A Hope Undaunted

  He slowly rubbed his cheek with the side of his hand, exercising his jaw as if to make sure it still worked. His eyes glinted like blue glass, sharp and deadly. Even so, the swaggering smile of old eased across his face. He bent forward, his tall frame looming over her like a bad omen, and his voice held that cocky drawl so reminiscent of his past. “What’s the matter, Katie Rose,” he whispered, “does my touch make you nervous?”

  The heat in her cheeks went straight to her temper. She iced him with a cool gaze. “Nervous? Around you? Hardly. You can dress up in a suit all you like, Luke McGee, but to me you’ll always be the same cocky street brat with a twang in your voice and grime on your face.”

  She knew her words hit their mark when a red blotch crawled up the back of his neck like a rash gone awry. A nerve pulsed in his temple, but his smile never wavered despite the steel edge of his jaw. One blond brow jagged high in challenge. “Is that a fact? Well then, how about a little experiment? Kind of like when you were eleven and I bet you couldn’t be nice?” He leaned close, his voice as hard as his eyes. “What d’ya bet I can make you nervous now?”

  She tried to shove him out of the way. “I’m going home.”

  “Not yet,” he whispered, blocking her in with a push to the wall. His voice, like the dominance of his hold, was a force to be reckoned with. “You always packed a wallop for a little girl, Katydid, but this time you picked the wrong street brat. You can turn your nose up at me all you want, but we both know that slap wasn’t so much about an innocent kiss . . .” He bent close, his eyes on fire and the scent of peppermint hot against her face. “As how it made you feel.”

  His words seemed to vibrate through her, low and thick in the air. She shuddered, and the force of his savage look trapped all protest in her throat.

  “To you I’ll always be riffraff, something vulgar and crude. Well, welcome to my world, Miss O’Connor. And, please, let me show you how we do it on the ‘streets.’ Because if I’m going to take a beating, you can bet your bottom dollar on two things for sure. One – I’m going to get my money’s worth.” A dangerous smile surfaced as his gaze focused on her lips. “And two . . .” His mouth hovered just above hers while his voice trailed to a whisper. “I’m gonna make you real nervous in the process.”

  In a catch of her breath, he took her mouth by force, his late-day beard rough against her skin. A faint moan escaped her lips and all resistance fled, burned away by the heat of his touch, leaving her weak and wanting. His mouth roamed at will, no longer gentle as he devoured her, ravenous against the smooth curve of her throat, the soft flesh of her ear. With a guttural groan, he jerked her close with powerful arms, consuming her mouth with a kiss surely driven by the sheer will to ravage.

  And then in a frantic beat of her heart, he shoved her away. She gasped, numb as she thudded against the wall. His chest was heaving and his eyes were hard, focused on her with cool disregard. “There. Now that makes two of the sorriest people alive.” He grabbed her purse from the floor and threw it on her desk, then rubbed his mouth with the side of his hand. “Better run home, Katydid. Heaven knows the riffraff that roam the street this time of night.”

  He turned and walked into his office, slamming the door hard.

  She stared, her body still quivering from his rage. Closing her eyes, she sagged against the wall, too stunned to move and too shaken to care. She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, her lips swollen from the taste of him. She was doomed, she realized, and the thought shivered through her like a cold chill. She wanted a man she didn’t really want, and the very notion weakened her at the knees. He had called her one of the sorriest people alive. She grappled for her purse and put a hand to her eyes.

  And God help her, she was.

  6

  Luke closed the heavy oak door of his second-story bedroom at Mrs. Cox’s Boarding House and sagged against it, wishing he could sleep for days. Bone-tired, mind-numbing sleep, enough to take him far away from the painful realization that he had just made a royal fool of himself tonight – with a girl who had always branded him as such.

  He kneaded the pad of his thumb against his temple, desperate to alleviate the headache that had been throbbing all night – the one that reached its peak earlier in the evening when he’d slammed the door on Katie. Starting at the age of ten, she apparently had a knack for giving him headaches, when she’d mocked him about his small size, his shabby clothes, and the Arkansas twang in his speech – anything to remind him he was little more than dirt beneath her feet.

