On Love's Own Terms (9 page)

“Maybe you’re right,” she agreed sadly, resting her head on his chest. His theory made perfect sense, but it also destroyed the intimate mood they’d managed to maintain following their lovemaking.

“Of course I’m right.” Luke lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his disturbingly dark gaze. “There are two kinds of people in this world, Bonnie—those who cave in when they founder, and those who use their failure in one area as a tool to carve out success in another.”

“Naturally, we fall into the second category,” she murmured, wounded by his implication that if they’d stayed married, they would have remained impoverished.

“You and I are a lot alike.” Luke’s pragmatic tone wreaked havoc with her heart. “When the going got rough, we were tough enough to make hard decisions and difficult choices. We both faced up to no-win situations and won anyway.”

“We ought to wear our blue ribbons to bed.” Bonnie’s voice quivered with hurt. She sat up with extreme care and moved away from Luke. “God knows, neither of us wants to make the mistake of sleeping with a loser.”

He grabbed her wrist as she slid toward the edge of the mattress, trapping her before she escaped. “Look at me,” he ordered. When she did, he regarded her with a probing gaze. “You haven’t had sex since our divorce.”

She knew her flush was all the confirmation he required.

“Why?” he demanded.

Bonnie closed her eyes and sighed. For reasons she didn’t completely understand, she had hoped to avoid discussing this. Somehow, though, she’d lost control of the situation—a pattern with her where Luke was concerned. “It wasn’t for lack of opportunity,” she asserted. “I’ve refused my share of invitations.”

“What stopped you? You always enjoyed making love.”

“At first I was scared,” she admitted, “so saying no just became second nature to me.” She smiled ruefully. “About the time I got brave enough to consider taking the big plunge, my catering service was booked solid. Something had to give—in this instance, my social life.”

“Damn!” Luke’s oath was rife with self-disgust. “I must have done a real hatchet job on your ego for you to deny yourself a normal love life for seven years.”

Bonnie flashed him a proud look. “If the fact that I haven’t won a gold medal in the sexual olympics makes me abnormal, then so be it.”

Fine threads of tension entangled her nerves. Would her ex-husband, a contemporary man, ridicule her old-fashioned code of morality? She remembered Darlene mentioning not too long ago that he was dating a woman named Chris Miller, someone from his circle of professional acquaintances. Bonnie hadn’t pressed for details, and her one personal wish for the week was that she wouldn’t have to meet his latest flame.

It suddenly seemed urgent that Luke hear the whole truth, although she hesitated to delve too deeply into her own heart for the cause of her concern. Leaning across the bed, she stroked the carved angle of his jawline. “I’ve met a lot of nice men since I left here. I’ve just never met another man I wanted to sleep with.”

His broad chest heaved with a deep breath. “Bonnie—”

Crash!
The horrible noise reverberated like a cannon shot from downstairs, shattering their privacy.

“What the—” Luke leaped out of bed and made a mad dash toward the bedroom door.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she called after him, her eyes shining with amusement.

Luke stopped short of yanking the door open, glanced down at himself, then smiled sheepishly. Delighted laughter burst from Bonnie as he did an abrupt about-face and hurried back to retrieve his jeans.

“I hope Dave has more finesse as a bridegroom than he’s shown as a moving man,” Luke grumbled as he dressed. “I can just picture him dropping poor Darlene when he carries her across the threshold.”

“Maybe his big brother ought to have a talk with him,” Bonnie suggested in a teasing voice. She rose from the bed and walked to the closet, where she selected a striped halter dress. “Or, if worse comes to worst, you can rent a wheelbarrow and spare Darlene the danger of being bounced into the bridal suite.”

“Hey, there’s no need for you to get dressed, too,” Luke protested when he noticed what she was doing. “I’ll just run down and help them load the buffet into Dave’s van, then come right back up here.”

“We’re going grocery shopping today,” she said, dangling lacy bikini panties and a half-slip from her index finger. “Remember?”

“Suit yourself,” he conceded as he opened the door. “But what I had in mind is a hell of a lot more fun than snapping beans and squeezing tomatoes.”

