"I thought we'd go for a ride," he said, walking over to the bike.
"I've never been on a motorcycle before."
He raised his eyebrows. "Then it's time. Go put your purse inside."
She ran upstairs and unlocked the front door. After dropping her purse on the floor of the coat closet, she tucked her keys into her shorts' pocket, stepped back outside and locked the door behind her.
Kyle had already put on his helmet and straddled the bike. He looked dangerous and exciting. He tempted her and she didn't know how to resist. She told herself she should. He would only bring her pain and heartache. But she didn't want to listen to that voice today. She didn't want to hear dire warnings about what might happen in the future. She wanted to live for the moment.
"Come on," he said, holding out the extra helmet.
She walked down the stairs and took it from him. When she'd settled it on her head, he adjusted the chin strap. "How does that feel?" he asked. "Shake your head and see how loose it is."
She quickly turned her head from side to side. "It's fine." The fit was perfect. Too perfect. "So, how many women have you taken out on this thing?" she asked, motioning to the bike.
He laughed. "Not many. Don't worry. It's not part of my seduction routine. I don't need props. Slide on behind me."
Of course he didn't. She was walking, breathing quivering proof of that. His raw sexuality was enough to seduce anyone.
She glanced at the house. She'd planned to spend her afternoon lining her dresser drawers and relaxing. She glanced back at Kyle. The drawers could wait. After all, how often did a woman like her get to spend an afternoon with a man like him? She might as well experience the Haynes charm full on. Besides, she'd always wanted to ride a motorcycle.
She rested her hand on his shoulder for balance, then slipped her leg over the seat. When she was settled, he showed her where to put her feet.
"Hang on," he said, grabbing her hands and pulling them around to hug his midsection. "I'm about to change your life."
* * *
Chapter 11
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He had thought the motorcycle ride would be fun for Sandy. He hadn't given any thought to what it would mean to him. As he headed down the driveway toward the street, he felt her shifting on the seat, trying to get comfortable. He grinned. The ride was going to be pure torture, and he couldn't think of anything he wanted more.
From breasts to knees, her body pressed against him. He could feel the heat of her. Slender thighs cradled his rear, her hands gripped his midsection. The neighbor's dog came running out to bark at them. Sandy laughed and he felt the vibration through his back.
At the bottom of the driveway, he paused. "Lean into the turns," he said. "That'll help me steer. I'm not going to go fast, or get on the highway, so don't be scared."
"I'm not," she said into his ear. "I like it already."
He liked it, too. "Hold on," he called and hit the gas. They turned onto the narrow residential street. At the stop sign, he turned left, then left again at the first light.
They headed toward the west side of town, which was less populated. Sandy clung to him. He moved with the speed of traffic. It was a warm summer afternoon. Mothers and their children walked along the wide shady sidewalks in front of the stores in the shopping section. To their left was the park where Sandy had taken her kids for the summer program.
"Do you think they can see us?" she asked as they drove past the children.
"I don't think so. They won't recognize you with your helmet."
He thought she said "good" but he wasn't sure. At the next signal, he put his feet on the asphalt and steadied the bike with his legs. "You're squeezing the stuffing out of me," he called over his shoulder.
"Oh." She glanced over his shoulder at her hands clutching together in front of his belly. "Sorry. What should I do?"
He was making it worse, he told himself. He was a fool for taunting himself with what he couldn't have. At least not today. But he wanted to feel her touching him, and he wasn't above using devious means to make that happen.
"Try keeping your hands flat. That way, you won't be able to squeeze so tight."
She had been holding on pretty hard, but it hadn't bothered him. When she did as he asked and opened her hands so her palms pressed against him, he had to hold back a groan. Her touch was sweeter than he'd thought it would be. He reacted instantly and predictably. Good thing they were on a public street, otherwise he would be tempted to push her hands lower, to the hardness pressing against the button-fly of his jeans.
The light turned green and he maneuvered them through the traffic. As they continued to drive through town, they passed fewer and fewer cars. At the turnoff for the highway, he went in the opposite direction, circling around the industrial park and coming out on a two-lane road that narrowed quickly. About three miles up the way was a park. Hardly anyone used it, even in the summer. He thought it would be quiet there and they could spend some time getting to know each other.
He'd planned the outing specifically for a time when her kids were gone, but he knew himself. If he and Sandy stayed someplace private, like his house or hers, the temptation to make love would be too strong. He wasn't worried about her rejecting him. He was more concerned about her saying yes and then having second thoughts. Better for them not to do it, than for her to live with regrets.
But he didn't want to think about that now. Not with the soft summer-afternoon breeze blowing in his face and Sandy plastering herself against him.
She laughed again. "Everything looks different from the back of the bike," she called. "It's as if I'm seeing Glenwood for the first time."
"Do you like it?"
"I love it! Don't turn, okay?"
Before he could answer or ask why, she released him and raised her arms in the air. "Look at me!" she called.
"Damn it, Sandy, hang on. You could hurt yourself."
"I'm fine."
"I mean it," he growled. He didn't dare turn around and look at her. He didn't want to jiggle the bike at all and upset her balance.
