A Heart Revealed (9 page)

With shaky fingers, she picked up her hairbrush and jerked it through her blond Dutch boy bob with a shudder, quite certain the task before her would not be an easy one.
Task? To make love with Luke McGee?
A sweet shiver slithered down her spine like warm butter. Hardly. Never had she met a man who wreaked havoc with her internal thermostat more than her new husband, reducing her to mere mush at the touch of his lips. Oh no, the real “task” would come in postponing the house full of children he longed for with every fiber of his being. She gulped. At least long enough for her to realize her dream of finishing law school—a dream Luke had no idea she still had.

“Katie? You’ve been in there awhile . . . are you okay?”

No
, she thought, sucking in a deep breath,
I’m not
. “Yes, Luke, of course. Just a minute or two more, and I’ll be right out.”

She continued brushing her hair with a heavy sigh. Although that wasn’t her biggest problem at the moment. She clenched the hairbrush in hand, wishing she had been brave enough to tell Luke about her plan to quit the BCAS for law school this fall. But could she help it if he’d taken his sweet time proposing in the first place? And the last thing she’d wanted was to rock the boat before she got him to say “I do.” No, with somebody as stubborn and strong-willed as Luke McGee, Katie felt sure it was better to divulge her plan
after
the honeymoon, not before. She sighed. After all, it was better to batten the hatches on stormy seas than not set sail at all. Wasn’t it?

“Katie . . . are you sure you’re all right?” Luke’s voice was edged with concern.

“Yes, I promise. Just thirty seconds more.” She tossed the brush on the vanity and dabbed a hint of perfume just above the lacy neckline of her lavender negligee, just as Charity had instructed. With a deep ingest of air, she pressed a quivering hand to her abdomen and exhaled slowly.
Thank God we’re safe through the honeymoon
, she thought with relief, but then closed her eyes to whisper a prayer nonetheless.

“Lord, thank you for my husband—I love him so much. And I truly want to give him the family he deserves, honestly I do. But if it’s okay with you, I’d like to delay it just a bit . . . let’s say . . . three years? Just till I can fulfill my dream to become a lawyer and work for women’s rights somewhere down the road? I know several women lawyers who are mothers too, Lord, so I know it can be done. Please help Luke to understand how important this is to me and
please
help him not to be angry when I finally tell him.” She swallowed hard and made a quick sign of the cross. “
After
the honeymoon. Amen.”

Releasing a cleansing breath, she opened her eyes, suddenly feeling considerably calmer. Luke loved her and would understand, she was sure of it. After all, hadn’t he agreed to let her continue working at the BCAS three days a week while Lizzie watched Kit? And going to law school five days a week wasn’t much more than that, she reasoned. All it would take was for Luke to agree to refrain from lovemaking at inopportune times. Was that so difficult?

And if he refuses?
Katie blinked in the mirror as her jaw pressed tight. Well, then, she’d just have to be the strong one, the one with the willpower. When the time wasn’t right, she would just tell Luke McGee no, case closed. After all, how hard could it be?

With her mind firmly made up, she opened the bathroom door.

A gasp quivered from her lips when Luke met her with a possessive grip and a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “Sweet saints, Katie, if you’re trying to build anticipation, you win, because I’m about ready to crawl out of my skin.”

He cupped her face in his hands and pressed her to the wall, taking her mouth with such gentle force that a moan escaped her lips. When he pulled away, the blood in her cheeks warmed at the sight of his bare, muscled chest tapering into low-slung pajama bottoms. The heady scent of Bay Rum from his clean-shaven jaw merged with the smell of soap from blond hair still wet from his shower. She looked up and gulped, completely disarmed by the glow of love in his eyes.

“Heaven help me, Katie, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze scanning her negligee as if he wanted to swallow her whole.

