Suzanne Brockmann

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

  "Yuck," said Lib.

  Luke futilely tried to wipe his face with his bare arm. "You're not exactly fresh either," he said, settling for pushing his hair out of his eyes.

  "We should get hosed down before we get into your truck," Lib said. Her sneakers squooshed when she walked.

  He opened the cab door for her. "A little beer won't hurt anything," he said.

  "I would practically sell my soul for a swim in the pond," Lib said, climbing into the truck.

  "So let's go for a swim," Luke said, shutting the door behind her.

  "I still can't believe you hit three home runs," she said as he got into the truck and started the engine.

  Luke looked over at her and smiled, pulling out of the parking lot. "I can't believe that after I did it twice, the Falcon's pitcher didn't walk me," he said. "Obviously, the guy throws 'em just the way I like 'em."

  Lib's eyebrows rose. "Awfully humble talk for a man whose batting average has just gone over six hundred."

  "Let's just say I've been inspired lately," Luke said, making the turn onto Forest Road. He glanced at her. "The whole team has. You know, we've already lost too many games to make it into the play-offs, but with you on the team, I wouldn't be surprised if we go all the way and win the pennant next year."

  Next year.

  Lib sat very still.

  This was the very first time Luke had ever brought up the subject of the future. All the hundreds and hundreds of conversations they'd had about the past and the present and work and life, Luke had never used the words 'next year' and 'you' in the same sentence.

  Maybe it was a slip. Maybe he wasn't thinking. Lib had to know.

  "I don't mind playing first base," Lib said, hoping that her voice wouldn't start shaking and give her away, "but all through high school and college I played catcher." She took a deep breath. "What are my chances of being the catcher next year?"

  Next year.

  To Lib, the words seemed to hang between them heavily, like a thick, wet blanket. But Luke didn't seem to notice.

  He squinted slightly, thinking. "I dunno," he said. The truck bounced over the potholes in Lib's driveway and came to a shuddering stop. "Ty's been catching for about seven years. But he's always bitching and moaning about how much his back hurts when he crouches down, so you might have a shot at it." He glanced at her and smiled. "I've got to confess, I like having you play first base. Maybe next year, you and Ty can switch off."

  Lib felt like crying and laughing both at the same time. Luke believed that she was going to stay in Sterling. Luke had finally realized that when she said she was going to live here permanently, she meant it.

  The rush of emotions she felt was overwhelming. Rather than throwing her arms around Luke, though, she threw open the door of the truck and jumped out.

  "Last one in's a rotten egg," she said, and ran for the backyard.

  The moon was nearly full, and it bathed the meadow with its silvery light. The night air felt cool against Lib's face as she ran along the path toward the pond. She could hear Luke behind her, gaining on her, and she picked up her pace.

  She hit the little wooden dock in full stride and jumped off the end of it, into the pond, with Luke still on her heels. The water was cool and dark. Lib let herself float just beneath the surface, feeling the heat and dust of the day wash away, escaping for a moment in the soothing silence underneath the water.

  She surfaced with a splash only a few feet away from Luke. He smiled at her, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes.

  "Do you always go swimming with your sneakers on?" he asked.

  "Only when the moon's full," Lib said.

  Luke swung himself out of the water, onto the dock and sat on the edge. As Lib watched, he began to untie his sneakers. "Moon won't be absolutely full until tomorrow," he said, tossing the wet sneakers to the other end of the dock and pulling off his socks.

  Lib floated in the water, looking up at him. In the moon-light, his body looked sculpted and perfect, and his face was as handsome as any Hollywood movie star's. He may very well have been the most handsome man in the world.

  Luke crouched at the end of the dock, reaching out his hand for her. "Come on," he said. "Swimming time is up. We've got to talk. Remember?"

  Oh yeah. She remembered.

  Lib took his hand and let him pull her up, out of the water, onto the dock.

  Water ran off her in a sheet, and she pushed her hair from her face, wringing it out behind her back.

