His Sister's Wedding (8 page)

She had to admit he moved well to music, his steps sure as he held her close. That
surprised her. Most testosterone-laden men were afraid to learn to dance. They usually
had a fear of looking foolish and couldn't be coaxed into the activity even though
their women longed to dance.

She'd never met a more contradictory man, Lillie thought as Luke guided her into the
flow of the music. He'd puzzled her from the start.

Gradually losing her initial stiffness, Lillie relaxed in Luke's arms, unwillingly
inhaling his scent. He felt so good against her, strong and confident, leading without
the aggressive push-pull that some men needed. She swallowed, trying to ignore the
awareness rising in her. Her pulse felt like a rising drumbeat and she prayed that
he couldn't feel its thrumming beneath her skin.

Remembrance was a dangerous thing with him holding her so close. His kiss, the drugging
sensuality of his touch.

The room seemed warm now, a heady, soft heat that owed nothing to air conditioning
or the lack of the same. Scrambling to locate a fraction of her earlier coolness,
Lillie closed her eyes for a moment as she swayed in his arms.

The music ebbed around them, rich and soft. She felt it in her blood, a heavy throbbing
that had little to do with the orchestra's rhythm. Beneath her fingers, Luke's jacket
felt warm and rough, its texture almost coarse.

He was too close, too overwhelming, too much everything.

She struggled to remember all the reasons she shouldn't let this man get to her. But
every flaw she plucked from her memory seemed pale when she looked up into his face.
The determined square jaw ought to have warned her away, the hungry roving brush of
his dark eyes should have shouted caution.

As he bent nearer, their bodies swaying in unison, she caught the scent of his aftershave,
an unnameable combination that wove its way into her senses. Why couldn't he have
worn a loud and aggressive cologne? It should be a rule. Macho, insensitive men shouldn't
be allowed to wear cologne that just teased a woman, whispering images of tumbled
sheets and sexy smiles.

He held her gaze as he drew her closer, his intent written in his dark eyes. She had
all the time in the world. Eons of time to pull away...but she didn't. Something held
her, a wicked, self-destructive throb of excitement, a hunger to feel his lips again
on hers.

In that instant, she couldn't deny herself his kiss. Just one more, then she'd strengthen
her defenses. But right at this moment, she craved his caress more than chocolate.

Lillie felt herself sway toward him.

CHAPTER FOUR

Luke brushed her mouth with his, softly at first, a tantalizing shift of lips. Lillie
felt the world spin slower, the tick of time rush by without notice. He felt like
velvet, warm and lush, his kiss impossibly soft and mesmerizing.

It didn't matter that they were on a dance floor with other people. It didn't matter
that she was in the middle of a job. Her only consciousness was of him--Luke holding
her, kissing her.

He pulled her closer and the kiss turned darker, an intimate tumble into midnight.
Lillie's arms slid up around his neck as she angled her mouth to meet him.

The earthquake should have been felt in China. Lillie certainly felt it, every particle
of her being shaken with the hum and vibration of a shifting vortex that consumed
them both, locked in each other's arms.

It wasn't until lust began curling through her belly that sanity returned. Somehow
she knew this sensation, knew the heady desire to shed her clothing and have her way
with him. It seemed as familiar as her own heartbeat.

Lillie braced her hands on his shoulders. Shocked and disturbed by the feelings that
rocked her, she pushed against him and broke their contact.

Her eyes flew open, her startled gaze locking with his. Even as she backed away, she
registered the dazed, primitive desire in his eyes. And it excited her more than she
would have thought possible.

How could a kiss feel so right when the man was so wrong?

"I, uh, I have to clean up," she mumbled, almost stumbling in her haste to get away
from him. "I need to clean up."

Pivoting away, she fled the dance floor, heading blindly for the kitchen. Reaching
the service door, she stopped abruptly and felt the solid thud of Luke against her
back. Had he been following that closely through her whole escape?

Lillie swiveled around as his hands came up to steady her. She knew her face still
held a strange mix of passion and horror. "I have to take care of some things before
we can...leave to check out the band."

"Let me help," he murmured, his hands strong and steady on her arms.

"No!" she said with a sense of panic. She needed to catch her breath, needed space
for sanity to return. "I won't be long."

"I'll help you," he insisted, the warmth of his touch seeping into her. "Think of
it as a gesture of goodwill between the sexes."

*   *   *

The night club door swung shut behind them, dimming the vibration of the band as they
stepped out into the clean night air. Lillie filled her lungs with its freshness,
trying to erase the lingering scent of cigarette smoke and loosen the tension that
held her tight.

Beside her, Luke walked in silence. The impact of his presence thrummed through her
veins. All through the evening, the memory of being in his arms refused to diminish,
sensations hovering in her brain like a permanent imprint. Sitting in the dark atmosphere
of the club with the mournful notes of a saxophone winding sensuously between them,
she'd felt the tension in her body thrumming like the strings of the guitar.

She drew in another breath, this time trying to calm her agitation as the night closed
in around them, intimate and soft as a sigh.

They walked across the parking lot to his car. Lillie struggled with a sense of inevitability,
the inescapable feeling of connection with Luke Morgan. Nothing about it was reasonable.
He was a man who'd locked his emotions away so effectively, he'd shut out his own
mother.

And yet, it hung there between them, an awareness of possibilities, an ache for something
beyond passion. Everything seemed jumbled, her feelings toward him a tangled mess.
How could she want to comfort him when she wanted to strangle him? And through it
all came a drumbeat of longing for his touch.

