Reconsidering Riley (13 page)

"I can't
believe
you could stand
there and suggest my self-help techniques don't work," she
said.

"I can't believe you could believe they
would
work."

"I can't believe you could believe I could
believe they
wouldn't
work!"

Riley paused. Scratched his head. "Are you
sure the kissing isn't going anywhere? Because this—"

"
No
!"

He held up both palms. "Okay. Settle down.
Or is shrieking one of your 'techniques?'"

"I wasn't shrieking. I was...being
assertive."

"Assertively shrieking."

"Arrgh!"

"Look." Riley came nearer, all tall, strong
male and charmingly concerned heartbreaker. "I understand you're
hurting. But I'm trying to help."

Great
. Jayne stifled a groan.
It
had been a pity kiss
.

"So don't take it out on me," he went on.
"I'm not that guy, all right?"

He'd had her, up until... "What guy?"

"The guy who inspired your book. Your bozo
ex-boyfriend."

She gawped at him. He actually
thought...?

"But there are still good men in the world,"
Riley continued. He patted her shoulder. "Hang in there."

She didn't
believe
this. "I don't
need to hang in there. I have proven anti-heartbreak
techniques—
best-selling
anti-heartbreak techniques—to see me
through anything."

Riley shook his head.
Poor, deluded
Jayne
, his expression said.

"What? You don't believe me?" she asked,
shrugging off his sympathetic shoulder-patting. "I'll prove
it!"

"Come on, Jayne. You don't have to prove
anything to me."

"Oh, yes. Yes, I do, you—you—self-help
skeptic!" She stamped her plush platform slipper. "I'll prove to
you the techniques in my book work. By the time this trip is over
with, every woman in my group will be cured of her broken heart.
Just like
I
am!"

"Oh, yeah?" He leaned against the wall,
self-assured and blatantly masculine. "I have news for you. By the
time this trip is over with,
you'll
be begging
me
for
that 'fling' you turned down a few minutes ago."

"A fling? With you?" Jayne looked him over,
trying to seem as though nicely defined muscles, lively hazel eyes,
and a killer smile had no effect on her at all. "Hah!"

"Hah?"

"Hah,
hah
!"

Slowly, Riley grinned.
Uh-oh
. That
grin meant trouble. It meant he had plans—mischievous plans—along
with every intention of implementing them.

"Some men aren't so easy to get over," he
warned.

Men like you
, Jayne finished silently
for him. She couldn't help it. The rumbling sound of his voice
reached right into her heart and gave her memories a shake. It was
sexy, compelling, challenging. It was...something she'd yearned to
hear, for months after he'd left.

Somehow, she raised her chin and found her
own voice. "Some men need enlightenment. Get ready for yours."

At that, he actually laughed. "If you think
your techniques are that good...bring them on."

"I will!"

Riley's speculative gaze settled on her.
Roved lower, to the places he'd revisited with his slow-moving
hands earlier. Lifted again, to her face. Aggravatingly, he
nodded—almost as though he approved of her decision.

Was there anything
worse
than an
adversary who couldn't
wait
to do battle? At that moment,
Jayne didn't think so. Riley's assurance made her wonder...to begin
with, to wonder if he knew something she didn't.

"Then you can start right now," he said, and
leaned forward to deliver his opening salvo.

At the first lowering of his head, Jayne
braced herself. She could withstand another kiss. Another searing
union of their mouths. Another no-holds-barred entanglement of
their arms and legs and hips. What she
couldn't
withstand
was...the gentle press of his lips against her forehead?

The warmth of his touch faded quickly. The
shock it caused did not. Even as Riley winked and returned inside
the lodge, Jayne stood unbelieving. How could it be that his chaste
kiss, so seemingly devoid of sizzle but so filled with tenderness,
made her yearn for him in ways his passionate kiss had not?

Confused, Jayne gripped the rock wall in
front of her. She closed her eyes, then tried for help the only way
she could think of. She opened her eyes again, fixed her gaze on a
distant star, and began.

