That First Special Kiss

by Gina Wilkins

  She sighed heavily, the memories weighing on her. “I saw my father one time after the divorce. He popped in for a visit on my eighth birthday. He brought me a shiny new bicycle, patted me on the head and then vanished from my life again. He sent monthly support checks—probably an automatic deduction from his paycheck. My mother banked them for my education, moving to Longview and working two jobs there to support me. When I was eleven, she developed cancer. She couldn’t take care of me, so she placed me in a foster home run by Ethel Fendel, a friend of hers. That’s where I met Brynn. Two years later, after a long, painful illness, my mother died. My father’s monthly checks continued to be deposited into my trust fund, but I never heard from him. Not a call, not a card. Nothing. And now he wants to see me again?”

  “You don’t have to see him, Kelly. I can tell him I contacted you, and you requested that he respect your privacy and leave you alone.”

  Kelly twisted her fingers in her lap. “That’s what I should do, isn’t it?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  She studied his unrevealing face. “You think I should see him?”

  “I didn’t say that, either.” Joe rested his forearms on his knees, leaning toward her. “This is entirely your decision. There is no right or wrong choice, only what feels right to you.”

  “Oh, you’re a lot of help.” She gave him a wry smile.

  He returned it ruefully. “Sorry. I’m afraid I’m not very good at that sort of thing. But if it helps, I can understand how you feel—at least a little. When I learned that my brother and sisters were looking for me after more than twenty years apart, I wasn’t at all certain I wanted to see them again. Ryan and I had made a pretty good life for ourselves, and I wasn’t sure I wanted the complication of a family I hardly remembered.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “Lauren,” he admitted. “And Ryan. Both of them were curious about the family, and both thought we needed to put the past to rest in order to get on with our futures.”

  “I don’t have to ask how the reunion turned out You seem happy to have your family back in your life.”

  “I am,” he answered simply.

  “But you have to admit this is different. You and your siblings were separated through no fault of your own. My father chose to leave. He chose to let me be raised in a foster home. He could have been there for me when I needed him, but he wasn’t.”

  Joe nodded gravely. “No one could blame you if you don’t want to see him again.”

  Kelly looked at the photograph again. She might have recognized the face, but she didn’t know this man. He hadn’t been a father to her when she had needed a father. Now that she was a self-sufficient adult, what role could he possibly play in her life? “I really need to think about this before I make a decision.”

  “Of course you do.” Joe stood, his business concluded. “I’ll let him know that you’ve been notified and that you’ve requested time. You take as long as you want.”

  She walked him to the door. “Thank you for handling this so considerately, Joe. I appreciate the way you’ve respected my privacy.”

  He nodded. “You’ve become a part of my family during the past couple of years. I watch out for my family.”

  His gruffly spoken words touched her. Family, she thought, had little to do with blood, and everything to do with feelings. “Thank you.”

  “Call me when you decide what you want to do.”

  “I will.” She reached out to open the door for him. “I’ll let you know as soon as I...”

  Her voice died away when she opened the door to find Shane on the doorstep, his finger poised above the doorbell. He looked as surprised as she felt.

  “Joe,” he said, staring at his uncle with narrowed eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Chapter Eight

  Rather than answering Shane’s question, Joe greeted his nephew. “Hello, Shane. I heard your folks got back from their vacation yesterday. Did they have a good time?”

  “Yeah, they had a great time,” Shane answered absently, studying the portfolio Joe carried beneath one arm. “Was this a business or social call?”

  Joe smiled. “You always were a curious kid. I would have thought you’d have outgrown it by now.”

  He glanced then at Kelly. “I’ll leave you to deal with your pal’s questions.”

  Great, she thought as Joe and Shane passed in her doorway, Shane without waiting for an invitation to enter. As if the evening hadn’t been stressful enough.

  Shane turned in the middle of the living room floor to look at her. “What did Joe want?”

  She closed the door in a mixture of resignation and irritation. “Has it occurred to you that it’s absolutely none of your business?”

  “I just want to know if something is wrong,” he insisted. “My uncle was obviously in P.I. mode, so either you’ve hired him for some reason...”

  Kelly rolled her eyes. “Why would I hire a private investigator?”

  “Then he was here because he’s come across something that concerns you.”

  She knew Shane wouldn’t be satisfied until he found out what was going on. Had she really been opposed to telling him, she would have firmly repeated that it was none of his business and asked him to leave. And he would have gone—albeit reluctantly. But the truth was, this was exactly the sort of thing she would have wanted to discuss with Shane when she had thought of him simply as one of her best friends.

  She needed that friend now.

  “Your uncle was here on behalf of my father. Apparently, D’Alessandro Investigations has earned a reputation for reuniting long-separated family members. I didn’t bother to leave a forwarding address when I moved here eighteen months ago—I didn’t know there was anyone who would want to contact me—so my father hired Joe to find me.”

  Shane rubbed the back of his neck, looking thoughtful, but not particularly surprised. “How long has it been since you saw your father?”