Bonnie started toward the bathroom, then paused in the doorway, suddenly self-conscious about the fact that Darlene and Dave would know she and Luke had spent last night and the better part of this morning in bed together. “Do you suppose there’s any chance the kids would believe it if we told them I overslept?”

“Nope,” he mocked dryly.

Vividly aware of her nudity and the almost physical touch of his midnight gaze on her skin, she felt totally vulnerable.

His measuring look increased her agitation. “Why do you keep referring to Darlene and Dave as kids when they’re actually adults?”

“Habit, I suppose.” She shrugged, disconcerted.

“Well, as adults who are about to be married,” he continued levelly, “I’m sure they’re both educated about the facts of life.”

Bonnie’s expression betrayed her. Until this moment, it hadn’t occurred to her that Darlene and Dave might be... “Are you suggesting—”

“I don’t know, and I haven’t asked because I respect their privacy.” He nailed her in place with a hard stare. “You seem to forget that they’re older and considerably more settled than we were when we eloped.”

Inwardly she reeled, as if he’d hit her with a brickbat. Her nerves, already strained, were at the breaking point. “You failed to mention their other advantage—they’re marrying because they
want
to, not because they
have
to.”

“I told you the other night that I’m through tormenting myself over our mistakes.” Anger darkened his eyes. “If you choose to remain a prisoner of the past, that’s certainly your privilege. But I granted myself a pardon the day you cashed my check and climbed on that northbound bus.”

“How fortunate that you were able to write me off so easily.” An intense pain twisted cruelly inside her as she mustered what little dignity he’d left her. “For a little while, I’d forgotten why I divorced you. Thanks for reminding me of what a heartless bastard you really are.”

The cold glitter in his eyes chilled her to the bone. “Did you ever stop to think that might be a two-way street?”

She hadn’t, of course. Bonnie froze, trying to get a grip on her emotions. “Too bad we missed the detour signs,” she whispered tautly, “it would have saved us another head-on collision.”

Choking back a sob, she stepped into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. She’d already surrendered her body and soul. Damned if she’d give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry!

Chapter 6

Bonnie didn’t cry. Tears wouldn’t solve her problems or gain her a moment’s peace of mind. Besides, one more weeping fit and she would be a prime candidate for salt tablets.

She showered, shaved her legs to a smooth sheen, and shampooed her hair to a squeaky-clean shine. And she applied makeup—lots of it. After all, she’d paid a fortune for these little bottles of perfumed confidence. Why not use them to her best advantage?

Bonnie studied her reflection in the mirror and saw living proof that there was no future in conducting inquests over past mistakes. Luke was right. She had to forgive herself.

She tied up the straps of her halter dress, slipped on a pair of smart leather flats, spritzed a cloud of her favorite fragrance into the air and walked through it when she left the bedroom. Knowing that her destination was finally the right one, she moved with new purpose.

Yesterday was gone and tomorrow might never come.

Today, she was going to stop looking back with regret and start looking ahead with hope.

Luke stood on the front porch bidding farewell to Darlene, Dave and the dining room buffet. Bonnie waited inside, watching him through the bay window. Showered and clean-shaven, he wore a blue cotton sailing shirt, neatly pressed jeans and moccasin-style loafers.

He laughed at something Dave said, and the booming joy of it echoed like a bass drum in her ears. He shrugged those broad shoulders, and her stomach contracted at his unconscious show of strength. When he turned to enter the house, she nearly bolted; she was so edgy. Why hadn’t she just shinnied down the tree outside her bedroom window this morning and stowed away in the silverware drawer?

Bonnie’s pulse skittered frantically when the screen door slammed shut behind him. Luke stopped abruptly in the entryway as soon as he spotted her frozen in place beside the front window. Their gazes met, and the silence was filled with electric tension.

“I’m sorry—” he began.

“I’m sorry—” she said.

They both broke off as they spoke. He grinned. She smiled. It eased her tension considerably.

“Go ahead,” he insisted.

“You first,” she urged.

Luke chuckled. “At least we’re on the same wave-length.” He waited quietly, patiently, as if he realized that she was engaged in a very personal and important struggle.

