by Carol Rose
"There are a lot of good things to share together," he said softly. "Things that don't have anything to do with romance."
Luke turned her around to face him, his hand urging her chin up. "I want you more than I've ever wanted a woman. Isn't that enough?"
Looking up into his handsome, rugged face, surrounded by his tender protectiveness, Lillie could see how some women allowed themselves to settle. At that moment, she only wanted his kiss, only wanted to lose herself in his touch.
Just then, she heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway.
"They're here," she muttered, turning away from Luke with hands that shook still, but for a different reason than before.
Two officers stood on the front porch, one of them looking absurdly young in his neatly pressed uniform.
"Are you Lillie Parker?" an older, heavy-set officer asked.
"Yes," she said, holding the door open.
"This is your house?"
"Yes, Officer."
The policeman turned to Luke. "And your name, sir?"
"Luke Morgan. I brought Miss Parker home about one o'clock."
The officer made a note on his pad before turning to Lillie. "Why don't you tell us what happened," he suggested, his tone becoming almost fatherly.
Lillie summarized the sequence of events as briefly as possible.
"Okay." The officer made a final note on his pad. "Miss Parker," he hesitated as he looked down into Lillie's tired face. "Uh, do you live here alone?"
"Yes," she admitted.
"Well, I don't think you ought to stay here tonight, Ma'am. That front door lock is useless. We'll double our patrolling in this area, but you'd be better off spending the night somewhere else until you get that lock fixed."
Lillie looked at him, startled. With everything that had happened in the last two hours, she hadn't considered something as mundane as where she'd sleep tonight.
"Of course. Thank you, Officer. I appreciate your concern," Lillie said, still struggling with the unreality of the whole situation.
The policeman smiled, his face slightly flushed as he muttered a goodbye and left the house.
Luke shut the door behind the police and turned to face her. Tall and broad, with an evening stubble shadowing his face, he looked both menacing and comforting to her senses.
"You okay?" he questioned for what seemed like the dozenth time that evening.
"Of course," she said irritably. She drew in a shaky breath and sank down on the couch. "I'm grateful it wasn't worse. But I feel so...invaded. Some strange man in my house, going through my things...."
"Don't think about it," Luke recommended, sitting next to her and finally drawing her into his arms. "Everything is okay now."
"Not only have I been burglarized," she tried to keep from sniffling, "but now the police want to ban me from my own home."
"You're welcome to stay at my place," he said, meeting her gaze steadily.
Stay with Luke? All night? Just the thought sent her already jangled nerves jumping. Lillie swallowed as the air in the room seemed to heat. "I don't think...that's a very good idea."
It sounded way too interesting.
"I think it's a very good idea. But if you want, I promise to keep my hands to myself," Luke offered softly, a smoky shadow in his eyes.
The trouble was that she didn't want him to keep his hands to himself. Lillie tipped her head up to meet his gaze. She felt herself leaning towards him infinitesimally, drawn by the comfort of his arms and the banked fire in his eyes.
His mouth descended on hers, the warm brush of his lips gentle on hers. With a whisper of a sigh, she sank against him, falling into the dark whirlpool of his kiss. He held her against his heartbeat, the solid reassurance of his arms surrounding her.
The cluttered, violated room dissolved around them as she drew in Luke's scent and let his touch flood her. With butterfly softness, he grazed her lips, the warmth of his breath fanning her cheek.
"I promise you'll be safe as a lamb at my place," he teased softly. "No more bogeyman to disturb you."
Lillie had to laugh even as the blood in her veins began to tango a sensuous rhythm. "I'm sorry to be such a baby about all this," she sighed.
"Hey," he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "You'll be all right. You're just a little shaken."
Lillie felt a smile curl the corner of her mouth. How many times had she heard her father say the same thing when her mom was panicking about an overbooked caterer or a bride who couldn't make up her mind about a color scheme?
"Stay at my place tonight," Luke invited again.
