Katie plunked back down on the love seat and wished she could go to bed, but the “thorn” had made that rather prickly as well. And what good would it do? She’d only stare at the ceiling, sick to her stomach over her gnawing guilt for leading him on. She jerked the Harper’s Bazaar open once again and began at the beginning, staring at pages she really didn’t see.
Her jaw hardened. Could she help it if the man raced her heart like a jog in the park? Caused more flutters inside than a flock of hummingbirds? It wasn’t her fault he’d kissed her in the first place, was it? Not the first time . . . nor the second . . . nor even the third or fourth. She closed her eyes, and the memory of each and every kiss flashed through her mind like a summer heat wave. Heaven help her, even ten feet away with a child in his lap, the man could heat her blood to a simmer. She put a hand to her eyes, shame warring with attraction as it flamed in her cheeks, then released a breath that merged with a shudder. And each and every time she had responded by returning his affection with a passion she had never even shown Jack. Her breathing thinned to a tenuous thread. It had to stop – all of it.
The heat of attraction.
The cold slither of guilt.
His subsequent indifference which was clearly Lukewarm. Her lips bent in irony. No, she had to stay up tonight, if only to talk to him one more time, clear the air so she could clear her life. A dozen times she’d tried before she’d left the BCAS, but he’d made sure they were never alone, never made eye contact, never gave her the chance to tell him how sorry she was.
“Checkmate!” Patrick leaned back in his chair with all the smug satisfaction of a miser who’d recounted his money. “And that, young man and young lady,” he said with a splayed hand to his chest, “is how a doddering old fool regains his pride.” He rose to his feet with a smile on his face. “Gabriella Dawn Smith, your bed awaits.”
“But I’m not tired,” she whined with a clutch to Luke’s arm, “and besides, Luke promised checkers.”
Patrick adjusted his vest and gave her the eye. “People without children promise a lot of things, young lady, all stemming from woeful inexperience and a desire to appease. None of which,” he said with emphasis, “you will find here.” He glanced at his wife as she worried her lip, and a heavy sigh prompted a heave of his chest. “At least, not on this side of the room.”
Gabe spun around. “Mrs. O’Connor – please, it’s only a little after nine. Can’t I please play a quick game of checkers with Luke, please?”
Luke nudged Gabe from his lap and started to rise. “Gabe, no – ”
“Now, Patrick, thirty more minutes won’t matter, will it?” Marcy’s eyes registered a plea.
Katie watched the familiar rise of her father’s shoulders, the set of his jaw, the flex of fingers that twitched at his sides – all signs of a storm brewing she’d seen a million times before.
“The girl is tired, Marcy . . . ,” Patrick began.
“No! I’m not – ”
A firm hand gripped Gabe’s shoulder as Patrick gave her a tight smile. “Yes. You are.” His words were pinched, like his hold on Gabe. “Aren’t you?”
Katie hid a smile as Gabe’s lips flattened into a hard line – not unlike her father’s at the moment – then folded her arms with a thinning of eyes. “I suppose.”
“Good, because I have to leave anyway,” Luke said. He shoved his chair in, and more relief exuded from Katie’s pores. “Great game, Mr. O’Connor. I hope for a rematch sometime.”
“No!” Katie groaned, which earned her one of the few glances Luke had spared her all night. Heat flooded her cheeks. Did I really say that out loud?
“Will I see you soon?” Gabe asked, hope brimming in her eyes.
Luke ruffled her hair with a tender smile. “’Fraid not, Gabe. Remember the orphan train that almost stole you away? There’s another this week, which means long hours and not much sleep.”
Spindly arms clutched Luke tight around the middle. “Rats! Oh, well, I love you, Luke – thanks for everything.”
He chucked her on the chin. “Don’t thank me, thank the O’Connors.” His gaze flitted to Katie a second time, causing her heart to flip. “Especially, Katie. Without her, you’d be chugging along to the Midwest right about now with ten other orphans.”
Gabe spared Katie a faint smile from the folds of Luke’s Oxford bags. “Thanks, Katie.”
“My pleasure, sweetie.” Katie flipped her magazine on the love seat and rose with a stretch. She buffed her arms out of nervous habit. “It’ll be nice to have somebody to snuggle with when the weather gets cold, won’t it?”
