Irresistible You
Barbara Boswell
How could Luke Minteer be picked for a jury? And he was… glad? Maybe his happiness had to do with the sexy, single, nine months pregnant woman who sat beside him… and his surprising attraction to her.But of course Luke' s desire for Brenna Morgan meant nothing! Just because he checked on her every day, charmed her into eating out with him, daydreamed about making love to her… well, it didn' t mean a thing. Except that Luke was pretty sure that in a court of law, his behavior could only be called… love!
“What Have You Done To Me?” Luke Asked Softly.
He reached out and cupped her cheek with his hand. Her skin was soft and warm, and he lightly stroked it with his fingertips.
Her gray eyes flashed. “What are you doing?”
“Good question,” murmured Luke. “But the only answer I can come up with is that I’m not doing enough.”
Brenna licked her lips, and he followed the movement with avid eyes. “I won’t hurt you, Brenna. Don’t be afraid of me.”
“I’m not!” she exclaimed fiercely.
“If you’re not afraid, prove it, Brenna.”
“By doing what?”
He gave a tug, pulling her against him. “I’ll think of something.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Brenna gaped at him. “I’m almost nine months pregnant!”
Dear Reader,
The year 2000 has been a special time for Silhouette, as we’ve celebrated our 20th anniversary. Readers from all over the world have written to tell us what they love about our books, and we’d like to share with you part of a letter from Carolyn Dann of Grand Bend, Ontario, who’s a fan of Silhouette Desire. Carolyn wrote, “I like the storylines…the characters…the front covers… All the characters in the books are the kind of people you like to read about. They’re all down-to-earth, everyday people.” And as a grand finale to our anniversary year, Silhouette Desire offers six of your favorite authors for an especially memorable month’s worth of passionate, powerful, provocative reading!
We begin the lineup with the always wonderful Barbara Boswell’s MAN OF THE MONTH, Irresistible You, in which a single woman nine months pregnant meets her perfect hero while on jury duty. The incomparable Cait London continues her exciting miniseries FREEDOM VALLEY with Slow Fever. Against a beautiful Montana backdrop, the oldest Bennett sister is courted by a man who spurned her in their teenage years. And A Season for Love, in which Sheriff Jericho Rivers regains his lost love, continues the new miniseries MEN OF BELLE TERRE by beloved author BJ James.
Don’t miss the thrilling conclusion to the Desire miniseries FORTUNE’S CHILDREN: THE GROOMS in Peggy Moreland’s Groom of Fortune. Elizabeth Bevarly will delight you with Monahan’s Gamble. And Expecting the Boss’s Baby is the launch title of Leanne Banks’s new miniseries, MILLION DOLLAR MEN, which offers wealthy, philanthropic bachelors guaranteed to seduce you.
We hope all readers of Silhouette Desire will treasure the gift of this special month.
Happy holidays!
Joan Marlow Golan
Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire
Irresistible You
Barbara Boswell
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
BARBARA BOSWELL
loves writing about families. “I guess family has been a big influence on my writing,” she says. “I particularly enjoy writing about how my characters’ family relationships affect them.”
When Barbara isn’t writing and reading, she’s spending time with her own family—her husband, three daughters and three cats, whom she concedes are the true bosses of their home! She has lived in Europe, but now makes her home in Pennsylvania. She collects miniatures and holiday ornaments, tries to avoid exercise and has somehow found the time to write over twenty category romances.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
One
Jury Duty!
Luke Minteer was still in shock. As of tomorrow morning he was supposed to be a juror in a civil case. And from the few facts the opposing lawyers had revealed about the case during the juror interview, Luke already deemed it a major time waster. Of his valuable time!
This, after he’d been such a good sport about the situation. Despite the major inconvenience of being summoned to join his fellow citizens in the potential jury pool, he had dutifully—albeit grudgingly—shown up at the courthouse for the selection. That should have been the end of it, as far as he was concerned.
He expected to be rejected; he was counting on it. For the first time ever, rejection was infinitely appealing, and his past days as a tarnished hotshot political operative seemed to guarantee it. Who would want the likes of him on a jury?
Apparently the judge and the attorneys on both sides would—because he’d been selected.
Desperately he looked around at the other chosen jurors sitting with him in the box, while a bailiff instructed them on their upcoming obligations. They were now expected to put their lives on hold, to be held captive in a courtroom—and all because two idiots, aided and abetted by their mercenary lawyers, had decided to sue each other.
He was Luke Minteer! He didn’t do jury duty!
Eight of the chosen were years older than he was. Decades older! Two young men who appeared to be in their early twenties sported multiple tattoos and piercings on various parts of their bodies—their eyebrows, their noses, their lips and of course their ears, with at least ten earrings per lobe.
Luke glanced at the final juror, the young woman sitting next to him, who was very visibly pregnant. She looked like a teenager, though he knew she couldn’t be. In the state of Pennsylvania, jury duty fell only to those who’d reached the legal age of twenty-one.
Luke couldn’t gauge how advanced her pregnancy was. Unmarried and not a parent, he steered clear of the mysteries of pregnant women.
What mattered in this situation was that she was unmistakably pregnant, the young men looked like circus freaks, and the elderly people were very, very old. One of them coughed continually.
Luke groaned. “I don’t have a prayer of getting out of this.”
“You just said exactly what I was thinking,” said the pregnant woman, looking surprised.
Luke was surprised, too. He hadn’t intended to speak his own thoughts aloud like that. Another sign of how rattled he was by his unexpected inclusion.
“They must be desperate for jurors to pick this crew,” she murmured, now voicing his observation. “I’m due to deliver my baby in six weeks. The lawyers for both sides said the trial would be all wrapped up long before then, though,” she added hopefully.
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Luke grumbled. “Especially when a lawyer says it. I worked in politics. I know.”
“Didn’t you tell them you worked in politics?” Her gray eyes widened. “It seems that would instantly disqualify you.”
“Why would I be disqualified on those grounds?” Never mind he’d believed the same thing—wrongly. “This case has nothing to do with politics, it’s a battle-of-the-sexes case.”
“And a really stupid one,” she added glumly.
“You took the words right out of my mouth.” Luke heaved a groan. “The facts of this case read like the rejected proposal for a really bad book. Guy gives girl engagement ring, then dumps her. She refuses to give back the ring, which he claims is a family heirloom—and which he wants for his new fiancée. Let’s call her fiancée two. So he sues fiancée one to get the ring back.”
“But fiancée one claims the ring was a gift, hers to keep,” his pregnant fellow juror interjected.
“Or to sell. In order to finance the breast implants she claims are essential to her career as a nude dancer,” Luke added dryly.
“And she also countersues him for harassment or interfering with her civil right to work or whatever.” The young woman rolled her eyes heavenward. “I tuned out at that point.”
“Did you hear that both parties are demanding punitive damages for their emotional pain and suffering? As if either one feels any emotion except pure greed—and possibly revenge.”
“Why can’t they settle it themselves like civilized human beings? Why do they have to go to court and drag all of us into it?” she railed. “Who can side with either one, anyway? He’s a fickle cheapskate and she’s a manipulative—”
She paused for a moment.
“Perhaps litigious, silicone-endowed nude dancer is the term you were looking for?”
“I had something a bit less flattering in mind. Already, I can’t stand either one of them, and I’ve never even met them.”
“Did you say that to the lawyers?” quizzed Luke.
She nodded. “Oh, yes.”
