On Love's Own Terms Read Online Free

through her veins. Unaware of the tension at the table, Darlene and Dave chatted happily. Damned if she’d let him ruin her dinner! Her cheeks flaming an angry scarlet, Bonnie looked up and licked her lips with the tip of her tongue. Luke’s eyes shot such electric sparks that she went hot and cold all at once, every cell in her body tingling with excitement.
    Forcing herself to break the magnetic connection, Bonnie stood and turned toward the kitchen. Round one belonged to Luke.
    “Darlene, would you clear away the bowls while I bring in the meat and vegetables?” It was a perfectly normal request, yet her voice sounded strange—quite unlike her own. Bonnie walked the interminable distance from the table to the swinging doors, acutely aware of Luke’s potent gaze following her every move.
    The kitchen was familiar turf. While she mentally regrouped, her hands functioned automatically. She arranged stuffed lamb chops on the meat platter, poured a velvety hollandaise sauce over the steamed asparagus and unmolded the wild rice ring.
    “Why didn’t you fix the steaks I brought from Atlanta?” Luke greeted her with the loaded question when she wheeled the carved walnut serving cart into the dining room.
    “I’d already planned the menu for this evening,” she explained patiently. She flashed him a tight smile, betraying none of the fury she felt. “We’ll have the steaks tomorrow night,” she reasoned. “Okay?”
    Bonnie managed to fill four plates and pass three with a deceptive domestic tranquility that left her bursting with pride.
    Round two looked rather promising, she thought. But her complacency proved completely premature.
    Ignoring his food, Luke repeated his visual attack. His dark eyes narrowed suggestively whenever her fork disappeared into her mouth; his grin widened devilishly whenever she lowered her eyes from the aggressive challenge in his. The juicy lamb chops, the tender asparagus, the fluffy rice—they might well have been sawdust for all she tasted them.
    Still oblivious to their older siblings’ silent combat, Darlene and Dave ate heartily and talked nonstop about their wedding and the house they were building in Atlanta. Bonnie nodded and smiled every time it seemed appropriate that she do so, but the conversation could have been conducted in gibberish as far as she was concerned.
    It was a battle-weary Bonnie who finally abandoned the pretense of eating. Mumbling a lame excuse about having sampled too much as she cooked, she laid her fork aside. Although her hand itched to slap away the triumphant smile on Luke’s face, she squelched the urge and stood.
    “I’ll go plug in the coffee maker,” she announced brightly to no one in particular. “When you’re finished eating, leave the dishes for later. I’ll meet you in the living room with the coffee tray.”
    The kitchen was a warm and friendly haven. Through the years, hundreds of relatives and neighbors had gathered around the old formica table, gossiping, laughing and swapping recipes and tall tales. Why then, out of those untold numbers, was the memory of Luke the only one that came to her mind while she worked?
    Bonnie took cups from the cabinet, spooned sugar into a bowl and filled the cream pitcher—routine actions that required no real concentration on her part. How many midnights had Luke and she raided this old refrigerator? She ran her hand along its smooth porcelain surface, recalling in unappetizing detail some of the weird ingredients they’d slapped between two slices of bread and called a sandwich. How many evenings had Luke and she sat up over her algebra papers, redoing each problem until she understood what to do with the x’s and y’s well enough to earn a passing grade?
    Those moments and others swirled around her now, dancing like dust motes in a stream of sunshine. After their marriage, she and Luke had stood in the middle of this kitchen, hands tightly clasped, while announcing their elopement and her