Bella shook her head. “That is not fair, Josie.”
Betina tsked and passed the photo to Tia.
Tia stood and handed Josie the photograph back.
“My son loves you, hija. When that door opened earlier, whose hand were you holding? When the storm took you, who came after you? Whenever you have needed him, he has been there. Yet when he needs you, you run away. More than that, you deny him the security of knowing your choice.”
Bettina shook her head and clucked her tongue in disapproval. “It is a dangerous game, making a man jealous.”
“I am not a coward and I’m not trying to make anyone jealous.”
“Yet Luke must watch Zach and others pursue you.”
“Me?”
“You are not that naive,” Tia scoffed.
No, she wasn’t. Josie made to return the photograph to Bella. Bella shook her head and quickly pulled her hands back as if to ward off evil. “I cannot take it when it is so cursed.”
“Cursed?” Oh dear heavens. “How is it cursed?”
“It hurts Luke. Luke is family.” Bella waved her hand at the photograph. “You cannot give away love when you don’t understand it.”
That didn’t even make sense. “I’m a photographer. I don’t have to understand what the camera sees.”
“Not understanding is the problem. This you must fix so I can have my gift.” Bella sighed and looked longingly at the picture. “I very much want my gift.”
Tia stood and took Josie gently by the arm. She was surprisingly strong. In the other room, the babies fussed. Tia lowered her voice as she ushered Josie out the door. “When the time comes that you show this to my son, then we will be very happy to receive this gift. But it is not right that we receive it first. Not right at all.”
“You don’t understand,” Josie protested. “What’s between Luke and me is…complicated, but it has nothing to do with the picture.”
Opening the bedroom door, Tia urged her through it. “I understand you make it difficult, but that does not make this right. You need to make this right.”
“This is why I understand even less,” Bella called after them gingerly adjusting her position. “You are both creative. You create pictures. Luke creates books. So much you have in common. How can you stand so much apart?”
“What?” Josie spun around, grabbing the doorjamb, almost dropping the tintype. “Luke writes books?”
Tia muttered something under her breath. Josie got a sinking feeling in her gut.
Bella covered her mouth. “You did not know of his Dane Savage?”
The feeling got bigger. “Luke is Dane Savage?” Josie cut a glance at Tia. Shock, she realized. That feeling was shock. “The Dane Savage?”
The older woman shook her head and guided her through the parlor.
“About this you need to talk to your man.”
“You could answer my question.”
Tia clucked her tongue. “It is not my place to sort out the secrets you two choose to keep, but I will ask you this because I am old and know the danger of pride. Twice, in the short time you have been here, you have spoken of needing to change. Do you feel you are not good enough as you have been made?”
Josie blamed the shock of discovering Luke was Dane Savage for just blurting out the unvarnished truth. “I don’t know.”
Tia nodded, urging her toward the front door. “This is the same answer Luke gave me when I asked why he hides Dane Savage.” Opening the door, Tia pushed her through. Her expression softened as she watched her through the opening. “Perhaps this is the common ground upon which you can build.”
With that, Tia closed the door.
*
LUKE WAS DANE SAVAGE. Josie stood in the yard absorbing that reality. Two hours after the revelation and it was just beginning to sink in. It was no wonder she loved his books so much. They were truly an extension of the man. Bigger than life, principled and written with the passion that was so much a part of everything he did. And he hadn’t told her. She remembered a couple times when she’d mentioned the author only to find an awkward pause in the aftermath. Once in particular stood out, when she’d saved him from the bandits. Had he wanted to tell her then? She didn’t know. But it hurt that he hadn’t trusted her with the information. Just as it was going to hurt him when he found out she hadn’t told him her choice. Bella was right. She had to fix this. Butterflies churned in her stomach.
But fixing this meant being ready to confront Luke, and the fact that she was hiding behind the garden shed was not a good sign. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. She wasn’t afraid of letting him know she knew about his pseudonym. She could think of a hundred reasons why Luke may have needed to keep his anonymity. The problem was she couldn’t think of one valid reason to justify why she’d deceived him. She’d lied earlier. She truly was a coward.
The tintype caught on her blouse. Josie moved it away, giving it a glare. She was ridiculously afraid of showing Luke this picture. Always had been. The problem was she wasn’t sure why. Was it because she feared his reaction or her own? She hadn’t been lying when she said she was much better at hiding. She’d perfected hiding. She peeked around the shed again. Still no sign of him.
“The trick to a good ambush is to make sure you’ve got adequate cover.”
Oh wonderful. Nothing like fate to force her hand. Josie turned around, clutching the tintype to her chest. “Hello, Zach.”
He was leaning against the shed, arms folded across his chest, his black sombrero pulled low on his brow, a small smile tugging at his sensual lips. “It also helps if you blend in. And you, senorita, are a chicken trying to hide in a pigpen.”
“You’re saying I’m sticking out.”
“Sí. And the man from whom you hide saw you walking down from the house long ago.”
“Really?” She sighed. “Everyone seems to be waiting on me lately.”
