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Deserving of Luke
Logan’s eyes turned electric
Paige felt shimmery shocks of electricity that skated along her nerve endings until she ached. All she wanted was to feel—one more time—what it was like to be held by Logan, kissed by Logan, loved by Logan.
The heat in his own eyes convinced her that Logan was feeling the same way. “Paige.” His voice was so low and rough. “Tell me to go.”
Her heartbeat was a crazy, mixed-up symphony inside her. She knew she should send him away, but her mouth wouldn’t form the words.
He stepped forward until his body was only inches from hers. She could feel the heat coming off him.
Paige gasped as his lips brushed against her own. Her hands slid up his chest, vaguely cataloging the hard muscles there before she slipped them into the shaggy hair at the base of his neck and tried to tug him closer. If this moment was the only one she would have with him, she would grab it with both hands and say to hell with the consequences—at least for the duration of this one, perfect kiss.
Dear Reader,
I think the best romance is a combination of reality and fairy tale. A damsel or prince in distress, a damsel or prince to do the rescuing and a big, ugly dragon that needs slaying. In Deserving of Luke, I have all that and more, although the ugly dragon is not a tangible thing. Instead it is the very painful past the characters share, a past that they must slay together if they have any hope of finding their happily-ever-after.
Paige is a tough cookie who has been on her own—with her child—since she was seventeen years old. She’s not only survived, but flourished, without much help. But she can’t live that way forever, and watching as she learns to rely on Logan has been a wonderful journey—though it is one fraught with anger, perceived betrayal and hurt. It does have friendship, laughter and, eventually, love, though.
Logan, on the other hand, has pretty much had things easy. Seeing him learn to fight for what he wants—and for those who need him—was amazing. He has a long journey to finally be Deserving of Luke, his only son.
Speaking of Luke, I had so much fun creating his character. Some of my readers have noticed that when I create children they are almost all boys, and that is because, in this case, I really do write what I know. With three adorable and exasperating boys of my own to draw from, it’s always easy for me to come up with a quip or an antic or a sweet little story that springs directly from my own life.
I really enjoyed writing Deserving of Luke, and hope you enjoy reading it, as well. Thank you so much for letting me—and my stories—into your hearts and lives. I love to hear from my readers via my website, www.tracywolff.com, or on my blog, www.tracywolff.blogspot.com. I wish each of you a wonderful, joy-filled spring!
Love,
Tracy Wolff
Deserving of Luke
Tracy Wolff
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tracy Wolff collects books, English degrees and lipsticks and has been known to forget where—and sometimes who—she is when immersed in a great novel. At six she wrote her first short story—something with a rainbow and a prince—and at seven she forayed into the wonderful world of girls’ lit, reading her first Judy Blume novel. By ten she’d read everything in the young adult and classics sections of her local bookstore, so in desperation her mom started her on romance novels. And from the first page of the first book, Tracy knew she’d found her lifelong love. Deserving of Luke, her sixth novel for Harlequin Superromance, takes place on the gorgeous Oregon coast she loves to visit.
For my boys
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
PANIC SET IN ABOUT FIVE minutes after Paige Matthews realized her son was gone.
At first, she told herself it was no big deal. He was probably two rows over in the toy aisle, checking to see if the selection was up to snuff.
When he wasn’t there, poring over the surprisingly extensive collection of miniature cars, she figured he’d simply wandered over to the ice cream case— Luke was a sucker for strawberry ice cream.
And when he wasn’t there either, when the small kernel of concern that had formed the moment she realized he was not at the end of the aisle as she’d thought he was, started to grow, she still told herself she was overreacting. This mom-and-pop grocery store in the small Oregon town she’d grown up in was a far cry from the huge supermarkets of Los Angeles, where Luke had been born and raised. Even at eight, he knew how to take care of himself, knew not to talk to strangers and to stay in one place if, for some reason, he did get separated from her—though it had never happened before.
