Then she looked at Riley. Correction: two good things about being outdoors.
He was on one knee by the stream showing Kimmie how to bait the hook on her fishing line. When the child had shrieked in horror at all things slimy, he’d patiently worked with her until she’d accomplished the task instead of doing it himself, which would have been so much easier. Then he’d demonstrated casting the line as far out into the stream as possible. Over and over again he’d shown her and she wasn’t even working for a badge in fishing. This was simply extracurricular outdoor stuff. If patience was a virtue, Riley Dixon was the most virtuous man on the planet.
Well, not entirely, she thought, shivering at the memory of his kiss. But at a moment like that, virtue could be highly overrated. She had to stop thinking that way. She had to put up her shields and get through this because… Why?
After today they wouldn’t have any reason to see each other. He wouldn’t get personal because of his past. Just her luck to meet a great guy who had less reason to trust than she did. And just in case he did decide to take a chance, she would put on the brakes. She wasn’t willing to risk that he wasn’t substituting her and Kimmie for the family he’d lost.
Bottom line: they were two people with good, solid common sense where love was concerned. Neither of them was interested. There was no reason she couldn’t simply relax and have a good time. Enjoy the enjoyable company of a man. By golly, she’d bought and paid for him; she was going to do just that.
Suddenly Kimmie started squealing and Abby’s mom radar clicked on. She jumped up and ran to the edge of the stream. “What’s wrong?”
“Mommy, I’ve got a bite.”
“What? An insect? Snake?” She searched the area around them for slithery stuff.
“Fish,” Riley said, obviously amused. “She’s got a fish on her line.”
“Oh, my gosh.”
“Riley? What do I do?” Kimmie asked, holding her fishing pole with both hands to keep it from getting away. “Help me.”
He squatted, sort of surrounding her, ready to take over if necessary. “Brace the grip of the pole against your tummy and hold it there while you turn the crank handle with your other hand. Bring him in closer and I’ll get him in the landing net.”
Shading her eyes with her hand, Abby looked at the stream current. She could see a fish jumping out of the water, struggling against the line. She wasn’t sure she wanted anything to happen to the fish, but she was rooting for Kimmie’s success. Talk about conflict. But she’d bought herself an expert. Let Riley deal with it, she thought.
Slowly, carefully and with as much concentration as a six-year-old could muster, Kimmie reeled her fish in close enough for Riley to net the creature. When he had it, Kimmie dropped the fishing pole and stared down at the fish struggling to survive.
Looking doubtful, she stared at Riley. “Did I hurt ’im?”
“No. But he’s not happy.”
“Is his family gonna miss him? Like Nemo’s daddy when he couldn’t find him?”
“It’s a movie,” Abby explained. “When Nemo is captured by fishermen, his father swims to the rescue.”
Riley glanced at her, then finally said, “I guess his family will miss him.”
Kimmie looked at the line protruding from the fish’s mouth. “Is he gonna die?”
“If he stays out of the water too long.” Carefully, as if he knew what was coming, Riley removed the hook from the fish’s mouth.
“I don’t want him to die.”
“If we needed him for dinner, we’d have to,” Riley gently explained to her.
Gravely serious, Kimmie met his gaze. “Do we have other stuff for dinner?”
“Yes.”
“Can I put him back?”
“He’s your fish.”
“Even if I was hungry, I wouldn’t want to keep him.” Kimmie took the net from him and tipped it over the stream to let the fish go. When the creature became ensnared in the net’s webbing, he helped dislodge it. Finally, it disappeared beneath the water’s surface.
Abby shaded her eyes against the sun’s glare. “That’s the luckiest fish in the Lone Star state.”
“A new lease on life. I’m sure he’ll make something of himself with his second chance.” Riley grinned.
Kimmie was looking doubtful again. “I wish I could have brought my cereal.”
Riley touched her nose. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it all under control. You’re not going hungry tonight.”
She threw her arms around his neck. “Good. Because I’m gettin’ pretty hungry right now and it’s not even night.”
“Me, too.” Abby figured it was all the fresh air and exercise, but suddenly she was ravenous.
“Then let’s get dinner going,” he agreed.
The kindling, prepared and surrounded by stones, was situated in an open area free of overhanging tree branches. Riley had long wooden matches and after lighting one, he handed it to Kim to ignite the fire. Abby watched Kimmie carefully, as did he, and both of them breathed a sigh of relief when it caught.
“I did it!” Kimmie said, excited about her success.
Riley took the wooden match from her and extinguished it. “Yes, you did. Good job, kiddo. Now I’m going to clean—”
Abby cleared her throat loudly and when she had his attention, discreetly shook her head. “I’ll help you get dinner ready.”
“Understood.” He nodded, indicating he got her hint about discussing dead fish in front of Kimmie.
“Can I help with dinner, too?” she asked.
Riley thought for a moment. “You can get water.”
After he handed her a container, she trotted happily down to the stream.
Riley watched until Kimmie was out of earshot. “Sorry. I almost blew it.”
“No problem. You redeemed yourself big-time sending her for water. That was a stroke of genius. She’ll play for a long time with rocks and water.”
