Eyeing him suspiciously, I tried to make up my mind whether his lack of answer was confirmation that, in fact, he had been following me. “Such as?” I asked quietly, letting my gaze drop to the floor.
“Oh, I don't know.” His attention flickered to the fireplace for a moment, then back to me. “Please, sit down.”
Wrestling with my suspicions, I hovered for a few seconds as I tried to decide whether to stay or run. I had no idea who this man was, didn't have a single reason to trust him and yet, he had saved me today. Or at least, he'd thought he was saving me. A glance at Lucas showed his expression to be much calmer, his body language displaying none of the anger he'd been directing at me until now. I slumped back down onto the couch.
“How about we get to know each other a little better? How old are you, Charlotte?”
I smiled softly at the deliberately simple question. He seemed to be trying to put me at ease and I appreciated it. “I'm twenty.”
“Okay, now it is your turn. Remember, we're sticking with easy questions for now,” he instructed gently and the corner of his mouth curled into a lopsided smile as he settled back more comfortably on the couch.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty four.”
“Oh.”
“You seem surprised,” he pointed out.
“Lonnie from the grocery store told me you were twenty eight.” I spoke without thinking (again), and instantly regretted it, realizing he would know I'd been discussing him. I could feel heat spreading across my cheeks at the faux pas.
“Did she now? What else did Lonnie from the grocery store tell you?” he asked with an impish grin. He lifted his arm, laying it across the back of the couch as he watched me with undisguised amusement.
“She told me you work in Billings,” I admitted. I certainly wasn't going to tell him about her discussions regarding his sexuality and dating preferences, but he seemed to guess there was more.
“Anything else?”
“Um, no.” I was lousy at lying and was sure he'd guessed I was hesitant, but he didn't push the subject further. I gathered my rapidly drying hair in my fingers, fashioning it into a loose knot at the nape of my neck.
Lucas stood abruptly and walked across to the fireplace, his attention fixed on the flickering yellow-red flames in the grate. His shoulders were stiff with tension and he clenched and unclenched his fists before he spoke again. “My turn,” he announced. “Why does a lovely girl like you, choose to live such a minimalistic lifestyle?”
Inhaling sharply, I took a moment to select my words carefully. He'd been to the cottage, had obviously seen the pathetic belongings I owned. There was no point trying to deny it. “I don't feel the need to have a lot of stuff. I travel… a lot, and I just pack up my car and move on when— when I'm ready.”
He thought over my words before responding. “You're not attending college?”
Relaxing by increments, I grinned wryly. “I thought we were taking turns, so isn't it my turn again?”
“Indeed it is. Go right ahead.” He sat down on the couch and clasped his hands between his knees, leaning forward to watch me with interest.
I deliberated over the next question. “Do you live here alone?” It seemed like a polite, but roundabout way of discovering whether he was in a relationship with anyone, without actually asking the question outright.
“I have friends who live with me, we share the house,” he announced promptly. “What about you? Do you have family or friends living in this area? I hear you only moved here a month ago.”
“No family, no friends,” I stated cautiously, wondering where his friends were. Would they be home soon? It would be awkward trying to explain my appearance in their home, and I thought again about leaving. “Only the new ones, which I seem to be making at an alarming rate,” I muttered in an afterthought.
Lucas's eyebrows rose and he studied my face for a few seconds, before he spoke again. “You don't want to make friends?”
I drained the brandy glass and placed it on the coffee table. “I believe it's my turn.” I said, glancing around the room while I considered my next question and hoping he wouldn't pursue my aversion to friendships. “Are those paintings genuine?” I gestured toward the wall near the kitchen doorway, where I'd recognized what looked like a Picasso, or at least, a remarkably good counterfeit.
“Yes.”
“Wow,” I breathed. “May I take a closer look?”
“Of course.”
I walked from painting to painting, admiring the pieces, studying the work of the Masters involved. I'd only ever seen works like these in books, to see them in real life was extraordinary.
