"I love it. I'm more relaxed working with my hands." She made a pained face. "And my back and legs," she groaned as she shifted in her chair.
"But your daughter can't be that much help."
She shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I just like having her around." I need it.
"While I'm here, can I give you a hand?"
"No," she nearly shouted, stiffening, then added more softly, "No, thank you. I don't need it. I can manage."
Like she didn't need me before, Kyle thought but refrained from saying so. He was tired of fighting with her.
And knew it was his fault for keeping up the tension between them.
Not wanting to discuss Mimi with him, Maxie stood abruptly, gesturing him to follow as she walked into the kitchen. "How's Mitch?" That was a safe enough subject, she thought.
Kyle followed. "Still a marine, still single. Stationed in Camp LeJeune, but he's due for orders soon."
She pulled a covered platter from the fridge, then gathered utensils, plates and napkins on a tray. "Any idea where he's going next?"
His gaze on her satiny behind, it took him a second to answer. "If he told me, he'd have to kill me."
She glanced over her shoulder, a grin spreading slowly across her face. "Ooh, secret stuff, huh?"
"Yeah. He loves it." He nodded to the platter, trying not to salivate over the four layers of cake she was sliding onto a plate. "What's that?"
"Heart failure," she said, bringing the tray into the living room. "Commonly known as chocolate-mocha torte." He followed her heels like an eager puppy, then sat on the sofa, impatient for her to set a plate before him.
Kyle lifted it, fork poised. "Did you make this?"
"Yeah, right. I rarely have time for breathing, let alone playing Julia Childs. Just be thankful for bakeries."
"I am, I am," he said around a huge bite. He never splurged on real desserts, since it was just him alone. It was nice that she remembered his sweet tooth.
Maxie sank onto the sofa and watched him devour the rich cake, offering him more, then grinned when he unabashedly ate another chunk.
"Terrific." He swiped his lips with a napkin and met her gaze. "I needed that."
Her mouth curved slowly. "You always could pack it away."
He grinned back. The fire popped and hissed softly. And the room seemed to close in on them. Maxie avoided acknowledging it by jumping up to gather the dishes, but Kyle stood, catching her hand.
"You cooked dinner. Let me at least do that."
She stared down at his hand on hers and felt the warmth of his fingers, the heat they always generated escalating by the second. For a moment she couldn't pull away and lifted her gaze to his. Maxie instinctively stepped away, but he didn't let go, looming like a circling hawk to a tender prey before he clamped his arm around her waist and pulled her flush to his body.
"Oh, Kyle, don't do this again," she almost cried, pushing at his chest with her fists.
He didn't let her go, his gaze scoring her face. "I know what you're thinking," he murmured, his hand sliding warmly up her satin-clad back.
"Do you?" Maxie closed her eyes, her fingers unfurling over his chest flexing deeply into his muscles. It had been so long since she'd been touched like this.
"You're thinking, is this real or just Memorex?" Her lips quirked. "You're wondering if that kiss in the barn was just old anger or feelings that never died."
Her eyes flashed open. "They did."
"Liar, liar," he growled, his mouth descending on hers in a breathless rush. The contact shot straight through her down to her toes, her heels, then rushed along her body with amazing speed.
Oh, Kyle.
She tried to resist it, remaining still, but his kiss was dark and heavy, his mouth grinding over hers, taking in a desperation she'd felt in him only once before. The night he told her he was going to war. The night he'd given her his child. Old memories flooded through her, the anxiety she'd felt, the sorrow of believing she might lose him—the hurt she never wanted to give him. And she clung to him fiercely, her arms around his neck. She couldn't get enough of him and knew he felt the same primal heat as his hand drove up her back, shaping her contours, pressing her closer, his strong, thick arms tightening and making her dizzy. His tongue lushly outlined her lips, then traced her teeth before pushing deeply inside. And Maxie knew she was in deep, deep trouble.
She whimpered softly, arching into him, and Kyle thought he would come apart right there in the living room. His knees felt weak, his body on fire for her. She couldn't ignore this, he thought, and he wanted more. More of this Maxie, the sexy female, naked, uninhibited and driving him to distraction since he laid eyes on her. More of her touching him.
