he stood. She was slowly taking off her jacket, but she was watching him.
She looked like a waif, pale and shaking, shifting from foot to foot again on the wooden floor, her hair wildly curling from the moisture. Luke seemed to see her so clearly at that moment that it almost made him ache. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want her here, and mostly, he didn’t want to feel any sort of pity or concern for her. He’d passed that point in his life. He’d vowed not to care about anyone anymore, and he wasn’t going to start with this woman.
He wouldn’t remember her coming into this house, standing in front of him, her eyes huge, her hair clinging to her face and neck. He closed his own eyes tightly. He felt that fragmenting sensation he used to live with all the time, but had managed to push away the past few months.
“Luke?”
The sound of her voice jarred him, and his eyes opened immediately. She was still there, frowning as she came closer. That’s when he moved himself, walking right past her and toward the kitchen. He reached the huge double sink, pressed his hands to the cold tile counter and swallowed hard. He knew Shay was nearby and he made himself speak without turning. “We’re going to be here for a while, so I’ll make some hot soup.”
“That sounds blissful,” Shay said, closer to him than he wanted, but still at a distance.
Blissful? Had he ever felt blissful? He decided that blissful was outside his range of emotions. He opened the cupboard by him, reached for the nearest can of soup and stared at the label until it blurred as he waited for Shay to leave. When he heard her walking away, he exhaled and was able to get air in his lungs. Blissful? No, he never had experienced bliss.
Chapter Three
By the time Luke had the soup heated, found crackers and made more coffee, he felt calmer. He put the food on a tray, then carried it into the great room. Shay was on the nearest couch, curled into one corner, her head against the pillows and her eyes closed. Her rich chestnut hair was drying into soft curls now, touching her pale skin, and her dark lashes lay in arcs on her cheeks. Her peaceful expression was almost tangible, and for a split second, he envied her. It was one thing to never know bliss, but not to have known peace for such a very long time made him ache.
He was startled when her eyes opened without warning, and her soft amber gaze was on him. She smiled, showing the dimples again. “Wonderful,” she exclaimed when she saw the food and shifted to sit up straight.
He felt the impact of her expression in his middle and it was all he could do to control the urge to drop everything and walk away. He steadied himself, and went closer. After placing the tray on the end table nearest her, he returned to the kitchen for his own mug of coffee. She was holding a bowl of soup when he came back, and her content expression made his life feel grim and gray. “This is terrific,” she said, and dipped her spoon in the bowl. “Really terrific.”
He went to open the nearest door when she spoke again. “Luke?”
No one had said his name in this house, and now it hung in the air between them. Did Luke exist anymore? Had he ever existed?
He cautiously turned, saw her dipping a cracker into the soup, but she was looking at him. “What is it?” he asked.
“Aren’t you going to eat?”
“No,” he said, stepping out onto the terrace. He heard her start to say something else, but he closed the door on it. He stood in the bone-chilling cold in his stocking feet, staring into nothingness, yet couldn’t get the image of Shay out of his mind. He didn’t want to have her cutting through the void around him and showing him how empty his life had become. He didn’t want anyone. And he didn’t want her touching him again.
SHAY WATCHED the door close behind Luke, and the idea she was in any danger from the man gradually eased and dissolved. She still caught that look on Luke’s face that Roy had worn during the sessions, but now, she wasn’t so sure it was anger. It was more sadness. She had nothing to fear, she was sure.
Luke had shown her kindness, even if it had been grudging, offering to take her into town, drying her clothes, letting her shower, carrying her when he must have realized how sore her feet were, and now giving her the hot soup. Other than his abrupt attitude, he hadn’t done a thing to make her think he might hurt her. No, she wasn’t afraid of him at all. She finished the cracker and ate more soup, welcoming the heat slipping down her throat.
By the time she finished the food and sat back, Luke still hadn’t come back. But as she reached for her coffee, one of the back doors opened. Luke didn’t say a thing as he crossed the room and returned a few minutes later holding a steaming mug of coffee. “Do you want more?” he asked, nodding at the empty soup bowl.
“No, thanks, but it was good.” She sipped a bit of her coffee, but never looked away from Luke.
He crossed to a chair over by the doors and sat down, shifting to rest his right ankle on his left knee. He tugged off his sock, tossed it on the floor by him, then took off the other one. He kept his gaze down, as if studying the steaming liquid in his cup.
“I really want to thank you for doing this for me,” she said.
He glanced up, his eyes shaded by partially lowered lids. “Sure.”
“You’re a man of few words, aren’t you?” she asked as she curled her legs under her.
“I speak when I have something to say,” he murmured and took a sip of his coffee.
She was taken aback to see his hand that held the mug was unsteady. She wondered if it was from the chill outside. He didn’t say anything else, but stared into the coffee. Graham had been a talker. She had always teased him that he could have had a conversation with a doorknob, but she was sure even Graham couldn’t get Luke to say more than a few words.
“What do we do now?” she asked.
“Wait.”
“Until?”
“The fog lifts and I walk into town.”
If the fog lingered, she would have a lot of time to figure out how to make contact with Mr. Evans.
She looked away from Luke to the room they were in. “You’ve lived on the estate for a while?”
“A while,” he echoed.
“Where did you come from?”
He rested his mug on his thigh and countered her question with his own. “Where did you come from?”
Okay, he was going to do it his way, and she went along with it since she was totally dependent on his generosity at the moment. And maybe if she spoke about mundane things, he’d let something slip about his boss.
“I was born in San Diego and lived there until I was eighteen. Then I moved to Houston, then Maine, spent a bit of time in San Francisco, then went back to San Diego again. Now I’m up here on a temporary assignment at the Sound Preservation Agency.”
He studied her. “Thanks for that rundown and insight, but I actually meant, where did you come from tonight?”
She thought he was making a joke and started to smile, but he was dead serious. “I told you, I’m a marine biologist
