Luke by Jennifer Blake Page A

bottle of it in the place of the muriatic acid I wanted.”
    â€œWhat would you want that for?”
    â€œThe muriatic? It’s used to clean bricks. I wanted it to clear the moss from the front steps at Chemin-a-Haut.” He opened his eyes. “Why do you ask?”
    Pretending distraction as she cut pieces of nylon tape to fasten the bandaging strips, she said, “Just wondering—and thinking about where someone might get sulfuric acid.”
    â€œNothing to it,” he answered, twitching a shoulder as he relaxed again. “It’s one of the most common chemicals in the world, used for everything from fertilizer and detergent to drugs. It’s also the lead acid in storage batteries used in cars. If someone wanted it, they’d only have to pay a visit to the friendly neighborhood junkyard.”
    â€œAnd where did you learn all that?”
    â€œFrom an encyclopedia when I was trying to figure out what to do with a gallon of it,” he snapped. “Lord, April, you can’t think—”
    â€œNo, of course not,” she interrupted as she pressed the last piece of tape in place and stepped back. “There, all done. Now I think I’ll take a shower myself so I can put a little ointment on my own blisters.”
    He turned his head, starting to rise. “You’re hurt? But I thought—”
    â€œDon’t move!” she warned, but he had already halted as pain cut off his voice. She put a hand lightly on the tense muscles of his arm. “Lie back down a minute until the pill takes effect. The burns I have are nothing, just a couple of spots.”
    â€œYou’re sure?” He searched her face, his own features shadowed with grimness.
    â€œPositive,” she answered, and was pleased to feel some of the stiffness leave him. “I’ll bring your clothes out here first so you can ease back into them when you feel up to it.”
    He made no answer, only gave her a close look. April thought she might have overdone the solicitation in contrast to her usual coolness. She turned away and walked briskly into the dressing room with its connecting bath.
    Luke’s eyes were closed and he had pulled a pillow down under his head when she returned with his shirt and pants. He looked more comfortable than before, as if the pain had eased. It seemed a shame to disturb him to say goodbye, though he’d have to make a move soon in order to take himself to his hotel.
    There was something disquietingly sensual about him as he lay sprawled on the bed with his olive-bronze skin in dark contrast to the white bath sheet.The thick fringe of his lashes made a scimitar shadow across the strong line of his nose. She could see the dark stubble of the beard under his skin, also a small scar in one brow that made it uneven, and the pulse that beat in a sure, steady rhythm in the hollow of his throat. The curves of his mouth hinted at both passion and laughter.
    What was she doing? Standing there mooning over Luke Benedict was nearly as dumb as inviting him to her room in the first place. The last thing she needed was for him to open his eyes and catch her at it.
    Whipping away from him, she picked up the antibiotic ointment, then searched out her nightgown from her suitcase and moved back toward the bathroom. Once inside, she closed and locked the door.
    She decided on a bath instead of a shower and spent several minutes luxuriating in water scented by the bath gel provided by the hotel. Afterward, she went through her ritual of various creams, flossing and brushing, then applied the ointment and a couple of adhesive bandages. She didn’t hurry since she wanted to give Luke plenty of time to dress and go. It was perhaps a half hour later when she tied her peach silk bathrobe around her and walked back into the bedroom.
    Luke hadn’t moved since she’d left him. His chest rose and fell in an even tempo that showed plainly that he was asleep.
    Marching to