“So did I. Must be why we were picked. Better to dislike them both than to side with one. The lawyers would consider that fair and impartial.”
“It’s a lot like politics after all,” she said thoughtfully. “Where you don’t like either candidate but are supposed to vote for one. It boils down to the lesser of two evils at worst, or at best, two jerks.”
“Evil or jerk.” Luke held back a sigh. “I’m going to take a wild guess that you think all politicians are unlikable, morally corrupt, sleazy…. Feel free to jump in and stop me at any time.”
She didn’t. Which apparently meant she agreed with his assessment?
“I was attempting to be ironic,” he said to enlighten her. “There are exceptions to the corrupt politician stereotype, you know.”
“I’ll take your word on that.” She looked bored with the subject.
From his past work in the field, Luke was aware that politics tended either to bore or inflame, and unless one was canvassing for votes, a change of topic was advisable. Still, he was unable to let it go.
“One exception is my brother, Matt Minteer. He’s a congressman.” Luke’s voice held a note of fraternal pride. “Matt is the representative for the Johnstown district, which includes this county, so that would make him your congressman.”
“Matt Minteer,” she repeated. “Is he the one who fired his own brother for dirty tricks or nasty campaign tactics or something like that? I heard about it when I moved here last year.”
This time Luke didn’t suppress his sigh. He let it out heavily. “Yeah, that would be Matt. The nasty, dirty-tricks-playing brother is me. I was fired two years and eight months ago, but the story is still being told, I see.”
“And those lawyers picked you for the jury anyway?” The young woman was incredulous. “Wow! They are really, really desperate.”
“No charges were ever filed against me. It’s not as if I’m a convicted felon.” Luke was defensive. “Although as far as my brother’s staff is concerned, I might as well be. They’re a very traditional group, set like cement in the old ways. When I tried to be innovative and competitive, to take some risks and implement some new ideas and methods for—”
“Translation,” she cut in. “When you used dirty tricks and nasty tactics, they didn’t approve, and you got the ax.”
Luke scowled. “Are you always so…blunt?”
Though she’d pretty much summed up the situation, it didn’t mean he liked hearing it.
“Yes,” she said…bluntly.
“Well, why should you be different from everybody else?” Luke was aware that his voice held just the faintest trace of self-pity. He didn’t care. “No one else in the district bothers to hold back their opinion of me, including my own family. Everybody reminds me that, though to the world at large I may be a bestselling crime fiction writer these days, in this district, I’m still Congressman Minteer’s brother, the weasel.”
She arched her dark brows. “Crime fiction?”
Luke brightened. Even the locals who disapproved of him as an innovative, risk-taking political mastermind bought his book. Everybody, everywhere, had, bringing him national success as an author.
“I wrote a bestselling crime novel about a serial killer that was published in hardcover and did well and then hit number one on the New York Times list when it came out in paperback. It’s still on the bestseller lists, although farther down by now, of course, and—”
“I don’t read crime fiction, and I’d never read about serial killers,” she said disapprovingly. “Why would anyone want to read about such evil and ugliness? Why would anyone want to write it?”
“You aren’t the first to ask that question.” Instead of taking offense, Luke grinned. “In fact, most of my family does. But I do have one favorite aunt who tells me to make the crimes in my next book even more grisly.”
“Well, I don’t agree with your favorite aunt. Glorifying crime is…is toxic.”
“I don’t glorify—” He began to argue, but inevitably, his sense of humor kicked in. “You are brutally frank. Opinionated, too. Those lawyers in this trial might think you’re a malleable little mommy, but it looks like the joke is on them. You’ll probably hang the jury and they’ll have to try the case all over again.”
The bailiff appeared again, instructing the chosen twelve to report back to the courtroom tomorrow morning at nine-thirty for the beginning of the trial. Then he excused them for the day.
Everybody stood up. None of the selected jurors looked happy with their fate.
“It’s four o’clock,” muttered one of the older men. “The day is already completely wasted. Why did they take so darn long to pick us? All those foolish questions they asked us…”
“I had to take two buses to get here,” complained an elderly woman. “Now I have to take two to get home—and do it for heaven only knows how many more days, until this is all over.”
“I’m bringing my knitting with me every day,” said another woman defiantly. “I have to finish an afghan for my great-niece’s new baby in time for Christmas. That’s little more than a month away.”
The two pierced, tattooed young men slunk off. Luke stared after them, bemused. He noticed that the pregnant woman was looking at them, too.
“What are the odds of two jurors sporting identical dragon tattoos that stretch the length of their arms?” he murmured. “I’d never put that in a book. My editor would say, ‘Come on, Luke, that’s too over the top.”’
“Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction. Which is a creepy thought, considering some of the fiction being written these days.”
“I assume that’s another potshot at my writing career?” drawled Luke. “Nobody can accuse you of being subtle.”
She and Luke faced each other.
“Since we’re fellow jurors, we might as well introduce ourselves. I’m Luke Minteer.” He offered his hand to her.
“Brenna Morgan.” She shook his hand but withdrew her own quickly.
“You look like you want to wipe your palm on something. Don’t worry, I’m not infectious,” Luke said drolly. “I’m merely the bad-guy brother of your good and honorable congressman, and that is not contagious.”
She looked ready to debate the point. “You switched to a career writing crime novels about serial killers.”
“And you don’t know which is worse. My political chicanery was disgusting, but my writing is morbid and sick.” He smiled slightly at her startled look. “No, I’m not a mind reader, Mrs. Morgan. I’m just quoting my mom and my sisters, my grandmother and my aunts, except for Helen. You’d get along famously with them. They never miss a chance to lecture me on the perils of writing about evil.”
“But you enjoy writing about evil?”
She was looking at him as if he were Satan incarnate on a book tour. Luke felt compelled to offer some sort of defense.
“Look, I’ll try to explain to you the way I’ve tried to explain it to the family. Inventing a crime and a case and solving it is fascinating. You can enter the mind of your characters and set up the cat-and-mouse game between the criminal and the police. Plus, on the practical side, it’s been a very good career move.”
Okay, he wanted to brag a little about his writing success, Luke acknowledged to himself. Was that so bad, in light of the fact he’d been viewed as a disgrace to the Minteer clan, as the district pariah? His writing had elevated him to something akin to celebrity status.
Celebrity or pariah? That choice was a no-brainer.
“A person’s got to make a living, you know,” he added, with a practiced touch of boyish charm.
Brenna Morgan stared impassively at him, uncharmed. “And since you’d already been kicked out of dirty-tricks politics, creating serial killers was the logical next step? There’s nothing in between? Not anything in the retail industry or in the business world or the—”
“Aha! Now you’re joking. I see the glint of humor in your eyes, despite your best efforts to hide it behind that deadpan facade.”
This time Luke flashed his most winning smile, the one on the back cover of his book’s dust jacket. He’d gotten fan mail based on that picture, from women who hadn’t bothered to read the book.
Brenna slowly, almost reluctantly smiled back.
Luke knew she would. No woman was immune to his special smile, not even pregnant ones who thoroughly disapproved of him and his profession. That is, unless she happened to be related to him. To his female relatives, his smile and his charm were distinctly underwhelming.
“I really wasn’t joking,” Brenna insisted.
“Sure you were. Those big gray eyes of yours are still shining with amusement.”
“No, they aren’t.”
“Are you one of those types who always has to have the last word? Your poor husband—and those hapless lawyers who have no idea that they’ve chosen an intractable force of nature to be on their jury.” Luke laughed. “Yeah, it’ll be a hung jury, all right.”
