Burke's Christmas Surprise

“Lily, ” Burke had said tonight.

She lowered her head in shame, and wished with all her heart that she was half the woman Lily had been.

One second the cup was in Louetta’s hand, the next second it shattered on the floor. She saw it happening, yet she still jumped a mile.

“Slippery little buggers, aren’t they?” red-haired Jason Tucker, a twenty-three-year-old ranch hand who could blush as darkly as Louetta, said with a boyish grin.

Nodding, she scooted down to her haunches to pick up the pieces of the second item she’d broken that morning. She was a wreck, that was all there was to it. At this rate, she was going to need another set of dishes by suppertime.

Jed Harley had been very understanding about the milk she’d spilled in his lap, and Boomer Brown hadn’t said anything when he’d gotten a saucer full of coffee along with his refill, although his wife, DoraLee, the owner of the Crazy Horse Saloon and Louetta’s least likely friend, studied Louetta’s face and cast her an understanding smile. Cletus McCully ate without complaining about the eggs she’d scorched, although he did mention that she was as jumpy as a cat on hot bricks.

He was right. She nearly sprang straight into the air every time the bell jangled over the door.

She had no doubt that every one of the usual breakfast crowd noticed her skittishness. They probably attributed it to nerves at the thought of shy little Louetta Graham having two suitors. They had no way of knowing about the guilt sitting like a rock in the middle of her swirling stomach.

Leaving the diners to sip their coffee and mull over their gossip, she used extra care busing the rest of the tables. She felt a headache coming on as she carried the tub of dishes into the kitchen and promptly turned on the tap.

“Girl, ya got a minute?”

“Cletus!” Louetta nearly came out of her skin, the dishes in her hand splashing as she dropped them into the water. “Yes, yes, of course. What is it?”

The old man snapped his suspenders and did such a poor job of pretending to be interested in the fifty-year-old oven that Louetta would have smiled if she’d been physically able.

Choosing a different tack, he shook his craggy old head and glanced at the door. “I’m hiding from those...those manhandlers.

Dropping the clean forks and knives she’d just washed into the rinse water, Louetta heaved a big sigh, but at least she could manage a semblance of a smile. “Are Gussie and Addie Cunningham putting the moves on you again, Cletus?”

“The moves! Jumpin’ catfish, those two women are more wily than sailors and just as determined. What’s worse, they don’t know the meaning of the word no.”

Louetta lowered a stack of plates into the deep, stainless steel sink. Gussie Cunningham and her sister Addie had moved to town a couple of years ago, not long after they won the lottery in Wisconsin where they used to live. They were both eccentric, without a doubt. Slightly over sixty and still single, they claimed they were just good old gals who were looking for decent men to call their own.

Up to her elbows in soapsuds, Louetta said, “They’re lonely, Cletus. Neither of them means any harm.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t mean them any harm, either, but sometimes desperate situations call for desperate measures. And if you don’t mind, I think I’ll hide out in here for a while. I used to help Melody out now and again, you know. When she had to run an errand, or step out for a minute, I mean, or do something about whatever was causing her to lose sleep at night.”

Louetta stopped. Staring past the lines in Cletus’s face, into knowing brown eyes, she said, “What makes you think there’s someplace else I want to go?”

“Isn’t there?”

There was no use wondering how the man could have known. Cletus McCully wasn’t much taller than Louetta’s five feet seven inches. And yet he was a very big man. Swallowing the lump that came out of nowhere, Louetta closed her eyes and called for courage. Opening them again, she reached behind her back and untied her apron. She handed it to Cletus, and at the last minute kissed his lined cheek. “I know where Melody got her heart.”

“Don’t go gettin’ maudlin on me, girl. And if you slip out the back, nobody has to know you’re gone.”

Louetta dried her hands on a towel, slipped her coat from the peg by the door. Before she lost her nerve, she stepped into the back alley and headed for a certain doctor’s office on Custer Street.

