Jane's Gift

by Abby Gaines

  She listened for subtext, any hint like was an understatement. Nope, none.

  “And I want you,” he said. “A lot.”

  Her traitorous body responded instantly, heat pooling within.

  “Why don’t you stay a couple more weeks, give us a chance to explore things?” he suggested, his voice deepening in a way that suggested exploring would include physical intimacy.

  “If I stayed,” she said, “while we’re figuring out if we have anything serious, I’d also need to be preparing Daisy for my departure, just in case we don’t.”

  He frowned. “I agree it’s not straightforward. But I think it’s worth a try.”

  He still had her hand in his. Now he brought it to his lips, kissed her knuckles. Totally innocuous...yet that flame in her belly leaped.

  “Okay,” she said. “Two more weeks. To explore.”

  * * *

  THEY LEFT THE RESTAURANT SOON after that. Kyle drove them home. He parked in the driveway, then came around to open Jane’s door.

  When they reached the porch, he stopped. “I had a great evening,” he said, then chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “That trite old line. What every teenage guy says to give himself time to figure out how and where he’s going to kiss the girl.”

  Jane smiled, conscious of a pang of regret. “My dates didn’t tend to end like that.” Boys who’d asked her out had been quite open about the fact they were after a piece of Slutter, as they’d so wittily bastardized her surname.

  “Really?” He took a step closer, so she was forced to tip her head back. It drew his attention to her mouth yet again. “You mean you didn’t have that will-he, won’t-he pause on the front porch?”

  She shook her head, half laughing, half sad. “Nope.” It had been more, how soon would she need to fight them off, and would this be a night when she resorted to a kick in the crotch.

  “That was always the most nerve-racking moment of the whole night,” he claimed.

  “I can’t imagine you were ever nervous about your dates,” she said drily.

  “Of course I was.” He took a step closer, and the movement seemed to suck up all the oxygen in the vicinity. His fingers wrapped around her upper arms, his touch light but firm. “There were so many things that could go wrong.”

  “Such as,” Jane said shortly, “your date might not welcome your advances.” She had trouble making that sound convincing when she couldn’t help swaying toward him.

  “That wasn’t an issue,” he said, and she wasn’t sure if it was arrogance or a taunt. But with the comforting strength of his grip on her arms and the faint fan of his breath, bearing traces of coffee and wine, on her face, she was more susceptible than she’d been in years.

  “So what could go wrong?” she asked.

  “Bumping teeth,” he said. “Big problem.”

  “Reeking, as it does, of ineptitude,” she agreed.

  “Ouch. I don’t think I was that bad.”

  “Hold that thought,” she said kindly.

  He grinned, and she caught a flash of his white teeth in the porch light. “The problem was,” he said, “I always knew the authorities—her parents, my dad the police chief—could open that front door or pull up in the street at any time, and put an end to that moment I’d been waiting for all night. Right now, Dad’s in Frisco, but any moment, my brother could take it into his head to open the door and break the mood.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “There’s a mood?”

  He swiped her derriere, and somehow his hand stayed there. “Yes, there’s a mood.”

  She grinned. “So back to the History of Teen Dating 101. In those days, you had to move fast?”

  “But not too fast,” he pointed out, “for fear of being clumsy. So right now, I could kiss you until you’re putty in my hands....”

  “Your very capable hands,” she suggested, and he grinned.

  “Yeah, that.” His eyes glazed over for a moment, as if he was already a few steps ahead.

  “So I’d be putty in your hands....” she prompted, and just saying the words made her insides flutter.

  He shook his head, as if to clear it. “Then I’d whisk you inside and make it plain to Gabe that we’re on a mission.”

  “You’d tell your pastor brother that we’re going to have sex?” Aargh, she hadn’t planned to be the first to say it. Jane clamped a hand over her mouth.

  Kyle grinned like he’d hit the jackpot. “Maybe you’re right. Without ever saying anything condemnatory, Gabe has a way of making you feel guilty.” He rubbed his chin. “We’ll tell him you have food poisoning and I need to help you upstairs.”

  “Lying to your pastor brother,” she said. “So much better.”

  “Glad you approve.” His hands cupped her face. “Okay, time for the putty-in-my-hands part.”

  “I’m ready,” she promised.

  Except it turned out she wasn’t ready. Not for the tender, passionate onslaught of his mouth, or for the fevered exploration of his tongue. This was new, wonderful, terrifying.

  Yet how could she do anything but reward him with her very best effort? Her arms went around his neck, she matched him kiss for kiss, taste for taste.

  As the kiss grew hotter, an insistent voice in her head raised a question. If we’re going to get intimate, do I need to tell him about Charles and Micki, for the sake of honesty?

  For a moment, she was torn.

  Then his hands glided over her curves, caressing, cupping.

  Jane mustered a shred of logic and reminded herself Kyle hadn’t made any emotional commitment to her. That list of things he liked about her had been a bunch of physical attributes.