So what could possibly happen to him here?
The reassuring thoughts didn’t keep her from walking faster any more than they kept her from remembering her childhood here in Prospect and all the trouble she had managed to get into. While the fact that they weren’t in the big city made her feel a little better, the feeling didn’t last long—especially when she got to the candy aisle and realized Luke hadn’t wandered over there, either. Worse, the store’s display of gummy animals and body parts was completely undisturbed, a sure sign that he had not stopped here at all. And that was so unlike him that concern turned to terror.
“Luke!” she called, racing past the deserted candy section to the front of the store. “Luke, where are you?”
There was no answer and in those moments every terrible thing that could happen to an unaccompanied eight-year-old boy flashed through her mind, small town be damned. Sure, this was Prospect, but Eugene really wasn’t that far away. Salem. Portland. All reasonably sized cities with rising crime rates.
“Luke!” She was running now, from one end of the store to the other, looking down each row that sprouted from the perimeter of the store.
Other shoppers stared at her, whispered, but she didn’t acknowledge them. They’d whispered about her for the first seventeen years of her life—right up until she’d left town, broke and alone, save for the unborn baby she carried. The fact that they started talking about her so readily, even after all this time, came as no surprise. She might have been back for only a day and a half, but she knew how this town worked.
Some things never changed.
This time at least there was something real to talk about. Sure, she was running around like a crazy woman, but if they knew she was looking for her son, maybe someone else would start to look. Maybe someone else would spot him. Finding Luke, making sure he was safe, was the only thing that mattered.
But—surprise, surprise—no one came forward to help.
Where could he be? she wondered again as she frantically combed the aisles for her son’s yellow and purple hoodie. She’d bought him the outrageously expensive jacket for his eighth birthday and he rarely went anywhere without it.
Why, oh, why, had she let Mary Beth Peters distract her? She didn’t even like the woman—never had, even when they were in school together. Mary Beth had been the most popular girl in school and Paige had been…popular in her own right. But certainly not because she was head cheerleader.
Still, when Mary Beth had stopped her, Paige hadn’t wanted to be rude. Hadn’t wanted to cause any more gossip than was absolutely necessary—her sister Penny had to live and work here long after Paige and Luke went home, after all. And she figured alienating the locals was not the best way to reconcile with her sister.
And look what her concern had gotten her. One of these days she was going to remember that trying to keep on the right side of these people’s opinions cost too much.
“Luke!” Paige screamed his name as adrenaline coursed through her ice-cold body. She was approaching the last section of the grocery store and if he wasn’t there— If he wasn’t there, she didn’t know how she was going to hold it together long enough to call the sheriff’s department.
She’d only spoken to Mary Beth for a couple of minutes, long enough to exchange pleasantries and a quick explanation about why she was back after such a long time. How could her son have possibly disappeared in less than one hundred and eighty seconds?
Suddenly she spotted the familiar L.A. Lakers hoodie. “Luke.” This time it wasn’t a scream so much as a long, exhale of relief. Grinding to a halt, she rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. She wasn’t. He was still there. Her son—her beautiful, amazing, mischievous son—was seated in front of the small comic-book display, the iPod he’d gotten yesterday from his aunt Penny playing in his ears as he flipped through the latest superhero comic.
She blinked rapidly to clear her vision of the moisture that flooded her eyes—a shock in and of itself as it had been years since she’d allowed herself the luxury of anything as useless as tears. For so long it had been just Luke and her against the world. If anything ever happened to him she would—
Paige shook her head, unable to think about such a nightmarish occurrence, even in the abstract.
She didn’t go to him right away, didn’t wrap her arms around him and squeeze him the way she wanted to. Doing that before she had herself under control might trigger a public crying jag. A really bad idea here in the middle of Prospect hell.
Luke chose that moment to look up, and his not-quite-little-boy-anymore face lit up at the sight of her. “Hey, Mom! Look, it’s the new one.” He jumped nimbly to his feet, raced toward her. “Can I get it?”
