Monday's Child (5 page)

“Here we are.”

Luke looked out at the cottage. Lights shone from all of the downstairs windows. In the frosty darkness, it appeared warm and welcoming.

“Carole said she’d open the place up and put the heating on. She’s also organizing ye folks some dinner.”

Puzzled, Luke frowned. Had they told him this already, or not? “Carole?”

“My wife.” Dave opened his door, letting a blast of frigid air in. “We’ve been married fifteen years. She teaches at the local primary school. She’s also a black belt in Tae Kwon Do.”

“That’s some achievement. Remind me not to annoy her.”

“I tell myself that every time we have an argument. And she also thinks ye guys are married. First time in fifteen years I’ve lied tae her about something.”

“I’m sorry for putting you in this position.”

“Not yer fault. First time I’ve mixed home life and the job so closely. But if it keeps Sara safe and gets Austin off the streets, it’ll be worth it.”

They got out of the car, and the men escorted Sara to the door. It opened as they reached the porch, and the smell of baked potatoes and beef poured out.

Carole was much shorter than Luke imagined. Just over five feet tall, she had short black hair and glasses. Her smile was as warm as the house. “Hello.”

Dave kissed her. “Hello, love. This is Luke and Sara Nemec. This is my wife, Carole.”

Luke shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

His first impression was how small and claustrophobic the place was compared to his apartment back in the States. He hoped he’d get used to it.

****

Sara found herself ushered inside by the men faster than she liked.

Carole gave her a beaming smile. “Let me show ye where everything is.”

Glancing across at Luke, Sara half expected him to say she had to stay within his field of vision at all times. Instead, he shot her a smile. “Go on, hon. I’ll bring the bags in.”

Sara followed Carole around the cottage. It was bigger than she thought it was. Downstairs was a kitchen, lounge, and dining room. A narrow winding staircase led up to four bedrooms and a bathroom. Only the double bed in the master bedroom had a quilt on. Hopefully, there was spare bedding somewhere.

She came down the stairs as Luke put the cases down on the hall floor. He smiled at her. “We’ll unpack later, hon.”

Sara bit her tongue as she followed him into the kitchen, hating the way he called her hon. It implied ownership. She was his nothing, and that was the way it had to stay.

Dave took Carole’s hand. “We’ll let ye settle in, Luke. I’ll come by in the morning. Organize food shopping and so on.”

“Sounds good, Dave, thanks. I’ll see you out.”

Sara turned her attention to dinner. She had it plated up and on the table by the time Luke came back in. In spite of the casserole being as tasty as it smelled and the potatoes baked to perfection, she had no appetite. She pushed the food around the plate, picking at it.

“Is something wrong with the food, Sara?”

“No, I’m not hungry tonight. Traveling tends to upset my stomach.” She took a deep breath. “The house is bigger than I thought. It’s nice and cozy. We must be near the sea because I can smell it. I’ll have to explore tomorrow. It’s too dark right now. I wouldn’t see anything.”

Luke drummed his fingers on the table. “First of all, there are a few ground rules we need to set. You will stay indoors. No phone calls. No—”

“I don’t need another lecture, thanks. I know the staying inside one by heart.” Scraping her chair back across the floor, Sara jumped to her feet. “I’ll go and make up one of the other beds.”

She ran up the winding staircase and into the other furnished bedrooms, rummaging through the wardrobes and drawers and even the airing cupboard, her frustration growing. She pushed her hair behind her ears and cried out, whirling around as the kitchen door slammed open and footsteps hurtled up the stairs. He was fast, she’d grant him that.

Luke ran into the room. “Sara? What’s wrong?”

“There are no more sheets, pillows or duvets. All we have is what is on the bed in the main bedroom.”

“Is that such a problem?”

Sara’s eyes widened in sheer horror. “Excuse me? Wife in name only,
thank
you, very much.”

Luke held her gaze. “If you let me finish, it’s only for the one night. All I was going to suggest was I’ll sleep in one of the other rooms. I’ll make do tonight and get more bedding tomorrow.”

“You would have thought they would have provided enough to start with.”

“Mrs. McArthur doesn’t know the truth. She thinks you’re my wife. Why would we want separate beds?”