Burke was wandering. Pacing was more like it. The furnished apartment attached to the doctor’s office was part of the deal he’d worked out with Doc Masey before agreeing to move to Jasper Gulch. It wasn’t the rain that had made his decision to leave Seattle so easy. He’d been feeling dissatisfied, at loose ends, unconnected to his life there for a long time. A thirty-five-year-old doctor in a prestigious city hospital, he’d felt more like a paper shuffler than a physician. Ever since he’d been stranded in this quaint, one-horse town, the idea. of treating the same patients for years on end, of making house calls and delivering babies who would grow up and bring their babies to him had become a fantasy. Of course, in his fantasy Lily had welcomed him back with open arms.

There was no woman named Lily. She’d been a daydream, a myth. Louetta was real. And Louetta was a lot more stubborn than he’d expected. Hell, she acted as if his soul was darkened by sins, stained by mistakes.

Oh, he’d made his share of mistakes in his life, there was no doubt about that. He wondered what measure God used to gauge a person’s wrongs. Was a sin a sin? Or did good intentions balance difficult decisions? Because he’d had the best of intentions. Look where they’d gotten him.

Once he’d arrived back in Seattle two and a half years ago, and he’d faced the fact that he couldn’t return to Jasper Gulch, he’d done everything he could to put thoughts of Lily out of his mind. They’d returned when he’d least expected them, unbidden, real enough to touch.

Hell, it was happening right now. He was thirty-five years old. Way too old to be paralyzed by sexual impulses in the middle of the morning. Pacing to the desk, he yanked on the lid of a box filled with books and immediately began placing them on a high shelf. A knock sounded on the door behind him. Continuing his task, he called, “Come on in, Doc. The door’s open.”

The doorknob jiggled, and the door creaked open.

“Back from your house call so soon?” Burke called without looking.

The room, all at once, was very quiet. Turning, he found Lily standing in the open doorway, the light of a gray November morning behind her, the purse in her hands clutched so tightly her knuckles were white.

“Come in,” he said, his voice a low rumble in the still room.

She wet her lips nervously. “I can’t stay. I wanted you to know that my name is Louetta. But my father always called me Lily.”

During the time they’d been apart, Burke had remembered everything about Lily with a clarity that had surprised him. He saw inside her with that same clarity right now. She was scared. Why shouldn’t she be? He’d hurt her. The fact that he couldn’t have lived with himself if he’d chosen any other way didn’t matter. He’d hurt her, and she was none too sure he wouldn’t hurt her again.

“I should have known you wouldn’t lie,” he said, placing a medical book back in the cardboard box.

Her lips parted and she blinked. God, he loved disconcerting her, loved the heat in her eyes and the blush on her cheeks. Something powerful took hold inside him, something elemental, earthy and a lot more pleasant than his earlier frustration. With one hand on his hip and the other in his pocket, he took a step toward her.

The backward step Louetta took was automatic. Good grief. She’d said what she’d come here to say. Now what?

“Well. Er. Um.” She nearly groaned out loud. What in tarnation had happened to her good sense? “I should be going.”

“So soon?”

The fact that Burke was steadily moving closer wasn’t helping her equilibrium. As one moment stretched to two, she grasped the first excuse that popped into her head. “Isabell usually stops in at the diner about this time of the morning. She’s been lonely since Mother died, and she’ll worry if I’m not there.”

“Does Isabell know about us, Louetta?” he said as if trying the name out on his tongue.

Louetta was accustomed to the ever-changing sounds of the breezes that blew here in South Dakota, but she doubted she’d ever be able to hear the sound of the wind after midnight again without being reminded of Burke. His voice was like that wind, a deep sigh, a gentle moaning, a slow sweep across her senses.

“Does she?” he asked again, more quietly than before.

Although it required a conscious effort to pull herself together, she straightened her back and raised her chin a fraction of an inch. Meeting Burke’s steady gaze, she said, “Don’t worry, Burke. I didn’t broadcast our little tryst.”

