Love, Lies and High Heels

by Debby Conrad

  Why in hell had he let Sam talk him out of his fishing trip? Probably the same reason he’d let him talk him into going after Rusty in the first place. Guilt.

  He sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. Right now, he needed caffeine. As soon as the machine stopped percolating, he poured himself a cup and took a huge gulp of the steaming liquid. “Ahhhh,” he said, appreciating the instant jolt, just as Rusty bent over to inspect something on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator.

  Her body stiffened, then straightened before she turned around to glare at him. Obviously she’d assumed that “Ahhhh” had been for her. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

  “Not at the moment.” He took another drink from his cup, leaning his long frame against the counter.

  “Well, then,” she said, picking up a piece of paper from the counter and slapping it into his hand. “You can take care of this.”

  “What’s this?” Luke asked, looking at the long list Rusty had just given him.

  “Just a few things I’d like you to pick up at the store.” She pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down, primly folding her hands in her lap. She wore another one of her thin cotton dresses and stockings on her legs. Red designer heels covered her feet. She reminded him of June Cleaver. Only Rusty was a lot hotter than June.

  She’d pulled her hair back into another French twist. He liked it loose and free, touching her shoulders, the way she’d worn it last night. She looked better this morning, though. At least she had a little color.

  “Tofu,” he read. “Room deodorizers. Mineral water. Herbal tea. Fresh fish. Sugar snap peas. Bean sprouts. Arugula. Plum tomatoes.” He looked at her over the top of the list. “I hate to break it to you, Princess, but tomatoes aren’t in season right now.”

  He went back to reading. “Toast tongs?” Lifting his head, he looked at her warily.

  “I couldn’t find any this morning when I made Sam’s breakfast. I burned my fingertips.”

  Luke stared at her and shook his head, then skimmed the list again. “Flea collar?” Damn her. “For who?” he shouted.

  “Who do you think? That beast is not staying in this house without one.”

  Luke folded the list, jammed it into his shirt pocket and took a menacing step forward. “This is my house, in case you forgot. Jack stays. Where is Jack, by the way?”

  “Outside, where he belongs. And this is only half your house,” she said between her teeth. “What did you do? Swindle Sam? Win your half in a poker game?”

  “Something like that,” he lied, first because it was none of her business, and second because he enjoyed irritating her.

  She got to her feet and thrust her chin up at him. “I think I know what you’re all about, Mr. Galloway. First off, you convinced Sam that he somehow needed you. Then you talked him into signing over half of everything he owned to you. And now, you’re trying to poison him with a high cholesterol diet, alcohol and cigars. What did he do, name you as his only heir in his will?”

  Luke took two steps forward. “Why don’t you ask Sam? You’re not going to believe anything I say anyway.”

  She didn’t answer. Slowly, she smoothed a hand over her hair, then clutched her cardigan sweater across her breasts. Luke’s gaze followed her moves.

  “I don’t appreciate the way you look at me. It’s degrading.”

  “Degrading?” he mocked. “Just how do I look at you?”

  Her tongue darted out and moistened her lips. She moved around him and went to the kitchen sink. Picking up a dish towel, she polished the counters.

  “I asked you a question. How do I look at you?”

  Without turning to face him, she mumbled, “You look like you want to—”

  He moved in close behind her and breathed against the back of her neck. “Want to what?”

  Her shoulders lifted slightly and he felt a shudder pass through her, but she didn’t speak. So he finished the statement for her. “Like I want to haul you upstairs, strip you naked and mess up that hair of yours? Is that how I look at you?”

  Her entire body tensed, and Luke chuckled to himself. She was so easy to unnerve. “Honey, you don’t have anything to worry about. I’d rather kiss an eel.” She ducked and darted under his arm in one quick move. Luke spun around to face her.

  “Stay away from me,” she hissed, her arms wrapped securely around her middle. “Last night was a mistake. I was ill and you took advantage of me.”

