Authors: Brooke Hastings
Sean had never aroused her this way—no one had.
She couldn't control her response or the wild hunger of her movements.
She thought she would die of frustration when he stopped for a moment,
and was plunged into a mind-shattering ecstasy when he continued again.
When the waves of pleasure finally tore through her body she knew she
was utterly spent.
Twice more during the night she would learn that she
wasn't. After the third time, exhausted, she fell asleep yet again,
only to have Luke awaken her and seduce her all over again. The whole
experience was surreal, like a dream—a dream with a passion
she'd never known existed. The final time she was as wild as a tigress,
exploring Luke's body as he'd explored hers, showing a boldness that
would have shocked her had the night not been so full of magic.
Afterward even Luke was sated.
Randy had never truly understood the phrase "the morning
after the night before" until the morning sun woke her up and she
realized she was in Luke's bed. She also realized what had happened
there—
repeatedly
happened
there—during the night. It still seemed like a dream, but
Randy knew perfectly well that it hadn't been.
There was barely enough time to start feeling mortified
before Luke stirred and opened his eyes. He looked at her, frowned and
muttered, "That was one hell of a night."
It wasn't the reaction Randy had expected and it stabbed
her like a dull knife. He almost sounded regretful. Where were last
night's passion and tenderness? Hadn't it meant anything at all to him?
"Yes," she agreed. "It was."
He stretched and pulled himself up, then asked her if
something was wrong. "You seem upset," he added, as though there was no
possible reason why this might be so.
"Are we going to see each other again?" Randy blurted out
the question even though she knew it was absurd. They'd be seeing each
other in only a few weeks.
"Maybe. I'll call you." He trailed a finger down her
cheek. "It's a long flight home and we need to get moving. Why don't
you make some breakfast while I shut things down?"
Randy returned to her room and pulled on her clothes, then
went into the kitchen to fix Luke some eggs. She wasn't at all hungry
herself, because she knew exactly what "I'll call you" meant. It wasn't
"How soon can I see you again?" but "See you around, honey". She was
forced to confront the fact that what had happened last night meant
absolutely nothing to Luke and neither did she. The thought made her
sick with self-reproach. When would she ever learn?
Luke was just as preoccupied as she was over breakfast.
Randy endured half a cup of coffee in his silent presence and then went
into her room to pack. She'd never felt like this
before—utterly wrung-out, too beaten even to cry.
The plane ride home was just as bad as breakfast had been.
Luke went from preoccupied to irritable while Randy spent most of the
flight staring out the window but seeing almost nothing. The thoughts
that chased around her mind all seemed to begin, If only. If only she'd
gone to New Hampshire. If only she hadn't been so attracted to Luke. If
only she'd said no. If only…
Would he want her when he found out who she really was?
And equally important, did
she
want a man who
could treat a woman as callously as Luke had treated her today? She
didn't have the answers.
In the middle of the afternoon they landed at a small
suburban airport outside Boston. Luke walked Randy off the plane,
carrying her suitcase for her. "I'll call us a taxi," he said.
She shook her head, holding out her hand. "I'll get home
on my own. Just give me some money." She was afraid her precarious
composure would buckle.
Luke handed her a couple of twenty-dollar bills, but when
she took her suitcase and started to walk away, he reached out a hand
to restrain her. Randy gave him a pointed stare and he removed it,
running it through his hair instead. He looked annoyed with her.
"Look, Linda," he said, "last night was one of those
things that just happens. We both wanted it and it wasn't the first
time for either of us, but both of us know it's over. I enjoyed it and
so did you, so what are you so upset about?"
What could she say? Because I'm disappointed in myself?
Because you don't give a damn about me? "I could ask you the same
thing," she murmured.
He shrugged. "It's complicated. Maybe it comes down to the
fact that I'm not the kind of guy who's interested in a purely physical
affair."
Randy was beginning to get the message. "Are you saying
that that's all it could ever be? Because I'm not the type of woman you
want to associate with?"
"Linda…"
"Are you?" she demanded.