  “Sixteen years. I was eight. I haven’t heard a word from him since.”

  Shane had spotted the photograph still lying on her coffee table. He picked it up and studied it. “You have his eyes.”

  Kelly pushed a hand through the fair hair she’d inherited from her mother. “I know.”

  He looked at her over the photograph. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Do I have a choice?” she asked wryly.

  He frowned. “You know you do. If you want me to leave, say so.”

  She sighed. “Don’t go.”

  The truth was, she didn’t want to be alone with her memories right now. And Shane was one of the few people she would have wished for had she been by herself tonight. “Sit down,” she said. “We’ll talk.”

  He sat on the same end of the couch his uncle had just vacated. Kelly automatically started to sit beside him, then hesitated and moved toward a chair instead.

  “Damn it, get back over here,” he growled crossly. “We can’t talk with you way over there. Stop acting like I’m going to jump you or something.”

  Her cheeks warming, she perched on the opposite end of the couch. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she muttered, feeling as irritable as he sounded.

  He cleared his throat and spoke in a more amicable tone. “Are you going to meet with your father?”

  “I asked Joe to give me some time to think about it. He said he understood, and he thought I should take as much time as I need.”

  “Of course Joe understands. He’s been through this himself.”

  “I know. He told me a little about it.”

  “He obviously likes you. Joe isn’t one to talk about himself much.”

  “I like him, too. He’s so...steady.” That was what made him such a good husband and father, she thought. Kelly couldn’t imagine any circumstance that would pull Joe Walker away from his wife and son.

  Shane smiled. “That’s a good word for him. Not the first word that would come to mind about his twin, but it describes Joe perf
ectly.”

  She was well aware that happy-go-lucky Ryan Walker was as loyal to his wife and sons as his brother was to his family. The Walker twins would never voluntarily abandon their children, she was certain—and neither would Jared. or Nick, or Tony or Joe D’Alessandro, or any of the other admirable men she had come to know through this family. Which made it all the more difficult for her to understand her own father’s actions.

  “So are you going to see him?”

  She twisted her fingers in her lap. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m sure you’re angry with him.”

  Frowning, she gave the comment some thought. “I used to be. But now...I don’t know.”

  “It’s okay if you are. I know I was mad at my mother.”

  Struck by his tone, she turned a bit more to face him. “Are you still?”

  “Of course. She didn’t abandon me physically, the way your father did you, but every time she picked up a bottle of booze, she might as well have been in another country for all the attention she paid me.”

  “Your father was in the service when you were young, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes. The navy.”

  “And he was gone a lot, leaving you alone with your mother?”

  Shane didn’t seem to like that question. “Dad was on sea duty a lot when I was a kid, but he had to make a living. He tried to get custody of me when he and my mother divorced, but the courts weren’t very progressive about such things then. He sent me letters and gifts and he called when he could, and between tours he spent every free minute with me.”

  “I’m not criticizing Jared,” she said quickly, conciliatorily. “You know I’m very fond of him, and I think he’s a wonderful father to you and Molly. I just wondered... well, did you ever get mad at him for not being there more often? For leaving you to be neglected by an alcoholic mother and her husband?”

  Shane shook his head. “My dad did the best he could. And when I ran away to find him—when he realized how bad things had gotten for me at home—he got out of the navy to take care of me. He worked his butt off to support me the next few years until he could make arrangements to buy the ranch.”

  “So you were never angry at him during those unhappy years?”

  “Never,” he assured her, though the answer, at least in her opinion, lacked his usual conviction.

  “You never blamed him—even the tiniest bit—for going off to sea while you were so miserable in your home? For not recognizing sooner how unhappy you were?”

  “Look, we’re supposed to be talking about your feelings for your father,” Shane said abruptly, determinedly changing the subject. “Yours is the one waiting for an answer about whether you want to see him again.”

  Why was Shane so reluctant to talk about his deepest emotions—especially when he never hesitated to inquire about hers? Kelly had thought they’d made a step toward an intimacy of sorts the night he’d told her about his mother’s death. Apparently she’d been wrong. Shane’s emotional baggage, if he had any, was well hidden once again.

  “Fine,” she said a bit shortly, refusing to analyze why she was both disappointed and hurt by his reticence with her. “There’s really nothing more to say about my father. He disappeared and now he’s back. And I need some time to think about whether I have any interest in seeing him again.”

  “Seeing him might make it easier for you to resolve the past. It would give you a chance to ask him why he left you. Why he never tried to contact you.”

  “You said you went to see your mother a couple of years ago. Did seeing her again help you resolve your past?”

  If he felt any pain at the mention of his unsuccessful last meeting with his late mother, he didn’t let it show. “My mother was too drunk when I saw her to answer any questions about anything. And there’s another difference—I was the one who initiated the meeting. She didn’t care if she never saw me again. Your father is the one making this effort.”

  She nodded somberly. “But it may just be too late.”

  “That’s for you to decide, of course. Just—don’t burn any bridges.”

  “I haven’t even struck a match yet,” she assured him. “I just don’t want to rush into a reunion without deciding first how I feel and what I want to say.”

