Читать книгу Solution: Marriage - Barbara Benedict - Страница 10

Callie was curious, as he’d no doubt anticipated, but she had no time for his shenanigans. “I’ve got two more customers, then the long trek home and supper to get on the table,” she told him, betraying her exasperation. “I mean it, Luke Parker. You just move on now and leave me be.”

He held up a hand, fingers splayed. “Five minutes?”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you? You’ll just keep at me and at me until you get what you want.”

She’d expected a grin—vintage Lucky Parker at his disarming best—but Luke stared into her eyes, his steady, grim expression startling her into wondering what the ten-year absence might have done to him.

“I can say my piece right here if you want,” he said at last, looking pointedly around them. “That way, I can satisfy everyone’s curiosity.”

Noticing the heads craning in their direction, Callie visibly shuddered. Not knowing what Luke meant to say, could she take the chance of them being overheard? “Why are you doing this?” she hissed at him. “Haven’t you done enough as it is?”

She thought she saw him wince, but his tone was as implacable as ever. “Just hear me out, Callie. Trust me, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

Important for whom? she wanted to scream at him, but that would only prolong an already uncomfortable situation. Better to let him say what he wanted and then get rid of him. She hated being at the mercy of gossips, and she sure didn’t think fondly of Luke for putting her in this position, but she couldn’t see how she had much of a choice. “Five minutes,” she snapped as she turned to march of out the salon. “Not one second more.”

She could feel the stunned stares following her progress across the room, as if all twenty eyeballs were glued to her back. She supposed she should be grateful that none of these gossips could relate the scene to Gramps. The late Zeke Magruder wouldn’t have enjoyed hearing she was “consorting” with the Parker boy. Oh no, he wouldn’t have liked it one bit.

It took her ten strides to reach the door, but Luke made it in less, there in plenty of time to hold it open for her. Passing under his arm, she felt that awful ripple in her midsection again, the intense awareness that he was a man and she was a woman.

A stupid woman, it would seem, wherever Luke Parker was concerned.

She scooted past him, wishing the motion didn’t make her seem quite so skittish, yet determined to maintain a healthy distance. Once outside the shield of air-conditioning, the brick wall of heat made it easier. Dense, moist and stagnant, the air hovered between them like a stubborn chaperon. As if she needed to be reminded of the perils in getting too close.

They walked in silence toward the town square, but once out of earshot of the salon, Luke turned his head to study her. “You look great, Callie,” he said, making the words sound like some grand pronouncement. “A real fine sight for these sore eyes.”

Standing there in her worn jeans and shirt, brown hair frizzing in the humidity, she knew she should take his praise with triple the customary grains of salt. The sad fact was, though, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been paid any compliment. Like a cleansing rain after a long, hard drought, his words soaked into her, revived her. Oh, she knew better than anyone that it was Luke’s way to make a woman feel valued—part of his charm and a skill he practiced shamelessly—but in that moment, he made her feel pretty, and she wanted to relish the sensation a teeny bit longer. What could be the harm in that?

And wasn’t it just such thinking that had gotten her in trouble in the first place?

“Don’t waste your sweet talk on me, Luke Parker,” she told him firmly. “It isn’t nearly as convincing without the drawl, anyway. You sound like a Yankee, you know. Is that what life in the big city does to you?”

He shrugged. “A man’s got to survive the best he can.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Callie could remember newspaper accounts about how much of his surviving had been done in nightclubs with a long string of female celebrities. “From what I heard, you seemed to be managing just fine up there. What I don’t understand is what on earth would bring you back home to Latour?”

He hesitated a second before answering, as if unsure of his answer. “I blew out the shoulder, overstayed my welcome.” He said it glibly enough, but Callie again caught a hard edge behind the words. “Let’s just say I had my five minutes of fame. New York wasn’t nearly as much fun without it.”

At least he got to have fun, she thought. And that was the major difference between them. Spoiled by his money, looks and family position, Luke didn’t know the first thing about responsibility, while for Callie, it might as well be her middle name.

Looking up, she noticed they’d reached the large patch of grass in front of the town hall that served as Latour’s Central Park. Come winter and spring, the area was the town’s oasis, but under the hot summer sun even the Spanish moss was wilting, drooping from the oaks like overcooked pasta. Small wonder the place was all but deserted.

“Fun, huh?” she said, gesturing at the empty square. “You’re not expecting to find any here in Latour, I hope.”

“No, ma’am, that I’m not.” He herded her along the path to a single stone bench in the far corner. “But then, life has this way of rarely living up to expectations. I imagine I’ll have to wait and see what happens.”

He looked at her pointedly, leaving her with the feeling he knew something that she did not—a private joke, maybe, that he was holding out on. Avoiding his gaze, Callie realized that a great deal more than the heat and humidity stood between them—that in truth, the man was a virtual stranger.

She had the sudden, strong urge to be back in Mamie’s shop.

“You said five minutes, Parker,” she said abruptly. “And two of those are already up. Why not just come right out and tell me what you’re after.”

He glanced at his watch as if checking her time assessment. “Actually, er, well, it’s a bit complicated.”

“Then we can do this when you have more time.” Taking the cue for an easy exit, she turned to walk off.