The two of them started walking toward the door, toward freedom. They fell into step, side-by-side. Luke cast a swift glance over at her.
He always noted a woman’s height, and he made no exception this time. She was wearing flat shoes, which allowed him to correctly estimate that Brenna Morgan was not quite five-four. At five feet ten inches, he seemed to be towering over her. Luke enjoyed the sensation in spite of himself.
After all, he’d made peace with his less-than-six-foot height years ago. He didn’t mind being the shortest of the four Minteer brothers, he didn’t care that his three sisters were nearly his height. That two of his teen nephews already were as tall as he was and were still growing.
It wouldn’t be long until he was surpassed in height by another generation of Minteer brothers. Not that Luke minded, of course.
And to prove it to himself and everybody else in the world, he deliberately dated tall women, women close to his own height or even taller, especially in very high heels. He liked the elegance, the challenge of height. He was completely comfortable being one of the less-tall Minteers and didn’t need short women to make him feel—well, six-feet tall.
In fact, he assiduously avoided pairing up with a petite woman. To prove his point to himself and everybody else.
He cast another surreptitious glance at Brenna Morgan.
She was pretty. That renegade thought fleetingly crossed Luke’s mind, surprising him. He did not, as a rule, take note of a pregnant woman’s looks. A pregnant woman obviously belonged to another guy, and he wasn’t the type who poached on his brother man’s territory.
He might be viewed as a snake by some—okay, by many—but he did have a certain code of ethics that he followed. Cheating with another man’s woman was strictly taboo.
Besides, a pregnant woman was a mother-to-be, and mothers deserved the utmost respect. The Minteer brothers had that canon drilled into them by their own mother and grandmothers, by their aunts and great-aunts and older cousins, too.
He certainly respected mothers too much to think of them as pretty, Luke reminded himself. Because thoughts of prettiness too easily led to thoughts of desirability, which logically progressed to thoughts of sex.
Mothers, those paragons of maternal virtue, were not sexy! At least, they weren’t to Luke Minteer.
But Brenna Morgan, with her long black hair curving just over her shoulders, her thick bangs accentuating high cheekbones and big, clear gray eyes fringed with dark lashes, with her firm little chin and full, sensual lips… No, not sensual, he quickly amended. Sensual and pregnant just didn’t go together.
Still, Brenna Morgan was definitely a pretty woman.
To cleanse himself of the disturbing thought, Luke allowed his gaze to drift over her totally nonexistent figure. She looked like a balloon overinflated with helium, the skirt of her blue maternity dress swirling around her swollen feet and ankles.
Luke expelled what might have been a sigh of relief. He admired long, shapely legs on a woman. Though he couldn’t see Brenna’s legs under the long blue skirt, her puffy ankles certainly failed his desirability test.
As well they should. She was pregnant, some kid’s mother-to-be.
She was some guy’s wife. She was of no interest to him whatsoever.
“Is your husband going to be ticked off that you’re stuck with jury duty and that your poor unborn child is going to be exposed to lawyers and their sleazy clients for days on end?” Luke asked jovially, purposefully, as they reached the main entrance of the building.
Brenna, in the midst of pulling on her oversize light-brown parka, looked up at him, in that serious, earnest way of hers. “I don’t have a husband. This baby is mine and mine alone.”
She pushed the double doors open and walked off, leaving him staring after her, his jaw agape.
“You were picked for jury duty in your condition? Are they nuts? Did you tell them the baby is due in six weeks?” Cassie Walsh, Brenna’s next-door neighbor, was outraged on her behalf.
Cassie’s three-year-old daughter, Abigail, sat on the floor, transfixed by a video of Winnie the Pooh, and didn’t look up as Cassie rolled an ottoman toward Brenna, who was resting in the armchair.
“I told them.” Brenna wearily propped her swollen feet up on the ottoman. “It didn’t matter. The judge told us at the beginning of the day that they were cracking down on people getting out of jury duty.”
“How can you be expected to sit for hours when you’re so far along in your pregnancy?” Cassie demanded. “Can’t you get an excuse from your doctor?”
“But then my name would go back in the jury pool and I might be chosen after I have the baby. I’d rather get it over with now. Anyway, sitting in the courtroom isn’t any different from sitting in an office all day—or me sitting in my studio drawing for hours, right?”
“I suppose so.”
“Uh, one of the jurors is the brother of our congressman, Matt Minteer,” Brenna added, keeping her voice carefully casual.
It bothered her that she had to make an effort to sound uninterested. She should be naturally uninterested! Even worse was the realization of how much she wanted to talk about Luke Minteer to Cassie, because she knew that Cassie’s brother, Steve, was a lobbyist in Harrisburg and a reliable source of information about Pennsylvania politicians. And maybe about the brothers of politicians, too?
Brenna blushed. She was attempting to pump her friend for information about a guy—like some infatuated thirteen-year-old! A wave of hot embarrassment swamped her.
“Which brother?” asked Cassie. “Matthew Minteer has three brothers, Mark, Luke and John.”
“Luke,” mumbled Brenna. She still couldn’t believe she was playing this game. It was so very unlike her!
“Ah, Cambria County’s most notorious bachelor.” Cassie chuckled. “He’ll sure bring a wealth of experience to any jury!”
Brenna stared silently into space. She was too preoccupied with Luke Minteer, and that was not a good thing, she warned herself. She could visualize him so clearly in her mind’s eye, it was as if he were standing right in the room with her….
Brenna gulped. Luke Minteer was one of those too-handsome, too-charismatic, too-masculine-for-his-own-good men. Certainly, for her own good.
She saw his thick, dark hair, cut slightly long, which gave him a certain rakish air. And then there were those blue eyes, such a brilliant and distinct shade of blue. The strong line of his jaw, his well-shaped mouth. Oh, that mouth!
Brenna laid her palms against her flushed cheeks to cool them. But those visuals of Luke Minteer in the courtroom kept coming.
His long-sleeved blue chambray shirt seemed to accentuate, not conceal, the breadth of his shoulders and chest and the rippling muscles in his arms. And he’d boldly worn jeans, in spite of the dress code printed on the jury summons that said “no jeans or shorts allowed.”
Never mind that half the people who’d shown up were wearing jeans, too, Luke Minteer wore his jeans too well, like a sexy cowboy in a magazine ad. Brenna gave her head a quick shake to dislodge that uncensored thought.
By wearing jeans Luke Minteer had deliberately flaunted the rules, that’s what she intended to think. And what else could you expect from a political dirty trickster who’d been fired by his own brother? Brenna tried hard to summon up some hearty disdain for the man.
Instead, she found herself picturing his hands.
They were large and strong, with long, well-shaped fingers and short, clean nails. That she had been aware of such minute details, had seemingly committed them to memory, appalled her. And then additional mental pictures flashed before her, scenes that dropped below his chest to his flat stomach and—
Brenna sat bolt upright in the chair.
“Brenna, are you all right?” Cassie was immediately concerned.
Brenna nodded weakly. “A…little twinge. A cramp, I think.”
“That’ll keep happening the farther along you get,” Cassie, a mother of three, said sympathetically. “Braxton-Hicks contractions. Try not to let it worry you.”
Brenna gulped. She wasn’t worried about twinges and cramps; she’d read all about them, she even expected them. But this alarming awareness of Luke Minteer…
That was totally unexpected. What was the matter with her? Was she losing her mind? She was heading into her ninth month of pregnancy, and the last thing she should be thinking about was—
And suddenly a blanket of calm descended over her. Of course. She was heading into her ninth month of pregnancy…. That explained it all.
