Suzanne Brockmann

by Give Me Liberty (written as Anne Brock) (lit)

  "Miniature big band," Luke said with a smile. "That's a great oxymoron."

  Lib felt one of his muscular thighs brush against hers, and their eyes met and held. She gazed into the chocolate brown depths as his arm tightened around her, pulling her even closer, close enough that their bodies touched not just by accident, but continuously. Relentlessly.

  Lib's mouth was dry and she moistened her lips. "Luke," she said. "People are watching us. They're going to think—"

  "That I want you?" he said quietly. "They'll be right."

  His eyes seemed to spark with a heat that pierced and flowed through her, pooling in a liquid mass deep within her. "I can't hide it any longer," he said. "Kiss me, Liberty."

  It was crazy, absolutely crazy. There were so many reasons why she shouldn't kiss him. So many good, solid reasons. They were in full view of the entire town, for one. And she wasn't ready for their relationship to move in this direction, not yet, anyway.

  But Lib didn't pull away, didn't move. And Luke bent his head and kissed her.

  Lib closed her eyes. His lips were so gentle, the kiss so sweet. Sweet, yet with the promise of passion lurking just below the surface. She felt her arms encircling his neck, pulling him closer to her. She couldn't get enough of him. It shocked her to think what she wanted, and she pulled back.

  Luke was breathing hard — as hard as she was. "Lord," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do that."

  "I should go," Lib breathed. "I'm supposed to be dish­ing out the strawberry ice cream."

  "You're not really going to kiss me like that, and then pretend you didn't?"

  "No, of course not," Lib said, flustered. "But this is hardly the place—"

  "Relax. I was ragging on you," Luke said quickly. "That was like what you said to me the first day we met, remember? You can kiss me any time you want, and we don't have to talk about it at all."

  He kissed her again. Lord, she was so sweet. "Don't go," he said.

  "I promised I'd help—"

  "Then let me help, too."

  Lib pulled back in surprise. Realizing suddenly that they were standing still among a dozen dancing couples, she took Luke's hand and led him to the edge of the gazebo. "You really want to help?" she asked.

  I really want to be with you. Luke didn't say the words aloud. He couldn't say them aloud. They frightened him to death. Lord only knows how Lib would have reacted. "Yeah," he said.

  "Luke, we do need to talk," Lib said.

  Her violet eyes were so serious, Luke felt a momentary pang of worry. But then he remembered the way she had kissed him, the way her arms had tightened around his neck. He wasn't imagining this attraction between them. She felt it, too. He knew that she did.

  Even if she had a hundred reasons why they should only be friends, he could come up with a hundred reasons why they should become involved. Her eyes, her smile, her lips, her nose and every single one of the freckles on it, the way she laughed, her sense of humor, the way she made him feel...

  Lord, the way she made him feel...

  "Later," she said. "We'll talk later."

  He nodded and she led the way across the green to the table that held huge containers of ice cream. The containers sat in tubs of ice, in a pathetic attempt to keep them from melting.

  Lib spent the afternoon too busy to think, scooping out bowl after bowl of strawberry ice cream, working alongside of Luke. Every time she turned around, he was there, watching her with unmistakable heat in his eyes.

  The look in his eyes was unmistakable to everyone else in town as well, Lib realized as she caught the brunt of old Miss Price's disapproving frown.

  Lib wished she knew what to do.

  She knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to kiss Luke Fulton again.

  * * *

  Lib leaned in through the passenger window of Luke's truck.

  "Come on," he said. "Get in. We're late. The game's gonna start in fifteen minutes."

  "I'll get in on one condition," Lib said. "You've got to promise not to kiss me again until after we've had a chance to talk."

  Luke stared at her. "You're kidding."

  "No, I'm not."

  He smiled his most beguiling smile. "Not even a good luck kiss before the game?"

  "We've won the past four games in a row," Lib said. "We don't need luck to win. So... do you promise?"

  "You're serious, aren't you?"