She stared down at the threadbare moss-green carpet without actually seeing it. How could she best convince him that she was breaking the mold of self-blame and freeing herself, finally, of the pain? Now that she needed them, where were all those magical words that she’d thought of while still upstairs?

She looked up and licked her lips, which had gone dry despite the generous coat of gloss that she’d applied. He tipped his head slightly, and the morning sun lit the virile contours of his face. Bonnie braved another smile. Luke returned it.

Suddenly a marvelous wave of relief crested inside her. In some ways, this man knew her better than she knew herself. Even if her declaration of emotional independence was phrased in less than eloquent terms, he would understand exactly what she meant.

“Have you noticed yet?” Arms outstretched, she twirled around twice. “I’m not wearing my hair shirt anymore.”

He eliminated the distance between them in a few limber strides and caught her in a loving embrace. Holding her fiercely, as if afraid she might escape, he captured her mouth with his and celebrated the moment with a tenderness that left her trembling.

They drew slightly apart but kept their arms tightly locked around one another. For now, this was enough.

“Listen—” he began.

“I’m all ears,” she teased.

“Oh, yeah?” Shrewdly shifting his gaze, Luke peered down the V-neck of her halter dress.

“None of that,” Bonnie whispered.

Luke’s expression grew serious then. “I never dreamed, what with your being gone so long—” He reached out and smoothed her hair away from her face, his dark brows furrowing together. “It never occurred to me last night or this morning either, although it should have...” He shrugged, clearly irritated with himself and asked her point-blank, “What if you’re pregnant again?”

“I’m not,” she answered honestly.

His nostrils flared. “But—”

She pressed her fingertips to his mouth. “We should have discussed this sooner. The last time we threw caution to the wind, it blew trouble in our faces.”

He nodded, his gaze narrowing slightly.

“Remember what I told you this morning about finally being ready to take the big plunge?” she prompted.

He nodded again, studying her steadily.

She lowered her hand and smiled reassuringly. “Well, you’ll be pleased to hear that my preparations included a visit to my friendly neighborhood physician.”

Luke gaped at her for a full second, then spun and struck a brisk pace toward the door. Bonnie stood stupidly, wondering if she’d only imagined that suspicious look in his eyes. Was he upset because she was protected, for heaven’s sake? Surely he hadn’t expected her to take a
second
risk?

Determined to clear the air, she started after him. When he stopped and turned, she slammed into his hard chest He gripped her upper arms, half-steadying, half shaking her.

“All right, I admit it!” Raw emotion choked his voice. “For one ridiculous instant, I wished I’d made you pregnant.”

It was Bonnie’s turn to gape.

Luke heaved a sigh and let her go. “If you’re willing to accept a plea of temporary insanity on my part and forget I said that, I’ll run you into Atlanta.”

Stunned, she watched him walk away. Her jaw felt like it had suddenly come unhinged. He held the screen door open for her. She grabbed her purse off the small vestibule chest and rushed past him.

“Your lipstick is smeared,” he muttered fondly.

She glanced up and couldn’t help but smile. “So is yours.”

The door banged shut as he wiped the glossy evidence of their kiss off his mouth with the back of his hand. Her steps slowed as she crossed the porch and recognized the truck parked in the driveway.

“The Miser’s Dream!” she whooped in delight, then ran down the steps toward the gleaming black pickup that he’d purchased at an auction the summer he’d turned sixteen. “Where have you been keeping it?”

“I loaned it to Sueanne and Tom while they were waiting for delivery of their new truck,” he explained, joining her in the driveway. “Tom promised last night that he’d drop it by this morning on his way to work.”

Luke’s pickup had been the bargain of the century—a twenty-five-dollar steal! Bonnie rubbed her hand along the hood, remembering well what a rusty, seat-sprung heap it had been before he’d restored it. All that summer, she and every other kid in town had watched him sand it by hand and clean it inside and out. He had spray-painted it—twenty cans’ worth, if she recalled correctly—then had the final coat applied professionally, paying for it with money he had earned sacking groceries at the general store.

Mischief twinkled in his eyes. “Do you realize this old buggy will qualify for antique license plates before too long?”

She grimaced. “Don’t tell me that! It makes me feel like I should run right out and stock up on support hose and hairnets.”