Love, Lies and High Heels (30 page)

“Luke,” she yelled, turning off the ignition. “Wake up.”

“You don’t have to shout, Princess. I’m awake.” He opened the passenger door.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought maybe you’d—” Before she had a chance to finish, he was out of the car and had already slammed the door behind him.

Rusty chased after him, unlocked the front door, and pulled him inside by his lapels. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You’re not going to throw up on your shoes, are you?” Actually she was more worried he’d throw up on her shoes.

He headed up the stairs. “You concerned about me, Princess?”

“Yes. I don’t want you to fall down and break your neck.” She moved in behind him, in case he lost his balance and fell backward. A lot of good that would do. She’d cushion his fall, but he’d probably crush her to death in the process.

“Touching,” he said. “My wife cares about me, after all.”

She shook her head and ignored him. She should be angry with him. Getting drunk like that had been childish, not to mention dangerous. But right now, she was worried about getting him into bed safely, she didn’t have time to be mad.

He’d only stumbled once, which she was grateful for. She led him down the hall, opened the door to his room and flicked on the ceiling light. “Well, good night,” she said from the doorway.

“Aren’t you going to help me undress, Princess? I could hurt myself.”

She brushed her hair back from her face and studied him. Was he teasing her? Probably. But at the moment, he looked too tempting to resist. He was the most handsome best man she’d ever seen.

And what if he really did need her help? She supposed it couldn’t hurt to help him undress, feast her eyes on his naked body and then leave him to suffer in silence.

“All right. I’ll help you. But no funny stuff.”

“Okay. Scouts honor. But remember I sleep in the nude.”

How could she forget? She started with his tuxedo jacket, shook it out and hung it in his closet. She reached for his tie next and, with nervous fingers, managed to get it free and toss it on the dresser.

His warm breath fanned her face as he watched her unbutton his pleated shirt. He smelled of the cologne he’d worn on their wedding day, bringing back beautiful memories of their lovemaking.

“Turn around,” she ordered softly. She needed to unfasten the cummerbund. Once it was off, she finished with the shirt and helped him slide his muscular arms free.

He sat on the edge of the bed and held up one foot. Rusty knelt on the floor, untied his shoes, and yanked them from his feet. She unrolled his socks and pulled them off.

“There,” she said, satisfied he could handle the rest on his own.

He stood up. “What about my pants, Princess? I need help with my zipper. You wouldn’t want me to hurt myself, would you?”

She thought about it long and hard before stepping forward. He was aroused. She saw the shape of him through his gray trousers. And he didn’t look embarrassed by that fact. Breathing deeply, she touched her hand to his fly without taking her eyes from his face.

He sucked in a huge gulp of air, tilted his head back, and let his eyes drift shut. Fumbling with the clasp, she finally released it, then pulled the zipper down slowly, gently. Luke leaned on her for support as he stepped out of his pants. Then, before she lost her nerve, she quickly tugged his briefs down over his hips.

His penis bobbed up and down as a result of her actions. And it was all she could do not to stare.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Look all you want.”

She couldn’t help herself. She had to look. And she had to touch.

And she wanted desperately to taste him. On bent knees, she placed a tender kiss on the tip, then applied her tongue to the same area. “God, Rusty, what the hell are you doing?” He staggered back and dropped down onto the bed, his briefs still wrapped around his ankles.

“Can’t you figure it out?” she whispered, crawling to him on her hands and knees.

“You’re going to rip your dress.”

She laughed. “I’m being very careful.” And she was. When she reached him, she wormed her way between his thighs and touched him.

She ran her fingers down the length of his shaft and teased his testicles with her fingernails. He seemed to like it, so she did it again. She followed the same path with her tongue. Listening to him groan made her feel in control and urged her on.

Holding him, tasting him, teasing him. She loved it. All of it. She was driving him wild. Not to mention what it was doing to her. When she took him deep in her mouth, he grabbed at her head and controlled her movements. “Oh, God, baby. You’re driving me out of my mind.” After a minute he pulled out of her mouth. Gasping for breath, he said, “No more.”

