Authors: Brooke Hastings
"Well, these are enlightened times," he went on
sarcastically. "The man was obviously sick and he got himself some
help. Maybe it's to my mother's credit that she stood by him, but you'd
damn well better believe that I wanted my sister out of that house.
Arthur Griffin couldn't have bought the farm at a better time."
"So you took Annie to California with you," Randy
murmured. "No wonder you're so close."
Perhaps it was the wrong comment to make, since it
reminded Luke Griffin of where that closeness had eventually led him.
Randy could see him stiffen up next to her; even his stride took on an
angry cast. "That's exactly right," he said, "and I'll tell you
something else. Annie met Tom when he was seventeen and she was
sixteen. From the day they first set eyes on each other there was never
anyone else for either of them—until you got in the way." He
stopped, catching Randy by the shoulders and turning her to face him.
"They have two little kids at home, four and two. Their relationship
isn't some game that you can wander in and out of, Linda. Or don't you
even care how much damage you've done by picking on a guy who's
scarcely even heard of the league you play in, and then making him so
damn crazy about you that he—"
"Just a blasted minute," Randy interrupted. "Tom was the
one who picked up the phone in the first place. No one forced him to do
it. Did it ever occur to you that maybe your sister and brother-in-law
have some real problems, problems Annie hasn't told you about, and
that—"
"If they do, you certainly haven't helped matters," Luke
snapped.
"On the contrary, Linda sat and talked to Tom—"
Luke cut her off with an angry curse. "Linda sat and
talked… ! When are you going to stop that garbage and start
to take responsibility for what you've done?" He gave Randy a little
shake and then yanked his hands away, as though tempted to do far more.
Her temper aroused, Randy turned her back to Luke and
marched on ahead of him, no longer even noticing the scenery. His
totally exaggerated characterization of Linda was bad enough, but his
refusal to believe that she was who she said she was was even worse.
Luke followed behind her, making no attempt to match her pace. They
were hiking up a moderate incline now and the combination of Randy's
rapid strides and the pitch of the hill soon had her gasping for
breath. She slowed down and then, suddenly dizzy, wrapped her arms
around the trunk of a small pine tree to keep from falling down.
Several moments later Luke was beside her. He detached her
arms from the tree and pulled her gently to the ground. "Sit down for a
few minutes," he said. "You're probably not used to the altitude yet."
Randy, still breathing heavily, made no attempt to get up
again. Luke sat back against a tree a few feet away, his legs sprawled
out in front of him, apparently in full control of himself. "You know,"
he said, "I've been impossible to work with ever since my sister called
to tell me Tom was having an affair. Your father called me in to find
out what the problem was, and I told him. I had some pretty harsh words
for both of you; he cursed right back at me and finally threw me out of
his office. Even though I knew I'd gone too far I still couldn't figure
out why he'd bother to defend you. But now I can. You're captivating,
Linda. No wonder Tom couldn't resist you. You could make a saint
succumb to temptation if you put your mind to it."
Randy might have been flattered if Luke had sounded the
least bit tempted, but his tone was accusing rather than admiring. As
for Randy, having witnessed the outcome of that violent session in her
father's office and having heard her father's account of it, she was
beginning to doubt that Luke had actually persuaded her father to agree
to something so outrageous as hauling Linda off to Maine to curb her
wanton ways.
"So you were lying when you said he knew about this," she
said. "But I suppose you think you can get away with anything. Future
president and all that."
Her irritation only amused him. "If you knew me better
you'd know that I always get what I want. And after the second time
Annie called me, hysterical because Tom had spent another weekend with
you, I knew I wanted you out of the picture."
"Why are you so sure it was me?" Randy knew that Luke and
his sister were correct in assigning Linda the scarlet woman role, but
she wanted to find out how they'd guessed.
"Come off it, Linda! After the way you threw yourself at
Tom at the picnic Annie didn't need to be psychic to figure out who he
was with. To make matters worse, Tom is so naive that he doesn't even
know how to manage an affair. He left his coat in that cozy little inn
you shacked up in together. On Monday the owner called his home to say
they would send it back. Naturally Annie took the call. Tom had told
her he was in Buffalo on business during those weekends, not playing
games with you in Massachusetts." Luke shook his head in utter
incredulity. "I couldn't believe it. Not only does he leave his clothes
scattered all over the East Coast, he gives his home address and phone
instead of his office phone."
