Part 8 (1/2)
She laughed again, and when he took her hand, she didn't pull back. ”You're impossible.”
”Impossibly handsome? Mom thinks so.”
”Impossibly stubborn and persistent. Also a dreamer.”
”Since you didn't add arrogant, ugly and a pest, I consider myself on your good side.” Tyler squeezed her hand and continued walking. ”Being a dreamer's not a bad thing. Don't you have dreams?”
She shrugged. ”Sure.” For a real life, she thought suddenly, and wondered where that had come from. ”But I have what I want.” So why was seclusion getting to her all of a sudden? She refused to attribute her dissatisfaction to him. She got this way every few months and would deal with it as she always had ignore it. But since the temptation to come out of hiding was overwhelming, it often made her angry.
”Is keeping this wall around yourself part of what you want?”
She shot him a look and tried to shake off his hand. He wouldn't let her go and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Overhead, the Spanish moss hanging from tree limbs swayed in the breeze. Cars drove past, ignoring the couple under the glow of an antique streetlamp.
His gaze raked her features. ”Who hurt you, Lane?”
She looked away. What was she going to say now? ”It's not important.”
He put a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. ”It is to me.”
She knew Tyler well enough to know he wasn't going to give up easily, and she already felt backed into a corner. ”Okay, fine, since I know you'll badger me for the next block. The man I was seeing betrayed me.” Used me, said he loved me, then the night after I learned that Richard Damon, photographer, was really Dan Jacobs, freelance reporter, he took our entire relations.h.i.+p, everything I'd said to him in confidence about my family, my dreams, and exposed my most intimate feelings in the newspapers for the world to read. With pictures.
”How?”
”The details aren't important. I loved and trusted him and he betrayed my feelings in the worst way.” And what difference was there in what she was doing to Tyler by keeping secrets? She had good reasons, really good ones. If her life was exposed, he'd get hurt in the process, just as she had from her brother Angel's troubles. Besides, she'd loved Dan. She didn't love Tyler and he didn't have those feelings for her, so what did it matter right now? Why couldn't he just let it be?
Tyler could see Lane's temper rising, her eyes practically sparkling with anger. She didn't like remembering her pain any more than he did, and he felt like a creep for prying. Tyler tried not to push, but this jerk had hurt her enough that she kept everyone out. He suspected that Nalla Campanelli was her only friend. It saddened him.
”He was a moron,” Tyler said.
She looked up. ”Maybe I was the real fool, Tyler, for trusting him.”
”Don't blame yourself. The ability to trust is a blessing. Anyone who betrays that trust doesn't deserve to be in your life. Look at it that way.”
”Sometimes I think he'd intended to betray me all along.” She sighed. ”Which of course, makes me an idiot for not seeing it from the start.” She released a sigh, and with it went some tension. But she didn't say anything more.
They continued walking; she leaned into him a bit, didn't try to withdraw her hand from his. He hadn't asked her to elaborate, but he wished he could climb into her mind. At least he had an idea now of why she was so reserved with people. Mostly with him. Getting badly burned taught you ways to avoid getting singed again. He ought to know.
Wasn't that the reason he'd had only casual relations.h.i.+ps since his engagement ended? To keep a distance so that no one would get close enough to hurt him again? A man didn't have to be kicked in the teeth twice.
Tyler bent his arm, the motion bringing her closer to his side, and he felt like a teenager with his first girl. It was weird. He was thirty-four, for crying out loud. Yet his heart was thumping like a ba.s.s drum, and all he wanted to do was back her into a corner and kiss her. He was even thinking like a teenager, all hormones and fantasies.
”This is me,” she said, pointing to the shop.
He looked up at the second floor. ”Aren't you going to invite me up to your place for coffee or a nightcap?”
She pushed her gla.s.ses up her nose. ”I don't drink, and coffee this late will keep me awake.”
”Yes or no would've done fine, Lane. You don't have to make excuses.”
She threw her hands up and let them fall. ”Now you tell me. And here I thought 'Go away' was clear.”
She noticed that his brow knit, though his smile remained. ”Are you trying to be cute?”
”Ducks and bunnies are cute, McKay.”
”You're no bunny.” He inched closer and she let him. Little alarms were pinging inside her, but Lane ignored them as she stared into his eyes. A girl could get lost in those blue depths and like it, she thought.
”You walked me home for a kiss, didn't you?”
He tugged at the collar of her jacket. ”Yup.”
”I should have set you straight then.”
”Set me straight now, Lane. I'm feeling crooked and dastardly.” He gave his best villain laugh.
She grinned. ”You're something else, McKay.” She brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen over his forehead, then rose on her toes and kissed him. Just as quickly she hopped back, shocked at herself. ”Oh, d.a.m.n. I didn't mean to... I shouldn't have-”
He latched on to her jacket lapels and pulled her against him. ”Shoulda, coulda, woulda,” he muttered, saying the last against her mouth. His tongue swept over her lips, then slid deep inside. He devoured her mouth. There was no other word for it. He kissed her as if he was dying, as if he'd never have another chance. Taste, nibble, plunge, taste some more. Each touch gathered her desire like a tether and pulled her along at a dizzying speed. Her head was spinning, her blood rus.h.i.+ng, and she sank into the dark, hot pleasure of his mouth.
He molded her body to his length. Full contact. She could feel his rock-hard arousal.
It was divine. His strong arms closed more tightly, and while he was going to know she wasn't all layers of ugly clothes, she didn't care. Not at this moment. All she wanted was a little bit more, to keep her company in her lonely nights. But when his hand moved down her spine and pressed her hips to his, Lane's head went light. How could it not, with all her blood rus.h.i.+ng through her body and looking for a place to settle? Then it did. In the center of her, the very core that was a jumble of pumping sensations and blood and pure liquid desire. She pushed her fingers into his hair and held on as his lips and tongue played over hers with exquisite skill. Oh, yes. She wanted to feel him touch his chest, touch something more. than his hair and preferably while naked, and just when she thought she'd drag him upstairs for more than a nightcap, he stopped and let her go.
Lane staggered, grabbing the wrought-iron fence to keep from melting into a puddle at his feet.
”There are some things I don't want anyone in this town to see,” Tyler said, shoving his hands in his jean pockets and struggling for his next breath. His groin was thick and aching, and every muscle in his body was so tight and taut he thought if he moved too fast, he'd snap in two. He looked at Lane through hooded eyes. All hot and fl.u.s.tered, she was s.e.xier than ever before.
He wanted her in his bed, naked, hair down, gla.s.ses gone, and open for him. He really should stop thinking like that in public. Especially when his body shouted reaction like a beacon.
”See you tomorrow, Lane.”
”Tomorrow?” she croaked. Just where had her breath gone now? Why wouldn't her lungs fill?
”Yes, I'm volunteer crowd control.” He back-stepped down the street, one hand shoved deep into his jacket pocket while the other twirled the ends of an imaginary mustache. ”And guess where my post is?” He waggled his brows.
Lane's gaze moved to the small poster tacked to the lamppost and marking the spot in front of her shop, then to Tyler. He was already fading into the darkness, that villain laugh floating back to her on the night breeze.
Oh, dear. What mixed signals had she just given him?
But Lane knew they weren't mixed, but right on target with his.
Chapter 6.
The streets practically vibrated with the ba.s.s from the band on the waterfront. Oldies and country-western music followed the breeze with the scent of waffle cakes, cinnamon-baked apples, hot dogs, cotton candy and beer. It was an interesting mix and fairly shouted festival, Lane thought as she moved to the edge of her porch.