A Younger Man

by Linda Turner

  “Good. Now, just climb on back and put your feet on the footrests.”

  Thankful that he let her get on the bike first, she did as he said, then found herself holding her breath as he climbed on in front of her. Almost immediately, the spicy scent of his cologne floated back to her, teasing her senses. Why did the man have to smell so good? she wondered, swallowing a groan. He was too close, too masculine, too tempting. Did he have a clue what he was doing to her?

  He started the motor, and her heart jumped into her throat. “Wait!” she cried before he could pull away from the curb. “Where do I put my hands?”

  “Anywhere you like!” He laughed, and gunned the throttle.

  He didn’t, however, take off like a bullet before she was ready. He waited until she’d carefully settled her hands at his waist. His gaze trained straight ahead, Max’s smile faded. How long had he been waiting to feel her hands on him? Did she know? Did she feel the heat that sparked between them? Would she think he had completely lost his mind if he turned around and kissed her senseless?

  “Professor? Is something wrong?”

  Dragging his attention back from the incredibly enticing fantasy that teased his senses, he thanked God she couldn’t read his mind. “I just remembered I forgot to ask where you live.”

  “At 253 Canyon Loop,” she said in his ear. “It’s off of North Central.”

  “Out by Eagle Park, right? I know exactly where it is. Hang on.”

  That was all the warning she got. He took off with a roar, and, giving a startled shriek, she wrapped her arms tighter around his waist and pressed close against his back. She felt him laugh and found herself grinning as a laugh bubbled up like champagne inside her. The wind whipped at them, pulling at her clothes, and as Max took a corner that sent them leaning into the curve, she should have been terrified. Instead she’d never felt so alive in her life. Clinging to him as they raced down the street, she didn’t want the ride to ever end.

  All too soon, however, he pulled up with a flourish in front of her house and cut the motor. Her arms still around his waist, Natalie knew she was in serious trouble when she didn’t want to let him go. What had he done to her? she wondered wildly as she reluctantly let go. He was too young, too wild, too carefree. That should have been enough to send her running for the hills. Instead she was horrified to admit that it was those very things about him that appealed to her the most.

  What was so wrong with being attracted to a younger man who wasn’t weighted down with responsibility? a voice in her head demanded. You haven’t had any fun in a long time. Enjoy yourself!

  She wanted to—she hadn’t realized how much until just that moment. But as tempted as she was to throw caution to the wind and explore the attraction that sparked between them, she couldn’t forget her responsibilities. Her boys depended on her completely—they had no one else but her to see to their needs. How could a man like Max, who could do anything he wanted, go anywhere he wanted, without answering to anyone, understand that?

  Regret pulled at her, but she had too much pride to let him see. So she hopped off his motorcycle and faced him with an easy smile. “Well, that was fun! You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”

  He laughed. “It was your first bike ride. I wanted to make it memorable.”

  “Trust me—it’s not something I’ll forget anytime soon.” Her smile fading, she pulled off her helmet and held it out to him. “I don’t know how to thank you for everything. It’s hard to find a mechanic who’s trustworthy.”

  “Smitty’s a good man,” he said as he placed the helmet on the back of his bike. “He’ll do right by you.”

  The niceties taken care of, Natalie knew there was no reason to linger. “I guess I’d better go inside and call Susan to let her know what happened. She’ll have to bring the boys home for me.”

  “Will she mind? I’d offer to get them one at a time on the bike, but I know you wouldn’t go for that, and frankly neither would I. I don’t have a helmet that small, and I’d just be afraid something would happen.”

  “Thank you for that,” she replied. “I don’t take chances with my kids. And Susan’s as protective of the boys as I am. She won’t mind bringing them home.”

  With that settled, there was nothing more to say. She started to turn to go into the house, only to stop. “Professor…about the test yesterday—”

  “We’ll talk about it in class tomorrow,” he said huskily. “You’ve got enough on your plate tonight without worrying about that.” Impulsively kissing her on the cheek, he turned her around and gave her a gentle push toward her front door. “Go inside, Natalie. While you still can.”