Hormones!
Every pregnancy book she’d read—and there were plenty—had claimed that her hormones would go into over-drive and could cause wildly irrational thinking, emotions and even behavior. So far she had remained remarkably immune from all that, but now it appeared she had succumbed at last.
“You had a long, tiring day, Brenna,” Cassie continued, her tone soothing. “Why don’t you stay for dinner tonight? Ray has a meeting at the high school and will be home late, and Brandon and Tim are eating at their friend Josh’s house. I made macaroni and cheese for Abigail and me, and there’s plenty of it. And we have chocolate cake for dessert, my grandma’s recipe.”
“Thanks, Cassie, but I…I really should go home,” Brenna said weakly. “I ought to work on my—”
“Stay!” Cassie insisted. “I’ll fill you in on your fellow juror, Luke Minteer. According to my brother, Steve, Luke was kind of a legend around Harrisburg when Matt was in state government there, but he managed to contain himself back then.”
“What kind of legend?” murmured Brenna, in spite of herself.
Her unborn baby kicked so hard, the movements caused the material of her blue dress to bob and weave.
“Oh, the kind who played mind games to psych out opponents—and who played lots of games with lots of different women, if you know what I mean.” Cassie cast a quick glance toward little Abigail, but the child was engrossed in the video and paying no attention to the adult conversation.
“Luke was a player, and I’m sorry to say that in those bad old days, my brother used to be one, too,” Cassie said, lowering her voice a bit. “Steve and Luke moved in the same circles. But at least Steve matured and reformed and is a good family man now,” she added, clearly relieved by the transformation.
“Not Luke Minteer, though,” guessed Brenna.
Not that she cared, she assured herself. She was simply passing the time, chatting with Cassie until dinnertime. She’d decided to stay; the macaroni and cheese and chocolate cake were too tempting to pass up. She could work later this evening.
“No, not Luke,” Cassie agreed. “Matt Minteer was elected to Congress and Luke went along to D.C. as his administrative aide, the same position he’d had in Harrisburg. But in D.C., Luke was unleashed. He ran wild down there.”
“How?” Brenna prompted. “Uh, not that I want a detailed account,” she added hastily, her face flushing again.
“I’ll give you the abridged version. Luke got in with a very fast social crowd plus a very nasty political crowd. Maybe he could’ve stayed unnoticed in one, but not both. Steve said rumors about him were constantly flying from D.C. to Harrisburg and, of course, back here to the district. Matt ended up firing Luke. Boy, were the Minteers mad!”
“At Luke or at Matt for firing his brother—or both?”
“At Luke, only at Luke. They let it be known how much they disapproved of him and encouraged everybody else to tell Luke their own unfavorable opinions of him, too.”
“I wonder why he came back here?” Brenna mused. “It seems like a strange choice for someone like him, to come back to a small town and be ostracized and criticized by his own family.”
“Maybe he was trying to get back on their good side. But if he was, it didn’t work. And then he wrote this really successful novel. I heard it’s going to be made into a movie, which would mean even more money, but his family still disapproves of him.” Cassie shrugged. “They’re a tough crowd, the Minteers.”
“He has a favorite aunt who likes his book. He, um, mentioned her.”
“I don’t know which one she is. There are so many Minteers in the area, especially when you count the aunts, uncles and cousins. Abigail goes to preschool with Luke’s brother John’s little boy, David. Sounds like some sort of six-degrees-of-separation chain, doesn’t it?” Cassie smiled. “Or maybe fate?”
Brenna swallowed hard. “What do you mean?”
“Well, who knows what could happen between you and Luke when—”
“Nothing,” Brenna said firmly. “Cassie, I’m having a baby, for heaven’s sakes.”
“Who needs a father. Because there isn’t one in the picture.”
“And from what you’ve told me, Luke Minteer sounds just like the kind of man who would love to step in and play daddy to someone else’s child.” Brenna’s voice dripped sarcasm. “As if he would ever find a pregnant woman attractive in the first place!”
“Okay, I concede your point.” Cassie gave up. “The only thing that will happen involving you and Luke Minteer and jury duty is a verdict.”
Brenna ran her hand through her hair. “And maybe not even that. What if it’s a hung jury?”
She thought of Luke’s amused prediction that she would be the one to hang the jury, but didn’t share the remark with Cassie. She didn’t want her friend to know how long she and Luke had talked, especially after Cassie’s outlandish speculations.
Besides, she’d already spent too much time thinking about Luke Minteer—and way too much time talking about him to Cassie. It was puzzling, and disturbing, too.
And then there was the most puzzling, disturbing thing of all—that remark she’d made to him upon leaving the courthouse.
Why hadn’t she simply played along with Luke Minteer’s belief that she was married? Why hadn’t she pretended that a “Mr. Morgan” actually existed?
Luke had assumed one did, that she was a married woman—until she’d quashed that notion flat.
Why had she done it? Brenna mused throughout the evening. By morning she still didn’t have the answer.
Two
All twelve jurors arrived on time the next morning for the beginning of the trial. They introduced themselves to each other, and one of the older men, Roger Hollister, was elected foreman. The lawyers for both sides seemed pleased with the jurors’ first group decision; Hollister, whose nickname was Sarge, had served in World War II and knew a thing or two about leadership.
In the jury box before the opening argument, Luke once again sat next to Brenna Morgan. A natural gravitation process had already occurred among the twelve. Sarge Hollister and the other two men in his age group sat together, as did the five elderly women. The two pierced and tattooed young men, both named Jason with different surnames, stuck together, which left Brenna and Luke with nobody but each other.
Or so Luke told himself. Never mind that in his political incarnation, he had prided himself in fitting in with any group, regardless of age or sex. That was then, this was now, and he and Brenna were their own group strictly by default.
He glanced over at her. She’d gone for comfort over formality today, trading in yesterday’s blue maternity dress for black slacks and a long bottle-green top. He had opted for jeans again—after reading the prissy advisory not to wear them to court, of course he would never wear anything else—and an equally casual plaid flannel shirt.
But Brenna had followed the dress code, such as it was. She’d pulled her dark hair high in a ponytail, and the ends of it brushed against the nape of her neck. Luke’s eyes lingered on the soft, creamy-white skin exposed there, and he quickly lowered his gaze.
She looked as if she had a beachball stuffed under her shirt. Her breasts and belly seemed to merge into one big shapeless bulge, but her black tapered pants revealed that despite her advanced pregnancy, her legs were nicely shaped. Her ankles weren’t swollen today. He noticed that, too.
Luke frowned.
“Why aren’t you married?” he blurted out in a low whisper.
Brenna turned to look at him, visibly startled by the question. Luke himself was startled. He was doing it again—blabbing his thoughts aloud. The influence of the courthouse, perhaps? It was an old gothic-style place, vaguely creepy, where strange things might be expected to happen—like him imagining that he was being influenced by the atmosphere!
“Because I’m not,” she replied coolly.
She might as well have come right out and flatly said, It’s none of your business, because her answer, her voice and entire demeanor conveyed just that sentiment.
Still Luke didn’t back off. “Did your boyfriend dump you when he found out you were pregnant?”
“Are you speaking from personal experience? Is that what you would do in a similar situation?” Brenna went on the offense, her chin rising defiantly. “Or maybe you’ve already done it, for all I know.” She didn’t meet his eyes.
