What We Found (24 page)

“I’m flattered.” He had a great smile, slow but worth the wait. I felt myself leaning forward, my body asking to be closer to him. He had to know how I felt, he had to see it in my eyes, as our gazes held and time spun out. But he didn’t move.

He was leaning forward, too, our bodies calling to each other while our minds held back. I thought I read longing in his gaze, but also hesitation and some indefinable pain.

“I like you,” I blurted out. My heart pounded and my chest felt like someone was ripping it apart, but I needed him to know. I couldn’t bear to walk away from this.

His gaze softened. “I like you, too.” And yet he held back.

“Then why….” I dropped my gaze as my face heated. “Your sister. You can’t be thinking of romance now.”

He leaned against the tailgate beside me. “It’s hard. There are feelings I still have to deal with. But it’s not new.”

I forced myself to look at his face again, trying to understand.

“My parents wanted to believe she ran away. They said they couldn’t expect any better of Bethany. But I knew she wouldn’t do that.”

He gave a short laugh. “Not because she wouldn’t want to hurt or scare us, but because she didn’t have that kind of nerve. She wouldn’t leave on her own, maybe with a man, but if she left with a man she’d just met….” He shook his head. “Either way, I’ve been mourning for my sister for a long time. Even before she disappeared.”

I eased my weight off the tailgate and turned toward him so our knees were almost brushing. I wanted to offer comfort but wasn’t sure what would be welcomed.

“You’re so lovely,” he whispered. “So sweet and … oh, I know it’s laughed at these days, but wholesome, innocent. It’s a wonderful thing, that innocence. Getting involved in my family’s mess won’t damage you, not in the long run.” He closed his eyes and the lines etched on his face made him look older and world-weary. He opened his eyes and sighed. “It’s been a long time since I was innocent. I won’t ever be innocent again.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

He lifted his hand as if he was going to touch me, but let it drop. “You deserve a complete man. I’m trying to get my act together. Go to school, find a job I can do well, stay clean, so that someday I might deserve….” He lifted his stump a few inches. “But this won’t ever change.”

With my gaze still on his face, I reached for his damaged arm. I ran my fingers down his forearm and then over the shiny skin on the stump. His breathing grew louder, raspy. “Does it hurt?” I asked.

“Not when you do that. But I wish I had fingers so I could hold your hand. Touch your skin. Stroke your hair.”

Without letting go of his forearm, I reached for his other hand. I brought it to my face so it cupped my cheek and laid my hand over his.

His palm was warm against my skin, his hand broader and stronger than mine. His thumb, pleasantly rough, stroked across my cheekbone.

I let out a breath with his name on it. “Kyle.” I shifted closer, easing myself between his knees. With his weight back on the tailgate, we were near the same height.

His hand slipped into my hair and held the back of my head. My eyes fluttered shut, but I opened them again so I wouldn’t miss anything.

His lips caressed my cheek, my jaw. They passed lightly over my mouth and across my other cheek. My arms went around his shoulders and his arm pressed against my lower back, pulling me closer.

Our bodies brushed, our lips met, and something broke free in me and soared, like the falcon taking flight. It rose up and up, close enough to touch the sun.

I trembled and nestled against his shoulder with a sigh. He stroked his hand down my back and his breath warmed my ear. “I guess that means you’re willing to take a chance with me.”

“Yes.” I pressed a kiss to his neck and breathed in the scent of him, warm and earthy and male. I wanted to burrow close and never leave.

He kissed my cheek, my neck, my mouth. After a while, he took a deep breath. “I have to ask—you said you hadn’t dated much. Does that mean you’ve never….” He gave a half laugh and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter either way, I just figure I should know.”

My face must have been flaming, but it was a fair question. If we couldn’t talk about sex, we shouldn’t have it. “No. I mean, I have. But not with anyone important.” I put my hands on my hot cheeks. “That sounds terrible. What I mean is, I dated a couple of guys, and I’m not good at saying no, so … stuff happened. With two guys.”

He scowled and I wondered if he had expected better of me. He took my arms. “You can always say no to me. About anything. You have the right to say no.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off his face. I said softly, “With you, I don’t think I’ll want to.”