"Whereas you," Randy said irritably, "would have made none
of those mistakes."
"I told you, I'm single. And I don't take out married
women," Luke answered.
Of course not, Randy thought, picking up a stick to occupy
her hands lest she be tempted to throw a rock at him. You're perfect.
You never do anything hurtful or stupid. But aloud she merely remarked,
"You never told me how you got my father to go along with all this."
"It wasn't hard," Luke said with a shrug. "He told me it
would probably be hopeless to talk to you if you were infatuated with
Tom, and I asked him if he minded whether I tried. He didn't do
anything more than wish me luck. Around C & D rumor has it that
he gave up trying to talk common sense into you years ago. I think he
knows that somebody needs to take you in hand and if I can do it, he's
not about to object. Your father has a great deal of affection for you,
that's obvious. But how does it feel to know that he has almost no
respect?"
As usual, Randy thought, Luke's assessment was only part
of the truth. There were certainly things about Linda that gave Bill
Dunne fits of parental anguish, but there were other things that he
genuinely admired. Randy didn't bother to contradict Luke because she
saw little point in arguing with a man who was sure he knew everything.
She was only inches from losing her temper as it was, something Luke
might have recognized had he noticed the vicious way that Randy was
stripping the bark off her stick. One more word, she thought silently,
staring at the denuded stick.
Suddenly Luke was no longer sprawled against the tree, but
was striding over to Randy, glaring down at her. "Okay, so you don't
care what anybody thinks of you," he growled, "even your own father. He
even warned me how irresistible you are, and I could well believe
it—I'd seen your picture. At the time I had no objections to
taking you to bed, but now—I find your morals almost as
contemptible as your lack of regret. You may look like an angel, but I
wouldn't touch you if you begged me to."
His arrogant rejection was the last straw. Randy was
either going to slap him or taunt him, and the second was definitely
safer. She pulled herself up and faced Luke, who was standing only
inches away, then nonchalantly trailed a finger down the bare,
blond-haired arm revealed by his rolled-up sleeve. "Wouldn't you,
Luke?" she mocked. Her fingers reached up to play with his mouth.
"You'll forgive me if I don't believe you."
His response was to angrily push her away from him.
"Believe it, lady. I intend to see to it that by the time I'm through
with you you'll think twice about hurting an innocent, decent woman
like my sister." Without another word he turned away and started back
to the cabin.
For a long time Randy made no attempt to follow. At first
anger kept her standing alone in the Maine woods, and then fear. Up
till now she hadn't had any problem standing up to Luke Griffin, but
he'd made the kind of threat that made her shiver. For a long time she
was simply too frightened to go back to the cabin, but then the sun
dropped lower in the sky and the air turned cooler, and she knew she
couldn't continue to stay on the mountain indefinitely.
As she started back down she reminded herself that Luke
had a hot temper that fortunately cooled down quite quickly. She
recognized the pattern by now. By the time she got back to the cabin
the worst of his anger would have passed.
She slowly made her way through the trees, but lost her
bearings in the unfamiliar terrain and never managed to find the trail.
When she finally spotted the edge of the woods she realized that she
was several hundred yards from where she'd started. Her face and arms
were covered with scratches by now, the result of too many unfriendly
brambles. And to make matters worse she either had to cross the stream
at a point where it was far wider and deeper than before, or else fight
her way upstream through the underbrush. Tired and a little depressed,
she elected the first option, removing her shoes and rolling up her
jeans before she waded in. Halfway across she lost her balance on the
algae-covered rocks along the stream bed, tumbling into the water. She
had to fight her way to shore against the current, and emerged soaked
and shivering from the icy water.
If Luke were worried about her or concerned about the
condition she arrived in he gave absolutely no sign of it. When Randy
opened the door he merely looked over his shoulder and then ordered,
"Get out of that wet clothing and fix dinner." He stuck his head back
into his book.