"You're a stick-in-the-mud," she said, leaning close to him again and wrapping her arms around his waist.
"And you're crazy."
"Maybe." She rested her chin on his shoulder. "I like this a lot. I might get a bike."
"Sure. It's real practical with three kids."
She chuckled. "Now you sound like me."
Up ahead he saw the park. At one end were several brick barbecues and rest rooms. He drove past those to the small duck pond surrounded by grass and trees. Several picnic tables had been put in place. He slowed the bike, then stopped it. After standing up, he moved forward on the seat.
"You can slide off now," he told her.
"Okay." Sandy grabbed his shoulder as she swung her leg over the seat, then she stepped away. While he set the kickstand, she pulled off her helmet.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright with excitement. "That was terrific. I can't wait to do it again. Can I drive home?"
He looked at her. This was not the Sensible Sandy he remembered, but he liked this adventurous woman. "No. It's not as easy as it looks."
"Kyle." She actually pouted at him. She stuck out her lower lip and tilted her head to the side. "Are you sure?"
He fought against the need to pull her hard against him and kiss her into forgetfulness. "I'll teach you to ride the bike, but not here. The parking lot is too small and it wouldn't be safe."
"But you will teach me."
"Yes, I said so."
"Good."
While he took off his helmet, she walked toward the small pond. A family of ducks were taking their nap on the grassy slope. She walked close to them, stopping only when one of the large birds opened its eyes and glared at her.
"I won't hurt you," she promised, bending toward the ducks. "It's okay."
Her red shorts pulled tight across her derriere. As Kyle walked toward her, his palms itched to cup those curves and pull her
against his arousal. He was so hard, it hurt. He welcomed the pain. He liked that Sandy turned him on. In a strange way, he liked knowing they couldn't make love today. The anticipation would make the consummation sweeter.
He placed his hand on the small of her back. She straightened and smiled at him. A headband held her light brown hair off her face. It had grown in the last few weeks and now fell about an inch below her shoulders. He liked the way her hair moved easily and caught the light. Hell, he liked everything about her.
He gazed into her eyes. "You're very beautiful," he said quietly.
"Kyle, I thought we agreed no lines."
"It's not a line."
He continued to stare at her, memorizing her features, grateful she hadn't changed much in the time she'd been gone. For a moment, he thought about confessing his sixteen-year-old crush, but he decided against it. He didn't want her to think this was only about the adolescent desires of a fourteen-year-old boy.
Slowly, so she could pull away at any time, he slipped his hand down her back, over the curve of her derriere to her hip, where he captured her fingers in his. Her gaze never left his. She didn't move at all, except to tremble slightly and catch her breath.
"Come on," he said, tugging her hand.
They walked over to the picnic tables and straddled them, facing each other. With his legs spread apart, it was impossible to hide his physical reaction to her closeness and his own erotic thoughts. He wasn't sure if he wanted her to notice or not. He liked the idea of her knowing she turned him on, but only if it didn't embarrass her too much. He wanted to get to know the adult Sandy and that wouldn't happen if he scared her away.
She raised her chin slightly and stared at the trees above them. "It's lovely here. I'm surprised the park is empty."
He motioned to the open field across the road and the wooded area behind the pond. "There isn't anything around here, and most people don't want to make the drive. At night we have to patrol the area though. Teenagers come here to park."
"Oh? I never did." She raised her eyebrows. "But I'm sure you were a regular."
"Every weekend." He grinned at the memories. "I had my first encounter with paradise right here in the back of a '68 Ford Mustang." He rubbed his lower back. "There wasn't a lot of room to maneuver. Of course, I was pretty inexperienced, but very enthusiastic. The first time."
"How many times were there?"
"That night? About five. I was just getting the hang of it when it was time to go home."
She leaned one elbow on the tabletop. "There is something to be said for the enthusiasm of youth."
"I prefer the skill of experience."
She straightened and folded her hands in her lap. "Yes, there is that, too. Well, now that we're here, what do you want to talk about? Is there a specific type of conversation when one is having fun?"
Why had she changed the subject? If he didn't know better, he would think she was suddenly nervous. But at what? It couldn't be the fact that they were alone. Maybe he shouldn't talk about his sexual past. It was probably not the smartest thing to do. Although he doubted she'd been threatened by his romantic escapades at the age of seventeen.
"We don't have to talk about anything if you don't want to," he said. "The point was to break out of the regular routine. I see you convinced Lindsay to go to camp."
Sandy wrinkled her nose. "She agreed to try it for a day. If it's horrible, I promised she doesn't have to go back. I realized the other day that she hasn't had a chance to make any friends since we moved. Nichole has Mandy, and Blake is hanging out with Robby. Lindsay is pretty much stuck around the house."
"Or haunting me," he said grimly.
"Oh, Kyle, she's just a little girl."
"She's a barracuda. The only good thing about your being mad at me was that I didn't have to worry about an ambush every time I left the house. She was always waiting for me, wanting to do things."
"Do you want me to tell her to leave you alone?"
"No." He scooted forward until their knees were touching, then he stretched back on the bench and rested his head on his hands. "That would mean explaining why I'd like her to lay off and I still want to avoid hurting her feelings if I can."
