wall, the masculine furniture throughout. A man’s sanctuary, to be sure, all the way down to the smell of cigars and aged leather. “I suppose that’s part of its charm.”
“Charm.” Laughing, Luke’s gaze shot around the room. “I don’t know about that, but the sameness does provide a sense of homecoming, one I find rather comforting.”
“Speaking of your homecoming.” Jackson repositioned himself in his chair and leaned slightly forward. “Is your return permanent or temporary?”
“I don’t know yet.” Luke took another long look around the room. “It will depend on whether I can settle a certain matter with my father.”
The evasive answer wasn’t typical of the man Jackson had once known. He remembered the awkward tension in Warren’s study last night, a tension father and son had rarely shared in the past. Something didn’t add up.
Due to their long-standing friendship, Jackson decided to be direct. “Why are you really here, Luke? What brought you home so suddenly?”
“Would you believe me if I said I was homesick?”
“I would not.”
“You know me well. But I assure you, nothing earth-shattering has occurred.” Luke waved off Jackson’s attempt to interrupt him with a flick of his wrist. “I merely find myself embroiled in a small family matter that requires immediate action on my part.”
Luke’s explanation was evasive at best. Jackson was too much of a lawyer to let the matter drop. “Should I ask the question again?” He rested his forearms on his knees. “Or perhaps I’ll redirect my initial query. Tell me, my friend, why did you leave America in the first place?”
Eyes turning haunted, Luke lowered his gaze and picked at a piece of lint on his pant leg. “What can I say? I was bored with my pampered life.” He looked up again, his face now clear of all expression. “I needed a change of scenery.”
At the cryptic response, Jackson remembered the exchange of anxious glances between father and son last night. “Are you in trouble?”
“I suppose I am.” Luke growled low in his throat, a sound of angry frustration. “But not in the way you probably think. I . . .”
When he remained silent, Jackson filled the conversational void. “What kind of trouble are you in?”
Luke’s eyes darted left to right, right to left, not quite landing on Jackson’s. “I hurt someone very badly, and I won’t be forced to repeat my mistake, no matter how passionately my father insists or how noble his reasons may seem on the surface.”
The man was withholding vital pieces of information. Jackson knew all the signs: the guarded, wandering expression, the lack of concrete answers. Traits he would never attribute to his friend, a man whose yes always meant yes and no always meant no.
“What’s really going on with you? Talk to me, Luke. Maybe I can help.”
“You are the last person who would understand the position I find myself in.”
Considering his family history, Jackson understood a great many things. “Perhaps you aren’t giving me enough credit.”
Luke closed his eyes, tipped his head back, and breathed in deeply. “My reason for leaving America had to do with a . . . woman.”
Of all the possible reasons for Luke leaving the country, Jackson would never have suspected the cause was a woman. Luke had a reputation for handling women with charm and aplomb. In fact, he was considered somewhat of a legend among the younger men in society.
The tortured look in his friend’s eyes did not match the man Jackson knew. “Go on. You were saying you left because of a woman.”
Luke scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “I handled our relationship badly. There can be no restitution for what I did to her or how I left matters between us. And that’s all I’m going to say about it.”
“You can’t possibly think—”
“I mean it, Jackson. Don’t press me on this matter.”
For the span of several heartbeats, Jackson held silent. What could have possibly
“Charm.” Laughing, Luke’s gaze shot around the room. “I don’t know about that, but the sameness does provide a sense of homecoming, one I find rather comforting.”
“Speaking of your homecoming.” Jackson repositioned himself in his chair and leaned slightly forward. “Is your return permanent or temporary?”
“I don’t know yet.” Luke took another long look around the room. “It will depend on whether I can settle a certain matter with my father.”
The evasive answer wasn’t typical of the man Jackson had once known. He remembered the awkward tension in Warren’s study last night, a tension father and son had rarely shared in the past. Something didn’t add up.
Due to their long-standing friendship, Jackson decided to be direct. “Why are you really here, Luke? What brought you home so suddenly?”
“Would you believe me if I said I was homesick?”
“I would not.”
“You know me well. But I assure you, nothing earth-shattering has occurred.” Luke waved off Jackson’s attempt to interrupt him with a flick of his wrist. “I merely find myself embroiled in a small family matter that requires immediate action on my part.”
Luke’s explanation was evasive at best. Jackson was too much of a lawyer to let the matter drop. “Should I ask the question again?” He rested his forearms on his knees. “Or perhaps I’ll redirect my initial query. Tell me, my friend, why did you leave America in the first place?”
Eyes turning haunted, Luke lowered his gaze and picked at a piece of lint on his pant leg. “What can I say? I was bored with my pampered life.” He looked up again, his face now clear of all expression. “I needed a change of scenery.”
At the cryptic response, Jackson remembered the exchange of anxious glances between father and son last night. “Are you in trouble?”
“I suppose I am.” Luke growled low in his throat, a sound of angry frustration. “But not in the way you probably think. I . . .”
When he remained silent, Jackson filled the conversational void. “What kind of trouble are you in?”
Luke’s eyes darted left to right, right to left, not quite landing on Jackson’s. “I hurt someone very badly, and I won’t be forced to repeat my mistake, no matter how passionately my father insists or how noble his reasons may seem on the surface.”
The man was withholding vital pieces of information. Jackson knew all the signs: the guarded, wandering expression, the lack of concrete answers. Traits he would never attribute to his friend, a man whose yes always meant yes and no always meant no.
“What’s really going on with you? Talk to me, Luke. Maybe I can help.”
“You are the last person who would understand the position I find myself in.”
Considering his family history, Jackson understood a great many things. “Perhaps you aren’t giving me enough credit.”
Luke closed his eyes, tipped his head back, and breathed in deeply. “My reason for leaving America had to do with a . . . woman.”
Of all the possible reasons for Luke leaving the country, Jackson would never have suspected the cause was a woman. Luke had a reputation for handling women with charm and aplomb. In fact, he was considered somewhat of a legend among the younger men in society.
The tortured look in his friend’s eyes did not match the man Jackson knew. “Go on. You were saying you left because of a woman.”
Luke scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “I handled our relationship badly. There can be no restitution for what I did to her or how I left matters between us. And that’s all I’m going to say about it.”
“You can’t possibly think—”
“I mean it, Jackson. Don’t press me on this matter.”
For the span of several heartbeats, Jackson held silent. What could have possibly
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