Redwood Bend

“What?” she asked, studying his expression.

“That must have been hard. Losing your parents when you were young.”

She sat forward and her expression became serious. “Everyone I lost, I lost young,” she said.

He was quiet for a minute and then said, “We have that in common.”

She relaxed back in her chair, waiting.

“My dad died in a car crash when I was twelve. My best friend when I was fifteen.”

“Wow. I’m sorry. I should’ve known there was something that linked us. We kind of connected the first time we looked at each other.”

Suddenly his grin was enormous and his eyes twinkled and she remembered the wet T-shirt display when his eyes dipped to her chest, which was such an ordinary chest.

“You’re a dog,” she said.

“I am a dog,” he admitted, smiling. “So, your husband was lost five years ago or so, yet you didn’t get married again? It wouldn’t have taken my mom that long.”

She shrugged and studied her cola can.

“Oh-oh,” he said. “I smell a broken heart.”

She looked up suddenly. “Me? Oh, God, no. A slightly disappointed heart, maybe. I haven’t even dated much since Charlie died. I was just starting to get interested again when…I guess I just lost that old knack for knowing what to look for in a guy. Besides, I’m happy with my life—my family.”

Dylan was quiet for a second. “My grandmother said I made my dad more perfect every day after he was gone. Did you—?”

She shook her head. “I don’t do that. I remember every one of his faults even though I loved him like mad. But the last guy I was optimistic about was talking about marriage and family, and he never even kissed me.” She briefly considered the details of that experience and decided not to share too much. “That should’ve tipped me off, right? Think maybe he forgot? That’s when I decided to count my blessings. I’ll stick with the men I have in my life and call it a day.” When he looked a little confused she added, “The boys and Uncle Conner.”

Dylan cocked his head. “Is that right? Dated you and didn’t kiss you? What did he date you for?”

“Well, I’m a very good cook, even though that never interested me as a girl. And I can keep small appliances running…”

“Wow,” he said facetiously. “Every man’s dream.”

She smiled at him and asked, “Are you married?”

“No,” he said on a laugh. “No-ho-ho. I am not the marrying kind, trust me.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Very simple. I come from a family that has a very bad track record.”

“But your father died,” she said.

“Oh, my parents had both been divorced and remarried by then. More than once.”

“Oh. Gee, that’s too bad. My brother, Conner, and I have each had one marriage on the record—he’s divorced. But we don’t have commitment issues. Just the opposite. And Charlie…Charlie was a soldier and his commitment was his life. His commitment to me was…” She stopped and slanted a look at Dylan. “This is surreal,” she said. “Sitting here talking to a perfect stranger about love and marriage and commitment issues. You haven’t even told me your last name.”

“Childress,” he said, watching her for a reaction. There wasn’t one. He drained his cola and tapped the empty can. “Where should I pitch this?”

“Just leave it,” she said. “I’ll take it inside.”

He put the can down beside his chair and stood. “Thanks for the soda, Katie Malone. I’d better get back to work.”

She laughed at him. “By all means. And if that job has any openings…”

Katie stayed in her chair, feet propped, watching him don gloves and helmet, mount, wrangle that big bike off the stand, rev the engine and turn out of the clearing. She had to smile to herself as she heard him rumble away, the engine noise diminishing as his distance grew. How had he managed to stumble on her little hideaway?

Then she heard another motorcycle coming down the road, getting closer and closer until—

He turned back into the clearing and drove his bike right up to the porch. Then he turned off the motor and used his long legs on either side of the bike to prop it up on the stand. He slowly dismounted, removing his helmet and gloves, leaving them on the bike seat.

“So? Back for another soda? More conversation?” she asked.

He had an odd look on his face as he approached her, smiling a little as he took those two steps up to the porch. It was the strange look that brought her to her feet.

He slipped his arm around her waist so stealthily, she never saw it coming. Then he didn’t so much draw her against him as snapped her against him with that one arm, which put their faces close enough to feel each other’s warm breath. And his, she noted, was a little rapid. She felt his pounding heart against her breast.

His eyes were close enough so that the startling blue appeared in mere glittering slits, buried beneath the thick lashes. Her eyes were wide, on the other hand. Her mouth open, startled. “I just wanted to be clear,” he said in a hoarse, whisper. “I wouldn’t have forgotten.”

And then he crashed down on her mouth.

Katie was startled somewhere between pain and a pleasure so remarkable, she wasn’t sure how to respond. There was a taste in him that verged on desperate, something that felt so much more welcome than nice-but-dull. Her inner voice said, This will probably be the only kiss you ever get from him. And with that thought, her hands slid slowly up his arms to his shoulders, shoulders so hard and inviting. But it was the mouth that sent her reeling, his soft lips, his tongue, tentative and cautious before becoming demanding. She joined the tongue play, trying to remember when she’d participated in a kiss like this, and failing.

And thank God it wasn’t quick. No, this guy wasn’t a tease, he was the real deal. He threaded his fingers up the back of her neck and into her hair until he palmed her head. He tilted her right, then left, changing their slant and deepening the kiss. And she found her own fingers on the back of his neck, in his long hair, pulling him closer, bringing him harder against her. If his mouth wasn’t intoxicating enough, that long, hard body against hers was certainly brain-numbing. Her senses became so sharp while her thinking was dull and all she wanted was to do this for a long, long time. She was tasting him, hearing his raspy and rapid breathing, inhaling that musk that contained some unidentifiable component she wasn’t familiar with… Was that motor oil? Nature? Pheromones? Lust?

He pulled away from her lips, continuing to hold her close. “Well, that opened your eyes, Katie Malone.”

“It usually does,” she said weakly.

“I thought I heard you complain about being forgotten in the kiss department,” he said. “I felt a little sorry for you. Wanted to be sure that was taken care of.”

“Oh, I get it. I’m supposed to thank you now,” she said.

He just chuckled and released her, jumping off the porch and heading for his bike, which was only two feet away.

“You’re kind of an arrogant ass, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Depends on who you ask,” he said with a devilish grin, mounting the bike and getting the hell out of there. Fast. In fact, he popped a wheelie. Show-off stud.

When he was riding down the drive, she collapsed into the chair. “Well, if you ask me,” she muttered to herself. And then she thought, I just Frenched a movie star.

Dylan rode hard and in some discomfort as he realized, well that was stupid. He’d acted on some lame instinct and now the only thing to do was get the hell out of her range as quickly as possible. He should never have tasted her.

Of course he’d been attracted to women before—many times. But he always calculated his moves and he never messed with young mothers. When Dylan felt a spark of interest in a female, he thought it through very carefully before he approached, touched, tempted, became tempted. One of the first things he considered was the window of opportunity, because he wasn’t interested in the long-term. There had to be an understanding and it had to be consensual. He restricted himself from Payne, Montana, residents, much to the disappointment of some. He hadn’t dated a girl from Payne since the high school prom; small towns could be harsh toward men who played the field with their women. And the closest he’d come to setting foot back in Hollywood was picking up a touring rock band in the BBJ.

He blamed Katie Malone’s boobs, large, luminous eyes and easy laughter. The boobs weren’t extraordinary. In fact they were kind of small, but they certainly spoke to him. Unforgettable, when you got right down to it. What was really strange was, Dylan saw pretty breasts everywhere, but his hands didn’t usually ache to touch. And how about the laugh—so natural and filled with fun. Then there was the fact that he hadn’t really impressed her that much—that turned him on. Then there was that petite figure with a nice little…