Luke's Daughters. Lynnette Kent

was ready to go. Much as she hated to end her time with him, she had no right to keep Luke in her life. “They’re right here in the drawer.” She grabbed the jangle of keys and a hat off the peg by the door. “Now, I’m all set!”

      Or she could pretend she was, anyway.

      CHAPTER THREE

      LUKE PUT ON his sunglasses when they got into the truck, then frowned at the thought he was using them as a mask.

      But the truth was, he’d enjoyed brushing Sarah’s hair. Too much. The gold-brown curls were softer than they looked, like water almost, sluicing over his hands. She’d relaxed as he brushed and braided, reminding him of a kitten being stroked…and all at once he realized his body had responded to that idea with more interest than he’d have believed possible.

      Since Kristin…since Kristin and Matt…he hadn’t thought about sex. But the nape of Sarah’s neck was soft, vulnerable. Her skin was smooth and tan, the sound of her breath like a soft wind in the trees. For just a second, he wanted…something he had no right to. Again.

      He took a deep breath. “Where’s your car?”

      “Sawyer’s Photo Shop. Not too far from the police station.” She shivered as she spoke.

      “He won’t be there now.” For just a second, Luke covered her hand with his own. “And if he is, I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you or anybody else for a good long time. Okay?”

      She had a sweet, sunny smile, underneath the bruises. “Okay.”

      He drove to the bank first, waiting while Sarah arranged to put a stop on any checks. She’d found her birth certificate and insurance papers before they left the condo and she used them to get a new driver’s license, which would allow her to open another checking account when she was ready.

      As they waited for a traffic light to change, Sarah shifted on the seat. “Your hair’s a little long for one of Myrtle Beach’s finest. Have they updated police regulations?”

      Luke smiled. “I’ve been on special duty—hanging with the beach regulars for the past year or so, keeping an eye on their less…aquatic…activities.”

      “A surfer dude?”

      “Nope. The word dude is out with serious surfers. They’re proud of their life in opposition to the mainstream.”

      Sarah nodded. “I’ll remember. Surfing for a living sounds like a good job, though. Low stress.”

      “Oh, yeah. Especially in January, wearing a cold wet suit and freezing my…nose…off.”

      “Not your idea of fun?”

      “My idea of fun in January is a fireplace, a TV football game, and a bowl of popcorn.” He held the picture of that scene in his mind’s eye—Erin napping on the armchair, Kristin in the curve of his arm, almost dozing as she nursed Jen. Less than two years ago, he’d lived a perfect life.

      “Luke? Luke!” Sarah’s voice brought him back.

      The brakes squealed as he automatically stomped the pedal, bringing the truck to a stop with about two inches to spare behind the Mercedes ahead.

      Sarah was staring at him, her eyes wide. “She pulled right in front of you, but I didn’t think you’d seen.”

      Luke wiped a hand over his face. “You were right. I was…my mind had—”

      She nodded. “I can guess. Good thing you have quick reflexes.”

      A honk from behind jerked their attention to the green traffic light. Luke gritted his teeth and accelerated carefully.

      They arrived at Sawyer’s Photo Shop without any more stupidity on his part. Sarah directed him around the back of the painted concrete block building, where an olive-green Jeep and a full-size Cadillac shimmered in the morning sun. Luke cut the engine. “I’m betting yours is the Jeep.”

      She accepted his help to climb down from the truck’s high seat. “Brilliant deduction, Officer Brennan.”

      “Corporal First Class.” He grinned as she stuck out her tongue at him, then followed her to the Jeep. “I checked with Hank Jordan, the investigating officer. They dusted for prints—no results yet. But if the guy has your keys, why didn’t he take the car? Jeeps are a high-return item in the stolen-car market.”

      “Maybe he didn’t like the way it drove?”

      He gave her question the chuckle it deserved. “Even if he didn’t want it, I expect he knows someone who would. So…”

      Using the tips of her fingers, Sarah opened the Jeep door. A wall of heat broke over them. “I’d say this car hasn’t been anywhere since I parked it yesterday about three o’clock.”

      “And the question would be, why not?” Luke couldn’t come up with an answer that made sense.

      “If we don’t know, I guess there’s nothing we can do.” Sarah stared into the interior of the Jeep for a few seconds, then seemed to shake herself free. “So life goes on. You can get some sleep and I can make some more prints. Good thing I left the negatives in the files.”

      “What I have to get first is a haircut. I go on regular patrol duty starting Wednesday night.”

      “No more surfing?”

      He shook his head. “Back to real life.”

      She nodded. “I’ll bring the pictures by your house sometime this week, okay?”

      With her hat brim shading the bruises, bandages and scrapes, her face looked almost normal—sweet and calm and, as he remembered noticing on the beach, sad. Luke was suddenly reluctant to say goodbye.

      But his life was too much of a mess to mix with anybody else’s. “I’m home most afternoons.” He stepped back, and sunlight fell on the ground between them. “Are you sure you feel like driving? Those hands have to hurt.”

      “I’m fine—thanks to a little white pill. Plus an automatic transmission and power steering. No problem.” Her hesitation in getting up into the Jeep belied her confident statement.

      Luke gave her a lift at the elbow. The bones in her arm were as light as a bird’s. “I’ll…be in touch if anything turns up on the case.”

      “Thanks.” She put the key in the ignition and the Jeep puttered to life. Luke stepped back as the vehicle started to move. At the edge of the parking lot, Sarah lifted her hand and glanced at him in the rearview mirror before driving away. He waved, but wasn’t sure she saw him.

      Alone again, he studied the ground around him, wondering if Jordan had missed anything when he’d checked out the site of the mugging.

      Fifteen minutes later, he doubted it. If the gravel had ever held any clues, they’d been scuffed away.

      That left him with no theory about who’d attacked Sarah Randolph. And with the rest of a long, hot Monday to fill.

      Not to mention the rest of the summer…and the rest of his life.

      THE FLORIDA SUN beat against exposed skin with an almost physical force. Kristin Brennan shifted a little on her chaise longue and prepared to sink deeper into pure indolence.

      “Strawberry daiquiri for the lady?”

      She peered sleepily over the top edge of her sunglasses, then woke up fast. “Just what I’ve been dying for! How did you know?”

      Her husband sat down near her feet. “It’s hot, we’re in Florida, you love strawberries. Simple deduction.”

      “Mmm.” She sipped the frozen drink gratefully. “I might just stay right here for the rest of my life, reading romances and soaking up sun and drinking daiquiris.”

      Matt stroked his palm