Chapter Seven

Luke followed Emma into the kitchen. Why had he mentioned Kathleen? When his wife died in that car accident, he’d believed he would never find another woman to take her place. He expected to be alone. Until a week ago when he looked up into this woman’s eyes and saw her pain. She’d been grieving also, in her own way. More for a marriage that had gone wrong than for a mistake with the wrong man, he realized.

“Sit down,” she said. “I’ll heat you something.” She opened the refrigerator and searched through the covered dishes. “I think I have some breakfast burritos in here.” She leaned over and partially pulled out one of the containers. “Yes, here it is.”

Damn, but he could watch this woman all day. “From one of your aunts?”

“No.” She lifted the dish and placed it on top of the stove, taking a couple of plates from the nearby cabinet. She grinned over her shoulder. “This is from my mom.”

“Oh?” His heart warmed. It’d been doing that a lot the past two weeks. Even with Kathleen it hadn’t happened this quickly, with totally unexpected, unwanted results. Until the stuff between her and his brother was finalized, he needed to keep his heart out of things. If it wasn’t already too late. “My mother has a cook and maid.”

“Your mother is part of one of the richest family in the area,” she said, softness lessening her sharp remark. “Oh, sorry, that was unfair.”

“Truth is never unfair, Emma.”

She didn’t say anything as she placed two burritos on one of the plates, opened the microwave and set it on the glass. The machine buzzed. She twisted to face him. “So tell me about Kathleen.”

If he thought she was going to forget about it, her question tore that hope away. And he wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know everything. “She was Rebecca’s friend…”

“From college,” she finished his thought.

“Yes.” Taking his cup, he sipped the rich, hot liquid. “Small, blonde and beautiful, just like Rebecca, yet she was so different. Quieter, shyer, a bit unsure.” He grinned over the rim. “I lost my heart almost at first sight.”

“That fast?” She poured herself a cup of coffee and moved to the table, a smirk lining her sweet mouth. “It didn’t happen that fast for me. Well, not until—” She stopped her words. The microwave dinged and she raced to it, pulling out the heated plate and putting in the second one. She snatched two forks from a small drawer and handed him the plate, setting both forks on the table. “You married eight months later.”

A part of him wanted to find out why she’d stopped speaking, nevertheless he let it go. “Yes, I just started working for Benjamin Industries as a lawyer consultant. Fresh out of law school when we married. She was a nurse, worked at a hospital in Columbus.” When Emma didn’t say a word, he continued, “She commuted to work every day. We lived near my parents. She was fine with the drive, but I was a nervous about it. Especially in the winter time.”

“Yes, winter driving is bad in Ohio,” Emma said. “A year before my divorce I started working with my parents. I had to drive from Columbus to Bridgeview. Some days were worse than others.”

“That day Kathleen died,” he said, reliving the cop standing at the door, hearing him tell the bad news. “We had a fight before she left for work. She wanted to start a family, but I…” He shook away the memory. “Snow was falling hard. Kathleen was a good driver, careful, yet she was upset. She was crying when she left the house.”

Emma grasped his hand. “You feel like it’s your fault?”

“Yes, then I did.” He turned his hand to tangle their fingers together. “I soon realized I wasn’t at fault. Sure, we had an argument. But we’d had arguments before and she drove to work safely. In both good and bad weather.” He tightened her fingers, enjoying the warm, non-judgmental contact. “My in-laws still haven’t forgiven me.”

She nodded, but didn’t comment. The buzzer dinged a second time, sending her flying from the counter. He put down his cup and grabbed one of the forks. She settled back into her seat and snatched the second fork.

“I understood why they acted that way,” he said, cutting into his burrito. He slipped the fork into the piece but didn’t pick it up. “Kathleen was their only child.” He bit into the food and chewed it, grinning at the burst of flavor. “Wow.”

She grinned. “I bet my mom’s cooking is better than your mom’s cooking.” Her eyes widened in a mocking way. “Oh, I forgot. Your mother’s like me. She can’t cook.”

Peace filled him at her teasing words. “I never said she couldn’t cook, I said she never had to.”

“Oh, excuse me.”

Her laughter rang out, erasing the lingering pain caused by his in-law’s lack of forgiveness. He picked up a piece of the burrito shell and threw it at her.

“Hey,” she said, smiling wider. “Stop wasting my food.”

His heart did a little flip inside his chest. Falling in love with Emma was all wrong.

Too bad his heart wasn’t listening.

****

Emma talked and teased with the man the rest of that day, stopping only long enough to tear his clothes off and make love to him. That night they fell into bed naked, and stayed that way until the sun rose Monday morning. A different ache assaulted her when she woke to find him searching the room for his clothing. The situation held at bay now battered her senses. No matter how it hurt she couldn’t see Luke again, not until Mark told his parents and Rebecca about her. Not until he made things right.

