Yet with all those muscles, he looked raw, savage, primal. All pure male animal with smooth sinews and honed pecs.
“I’m thinking I need to talk with my sisters, but I wanted to thank you again for everything you’ve done.” She wished she didn’t sound so prim. For just that moment, she yearned to lean into his arms, kiss him on the lips. She shouldn’t even be looking at him. He was a dreamer like her father. Kaylin still wanted substantial and solid. And New York.
Still . . . just because he was all wrong for her didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate him.
He finished screwing a hinge back into place, the muscles on his back cording. “Thanks aren’t necessary. If the situation had been reversed, your father would have helped me out. And to tell you the truth—” He paused. “I feel a bit guilty about inheriting . . .”
“You’ve been helping my father for years. He wouldn’t have left you part of the company if you didn’t deserve it. Besides, none of us know how to run a biodiesel plant.” Kaylin wanted Sawyer to understand that she didn’t resent her father’s bequest. In fact, she approved of his very practical decision.
Sawyer peered at her, his blue eyes twinkling. Standing with his hip cocked, one hand on his waist, he shot her a sensual grin. “You really don’t mind that he gave me half the business?”
Did he have any idea of the effect he had on her? Was he deliberately acting provocatively, or was she seeing signals where there weren’t any? It had been a long time since she’d so much as taken a second look at a man. But now with Sawyer, her eyes were darting back, not just for seconds, but for thirds and fourths.
Her mouth went dry. With his sharp cheekbones and expressive eyes, he could have been an actor. To calm her raging hormones, she reminded herself he was unemployed, with few or no prospects of ever earning a steady living. Sure, he had degrees from MIT, but her father had had a degree, too. At any time, her father could have taken a corporate job, but he’d never considered it. In his eyes, that would have been selling out. And she suspected Sawyer wouldn’t give up his dreams for financial security, either. Besides, he had roots here in Tampa. He wasn’t what she wanted for her future.
If he’d just been hot and sexy, she wouldn’t have had much trouble resisting her attraction. But he’d also been kind, understanding, and helpful. Even his protective instincts added to his appeal. And she couldn’t seem to stop herself from taking a step closer to him. He was drawing her with a magnetic power she couldn’t resist. As if she were a princess, he held out his hand to help her cross the last few steps. She took it, and with a gentle flick of his wrist, he tugged her into his arms. With no hesitation, his mouth came down on hers.
He felt warm and strong—heat mixed with a multitude of rich flavors that seeped deep into her core, and oh, yum, he smelled good too, his scent freshly cut wood with a hint of male sweat.
The warmth and texture of his skin pulled her out of her normal caution mode. Sawyer was everything she didn’t want, but he felt so right. Smooth and supple, framed with muscles, his skin felt rich and luxurious beneath her fingertips. She couldn’t seem to stop herself from wrapping her arms around his back, couldn’t stop her fingertips from trailing up and down his neck, couldn’t seem to stop her palms from creating a slick friction.
This guy might think like a nerd, but he didn’t kiss like one. He knew exactly how to taunt, entice, and seduce, using his sensuality to keep her wanting more.
It was Sawyer who pulled back first. Sawyer, whose eyes narrowed as if he were as surprised by the way she’d felt in his arms as she’d been. His lips tipped into a charming grin. “I’m not the least bit sorry about that.”
“You aren’t?”
“The only thing I’m sorry about is waiting so long to kiss you.”
“Then why did you stop?” she demanded.
“Because you don’t feel real.”
“Excuse me?”
“No kiss can possibly be this good.”
“So you stopped in order to analyze . . .”
He shook his head, a lock of hair spilling over his brow, eyes bright. “I stopped to savor the moment.” His tone was soft, husky, and threaded with a deep Southern accent. “I wanted to see the woozy expression in your eyes. I wanted to watch the way the light sparkled in the red highlights of your hair. I wanted to remember exactly how you look at this moment so I can store it away in my memories forever.”
Oh, my.
With her pulse thudding in her ears, her lips plumped and ready for more, she didn’t understand anything beyond wishing she was back in his arms. She didn’t know if he was the most romantic man she’d met . . . or the strangest. “So you’re telling me you were willing to cut short our first kiss to file me away as a memory?”
He licked his lip where hers had touched his, as if to get a last taste of her. “Something like that.”
She leaned back into him, thoroughly intrigued as well as turned on. “Well, now that you have me properly filed, do you think we could create another memory? A longer one this time?”
“I think that could be arranged.”
Before he could kiss her again, her cell phone rang. The caller ID said private caller. As much as she wanted to ignore it, she couldn’t. If the intruders were calling back, she’d have to give them whatever they wanted . . . because she wasn’t about to place her sisters in danger.
“Hello.”
“It’s Dean Witman. I’m sending you my offer. However, it’s contingent upon you turning over your father’s formula.”
“I understand.” The fax machine was broken. So was every computer in the entire house. “Would you mind sending it to Sawyer’s e-mail address?”
“Of course not.” Sawyer gave her his address, she repeated it to Dean, and hung up.
“He said the offer’s only good if we have the formula.”