A puckish grin lit Gabe’s face. “Yeah, especially if it’s Luke.”
Katie blinked. Oh, my!
“Gabe!” A wave of scarlet splotched the back of Luke’s neck.
Katie’s too, only it traveled clear up to her bangs and beyond.
Marcy saved the day with an extension of her arm. “Come on, Gabe, I’ll bring you milk and cookies in bed after your bath.”
“Can I use some of Katie’s rosewater again too? Luke says he likes it.”
More color bled up Luke’s neck, settling in his face.
“Of course,” Marcy said with a grasp of Gabe’s hand. She flashed a warm smile. “Luke, we hope you’ll become a regular fixture on Wednesday nights – we enjoy having you.” Her gaze shifted to her daughter. “Katie, would you see our guest out while I put Gabe to bed?”
Patrick shook Luke’s hand. “Wednesdays work for us, Luke, if they work for you.”
Luke’s pause was long enough for Katie to notice. “Actually, Mr. O’Connor, I’m afraid next week is going to be difficult – we have a train departing on Thursday.”
Gabe wheeled around with fear in her face. “But, Luke, you have to come – please?”
“I see,” Patrick said with a scrunch of brows. “Well, Friday then? Gabe is anxious to have you back and so are we – especially if you bring this chess prodigy you’ve bandied about.”
“Please, Luke?” Gabe was relentless.
Luke laughed, but when his gaze flicked in Katie’s direction, she noted a crimp in his brow. “All right, Mr. O’Connor – thank you. And I’m sure Parker would love to come as well. Mind if I bring Betty along too? She’s our secretary at the BCAS and one of my closest friends.”
“The more the merrier, I always say.” Patrick’s lips zagged into a smile. “An obvious conclusion, I suppose, with six children to our credit.” He strolled to drape an arm around Marcy’s shoulders. “Come on, Mrs. O’Connor, you’ll need to tuck me in after Gabe. Good night, Luke.” He winked at Katie as he ushered Marcy and Gabe to the stairs.
Luke wasted no time taking his leave. He strode to the door and put a hand on the knob. “Thanks again, Mr. and Mrs. O’Connor. Good night, everyone.”
“Wait!” Gabe broke free to bolt down the stairs and fling herself into Luke’s arms.
“Whoa, little girl,” he said with a chuckle. He pried her loose and squatted before her. “We already said goodbye, remember?”
“Just one giggle kiss, please?”
He expelled a stern sigh, but his eyes softened along with his smile. “Just one,” he whispered, then whisked her up and held tightly, his lips burrowing into the curve of her neck.
Shrieks and giggles rose to the rafters, but all Katie heard was the sound of her own ragged breathing at the memory of those same lips grazing her throat the night in the kitchen. She blinked at Gabe and shivered, unsettled at the thought that she wished it were her.
Luke set her back down and tousled her hair. “Good night, all.” He opened the door and left with a wave, shutting it firmly behind him.
“Good night, Katie,” her father said. “Mind dousing the lights and locking up? I’m afraid trouncing Luke took all the energy I have.”
Katie hurried to the door with a nervous smile. “No problem, Father. I’ll be right up.”
“Hurry,” Gabe said with a giggle. “I wanna snuggle.”
The trio disap
peared around the landing, and Katie wasted no time opening the door. She flew down the steps and out to the street, fingers shaking as she unlatched the gate. “Luke!”
In a halfway turn, he halted at the corner, hands buried deep in his pockets. Streetlight and shadows defined pensive features, reflecting the surprise in his face as he stared.
She hurled the gate open and ran, grateful for the breeze that cooled the clamminess of her body. Her chest was heaving when she finally reached him, and with a deep intake of air, she put a hand to her throat. “Goodness, you’d think you were training for the Boston Marathon.”
He folded his arms and slacked a hip, his look as glaring as the tungsten lamp overhead. “What do you want, Katie?”
She sucked in more air in an attempt to humble herself – something she seldom did unless coerced by her father. “I was hoping we could talk . . .”
“We have nothing to say to each other.” His tone was cold – like the moisture at the back of her neck in a sudden wisp of wind.
