Their Unfinished Business

by Braun, Jackie

  Luke didn’t go away, though. He settled onto the top step that led to the deck, and then leaned back on his elbows. He was the picture of a man at leisure even as Ali felt wound up tight and ready to spring.

  “Are the winters still as hard as I remember?” he asked.

  “Worse.”

  “Kids still go sledding down Palmer Hill?”

  “Yep.”

  She’d hoped by not contributing much to the conversation he would take the hint and leave, but he didn’t appear to be put off by her laconic replies.

  “Remember the time we crashed our toboggan into that oak tree near the bottom?” he asked, shaking his head and chuckling softly. “You were what, seven?”

  “Eight. I still have the scar on the bottom of my chin from the stitches. You, of course, walked away without a scratch. You have quite a talent for that.”

  He frowned and they fell silent for a moment. A crow called overhead and Luke looked up.

  “It’s quiet and loud here at the same time. A different kind of loud from the city. I didn’t realize how much I missed that.”

  “Probably not a lot of crows in New York.”

  “Nope, pigeons.”

  He watched her raise the wineglass to her lips and then licked his own.

  “You know, the neighborly thing would be to offer me some.”

  The hoarse sound that issued from the back of her throat was one of disbelief at his nerve. She hadn’t invited him to join her and she thought she’d been making it clear she didn’t want him to remain.

  “I’m not feeling very neighborly.”

  “Your sainted grandmother would be appalled,” he noted.

  His comment grated because they both knew he was right. Gran would have slain the fatted calf to celebrate his return. She’d always had a soft spot for him.

  “You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve, Banning.”

  “Nah, what I’ve got is a powerful thirst.” Luke’s mouth curved in a lethal grin. “Please,” he added.

  “Anything to get you off of my deck,” she muttered, standing. She handed him her wine. “Hold this.”

  “My pleasure,” he replied. To her shocked dismay, he tipped up the glass and emptied the remaining wine in a single swallow.

  Awareness jolted through her as she watched his lips cover the spot where hers had just been. She still remembered what those lips were capable of, and she was sure he’d had plenty of opportunity to hone his skill over the years.

  “I can’t believe you drank the rest of my wine,” she sputtered, hoping indignation would camouflage that unwelcome spark of interest.

  “Couldn’t help myself,” he said, rising slowly to his feet.

  She held her ground even as he moved in and crowded her space.

  “That’s a handy excuse, isn’t it?”

  Luke shrugged. “Some things are impossible to resist. A good glass of wine.” He twirled the goblet by its stem. “A beautiful woman.”

  His gaze connected with hers, one eyebrow lifting.

  “Don’t even think about it,” she replied darkly.

  “That sounds like a dare. I never could back down from a dare.” His head was dipping, blue eyes blazing with a combination of interest and challenge. “Aren’t you curious if it will be as good as you remember?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Liar,” he said softly and then his mouth closed over hers.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ALI wanted to kill Luke. She wound up kissing him back instead. She leaned into his warmth, wrapped her arms around his solid frame and held on as her resolve wobbled and sensations both new and familiar swamped her.

  Was the kiss as good as she remembered? Oh, no. It was better.

  Much, much better.

  To her way of thinking that was yet another reason to despise the man and hate herself.

  She finally managed to infuse some steel into her spine and break away, but not before Luke nipped her bottom lip with his teeth, telegraphing need to every inch of her already aching body.

  “Don’t do that again,” Ali panted. It was galling to realize she was breathing as hard as a sprinter who’d just set a new world record while crossing the finish line.

  She thought Luke would smile. She waited for those skillful lips to curl with arrogance, but his mouth remained clamped in a grim line. Then he stepped back, set the wine glass on the arm of one of the deck’s Adirondack chairs and, dipping his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, regarded her solemnly for a long moment.

  “I’m sorry,” he said at last.

  Ali tilted up her chin in challenge. “For what? What are you sorry about, Luke?” she demanded.

  He turned away from her, glancing out at the sunset. Limned in that subtle glow of gold he looked almost like a vision. How many times over the years had Ali imagined him standing on her doorstep? How many times had she conjured up this very conversation and waited for his apology? Was it finally forthcoming?

  “I’m not sure,” he said at last.

  He faced her again and stepped closer. In the ebbing light of day she caught the glint of something dangerous in his gaze, which had drifted to her mouth. “You’ve gotten pretty good at that, by the way.”

  “Practice,” she took delight in saying, even though she could count on one hand the number of men she’d dated in his absence. None of the relationships had lasted long or progressed very far, facts she was determined to keep to herself since none of that was his business.

  “Practice makes perfect?”

  His tone was bland and he lifted his brows, but Ali swore she saw a muscle tick along his jaw. The sight nearly made her grin. When they were kids that little spasm had served as a warning that the fuse to Luke’s temper was burning shorter. What did he have to be angry about? The possibilities left her emboldened.

  “My philosophy is if you’re going to do something, you ought to do it well.”

  “I like your…philosophy. In fact, I wouldn’t mind exploring it in more detail.” Now his lips did bow. “Maybe I could learn something new.”

