FATHER IN TRAINING

by Susan Mallery

  "The odds are not in my favor."

  He glanced at her. Her eyes were wide and flickering with emotion. He thought he might have seen a spark of desire there, as well, but he wasn't sure. Or maybe he was sure, but he wasn't ready to act.

  "What's the worst that could happen?" he asked.

  "I'd end up with another child. And I'm not talking about an infant. Actually, I wouldn't mind another baby." Her expression became dreamy. "I like babies."

  "Me, too."

  She blinked and looked away. "I wouldn't want another Thomas. Someone who only pretended to be grownup. If I ever get involved again, it's going to be with someone responsible, who understands life is serious business and we don't always get to have our way. I want a partner, not a playmate."

  He chose not to take offense at her words, mostly because he knew she wasn't directing them specifically at him. She'd recited her list of requirements as if she'd spoken them before. They were, he realized, a talisman to keep away all that she was afraid of.

  "You're putting up barriers to keep people from getting close to you," he said, "and calling those barriers 'responsibility.' I suspect that if you found a responsible man who was everything you wanted him to be, you'd get so scared, you'd take off running in the opposite direction."

  "That's not true at all."

  She tried to pull her hand free, but he wouldn't let her. "I also think that you'd come up with another list of excuses to keep from getting close. You don't trust what you can't control, and you can't control love. Or passion. You blame your failed marriage on Thomas, but how much of it was your fault?"

  "Mine? He's the one who was always gone."

  "You let him go. It takes two to fight, Sandy. You let him leave because you were afraid."

  "You don't know what you're talking about."

  "Don't I? You're still afraid. Look at me and tell me the thought of making love with me doesn't make you tremble with fear."

  She stared at him, then, and he saw her confusion. "I'm not afraid," she whispered.

  "Then why are you shaking?"

  Because she always reacted that way when she was close to him, Sandy thought. Because he made her think of things she wanted to forget. She didn't want her problems with Thomas to be her fault. She'd been a good wife. He was the one who—

  She shook off the memories. She didn't want to remember any of this now. "I thought we were supposed to be having fun," she said.

  His dark eyes flared with the fire of arousal. "Be careful what you ask for," he warned.

  She looked at him and allowed the flames to burn away her doubts. She swayed closer to him. She could feel tremors racing up her legs and arms, and the fluttering of her heart, the sharp cadence of her breathing. She could lose herself in him, in the passion.

  He swore under his breath and moved close to her. Before she could react or say anything, he gathered her in his arms and kissed her.

  His mouth was hot and firm, the taste of his lips wonderfully familiar. She clung to him, angling her body toward him, trying to get closer and closer still, as if she could dissolve into him. He moved one arm to her shoulders, supporting her upper body, then scooted her nearer, so her hip nestled between his thighs. His free hand rested on her belly.

  Even as she parted her lips to urge him inside, she willed his hand to move higher. Since she'd ridden on the back of his motorcycle, she'd been in a state of arousal. He'd been hard and unyielding to her curves, steady to her shaking. All male, designed with the sole purpose of making her forget herself. And around him, she did forget. Her responsibilities and sensibilities disappeared, until there was nothing but sensation—a world of heat and desire, where she at last understood the true beauty in the differences between male and female.

  His mouth angled over hers as his tongue plunged inside. He swept around and over, searching out her secrets, making her tingle and gasp, making her clutch at him and no longer need to breathe.

  She raised her hands to his head, tracing the shape of his ears, burying her fingers in his short hair. She wiggled her butt slightly and felt the hardness of him surge against her hip. In her mind's eye, she saw him popping open the buttons of his fly one by one. She saw him springing free, then imagined herself touching his silky length. Her fingers curled toward her palm in anticipation and she whimpered.

  His free hand slipped up her midsection. Yes, her mind screamed. She arched forward, thrusting her chest toward him. His palm moved over her breasts, circling against her nipples. Electricity raced to her female place. She tightened her thighs together, but it did nothing to alleviate the tension there.

  Around and around he moved, teasing her through the layers of clothing. She wanted more. She wanted to touch flesh.

