by Linda Warren
Blair clapped her hands together. “If I close my eyes, I can smell my grandmother’s homemade bread. It’s the most heavenly scent on earth. I smell it every time I walk into this house.” It was clear how much she loved her grandparents and this place. He saw it in her eyes, heard it in her voice, and Lucas knew that coming here had been the right decision.
“Speaking of bread,” he said, his eyes on her moist lips. His thoughts veered in a different direction and he quickly curbed them. “How about some food?”
When Blair said she could cook, she wasn’t kidding. Within ten minutes, she’d whipped up a ham-and-cheese omelette and a salad. As Lucas ate, he decided this simple meal was among the best he’d ever tasted.
He sipped his iced tea and realized the kitchen was getting hot. “Where’s the air-conditioning control? I’ll turn it on.”
She glanced up. “There’s no air-conditioning.”
“What?” He sounded unbelieving.
“There’s no air-conditioning,” she repeated. “My grandparents didn’t believe in it. Uncle Howard and my mom argued with them all the time, but they absolutely refused.”
“Blair, it’s July in Texas! It’s hot.”
She shook her head in amusement. “Lucas Culver, I do believe you’re a spoiled city man.”
He grinned. “You’re probably right, but if my brother can endure five years without modern technology, I can surely tolerate one night.”
“And you said you liked the outdoors,” she teased, and stood up to open the kitchen window. She went into the living room next, opening all the windows. “In a few minutes, it’ll be so cool in here, you’ll think it’s air-conditioned. And you’ll be able to hear the crickets and all the soothing night sounds. It’s like camping—without the mosquitoes.”
Lucas could only stare at her enraptured face. It was such a transformation from the trembling, frightened woman she’d been earlier.
“In the meantime, you can take a shower and—” She stopped, holding a hand to her mouth.
“What?” he prompted.
“We didn’t bring any extra clothes, but I can remedy that.” She hurried into one of the bedrooms. There were two, separated by a bathroom. A minute later, she returned. “Here’s a T-shirt and some shorts. They’re either Blake’s or Dad’s, but they should fit.”
“Thanks,” he said, accepting them from her. A shower sounded great, exactly what he needed after this dreadful day. He disappeared into the bathroom and smiled as he saw the tub, which was a large antique with four legs and a sloping back. Everything in the house seemed to be antique—except Blair. She was one of a kind and would never go out of style. He was proud of the way she was handling things. She could still laugh and tease, and he hoped she could continue to do that, no matter what happened in the future.
Blair busied herself doing the dishes, keeping her mind a blank. She folded the dish towel and laid it across the sink. She stared out the window into the blackness of the night: crickets chirped and a light breeze cooled her skin. She felt so at peace, so safe here—with Lucas. But that was an illusion; she wasn’t safe. She had to face the reality of her situation. A chill ran up her spine and she immediately tried to dispel the feeling of foreboding.
She couldn’t think about herself. She had to think about Blake and his life—his future. A sob rose in her throat. Why were these awful things happening to her and her family? It was almost more than she could bear.
The sound of running water stopped and she thought of Lucas. He was with her tonight, and for now, that was all she needed. He’d said he wasn’t her miracle worker, but he was. He calmed her fears, encouraged her to talk, made her laugh. And he made her feel like a woman….
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LUCAS CAME OUT of the bathroom towelling his hair. Blair’s heart thumped in her chest with a new awareness. The khaki shorts and white T-shirt seemed to fit his lean frame perfectly. He lowered the towel and stared at her. His tousled hair fell across his forehead and the shadow of a beard darkened his face. His clean manly scent reached out to her and she ached for something that was frightening in its intensity.
At her strange look, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
She quickly collected herself. “Nothing. Just waiting for the bathroom.” She took the towel from him as she passed him.
Lucas sat on the oversize sofa, his bare feet propped on the coffee table, while Blair took a shower. She was right, he decided; the house was cool and pleasant. He breathed deeply, drawing fresh air into his lungs—no smog, no pollution and the silence was blissful, like she’d said. He noticed a big piano in one corner and he wondered who played it. Blair, of course. It had to be Blair. He could just picture her as a little girl in pigtails, playing for her grandparents.
Lucas rested his head against the sofa. The simplicity of what he experienced here, in this serene house, was appealing, but his complacency couldn’t last. Too much needed his attention. He considered calling Roger to get a report, but Roger was so upset with him that he probably wouldn’t tell him a thing. Lucas knew their working relationship was on the line, but he didn’t care. His main goal, besides winning Blake’s case, was to keep Blair safe and to find out who was harassing her. After that, he and Roger would settle this one way or another.
Blair came out of the bathroom and sat beside him, a hairbrush in one hand. She wore a big T-shirt, and he didn’t think there was much underneath. She brushed her hair with long, even strokes. Her face was devoid of makeup and she was as fresh as the evening breeze and more exciting than any woman he’d ever known. His chest tightened with unbearable need.
