He interrupted her flow of words. “What do you say we check into a hotel, maybe have room service bring up something light, and then first thing in the morning we can get down to business?”
“Did I tell you what color I painted the trim? It was called Barn Red, but it was a sort of dark maroon, a little bit on the rusty side. It looked great with Hawaiian Heliotrope. The paint people said it was an inspired choice. I was thinking about maybe saving up for storm windows once I get another job, but…”
Ah, jeez, he didn’t know how to handle this. Didn’t she have anyone to step in and take over? Where the devil was her father? Where was her mother? Manie had said when he’d talked to her earlier that Bain and Sally Riley wouldn’t be much help, that they’d married too young, buckled under the responsibility of having a child, and finally gone to seed. He still didn’t know what she’d meant by that last, but dammit, Callie needed family at a time like this. She needed a mother to urge her to cry and a father to tell her it was all right and make her believe it. There was nothing he could do. He had no business even getting involved.
Too late. He was already involved. And he had no one to blame but himself. “Come on, time to go. You can tell me all about it on the way back to town.”
The fact that she didn’t argue only made him more uneasy. He’d seen similar reactions over the years, sometimes immediate, but often delayed for weeks after the trauma occurred.
“Honey, it’s rough, I know, but you’re doing fine. Manie would be proud of you.”
That prompted a high squeaky whimper.
“Hey, I know for a fact that you Riley women are famous for keeping your cool under trying circumstances.” Sure they were, and the Langley men were famous for spreading it on with a front-end loader. “I guess that sounded pretty patronizing, huh? I didn’t mean it that way. Look, I’m just a little out of my depth here, so help me out, will you? Tell me where to go.”
He hadn’t intended to give her the opening, but it worked. At least that shell-shocked look began to fade. She blinked up at him. “You’re asking me to tell you where to go?”
“Where to get off? Uh, maybe I’d better rephrase that.”
“No, don’t. Let me think a minute.”
He wanted to see her smile. He wanted to hear her laugh, even at his expense. He wanted her, period, and he was used to getting what he wanted. Patience was not one of his major attributes.
Fortunately—or unfortunately—scruples were.
“All right, go to the end of this road and take a left. Then go about a mile and a half and take a right on an unpaved road. It’s a shortcut. It’ll get us back on the highway.”
“That’s it? You’re not going to take a free shot at me?”
“We’re in North Carolina now,” she said sweetly. “Texas rules don’t apply here.”
He took a three-room suite, giving her a sense of privacy, but assuring that he’d be within easy reach if she needed him. Hank told himself that was the only reason he hadn’t booked separate rooms, on separate floors, at opposite ends of the hotel. He almost managed to convince himself.
It was a mark of Callie’s distraction that she didn’t even question his choice. “You’d probably like to shower and change. How about dinner? Downstairs, on the town, or room service?”
“I think I’ll just go to bed.”
“Think again. You’ll sleep a lot better after a hot bath and a good meal. I’ll help with either.or both. Your choice.”
“Then order me something to eat while I get a shower. I need to try and reach Mama again before I go to bed, and I guess I’d better talk to Aunt Manie.”
He gave that one a pass. “Steak? Chicken? Oatmeal?”
She made a face at him. He figured it was a good sign.
She was the only woman he’d ever known who could eat chicken with her fingers and still manage to look dainty. He told her so just to see if he could lure another smile out of hiding.
“Aunt Manie eats with her fingers.”
“Steak, maybe, but never chicken.” Hell, he’d do knock-knock jokes if it would make her smile.
“Hank, I’m too tired to sit around talking. I guess I can wait to talk to Aunt Manie, but I really do need to try Mama and Daddy again before I go to bed. I warned you, they’re not easy to find when they’re on the road.”
She had that right. He’d had his people calling all over three states without turning up anything. At least they weren’t on record as being in jail or in any of the major hospitals.
“I’ve left a call for six in the morning. This is—oh, for heaven’s sake, I don’t even know what day of the week it is.”
He told her, and she said, “Then that gives me plenty of time to meet with the insurance people. I’d better rent myself a car, first thing, so that—”
“Whoa. Back up a minute, will you? Is there something wrong with my rental? You want something flashier?”
She sent him the kind of look that crack deserved. “You’ll need yours to get back to the airport, unless you’d rather take the shuttle. I’m pretty sure the hotel has one, but I’d still rather rent something on my own, that way the paperwork doesn’t get all messed up when I turn it in.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched, that was all. It wasn’t the first time he’d picked his way through a minefield. “I’ll split the last of the wine with you, then I’m going to grab a shower while you try your numbers one more time. After that we’ll settle whatever needs settling before we turn in.”
She took a sip of the wine and wrinkled her nose. “I can’t decide about Aunt Manie. I hate to have to explain over the phone, but if she tries to reach me at her house, she might worry.”
“I called her from the plane.”
“You didn’t tell me that.” She looked more hurt than angry, so he reached out and cupped her chin. Tender. Yeah, that was a good word.
“You weren’t feeling particularly conversational, if you’ll remember. Besides, there’s nothing much to tell. She’s doing fine, playing cards and watching baseball, taking it easy. She says don’t worry about her plants, they can take care of themselves for a few days.”
