His blue eyes peered past the woman with the well-tailored clothes and elegant little house to glimpse the girl who'd endured the other children's thoughtless taunts when her mother abandoned their family. The child who heard the whispers about her father's drinking, the patronizing air of her "betters."
"No one can make you feel less than you are, unless you allow them to." His voice was soft and quiet, his touch tender as he tucked a few straggling hairs beneath her towel turban.
She'd never meant for him to see so much. Know so much. Some waters ran too deep and true to course to navigate. She shifted nervously to one foot. "You should go now. People will talk."
She didn't want to feel the stares, hear the whispers when she shopped in the grocery store.
"With Marion Turner, that's a given." He made no move to leave.
"So, you should go now."
"Come ride with me."
They held opposing views on fundamental issues. She didn't quite like him. She certainly didn't trust him. And the depth of emotion he stirred in her, quite frankly, terrified her. Despite that, an underlying note of need in his voice touched her.
"What?"
"On my motorcycle."
"Now?"
Luke laughed aloud at her. "Yes. On my motorcycle. Now. I suppose you could put on some clothes if you really had to."
"I couldn't…"
"Fine. Leave the clothes off." His voice dropped to an evocative, husky note, shifting them to a different plane of intimacy.
"I mean I couldn't ride with you." For one crazy moment regret lingered against her tongue like a bitter fruit. In that instant she longed to feel the heady rush of wind against her face, the throb of the powerful motor and the power and control in Luke's lean body as she held on to him. "I go out to my father's every Sunday. I tidy up and cook for him. I like to make sure he has a real meal at least once a week."
"Fine. I'll take you over to your dad's then we'll swing by River Oaks and you can pick up your car."
"But…"
"Are you afraid of what Marion and the other upstanding citizens might whisper behind your back?" His tone shifted from scathing to bracing. "Don't give them that much power over you, Olivia."
Something horrifyingly akin to pity flashed across his face. She preferred denigration to pity any day. How dare he pity her?
"Perhaps you could move past that monumental ego of yours and figure out I don't want to go with you. Period."
"Sugar, it doesn't have a thing to do with my ego. You loved riding that bike yesterday. You need your car back. You plan to go out to your dad's and I wouldn't mind seeing Bennett."
Momentarily distracted by his comment about her father, Olivia strayed off the conversational course. "Why would you want to see my father?"
Luke's gaze pierced her. "Because I wouldn't be where I am today if it wasn't for your daddy."
Olivia's eyebrows shot up, intrigued despite herself. "That's scary."
"I flunked out of my freshman year at college. I was studying banking so I could follow in the Colonel's footsteps." No surprise there on either count. "That summer I wound up on a construction crew your daddy supervised." Luke's mouth quirked in a rueful smile. "I was full of bad attitude."
"Some things never change," she teased.
He grimaced with self-deprecation and her heart did a funny little flip-flop. "I mean serious bad attitude. The Colonel was coming down hard on me for flunking out and besmirching the family name. I didn't want to be on that construction crew. I sure as hell didn't want to go back to school. Your daddy put up with me and my attitude for about half a day." Luke laughed and shook his head as if he could still see the fireworks. "My ass was grass and he was the lawn mower. Once he'd adjusted my attitude, Bennett taught me a lot. For the first time in my life, I discovered I was good at something other than raising hell."
She recalled his "Born to Raise Hell" tattoo with vivid clarity. It'd been one of the first things she'd spotted when she'd put on her glasses while he sprawled naked in her bed. Best not to think about him naked in her bed. Anyway, he'd given her plenty of other things to think about.
Her father a mentor? Bennett Cooper? The man she'd grown up with? Olivia was stunned. "He never mentioned you. But then again he spent most of his off time at the bar or in jail." She couldn't quell the lingering rancor. "The odd times he was home, our family wasn't enjoying Cleaver moments around the dinner table."
Luke shrugged. "We didn't have any of those either. While my father hammered home what a disappointment I was, your dad kept pushing me—pushing me to go back to school and get an engineering degree."
"I didn't know you had a degree. I thought you just owned your company."