Impelled by her nervousness, Lillie groped for conversation. "What did you think of
the band? They were really in good form tonight. Don't you think they would work for
the wedding? Not too stuffy, but not too wild?"

"The band is okay," Luke said, his words brief in comparison to her anxious chattiness.
He unlocked the car door for her.

"Good. Do you want me to schedule them for the reception?" she asked when they'd both
gotten in and Luke started the motor.

"I guess they'll do," he said indifferently.

His lack of enthusiasm wasn't very encouraging, but the awareness that hummed between
them kept Lillie from commenting.

They drove to her house in silence, the tension in Lillie tightening like a cord.
When Luke stopped his car in front of the bungalow, he turned off the engine and looked
at her, his face shadowed.

"Are you going to invite me in?" His words held the brush of velvet and moonlight.

It was just like Luke to ask her so directly, no pretense of coffee or a nightcap.
He looked at her as if they were already making love, his eyes dark and heavy with
desire. He looked at her as if nothing could be more natural, more right, than to
ask to spend the night in her arms.

Lillie shivered as the sensation of his kiss washed over her again. She couldn't invite
him in, even to offer him a drink. He was too much a temptation, and she suspected,
too easily able to sway her into doing what she shouldn't do. It scared her, the power
of his effect on her. The man who didn't trust feelings made her feel things she'd
never known before.

"I don't think that would be a good idea, Luke," she murmured, lowering her head so
he couldn't see the regret in her eyes. If he'd been a fraction more open to his feelings,
there might have been hope for them.

He didn't respond for a long moment.

"We still have a lot to do to be ready for the wedding," Lillie said, changing the
subject abruptly in hope of breaking the spell his presence cast on her.

His continued silence compelled her to look up, only to have her gaze caught by his.

"You're a beautiful woman," Luke said abruptly. "Why are you wasting your time waiting
for some unrealistic, idealized lover?"

Jolted by his comment about her being beautiful, it took Lillie several seconds before
his question sunk in. She felt herself stiffening. "I don't think its being
unrealistic
to want a man who's comfortable with his feelings and willing to commit emotionally
to a woman."

Although she'd started out calmly enough, her voice rose on the last word. It was
just like a man to declare himself out of the game and then insist on criticizing
a woman for how she played it. Luke didn't want love, but he felt he had the right
to criticize her for needing it.

"You're a dreamer, Lillie. A beautiful, sweet Pollyanna. But those kinds of dreams
can lead to all sorts of problems. They make you vulnerable."

"That's not true!" she fired back indignantly.

"Sweetheart, you want roses and poetry and long walks at midnight. Give you those
things and you'll fall in love. Do you know how easy it would be for me to pretend?
For any guy?" He leaned toward her, his face intense. "I could tell you that you're
the most beautiful woman in the world, that just seeing you makes me feel ten feet
tall. If I told you that I adore you, that I hear bells every time we kiss--you'd
fall for it, wouldn't you?"

Lillie heard the thunder of her own heart, the silly, stupid flicker of hope in her
midsection. What she would have given for...someone...to say those words and
mean
them.

"Lillie," Luke leaned toward her, the back of his hand brushing her face. "There's
a fire between us. A big-time sizzle with enough chemistry to blow the state off the
map. Something this good doesn't come along often."

Her throat felt paralyzed, the thunder of her pulse ringing in her ears. Longing and
anger tumbled together, churning in her chest.

Luke didn't mean any of those soft, powerful words.

Pulling back just enough to break contact, Lillie asked, "I'm supposed to listen to
your advice on relationships? You're talking about sex, not love. What about commitment?
Marriage and children? Don't they matter?"

Luke straightened, annoyance visible on his face even in the poor light. "I believe
in marriage when children are involved, but not the kind of marriage that blows up
when one partner 'falls in love' with someone else. I think choosing a life mate on
the basis of something as fleeting as feelings is poor judgment."

"How detached and unemotional," Lillie mocked. "You wouldn't want to generate too
much involvement in any marriage of yours."

"My way is a heck of a lot more likely to promote happiness than the romantic roller
coaster you want to ride."

"The real truth of it is that you just want to party, moving from woman to woman without
any kind of expectations or commitment." Her words rushed out, impelled by the cacophony
of emotions he riled in her.

"I think you should get to know me a little better before you make those kinds of
accusations," he argued, his voice grim.

"When a man like you wants to 'get to know' a woman, he always means it in the Biblical
sense," she retorted. "I'm not interested."

"Liar," he said. "And you're making assumptions about me that aren't true."

"I suppose you're planning a cold, practical marriage because you believe in commitment
and monogamy?" she snorted.

"I believe in monogamy," said Luke. "I just don't think it's necessary to be sappy
about it."

"Sappy? You're calling
love
, the passion that has driven the world for decades, sappy?"

Luke stared through the windshield for a moment, visibly struggling to shut down his
irritation. When he spoke, his voice was level. "Can you honestly say that most marriages
based on 'falling in love' are successful? Doesn't the divorce rate tell us that we're
doing something wrong?"

"There isn't any one thing that causes divorce," she refuted. She didn't have the
answers to every break-up, but she knew they weren't caused by too much love.

"Lillie," Luke's voice was soft now. "Romance is nice, all the ribbons and bows and
sweet words, but those kinds of frills don't make for eternal bliss.  A man wants
a woman he can trust, one he knows will be there for him even if he happens to forget
their anniversary or is allergic to Valentine's Day cards."

"You want an excuse to be inattentive," she retorted.

Luke chuckled. "Honey, you and I could live together for a lifetime and you'd never
have to worry about my being 'inattentive.'"