Sara shook her head and refused to give him an answer. Turning her back on him, she headed downstairs to tackle the dishes. As she washed up, she made a point of yawning, a lot. Drying her hands, she yawned again. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Leftenant.”

“Goodnight, Sara.”

She picked her case up from the hall and carried it to the foot of the stairs.

“Do you want a hand?”

Sara glanced back at him. If he knew about the baby, he’d insist, but he didn’t, and that was the way it would stay. “No, thanks, I can manage. Just because I’m female, it doesn’t mean I’m too weak to carry my own case up a few stairs.”

Luke threw his hands up. “You know what, fine. I’m too tired to argue tonight.”

He grabbed his bags and following her up the stairs, carried them to the other bedroom.

Sara locked herself in the bathroom and had a long hot bath before returning to her room. The door to the leftenant’s room was ajar. She glanced in. He lay on the bed, using his bag as a pillow and his coat as a quilt, his Bible open in his hands.

Sara felt a stab of guilt, and tapped on the door. “Leftenant?”

Luke glanced up. Were his lips blue with cold or was it the light? “I thought I said to call me Luke.”

“This is silly. You can’t sleep like that. You’ll freeze.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Sara took a deep breath. She may not like the set up, but he wasn’t going to get sick on her account. “Look. It’s only for the one night, right? My bed has a top sheet and a duvet—quilt. If I sleep under the sheet, and you sleep on top of it, you can share the duvet.”

“Thank you.” Luke got up and followed her through to her room. “Which side of the bed do you want?”

“I sleep on the right.” Sara stood to one side, clutching her dressing down around her.

Luke smiled and turned his back. “You’re safe with me, Sara. I promise I won’t look.”

She hung her dressing gown over the chair, and dived into bed, pulling the duvet up to her chin. “All right.”

She felt the bed give as Luke sat down and pulled off his socks. It gave more as he got in, taking care to lie on top of the sheet. She shivered, aware of his presence and the memories of having a male body that close to her evoked. She turned off the light. “Night, Leftenant.”

“Night, Sara.” He turned onto his side. It wasn’t long before his deep, regular breathing indicated he was asleep.

Sara lay there, not wanting to sleep. She’d never forget the night that brutal man pulled the trigger and ended her chance at happiness. She didn’t need to see it in her dreams as well.

5

Sara woke, screaming, tears pouring down her face. She rolled off the bed and sat on the floor, her arms wrapped around her knees. There’d been a knife, Jamie falling onto the cold, hard, unforgiving pavement, the gunman’s face as he aimed at her, and fired. Huge sobs shook her.

The light flicked on. The bed creaked as Luke flipped over. His face peered over the side of the bed at her. “Sara, are you all right? What are you doing on the floor?”

“I’m just sitting here, and I’m fine.” She sniffled.

“No, you’re not.” He slid off the bed. “Come here.”

An arm slid around her, and Sara leaned into him, but she was torn. This wasn’t right. It should be Jamie comforting her, not him, even if it did feel good to be held.

“I’m all right.” After a moment, she pulled away. Luke’s all too male presence overwhelmed her and worked at tearing her best intentions to shreds. Her sense of propriety and resistance failed when Luke was so nice and charming, even if she knew he’d go back to being bossy and overprotective in the morning.

“Bad dream?”

She used the tissue he handed her. “Yeah, I get them most nights. Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s all right.”

Reaching for her dressing gown as she stood, she wrapped it around herself. “I’m going to make some cocoa. Want some?”

Luke shook his head and got wearily to his feet. “No, thanks.”

“I won’t be long. Go back to bed, Leftenant. You look shattered.”

At his cocked head she translated. “Very tired, exhausted—still jet lagged.”

“Ah. I am, but I should stay with you.”

“I’ll drink it up here. The house is locked, and nothing’s going to happen. Besides, I won’t tell, if you don’t.” She could see him wavering. “I’ll be two minutes.”

Sara left the room and headed down to the kitchen, the nightmare hovering inside her trembling body. She made the cocoa and carried it back upstairs. Luke was asleep when she got back into bed. She leaned back against the pillows and considered him. He’d score a nine on the Richter scale of gorgeous.