Sawyer nodded. “So we’ll tell him your CPA and attorney have to review the contract. That will buy us some time to search.”
“Search where? We’ve looked everywhere but Dad’s safety deposit box, and that’s not big enough to hold his laptop.” She gestured to the messy kitchen, wondering why her pulse was still elevated. It had just been a kiss. But the word just shouldn’t ever share the same sentence with kiss—not when it was one of Sawyer’s kisses.
“We’ll start there.”
“All right.” She paused. “Sawyer, I appreciate all your help, but that kiss . . . we can’t do that again.”
“Of course not,” he agreed and took her back into his arms.
She scowled at him. “I mean it.”
“So do I.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Absolutely, no more kisses.”
“Sawyer—”
He kissed her nose. “No more kisses ever again.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Agreed.”
He kissed her mouth. And Kaylin stopped fighting herself. Being in his arms felt too good to think much farther than this moment. Damn, the guy could kiss. He didn’t rush. He didn’t crowd her. And yet she wanted to crawl into his skin, draw him closer. Much closer.
Finally, she found the will to break away. “This doesn’t mean anything.”
“Nothing at all.”
“We can’t go any farther.”
“Uh-huh.”
He wasn’t taking her seriously. “Sawyer, I want to sell Dad’s business.”
“I understand.”
“So there’s no point in you and me . . .”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want to get involved.”
“Okay.” He agreed with her . . . and then he kissed her again.
17
SAWYER’S GRANDMOTHER’S home was nothing like the Danner residence. The neighborhood and exterior structures might have been similar, but hi
s house fronted on the Alafia River with a huge lawn that swept down to a dock with a motorboat. The front doors were inlaid with an unusual stained glass landscape, and inside, the house was anything but old-fashioned. Right off Kaylin had noticed ceiling fans that turned in a breeze from the river that cooled down the house. A huge flat screen television and a luxurious white leather sectional placed on hardwood floors with a shiny finish made Kaylin realize how shabby and dated the Danner house must have seemed to Sawyer. White sheers framed the windows as a counterpoint to dove-gray walls. Colorful runners and glass art lampshades made the home warm and inviting. The mix of contemporary pieces and antiques worked, especially with the inviting green plants in various ceramic pots scattered around the home that imparted a delightful fresh scent to the air.
Mitzy twirled around the kitchen, making Kaylin smile as she obviously fell in love with the modern upgrades, a double oven, Corian countertops, and a double sink. The fresh coat of deep red paint set off white woodwork and a black slate floor, and white oak cabinets with black handles gave the room a decorator feel. Yet mail sat out on the counter, along with several magazines and a pot of herbs. His grandmother’s house wasn’t a showplace but a home.
The move actually went more smoothly than Kaylin had anticipated, since the big old house had plenty of extra bedrooms. Mitzy had her own room, as did Kaylin. Lia and Becca doubled up, sharing a bedroom over the garage looking out on the river. Billy ended up on a couch on a side porch with Randy, who liked curling up in a sunny spot on a braided rug.
They’d salvaged what they could after the home invasion, and their house was now boarded up, waiting on the insurance company to compute damage estimates and process a check. With a new roof over their heads, Kaylin turned her thoughts to keeping the family safe. The threatening phone call weighed on her. Was she doing the right thing by remaining silent and not going to the sheriff’s office?
Kaylin placed toiletries on the dresser in her bedroom, which was directly across the hall from Sawyer’s, and thought again about her grandmother’s offer. If the intruders had found Lia at home, she could have been injured . . . or worse. As much as Kaylin wanted to keep her sisters with her here, they’d probably be safer elsewhere—if their grandmother would take them in.
But before she said anything to her sisters about moving them again, she needed to ascertain whether or not her grandmother would welcome them. Kaylin called Mr. Lansky and learned her grandmother lived in Orlando. That was perfect. About an hour and a half’s drive from Tampa, Orlando was far enough away for her sisters to hide, but close enough so they could visit. Hopefully they could all move back home soon, but Kaylin couldn’t count on the deputies finding the intruders quickly.
Perhaps if the business were sold to Dean Witman, moving her sisters would be unnecessary. She made a mental note to ask Sawyer if the e-mail offer had come in. Meanwhile, she hung jeans in her closet, placed dance clothes in her bureau, and considered her options.
A move to Orlando would mean Lia changing schools, but . . . she’d be safer if no one could find her. And that had to be Kaylin’s priority. Finished unpacking, she made Becca and Lia promise to stay together and explained that she needed to take care of the estate, implying that she was meeting with Mr. Lansky.
All set to head to Orlando, Kaylin snatched up her keys and headed through the garage to her car parked in Sawyer’s driveway. She could drive to Orlando and be back before—
“Going somewhere?” Sawyer exited his truck.
At his sudden appearance, she jumped. “You scared me.”
Wearing jeans and a blue shirt that brought out the color of his eyes, he held a newspaper folded under one arm and a bag of dog food in the other. Obviously, he’d just returned from the corner store with food for Randy. The guy was thoughtful, she had to give him that.