  Fire flared in Luke's eyes, and Lib realized that the white T-shirt she was wearing was made transparent by the water. It molded itself to her body, and combined with the lacy bra she wore underneath, didn't leave much to the imagination. She could practically feel the heat of Luke's gaze as he struggled to keep his eyes north of her neck.

  The desire Lib saw in his eyes was exciting. He wanted her. He truly wanted her. But it was the fact that he was fighting to control it — that he cared enough about her to keep the promise he'd made — that was what pushed Lib over the edge.

  She moved toward him, reaching up around his neck to pull his mouth down to hers. She could feel his surprise as she kissed him — surprise that faded quickly, replaced by sheer passion as he kissed her, too. His arms closed around her, pulling her in tightly to him. She heard him gasp as the cool of her wet clothes hit his bare chest, as the softness of her body molded to his.

  And still he kissed her.

  Lib held tightly to him as the world seemed to spin around her. Unlike the other times he'd kissed her, this was a kiss of pure fire, pure heat. His lips were unyielding as his tongue swept past her teeth, into her mouth, tasting her, claiming her, possessing her. She could feel her heart pounding, feel her control shatter, feel her fingers deep in his thick black hair, pulling him even closer to her.

  Just when she was sure he was going to drag her down with him onto the hard wood of the dock, he pulled back. He still held her in his arms, and Lib could see the fire she'd tasted in his kiss lingering in his eyes.

  But she also saw confusion. "Have we talked?" he whis­pered, his eyes caressing her face. His hands were against her back, in her hair, touching, stroking, as if he couldn't believe she was actually in his arms.

  "You know that I live here," Lib said simply, gazing up into his eyes, "that I belong here, in Sterling."

  Luke laughed. Lib could see from his eyes that he didn't understand.

  "You didn't know that a few days ago," Lib explained.

  Understanding lit his face. "You're right," he said softly. "I didn't. But I do now."

  Lib smiled at him in the moonlight, and Luke's heart went through its entire gymnastics routine. If this really was love he was feeling, it was no wonder wars had been started, countries and governments ruined and lost, indi­vidual lives damaged beyond repair, all as a result of this one overwhelming emotion.

  He kissed Lib again, pulling her hips tightly against him, plundering the sweetness of her mouth with his tongue, wanting more, so much more. He heard her moan, felt her hands on the bare skin of his back, pulling him closer to her.

  For the first time in a long time, Luke knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted this woman that he was holding in his arms. But he didn't want her only for one night, or even two. He wanted her for a lifetime. He wanted to grow old with her, to sit with her out on the porch of his house and watch ten thousand summer sunsets.

  He wanted to marry her.

  For one brief, crazed moment, Luke actually considered asking her right then and there. Marry me. The words were on his lips. But if he said those words, she'd think he was totally nuts. And she'd be right. He'd lost it. He'd totally lost his mind.

  Standing there in the pale moonlight, looking down into Lib's beautiful face, Luke didn't care. He may have lost his mind, but, Lord, think of what he was gaining.

  "Luke." The way she breathed his name sent rockets of heat searing through him. He kissed her again and again, losing himself in the softness of her lips, the soft
ness of her body against his.

  Marry me. Again, he almost gave in to the impulse to blurt out the words. But he held himself back. No, this wasn't the way to ask her. If he really knew what he wanted — and he did, that was for damn sure — then he had to work out a plan, figure out the best way to achieve his goal. He had to approach this with a level head, the same way he'd approached his financial goals, pragmatically setting up and sticking to a strategy.

  As much as he wanted to throw himself on his knees and beg her to marry him, as much as he wanted to sweep her up into his arms and carry her up to that big canopied bed she had in her bedroom, as much as he wanted to surround himself with her, to make love to her, to hear her cry out with pleasure and passion, as much as he wanted all that, he held himself back.

  Because he was scared to death of blowing it. He was scared of making a mistake.

