A Guilty Affair

by Maureen Smith

  “Of course,” Lourdes responded with an air of childlike impatience. “You’re Uncle Trevor’s girlfriend.”

  Riley’s smile softened. “That’s right. You’ve gotten so tall—you and your brother.”

  The girl rolled her dark eyes heavenward. “That’s what every grown-up says.”

  Janie pinched her daughter on the arm. “Don’t be rude, mija.”

  “Sorry,” Lourdes mumbled sulkily, rubbing her sore arm.

  Riley grinned ruefully. “You were right. I used to think the same thing at your age.”

  The girl eyed her suspiciously. “Are you here to see my uncle Noah?”

  “Lourdes!”

  “Does someone need a nap already?” came Noah’s amused drawl.

  Riley turned as he, Kenneth, and KJ stepped onto the deck, tugging on white shirts over their suit pants. She watched as Noah sauntered over to his niece and tweaked her pert nose. She beamed with pleasure, rewarding him with an adoring smile.

  Janie wrinkled her nose at the newcomers. “You guys are all sweaty. Mama’s gonna kill you—you know she told you not to play basketball before lunch.”

  Kenneth laughed. “She says that every week, baby. When do we ever listen? Hey girl,” he said warmly to Riley. “Glad you could make it.”

  “Thanks, Kenneth. You know I couldn’t say no to your mother. How’s it going, KJ?”

  Kenneth’s son, who had a head full of curly, light brown hair and thick-lashed amber eyes, looked nothing like his fraternal twin sister. Their personalities were also as different as night and day.

  KJ gave Riley a bright, eager smile. “Hi, Miss Riley. You gonna play basketball with us later, like you used to?”

  Riley chuckled. “I don’t think so, handsome. I’m not exactly dressed for it.”

  He looked her over and groaned with disappointment. “Aw, man, why do girls always have to wear skirts to church?”

  Winking at Riley, Kenneth clapped a hand to his son’s shoulder. “Because God knew we’d need more than a good sermon to be lured to the house of worship. Some of us, anyway,” he hastened to add at Janie’s narrow-eyed look.

  Riley grinned at him. “Well, your mother sent me out here to tell you fellas to wash up before you’re allowed anywhere near her dinner table. So, unless you want me to finish all that wonderful food by myself…”

  She trailed off, her grin widening as Kenneth and KJ exchanged quick glances, then made a beeline for the French doors.

  Noah followed more slowly, pausing for a moment to look back at her. Once again she was snared by his piercing ebony eyes. Air stalled in her lungs as he gazed at her for what seemed an eternity but was probably no longer than a few seconds.

  Only when he turned and continued into the house did she let out a slow, shaky breath.

  It was going to be a long afternoon.

  Hell, it was going to be a long summer.

  As she did every week, Pamela Hubbard had pulled out all the stops for Sunday brunch. A honey-glazed ham fit to feed a small army was served with baked chicken, sweet-and-sour meatballs, candied yams, green beans and cabbage, potato salad, deviled eggs, and flaky honey rolls that melted in Riley’s mouth after the first bite.

  By accident or design, she wound up seated next to Noah at the long mahogany table, while Kenneth and Janie sat across from them, and Pamela and her husband claimed opposite ends of the table. Lourdes insisted on sitting on the other side of Noah, determined to ensure that her beloved uncle’s attention would not be divided between her and Riley.

  “This is an extra special occasion for our family today,” Pamela intoned with a glance around the table that settled warmly on Riley. “We’re so glad to have you back home. I, for one, am very anxious to hear what you’ve been doing with yourself for the past three years.”

  “Working hard,” Riley answered with a smile. “The paper keeps me pretty busy.”

  “Are you still covering the crime beat?”

  Riley shook her head. “Education.” After Trevor’s death, she’d needed a long break from stories about fires, drug arrests, beatings and homicides. Attending reading fairs at local elementary schools and reporting on vouchers and national literacy standards had provided a welcome, if sometimes frustrating, change of pace.

