A Great Kisser

by Donna Kauffman

  All she saw was an aging pickup truck sporting more rust than paint. She craned her neck a little, but…that was it. “The…truck? You rented that?” She knew she was in the middle of nowhere, but she’d traveled a lot, and even in third world countries, she’d scored better conveyances than that. And it wasn’t like she needed anything fancy. But something that wasn’t held together with carbon particles a breath away from disintegrating to soot would be a start. She turned back to him with what she hoped was an optimistic smile on her face. “Why don’t you let me talk to the rental agent, see what I can do?”

  “It’s not a rental. Loaner.” When she looked confused, he added, “Friend of mine. Works on planes out here.”

  “Ah.” She glanced at it once again. “What about your plane? Won’t you be stuck having to drive that all the way back here?” At the risk of insulting him further, she pasted the smile on her face again as she looked back at him. “I hate to put your friend out. I really don’t mind paying for a rental.” Her gaze went back to the truck, which she feared might not survive the assault of the rain pounding down on it, much less any actual driving. “Besides, I’ll need a car once I’m in town.”

  “I’ll be out here again in a few days anyway, so there’s no problem. And I’m sure Charlene won’t mind you borrowing her car when you need it while you’re in town.”

  Her expression smoothed. “You’re a good friend of my mother’s?”

  “I wouldn’t say that, but it’s a small town. We know each other. She seems like a nice woman. I like her.” He held up his hand to stall her. “I don’t want to get in the middle of any family stuff. I’m just here—”

  “—doing a favor, I know. And I do appreciate it, I do,” she said quite sincerely. “I had already been informed they wouldn’t be able to pick me up.” She’d gotten an e-mail from Arlen’s secretary, in fact, with news of the luncheon and keynote speech. Of course, regrets had been expressed. Via the secretary. Delivered from his office-of-the-mayor e-mail address. Any contact she’d had was always so…official, where Arlen was concerned.

  Okay, so the description she’d used at the time was pompous and self-important, but she was trying to be open minded here. Really she was. Maybe she’d spent too much time around blowhard politicians. Just because in all the research she’d done on him he always came across like the kind of man who smiled, kissed babies, and made promises to anyone and everyone, without a sincere bone in his body, the kind of guy who was just looking at every angle to see what was best for himself, not his constituency, didn’t mean he was a self-absorbed ass. She could be totally wrong. “But I didn’t know they’d sent someone else. I really—I didn’t want to put anyone out.”

  “I’m here, you’re here,” he said, matter-of-factly, which made her wonder why exactly he was here.

  Despite his claims, he really didn’t seem any more thrilled than she did. If he wasn’t a good friend, then why had he put himself out? It was a five-hour round trip. No small favor. Well, she supposed it wouldn’t have been if they’d flown as planned. Maybe it really was just an easy errand that had turned into something more complicated and time consuming because of the storm. She’d wondered if Arlen had pressured him, or called in a favor of some kind, but the man standing in front of her didn’t look easily pushed around. And it probably wasn’t that big a deal after all. Still…she couldn’t help but be curious about how they all connected.

  “We should get on the road,” he said. “It’s not going to get any better when the sun goes down.”

  “No, I’m sure you’re right. Sorry, I was just—you know, I’m really not normally this hard to get along with. In fact, back home, at work—which, trust me, is filled with the jaded and cynical—I’m known for my relentless, upbeat optimism.” She smiled. “It’s a large part of my charm.”

  His lips quirked, but he politely said nothing. Which made her feel even worse for not being more gracious in accepting his help.

  “It’s just—” Where to begin, really? How was she to explain to this complete stranger why she’d come here? What her suspicions were? How things had so badly deteriorated between her and her mom that she was sincerely concerned that something else was going on? Had to be going on. What did she tell a man who, for all she knew, understood more about the situation than she did. Who was she kidding? In such a small town, everyone probably knew more than she did.

