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