The blue eyes recaptured hers once again, and her heart tripped at the desire she saw in his face. His generous mouth tipped up in a smoldering tease as he leaned in to nuzzle her neck. “Pinch me, Katie Rose, because I can hardly believe I get to make love to you for the rest of my life.”

In a sudden sweep of his arms, he cradled her to his chest and carried her to their bed with the utmost care, setting her down on the smooth, cool sheets as if she were the most fragile of gifts. He eased in beside her and drew her close, his voice husky with emotion as he stared into her eyes. “I love you, Katie,” he said, fingers sifting into her hair while his palms caressed her face. “So much that sometimes I ache inside.” He kissed her then, slow and languid as he laid her back on the bed, the chaotic rhythm of her breathing as ragged as his.

Hungry hands grazed warm against the smooth silk of her gown, and a breathless sigh shuddered from her lips. “I love you too,” she whispered, skin tingling while his mouth fondled hers slow and easy before wandering to the hollow of her throat.

Her body quivered as gentle palms slowly slipped the straps of her gown from her shoulders, his words hoarse and hot against her skin. “And you have my word, Sass—I will do everything in my power to make you the happiest woman alive.” She caught her breath when his lips trailed down, sending shudders of warmth rippling through her body.

The happiest woman alive.
Her eyelids fluttered closed. Sweet angels in heaven—there was no doubt about that.

3

F
or the love of Job, can it get any worse?
Sean hurled his pencil in an uncommon display of temper, glaring as it skittered across a desk littered with invoices for inventory that was, apparently, doing nothing but gathering dust on the shelves. His jaw ached from grinding his teeth, an unconscious habit that surfaced only when he balanced books at the end of each month. At least, lately. He kneaded the knot of tension at the ridge of his brow with the pad of his hand, knowing full well that Mr. Kelly would be looking for any reason whatsoever to save the bottom line. Sean had literally begged the man just three months ago not to lay off two of Sean’s employees, even taking a pay cut himself to sweeten his plea. But after this month’s disastrous figures, Sean wasn’t sure how much longer Mr. Kelly could sustain two hardware stores in an economy where neither was showing a profit.

He released a weighty sigh, absently unwrapping the Snickers candy bar he’d saved from his lunch, but he knew even his favorite obsession couldn’t lift his spirits today. Taking a bite, he barely tasted it as his gaze wandered aimlessly past tattered posters of tools on the wall, taking in the cramped office he’d occupied for the last ten years as manager of Mr. Kelly’s second store. Sean had never given the man a moment’s regret, tirelessly building “Kelly’s 2” into one of the most profitable mercantiles in the city. Chewing slowly, he rotated his chair to stare out in the alley, ignoring the crooked arrangement of framed certificates that confirmed his success on the wall by the window. His lips twisted.
Former
success, that is.

The scent of gasoline fumes and fresh asphalt drifted through the screen on a hot summer breeze, fluttering an obstinate strand of hair that persisted in tumbling over his forehead. His heyday as Kelly’s golden boy didn’t amount to much now, he supposed, not in the throes of the most devastating depression the world had ever seen. Despite the fact that Sean’s was the only one of Mr. Kelly’s two hardware stores that had eked out a razor-thin profit over the last year, he knew it was barely enough to cover the overhead of one store, much less two. Not when Sean suspected Mr. Kelly’s nephew—the laziest piece of humanity Sean had ever seen—tapped into store funds for his own personal use.

He rolled up the sleeves of his white, starched shirt and blasted out another sigh, this one fraught with frustration over the fact he’d have to tell Mr. Kelly the bad news today, and it wouldn’t be pretty. Somewhere a jackhammer pulverized a concrete sidewalk down the alley, and the battering was as merciless as the headache grinding in his brain. His eyes trailed into a blank stare, gaze fixed on lopsided towers of boxes and crates stacked against an eight-foot chain-link fence that separated Kelly’s from the back door of the Five and Ten.

