by Sherry Lewis
“If you’re worried that I’ll take advantage of you, don’t. I’m not that kind of guy.”
“I know you’re not,” she assured him. “If I’d thought for one minute you were, I wouldn’t have invited you over.”
He leaned a little closer. Her breath caught as she waited, torn between the almost overwhelming desire to kiss him again, and the certainty that she shouldn’t. She took in every detail of his face, the tiny scar below one ear, the pattern of his whiskers, the arch of his brows. He studied her face just as eagerly, as if he shared the hunger.
But it didn’t matter how much they might want each other. Nothing could possibly come of it. Their eyes locked as he drew closer, and Reagan lost the battle between desire and logic. Why did she insist on thinking in terms of forever? What would one more kiss hurt?
Her lips parted, ready, waiting. Her breath caught as she waited, and every feminine part of her came to life with anticipation. But his lips only grazed her cheek.
“Thanks again for dinner, but I think I’d better leave—for a number of reasons.”
He slipped out the door and closed it firmly behind him, leaving her to wonder if he’d been at all disappointed, or whether she’d just been given the brush-off.
“GOOD JOB, SMART GUY,” Max muttered as he drove away from Reagan’s house. “What in the hell was that all about?”
He was supposed to be here on business. He was supposed to be tracking a fugitive. He was supposed to be a confirmed bachelor who wanted no ties, no commitment, no responsibility.
But that kiss had changed everything.
It had reached deep into his soul as no kiss ever had. It had stripped away all his walls and masks and left him raw and exposed. He’d been filled with hunger, not just for another kiss, but for something he’d never wanted before—permanence.
Permanence. White picket fence. Homework. Dinner at home. Hell, a place to call home. He’d wanted them all for a few seconds, and that had scared the life out of him.
He mopped his face with one hand as he turned onto Front Street and headed toward the motel. Okay, he told himself, let’s get real. That longing for a home of his own might not even be genuine. It might just be the atmosphere. Serenity had a way of making a guy think he actually wanted to settle down. But things could change when he got back to the real world.
Even if it was real, even if he found that he actually wanted to change his life, he wasn’t going to find happily-ever-after with Reagan McKenna. They were too different, and he couldn’t make the kinds of changes that would make her happy. No matter what else happened between them, no matter how much or how little they had in common, Reagan would hate what he did for a living…and he couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
THE FOLLOWING EVENING, Reagan juggled her purse, two coats, a sweater, two bottles of diet cola and Jamie’s backpack as she climbed the bleachers of the junior high school. They’d left the house early, but already a small crowd had gathered and the lower seats were packed with people. Disappointed, Reagan moved toward the higher rows.
The unsettled weather made it chilly outside, so she’d worn her softest faded jeans and her favorite black sweater. But now that she was inside the stifling gymnasium, she wished she’d worn something cooler.
When she caught sight of one team member’s father taking a picture of several girls together, she battled a sharp pang that Paul hadn’t lived to see what a fine athlete Jamie had become. It would have meant so much to Jamie to have him here.
Gritting her teeth, she forced her thoughts back to the present. She’d been battling an increasingly foul mood all day. She hadn’t heard from Max and she wondered whether that kiss had frightened him off. It had been three days since Travis had called, and she was beginning to doubt that he’d actually show up. And the phone calls she’d made from work trying to find another activity for Jamie had left her discouraged. But Coach Duvall had included Jamie on the starting lineup for tonight’s basketball game, and Reagan was determined to put everything else out of her mind while she cheered for her daughter.
She glanced behind her to ask Danielle where she wanted to sit, and found her a few rows below, surrounded by a gaggle of friends. Danielle pointed at the seats beside her and clasped her hands together to ask if she could stay there. Reagan didn’t want to sit alone, but she knew Danielle would have more fun with her friends. Reagan nodded permission and moved on until she found a place large enough for herself and all of their things.
