An Act of Love (13 page)

He was sitting in a chair drinking a soda when she slowly
walked out of the bedroom. About half the floor was finished and it
looked very nice. "Luke," she said hoarsely, "I don't feel very well.
My stomach…"

He stood up. "Lie down on the couch. Let me take a look."

Randy nodded, easing herself onto her back. When Luke sat
down by her waist and reached out to unsnap her jeans she instinctively
flinched, thinking of the way he'd touched her the night before. His
jaw clenched as he quickly glanced at her, but neither of them said a
word.

He slid down the zipper and started to examine her, his
fingers firm yet gentle on her abdomen and stomach. For once, however,
his touch was anything but arousing. Before he'd even finished Randy
knew she couldn't lie there a moment longer. She tore off the couch and
ran into the bathroom, to be followed by a tight-lipped Luke. He stood
and waited without comment until she was through.

His hand dropped onto her shoulder as she rinsed her
mouth, but she sensed that the gesture was meant only to comfort, as a
parent would comfort a child. In fact, Randy felt slightly better now.
"Into the bedroom," he said. "I want to figure out whether I need to
fly you to a hospital."

When Randy was settled on the bed he suggested, "Maybe it
was the floor cleaner. That stuff could make a skunk run in the
opposite direction. What made you decide to do the floor?"

Randy shrugged. "I had nothing to do. I was bored."

"I can't win," he answered with a smile. "Last night you
told me that my company was a drag and now you're saying that my
absence is a drag. Any suggestions on how to proceed?"

Ordinarily Randy might have blushed at his remarks, but
now she was too sick to bother. When she failed to respond in any way
at all Luke went on, "I can see that my teasing bedside manner is a
total failure, Lin. Did I hit any tender spots before?"

Randy shook her head. "It's more queasy than painful."

"Any other problems?"

"A little dizziness. And also a headache. I've had it
since last night but aspirin didn't help very much."

"One-sided and throbbing?"

She wondered how he'd known. "Yes."

"Sounds like a classic migraine. Bill once mentioned that
your mother gets them, but obviously you never have. Let's get you
comfortable and quiet and see if it helps. I think I have an icebag
around here somewhere for your head."

Luke had started to unbutton her blouse even before he
finished talking, but Randy didn't protest as he undressed her and
helped her under the covers. She only knew that she felt awful. On his
way out of the bedroom Luke pulled down the shades; he returned a few
minutes later with the icebag.

The ice and the darkness helped a little, but Luke's
reassuring presence helped even more. He certainly had his faults, but
he was the kind of man you could count on. He was buffing the floor
again, the sound too gentle to be disturbing. To take her mind off her
head Randy started to mentally recite a scene from her most
recent play, and found that it worked.

Eventually Luke tiptoed back in and stood by the foot of
the bed, looking at her. "It's okay," Randy said, taking the icebag
away from her eyes. "I'm not asleep."

"How's your head?" he asked quietly.

"It still hurts, but not as much."

"Your stomach?"

"A little better."

Luke studied the paleness of her cheeks and the tiredness
around her eyes and then walked over to sit beside her on the bed. He
lifted a hand to stroke her hair, but dropped it when she suddenly
tensed up. "I wasn't going to make a pass at you," he said. "You're
tired and you can't sleep, right?"

A little embarrassed, Randy agreed.

"So I'll take care of it." Without further explanation he
again reached out to touch her, but only to begin a firm, gentle
massage of her temples. Randy felt tension she hadn't been aware of
begin to slip away as he continued to knead her scalp and the back of
her neck. As the pain receded and pleasure took its place she gave a
little moan of relief and stifled a yawn. Eventually she dropped off to
sleep again.

She was amazed by how much better she felt when she woke
up. She stretched languidly and sniffed, then sniffed again. Luke was
cooking something and it smelled wonderful. By the time Randy had
brushed her hair and washed up, Luke was in the process of removing a
batch of garlic bread from the oven. A pot of bubbling minestrone soup
was sitting on top of the stove.