  Her heart pounding crazily, she didn’t need to be told twice. Without a backward glance she hurried inside.

  Chapter 5

  Max considered himself an intelligent man. He was well-read, a seasoned traveler and, when the situation called for it, he could pull off sophistication. He could talk to just about anyone from hard-core bikers who lived to ride the open road on their Harleys to Arab guides in the desert to college presidents and politicians. He had his head on straight, his heart under lock and key, and the last time he’d made a fool of himself over a woman, he’d been sixteen. He’d fallen like a ton of bricks for Mary Jo Simmons, who hadn’t, unfortunately, been impressed in the least with him. He’d written her poetry and sent her flowers every week for an entire summer, and all for naught. She’d still refused to go out with him and never even thanked him for the flowers. He hadn’t lost sleep over a woman since.

  Until now.

  Long after he dropped Natalie off at her house, she haunted him. He could feel her arms around his waist, her breasts pressed against his back as they’d raced down the street, and he knew he’d never be able to ride his bike again without thinking of her. Deliberately pushing her from his thoughts, he grabbed his laptop and tried to lose himself in his writing. But he couldn’t concentrate and spent the next hour writing and deleting scattered thoughts that made no sense. He finally gave up and went to bed, but the situation only went from bad to worse. The second he stretched out and closed his eyes, she was right there in his dreams, pressing close as she had on the back of his motorcycle, driving him crazy.

  He didn’t sleep worth a damn.

  Needless to say, he was in a bear of a mood the next morning when he went to work, and he still couldn’t get her out of his head. Had Smitty gotten the loaner to her on time this morning? She couldn’t afford a cab to get the boys to school. Money was obviously tight—she had to be worried sick about her car. How was she going to pay for the repairs if she’d thrown a rod? She was a waitress, for heaven’s sake!

  She’s not your problem, the voice of reason whispered in his ear. She got by just fine before you came along. She’ll get by now. The woman’s a survivor.

  He knew that, but as he retrieved his mail and messages from his box and headed for his office, he couldn’t stop worrying. Irritated with himself, he unlocked the door to his office and dropped his briefcase on his desk. Scowling, he quickly flipped through his mail. There was a note from the dean reminding him of a get-together at the end of the week with “friends” of the university; an archeological newsletter he subscribed to; and some DVDs he’d ordered of a dig in the mountains of Turkey. But the first thing he reached for was a letter from Mountain Adventure Tours, the tour group that was handling the arrangements for the dig he and his students were taking over the Thanksgiving holidays.

  When he’d gotten the okay from the university, finally authorizing his first school-sponsored dig, he’d immediately contacted the tour company and hired them to handle the arrangements. He’d heard nothing but good things about the company, which was were located right in Eagle Creek. So far, the staff at Mountain Adventure had been very efficient. They’d promised to have the travel schedule to him by this week and they’d obviously delivered. Pleased, he couldn’t wait to see what they’d come up with.

  He tore open the envelope, but the lett
er he pulled out was not the travel schedule. Instead, it read:

  Dear Professor Sullivan,

  We regret to inform you that due to circumstances beyond the control of Mountain Adventure Tours, we have been advised by our accountants to file for bankruptcy. The company closed its doors for the last time on Wednesday, September 30th, and is no longer open for business. We regret any inconvenience this may have caused you and wish you luck booking your tour with another tour group.

  Sincerely,

  Mountain Adventure Tours

  “What the hell!” Stunned, Max swore roundly. This had to be a mistake! They couldn’t shut down! He’d already paid for the trip with his own money so he could get the best price for his students. They would reimburse him by next week, but that was beside the point. He wasn’t going to let them take the hit for this. They couldn’t afford this kind of loss. And he was the one who’d stupidly signed up with Mountain Adventure, not his students. He was the one who would have to pay the price.