  But she also knew small towns were a close-knit society, and close-knit societies might gossip to each other about each other, but they held on to their secrets where outsiders were concerned. And despite her connection to the mayor’s wife, given their estrangement, she harbored no illusions as to which category she’d fit into. Which was going to make poking around in local affairs that much more challenging.

  At least Rugged Outdoors Guy was being hospitable. It was a start. One she should be more grateful for. Not to mention possibly use to her advantage. She wished she knew more about the local politics and where he fit into the hierarchy of it all. But, at the moment, he was the only opening she had, and she should be using it. The rocky plane ride had really thrown her off her game. She needed to get her head in gear right now, not three hours from now after a hot shower and a good meal. Campaigns were lost with that kind of strategy. And she was kidding herself if she didn’t think what she was about to mount was exactly that.

  A campaign. A campaign designed to free her surprisingly deluded mother by exposing the real Arlen Thompson. And if the rest of the town learned something new about their community leader, well, she had no problem with that, either.

  So she went with honesty. Which she still believed was the best policy, even if that concept was oftentimes a foreign one in her day-to-day world. Her former day-to-day world. “Not to get personal, and I’m not dragging you into it, I swear, but this is kind of a tough trip for me. I’ve put it off too long and that has only made things worse. But now I’m here, and…” She glanced out at the pounding rain, then down at her sodden self, then back at him, and smiled, this time quite naturally. “So far, nothing is really going as I thought it would.”

  His smile threatened to surface again, and she found herself wishing it would. For the campaign, of course. The better connection you made with the locals, the better your chances were when it came time for them to decide who to put their faith in. And the incumbents almost always had the edge.

  “Colorado is a pretty optimistic place,” he said. “It’s hard to be jaded or cynical when you look out at a view like the one we have here. Even with the rain, it’s awe inspiring.”

  Why his comment surprised her, she couldn’t have said. Most people lived where they did for a reason. But she hadn’t pegged him as the philosophic type. “How long have you lived here?”

  “Every day of my life.”

  “Impressive,” she said. “That you don’t take it for granted, I mean.”

  “You can’t live here, and look at that, and not be aware of how insignificant your place is in the big picture of things. It keeps the little things in perspective. And yet, at the same time, you can’t live here and not know, with absolute certainty, that if such majestic things as those mountains can exist, surely anything a mere human wants to accomplish can be done with a little grit and perseverance.”

  He pushed away from the wall and grabbed the handle of her suitcase, which she hadn’t noticed he’d retrieved for her. In fact, at the moment, all she was noticing was him.

  His lips curved more fully under her continued regard, deepening the grooves on either side of his mouth, and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “You don’t strike me as someone who gives up all that easily.”

  “No,” she said, a little too taken with his easy charm and surprising depth. “No, I don’t.”

  “Why don’t we get on the road, so you can tackle what comes next?”

  “Yes,” she murmured, falling into step beside him, feeling, suddenly, like she might have to scramble to catch up, in more ways than one. �
�Why don’t we.”

  Chapter 3

  She was nothing like he’d expected.

  Not that he’d had any expectations, or given it any thought, really. But he must have formed some opinion, because he’d been surprised when she’d stepped out of the commuter and run across the tarmac.

  Given Ruby Jean’s description of the workaholic, no-nonsense, no-life, thirty-something, he guessed he’d pictured someone tall, thin, tight-faced, and humorless.

  Lauren Matthews wasn’t close to matching any of those descriptions. She was short, curvy in all the right places, and her self-deprecating humor had been a welcome surprise. Caught in a downpour, she’d more or less just shrugged it off and dealt with the less-than-flattering consequences. It was probably the freckles that had done him the rest of the way in. The rain had streaked off whatever makeup she’d had on, revealing a surprising scatter of them across her nose and cheeks. Sun kisses, Ruby Jean had called them when she was little. It had been a long time since he’d thought of that. It had made him smile then, and made him want to smile now.