Staring up at him from the warmth and security of his arms, Lillie battled temptation. More than anything, she wanted to go with him, to spend the night in his arms. But she wasn't sure she'd want to face the morning light and the reality that she'd given herself to a man who couldn't love her.
Despite the seductive huskiness of his words in the kitchen, the message behind them was as disturbing as ever. He was offering only half of himself.
"It's very kind of you," Lillie said softly. "But I'll be okay here tonight. I'll just push a chair in front of the door. The thief won't come back."
"No way am I leaving you here by yourself," Luke declared flatly, his expression suddenly unequivocal. "You think a chair will keep that kind of guy from getting in?"
Lillie glanced around the room. She'd never felt unsafe here. Now she wondered if she'd ever feel safe anywhere. Truthfully, a large part of her wanted to hover next to Luke for a long time. It was irrational. Even Luke couldn't stop bullets. Still the thought of him leaving made her feel edgy.
"If you don't want to stay with me, why don't I take you to a friend's house?" he offered, his face concerned.
"It's after two o'clock in the morning," she protested. "I'll be all right here." She probably wouldn't get a wink of sleep but she refused to wake up a friend at two in the morning when she wasn't in dire need.
"We could probably find you a motel room," Luke said reluctantly. "But I'd feel better if you were with someone."
"I've been robbed. That doesn't mean I need a keeper."
"You need more than a keeper," he retorted. "You need someone to make you see sense."
"I guess a motel would be best." Lillie tried to keep the hesitant tone out of her voice. "It's just so impersonal."
Luke stared at her, a considering look on his face.
"Listen," she said, her conscience kicking in, "it's not your problem. I can drive myself to the motel." She pulled out of his arms with a determined smile. "Thanks for staying with me. You've been wonderful."
He let her move away, his arms falling to his sides. "I'm not through being wonderful. I think you should stay at my place tonight--"
She opened her mouth to protest.
"--and I'll stay here," he finished.
"You'll stay here? I can't let you do that!"
"Why not?"
"You're not much safer here than I would be," she argued. "What if they come back with a gun?"
"Honey," he ran a hand down his face, "I'm tired. And when I'm tired, I'm mean. Believe me, I'll be okay."
"I don't think it's safe," she repeated.
"I'll be fine and it's the quickest way for us both to get some sleep tonight," Luke said.
He did look tired, she realized, feeling her own weariness as reaction took its toll. "I guess you're right," Lillie said reluctantly. "If you'll give me directions to your place, I'll accept your hospitality."
Rather than giving her directions, Luke drove to his apartment, Lillie following behind in her van. All the way over, she wondered if she was insane. What was so bad about a motel? It's cold and lonely, a part of her argued. Particularly when she felt chilled and scared anyway.
What would Luke's apartment be like? It was hard to imagine. He didn't seem like the kind of man to be contained inside four walls.
He lived in a small apartment complex, she found, not far from his business. Lillie parked her
van in the lot and climbed the stairs after him, suddenly aware of just how intimate the situation had become. Even if he wasn't there, sleeping over at Luke's place roused disturbing feelings in her.
When he unlocked the door and she followed him in, Lillie wasn't surprised. It wasn't a big apartment, just a kitchen, bath and bedroom besides the small living area.
Everything about the space seemed utilitarian and somehow masculine. A comfortable brown and gold plaid couch shared a corner with a nondescript recliner--both positioned to face the television. A stack of books on landscaping and small business management decorated the scarred coffee table. A pair of work boots sat on top of newspapers that cluttered the floor next to the recliner.
"Come on in." Luke scooped a t-shirt and a pair of socks off the floor without apparent embarrassment. "The bedroom is in here, bath off to the left. I don't have any tea, but there's coffee in the kitchen if you need caffeine to get you going in the morning. Towels are in the closet in the bathroom."
He headed into the kitchen and Lillie heard him slam-dunk his handful of laundry into the washer.