  "Damn serious. I'll drive myself over if I have to," she said, pulling back out of the window, as if she were going to jump down onto the driveway and get into her own car. "All right," Luke said hastily. "God. I promise."

  Lib opened the door and climbed into the truck. She smiled at him as she fastened her seat belt.

  "This is really great for my ego," Luke grumbled as he threw the truck into gear and spun out down the street. "First woman I've kissed in three years, and you only look happy when I promise not to do it again."

  "Poor baby," Lib laughed.

  "So talk to me," Luke said.

  Lib shook her head. "We've got a game to play in a few minutes," she said. "You don't really want to start a conversation that we can't possibly finish now, do you?"

  "I don't understand what there is to talk about," Luke argued, as the truck bounced into the softball field parking lot. "I know you feel the same thing I do, I can see it in your eyes. I don't want to be just friends any more, Lib. I want—"

  "I know."

  Luke parked the truck and turned to look at her, slipping his arm up along the back of the seat. She was looking down at the softball glove she held in her lap.

  "It's this money thing," Lib said, glancing up at him. "I'm just not comfortable getting involved with someone I owe so much money to. There's too much room for misunderstandings and mistrust. So. I called Rich Lowell and asked him to set up an appointment for me down at the bank. I'm going to try to get a mortgage on the house so I can pay you back the money I borrowed."

  "Excuse me for insulting you, sweetheart," Luke said with a disbelieving laugh, "but that's nuts. The way we've got it set up, you don't have to start paying me back until you've finished the work on the house. But the bank's not going to wait. They'll want your first payment right away. You're going to have to get a job — in fact you'll need to get one before they'll approve the loan. And if you're working full time, that leaves only evenings and weekends to finish the house. It's going to take you forever."

  Lib didn't say anything. Out of the window she could see the team warming up. "The game's going to start—"

  "To hell with the game," Luke said.

  Lib looked up into dark eyes that were piercing in their intensity. Her gaze lowered to his mouth, to those lips that could kiss her and make her feel the way no other man had ever made her feel. She wanted him to kiss her again. She wanted it so badly —

  "Priorities," she said, looking back into his eyes. "You're right — I want to finish the work on the house. I also want to be able to wait to start paying back the loan. But right now there are other things I want more."

  "Like what?"

  He still didn't understand. Either that or he wanted to hear her say it... Lib pushed open the door of the truck and unfastened her seat belt, looking out toward the field.

  "Like winning this game tonight," she said with a smile. "Like kicking the Falcons' butts." She looked up at Luke and her smile faded. Time to be honest. "Like... you."

  The red and orange light from the setting sun cast shad­ows across his face, making him look mysterious and even more exotically handsome than usual. As she watched, his dark eyes seemed to turn even darker. He slowly shook his head.

  "No way," he said, sliding across the seat toward her. "Uh-uh. You're not going to say something like that to me and expect me not to kiss you."

  "But we haven't finished talking," Lib said, backing away, climbing down out of the truck. "And you prom­ised."

  Luke frowned. "There's more to say?"

  "You bet."


  "Lib—"

  "Luke, we'll have time to talk after the game," she said quietly. "Lots and lots of time. Let's not rush this, okay? Please?"

  He was silent, just looking at her, but finally he nodded. "All right," he said. "We'll play by your rules."

  "This isn't a game," Lib said, her violet eyes serious. "The only game I'm interested in playing is about to start over there on that field. So move it, Fulton. I want to blow the Falcons away."

  Luke had to run to keep up with Lib as she jogged toward the softball field. Their team was up first, and he joined the other players on the bench, quickly changing into his softball cleats.

  "You're batting third, Luke," the team captain told him.

  "'Bout time you guys showed up. I was starting to think we'd have to forfeit the game." He grinned. "To tell you the truth, I almost wish we had. It woulda been much less painful. The Falcons are going to tromp us into the ground. Anyone taking bets? Are we gonna get shut out again by these guys?"