  She moved her hand down his shoulder toward his waistband. Without stopping to think or let herself get scared, she tugged his T-shirt free of his jeans, then pressed her hand against his bare belly. His muscles jumped at the contact. Curly hair tickled her palm.

  He raised his head and stared down at her. Passion had darkened his eyes to the color of midnight. "Sandy? What are you doing?"

  "I would have thought it was obvious." She slipped her hand higher. He clenched his jaw and swallowed. "You feel great. Hot and hard." She realized what she'd said and flushed.

  He grimaced. "I could show you hot and hard, but I won't. We're in a public park."

  She'd forgotten. She glanced around. There was no one else there but a duck family and none of them looked very interested in what was going on. There wasn't any traffic on the road.

  She pulled his shirt higher until she could see as well as touch. "There's no one here."

  "That doesn't mean there might not be."

  "I don't care."

  That was the amazing part. She didn't care. With him, there was no controlling the passion. She wanted it all. She wanted to feel everything, do everything with him. She didn't care about convention or practicalities. Her body was on fire and she was learning to enjoy the heat of the flames.

  "Then I have to care for both of us," he told her.

  "I know you want this," she whispered.

  "Of course I do, but not here. Not like this."

  She reached up and nipped his chin. "Exactly like this. Wild." She kissed him from his lower lip down to the neck of his T-shirt. He tasted salty and sweet. She could dine on him.

  "Sandy—"

  "No," she said, cutting him off. "Stop thinking. If I think, I'll have to be responsible. I'll get all embarrassed and we'll have to stop. Don't you see? Don't let me think."

  She continued to stare at him, willing him to understand. She'd spoken the truth. Her reaction to his touch was as foreign to her as riding the motorcycle had been. But she didn't question it. She loved how he made her feel. She loved being able to forget. For once in her life, she was being swept away.

  He glanced over his shoulder as if to make sure they were still alone, then he lowered his mouth to hers. This time, his kiss was impassioned, as if he was determined to have her be consumed by desire. They clung to each other-hungry, inflamed. Then, as she prepared to give herself up to him, he straightened.

  "We can't do this here," he said regretfully.

  "But, I—"

  He placed his index finger on her mouth. "You know we can't. Not only are we in a public place, but I'm not convinced it's what you want."

  She stared at him uncomprehendingly. "Do I look like I'm not interested in this?"

  "Let's just say I want to wait until we can make love slowly. I don't want you getting lost in the moment. I don't want you having regrets." His expression was determined.

  "I can't believe you're stopping this now," she grumbled.

  He stood up and winced. "Parts of me can't believe it, either."

  As she rose to her feet, she pressed on the picnic table. "It would have worked fine."

  "What about the audience?" he asked.

  She looked at the ducks. "They aren't impressed."

 
; "They weren't the audience I meant," he said, pointing to the road. At that moment, a car drove by.

  She thought about the state they'd been in a moment before. What had happened to her? She didn't usually lose control like that. Was it him, the passion, or was it her? She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

  Kyle walked to the bike. "We'd better head back."

  She stepped closer, then paused. "Are you mad at me?"

  He touched her face. His eyes were serious, the flames of passion banked, but not extinguished. "No. Never." He handed her a helmet.

  A minute later, they were speeding back toward the house. Sandy clung to him, savoring the feel of his body pressed so close to hers. The sensations Kyle aroused in her intrigued and frightened her. She didn't know what they meant, or if they had to mean anything. She refused to consider the idea that they were more than a sexual response, though. They couldn't be an indication of deeper feelings. Not for him. She was determined to avoid making the same mistake twice. When she got involved with a man, he was going to be different from Thomas—not a charming womanizer, which would be even worse.

  He turned into the driveway and stopped in front of her house. Sandy sat on the bike for a minute, not wanting to get off and have the adventure end. "I had a good time," she said as she unfastened the helmet.

  "So your first lesson in having fun was a success?"

  She stepped off the bike and smiled. "It was near-perfect." Her gaze settled on his mouth. "I can't wait for the next one."