“Then you must be someone well worth waiting for.”
“I hope to be.”
His expression softened and he shook his head. “You should talk to your man.”
“I’m working up to it.”
He motioned with his hand. “Work fast.”
She looked over her shoulder. Luke was striding toward them. Her heart did a little flip-flop. Just seeing him boosted her day. And at the same time, this time, filled her with dread. “Darn it.”
She was out of time.
She turned back to thank Zach, only to find him already gone. Darn it again. “Oh sure,” she muttered to his departing back. “Just desert a lady in her moment of need.”
“Who are you talking to?” Luke asked, coming up to her.
“Zach.”
“He left.”
She couldn’t tell his mood from his tone. “I noticed.”
He stopped a couple feet away. His hat brim shadowed his eyes, leaving only the firm set of his lips to indicate his mood. They didn’t look happy. “So why are you out here?”
“I was looking for you.”
“But you found Zach instead?”
“Yes.”
There was a certain aggression in his stance that confused her. “And if I hadn’t come, how long would you have talked to him?”
Her nerves in tatters, she blurted out the truth. “I don’t know.”
It was clearly a wrong answer.
Folding his arms across his chest, he growled, “Well, if you can talk to him, you can talk to me.”
Was he jealous? She sighed. As if she needed another complication. “That seems to be the common opinion.”
“Really?”
She nodded.
His muscles bulged as his fingers flexed. “And you don’t agree.”
She licked her lips. “I’m very tired of people pushing me where I don’t want to go.”
“Oh?”
She hugged the tintype tighter. “Yes.”
“So why are you here?”
“Tia kicked me out of the house.”
“That doesn’
t sound like Tia.”
She shrugged.
“Want to tell me why?”
“No.” Not when he was frowning at her.
“All right.”
He turned and walked away.
“Aren’t you even going to push for a better answer?” she called after him.
“No.”
That “No” left a sick feeling in her stomach. Luke never walked away. He always stood and fought. She followed him down to the corrals. She had to skip every few steps to keep up.
“Why not?” she asked a little breathlessly when she reached him. A horse whinnied a greeting.
“It’s none of my business.”
Josie placed her hand on Luke’s arm. He stopped. She hadn’t been sure he would, but he stopped. But he didn’t turn around. “Please.”
He turned and she took a step back. This wasn’t the Luke she was used to seeing. This man was cold and distant.
His “What?” was equally as cold.
“Please, talk to me.”
Did he really think she could prefer anyone over him?
“So you can amuse yourself between visits with Zach?”
The answer to whether he could seriously think she’d prefer someone over him was clearly yes, and for a moment, the knowledge rocked her world, but when it settled, she could see with freeing clarity.
She’d gotten used to not carrying her weight, she realized. She’d been coasting along like a toboggan on a slow hill, letting time and circumstance dictate more than her own desires. Because that little voice inside declared it safer. She shook her head. That wasn’t fair to Luke, who’d always been straightforward. And it wasn’t fair to her, who’d always wanted to be more. Tia was right. For this to be fixed, honesty would be needed.
“I know you’re Dane Savage.”
Darn it. That wasn’t at all what she’d intended to say. The churning in her stomach increased.
He froze and then asked on a sigh, “Bella or Tia?”
“Bella. She thought I already knew.”
He nodded. There was no softening in his expression. “Anything else?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. “You let me go on and on…”
“I write books. I am Hell’s Eight.” His chin set arrogantly. “There’s a difference.”
“And you don’t think I know that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t you ask?”
His brow rose. “I just found out you knew.”
Darn it. She was making a mess of this.
“You’re a wonderful author.”
The compliment did nothing to warm his mood. If anything it caused the muscle in his jaw to bunch tighter. “Thank you.”
She was losing him. Metal cut into her palm as she debated the best course to take forward. She caught herself as the tin threatened to bend. Wonderful. She’d gone from wrinkling her skirts to almost wrinkling her tintype. A glance at the set of Luke’s shoulders told her subtle wasn’t going to cut it here. Whatever she did, it had to be bold. Stepping around in front of him, she all but dared him to deny her. It was amazing how distant Luke could seem when he wasn’t bending down to meet her. She settled for stroking his chest. “Don’t stop making me your business yet.”
He caught her wrist and held it away from his chest. “Why?”
She hated those one-word answers almost as much as she hated his stony expression. The man facing her now was a far cry from the lover of last night. The other night, they’d been so close she couldn’t tell their heartbeats apart. Now, she’d be hard-pressed to tell he had a heart.
Maybe you did, but I was talking your ear off.
Yes. He had been telling her things, showing her things with his touch, and body. And now it was her turn to reveal truths. “I wanted to show you my picture.”
If looks could kill, the tintype would be ash. “The one that’s going to get you everything you want.”
And she knew the why of his attitude. How could she not? She’d done it so often herself when she was afraid of getting hurt. Withdrawing to a place where she couldn’t be touched was a tried and true haven from risk.
“Yes.”
“I don’t want to see it.”
“Tia called it art.”
“I’m sure it is.”
