She’d kissed him once. Back at the camp. The minister had left his bedside after marrying them. Darkness had fallen and Meg sat quietly by his side. She used to sometimes sit there and talk to him as he dozed, telling him stories from her childhood, as outside, unseen night insects sang.
The evening after their marriage she’d kept his hand in hers and Luke had lain there, eyes closed, trying to listen to what she said, but mainly just listening to the sound of her voice, the sound of home.
When he’d asked, after realizing it was something he should have asked first, she had talked about the boyfriend whose desertion had precipitated her trip to work with the foundation. About how she specialized in finding men who needed her for a time, emotionally, financially or physically, but then dumped her when the need had passed. Initially, she laughed at her own stories, but then, as she talked about her dreams of a family of her own, her voice changed, there was a catch to it, and then she stopped talking altogether. He opened his eyes to see a tear rolling down her cheek.
She tried for a smile. “Some wedding night, huh.”
“Come here.”
And she did. She moved from her chair to sit on the side of his bed.
“Closer.”
She leaned down.
He brushed the tear away with his thumb and then slid his hand round to the back of her head, pulled her closer still and kissed her, slow and sweet, and he forgot about the pain and thought maybe he’d died and already gone to heaven.
She sat back up looking as shaken as he knew he’d feel if he wasn’t so damn sick. Instead, he felt…a little better.
“Not bad for someone on death’s doorstep.” She tried to make light of what had just passed between them.
“Wait till I’m better.” He winked. “I could make you forget all your sorrows.”
“Is that a promise?”
“If you want it to be.”
“Then get better. And I’ll hold you to it.”
“Now that’s what I call an incentive.”
It was the last time he’d been alone with her. The next day, she’d left on the boat that was to bring back supplies to replenish those raided from the island’s medical facility.
But he wasn’t sick now. He stopped walking and pulled her closer, let her see his intent. He read trepidation mixed with a little curiosity, a little anticipation in her gaze.
Beside them, Caesar growled deep and low. Meg stiffened and looked away. “Someone’s here.”
They rounded the side of the house to see a red Corvette driving away. Luke watched till Jason’s car disappeared from sight before dropping his arm from Meg’s shoulders and heading into the house. He hated what Jason had done to his mother, and hated the thought of him anywhere near Meg. He wanted the man out of his life for good.
The homemade wreath adorning his front door swung as he pulled the door open. Controlling his breathing, he stepped inside and held the door for Meg. She stood on the path at the base of the stairs watching him, her expression unreadable, her nose and cheeks pink from the cold.
Finally, looking straight past him, she climbed the stairs. He shut the door behind them and watched as she unwound her scarf. The peace and connection he’d found in her presence only minutes ago had vanished. She’d shut herself off from him.
He stood between her and the closet and took her scarf from her hands. “You don’t understand.”
“And I don’t need to. Families are complicated. It’s your business. It’s nothing to do with me.” She unzipped her jacket.
“You’re my wife.”
She stilled for a second, looking at her hands. “In name only.”
“But still my wife.” He didn’t know why he was invoking the “wife” clause; he should be the last one reinforcing it. But he wanted her to understand.
“Don’t tell me you aren’t thinking about how soon you can divorce me, if you haven’t started proceedings already.”
“I haven’t started proceedings.”
“Yet. But you’ll be at Mark’s office first thing Monday morning?”
Luke said nothing. Meg looked up, met his gaze and nodded her understanding.
As she shrugged off her jacket, he moved to stand behind her, helped ease it from her shoulders and down her arms. He caught the scent of green apples but couldn’t afford to be distracted by it. “You can’t tell me you don’t want to get divorced, too?” She turned, they were so close that he could encircle her with his arms. Hold her. Tell her everything. His wife in name only. Or they could not talk at all. He could taste her lips. Touch her skin. Feel her heat.
“Of course I want it, too.”
Divorce, they were talking about divorcing.
“That’s why I don’t need to get involved in your personal life. Any more than I already am.”
He hung up her jacket. “Any more than you are?”
She swallowed. “I’m living in your house. And I’ve made friends with some of your friends and their partners. I couldn’t help it. When they learned about me, they wanted to meet me, to get to know me. They’ve been kind. I like them.”
He nodded, gave her time to go on.
“Julie finally left her husband. She stayed here for a week when she first left. And Sally and Kurt are expecting their second child. She’s due in three months. I said I’d help with babysitting when she went into hospital. And when she came out. You know how organized she is. Of course that might not be so easy now.” She was talking fast, not meeting his gaze. “And I’m sorry. It just sort of happened.” She looked up at him, apology in her eyes.
Just like he used to when he’d been sick, he’d gotten distracted by the soft cadence of her voice rather than focusing on the specifics of her words. The details of her supposed crime had washed over him. And today there had been the added distraction of his very real ability to do something about it. He could reach out, trail a finger down the softness of her cheek, touch it to those lips. Desire stirred.
Three
Meg stepped back from Luke, the husband she didn’t know, away from the warmth in his eyes. Warmth that had her thinking things she had no business thinking. She blamed the window. She’d come back from her walk with Caesar and looked up to see him standing at the wide picture window, wearing only boxers, his torso lean and sculpted, and a purely feminine thrill of appreciation had swept through her.
“I’m glad you found friends here, that you weren’t alone,” he said after a pause so long that she’d thought he hadn’t been going to answer.
His softly spoken words disconcerted her. She didn’t want to like him. At least not in the softening, melting way she could feel herself liking him. That was far more dangerous than the physical pull of attraction that she-and most likely the majority of the female population who came within his sphere-felt for him. She’d agreed to marry him because he’d believed-rightly-that his death was a real possibility and it had seemed imperative to him that Jason not be able to inherit. She’d been prepared to do anything to ease his agitation.
But he hadn’t died.
He was very much alive.
And watching her.
“But hopefully they have the good sense to stay away now that I’m back. All I want is peace and quiet.”
Meg remembered the dinner. He might want peace and quiet but he wasn’t going to get it. Not tonight, which was probably a good thing because Meg wasn’t so sure she wanted to be alone with him.
“Show me round the house.”
“I haven’t changed anything. You don’t need me to show you round it.” Regardless of what he did or didn’t need, she needed to put a little space between them. And she would-as soon as she’d told him about the dinner. Because the way they’d walked, with his arm around her, had felt so natural, and when he’d looked at her, he’d thought about kissing her and she’d wanted him to. It would feel so good, which would be all bad.