  They’d been on the road for a little over an hour now, but the combination of the noise the rain was making, pounding on the roof of Teddy’s truck, the repetitive squeak of the windshield wipers, and the loud rumble of the engine had kept conversation to a minimum. He should have been relieved. Ruby Jean was the chatty sibling. He enjoyed his solitude and the peace and quiet that allowed him to do, think, or just be, without distraction. It’s why he loved to fly.

  But he found himself more curious about his passenger than he’d expected to be. The few times he’d stolen a glance in her direction, or commented on this mountain name or that mountain pass, she’d smiled and nodded, but otherwise she seemed mostly lost in her own thoughts. He remembered what Ruby Jean had said, about the estrangement between mother and daughter. Lauren had been a little prickly when he’d mentioned her mom by name. He imagined her comments about this trip not being a necessarily fun one for her were probably tied to that. He’d also meant what he said about not getting involved, but with nothing better to do than think at the moment, he found himself spending most of the drive thus far thinking about her.

  RJ had said their problems started when Charlene had eloped with Arlen. His guess was the daughter didn’t approve. Either of the elopement, or of Arlen, he wasn’t sure. Jake didn’t have an opinion on whirlwind romances, except to know he didn’t have them, and therefore really didn’t understand why any two people would be in such a rush to get to the altar. If it was right, waiting a few months, or years, certainly wasn’t going to change that. And the more a person knew, the better prepared they’d be to make such a monumental decision. At least that’s what made sense to him. But he didn’t begrudge anyone else rushing. As long as they weren’t rushing him.

  However, if her problem was with Arlen personally, well…Jake couldn’t fault her on that. Not that she’d asked, or that he’d offer up the opinion. He’d keep his word to Ruby Jean. Besides, he wanted no part of whatever drama was playing out with Cedar Springs’ First Couple. Just because Arlen Thompson had always struck him as the kind of man who held only his own interests as sacred, and would sell his grandmother’s pearls if he thought it would help him advance his cause—and anyone was a fool if they thought his cause had anything to do with putting others’ needs before his own—didn’t mean he couldn’t be a good partner or spouse. Jake had a really hard time imagining it, that’s all. Not that he cared enough to share that opinion with anyone. He just steered clear and went about taking care of his own business. In fact, Cedar Springs would probably be a lot better off if more folks did the same.

  Jake found his gaze sliding over to Lauren. Again. She was staring out the side window, thoughts far away from her immediate company if her pensive expression was anything to judge by. He wondered what she was thinking about, what, specifically, she was worried about, but caught himself before he actually gave in to the urge to ask if there was anything he could do. He had a laundry list of things to think about and worry over. Lauren Matthews was not on that list, nor would she be.

  He thought about Ruby Jean’s idea that what Lauren needed was a little loosening up. And that she’d thought her older brother would be the perfect guy to do the loosening. If he hadn’t been enduring his sister’s attempts to match him up with any woman who dared linger long enough for Ruby Jean to discover she was single, he might have been offended by the implication. But Ruby Jean didn’t have a mean-spirited bone in her body. In fact, all she’d ever wanted, since the age of thirteen when she’d been very abruptly left with only a big brother to take care of her, was for everyone in her immediate orbit to be content and happy.

  And, from the moment he’d hit thirty without a “prospect on the horizon” she’d begun searching in earnest, despite the fact that he’d done everything to assure her that he was perfectly content and happy to remain just as he was.

  But, of course, RJ was having none of that. And now she was hell-bent on fixing her boss’s marital problems. Jake figured he should be thankful for the distraction, as it meant he’d be spared for the time being. Except now she was dragging him into it, likely hoping to kill two birds with one matrimonial stone.

  “I’m really sorry.”

  “What?” Jake looked over at her. She hadn’t spoken in so long, the sudden sound of her voice had caught him off guard. “Why?”

