you dare hurt that mother and child.’ And when he doesn’t, the reader’s relief will be—”
“You never did say where we’re going,” Brenna cut in sharply. He’d been exploring the mind-set of his serial killer character when he’d touched her? She shuddered.
“I’m kidnapping you to the China Palace, a few blocks from here. Ever been there?”
“Yes. And jokes about kidnapping aren’t funny.”
“That’s what the homicide detective said to the serial killer in my first book,” joked Luke. She didn’t smile, and he sighed. “Well, the humor worked in the scene in the book.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“I guess you’ll have to, since you never intend to read a word I write. Okay, we’ll move on to a neutral topic. The China Palace. It’s owned by the Lo family, who ran a successful place in Philadelphia but moved here because they wanted to try a small town for a change. They’re very strong supporters of my brother. Held a fund-raising dinner for Matt right here in the restaurant.”
Luke pulled into the parking lot of the China Palace. Inside, the hostess and a waitress, both young Chinese women, greeted Luke enthusiastically and escorted them to a choice table by the window.
It appeared that Matt wasn’t the only Minteer to enjoy support here, Brenna noted. And the admiration appeared to be mutual. Luke chatted and joked with the two young women as Brenna seated herself and opened the menu.
“Okay, which one are you?” asked one of the young women, finally acknowledging Brenna’s presence.
It took Brenna a moment to realize that she was the one being addressed. And she had no idea what the answer to that question might be. She stared at Luke, baffled.
“Jennifer wants to know which one of the many Minteers you are,” he explained, toying with a salt shaker.
“One of the sisters or one of the cousins?” prompted Jennifer, smiling invitingly at Luke.
Brenna met Luke’s eyes. He shrugged. “I’ll let you decide since you’re the fiction writer,” she said dryly.
Luke cleared his throat. “Actually, she isn’t a Minteer. This is Brenna Morgan. Brenna, meet the Lo sisters, Jennifer and Isabelle.”
“Hello,” Brenna offered politely.
The Lo sisters gaped at her, barely managing to mutter a response before abruptly departing.
“What was that all about?” Luke frowned. “I’ve never known them to be rude before. I’ve been snubbed by plenty of people in this town but the Lo sisters have always been exceptionally friendly.”
“Yes, I noticed. And they weren’t being rude, they were stunned.” Brenna was amused. The astonishment on the Lo sisters’ faces had been comical. “No doubt it was the shock of seeing you with a pregnant woman who wasn’t related to you.”
“What are you implying?” Luke demanded.
“Me? Nothing.” Brenna turned her attention back to the menu.
Luke looked over at the Lo sisters who were blatantly staring at him and Brenna. “I’ve been the object of enough gossip to know that particular look they’re giving us,” he muttered.
“I’m sure you have. I’ve heard some of the stories.” Brenna never glanced up from the menu.
“For crying out loud, we’re serving on a jury together. It’s our lunch break!” exclaimed an aggrieved Luke. “And who told you stories about me? And, er, what were they?”
“When I told my neighbor that Congressman Minteer’s brother was on the jury with me, she told me her brother knew you back in Harrisburg, in your pre-D.C. days.” Brenna closed the menu. “I think I’ll have a bowl of wonton soup, an egg roll and chicken with cashews.”
“Who’s your neighbor’s brother?” pressed Luke.
“Steve Saraceni, the lobbyist.”
“Uh-oh.” Luke actually gulped. “Did she, um, go into specifics?”
“No.” Brenna smiled sweetly.
“Well, it doesn’t matter, anyway, because it’s all ancient history, water over the dam. A place in the past we’ve passed out of.” Luke paused to catch his breath. “Those days are over. Saraceni would say the same thing himself.”
Brenna sipped her water. “I’m so thirsty. The air in that courtroom is too dry.”
“Okay, the stories out of D.C. were even worse, I can’t deny that.” Luke fiddled with his napkin. “But that’s—”
“Ancient history? Water over the dam? A place in the past you’ve—”
“Isabelle!” Luke stood up and waved the waitress over. “We’re ready to order now.”
Three
The afternoon session moved at a glacial pace, and several of the jurors had trouble staying awake. Brenna was one of them. Her eyelids felt heavy, keeping them open was an effort and a numbing lethargy spread through her.
It was too warm in here, the lawyers droned on and on, citing one dull legal reference after another. Plus, she’d eaten too much for lunch. The combination was narcotizing. She allowed herself to close her eyes. It would be all right to close them for just a moment.
Brenna drifted in the netherworld between sleep and wakefulness….
Images glided through her mind. She saw herself and Luke sitting at their table in the China Palace eating lunch. He used chopsticks—adeptly, too—while she and everybody else in the restaurant ate with plain old forks. Brenna smiled now, as she had then. She didn’t know why, but his prowess with the Asian utensils amused her.
And then he’d put down his chopsticks and asked her quietly, “Why did you tell the truth about your pregnancy to me and nobody else?”
Brenna was faced with the very question she had asked herself when blurting out the truth she’d kept carefully guarded all these months. Why had she told Luke?
“I think it was because you were goading me,” she’d replied slowly.
Luke nodded, seeming to accept the answer. Brenna was glad he did, but she didn’t buy her own explanation. She should’ve dismissed Luke’s speculations with a shrug, not caring what he thought. Instead, she’d told him her deepest secret. It made no sense at all, or else it made very revealing sense.
“What is the story you’ve told everybody else in town?” Luke demanded.
“Unlike you, I’m not too well known in this town, so everybody doesn’t want to know about me. I did tell my neighbors and my doctor that I, uh, was in a relationship that didn’t work out, and when I found out I was pregnant, the baby’s father left.”
“Which is exactly what I thought at first—until you emphatically informed me that there was no boyfriend,” Luke reminded her. “Hasn’t anybody else pushed for more details?”
“No. Nobody else has been that rude. Or pushy. Or intrusive. They’ve respected my privacy.”
“Maybe they figured talking about it—about him, the supposed father—would upset you,” surmised Luke. “Or maybe they just weren’t interested enough to ask you anything more.”
“Maybe,” she’d agreed.
After that Luke had grown very quiet. He hadn’t spoken much at all as they finished their meal and drove back to the courthouse, where he reclaimed the VIP parking spot for his truck again.
“We will now take a brief recess!”
The judge’s stentorian tones plus the bang of his gavel startled