"Italian food!" Randy said, suddenly hungry. "I love
Italian food. When do we eat?"

"Your timing is perfect." Luke grabbed plates and cutlery
from the drainboard and began to set the table. "Go on, sit down. I'll
take care of everything."

"Why, Luke," Randy said, "how thoughtful of you. Now I
know how to get around that temper of yours. You're a born doctor who
can't resist taking care of people. So all I have to do is stay sick."

"That wouldn't serve my purpose at all," he shot back.

The remark effectively shut Randy up. She snatched a piece
of garlic bread from the cookie sheet and took a few bites, licking her
lips in contentment. "Umm. This is delicious, Luke. You're a great
cook. If I'd known that before I would have made you do your share."

He didn't answer, apparently preferring to concentrate on
his soup, which contained thick chunks of meat and sliced vegetables
and obviously hadn't come from a can. It wasn't until they were having
coffee that the urge to talk seemed to hit him. He tipped back his
chair, regarding Randy with a bland expression, and announced, "I think
it's time I took you home. If I do, are you going to see Tom again?"

Randy was relieved that he'd decided to leave -but not
really surprised. He probably had to get back to work and had already
made his opinion of Linda quite clear. Still, with her release in the
offing, she wasn't about to risk her freedom by getting into yet
another argument about who she was. She knew it didn't
matter—it would be cleared up soon enough.

"No," she said. "That's all over with."

"And Roger? Will you see him?"

"I hope so," Randy answered, wondering what difference it
could make to Luke. "I liked him very much."

"So what are you going to do with your life? Go to work?
Look for another husband?"

She repeated the answer that Linda had given her in
Cambridge. "Maybe open my own business—an antique shop or art
gallery. I'm not in the market for a third husband," she added, "at
least, not yet." Randy hoped it was the truth, but with Lin one never
knew. Although her sister seemed more cautious it might be only
temporary.

"Do you regret any of it?" Luke persisted.

Randy didn't bother to ask what "it" consisted of. "If you
mean, do I regret meeting Tom, I suppose I do. I didn't know he had
children and I'm sorry that your sister was hurt. But in the end all we
did was talk. Ask him yourself if you don't believe me."

"I will." The words were a little clipped. "You don't like
to talk about yourself, do you?"

"Sometimes I do, but right now"—Randy shrugged
—"I feel better than before, but not terrific. Sorry."
Actually she felt fine. She just didn't want to keep role-playing the
part of Linda Franck.

Even if Luke's frown hadn't conveyed his disbelief, the
tinge of sarcasm in his voice when he answered would have. "I forgot,"
he said. "Go sit down by the fire, Linda. I'll clean up."

In the end they did the washing up together, Randy feeling
a little guilty for pretending that she was still sick. If she'd been
able to think up any other way to stop him from cross-examining her she
would have tried it, but she couldn't. Afterward they sat down together
in the living room to read, Luke in a chair with his book and Randy on
the couch with a magazine.

She found that her eyes kept wandering to his face, her
thoughts on what would happen when they met again in New York. Surely
he would apologize, but would he also ask her out? Or would he keep
things strictly business?

He only had about fifty pages left to read and was too
absorbed to notice Randy's frequent glances. The complexity of his
personality had left her deeply ambivalent about him despite the strong
physical attraction she felt. She knew he could be charming as well as
caring, but he could also be arrogant and tough, even ruthless. Sitting
here alone with him, all the old feelings of excitement and desire came
flooding back, and yet she was very relieved that he'd never actually
taken her. Considering how much she'd permitted perhaps it was
academic, but the fact that they hadn't become lovers would make it
easier to start off fresh in New York. After all, one unfortunate night
didn't prove that she was promiscuous, only that she'd gotten carried
away after a day that had left her emotions battered and her quota of
common sense a little low.

When Luke snapped his book shut and tossed it on the table
he caught her in the middle of a furtive glance. She quickly dropped
her eyes to her magazine, blushing.

"Lin?" he murmured.

