lip stung. She hadn’t realized she’d been biting down on it. “Jeff’s name’s on the birth certificate.” At Alek’s stunned expression, she added, “I couldn’t very well put down yours, could I?”
Her grandmother’s old cuckoo clock chimed the half hour before Alek said, “I know I’ve done precious little to earn your trust, but please believe me—I only want to work out whatever’s best for all of us. Granted, I don’t have the slightest idea how to go about that, but we have to start somewhere. And the sooner, the better.”
Luanne swiped at her nose with the back of her hand, trying to convince herself she wasn’t trapped. Oh, Lord…the last thing she wanted to do was deal with any of this. But she was in no condition, physically or mentally, to put up the kinds of walls now that would only give Alek a reason to use his power and influence down the road.
She frowned. If she lived to be a hundred and ten, she’d never understand why Jeff had told Alek about Chase when he’d been so all-fired intent on Chase’s real father never getting the opportunity to mess things up.
The baby kicked, hard. Luanne tried not to react, but there Alek was, right in front of her with his arms outstretched, asking if she was all right.
“I’m fine.” She stood up straight to show him she didn’t need his help, either long-or short-term. “So tell me—if it hadn’t’ve been for Chase, would you be here right now?”
She couldn’t read his expression. “To be perfectly honest…I don’t know. Oh, I would have made sure you were all right, I suppose, but…” He ended the sentence with a sad shrug.
Well. Since it was obvious none of this was going to go away and leave her be, she let out a long sigh, then turned and waddled down the hall toward the kitchen, feeling like somebody else had moved into her body until the rightful owner came to her senses. “You hungry? I could fix you some breakfast—”
“Luanne?”
She told herself it was only because she was so on edge that his voice sounded like a caress. That it was only because she was seven months pregnant and a new widow that anything of Alek Vlastos had any kind of power over her at all. But the fact was she’d never felt more alone in her life. Or more helpless. And right this very instant a large part of her wanted to walk smack into those big old strong arms and cry her eyes out.
However, since she had no earthly intention of letting that happen, she simply turned, one hand on the kitchen door frame, and said, “What?”
“I could be angry as well, you know.”
Holding back the tears, she swiftly turned and headed on into the kitchen.
Holding back the memories of that night eleven years ago was something else again….
Sitting in the Porsche in the pouring rain, wondering if she’d truly gone and lost her mind, Luanne could just make out Alek’s mad dash from Ed’s to the car. Not that running did him any good, seeing as he was already soaked through. Unmindful of the wet leather seat—he’d left his door open—he scooted behind the steering wheel and slammed shut his door, shoving one hand through his dripping hair which, combined with his shadowed jaw, made him look almost…wild. For a brief moment she thought he might shake himself like a dog, finding herself mildly disappointed when he didn’t. Her gaze then lingered on his body just long enough to determine that what the wet shirt and jeans had molded themselves to was lean and hard, and that this was having a profound and disturbing effect on her good sense.
She quickly looked away. Here her nerves had just settled down some, and then all that lean, male hardness had to go sending them haywire all over again.
Not, however, because he frightened, or even intimidated her, despite his being more refined and classier than any man she’d ever met, let alone ridden alone in a car with. Oh, no. What had gotten to her, from the moment they met—and what had, paradoxically, made her turn away when she’d seen his car in the lot—was what she’d seen in his eyes.
Working in a bar the way she did, Luanne had gotten real good at discerning, from a person’s body language and the expression in his eyes, not just whether he was dealing with some trial or other, but what that trial might be. She wasn’t sure whether this ability of hers was a gift or a burden, but her knack for pinpointing people’s troubles had proved to be extremely useful on more than one occasion.
Maybe she was only twenty-one, but she’d already seen for herself any number of times that there was a lot of truth in what folks said about money not buying happiness. An adage she suspected held especially true in this case. Off and on throughout the evening she had found herself contemplating Alek Hastings, coming to the eventual conclusion that this was a man with great emptiness inside him, despite his surface cheerfulness. She had not, however, arrived at this diagnosis because she had any special powers to read a person’s mind, as much as this was a general truth she’d learned about men with wanderlust.
Unfortunately, neither of those things stopped her from being powerfully attracted to the man, nor from thinking about things she shouldn’t.
“All recovered now?” Alek now asked, interrupting her thoughts. She managed a nod, not trusting her voice. The rain had dropped the temperature considerably; even wearing the sweater she kept in the truck, she wrapped her arms around herself, only to realize how cold he must be, being wet and all.
“Where you staying?” she asked, only to feel her face immediately flame at how he might interpret her question. “What I mean is, you’re gonna freeze to death if you don’t get outta those wet clothes….”
That got a chuckle. Now even the roots of her hair felt hot, propelling her next words out on an exasperated rush. “I just meant maybe you might be more comfortable if you changed into dry clothes before you took me home. That’s all.”
“I know that’s what you meant,” he said, and she could hear the grin in his voice. “And yes, I think that’s an excellent idea, since I don’t much relish the thought of catching pneumonia. I’m staying at the Come On Inn.”
She burst out laughing. “You have got to be kidding!”
In the glow from the dash, she saw another grin split the dark contours of his beard-hazed face. “So sue me. I’m a sucker for tacky motels.”
“Well then, buddy, you are definitely staying at the right place. How on earth do you get any sleep, though, is what I want to know. I hear the walls are notoriously thin.”
His resulting low laugh sent a whole swarm of warm, foolish thoughts spiraling through her. “Earplugs.”
She found herself chuckling back, wondering at how she could feel so relaxed with her nerves all lit up the way they were. Then she allowed as how the Come On was on the way to her place, and off they purred in his fancy car, his headlights spearing the night as the windshield wipers whispered away the rain. He handled the car like it was part of him, with finesse and confidence, but no bravado, for which she and her twanging nerves were immensely grateful.
Alek popped a cassette into the player on the dash. A minute later, lush, glorious music filled the car.
“It sounds like Beethoven,” she said deliberately, “but I don’t recognize it.”
She saw the flinch of surprise, his hands tighten, just barely, on the wheel. “It’s the Choral Fantasy.