  “Perfectly understandable.”

  “I’m glad you approve,” she responded wryly.

  The irony seemed to sail right over his handsome head. “When did you tell Joe you’d give him an answer?”

  “We left it open.”

  “If you want my advice—”

  “I’ll ask for it,” she cut in firmly. “Thank you, but this is something I have to decide for myself.”

  “Kelly.” Shane reached out to cover her hand with his. “Do you want to see your father again?”

  She looked at him without trying to hide her tangled emotions. “When I was a little girl, I used to pray every time the doorbell rang that my father would be on the other side of the door. When I was eleven and my mother got sick, I was sure my father would come home and make everything better. And when she died, I fantasized that he would come take me to live with him—and that he would adopt Brynn while he was at it, so I would always have her for my sister.”

  Shane wrapped an arm loosely around her shoulders, the gesture so natural, so like the “old” Shane, that she didn’t even think about pulling away. “When did you stop hoping he would come back?”

  “The night of my high school graduation. For some really stupid reason, I thought he would be there. I don’t know why, since I didn’t mail him an invitation—I didn’t know where to send it—but I thought he would know. I looked for him all evening. The only person who snapped my picture when I accepted my diploma was Brynn. I decided right then that she was the only family I needed.”

  Shane rested his cheek against her hair. “He really hurt you badly. No one would blame you if you never wanted to see him again.”

  “That’s what Joe said.”

  “I agree with him.”

  She let out a long, weary breath, her thoughts focused on her father’s unexpected reemergence. She savored the warmth of Shane’s arm around her, the comfort of his loyal support. She had a new family now, she thought with a touch of defiance. She didn’t need her father. Why should she subject herself to emotional distress just to ease his conscience—or whatever he wanted from this reunion?

  “Whatever you want,” Shane said, “whatever makes you happy—that’s what I want you to do. Your father was an idiot to stay away from you. He doesn’t deserve a daughter like you.”

  She tilted her head to smile up at him. “That was just what I needed to hear. Thank you.”

  He rested a hand against her cheek. “You’re welcome.”

  And it happened again. Their gazes locked. The air seemed to crackle around them, as if suddenly filled with static electricity. She was in Shane’s arms and suddenly it was not a safe, comfortable place to be.

  She started to draw away. Shane’s arm tightened, holding her in place. “Don’t go away,” he murmured. “This is nice.”

  Nice? It was entirely too risky. This could all too easily lead to kissing again—and she certainly didn’t want that to happen.

  But it did. And when Shane’s mouth came down on hers, she did absolutely nothing to stop him.

  Maybe it was the strain of hearing about her father that made her seek comfort in Shane’s embrace. Perhaps she thought they might as well get this behind them, since it had been inevitable. Maybe if they could just satisfy their curiosity or whatever it was that had been initiating these kisses, they would be able to get past this new, unwelcome awkwardness between them and get back to the way they had been before.

  The kiss probably wouldn’t even be as spectacular as she’d remembered, she thought as she allowed her lips to soften beneath his.

  Shane’s left arm was still wrapped around her shoulders. His right hand rested against her cheek. She sank into him, her lips parting slightly—just enough
to allow him to promptly take advantage and deepen the kiss.

  Shane drew her closer, moving slowly, giving her every opportunity to pull away. She made no effort to do so, telling herself she was merely trying to prove her new theory that it had been her resistance, her panic, that had made the previous kisses seem so exciting. So dangerous. She told herself it would be different this time. They would determine once and for all that kissing each other was no big deal, hardly worth the risk of ruining their previously uncomplicated relationship.

  She told herself those things even as her arms closed around his neck. Even as she pressed more tightly against him. Even as his tongue swept past her lips to explore every inch of her mouth. No big deal, she reminded herself, even as her blood ran hotter and her heart began to race.

  Shane shifted on the couch, leaning over her, pressing her into the deep cushions behind her. He changed the angle of the kiss, his lips moving hotly, hungrily over hers, his tongue probing, tasting, savoring.

  Just a kiss, she reminded herself even as her fingers burrowed into his crisp, thick hair, holding him closer.

  And then his hand slid slowly down her side to pause at her hip, to fit her more snugly against him. And her entire body reacted with an explosion of sensation so intense, so needy that it terrified her.

  She ripped her mouth from beneath his. “Shane, stop.”

  He froze, hesitating only a moment before reluctantly pulling away. “Too fast?” he asked, his voice husky.

  “Too everything,” she answered breathlessly. “We can’t do this. It’s just not right.”

  His voice was wistful when he replied. “It sure felt right to me.”

  He was still lying half on top of her. Their legs were still tangled, his fingers still buried in her hair. She pressed her hands against his shoulders, pushing him upright. “I don’t know why this keeps happening,” she almost wailed as she struggled to sit up and scoot farther away from him. “We’ve been friends for more than a year. I don’t do this sort of thing with my other male friends.”

  “I should damn well hope not,” Shane growled, pushing a hand through his hair.