"Does it make a difference? Yeah. Civil engineering from Virginia Tech."
"I never knew…"
"Why would you?" Luke shifted his broad shoulders. "Anyway, I'd like to stop off and see Bennett. Catch up with him." His voice lowered. "Say you'll come with me, Olivia. Don't let them hold you hostage with their opinion."
Olivia wavered, swayed by the hint of vulnerability she'd glimpsed beneath Luke's customary swagger and the measure of pity underlying his words as if she was pathetic in her concern with public opinion. And then there was a hint of a challenge. He fully expected her to turn him down. He thought she was so predictable.
"Give me ten minutes to get dressed."
A slow smile replaced his initial register of shock. Luke smiled with his whole face, his eyes crinkling at the corner. Ha. She'd got him.
She hurried down the short hall to her bedroom, the heat of his gaze warming her backside. And frontside. And inside.
"Let me know if you need any help dressing. Or undressing. I'm best at the last, but I'm available for either."
She closed the bedroom door and leaned against the hard panel, not at all sure she hadn't just made a tremendous mistake agreeing to go with him. His suggestive comment should have irritated her. Instead, she flushed, attuned to the play of nubby terrycloth against her sensitized skin. Yes, she remembered all too well, he was very good at the undressing part.
* * *
He might've made a mistake. Luke, not a man given to second-guessing himself, second-guessed. He hadn't counted on how pushing Olivia would push himself. Right now he was hard pressed not to knock on her door and repeat his offer to play ladies' maid. His fingers itched to slide across her skin, slip beneath the cotton of her robe. Then he'd lower his head and tease his tongue against—
"Hi." A perky voice shattered his fantasy. "I'm Beth. Olivia's friend. I don't know if you remember me. I used to be Beth Harbison, but now I'm Beth Lamont." She shoved a finger bearing a wedding band in his general direction. "We were in high school together, but you were a few years older than me. Your brother Adam was in my graduating class. My hair was brown then," she gestured toward her flaming red hair. "But I've just decided to run with the red. It's hard to cover red, ya know. You probably don't remember me." She finally ran out of steam.
"Sure, I remember you." Nice, but a little ditzy.
"Oh. Well. How've you been?" She hopped from foot to foot.
One too many cups of coffee this morning for Beth, he guessed. "Fine. How about you?"
"Good. Good. I live just a few houses over." She pointed over her left shoulder. "So," she glanced around the empty entranceway, "where is she?"
He knew better, he really did, but it was just too plum an opportunity to pass up. "Liv's getting dressed."
Beth, formerly Harbison and now Lamont, almost bugged her eyes out of her head. "Really? She wasn't dressed? I'll just see if she needs any help." She shot down the hall like a launched rocket.
She darted into the bedroom. Once again, Luke stood in the hallway alone. What the hell? He nudged the new, unpainted door closed with the toe of his boot. Olivia had her chaperone and he was tired of drop-ins. He should've shut the door before Marion Turner had blown in like an ill wind.
Luke leaned against the doorjamb a
nd picked up a book from the stack on the foyer table. Pride and Prejudice. Somehow that didn't surprise him. Luke replaced the book and picked up one of the two unopened puzzles sharing the tabletop. Twice as challenging, the box proclaimed. Each puzzle piece was double printed with two different views of the same subject. Clever. What you thought would fit on one side, might belong on the other.
He studied a black-and-white framed print on the wall. Damn. That was Olivia in the photo, caught in mid-air with a parachute strapped to her back. She was like that double-sided puzzle. Sometimes her pieces didn't fit on a side he expected. Just now, for example, she'd floored him when she took Marion to task on his behalf.
How long had it been since someone had taken up for him, championed him before censure? His mother, when he was still a small child, perhaps. Olivia was like no woman he'd met before. Despite the fact she didn't like him and Marion's opinion obviously mattered to her, she'd jumped in to protect him.
The fat cat appeared in the den doorway and blinked at him. Muted female voices traveled down the hallway. The cat—what had Olivia called it—strolled over and arched up on its two back legs, bumping its head against his knee. Luke hunkered down and scratched the thick fur behind its ears. He caught his name a time or two from behind the closed door. He grinned at the cat who merely slitted its eyes in kitty contentment. "Fat Cat—" he might as well call it that"—Beth's giving her the third degree. She's not going to be happy."