“Yeah. I thought it would be some good, clean fun.”
And so much more, Abby thought. His kid instincts were so good, so natural. He gave of his time. She thought about the woman who’d made him feel that he wasn’t good enough. Abby wasn’t prone to violence and always reminded Kimmie to use words to express her feelings. But somehow words weren’t enough to express her outrage for what had happened to Riley. She wished for five minutes alone with the witch—no holds barred.
He pulled out a knife with a gazillion little tools stuck into the dividers. When he noticed her questioning look, he said, “Swiss Army knife. Don’t leave home without it.”
Abby watched him. “That’s particularly nasty-looking,” she said, when he started working with a serrated blade.
“This takes off the fish’s skin and scales. After I fry it up in a pan, Kimmie will never recognize Nemo, his father or any other relatives.”
“For the sake of her psyche and future good mental health, I hope you’re right.”
“Plus I’ve got MREs just in case we didn’t catch any fish.”
“Define MRE.”
“Meals ready to eat,” he explained.
“If one of them isn’t a dehydrated hot dog, you’re going to wish we’d lugged in that box of cereal.”
When he laughed, Abby noticed the way the lines around his eyes crinkled. She watched him work, the competent, confident movement of his hands and the way the muscles moved beneath the tanned skin of his strong forearms. In that moment, she felt completely safe and absolutely content. And happy. If only it were possible to freeze this moment in time and stay here forever.
The rest of the evening was just as perfect. As the sun went down, they sat around the fire eating. After Abby told her it was “chicken,” Kimmie tried the fish and pronounced it not too yucky. Because there was no TV and she was worn out from all the exercise and fresh air, she was soon tucked into her sleeping bag sound asleep.
Abby left her in the tent and felt the chill in the air before she went to sit by Riley in front of the fire. He
was using the corkscrew from his Swiss Army knife on a bottle of wine.
“Where did that come from?” she asked, surprised.
“My backpack.”
“That pack is like Mary Poppins’ carpetbag—bottomless and magic.”
“Just the necessities,” he said, the fire glinting off his teeth when he grinned.
“So wine is a necessity and cereal is—”
“Empty calories.”
“Ah,” she said, gratefully accepting the plastic cup of chardonnay. “Perfect with fish. And the ambience…” She glanced up at the spectacular sky filled with a gazillion twinkling stars.
“Perfect.” The single word was spoken in a husky voice. When their gazes collided, she saw the dark intensity in his.
Suddenly, Abby felt more sparks between them than a campfire fanned by the wind. Certainly his Swiss Army knife had just the right tool to cut the tension. But she couldn’t take a chance. It was time to take the heat off.
“So,” she said, after several sips of wine. “Tell me about your life postadoption. What did you mean when you said you finally understood how your parents felt about you?”
“Where did that come from?”
She shrugged. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, so the appropriate response would be—out of nowhere.”
He stared at her for several moments and she suspected he knew exactly what the question was about. After resting his forearm on his upraised knee, he said, “I was four when my mother left and never came back, but I vaguely remember it. Trauma is like that, I guess. A single moment frozen in your mind forever. Then my parents came along. They didn’t think having their own kids was in the cards, so they ‘chose’ me. It was scary, but they gave me lots of attention. And I had two sets of grandparents doting on me.”
“Sounds awesome.”
“It was. Until Nora.”
“She put a crimp in your style?”
“Suddenly it felt like no one had time for me.” He sipped his own wine. “I was grateful to be out of the orphanage, to have a family, but I didn’t feel quite a part of it.”
“Raising a baby is a twenty-four-hour-a-day job. Things were bound to change.”
“Things definitely changed.”
“Think back,” she said. “As Nora got older, didn’t things lighten up? Didn’t your parents come to your sports events? Didn’t someone show up for Muffins With Mom?”
“Huh?”
She shook her head. “School activities. The point is, your mom and dad probably had more time to split between you and Nora as she got older, when the needs of an infant eased.”
“It’s true. And that’s what I meant when I said I realized how my folks felt. I got hands-on experience with a demanding infant, not to mention firsthand knowledge of how easy it is to love a child not biologically your own.”
“That boy was lucky to have you, Riley, even for a short time. If you’d been his biological father, you wouldn’t have walked out on him at all. Ever.”
“For all the good that did me.”
“Oh, Riley—” She remembered the look of profound sadness on his face when he’d talked about losing his family because his DNA was wrong. “You’re plenty good enough,” she said, emphatically. “Your sister would have been the one to feel the heat of your resentment and obviously she didn’t. Because you’re a wonderful, decent person. Nora thinks the sun rises and sets on you.”
Automatically she reached out and rested her hand on his arm only to feel instant heat. He felt it, too, and his gaze turned hot, starting a fire in her belly. He put his cup of wine on the ground and set hers beside it. She’d have to be an idiot not to know he was going to kiss her.
This time, there was nowhere to run, even if she wanted to. And, God help her, she didn’t want to. They only had tonight and she wanted it to be all that it could be. She wanted the rush, the heat in her blood from a single, isolated dangerous deed. She yearned for the excitement of not looking before taking the leap. She craved the thrill of testing the depth of the water with both feet.