  “Oh…no, you just—you sighed. And I was apologizing for being the reason you were dragged away from whatever it was you were doing to come and pick me up.”

  “It wasn’t that. My thoughts were…elsewhere.” As yours seem to be, he wanted to say but didn’t. “It was probably just as well I stepped out when I did. Another ten minutes and I might have done more harm than good trying to fix that damn manifold regulator.”

  She smiled. “What’s a damn manifold regulator?”

  His lips curved, naturally, easily. It felt good. Shouldn’t have been so surprising. He’d always thought he was a pretty upbeat person, but just in the short time he’d been around her, he was realizing the smiles must have been a bit fewer and farther between of late than he’d realized. Ruby Jean had complained that he’d been too stressed out lately, but with everything currently on his plate, stress was unavoidable. Still, he hadn’t thought it had been getting to him as much as it apparently had. “It’s one of many engine parts that keeps my P-51 Mustang in the air.”

  “Well, then it’s probably just as well you did step out. What kind of plane is a P-51? Crop duster or something?”

  His smile turned wry. “Or something. They were flown in World War II. I race one.”

  She turned to face him more fully. “Really. I didn’t know people raced airplanes.”

  A quick glance over at her showed the color was coming back into her cheeks, making her freckles less stark. Her hair had started to dry, and he noticed she had a lot more of it than he’d realized. It hung to her shoulders, almost poker straight, but in a kind of thick, shiny, brown waterfall. He wondered if it felt as silky as it looked.

  Flexing his grip on the steering wheel, he looked back to the road. Which was where his mind should be. And not on any part of Ms. Lauren Matthews. Even if he were to entertain any ideas about her, in any way, two things would stop him. One, his baby sister did not need even the slightest bit of encouragement. And, two, Lauren was Arlen’s stepdaughter. “Some folks do,” he said at length, realizing she was waiting for him to respond.

  “Just antique planes, or others?”

  “All kinds. Sort of like car racing, there are different types, different sports. It varies country to country. I only race the Mustang. It was a renowned fighter plane. In fact, the car was named after the plane.”

  “I didn’t know that, either. Wow, that’s so wild. About the racing, I mean. So it’s an international thing?”

  He nodded. “The first organized races started back in the twenties in Europe, different form, different planes, of course. Some races wer
e ‘get from Point A to Point B the fastest’ kind of races and others were through a marked course.”

  “Is that what you do? The course?” When he nodded, she added, “What kind of course? I mean, obviously it’s in the air; how is it marked?”

  For someone who had spent the entire time lost in her own thoughts, her sudden interest and chattiness were surprising, but seemingly quite sincere. Perhaps they both could use a detour from their personal musings. And he never minded talking on this particular subject to anyone who was interested. Which wasn’t often, unless they were a fellow racer. Or one of his students. Most women of his acquaintance thought it was an interesting hobby, but glazed over if he actually started to get into specifics. He wondered how long it would take before Lauren did the same. “There are what amount to huge pylons that form gates that you actually fly between.”

  “So, rather low to the ground, then?”

  The curve of his smile deepened. “Low and fast.”

  “Sounds pretty intense.”

  “It is that. The division I fly in is called the unlimited class.”

  “Which means?”

  Now he grinned as he looked at her. “That we go really fast.”

  Her gaze caught his and hung there, as if he’d snagged it. But her smile was bright enough to light up her eyes. “A need-for-speed guy.”

  “Fair description.”

  “Adrenaline junkie?”

  “Plane junkie. Flying junkie. The adrenaline comes free of charge.”

  She laughed. “How long have you been doing it? How did you get started?”

  “My grandfather got me into it when I was little.”

  Her eyes widened. “How little is little?”

  “He raced and I watched. But I knew from very early on that I was going to get up in one myself.”

  “Do you both race then? That’s pretty cool, actually.”

  “We did. And it was. The best, actually. He died a little over twelve years ago.”