"Okay, I'll still need the courage to hike
and camp and help my breakup-ees. But if it's not too much
trouble—" She stared even more hopefully at her chosen star.
"—could I please have a gigantic dose of fortitude, too, to resist
Riley with? Otherwise, I'm in big trouble, here."

Chapter Eight

On the morning Uncle Riley was due to take
Jayne and her
Heartbreak 101
group on their adventure travel
trip, Alexis awakened at dawn with a new sense of purpose...and a
gigantic zit.

She stared disconsolately at her face in the
mirror, dabbing on Clearasil. It looked like she had a boil on her
forehead. A huge glow-in-the-dark I'm-a-geek sign right between her
eyes. Averting her gaze from
The Thing
, she got up and got
ready for her day, her mind spinning with thoughts of all she'd
witnessed on the back patio last night.

Uncle Riley and Jayne
. They'd dated.
Had a fling.
Something
. They were (as Nana sometimes said)
"an item."

Alexis was sure of it. Last night, she'd
been simultaneously reading
Jane
magazine, applying Urban
Decay Rebel orange sparkly polish to her nails, listening to
Destiny's Child, and wishing her cell phone worked, when she'd been
startled by the sound of feet stomping onto the back deck. And then
by the sounds of conversation between Uncle Riley and Jayne.

One (perfectly innocent) look out her window
had told Alexis there was more going on with her uncle and the
author than the two had let on.

Like lip-locks. Public displays of
affection. And an interesting, Britney-and-Justin "true love" thing
that had almost made Alexis sigh with suppressed, like,
romanticism
. She'd been able to tell, right away, that Uncle
Riley and Jayne used to be together, wanted to be
together...totally
belonged
together now.

All they needed, she figured, was someone to
help them. Someone close to the situation. Someone smart. Someone
with nothing
else
to do, all spring break long. Someone like
her.

Grabbing a sweatshirt, Alexis left her room.
Now more than ever, she
had
to go on that heartbreak cure
trip.

On the morning they were due to depart,
Jayne was getting ready to leave (at an obscenely early,
pre-"Today" show hour) when Doris abandoned her packing duties in
mid-Gortex and edged closer.

"I think Riley still has the hots for you,"
she said.

Before Jayne could reply, Donna spoke up.
"Nonsense. Anyone can see it's Jayne who still has the hots for
Riley."

Carla, Kelly, and Mitzi gasped. Five sets of
eyes swerved to Jayne, pinning her with curious gazes. All before
she'd had a chance to so much as assume a nonchalant demeanor. Wake
up with Matt Lauer. Or sip a nonfat triple latte extra-whip eye
opener—which she desperately needed. Facing the wilderness while
decaffeinated was just cruel.

"Is that
true
?" they asked.

"We've been, like, defending your honor,"
Carla said, "since the first time we met Riley—"

"Right after finding out what he did to
you," Mitzi added.

"—but if there's still something going on
between you two...?"

Jayne forced a laugh. "Something going on?
Between me and Riley? Whatever would make you think that?"

"The smoldering, be-my-love-slave looks he's
been giving you all morning," Doris said.

"The electric current sizzling between you!"
Donna added.

"The fact that you, like, disappeared with
him last night." Carla crossed her arms. "Instead of playing
Twister."

"The sexy underwear you brought—" Mitzi
eyeballed the baby blue silk thong Jayne had unpacked. "—to go
camping in."

"Ummm," Kelly said, deliberately looking
away
from the thong. "The panicky look on your face when we
brought it up?"

Geez. The quiet ones were always the most
perceptive
.

All right, she'd just have to deal with
this. After stuffing yet another foil envelope of questionable
dried food into her pack, Jayne faced them. She put her hands on
her hips.

"Okay. In order. Doris, Riley doesn't want
me to be his 'love slave.' If he did, he'd just say so. He's a man
of action, not smoldering looks."

They glanced behind her at Riley, their
brows arched. "He looks pretty smoldering to me," Doris
muttered.

Jayne ignored her. "Donna, any electric
current around here is just my travel blow dryer, which I'm not
allowed to bring with me." She shot an accusing look at the man
responsible for denying her request to bring along the very
sensible battery-powered styling aid she'd purchased. "And Carla, I
didn't 'disappear' with Riley last night. I merely went outside
with him to iron out some details about our trip."

