Country Bride. Debbie Macomber
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he buried his face in the hollow of her throat, Kate moaned softly. She felt nearly faint from the rush of pleasure.
“Call Linda and cancel whatever plans you’ve made,” he whispered.
Kate froze. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. I’ll talk to her, if you want.”
“I’m not going out with Linda.”
“Then call whoever it is and cancel.”
“No...”
A flash of headlights through the kitchen window announced Eric’s arrival. With a burst of frantic energy, Kate leaped off Luke’s lap, feeling disoriented and bewildered. She rubbed her hands over her face, realizing she’d probably smudged her makeup, but that didn’t concern her as much as the unreserved way she’d submitted to Luke’s touch. He’d kissed her before and it had been wonderful—more than wonderful. But in those brief moments when he’d held her, at the wedding and then again the next day, she hadn’t experienced this burning need. It terrified her.
“Kate?”
She looked at Luke without really seeing him. “I’ve got to go,” she insisted.
“There’s a man here.”
Kate opened the door for Eric. “Hi,” she greeted him, doing her best to appear cheerful and animated, but suspecting that she looked and sounded as though she was coming down with a bad case of flu. “I see you found the place without a problem.”
“Actually, I had one hell of a time,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Didn’t you notice I’m fifteen minutes late?”
Well, no, she hadn’t. Not really.
“Kate, who is this man?” Luke demanded in a steely voice.
“Eric Wilson, this is Luke Rivers. Luke is buying the Circle L,” she said breathlessly.
The two men exchanged the briefest of handshakes.
Kate didn’t dare look in Luke’s direction. She didn’t need to; she could feel the resentment and annoyance that emanated from him like waves of heat. “Well, I suppose we should be on our way,” Kate said to Eric, throwing him a tight, nervous smile.
“Yes, I suppose we should.” Eric’s gaze traveled from Kate to Luke, then back again. He seemed equally eager to escape.
“I’ll say good-night, Luke,” she said pointedly, her hand on the back door.
He didn’t respond, which was just as well.
Once they were outside, Eric opened his car door for her. “You said Luke is buying the ranch?”
“Yes,” she answered brightly.
“And nothing else?” he pressed, frowning. “The look he was giving me seemed to say you came with the property.”
“That’s not true.” Even if Luke chose to believe otherwise. After tonight, she couldn’t deny that they shared a strong physical attraction, but that was nothing on which to base a life together. She didn’t love Luke; how could she, when she was still in love with Clay? She’d been crazy about Clay Franklin most of her life, and feelings that intense didn’t change overnight simply because he’d married another woman.
When Clay and Rorie had announced their engagement, Kate had known with desolate certainty that she’d never love again. If she couldn’t have Clay, then she would live the remainder of her life alone, treasuring the time they’d had together.
“You’re absolutely certain Rivers has no claim on you?”
“None,” Kate assured him.
“That’s funny,” Eric said with a humorless chuckle. “From the way he glared at me, I feel lucky to have walked away with my head still attached.”
Kate forced a laugh. “I’m sure you’re mistaken.”
Eric didn’t comment further, but she could tell he didn’t believe her.
After their shaky beginning, dinner turned out to be a pleasant affair. Eric took Kate to the Red Bull, the one fancy restaurant in Nightingale, a steak house that specialized in thick T-bones and fat baked potatoes. A country-and-western band played local favorites in the lounge, which was a popular Friday-night attraction. The music drifted into the dining-room, creating a festive atmosphere.
Eric studied the menu, then requested a bottle of wine with their meal.
When the waitress had taken their order, he placed his elbows on the table and smiled at Kate. “Your eyes are lovely,” he said, his voice a little too enthusiastic.
Despite herself, Kate blushed. “Thank you.”
“They’re the same color as my ex-wife’s.” He said this in bitter tones, as if he wished Kate’s were any color other than blue. “I’m sorry,” he added, looking chagrined. “I’ve got to stop thinking about Lonni. It’s over. Finished. Kaput.”
“I take it you didn’t want the divorce.”
“Do you mind if we don’t talk about it?”
Kate felt foolish for bringing up the subject, especially since it was obviously so painful for him. “I’m sorry, that was thoughtless. You’re trying to let go of the past.”
The bottle of wine arrived and when Eric had sampled and approved it the waitress filled their glasses.
“Actually you remind me of Lonni,” he said, after taking a sip of the chardonnay. “We met when we were both in college.”
Kate looked down at her wineglass, twirling the delicate stem between her fingers. Eric was so clearly in love with his ex-wife that she wondered what had torn them apart.
“You were asking about the divorce?” He replenished his wine with a lavish hand.
“If it’s too difficult, you don’t need to talk about it.”
“I don’t think either Lonni or I ever intended to let it go this far,” he said, and Kate was sure he hadn’t even heard her. “I certainly didn’t, but before I knew what was happening, the whole thing blew up in my face. There wasn’t another man—I would’ve staked my life on that.”
Their dinner salads were served and, picking up her fork, Kate asked, “What brought you to Nightingale?”
Eric drank his wine as if he were gulping cool water on a summer afternoon. “Lonni, of course.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Lonni. I decided I needed to make a clean break. Get a fresh start and all that.”
“I see.”
“You have to understand that when Lonni first suggested we should separate, I thought it was the right thing to do. We hadn’t been getting along and, frankly, if she wanted out of the relationship, I wasn’t going to stand in her way. It’s best to discover these things before you have children, don’t you agree?”
“Oh, yes.” Kate nibbled at her salad, wondering what she could say that would help or comfort Eric.
An hour and another bottle of wine later, Kate realized he’d drunk the better part of both bottles and was in no condition to drive home. Now she had to tactfully make him realize that.
“Do you dance?” she asked, as he paid the dinner bill.
He frowned slightly. “This country-and-western stuff doesn’t usually appeal to me, but I’m willing to give it a whirl, if you are.”
Kate assumed all the wine he’d been drinking had quelled his reservations. When the band began a lively melody, Eric led Kate onto the crowded dance floor.
Kate was breathless by the time the song ended. To her relief, the next number was a much