"You're being very nice about this."
"Never tell a man he's nice. It doesn't do a thing for our egos. Look, that cloud looks like a dragon."
He stared at the sky because looking at Sandy was driving him crazy. Her breasts seemed to thrust forward in invitation and he couldn't stop wishing her nipples would get hard. He was horny and disgusting, but mentally beating himself up wasn't doing anything about reducing his state of arousal. Maybe if he stared at something other than her, he could calm down.
"It's not a dragon, it's a teapot."
"No way. That part sticking out at the back is the tail," he told her.
"It's the handle. See." She leaned forward and pressed her right hand on his thigh. With her left hand, she pointed up. He swallowed hard. Her nipples were getting hard, dammit. He could see the faint outline of them through her T-shirt. And she was burning him, the heat of her fingers searing through his jeans to his skin. If she moved her hand a little higher and touched him, he would explode.
He had to change the subject and fast. Talk about something nonsexual, he told himself. Something that would make her stop touching him.
"I never knew your mother was an alcoholic," he said.
His statement got the desired result. Sandy pulled back and straightened. "I didn't talk about it much."
"Do you want to now?"
"There isn't anything to say."
He continued to stare at the sky and let the silence of the peaceful afternoon surround them. "That one looks like a race car," he said, pointing. He glanced at Sandy. She stared at the picnic tabletop.
"I don't remember much about her," she said, tracing initials that someone had carved in the wood. "I suppose I've blocked it all out. I was pretty young when I figured out something was wrong. Sometimes she would be fine, but other times she would be asleep and I couldn't wake her up. I remember one time, crying for her to cook dinner. I must have been about five. She had passed out on the sofa. Finally, I made myself a peanut-butter sandwich. The next morning, she was sorry and promised it would never happen again. It did, of course. It never stopped."
Kyle sat up. Sandy turned toward the tabletop, swinging her outside leg over the bench and pressing her knees together.
"She dried out a few times. At first, I kept hoping it would work, but after a while I didn't expect anything to change. While she was gone, I stayed with friends. I spent the summer here, once, with my aunt, before I moved in with her permanently. I suppose that's where the control thing started. I remember being so afraid all the time. I couldn't count on her to take care of me, so I had to take care of myself. I know that's why I need to be in control now."
"You never saw your dad?"
"He didn't care about us." She looked at him, then away. "At least that's what my mom told me. I'm not sure I believe that anymore, but I never wanted to look for him or anything. There wasn't any point."
Kyle wanted to pull her close and comfort her. Not the adult Sandy. That woman didn't want to admit weakness. Instead, he ached for the child who had been left alone and abandoned by an alcoholic mother. He wanted to comfort the five-year-old who didn't have any dinner, and the second-grader who would have wanted someone to see her in the school play, but who probably hadn't told her mother about the event in case she showed up drunk.
"And then Thomas let you down," he said.
"I don't blame him for disappointing me," she said. "I'm beginning to see I was the one with the illusions. I wanted more than he could give. It's not his fault he wasn't responsible and together."
"But it is his fault he hurt his son."
She glanced at him. "How much did Blake tell you?"
"Enough for me to put the pieces together. Remember, I had a jerk for a father, too. I know what it's like."
; "I worry about Blake. He seems to be doing better here, though. I'm glad he's friends with Robby. And I'm glad you've been there for him."
The praise made him proud and uncomfortable all at the same time. "Yeah, well, he's a good kid. They all are."
"Even Lindsay?" she teased.
"It's not that I don't like her."
"I know," she said. She angled toward him. "She's confused. I'm sure this is a phase that will pass. Right now, she's caught between being a child and being a teenager. She doesn't fit in either world. She's terrified of moving forward, but she's too grown-up to return to the past. Plus, Lindsay misses her dad a lot."
"She mentioned they did a lot of stuff together."
Sandy smiled sadly. "Lindsay always had spirit. Thomas admired that. I probably shouldn't have let him favor her, but I didn't know how to stop it. Nichole was the baby and had me, so she didn't really notice, but I know it bothered Blake."
She rested her left arm on the tabletop. He placed his hand on top of hers. "If your marriage was so unhappy, why did you stay?"
"I used to ask myself the same question. I still don't have an answer. Partly it was for the children. I remembered what it was like having only one parent, and not a very good one at that. I wanted more for them. Maybe it was also that I didn't want to admit failure." She sighed. "I guess the truth is, I was afraid. If I left, I would be on my own. I didn't want to risk it."
"You're alone now," he said. "I think you're doing a hell of a good job."
"Thanks. Some days I think it's going to be fine. Other days I don't think I can make it. Then I remember I don't get a choice. They're depending on me. I have to make it."
He brushed his thumb against the back of her hand. Her skin was soft and smooth. He turned her hand over and rested his fingertips on her palm.
"You could get married again," he said, staring at the shape of her wrist and the clasp of her watchband. "It's not as if you're mourning the love of your life."
"I've already made one mistake. I don't want to make another one."
"What makes you think it would be a mistake?"
FATHER IN TRAINING Page 14