  "Milt, you're supposed to tell us that we're going to win," Lib said from where she sat further down the metal bench. "Come on, guys, we can beat the Falcons. It's just not going to be as easy as the last four games."

  "We are on a winning streak," one of the outfielders said.

  "I don't know," Milt said dubiously, watching the first batter strike out. "We've never beaten the Falcons yet."

  "Joanie, get on base," Lib shouted to the next batter. "Luke's up next and he's gonna hit a triple. He'll bring you home." She turned and grinned teasingly at Luke. "Right?"

  Luke met her eyes steadily, holding her gaze as he stood up and picked up a bat. "If it would make you happy," he said, "I'd do damn near anything."

  The players on the bench let out a collective "Oooh," looking from Luke to Lib and then back again. Someone started chanting that old playground song about Lib and Luke sitting in a tree.

  Lib felt her cheeks heat up. Good grief, what was wrong with her? She was blushing like a school girl. And naturally, Luke noticed.

  He grinned at her, warming up the muscles in his shoulders and back by swinging the heavy bat.

  There was a sound as the ball hit the wood of a bat, and Lib leapt to her feet, her embarrassment forgotten as she watched Joan run for first base.

  Luke's turn.

  She watched him step into the batter's box, digging in slightly with the toe of his cleats, lowering his center of gravity for balance, and bringing the bat back. He wore a Wed pair of baseball pants, and the stretchy fabric hugged his muscular legs and derriere. It was undeniable. Luke Fulton had an incredibly cute butt.

  As if he knew what she was thinking, he suddenly stepped out of the batter's box, and turned and looked at her. And grinned.

  "Hey, Lib," he said.

  The umpire was exasperated. "Luke. Get to it here, will you?"

  Lib stood, crossing to the wire mesh fence that protected the team from stray balls.

  "Does it have to be a triple?" Luke asked. He tapped the sides of his cleats with the bat, then made sure his T-shirt was tucked into his pants. "Can I hit a home run?"

  She crossed her arms. "Oh, please," she said. "Be my guest."

  Luke smiled, positioning himself over the plate again. The look on her face told him if he did something dumb, like pop up to right field, she'd tease him about this for the rest of his life.

  But he knew this pitcher. This guy occasionally let go with a perfect floater — nice and soft and straight down the middle. And Luke knew if he hit a home run, his team would get jazzed. Ty Bartlett was up next, and he was another power hitter — but a total head case. If Bartlett thought they were going to lose, he'd strike out. But if he thought they might win

  The pitcher let go of the ball, and Luke knew he had a real chance at hitting it over the wall. He felt strong. He pulled the bat back farther and swung, feeling the power in his shoulders and arms. It felt good. He felt good. For the first time in years he felt really good, and it had nothing to do with being close to his goal of buying back his land. It had nothing to do with the land at all. It was all about Lib. She made him feel alive. She made him feel

  The force of the bat hitting the ball jarred Luke's entire body, and the crack! was so loud, it hurt his ears.

  The ball was brilliant white against the darkening eve­ning sky as it rocketed in a high arc toward center field, but Luke didn't watch it. He didn't run toward first base. He didn't even walk. He simply stood at home plate and lowered his bat to the ground.

  His mouth was dry and his hands were shaking and it had nothing to do with the fact that he'd just hit a home run that dropped a good fifty yards outside of the center field fence.

  He turned and looked at Lib.

  The rest of his team was going nuts, jumping up and down and shouting, but Lib was still standing at the backstop.

  "Show off," she said and smiled at him.

  If he wasn't certain before, her smile clinched it for him. He was in love with Liberty Jones.

  Chapter Seven

  Victory was sweet.

  Unfortunately, it was also messy.

  Lib laughed as another can of beer was sprayed over her and her teammates.

  "Awesome double-play," Joanie said, giving Lib a high five. "I can't believe we beat the Falcons. Nobody beats the Falcons!"