As she unloaded their jackets onto the bench, she heard someone call her name. Glancing around, she found Andie waving from a few rows above. Her husband, Bart, leaned his elbows on the seat behind them and stretched his legs onto the bench in front. Andie and Bart had known each other since they were kids, had gone all through school in the same class and married almost immediately after high school graduation.
Bart was long, lean and handsome, his dark hair shot with strands of gray that made him look distinguished, and an engaging, boyish smile when he chose to use it. Their sons, Justin and Tommy, were almost mirror images of him, and they sat on the other side of their mother in nearly identical postures. Reagan grinned at the image of Andie surrounded by the men in her life and battled another pang of envy which she resolutely pushed aside.
Andie cupped her hands around her mouth and called, “Come and sit with us.”
Reagan waved a hand over all the things the girls had given her to watch. “Thanks, but I don’t think there’s enough room for me and all my stuff. And I want to save room for Danielle, just in case she decides to join me.”
Andie said something to Bart, then clambered down toward her. “Then I’ll keep you company for a few minutes. Bart won’t mind. I’ve been driving him crazy all night, anyway.”
Reagan grinned at her friend. “I don’t believe that. Bart adores you.”
“That doesn’t stop him from getting irritated when I nag him about fixing the front porch or tell him where to park.” Andie settled on the bench and rested her hands on her knees. “I hear rumors that Jamie’s on the starting lineup tonight.”
“That’s what she tells me.” Reagan made herself comfortable on the bench beside her friend. “I’m thrilled, especially since she actually seems excited about it.”
“Then it couldn’t have come at a better time.” Andie readjusted the clip that held back her hair. “Maybe it’ll help her forget about rock climbing.”
“I hope so, but I’m not holding my breath. She might be enthusiastic about starting the game tonight, but that didn’t stop her from dropping hints about those lessons on the way here.”
Andie let out a soft sigh. “And I’ll bet you ignored every one.”
“It was either that or argue with her.” Reagan smiled ruefully. “I’m not in the mood to argue. Or maybe I should say I could argue too easily. It’s been a long day, and I don’t want to say something I’d regret.”
Andie brushed something from her sleeve. “I guess that answers my next question. Still no word from Max?”
Reagan found Jamie taking warm-up shots on the court, and focused on her. “Not a peep.”
“Jerk.”
“Don’t blame him,” Reagan said. “I’m the one who crossed the line.”
“It was one kiss,” Andie muttered, “not a marriage proposal.”
Sharply aware of all the people who could hear them, Reagan motioned for Andie to keep her voice down. “I’ve spent three-quarters of the day trying not to think about him,” she said. “I’m not going to think about him tonight.”
Andie’s back stiffened slightly, and Reagan hoped she hadn’t inadvertently offended her. “Really? You think you can avoid thinking about him?”
“Of course I can. I’ve been practicing.”
“Well, good for you.” Andie stood and nodded toward the far door. “Because I do believe he’s here.”
Reagan’s heart skipped a beat even before she saw him. He stood just inside the doors, tall and trim and looking too go
od for words in a pair of faded jeans and a tight-fitting T-shirt under his leather jacket. His gaze drifted around the gymnasium as if he was searching for someone, and she knew immediately that he was looking for her.
Her hands grew clammy and her pulse accelerated. The crowd seemed to fade away and she couldn’t see anyone but him. The sounds of bouncing balls and shouting voices dimmed, and the only thing she could hear was the thudding of her heart.
“He is gorgeous!” Andie said softly. “I want to meet him later.”
Her voice jerked Reagan back to the moment. The world came into sharp focus as Max caught sight of them and started across the floor. “You can meet him now if you want.”
“No way. I’m leaving the two of you alone. Later.” Andie patted Reagan’s shoulder and scrambled back toward her family.
At least half the crowd watched Max’s progress across the gym; the other half pretended not to. The slow heat of embarrassment crept into Reagan’s face and she wished she could adopt Jamie’s lack of concern about what people thought. Danielle had always been more like Reagan—not exactly willing to alter her behavior to make someone else happy, but uneasy in the spotlight.