He trembled with the power of it, loved the feel of her, the push and give of her body against his. He wanted to get closer. Wanted to get naked with her. And his hand moved roughly down her spine, cupping her lush bottom and pushing her tighter to the thickness swelling inside his jeans. Ah, yes.
This is madness, Maxie thought, feeling his hardness thrust against her, and tried to put some distance between them. But he kept kissing her and kissing her, primitive and carnal, driving away objection and rationalization as he nipped and ticked and took again, first her mouth, then raking his teeth along her jaw. His breathing rapid and shaky, she tipped her head to give him better access to her throat.
Kyle groaned at the little shove of her softness to his groin and grasped her hips, rocking her against him. His tongue stroked, his lips savored and he wanted to open his jeans and push into her right now. Right here. He'd lied to himself about not thinking of her over the years. Too many times he'd imagined this moment, her willingly in his arms again, the savage heat bursting to life, the greedy hunger to get closer than humanly possible to each other. Had she thought of him like that since they'd separated? Not likely, he knew, leaning close for another taste. But she was now.
Her robe was open, his hand beneath the satin and covering her bare breast, warm and stroking over her nipple. It's been so long, Maxie thought as his other hand drove beneath the waist of her satin slacks, cupping her bare bottom and pushing. Her body quivered, liquid warmth rushing between her thighs. The ache was unbearable.
"See, Max. It's real, no Memorex," he whispered, then made to kiss her.
Suddenly she jerked back, staring at him for a moment, before pushing out of his arms. "This was wrong, really insane," she said more to herself. She didn't want this—really she didn't.
"Nothing that good could be wrong, Max." Straightening, he reached for her, and she put up her hands as if to ward him off.
She held his gaze, blame in her green eyes, and the passion that had escalated to dangerous levels faded rapidly. She couldn't afford to let him get to her like that again. Mimi's future rested on Maxie maintaining control over her emotions. To let him in would invite a whole new area of heartache she knew she wasn't prepared for.
"I knew this would happen with you in my house."
Barely able to stand upright Kyle folded his arms, aching for another taste of her and knowing she would run screaming. "Want me to leave?"
She blinked, raking her hair back. "Would you?"
He didn't like how excited she was at the possibility. "Yeah, if you can't handle it."
Her gaze sharpened with her posture, a closed look in her eyes. "I can handle anything, Kyle. Including you. Just do me the favor of not touching me. Ever."
Maxie turned and fled, leaving Kyle to stare at the empty room, his body trembling with a fierce urge to either carry her to the nearest bed and make wild jungle love to her until she begged him to stop or pin her against the wall and demand some answers—like why he felt that the only time he was seeing the real Maxie was when she was coming apart in his arms?
* * *
Five
« ^ »
Kyle had relived kissing her so many times he'd been in mortal pain till nearly dawn and he was glad she was gone when he entered the kitchen the next mor
ning. Last night, he kept tasting her on his lips, feeling her soft body pressed lushly against his, hearing her moans of pleasure until he was just short of tearing down her door and demanding she ease his agony, since she was the cause. But Kyle still had a few crumbs of good sense left and stayed away. That, however, did nothing for the perpetual crowd in his jeans every time he looked at her, and even the hot shower, the pot of fresh coffee and the massive breakfast Maxie had left him wasn't enough to shake off his lack of sleep.
It galled him to no end that he was falling under her spell again. He couldn't trust her and reminded himself that a promise of love and passion hadn't kept her with him seven years ago, and after last night, he knew it wouldn't again. He wasn't ready for that kind of heartache again, even if she had apologized. Besides, he'd never know if each kiss was just a rebirth of old feelings or something new.
Taking his coffee with him to the phone, Kyle checked in with the rescue team. There was suspicious behavior from a couple of rafters who kept leaving the tour group. Maybe it was better if he was gone, he thought, donning his jacket and hat, then grabbing his flight log. Especially when he could come up with ten reasons not to face her, right off the top of his head. But he wasn't a coward. That was Maxie's forte.
