A Love Surrendered (32 page)

“Lauren, what are you doing?” he had yelled, dashing to her rescue. But he’d known
exactly
what she was doing the moment he’d taken the box and helped her down. Fingers trailing from his neck to his arms, she’d slipped them to his waist while her body slid against his.

“Goodness, your body is like rock,” she’d whispered, a sense of awe in her tone, and not even the sleet raining down
on him now could chill the warmth of his blood at how that had made him feel. Like a lightning bolt out of nowhere, temptation struck hard, reminding him how long it’d been since he’d made love to his wife, and how long he and Katie had been warring. No, she hadn’t turned him out of her bed for the last several weeks, but she may as well have. Barely talking, cool smiles for Kit’s sake, and then studying late till he was asleep before she’d slip into their bed. And even then, her body was as cold and unwilling as if she hadn’t been there at all. Making it easy—
so
easy—
to feel the heat of Lauren’s hands at his waist, to hear the shallow breathing from parted lips, to see the hope in eyes so blatant with desire.

I am SUCH an idiot . . .

He’d always known women were attracted to him, but he’d prided himself on self-control and a level head. Hadn’t he proven that with Katie before they got married? And, yes, he supposed he’d noticed Lauren’s occasional stares or the playful banter that broke the grueling monotony of long days and nights, but he had almost the same thing with Bobbie Sue and Gladys, so why was this different? He closed his eyes with a silent groan, welcoming the punishment of the icy cold. Because deep down inside he’d had his suspicions, but he’d been too preoccupied with work, too grateful for the help, and too blasted cocky to think anything could trip up the invincible Luke McGee. But this, he was reluctant to admit,
this
had caught him off guard. Something evil and sinister he’d never seen coming—an invitation in a smile, drawing his lips to hers like a lamb to the slaughter. A blood sacrifice of his marriage vow on the altar of lust.

He swallowed hard, eyelids weighting closed from the burden of guilt. Not guilt over giving in, because he hadn’t. No, his anger had risen up inside so fierce, he’d literally pushed the woman away, toppling both her and a vase of flowers when she bumped into her desk. Carmichael’s friend or no, he fired her on the spot, sending her packing with her baggage and all.

And now he had baggage of his own.

He’d been so convinced Katie was wrong and he was right, seeing Jack as the proverbial speck in her eye while he completely missed the plank in his own. A man so proud, he’d trusted himself more than he trusted his wife, dead sure he was beyond temptation.

Yeah, right . . .

Yes, he’d turned Lauren away, but reality slapped him hard in the face when the “impossible” happened. Moral, upstanding Luke McGee, the man who loved God and adored his wife and family, came face-to-face with the ugliness of lust. And deep in his soul he had to live with the fact that in the single space of a heartbeat, he’d been attracted to a woman who wasn’t his wife. “Your body is like rock,” said the spider to the fly. His mouth went flat.
No, that would be my skull.
The cold water continued to badger and he washed his hands again, almost feeling the residue of temptation sticky on his palms as needles of ice prickled his skin.

Katie, forgive me . . .

Lauren had fled with the slam of a door, and he’d wandered into his office like a zombie, slumped in his chair with his head in his hands while his pride lay as shattered as the vase on the floor. And then in the innocent jangle of the phone, what was left of his pride had been neatly ground in by a call from his wife.

“I have my orals tonight and Lizzie can’t watch Kit. Can you be home by six?”

Not
hello
. . .
how was your day?
. . . or even
Luke, I need a favor
. And yet, somehow it didn’t matter, because it was the most important call he’d ever had, reminding him just how much he loved his wife.
And
how much she had a right to be angry. Because at the end of the day, when all the slivers and pieces of his pride were picked up and swept away, the truth was that she was married to an idiot . . . and a pompous one at that.

Turning the water off, he reached for his towel and stepped
out of the tub, chilled by both the frigid shower and the prospect of a frigid night when he told his wife the truth. “Correction,” he said, lathering his jaw with Barbasol. “
If
I tell my wife the truth.” All Katie really needed to know was he was wrong and he was sorry, and not anything more. In his mind he’d already committed an unpardonable sin—a moment of lust—and the last thing he wanted was to hurt the woman he loved. Razor to skin, the blade nicked and he winced, staring at the blood on his cheek. He sighed and hung his head.
Because heaven knows I’m bleeding enough for us both.