But most important, she felt as if she would shrivel up and blow away—or worse, have major regrets—if she didn’t kiss Riley Dixon.
He cupped her face in his big hands and she forgot to breathe. Then he touched his mouth to hers and her breathing went from zero to hyperventilation in half a second. He tasted of wine and wonder, and for several seconds she savored the sweetness of his soft lips. Heat wavered through her from the first brushing of their mouths and shimmered all the way to her toes. Suddenly she didn’t feel the cold any more.
When he traced the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue, she parted and welcomed him inside. An erotic heaviness settled in her chest as their mouths mimicked the act of making love. Then he changed direction; he was a man of action, after all. And his mouth was hot on her neck as she nestled into his arms. She was warm as much from the fact that this man was holding her close as she was from his body.
He slipped his hand under her sweatshirt and her breath caught at the exquisite feeling of his warm palm spanning her back. The sensation of skin to skin made her yearn for—for everything. Then he slid his fingers around her ribs and skimmed his hand over her breast. The first contact was like lightning, followed by electricity zinging through her.
“Abby,” he whispered against her hair, as he teased her nipple to arousal through her bra. “You’re so beautiful.”
“No, I—”
“Yes, you are. You’re beautiful and I want you.” He shifted his weight, then grunted and reached behind him to move something out of the way.
It was Kimmie’s princess backpack, and the equivalent of a cold shower. This was the wrong time and the wrong place. If her daughter weren’t sleeping in a tent just a few feet away, she would give Riley anything he wanted. Without question. Or regret. He could have her—mind, body, soul. But it would only be one night, and that would be a mistake.
“I can’t, Riley.” She drew in a shuddering breath as she slid away. “I’m more sorry than I can say. But I can’t.”
“I’m sorry, too.” He raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. “More than you can possibly know.” He traced a finger over the backpack’s pink handle. “But I understand.”
She nodded. “I think I better say good-night.”
“Yeah.”
Before she could change her mind and stay with him, Abby went into the tent and slid into the sleeping bag beside her daughter’s. In the dark, she listened to Kimmie’s steady breathing and replayed what had just happened. The man knew his way around a kiss better than he knew his way around the outdoors. But the truth was that she and Riley could never have more than tonight because he didn’t want to take a chance any more than she did. Although, more and more, that wasn’t entirely true in her case, based on her all-consuming reaction to his kiss. Clearly their association was ending in the nick of time. Then again, she’d thought that before.
But this time, she really meant it.
Chapter Nine
“Where’s Kimmie tonight?” Molly asked.
“At my folks’. As usual,” Abby added. She and her friends had girls’ night out often. Her parents loved taking their granddaughter, and Kimmie was treated like a princess for real.
She hadn’t seen her friends since the auction and was anxious to find out what was going on with them. So here they were at the Nuthouse. It was booths, beer and beer-battered shrimp.
“Okay. Abby, you bought Riley at the auction,” Charity said. “Actually, if memory serves, you bought two guys. What’s up with you and Des O’Donnell?”
Abby met Molly’s gaze, and the redhead shook her head slightly. “I’m not at liberty to say. But I can tell you that Riley fulfilled his commitment.”
“That sounds interesting. And?” Charity stared expectantly.
“And—nothing.” Abby heaved a big sigh.
“That is not the face or body language of a woman to whom nothing has happened,” Jamie said. “I k
now this because as an attorney I study juries to decipher their verdict.”
Abby knew there would be no peace if she didn’t give them something. “Okay. He took us hiking and we camped out last weekend so Kim is officially eligible for her Bluebonnets badges. End of story.”
Beside her, Molly half turned. “That big sigh moments ago and your Gloomy Gus face since we walked in here say there’s more to this story. Give it up, Ab.”
“You spent the night with him?” Charity asked.
“Outdoors. As in dirt, hard ground, cold, tent and sleeping bags.”
“As in stars, clear sky, romance,” Charity added.
“He did pull a bottle of wine out of his magic backpack and open it with the corkscrew on his Swiss Army knife.”
“My kind of man,” Charity said.
“Did he kiss you?” Jamie asked suspiciously.
“Why would you think that?” Abby hedged.
“Come on, Ab. Wine?” Jamie prompted. “I know he did because if he didn’t, you would have simply said no.”
“Is he a good kisser?” Charity demanded. “And don’t edit out the good stuff. Tell us like it is.”
Abby should have known her friends would wring every last detail out of her. “The man has a mouth and he knows how to use it.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Molly took a peanut from the red plastic basket in the center of the table and cracked it.
“I would think a close encounter of the kissable kind would perk you up.”
“The problem is that he’s not my type.”
“Tell that to your mouth,” Charity said. “And your hormones.”
“How is he wrong?” Jamie asked.
“He’s the Marlboro Man and I’m Trading Spaces.” Abby ran her fingernail through the condensation spot on her paper place mat and ripped a hole in it. “He’s physical fitness and I’m a couch potato.”
“None of this is serious stuff,” Molly said. “What’s really bugging you?”
That Touch of Pink Page 11