Walking across the yard to the stables, Kyle stepped inside, into the warmth, and found her near a stack of hay bales. It struck him then just how hard she worked. And he wondered if her being up this early on a Sunday was usual or because of him. Undetected, his gaze slipped over her. Like yesterday, she wore a faded flannel shirt, jeans, a sleeveless down vest and heavy work gloves. Her hair hung in her face as she caught a compressed-straw rectangle with a pair of bale hooks and yanked, trying to drag it off the stack.
She would rather die than ask for help, he thought, crossing to her and grabbing the wire. The bale hit the floor and she looked up.
"Thanks," she said, her breath steaming the air. Perspiration trickled at her temples and throat, he couldn't help noticing. She had to have been at this for a good hour to work up such a sweat, he thought. Especially when it looked like snow outside.
"Something you need?"
Kyle ignored the chill in her tone. "Gotta go in. No, it's not an emergency," he added when she looked alarmed. "How many are yours?" He gestured to the row of stalls.
"Exactly half. The horses."
He whistled softly. "Damn, Max, that's great."
Maxie smiled, brushing hair off her forehead with the back of her arm. "Thanks. You're welcome to ride one if you want."
Kyle breathed easier. Okay, this wasn't a bad start. "I might, later. If you'll join me?"
"Afraid you'll get lost?"
He tipped his hat back off his forehead and grinned. "Nah, no one to race."
She rolled her eyes. "Figures." She shook her head. "This need for constant competition must be a man thing."
He laughed softly, and Maxie had almost forgotten how handsome he looked when he did. "But doing all the work yourself is a 'woman thing'?"
"It's an 'I can't afford to hire anyone' thing," she said honestly.
He frowned. "My offer to help still holds."
"No."
"Max—"
She put up her hand to silence him. "Boarders don't work. It's a rule. The park service pays for you to stay here." She peered at him through a curtain of hair, then knocked it back, leaving a smudge of dirt on her cheek. "Can't have you working so hard that you're too tired to fly your chopper when they need you, right?"
"I think you underestimate my stamina."
She barked a short laugh. "Your stamina was never a prob—" Her eyes rounded, her expression mortified. "Oops."
Kyle reddened and laughed, moving closer. She backed away, eyes wary. It was like a territorial line in the sand. He could feel her guarded emotions, as well as see them. In her posture, the way she held the pitchfork across her body. Kyle took the hint, for his own good.
He looked exhausted, Maxie thought. The past twenty-four hours had left her feeling bruised, and if she hadn't been so dog tired last night, she would look as battle weary as he did.
Maxie could never have Kyle again. Not like before, because once he discovered he had a daughter he'd never known, anything they'd start would be destroyed.
"Look, Max. I know it's been rough between us." The sadness in her eyes didn't escape him.
She sighed tiredly. "It has, hasn't it?"
He peered a little. "It was okay there for a while, huh?"
She shrugged. "I suppose. I'll admit up front that you give me a bad case of the hots, Kyle…"
He smiled. "Same here, baby."
She felt the blush warm her cold cheeks. "Yeah, well … I have a daughter to think about and I don't want her to get any ideas about us. You'll be gone and I'd die before I'd break her heart again."
Again—like with her marriage, Kyle thought, yet nodded, understanding. From personal experience, he knew kids saw what they wanted to see. Even at twelve he kept thinking his parents would come for him, take him away from the orphanages and the blur of foster homes. But they hadn't. An impressionable child would read too much into anything beyond friendship. Kyle just didn't know if he could pull it off after all they'd been through and he wasn't looking forward to meeting her daughter. Kids made him nervous.
It was the perfect way to keep him back. A pact for the kid's sake.
A car horn sounded, and she peered around him out the doorway toward the house. "Oh, great." He arched a brow in her direction. "Mom."
He cringed sheepishly, then hurried toward the entrance. "Chicken," she called, and couldn't help but laugh. "You'll never make it."