If nothing else, cooking kept Randy busy and took her mind
off her troubles. She prepared what she considered to be an excellent
lamb curry, but for once a good meal failed to improve Luke's mood. And
this time he left Randy to wash the dishes. Both the cut on her thumb
and the scratches left by the underbrush stung uncomfortably, so by the
time she was through her mood was considerably more resentful than
subdued.
Dinnertime conversation had consisted of Luke's "Very
good" when he finished eating. When he stuck his nose back into his
book Randy walked over to a bookcase that stood in the corner of the
living room and started to inspect the ancient magazines and
bestsellers it held. But the moment Luke realized what she was doing he
stood up and said firmly, "No."
Randy looked back at him. "No
what
?"
"No reading. This isn't a vacation. You can either do some
work or go to sleep."
Her patience frazzled, Randy threw the book on the floor
and stalked off to the bathroom. She showered and washed her hair,
taking care to keep the hot water away from her scratches and on her
sore muscles. It felt marvelous. It wasn't only cutting and carrying
the wood that had tired her out; the long walk in the woods had left
her legs aching and feet sore. Daily dance classes had never been like
this.
She emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a large bath
sheet, a smaller towel covering her wet hair. A little more relaxed
now, she was determined not to lose her temper. For a minute she stood
in the doorway, indecisive, but then Luke sensed her presence and
glanced over at her.
"Is there—do you have a blow dryer?" she asked
in what she felt was an entirely reasonable tone of voice.
He looked disgusted. "This is the middle of nowhere,
Linda, not some damn penthouse. Get to bed!"
His sarcasm was her undoing. Sorely provoked, she marched
into her room, grabbed her brush and stalked back out to the living
room to kneel down in front of the fire, her back to Luke. She could
feel his eyes on her bare skin as she brushed the tangles out of her
hair and let the heat from the fire start to dry it.
When she was finished she shot Luke an exasperated look
that accelerated into anger when he smiled rather smugly at her.
"You're really angry," he said.
"Yes. Also tired," she agreed. "So far today I've been a
lumberjack, a packhorse, a cook, a maid, a hiker and, much against my
will, a diver. Frankly, the company around here is a drag and I'm going
to sleep."
As she got to her feet she was suddenly aware that she'd
gone too far. Luke was no longer amused—he was flat-out
aroused. She'd issued a challenge and he meant to accept it.
"Oh no you're not," he told her. "Not yet. So I'm a drag?
Well then, let's see if I can't find something to entertain you. I'm
going to tell you exactly what's going to happen. I'm going to carry
you into my bedroom. I'm going to take a good look at what's under that
towel. And then I'm going to make love to you, and I'm not going to
stop until you're so turned on that you'll beg me to change my mind
when I throw you out.
Then
you can leave."
Randy started to run away, but before she'd taken three
steps Luke had scooped her up and was carrying her into the bedroom. He
ignored her struggles and tossed her onto the bed like a battered old
duffel bag. Her attempts at escape succeeded only in exhausting her and
she lay there, unable to move, trying to catch her breath.
When Luke yanked off the towel and threw it on the floor
Randy stiffened and stared at him in alarm. He was inspecting her with
aggressive eyes, drinking in her narrow waist, small, high breasts and
rounded hips. Her mouth went dry and her heart started pounding
double-time. She slid off the bed just as Luke began to remove his
shirt.
She grabbed for the towel but Luke simply put one large
foot on it to prevent her from picking it up. He shrugged out of his
shirt, which joined the towel on the floor, and started on his belt.
Randy bolted toward the door, but Luke got there first, standing in
front of it to prevent her from leaving.
She backed slowly away as Luke removed the rest of his
clothing. He was even more intimidating stripped-down than fully
dressed. His legs were firm and powerful, his arms sleekly muscled, his
chest broad and covered with a light hazing of hair. Randy wasn't
immune to sheer male appeal, but she'd made herself a promise and she
intended to keep it. She picked up the towel and held it protectively
in front of her. "I don't want you," she said coldly. "Let me out of
here."