Until There Was You Read online

  He discovered her picking Santa Fe phlox and Jacob’s ladder. The bunches of pink and narrow clusters of yellow wild flowers dangled from her hand. For a long time, he simply stood and admired how beautiful she was, how gracefully she moved. Whatever she had been bothered about before, she seemed to have worked it through. Glancing up, she caught him staring at her and smiled.

  “Luke.”

  The husky timbre of her voice caressed him. “You had another phone call. Your mother.”

  Her eyes widened. She clutched the stems of the large pink flowers in her hands. The sight angered him. “I didn’t tell her anything.”

  Quickly she came to him. “I’m sorry, I should have known.”

  “Yes, you should.”

  Tilting her head, she stared up at him, her smile curving her lips. “You aren’t very gracious if someone questions your integrity, are you?”

  “Nope.” He reached out and caught the hand that was free of flowers. “Your mother is waiting.”

  Her heart rate kicked up at the contact. Taking a calming breath, she tried to collect her thoughts. However, the one that kept reoccurring was that of being in Luke’s arms again, only this time kissing him, loving him. “S-she interrogated you?”

  He gazed down at her. “How did you know?”

  “She was a lawyer before she decided to go into politics,” she explained.

  “She must have been good.”

  “She was.”

  “Talent must run in your family.” Together they walked up on the wooden deck. “Make your call. I’ll wait here.”

  “All right,” she said.

  “Well?” he prompted when she didn’t leave.

  She swallowed. “You’re still holding my hand.”

  Luke looked down at their connecting hands as if he had never seen either of them before, then back up to her. He quickly released her hand and stepped back. “Sorry.”

  “Are you really?”

  “Go make the call, Catherine.”

  “I’ll still expect an answer when I come out.”

  He stared down into her face, his gaze going to her soft lips. “Your mother is waiting.”

  “I won’t forget,” she said and went into the house.

  Luke watched her go. That was his problem. He remembered too much.

  “DOES HE LOOK LIKE HE SOUNDS?” ELIZABETH STEWART asked when she was sure her daughter was fine.

  “Better.” Catherine and her mother had always been good friends and talked openly with each other.

  “Everything all right?”

  Catherine sat on the edge of the sofa. “I’m a big girl.”

  “That’s why I’m asking.”

  “Luke’s an honorable man.”

  “He’s a man.”

  “There’s no denying that.”

  “Daniel says he’s all right. But you remember, you’re only going to be there until next Sunday.”

  “I remember.” Sadness touched her words.

  “Baby, you’re sure you aren’t getting in over your head?”

  “No,” she admitted honestly.

  “In that case, tell Luke I meant what I said.”

  “About what?”

  “He’ll know.”

  AFTER HANGING UP THE PHONE, CATHERINE WENT outside. Luke was sitting in one of the wicker chairs, a guitar in his lap. His dark head was bent, his long fingers coaxing a tune from the instrument. So it had been him playing and not the radio. Somehow, seeing him now, a small part of her realized she had known all along.

  Luke held the instrument with infinite gentleness. He’d hold and caress a woman the same way, coaxing and demanding in equal parts until she gave and gave.

  With his head still bent, he glanced up at her. Her breath caught. Despite what she kept telling herself, more and more she thought of being that woman. She remembered the plaintive song from last night and shivered.

  “I didn’t know you played.”

  “Family requirement. Mama’s a music teacher and thought it taught us discipline. The baby grand in the great room is hers.” He stroked a couple of the guitar notes. “Everything all right?”

  “I should ask you that.” Walking to him she leaned back on the wooden rail and placed her hands beside her. “Mother told me to tell you she meant what she said.”

  His fingers danced lightly across the strings. “Never doubted the lady for a second.”

  “You’re going to tell me what she said?”

  He leaned back and stared up at her. “That she could be a good friend or a bad enemy.” Maybe they both needed to hear it.

  “Did it make an impression on you?”

  He strummed the strings, then placed his hands on them. “Yep.”

  “You’re going to listen to her?”

  “I’m going to try.”

  “Because she told you to?”

  “Because it’s best all the way around.”

  “You and my mother seem to have put the horse before the cart. There is nothing between us, not one hint of indiscretion. Not one kiss.”

  His gaze pierced her. “You don’t want to go there, Catherine.”

  “Why not?” She folded her arms so he wouldn’t notice her hands were trembling. She had made up her mind. She wanted Luke and she had always gone after what she wanted no matter how difficult it might seem. Luke was a man she could trust and depend on, but he wouldn’t want anything permanent. “A kiss would be a prelude to something. You might be a lousy kisser.”

  His eyes darkened with emotion. “You really don’t want to push this.”

  “How would you know what I want? You’re going to listen to my mother. I thought you had more courage than that.” She started past him and gasped as she found herself yanked into his lap.

  He stared down into her wide eyes. “Some animals aren’t meant to be teased or petted.”

  “I wasn’t doing either.”

  “Yes you were.”

  “Aren’t you the least curious?”