  Pamela offered an understanding smile. “I think Noah’s read some of your articles. He has a subscription to the Washington Post, isn’t that right, baby?”

  Riley looked at him in surprise. “You do?”

  Noah lifted one shoulder in an impassive shrug. “I also subscribe to the New York Times,” he said pointedly.

  “Oh.” Riley tried her best not to sound deflated. “That said,” he added after another moment, “I have read some of your articles. You’re a great writer, Riley. You’ve always been. But I don’t need to tell you that.”

  She warmed with pleasure at his words. “No,” she agreed, striving for nonchalance, “but it’s always nice to hear.”

  “I’m sure you hear it all the time,” he said sardonically.

  “First I’ve ever heard it from you, though.”

  “Are you saying I’ve never complimented your writing?”

  Their gazes locked for several moments. Gradually Riley became aware of six pairs of eyes focused on them. A slow flush crawled up her neck and spread across her cheeks.

  Clearing her throat self-consciously, she reached for her glass of chilled wine as Noah glanced away, becoming absorbed in his food.

  Silence descended upon the table for a moment, and then Janie began conversationally, “So, Mama, you never did tell us how the ball went last night?”

  “It was wonderful,” Pamela said with feeling. “Aside from the fact that Lion and I had the time of our lives dancing the night away, we also raised a substantial amount of money for the senior center. Thanks to everyone at this table for your generous donations. And speaking of that,” she added, her hazel eyes twinkling with excitement, “Caleb’s father also gave out of the abundance of his heart—and wallet—by writing us a check for one hundred thousand dollars.”

  There were surprised exclamations around the table. KJ stared up at his grandmother in wide-eyed fascination. “That’s a lot of money, isn’t it, Grandma?”

  She smiled indulgently, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “You bet it is, sweetheart. More than enough to buy brand-new computers and educational supplies for the senior center.”

  Kenneth grinned, shaking his head from side to side. “Can’t say I’m surprised, not after seeing how much Crandall spent on Caleb and Daniela’s wedding. Cha-ching.”

  “That reminds me,” Pamela said. “When we’ve finished eating, Riley can look at the wedding photos. And don’t let me forget to send you home with a plate for your grandmother. She told me she couldn’t make it this afternoon because she had rehearsal for an upcoming salsa tournament she’s competing in.”

  Janie stared across the table at Riley, her mouth agape. “Your grandmother’s going to be competing in a salsa tournament?”

  Riley nodded with a wry grin. “I know. I could hardly believe it myself when she told me.”

  Janie gave a whoop of unabashed delight. “Way to go, Grandma! Be sure to let me know when the competition will be held. I’d love to be there.”

  “She’d like that very much,” Riley said.

  “I’m going to be performing in a ballet recital,” Lourdes announced, not to be outdone by a seventy-four-year-old woman who wasn’t even present to bask in the others’ admiration.

  Everyone at the table offered their hearty congratulations—except for KJ, who merely rolled his eyes at his preening sister.

  With the meal under way, the conversation segued from Lourdes’s ballet recital and KJ’s adventures at space camp—because it was only fair to let him share in the spotlight—to talk of politics. When Lionel Hubbard asked Riley, as an education reporter, to share her opinion of the No Child Left Behind initiative, she found herself launching into a passionate explanation of why s
he felt the federal program didn’t benefit disadvantaged school children, as it purported. Her views resonated with everyone around the table and fueled a spirited discussion that lasted nearly an hour.

  More than once throughout the meal, she’d glanced up to find Noah’s subtly searching gaze on her. She didn’t know how to interpret the expression on his face, other than to say he seemed mildly…fascinated. But she knew better. Despite the kiss they had shared, Noah Roarke was no more interested in her than she was in him. She’d consider it a feat if, by the end of the summer, they at least parted on speaking terms.