“No! I didn’t—I wouldn’t—I’ve never—” Luke paused when the attorney for Brad, the plaintiff, stood and began to present his opening argument.
Brad sat at the table, listening to his side being presented, nodding his head at every point. His former fiancée, Amber, visibly bristled, grimaced and vehemently shook her head in disagreement.
Everybody in the jury box stared at the feuding former lovers—everybody except Luke Minteer, whose eyes remained riveted on Brenna.
He leaned a little closer to her, his voice low in her ear. “Don’t try to turn this around and sling mud at me, lady. This isn’t about me.”
“True. It has nothing to do with you,” she murmured between clenched teeth. “And please stop talking. The judge is giving us a dirty look.”
“And God forbid we get on the wrong side of His Honor,” taunted Luke. “We might get thrown off the jury. Wow, that would be a heavy price to pay.”
“Excuse me.” The judge pounded his gavel, interrupting the attorney. “Jurors nine and ten, conversation will be conducted outside the courtroom, not during the trial. I don’t want to have to mention this again.” He glowered at Brenna and Luke.
Brenna blushed and she stared at the floor. Luke shrugged, scowling, but unintimidated by the reprimand.
“Don’t look so guilty,” he whispered to Brenna a moment later. “It’s not like we’re criminals on trial here. We’re the ones giving up our time to do our civic duty so that Brad and Amber can stick it to each—”
“Will you please shut up!” Brenna said desperately. “We’re going to get jailed for contempt of court or something if you keep—”
“Juror nine!” thundered the judge, glaring at Brenna.
She slumped lower in her chair. “I’m sorry, Your Honor.”
“She isn’t feeling well, Your Honor,” Luke spoke up. “She is very advanced in her pregnancy and needs to take a break right now. If you would be kind enough to excuse her for a few minutes…” He stared at the judge expectantly.
The judge looked nonplussed. “I…see. All right, we’ll all take a ten-minute break. Court resumes in ten minutes.” He strode from the courtroom.
“If we take ten-minute breaks every ten minutes, this trial will never end,” one attorney complained to the other, loud enough to be heard in the jury box.
“You guys are the ones who picked a very pregnant woman to be on your jury,” Luke called back to them. “So live with it, boys.”
“I’m going to the rest room,” Brenna murmured, and quickly left the courtroom.
Luke was in the corridor standing against the wall when she emerged from the bathroom. She would have walked past him, but he approached her.
“I came to your rescue,” he said proudly. “Pretty fast thinking on my part, hmm?”
“Is that how you see yourself? A kind of gallant knight in shining armor?” Brenna headed directly to the courtroom, Luke at her side. “What you seem to forget is that you’re the reason I got in trouble in the first place.”
“Honey, you got in trouble long before I came on the scene.”
“If that’s an attempt at wit,” Brenna ground out, “it failed.”
“Mmm-hmm. So you were dumped by the daddy when you told him you were pregnant?” Luke surmised with a knowing nod. “You wouldn’t be so defensive and angry unless I’d really hit a nerve.”
“I’m not defensive but, yes, I’m angry. Because you’re a…a—”
“Jerk,” Luke supplied amiably. “Weasel. Snake. Rat. I’ve been called all those things and much worse. Deservedly, too, no doubt. But I never knocked up a woman and walked away, leaving her, uh, holding the baby. Literally. I don’t blame you for being furious, and if it helps to direct your rage at me, go ahead. Your boyfriend is lower than fungus slime and—”
“I don’t have any rage to direct at you or anyone else!” Brenna exclaimed, exasperated. “I don’t have a boyfriend who dumped me when he found out about the baby, either. There is no boyfriend and never was. Period.”
Luke said nothing. They walked to their seats and sat down. They were the first two jurors to return to the box.
“Go on, ask me,” Brenna growled, after a few more moments of Luke’s silence. Oddly enough, it disturbed her more than his questions and speculations. “I can almost hear what you’re thinking. So just say it.”
“I’m not one to criticize anyone else for being impulsive.” His lips quirked into a wry smile. “I used to call it being spontaneous back when I was your age.”
“Back when you were my age?” Brenna scoffed. “That wasn’t so long ago, was it? It’s not like you were in World War II with Sarge and company.”
“I’m thirty-five and it’s been a long time since I was—” Luke gazed down at her. “Twenty-one?” he guessed. “And crossing the line from spontaneous to indiscriminate can result in—”
“I’m twenty-six. And having my baby wasn’t an impulsive act, it—” She broke off and stared at him, aghast. “You think that I had multiple spontaneous one-night stands and wasn’t careful?”
“You said you could hear what I was thinking,” he reminded her.
“I didn’t think it was that!” Her voice rose in indignation. “Ick! Sleeping around indiscriminately? You might have, but I would never do that.”
“Don’t get too self-righteous, honey. You’re pregnant, and that means at least one sexual encounter with at least one man. Since you were so adamant about not having a boyfriend, naturally, I assumed you’d, er, scored with more than one guy and didn’t know which one was the father of your baby. Not that I’m condemning you for that,” he added. “I’m very open-minded.”
“How generous of you!”
“I guess I might’ve sounded a bit self-righteous myself there.” Chagrined, Luke took a deep breath. “I apologize.”
“Don’t bother, because it doesn’t apply. Just because you scored with a string of one-night stands doesn’t mean that I did. And I do know who the father of my baby is. I personally selected him. He’s a medical student, tall, blue-eyed and blond, of Swedish-English ancestry, with no inherited diseases in his family. He has a strong bent toward the sciences but also enjoys music and sports, particularly—”
“You sound like you’re reading a description out of a catalog.” Luke’s dark-blue eyes widened suddenly. “Good Lord, that’s what you did, isn’t it? That’s how you picked this guy, from a…a sperm bank catalog?”
She didn’t deny it. She nodded her head, confirming it.
Luke gaped at her, stunned.
“I was anything but impulsive about this.” Her gray eyes were as calm and serious as her tone. “I methodically researched everything very carefully and—”
“That’s…that’s so premeditated, so calculating,” Luke cut in. He almost had to gasp for breath. “No, demented is what it is.”
“You’re the one who’s demented! You wouldn’t condemn me for a series of one-night stands or for not knowing who the father of my child is, but you’re scandalized that I went to a sperm bank to—”
“Shhh!” he hushed her. “Unless you want to broadcast this to our fellow jurors, I suggest you keep quiet.”
Brenna looked up to see the eight older jurors filing into the box. “You’re right. I wouldn’t want to shock anybody else,” she murmured caustically.
“I’m not shocked, I’m just…” Luke’s voice trailed off.
What exactly was he, then? He didn’t know, couldn’t identify the weird feelings roiling within him.
“Shocked,” Brenna insisted. “And you don’t like the sensation because shocking people is your specialty, right? You want to be the one to shock people, not the other way around.”
“All right, guilty as charged. Now, can I ask you a personal question?”
She sighed. “You’re going to ask it anyway, aren’t you?”
“Are you gay? Is that the reason you’ve gone the, er, test-tube route? Because your, uh, significant other is a…a woman?”
“You should hear yourself, stammering like a shocked and disapproving candidate who is trying extra hard not to be politically incorrect.” Brenna grinned. “Were you this tactful when you worked in politics?”
“Of course not—which is why I no longer work in politics. Well, are you?”
“No, I’m not gay. I don’t have a significant other of either sex, and I don’t want one. There’s just me and my baby, and that’s all either of us will ever need.”