  Lord help him, but he was. He thought of all the reasons why he shouldn’t, then fastened his lips to hers. The instant his touched the softness, his tongue swept into her mouth. Sweetness and fire. Greed stampeded through him. He eagerly sought more of the taste, the maddening duel of tongues. His hand just as eagerly sought the softness of her warm, scented flesh. Buttons and hooks yielded to the expertise of his fingers.

  Catherine felt herself caught up in the kiss, the mindlessness she had read about, but never experienced. She became all need and want. Sensations spiraled through her. She pressed closer, giving, wanting to give more. Her hands dove into his thick hair as she hung on.

  Breathing hard, Luke lifted his head and stared down into her eyes; eyes that were dazed with passion, with desire.

  “Luke.” His name was a plea that he could not answer.

  “I guess we have our answer.” Standing, he brought her with him, then set her firmly away.

  Unsteadily she swayed on her feet, then forced her trembling legs to obey. “I think we have more questions than answers.”

  “Catherine, this is not going to happen again.” He shoved his hand through his hair. “I’m not going to fall into my mother’s trap or become involved with a client.”

  “So you’re going to deny what’s between us?”

  “There’s nothing between us. Neither one of us can afford to forget you’re number twenty-eight.”

  Her head jerked backward. Hurt and embarrassment swept across her expressive features. “I won’t bother you again.” With trembling fingers she buttoned her blouse. “You can continue to develop your technique on number twenty-nine.”

  He watched her go. Shoulders straight, her steps unsteady. The sight tore through him, and made him confess, “Cath, I never kissed any of the other women. Shouldn’t have kissed you.”

  She turned back to him, her face softening, the rigidity leaving her body. She took one step toward him.

  He took two steps back. “That doesn’t change anything.
I only told you because you have enough to deal with already. But it won’t change things. It’s not going to happen again.”

  Her smile was slow and knowing. “If you say so, Luke.”

  A curse slipped past his lips as he watched the provocative sway of her hips. She was doing that on purpose. Just his worsening bad luck to be attracted to one of the most stubborn and the most sensual women he’d ever had the misfortune to meet.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AN HOUR LATER, LUKE DECIDED HIS EMOTIONS WERE under control enough to go inside. Passing the great room he saw Catherine in his favorite spot, a tan leather overstuffed chair in front of the towering, twenty-six-foot arched window. Over the tree tops was a commanding view of the mountains. Against her sharply bent legs was a laptop.

  She had such a look of dismay on her face that he asked, “Is everything okay?”

  The deep sadness in her eyes made him forget to be cautious and he quickly crossed to her. “Did something else happen?”

  “No.” She glanced down at the computer screen. “I was doing research for my next book and found some information I didn’t like.”

  Hunkering down beside her, he saw a gray wolf on the screen. “They’ve been hunted almost into extinction. Only the red wolf and the gray remain. Once there were thousands. My mother’s people believe they are our guardians and watch over us—our overseers.”

  She twisted toward him. Only inches separated their faces. “They do? What an interesting concept.”

  “Yes.” Luke pushed to his feet. Away from the seductive pull of her perfume and her tempting mouth. “Native Americans are matriarchal. My mother’s family is of the wolf clan.”

  “Is that why you were able to communicate with the wolf?”

  “Partly.”

  “Well?”

  The corners of his mouth tilted. She certainly didn’t like her questions not being answered. “Some things are not for outsiders to learn.”

  Setting the laptop aside, she pulled her feet beneath her and stared up at him. “Are you serious?”

  “There are many aspects of our culture that are to be passed down, but only to the People. That is why outsiders aren’t allowed to witness or photograph certain ceremonies even today.” His voice roughened. “The dream-catcher is a widely known example of one aspect of the Native American culture that wasn’t supposed to be shown to the outside world.”

  “But why? It would seem to me that the more people knew about it the better.”

  “You are speaking from your need to preserve your African-American history. Native Americans have different beliefs.”

  “But you’re a part of both.”

  “And I respect both for their sameness and their differences. Both came through incredibly difficult times, both survived.”

  Her face saddened. “I have a few biracial patients who are having a difficult time adjusting. They don’t know to which world they belong.”

  “It’s not easy sometimes. You have to learn that skin color doesn’t make the person, but what’s on the inside.”

  She angled her head up to his strong profile. Luke was a man. First and foremost. “I bet neither you nor Daniel had problems with your dual heritage.”

  He shook his dark head. “No. We were taught to be proud of and embrace both our heritages. My mother and father made sure we learned what the text books continuously leave out about the many contributions and inventions of African-Americans. My mother and maternal grandparents and her other relatives made sure of the same thing about my Native American heritage.”

  Her gaze warmed. “I’d say they should be very proud of the results.”

  He felt the blessing of her smile all the way to his soul. “I better let you get back to your research.”

  “Luke, what do you think I should do about Hero once he’s well enough to leave the clinic?”

  “Naming him wasn’t smart, Catherine.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” She shoved her hand through her hair. “On the Internet I located a lady in California who has a sort of preserve for wolf hybrids. Maybe I could send him there.”