“My turn.” I was startled by the sound of his deep voice and discovered him standing beside me. Only a couple of feet separated us, and his aroma washed over me. It took a second to recognize it was different today, the subtle scent of freshly baked cookies and mellow strains of coffee overwhelming my senses. The impression was one of safety and comfort and some of the tension eased out of my shoulders. “What is your favorite color?”
I shrugged. “I'm not sure I have a favorite. I love all color,” I admitted.
“The words of a true artist.” He smiled easily, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. “I saw your painting equipment, at your house.”
I nodded, somehow relaxed by his easy admission about the cottage. He was not attempting to deny he'd been there, and it somehow made it less perturbing. “What's your favorite color?”
He looked deeply into my eyes for a couple of seconds before answering. “Green.”
≈†◊◊†◊◊†◊◊†≈
I'm not sure how long our question and answer session lasted, but after a second brandy and with the radiating warmth from the roaring fire, I was beginning to feel exceptionally drowsy. Lucas had asked about many aspects of my life, even down to minute details, such as my favorite foods, but seemed intuitively to stay away from questions that would cause me discomfort. In turn, I learned he'd attended Yale, was born in Chicago, and he had lived here in Puckhaber Falls for two years. He gave no information about his family, only saying his parents had died some years ago and he had no siblings. He could play piano, guitar, and the violin and enjoyed a wide range of music. He wasn't particularly interested in sports, but ran to keep fit. He worked as a lawyer in Billings, but chose to live out here, because he enjoyed the peace and quiet. He was very interested in my artistic endeavors and we spoke at length about favorite artists, finding we shared a number, including Matisse, Monet, and Renoir.
I'd asked him about the piano and in response, he offered to play something. I agreed and snuggled back against the couch to listen, impressed by his skill, and enjoying the selection of songs he chose. The combination of two brandies and the dramas of the day began to have their effect and regrettably, I awoke to find myself once again in Lucas's arms as he walked down a darkened hallway.
“Where are we going?” I questioned groggily. The same exhilarating aroma was assaulting me again and I snuggled against his shoulder like a contented kitten.
“You fell asleep,” he whispered huskily. “Having seen what you are sleeping on at your house, I'm going to put you to bed here, and I'll drive you home in the morning.”
Alarmed, I struggled to wriggle free of his hold. “I think I should go home now.”
“No, I insist. I will be a complete gentleman, I assure you. You will come to no harm.”
Either the sincerity of his words convinced me, or the enticing aroma wafting around us was making me crazy, because I snuggled up against his cold hard chest and argued no more.
Chapter 4: Introductions
I had no idea what time it was when I woke, there was no clock in the bedroom and I couldn't judge by the light outside. One of the problems of living in the north of the United States, as winter approached, it was perpetually overcast and difficult to estimate time without sunlight for guidance.
It took a minute or two to figur
e out where I was – laying between the soft cotton sheets, my head cradled against downy pillows was enormously comfortable – and definitely not my own hard cot and sleeping bag. I drew myself into a sitting position, looking around the room I'd been too drowsy to notice last night. This wasn't the cottage, that fact was indisputable. This room was roughly the same size as the entire cottage, the walls painted a sumptuous shade of claret with oak wainscoting covering the lower half. The bed was ornate, an oak four-poster which seemed almost medieval in appearance, carved motifs decorating the frame. Matching bedside drawers stood on either side. Fresh roses, in the deepest shade of crimson, sat on the oak dresser opposite the bed and I could smell their heady fragrance permeating the room.
Comprehension filtered into my sleep-addled brain, my cheeks heating with humiliation. Lucas must think I was an absolute lunatic. First – I walk in front of his car and get myself hit. Then, he has to stop me from plunging over a waterfall. And to add insult to injury, he brings me to his home and I fall asleep on the couch. I scored a perfect ten in the crazy stakes; there was no doubt about it. If there were a gold, silver, and bronze medal for making a complete fool of myself, I would take the trifecta.
