ask to spend the night in her arms.

  Lillie shivered as the sensation of his kiss washed over her again. She couldn't invite him in, even to offer him a drink. He was too much a temptation, and she suspected, too easily able to sway her into doing what she shouldn't do. It scared her, the power of his effect on her. The man who didn't trust feelings made her feel things she'd never known before.

  "I don't think that would be a good idea, Luke," she murmured, lowering her head so he couldn't see the regret in her eyes. If he'd been a fraction more open to his feelings, there might have been hope for them.

  He didn't respond for a long moment.

  "We still have a lot to do to be ready for the wedding," Lillie said, changing the subject abruptly in hope of breaking the spell his presence cast on her.

  His continued silence compelled her to look up, only to have her gaze caught by his.

  "You're a beautiful woman," Luke said abruptly. "Why are you wasting your time waiting for some unrealistic, idealized lover?"

  Jolted by his comment about her being beautiful, it took Lillie several seconds before his question sunk in. She felt herself stiffening. "I don't think its being unrealistic to want a man who's comfortable with his feelings and willing to commit emotionally to a woman."

  Although she'd started out calmly enough, her voice rose on the last word. It was just like a man to declare himself out of the game and then insist on criticizing a woman for how she played it. Luke didn't want love, but he felt he had the right to criticize her for needing it.

  "You're a dreamer, Lillie. A beautiful, sweet Pollyanna. But those kinds of dreams can lead to all sorts of problems. They make you vulnerable."

  "That's not true!" she fired back indignantly.

  "Sweetheart, you want roses and poetry and long walks at midnight. Give you those things and you'll fall in love. Do you know how easy it would be for me to pretend? For any guy?" He leaned toward her, his face intense. "I could tell you that you're the most beautiful woman in the world, that just seeing you makes me feel ten feet tall. If I told you that I adore you, that I hear bells every time we kiss--you'd fall for it, wouldn't you?"

  Lillie heard the thunder of her own heart, the silly, stupid flicker of hope in her midsection. What she would have given for...someone...to say those words and mean them.

  "Lillie," Luke leaned toward her, the back of his hand brushing her face. "There's a fire between us. A big-time sizzle with enough chemistry to blow the state off the map. Something this good doesn't come along often."

  Her throat felt paralyzed, the thunder of her pulse ringing in her ears. Longing and anger tumbled together, churning in her chest.

  Luke didn't mean any of those soft, powerful words.

  Pulling back just enough to break contact, Lillie asked, "I'm supposed to listen to your advice on relationships? You're talking about sex, not love. What about commitment? Marriage and children? Don't they matter?"

  Luke straightened, ann
oyance visible on his face even in the poor light. "I believe in marriage when children are involved, but not the kind of marriage that blows up when one partner 'falls in love' with someone else. I think choosing a life mate on the basis of something as fleeting as feelings is poor judgment."

  "How detached and unemotional," Lillie mocked. "You wouldn't want to generate too much involvement in any marriage of yours."

  "My way is a heck of a lot more likely to promote happiness than the romantic roller coaster you want to ride."

  "The real truth of it is that you just want to party, moving from woman to woman without any kind of expectations or commitment." Her words rushed out, impelled by the cacophony of emotions he riled in her.

  "I think you should get to know me a little better before you make those kinds of accusations," he argued, his voice grim.

  "When a man like you wants to 'get to know' a woman, he always means it in the Biblical sense," she retorted. "I'm not interested."

  "Liar," he said. "And you're making assumptions about me that aren't true."

  "I suppose you're planning a cold, practical marriage because you believe in commitment and monogamy?" she snorted.

  "I believe in monogamy," said Luke. "I just don't think it's necessary to be sappy about it."

  "Sappy? You're calling love, the passion that has driven the world for decades, sappy?"

  Luke stared through the windshield for a moment, visibly struggling to shut down his irritation. When he spoke, his voice was level. "Can you honestly say that most marriages based on 'falling in love' are successful? Doesn't the divorce rate tell us that we're doing something wrong?"

  "There isn't any one thing that causes divorce," she refuted. She didn't have the answers to every break-up, but she knew they weren't caused by too much love.

  "Lillie," Luke's voice was soft now. "Romance is nice, all the ribbons and bows and sweet words, but those kinds of frills don't make for eternal bliss. A man wants a woman he can trust, one he knows will be there for him even if he happens to forget their anniversary or is allergic to Valentine's Day cards."

  "You want an excuse to be inattentive," she retorted.

  Luke chuckled. "Honey, you and I could live together for a lifetime and you'd never have to worry about my being 'inattentive.'"

  "Sex," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "How long can that hold two people together?"

  "I'm betting at least as long as romance," Luke said dryly. "Love is overrated."

  Lillie stared at him. He was wrong. How many couples celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary claimed a great sex life had kept them together?

  "Love is not overrated," she denied. "It's worth everything. I can't give facts and figures to convince you because love isn't about logic. It's about caring for someone else as much as you do yourself. It's about laughter and joy. And pain, sometimes."

  She opened the car door. "Goodnight, Luke."

  He got out of the car and strode silently beside her up the walk to her door, the darkness enveloping them. She could feel his presence like a physical touch. It amazed her how much such a common protective gesture warmed her heart considering how depressed their conversation had left her.

  No matter how tempted she was by him, how he seduced her senses, she knew she couldn't let Luke pull her into a loveless, passion-filled arrangement. And yet, regret clung to her as stubbornly as the shadows around the bungalow.

  "Goodnight, Luke," she offered again, bracing to withstand the seduction of his touch.

  "Goodnight." He made no attempt to kiss her, but didn't turn to go.

