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Authors: Kay Hooper
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counts for something.”
She looked at him, a little puzzled. “And you don’t think—because of what I may believe now—that I’ll alert Martin that something’s wrong by behaving differently toward him?”
“Hell, no.” Very dryly he explained, “It didn’t take me five minutes to realize you don’t give away anything.”
Kyle couldn’t protest that, as much as she wanted to. And though she didn’t ask Kelsey, she had to wonder if she appeared as frozen as she felt. It wasn’t a nice thought. It wasn’t a nice feeling.
“I like your friends,” she told Lucas late that afternoon when the other two had gone. She sat watching him as he knelt at the hearth building up the fire.
“Do you?” He remained where he was,brushing his hands together and gazing at the flames.
“They seem as though they’re very unusual men.”
Lucas rose but continued to gaze into the fire. He seemed far away.
“So do you,” she added.
He turned his head to look at her and his mouth twisted. “We both know what you think of me.”
“No, we don’t, not really. Why didn’t you tell me that Martin was dangerous, Luc?”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, just continued to look at her. “Kelsey,” he muttered finally.
“You wouldn’t have told me. He knew that. He thought I should be prepared, and he was right.”
“There was no need for you to know.” Lucas returned his gaze to the fire, frowning.
Abruptly she asked, “Why did you have my father send me to Europe, Luc?”
“What makes you think I did? I don’t know your father.”
“And Josh Long doesn’t know me. He’s something of a humanitarian, I hear, but ten years ago he was also a playboy. So why did he concern himself then with a seventeen-year-old girl he’d never met? Unless someone asked him to.”
After a moment Lucas said, “Josh is a good friend. He didn’t know me very well at that time, but he didn’t ask questions.”
She heard the tacit admission and sighed. “Did you want an ocean between us, Luc, was that it?”
He closed his eyes briefly. “I wanted you off that campus, away from the drugs.”
Kyle thought about that for a moment. He had left her to preserve an illusion between them, and yet he had done his best to protect her. He had destroyed evidence that would have taken her to court, if not to jail, had had her sent far away to a school where drugs weremore rare than dinosaurs. It seemed a contradiction in character, and yet she felt it wasn’t.
“I don’t understand you,” she said.
“Do you want to?”
“I already—”
“I know what you said.”
She met his steady gaze, her own unwavering. “I meant it. I do want to understand you. I have to, Luc, or the past will never be—well, just the past.”
He nodded, but she couldn’t tell from his expression what he was thinking or feeling. He smiled suddenly, that faintly crooked, charming smile she remembered so well. “Then we go on from there, don’t we?”
“I guess we do.”
It was two days before she began to feel more natural around Lucas. She knew he was aware of her guardedness, just as she was aware that he watched her often. But gradually she began to feel less tense. It would have been too muchto say that she forgot her wounds, but the past seemed to be retreating in importance, day by day.
The situation was helped in part by her preoccupation with discovering just who Lucas Kendrick really was. Instinct told her he was a good man, whatever had motivated him in the past, but she found it difficult to trust her instincts where he was concerned. So she watched him, asked questions, and listened.
Her one legacy from her father, given to her in the childhood days when she had tried to win his affection, was an ability to understand and play chess, and she recalled that her father had often said a man’s chess game spoke much about the kind of man he really was. So she played chess with Lucas, unsurprised to find that he did play, and
She looked at him, a little puzzled. “And you don’t think—because of what I may believe now—that I’ll alert Martin that something’s wrong by behaving differently toward him?”
“Hell, no.” Very dryly he explained, “It didn’t take me five minutes to realize you don’t give away anything.”
Kyle couldn’t protest that, as much as she wanted to. And though she didn’t ask Kelsey, she had to wonder if she appeared as frozen as she felt. It wasn’t a nice thought. It wasn’t a nice feeling.
“I like your friends,” she told Lucas late that afternoon when the other two had gone. She sat watching him as he knelt at the hearth building up the fire.
“Do you?” He remained where he was,brushing his hands together and gazing at the flames.
“They seem as though they’re very unusual men.”
Lucas rose but continued to gaze into the fire. He seemed far away.
“So do you,” she added.
He turned his head to look at her and his mouth twisted. “We both know what you think of me.”
“No, we don’t, not really. Why didn’t you tell me that Martin was dangerous, Luc?”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, just continued to look at her. “Kelsey,” he muttered finally.
“You wouldn’t have told me. He knew that. He thought I should be prepared, and he was right.”
“There was no need for you to know.” Lucas returned his gaze to the fire, frowning.
Abruptly she asked, “Why did you have my father send me to Europe, Luc?”
“What makes you think I did? I don’t know your father.”
“And Josh Long doesn’t know me. He’s something of a humanitarian, I hear, but ten years ago he was also a playboy. So why did he concern himself then with a seventeen-year-old girl he’d never met? Unless someone asked him to.”
After a moment Lucas said, “Josh is a good friend. He didn’t know me very well at that time, but he didn’t ask questions.”
She heard the tacit admission and sighed. “Did you want an ocean between us, Luc, was that it?”
He closed his eyes briefly. “I wanted you off that campus, away from the drugs.”
Kyle thought about that for a moment. He had left her to preserve an illusion between them, and yet he had done his best to protect her. He had destroyed evidence that would have taken her to court, if not to jail, had had her sent far away to a school where drugs weremore rare than dinosaurs. It seemed a contradiction in character, and yet she felt it wasn’t.
“I don’t understand you,” she said.
“Do you want to?”
“I already—”
“I know what you said.”
She met his steady gaze, her own unwavering. “I meant it. I do want to understand you. I have to, Luc, or the past will never be—well, just the past.”
He nodded, but she couldn’t tell from his expression what he was thinking or feeling. He smiled suddenly, that faintly crooked, charming smile she remembered so well. “Then we go on from there, don’t we?”
“I guess we do.”
It was two days before she began to feel more natural around Lucas. She knew he was aware of her guardedness, just as she was aware that he watched her often. But gradually she began to feel less tense. It would have been too muchto say that she forgot her wounds, but the past seemed to be retreating in importance, day by day.
The situation was helped in part by her preoccupation with discovering just who Lucas Kendrick really was. Instinct told her he was a good man, whatever had motivated him in the past, but she found it difficult to trust her instincts where he was concerned. So she watched him, asked questions, and listened.
Her one legacy from her father, given to her in the childhood days when she had tried to win his affection, was an ability to understand and play chess, and she recalled that her father had often said a man’s chess game spoke much about the kind of man he really was. So she played chess with Lucas, unsurprised to find that he did play, and
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