  He doesn’t need to know about Micki and Charles yet, she told herself. And not just because there was virtually no chance Charles would have the gumption to put aside years of conservative family values to date a woman young enough to be his daughter.

  Micki was Jane’s friend, who’d made their friendship a priority. She’d earned Jane’s confidence. Kyle was...a guy who liked her legs and her lips. A lot, obviously, but that’s all it was.

  When it came to where Jane’s loyalty lay, it was a no-brainer. She was free to do whatever came next with a clear conscience.

  She abandoned herself entirely to his mouth, his hands, and the heat turned combustible.

  “Putty?” he murmured against her ear.

  “Putty-ish,” she confessed on a gasp.

  His quiet laugh was exultant; his hands hiked the silk skirt of her dress higher.

  Next second, the front door was wrenched open, and Gabe stood there, the halo of light from the entryway turning him into an angel in jeans and T-shirt.

  His expression was harried.

  “I thought I heard you,” he said. “Thank God you’re back.”

  He seemed rattled, his words a genuine prayer. Kyle released Jane instantly. “Is it Daisy? What’s wrong?”

  Through her preoccupation with trying to smooth her dress down to decent levels, Jane heard the fear in his voice. Kyle’s love for his daughter was real and strong.

  “Daisy’s fine.” Gabe cast an agitated glance over his shoulder. “Jane, you have a visitor.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  MICKI WOULD REMEMBER the long drive back to Pinyon Ridge forever. Not because anything had happened, but for the sheer pleasure of sitting next to Charles knowing how he felt about her. The contentment that filled the cab of his truc
k, threaded with an undercurrent of sexual desire, would always be a treasured memory.

  They’d gotten past that moment of awkwardness in the restaurant and once they started, they’d talked nonstop, words falling over themselves to be said and heard. They’d been the last to leave the restaurant, more or less thrown out by bored staff. Micki had never felt more wide-awake. But also entirely at peace.

  It was nearly eleven when they pulled up outside the Eating Post. The streets were deserted, save for a couple of parked cars.

  Charles turned the engine off and they sat there, neither wanting to break the companionable silence. The simmering tension grew. Micki wondered if it was all on her side. Or was Charles wondering, as she was, if he would kiss her good-night?

  “I had a wonderful night,” she said. Teenage and trite.

  He twisted in his seat to face her. “I can’t remember when I last had such a great time. Certainly not since...” He trailed off.

  “Not since Patti died,” Micki said.

  Charles nodded, and she saw in his eyes the lingering pain of his wife’s death. “What would she think,” he said, “to see me here with you?”

  “Charles, you and Patti had a great marriage. Everyone knew that. I’m not asking you to deny the love you had for her.” Had she gone too far, presuming she could ever matter that much to him?

  He smiled, took her hands in his, and everything was all right again. “You’re right, I loved her,” he said. “So much, I wondered if I could survive her dying. But I did, though for a long time it wasn’t much of a survival. Getting out to this place—” he indicated the café “—was a big help.” He lifted Micki’s hand to his lips, and after a moment’s hesitation, planted a series of tiny kisses along her knuckles with a tenderness that melted her bones. “Patti would understand what I’m feeling tonight.”

  “What are you feeling?” Micki whispered.

  His thumb caressed the corner of her mouth. “I want to live.”

  She leaned into him, and his mouth claimed hers. Gently at first, drawing comfort and succor. Then something shifted, and his arms went around her, his lips grew more demanding. Micki’s good intentions of giving Charles time to get used to the idea of a relationship evaporated in the rising heat inside the truck, and she parted her lips beneath his. Charles hesitated for the barest second, then he took what she offered, exploring her mouth with the thoroughness of a man who’d wandered too long in a desert and now planned to savor every drop of life-giving water.

  She ran her hands over his back, pressed herself closer to him and yielded. She had no idea how many minutes had passed when, with a shuddery sigh, Charles drew away from her. “We need to stop, sweetheart.”

  Micki wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the sudden chill that accompanied the deprivation of his embrace. Comforted herself with the “sweetheart.”

  “So what happens next?” she asked. When he’d asked that question earlier, she’d only got them as far as this point.

  He caressed her cheek. “I think we should hold off telling folk around here what’s going on. I need some time to get used to this...and to get to know you in a different way.”

  “Agreed,” she said.

  “Sit with me in church tomorrow.” He broke into a boyish, mischievous grin.

  It was so unexpected, Micki said, “Huh?”

  “Kyle will probably bring Daisy. You sit on the end of the row next to them, and I’ll join you when I’m done with greeting duty.”

  How had he gone from that incredible kiss to church in the morning? “I guess no one will think that’s unusual,” she said.

  “I want you beside me,” he said. “I want to share a hymnbook with you, have your voice mingle with mine. I want to bend my head next to yours as we follow the reading, have my leg touching yours through the sermon.”

  Micki laughed, and Charles looked sheepish. “Does that sound stupid?”

  She kissed him. “You’ve just made church sound more exciting than I’ve ever known it.”

  “Micki!” he scolded.