  "Sandy," he growled.

  "Don't worry. You're safe from me." She glanced at her watch. "My kids will be home any second."

  He grabbed her hand and squeezed. "I'll see you soon."

  She leaned forward to kiss him. In the back of her mind, she registered the front door opening. She tried to pull back but it was too late to stop her forward momentum. As her lips touched his, she heard, "Mom?"

  Lindsay! Sandy straightened and turned toward her daughter. Lindsay stared down at the two of them. The girl's face paled. "Mom?" she repeated, louder this time. "You said you were going to be at the grocery store, but you were with Kyle, weren't you?" Her voice rose to a shriek. "I hate you. I'll hate you forever." She turned and ran back inside; the front door slammed shut behind her.

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  « ^ »

  "Lindsay," Sandy called. She threw down her helmet and raced after her daughter.

  "Wait," Kyle yelled. He secured the kickstand and jerked off his helmet, then took off after her. He caught her on the stairs. "I want to talk to her, too," he said.

  "This isn't your problem."

  "I'm the one she has a crush on."

  "I'm her mother."

  They paused by the front door. Kyle waited. He didn't want to walk away from this. Lindsay was important to him. He knew how she was feeling; he'd been there himself. "I'm not leaving," he said.

  Sandy sighed. "Suit yourself, but I'm warning you, it could get ugly. Lindsay has never been shy about saying what she's thinking."

  She opened the front door and started across the foyer. Nichole saw them from the family room and got up. "Mommy, I had the best time at camp today. I want to go back tomorrow and the next day." Her green eyes sparkled with excitement. "I even made you something." She glanced past her mother toward him. "Hi, Kyle."

  "Hey, kitten."

  She dimpled.

  Sandy looked at her daughter. "Honey, Lindsay's really upset and we have to go talk to her right now. But as soon as we're done, I want you to tell me everything about your day, okay?"

  "Sure." Nichole plopped down on the sofa. "I'll wait."

  Kyle was surprised. He'd expected her to get upset at being ignored. "You've got some great kids," he said as they started up the stairs.

  "They all know I'll keep my promise to listen. They don't like waiting, but they're old enough to stop making a fuss about it." She winced. As they neared the second-floor landing, they could hear Lindsay's harsh sobs.

  Kyle swore. "The kid sounds like her heart is breaking."

  "It is."

  He grimaced. It wasn't fair. Growing up was tough on everyone. He had a fleeting thought that this wasn't his problem, that he could bolt and no one would blame him. Instead, he forced himself to keep climbing the stairs. Lindsay needed him, and whether she knew it or not, so did Sandy.

  Lindsay's door was closed. Sandy knocked.

  "Lindsay, Kyle and I want to come in."

  "No! Go away." Her voice was thick with tears. Kyle felt a sharp pain in his gut. The kid was really suffering.

  Sandy opened the door and stepped inside. Lindsay lay on her bed, curled up and facing the window. Her long brown hair streamed over the pillow.

  "Lindsay, we never meant to hurt you," Sandy said.

  The preteen didn't move.

  Sandy looked at Kyle helplessly. He held up his hands, indicating he didn't know what to say, either. This was way out of his league.

  Sandy moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed. Before she could touch her daughter, Lindsay rolled toward her. "No," she said loudly. "Don't sit down, don't say anything. I don't want to hear it." He face was flushed, her eyes red from crying.

  Sandy stood up slowly. "Lindsay."

  "No. I saw you, Mom. How could you? It was disgusting." Her mouth twisted. Her gaze shifted to Kyle. "You don't really like her, do you? You don't think she's pretty. She's old and never does anything but yell at us to do our chores and be responsible. You're not like that. You're fun, Kyle. You don't like her. You can't."

  Tears flowed from her eyes. Her voice caught. "I'll never forgive you. Never."

  Kyle moved closer to the bed. Lindsay stared at him for a moment. The raw pain in her gaze made him flinch. "Lindsay, you've got to understand."

  "No, I don't," she said, turning her back on him. "I hate you, too. Go away."

