don’t think so,” Luke replied in a clipped tone, heavy with self-reproach.
Meg had to tilt her head back to see his face. Both his height—at six-five he had a good eight inches on her—and his closeness were disconcerting to her. As was her potent reaction to his sheer physical attractiveness. Every time she was near him, her heart beat a little faster, her senses got a little sharper and the loneliness she’d felt since their friendship abruptly ended became more acute. And yet, how could she regret the mistake that had ended their friendship, knowing how that night had changed her life for all eternity?
“You didn’t know what you were doing, you were so upset,” Luke continued.
Meg shook her head. “It’s still no excuse. I might have already broken up with Kip Brewster, but I also knew you were about to ask Gwyneth to marry you.” The fact she had always felt Gwyneth was all wrong for Luke was of no consequence. He’d still been Gwyneth’s steady, and Meg had ignored that fact when she’d let a comforting hug take on an entirely different meaning.
“You had just lost your parents in that deadly tornado and become head of the family. You needed someone to hold on to, while you waited for morning and a flight home. I just happened to be there.”
He hadn’t just been her friend—he had been her lifeline that night. “Even so, I should never have kissed you, Luke,” Meg said around the unaccustomed dryness of her throat. “Especially not that way.” A way that said he was the only man there would ever be for her.
Luke shrugged matter-of-factly, looking not nearly as regret-filled as she would have expected. “I kissed you back.”
How well Meg remembered that. Through high school, college and into grad school, she had dated a lot of different guys. Many of those dates had ended with goodnight kisses. But none had ever been like that. Meg suspected, there might never be again. But that was just chemistry, and the chemistry between them had ruined their friendship and nearly wrecked both their lives. Would have, if Meg had allowed Luke’s guilt over their lovemaking to break up his relationship with Gwyneth. But she had done what she had to do then, just as she would do what she had to do now. “It was a long time ago,” Meg said wearily. She dropped the sanding block onto the bench.
“I agree.” Luke stood, arms folded in front of him, legs braced apart. “What I don’t understand is why you’re still acting as if it just happened yesterday. Why, years later, are you avoiding me like the plague?”
Meg wiped her hands on the rag she’d stuck in the waistband of her shorts. She turned away. Doing her best to quell the growing heat in her cheeks, she studied the quarter acre of tidy green lawn that separated her two-bedroom “guest cottage” from the much bigger “main house” next door. Once all part of the same residence, the two properties had been split up years before and sold to different owners, then sold again. “Because I am ashamed and humiliated by the way I behaved,” Meg said.
Luke lifted a brow. “Because you’re human? Because you’re a woman? Because you were reeling with grief and acted impulsively?” As Meg turned back to face him, he studied her implacably. “Or is it something more that has made you keep me at arm’s length?” he continued, giving her the slow once-over. “Like Jeremy.”
Meg swallowed around the sudden knot of emotion in her throat and tried to still the sudden trembling of her heart. “My son has nothing to do with my feelings about that night,” Meg replied firmly. “Or you.”
“Where is he?” Luke asked, his voice taking on a protective, parental quality Meg didn’t like one bit.
Her confidence at being able to handle this situation, simply by steering clear of Luke as much as possible, wavered. “He’s still asleep.”
“And his father?” Luke grilled Meg deliberately.
“Where is he?”
Meg knew what Luke was driving at. She put up a hand to prevent Luke from asking any more questions. He ignored her and pushed on anyway.
“When exactly was Jeremy born, Meg?”
That, she could answer. “Eight months after my parents died, on December first.”
Silence fell between them. Disappointment flashed across Luke’s face. “Meaning his father is that guy you almost married—Kip Brewster,” he said, almost sadly. Anguish glimmered in his golden-brown eyes. “And not me.”
Meg’s shoulders stiffened as she stared at the light dusting of sandy-brown hair on Luke’s arms. Guilt and confusion filled her heart. She was tempted to confess all, to lean on Luke’s broad shoulders and inherently gallant and romantic nature once again. But even as she was tempted, she knew Luke and knew she couldn’t do it. Luke was the kind of selfless-to-a-fault man who took his obligations seriously. He was quick to help anyone and everyone else out. The fallout came later when the good intentions in his head did not match the feelings in his heart. How quickly—and irrevocably—she had learned that.
She had decided what was right years ago. Amid much attempted interference from family and friends, she had taken responsibility for her actions and stuck to her guns in protecting her son from the kind of hurt and rejection she had suffered. She wasn’t going to change direction now. Reminding herself that she was protecting everyone with her silence, Meg lifted her head indignantly. “Haven’t you heard? I don’t discuss Jeremy’s father with anyone. I never have and never will.” Life was so much simpler that way. She and Jeremy weren’t a burden to anyone.
Still studying her bluntly, he took another step closer. “Surely your sisters know the truth.”
They all certainly wanted to know, Meg thought, as feelings of guilt and remorse hit her anew. “If my sisters knew the identity of Jeremy’s father they would be on that man’s doorstep in a red-hot Texas second, demanding he step up to the gate and do right by us whether he wanted to or not.” And that Meg couldn’t allow. Especially after all this time had passed.
Luke’s brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong with it is that I know what it’s like to be suddenly shouldered with the care and responsibility of another human being,” she said curtly.
Luke’s glance softened. “Which is what happened when you became the legal guardian to your sisters,” he noted compassionately.
Despite herself, Meg warmed to the understanding in Luke’s low, sensual tone. The goodness in him was what had made them such fast friends in the beginning and kept her from hurting him and his family later. Taking the cloth rag from her belt, she wiped down the bench, checked for splinters, found none. “I love my sisters and I was glad to do it,” she admitted with gut-wrenching honesty, “but I’d be lying if I said there weren’t times when I resented having such enormous responsibility thrust on me that way.”
“Did you feel that way about Jeremy, too?”
Meg sank down on the bench, grappling with her feelings all the while. She wasn’t sure why. She just knew she wanted Luke to realize how confused and distraught she’d been back then. “From the first moment I realized I was pregnant, I was happy about having a baby,” she admitted slowly, overcome with an onslaught of feeling.
“But I was also dismayed,” she continued softly. Shaking her head, she stood, slid her hands into the deep pockets of her khaki walking shorts and began to pace away from Luke. “The timing was all wrong. I wasn’t married. I wasn’t