“Is that how you would describe what happened between us? As a tryst?”

A dozen possibilities scrambled through her mind, confusing her even more. “How would you describe it?” she asked.

There was an inherent determination in the set of his chin and a hungry light in his eyes as he said, “It was a damn sight more than that.”

His arms were around her before she could take another backward step, and she knew, even before his lips covered hers, that he was going to kiss her.

Chapter Three

Burke moved so fast Louetta’s breath caught, her lips parting on a gasp that turned into a sigh the instant his lips covered hers. His arms were strong, the body beneath his charcoal gray sweater warm and solid. She must have closed her eyes, because she couldn’t see a thing. But she could feel, and Burke’s lips were wet, his chest broad, his heartbeat strong beneath her palm that had somehow come to be pressed between their bodies.

Everything inside her started to swirl together in a slow, heavy spiral, all her thoughts turned to oblivion, all her needs became one. The same thing had happened the first time they’d met. One kiss and she’d been lost, one embrace and she’d craved more. At the time, she hadn’t even known what she was craving. Now she knew. And knowing made her need greater and her heart feel more tender at the same time.

She hadn’t been aware that they were moving until she felt the cool wall at her back. And then Burke’s hands were sliding down her spine, her sweater bunching in his fingers as he pressed her ever closer. His response was unmistakable, her groan of pleasure insuppressible, erupting on a gasp and a sigh.

Need pounded through Burke, dangerous, powerful. He was holding on to Lily tight, with everything he had, and he was still coming apart at the seams. Lord, she was sweet, her breath hot, her hands insistent. And her body, well, it was almost beyond description, her breasts so full and soft, her legs so long, her lips so eager. Her hands spread wide over the fabric of his dress slacks, down the backs of his thighs, and back up again. Desire seared a path from one end of his body to another, making his heart race and all but explode.

He knew he had to stop. He was trying to stop. He never wanted to stop.

Some force had him tangling his fingers in her hair, sending her hair clip tumbling to the floor. The same force had him pulling her hard against him, trying to bury himself in the softness of her body. “Oh, Lily, I’ve missed you.”

The moment those words registered on Louetta’s dizzied senses, her eyes opened, and she tensed. She wasn’t certain what brought reality crashing all around her—the fact that Burke had called her Lily, or the reminder that there had been two and a half years between them. Two and a half years of wondering, of thinking the worst and wishing for a miracle.

As if sensing her disquietude, he took a shuddering breath. She pulled away a little more, and he let her. She made her escape, deftly sidestepping out of his arms and hurrying across the room. “I have to go.”

“Stay.”

“I can’t.”

“Lily.” And then quieter, more unsure. “Louetta. Wait.” He stopped a few feet away, as if uncertain how close he dared to trod. “I’m glad you came by.”

Averting her gaze, she said, “I wanted a clear conscience. I didn’t intend...” Her voice trailed away. Honest to Pete, if she blushed, she swore she would walk out the door and not stop until she’d reached the state line.

“I’m glad about that, too,” he said quietly.

Her gaze flew to his, and a zing went through her. It happened every time she looked at him, temporal temptation written all over his face. Burke claimed he was glad to see her, glad to have held her. He claimed he’d missed her. Maybe he had. That didn’t erase all the pain and loneliness she’d lived with since the night she’d spent with him. He’d had no business kissing her this morning. And she’d had no business responding, not if she wanted to keep the tenacious hold on her pride, not to mention on her heart. Okay. She couldn’t change what had happened. He’d kissed her, and she’d let him, for the plain and simple reason that it had felt good. That didn’t mean she had to turn all poetic and imagine that she’d found heaven in his arms. There was nothing heavenly or poetic about pain, disillusionment and a broken heart.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

She supposed there was a little consolation in the fact that his voice sounded as shaky as she felt. “I can’t.”

