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Ignoring the look of unwarranted consternation that twisted his features, she walked across the flagstones and leaned over the rail. From far below, the sound of the creek tumbling over stones and exposed roots reached her ears.
“Tell me about the letter you got,” he said, resting a hip against the stone railing and folding his arms over his chest. He stared down into the canyon, his eyes narrowing as if he were searching for something. Or someone. “The one that’s supposed to be from Isaac Wells.”
“I take it you read the article in the Review.”
“Every word.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” she teased, then added, “Really, there’s not much more to say. I received the note, gave the original to the police and wrote the article. I don’t know if it’s phony or real.” She turned her palms upward. “I guess time will tell.”
“Could be dangerous,” Luke mused aloud, though his gaze was still searching, his eyes narrowed against the darkness that escaped the wash of light from the hotel’s security lamps. “A nutcase.”
“You sound like Jarrod.”
“Just be careful.”
She lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “You think I’m in some kind of danger?”
“I don’t know that you’re in danger, Katie, but, yeah, it could be trouble.”
“Maybe.” A needle of fear pierced her heart. How many times had she told herself just the same thing?
“It doesn’t worry you? You’re a mother and—”
“And what I do shouldn’t worry you,” she interrupted as her anger suddenly flared. Who was he to insinuate that she was messing up her life? She couldn’t control her tongue. “If I didn’t make it clear before, let me assure you I don’t need another brother, okay? Three half brothers add up to too many—way too many when it comes to giving advice about my life.” Turning quickly and seething deep inside, she headed toward the French doors. The last thing she needed—the very last thing—was a man telling her what to do.
Before she’d taken three steps he grabbed her elbow, spun her around and kissed her so hard she didn’t know what hit her. She gasped as hot, demanding lips crashed over hers and strong arms surrounded her waist, dragging her close. She started to protest, to push away, but his hands splayed against the exposed skin of her back, and a tingle of excitement sped through her blood.
Don’t do this, Katie. Don’t kiss him. This was what was dangerous—emotionally dangerous. Not the Isaac Wells case.
But she didn’t stop, and the sound of wanting that reached her ears came from her own throat. Oh, Lord, what was she thinking?
With all her strength she pushed away. “Is—is that what you do?” she asked, drawing in a shaky breath and hating herself for how weak she was when it came to him. “When a woman gets into an argument with you, do you always grab her and kiss her just to make her shut up?”
“Most women don’t get me so riled up,” he admitted.
“Don’t they? Well, good. That’s very good. For you. Because these Neanderthal, 1950s B-movie tactics are…are…” Damn the man! He was actually smiling, amused by her reaction. Her fists balled in frustration.
“Are what? Effective?”
“I was going to say boorish, or antiquated, or, at the very least, rude and entirely unacceptable!”
He laughed then. Threw back his head so that his blond hair brushed the collar of his shirt and he laughed.
“This is not funny!” She almost stomped her foot, then decided she’d look even more adolescent than she felt. “Good night, Luke. The evening has been… entertaining, but I think I’d better leave now.”
“And back off from a fight?” he challenged.
Though she knew she was being goaded, she couldn’t stop herself. Like a trout spying a salmon fly on a hook, she rose swiftly to the bait. “I’m not backing off from anything, Gates. If you don’t know anything else about me, you should at least figure out that I’m dogged, not afraid of too much, and never, never duck an argument.” She was about to say more when Josh, who had somehow rediscovered his crutches, hobbled onto the patio, and Katie, wondering if her skin was as inflamed as it felt, told herself to count to ten and cool off.
“Is it okay if I spend the night with Stephen?” he asked.
“But you’re still recovering.”
“I’ll be good. Promise.” Josh flashed her his most engaging smile just as Stephen, eating a piece of wedding cake, sauntered outside. His hair was unruly, his tie was dangling from his neck and he licked a spot of icing from the corner of his mouth.
“Why doesn’t Stephen come over to our house?” Katie asked, trying not to remember that Luke was standing only inches from her, that he kissed her like no other man had ever kissed her, that she didn’t know quite how to handle her wayward emotions whenever he was near.
“’Cause we’re gonna camp out in the backyard.”