"Make yourself at home." He came back into the living room where she still stood, feeling more than a little awkward with the situation. "You know where to find me if you need anything," he directed as if he'd appointed himself her guardian.
She followed him to the door, forcing herself to pay attention to his instructions about the locks.
"Goodnight, Ms. Parker," Luke paused in the doorway, a smile lighting his eyes. "Thanks for a lovely evening."
CHAPTER FIVE
When he was gone, Lillie wandered through the apartment. Despite the late hour, she felt tense.
Even with a lingering guilt at her nosiness, she couldn't help being curious about Luke and how he lived. Everything about the apartment echoed him--not by design, she was sure. She couldn't imagine Luke doing anything as civilized as "decorating."
Still the solid wood furniture with its durable upholstery, the occasional sports poster tacked on the wall--everything seemed to reveal Luke. Everything about the place was no-frills basic. Like the man who occupied the space, the apartment offered utilitarian comfort with no extras. The curtains that covered the windows had obviously been chosen to do just that.
The only picture graced the top of the television, a smiling Melanie peering out of a cheap frame. Did Luke deliberately eschew soft pillows and matching table cloths or was he just personally incapable of choosing them?
Although the rooms weren't spick and span, the apartment wasn't as trashed as she'd expected. Lillie drifted into the kitchen, telling herself she wanted a drink of water. As she would have expected, dishes sat in the sink waiting to be washed by the dirty-dish fairy.
Opening his refrigerator, she discovered a slab of take-out pizza, still in the box, a carton of whole milk, a six pack of beer with one can missing and a withered head of iceberg lettuce. The freezer full of frozen dinners.
Typical bachelor fare.
If ever a man needed a woman's touch, it was Luke. She couldn't help wondering why, if he preferred this spartan lifestyle, he was attracted to her? Did he, down deep, long for softness and romance?
Scolding herself for the ridiculous thought, Lillie went back into the living room and determinedly turned on the television. If the late night shows didn't bore her into exhaustion, nothing would.
Sitting on the couch, she found herself idly glancing at some papers placed near Luke's stack of books. Research reports on treating pests in local trees. A paper outlining effective organic pesticides. He apparently took his business seriously.
She flicked off the television after a few minutes, fatigue settling in even though she still felt edgy.
Going into Luke's bedroom took effort. A wicked part of her mind couldn't help thinking about what it would be like to share the room with Luke. But Lillie subdued the wayward thoughts by reminding herself that she probably wouldn't be the first to do so.
Surely he hadn't lived here when he was engaged, her rational side said. Did he have mementoes of his old girlfriends.
Another part of her prayed he wasn't one of those playboys who liked to leave women's lingerie dangling from the ceiling fan.
Was she misjudging him? Just because he'd set his sights on her with the determination of a hunter didn't mean he wanted to conquer the entire female population, despite his supposedly broken heart.
He'd been a sweetheart tonight, not even batting an eye when she'd gone weepy. Despite his macho exterior, Luke had moments of tenderness.
Where did that gentleness go when the subject of love was mentioned? At those times, he seemed as grim and heartless as a man could be.
A picture flashed in her head--Luke's face when he'd met his mother on Lillie's sidewalk--his eyes glacier cold. She'd never seen him more unfeeling.
Something was very wrong there. How could a mother and son have grown so far apart? And more importantly, could they be brought back together?
It upset Lillie to remember his transformation from warmth and laughter to icy rejection. She'd hate to see his frigid hostility projected in her direction.
Dragging her thoughts forcibly away from Luke, Lillie made herself get ready for bed. Grabbing up her toothbrush, she went into the bathroom to put on her nightshirt.
Masculine toiletries cluttered the counter top as if he couldn't be bothered with stashing them away in the medicine cabinet. Since he presumably lived alone, Lillie wasn't surprised to see the toilet seat up.
Refusing to think about getting naked in Luke's space, she marched into the bedroom, yanked back the covers of his king-sized water bed and climbed in.