Her humility waffled with a slight jut of her chin. “Well, maybe you don’t, but I certainly do.” She tried again, tamping down her temper with a softer voice. “Luke, I can’t stand this – your disdain, your coldness, acting like I’m not even there.” She released a whispery sigh. “I . . . need you to forgive me.” She swallowed the pride in her throat. “And I want to be friends again.”
He looked away, and she saw a muscle pulse in his cheek. “No.”
“No?” She blinked, all humility floating away with the breeze that fluttered her hair. “You won’t forgive me? You won’t be my friend?”
His eyes shifted to pierce her straight through. “That’s right.”
“But, why?”
“Because I don’t want to be your friend, Katydid.” It was her turn to cross her arms, which she did with a thrust of her chin. “A little uppity for a brat from the streets, don’t you think?”
An almost imperceptible flicker softened the hard line of his mouth, and she felt her stomach relax. He straightened his stance and propped muscled arms on his hips. Annoyance pinched at his brow. “Yeah? Well, I had a good teacher.”
She pursed her lips to fight a smile, never more sure of a win. “Well, you don’t have a choice, Luke McGee, now do you? We have to be friends – for Gabe’s sake. So, there!”
The shift of his jaw told her she was wrong. “No, Katie, we don’t.” He turned and walked away.
“Wait!” She ran to grasp his arm in a death hold, fingers clenched as tight as her stomach. “Don’t do this, please – don’t just walk away. I care about you, Luke, and I need your friendship. And you need mine.”
His gaze fixed on her hand where Jack’s diamond glittered in the lamplight, then slowly rose to her face, his blue eyes almost black. “No, Katie,” he whispered with a thread of pain in his voice, “I need your love.”
Her heart crashed to a stop. She removed her hand and lowered her eyes, her gaze fused to the fringed tongue of his brown leather shoe. “I . . . care about you, Luke, I do.” Her voice trailed off, fragile and reedy with regret. “But please . . . why can’t we just be friends?”
Taut fingers gripped her chin and jerked it up, the dominance of his hold matched by the anger in his eyes. “Because it will be lovers or nothing, Katie Rose. The choice is yours.”
Air seized in her throat as heat rolled through her body. She faltered back and put a hand to her cheek while warmth radiated through her fingers.
“I thought so,” he said in a harsh whisper. He spun around and strode away.
She raised her voice, fists clenched at her sides. “Then what about God, McGee? Brady says you’re a changed man. Is all that love and forgiveness for real . . . or only a façade?”
He stopped, arms and back suddenly rigid with tension. Seconds passed before she saw his shoulders slump and a hand press to his eyes.
She moved to stand behind him then, her voice a plea barely spoken aloud. “Not undying devotion, Luke, just civil friendship to carry us through.” She drew in a halting breath. “For Gabe’s sake, please . . . and mine.”
It seemed as if moments passed before his broad back finally rose and fell in consent. “All right, Katie Rose,” he whispered. “You win.” His labored sigh carried on the breeze. “You always do.”
She watched as he walked away, her eyes in a hard stare long after he’d turned the corner, seeing nothing but his face on the walls of her mind. She’d won again – he’d said so himself – won a battle over Cluny McGee. She drew in a harsh breath and turned to go, then suddenly wondered . . .
So why did it feel like she’d lost?
This was not good. First he’d agreed to a friendship he didn’t want, and now he’d forgotten his key. Luke was tempted to kick the door in, but settled for a choke-hold on the knob to rattle it senseless.
Senseless. An accurate term at the moment – at least for him. What had he been thinking? Certainly not about a friendship with the woman who’d stomped on his heart. He jiggled the knob a second time, his frustration mounting by the moment. Her final day at the BCAS hadn’t come soon enough to suit him, and if he had his way, Katie O’Connor might just as easily fall off the face of the earth. But Gabe had begged him to come, and Mrs. O’Connor had begged him to stay, and now he was stuck. He slammed a palm against the door and then gave it a kick for good measure. Stuck in weekly dinners with a woman he didn’t want to see.
And she wants to be friends?
