On Love's Own Terms Read Online Free Page B

returning the photographs to the box and replacing the lid. “I’ll take these upstairs and put them in a suitcase before I do the dishes.”
    Luke’s arm remained around her shoulders.
    Keenly conscious of the intimate press of their bodies, she groped for emotional distance. “I saw a beautiful leather album last week in New York. When I get back to the city I think I’ll buy it. Sort of an early birthday present. To myself…”
    Luke’s hand slid to the nape of her neck where his thumb made lazy circles that felt like billion-volt brands. Bonnie trained her gaze straight ahead. If she looked at him, even for an instant, she was lost.
    “Do you realize this is the first time we’ve ever slept under the same roof without sharing the same bed?” he murmured.
    Stung by his question, she stood. “Only if you don’t count the nights one of us slept on the sofa after an argument.”
    She started toward the stairway. The box she carried felt as heavy as lead; it was so full of memories. She’d sort them out later, behind closed doors.
    “Wait!” Luke stood and came after her.
    Of their own volition, her feet stopped walking. She stared down at them in amazement. Traitors!
    “Look at me, Bonnie.”
    “No. You’ll just make those come-to-bed eyes.”
    He took her arm and turned her around. His smile was incredibly tender. “Surely you can’t fault me for noticing what a beautiful woman you’ve become?”
    Her skin burned beneath his strong grip, and she jerked free of his hold. “Don’t smooth-talk me, Luke.”
    “I’m not,” he protested. “But seeing those pictures—”
    “Made you wonder if Miss Roundheels might topple again?” she interrupted bitterly.
    He shook his head, mutely denying her accusation.
    Bonnie grasped the box with both hands and hugged it to her aching heart. “Seeing these pictures had an effect on me, too. They made me realize how much I disappointed my parents, and what a lousy example I set for my younger sister.” It took a supreme act of will, but she faced him squarely. “They made me ashamed all over again of what we did to our families, to each other and to ourselves.”
    “Damn it, Bonnie, haven’t you forgiven yourself yet?” Although Luke sounded grave, he didn’t seem angry. And when he clasped her shoulders, his hands were much gentler than she felt she deserved. “I’ll bet under that silk blouse, you’re wearing a hair shirt with failure printed across the front.”
    She lowered her head, humbled at being so astutely exposed, and let him draw her into his arms. Only for a minute, she promised herself, leaning against his muscled chest. Only until the pain eases , she vowed, pressing her cheek to the warm hollow of his wide shoulder.
    He comforted her like he would a child with a skinned knee rather than as a woman emotionally paralyzed by her past. His body absorbed her shudders; his shirt blotted her tears. The box she held bonded them together through her storm of grief. When she was all cried out, he released her.
    Bonnie experienced a flash of regret as she stepped free of his embrace, a reaction she quickly quelled. She’d already revealed too much of her turmoil. Keeping her head lowered to avoid meeting those darkly perceptive eyes she murmured, “I owe you an apology.”
    “For what?” He sounded perplexed.
    “For all those terrible things I said to you today.”
    “I deserved them,” he admitted in a rueful voice.
    “Partially, yes. But I spread on the spite with a trowel, and that really was unfair.” Swamped with guilt, she ran her fingernail beneath the rim of the box lid.
    “Sometimes we have to take a hard look backwards before we can go forward.” Luke cupped her chin, forcing her to face him. “Confronting the past is part of the healing process.”
    “But it hurts.”
    “I know.”
    “I’m afraid,” she protested.
    “I’m here,” he promised.
    Dare she trust him again? Bonnie closed her eyes and felt his warm breath