  Luke laughed in her face. “You really think you’re something, don’t you? When I invite a woman to my bed, I expect her to participate. I have a feeling you’re the type to lay there with a pinched face, like a virgin bride. Although I’ve never had any complaints from the women I’ve bedded.

  Her face reddened and her eyes grew wide with horror. He laughed again. “Don’t worry, that wasn’t an invitation. Like I said before, you’re not my type.” With that, he grabbed his hat, slung open the back door, and stomped away from the house.

  As he drove into town, he wondered what had made him say those things to Rusty. He’d been mean and cruel. What had made him behave like that? Did he enjoy taunting her simply because it was so easy to rile her? Or was it because she reminded him of Christine?

  When Rusty checked on Sam, shortly after Luke left the house, she found him sitting up in bed entertaining himself with a deck of cards. The poor man, she thought. He was all alone.

  “What are you playing?” she asked, moving toward the bed.

  He scooped up the cards and shuffled them. “Just some solitaire. I’m getting a little restless in this bed.”

  She touched his arm gently. “Of course, you are.” Lowering herself to the edge of the bed, she said, “We could play a card game together.”

  That brought a smile to his face. “That sounds good to me. Do you play poker?”

  “Poker? No, I’m afraid not. But, I do know how to play bridge.”

  He scowled. “Bridge? What kind of sissy game is that?”

  She laughed and shrugged her shoulders. “On second thought, I’ve always wanted to learn to play poker,” she lied. “Is it terribly hard to learn?”

  “Nah, it’s easy. Do you have any money?”

  “Money? Sure, I—” She thought about her credit cards, which was what she used most of the time.

  “Never mind. I’ll spot you some,” he said, opening his nightstand drawer. He pulled out his wallet and pushed several bills at her. He shuffled the cards, using some fancy techniques that impressed her, and showed her a game called five card stud.

  It was confusing at first, trying to remember which cards were wild and which was greater—a full house or four of a kind. After a few hands, though, she’d finally gotten the hang of it and had even managed to win some of her money back.

  “That’s my girl,” Sam said proudly. “You’re a natural at this. Just like your old man.”

  Rusty smiled, appreciating his compliment. She wanted to please him. To comfort him at his time of need. At that moment she would have done anything he’d asked of her. “Sam, what can I do to make you happy? Tell me, please. If there was one thing you wanted in the whole world, what would it be?” She had more than enough money for one lifetime. She could buy Sam a prize stallion, or take him on a cruise around the world.

  Sam scrunched his eyebrows together. “Well, there is one thing.”

  She let her breath out. “What is it? Anything, just name it.”

  “I’d give anything to have a grandchild.”

  Rusty dropped her cards on the floor. Three aces and two kings.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  RUSTY WASN’T A CRYER. Well, not normally anyway. But for some reason, she couldn’t stop. She blotted her tears with a green checkered dish towel, then laid her head back down on the kitchen table and cried some more.

  Most of her tears were for Sam, but some of them were for herself. Sam was the only family she had left in this world, and he’d soon be … gone. She lifted her head and swab
bed at more tears.

  The man only had one wish, and she couldn’t grant it. The tears welled up again. When he’d told her he wanted a grandchild, she’d stared at him in horror, as if he’d struck her. Then she’d made some flimsy excuse about needing to make an important call and she’d ducked out of the room.

  But how could she tell him no? And not just no, but no way in hell! She couldn’t have a child. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She supposed she had all the necessary body parts to have a child, but she wasn’t planning on using those parts. Not even to please her dying father.

  She sobbed again. What kind of selfish woman was she? The man had made a simple request—well, not exactly simple—but a single request, she amended, and she refused to honor it.

  But she couldn’t have a child. A child deserved two loving parents. A mother and a father who wanted a child, and who planned to love that child and keep him or her by their sides. Loving parents who wouldn’t abandon their son or daughter in boarding schools, or anywhere else.

  Rusty also believed the child’s parents should be married. Again, something else she couldn’t do. Just thinking about marriage made her tremble. Natalie was to blame for that. But how could she explain it all to Sam? And would he understand her fears? Probably not. The man was dying. Didn’t he deserve a last wish?