She sipped the cocoa and sighed. Why did she have to get saddled with a good-looking cop? She studied his lips. What would it be like to kiss him? Would his mouth be firm or soft? Would his hands hold her tight or roam over her body with tender compassion, awakening her need, possessing her?

She shook her head.
Not going there. It can’t happen. I won’t cheat on Jamie
.

She glanced at Luke once more, and then frowned. If Jamie was alive, what kind of game was he playing? Why didn’t he find a way to come to her? If he loved her, as she loved him, as she believed he loved her…where was he? Why had he run away instead of claiming her?

She set the empty cup on the nightstand. Nothing should stop Jamie from being with her if he truly cared for her. She drew her brows together as she snuggled back under the covers and flicked off her bedside lamp.

Jamie did love her. And he was alive. And he would find her.

Right?

****

Sara woke with a start.
Where am I?

Turning over, her eyes widened. Luke lay beside her.

In a flash, everything came flooding back. Jumping out of bed, she grabbed a change of clothes. She fled into the bathroom and dressed as fast as she could, shivering as she piled on the layers, glad of the thick jumper. Turning up the thermostat at the top of the stairs, she glanced back once more at the closed door to her bedroom. Shuddering at the memory of how close she’d come to kissing Luke when she’d stared at his lips; she went downstairs to put the kettle on in order to make coffee.

What was she going to do today? For a start, she could make breakfast. Perhaps if she did something nice for Luke, he’d do something nice for her. Like take her out shopping. It was risky, yes, but with a bodyguard, rich and famous people with stalkers went out all the time. Couldn’t she do the same? Especially now they’d moved and no one knew where she was?

The floor above her creaked, and Luke’s voice floated down the stairs. “Sara?”

Her name sounded so good coming from his lips, but she would continue to fight the use of first names for two reasons. One, she didn’t want to be familiar with him. He’d be leaving as soon as this was over. Two, she liked the way his American accent pronounced her name, way too much.

Sara lifted her face toward the stairs. “I’m in the kitchen. Do you want breakfast? I’m making coffee. Do you want some? Or do you prefer tea?”

“Coffee. Thanks.”

“All right, breakfast in five minutes.” Sara made the coffee. She fought back the wave of nausea that flooded through her. Maybe she wouldn’t have any yet.

She glanced up as Luke came in. “Morning.”

“Good morning.” He studied her. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” Could he tell she was sick? “You?”

“I’m good, but I didn’t have the nightmare last night.”

Oh the nightmare. That’s what he’s worried about.
She shrugged as she spooned coffee granules into two mugs. “I have at least one every night. I have for months. I should be used to them, but I don’t think I ever will be. That one was the worst so far.”

“Have you spoken to someone about them?”

The kettle clicked off and she tipped the boiling water into the mugs. “Counseling? No way. It’s a nightmare. I’m not crazy, and only crazy people need shrinks.”

“Maybe you should consider it.”

“In your dreams. No shrinks. You have milk and sugar in your coffee?”

“Neither thanks. I really think you should talk to someone.”

“One neat coffee coming up. I have both.” She changed the subject. “You look cold, Leftenant.”

Luke shivered, rubbing his arms. “I’m freezing. The cold here goes straight to the bone. I’ll have to get some thick sweaters. I didn’t pack any. I had no idea what the weather would be like. Is it always...so miserably wet and cold?”

“Pretty much. Even in the summer, it’s rainy and chilly, but it’s winter here now, so it’s going to be yucky for a while.”

“It’s winter at home, too, but not—
like this
.”

“Be right back.” Sara ran upstairs. Opening her case, she pulled out Jamie’s jumper. Pressing it to her face, she inhaled. It smelled of Jamie’s favorite cologne. She never imagined giving it away, but she didn’t think Jamie would mind. Anyway, she could ask the leftenant to give it back when Jamie finally showed his face permanently. She halted in the doorway. Should she say
if
instead of when?

Running back downstairs, Sara held the jumper out to Luke. “Here, put this on. It’s Jamie’s.”

Luke shook his head. “I can’t accept this.”

She glanced at the microwave as it beeped. “Please, Leftenant. I can’t watch you freeze. At least borrow it.”

“Thanks.” Luke took it and put it on over his cotton shirt.

Sara half smiled. “It suits you.”