  Lib sighed as Luke kissed her again, closing her eyes and letting herself get swept away by the sensations, by the emotion. His lips were so warm and his mouth tasted so sweet —

  Like sugar and spice.

  Joan's words of warning came back to Lib. She'd called Luke a snake, implied he was only after one thing... . Lib tried to push those thoughts away, and hated the fact that she couldn't. Joan's words were marring the perfection of Luke's kisses, invading the privacy of this special moment.

  What if Joan were right? What if he only wanted sex? What if Lib slept with Luke and then, having achieved his sexual goal, he turned into a cold, impersonal stranger?

  But he wouldn't, she told herself. He may have treated women badly in the past, but he was different now.

  Luke was kissing her lightly, running his tongue across her lips in a way that made her flood with heat inside. She wanted him. How she wanted him. And he wanted her. She could feel the unmistakable evidence of his desire pressed tightly against her, she could see his need for her burning in his dark eyes.

  Lib yearned to take him by the hand and lead him back to the house. She wanted to bring him inside, up the narrow back stairs to her bedroom. Yet something held her back.

  A breeze swept over the pond and Lib shivered, as much from her fears as from the coolness of the air against her wet skin and clothes.

  "You're freezing," Luke said, his voice soft and husky in the stillness. "Come on, I'll walk you home."

  He gathered up his sneakers and socks in one hand and clasped Lib's fingers in the other, and together they began walking slowly toward the house.

  Luke said nothing more, and in the silence, Lib wrestled with herself. She knew it was too soon, too early to invite him in, but her heart was urging her to go for it. Her instincts and her emotions told her that the timing couldn't be more right.

  Luke dropped his sneakers and socks onto Lib's front porch and drew her back into his arms. "About that mort­gage you're thinking of getting from the bank," he said. "What can I do to convince you to keep my loan instead?"

  Lib sighed. "It just rubs me the wrong way," she said. "You know, being involved with someone I owe money to. I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea — you included."

  Luke was quiet for a long time, just running his fingers through her still-damp hair.

  "Don't you trust me?" he finally said.

  Lib laughed. "Yes," she said. "But the real question is, do you trust me?"

  She looked up into Luke's eyes and felt a twinge of disappointment at the uncertainty she saw there, at his hesitation to answer her question.

  But to his credit, he answered her honestly. "I don't know," he said. "I'm trying to." He moistened his lips almost nervously, looking away from her for a moment. When he looked back, she could see real vulnerability in his eyes. "It's been a long time since I've trusted anyone besides myself," he said. "I trust you... as much as I can right now."

  She nodded, unable to speak over the emotion that had suddenly welled in her throat and chest.

  Luke took a deep breath. "I want to be honest with you, Lib," he said quietly. "I'm scared that if you take out this loan from the bank in order to pay me back, you won't be able to handle the bank's higher interest payments. I'm scared that you'll be forced to sell your house in order to pay back their loan." He closed his eyes for a moment, but not before Lib caught a glimpse of a sheen of emotion there. He cleared his throat and pulled her in closer to him, resting his cheek on top of her silky hair as he whispered, "I'm scared to death that something's going to happen to make you leave."

  Lib felt her eyes fill with tears, touched that he would admit his fears to her, glad that he trusted her enough to share his feelings. She tightened her hold on him, pulling him closer, then stood on her toes and kissed him.

  He kissed her back almost savagely, as if he couldn't get enough of her, as if he wanted to inhale her, to consume her.

  Luke's head was spinning, and he fought desperately to stay in control. He'd already decided that he wasn't going to stay with Lib tonight, that he wasn't going to ask her to make love to him. It was too soon. Way too soon.

  But he couldn't stop kissing her, each kiss harder and deeper and longer than the last.

  "Liberty, let me stay with you—"

  The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and at the exact instant he spoke, she spoke, too, saying, "Come inside — will you come inside...?"

  Luke pulled back, shocked that he hadn't been able to keep from asking, and thrilled that she wanted the very same thing. He stared into Lib's eyes. They seemed color­less in the darkness, and so beautiful.