  His jaw hardened. But dirt beneath her feet or no, that hadn’t stopped her body from responding to his, not that she would ever admit it. She may not be attracted to him as a person, but as a man, the passion in her kiss told him all he needed to know. The memory suddenly surged through him like the sticky June heat outside his window, stifling his air. A silent curse hissed from his lips as he hurled his suit jacket across the room. Either way, she had made a fool of him. Again.

  He plopped on the bed and took off his shoes, throwing them against the wall one at a time to vent his anger. The sound ricocheted in the cozy room he called home. He fumbled with the top two buttons of his shirt and then impatiently jerked it over his head. With a tight grimace, he aimed it at his shoes in a well-crumpled ball. The effect of clothes strewn wildly across his orderly room seemed to appease him somewhat, giving outlet to the acute frustration bottled inside. He typically took great pains to keep his room tidy – bed made, clothes neatly hung up – keenly aware that this humble abode was more of a home than those in his past. Mrs. Cox’s Boarding House was far from luxurious, but the worn look of the spacious room was comfortable enough. The single bed with its faded quilt suited him just fine, as did the grey, striped wallpaper adorned with various oil paintings, each painted by Mrs. Cox herself. A tall, oak wardrobe had seen better days, as had the cherry-wood desk in front of the chintz-curtained window, but to him this room was an oasis, a respite . . . and certainly better than any he’d known before.

  He slumped on the bed and put his head in his hands, not moving a twitch at the sound of a knock on his door. “What?” he called, his voice muffled by the hands still covering his face.

  Parker peeked in apparently, then pushed the door wide. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” Luke muttered. He reached down to yank his socks off, then pitched them across the room to keep company with the shoes. He pushed himself up from the bed and ripped off his sleeveless undershirt. He flung it away and gave Parker a wary eye. “Why, don’t I seem okay?”

  Parker slacked a hip against the door and folded his arms, his gaze taking in the various clothing items littered across the floor. “Well, no, now that you mention it. You were awfully quiet at Pinochle tonight, no gloating visible at all despite winning every game. So unlike you.”

  Luke ignored him and unfastened his belt. He dropped his trousers to the floor and stepped out of them, then sent them sailing with a jab of his foot. They landed on the suit coat in an unsightly heap.

  Parker scratched his head. “And then there’s the memory problem.”

  “What memory problem?” Luke paused, pajama bottoms in hand.

  Parker rubbed his jaw and straddled the arm of Luke’s overstuffed chair, flicking a black sock off the edge, one with a hole in its heel. “You know, forgetting where your closet is?”

  Luke put on his pajama bottoms and traipsed to the window to open it all the way. He returned to his bed and pulled the sheet back. “What do you want, Parker? I’m tired.”

  The humor faded from Parker’s voice, but just for an instant. “What’s eating you, Luke? I don’t see you like this very often – distant, quiet . . . humble. Not to mention a total slob.”

  The barb didn’t even coax a faint smile. Luke dropped on the bed with a squeal of springs and braced his arms behind his neck, eyes closed. A faint breeze ruffled the scant blond hairs on his nearly smooth chest, helping to cool the moist warmth of his skin. “Let it go, Parker, I’m fine. I just
need to get some sleep.”

  Luke’s jaw tightened as Parker remained silent. He could almost hear the gears turning in his friend’s head, thinking of ways he could dissect Luke’s sour mood. Parker Riley was a good friend who obviously missed his calling as a priest, no thanks to his father who had pushed him into law. The man was obsessed with purging one’s soul – both his and Luke’s – of all the sinister things that could keep it from peace. Luke’s stomach muscles tightened as he waited for Parker to express his concern – a concern sure to be as relentless as the throb in Luke’s head.

  “That’s good, Luke. I’m glad to hear that you’re fine, because we all thought you seemed a little distracted and subdued.” He paused for effect. “Especially Gabe. She thought it was her.”

  Guilt squeezed in Luke’s chest, and he muttered under his breath, regretting that he’d allowed his anger to ruin his evening and ultimately Gabe’s. His eyes slitted open. “You told her it wasn’t her, didn’t you? That I had a horrible headache?”

