The Bride Said, 'Surprise!'. Cathy Thacker Gillen

He massaged the muscles on the back of his neck. “I think you’re not giving Kip Brewster enough credit. I know the two of you parted badly, but you must have liked something about him—you two dated for months and even talked about getting married—and, from what I remember, he seemed like a decent guy.”

      On the surface, that was true, Meg knew. Kip was from a wealthy Texas family. Bright and articulate, he had always behaved like a perfect gentleman and treated Meg with care. It was what Kip was capable of behind the scenes that had led to their breakup. But again, that wasn’t the kind of personal angst and drama Meg shared with anyone. It was bad enough she knew what a complete fool Kip had made of her, without letting everyone else know how deeply she had been humiliated. And that especially included Luke. For some reason Meg couldn’t quite put her finger on, she didn’t want Luke knowing how truly clueless she had been back then. And because Kip had been in the university law school, Meg and Luke in the medical and nursing schools, there was no reason Luke should ever know, no reason Kip’s and Luke’s paths should ever cross again. Especially since Kip had never even been to Laramie. And he and Meg hadn’t had contact since she left Chicago.

      “I never said Jeremy’s father was Kip,” Meg said, piqued.

      “Are you saying he isn’t then?” Luke probed.

      Warmth climbed from Meg’s neck into her face. “I’m not saying anything other than that Kip Brewster has no business in this matter, period,” Meg insisted stubbornly, and saw the hollows beneath Luke’s cheekbones grow more pronounced. Clearly, he disapproved of the way she had handled this situation from the start. Which was something else Meg didn’t need—Luke’s condemnation.

      Luke stared at Meg as if he no longer had the slightest clue who she was. “I gather this means your son has no idea who his father is, either,” he said grimly.

      Meg’s feelings on that were firm. “Why fill his head with stories of someone who will never be able to be a father to him? It would only make him want something he could never have.” Having secretly been in love with the same man for most of her adult life, Meg knew what that was like. It wasn’t fun.

      Silence fell as Luke continued to study her without a hint of apology. “I can see you’re trying to help,” Meg said finally, a little in awe of his tenacity.

      “I never stopped caring what happened to you, Meg.”

      Nor had she ever stopped caring what happened to Luke, Meg thought. But that changed nothing. Every time she was near him, every time she looked at him, she couldn’t help but recall what it had been like to pour out her heart to him and make love to him like there was no tomorrow. Only to see his regret and realize—when the new day dawned, emotions subsided and common sense returned—that he did not feel the same way about her. She had never been so devastated. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—let the same thing happen to her son.

      “Look, we can be neighbors and co-workers. But we can’t pretend what happened did not occur because it did.” And consequently her life had never been—would never be—the same.

      Luke’s gaze narrowed in silent challenge. “That stand-offish attitude of yours is going to make our lives mighty difficult,” he drawled with easy familiarity.

      Every muscle in her body was stiff with tension. “And why would that be?”

      Luke gave her a goading smile. Desire, pure and simple, was in his eyes. “Because in about half an hour my three little girls and I are moving in next door.”

      FINALLY, LUKE NOTED, he had Meg’s full attention. It sure hadn’t been easy getting it. She had been treating him like an outcast from the moment he arrived in Laramie a week ago, ducking whenever she saw him, only smiling or absently greeting him when she simply could not get around it.

      Given the way they’d parted, her refusal to talk to him since, he couldn’t say he’d expected her to greet him with open arms. He’d known the moment they’d actually come face-to-face again that she was no less stubborn or self-reliant. She said she forgave him for giving in to her grief, confusion and need, but she didn’t act as if she’d forgiven him. She acted as if she resented him more than ever.

      The part of him that said he didn’t need this—feeling unwanted and unnecessary—was tempted to turn away and let her and the son he’d thought, hoped for one brief incredibly happy moment was his be, just as they had been. The other part of him, the stronger, more noble side, wanted to hang in there, find a way to get past Meg’s hurt and wariness, forget the night that had ended their friendship and find their way back to each other again. Meg needed a confidante and companion as much as he did. Maybe more.

      He had hoped, of course, that Meg already would have reached the same conclusion by the time he actually arrived in Laramie. He had hoped enough time would have passed for her to simply meet him halfway. Unfortunately, it hadn’t happened. So he’d been left to take matters into his own hands and seek her out at a time when they were both away from the hospital and could say whatever needed to be said privately and be done with it.

      Once again he’d been surprised. Not just by her continued resistance to get close again, but also by her impact on him in a physical sense. He’d met a lot of women in his life, dated more than a few of them, and he’d never wanted any of them the way he wanted Meg Lockhart. To his amazement, during the half dozen years they had been apart, that feeling had only increased. And not just because Meg still had the same easy good looks, inherent gentleness and unconscious spunk and sexiness that had turned his life upside down from the get-go. Yes, she was still as drop-dead gorgeous as ever—even in demure shorts, blouse and white tennis shoes. Her dark-auburn hair was as thick and glossy as ever, and she still liked to wear the thick loose waves swept up in a loose, tousled knot on the back of her head. But his attraction to her went far beyond her mesmerizing aqua-blue eyes, full, soft lips and enticing curves that had been made even lusher and more womanly with the birth of her first and only child. He was attracted to her for the way she made him feel. He had only to look into her eyes to know how special was the immediate emotional connection that once allowed them to become friends. And one day soon, Luke promised himself silently, Meg would realize their attraction needed to be explored. One day soon they’d start over and get to know each other the way they should have the first time. Not just as friends, but as friends and lovers.

      “What about your wife?” Meg asked.

      Luke tensed as the talk turned to his marriage and that unhappy time of his life. Meg wasn’t the only one who had a romantic life full of regrets she’d rather not dwell on—he had made his share of mistakes in that arena, too, that could not be undone. Like Meg, Luke thought, all he could do was move on. “Gwyneth died two years ago, in a car crash,” he said quietly.

      “I’m sorry.” Shock filling her eyes, Meg laid a slender hand across her breasts and sucked in a breath. “Was anyone else hurt in the accident?”

      Luke grimaced, working hard to keep his emotions at bay. This was one area of his life he didn’t want to talk about, even with Meg. “She was alone when it happened,” he said tersely.

      “It must have been very tough for you all,” Meg said compassionately.

      Luke nodded. That was the understatement of the century. In many ways he was still grappling with the circumstances surrounding Gwyneth’s death.

      “Where are your three little girls now?” Meg asked, abruptly looking and acting very much like the nurse/natural healer she was professionally.

      “With John and Lilah McCabe,” Luke explained as Meg knelt next to the freshly sanded park bench. “We’ve been staying at their ranch the past couple of days, while I closed on the house, got acquainted with the hospital and had the utilities turned on here.”

      Meg opened a can of primer and began applying it to the wooden slats with slow, even brush strokes. Looking relieved to talk about something other than herself and her son, Meg glanced over at Luke. “How old are they?”

      Appreciating the genuine interest and understanding in Meg’s eyes, Luke dropped to the grass