“Who plays the piano?” he asked, forcing his eyes away.
“Blake and me,” she answered. “We used to put on shows for our grandparents. But Blake never liked it here as much as I did. He’s a lot like you. He prefers the city.”
He grinned. “You’re not going to let me forget that, are you?”
“Probably not,” she said impudently. Then the brush stilled in her hand and her eyes grew serious. “Have you ever been happy?”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure exactly what you mean.”
She curled her feet beneath her. “When Blake and I were small, we’d come and spend time with our grandparents. We’d laugh and play, run through the cornfields, ride with Granddad on the tractor and eat Grandma’s homemade bread with butter dripping from our chins. We were allowed to be kids and we were happy. That’s the only time I remember ever being happy. Then we’d return to the city and become Ava and Sam’s kids again. We were expected to be perfect, to excel at everything. That was hard and…and stressful.” Her voice wavered on the last word.
“But look at you,” he said encouragingly. “You’ve survived a brutal attack and become a successful, accomplished woman.”
She fiddled with the brush. “I wish things had been different for Blake. I wish…”
“You’re not responsible for what happened to Blake,” he told her gently.
“I know, but I just keep thinking that if I’d stepped back and let him be the smarter, more skilled twin, then maybe…”
“You can’t deny who and what you are.”
“I suppose,” she admitted reluctantly. Blake had carved out his future with rebellion and defiance; she’d tried to change him, but nothing had worked. Blake was the only one who could have changed his life. And now things just seemed hopeless… Her head was about to explode with so many painful things she couldn’t fix and couldn’t wipe out. She wanted to talk about something pleasant for a change.
“Lucas, did you have a happy childhood?”
His head jerked up. “I never really thought about it, but yeah, I guess I did. At least until I was fifteen.”
“That was when you lost your parents, wasn’t it?” she asked quietly.
There was a long pause as Lucas grappled with the past. He never liked to talk about it in any detail—had only done that with Jacob—but now it seemed right to talk to her. She’
d been through so much herself that he knew she’d understand his feelings.
“Yes,” he answered. He stopped for a moment, then went on. “Before that, when I was younger, my mom and dad were very close. They talked all the time and laughed a lot. There was always laughter in our house. Then my mom started having chest pains. We found out she had a heart condition. The doctor said if she didn’t slow down and change her lifestyle—he meant diet and exercise—she would have a heart attack. After that, she got scared and things changed. There was no more laughter. Just silence and arguments. I guess my dad had a rough time dealing with a sick wife.”
He stopped again. “You see, my dad was a policeman and he often worked late hours. Jacob and I worshipped him, but as it turned out, he had a secret that shattered our lives.”
“A secret?” she echoed.
“He had a mistress. No,” he corrected himself, “he had several mistresses, unbeknownst to my mother, Jacob or me. When he tried to break up with the last one, she shot him with his own gun and he died instantly. My mother couldn’t cope with the shame and the devastation of his betrayal. She died a week later of a massive heart attack.”
Her throat constricted with so many emotions, but all she wanted to do was comfort him. “Oh, Lucas,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right,” he murmured into her hair. “It happened a long time ago.”
“That doesn’t matter. You still feel the pain.”
He drew back and gazed into her eyes. “It’s not so much the pain, it’s…” He had difficulty finding the right words. “I’m afraid I’m just like him.”
She was genuinely shocked. “Why would you say that?”
He raked one hand through his hair and tousled it even more. “Because I’m forty-two years old and I’ve never been married and there’s a very good reason for that.”
“What?” she asked, holding her breath.
“I can’t stay interested in one woman for any length of time.”
Shakily she let out her breath. “Maybe you just haven’t fallen in love.”
He made a disgruntled sound. “At my age, that’s hardly likely to happen, and I promised myself that I wouldn’t marry a woman I couldn’t be faithful to. I would never hurt a woman the way my father hurt my mother—never.”
That one sentence explained so much about Lucas—his integrity, his honesty, and his charm with women. He was determined not to be like his father, and she wondered if he even realized that he was nothing like the man he’d described. Lucas wouldn’t knowingly hurt anyone. Of that she was sure.
But his words left an ache in her heart. Lucas expected never to fall in love, and it was clear that he avoided it at all costs.
“How’d we get onto this subject?” He grinned at her.
She raised her head, lost for a moment in her own thoughts. “We seem to be able to talk about anything.”
“Yeah,” he murmured, staring into the blue of her eyes.
“You remember that night in my apartment when you kissed me?”
“Sure.” His breath became thick.
“You said you’d been dreaming about doing it for a long time. Did you mean that?”
“If I said it, I guess I must have.” He had to joke or he wasn’t going to be able to breathe at all.
“Don’t tease, Lucas. I’m serious.”
He slowly removed his feet from the coffee table. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
“The truth,” was her quick reply.
“Okay.” He glanced at her. “Even with your hair pulled tightly back and your suit buttoned up to your neck, you can’t disguise your beauty.”