  Parker nodded and folded his arms with wary concern in his eyes. “Yeah, I told her, and so did Betty, but you know how stubborn she is. At any rate, I think Betty calmed her down with one of your Nehis from the pantry after you left.”

  Luke expelled a sigh. “Good. I’ll make it up next week, maybe take her to Robinson’s.”

  “Yeah, she’d like that. You mean the world to her.” He hesitated, as if to take great care in choosing his words. “Betty and I, well, she likes us well enough, I suppose, but you – it’s like you two are cut from the same cloth, like you’re blood, you know? She seems to thrive just having you around.” Parker stood to his feet. “Well, I’ll let you get some sleep. Good night.”

  A silent groan rattled through Luke’s chest. He didn’t know how Parker did it, but somehow he always wheedled in. Suddenly Luke felt like unloading all the frustration throbbing inside. No, not felt, he thought with a hoarse catch of his breath . . . needed. He sat up abruptly, his eyes piercing the back of Parker’s head. He paused to draw in a deep breath while Parker opened the door.

  “I kissed her,” he said, his voice little more than a rasp of shame.

  Parker froze at the door, hand stiff on the knob. “What?” He whirled around, shock glazing his eyes. “Who?” he breathed, although the look on his face said he already knew.

  Luke swung his legs off the bed and sat on the edge, hands braced on his mattress with head bent. “Katie,” he whispered. The mere sound of her name stabbed him anew.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Parker visibly sag, body listing against the door. Suddenly he slammed it closed with a harsh flick of his wrist. “For the love of heaven . . . Luke, why? You can have any woman you want. Why risk the integrity of the office to satisfy a juvenile crush?”

  Luke swabbed his face and then shielded his eyes with a shaky hand. “I don’t know, Parker. I swear I never had any intention of going there. But she seemed depressed after everyone left, and I was concerned about her and then . . .” He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked up. “It just happened.”

  Parker dropped to the arm of the chair. He slashed blunt fingers through meticulous sandy hair and then glanced up, brown eyes dark with distress. “And how did she respond?”

  A sense of satisfaction seeped in, causing Luke’s lips to thin into a tight line. “She liked it – a lot.” He sucked in a deep breath and slowly released it again, peering up at Parker with a sheepish smile. “And then she hauled off and slapped me so hard I thought she broke my jaw.”

  Parker stared in disbelief and then grinned from ear to ear. “Thank God! I hope that teaches you to keep your hands off the help.”

  Luke rubbed the back of his neck, his brief satisfaction giving way to shame. He stared at his bare feet, avoiding Parker’s eyes. “Well, it does now. But it sure didn’t then.”

  “What do you mean?” Parker whispered, his voice far from steady.

  Luke sighed. “It means I lost my temper.”

  “And what does that mean . . .” Parker asked again, suddenly sounding like Luke’s director rather than his friend.

  Luke gave him a sideways glance and a grimace of a smile. “It means I pushed her to the wall and kissed the daylights out of her.” He exhaled a shaky breath. “Or at least the meanness, I hope.”

  Parker groaned and jumped to his feet. He started pacing. “For the love of all that is decent and good, McGee, what were you thinking? I’ll tell you what – you weren’t, at least not with your brain. If Harris Stowe catches wind of this, your butt will be in a sling, and I’ll help him put it there.”

  Heat snaked up the back of Luke’s neck. “It won’t happen again, Parker. I was way out of line, and I realize that now.” Parker halted mid-stride, a stormy look in his eyes. “You can bet your bottom dollar it won’t happen again, because so help me, if it does, I’ll kick your sorry butt myself. She’s a volunteer, for pity’s sake, hand placed by Harris himself.” He jabbed a finger toward Luke, the warning in his tone as clear as the anger in his eyes. “You stay far away from that girl, McGee, do you hear? From now on, all of her assignments come through me. I want nothing more out of you except a short apology and then hello and goodbye, is that clear?”

  Luke nodded.