He reached down and in one lithe movement scooped her purse and the plain ivory barrette off the floor where she hadn’t even realized they had fallen. Handing them to her, he said, “You can’t?”

She tucked the purse underneath her arm and took the clip into her palm. “I have plans.”

“Plans.”

She nodded.

There was an edge to his voice when he said, “Could you be a little more specific?”

“I have a date.”

“With Stryker?”

“With Wes. Yes.”

“You’re going out with him after the way you just kissed me?”

Louetta started to shift away from the heavy hint of reproach in his voice, but she caught herself. Bristling, she declared, “I didn’t kiss you. You kissed me.” With a flip of her hair over her shoulder and a swing of her hips, she turned around and strode straight out of his house.

Burke watched her from the door, cold wind blowing through his clothes. “Where are you going?” he called to her back.

She spun around so fast her wavy hair twirled into her face. “Back to the diner.”

“I mean tonight. With Stryker.”

He could see her trying to make sense of the question. She pushed her hair away from her face, pulled the lapels of her coat together and shifted her weight to one foot. Eyebrows raised suspiciously, she said, “We’re going to a steak house in Pierre. Why?”

Burke held up both hands innocently. “No reason.”

With a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head, she stalked away. He stayed where he was, watching. The woman had a walk that could stop traffic. She also had a temper. She has changed, he thought. Even more surprising—he liked it.

He waited to close the door until she was out of sight. Although the sun wasn’t shining, the room seemed brighter somehow, the air more fragrant. There was no doubt about it; the day had just gotten better. He didn’t appreciate the fact that Lily was seeing Stryker tonight, but no matter what she said about who’d kissed whom, her response had been an encouraging step in the right direction.

He was a patient man. A doctor couldn’t survive without it. Hell, he couldn’t have survived his family without patience. Louetta had a date with Stryker tonight. Well, well, well. It was up to Burke to make sure her mind was on the right man. Humming under his breath, he opened the directory and picked up the phone.

Louetta made it back to the diner in record time. She hung up her coat with one hand and reached for a clean apron with the other. Glancing at the stack of clean dishes Cletus was in the process of drying, she smiled and headed for the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the dining room.

Her smile slipped a little as every eyebrow in the place rose in quiet speculation. Reaching for the coffee carafe, she filled the Anderson brothers’ cups and moved on to the next table where Wes was in the process of taking a seat across from Boomer and DoraLee Brown.

“Mornin’, Lou.”

“Hi, Wes,” she answered, her smile returning as he pulled another bouquet from behind his back. “You didn’t have to bring me more flowers,” she admonished, taking the pink carnations in her empty hand.

The dazed look Wes usually wore these days cleared. Eyeing her as if he was trying to figure something out, he said, “You alone in the kitchen?”

She glanced over her shoulder, catching DoraLee’s eye on the way by. “Cletus is helping with the dishes. Why?”

“Old Cletus McCully?” Wes sputtered, his gaze homing in on her mouth.

“Is there a young Cletus McCully, sugar?” DoraLee asked.

As if deciding he must have imagined something, Wes said, “Aren’t you gonna read the card?”

She placed the carafe on the table and opened the small card. “Roses are red. Daisies are sunny. You’re much nicer than any rodeo bunny.”

“That’s sweet, Wes.” She automatically placed her fingertips over her mouth, which in turn automatically reminded her of how her lips had tingled when Burke had kissed her. Suddenly flustered, she said something about putting the flowers in water and hurried into the kitchen. Thankful that Cletus was going about what he’d been doing, she took a moment to reorient herself. She was feeling much calmer by the time she took a pitcher off a shelf and filled it with water, adding the bouquet of flowers one stern at a time. “The coast’s clear, Cletus. Gussie and Addie are gone.”

“Hallelujah.”

Eyeing all the clean dishes, she said, “No wonder they’re both after you. Not only are you handsome and witty, but you do dishes, too.”

