by Lisa Plumley
So over him, she reminded herself.
“What are you doing in here?” he demanded.
His voice was a raspy whisper—lest, Jayne guessed, he be heard by the women elsewhere in the lodge.
“What am I doing in here?” Heart pounding, she nonetheless managed to raise one bare leg from the bubbles and examine it leisurely. “I should think would be fairly obvious. I’m bathing.”
His gaze swerved away from her show of leg. “This is the family’s private bathroom.”
His family’s, she knew now. Who’d have guessed, among all the Davises in all the world, that his would be her hosts for this trip? Francesca hadn’t filled her in on that detail, among so many others.
Rugged wilderness and Riley. Just peachy. She didn’t know how she was going to come out of all this with the research—and the breakup workbook notes—she needed.
But for now….
“It’s the only one with a tub.” Jayne shrugged. “Gwen could tell I was upset over—” Over having maybe-kinda-sorta ambushed you amid the breakup-ees. “—things, and offered to let me use it.”
“So this is where you snuck off to.” He advanced, eyes narrowed. “You set me up and then you bailed. Not very sporting of you, Jayne.”
She thought it was very sporting, given that he’d at least had someplace to escape to afterward. She’d had nowhere to escape her broken heart when he’d left. At least, not at first. Not until she’d tested on herself the anti-heartbreak strategies she’d been offering friends for years. Not until Heartbreak 101 was born.
But honestly, “I didn’t mean for any of that to happen. All I did was say your name.”
“It was the way you said it.”
“Oh?” She arched a brow, hoping he couldn’t tell she wanted to shuck her hard-won dignity, drag him into the tub with her, and (under threat of serious prune-y fingers and toes) extract an explanation. Why did you leave me? Leave us?
But that wouldn’t have worked anyway. Wrinkly skin didn’t scare him. Riley didn’t even care what he looked like. Which probably made him twice as appealing, now that she considered it.
Jayne forced her thoughts back to the matter at hand. “Oh?” she asked again for good measure. “And what ‘way’ was that?”
“The ‘way’ that makes five pissed-off women yell at me. I barely escaped with my manhood intact.”
She couldn’t help it. Her gaze wandered south.
Ah, memories. Good times.
She was such an idiot.
He was waiting for her when she sent her attention upward again. He seemed affronted. “What the hell did you tell them, anyway?”
“Not much.” Her bubbles began to lose their loft. Casually, Jayne shored up the ta-ta territory, lest she give Riley a glimpse of what he hadn’t missed. “Just that we dated for a while, a couple of years ago.” And you vanished inexplicably, just when things were getting good. “And that it was over with now.”
She shrugged, trying for nonchalance. His gaze followed her shoulders’ movement…then slid lower, to the bubble zone. In the wake of his interest, tingles raced along her skin. Apparently, her body was having trouble remembering all she wanted here was closure. C—L—O—S—U…oh, heck. Did there have to be a “you” in that word?
The only “you” for her had been Riley. Once upon a time.
“All of a sudden, it doesn’t feel over with,” he said quietly.
Dangerously quietly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” More bubbles disintegrated. Jayne reached into her cache for a pink effervescent strawberry bath bomb and dropped it into the tub. She pretended to be fascinated by the gigantic Alka Seltzer effect it created in her bathwater.
“You don’t?”
He’d come closer. Uh-oh. “Nope.”
Was that a quaver in her voice? If it was, Jayne didn’t have time to consider it. Because a second later, Riley called her bluff. With an ease born of well-trained muscles, he lowered to a squat that put them eye-to-eye. He stretched his arms along the edge of the tub, offering a contrast between his dark skin and the pristine porcelain. He nailed her with a knowing look.
“You’re naked,” he said, “about fourteen inches from me. Naked, and wet. And bubbly.” An inexplicable smile touched his lips, briefly. “Really bubbly.”
His expression suggested he knew exactly how fragile her bubble barrier was. But he didn’t understand how fragile the rest of her was…and Jayne swore in that moment he never would.