  She felt a cold rush of air as the back door opened. Galloway was back. Quickly, she swiped at her tears, keeping her back to him. She heard toenails clicking on the hardwood floor and spun around. Galloway had let that beast back inside. Jack sidled over to her, placed his large, furry head in her lap and let out a whimper. Rusty looked down at him in horror.

  She sat perfectly still, not quite sure how to react. “Go away, you,” she whispered. But the dog didn’t move. Instead, he whined again, like he was hurt, and lifted his large, black, sad-looking eyes to stare up at her. “What do you want? Go away. Go on. Scat.”

  “He’s not used to seeing women cry,” Galloway said. “He just wants to offer his sympathies. It wouldn’t hurt you to make friends with him.”

  After Galloway stomped the snow from his boots, he shut the door behind him. Crossing the room, he set several blue plastic bags down on the kitchen table, shrugged out of his coat and tossed it over a chair.

  Rusty continued to watch the dog from the corner of her eye as she brushed more tears away, although Galloway already knew she’d been crying. Still, it embarrassed her to cry in front of him. And she was determined not to.

  Jack whimpered again and snuggled closer. She’d never been around dogs, and she wasn’t sure how to behave with them. Sam had told her Jack was friendly and gentle. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to make friends with the beast yet. Not after the way he’d stuck his nose where it didn’t belong yesterday afternoon. Since then, she’d treaded carefully around the house, keeping her hands where the dog couldn’t bother her again.

  She pasted a smile on her lips and said, “Good dog. Now, go away, please.” The beast still ignored her. Finally, she looked up at Galloway for help.

  At the snap of Galloway’s fingers, the dog lifted its head and went to lie on the throw rug at the back door. “Stay,” he commanded. And the dog stayed.

  Rusty brushed the dog hair from her lap, pushed her chair back and stood.

  “Rusty,” Galloway said. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier. I’m sorry I made you cry. I was being an ass.”

  Blinking her damp eyes, she looked up at him. “I won’t argue with you. Yes, you were. But I wasn’t crying because of you. I wouldn’t waste my tears.”

  Scowling at her, he asked, “Then, why were you crying?”

  She straightened her shoulders. “You seem to take Sam’s illness very lightly. The man took you in and gave you half of everything he owned, and yet you don’t seem to give a damn about him. He said you were like a son to him. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” Her eyes filled with tears again, and she couldn’t stop them.

  Damn, he hated to see women cry. And where did she get off accusing him of not caring about Sam? Of course, he cared. But the man wasn’t dying. He was just playing a selfish game. A game that was starting to annoy Luke.

  “It means everything to me,” Luke said. “Sam means everything to me. Even if he is a meddlesome old coot at times. I never knew my father. And my mother … well, let’s just say we weren’t close, and leave it at that. I have no idea where she’s living, or if she’s still alive. Sam is my family. My only family.”

  Rusty’s sobs came quickly. And when she opened her mouth to speak, she practically choked. Luke pulled her into his arms and held her tight.

  “Hey,” he murmured against her ear. “Don’t cry. Sam doesn’t want your pity or your tears. And neither do I.”

  “I … I can’t help myself,” she stuttered. “I’ve just now found him again, and I’m going to lose him soon.” Her whole body shook.

  She felt good in his arms. Soft and pliant against his hard body. “We don’t know that for sure,” he said. “The doctors could be wrong. What do they know? Sam could outlive you and me.”

  She wiped her cheek against his shirt and peeked up at his face. “Really? Do you think we should get another opinion?”

  Luke traced his finger along her cheek, brushing a tear away. “Well, I … Sure, if it will make you happy. But let’s not rush into anything.”

  She placed her palms against his chest, and pushed away. “Why not? We have to try to do something. I’m going to call Dr. Besner and tell him we want a second opinion immediately.”

  He raised his brows. “How do you know Dr. Besner?”

  “I don’t. But his name was on the pain killer he prescribed for Sam.”

