Gwynne Forster - Secret Desire

He spared her a side glance, mischief dancing in his gray eyes. “The food, huh? What about the company?”

She sank into the soft leather seat and got comfortable, eager to match wits. “I’ve had worse. Lots worse. Why do you ask?”

He paused at the Stop sign, looked from left to right, turned into Elm Avenue and headed for Effington Street and the River Café. “Since you ask, I’m wondering the same thing. Why did I ask? If you’d said I was a washout, you’d have crushed this poor heart.”

Laughter bubbled up in her. “How’d you fix your mouth to say that? If I’ve ever seen a man with a star on his forehead, it’s you. So I’m not going for that humble stuff.”

“You mean, you’re not willing to find out who I am? You think I’m a six-foot, four-inch Samson in a monkey suit? Just like every other tough cop in blue? That it?”

She sat up straight. This man had his vulnerable spots, and she’d better remember it. “Since that remark had a ring of seriousness, I won’t joke about it. I also won’t back away from what my instincts tell me. If I needed a defender, I’d send for you.”

His failure to comment told her more than she was comfortable knowing. They entered the restaurant through a side door, and the aroma of buttermilk biscuits, garlic, sage sausage and frying fish teased her nostrils as they passed the kitchen on their way to the dining room.

Kate licked her lips in anticipation of the meal. “Is this your regular table?” she asked him as the waiter led them to the one they’d shared on her previous visit.

“I usually sit here,” he answered in an offhand manner, as though he didn’t merit special treatment. “You eating roast beef and leek soup again tonight?” His gray eyes glittered with devilment, and she braced herself for a blast of his charm.

“I’m having Cajun-fried catfish and hush puppies.”

“Glad to hear it. That’s what I had for lunch.”

He winked at her over the top of the largest menu she’d ever seen, and she couldn’t help staring at him, at those eyes that commanded her to get lost in them. Maybe being with a husband who’d paid her little attention for most of their marriage had weakened her resistance to men.

“How’d you and Randy get along with his lessons?”

He waited until the waiter finished serving their food, leaned back in his chair and looked at her. “Hard to tell. He did his homework. Effortlessly, I’d say. But I’m not sure he likes me. I know he doesn’t like being told what to do.” He cut off a piece of steak and savored it. “He respects me, or maybe it’s my uniform, but I’ll take that for now.”

“Why did you make him group leader?”

“I didn’t. The boys in his group elected him. Now he’s responsible for his behavior, and for theirs, as well. It’s good for him.”

She hoped so. “You said you’d give him tennis lessons.”

He finished the last piece of steak. “I will. I’m a pretty fair player, and if he’s interested in learning, I’ll be glad to teach him.”

“Well, this is a surprise.”

When Luke’s head snapped up she followed his gaze, and they stared into the mocking eyes of Axel Strange.

“You wouldn’t be Kate Middleton, would you?” Axel asked as he cloaked his face in a seductive smile.

“Yes, I am,” she said, and would have extended her hand had she not glimpsed Luke’s icy regard of the man.

“Ms. Middleton, this is Lieutenant Strange, a detective in my precinct.”

Couldn’t get much colder than that, she figured. “Good evening, Lieutenant,” she said, taking a cue from Luke and sounding as formal as she could.

Her cold greeting made no evident impact on the lieutenant, since he replied, “I’ve wanted to meet you, but, as usual, the boss jumped in before me.”

“Enjoy your meal, Strange,” Luke said, dismissing the man. And rather testily, at that, she thought.

Abruptly, the lieutenant’s smile faded. Then he beamed at her. “Be seeing you, Ms. Middleton.”

Luke continued his meal as if they hadn’t been interrupted. He didn’t comment on the incident, and, since she wasn’t in the habit of sticking her nose into hornets’ nests, she figured she ought to forget it.

“What happened to that gingerbread you’re supposed to be so good at making? Miss Fanny can’t bend over the stove yet, and I haven’t had any gingerbread in six weeks.”

She controlled an impulse to laugh at the childlike petulance in his voice, which belied the tensile strength no one would doubt he possessed. She presented a face as serious as his.

“You said you’d put in a request. Is this a request?”

Long, elegant fingers grasped the handle of his coffee cup, and she imagined those strong, masculine hands on her skin, testing her response to him. His shimmering gaze told her he had discerned her thoughts and had similar ones of his own.

His left hand covered her unsteady fingers. “Am I pleading for gingerbread? Does night follow day? You don’t understand, Kate. I love gingerbread.”

Laughter poured out of her, then, releasing some of the tension that took hold of her whenever she saw him and intensified when she was near him. “Oh, I understand that, all right, but if you had said chocolate…”

His gaze, so intense and studied, unsettled her. If he was trying to find a place for himself in her head, he was doing a good job. “I know men are supposed to love chocolate,” he said, “but not me. I go by my own educated taste buds, and do my own thinking. And that goes for everything.” He leaned forward. “I said everything.”

She wished he’d leave her nerves alone. What a blessing he couldn’t see them. At best, they must look like hair teased to a frazzle by some foolhardy hairdresser. She told herself she’d feel better if she knew she had the same effect on him. He smiled, and she dared to open herself to him for just one moment and squeezed his fingers, knowing that her alarm at her behavior had to be mirrored on her face.

“Don’t move so fast, Luke. I’m not there yet.”

He smiled a slow smile, his eyes brimming with the secrets of the ages. “If I ever moved slower, I don’t remember it. Trust me, I’m taking my time, and it’s as clear as springwater that you’re doing the same.”

She diverted her gaze from the eyes that seemed to invade her soul and focused on the pink dogwood blossoms that adorned their table. “I wish I had your self-assurance, Luke. You know where you’re going, and exactly how to get there.”

The long fingers of his left hand stroked his chin in a slow, graceful movement, and he perused her as though searching for some truth in her. An expression of hopefulness flashed across his face—or so she thought, because the man concealed his emotions. She couldn’t help squirming under his scrutiny.

“Luke, you have to stop doing this to me. I know it’s not your intention to make me uncomfortable, but I feel as if you have me under a 4000x-lens microscope.”

“Sorry. I…Try not to second-guess me, Kate. I know how to be rude, if I care to, but I can’t imagine myself being discourteous to you.”

“Then what—”

“I was trying to figure out what you see in me that makes you think I know exactly what I want and how to get it. There aren’t many men I’d say that about.”

She didn’t believe he’d used that ruse to get his ego stoked, so she told him truthfully. “It’s the impression you give me. You’re a man in complete command. I’d trust you with my life anytime and anywhere.”

Could it have been pain that flashed so briefly in his eyes? A frown darkened his countenance. “Don’t ever put complete trust in any mortal. Save that for God. I’m human, Kate, and I have mortal frailties.”