I dragged myself out of bed, standing beside it uncertainly. Should I try to sneak out? It was Friday, perhaps he'd already left for work, but I dismissed the notion immediately. I couldn't be that lucky. Besides which, he probably wasn't thrilled about leaving a nutcase alone in his house. His very impressive house, I reflected, studying the room distractedly while I figured out what to do. In my whole life, I'd never seen a house like this. I cringed as I imagined Lucas in the tiny cottage, seeing my shabby furniture and bedside table made from a cardboard box. And that reminded me – how had he gotten into the cottage? I hadn't asked. How did he know where I lived? Another question I'd failed to ask. It seemed in things concerning Lucas Tine; I had only questions and no significant answers.
I raked my fingers through my hair, attempting to tame the wild curls into some semblance of order. I really should consider a haircut, I hadn't had one since… well, to be honest, I couldn't remember when. It had been a while.
I'd left my personal grooming behind quite a long time ago. Which led to another humiliated flush, as I thought of Lucas's casually stylish look. He looked like an advertisement from some fancy fashion magazine – I glanced down ruefully at my faded sweater and too-loose jeans – I looked like a homeless person.
I scouted around for my sneakers, groaning aloud when I recalled leaving them in Lucas's bathroom. They were still probably soaking wet. The day was deteriorating rapidly. Squaring my shoulders resolutely, I decided to just march out and deal with whatever lay ahead.
I opened the bedroom door noiselessly and timidly walked down the long hallway. I'd almost stepped into the living room when I realized Lucas was there and he wasn't alone. He was talking quietly to another man, who had his back to me. I turned to slip back up the hallway, figuring I'd keep out of their way.
“Good Morning, Charlotte.” Lucas's voice caught me unawares and I stopped in my tracks similar to a deer caught in headlights, uncertain what to do next.
“Um, hi,” I said cautiously, clutching my hands together nervously behind my back.
The second man turned and offered me a relaxed smile and I smiled back self-consciously, aware of my disheveled appearance.
“Charlotte, this is a friend of mine, Ben Becket.”
I nodded hesitantly, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me.
“It's a pleasure to meet you, Charlotte,” Ben said, scrutinizing me carefully. He was almost as striking as Lucas was, with ebony hair that fell appealingly across his forehead and touched the top of his collar. It was the true black, which was so rare – the kind with blue highlights through it. His skin was like alabaster, similar to Lucas's, and his eyes a very dark brown. He was wearing tailored linen trousers in dark grey and a shirt of the deepest green. “How is your head?”
I touched the back of my head automatically, running my fingers across the small bump that remained from the accident. “Fine, thanks. Wait, how did you know about that?”
Ben grinned, glancing at Lucas with a bemused look. “Lucas told me what happened when he got home that day.”
I glanced from Ben, to Lucas, and watched Lucas shrug. “Ben and his wife live here with me. The house is too big for one person. We've been friends for many years.”
“Oh.” From the corner of my eye, I noticed Ben was still watching me carefully, his focus intent. Was it my imagination, or was he making some judgment about me? Good grief, I really am turning into a lunatic.
“Would you like some breakfast? I have a pot of coffee on, and there is a box of donuts on the counter,” Lucas announced politely. He offered me a reassuring grin and I returned the smile feebly, clutching my fingers together in an effort to stop them shaking. “You must be hungry by now.”
I was ravenous, in fact. I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten, certainly not since the previous morning. I took his offer as a dismissal and stepped past him and Ben, heading towards the kitchen and leaving them to continue their conversation. As promised, I discovered a coffee pot and he'd laid out a cup, spoon, sugar, and cream on the bench. On the breakfast bar was a box of Krispy Kremes. I wondered where he'd gotten them from, there wasn't a store in Puckhaber Falls, and the nearest one was on the outskirts of Billings, over forty miles away. Had he driven through to the city this morning? I glanced around the room, noting the clock on the stovetop read nine thirty. It was still early, how had he gotten to Billings and back? You're being ridiculous, he probably had them in a cupboard or freezer. I poured a coffee, flipped the lid on the box, and selected a donut from the dozen inside. Taking a bite, I was instantly aware the donuts were fresh and could only have been baked this morning. Another mystery to ponder, something else Lucas had done which created unanswered questions.