He reached for her wrist, grabbing it gently, stopping them both in the middle of the path. On her part, Callie could scarcely breathe, with his mere touch reviving far too many memories. Time was…

Not that Luke seemed aware of his effect on her. “Just hear me out,” he said, his tone betraying a tension of his own, maybe even impatience. “I’ll make it worth your while, I swear it. What I’m offering is, well, let’s just call it a business proposition.”

She didn’t bother to hide her skepticism. “A Parker, playing fair with a Magruder? Now why do I find that so hard to believe?”

Releasing her wrist, he didn’t answer, letting the silence stretch between them as he ushered her along the path. Stiff and withdrawn, he acted as if he were the one with the right to be angry. As if it were her family that had tormented his.

“What are you doing cutting hair at Mamie’s?” he asked suddenly, the change in subject catching her off guard. “Last I heard, you were aiming to be a nurse practitioner. What happened to going to college?”

“Life happened. Like you said, it rarely lives up to our expectations.” She took in a breath, then let it slowly out, determined not to reveal any more to this man. Not that she felt any compunction about burdening him with her troubles; it was more a matter of salvaging her ego. Pride might be a useless commodity in most respects, but when it came to dealing with the Parkers, it was pretty much all she had left.

“I’ve got a kid now,” she said on a higher note, letting every bit of the proud mother shine through in her tone. “A boy, named Robbie.”

That said, Callie watched him carefully. He still wouldn’t look at her.

“Yeah, I heard you married Reb Jenkins.” His distant gaze implied indifference to the topic, but she nonetheless sensed a continued rigidity about him. “Talk about your spur-of-the-moment decision,” he added with the same studied nonchalance. “You were what, three months out of high school?”

And there it was, the zinger she’d been dreading, hitting too close to the bone. “We were in love.” She meant to sound firm, but her tone bordered on defensive. She tried again, determined to keep it calm and logical and free of buried emotions. “At least, we thought we were. When we realized…well, we tried to make the best of things.”

“You mean, you tried and Reb took advantage.”

Of course he’d view it that way. Luke and Reb had never gotten along. They’d always competed for the same things—girls, grades, football scholarships—with Luke generally walking off with the prize.

“Reb and me, we were the proverbial oil and water,” she said, glossing over the uglier truths. Actually, they’d made each other miserable. “We lasted barely a year before he lit off downriver to New Orleans. That’s where he filed the divorce papers, so I’m supposing that’s where he went.”

“You didn’t nail him for desertion?”

And who are you to pass judgment? she wanted to ask him, but it sounded like a woman scorned, and she sure didn’t want him thinking that. He was watching her far too intently as it was. “You can’t milk a stone,” she said, trying to sound offhand. “Besides, who needs Reb? Me and Robbie are doing fine without him.”

“Oh, yes, Robbie. Your son. He must be what now, nine? Ten?”

Underneath the seemingly casual question lay a good dozen emotional land mines, all waiting to blow up in her face. “Robbie just turned nine,” she said, hoping to defuse them. “Me and Reb had him right off. He didn’t want to wait to start a family.”

“Good old Reb,” he said angrily, his gaze burning into her. “Always great at starting things, never there to finish them.”

Callie had her own edge. “Yeah, well, you know what they say. Only the innocent get to throw stones.”

“Biblical references, Cal?” he said, his tone betraying his annoyance. “Now you sound like my old man.”

“Don’t you ever compare me to Ben Parker.” Callie had reached her limit. She’d never claimed to be perfect, but putting that snake’s name and hers in the same sentence went beyond what she could accept. “Let’s get to the point, shall we? Just why did you drag me out here, Luke?”

He seemed startled by her bluntness, but he recovered quickly, his gaze narrowing considerably. “Okay. You once said that if I ever needed a favor, I simply had to ask.”

“Well, you have some nerve, Luke Parker.” She knew she should keep her mouth shut, but the words came bursting from her like the kernels in a microwave bag of popcorn. “One minute you’re insulting me by likening me to Ben, and in the next breath, as casual as you please, you call me in on a long-ago favor?”

He looked past her, his jaw going tight. “Ben is set on me taking over the family business.”

She didn’t need to hear the steel in his tone to know his take on that. Years ago something bad must have happened between father and son, something Luke never talked about, but which had left him vehemently determined to do nothing to increase Ben’s fortune. Back in high school, spending his father’s money never seemed to pose a problem, but for as long as she’d known him, Luke had refused to lift a finger to keep Parker Industries alive and thriving.

“So you and Ben are banging heads again,” she told him, crossing her arms at her chest. She wanted to sound aloof and uncaring, but her curiosity kept getting in the way. “I don’t get it, Luke. Just how do you expect me to help you?”

His expression eased a bit, as if he’d sensed a crack in her resistance and meant to bulldoze his way through the opening. “Way I see it,” he said carefully, “is that the man will keep wheedling and coaxing and bullying me straight through to doomsday if I don’t soon take action. I need to make myself so undesirable, he’d rather have Bozo the Clown run the business. And that, darlin’, is where you come in.”

“Well, thank you. Do I have to wear the orange wig and oversize shoes?”

“Not exactly.” A tiny grin played at his mouth. “I don’t want a clown. I was thinking more along the line of Jezebel.”

She froze, wary about where he seemed to be going with this. “Forget it, Luke. I’ve got better things to do than play your girlfriend so you can annoy your father.”

“I’m not asking you play my girlfriend,” he said, the grin vanishing. “No indeed, Callie, I’m asking you to be my wife.”