  After devouring Pamela’s scrumptious, award-winning peach cobbler for dessert, the group adjourned to the cozily furnished family room to pore over wedding albums. While Pamela had been understated elegance in a wine-colored sheath dress, Daniela Roarke had been a breathtakingly beautiful bride in a strapless mermaid gown of pure ivory silk that accentuated her lush curves. Her groom was equally arresting in a black Christian Dior tuxedo that made him look like he’d stepped off the cover of GQ. In every photo, the love and adulation each couple felt for their partner shone in their eyes and in the tender smiles they shared as they fed cake to each other or came together for the first dance.

  As Riley sat and listened to the family’s recollections of the two joyous occasions, she couldn’t help but think of the ceremony she’d been deprived of.

  She had never been the type of woman who’d dreamed of being swept off her feet by Prince Charming and whisked away to an ivory castle tucked deep in the forest. Because her parents had modeled a healthy, happy marriage, it was only natural that she’d grown up with the expectation of one day finding and settling down with her own soul mate. When she met Trevor at a law enforcement convention in Houston, it wasn’t love at first sight. In fact, she’d been convinced that the cocky, good-looking cop who’d sauntered up to her during a session break wasn’t her type. At six-two, light skinned with pale green eyes, dark wavy hair, and a square-jawed face made for police recruitment posters, Trevor Simmons was fine, and he knew it. But he’d also been sweet and charming, and persistent as hell. Before Riley knew it, she was having dinner with him at a local jazz club. When the conference ended a few days later and Trevor returned to San Antonio, he called her up and asked her out on another date—this time over the phone. It had been fun and surprisingly romantic to sit at a linen-covered table on the rooftop terrace of her downtown loft and sip imported wine while Trevor did the same miles away. By the time the call ended, they’d practically advanced to phone sex; when Trevor drove up to Houston the following weekend, they did the real thing. One year later, they were engaged.

  Although Trevor could be moody and a little too possessive at times, she’d loved him unconditionally. She’d wanted to marry him, bear his children and give them the warm, nurturing home their father had never experienced in his own childhood.

  But it wasn’t meant to be.

  And now, three years after the tragedy that had snatched Trevor from her life, she wondered if she’d ever allow herself to be that vulnerable again. Could she let down her guard and give herself permission to fall in love again?

  An hour later, she was still preoccupied with these questions as she left the Hubbard house and started home.

  Deep in thought, it was several moments before she registered the telltale thumping noise of a flat tire. Swearing under her breath, she glanced in the rearview mirror to make sure no other motorists were behind her before she pulled off to the shoulder of the two-lane country road.

  Of all the rotten luck, she mentally groused, peeling off her suit jacket and tossing it across the passenger seat in disgust.

  Since arriving in town last week, she’d been meaning to take her car in for servicing, which she should have done before leaving D.C. But, as had been the case when she fled San Antonio three years ago, she’d been too impatient to start on her journey to worry about anything else.

  As she stepped from the Avalon to inspect the flat tire, a shiny black Yukon came barreling down the road. Riley felt a combination of relief and embarrassment when she recognized the driver.

  Noah slowed the truck and pulled in behind her car, then climbed out.

  “Hi,” Riley said, feeling awkward as he started toward her, slowly removing his mirrored sunglasses and tucking them into the front pocket of his shirt. “Bet you didn’t expect to run into me again until tomorrow morning,” she said inanely, then pointed to the rear left tire. “I’ve got a flat.”

  “So I see,” Noah murmured, dropping to his haunches to examine the tire. After a moment, he said, “Looks like you had a slow leak. There’s a nail embedded inside.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.” He ran his hand up and down the smooth surface of the tire. “The tread’s worn to nil. When was the last time you had your tires rotated?”

  “Uh, it’s been a while,” Riley evaded.

  “How long is ‘a while’?”

  She bit her lip. “A couple of years.”

  He scowled. “You’re supposed to rotate your tires every six-thousand to eight-thousand miles.”

  She bristled. “I’ve been busy. Vehicle maintenance hasn’t exactly been at the top of my list of priorities.”

  “Obviously,” he growled. “You drove all the way from Washington, D.C. on bald tires. So not only were you sleep deprived, you could have gotten stranded out in the middle of nowhere. Do you have a spare?”

