Gayle Kasper - A Family Practice

It had been in sorry shape when they’d moved in, but still it had been a godsend to Mariah. She’d fixed it up little by little and she was proud of what she had accomplished.

Will’s leaving, and her subsequent divorce from him six months later, had been hard on Callie. It had been hard on her, as well. But she and Callie had forged a new life for themselves, and it was a good life, a happy one.

“What about you?” she asked. “Where are you from?”

Her question seemed to cause him pain. His eyes darkened and he glanced aside. “A long way from here—Chicago.”

Chicago might as well be a foreign country to Mariah. She’d never been farther away than Phoenix. She wondered about Luke’s life there, tried to picture him with a wife, a family.

Did he have a wife?

A lover?

Was she beautiful?

“Sunrise is a far cry from where you’re from,” she said. “Where are you headed on that big bike of yours?”

And who’s missing you at home? she wanted to add.

Luke was handsome. The women in Chicago would have to be blind not to find him so. She was certain someone had staked a claim to him by now.

He gave a small shrug of his broad shoulders. “As of this afternoon, I’m not headed anywhere, it seems. Not until my bike is operational again.”

“And then?” she probed.

“West.”

“That takes in a lot of territory. Anything more specific?”

He frowned. “Are you always this inquisitive?”

“Only about stray men I rescue from the desert,” she quipped back, which made him smile.

The first smile she’d seen on him in a while.

It was devastatingly seductive, and she forced herself to picture a wife waiting for him back in Chicago. And maybe a passel of kids. Little kids.

And one on the way.

But it didn’t gel. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t place Luke in a domestic scene.

“Are you married?”

Her words had tumbled out—and she felt instantly foolish for them.

His smile broadened. “I was right about that inquisitiveness of yours. But no, I’m not married.”

She didn’t want to admit to herself that she was pleased. Secretly. Didn’t want to admit that she found the man intriguing. That he could make her pulse pound with very little provocation.

She didn’t need to fall for men who rode through town on motorcycles, stopping only long enough to tempt her heart. She’d vowed never to entangle herself with anyone who would leave again, who wouldn’t stick around and be a real husband, who wouldn’t be a father to Callie with all her special needs.

She didn’t want Callie hurt again.

Or herself—by hoping for too much.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that,” she murmured.

“No harm done.”

He held her gaze prisoner a little longer than he should have, and Mariah couldn’t tear her own away. “Maybe I should get back,” she said finally. “I hate to be away too long, in case Callie wakes up.”

He helped her to her feet, and his touch sent a shiver through her, one she knew had nothing to do with the cool night air. His gaze whispered over her lips, and she could almost taste his kiss.

In the space of one restless moment her need meshed with his and she thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he only reached out a hand and brushed her cheek.

“You’re right, we’d better be getting back,” he said.

Was there a hint of regret in his words?

Or had she imagined it?

Whichever, the moment had passed, and Mariah didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. What she felt was a strange mixture of both.

She’d never thought of herself as a needy woman. Or a lonely one. She had Callie. Her daughter was her life. She was happy. Her days were full and filled. So why could this man tempt her so easily in the moonlight?

She tried to shrug away the question as she walked, careful to keep a comfortable distance from him—though she wasn’t sure what that distance might be.

“The cabin is over there, just beyond the rise,” she said. “Come on, I’ll show it to you.”

Luke followed her across the property toward the small rough-hewn structure barely visible in the moonlight.

“It isn’t much, like I said. I hope you don’t mind roughing it a little.”

“I’m sure it’ll beat hard ground with a cactus for a pillow. I didn’t see much else out there on that road I was on.”

She turned and smiled at him. The softest, sweetest smile Luke could recall ever seeing on a woman.

“True enough,” she said softly.

He’d found her so damned appealing back there in the cool grass, the moonlight slanting across her face, her sultry lips.

He wasn’t sure why he didn’t act on the moment, seize the chance to kiss her, taste the sweetness he knew he’d find on her lips.

He tried to shove that thought aside. It could only bring them both trouble. Mariah had a daughter. She wasn’t someone interested in a brief fling. Though he wasn’t at all sure any interlude with her could be brief.

The woman would be damned hard to walk away from when the time came to do so. He’d do well to keep that realization in mind the next time temptation hit him.

“This is it,” Mariah said as they reached the cabin. “It’s probably not what you’re used to back in civilization.”

She drew a lantern from its nail on the wall, found a match and lit the wick. Flickering light flooded the little room and Luke took a look around.

A small cot was pushed against one wall. There was also a chair—a little lumpy in the seat cushion, but usable—and a well-scarred coffee table.

A few toys and a rag doll with one eye missing were scattered about, and he remembered Mariah telling him Callie liked to use the cabin as her playhouse.

He picked up the doll and grinned at its one-eyed countenance, then set it aside. He remembered Dane’s toys had always been scattered about, remembered how he’d hated it when he tripped over them. He wished now he could take back his annoyance over something so minor. But it was too late…

“The place is fine,” he said. “I hope Callie won’t mind my borrowing it for a while.”

She gave him a soft smile. “Callie won’t mind. Besides, I think she’s quite taken with you.”

“And what about her mother?”

“Her mother won’t mind, either,” she answered, unaware that wasn’t the question he’d asked her.

“That wasn’t what I meant,” he said, taking a step closer. He reached out a hand and softly traced the margins of the blush that had risen to her cheeks. Her skin beneath his touch was silken. Her eyes were wide and filled with want. Or was it a trick of the flickering lantern light? “I wondered if Callie’s mother was taken, too, just a little.”

Her blush deepened. He could feel its heat beneath his fingertips. Mariah was warm and vibrant—and everything he shouldn’t want in a woman. He was a man on the move. To where, he didn’t know, didn’t know if he’d ever get there, if he’d ever be whole again. One pretty woman with hopes and dreams—and needs—was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

Not now, maybe never.

“I should go and find you some linens,” she said quietly, her voice sounding as if it came from someplace far away.

She wasn’t unaffected by him—any more than he was by her. But, somehow, that knowledge didn’t make Luke feel any better about himself.

When Mariah returned with fresh sheets and towels for him, Luke was out front of the tiny cabin, studying the stars. Strange how he’d never noticed them back in Chicago. Or the moon. He could use the peace this place offered.

At least for a little while.

“Here are the linens,” she said. “I’ll just go and lay them on the cot.”