The two Jasons came shuffling in and had to climb over everybody to get to their seats at the end of the box. Both wore short-sleeved T-shirts, providing a clear view of the long and colorful identical dragon tattoos on their respective arms.
The sight was enough to break anyone’s train of thought. Brenna and Luke stared in silence at the two dragons, then at each other. Seconds later the lawyers trooped into the courtroom with their clients. A moment after that, the judge reentered.
“Proceed, Counsel,” the judge ordered.
Brad’s attorney continued to explain how his client had been wronged by the duplicitous, avaricious Amber.
Luke gripped the arms of his chair.
Just me and my baby, that’s all either of us will ever need. Brenna’s statement swirled in his head. She sounded so sure, yet he knew she was wrong.
He had three brothers and three sisters, along with a myriad of cousins; all were married with children. He’d seen firsthand that a new mother and a newborn baby needed a lot more than each other. They needed a support system.
At the very least they needed one other committed person involved—first, with the pregnancy, and then with the infant itself. The baby’s father ought to own that role. Every child deserved a good father.
Brad’s attorney sat down, and Amber’s counsel, a young woman who looked to be right out of law school, rose to her feet with an impassioned declaration about women’s rights and jealous-male greed.
Luke wasn’t listening. He was too astounded by his own unexpected thoughts on parenthood. It sounded as if they’d been lifted directly from one of his brother’s family-values speeches.
He knew Matt believed all that stuff, but Luke didn’t. At least, he thought he didn’t. He’d always considered himself to be an anything-goes kind of guy.
But the thought of Brenna Morgan and her baby, alone except for each other, struck something deep within him, summoning beliefs and feelings he hadn’t been aware of harboring.
Luke looked up at the high ceiling, at the old-fashioned windows that looked as though they hadn’t been opened in the past century. This courthouse really was a strange place, where his brother’s speeches played inside his head. Where he couldn’t stop thinking about a pretty, young pregnant woman whom he didn’t even know.
Except it felt as if he knew her well. From the moment they’d started talking yesterday, something had clicked, as if they’d known each other for a long, long time. As if there had never been a time when they hadn’t known each other. They were open and frank and honest with each other; conversation between them came too easily for them to be total strangers.
But they’d never met…not in this lifetime.
Luke was unnerved. Now he seemed to be channeling his youngest sister, who believed in all that past-life nonsense. Luke didn’t. He was a live-for-today kind of guy who tried not to think of next year, let alone a next lifetime. Or a past one…with Brenna Morgan?
A diversion was definitely in order before he lost his mind completely. Luke tried to redirect his thoughts to his new book, which was coming along fantastically well.
His newest serial killer, a charming land developer, was on the trail for fresh victims, and a small town hosting a national pageant for teenage beauty queens had invited him there, in hopes of becoming the site of his next lucrative mall….
Luke shifted in his chair, picturing the calculating killer and the teen beauties, especially the one about to meet her doom….
And his mind abruptly went blank.
If he leaned to the right, he nearly choked on the heavy scent of musk oil emanating from one of the dragon twins. But if he leaned to the left, his shoulders brushed Brenna’s and he inhaled the light, fresh scent of soap and shampoo and powder, a wholesome yet somehow alluring scent.
Luke sat straight up, suddenly, wildly alarmed. It couldn’t be happening. His body was acting as if he was aroused.
He was aroused!
His pulses thundered in his head, drowning out the lawyers’ voices, the whir from the heating vent in the wall, the dried fallen leaves being blown against the glass window-panes by the wind. Brenna Morgan, sitting next to him and oblivious of the effect she was having on him, completely commanded his senses.
He could see her and smell her, but that wasn’t enough. He needed more. He was filled with a faint sense of anger at his involuntary response. This would not do!
But he could barely stop himself from reaching over to touch her, right here in the middle of the courtroom. He desperately wanted to feel if her hair was as silky as it looked, to run his fingers along the lines of her beautifully shaped mouth. To insert his thumb inside.
Luke pictured her lips parting, then allowed his imagination free rein, erotically expanding the scene in every way….
He bent forward, straining and aching and pulsing with need.
Jason M. in the chair beside him suddenly elbowed him.
“She’s hot, huh?” the younger man whispered.
Startled, Luke followed his gaze and realized that not only had Jason noticed his predicament, he had attributed it to the defendant, Amber, seated at the nearby table, her enormous chest thrust forward, her cherry-red lips pouting. Amber repeatedly flashed provocative glances at the jury, zeroing in on the three younger males in particular.
“I think she likes us,” the other Jason chimed in with a snort and a chortle.
Which drew the attention of the judge. “No talking in the jury box!” he snapped.
The Jasons lapsed into sullen silence, but Luke was grateful for the reprieve.
With a sidelong gaze, Luke resumed his covert study of Brenna. Her skin, glowing and natural, her delicate features, put Amber’s heavily made-up mask in the shade. As for figures…
The two Jasons might be slavering over Amber’s ample assets, but Luke found himself thoroughly fascinated by the sudden visible movements of Brenna’s pregnant belly. Beneath her knit shirt, the outline of the baby’s head—or its rump?—was discernible as it rolled over within her.
Brenna laid her hand over her belly, as if to soothe the restless baby. And Luke, unable to stop himself, did the same thing. He felt the warmth of her belly and the movements of the unborn child beneath his fingers.
And then his hand touched Brenna’s.
It was as if an electric current had passed between them.
Brenna’s head jerked up, and she drew in a sharp, shocked breath. Her eyes met Luke’s, and he instantly lifted his hand, unable to come up with an excuse—or at least one he considered acceptable. Not to mention believable.
“Uh, sorry,” he muttered. “Irresistible impulse.”
He’d tossed around that phrase in his books, not really believing such a thing existed. It was merely an easy motive to attribute to a character’s behavior, almost a cliché.
Now he knew that irresistible impulses were real indeed, because he had been seized by one himself when he’d put his hand on Brenna. But how could he ever expect her to understand that, when he didn’t understand it himself?
Luke watched Brenna draw back, trying to move as far from him as possible within the confines of her chair. He couldn’t blame her. After all, he had invaded her personal space and touched her like some sort of out-of-control psycho.
He wrote about those—he wasn’t supposed to act like one!
Luke closed his eyes and massaged his temples with his fingertips. What was happening to him? And why?
The morning session was adjourned for a one-hour lunch break. The two Jasons were the first to go, barreling past the other jurors and the attorneys and casting smirks at Amber as they passed her.
The eight senior members of the jury decided to go together to Peglady’s, a restaurant near the courthouse. They were halfway to the door when Sarge, the foreman, turned around to look at Brenna and Luke, still standing side-by-side in the box.
“Hey, you two want to come with us?” called Sarge.
“No, thanks,” Luke answered for both himself and Brenna. “Uh, you didn’t want to go with them, did you?” he tacked on as the eight jurors departed with surprising speed.
“Too bad for me if I did,” said Brenna. “I’d have to run to catch up with them, and I’m not in running condition these days.”
“Yeah, they are hotfooting it out of here,” observed Luke, unrepentant. “I guess they’re hungry. Well, Peglady’s serves big portions so there’s plenty to eat, plus extra to take home. Too bad the food is inedible.”
“How can that be? I heard one of the women, Wanda, I think, tell the others that Peglady’s is an institution here in Ebensburg.”
“Yeah, it’s an institution, all right. Like prisons, schools, state hospitals. Name one of those renowned for its great cuisine.”
“Point taken.” Brenna made her way out of the box.