  Grimly reading the letter again, he swore out loud. A company didn’t just find itself in bankruptcy without any prior warning. The owners must have suspected months ago that they were in trouble. They certainly must have known last month when they took his money that there was a very good possibility that they would be shutting their doors soon. And they hadn’t said a word.

  Furious, he reached for the phone and quickly punched in the number Mountain Adventure had so thoughtfully included on their letterhead. They weren’t going to get away with this, he promised himself. But the call had barely gone through when a recorded voice announced, “We’re sorry. The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

  “Damn!” Slamming the phone down, he reached for the phone book and quickly looked up the numbers of Ted Reynolds and Debbie Johnson, the owners of Mountain Adventure. Over the course of the last month, he’d dealt with each of them on a number of occasions, and they’d seemed to be reputable businesspeople. There had to be a way to work this out.

  But when he placed a call to each of their homes, the same recording played in his ear. “The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

  Left with no choice, he called Joshua Walker, his lawyer.

  Taking the boys to school in the VW Bug Smitty had lent her, Natalie was halfway to school when she realized that she’d forgotten her English lit homework, which had to be turned in later that afternoon. Swearing softly to herself—and thanking God the boys weren’t there to call her on it—she whipped the car around the next corner and raced back to the house.

  “It should be right here,” she mumbled as she quickly riffled through the papers on her desk. “Where the heck…ha! Thank God!”

  Whirling, she headed for the door and was about to walk out when the phone rang. She almost let the machine get it. She was running late, and she didn’t have time to talk to anybody. But even as she pulled open the door, she hesitated. What if one of the boys had gotten hurt at school or something? She’d just dropped them off, but she knew from experience just how quickly they could get into trouble.

  Concerned, she strode back into the kitchen and snatched up the phone. “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Bailey? This is Smitty. I checked out your car the second I came in this morning….”

  Natalie’s stomach dropped like a rock. “Yes, of course. I was going to call you later today. I guess there’s no point in putting it off. How bad is it?”

  When he hesitated, she knew the news wasn’t good. “That bad, huh? Don’t try to sugarcoat it, Smitty. Just spit it out.”

  “You’re looking at somewhere in the vicinity of a thousand dollars,” he said grimly. “And that’s after cutting costs to the bone. I tried every way I could think of to keep the tab down, but that is down. I wish I had better news, but…”

  Sick to her stomach, she said huskily, “Please, don’t apologize. When the car first started leaking oil, I shopped around to see how much the repairs were going to cost. No one gave me a price anywhere near as low as a thousand dollars, and the car was running then! So don’t worry. I’m not offended. I know what a deal you’re offering me. I just don’t know what I’m going to do. The car’s not worth that much.”

  “No, it’s not,” he said honestly. “But at least you know what you have. Can you buy another car for a thousand dollars that you won’t have to put any money into? If you find something, I’ll be happy to check it out for you at no charge.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t have to do that.”

  “I know,” he chuckled. “But you’re a nice lady and you’re a friend of Max’s. And you’ve hit a rough patch. If I can help, I will.”

  Touched, she smiled. “Thank you. Max was right when he said you were a good man. Unfortunately, I don’t know what I’m going to do yet—I need a couple of days. Would you mind if I kept the Bug for the rest of the day? I’ll bring it in this afternoon.”

  “Keep it for a couple of days,” he assured her. “I’m not using it right now. In the meantime, I’ll keep my eyes open for something else. If I come across anything that I think might work for you, I’ll give you a call.”

  “I’ll be in touch,” she promised, and hung up. Only then did tears sting her eyes. Dear God, what was she going to do?

  Worry eating at her, she drove to school in a daze. Where was she going to get a thousand dollars? She had some savings, but it was her emergency slush fund, and with the boys getting into one scrap after another, she had to dip into it far more often than she wanted to. Even if she’d been willing to use it for a car, which she wasn’t, it wasn’t nearly enough. Which meant she had to get a loan.