"Wanna bet?"
Kyle did double-time to the chopper, waving but not stopping. The last person he wanted to see was a member of her family.
Maxie donned her jacket watching his chopper blades beat the air, lifting the craft as her mother crossed the yard.
"Oh, honey," Lacy Parrish said with feeling. "The years have treated him just fine."
"Mom," she whined. No one needed to tell her how handsome Kyle was, nor how sexy. Especially first thing in the morning, looking a little sleepy and making her think of the passion they'd tested last night.
"Well, I always liked him," her mother was saying, and Maxie knew she'd missed half the conversation with her daydreaming.
"Dad didn't."
"Oh, sure he did. But he was a marine too once and knew where Kyle was coming from. He just wanted to protect his daughter more than he wanted to let him into the family. Besides, you defied him with Kyle, and that hit a sore spot."
More like an open wound, she thought and wasn't going to wake up any more old memories today.
"So, Mom," she said, folding her arms and staring down at the petite gray-haired woman. "Ready to spread some hay, or did you just pop in for a look at Mimi's daddy?"
Max couldn't believe she'd said that until the words left her mouth. She'd never once said that out loud. She paled, and her mom arched a graying brow.
Later that afternoon, Kyle steadied the stick as he brought the chopper out of the canyon and flew over the ground, low, skimming the earth in a rush. Then he saw her, riding fast, almost standing in the stirrups. He got hard just watching her. He followed her, a hundred feet above, his gaze on the woman whose image had distracted him all day. He'd finished his flight a couple hours after he'd left this morning, but offered to check supplies and store gear, giving the other, more experienced team members a break and keeping his mind off Maxie. Hadn't worked much, he thought, then he glanced ahead and swore foully at the telephone wires dangerously close. He yanked back on the stick, bringing the chopper skyward in a violent surge, then tipped to the side, kicking up dirt and nearly shearing off part of her toolshed.
It was an asinine move.
Kyle hovered high in the air and glanced down through the domed glass near his feet. She'd stopped, shaking her head at him before heading back to the stables. Damn. Now that he looked like a total i
nept jerk, he had to set the chopper down without killing himself. He managed, shutting off the engine, then securing the craft to the ground. With his arms loaded with groceries, he walked toward the house.
Maxie reined up beside him. "Unusual approach technique, Hayden. Marines teach you that?" she teased, but that little stunt told her he hadn't changed. The rash daredevil was still a part of him.
He glared at her, blaming her for his careless flying. "I'm cooking tonight," he growled, then mounted the steps.
Maxie frowned. "Hey."
He glanced back from the porch. "What?" he snapped.
"You all right?"
He faced her. "Yeah, I'm fine," he lied, and could tell she didn't believe him. I damn near crashed my chopper to just look at you, he wanted to tell her. After tasting you again, I want you so bad I can't concentrate, and working myself into exhaustion hasn't worked. But he didn't say anything. "Now," he said as if she'd been privy to his silent ranting, "I'm going to cook. And I'll stay out of your way like you want."
She shrugged, wondering what was really eating at him. "Sure, fine," she said, then rose up in the stirrup to peer into the bags. "What'd you have in mind to feed us?"
"Spinach-stuffed manicotti and Sicilian sauce."
"Really?" Her high-pitched surprise and her smile did him in, and his posture softened.
"Yeah." When had her smile affected him this much? he wanted to know. "It takes about an hour or so, though."
She checked her watch. "How fortunate that I won't be finished for about that long."
Kyle smiled faintly and nodded before he marched up the steps. Great. He just put himself in the line of fire again. Stupid. That was the only explanation. He'd contracted a bad case of the stupids around her.
An hour and a half later, Maxie sank into the sofa, and wished it were her bed. She was stuffed. "Now, that was cooking," she muttered through a yawn, and Kyle settled beside her, half turned, his ankle braced on his knee. "Are you more relaxed now?" she asked.
"I wasn't—" She slid him a measured glance that effectively cut off his lie. "Okay, so I was a little tense."
THE RE-ENLISTED GROOM Page 7
