Читать книгу Husband and Wife Reunion - Linda Style - Страница 12

LUKE WATCHED Jules walk away, his jaw clenched, his fists kneading his thighs. If it wasn’t him, then what the hell was it?

People who loved each other were supposed to stand united and support each other when bad times came. People who loved each other didn’t run away and destroy everything good that they’d built together. Maybe she’d never loved him. Maybe the wonderful relationship he’d thought they had was a bunch of garbage. He’d convinced himself of that more than once.

And now, seeing the pain in her eyes as she ran inside to escape him made him feel even worse. He’d brought up things that hurt her. Damn. He banged the wood railing with the flat of his palm. He was like a fox in a chicken coop, tearing things apart because he wanted something. Because he needed to know. God, he was a jerk.

He stomped inside and on the way to his room hesitated outside her door. He wanted to say he was sorry for hurting her. But the hurt was already there. Sorry didn’t change anything.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d apologize. Tell her he’d never bring it up again. Then he had to get outta here. Go back to work. Work was what he did best.

In his room, he punched in his partner’s cell number. “Yo,” he said when Jordan answered. “What’s happening?”

“That’s what I was wondering. When are you coming back? I’ve got a good lead on the Renfield case.”

Luke’s pulse quickened. “Does Carlyle know? He didn’t want me on it until after the election.”

“No. But I’m not doing anything to stir the pot as far as Thorpe’s concerned.”

“How good is the lead?”

“It’s hot. I tracked down an old friend who’d heard Thorpe threaten to kill Michele Renfield.”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Betsy Stephens. Renfield’s former college roommate.”

“So why haven’t we heard about her before?”

“She said she was questioned way back but nothing ever came of it. And in the back of her mind was the thought, if her friend disappeared, so could she.”

“So, what changed?”

“She said she was cleaning out some of Michele’s things and found something. An ultrasound photo.”

“Renfield was pregnant?” With Thorpe’s kid? Luke’s nerves vibrated with excitement. All his instincts said Thorpe was guilty as hell and Luke wanted to get him so bad he could taste it. He hated politicians who thought they were above the law. Now they had motive and if they could get this girl’s testimony…damn. He had to get back to L.A. “I’ll be back the day after tomorrow. It’s a full day’s drive and I have to clear up some things here first.”

“So how’s it been?” Jordan asked.

“My dad needs help. I’m going to try to take someone on before I leave.” Then he’d plead with Jules to get his father to a doctor. And she’d be overjoyed that he was leaving.

“That’s good. But I meant how are you managing with Julianna in the same house?”

Luke rubbed the stubble on his chin. “No big deal. The past is in the past.”

There was a hesitation on the line before Jordan said, “Yeah? So that’s what you tell yourself.”

Annoyed that his partner had him pegged, Luke gripped the phone tighter. “Yes, it is. But I fully understand your thinking. You have this pie-in-the sky philosophy that love conquers all, and because you’re about to be married, you can’t understand why everyone doesn’t feel the same way. But take my word for it, in my case, love doesn’t conquer anything. The past is in the past. It’s done. Kaput. Finito.”

Jordan coughed as if choking on what Luke had said. “Yeah, okay. Whatever you say.”

“I’ll call you when I get close to home.”

When he was finished with the call, Luke stripped off his clothes and headed for bed. Dammit. The past was in the past. Except he kept seeing how Jules had looked when she came out and sat beside him tonight. She’d smelled clean and fresh and he longed to feel her in his arms again, to be as close as they’d once been.

The fat yellow moon and the brilliance of the stars had reminded him of all the other times they’d sat together simply enjoying the night.

Times he needed to forget. Done. Kaput. Finito.

THE NEXT AFTERNOON Julianna was taking a break from her research and making lemonade when she heard a noise outside. After taking the sheriff out to see the dead animal this morning, Luke and Abe had disposed of the carcass and then spent the rest of the morning working around the place. Though Abe had come in earlier, Luke was still in the barn.

Last night after she’d gone to bed, her emotions warred with her needs. She wanted to go to Luke and try to explain, but she knew going to his room wouldn’t end well. She hadn’t been with a man for six months, at least. Not since her one attempt at a relationship—post-Luke—fell apart. And right now, her hormones were working overtime. Getting too close to Luke could be a dangerous proposition. In more ways than one.

Luke was comfortable. She knew him, knew how to please him. He knew how to please her. But to do that would be misleading. He’d think it meant more, and even if it did, it wouldn’t be fair to either of them. Because nothing would change.

Luke was probably staying outside so he wouldn’t have to see her again. She couldn’t blame him. Every time he’d tried to talk to her she’d cut him off.

She poured the lemonade into a large thermal container, placed some cookies she’d made into a Ziploc bag and headed for the barn. Luke was inside, replacing the hinges on the side door and didn’t seem to hear her come in. Wearing jeans, a blue denim shirt and his Stetson, he looked the typical rancher. A far cry from the perfectly groomed, designer-suited detective she’d once been married to.

She knocked on a wooden box to alert him she was there. When he looked up, she said, “I made some lemonade.” Putting both the cookies and the container on the box, she motioned for him to come and get some. Then she’d get the hell out of there.

Luke untied the bandana around his neck and wiped off his forehead. He seemed surprised to see her. “Sure. Thanks. It’s hot in here.”

“But it’s nice outside.” A crisp fall day and the sun was shining. She handed him a glass and saw his hands were covered with tiny cuts.

“Where’s Abe?” Luke asked.

“Taking a nap.”

“Great. Good time for me to call some people about the job. I’m calling a couple guys I know and see if they can recommend anyone, and I put a help wanted ad in the local paper.”

Luke took a cookie, and then after another swig of his lemonade, said matter-of-factly, “I’m sorry about last night. I was out of line.”

She glanced away. He shouldn’t be apologizing. She was the one who’d fled. She was the one who couldn’t explain herself. An irony that hadn’t escaped her. A writer who couldn’t express herself. How sad was that? But then the only time she had the problem was when she was with Luke. “It’s okay. Let’s just leave it alone. Okay.”

His gaze caught hers again. “Deal. If I can hire someone, I’m leaving tomorrow morning, so I want to do as much as I can today.”

She felt the tension in her shoulders ease. “Well, if you need anything, if you need my help—”

That got a raised brow.

“Okay,” she said. “I know I’m probably the most unmechanical person around, but I am good at helping if I’m told what to do.”

He smiled, then picked up another cookie. “Great. I do have something I’d like you to help me with.”

“Oh…okay.” She hadn’t really expected him to take up her offer.

He walked over and sat on a bale of hay, then gestured for her to have a seat, too. She sat on the bale opposite him, pulled up her feet and sat cross-legged. The scent of hay teased her senses, dredging up a long-ago memory of the time they’d made love in the hay loft. She wondered if Luke remembered.

Luke took one last sip of lemonade, then said, “It’s about my dad. Since I’m leaving tomorrow, I won’t have time to get him to see a doctor, but he needs a checkup.”

“And you were wondering if I’d convince him to go.”

He nodded. “That’s it. I know it’s asking a lot. He can be stupidly stubborn when he wants to be.” He gave a half laugh. “Which, now that I think about it, is all the time. At least when I’m here. You might have better luck asking him after I leave.”

“I’ll be happy to do what I can. But you know—with Abe—there are no guarantees.”

“If you can’t, then we’ll have to go to plan B.”

“Plan B? What’s that?”