Cletus McCully blanched. “If you’re trying to rattle me, it’s working.”

“This must be the day for being rattled,” she muttered under her breath. “Can I ask you something, Cletus?” she said, placing the pitcher filled with carnations on the counter.

He nodded his craggy head one time.

“Is my sweater on backward, or is my hair a mess, or have I grown a third eye or something?”

He looked her up and down as only a man could. “Your hair’s a little windblown, and I ain’t used to seeing it down around your shoulders, but everything seems to be in the right place. Why?”

“Well, everybody’s looking at me as if—never mind.”

Cletus slapped his towel on the counter. Making a tsk, tsk, tsk sound, he headed for the door. “You look fine. Pretty. Like a woman who’s recently been thoroughly kissed.”

The door swung closed behind him. This time it was Louetta who blanched.

She didn’t move until the door had stopped swinging on its hinges. Merciful heavens. She had been thoroughly kissed. She’d had no idea it showed. No wonder everybody was looking at her strangely.

Louetta Graham simply didn’t know how to handle this kind of attention, this kind of speculation. There was something to be said for being a wallflower, for blending in with the scenery. No, she told herself, putting the stacked dishes on the shelves where they belonged. Going unnoticed by people she’d known all her life had been a lonely way to exist. It had taken courage to make a stand three years ago. It had taken courage to dig her way out of her shell. She couldn’t slide back in now, when she’d come so far.

The old Louetta would have taken the cowardly way out and stayed in the kitchen until everyone left. The new Louetta had no room in her life for craven tendencies and faintheartedness. Taking a deep breath, she pushed through the swinging door.

She let out a little yelp as a man swooped in front of her and pulled her to him the second she entered the room. “Wes,” she exclaimed, watching in dismay as his face descended to hers.

His kiss had come out of the blue, which pretty much described the color of his eyes and the wink he gave her moments later. “There,” he said, sauntering toward the door. “Might as well keep the gossips on their toes, don’tcha think? I’ll see you tonight, Lou.”

Louetta stared after him, one hand over her mouth, the other over her heart. She knew her cheeks were flaming. And she knew everyone was looking at her. She couldn’t bring herself to care.

Plain, shy Louetta Graham had gone thirty-three years without being kissed. Suddenly, at thirty-five, she’d been kissed by two of the most ruggedly attractive men in the entire state of South Dakota, and all in the span of fifteen minutes. Whatever was a woman to do?

“There I was,” Wes Stryker said, blue eyes full of mischief as he regaled Louetta with another rodeo story, “balancin’ on the top rung of the chute, all psyched to climb onto that bronco’s back and stay there. Only, the horse had other ideas. And I knew, the second my butt hit the saddle, that I was in for quite a ride.”

Louetta leaned forward in her chair, her stomach comfortably full, both hands curled around a cup of coffee, intrigued as much by the warmth and friendliness in Wes’s expression as by the tale itself. “Did you last your eight seconds?” she asked, feeling her smile broaden at the look of self-confidence and humor on Wes’s lean face.

“The longest eight and a half seconds of my life. Near as I can tell, ridin’ a bucking bronco is a lot like steering a spaceship through reentry.”

“How many times have you steered a spaceship through reentry?” Louetta asked around a grin.

Although she hadn’t seen much of Wes since they’d graduated from high school, she realized he’d always been easy to be with. Maybe it was because he hadn’t exactly fit in, either. He hadn’t been unpopular, but he’d rarely participated in after-school activities.

Louetta couldn’t remember much about Wes’s mother, who’d died when he was a young boy, but it was common knowledge that Sam Stryker had had a drinking problem, just as it was common knowledge that the reason Wes had spent every free moment practicing his roping and riding skills was that he’d been planning his escape from Jasper Gulch. He’d left town the day after graduation. Although he’d come back a couple of times every year, nobody had really expected him to return for good. But then, Louetta thought to herself, nobody had ever expected her to be pursued by two men, either.

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