  “Wolf hybrids have an even more difficult time surviving than wolves,” he told her. “Some people might think it’s best to keep them contained, that they can’t survive on their own, but would you like to live your life in a cage, no matter how gilded?”

  “No.”

  “Neither would I. People fear what they don’t understand and can’t control,” Luke said, his voice harsh.

  “Not all the time,” she said softly.

  “If you want what’s best for him, set him free.” He walked from the room without a backward glance.

  Catherine slumped back in her seat, wondering if Luke were talking about Hero or himself, and afraid he meant both.

  LUKE AND CATHERINE APPARENTLY FELT IT BETTER TO stay out of each other’s way that evening and most of the next day. After sharing the breakfast they had cooked together, she went to work on her story in the great room, and he went to his office off the kitchen. Every hour or so he’d go in to check on her. Always she’d have her head in front of the computer screen either inputting information or reading.

  When night approached, he cut on the lights. She had looked up absently, smiled, said thanks, and gone back to her laptop. He had to admire her ability to concentrate for such long periods of time. In his inquiry about her, he found there was a great deal more to admire.

  Catherine Elizabeth Stewart was a certified genius, had published a research paper every year of the six she had been a professor at her university, and was a well-established author with fifty-nine children’s stories to her credit. She had every right to be snooty, and wasn’t. No wonder all the members of the Women’s League admired her so much, his mother included.

  Getting up, he went to the kitchen to prepare dinner. It wouldn’t be as elaborate as Brandon’s, but it would be filling. He decided on ham sandwiches and took them out with a cola.

  “Eat.”

  “In a minute,” she said, her fingers rapidly racing across the keys.

  The minute turned into five, then ten. “Catherine.”

  “Yes?” She kept on typing.

  “If you’re going to do the workshop tomorrow, you need to eat and get a good night’s sleep.”

  “You always make sure I sleep well now.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You and your music. They’re my salvation,” she said simply, never lifting her head.

  He couldn’t have said anything at that moment if his life had depended on it. His throat and heart were too full. Clearing his throat, he managed, “Eat.” He’d work on his heart later.

  Glancing up, she gave him a quick smile and picked up her sandwich. “Yes, boss.”

  SEVERAL MEMBERS OF THE WOMEN’S LEAGUE WERE waiting for Catherine and Luke, his mother included, when they arrived at the auditorium the next morning. Although Gloria Harris didn’t appear too pleased to see them together, none of the other women seemed to think anything about it. His mother couldn’t stop smiling. And as Amanda Poole had said, every seat in the amphitheater was taken.

  “I’ll be waiting for you to finish,” Luke said.

  “The workshop won’t be over until two, you sure you don’t want to pick me up then?”

  “I’m staying.”

  “Thanks.”

  Amanda Poole rushed up to them. “Everyone is seated.”

  Catherine tuned to Luke, her uneasiness returning.

  “I’ll be here if you need me.” Unobtrusively his hand stroked hers.

  Relaxing, she walked on the stage. Amanda followed.

  CATHERINE WAS A GREAT SPEAKER. SHE WAS FUNNY, INformative, direct. She didn’t sugar-coat the “crisis,” as she called it, of the state of parenting, but she gave hope without being preachy or judgmental. Her love of children and her strong belief and support of their welfare came through in every word.

  When they broke for lunch, several people from the
audience came on stage and followed her to where they were being served. If not for Amanda and Luke’s mother, she might have missed lunch completely. As it was, he didn’t see how she managed to eat and answer all the questions people asked her.

  “Is talking back ever acceptable?”

  “What about potty training?”

  “How do I get him to keep his room clean?”

  “Should I ignore the bad words?”

  Luke had to lean closer on that one. Daniel might need some help.

  The afternoon session went just as well as the morning one. By the time the last person had piled out of the auditorium it was three-thirty. When Amanda suggested they go for drinks and wind down, everyone agreed. Shrugging her shoulders, Catherine waved and allowed herself to be carried along with the group of laughing, chattering women. This time his mother was all smiles.

  DURING THE NEXT TWO HOURS, CATHERINE BECAME very well acquainted with the expression, “If looks could kill.” Gloria Harris said very little through drinks, which turned into dinner, or during a slow stroll through the plaza, the bustling heart of Santa Fe tourist attraction. The reason for Gloria’s changed attitude, all six foot four of gorgeous toned muscles, wasn’t difficult to figure out. She wanted Luke. Catherine couldn’t fault her. It so happened she wanted him, too.

  “Catherine, don’t you think this Navajo turquoise and silver necklace is lovely?” Luke’s mother asked, admiring the piece through the store window.

  “It’s stunning,” Catherine agreed. The large center stone hung from a heavy silver chain linked to smaller turquoise stones. “But so is everything. I’ve never seen a better collection of galleries and shops with such a wide variety of merchandise.” She laughed. “I have a few friends who would max out their credit cards here.”

  Ruth looked at her warmly. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

  “I am, thanks. But I better be getting back.”