Luke followed. He wasn’t following her per se, he assured himself. To get out of the courtroom, he had no choice but to trail her, unless he wanted to be rude and push past her. And he did not want to be rude.
“So where are you going for lunch?” Luke didn’t like trailing behind, so he caught up to her, easily matching his long strides to her waddling ones.
It was true, she did waddle like a duck, an observation noted by his writer’s eye for detail. Being so very pregnant, he knew she couldn’t help it. How did she walk when she wasn’t pregnant? Sexily, with her hips swaying seductively from side to side? Gracefully, like a dancer? Or—
“Maybe I’ll brave Peglady’s, despite the inedible food.” Her voice intruded on his ruminations. “At least it’s close. I don’t want to walk too far in the cold. What about you?”
“I think I’ll go home. I live about twenty minutes outside of town, up the mountain.”
“Twenty minutes up and twenty minutes back. That won’t give you much time to eat,” Brenna pointed out.
“Approximately twenty minutes. It’s sweet of you to care.”
Brenna looked up at him. His grin and the glint in his eyes matched his teasing tone.
“Don’t waste your boyish-delight act on me,” she said tartly. “It’ll probably go over well with Amber, though. She couldn’t take her eyes off you and the Jasons, but I think she’d choose you, given any encouragement at all.”
“Boyish delight?” Luke arched his brows. “Ouch. As for Amber… Since we jurors are forbidden to discuss anything about this case among ourselves, I suppose I can’t accuse you of having a jealous fit of pique because Amber was looking me over. It could be grounds for a mistrial.”
They walked into the jurors’ lounge where the coatroom was located and found their coats. She had her big pale-brown parka, he had a navy-blue winter jacket that deepened the color of his eyes. Both carried their coats instead of putting them on.
Luke held the elevator doors open with his arm until she was safely inside the car. And then a group of people appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and pushed inside, shoving Brenna hard against Luke.
“Hey, people, quit rushing like a herd of stampeding buffalo,” Luke ordered sharply. “This woman is practically nine-months pregnant, and she was almost knocked down. Every one of you owes her an apology, and if she doesn’t get one, I’m getting your names. And this is a courthouse, so just use your imagination as to what I’ll do next.”
“Luke!” whispered Brenna, dismayed.
Everybody in the crowded elevator began offering her abject apologies, making sure that Luke saw and heard them. She stood pressed against him, her back molded to his chest and the cradle of his thighs. His hands rested on her shoulders. They felt heavy and warm, just like his body felt against hers. She had to fight to keep from relaxing against him and melting into him. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to do.
Heat permeated through her, and it felt good, keeping her warm even when the doors opened to a blast of the chilly November air that filled the first floor of the courthouse. The drafty entrance foyer, the source of the unwelcome cold, was just ahead of them.
“Every single one of those people told you they were sorry,” Luke said, sounding awestruck. “And I think they genuinely were sorry, too. Sometimes people surprise me.”
“The unanimous apologies aren’t surprising at all. Everybody in that elevator knew you were watching them. They probably considered you dangerously prone to filing lawsuits. If you had told them to sing Christmas carols to me, they would’ve launched into a chorus of ‘Joy to the World.”’
“You have a tendency to overanalyze. I suggest that you simply accept things at face value, Brenna.”
“I suggest you stop making suggestions, Luke.”
“That’s the first time you’ve said my name,” he murmured, staring down at her.
“So what?” Brenna didn’t look at him; she kept her gaze focused well over his shoulder. “It was the first time you’d said my name, too,” she added defensively.
“So you called me Luke in retaliation for me calling you Brenna?” The glint was back in his eye, the drollery in his tone. “You really go for the jugular, don’t you, babe?”
She made no reply.
“I do have another suggestion to make,” Luke instantly filled the silence between them. “I suggest you thank me for defending you against those boors in the elevator. I stood up for you, remember?”
“I didn’t ask you to. I didn’t want you to. I don’t like to make a scene, and you certainly turned that elevator ride into one.”
“Well, for one who doesn’t like to stand out, you sure picked a helluva way to get pregnant, honey. Taking the sperm-bank route inspires curiosity, which means lots more attention than simple, old-fashioned procreation ever would’ve.”
They stood a few feet away from the doors while they donned their coats. Luke easily shrugged into his, then helped Brenna, who was struggling with hers while also shifting her purse from side to side.
He let his hands linger on her shoulders while she fumbled with the zipper.
“I’ve never told anybody about—about how I got pregnant,” she said, so quietly he had to strain to hear her. “And I’d appreciate it if you would keep it to yourself.”
Brenna gave up on the zipper and hurried to the double doors. Luke was right behind her, and this time he pushed them open, holding them for her.
“You haven’t told anybody else?” He was incredulous. “Nobody knows the truth but me?”
“No. It’s a fact, I really don’t like making a scene or being the center of attention. And as you pointed out, something kind of…unconventional, like the donor catalog and bank, pretty much guarantees…speculation and gossip.”
A blast of wind hit them as they stepped outside. Shuddering from the cold, Brenna clutched the sides of her coat together.
“Come on, my car’s right down there.” Luke pointed to his enormous black Dodge Durango truck parked along the curb, almost directly in front of the courthouse.
He took Brenna’s arm and walked her through the wind to his truck. She ducked her head, letting him guide her, the cold air stinging her eyes, making them tear. Moments later she was seated in the front passenger seat while Luke revved up the engine.
“Isn’t this spot reserved for a VIP or something? How did you park here without getting ticketed?” Brenna flexed her icy fingers, pulling on her knit gloves. “Yesterday they told us to park two blocks down—if we could find a place in the free lot there. Otherwise, we were on our own and good luck.”
She zipped up her coat just as the heater began to work, quickly warming the interior.
“One of my cousins is a cop,” explained Luke. “He suggested this spot and said he’d pass the word that my truck was right where it should be.”
“I thought your relatives didn’t like you—except for your favorite aunt who enjoys grisly murders.”
“Well, some of the younger cousins, especially the guys, think I’m cool.” Luke swung the truck into the sparse flow of traffic. “And I shamelessly buy their friendship by taking them out to lunch or dinner or whatever.”
“Are you trying to get back in your family’s good graces?” Brenna asked curiously. “Is that why you came back here after…” Her voice trailed off.
“After my brother fired me and my family told me I was insufferable and full of myself, a sleazy showboat, and a vain big shot who was in danger of losing my immortal soul?” Luke chuckled wryly. “Mixed metaphors don’t bother the Minteers, and they freely fling them.”
“But why—” Brenna stared out the window. “Where are we going?”
“To lunch, remember? We have a little less than an hour.”
“I’m not going to your place in…in the mountains!” Her voice rose in panic. “Let me out right now!”
“I’m not going home. You were right, there’s not enough time.” Luke cast her an inquisitive glance. “You’re scared,” he observed thoughtfully. “Of me?”
“I admit that I do have issues with being taken somewhere against my will by a man I hardly know,” Brenna replied tersely.
“Issues,” he scoffed, his dark brows narrowing. “The current buzzword. An annoying one, too. Nobody has problems anymore, everybody has issues. Although it seems to me what you really have going on is an overload of hormones. You were operating in high maternal-protection mode.”
“Maybe so.” Brenna folded her arms and rested them on the shelf of her belly. She tried to will her pounding heart into beating a little slower.