She’d wanted to finish. But he had other plans. In one swift move he had her pinned beneath him and her dress hiked up over her head. “Nice,” he said, running his hands along the length of her nude colored stockings, his fingers playing with her garter belt.

She’d never worn anything quite so provocative, but when she’d talked Becky into buying something similar, she figured why not treat herself as well.

He rolled her to her side, unzipped her gown and tossed it on the floor. He was in complete control of his faculties now and there was no doubt in her mind that he could have undressed himself.

With his tongue he paid special attention to each of her breasts. He took his time with the garters and stockings. Once he had them off, he quickly disposed of her panties. He ran his eyes down the length of her. “Rusty, you’re so beautiful. I want you so badly. Please say you want me, too.”

“I want you, Luke.”

He kissed her, brutally crushing her mouth to his. She tasted the whiskey on his tongue. His large rough hands searched for her pleasure points. It didn’t take him long. He knew her body so well.

She was already on the edge. And she needed him inside her. To make her feel complete. “Now, Luke.”

He lifted his head and stared into her face. With ragged breaths, he said, “Do you want me to wear a condom?”

Shaking her head, she said, “No.”

He was inside her just like that, pumping wildly, the crescendo building and building. She breathed in soul-drenching drafts, her hands raking up and down his back, urging him to take her higher and higher.

Until she exploded in his arms.

At the peak of her release his face grew hard and angry as if he were in some kind of horrible pain. And then he climaxed and collapsed atop her.

She lay beneath him, listening to the sound of his heavy breathing. The pulse in his chest beat against her crushed breasts. She could barely breathe, yet she didn’t want him to move. Not yet.

Their skin was covered with a faint sheen of perspiration and the smells of their lovemaking filled the air around them. They lay there barely moving for quite some time before Luke finally rolled off her. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“You didn’t.”

“I should have been gentle with you.”

“No, I wanted it like that.”

He rolled his head to the side, and looked at her. “I still should have known better.”

He meant because of the miscarriage. But neither of them had the courage to say it, of course. They lay side by side without speaking for so long, she’d suspected he’d fallen asleep.

“Luke?” she whispered.

“Hmmm?”

“Should we turn out the light?”

He didn’t answer at first, as if he were having trouble digesting the meaning of her words. She offered no explanation. Let him figure it out. She wasn’t leaving.

“Uh, yeah.” He got to his feet, walked across the room, and shut the door. Then, he turned around and looked at her for several moments before turning out the light. Seconds later she felt his weight on the bed beside her.

But he didn’t touch her again.

She needed to talk to him about their future, about her feelings for him. But she wanted to know some things about him first.

“Who’s Christine?” The pitch black room went completely still. “Luke?”

“Leave it alone, Rusty.”

She turned her head toward him. “I can’t. I need to know. Are you still in love with her?”

“Jesus,” he whispered.

She gave him a few minutes to calm down. “Please, Luke,” she pleaded.

After several more moments of silence, he said, “She was a girl I was seeing ten years ago. She was young. Eighteen. And she was pregnant.”

Rusty didn’t ask if he was the father. She already knew.

“She refused to marry me. Her family had convinced her she and the baby would be better off with someone other than me, so they bought her a husband.”

He sucked in his breath, released it on a long sigh. “The bastard killed them. Christine and my two-week-old son. It was a car accident. He’d been speeding during a rainstorm, and he went off the road. Head-on into a tree.”

Rusty reached for his hand, brought it to her lips and kissed his palm. “I’m so sorry, Luke.” So, he’d lost two babies. Both because of reckless drivers.

She inched closer, wrapped her arms around him in comfort and held him for several minutes. “Did you love her a lot?”

“I never loved her.”

“But …” He’d never loved her? “But you wanted to marry her?”

“She was carrying my child. What other choice did I have?”

His words boomed dangerously in the darkness. She was carrying my child. What other choice did I have?

