His tone was just sarcastic enough for her to notice, which meant he was being very sarcastic. The more understated Luke Jackson was, the more serious. She hadn’t yet dealt with him in the courtroom or on an investigation, but he had a solid reputation as one of the newer Rangers. It wasn’t professionally that she knew him best—it was personally. He was known as Sam Temple’s protégé. Sam was her uncle, married to her father’s sister.
Having an affair with Luke wasn’t just complicated. It was stupid.
“Have fun,” she said. “There’s only one bed in my room. Don’t plan on staying the night.”
“I can always sleep on the floor.”
No sarcasm this time. Just knowing, cocky Luke Jackson.
“It’s the off-season in Saratoga,” Ellen said. “There are plenty of rooms at the hotel. You can get your own.”
He managed to disappear into an elevator three seconds before Maggie descended the stairs and entered the lobby. She was dressed head-to-toe in dove gray, looking soft and approachable but also professional. But when she smiled, there wasn’t much life in her eyes.
She had rented a car. It was parked out front.
Ellen grinned. “Let’s go talk about Jane Austen.”
Chapter 2
Luke didn’t stay in Ellen’s room, tempting as it was. He would have loved to see her work up the guts to kick him out. He’d go—he wasn’t the type of man to stay in a woman’s room if she didn’t want him there—but watching her twist herself in knots in order to blame him for denying herself something she wanted would be a show.
Nothing annoyed Ellen Galway more than him telling her what she wanted.
She’d already yelled at him about that. “Luke Jackson, it is patronizing and insulting to tell me what I want. I’ll tell you what I want.”
They’d just made love. He’d had a fair idea of what she wanted.
He’d made the mistake of telling her as much. That was two weeks ago. The first time she’d kicked him out of her room. Tonight would be the second, if she didn’t relent. Because whatever else happened, he wasn’t booking his own room unless he had no other choice. It wasn’t the expense, and it damn sure wasn’t him foisting himself on a woman who didn’t want him around.
It was concern. Ellen was worried about her sister. That was enough for him, since he had never met anyone with better instincts she had, but it wasn’t his only reason he was here. It was her twin sister herself and his own read on her behavior.
It had been three months since he’d bought Ellen a margarita, because she was Sam Temple’s niece. He’d meant it as a decent gesture. He sure as hell hadn’t meant to fall for her.
He swore to himself. He would sleep on the floor.
But as soon as he tossed his bag into Ellen’s room, he turned around and walked out again. He took the stairs instead of the elevator down to the lobby, eager to stay moving. He had the name of the lecture hall where Maggie was speaking and the address plugged into his phone. He jumped in his rental car, and headed north up Broadway.
Saratoga Springs was one pretty town. North Broadway was lined with mansions, many with large porches and lawns with shade trees leafing out. Spring definitely came late to the northeast, Luke thought. He wondered if Maggie was considering a move up here after she completed her dissertation. Anything was possible with the Galways. He’d learned that long before he’d slept with Ellen. He prided himself on not making dumb moves, but sleeping with Jack Galway’s daughter? Seriously dumb. But Luke thought about her dark eyes, her smile, her laughter—her slim, fit body under him—and decided he shouldn’t be so hard on himself.
He turned onto a quiet, shaded road that led onto the Skidmore campus. When he parked at the lecture hall, he reminded himself why he was here. It wasn’t to repair his relationship with Ellen. The truth was, their relationship didn’t need repairing. It was moving to the next level and she was tackling that reality. It was eating at her to admit he violated every preconceived notion she’d had about the man she would fall for, but that wasn’t his problem, at least not right now. His problem was whatever was going on with Maggie. Two nights ago, she’d rushed into the bar where he’d been having a beer with his buddies, stammered something about needing to talk to him, then rushed out again. He’d found her outside her apartment yesterday morning, throwing her suitcase into a cab, on her way to the airport for her flight up here.
Nothing’s wrong, she’d told him. I’m sorry if I worried you.
You’re the one who looked worried, Maggie.
Mad. I looked mad, because I was mad.
Mad at what—or who?
Nothing I want to talk about now.
He hadn’t argued with her, but he stood by his assessment. She’d looked worried in the bar, and she’d looked worried as she climbed into her cab.
But she’d given him a half-hearted smile. It’s okay, Luke. I’m not mad about anything that would involve you as a Ranger. Nothing law enforcement related.
Not Jane Austen related, I hope.