  Cringing at the thought of adding another monthly bill to the ones she was already just managing to pay, she walked into Max’s classroom just as the bell rang. He was talking to a student at the front of the classroom, but when his eyes immediately met hers, she knew he’d been waiting for her. Forcing a weak smile, she slipped into the same desk she always sat in at the back of the classroom.

  She’d been crying. Concerned, Max took a step toward her before he could stop himself, only to swear softly. She’d obviously been worrying about her car all night. He should have called her last night after he got home, should have reassured her that she didn’t have to go through this alone. She had friends. She had him….

  “Professor Sullivan?”

  Jerking his attention back to the student who’d been asking him about the dig, he raised his voice so that the rest of the class could hear him. “Russ has a question about what you’re going to need for the dig. We’ll discuss it after I hand the tests back.”

  Those students who had been standing around talking, waiting for class to start, quickly took their seats, and he began handing the tests back. From the corner of his eye, he saw Natalie stiffen, but she didn’t so much as flinch when he laid her paper on her desk. He watched her read the note recommending that she meet with him for a conference to discuss her failing grade. Then she folded the paper in two with fingers that weren’t quite steady. He knew she had to feel like the weight of the world was coming down on her, first with her car, now with an F on her test, but he could hardly console her in front of the entire class. His expression grim, he handed out the rest of the papers to the other students.

  Returning to the front of the class, he arched a dark brow. “Okay, so what’s the consensus? Was it harder or easier than you expected?”

  “Harder!”

  Not the least apologetic, he grinned. “I warned you the first day of class that my tests weren’t a cakewalk. I wouldn’t be doing you any favors if I made it easy for you.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t say it was going to be all fill-in-the-blank and essay,” a member of the football team complained from the back of the room. “If I flunk out, Coach is going to have my hide!”

  “Actually,” he corrected him, “I believe I did tell you about my tests the first day of school. I think you were napping at the time.” When the rest of the class laughed, he gave the f
ootball player a pointed look. “You can do this. Your fate is in your hands. All you have to do is study instead of partying, and you won’t flunk.”

  “But I’m a football player. Partying’s what I’m best at!”

  Max laughed. “No, flunking’ll be what you’re best at if you keep that attitude. Then where will you be when the pro scouts come to check out your teammates? Sitting in the stands with everybody else.”

  “That’s what all my teachers say,” he grumbled. “You guys just take all the fun out of college.”

  “Quit your crying,” Max retorted. “You’ll have plenty of fun on the dig. Speaking of which,” he told the rest of the class, “there’s been a problem with the tour group booking it. The long and short of it is, I’m taking care of the trip myself, so the dig will continue as planned. Which means you have until a week from Friday to turn in your money for the dig. If that’s a problem, you need to let me know because the dig is a required part of the curriculum.”

  “What about the itinerary?” one of the students in the front row asked. “You said we’d get it today.”

  His expression grim, he admitted, “Since I’m not using the tour group, that’s going to take longer than expected. I’ll try to get it to you by the end of the week.”

  He’d have to work his tail off to do it that quickly, but he’d find a way. The dig would continue as planned—he’d already decided that. He was going to lose a ton of money, but there wasn’t a lot he could do about it now. He’d put in a call to his attorney about Mountain Adventure Tours and the news hadn’t been good. The company was in debt up to its ears and had, indeed, filed for bankruptcy protection. All assets were frozen, and once the courts got through with the company, the most Max could hope to recoup was pennies on the dollar.

  Just thinking about it infuriated him, but he refused to cancel the dig. He’d had to fight to convince the university that taking the students on a dig was one of the most important parts of the archeology curriculum, and he wasn’t giving it up just because he’d run into a little bit of bad luck. He could make the arrangements as easily as a tour group—he’d already checked out some rates. Time, however, was of the essence. The dig began the day after Thanksgiving, and it was already the first week in October.