  She ignored the gooseflesh his statement had popping up on her skin. The evening air was chilly, that was all, and the wine had made her light-headed since she’d consumed it on an empty stomach. It wasn’t the promise of passion that she saw in his gaze that was causing her body to tremble in anticipation.

  She deliberately crossed her arms. “So, have you decided when you will be leaving Trillium?”

  “No.” He tilted his head to one side. “Is my staying for a little while longer a problem for you?”

  She gave a careless shrug. “I have no problem with it. Stay as long as you like. I just figured someone as busy and important as you would have better things to do with his time than watch the grass grow in our little backwater.”

  Those were the very words he’d used once upon a time, but he didn’t appear to remember the conversation.

  “I’ve got nothing against Trillium.”

  Her arms dropped to her sides. “Since when? You couldn’t leave fast enough eleven years ago. You were in such a hurry, you never even said goodbye.”

  “I told you I was leaving, Ali. You knew. We discussed it often enough.”

  “Discussed it? We didn’t discuss anything.”

  “Right. We argued.”

  “What did you expect? You made your decision and that was the end of it as far as you were concerned. You were going. There was nothing left to do but pack the Harley’s saddlebags. And you did. You packed up and you left—”

  Me. She managed at least to keep that final word unspoken, holding on to some of her pride in the process. Even so, she felt exposed and appalled that she’d let all of this ancient history be unearthed.

  “I had to go,” he said quietly. “You remember how it was. I didn’t have a future here. Everything seemed so predetermined. Poor Luke Banning. God, I was so tired of the pity and the way everyone just figured I’d end up facedown in a ditch someday like my old man had.
I had to get away if I was going to make something of myself.”

  And he had. Ali couldn’t argue with the results. But her tone was frosty when she reminded him, “So you said at the time.”

  “I never meant to hurt you.” He took one hand out of his pocket and held it out, as if beseeching her to understand and to finally accept what he had done all those years before. “I’m sorry that I did.”

  That made it twice during the course of their conversation that he had apologized, although Ali didn’t figure the first “sorry” counted since he hadn’t been sure why he’d issued it in the first place. Either way, though, it didn’t matter. She suddenly realized the words weren’t important. His current contrition changed nothing. It didn’t leave her feeling vindicated or superior. It just made her sad, because she could tell even now that if Luke Banning could rewind the years and do it all over again, he would still get on his Harley and go.

  In fact, he wasn’t back now. Not really. He was just on Trillium for a week, maybe two. Once his curiosity was satisfied and his back sufficiently patted by all of the locals who had once pitied him, Luke would be gone again. The Conlans’s silent partner would return to New York where his high-rise apartment and high-profile life waited for him.

  And Ali would be left behind. Again.

  “I don’t suppose I’ll be getting that glass of wine,” he said.

  She shook her head slowly. “I doubt this vintage is up to your standards.”

  How appropriate, Ali thought, that Bonnie Raitt was now singing so somberly about not letting someone break her heart again.

  “I’ll say good night then.”

  Ali didn’t say good night. She slipped into the house as he spoke, and just before pulling the sliding glass door completely closed, she told Luke goodbye.

  Luke walked back up the beach in the sparse light of dusk. The temperature had dipped considerably once the sun set. He told himself that was why he felt so chilled. It had nothing to do with the cool way in which Ali had dismissed him. He hadn’t missed the fact that she’d said goodbye rather than good night.

  Going to see her had not been on his agenda this evening. It certainly was not why he’d begged off from dinner with Audra and Dane. He’d intended to poke around his grandmother’s home, making a list of any necessary repairs. First thing in the morning he planned to call a local carpenter. He was determined to get the ball rolling before tourist season kicked off and the island was thick with people dreaming of a vacation home. His plan was to clear the cottage of his grandmother’s personal effects, get the structure up to code and then stick a For Sale sign out front. But earlier this evening when he’d pulled his motorcycle to a stop next to the quaint bungalow, he’d heard music echoing through the trees. He hadn’t been able to resist seeking out the source. He was paying for his impulsiveness now.

  He climbed the steps to the cottage’s rear porch and settled onto the swing, idly setting it into motion with one foot. The rhythmic squawk from the rusted chains that secured it to the porch ceiling competed with the tree frogs’ high-pitched chorus, but Luke hardly noticed.

  He was thinking about that damned kiss.

  Morning was Ali’s favorite time of the day. It always had been. When they were girls, Audra used to sleep till noon. Not Ali. She still woke before the birds began their dawn concert and long before the sun peeked over the tall trees to the east of the cottage. In the winter, she would sit in a rocking chair by the sliding glass door, sipping her first cup of coffee and watching the spreading light wink on the ice. Now that the weather had turned warmer, she pulled on a robe over her pajamas and took her coffee out on the deck.

  This was her habit even when she was not due in to Saybrook’s, and so she was comfortably reclining in one of the Adirondack chairs and halfway through her first cup of French roast when she heard a big splash followed by a lot of swearing.