This time when he looked toward the tintype, there was anger, and oddly enough, longing. She knew all about longing. Suddenly, she wasn’t so afraid to show it to him. “Please, Luke?”
He held out his hand and she gave it to him.
“They say in moments of crisis what’s important can become very clear.” She motioned to the tintype, wishing her words weren’t flying so fast they sounded like squirrel chatter. “I didn’t have time to save everything. I could only grab what mattered. I thought I knew what I wanted, but then it changed.”
He looked at the picture, then at her. Then at the picture again. She couldn’t read his expression. She thought she saw comprehension, maybe joy, but then he grabbed her hand, spun on his heel, giving her a fine view of his back. Pulling her along behind him, he headed for his house. It wasn’t the reaction she’d been expecting.
She tugged at his hand. “Luke?”
“Keep up.”
She muttered, “You wouldn’t be saying that if I were wearing a corset.”
“That’s another reason for not wearing one.”
She rolled her eyes. “Now you remember you’re always right.”
They stopped in front of his room. “Was there a time I forgot?”
“Yes. When you thought I could ever prefer Zach or a pen name to the real thing.”
Opening the door, he pushed her in.
“Why is everyone pushing me through doors today?”
“Probably because you bring out the primitive in a person.” He set the tintype on a small table.
Now, that had possibilities. Luke going all primitive was very sexy.
The room was dark and cool. She blinked, adjusting her eyes as he shut the door. She barely had time to register that soft click before Luke spun her around and pinned her up against the wall. Chest to chest. Hip to hip.
“You, my darlin’, are in serious trouble,” he whispered in her ear.
“I am?”
“Yes. I should paddle your butt for letting me assume you kept the other tintype. That you chose a profession without me over a future with me.”
“It was a hard choice.”
“As hard as giving up Dane Savage?”
She blinked. “Who?”
“Your favorite author.”
She frowned up at him. “He doesn’t exist.”
His fingers made short work of her bun. “Good answer.”
“Well,” she clarified, “he does in your work, but he’s a name, not a person.”
Some of the tension left his shoulders. “You really need to learn to quit while you’re ahead.”
“I’m ahead?” It didn’t feel like it.
“Yes.” His palm cupped her cheek as her hair fell down her shoulders. “In regard to your profession, it never had to be a choice, me or photography, had you discussed it with me, which is just another reason I should paddle your butt.”
She shook her head, freeing the strands. “I thought we were done with the spanking threats.”
His hand opened over her collarbone. It could have felt like a threat. It felt more like a welcome home. That sexy deep growl he made in his throat might just have been a promise. “I’ve got a feeling with a free-thinking woman like you, I’m just getting warmed up.”
She gripped his wrist, holding his hand to her. She wanted the welcome and the promise. “I prefer you be sweet.”
“Why?”
“It makes me melt inside.”
His hands slipped under her skirt and he made that sound again. A very deep, sexy, drawling growl. “Are you telling me it gets you wet?”
“Yes,” she gasped as his calloused fingertips grazed up the inside of her thighs. “Wh
at are you doing?”
“Seeing for myself how you melt.”
“Oh heavens.”
“Spread your legs.”
As soon as she did, he found the slit in her pantaloons. His fingers slid easily over her slick heat. She winced when he probed deeper, but arched closer, too. The man was always confusing her.
“Sore?”
“Yes.”
“I like that.”
“That I hurt?”
“No. That you’re mine. That excites me.”
She drew her leg up his, granting him better access. “It does me, too.”
“Good.” His lips brushed her ear. “Why didn’t you tell me you chose me and love over your independence?”
With his touching her like this she could admit it easily. “You weren’t touching me.”
Resting his forehead against hers, he shook his head. This close it was hard to focus on one feature but easy to see the whole man. Strong. Solid. Dependable. And as his fingertip teased her pussy, exciting. Very, very exciting.
“That’s all it took?”
“Apparently.” She slid her hands up his chest, feeling bold and daring and incredibly feminine as she confessed, “When you touch me, I don’t see obstacles, just possibilities.”
“Good.”
“What do you feel when you touch me?”
“Complete.”
She reconsidered her position on one-word answers. Not all were bad. Stroking his cheek, she whispered, “That was sweet.”
He found a spot that made her shiver. He smiled that predator smile that sapped the strength from her knees. She clutched his shoulders.
He laughed and drawled, “Now, I think that was sweet.” A few more strokes and a few more shivers and he asked, “What obstacles?”
“What?”
“What obstacles do you see when I’m not touching you?”
He wanted to have this conversation now? Like this? She bit her lip. With a kiss he defeated the gesture. “Stop worrying and start confessing.”
“You might be mad.”
“Try me.”
She wanted to try him in every way but that one. Slipping her hand down his chest, licking her lips at the tantalizing heat of his skin beneath, she rode the ridges of well-developed muscles to the waistband of his pants. She tucked her fingers beneath. “Can’t it wait?”
He stilled his caresses, leaving her hanging with anticipation. “Luke…”
Luke's Cut Page 27