Forcing herself not to grab him, Paige gently pulled one of the earbuds free. “You wander away from me in a public place and you expect me to reward you for it?” she asked in the sternest voice she could muster. It might have worked, too, except for the fact that her voice—like the rest of her—shook.
She saw the knowledge register in Luke’s eyes, followed swiftly by a look of shame. “I’m sorry, Mom. I went to find the gummy eyeballs and then found these instead. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She tried to hang tough, but felt herself cave in the face of his obvious remorse. Taking the comic from Luke, she herded him to where she’d left her cart. She tossed the book on top of the fresh fruits and vegetables and told herself not to sweat it. She wasn’t normally so lenient, but the joy of finding him clouded her judgment. She’d transplanted the kid from everything he knew to this small town next to nowhere. If a comic helped get him through the interminable summer, who was she to argue?
“Don’t ever do it again. I couldn’t find you and ran screaming through the store.”
“Ugh, Mom, that so isn’t the first impression I was hoping to make.” Luke glanced toward a couple of boys who appeared close to his age. Both were staring at them as though they were alien life-forms. She didn’t have the heart to tell Luke it was probably more about the nasty things they’d heard their mothers say about her than her mad dash through the store.
Prospect had a long memory, and no matter how much she’d accomplished in the nine years since she’d left here, she was still that wild Matthews girl from the wrong side of the river. The one whose mother had conceived her while her husband was serving his country overseas, then left her to wear the Scarlet A.
It was a legacy that had proved impossible to live down no matter how hard Paige tried, so in the end, she’d done her best to live up to it. It had been lonely, but infinitely more satisfying than crying herself to sleep every night had been.
At the moment, hearing the echoes of whispers and taunts and boys asking her for things she had been all too eager to give in her search for affection, she wished that she’d never come back. Never let Penny talk her into returning to this one-horse town, even if it was just for a few months.
But then, the wish was nothing new—she’d been repeating variations of it since she and Luke had rolled into town the day before. Before that actually, if she was completely honest with herself. That first pang of regret hit before she’d hung up the phone. Only the awareness that her sister was finally reaching out to her after so many years, that Penny needed her, had kept Paige’s foot on the gas pedal and her car pointed north during the long trip.
“Come on, Luke, let’s go.” She hustled her son to the checkout. “You know you’re not supposed to wander away like that. Anything could happen—especially in a place you don’t know.”
Luke stared at her in disbelief. “Mom, this place has a population of, like, five people. Nothing’s going to happen to me here.”
“More like five thousand people and you don’t know that nothing will happen to you. No one does.” God knew, plenty had happened to her in this sleepy seaside town. More than enough that she had gotten the hell out and never looked back. Until Penny’s desperate call for help—too embarrassed and afraid to ask their parents for it.
That vulnerability, that fear, had been impossible for Paige to ignore. She’d turned her back on Penny once, had all but cut her sister from her life in her bid for survival. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, do that again. And if it cost her a little of her hard-won sanity, oh well.
Something in her voice must have tipped Luke off, because he stopped arguing much more quickly than usual. “I’m really sorry, Mom.”
“I know you are. Just, please, stay with me. You don’t know the town yet.”
“I know. I promise I won’t do it again.” His silver eyes shined with remorse.
“Good. Because next time I won’t be so nice.” She was rubbing his back even as she made the threat, leaning down to press a quick kiss on his rumpled black curls and marveling—not for the first time—at how incredibly blessed she was to have him. Prior to Luke’s arrival, her luck with men had been so abysmal that when she’d found out she was having a boy, she’d actually broken down and sobbed in the ultrasound room.