“Somehow,” he went on, sweeping her with a heated gaze, “this doesn’t feel quite ‘over with’ to me. Not yet.”
Jayne gulped. Uh-oh was right.
Experimentally, Riley trailed his fingertips in the bathwater. It swirled warmly around his skin, like the kiss of a lover.
Jayne wasn’t what he’d expected to find when he’d come in here. He’d been hoping for solitude. For sanctuary from the five-woman firing squad. But hey—he wasn’t a guy to look a gift bathing beauty in the mouth. Or something like that. Seeing her like this, all flushed and damp and teasing, made fools of his good intentions. Every last one.
And her smile turned him inside out.
Ahhh. Nostalgia.
“Look,” she said, shortly after delivering that smile, “I didn’t plan this little soak for your benefit, big shot. So go take your come-ons to someone who cares.”
She lobbed the pink fizzy thing at him. He ducked. It smashed against the wall and crumbled into a wet lumpy pile.
“Awww. I think you do care. At least enough to practice good aim. Nice work, dead-eye. If I hadn’t ducked, you’d have plastered me right in the forehead.”
“Then hold still.” Hefting a bar of soap, Jayne measured him. She squinted, tongue between her teeth like a marksman. “Perfect.”
“I love it when you tell me what you want.”
The soap flew. Grinning, Riley ducked again.
“Try the shampoo bottle.” He angled his chin toward it.
Obligingly, Jayne sent it toward his head.
He didn’t know what she was so mad about, he thought as he ducked again. After all, they were both adults. Their relationship was in the past. And he wasn’t the dumb-ass who’d sent her packing for a heartbreak-recovery class, now was he? Obviously, during their time apart, she’d experienced worse than he’d ever dished out.
Not that Riley thought he’d treated her badly. On the contrary. He and Jayne had had an amazing time together. So amazing it had nearly tempted him to try becoming someone he wasn’t.
Someone settled.
To him, this weird twist of fate—the two of them winding up here, together—was simply the universe giving them a second chance. What they did with that second chance was up to them.
Riley voted for enjoying it. Why not?
He nodded toward the herbal conditioner. “More ammo?”
She seized the economy-sized bottle. Gave it an appraising toss upward. Prepared to let it fly.
“You probably haven’t noticed,” he observed, “that your bubbles don’t cling to a vertical surface very well.”
She blinked. Frowned. “Huh?”
“Well, there is a reason I’m encouraging you to throw things at me.”
Her arm lowered a fraction. “What are you talking about?”
“You.” Riley gave her an admiring look, knowing the view wouldn’t be his to enjoy for much longer. “And your amazing disappearing bubbles.”
Jayne glanced down. Her eagerness to poleax him had raised her onto her knees in the tub, and her exertions had dislodged her foamy covering to an…interesting degree. She probably didn’t appreciate the sight of her partially-nude body, visible from the waist up in nothing but glistening wetness and a few rapidly-departing bath bubbles, quite as much as he did.
“Oooh!”
She hurled the bottle. To Riley’s surprise, it struck its mark. He’d been so distracted by the sight of her, he’d forgotten to duck. The last thing he remembered before things
went black was Jayne’s surprised face as he sank onto the rag rug beneath him. It figured…he ought to have known to leave the past buried, where it belonged.
No point trampling over the past. It’s over with.
Hell, yes. That would be his motto from here on out.
Zzzzz.
Cold water splashed over his face. Sputtering, Riley jerked upright to the sight of Jayne standing there wrapped in a towel, holding an empty drinking glass.
“Thank God!” she cried. “You’re alive.”
“No thanks to you.” He caught hold of her wrist and pulled her to the rug alongside him. “Don’t you know you could drown someone pulling a stunt like that? I was unconscious!”
“Only for a second. Actually, you were probably stunned, is all.”
Stunned now, he could only stare at her.
“Besides,” Jayne went on, tucking in her towel, “you’ve always seemed pretty impervious to ordinary injuries to me.”