In a moment of blinding insight, he realized how important her happiness had become to him in just a day. As if cued by his thoughts, the bedroom door opened. Olivia marched down the hall, Beth trailing behind her.
Luke stood up slowly and looked at Olivia. A thick braid hung heavy over one shoulder. A long-sleeved T-shirt with a V neck hung loose on her except where she'd tucked it into well-worn jeans. She was classy and elegant and he had no business wanting her the way he did. But a hunger that had nothing to do with a want for food clenched low in his gut. "You're beautiful."
He hadn't meant to speak aloud. Actually he wasn't even aware he had until soft color washed Olivia's throat and face. "Uh, thank you."
"It's time for me to go," Beth piped up. Damn. He'd forgotten all about Beth.
Olivia seemed to have that effect on him.
"Let me grab a jacket and we'll all go out at once," Olivia said, a hint of panic on her face. She was a smart woman, his Olivia, if she didn't trust him alone. Because right now he'd love to fill his hands with her denim-clad cheeks while he kissed her as senseless as she made him. She'd definitely have to order another new door if Beth left them alone.
"Here." He stepped forward and wrapped her in his jacket. He rested the backs of his fingers against the shirt's soft cotton and an expanse of her silky skin. Her heart pounded wildly against his touch. His own heart thudded a response. Her eyes, huge behind her glasses, darkened. Her delicate scent, as subtle and elusive as Olivia herself, tantalized him.
"I'll just be leaving now," Beth muttered as she sidled toward the door, bringing him back to reality.
Olivia stepped away from him and practically ran for the door. "We're right behind you."
Luke followed, somewhat mollified that Olivia appeared as shaken as he was.
Beth hurried across the front lawn. "Nice to see you again."
"I'm sure I'll see you soon," Luke called to her retreating figure.
"I doubt it." He heard Olivia's muttered comment.
Olivia strapped on the extra helmet and climbed up behind him. Luke turned on, then cranked the bike. He torqued halfway around until only inches and their helmets separated them.
"Yes? Do you have any last-minute instructions for the ride?" Her breath was warm against his face in the chill air.
"No. I wanted to tell you I love that color on you." He glanced down at the brushed cotton T-shirt beneath his jacket she wore. "It's exactly the same shade as your nipples."
* * *
8
« ^ »
Olivia banged the pot into her father's kitchen sink with uncustomary vehemence, out of sorts with herself, Luke and life in general. She stared through the cracked windowpane out at the swaying trees. He was wrong for her. He stirred something deep inside her that was frightening. All the other men in her life—from a dating standpoint—had been reserved, conservative. There'd never, ever been anything that remotely bordered on a discussion of body parts—certainly nothing close to Luke's frank, sexual comments. With Luke there was no dancing around issues. She knew he wanted her in a powerful, primitive way. It was confusing—both frightening and empowering. Luke pushed her outside her zone.
And he'd definitely shown her father in a different light. In retrospect, she realized Pops had always encouraged her to pursue her degree. How many times had he grumbled that Marty needed to move on beyond the auto parts store? He'd pushed Tammy to specialize in something. She supposed in his own dysfunctional way, Pops was as nurturing as he knew how.
Now he and Luke were enjoying the midday sun on the sagging front porch. She'd noted the genuine regard with which Luke had greeted her father. There'd been no hint of patronization. Unlike Adam's visit. With Adam, she'd found herself ashamed of the small house with a repair list a mile long, painfully aware of the marked difference between River Oaks and the Cooper homestead. Perhaps because she'd read Adam's unspoken criticism.
She struggled to dredge up her animosity toward Luke. Her antipathy felt safe. She didn't want to admire him or respect him—to care about him. She wasn't naive enough to think she could ever simply like Luke. Placid, moderate emotions didn't exist between the two of them.
Olivia glanced over her shoulder at the shuffle of footsteps down the hallway. Tammy. Olivia wasn't sure if she was capable of dealing with her sister right now. She might as well suck it up, because she didn't have a choice.
