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expression that she had come to expect from him. His eyes never
wavered as hers met them.
He stared without apology, without embarrassment. For the moment,
Gwen found herself compelled to stare back. Even with the distance
between them, she could feel the intrusion of his gaze. She stiffened
against it.
As if sensing her response, Luke smiled...slowly, arrogantly, never
shifting his eyes from hers. Gwen read the challenge in them. She tossed
her head before turning away.
Bradley cocked a brow at Gwen's scowling face. "It appears," he said
mildly, "that we're done for the day." He rose from his perch on a stone,
unexpectedly graceful. "Tomorrow morning, I want you in the robe. I've
a pretty good idea on the pose I want. I'm going in to see if I can charm
Tillie out of a piece of that chocolate cake. Want some?"
Gwen smiled and shook her head. "No, it's a bit close to lunch for me. I
think I'll give Mama a hand and do some weeding." She glanced down at
the petunia bed. "She seems to be neglecting it a bit."
"Busy lady," Bradley said and, sticking the pencil behind his ear,
sauntered down the path.
Busy lady? Gwen frowned after him. Her mother did not seem
preoccupied...but what precisely was she doing? Perhaps it was just her
way of intimating to Gwen that she, too, had a life, just as important as
Gwen's big-city profession. Moving over to the petunia bed, Gwen knelt
down and began to tug at stray weeds.
Anabelle had developed a habit of disappearing from time to time-that
was something new. Unable to do otherwise, she glanced up at Luke's
window again. He was gone. With a scowl, she went back to her
weeding.
If only he would leave, she thought, everything would be fine. Her
mother was a soft, gentle creature who trusted everyone. She simply had
no defenses against a man like Luke Powers. And you do? she mocked
herself. Swearing, Gwen tugged and unearthed a hapless petunia.
"Oh!" She stared down at the colorful blossom, foolishly guilty. A
shadow fell across her, and she stiffened.
"Something upsetting you?" Luke asked. He crouched down beside her;
taking the blossom from her hand, he tucked it behind her ear. Gwen
remembered the rose and blushed before she could turn her face away.
"Go away. I'm busy," she said.
"I'm not." His voice was carelessly friendly. "I'll help."
"Don't you have work to do?" She shot him a scornful glance before
ripping savagely at another weed.
"Not at the moment." Luke's tone was mild as he felt his way among the
flowers. His fingers were surprisingly deft. "The advantage of being
self-employed is that you make your own hours-at least most of the
time."
"Most of the time?" Gwen queried, curiously overcoming her dislike for
this annoying man.
"When it works, you're chained to the typewriter, and that's that."
"Strange," Gwen mused aloud, forgetting to ignore him. "I can't picture
you chained to anything. You seem so free. But it must be difficult
putting all those words on paper, making the people inside your head
walk and talk and think. Why did you decide to become a writer?"
"Because I have an affection for words," he said. "And because those
people in my head are always scrambling to get out. Now I've answered
your question frankly." Luke turned to her as he twirled a blade of grass
between his fingers. "It's my turn to ask one. What were you thinking of
when you were watching the sky?"
Gwen frowned. She wasn't at all sure she wanted to share her private
thoughts with Luke Powers. "That we're in for some rain," she
compromised. "Must you watch me that way?"
"Yes."
"You're impossible," she told him crossly.
"You're beautiful." His look was suddenly intense, shooting a quiver up
her spine. He cupped her chin before she could turn away. "With the
sunlight on your hair and your eyes misty, you were all I have ever
dreamed of. I wanted you." His mouth drew closer to hers. His breath
fluttered over her skin.
"Don't!" Gwen started to back away, but his fingers on her chin held her
steady.
"Not so fast," Luke said softly.
His kiss was surprisingly gentle, brushing her mouth like a butterfly's
wing. Instinctively, she parted her lips to receive his probing tongue.
With a sigh, she succumbed to the mood of the waiting garden. Her
passion had lain sleeping, like the threatened storm behind the layer of
soft clouds. She trembled with desire as his fingers carefully traced the
planes of her face. They caressed her cheekbones, the line of her jaw, the
thick tousle of her hair at her temples, before he kissed her again. His
tongue teased and tasted with only the slightest pressure. She gripped his
shirt front tightly and moaned his name. Her skin was alive with him.
Wanting, needing, she twined her arms around his neck and pulled him
against her. Her mouth was avid, seeking.
For one blazing moment, the flame rose and consumed them both, as
they embraced in the fragrant morning heat. Then he had drawn her
away, and Gwen was staring up at him, trying to catch her breath.
"No." She shook her head, pressing her hands to her temples as she
waited for her thoughts to steady. "No." Before she could turn and flee,
Luke had sprung up, grabbing her wrist.
"No what?" His voice was deeper, but still calm.
"This isn't right." The words tumbled out of her as she tried to find
reason. "Let me go."
"In a minute." Luke kept his hand on her wrist and stepped toward her.
A sweeping gaze took in her frantic color and widened eyes. "You want
it, and so do I."
"No, no, I don't!" She shot out the fierce denial and jerked her arm. Her
wrist stayed in his grip.
"I don't remember your protesting too much!" he said mildly. She was
annoyed to recognize amusement in his eyes. "Yes, I distinctly recall it
was you who took matters to the boiling point."
"All right, all right. You win." She took a breath. "I did. I forgot, that's
all."
He smiled. "Forgot what?"
Gwen narrowed her eyes at his amusement. It fanned her temper more
than his anger would have. "Forgot that I don't like you," she tossed out.
"Now let me go, my memory's back."
Luke laughed a joyous masculine laugh before he pulled Gwen back into
his arms. "You tempt me to make you forget again, Gwenivere." He
kissed her again, a hard and possessive kiss. It was over almost before it
had begun, but her senses were already reeling from it. "Shall we go
back to weeding?" he asked pleasantly, as he released her.
She drew herself straight, indignant, furious. "You can go..."
"Gwen!" Anabelle's soft voice cut off Gwen's suggestion. Her mother
had drifted into the garden. "Oh, here you are, both of you. How nice."
"Hello Anabelle." Luke gave her an easy smile. "We thought we'd give
you a hand with the garden!"
"Oh?" She looked vaguely at her flowers, then her face brightened with [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]