Luke's Daughters. Lynnette Kent
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to music from every Disney movie ever made.”
“I hope Erin doesn’t get bored.”
Matt’s thumb traced a path up her calf, then circled the bend of her knee, with devastating effect. “They’ve got three aquariums and a library of science books. She’s all set.”
“So we’ve got…some free…time. What should we do?”
“I was thinking about a nap.” He looked up suddenly, and grinned. “Or something.” His hand slipped sideways to rest between her knees. “What do you think?”
“Ah…” Her thoughts puddled like an ice cube on the pool deck. “Sounds…lovely. Why don’t you go on up to the room—I’ll be there in just a few minutes.”
His brows drew together. “Come with me.”
“I need to get a shower first. I’m all sticky with lotion.”
He moved his hand slightly and smiled at her ragged breath. “I don’t mind.”
“But I do. Let me clean up a bit and I’ll be right there.”
“Women.” Shaking his head, Matt drew his hand slowly away from her legs and stood up. “I’ll be waiting.”
Kristin winked at him. “Me, too.”
She watched him walk toward the hotel, straight-backed and square-shouldered, his dark hair cut in a short style that marked him right away as military. He held the door open for a woman and three children before going inside. That was just like Matt—manners were carved into his bones. Along with responsibility and a strong sense of honor.
Once he’d disappeared behind the tinted glass of the lobby windows, Kristin dropped back against her chair. She loved him so much…wanted him so desperately…her idea of paradise was a couple of hours spent in a quiet room with his arms around her. Yet she sat here, hesitating. Why?
The answer in one word—Luke.
No matter how much she loved Matt, Kristin couldn’t get free of the guilt her desertion of Luke had created. She didn’t know if she ever would.
Leaving the pool and the bright sunshine, she took a shower in the locker room, washed and dried her hair, and put on just enough makeup to hide the circles under her eyes. Sleep didn’t come easily anymore, even after a full day of walking through theme parks with the girls. Or after wonderful hours of loving with Matt, once her daughters were sound asleep in their adjoining room.
Luke’s face haunted her, waking and sleeping. To remember the sacrifice he’d made for this marriage, this family, all she had to do was close her eyes.
Eight years ago, she’d betrayed Matt by marrying his brother. Then she’d broken her vows to Luke—the “until death do us part” promise. Now…
Now, everything she’d ever wanted was within her reach—the man she’d loved since junior high, and two beautiful, precious daughters. Even the possibility of more children.
Yes, she had everything…but she’d left Luke with nothing. How could she enjoy her happiness at his expense? Yet how could she have denied Matt the dream of love and family that had kept him alive through five years of imprisonment and torture?
Just outside the door to their hotel room, Kristin paused, getting herself under control. She couldn’t burden Matt with her own regrets.
But the door opened before she was ready. “It’s about time.” Matt caught her hand and drew her inside, into his arms. “I wondered if you would make me wait forever.”
His hands roamed her shoulders, slipping the straps of her tank top out of the way. He pressed kisses on her eyelids, her throat, her ears, until she was half crazy with the need to kiss him back.
Catching his lean cheeks with her palms, she held him still. “You’ll never have to wait, Matt. Never again.” Then she brought him close enough that she could capture his mouth with her own.
But she kept her eyes open, for fear of what—who—she’d see if she let them close.
WHEN LUKE HADN’T heard from Sarah about the pictures by Wednesday night, he considered calling. He’d thought about her for two days, hoping she’d phone or come by, disappointed when she didn’t. But he didn’t want to pester her. She would get to the pictures when she had time.
After a solitary dinner and a solitary movie, he went to work on the late shift—cruising the beaches and the downtown streets, looking out for trouble. The boardwalk was still busy after midnight, and the bars on the ocean-front stayed open late.
He heard the fight before he pinpointed its location—a crash of glass and the eruption of swearing gave him his first clue. As he ran toward the noise, a struggling ball of humanity rolled out of the Blue Flamingo’s door. Luke radioed for backup, then joined the general chaos.
“Police! Get back—” He pulled a couple of bystanders away. “This is the police—fun’s over, boys.” Grabbing the tail of a T-shirt, he yanked hard. “Time to go home.”
Sirens announced the approach of the backup. Luke had all the wrestlers pretty much separated by the time reinforcements arrived. The guys were too drunk to protest as they were read their rights and loaded into cars.
“You don’t look like much of a cop.”
Luke turned toward the voice and saw a young man he was sure was drunk…and was equally sure wasn’t old enough to drink. “You don’t look like much of an adult, either. Do your parents know where you are?”
“Sure, man.” But the bleary gaze slid away.
“Want to show me some ID?”
The boy shrugged. “Lost it, man.”
“Sure. So give me your address.”
“Aww…”
“Or spend the night in jail. You choose.”
An hour later, Luke drove away from the boy’s home, having awakened a mother who explained at great length how the whole problem was her ex-husband’s responsibility. The rest of the night passed quietly enough, giving Luke too much time to think about how much influence a father could have on his child’s life. Whether he was there or not, whether he cared or didn’t…a little kid’s whole world might depend on his—or her—dad.
What kind of repercussions would Erin and Jenny face because of the choices he and Kristin had made?
FRIDAY AFTERNOON, Luke remembered Sarah saying she used the darkroom at the camera shop where she’d been mugged. Maybe he would find her there. It was worth a try.
A bell jingled as he stepped into the dimness of Sawyer’s Photo Shop. The walls and ceiling were painted black, the windows shuttered against sunlight. At one end of the narrow space, dusty shelves held picture frames and photo albums, equally dusty. A sales counter stretched across the other end, with cameras and film displayed in cubbyholes behind.
The long wall on either side of the door exhibited framed and signed photographs. Luke moved closer, wondering if the pictures were Sarah’s. They certainly looked professional, and he found himself absorbed in unique perspectives of everyday places and things.
Behind him, cloth rustled. Hoping for Sarah, he blew out a short breath when he turned to see a man step through the black-curtained doorway.
“Can I help you?” A fairly young guy stood behind the counter, his expression polite but not exactly friendly.
“These are great pictures.” Luke gestured toward the photographs.
A real smile brightened the round face. “Thank you. I take a lot of pleasure and pride in my work.”
“They’re yours?”
“Yes. I’m Charles Sawyer. Can I help you with something? Film? A camera?”
“No,