  “Why don’t you let me call Bill? He might take the news better coming from me.” Especially when the man had no idea his healthy patient was now suddenly dying.

  “Okay.”

  He thought she’d calmed down, when she suddenly burst into tears again. “What is it now?”

  “He wants a grandchild,” she blurted out. “It’s his last wish.”

  Luke narrowed his eyes. “That bastard. He’s going to wish he were dead when I get through with him.” He clenched his fists tightly, imagining one of them smashing Sam’s nose into his face.

  Rusty stared at him in horror. “What an evil thing to say!”

  He paced the kitchen floor. “Yeah, that’s because you don’t know him the way I do. He’s manipulative. And crazy.”

  “He is not crazy. He just wants to hold his grandchild before he . . .”

  Jesus. What the hell was Sam trying to prove? Luke advanced on her. “So, what are you going to do, Rusty? Get yourself knocked up?”

  When she didn’t deny his accusation, he snorted in disgust and pointed a finger at her. “And if you do decide to do something that stupid, don’t get any ideas about involving me. I don’t want any part of Sam’s little game.”

  She took a step backward. “I wouldn’t dream of it. If I actually wanted to have a child, which I don’t, I think I could find someone more suited for fatherhood than you. Maybe someone without a criminal record.”

  He’d heard a similar comment once before. Sneering at her, he said, “Yeah, maybe someone like that two-timing race car driver you were involved with. He looked like he’d make a nice daddy.”

  “Leave Burke out of this.” This time, it was she who paced the floor. “And for the record, I was never involved with him. Not like you’re thinking, anyway.”

  Luke took a seat and buried his head in his hands. Sam wanted a grandchild. He should have known that was what this whole fiasco had been about. He’d dropped enough hints in the past few months. Luke had thought Sam had just been trying to get him to settle down, get married and start a family. It hadn’t crossed his mind that it was Rusty’s child he wanted crawling around at the farm. The night before when he’d accused Sam of trying to get him and Rusty together, he’d been half joking. He hadn’t really thought the man was serious.

 
“How do you feel about children?” Rusty said softly, coming to stand across the table from him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, do you want them?”

  Luke raised his head to look up at her. “Yeah. Someday,” he added quickly, not knowing what she was getting at.

  “You know, Sam said you were like a son to him.”

  “So?”

  “So, it shouldn’t matter much to him if I gave him a grandchild, or you.”

  Slowly, he scraped the chair back and got to his feet. “Listen, and listen good. I don’t give a damn what Sam wants. I’m not in the habit of impregnating women, just to please that old coot.”

  “I didn’t mean to suggest that you go out and sleep with just anyone. I thought maybe you might be involved with someone.” She tossed the word back at him.

  Before Luke got a chance to speak, there was a knock at the door.

  Luke gave Rusty a sharp look, before turning his back on her and walking away. “Hi, Becky,” he said, swinging the door open.

  Jack stood to greet the woman, wagging his bushy tail in earnest. Before Luke could introduce Becky, Rusty yelled, “Watch your privates!”

  The woman stepped into the kitchen, unbuttoned her coat and smiled at Rusty. “Don’t worry about me. Jack and I have an understanding. Don’t we, boy?” Fishing into her coat pocket, she tossed a dog biscuit into the air. Jack dove for it and crunched it up in two bites. Looking at Rusty, the woman said, “Hi, I’m Becky Meyers.”

  Rusty offered her hand. “Hello, I’m Rusty Paris.”

  Luke immediately went to a cupboard and pulled out a mug. “Coffee, Beck?”

  “What do you think?” she answered, laughing. She shimmied out of her gray wool pea jacket and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair, the way Luke had moments ago. Then, pulling out that same chair, she made her herself at home.

  Becky looked to be in her mid forties, had dark hair—with a few grays mixed in—pulled back in a sleek ponytail—amber gold eyes, and wore very little make-up. She looked about Rusty’s height and probably weighed ten pounds more than she. She was dressed in jeans, boots and a red turtleneck sweater.