by Joanna Sims
She didn’t have any doubt that they were all gorgeous creatures. Most likely, they were exotic women who had great bodies and lots of brains. Luke always wanted the entire package and he was a man who always got what he wanted. The image of a willowy brunette with pouty lips, blue eyes and a Ph.D. was the last unfortunate image she had in her head before she drifted off to sleep.
The sound of a man’s voice jarred her awake.
Sophia jerked her head off the pillow and stared confused into the darkened room. The digital clock on the nightstand read 2:15 a.m. She had been asleep for several hours.
Had she dreamt the male voice?
She was just about to think that the voice had been a part of a dream when she heard it again.
It was Luke’s voice. The words were unintelligible, but the tone was unmistakable. He was yelling and his voice was commanding, urgent.
She pushed herself out of bed as quickly as she could and crossed to his room through the bathroom. She flipped on the bathroom light and tapped on the door lightly.
“Luke?”
He didn’t answer, but she heard him mumble something she couldn’t understand.
“Luke?” She tapped louder this time. No answer.
Impatient, she opened the door and peaked inside the room. Luke was sprawled out on the bed in his underwear. One arm was flung over his forehead and the other dangled off the side of the bed.
“Luke?” She said his name again, and walked quietly over to the bed. As she got closer, she could see that his body was covered with a thin sheen of sweat; his face was flushed.
Concerned, she stopped at the edge of the bed. He was still mumbling; she strained to make out the words.
“Luke,” she said more forcefully as she reached out her hand to touch his arm.
In an instant, Luke’s eyes popped open and his fingers closed over her wrist. She could see by the confused look in his eyes that he didn’t recognize her. His fingers were like a steel band around her wrist; it didn’t hurt, but she couldn’t move away either. She was trapped, and if this hadn’t been Luke holding her wrist so firmly, she would have been afraid. But this was Luke, so she had nothing to fear.
Chapter Seven
Luke was looking at her so strangely; she’d never seen this look in his eyes before. It was unnerving. He still held her wrist in his hand. The pressure didn’t hurt, but she had the distinct sensation that it wouldn’t take much for Luke to change that situation.
“It’s Sophia, Luke,” she said quietly; she kept her tone even and calm.
The look in his eyes shifted; he recognized her. “What are you doing in here?”
“You were having a...” She paused to find the right word. “A nightmare, I think.”
Luke’s eyes moved to his hand on her wrist. He released her as if he had been burned.
Instead of taking a step back, she leaned forward and touched his forehead. His body was tense, the muscles coiled as if he was about to spring into action. He could have avoided her hand, but he didn’t.
“My God, Luke, you’re burning up. Do you feel sick? Is it your leg?”
Her cool hand felt so good on his forehead, it took a minute for him to remember himself. He could distinctly see the outline of her full breasts barely concealed behind the thin material of her nightgown. Her hair, long and loose, drifted over one shoulder. She smelled so good; so fresh and clean. He wanted to reach up and bury his hand in her hair, bring her face close to his, breathe her in.
Luke pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side. Sophia stepped sideways and let him by as he stood up. He marched over to the bathroom, with a slight limp, and ignored the cane. He jerked on the faucet, bent over the sink and splashed the frigid water on his face and over his head, which washed away the sweat from his brow and neck.
Sophia watched him from the doorway. After a minute, she reached over and pulled a hand towel from the cupboard and handed it to him.
“Here.” She shook the towel.
“Thanks.” This was said gruffly as he wiped the towel over his head, his neck and his chest. Sophia didn’t avert her eyes as he dried himself off. It didn’t take much for the psychologist in her to figure out what she had just witnessed. In fact, before she had left Boston for Montana, she had counseled several veterans; she was acutely aware of how active combat could impact a person’s psyche. She wondered if Luke was aware of post-traumatic stress, or if he had chosen to ignore any negatives that came along with his blind dedication to the Marines.
Luke caught her eye; he rubbed the towel over his chest one last time before he threw it over the tub. They stood face-to-face, neither one of them spoke, neither one of them moved. There was something raw and intense in the way he examined her. She could feel the heat of his body radiating onto her skin.
“Did I hurt you?” he demanded, finally. His tone was commanding, but she detected the underlying concern in the question.
“No,” she said quickly. “Don’t be ridiculous. You would never hurt me.”
Luke’s face hardened; his jaw clenched. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
She could tell that he was done with the conversation, but Sophia didn’t budge. She scoffed. “Yes, I do. You would never hurt me. Not ever.”
He took in a long, deep breath through his nose while he examined her through narrowed, contemplative eyes. In the light, his eyes had turned a dark, sapphire blue, and she found it impossible to look away. Whenever he caught her up in his gaze, she became mesmerized by the power, confidence and control that lurked behind his shocking blue eyes.
“Finally,” he said. “You’d be wise not to sneak up on me again.”
Her hands went immediately to her hips. Defensively, she retorted, “I didn’t sneak up on you, Brand. I came to check up on you. There’s a huge difference.”
“Either way.” Luke stepped toward his bedroom, but she still didn’t feel inclined to move.