"Yes," he said bluntly, and walked away from her.
On the ride back to Cambridge Randy was alternately
furious and close to tears. Praying that Linda was home by now, she had
the cab driver drop her off in front of the house. As usual the bottom
door was open so she went inside, but the top was locked and there was
no answer to her hard knock.
After everything that had happened since Friday this minor
setback was enough to trigger frustrated tears. Randy quickly wiped
them away with the back of her hand and told herself to stop acting
like a child. Her next move was to try Mrs. Siskin, the downstairs
neighbor, but there was no one home there, either. The only other
alternative was to leave Linda a note and walk the fifteen or so blocks
to Harvard Square, where she could check into a motel. After all, she
had Linda's credit cards with her.
Taking a pen from her purse, she rummaged around for
something to write on, but couldn't even find a tissue or a piece of
scrap paper. It was the final blow.
She was crying as she walked out of the building, barely
aware of the silver Porsche coming up the street. Linda spotted her
almost at once and bolted out of the car, running into the driveway to
intercept her. After one look at her sister's rumpled clothing,
defeated stance and scratched, tear-stained face, she asked anxiously,
"What on earth happened to you, Randy?"
Randy didn't intend to start keening like a distraught
mourner. She thought she could control herself better than that. But
when Linda took her into her arms she clung like a small child and
began to sob inconsolably. Linda half carried, half led her upstairs
and into the apartment while Roger went back for their luggage.
Seated on the couch a little later, settled with a glass
of water Linda had fetched, Randy sniffled and said, "I'm okay,
really." Roger was standing by the front door, trying to stay out of
the way, so she added with an embarrassed flush, "I don't usually carry
on this way."
"I'll leave you two to talk," he said. "Lin, can I pick up
something for dinner?"
"No, wait." Randy took a quick drink of water. "Sometimes,
a man can understands—can
explain
things a woman can't. Lin's just going to tell you everything anyway,
so…" She shrugged instead of finishing the sentence.
She could see that her sister was pleased by her high
opinion of Roger Bennett, but before she could really trust him she
needed to clear something up. "Do you live with someone?" she asked as
he sat down in the living room.
"Only with my kids, in the winter," he answered. "What
gave you that idea?"
"Luke said—"
"Luke?" Linda interrupted. "Luke who?"
"Luke Griffin. He said…"
"You were with
Luke Griffin
this
weekend?
He
did this to you?"
"Yes, but he didn't…"
"Does Daddy know… ?"
"For God's sake, Linda, give the girl a chance," Roger
interrupted. Looking sheepish, Linda did as she was told. "To answer
your question, Randy, Luke was probably talking about Katrina Sorensen.
We were together for about four months, but she never actually lived
with me. I met Luke when I produced a charity fashion show that C
& D did the clothing for. Katrina was one of the models and I
introduced her to him. For a time she dated him instead of me, but he
lost interest before I did. We broke up a few months ago."
"Who," Linda asked, "is Katrina Sorensen?"
Randy knew exactly who she was. "That blond-haired,
green-eyed model who looks like a Scandinavian Amazon," she said. "She
does the Dominique perfume ads and also the Kaylar Hotel commercial."
Linda wasn't too pleased by this piece of information.
"You never mentioned
her
," she said to Roger.
He grinned at her. "It slipped my mind." Seeing that his
answer was something short of satisfactory, he added, "Katie Sorensen
is a beautiful woman and a hard-working professional, but she's also
very insecure and incredibly self-centered. After a while I just
couldn't deal with it. Does that answer your question?"
Linda said it did, then turned her attention back to Randy. "Now what's all this about Luke Griffin? Didn't you
go to New Hampshire?"
Randy poured out the whole story. At first she was afraid
she might start crying again, but Linda and Roger kept interjecting the
kinds of funny little asides that lightened the mood and kept her
going. The most difficult part of the account concerned their final
night together, but the gist of what had happened came through very
clearly despite her censoring of the details.
"I obviously missed a lot when he got
you
instead of me," Linda drawled, making Randy smile. She darted a sly
look at Roger.