But Danielle seemed like a different girl tonight. The instant she spied Max moving toward the bleachers, she jumped to her feet and waved her arms. “Max. Over here.”
He shifted direction, his smile slightly off-kilter as he talked to Danielle. The girl swept one arm in Reagan’s direction and announced far too loudly, “Mom’s up there.”
Reagan couldn’t hear Max’s reply, but she knew his quick glance made her face an even deeper shade of red, and she didn’t miss all the interested glances in her direction. She lifted her chin and tried to look casual in spite of the thundering of her heart and the sudden dryness of her mouth. And when Max reached her row, she forced away the memory of his mouth on hers and greeted him with a smile.
“This is a surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I hope you don’t mind that I came. Jamie mentioned that she had a game half a dozen times last night, and I got the impression she wanted me to come.”
“I don’t mind,” Reagan assured him quickly, “and I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”
He sat beside her, close enough to brush her thigh with his and set her nerve endings on fire. “Which team am I cheering for?”
“The one in white uniforms. Jamie’s number twenty-three.” Reagan slanted a glance at him and grinned. “I should warn you, you may occasionally be called upon to howl.”
He pulled back sharply. “Howl?”
“Only when one of the kids does something spectacular. We’re the Timberwolves. It goes with the name. But don’t worry. I’ll make sure you know when.”
“What a relief.”
The starting whistle kept them from talking for the next few minutes while the teams took the floor and a referee conducted tip-off with the tallest two players on the floor. The Timberwolves controlled the ball easily, and Reagan was soon caught up in the game, amazed as always by Jamie’s natural athletic ability.
“She’s good,” Max said after several minutes of play.
“She is, isn’t she?”
“Does she take after you?”
Reagan laughed. “I’m afraid not. I can get one foot in front of the other to jog, but that’s about it.”
Jamie poked the ball away from an opposing player, and the Timberwolves were on the run again. When they finished the play with a basket, Reagan leapt to her feet and Max followed, nearly as excited as she was. As the frenzy subsided, Reagan realized Danielle was climbing the bleachers toward them.
“Did you see that?” Danielle asked as she squeezed into a narrow space beside Reagan. “Jamie should get credit for the assist on that play.”
“It was a great pass,” Max agreed. “Is she planning to keep playing as she gets older?”
“I wish I knew,” Reagan told him.
Danielle watched her sister execute another crisp pass. “She could probably play in college, couldn’t she?”
“If she keeps up like this, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Max stacked Jamie’s backpack on top of the jackets and slid over to make more room.
“She’s only in seventh grade,” Reagan reminded them, scooting into the empty space. “All I care about is getting her through the next six years in one piece. I can worry about college after that.”
“You never know,” Max shouted over the roar of the crowd. “If she thought she had a future in basketball she might give up on the idea of hanging off cliffs.”
“She might. And she might come up with something worse.”
Danielle began removing the glittery butterfly clips from her hair. “Max could be right, Mom. You never know.”
Reagan did know—at least, she was reasonably certain. Jamie was too much like Paul. But she didn’t want to spoil the mood, so she nodded thoughtfully. “That’s true. She just might surprise me.”
The opposing coach called time-out and Danielle stood again, holding out the handful of hair clips to Reagan. “Can you put these in your purse? They’re starting to pull my hair and I don’t want to wear them anymore.”
Reagan held out her hands so Danielle could transfer the clips to her. “Okay, but I’m not responsible if they get broken.”
“Just put ’em in your purse,” Danielle said as she started away.
Reagan smiled ruefully. “Easy for her to say. I’ve already stuffed two pairs of sunglasses, Jamie’s watch and her portable CD player into my purse. There isn’t room for anything more.”
“Mom’s purses are always a catchall. I think it’s a law,” Max joked. He held up Jamie’s backpack. “Think they’ll be okay in here?”
“Probably as safe as they’d be in my purse.” Reagan nodded for him to open it. “She has a little pouch inside where she keeps her money. They won’t get lost if we put them inside that.”