He didn’t bother to add that she’d given him her unflattering opinion of Callie’s parents, tried to pry loose a few answers as to the status of what she called the Hank Stakes and made him promise to look after Callie, who according to Manie wasn’t nearly as self-sufficient as she thought she was. He could always tell when Manie was up to something. A thousand miles or so did little to allay the feeling.
He left Callie seated at the desk, a glass of merlot in one hand, telephone in the other, the telephone book open before her. Wearing the hotel’s thick white terry-cloth bathrobe, with a towel around her head, she looked about fourteen.
Hands off, Langley. What you need is waiting for you back in Texas.
Yeah, but what he wanted was sitting right here in a hotel in North Carolina, halfway between a pair of king-size beds.
Hank cracked open the bathroom door to allow the steam to escape while he buttoned on a clean shirt. Callie was still talking on the phone. “—but Mama—no, I didn’t think to ask. No, I haven’t called him yet, but I’m fixing to right now. I’ll probably be seeing him sometime tomorrow if he can fit me in. Tell Daddy that I said—What? That’s real nice, but, Mama—”
Hank emerged from his room in time to see her carefully replace the phone. He didn’t like the look on her face. “I see you finally managed to reach your folks,” he said carefully. His hair was still wet. He’d cut himself shaving, something he hadn’t done in years.
“That was Mama.”
“So I gathered. Will they be joining us here?”
“At the hotel, you mean? No, they have a loft in one of the old factory buildings. Anyway, they can’t make it. Daddy won a best-in-show with a slab-built teapot and he’s being interviewed tomorrow by some big crafts magazine, and the group’s booked studio time to make a demo.”
“Wow. That’s great…I guess. What a
bout the house?”
She looked away, that lost expression creeping back again. “I can handle everything. It’s my responsibility. Mama said if I’ll take care of the details, they’ll split the insurance with me.”
He waited two beats to see if she was going to throw something. “Callie, that doesn’t even make sense.”
She shrugged. “They’ve got their minds on other things. It’s really important, making a demo and being interviewed and all.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t that house belong to you, not your parents? In that case, whatever the settlement is, it’s yours. Aside from all that, they damn well ought to be here for you.”
“I don’t need them.” The tip of her nose turned red, and then her eyes began to fill. “I don’t need you, either. I don’t need anybody, I keep telling you that!”
Nine
When the dam broke, Hank was there for her. He told himself while she drenched his clean shirt, the only spare he’d brought with him, that in lieu of her parents, his arms were better than no arms at all.
He held her close, breathing in the light, lemony fragrance of her hair, the soapy scent of her skin as their two bodies, clinging tightly, began to generate heat of a different kind.
This is Callie, man. Lay a finger on her and Manie’s going to kill you.
Too late. He’d already laid both hands on her. He only hoped she was too inexperienced to realize what was happening to him. Although if she’d ever studied basic biology, there was no way she could miss it. He was fully, embarrassingly, almost painfully aroused.
He tried his best to keep his hands on her back, stroking waist to shoulders and back again, with a few pats along the way. The towel had fallen from her damp hair, and he combed his fingers through the short, tangled strands.
Wet silk. Wet, warm and curly. Before he could shut it off, his mind began screening pictures of a naked Callie, lying sprawled across the sheets, wet, warm and waiting.
Her small breasts were crushed against his chest. Even through the thick terry-cloth robe he could feel her nipples, or imagine he did, which was just as bad. Worse. Imagination was the headiest of all aphrodisiacs.
Callie was a noisy cryer. She might be neat, quiet and efficient in all other respects, but when it came to crying, she cut loose with both barrels.
“I’m ss-s-orry,” she blubbered. “I’m so sorry, this is so embarrassing.”
“Hush. Shh, let it out. Cuss a little if it’ll help. I’ll even help you.”
She sniffed and drew back, gave him a suspicious look and then hid her face on his chest again.
He did a Manie-like tsk-tsk sound with his teeth and tongue and said, “Don’t you just hate bawling? It’s so messy.”
Her shoulders quivered. She either sniffed or snickered, he wasn’t sure which, and asked him if he had a tissue.
He dug out his handkerchief. Luckily it was a clean one. “Will this do?”
She used it efficiently and effectively, took a deep breath and said, “Now I owe you a shirt and a clean handkerchief. I’m really sorry, Hank, I don’t usually do this sort of thing.”
“No problem. Glad to be of service.”
“Yes, well…speaking of service, I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to pay you for the trip and the room and everything. Maybe when the insurance claim is settled—”
His fingers bit into her shoulders. “Stop it. Dammit, Callie, don’t say things like that, not to me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Are we?”
The question hung there between them, stark and revealing. With another woman, he might have thought she was playing games, but not Callie. Games weren’t her style.
There were several answers he might have given her, all of which would be truthful up to a point, but not the whole truth. The whole truth was, she aroused him as no woman ever had, and not just sexually.
And that was the scary part. He didn’t want to think about it, but such was the power of her direct gaze that he found himself trying to explain. “Callie, I’d have been your friend for Manie’s sake, no matter what. She happens to be the closest thing to family I’ve got left. You’re important to me because you’re important to her.”