Her arch look implied she referred to more than a conk on the head. Much more. He didn’t know what, and he wasn’t in the mood to play guessing games. No matter how cute she looked in a two-foot-wide towel and a tousle of damp-tendriled blonde hair.
But that didn’t mean he was going to reveal any weaknesses—say, a susceptibility to head injuries via jojoba conditioner bottles—to her, either. Riley sat up all the way, bracing himself on his splayed palms.
“You’re right. It’d take more than thirty-two ounces of green goop to lay me low.”
“It’d take a miracle, looks like.”
Her disgruntled frown confused him. “Did I do something to you? Or does leaving the city always make you this peevish?”
She glared. Leaving the city, he decided. He’d seen it before. Diehard urbanites and the great outdoors didn’t mix very well. More than likely, Jayne had just realized out here there wouldn’t be any escalators, fifty-percent-off sales, or a Starbucks around every tree trunk.
“I just didn’t expect to see you here,” she said quietly. “That’s all. I didn’t expect any of this.”
Riley dragged his gaze from the water droplets meandering toward her shoulder. “I’m as surprised as you are. I only came back for a few weeks to help out my grandparents. Usually I’d be—”
“On a mountainside? Taking pictures on safari?”
“Something like that.” Upon realizing how well she remembered him, he couldn’t help but smile.
She did, too. But her smile held a certain inscrutability. He found himself wanting to uncover her secrets, to unravel the mystery of whatever relationship had brought her here…to unwrap that towel. But since Jayne would probably hurl the contents of the medicine cabinet at him if he tried, he settled for conversation—and a question.
“How about you?” he asked. “You’re here as part of the heartbreak recovery stuff, huh?”
Jayne nodded. Warily.
“Well, I hope it, uh, helps. I mean, I don’t buy into the whole how-to guru thing, but whatever works, right?”
An awkward silence fell. Riley had the uncomfortable sensation he hadn’t chosen their topic of conversation wisely. But he couldn’t very well pretend he didn’t know what she was here for, could he? Whatever his other faults might be, he considered himself an upfront guy. He offered his opinions straight up and expected others to do the same.
Jayne didn’t disappoint. “I hear the workshop leader is extremely talented,” she disagreed. “Wildly popular. I guess you’re not familiar with her bestselling book?”
Her raised eyebrows dared him to bluff. He couldn’t.
“No. I tend to stick to the non mumbo-jumbo section of the bookstore.”
“Hmmph.”
“But hey—” He spread his arms. “—if it helps people, I’m all for it. Obviously, there are six women here who believe in those anti-heartbreak techniques.” Riley tilted his head thoughtfully at her. “I just didn’t think you’d be among them.”
Her temper flared. “Why? Because you didn’t think my heart could be broken?”
“No, because I didn’t think you’d ever let yourself be less than twenty miles away from your hair colorist.”
Jayne gawped at him. “These are only highlights!”
He’d forgotten she was touchy about her “natural blondeness.”
“Look,” Riley said with a conciliatory gesture. “You obviously don’t want to be here. And I’m not crazy about taking out your group tomorrow—”
“You’re our guide?”
He nodded. She muttered and turned her face heavenward, shaking her head.
“—but we both have to do what we came here to do. So we might as well make the best of it. Right?”
He waited for her answer. A moment passed. Another. It occurred to him that Jayne might be considering leaving the retreat, rather than deal with his anti-psychobabble jibes. Had he unknowingly hurt her feelings?
Riley hunkered lower, angling his head to look into her face. “No more self-help potshots. Okay? Truce?”
Her gaze lifted. He could have lost himself in her eyes, in her nearness, in her…hey. Knock it off, you mushball.
Jayne sighed. “Truce,” she agreed.
He wanted to whoop. Or at least give her a we-have-a-truce kiss to seal the deal. But before he could, she got to her feet, still clutching her wrapped towel.
“But we have some things to talk about, Riley,” Jayne warned. “Some…issues that still aren’t settled between us. Getting some closure would do us both good.”