  “In the trunk,” she snapped, incensed by his lecturing. “Look, I’m not some dumb, helpless female, Noah. I know how to change a tire, and I’m perfectly capable of doing so.”

  Abruptly she knelt beside him, and had an instant flashback to the first time they’d met, when they’d found themselves huddled beside each other as they inspected the fender of his vehicle. At the time, she’d been too worried about the fact that she’d just rear-ended a cop to notice anything else…such as the heat from his body, or the clean, subtle scent of his cologne, or the pull of his black pants over his hard, muscular thighs…things she noticed now with intoxicating clarity.

  When their eyes met, she realized Noah was remembering that long-ago encounter as well.

  She swallowed with difficulty. “If you’d kindly step aside,” she said, her voice husky with awareness, “I can change the tire myself and be on my way.”

  “Damn it, Riley,” Noah murmured without any real rancor. “I’ll change the tire. Pop the trunk so I can get the spare.”

  “I said I can do it myself.”

  He eyed her form fitting skirt and heels. “You’re not dressed for it.”

  “Neither are you,” she shot back.

  He arched a brow. “I played basketball in this, remember? Pop the trunk.”

  “No, I’ll—”

  A warm, call used hand was clamped gently over her mouth. Noah leaned close, those magnificent onyx eyes boring into hers. “Pop the damn trunk,” he said, a low, silky command.

  Nodding wordlessly, Riley stood on legs that trembled, opened the car door and pulled the lever to release the trunk hood.

  Noah got to his feet, rolled up his shirt sleeves and lifted out the spare tire, jack and tire iron from the trunk of the car.

  In no time at all he’d jacked up the Avalon, removed the flat tire, and gone to work installing the spare.

  Riley propped a hip against the side of the car and forced herself to watch other passing vehicles instead of Noah. Because up until that moment, she’d never known just how incredibly sexy a man could look changing a tire. She’d seen it done on commercials and in movies, of course, but nothing compared to the reality. Or maybe what got her juices flowing was the sight of this particular man on his knees, his tie tugged loose, a smudge of grease on his rugged jaw, his powerful forearms flexing as he tightened the wheel lugs.

  Either way, by the time he finished and was back on his feet, Riley was as hot and bothered as if she had done all the hard work.

  “Thanks,” she murmured, passing
him a small clean towel from the trunk. “I couldn’t have done it that fast or easily. I appreciate your help.”

  Noah inclined his head, wiping his soiled hands. “The pressure in the spare is low,” he told her, “which means you can’t ride on it very long. I’m going to follow you to the nearest auto center to get new tires.”

  Riley panicked. “Oh, that won’t be necessary,” she said quickly. Another minute around him and she’d be jumping his damn bones. “I’ll take care of it sometime this week.”

  He scowled darkly. “Did you hear what I just said? You can’t ride on the doughnut for very long—the air pressure’s too low.”

  “I heard you. I just—I can’t—” Flustered, she blurted out, “I can’t do this today.”

  “Yes, you can,” Noah said in a low voice that brooked no argument. “And you will.”

  Without another word, he turned on his heel, strode back to his truck and climbed inside, leaving Riley no choice but to follow suit.

  She cursed his high-handedness all the way to the Sears automotive center. Pulling into an empty parking space beside him, she buzzed down the automatic window and called out, “For all you know, Noah Roarke, I might be on a very tight budget right now. Maybe I can’t afford to buy four new tires at this time!”

  He was already climbing out of his truck and striding purposefully toward the building. By the time Riley realized what he was doing and had struggled out of her seat belt and hurried after him, he’d already paid for the tires and arranged for them to be installed.

  She glared at him as he walked away from the service counter. “I had money,” she said through gritted teeth, not caring that she sounded like an ingrate or that other customers were staring at her. “I don’t need your charity, and I don’t appreciate being man-handled.”

  “You can thank me later,” Noah drawled, holding the door open for her as they stepped back outside. “In the meantime, let’s pull your car around so they can get started on it.”

  Chapter 10

  Noah liked it when Riley was angry.