Tammy strolled in, sporting a belly-baring halter top with a denim shirt thrown over it, low-slung jeans that looked uncomfortably tight, a navel ring, chunky soled shoes, two inches of dark roots beneath her bleached blond and a guarded, slightly sullen expression. "Hey, Olivia."
"Hi, Tammy." She loved her sister, but even from the time they were small children, they'd never connected. Being with Tammy was like spending time with a stranger you'd shared a room with growing up.
"When did you hook up with a hottie like Luke Rutledge? Aren't you dating his brother?" Tammy eyed her as if she couldn't quite believe her boring sister had "hooked up with a hottie."
"We're not … I haven't hooked up with Luke." Was that the appropriate terminology? "He wanted to visit with Pops and he offered me a ride." She realized with a start that Luke had claimed so much of her attention, she'd actually spared Adam very little thought. She wasn't quite sure how to handle the subject of her relationship with Adam.
"You rode that hog?"
"Hog?"
"The Harley. The motorcycle." Tammy appeared insultingly astonished, as if Olivia had sprouted a third eye in her forehead.
"It wasn't that big of a deal." Actually, it was much the same as anything associated with Luke—intense, exciting, overwhelming, arousing. But she wasn't about to discuss that with Tammy. "How's the nail business?" Tammy had graduated from the Academy of Cosmetology and Beautification in March and rented a spot at Harriet's Hair Hut.
The sullen expression returned in spades. "I might as well tell you. Earl and I have split up." So much for husband number three. "Now Harriet's yanking my spot at The Hut. Go ahead. Say 'I told you so.'"
Harriet was Earl's sister and Olivia wasn't surprised she hadn't taken the breakup well. Olivia had told her sister working with an in-law might prove tricky. Especially considering Tammy's track record in the commitment department. Had Tammy split with Earl over Tim? Not only was Tim Earl's best friend, he was also Earl's brother-in-law, Harriet's husband. Or he had been.
Olivia winced. "Tim?"
Tammy waved purple and gold two-inch acrylics and stared Olivia down. "Tim."
&nbs
p; Olivia shook her head, unable to contain her disapproval. "Oh, Tammy. That really wasn't the wisest choice."
"I know. I'm not stupid. Sometimes I just make stupid choices. There's a difference you know." She toyed with her belly ring. "Could you for once try really hard not to be so damn judgmental? When I'm with Tim I can't think clear—nothing else matters. It's almost like magic. I don't expect you to understand that."
That was exactly how she felt around Luke. For one unsettling moment in time, she and Tammy shared a wavelength. "I do understand" slipped out before she considered the consequences.
"Well, welcome to the land of the imperfect living," Tammy drawled, speculation simmering just below her surface. "You sure you haven't hooked up with the hottie?" She stabbed her thumb over her shoulder, in the direction of the front porch.
Good lord, what had just come out of her mouth? Olivia panicked. "Nope. Nope. No hook-up here. You were just so eloquent." Olivia scrubbed at the cheese sauce dried on the bottom of the pan. "Is that how you felt with Earl, Allen and Jerry too?" Olivia was pretty sure Tammy's second husband had been Allen, but she couldn't swear to it. "And I don't mean that in a critical sense. I'm really interested."
Tammy pulled a clean cloth out of drawer and started drying the dishes. "Kind of. You know it was that way at first." Tammy shrugged with love-the-one-you're-with fatalism. "I think this time, Tim's the one."
"Maybe." Olivia refrained from voicing her doubt. Tammy had the staying power of used tape on a cold day. Obviously these attractions where one felt bemused and enchanted didn't lend themselves to solid, long-term relationships. Was that the way it had been between her mother and father? Too bad her mom hadn't figured it out before she had three kids to leave behind. Her heart and her head took note.
Tammy cocked her head to one side. "You ever thought about dyeing your hair red? I bet it'd look good."
What was it with the hair color? First Beth, now Tammy. Why was everyone determined to make her into something or someone she wasn't? "I am not dyeing my hair red."
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