He frowned, tenting his fingers to squint into the glass side panels of Mrs. Cox’s front door. The parlor was as dark as his mood and the foyer as empty as his patience, but at least a stream of light filtered out from the kitchen. He ignored the front steps and vaulted off the side of the porch, clearing Mrs. Cox’s rhododendron to land on a sidewalk between the buildings. He strode to the back of the house with head down, a scowl on his face and his mind mired in thought. Why had he agreed? Said yes to a woman he didn’t want in his life, much less in the same room? He didn’t want to talk to her, to look at her, to see her for who she was – the girl who had his heart by the throat. Why had he given in? He swallowed hard, sweat beading the back of his neck, then stopped to put a hand to his eyes.
Why? Because he needed to forgive her before he could ever let her go. He drew in some air and released it again, sagging against the brick wall with a groan. Brady had convinced him – he could do this. If God had given him the grace not to bash Leo’s head in, he could certainly give him the grace to be friends with Katie again.
Week after week. Desire after desire. Ache after ache.
He blasted out a sigh and rounded the corner, grateful for the kitchen light that lit up the weedy backyard. Luke peered in and saw Parker hunched at the table, pouring over papers with a pen in his hand. He pressed his nose to the screen. “Hey, open up. I forgot my key.”
Parker looked up in surprise and smiled. “Again? I told you to carry a spare.”
“Yeah, yeah, just open the door, Parker, I don’t need any grief.” Luke jostled the knob till the door swung wide, then pushed past to head to the sink. He pulled a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. After taking a long, hard swallow, he turned and butted against the counter, eyeing Parker as he took another sip. “Betty in bed?”
“Yeah, she wasn’t feeling great. Another headache, apparently, and so exhausted, she practically fell asleep in her dinner. Went up about an hour ago.”
“Why are you still up? I thought you had an early meeting with Carmichael tomorrow.”
Parker sighed and slanted back in his chair. “Yeah, well, it’s the early meeting with Carmichael that’s keeping me up. He wants all the budget numbers first thing.”
“What a jerk. Never mind you’re working sixty-hour weeks while he’s home in bed.” Luke drained the glass, then slammed it down on the counter. “Wouldn’t it be great if we could tell people what we really thought?”
Compassion glimmered in Parker’s eyes. “Rough night?” Luke pull
ed out a chair and straddled it with arms loose over the back. “Yeah.”
“Not Gabe, I’m guessing?”
A grunt rolled from Luke’s lips. “Nope. For once, Gabe’s not the problem. She loves it there.” He folded his arms on the back of the chair and then rested his chin. “She’s actually learning to play chess, if you can believe that.”
“No kidding? Who’s teaching her?”
“Katie’s father – he’s pretty good too. Took me to task tonight, like you usually do.”
Parker hiked a brow. “Really?” He grinned and entered numbers on his sheet. “Maybe I’ll get the chance to play him and redeem your pride sometime.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. You free next Friday?”
Parker squinted in thought. “I think so, if we don’t have any problems this week.”
Luke straightened, then stood up from the chair. “Good. Then plan on dinner at the O’Connors at six. Betty, too. G’night, Parker.” He turned to go.
“Luke . . .”
He glanced back, his body exhausted and his mind even worse.
“The hurt over Katie? It won’t last forever.”
He stared, giving Parker the benefit of a tired smile. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, Parker.”
A headache started to throb as he lumbered up the steps, his fingers pressed hard to the ache in his temple. He needed to put his body to bed . . . not to mention his feelings for Katie. And he would, he thought with a grim press of his lips, whatever it took. He’d get on his knees before God day and night if he had to, to be her friend and nothing more. And he’d become immune – to the lift of that pretty chin that signaled a battle would be waged, the playful smirk on that soft and sensuous mouth. Resolve tightened his jaw. By the grace of God, he’d survive the surge of his pulse whenever she entered a room and forget that vulnerable look in her eyes whenever his mouth had taken hers. Because that’s what she wanted – to be friends and only friends. He stopped and braced a hand to the railing, stricken by a hollow feeling in his gut.
I can’t do this.
All at once he thought of Brady and his words from the other night. Saying no to self and yes to God. And loving someone so much, you lay down your desires for theirs.