Sadness filled her as Luke dressed, hurting more than she thought she would. In a short time, this sexy, hot, caring man had touched her. Not just her body but her heart. Seeing him leave wasn’t easy, knowing she may never be with him again.

“Asshole,” she whispered.

Luke stopped his movement. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“You were just going to leave?” Downheartedness rather than anger spoke the question. “Is that it?”

He shook his head. “I was going to write you a note.”

“A note?”

“What’s wrong?” When she didn’t answer quick enough, he stepped to the bed and sat. His fingers combed her mussy hair from her face, tracing light against her cheeks. “You think I want to leave?”

No, but it was necessary. Just like it was important she let him do it without a scene. “You don’t have any choice, Luke.”

“Because I have to go to work,” he said, refusing to see the truth. “But tonight, I’ll be back.”

“No.” She glanced down before she saw his reaction. “You can’t come back. We can’t see each other again. It’s too…dangerous.” He still didn’t say anything, or move from his frozen position. “The last few days we forgot why it isn’t possible for us.”

“It’s not impossible, babe.”

He spoke the right words, yet his tone said he didn’t believe them. She placed her hand over his. “Did you forget I’m carrying your brother’s baby? And that I’m not supposed to have anything to do with him, or his family?”

“No, just with him.”

“Luke, I can’t do this.” Tears ran down her cheeks. This time she let them flow. “It doesn’t matter if I want to be with you or not, I can’t. What will happen when your parents find out about me and Mark? When Rebecca does?” She focused on his blank face, trying to see something in it. Yet she couldn’t. Like the first time she’d ever seen him, no emotion showed in his eyes. “You know it’s the right thing to do, Luke.”

“Why?” Anger flushed his face so suddenly she jerked her hand from his. “I don’t agree with your conclusion, Emma. Just because things will be uncomfortable doesn’t mean we have to stop seeing each other.”

“What?” Slamming his hand away, she jumped from the bed and placed her hands hard on her naked waist. Naked and unafraid, too pissed off to see that he had the advantage, she stood straight and tall. “So being uncomfortable isn’t important?” She crossed her arms around her middle, backing away from him. The nightstand blocked her motion. Yet it didn’t matter. Luke had slipped off the bed and moved toward the bedroom door. “So you’re really leaving?”

His shoulder sagged under his tight T-shirt. “You want me to go.”

“No, I don’t want you to go,” she said, pleading now for him to understand. “I want you to stay, but you can’t.”

“Why?” He turned his head then. “Why can’t I? If I want to stay with you, why can’t I?”

Why was he being so dense? Why didn’t he see the reason he had to leave now?

“You think your opinion is the only one that matters.” Fierce hopelessness and anger burned in his eyes. “But it isn’t, Emma. I have a say in this relationship. And I don’t want it to end.”

Neither did she, but…

“I’m not allowing Mark or my family to win,” he said, hard, sad eyes pierced into her. “I’m not allowing the judge to dictate whom I can love.” He jerked his hand forward and grasped at the doorknob, throwing it open and racing into the hall. He froze in place halfway to the living room before he turned. “Or you.”

His last words rang out long after the front door closed behind his racing footsteps, cutting her deep with the truth. Did he even realize what he said? Did he hear his own words, or was he deaf to them? Did he really mean them?

I’m not allowing the judge to dictate whom I can love.

How could she allow this to happen? How could she have fallen in love with Luke so easily, so quickly?

Or you.

And, more importantly, how could she stay away from him? How could she stay away from someone who made her feel so alive and free? So hopeful and cared for? So loved?

“Mark has to tell Rebecca,” she whispered. “Luke has to make him do the right thing for once.”

A hint of hope leaped in her. She walked into the living room and found her cell phone, searching through the numbers and pressing Send. The phone rang once, twice, three times before a voice answered. “Mark, this is Emma.”

“Why are you calling me?” Dismissal sang in his bitter words. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, feeling a rush of anger at his attitude. “I won’t take up much of your precious time.” He breathed loud as if in relief. She grinned. “I just called to give you one chance to make things right.”

“What? Are you threatening me?”

“No.” Did a lie to an asshole like him mean anything? “I’ll tear up the agreements we signed last week, if you tell Rebecca about me.”

“I can’t do that.” Anxiety raised his voice an octave. “I’m okay with the agreement.”

Emma let go of her held breath—and her anger. “Is that your final answer?”

“Yes.”

“Fine,” she said, letting her temper free completely. “If you won’t do the right thing, I’ll have to do it for you.”

“What?”

“Your choice, Mark.”

Before he could respond, she slammed the End button and threw the phone to the sofa. It slid off the cushion and landed hard on the floor.