  She knew who was doing the swearing, and she knew what she hoped had caused the splash. Curiosity demanded she find out if she was right. So Ali scooted out of her seat and, coffee cup still in hand, walked down to the beach in her slippers. She followed the sand past an outcropping of trees to the neighboring property, and then sucked in a deep breath. Sure enough, Luke was standing on his grandmother’s porch, sopping wet. She’d figured he’d somehow managed to fall in to the lake. But she hadn’t considered that by the time she reached the property line he would have stripped off every last scrap of his drenched clothing. She looked away, but not before getting an eyeful. The man certainly had improved with age, and that was saying a lot.

  Because that admission irked her, she called out, “Is that a tattoo?”

  In her periphery vision, she saw him jump before he managed to secure the towel he’d been using around his waist.

  “Why don’t you come a little closer and you can decide for yourself?”

  She ignored his challenge. “Water’s a little chilly, hmm?”

  “It’s freezing,” he agreed.

  She did walk closer now, her slippers already damp from the dew that coated the weeds and grass that lined the slope. A few feet up the slope a dozen wooden stairs made the climb easier. Ali took the stairs only halfway.

  “You know, the last of the ice just melted a couple weeks ago.”

  “That became abundantly clear as soon as I hit the water,” he drawled.

  She tilted her head to one side. “What are you doing out here so early?”

  “I spent the night.”

  “In there?” she pointed to the cottage.

  “Yes.”

  The very idea seemed impossible. Sure, the old Luke had known how to do without what many people would consider basic necessities, but this wealthy man had to be too soft to “rough it,” especially when he had a nice suite back at the resort already paid for through the end of the week. She knew that because she’d called the front desk the night before and had someone check.

  “But there’s no electricity.”

  “Or running water,” he inserted with a grin. “Which is why I was forced to improvise.”

  “Why not just go back to Saybrook’s?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t feel like driving back last night, and this morning I figured the lake would do. I forgot how damned cold it is. I was just planning to splash some water on my face, but then the dock collapsed and I fell in. The temperature took my breath away.”

  “And yet you still managed to curse a blue streak,” she said dryly.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” He motioned toward the cup she held and grinned engagingly. “That wouldn’t happen to be for me, would it?”

  Ali snorted. “In your dreams.”

  His demeanor changed then. Gone were the laughter and the casual attitude. Even with the space of a half-dozen wooden steps separating them, she saw the awareness sharpen his gaze. “You don’t want to know what I dreamed about last night, Ali. Trust me.”

  “No, trust me,” she stressed. “I have no interest in your dreams unless they have something to do with Saybrook’s proposed golf course.”

  His posture relaxed a bit then. “Funny you should mention that. I’ve been giving your idea more thought and I would like to go over the site today if you can spare a few hours to show me around.”

  A few hours with Luke Banning? Oh, no. She would let Audra or Dane handle that, Ali decided.

  “Sorry. I’m not going in to the office today. In fact, I have the rest of the week off.”

  Luke wasn’t deterred. “Good. Then I won’t be taking you away from anything important,” he replied.

  “Of all the arrogant, self-centered…” She reeled in her temper, deciding the blistering diatribe she had in mind was a waste of good breath. Instead she said succinctly, “I have plans.”

  “What kind of plans?” he asked, running his hands through his hair. It stuck up at odd angles, which was the only reason, Ali told herself, that her fingers itched to smooth it down.

  She cleared her throat. “The ki
nd of plans that aren’t any of your business.”

  He shrugged. “Well, when you find some time, come back over and get me.”

  “You’ll be here?” she asked, unable to mask her surprise. A night in his boyhood home seemed almost inconceivable. Surely whatever soft sentiment had prompted him to stay last night had withered in the hard light of a new day.

  But he was nodding. “All day. In fact, probably be spending the better part of the next several days here.”

  “And the nights?”

  He grinned. “I’m not sure where I’ll pass those. Yet.”

  “Why?”

  “Just getting the place in order. Know a good local carpenter?”

  Baffled, she replied, “Tom Whitey, of course.”

  On the island, pretty much everyone entrusted their home’s upkeep to Tom, just as anyone who owned a boat visited the marina Tom’s brother, Joe, owned. The Whitey family was as much of an island institution as Saybrook’s.

  A thought occurred to her then. “You’re fixing up the place?”

  Did that mean he intended to return to Trillium on a more regular basis? The little tremble she felt at the thought of having Luke next door for a few weeks each summer was borne of annoyance rather than interest, she assured herself.

  “Some things will need to be updated before I can put the property on the market.” One side of his mouth lifted. “I guess I’ll have to add a new dock to the list now.”

  “You’re selling.”

  He nodded, his gaze cutting away. “I’m thinking of dividing the parcel, too.” He gestured toward the water and then over to where the woods again met the beach. “I’ve got enough lake frontage here for at least a couple of homes.”

  Ali dismissed the disappointment she felt. The man was a businessman, an entrepreneur. He’d made a good portion of his fortune in real estate. Why should she have expected him to turn a blind eye to the profit potential here?