“Don’t you think we should talk about what happened here? There is obviously something wrong that needs to be addressed....”
“Christ, woman!” Luke snapped. “Why can’t you ever just give it a rest? Why can’t you ever just let something go? I’m not one of your patients. Don’t psychoanalyze me to death!”
“I’m not psychoanalyzing you to death. I’m trying to help. Perhaps you need to acknowledge the fact that being a marine can have some negative consequences.” As the words came out of her mouth, she could see the muscles tighten in his chest and neck. The man was truly unreasonable when it came to his career.
“My life is on the line every day... Death is a pretty serious negative consequence, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I do, and I...”
Luke’s face had become a granite mask again, but there was fire in his eyes. “So, what the hell is it that you don’t think I know about the negatives of being a marine?”
“First of all, don’t interrupt me. Second of all, don’t curse at me. And third of all, some of my patients believe it would be easier to die in combat than to live with the memories for the rest of their lives!” Now her voice was raised, and she felt her heart as it pumped harder in her chest.
“You just like pushing my buttons, don’t you? Is that it? You just can’t stand it if we’re getting along, can you? Perhaps you’re the one with the problem here. Did you ever think of that? Why don’t you stand here and get some self-reflection time in while I get back to bed?”
“I’m not pushing anything....” Sophia felt her own jaw set.
“Good. Then, if you don’t mind stepping aside—” Luke stepped toward his bedroom again “—I’d like to get some more shut-eye.”
Sophia crossed her arms over her chest, but she moved out of his way.
“You should go back to bed, too,” he said in that commanding tone that she had always hated. What in the world had ever given Luke the impression he could boss her around? He gave her a cursory once-over with his eyes that made her thumping heart skip a beat, p
artly from irritation, partly from some other emotion she’d rather not admit to. “You need your rest.”
“I was in bed. I would still be in bed, asleep, if you hadn’t awakened me!” she snapped. The man had the audacity to tell her to self-reflect when it was his nightmare that had jarred her out of her own sleep. The man was infuriating!
Luke sat on the edge of his bed and grunted his displeasure. He looked as if he were sculpted out of marble; every muscle was hard, defined, and rippled with his slightest move. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on his body; the man was built to fight, there was no doubt about it.
“Go back to bed, Sophia.” He gave a shake of his head and said quietly, “You’re concerned; I get it. But I’ve got it handled. You don’t need to worry.”
“I don’t need to worry?” She repeated it as if she hadn’t quite heard him correctly. “You wake me up out of a sound sleep...you’re shouting, you’re burning up...”
Luke interrupted her with a low growl in the back of his throat. She clamped her mouth shut and watched him through narrowed, irritated eyes. She wasn’t going to get anywhere with Luke tonight. It was time to quit. But she sure as hell wasn’t about to let it drop for good. Luke should at least know her better than to expect that.
“Fine.” This was said in a disgruntled tone. “I’m going back to bed.”
“Sleep well.” Now that he had his way, he was being polite.
“Bug off, Brand,” she snapped as she shut the door behind her.
* * *
Sophia woke up feeling lousy. Of course, being a typical female, she had been awake for the majority of the night stewing over what had happened with Luke. She had changed positions, meditated and even tried to count sheep; nothing had worked. The more she tried to sleep and failed, the more irritated she felt toward Luke. Her irritation only increased when she heard him snoring from the other room. He had awakened her from a sound sleep, yet he fell back asleep with no problem, while she spent the rest of the night tossing and turning. Typical man!
Sophia shuffled into the bathroom and looked at her reflection. Her eyes were baggy and her face looked puffy. She leaned forward for a closer look, frowned at her reflection as she pulled down the skin on her cheeks, and made a displeased noise.
She broke from her usual routine of a morning yoga stretch, brushed her teeth, threw on a comfortable sweat suit and yanked her hair into a haphazard ponytail. She had been up all night thinking about Luke and she was determined to talk to him about what happened.
Whether he liked it or not.
Sophia opened the door to her room, noted that Ranger was already on the loose and the door to Luke’s room was ajar. She knew he was an early riser, but since he had been home, she had beaten him downstairs every day. She found him in the family room; the cane was propped against the wall and Luke was bending over one of the boxes filled with his mother’s Christmas decorations.
“You’re up early,” she said from the doorway.
He looked annoyingly well rested.
“You’re up late,” he retorted easily; if she hadn’t seen the slight upturn of his lip that signaled he was kidding, she would have thought that he was trying to pick a fight.
“I wonder why,” she countered. She seriously missed caffeine at this particular moment. She rubbed her back and winced a bit. She hadn’t had backaches until recently. But as her belly grew, so did the back pains. “Did you already have breakfast?”
“I grabbed something.”
“I’m going to grab something, too, and then I’ll be back to help you. I was thinking about tackling this today. You must’ve read my mind.”
“Close. I read your list....”
It hit her like a flash: this was Luke’s way of apologizing for what had happened between them the night before. He knew how she felt about her to-do list, and he was pitching in as an apology.
It was a nice gesture, and it certainly soothed her ruffled feathers, but it didn’t change the fact that she was going to talk to Luke about what had happened. He wasn’t getting off the hook that easily.