“Were you freaked when I touched your belly in the courtroom earlier?” Luke blurted out. A flush of heat spread up his neck to his face. “I didn’t intend to scare you, but when I saw the baby moving, it—I—”
“It’s happened to me before,” she said briskly. “People wanting to touch my belly to feel the baby move, except it’s always been elderly women, and they always ask.”
Once again she tamped down the swell of feelings the touch of his big hand on her belly had elicited within her. They meant nothing; they were a physiological reaction, she reminded herself. Insisted to herself. Hormonal overload and nothing else.
“It really was an irresistible impulse,” explained Luke. “You see, I have a scene in my new book where a pregnant woman—”
“You’re not going to have a pregnant woman murdered by a serial killer?” Brenna was aghast.
“No, but the killer does touch the pregnant woman’s belly. It’s very, very suspenseful. I want the reader literally shaking and screaming at the killer, ‘Don’t you dare hurt that mother and child.’ And when he doesn’t, the reader’s relief will be—”
“You never did say where we’re going,” Brenna cut in sharply. He’d been exploring the mind-set of his serial killer character when he’d touched her? She shuddered.
“I’m kidnapping you to the China Palace, a few blocks from here. Ever been there?”
“Yes. And jokes about kidnapping aren’t funny.”
“That’s what the homicide detective said to the serial killer in my first book,” joked Luke. She didn’t smile, and he sighed. “Well, the humor worked in the scene in the book.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“I guess you’ll have to, since you never intend to read a word I write. Okay, we’ll move on to a neutral topic. The China Palace. It’s owned by the Lo family, who ran a successful place in Philadelphia but moved here because they wanted to try a small town for a change. They’re very strong supporters of my brother. Held a fund-raising dinner for Matt right here in the restaurant.”
Luke pulled into the parking lot of the China Palace. Inside, the hostess and a waitress, both young Chinese women, greeted Luke enthusiastically and escorted them to a choice table by the window.
It appeared that Matt wasn’t the only Minteer to enjoy support here, Brenna noted. And the admiration appeared to be mutual. Luke chatted and joked with the two young women as Brenna seated herself and opened the menu.
“Okay, which one are you?” asked one of the young women, finally acknowledging Brenna’s presence.
It took Brenna a moment to realize that she was the one being addressed. And she had no idea what the answer to that question might be. She stared at Luke, baffled.
“Jennifer wants to know which one of the many Minteers you are,” he explained, toying with a salt shaker.
“One of the sisters or one of the cousins?” prompted Jennifer, smiling invitingly at Luke.
Brenna met Luke’s eyes. He shrugged. “I’ll let you decide since you’re the fiction writer,” she said dryly.
Luke cleared his throat. “Actually, she isn’t a Minteer. This is Brenna Morgan. Brenna, meet the Lo sisters, Jennifer and Isabelle.”
“Hello,” Brenna offered politely.
The Lo sisters gaped at her, barely managing to mutter a response before abruptly departing.
“What was that all about?” Luke frowned. “I’ve never known them to be rude before. I’ve been snubbed by plenty of people in this town but the Lo sisters have always been exceptionally friendly.”
“Yes, I noticed. And they weren’t being rude, they were stunned.” Brenna was amused. The astonishment on the Lo sisters’ faces had been comical. “No doubt it was the shock of seeing you with a pregnant woman who wasn’t related to you.”
“What are you implying?” Luke demanded.
“Me? Nothing.” Brenna turned her attention back to the menu.
Luke looked over at the Lo sisters who were blatantly staring at him and Brenna. “I’ve been the object of enough gossip to know that particular look they’re giving us,” he muttered.
“I’m sure you have. I’ve heard some of the stories.” Brenna never glanced up from the menu.
“For crying out loud, we’re serving on a jury together. It’s our lunch break!” exclaimed an aggrieved Luke. “And who told you stories about me? And, er, what were they?”
“When I told my neighbor that Congressman Minteer’s brother was on the jury with me, she told me her brother knew you back in Harrisburg, in your pre-D.C. days.” Brenna closed the menu. “I think I’ll have a bowl of wonton soup, an egg roll and chicken with cashews.”
“Who’s your neighbor’s brother?” pressed Luke.
“Steve Saraceni, the lobbyist.”
“Uh-oh.” Luke actually gulped. “Did she, um, go into specifics?”
“No.” Brenna smiled sweetly.
“Well, it doesn’t matter, anyway, because it’s all ancient history, water over the dam. A place in the past we’ve passed out of.” Luke paused to catch his breath. “Those days are over. Saraceni would say the same thing himself.”
Brenna sipped her water. “I’m so thirsty. The air in that courtroom is too dry.”
“Okay, the stories out of D.C. were even worse, I can’t deny that.” Luke fiddled with his napkin. “But that’s—”
“Ancient history? Water over the dam? A place in the past you’ve—”
“Isabelle!” Luke stood up and waved the waitress over. “We’re ready to order now.”
Three
The afternoon session moved at a glacial pace, and several of the jurors had trouble staying awake. Brenna was one of them. Her eyelids felt heavy, keeping them open was an effort and a numbing lethargy spread through her.
It was too warm in here, the lawyers droned on and on, citing one dull legal reference after another. Plus, she’d eaten too much for lunch. The combination was narcotizing. She allowed herself to close her eyes. It would be all right to close them for just a moment.
Brenna drifted in the netherworld between sleep and wakefulness….
Images glided through her mind. She saw herself and Luke sitting at their table in the China Palace eating lunch. He used chopsticks—adeptly, too—while she and everybody else in the restaurant ate with plain old forks. Brenna smiled now, as she had then. She didn’t know why, but his prowess with the Asian utensils amused her.
And then he’d put down his chopsticks and asked her quietly, “Why did you tell the truth about your pregnancy to me and nobody else?”
Brenna was faced with the very question she had asked herself when blurting out the truth she’d kept carefully guarded all these months. Why had she told Luke?
“I think it was because you were goading me,” she’d replied slowly.
Luke nodded, seeming to accept the answer. Brenna was glad he did, but she didn’t buy her own explanation. She should’ve dismissed Luke’s speculations with a shrug, not caring what he thought. Instead, she’d told him her deepest secret. It made no sense at all, or else it made very revealing sense.
“What is the story you’ve told everybody else in town?” Luke demanded.
“Unlike you, I’m not too well known in this town, so everybody doesn’t want to know about me. I did tell my neighbors and my doctor that I, uh, was in a relationship that didn’t work out, and when I found out I was pregnant, the baby’s father left.”
“Which is exactly what I thought at first—until you emphatically informed me that there was no boyfriend,” Luke reminded her. “Hasn’t anybody else pushed for more details?”
“No. Nobody else has been that rude. Or pushy. Or intrusive. They’ve respected my privacy.”
“Maybe they figured talking about it—about him, the supposed father—would upset you,” surmised Luke. “Or maybe they just weren’t interested enough to ask you anything more.”
“Maybe,” she’d agreed.
After that Luke had grown very quiet. He hadn’t spoken much at all as they finished their meal and drove back to the courthouse, where he reclaimed the VIP parking spot for his truck again.
“We will now take a brief recess!”
The judge’s stentorian tones plus the bang of his gavel startled Brenna back into full consciousness. Her eyes flew open, and she jerked forward. She felt a hand close over her upper arm, steadying her.
It was then she noticed how very close she was sitting to Luke. Their shoulders were touching, and she was leaning heavily against him. His hand was on her arm. Was she imagining it or was his thumb lightly stroking?
Brenna stood up as quickly as she could. Unsteady on her feet, she gripped the front rail for support.
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