It wasn't hard to interpret that husky tone. Randy could
feel his eyes on her face and reddened still more. "I'm going to shower
and go to bed," she said, standing up. "Maybe I'll fill up the icebag.
My head is bothering me again."

"Sure." Luke stood up also, grabbing his sweater from the
coffee table. "I'm going for a walk. I'll see you in the morning."

He was out the door before Randy even reached the bathroom.

Luke shoved his hands into his pockets, walking briskly
but with no particular goal in mind. He bent down and scooped up a few
rocks, then threw them angrily across the field.

What was the woman's game, anyway, repeatedly glancing at
him only to coolly reject him? Was she taunting him again? Inviting him
to seduce her? Certainly she didn't feel sick—he didn't need
a medical degree to see that her color was good and her appetite
healthy. He thought he understood women, but he certainly didn't
understand
this
one.

For a long time he walked around aimlessly, trying to
figure out what he wanted—besides Linda Franck's body, that
was. He was both attracted to her and repelled. He wasn't stupid enough
to think he could change her and knew for a fact that he could never
introduce her to his sister, so any real relationship was out of the
question. Still, certain facets of her personality drew him to her. In
the end he admitted that he'd been warned. A woman didn't attract
millionaires like Brett Franck and successful producers like Roger
Bennett without something more than a pretty face and body to offer.

By the time he turned back to the cabin he was very well
aware that he was headed straight for her bedroom. He told himself that
after all the lovers she'd had there was no reason why she shouldn't
have one more. He believed that she wanted him and knew he wanted her.
It might be only for one night, but he meant to enjoy it. Tomorrow
could take care of itself.

Randy muttered an incoherent protest and rolled over onto
her side, swatting her hand against her hair when she felt something
touch her. She'd been sleeping so deeply—it couldn't be time
to get up already.

At first when Luke pulled back the covers and lifted her
out of bed she was too disoriented to realize what was happening. They
were inside his room before she finally figured it out.

She started to squirm in his arms, only to be laid gently
on the bed—his bed. Her nightgown was up around her thighs by
now and she suddenly realized that Luke was wearing nothing at all. She
tried to get up, moaning, "No…" but Luke slid on top of her,
his body hard with desire, pinning her to the firm mattress.

When he moved against her the feel of his masculinity tore
through her body like a bolt of lightning, leaving her short of breath.
She reached up to push him away, but when her hands made contact with
his muscled arms she somehow longed to explore, not reject. His body
was so sexy, so male. Her hands moved higher, stroking his shoulders
and then tangling into his crisp, thick hair.

His lips were against her neck now, nuzzling and nibbling,
overcoming her few remaining objections. That little spot below her ear
was one of her weaknesses. How could he have found it so quickly? He
was setting her on fire, making her ache for him. She turned her head,
needing much, much more than this gentle teasing.

His mouth had barely tasted her lips before they
submissively parted to receive his tongue, which mounted an impatient
invasion, his kiss deep and a little rough with desire. His urgency was
contagious. She moaned, arching against him, her tongue mingling with
his own before seeking the soft recesses of his mouth.

His fingers deftly dealt with the buttons down the front
of her nightgown, pushing the flannel aside when he was through,
exposing her breasts to his dominating hands. Randy was floating in a
world of pure, intense sensation now, where Luke's body was the only
reality. He caressed her hungrily, as though barely able to restrain
himself, and she responded with a mindless passion that broke the bonds
of his self-control.

She clung to him, her pleasure only too apparent from the
little noises she made when Luke took her. They moved together slowly
at first, then faster and faster until Randy could barely manage to
breathe. When the explosion finally came she repeatedly cried out.
Nothing like that had ever happened to her before.

The second time Luke woke her up he was gentler, more
tender. Now there was no nightgown to remove, no barrier at all to his
lips. She felt them on her breasts first, sucking the nipples till they
hardened, tracing the circumference of each dusky circle with his
tongue, nipping gently with his teeth as she stirred and murmured his
name. When his mouth moved lower she stiffened slightly, but he was
insistent about what he intended to do and she couldn't stop him. After
a moment or two of his expert probing she no longer wanted to.