The clock in the parlor chimed nine as he slipped into his pajama bottoms and spiked fingers through his hair. Wiping down the sink, he tossed his towel over the rack and his clothes in the hamper, peeking in on Kit on his way to the kitchen. Chugging a glass of milk, he heard the front door open and close, and instantly it pooled in his mouth. He set the empty glass in the sink and sucked in a swallow of air, ambling down the hall as if it were a walk in the park.

She was bent over the coffee table with a stack of books in her hands, and his eyes automatically roved from shapely legs to the gentle curve of her hips, imparting a heated awareness of just how much he’d missed his wife. Gulping back the knot of pride in his throat, he folded his arms and slacked a hip to the wall. “You hungry? ’Cause I can fix you a sandwich.”

Emitting a tiny squeak, she whirled around so fast, half the books spilled on the floor. She slapped a hand to her chest, voice hoarse. “Good night, McGee, why don’t you just hide behind the door and jump out—you scared the living daylights out of me!”

Tamping down a smile, he strolled in and retrieved her books. “Sorry, Sass, but I do live here you know, as unappealing as that may be at the moment.”

He leaned over to kiss her, but she quickly turned away. “How’s Kit?” she asked over her shoulder on the way to their room. “Did she go to bed without a fuss?”

“Yeah, if you don’t count three glasses of water and six stories a ‘fuss.’ ” He followed her down the hall, eyeing her from the door as she unbuttoned her blouse. “How’d your orals go?”

“Fine.” She glanced up, color staining her cheeks as he watched her take off her blouse. Shifting her hip, she clasped the blouse closed with a tight purse of her lips. “Do you mind?”

No way could he stop the lazy grin that slid over his face. “Not at all, Sass, you go right ahead.”

Blouse bunched, she angled a brow. “Well then, do you mind turning around?”

He crossed his arms and leaned against the door, the slightest bit of edge to his tone. “Actually I do. You’re my wife, Katie Rose, and I can look all I want.”

Emitting a noisy breath, she snatched her nightgown and started for the bathroom.

He blocked her way with palms flat to the door, softening his tone. “Come on, Sass, can’t we talk this out, please? I have something I need to say.”

She parked her hands on her hips, blouse dangling at her side. “Well, unless it’s an apology, McGee, you’ll be talking to yourself.” She paused, tilting her head to the right. “Or as your wife, is listening something
else
I’m expected to do?”

He exhaled, feeling the heat of his pride creeping up the back of his neck. “It is,” he said quietly, “an apology, that is. Not something you’re expected to do.” His smile was contrite.

That seemed to take the wind out of her sails—her chest expanded and contracted in a slow release of air before her chin inched up. “All right . . . I’m listening.”

He pried a hand from her hip and led her to the sofa, easing her down before sitting beside her. Replenishing his air, he took both of her hands in his. “Katie,” he whispered, forcing the words from his throat, “I . . .” He swallowed hard, cleared his throat, and tried again. “Katie, I . . . well, I owe you an apology,” he said in a rush. There. It was out, and he wasn’t even annoyed by the drop of her chin. Thumbs
grazing her palms, he forged on. “I was wrong to yell at you in the office, and I apologize.” He released a reedy breath.
Okay, that wasn’t so bad.

She arched a brow. “And?”

Without realizing it, he began to grind his jaw.
“Aaannd . . . ,”
he said, dragging the word out as long as he could, “I want you to know I respect your opinion regarding the situation with Lauren, and I won’t be working with her again.”

“Why?”

He blinked, a muscle spasm adding to the grind of his jaw. “Because . . . she’s gone, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“Gone?” she said, the question as flat as the press of her lips.

“Yes, gone.”

“Why?”

“Because she just is.”

She leaned forward, eyes laying him bare. “Gone to lunch, gone across town, gone on vacation? I want facts, McGee, not single syllables.”

He blasted out a sigh. “For pity’s sake, Katie, I fired her, okay?”

She nodded her head. “I see. And why exactly would you do that?”

He gulped, nearly choking on the words caught in his throat. “Because . . . you were right . . .” His eyelids flickered briefly as he pushed the rest of the sentence off the tip of his tongue. “And . . . I was . . . wrong.”