Such as his imminent defeat when he
discovers exactly how effective my anti-heartbreak techniques
really are
.

"Mitzi, I brought this underwear when my
publicist told me I was going to an exclusive lodge in Arizona.
Before
I found out I was really going to
anti-fashion
boot camp
—" Jayne raised her voice on this last, sending
another look toward Riley. He'd insisted she wear the
uncoordinated, unstylish, un-cute outdoors wear everyone else would
have on. "—and not a spa!"

Her breakup-ees murmured
sympathetically.

But Jayne wasn't finished. She couldn't be
finished. Not yet. "And Kelly...the only reason I might have looked
panicky at discussing all this is because it means so much to me
that you all know
I'm over Riley Davis
!"

At her loud declaration, the man of the
moment looked up from across the room. He stuck a finger in his ear
and waggled it, pretending her outburst had damaged his hearing.
Then he grinned, deliberately provoking her.

"After all," Jayne went on, presenting him
with her back, "how can I help any of you, if I can't even help
myself? If I weren't over Riley Davis, I would be a complete
fraud."

"You have a point," Donna and Doris
muttered.

The other three women nodded. "You're right.
We're sorry. We'll try not to doubt you again."

Jayne didn't plan to give them a
reason
to doubt her. And after she said as much, they shared
a group hug. Her breakup-ees vowed to give Riley the cold shoulder
if he made any trouble for Jayne—an offer whose loyalty-driven
motivation she appreciated, even as she made them promise to be
nice to their guide. Then Jayne got busy with her final
packing...keeping her back deliberately turned toward Riley every
minute.

Not that it mattered. She'd have sworn he
was ogling her butt the whole damned time.

Having assembled everyone, Riley stood with
them at the trailhead shortly after sunrise. Already, the morning
had been difficult (with the exception of the time he'd spent
ogling Jayne's wonderfully-shaped backside, of course). He'd just
barely averted a riot when he'd announced they wouldn't have time
to watch Matt Lauer ("that cutie!" according to the women) and
Katie Couric before leaving. He'd also been forced to negotiate a
tense oatmeal-or-eggs standoff over breakfast, with a confused Gwen
standing by waiting to prepare the food. They'd finally compromised
on muffins and fruit, with yogurt on the side. Just as he'd
suspected, this would be an adventure travel trip like none
other.

Because of the chilly springtime morning,
Riley had dressed in layers—tan utility pants, Timberlands, a white
T-shirt, and a lightweight moss-colored zipped Polarfleece—and had
recommended Jayne and her guidance groupies do the same.
Fully-outfitted in his pack, he surveyed the group.

Groups
, really. They'd split into
three chattering sets, each containing two women plus at least one
guide: Bruce and his young cousin Lance with Mitzi and Carla, Mack
with Doris and Donna, Riley with Jayne and Kelly. Keeping the
groups small would lessen the impact on the wilderness area they'd
be traveling through, and would allow everyone to hike at an
individual pace without feeling left behind. They'd meet at
designated spots for meals, trailside workshops, and to set up camp
each night.

All of the women carried the appropriate
gear—packs loaded with food, clothing, tents and tent poles, water,
first aid supplies, compasses, maps, and more. Each was dressed in
layered outdoors wear. Jayne, Riley noticed, had altered hers.

Somehow—probably by swapping with the other
women—she'd managed to put together an actual ensemble. And despite
the clothing requirements he'd laid out, she still wore baby blue.
Her wind pants were that shade; so were her hiking socks and the
tank top beneath her light-colored V-neck fleece. Diamond studs
sparkled at her ears. They were just visible when the breeze blew
back her carefully-styled blonde hair.

He smiled. He should have known Jayne would
find a way to add glamour to utilitarian hiking clothes.

She caught him watching, and raised her
hand. "Do we have time for coffee before we head out? I know of a
place in Sedona that makes a great mocha with chocolate shavings on
top."

"Oooh, good idea," one of the women
said.