there a hint of regret in his words?
Or had she imagined it?
Whichever, the moment had passed, and Mariah didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. What she felt was a strange mixture of both.
She’d never thought of herself as a needy woman. Or a lonely one. She had Callie. Her daughter was her life. She was happy. Her days were full and filled. So why could this man tempt her so easily in the moonlight?
She tried to shrug away the question as she walked, careful to keep a comfortable distance from him—though she wasn’t sure what that distance might be.
“The cabin is over there, just beyond the rise,” she said. “Come on, I’ll show it to you.”
Luke followed her across the property toward the small rough-hewn structure barely visible in the moonlight.
“It isn’t much, like I said. I hope you don’t mind roughing it a little.”
“I’m sure it’ll beat hard ground with a cactus for a pillow. I didn’t see much else out there on that road I was on.”
She turned and smiled at him. The softest, sweetest smile Luke could recall ever seeing on a woman.
“True enough,” she said softly.
He’d found her so damned appealing back there in the cool grass, the moonlight slanting across her face, her sultry lips.
He wasn’t sure why he didn’t act on the moment, seize the chance to kiss her, taste the sweetness he knew he’d find on her lips.
He tried to shove that thought aside. It could only bring them both trouble. Mariah had a daughter. She wasn’t someone interested in a brief fling. Though he wasn’t at all sure any interlude with her could be brief.
The woman would be damned hard to walk away from when the time came to do so. He’d do well to keep that realization in mind the next time temptation hit him.
“This is it,” Mariah said as they reached the cabin. “It’s probably not what you’re used to back in civilization.”
She drew a lantern from its nail on the wall, found a match and lit the wick. Flickering light flooded the little room and Luke took a look around.
A small cot was pushed against one wall. There was also a chair—a little lumpy in the seat cushion, but usable—and a well-scarred coffee table.
A few toys and a rag doll with one eye missing were scattered about, and he remembered Mariah telling him Callie liked to use the cabin as her playhouse.
He picked up the doll and grinned at its one-eyed countenance, then set it aside. He remembered Dane’s toys had always been scattered about, remembered how he’d hated it when he tripped over them. He wished now he could take back his annoyance over something so minor. But it was too late…
“The place is fine,” he said. “I hope Callie won’t mind my borrowing it for a while.”
She gave him a soft smile. “Callie won’t mind. Besides, I think she’s quite taken with you.”
“And what about her mother?”
“Her mother won’t mind, either,” she answered, unaware that wasn’t the question he’d asked her.
“That wasn’t what I meant,” he said, taking a step closer. He reached out a hand and softly traced the margins of the blush that had risen to her cheeks. Her skin beneath his touch was silken. Her eyes were wide and filled with want. Or was it a trick of the flickering lantern light? “I wondered if Callie’s mother was taken, too, just a little.”
Her blush deepened. He could feel its heat beneath his fingertips. Mariah was warm and vibrant—and everything he shouldn’t want in a woman. He was a man on the move. To where, he didn’t know, didn’t know if he’d ever get there, if he’d ever be whole again. One pretty woman with hopes and dreams—and needs—was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
Not now, maybe never.
“I should go and find you some linens,” she said quietly, her voice sounding as if it came from someplace far away.
She wasn’t unaffected by him—any more than he was by her. But, somehow, that knowledge didn’t make Luke feel any better about himself.
When Mariah returned with fresh sheets and towels for him, Luke was out front of the tiny cabin, studying the stars. Strange how he’d never noticed them back in Chicago. Or the moon. He could use the peace this place offered.
At least for a little while.
“Here are the linens,” she said. “I’ll just go and lay them on the cot.”
Luke watched her go. He had no right to want her. He was hurting, and Mariah offered peace, if only a temporary peace. But he had nothing to offer her in return.
She deserved a man who could pluck down the moon for her, those cool, glittery stars. A man who could give her some of himself.
“Will you be comfortable for the night?” she asked, stepping out the cabin’s front door.
Comfortable? More than he had been on the seat of a motorcycle. More than he’d been the last six months—since his son’s death. “I’ll be fine,” he answered, hating the ragged sound to his voice.
“If you need anything, just let me know.”
“I won’t need anything.”
She stepped off the porch slowly, a little unsurely. “I’ll be getting back then,” she said and started to leave.
Luke stopped her.
“Mariah?”
She turned softly to gaze at him, and Luke knew he was lost, lost in those luminous green eyes, that prettily shaped mouth, her haunting femininity.
He’d only wanted to thank her for what she’d done, but she stood so close he could touch her, stroke her hair, smooth back the few rebellious strands that escaped her braid.
“Thank you,” he managed to get out. “For…everything.”
She smiled softly, and it was his undoing.
He brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek, then her lower lip, tracing its silken curve. She didn’t draw away, only gazed up at him with her own soft need.
His resolve melted completely. He had to taste her lips, just once. He leaned down and brushed them lightly with his own, finding something that surely had to be heaven.
His tongue traced them slowly, outlining their shape, memorizing it for the long, lonely night ahead of him. Still she didn’t pull away, and he tasted deeper, wanting what he shouldn’t have.
She kissed him back, thoroughly, sending his soul into the darker regions of hell. Her mouth was sweet and sinful, her breasts soft and full as they pushed gently against him. Mariah was delight and innocence, peace and treasure, all