She wolfed down a piece of toast, a hardboiled egg and a glass of orange juice before she headed back to the family room. Luke had opened all of the boxes, and Ranger was pouncing on a piece of tissue paper that had fallen out of one of them.
“We can’t have tinsel this year.” Sophia surveyed the open boxes.
“Why not?”
She nodded her head toward Ranger, who had just discovered that his tail was following him.
Understanding lit Luke’s face. “Good point. No tinsel.” He waved his hand over the boxes. “I can’t believe the stuff my mom has held on to. Look at this.”
Sophia came over and took an ornament from Luke’s hand. It was a gingerbread man made out of dough and painted haphazardly with food dye. One of his legs was broken off.
“That is an official Dan creation,” Luke said.
Sophia studied the ornament with a faint smile on her face. “He wasn’t really an artist, was he?”
Luke actually cracked a smile on that one. It was the first time he had smiled with his teeth showing since returning from Afghanistan. The military had changed him. He had always been more serious than Daniel, but he used to smile more readily when she first met him in college.
“No. Art wasn’t either one of our strongpoints.”
She pointed to the missing foot. “Is this your handiwork?”
Luke looked up from unpacking the other ornaments. “That’s Jordan’s handiwork, not mine.”
“It blows me away every time I think about your mom and dad raising five kids. Five! And two sets of twins, no less. Did your mom tell you that Jordan and Josephine are coming for Christmas? They’re flying in the week before. How long has it been since you’ve seen your baby sisters?”
Luke thought for a minute. “It’s been a while.” It seemed like a lifetime ago since he had seen his twin sisters. They were the youngest of the five and sometimes they seemed like complete strangers. He loved them, of course, but most of the time he didn’t get them at all.
They unpacked all of the boxes and put out a few items that were a family holiday standard: the giant Frosty the Snowman candle was positioned on the fireplace mantel, a sprig of mistletoe was hung at the threshold of the family room, and an ornately dressed Santa Claus was placed in his usual spot on the coffee table. The rest of the items were placed neatly on one side of the room. Once Luke’s younger twin sisters arrived from college, they would bring in a live tree to decorate.
Sophia gave the room a final visual inspection. She wasn’t surprised anymore that the two of them made a good team; she was just grateful. But because they were getting along so well, she found it hard to rock the boat and bring up what had happened the night before. She wasn’t going to forget about it, but it seemed like a good idea to postpone the talk.
“Do you think your mom would let me have this?” She held up the footless gingerbread man ornament.
Luke straightened upright and squinted his eyes a bit to examine the ornament. “I don’t see why not.”
Sophia nodded and held the ornament in her hand; she rubbed her finger over the rough surface. She could imagine a young Daniel painting the ornament, and it made her think about her own son. One day, Danny would make a homemade ornament for her. She brought the old ornament up to her nose and breathed in.
She let her mind take a trip down melancholy lane, which was a mistake. The minute she started to think about all of the Christmases her son would have without his father, her emotions took over, and the tears started to well up in her eyes.
“What are you doing?” Luke was looking at her with a horrified expression.
Embarrassed, she swiped at the tears, which fell unchecked onto her cheeks.
“Are you crying?” Luke asked. His tone now matched the horrified expression.
“No.” That was a ridiculous thing for her to say.
“Yes, you are.” He took a step closer. “You�
�re crying. Why are you crying?”
The absolute horror in his voice bordered on panic, which actually made her laugh. If she had been bleeding from her eyes, Luke could handle that without any problem. But tears? The man was like a deer caught in headlights. Now she was laughing and crying at the same time, which was a very odd thing to experience.
She laughed for a minute and then started to cry harder.
“Christ, Sophia! Stop that!” Luke reached over and grabbed something from the top of the Christmas pile and was at her side. He sat down on the couch beside her and began to roughly rub the tears from her face. He swiped the cloth over her entire face, smashed her nose down, and covered her mouth in the process. A piece of lint broke loose and was sucked into her windpipe. Caught off guard, she started to cough; she reached up and stopped Luke. She pulled the item from her face.
“Hey, hey, hey...a little rough, Captain Brand!” She glared at him accusingly before she looked down at his makeshift tissue. “What is this? What are you wiping my face with?”
“I don’t know.”
Sophia turned it over in her hand and saw the word Barbara embroidered on it. “It’s your mom’s Christmas stocking from when she was a kid! Your grandmother made this, Luke! It’s a family heirloom! How could you use it to wipe my face!? And none too gently I might add....”
“How did I know what it was? It was available. I grabbed it.”
“There’s a lot of stuff available all over the place! That doesn’t mean that you wipe a person’s face with any of it! Especially not the stocking your grandmother hand-stitched for your mother! Geez!”
“The situation called for action.” This was said with total seriousness.
Sophia took the tail of her shirt and dabbed it over the stocking to blot the tear-stained material. “And the stocking got in the way, is that it? A casualty of war?”
For a minute, the two of them sat on the couch together and looked from the stocking to each other. They both started to smile. “Well,” she said, “that’s one way to get me to stop crying. Thank God you didn’t tell me to blow!”