Geez, she’d already caved in to self-help speak. He stood, too. “So let’s talk.”
“Later. I’m not talking to you dressed—” She gestured toward her towel-wrapped torso, bare feet, still-damp skin, and mostly-upswept hair. “—like this.”
“So lose the towel.” Riley waggled his eyebrows.
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then I’ll even the odds.” He reached for the fly of his jeans. “Hand me that spare towel over there?”
“Be serious.”
Feeling lighter than he had in months, he put his hands on his hips and grinned. “I am serious.”
“You’re never serious. Except about hitting the trail. That’s part of the problem.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing.” Turning away, Jayne opened the bathroom door. She peeked outside, then angled her head toward the doorway. “All clear. Let’s talk later. After things settle down a bit.”
Riley recognized an invitation to get the hell out as well as the next guy. He headed for the door.
“How about five minutes from now?” he asked. “On the deck at the back of the lodge? We’ll talk, we’ll—”
“Can’t. Five minutes from now I’ll be talking to Gwen and Bud, asking for a reassigned trail guide.”
“Ouch. You really know how to hurt a guy.”
Jayne’s expression sobered. “No. I don’t. Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
Something in her face struck him. Silenced him. He wished he could erase whatever hurts she’d suffered, however they’d come about. Intending to console her, Riley reached for her hand.
At the same moment, she shoved him into the hall.
“Hey!”
She shut the door behind him. He heard his grandmother’s oak dressing table being pushed beneath the knob with a decisive jab meant to secure it against intruders.
Against him.
Riley stared at the door. He raised his fingertips to its surface. He imagined the woman on the other side of that polished wood—who was, at this moment, probably boring a hole through the pine with the force of her defensive, semi-nude gaze. Let’s talk later.
Clearly, Jayne’s idea of a truce and his idea of a truce were a little far apart. Given time, though, Riley figured he could bring them closer together.
Much closer together.
And maybe he could help restore Jayne’s faith in guys like him, while he was at it.
Sure, he decided as he turn
ed away and headed down the hallway, a new eagerness to his stride. It was the least he could do, given what they’d once meant to each other. He’d show Jayne that not all men were no-good dirtbags like the one who’d sent her to Heartbreak Camp…and in the process, cure himself once and for all of his lingering longing for blue-eyed blonde bombshells from the City by the Bay.
And his new motto? No point trampling over the past. It’s over with? Hell, this didn’t even qualify. This was just a favor for an ex. An ex Riley was going to be paired up with for the next week or so whether he liked it or not. He was only making the best of things, the way he’d suggested they both do.
So long as he could help Jayne without bringing his own vagabond ways under fire, Riley was perfectly happy to do so. Mottos didn’t come into play. And neither did an interest in rekindling things between them.
Not a damned bit.
He passed by the lodge’s office. His grandfather glanced up. “You’ve got that foot tappin’ again, son. Who you tellin’ a stretcher to now?”
Hell, Riley thought. Himself, if he didn’t watch it.
He stilled his foot and kept going, all the same. He could handle it. And Jayne? Her, too. Just wait and see… .
Chapter Four
In her room, Alexis flopped onto her bed, overwhelmed with the unfairness of being on the verge of womanhood, pinched by her stupid braces, and stuck in the middle of nowhere—all at the same time. The ruffled pink bedspread her Nana always hauled out for her visits fluffed around her, obscuring the Cosmo she’d been reading.
If only Nana and Gramps owned one of those posh resorts in Sedona, instead of this dump. Then there’d be a swimming pool. T’ai Chi classes. Ayurvedic facials, like she’d read about in her mom’s Allure. Shopping nearby—even if it did consist mostly of art galleries instead of the Gap. There’d be things to distract her.
Things to keep her from thinking about…Brendan.
Alexis still couldn’t believe he’d treated her the way he had. Breaking up with her—with a note!—in front of all their friends at the Cinnabon section of the mall food court was so fifth grade. So juvenile. So mean.