But that was before she’d had him, before she’d held him. Before she’d known him. From the moment he’d entered the world, Luke had been the most amazing creature. Gorgeous, smart and with a heart full of joy and eyes full of mischief, he made every day an adventure. She wouldn’t trade him for the world—and certainly not for a perfectly coiffed, well-behaved little girl. Any gray hair he gave her would be more than worth it. She was certain of it.
“Thanks for the comic, Mom. It’s really cool.”
Paige emptied her cart onto the conveyer belt as she listened to Luke rattle on about the adventures of his favorite superhero-bad-guy duo. She should have thought to check the book aisle for him first. Would have, had she known the store carried them. When she’d been a kid, the only books old Mr. Marshall had allowed into his store were religious and nature ones. Obviously, some things had changed in Prospect.
But not too many, she acknowledged wryly, hyper-conscious of the not quite whispered comments currently circulating the market.
“Isn’t that Paige Matthews? What’s she doing here?”
“Always knew she was no good. Unwed mother—”
“Losing her child on her first day back—”
“Come to stay with her sister, in that pitiful little B and B—”
“She must be broke and is mooching off Penny—”
“I don’t think she’s broke. Did you see her car? Must be some drug dealer’s girlfriend—”
Paige slammed her purse down on the small check-writing counter, and began bagging the groceries as the clerk—a teenaged girl who didn’t seem to be aware of the barbed chatter—asked if she was new in town. Normally, bagging your own groceries was considered the height of rudeness in Prospect, as it indicated a desire to leave instead of participating in a nice, long chat. But being thought rude was the least of Paige’s problems, so she shoved a head of broccoli into the same bag as a loaf of bread and a chocolate bar and prepared to call it a day.
“We’re here for the summer,” Luke told the girl with his quick, easy grin. “Mom says she’s going to teach me to surf.”
“Oh, yeah?” The girl looked impressed. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to do that myself.”
“Well, maybe my mom can teach you, too. She’s really good at it.”
Paige laughed. “By really good, he means I fall off the board only about half the time.” She put the last bag in the basket. “How much do I owe you?”
“Ninety-seven forty.”
“And she’s taking me for lunch at Prospector’s,” Luke continued. “She says they make the best strawberry shakes in all of Oregon.”
“Maybe in the whole universe,” the girl agreed. “And they’re even better if you have them throw a banana in with the strawberry ice cream.”
“Really?” Luke looked skeptical.
“I swear.”
He turned to Paige. “Can I try one, Mom? Please? I looooove bananas.”
Cursing under her breath because she’d completely forgotten her promise to take her son for lunch, Paige forced a smile, even as she prayed for patience. “You can have whatever kind of shake you want as long as you eat some vegetables with lunch. Sound fair?”
Luke groaned, but agreed, “Sounds fair.”
After signing the credit card slip and handing it to the girl, Paige let Luke push the basket to the car. Watching him carefully maneuver around the other vehicles made her smile, despite the worry that lingered in the corners of her mind. What was she going to do if Luke clued in to what kind of reputation his mother had had when she’d run away from this old-fashioned bastion of bigotry?
And how was she going to explain her reasons for doing what she’d done to him? He was already the only kid in his private-school class who didn’t at least know who his dad was—something he seemed to be taking reasonably well. But she wasn’t sure what old gossip could do to him—and she didn’t want to find out.
One thing was for sure, she vowed as she slid into the driver’s seat. After today, she was going to do her damnedest to keep him away from this place and the people who wanted nothing more than to hurt him, simply because he was hers.
Whoever had said ignorance was bliss definitely knew what he was talking about.
CHAPTER TWO
IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL DAY, the kind that made Logan Powell grateful he’d returned to Prospect after his big-city marriage had failed. Oh, he’d liked Seattle well enough—if you didn’t mind the fact that it rained something like eighty-seven percent of the time. But after Melissa had left him he’d been ready for a change. And the fact that he’d been shot, had nearly bled to death in a drug bust gone bad, hadn’t hurt his desire to return home, either. Prospect was the epitome of a sleepy coastal town and he liked it that way.