He shifted his weight off the tailgate, turned, and before I was quite sure what had happened, I found myself sitting on the tailgate with him standing between my spread knees. He kissed me again, deep and slow, until I felt like I was flying and falling all at once.

He leaned his forehead against mine and our breath mingled, smelling faintly of piñon coffee. He stroked his hand down my face, along my neck, and across my collarbone. He played with the top button on my shirt. “I’m going to ask you something. Here’s your chance to practice saying no if you want to.” He eased back enough to look into my eyes. “I want to unbutton your shirt. I want to see your breasts, to touch them. May I?”

My breasts tingled and I breathed out one word. “Yes.”

He easily undid the buttons with one hand. He slid the shirt off my shoulders, taking my bra straps with it until my breasts spilled out in the golden light.

He ran his fingers lightly over my left breast, his touch light as a butterfly kiss. Then he curved his hand underneath, taking my weight in it. I thought I’d never seen anything more sensual than his broad, tanned hand against my pale, smooth curves.

He sighed. “I missed breasts. Women generally kept them covered up overseas. There’s nothing like seeing a pretty girl walking down the street in a tight tank top. God bless America.” He grinned. “You know all men are pigs, right?”

I had trouble getting the words out as he ran his roughened palm over my nipple. “My mother has mentioned that.”

“Yours are beautiful. A perfect handful.” He cupped his hand under my breast and gently rolled my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

My other breast tightened in response. I closed my eyes and sighed.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a chance to touch,” he said. “You like this, I guess.”

“Mmm.” I stretched and arched. “I wish you could touch the other one, too—” I bit off the words and cringed. What a stupid thing to say. I darted a glance at his face.

He was gazing down at my free breast with a slight smile. “You feel neglected, do you? Let’s see if this helps.” He lowered his head and brushed his lips across my skin. His mouth mimicked what his hand was doing to the other breast, but his mouth was hotter, more potent. He caressed my breast with his lips. He brushed his cheek, slightly rough with stubble, over my sensitive skin. He drew my nipple into his mouth and circled it with his tongue.

Heat flooded me and I clamped my legs around him, pulling him tight against the ache between my thighs. I arched toward him as I leaned back on my hands for balance while the world tilted. I was glad I didn’t have to stand under my own power

He kissed his way up my throat and to my mouth again. His kiss seared into me like a brand. I felt like part of him. No, part of something new and bigger that we were creating between us. I hooked my arm behind his neck and pulled him deeper, opening to him, making promises.

He eased back, his breathing harsh. He gently drew up first one bra strap, then the other.

I blinked, trying to focus. “Are we stopping?”

“Unless you really want me to take you on my tailgate in the middle of an empty field.”

“Well, when you put it like that.” I smiled. “Actually, the idea is surprisingly tempting.”

He chuckled. “Not that I’m exactly opposed to it, but I didn’t bring protection, and anyway maybe we could be a little more conventional our first time. Say, dinner and conversation? Whatever night you’re free.” He ran his fingers lightly down the side of my face. “And then, if you still want to, I’ll be glad to take you to bed.”

“Pretty sure I’ll want to.”

The bird screeched behind us. I wondered if it had been screaming this whole time, and I hadn’t noticed.

“We should get Junior home.” Kyle stroked the back of a finger over my breast, above the bra. “I’m not as good at buttoning as I am at unbuttoning. Of course, you’re welcome to leave your shirt open, but I might get into an accident if I drive with that much distraction.”

I smiled at him, so full of joy I could hardly contain it. I took his face in my hands and pressed my lips to his, hoping to convey some of what I couldn’t put into words. When I finished, he gave a lazy sigh, and I thought another shadow had left his eyes.

He pulled me off the tailgate and nestled me close, pressing his cheek against my hair. We stood like that for a minute, just being together.

He loosened his hold but I kept my hands on his shoulders. I had something I needed to say. “I’m sorry for what I said about wishing you could touch both breasts at once. I didn’t mean….”