“What’s up?” His tone was casual, but his perceptive gaze took in her slacks and blouse, the extra care she’d taken with her hair and makeup, and his eyebrows rose.
“Just running some errands.”
“I’ll go with you.” He set the dog food and newspaper inside the garage, strode across the driveway to her car, opened the passenger door, and slipped inside.
“It’s not necessary for you to come with me.” Damn. She hadn’t issued an invitation. One kiss—okay, maybe two or three—didn’t mean he could assume she wanted his company. She opened her car door.
He didn’t budge but buckled his seat belt. “You shouldn’t be alone.”
Probably not. But just because he was right didn’t mean she didn’t resent it. And it wasn’t like her grandmother expected her. She’d decided not to call first. She didn’t want her to have time to prepare for a meeting—she wanted to gauge her true reactions. But it was one thing to arrive unannounced all by herself, another to show up with Sawyer in tow.
He wasn’t family. But they were living together. Sort of. She really didn’t want to go there—not with a woman who’d refused to see her own daughter on her deathbed because she hadn’t approved of her husband. Kaylin didn’t need extra complications, and Sawyer was definitely that. There could be no mistaking his latent sexuality, his masculinity, the way his eyes gleamed with protective interest when he looked at her.
She placed her hands on the steering wheel but didn’t start the car. “I’m going to Orlando.”
“Okay.”
Sawyer could be the most frustrating guy. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t try to talk her out of the trip. He didn’t tell her Interstate 4 would be a parking lot at this time of day. He didn’t give her one reason to ask him to get out of her car.
She twisted in her seat. “Look . . . I appreciate everything you’ve done for us—”
“But you don’t want me with you.” He said the words without resentment.
Her hopes rose that she wouldn’t have to lie . . . or explain. “Thanks for understanding.”
“Sorry, darling.”
“I’m not your darling.”
“Sorry, sweetheart.”
“I’m not—”
“You’re stuck with me.” He didn’t raise his voice. But he didn’t get out of her car, either. She could see determination in the stubborn tilt of his jaw, the oh-too-casual tone on his voice, the simple challenging gesture of slipping on a pair of sunglasses and easing back into the seat.
“Fine.” She didn’t have time to argue. Twisting the key in the ignition, she fired up the engine and backed out the driveway, trying hard to keep her temper under wraps. She understood his high-handed tactics were due to his concern about her safety, but she didn’t like it. “If you want to waste an entire afternoon with me—”
“Time with you is never wasted.”
She glared at him. “You don’t even know where I’m going.”
“I’m fine with Orlando.” He grinned. “The specifics don’t matter.”
“Maybe I’m going to . . . to see my lover.” She said the most outrageous thing she could think of.
He chuckled.
And that made her all the more furious. He didn’t believe her and wasn’t the slightest bit jealous. “Why is that funny? I could have a lover.”
“But you don’t.”
“Really?”
“If you had a lover, you wouldn’t have kissed me.” How did he know that? “You just want to make me angry so you can justify pushing me away. It won’t work.”
“So now you’re into psychobabble?”
“I’m into you. I like you, Kaylin.”
He’d seen right through her. She wanted to hit him, and not just for his perception but for telling her straight up that he liked her. He wasn’t giving her maneuvering room. He wasn’t allowing her to tell herself that their kiss had just been one of those momentary things. He wasn’t allowing her to tell herself that she didn’t mean anything to him. He
wasn’t letting her misinterpret his feelings.
He wasn’t playing games. And he wasn’t giving her any place to go.
So she did what any intelligent woman would do when cornered. She decided to think about it later.
18
LIA FINISHED putting away her clothes, left Becca and headed downstairs in search of Billy. Moving to Sawyer’s house was awesome. She liked getting away from her home and the constant reminder of the loss of her father. That someone had murdered him made her start at tiny sounds, fear all the shadows. But in Sawyer’s home she felt safe for the first time in a while. She still missed her father terribly, but the memories weren’t as sharp here.
She didn’t dread seeing her father’s toothbrush in the bathroom, or his magazines in the rack, or his coat hanging on the back of a door. She felt lighter, as if she had room to breathe.
As she walked onto the sun porch, Randy lifted his sleepy head and woofed a greeting, but Billy was nowhere around. He hadn’t bothered with his stuff, just dumped his skateboard and clothes on two rattan chairs and bailed.
You’d think he’d make an effort to be neat, but the guy had been acting weird lately. Even before Daddy’s death, he’d been secretive. She’d walk in and catch him on the phone, and he’d suddenly hang up. She supposed he could have a girlfriend, and she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that. Lia liked Billy as a friend. A friend was easy and comfortable. But another girl might get in the way.
She strolled down the hall lined with framed photographs of cats, and Randy followed at her heels. Poor little dog. He’d been uprooted and likely felt lost in the new house. She passed the bathroom, but the door was open, and no one was inside. Perhaps Billy was in the den.
“Billy?”
He didn’t answer, and she wandered through the kitchen, the coolest room in the house, snagged a few cookies and headed down to the dock. Lia was drawn to an umbrella with several lawn chairs beneath it that overlooked the river.
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