  Feeling awkward, Lillie inserted her key and wrestled with the door lock. For some reason, it seemed more resistant than usual. She frowned as the key stayed stuck but the door pushed open at her touch.

  Lillie groped automatically for the light switch as the door swung open. Her hand brushed the switch, flooding the room with light.

  The debacle that met Lillie's shocked eyes surprised a scream from her throat.

  Her living room was completely trashed. The drawers of her grandmother's antique desk had been torn out and thrown on the floor. The television sat at an awkward angle, cords dangling like a cardiac patient ripped loose from its monitors. The couch had been shoved out of position in the crook's haste and a table lamp lay shattered on the floor.

  Fear blossomed in Lillie's stomach, an instant rush of acid through her veins.

  From behind her, she heard Luke's muttered oath, then felt his hands firm on her shoulders as he set her aside and strode into the house.

  Moving quickly, he scanned the room before going into the kitchen. Within moments, he walked back through the living room and checked the bedroom and bath.

  "Call the police," he directed as he crossed the door to her adjoining office.

  "All right," Lillie murmured, shaking all over as she went to the phone and dialed the emergency number. She couldn't believe it. Someone had come into her home and gone through all her things. A stranger ripped out the drawers of her desk and rifled anything that took his fancy. Impossible images kept playing in her head. What if she'd been here when the thief or thieves had broken in?

  Her breath clogged in her chest, a tight bubble she couldn't release.

  Her DVD was missing and it looked as if the thieves had found her father's small stash of gold coins. Thank heavens she'd been wearing her mother's pearls.

  "Emergency services," a calm female voice answered when Lillie's shaking fingers pressed 911.

  "My house has been broken into," Lillie blurted out. She drew in a breath to keep from sobbing.

  "Is the intruder still there? Is he armed?" the operator asked.

  "No, I don't think anyone's here. I just came home and found it like this," Lillie said, trying to calm herself.

  "Okay. Let me verify your address and we'll send a squad car out," the woman said.

  Lillie stammered the required information, barely aware of Luke opening closet doors as he methodically searched the house.

  Hanging up the phone, Lillie felt reaction setting in. She wasn't so naive that she didn't know terrible things happened in the world. But they'd never happened to her. And reality bit a lot deeper than seeing the evening news.

  She gazed around her, feeling as if she'd stumbled into a nightmare.

  Hand shaking, she bent to pick up a pillow from the floor intending to replace it back on the couch. Her hand stopped in midair. The sense of violation kept her from touching anything.

  "Are you okay?" Luke asked.

  "I'm fine and the police are on the way," she said.

  "What's missing?" he asked, scanning the room.

  "My DVD, some gold coins. I don't know what else." She looked around the demolished living room. "I haven't really checked."

  "Why don't we go wait in the kitchen," Luke suggested, glancing down at her trembling hands. "I'll make you some coffee or something."

  Feeling tears gathering in her eyes as reaction set it, she let him lead her through the open doorway to the relative sanctuary of the kitchen. In here, everything looked the way she'd left it with the exception of the flour and sugar canisters having been dumped in the sink.

  Lillie sank into a chair at the table, brushing self-consciously at the tears streaming down her face.

  "Where do you keep your coffee?" He opened a cabinet at random. "You'll feel better when you have something warm to drink."

  "I drink tea," she responded automatically, sniffing back her tears. "In the second door on the right. The tea pot is on the stove."

  "No coffee," Luke muttered under his breath, rummaging till he found the tea bags and cups.

  "I'm sorry to be such a baby about this," she said, feeling awkward. "It's just that it's such a shock."

  "Don't be ridiculous," he said, filling the tea pot and placing it on the stove. "It's only natural that you'd be upset. I'd be worried if you weren't."

  "Well, you're being very nice about everything." Lillie stared at h
er clasped hands, tears threatening again.

  "Sweetheart," Luke said, pulling out a chair to sit next to her, "even tough guys have their uses."

  Lillie chuckled, smiling damply at him as his hand covered hers where they rested on the table.

  "You know," he said, "there are a lot of good practical reasons to be with someone you can rely on. It's a lot easier to face the crummy things in life if you have a man there with you. Someone to help shoulder the load."

  She knew the point he was trying to make. "I agree, but I want that someone to love me completely, dizzyingly. I don't just want a partner in a marriage that's more business than emotion."

  "So you're waiting?" Luke questioned, brows lifted. "If you'd have been home tonight, you might not have lived to meet Mr. Right. What good is love then?"

  "I'm not going to settle for half a relationship," Lillie said, tugging her hands free of his to brush away the traces of her tears. "Just because I'm afraid to live alone? The jerks who broke in didn't know that I'm single."

  "You have an initial on the mailbox instead of a first name," he pointed out as she got up to get the kettle off the stove. "It's almost always single women who do that."

  "So I should marry for convenience just to get a man's name for my mailbox?" she questioned with exasperation.

  "There are other benefits. Don't you ever get lonely? Tired of coming home to an empty house?

  Don't you ever want to wake up and hear someone else's voice in the morning?"

  Lillie arranged the tea bags in the cups with infinite care, not wanting to turn to face him, not wanting him to see the longing in her eyes. Loneliness was a frequent visitor and there were days when she hungered for the simple warmth of a hug.

  "You're the kind of woman who needs a family," Luke continued. "Kids of your own to bake cookies for, a daughter who’s wedding you'll coordinate someday."

  Not responding to the evocative images his words conjured up, she poured the hot water over the tea bags. The soft sound of his step told her he'd crossed the kitchen to stand behind her. She felt the warmth of his nearness, her body coming alive as if plugged in.