Which was true, as far as it went. It was what lay beyond that point that was tying him in knots. “Look, you’re not the only one who has claims on her,” he said impatiently. “Deal with it.”
Her face was far too expressive. Reading the doubts piling up behind those clear, silver-blue eyes, he forced a lighter note. “All I’m trying to say is that even if you’d turned out to be a real jerk, I’d have been your friend for Manie’s sake. Lucky for me, you turned out to be.the way you turned out to be. Which is pretty fine.”
“You don’t have to explain, I know you’ve had her a lot longer than I have, and you don’t have to pay me extravagant compliments.”
Extravagant compliments. Right. He thought of Pansy’s voracious appetite for compliments, the way Bianca’s ego constantly demanded its due. “You think I’m coming on too strong? How about if I say you turned out okay?”
“You don’t have to tease me out of the sulks, either. I’m not a child.”
“Honey, that’s part of the trouble.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Yeah, I think you do, but I’m getting the cart before the horse. For a Texan, that’s damn near a felony.”
Quiver of a smile. Flash of silver in those big, troubled eyes. So far, so good. He settled onto a rose-brocaded love seat, trying to look as if he weren’t picturing her naked in his bed. “Like I said, you’re the kind of woman I’d seriously like to have as a friend. You with me, so far?” She nodded. “So when a friend’s in trouble, a true friend does what he can to help, right?” Another nod. “And you’re in trouble.”
“Oh, but I—”
“Nothing you can’t handle,” he hastened to say in deference to her pride. “But as long as I’m in a position to help out—” Dammit, he hadn’t set out on this mission with seduction in mind. The trouble was, he couldn’t be around her long and not think about it. “As long as we’re here alone together—”
“That’s an oxymoron.”
“A what?”
“You can’t be together and alone at the same time.”
“Dammit, Callie, you know what I’m trying to say.” Patience and arousal were a tough combination. Talk about your oxymorons. “You’re a woman. A very attractive woman, even with your eyes red from crying and a bathrobe big enough to swallow you. I—I’m attracted to you, dammit!” Great going, Langley. Climb out of one buffalo wallow and stumble into an even deeper one.
“Well, you don’t have to swear at me. I’m attracted to you, too, but then, I guess that’s not too surprising. You’re a—a nice-looking man.”
Slowly he shook his head. Why her? Why had he managed to get himself involved with the one woman in all the world genetically engineered to drive him up a tree?
Rising abruptly, he began to pace. A vein throbbed at his temple. His leg was aching. Boots that had been custom-made for his feet began to chafe, and he knew damned well his zipper wasn’t rated for this much pressure.
And there she sat, like a—like he didn’t know what, telling him in that soft, husky drawl of hers that she was attracted to him, too. Not to his money. Not even to his social position, which in Royal, Texas, wasn’t all that outstanding. Him. Hank Langley, the man.
“So?” Cautiously he asked, “What do you think we should do about it?”
“I haven’t thought it through yet. What do you think we should do about it?”
“Nothing!” he fairly shouted. “Not one damned thing. Maybe if we ignore it, it’ll die a natural death.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
“Honey, I’m old enough to be your father, don’t you understand?”
She nodded. “In a way, I almost wish you were, but mostly, I’m glad you’re not”
Baffled, he could only stare at her. “What’
s that supposed to mean?” She gnawed on her bottom lip, and once again he found his imagination shifting into overdrive.
“Just that you’d make a wonderful father, but if you were mine, then we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?”
“You want to run that one by me again?”
Sighing, she tugged up the collar of her robe where it had slipped, baring one delicate, satin-skinned shoulder. “I’m not stupid, Hank. I know you’d like to sleep with me. I know that bothers you, because of Manie and because…well, just because. But I also know that’s not the reason you’re being so helpful. Driving me to Midland the other day. Flying me here. Being so nice and all.” He bit off a mild oath, which she ignored. “The thing is, I’d like it, too, a whole lot, only I’ve never done this kind of thing before, and I’d probably make a mess of it, and right now I don’t need another mess in my life. Do you understand?”
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and counted to ten. It didn’t help. When he opened them again she was still there, still looking at him as if he were the answer to all her prayers, and he wasn’t. Not the kind of prayers any decent young woman with high standards and untarnished ideals should be praying.
“Honey, don’t tempt me too far. I’m no saint.”
“You’re not?”
There, she was doing it to him again. That quicksilver twinkle in her eyes. That hint, almost too subtle to catch, of laughter running just underneath her soft voice. He’d been sucker-punched before, but not since he was in grade school. And never by someone smaller and softer than he was.
“Damn you,” he growled, “I’ll teach you to play games with your elders!” Two strides and he was leaning over her, hauling her up into his arms. She didn’t even try to resist him. Her hair was almost dry now, and it tickled his chin as she buried her face in his throat.
Hank told himself he was only teaching her a muchneeded lesson about playing with fire, but he knew better. He could’ve sent her here with Pete. He hadn’t had to come with her. It wasn’t as if she were a stranger in a strange town, she had friends here. She’d have handled it on her own.
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