His jaw tightened as he contemplated the possibilities, none of them good. He might have to cut staff at the very least, manning the front counter for more hours than he did now, which didn’t bother him as much as telling Andy, Mort, or Ray they no longer had jobs. The thought squeezed his heart like a vise, and he closed his eyes, racking his brain for another solution. He’d already returned all overstock he’d had, allowing his inventory to dwindle almost in half, and he’d even worked long after he clocked out rather than cut store hours.

But the bottom line stared at him now, drowning in a pool of red ink, and figures didn’t lie—drastic measures would need to be taken. At the very worst, his store could close, robbing his employees of much-needed income, not to mention demoting him to assistant manager of the store across town. His eyes peeled open, the thought trapping a groan in his throat. It would be like starting over again, second in line after Lester. Which meant that Sean would do all the work while Lester pocketed all the glory . . .
and
the salary.

“Goodness, business
must
be bad—I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you so idle before.”

Sean spun around in his chair with a sharp intake of sticky air, the headache in his brain compounded by the “headache” in the door. He quickly rose to his feet and adjusted his tie, forcing a smile he didn’t feel. “Miss Kelly . . . It’s good to see you again.”

Something in her secret smile set him on edge as he watched Rose Kelly pluck off dainty lace gloves that matched the trim of her lavender dress. “Is it?” she asked softly, tucking them into her clutch while hopeful brown eyes caused a cramp in Sean’s gut. One perfectly manicured hand made a nervous sweep along the scoop neck of her collar before pausing at a satin tie that fell just above her tiny belted waist. “It’s good to see you too, Sean,” she whispered, her innocent tone belying the warmth in her eyes. “And I do wish you’d call me Rose.”

Warmth surged and he cleared his throat, bending slightly to brace palms to his desk. He glanced up beneath cautious lids, more than wary. “Is there something I can do for you, Rose?”

Her smile was suddenly shy, reminding him that the gangly girl who’d harbored a crush on him from the age of fifteen was now a woman who could quicken his pulse. The thought unsettled him, eliciting a strong appreciation for the massive oak desk that provided a barrier.

She carefully shut the door before he could object, and every muscle in his body tensed. Her gaze flitted to a wooden chair across the room, stacked high with papers, and then back to him with a gentle smile. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

Yes
, he thought with a silent groan. He hesitated, suddenly aware he was grinding his teeth again. “If you’re here to see your father, I’m not expecting him for another hour or so.”

Her air of confidence seemed to dissipate before his eyes with a pinch of penciled brows and a nervous lick of her lips. “I know . . . ,” she said quietly, staring at her hands while she picked at her nails. When her gaze finally rose to meet his, he saw water well in her eyes, and he blinked in surprise.
The indomitable Rose Kelly . . . crying?
Against his will, a twinge of sympathy wedged in his chest and he straightened, wrinkles puckering the bridge of his nose. “Miss Kelly . . .
Rose
. . . are you all right?”

A frail sob broke from her lips and she put a quivering hand to her face. “No . . . no I’m not. And I’m not here to see my father . . . I’m here to see you.” She sniffed and made a valiant attempt to square her shoulders before she shoved at several tears trailing her cheeks. “Please forgive me, but may I . . .
we
. . . please sit?”

He blinked, her own emotional well-being suddenly more important than his. She was twenty-two, but despite the stylish cloche hugging brunette curls and a tailored dress that clearly molded to the curves of a woman, Rose Kelly might have been fifteen once again. As if tears had washed away her façade, she was no longer the bold, confident flapper who’d breached his defenses in the storeroom two summers past. Instead, she stood before him, a slip of a girl with doleful wet eyes and a plaintive smile that tugged at his heart. Years of experience soothing sisters rose within, compelling him to retrieve the chair against the wall. With a deep swallow of air, he cleared off a month’s worth of time sheets and set the chair beside her, waiting for her to sit. When she didn’t, he gently guided her down, fighting a brother’s urge to comfort with a tender embrace and a gentle stroke of her hair.