  "Negative thinking gets you nowhere," Lib said. "How many times have I told you that?"

  Joan laughed, then squealed as another can of beer was shaken up and opened.

  "Frequently," she said. "At least four times a game. But winning this one proves it." The shorter woman smiled up at Lib. "You know, I'm beginning to think you might actually have a ghost of a chance with Luke Fulton."

  Lib frowned slightly. "Only a ghost of a chance?"

  Joan shrugged. "Hey, I'm only recently converted to your way of thinking," she said with a smile. "Luke's got to be the best-looking guy in town." She glanced across the crowd to where Luke was talking to Ty Bartlett. Lib followed her gaze, and as they watched, Luke pulled off his T-shirt. As if he could feel their eyes on him, he looked up at Lib and smiled.

  Joan sighed. "Well, okay, so he's not the best-looking guy in town. He's the best-looking guy in Vermont."

  "Would you believe the Western Hemisphere?" Lib said.

  "No," Joan said. "The world. The entire world." The two women looked at each other and laughed. "Seriously, though, Lib," Joan said. "Luke might be nice to look at, but..."

  Joan scuffed at the dusty ground with the toe of her sneaker.

  "Say it," Lib urged. "Just say it."

  "The man's a snake," Joan finally said. "If I were you, I'd stay far away from him. You deserve more than just a chance at happiness. You deserve to be treated better." She looked up at Lib. "You know that I'm only saying this because I like you."

  Lib nodded seriously. "I know," she said. "But I think you're wrong. Luke treats me just fine. He's really very sweet—"

  "Because you haven't slept with him," Joan said.

  Lib didn't say anything, surprised that this woman she barely knew was delving so deeply into her personal affairs. "You haven't, have you?" Joan persisted.

  Lib finally shook her head. No.

  "I've known a few of Luke's lady friends," Joan said. "Apparently, he's all sugar and spice until the morning after. Then it's icicle time — if he even bothers to stay till the sun comes up."

  "Joan, I don't want to hear this—"

  "It's a game to him, Liberty," Joan said. "If you don't know the rules, you can't possibly win. He's after the conquest, the thrill of the chase."

  "No, he's different now," Lib said.

  "How can you be sure?"

  "You don't have to be sure," Lib said quietly, "when you've got faith."

  Lib looked up to find Luke watching her.

  "Come on." She couldn't hear him over the celebratory noise, but she could clearly read his lips. He gestured with his head toward the parking lot. "Let's go," he mouthed.

  "S
ee you later, Joan," she said, pushing free of the crowd. Her stomach felt nervous. This was it. She and Luke were finally going to sit down and talk. She was going to have to tell him... what?

  That she really wanted him to be convinced she wasn't going to leave town before they became romantically involved? That she didn't want just a brief affair, just a fling? That she didn't want temporary or short term? That she was hoping for... that she wanted forever. She actually wanted to spend the rest of her life with Luke Fulton.

  She could barely believe it herself. That she was actually considering marriage was crazy. The fact that she wanted to marry Luke was pure insanity. Joan's warning hadn't been idle gossip. In fact, Lib believed that at one time, Luke had been the very man that Joan had described. He had as much as admitted himself that he'd never been in a long-term relationship before. Hell, to Luke Fulton, long-term probably meant a month.

  But she wanted him. Lord help her, she wanted him. She could hardly think about her feelings for this man without getting overwhelmed and having to sit down.

  The real crazy thing was, she did have faith in Luke. She trusted him. Despite his reputation, despite his history, she believed with every fiber of her being that if they were married, if he promised her forever, it would be a promise that he would keep.

  Lib sighed. If only Luke trusted her. If only he didn't think of her as an outsider. Then they could skip the talking and go straight to the kissing. And she wanted to kiss him again.

  Lib came face to face with Luke, just on the other side of the team bench.

  He'd been soaked with beer and his dark hair was curling and sticking to his neck. He wrung out his T-shirt and a stream of liquid splashed onto the dusty ground.