  "I can't." He sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hands on her shoulders. She jerked away. He tried again and this time she let him touch her. After a few minutes, he drew her close, turning her so she was pressed against him, her head leaning against his chest.

  She continued to cry. He could feel the moisture of her tears as they dampened his T-shirt, and the sobs shaking her slight body. Sandy stood beside the bed with her hands balled into fists. She was hurting, too. He didn't know how to comfort them both.

  "I know how you feel," he said to Lindsay.

  "No, you don't."

  "Yeah, I do. I had a crush on someone once." He stared at the top of her head, then rested his hand on her hair. "I was fourteen. She never knew I was alive."

  Lindsay sniffed and looked up at him. "Really?"

  He nodded. "She was an older woman and dating one of my brothers."

  "What happened?"

  He cupped her chin and brushed the tears from her face. "I tried to tell her how I felt, but she didn't listen. She was polite and friendly, but she wasn't interested in me. Basically, she shut me down big time."

  Brown eyes widened with curiosity. "Did it hurt?"

  "Like someone had reached inside and ripped my heart out. It hurt bad."

  Lindsay nodded and stared at the bedspread. "I know," she whispered. "What happened after that?"

  He shrugged. "She left for college and I eventually got over it." He smoothed her hair away from her face. "You will, too. Because you don't really want me for a boyfriend, Lindsay. For one thing, I'm way too old. For another…" He paused.

  Sandy had stood silently beside the bed listening as he talked. He didn't want to look at her and find out what she was thinking. After all, she was the one he'd had that crush on sixteen years ago. He figured he could easily go another sixteen years without her finding out the truth. He wondered what she would say if she knew. He wondered how mad she was going to be with what he was about to tell her daughter.

  "What?" Lindsay asked.

  "You want me to help fill the hole your dad's death has left in your life." When she would have tu
rned away, he held her close. "Listen to me, Lindsay. If you think about it, you'll know I'm right. You were always doing things with him. You and he had a very special relationship. It's only natural that you would miss that. Then you met me. I remind you a little of your dad. I'm fun to be with, I don't take things as seriously as your mom. But you felt guilty and disloyal. You think the only person who can be a father figure in your life is your father. You didn't know what to think, so it was easier to pretend you had a crush on me."

  Her mouth opened, but she didn't speak. "It's okay," he told her. "You can have more than one adult male in your life acting like a dad. You'll always love your father the most, and that's how it should be. That doesn't mean I can't give you a little advice from time to time." He scowled. "Especially when you start dating. I plan to look those young men over very carefully, Lindsay Walker, so don't expect to bring home any biker types."

  Her eyes filled with tears, but this time she was smiling. She flung herself at him and squeezed hard. He hugged her back.

  "Are we gonna be all right?" he asked.

  She nodded, but didn't let go. He risked a glance at Sandy. She was staring at him as if she'd never seen him before.

  "How'd you know all that?" Sandy asked.

  "It just sort of came to me."

  Lindsay raised her head. "Mom?"

  "Oh, honey." Sandy walked toward them. Kyle shifted on the bed and stretched out his left arm toward her. She moved close and hugged them both.

  "I love you, baby," she said.

  "I love you, too, Mom."

  Kyle swallowed against the sudden tightening in his throat. He wasn't sure where he'd gotten the words. When he'd needed them, they'd just sort of been there. He was grateful that they'd been the right thing to say.

  Now, holding Sandy and Lindsay close, he felt something he hadn't felt for years, if ever. He felt as if he belonged. As if all the years of playing daddy with his brother's kids, or the neighbor kids, had finally paid off. He felt strong enough to carry all the troubles of the world on his shoulders, and weak enough to fight the burning at the back of his eyes.

  When Lindsay wiggled free, he didn't want to let her go. He didn't want the perfect moment to end. Because when they all stood up and looked at one another, he would be the one on the outside. He wasn't part of the family. He wasn't likely to be. Sandy might be interested in sleeping with him, but she'd made it clear that he wasn't the sort of man she wanted in her life permanently.