"I'll make it up to you," he promised with a laugh. He
looked at Randy. "I think I can fill in the rest. This morning Griffin
gave you the brush-off. Told you it had been fun, but it was time to
get back to the real world."
Randy nodded and filled in the details of their
conversation. She wasn't surprised that Roger had guessed, given the
state he and Linda had found her in.
When she was finished Linda muttered a very unflattering
epithet to describe Luke Griffin and gave her a hug. "A lot of this is
my fault," she said, "but who would have thought that someone who works
for Dad would turn out to be a lunatic?"
"You're missing the whole point of what happened," Roger
said impatiently. "Griffin admitted that he'd enjoyed it, and take it
from me, a man doesn't keep a woman up half the night unless he's
half-crazy for her. Forget what he told you—did you bother to
ask yourself why any normal man wouldn't jump at the chance to repeat
an experience like that?"
On the contrary, Randy had taken his explanation at face
value. "His opinion of Lin…" she began, then stopped. She
didn't want to hurt Lin or shock Roger, so she couldn't very well spell
things out.
But Linda had no problem interpreting her reticence.
"Roger knows all about my wicked past," she said, "although it seems to me that Luke's impression is a
little exaggerated. There just haven't been that many men, Randy."
"Not according to him," she muttered.
"All that's beside the point," Roger said. "Luke Griffin
is no saint. I know enough about him to know that he's dated women who
make Linda look like a convent graduate, among them Katie Sorensen.
What he told you is a bunch of garbage. He obviously couldn't get
enough of you, Randy, so why wouldn't he want to see you again?"
"My father…"
"Stays out of Linda's life," Roger finished for her. His
tone said he couldn't understand why women were so dense. "He was
close-mouthed and irritable. His problem isn't sleeping with you, it's
getting involved with you. If nothing else, he probably wonders what he
could possibly tell his sister. It was easier for him to break it off
now
,
before things went too far. So what's your problem? You can straighten
it out in New York, and…"
"Men!" Now it was Linda's turn to hold forth on the
stupidity of the
male
sex. "Couldn't you hear how
ambivalent my sister is? One moment she was complaining that Luke was
conceited and the next telling us how caring he could be. Judgmental
and arrogant, thoughtful and gentle, ambitious and manipulative, sweet
and protective. She doesn't know
what
she feels.
She's been hurt badly once and she's running scared."
"Luke is a decent guy," Roger pointed out, "and once he
finds out she's
Randy
, he's not going to start
anything unless he's serious. Your father would kill him."
"Do you think I want a man to take me seriously because of
that
?" Randy asked. "Besides, Lin is right. I
don't know what I feel. Suppose Luke wants to pick up where we left
off…"
"Of course he will," Roger said with a grin. "He's not
stupid
."
"Well I don't know if
I
do. I'll
agree because— because he happens to affect me that way,
but…" Randy looked into her lap. "And maybe not just him.
Maybe a lot of men. I was a late starter, but at the rate I'm
going—"
"I refuse to listen to another word of this," Linda
interrupted, pounding the table for emphasis. "You've got to stop
punishing yourself for a perfectly human, perfectly understandable
mistake, Randy."
"And Luke? Was he a perfectly human, perfectly—"
"No. Because I don't think he'll turn out to be a mistake.
If Sean Raley hadn't shaken your confidence and left you so distrustful
of your feelings I think you'd be taking this a lot differently. I
think you'd realize that Luke
liked
the woman he
met. It's the one he's only heard about who he
doesn't
like."
As far as Randy was concerned the discussion was
pointless. She only knew that she was confused and upset, and that the
thought of seeing Luke again left her trembling with anxiety. "Maybe I
should just pack up and go back to California," she muttered.
Linda curled her feet up underneath her and stared at the
opposite wall for several moments. She had a very odd look on her face
that slowly—very slowly— turned into a smile.
"California?" she repeated. "Why would you change your mind? After all,
you had a
very
relaxing time in New Hampshire.
You should be looking forward to working at C & D."