After parking his cruiser in the first available spot, Logan stepped into the street. He took a deep breath, held it in his lungs as long as he could before letting it out. In that breath was everything he loved about Prospect—sunshine, salt water and an abundance of greenery.
A glance at his watch told him he had plenty of time before he was supposed to meet his date at Prospector’s, the local sixties diner, so he decided to take the long way around. There might not be much crime in Prospect, but that didn’t mean he didn’t take his job as sheriff seriously. These people depended on him and he wasn’t going to let them down.
Today was a perfect time to weave his way through the tree-lined streets and check on the local businesses. It was a little early in the season for tourists to be descending, so he could enjoy this duty that would soon become a chore. He would still patrol the streets once they were packed with people in shorts and sundresses, haggling for antiques and beach shells, but the camaraderie he experienced now would be swallowed by strangers’ demands.
Completely content with his lot in life, Logan took his time strolling the heavily shaded streets. The sun was shining, a nice breeze wound its way between the buildings and, in the background, the ocean crashed soothingly onto the sand. Yes, it really was a beautiful day.
As he made his way down Sycamore to Main, he whistled a little tune, something happy he remembered from his childhood. Perhaps he’d stop by the clinic to see if Jake was on call tonight. If he wasn’t, maybe his old friend would be up for a few hands of poker. Logan was feeling lucky, and since the bastard had scalped him in their regular first Thursday of the month game, he owed him a chance to recoup his losses.
He’d barely stepped onto Main Street before realizing the streets—and the people walking down them—were abuzz about something. Of course, it didn’t take much to get the residents up in arms.
He wondered if Mr. Walker’s Rottweiler had escaped again, plowing into God-only-knew whom. Or if the Harbinger brothers had gotten into another fight in the middle of Town Square. The last time it had happened they’d nearly killed themselves and he’d been stuck hauling both of them to jail. Before all was said and done he’d ended up with a black eye and his own assault case against the two of them. He’d let the charges drop on the understanding that they kept their differences non-violent in the future. But if they’d been fighting again—
“Morning, Sheriff.” Marge Hutchinson’s brusque voice pulled him from his reverie.
“Morning, Mrs. Hutchinson.” He smiled at the boutique owner who had been slipping him a piece of red licorice behind his mother’s back since he was three years old. “How are you this morning?”
“I’m doing just fine. Gearing up for the tourist rush.”
“Glad to hear it. They should be here before you know it.”
“Another week or two at the most. Bob’s talked me into carrying some fancy soaps and perfumes. You should stop by and check them out,” she said with a wink. “Maybe pick up something for your new girl.”
He laughed. “Maybe I’ll do that.” Today’s lunch was only his second date with Joni—the first had been a cup of coffee a few days ago—but already the town had the two of them paired up. It didn’t annoy him the way it did some. Instead, it amused him. Where else but Prospect would his love life be a public service project?
“Good. I’ll set some of the gardenia products aside. They’ll smell real good on Joni. And you’ll be needing them after she finds out—” She looked away, her crimson painted lips pressed tightly together.
His radar went on red alert. “After she finds out what, Mrs. Hutchinson?”
“I suppose I should just tell you. It’s better than you hearing it from one of those old busybodies down the street.”
He barely bit back a smile. She was one of the busiest bodies in town. Despite her feigned reluctance, she was probably rejoicing in the fact that she’d beaten Ruth Oberly to the punch.
“Well, I was in the grocery store earlier today and you’ll never guess who’s back in town.”
She glanced at him, as if waiting for him to guess despite her words, but he didn’t have a clue. He rarely kept track of the tourists who came and went, even the ones who returned year after year.
Leaning forward, as if she had a particularly juicy secret to impart, Mrs. Hutchinson took her time drawing out the suspense. “I might not have even noticed her, except for the fact that she’d lost her son. Lost her son, can you believe it? On her first day back in town.”
