Free An Act of Love by Brooke Hastings Page B

attention to his frown, but went on blithely,
"I've lost a lot of weight over the last six months, but I'm going to
enjoy gaining some of it back. I love to eat, but usually I have to
watch the scale with a microscope."
    Luke tipped his chair onto the two back legs, looking down
his nose at her. "What did I tell you would happen if you brought that
up again?" he asked.
    Randy could tell that his mood had improved, presumably
the result of a full stomach, but decided not to press her luck. Her
apology was very meek, but then her sense of humor took over, prompting
her to add in a vexed undertone, "It's just so hard to remember that
I'm supposed to be Linda."
    He began to get up, a determined look on his face, and
Randy bolted out of her seat and fetched the coffee pot to top off his
mug. Her attentiveness seemed to placate him.
    She washed up the dishes as Luke dressed. She'd just
finished wiping the counters when he emerged from his bedroom dressed
in worn jeans, work boots, a wool shirt and a vee-neck sweater. "I'm
going out to cut some wood," he told her. "Get dressed and come help
me."
    Randy did so, wishing that Luke had packed something other
than Linda's expensive leather jacket. It was lined with fur and quite
warm, but hardly suitable for dragging wood around in. Luke Griffin,
she decided, could darn well pay for a new jacket if this one got
scratched.
    At first Randy enjoyed the exercise involved in helping
Luke with the wood, especially since the air was crisp and clear and
the wooded hills a joy to the senses. But after forty minutes of
holding up branches while he cut them with a gas-powered saw she
started to feel muscles she never knew she had. Twenty minutes later
she removed her coat, sweaty and a little achy.
    "Isn't this enough wood?" she asked. "We aren't going to
stay here all summer, are we?"
    Luke put down the saw. "Okay. Get busy carrying it." To
Randy's utter astonishment he sat down at the base of a large tree,
took out a pack of cigarettes, and lit one up. The message was clear
enough. He expected her to carry the logs to the woodpile near the
cabin while he sat there and supervised.
    She was an affable woman, but her affability didn't extend
quite that far. "I could use some help," she pointed out.
    "Maybe." Luke took a few drags on his cigarette before he
went on. "But it seems to me that all your life you've had men running
in circles trying to please you. You need to learn that you can't walk
all over me."
    Randy had never met a man who could spark her temper so
easily. It was all she could do to count to five before answering, "I
wouldn't
dream
of walking all over you, but I'm
not going to carry the logs while you sit there like the Maharajah of
Ranchipoor, Luke."
    "I don't recall giving you a choice," he said.
    There was no point stalking away; Luke would only bolt up
and stop her. "And if I refuse?" Randy asked.
    "I'm not giving you that option."
    By now Randy was ready to pray for divine intercession to
prevent her from trying to strangle the man. She folded her arms across
her chest, shot him a look that oozed exasperation and announced
firmly, "Yesterday you laid out
your
ground rules
and today I'm laying out
mine
. I assume my father
must have seen some dim glimmer of intelligence and common sense in you
in order to have hired you away from Stockman's, and I will further
assume that eventually either one quality or the other will manifest
itself and you'll take me home. Until that happy hour arrives, however,
I'm willing to do only so much. I'll do the cooking in the interest of
assuring myself decent meals and I'll do the cleaning up because
watching me work seems to bring you an inordinate amount of
satisfaction." She saw a smile tugging at Luke's mouth but couldn't be
sure whether he was laughing at her clipped little speech or at his own
overbearing behavior. "I'm an active person and I like to keep busy,"
she continued, "so I'll even help with whatever needs to be done at
your cabin.