  “And I can’t wait.” She opened her door. “If we can’t tell anyone about us, sitting together in church will be the next best thing.”

  “I’ll have to tell Kyle and Gabe, of course,” he said.

  She stopped, one leg out of the car. “Uh, Charles...I don’t think we should tell them yet, either.”

  “Not tell my boys?” he said, surprised.

  She grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers through his. “They won’t be happy at you taking up with a woman twenty-some years younger—with one of their friends. I’d like time to...to cement this, before they try talking you out of it.”

  He shook his head. “They couldn’t talk me out of it. But okay, point taken. We’ll bed this thing down—metaphorically speaking,” he said regretfully. “Then we’ll tell the boys.”

  “Thank you.” She leaned across and pressed a swift kiss to his lips. “I know you hate the thought of lying to them.”

  “It won’t be for long.” His clipped tone told her it was a bigger deal than he was letting on.

  Charles Everson, the man who wielded the truth like a sword, was willing to set it aside to protect her.

  She pressed a finger to the crinkle of concern in his forehead. “Not for long,” she promised.

  * * *

  THE WOMAN WAITING in the living room of Lissa’s cottage had hair that had obviously been dyed black. She wore two studs in her nose, a skin-tight sweater and a micro-skirt that barely covered her butt.

  When she saw Jane, she lifted her chin and hooked her thumbs in the waistband of the barely there skirt. “Hey, Janelle, long time no see.”

  “Cat.” That was all Jane could muster from the swirl of conflicting emotions. The first, selfishly, was dismay at the interruption to her plans for the night with Kyle. Then irritation at her sister’s skimpy attire, which made her look like a two-bit hooker—which there was every chance she was.

  Then came dread, as Jane wondered why Cat was here, and annoyingly, beneath all that, a tug of familial care. This was her sister. For better or for worse.

  Cat stepped forward, her hands lifting slightly, as if she were planning a hug. Jane tensed; her family didn’t do that kind of thing. Which is why she’d loved it when, throughout her teenage years, she and Lissa had hugged constantly. And the occasional hug or shoulder pat from Barb had been a source of comfort. But within her family...she couldn’t remember any physical affection.

  “Where did you come from?” Jane asked sharply.

  Cat’s hands dropped to her sides. “Vegas. I’ve been there the past couple of years.”

  “What brings you here?” From the corner of her eye, Jane glimpsed Gabe’s concern at her coldness. He wouldn’t be so worried if he knew the real question she should be asking Cat: How much do you want?

  Cat’s chin jutted. “Maybe I wanted to surprise my big sister.” Then she darted a mischievous grin at Gabe that made her look about sixteen years old. “And my high school boyfriend.”

  Gabe shifted from one foot to the other. “Cut it out, Cat.”

  Jane had never seen him anything less than composed. Now, he looked distinctly uncomfortable. He’d taken Jane to the senior prom...had Gabe been seeing her sophomore sister at the same time? That would explain his discomfort. Then again, who cared if they’d dated back in high school?

  Kyle closed the gap between him and Jane. “I don’t think we’ve met.” He stuck out a h
and. “I’m Kyle Everson.”

  “I figured,” Cat said. “You have that air about you.” As she shook hands, she gave him a sultry look from beneath preposterously long, presumably fake, eyelashes, and said a husky, “It’s nice to meet you.” Her scarlet fingernails rested on his wrist.

  Kyle’s withdrawal of his hand was polite enough, but he didn’t look pleased to have Jane’s sister show up out of the blue.

  Any chance of intimacy between Jane and Kyle tonight had gone so far south it might as well have migrated for winter.

  “I assume it’s no coincidence that you rolled up in Pinyon Ridge while I’m here,” Jane said to Cat. “How did you know?” She didn’t ask why again—she didn’t want Kyle and Gabe to hear her sister’s demand for cash. Although maybe Cat had already hit up Gabe, which would explain his relief to see Jane.

  “Dad told me you were back,” Cat said.

  Kyle gave Jane a sharp glance—she hadn’t told him she’d visited her father. In fact, she’d told him she wasn’t in touch with him.

  “I’m only here for a few weeks,” Jane said. “And since I’m staying with Kyle, I don’t have anywhere to put you up. How about I call you when I’m back in Denver?”

  “You’re going to throw me out on the street?” Cat asked. She managed to sound vulnerable and very young.

  Both Kyle and Gabe were looking at Jane as if she were a monster.

  “Of course not.”

  “You could stay here tonight,” Kyle offered, surprising Jane. “Then figure out what’s next in the morning. It’ll have to be the sofa, but if you don’t mind that...”

  Of all the times to develop an improved tolerance of Slaters, this wasn’t a good one. Next thing, Cat would be hitting Kyle up for money.

  “Too kind,” Cat drawled. “The sofa sounds perfect.” She tossed her small, tattered backpack onto it. “Is it my imagination, or is it warm in here?” She tugged her thin sweater over her head.

  Beneath it, she wore a tight-fitting tank with a very deep scooped neck that showed a considerable amount of cleavage. She was much better endowed than Jane.