Max lowered the backpack and held out both hands. “I’ll hold the clips. You can look. Jamie might not appreciate me going through her things.”
Reagan passed the clips to him and opened the drawstring top. Conscious of the look in Max’s eyes as he watched her, she felt a burst of confidence, and before she could stop herself, she made a decision. “If you’re not doing anything after the game, we’d love to have you join us at the Burger Shack. Going there is sort of a tradition.”
“Are you sure I wouldn’t be intruding?”
Reagan glanced toward Danielle’s retreating back. “I’m positive. The girls would be disappointed if you didn’t come.”
“Just the girls?”
Reagan lowered her head so he couldn’t see her blushing. “Not just the girls. I’d love for you to come.”
“In that case, I wouldn’t miss it.”
She glanced into his eyes, savoring the tingle of anticipation low in her belly. “Good.” Her glance fell on the clips in his hands and she forced herself to pay attention to what she was supposed to be doing. “Jamie’s money pouch should be here somewhere,” she said as she felt inside the pack. “I just can’t find it. I don’t know what she has in here.”
She tugged open the drawstring top a little farther and looked inside. Several pieces of metal rested on top of a coil of reinforced nylon. Curious, Reagan pulled it out of the pack and took in the C-clamp hooks dangling from the end of a tiny scrap harness…exactly the sort of thing Reagan might expect someone to use if they planned to go rock climbing.
CHAPTER SIX
EVERYONE IN TOWN must have been at the Burger Shack, Max thought when he pulled into the parking lot behind Reagan’s car. People stood in groups in the lot and clustered beside the building. Inside, they were crowded around tables, squeezed into booths and spilling into the aisles where chairs had been pulled up to accommodate extras. He’d thought she meant coming to the Burger Shack was a tradition for her and the girls. Apparently, everyone was in on the ritual.
He parked and found Reagan in front of the building with Andi
e and Bart. After a few minutes of barely controlled chaos while everyone decided on what they wanted, placed orders and figured out who would pay for what, they found a table in the back of the adjoining room. And the bedlam began again with Andie, Bart, Reagan, Max and four teenagers all trying to figure out who’d sit where, and who wanted to join friends.
Danielle and Jamie hurried away carrying their milk shakes, and Max caught Reagan’s quick frown.
“What is it?”
She shook her head and pulled her sundae closer. “I think Jamie’s trying to avoid me.”
“Did you talk to her about what you found?”
“Not yet. I’m going to wait until we get home. I might be angry, but I’m not going to embarrass her in front of everyone.”
They were in such close quarters, Max and Reagan were practically molded together. Her thigh pressed against his, her shoulder fit beneath his, and when she moved her head, her hair brushed his chin. Not that he minded.
Taking his cue from Reagan, he dropped the subject and concentrated on making small talk. “I had no idea so many people lived in Serenity,” he said with a glance around.
Bart had to lean across the table to make himself heard over the music blaring from someone’s car stereo. “They don’t. A lot of ’em are like us with ranches and farms a few miles out of town. But since this is the closest town around, we come here to shop.”
“And the kids all go to school here in town,” Andie added, “so when something happens at school, the town’s pretty crowded.” She waved to someone at the other end of the room and leaned across the aisle to kiss an elderly woman on the cheek. “Mabel Huntington,” she explained to Max when she sat down again. “She was the librarian when Bart and I went to school. She’s retired now.”
“I can’t imagine living my whole life surrounded by people I know,” he said. “I can’t imagine having the same neighbors for any length of time. I don’t even know my neighbors’ names.”
Andie looked incredulous. “I can’t imagine a life like that. Friends are so important—don’t you think?”
“I have friends,” Max said with a laugh. “They just don’t live anywhere near me.” He resisted the urge to slip his arm around Reagan’s shoulders, which would have given both of them more room to move. “I’ve never been a barbecue-with-the-neighbors kind of guy. Maybe it’s because we moved around so much when I was a kid.”