  For many long seconds they simply looked at each other. It could go either way, Luke realized. He knew that if she asked him again, he wouldn't be able to refuse. As he watched, Liberty took a deep breath.

  "No." Again, they both spoke at the same moment, then laughed.

  "I think—" Luke started.

  "We should wait," Lib finished for him.

  "I don't want to wait," he murmured, kissing her again.

  "I don't want to either," she said, closing her eyes and melting against him.

  "But we should," he said, still kissing her.

  "I'm not very good at doing what I should," Lib said. "So maybe we should just—"

  Luke cupped her face with his hands, silencing her by brushing his thumb across her lips. "I want you," he said simply. "But I want to do this right. Please don't make it more difficult than it already is."

  His dark eyes were so serious, his face so unyielding, Lib could do nothing but nod.

  He kissed her gently then, a light brushing of his lips across hers. "Good night," he whispered. "See you tomorrow."

  He released her, stepping back, away from her, but she didn't move.

  "Go inside, Lib," he said. "And lock the door behind you, because Lord help me, I'm only human."

  Silently, she opened the door and went into the front hall. "I never lock the door," she said through the screen. In the darkness, Luke caught a quick glimpse of her white teeth as she smiled. "Good night, Luke."

  It didn't have to end here, Luke knew. It would only take one word, and she'd be his for the night. But he wanted more than one night. He wanted every single night for the rest of their lives, and he needed some time to sit down, think it through and figure out the best way to get that.

  Liberty was still standing in the doorway, and he made himself walk down the steps, down the front path, away from her.

  "Luke." The sound of her low, musical voice made him stop.

  He turned around, but he couldn't see her in the shadows, behind the screen door.

  "I'm not going to leave." Her voice drifted out to him from the darkness. "I promise I won't."

  Luke stood on the front walk, moonlight gleaming off his bare shoulders and chest, the nighttime shadows making his muscular body seem even more well-defined. He looked down at the wet sneakers he was carrying, down at his bare feet, then finally up toward the dark doorway, up at the screen door behind which Lib stood.

  "I just... wanted you to know that," she sai
d quietly.

  He nodded, and his eyes seemed to find hers, even though she knew he couldn't possibly see her in the darkness.

  "I'm going to hold you to that promise," he said, then turned and walked into the darkness.

  Chapter Eight

  "Luke!"

  Luke skidded to a stop on the loose gravel out in front of the hardware store, almost dropping the bag he carried. He looked longingly over at his pickup truck, parked across the street, then turned to face his sister.

  "You're in one heck of a hurry," Brenda said with a smile. "Can you spare a few seconds?"

  Luke tried hard not to glance at his watch. "One or two," he said, hefting the paper sack a little higher in his arms. "What's up?"

  "You tell me," Brenda said. "Rumor has it you've taken Lib Jones out to a different restaurant every night this week. I know for a fact that you haven't been in to work — at least not regularly — for going on three weeks. And my spies have reported seeing you two dancing together up at the resort. And I'm talking slooow dancing." She smiled at her brother sweetly. "So tell me, are you still claiming you and Miss Jones are nothing but friends?"

  Luke was looking down Main Street, as if he were watch­ing the light stream of traffic that was moving around the town center. But his eyes were soft and out of focus, and the small smile that played around his mouth told Brenda he'd temporarily been transported somewhere else. She was willing to bet that wherever he'd gone, Lib Jones was nearby.

  "Hello?" Brenda said, and Luke looked back at her, startled, as if he'd forgotten she was standing there.

  "Sorry," he said. "Did you ask me something?"

  He'd been thinking about last night. He'd taken Lib out to dinner, and afterwards they'd walked over to the Dairy Bee and he'd bought her an ice cream cone. As they ate the ice cream, they'd strolled around the town green, holding hands. After he drove her back home, they'd sat on her front porch for hours, talking and watching for falling stars.