  “Good.” All at once, the fury faded from Parker’s face. He sank his hands deep in his pockets and stared at his shoes, no longer Luke’s superior, but now his friend. His voice deepened with concern. “She’s no good for you, you know. I’ve never seen a woman affect you like this one, Luke. Too much power from your past, too much for you to prove. You can have any woman you want. But I’m telling you as a friend, please – leave this one alone.”

  The gravity in Parker’s tone drew Luke’s gaze to his. “Don’t worry, Parker, I have no intention of going near Katie O’Connor ever again. But just for the record – she doesn’t affect me like you think.”

  One of Parker’s shaggy brows jutted high. “No? Well, I don’t know where the old Luke went, but take my word for it – I haven’t seen him since the day that girl crossed our threshold.”

  Luke squinted up at Parker, an edge of confidence hardening his tone. “Yeah? Well, you can bet your sweet mother that I affect her as much as she affects me.”

  Parker strolled to the door and grasped the knob, stopping long enough to cast a worried look over his shoulder. His tone held a hint of humor, but there wasn’t a trace of a smile to be found on his face. He grunted and opened the door. “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

  Grinding her lip, Katie glanced up at the clock on her nightstand. Two minutes to midnight. Shaky air shuddered from her lips as she closed her tattered copy of Anne of Green Gables with a nervous thud. Her gaze slid to her closed bedroom door, hoping her parents were finally asleep. She swung her legs out from her bed to the floor, and her limbs felt as wobbly as if she were tiptoeing on her mattress rather than hardwood floor. Pausing, she cocked her head and closed her eyes to listen for the sound of her parents’ voices – that is, if she could even hear them over the pulse thrumming in her ears. They had talked forever it seemed, their muffled conversation seeping through her bedroom wall for well over an hour. But all had been quiet for the last thirty minutes or so, thank heavens, and Katie finally exhaled the breath she’d been holding.

  She reached for her robe at the foot of the bed and then stopped, the image of her sheer nightgown in the mirror infusing a rush of heat to her cheeks. She hadn’t seen Jack in over a month and a half, and the thought occurred that a robe and nightgown might not be the wisest choice of attire. A lump bobbed in her throat. She had enough problems keeping him in line in the front seat of his car after every date; a midnight rendezvous on the back porch in her robe and nightgown would not be a smart move. Especially if Father happened to catch her.

  She dressed quickly, then inched her bedroom door open, and quietly slipped down the hall, heart thudding wildly as she tread lightly past her parents’ room. Guilt stabbed within, but she quickly fo
rced it away, determined to focus on her primary concern at the moment – meeting Jack on the back porch without her parents’ knowledge. With the tiniest twinge of regret at defying her father, she eased the kitchen door open with nary a squeak, completely convinced she needed to see Jack tonight. She didn’t want to flout her father’s will, but what choice did she have? There was no way she could allow an attraction to Luke McGee to continue, not with her future at stake. Her jaw hardened as she nudged the screen door open and stepped out on the porch. No, there was no question about it – Luke McGee’s kisses were pure poison . . . and Jack was the only cure.

  His shadow rose from the swing at the end of the porch, and she sensed his excitement before she ever saw the look of longing on his moonlit face. He moved forward with a tender smile and swept her up in his arms, devouring her with a kiss that took her breath away.

  “Gosh, doll, I’ve been crazy without you,” he whispered. A soft giggle bubbled in her chest and she kissed him back, reveling in the look of love in his eyes. “I’ve missed you too, Jack.”

  He carried her to the swing and settled in with her on his lap, giving her a fierce hug before nuzzling her neck. “You have my word, Katydid – I will never miss your curfew again.” His mouth wandered back to hers and with a low groan, he eased her back on the swing with another hungry kiss.

  With a palm to his chest, she chuckled and squirmed free from his lap, choosing to snuggle beside him while his arm tucked her close. Jack’s kisses were nice, but it was the way he made her feel inside that sent warmth swirling through her – his love, his doting, his undying approval. She breathed in the heady bouquet of her mother’s cottage roses mingled with the faint scent of Jack’s lavender cologne and sighed with contentment, grateful for the noisy trill of tree frogs and locusts that would obscure any noise. With a squeeze of his hand, she rested her head against his broad shoulder, always amazed at how secure and accepted she felt in his arms.