“I must be leaving, I have to get to work,” I heard Ben announce from the living room.
“See you tonight.”
“You'll be home?”
“Yes.”
Ben said something else, too low and too quickly for me to distinguish.
“If you hear from Marianne, tell her not to worry. I have it under control.” Lucas's voice was stiff, his tone determined.
“You can tell her yourself. She and Striker arrive back from New York this afternoon,” Ben announced. “She cut short their trip. Which at least saves me from fielding more than five phone calls a day – she can nag you herself.”
Ben said his goodbyes and Lucas appeared in the kitchen a second later, striding across to where I stood, leaning against the bench as I munched through my second donut. He grinned when he saw the open box and the empty spaces. “You must have been hungry.”
I nodded, swallowing down a mouthful of donut. “They're delicious. Thank you.”
“How are you feeling this morning?” He was standing quite close, near enough for me to distinguish the flashes of silver in his midnight blue eyes. And to take a deep breath of the aroma that continually turned my brain to mush.
“I'm fine. Thank you.” I swallowed heavily and clutched the coffee cup between my hands. “I should get home. I've taken up enough of your time.”
“On the contrary, I've enjoyed your company,” he said. He gazed down at me for a second or two, and then took a deliberate step away. The muscle in his jaw clenched before he smiled again, although this smile seemed strained. “I've collected your belongings; they are in a plastic bag by the door. I'll drive you home now.”
“I could probably walk from here, it can't be too far,” I suggested hastily, tipping the last of the coffee into the sink and rinsing out the cup. I'd already caused him enough trouble in the past twenty-four hours and his abrupt announcement about taking me home clearly implied that I'd been imposing for too long.
He glanced at my bare feet and the corners of his mouth curled into an amused smirk. “I don't think the weather
is suitable for bare feet, and I believe your sneakers are still rather wet.”
I frowned gloomily. “I forgot about that.”
“It's fine, Charlotte, I'm happy to drive you home. Have you had enough to eat?”
Seeing my nod of agreement, he shut the lid on the donut box and picked it up, handing them to me. “Here, you take these. I don't like donuts.”
I followed him out to the driveway, where his very fancy car was sitting on the gravel. He drove swiftly, his reactions assured and controlled, following a barely discernible driveway, which wound amongst the trees. I was too anxious to look at the dashboard and see how fast he was driving.
My heart hammered in my chest when I stole a discreet glance in his direction, a reaction I'd thought to be completely impossible. I'd been utterly numb for so long, the idea of being physically attracted to a man now was disquieting. I didn't want to feel like this, not here and certainly not now. And not about this man – who was so obviously out of my league.
“What are you thinking, Charlotte?”
I blushed yet again, an infuriating habit. Once more, he'd caught me by surprise. “Nothing, really.”
He studied me for a split-second, before his gaze returned to the road. He didn't pursue the subject, much to my relief and I turned to gaze out the window, resting my fist against my chin as the countryside passed in an indistinguishable blur. After last night, I was certain he would never want to see me again and I realized with uncomfortable clarity, that I would be disappointed if he didn't. Why did I feel this way? Refusing to consider the implications, I straightened in the seat, determined to get back to the cottage and do my level best to forget all about Lucas Tine.
He pulled the car to a stop outside the cottage a few minutes later, and reached across to the back seat, handing me the bag containing my soggy belongings. I pulled the bag onto my lap and reached for the door handle. “Thank you, for everything.”
He smiled hesitantly, immediately breaking eye contact and staring resolutely out of the windscreen, tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel. “You're welcome.”
Knowledge Revealed Page 4