Читать книгу Amazing Love - Mae Nunn - Страница 12

Sunday morning Luke twisted the knob and the door of his furnished efficiency swung open.

Home sweet home.

He surveyed his surroundings, nodding approval at the sparse furnishings that helped hold down costs. As long as the rental was located within five miles of his favorite coffee chain, was spotlessly cleaned and the previous occupants hadn’t smoked, Luke could be quite happy with used accommodations.

The thirty-eight-foot Praise Productions trailer afforded him the space to carry the few items he needed to be self-sufficient and comfortable during the weeks he’d spend at each location. Settling into a kitchen chair, he placed his morning latte on the table and dropped the newspaper beside it.

Four paws thumped the bedroom floor and Freeway lumbered around the corner. He stopped at the sight of his new master, wagged a long tail in a still-sleepy greeting and collapsed on the cool tile. His eyelids immediately sagged and he slipped back into puppy slumber.

Luke smiled at the contented animal and reached for the remote. Needing a quick feel for the local culture, he surfed dozens of Houston channels, pausing over the local television ministries.

Many of the services were in Spanish, leaving no doubt that the Hispanic population had exploded in Texas. A song recorded in Spanish would be a nice touch for the Harvest Sons album.

He reached for his backpack, pulled out a spiral notebook and pencil, and began making plans for the group. Though he wasn’t willing to praise them too soon, last night the Sons had given one of the best first efforts Luke had observed so far. Eric was particularly hungry for success. After the taste Luke would offer the boy, he’d never settle for crumbs again. With youth and talent on his side he had a shot.

And now he had a secret weapon. Luke Dawson.

Seemed like only yesterday that Luke was just as trusting and hopeful. On his own at nineteen with enough money to do a world of good or a lot of damage, he lacked the maturity or the guidance to handle his fame. He’d naively signed over the management of his finances to entertainment lawyer Lisa Evans, never knowing he’d signed over full control as well. When a thick layer of dust settled on his career, she was a wealthy woman and he was lucky she’d left him the rights to his own music.

What different turns life might have taken if someone had stood in the gap for Luke Dawson before he became consumed by Striker Dark. He was committed to being that someone for Eric.

Since Luke had buried his anger along with Striker, he shook free of the memories and rattled open the Sunday paper.

The Southern Savage requires a Master. Do you have what it takes to dominate this machine?

The advertisement dared the reader. The rest of the full page ad listed the specs of the soon-to-be-released custom chopper, the signature bike of Savage Cycles of Houston.

Luke scanned the page for any mention of the owner. Finding none, he laid the paper on the table, folded his arms across his chest and squinted in concentration. Though he’d known her less than twenty-four hours, Claire Savage was possibly the most interesting woman he’d ever met. There was something apart from her physical beauty that demanded appreciation.

He found the self-confidence that bordered on arrogance appealing, and the matter-of-fact way she spoke of her accomplishments very attractive. Instead of the smug “I’m all that” kind of pride, she displayed a satisfied sureness that said she was capable and knew it.

There was no doubt she had a brilliant mind—the most worrisome part. After she’d left for the evening, Brian had offered a few unsolicited bits on her background. Seemed the mixture of pageant queen and Ivy League grad uniquely qualified her to serve as role model and femme fatale for the teens at Abundant Harvest. According to the boy, who was clearly smitten with her, the cool part was Claire didn’t let all her achievements go to her head.

Luke recalled having the same foolish thoughts about Lisa when they’d first met. But something about this Miss Texas was different from the financial shark who had bled Striker Dark dry.

The way Claire held her head—chin just a bit high—was definitely practiced. But when he’d stared into her eyes he’d caught a glimmer of what lay beneath the public veneer. He wasn’t sure it was confidence at all. He’d seen part bravado, part suspicion and something else. Fear maybe. Now what would a woman with the world by the tail have to fear?

She was a celebrity in this community, in this state actually. She had roots, an enviable past and was busy orchestrating a very public future. But he had a hunch she was afraid of something.

“Lord,” Luke spoke aloud, “do me a favor, will Ya? Keep that woman busy with her own life and out of my hair?”

Claire closed her Bible and stood for the final prayer that would dismiss the worship service. She waited for the busy aisle to clear, and then made her way toward the exit. As she inched closer to the door she stopped to accept praise for her solo.

The arrangement was not one she’d personally have chosen but the song had complimented the series Pastor Ken was teaching on forgiveness. She’d agreed to sing the popular tune, hoping she wouldn’t be compared unfavorably to the artist who’d won a Dove Award for the song. Though it bugged her to admit the truth, every suggestion Luke Dawson had imposed upon her last night had been right on target.

After following the instructions of a man who claimed he personally had the voice of a bullfrog, she’d found the comfort level that had been lacking when she’d practiced on her own. The guy was like that famous gymnastics coach who took the American women to the Olympics. He couldn’t do a double back flip off the balance beam if his life depended on it, but the girls he trained never failed to bring home the gold.

Luke was nowhere to be found this morning, his rig no longer a conspicuous sight in the parking lot. A small sigh escaped as she realized she’d expected him to be there. She’d actually wanted the man’s approval. She dropped her chin and trudged up the aisle.

“You were incredible this morning. Quite a moving performance.”

Claire’s head popped up as she recognized the male voice.

Arthur O’Malley stood just inside the exit door. In a lightweight summer suit, with his hands folded before him, he resembled a groom waiting for his bride.

Trained to accept a compliment graciously, this time she went with her gut instinct instead.

“Are you following me?” she demanded. “Because if you are you can kiss that interview goodbye.”

His eyes flew wide, and a smile creased his face.

“Whoa, cowgirl,” he chuckled. “I understand your stalker worries but this is just a coincidence. I’m staying right over there.” He pointed to the luxury hotel across the interstate.

Her mother would have been appalled by the rude reaction. Good thing she was on an Alaskan cruise instead of standing beside her daughter. Still, something niggled at Claire, telling her to be cautious.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. O’Malley.”

“It’s Art.” He waved away her formal address. “I’m on my way to Sunday brunch. Join me? We can take separate cars and even go Dutch treat if you’d prefer.” He poked fun at her suspicious nature.