His scent enveloped her, the soft caress of cotton was cool against her bare arms and legs as the bed gently rocked her. Lillie gulped. Sinking back on the pillow, she curled into a ball and closed her eyes tight. She could almost feel the imprint of his big body on the bed, his warm, tanned flesh naked between the sheets.
Her eyes popped open. This would never do. Forcing herself to relax, Lillie tucked the pillow more comfortably under her head and concentrated on clearing her mind.
It was then the thought hit her. She was in Luke's bed...and he was in hers.
The image came unbidden. Luke, bare-chested, sprawled out in her white, lace-bedecked four-poster bed.
Lillie took a deep breath.
Darn, if that image didn't look strangely right. Her house had already been invaded by a thief. She should have felt uncomfortable, at least, to have Luke roaming her space the way she'd been exploring his. But she didn't.
What would have happened if she'd accepted his first offer? Was there even a chance that he'd have kept his word and kept his hands to himself? Or would she have been overwhelmed by her own unruly response to him and found her hands wandering?
Just for a second, she let herself imagine seducing Luke. Laying him out in this big bed and stroking every inch of his arousing body. He'd be hard and hot and she could almost feel the danger of his kiss. Lillie shivered, her body both hot and cold.
Great. It would be a miracle if she got to sleep before dawn.
* * *
Luke let himself into Lillie's bungalow, every sense alert. The intruders could have come back to get what they'd left.
But the house was quiet. Shutting the door behind him, Luke glanced around the room, really seeing it for the first time. Aside from the broken lamp and tumbled couch, it looked like Lillie.
Everything about the room was soft. Polished wood gleamed; the comfortable couch with its soft cushions beckoned. Pictures graced the walls and crowded a tabletop, the framed faces laughing in delight. The room was a nest, a place filled with lovingly-created beauty.
From the first, he'd suspected that Lillie knew how to make a home. Her house welcomed him.
He remembered again the sound of her shocked cry as she'd stood in the doorway and the sense of his body going cold.
It was lucky for everyone that the slimebags hadn't been here t
hen. God knew what he'd have done to the scum if he'd gotten his hands on them.
He needed a beer. Luke stalked into the kitchen and jerked open her refrigerator. It sparkled inside. Clean shelves, clean vegetables. A fresh carafe of orange juice.
No beer. He should have known. The woman didn't even drink coffee.
Luke slammed the door shut. Rubbing a hand over his tired face, he turned away. The events of the evening were starting to take their toll on him. If he was going to get anything done the next day, he had to get some sleep.
Walking back through the living room, Luke paused long enough to pick up the broken lamp. He dumped the larger pieces of broken glass in the trash basket and pulled the couch back into position.
He didn't know for sure why he was bothering except that he thought Lillie wouldn't feel as bad when she came home tomorrow.
On the other side of the living room, the bedroom door beckoned. Luke drew a deep breath, the scents of wood polish and pot pourri tickling his nose.
Probably should check her office, he thought, veering away from the bedroom.
The entry to the enclosed porch stood ajar. He flicked on the light. A quick scan indicated that the thieves hadn't been in the room. Everything seemed normal, the wicker chairs with their soft print cushions still in place. Lillie's desk scattered over with papers just as he'd seen it before.
Turning off the light, Luke went back into the living room and made himself walk to the bedroom. He stopped in the doorway.
A white, ruffled canopy bed sat waiting against the far wall. An ornate antique vanity was topped with crystal perfume bottles. A trail of ivy decorated the top of the eyelet-curtained windows.
Her scent was everywhere.
Luke tried not to breathe too deeply. He even thought briefly of trying to sleep on the couch.
He didn't need to be drenched in her enticing smell, didn't need to crawl between her soft white sheets. The woman lived in a fantasy world, one that was too dangerous to consider. She wanted things he couldn't offer and she offered things he couldn't have. Unless he managed to convince her to try things his way. Hell, he knew he was right. He'd be saving her from major heartache down the line.