Her smile could have blinded him, which given the superior gloat in her eyes, might be a good thing. “Ahhhhh . . . words I never thought I’d hear from the sanctified lips of Luke McGee.” She sat back with a fold of her arms, the smile suddenly nowhere in sight. Her voice was clipped. “And when exactly did this revelation occur?”

It felt like fire ants were swarming his neck, which, based on the dangerous look on Katie’s face, would have been his first option. His voice was a croak. “Uh . . . recently.”

She cocked her head, brows lifting to new heights. “Really. How recently, would you say? Last week, this week, yesterday, today?”

His voice cracked. “Today.”

She leaned forward, and he was pretty sure her eyes burned more than the ants. “Why?” she whispered, her voice akin to the calm before the storm.

Avoiding her gaze, he opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He swallowed hard, tried again. Still nothing.

Lunging forward with wildfire in her eyes, she jerked his chin up, index finger and thumb pinching his skin. “So help me, Luke McGee, you better spit it out right now, what you or that woman did to get her fired, or I will launch on you like a bad case of measles scratched raw.”

Teeth clenched, muscle spasms in his face had a field day as he slowly removed her hand from his jaw, biting the words out. “She-made-a-pass-at-me, okay? Are you satisfied?”

“Deliriously. What happened?” she snapped.

He shot to his feet and started to pace, practically gouging his hair by the roots. “Nothing, I swear. She was on a stool, pulling a box from a shelf, and needed help.” He reinforced his lungs with more air, then dove right back in as he mauled the back of his neck. “The next thing I know, I’m helping her down and she . . . she . . .”

Katie’s eyes narrowed, stretching two syllables into four. “She-e wha-t?”

He stopped, suddenly too exhausted to worry anymore. Venting with a sigh, he plopped on the couch and put his head in his hands. “She slid down the front of me and put her hands to my waist. Said my body was like a rock.”

Nothing. He waited, not sure he wanted to see her expression. A giggle floated in the air, and he glanced up, a pinch of hurt between his brows. “You think this is funny?”

Lips pursed to ward off a smile, she shook her head in a series of tiny little shakes before her eyes widened with a grate of her lip. “Are you sure she wasn’t talking about your head?”

His eyes narrowed into a squint. “This isn’t funny, Katie Rose, and I think you’re being awfully cavalier about another woman flirting with your husband.”

She sobered quickly, a tender slant to her brows. “No, darling, I don’t think this is funny. I’m just venting with humor so I don’t scratch your eyes out.”

“Oh,” he said, discreetly scooting a few inches away.

“Did you kiss her?”

He jerked up as if he’d been shot. “Kiss her?!” he rasped, nearly dislocating his jaw. “For the love of all that’s decent, Katie, are you crazy? No, I didn’t kiss her—I pushed her away!”

Her lips twitched. “And she didn’t kiss you?”

He shook his head hard. “Of course not! I wasn’t about to let it get that far.”

“And you fired her?”

“Absolutely—right on the spot.”

She took his hand in hers, ducking to peek up at him. “Then what’s the problem, Luke? You admitted I was right and you were wrong, you apologized, you resisted temptation, and you sent the hussy packing. All in all, I’d say that’s a pretty good day.”

He shot her a sideways glance, mouth sagging that she was taking it so well. His lips clamped as a sliver of hurt prickled.
Too
well. “Aren’t you even a little jealous?”

She shimmied close to tuck an arm to his waist. “Not really, because unlike
someone
I know,” she said with teasing emphasis, “I trust you, which—” she poked his shoulder—“is
not
carte blanche for a married man
or
woman to spend time alone with the opposite sex unless they are the dean, a blood relative, or clergy.” She pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. “But that said, I’ve watched women ogle you since my first day at the BCAS, Luke McGee, and heaven knows I’ve done my fair share. So it’s no great surprise to me that women find you to be a dangerously handsome man. But I also know you love me, you love God, and you love your family with a
vengeance, and in every single situation I’ve ever seen you in with a woman—me included—you’ve proven yourself to be one of the most honorable and decent men I’ve ever known.”

A slow grin traveled his lips. He slipped an arm to her waist, pulling her close. “Really?”