“I know. Look, if we’re going to be spending time together—and I hope we’re going to be spending a lot—it’s going to come up. You’ll forget and reach for my hand, or you’ll assume I can do something I can’t anymore. I don’t want it to be awkward or embarrassing. If we can talk about it, we can work through it. Okay?”

I nodded. Maybe it wouldn’t be that easy, but he made me believe we could manage it.

We got into the truck and he started it up. I noticed how competent he seemed one-handed. I decided to start practicing not being embarrassed.

“Were you right-handed or left-handed—before?”

“Right-handed, fortunately. That made things easier, though I never realized how much I used the other hand until I couldn’t.”

“Have you thought about getting a….” I opened and closed my hand, trying to remember the right word. “Prosthetic?”

“Sure, I have a simple one with a hook, actually. It’s handy, no pun intended, but it doesn’t exactly attract less attention or make me feel more normal. I’m being fitted for a high-tech one that looks like a hand. It will read signals from my muscles, and when I get the hang of it, I’ll be able to grab things, hold things. But after the accident happened, I needed time to heal enough that it wasn’t so painful having anything on my wrist. And then I wanted to get used to being this way. To come to terms with it—own it.”

He leaned forward as he eased the truck onto the paved road. “That’s not quite true. At first I wanted to hide it. I wouldn’t go out in public. After I gave up the drugs and spent more time with a counselor, I realized I’d never come to terms with it unless I could live out in the open like this.”

He grinned at me. “And it’s nice knowing I don’t have to figure out when to tell you about it, or worry about how you’ll react.”

“If you’d asked me a week ago, I might have said it would bother me,” I admitted. “But for some reason it doesn’t.”

He didn’t say anything, just smiled. I wondered about the accident where he’d lost his hand. I’d ask him about it sometime, give him a chance to talk about the things he’d been through, the way he’d given me a chance to talk. But not yet. I didn’t want to break the peace of this moment.

After a comfortably quiet drive, we pulled up in front of his house. “Thanks again for an amazing morning—all of it.” I looked down and added, “I hope we can get together soon for that dinner and conversation and … whatever.”

“I’ve changed my mind about one thing.”

I looked up and he laughed at my expression. “Not about wanting you,” he added. “About you saying no.”

“Um … oh?”

He leaned closer. “It’s not enough that you don’t say no. I want you to say yes. I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me exactly what you want.”

I half laughed. “I’m not sure I can do that.”

His slow grin curled my toes. “I bet you can, if you want something badly enough. And that’s my job—to make you want me enough.”

“Ah. Okay.” That should be interesting. The storm of the last week hadn’t blown over, but the clouds sure had one hell of a silver lining.

I hurried into work carrying my good clothes. If I changed quickly in my office I could be ready to start work at eight. I passed through the lobby thinking of Kyle, wondering what I’d gotten myself into, and hoping my passionate morning didn’t show on my face.

I heard a sharp, excited voice from the check-in desk, and then the room went silent. Even the people milling around the lobby seemed to pause in sudden awareness. I faltered, glancing toward reception.

Gina and another woman behind the counter were staring at me. A familiar figure leaned against the counter. He turned his head and smiled slowly. Jay.

I kept moving. Something was wrong, but I didn’t know what. My only defense was to pretend I hadn’t noticed. I made it around the corner to the hall before I started to tremble. Jay. Just when I thought he’d backed off, that he’d realized his best bet was to keep quiet, he was stirring up trouble again. But what?

First things first. I went into my office and closed the door. Got into my office clothes. Touched up my makeup. Turned on my computer. Tried not to think.

I glanced over my schedule. I had an initial meeting for a wedding at ten. Final planning for Saturday’s “big game hunt” event with Eslinda and the catering team in the afternoon. E-mails and calls to answer and paperwork to prepare or review in between the meetings. A full day.

I did not want to deal with Jay. It was tempting to pretend I hadn’t noticed him, to go about my business and hope that whatever trouble he was stirring up would fade if I ignored it. But I had a feeling Jay was not a problem that would quietly go away.

I reminded myself that he was a coward and a bully. The one time I’d yelled at him, he’d backed down, at least for a while. It was better to deal with someone like that head on.