“Come on, come on!” He ran a hand smoothly under her jacket, and slid it inside her shirt.
“Stop it, Luke!!” She laughed and searched harder for the elusive key.
“If you don’t find the damn thing at the count of ten, I’m going to …”
“No, you’re not!”
“Yes, I am. Right here in the hall.” He smiled and ran his mouth over the top of her head.
“Stop that! Wait … got it!” She pulled the key triumphantly from her bag.
“Nuts. I was beginning to hope you wouldn’t find it.”
“You’re a disgrace.” The door swung open and he lunged for her as they stepped inside, and swept her into his arms to carry her to their bed. “No, Lucas, stop!”
“Are you kidding?”
She arched her neck regally, perched in his arms, looked him in the eye and bristled, but there was mirth in her eyes. “I am not kidding. Put me down. I have to go wee-wee.”
“Wee-wee?” Luke’s face broke into broad lines of laughter. “Wee-wee?”
“Yes, wee-wee.” He put her down and she crossed her legs and giggled again.
“Why didn’t you say so. I mean if I’d known that …” His laughter filled the hall as she disappeared toward the pink bathroom.
She was back in a minute, and tenderness had replaced the spirit of teasing. She had kicked off her shoes on the way, and stood barefoot before him, her long hair framing her face, her eyes large and bright, and something happy in her face that had never been there before.
“You know something? I love you.” He pulled her into his arms and gave her a gentle hug.
“I love you too. You’re something I’ve imagined, but never thought I’d find.”
“Neither did I. I think I’d resigned myself to not finding it, and just going on as I was.”
“And how was that?”
“Lonely.”
“I know that trip too.”
They walked silently into the bedroom and he turned down the bed as she stepped out of her jeans. Even the Porthault sheets no longer embarrassed her, they were lovely for Luke.
Chapter 13
“Lucas?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you all right?” It was a dark in the bedroom and she was sitting up, looking down at him, with a hand on his shoulder. The bed was damp around them.
“I’m fine. What time is it?”
“Quarter to five.”
“Christ.” He rolled over on his back, and looked up at her, groggy. “What are you doing up, babe?”
“I wasn’t. But you had a bad dream.” A very bad dream.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry I woke you.”
He stroked one breast tenderly with his eyes half-closed, and she smiled. “My snoring’s worse, though. You got off lucky.”
But she was worried. The bed was drenched from his thrashings.
“I think I’d rather you snored. You sounded so upset. Frightened, I think.” At the last, he’d been trembling.
“Don’t worry about it, Mama. You’ll get used to it.”
“Do you have dreams like that often?” He shrugged in answer, and reached for his cigarettes.
“Smoke?” She shook her head.
“Do you want a glass of water?”
He laughed as he flicked out the match. “No, Miss Nightingale, I don’t. Cut it out, Kezia. What do you expect? I’ve been a lot of funny places in my life. They leave their mark.”
But like that? She had watched him for almost twenty minutes before waking him. He acted as though he were being tortured.
“Is that … is that from when you were in prison?” She hated to ask, but he only shrugged again.
“One thing’s for sure. It isn’t from making love to you. I told you, don’t worry about it.” He propped himself up on one elbow and kissed her. But she could still see terror in his eyes.
“Luke?” Something had just occurred to her.
“What?”
“How long are you staying here?”
“Till tomorrow.” “That’s all?”
“That’s all.” And then, as he saw the look on her face, he stubbed out his cigarette and drew her into his arms. “There’ll be more. This is just the beginning. You don’t think I want to lose you, after it took me all these years to find you, do you?” She smiled in answer, and they lay side by side in the dark, silent, until at last they fell asleep. Even Luke slept peacefully this time, which was rarer than Kezia knew. Lately, since they had started following him again, he had nightmares every night.
“Breakfast?” She was pulling on the white satin robe and smiled at him crookedly as she stretched.
“Just coffee, thanks. Black. I hate to rush through breakfast and I don’t have much time.” He had leaped from the bed and was already pulling on his clothes.
“You don’t?” She remembered again. He was leaving.
“Don’t look like that, Kezia. I told you, there’ll be more. Lots more.” He patted her bottom and she slipped easily into his arms.
“I’ll miss you so much when you go.”
“And I’ll miss you too. Mr. Hallam, you’re a very beautiful woman.”
“Oh, shut up.” She laughed, but it embarrassed her when he reminded her of the column. “What time’s your plane?”
“Eleven.”
“Shit.” He laughed at her, and ambled slowly down the hall, his large frame rolling easily in his own special gait. She watched him silently, leaning in the bedroom doorway, reflecting that it seemed as if they had been together forever—teasing, laughing, riding subways, talking late into the night, watching each other sleep and wake, and sharing a cigarette and early morning thoughts before coffee.
“Lucas! Coffee!” She set a steaming cup down on the sink for him, and tapped his shoulder through the shower curtain. It all felt so natural, so familiar, so good.
He reached around the curtain for the cup, leaned his head out and took a sip. “Good coffee. Are you coming in?”
She shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m a bath person myself.”
Given her choice, she always preferred bathing. It was less of a shock first thing in the morning. It was all part of a ritual. Dior Bath Oil, the perfumed water just warm enough and just high enough to cover her chest in the deep pink marble tub, then emerging into warm towels and her cozy white satin dressing gown, and favorite satin slippers with the ostrich plumes and the pink velvet heels. Luke grinned at her as she stood watching him, and extended an arm to invite her to join him.
“Come on in.”
“No, Luke. Really. I’ll wait.” She was still in a slow, sleepy mood.
“Nope. You won’t wait.” And then with an unexpected, swift, one-handed motion he slipped the robe from her shoulders, and before she could protest, he had lifted her from her feet in the crook of his arm, and deposited her in the cascade of water beside him.
“I was missing you, babe.” He grinned broadly as she spluttered and pulled the strands of wet hair from her eyes. She was naked, save for the ostrich-plumed slippers.
“Oh! You … you … bastard!” She pulled the slippers from her feet, tossed them out of the tub, and hit him in the shoulder with the flat of her hand. But she was fighting laughter too, and he knew it. He silenced her with a kiss and her arms went around him as he leaned down to kiss her. He shielded her from the sheets of steaming water, and she found her hands traveling down from his waist to his thighs.
“I knew you’d like it once you got in.” His eyes were bright and teasing.
“You’re a miserable, rotten, oversized bully, Lucas Johns, that’s what you are.” But the tone did not match the words.
“But I love you.” He oozed male arrogance and a sort of animal sensuality, mixed with a tenderness all his own.