Rusty felt a chill creep up her spine. Luke had only married her because she’d been pregnant. All these months, she’d been trying to convince herself that it wasn’t true. That he’d married her, yes because she was pregnant, but also because he’d had feelings for her. Feelings that she’d prayed had turned to love.

She swallowed back the lump in her throat, and brushed away her tears. A few minutes later, she heard Luke’s even breathing and knew he must have fallen asleep. Once she was certain, she crept from the bedroom and rushed down the hall.

What an idiot she’d been. Luke was never going to love her. She had to get out of here. Now. Away from the farm. Away from Kentucky. And away from Luke.

Luke hadn’t heard a word from Rusty in seven months. Sam, Becky and Jeremy had visited her in California. They kept in touch with her on a regular basis, but they didn’t dare mention her name in his presence. They knew better.

She’d left him a damned note the night she’d left. No explanation. Just a few words telling him she was going back to California.

He’d thought about going after her, dragging her back to Kentucky. But what good would it do? He couldn’t keep her a prisoner, and he couldn’t make her love him.

What had surprised him, though, was the fact that he’d expected to hear from her lawyers. He figured she’d want a divorce as quickly as possible. But so far, no word about that. And every time he’d thought about contacting a lawyer and filing, he’d come up with some damned excuse not to.

He’d stopped at the grocery store to pick up some steaks for dinner. While he waited in the check-out line, his eyes skimmed across the magazine rack. The headline on one of the tabloids caught his eye. Heiress intent on giving away her millions. Underneath the headline was a photo of Rusty.

Luke narrowed his eyes and read further. “There are more important things than money,” Rusty had been quoted as saying. “Like what?” the reporter had asked.

“Like love and happiness,” Rusty had supposedly said.

The reporter had come back with a sarcastic, “If I had fifty million dollars, I’d be happier than a clam and could sure as hell buy me some love. Lots of love.”

The article had gone on to say that people were shocked by her generosity. She’d donated nearly everything to charity expect for her clothing and a few personal belongings. There’s a small fortune by itself, Luke thought, remembering her collection of designer shoes.

Then, it hit him. Why on earth was she giving away all her money? What the hell was she trying to prove? Her words the day he’d asked her to marry him came back to haunt him. “I don’t care about the money. If it bothers you that much, I’ll give it all away.”

Had she given it away for him? Because she thought it bothered him that she had more money than him? A hell of a lot more money than him? It hadn’t bothered him that much.

Okay, so it had bothered him. But not so much that he wanted her to be poor and penniless.

What a stupid little fool she was. And he couldn’t have loved her more for what she’d done.

Luke left his cart by the check-out. “I changed my mind,” he called out over his shoulder and ran out of the store.

He wanted her. She was his wife. And dammit, he was going after her.

There was only one reason she would have done something so crazy. She loved him. And it was high time she admitted it.

Luke raised his fist and pounded on the door. When no one answered, he jabbed at the doorbell several times. Finally the door opened. A tall middle-aged woman dressed in a uniform scowled at him.

“I’d like to see Mrs. Galloway, please.”

“There’s no one here by that name.” The woman turned her nose up at him and tried to shut the door.

“Wait,” Luke said, stilling the door with his hand. “I’d like to see Ms. Paris. Is she home?”

“There’s no one here by that name, sir,” she pronounced.

“Rusty Paris,” he said. “The lady of the house. Is she home, or not?”

“Who is it, Caroline?” a woman asked. As she came into view, Luke appraised her. Blond, blue-eyed and dripping with money.

“This man is insisting he speak with a Mrs. Galloway or a Ms. Paris,” the maid explained, letting Luke know what a bother he’d been.

“I’ll handle it, Caroline.” The maid stepped away from the door.

“Hello, I’m Cecelia Davenport. How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Rusty Paris Galloway,” Luke said, impatiently. “The owner of this house.”

“You mean the previous owner.”

“Excuse me?”

“Rusty Galloway used to own this house. My husband and I bought it from her over a month ago.”

“But …”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Wait. Do you know where she is?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“Is she still in Palm Springs? Did she take a cruise around the world? What?”