“You think I’m beautiful?” she asked in a winded voice.
He frowned at her, hardly able to believe she had to ask. “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”
For answer, she reached over and kissed him gently behind the ear. She didn’t remove her lips, and his head tilted toward her. “Blair,” he said raggedly.
She rained light kisses along his bristly jawline to his mouth. “I’ve been dreaming about doing that for a long time, too.”
“Blair,” he groaned, having difficulty breathing under her touch. “We shouldn’t be—”
“You promised not to treat me like a child,” she reminded him, her tongue licking out the words against his skin.
“Blair,” he groaned again. Then he claimed her lips with his own. Their breaths mingled and their bodies melted together. Her response was everything he’d dreamed about—and more. He wanted to taste and feel every inch of her. His tongue explored the sweetness of her mouth and his hands found the hem of the T-shirt and the cool skin beneath.
As he touched her breasts, Blair’s world spun completely out of control. She’d had nightmares about being touched in this way, but now she couldn’t get enough. She wanted Lucas’s hands all over her and she wanted to feel him inside her. She moaned softly and ran her hands around his strong neck, his shoulders and back.
Her softness and her eagerness sent Lucas up in flames. He tried not to rush her. He tried not to frighten her, but when she moaned, the longing in him grew stronger and stronger.
He pressed her into the sofa, their bodies welded together, hip to hip, heart to heart, mouth to mouth. He’d never wanted anyone as much as he wanted her, and his hard body gave credence to that fact.
His hand slid over her hipbone to her narrow waist and full breast. His thumb teased the taut nipple and his mouth soon replaced the erotic movement. Her body grew warm, moist and…
“Lucas.” She ran her fingers along the muscles in his back. “Love me, please. Make the nightmare go away.”
Her words were like a dash of cold water to his senses. Suddenly, painfully, he knew he couldn’t do this. Much as he wanted her, he had to stop.
“Oh, God, Blair.” He buried his face in the sweet hollow of her breasts.
“Lucas?” Her voice was achy, and he knew she wanted answers. He only hoped she’d understand.
“Give me a minute,” he begged.
At his tortured tone, she asked, “Are you all right?”
He moved to the side, his back against the sofa. “No, but I will be,” he told her, and pulled her T-shirt down to cover her nakedness.
He wasn’t going to make love to her, although Blair didn’t know why. She couldn’t believe it. She’d waited and waited for this moment, and now…now Lucas was rejecting her. All her frustrations welled up inside her.
“Don’t you want me?” she asked without shame.
“Can’t you feel how much I want you?”
She did; his hardness was pressed into her thigh, which made his actions that much more confusing. “Yes, but I’m not sure if it’s you or the hairbrush.” She made an attempt at levity because she was about to burst into tears.
It was what Lucas needed to hear. His chest rumbled with laughter and he leaned his face against hers. “When I make love to you,” he whispered, “I want it to be slow and easy, with so much passion that nothing else matters.”
“But…” She’d thought that was what they were doing…
“Let me finish,” he cut in. “Afterward, I want to make love to you again, and the next morning and during the day and the next night. I want us to be alone, just the two of us, lost in each other. I don’t want harassment or trials or anything else to interfere. I want it to be special—for you and for me.”
Her frustration began to lift…just a little.
He played with a strand of her hair. “We could grab this moment and make the nightmare go away, like you said, but afterward all the ugly things would still be there—the harassment, Blake’s trial. Do you understand?”
She smoothed the front of his T-shirt, loving the feel of his tight muscles beneath. “Yes,” she breathed weakly. A night of love wasn’t going to make their problems disappear. It would only create more. She’d want to be with Lucas every minute, and that would be impossible.
He caught her hand and linked his fingers with hers. “I have to give this trial everything I’ve got, and I know that’s what you want, too—for Blake.”
“Yes, but it doesn’t help this frustration.” She smiled.
“I know,” he groaned in answer.
“I just never thought that when I wanted it this much, I’d be rejected.”
He took her chin in his hand and gazed into her eyes. “Don’t you dare think that—not even for a second.”
At his earnest voice, she smiled again. “You know, Lucas Culver, the more I learn about you, the more I…”
She stopped, unable to finish the sentence out loud. But the truth kept running through her head.
“The more you what?” he asked at her continued silence.
She inhaled deeply—and lied. “The more I’m impressed with you.” She sensed that he wasn’t ready to hear she loved him. She loved him! When had that happened? She didn’t know; all she knew was that she did and probably had for a long time.
“Thanks,” he said, feeling she was going to say something entirely different. He didn’t press her, though.
She snuggled into him, holding her secret to her heart in a moment of pure pleasure.
Silence reigned, and both were consumed with private thoughts.
Finally she asked, “You don’t think it was one of Raye’s men who wrote that message on my door, do you?”
“No,” he answered honestly. “But I could be wrong. Raye used the same phrase—that’s what keeps bothering me. Who’d want to capitalize on that beside Raye and his gang?”