Riding High

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  But for some reason, she was trying to give him the brush-off. He could feel it coming. But he couldn’t let her think his interest was based on her being handy. “You’re beautiful, Lily. Any man would feel lucky to be with you.”

  Her expression grew tender. “Not true, Regan. I don’t have men beating a path to my door.”

  “You should.”

  “I understand why they don’t. I’m different from most women. As you’ve noticed, I paint things wild colors. I mean really wild. I don’t care about fancy clothes, or jewelry or makeup.”

  “You don’t need those things.”

  “That’s sweet of you to say, but I have a few other handicaps where men are concerned. I’m smart, although I’ve never understood why that makes men nervous. Nevertheless, it does. Earning piles of money doesn’t interest me. The computer game seems to be bringing in a fair bit, but that wasn’t my goal. I was just goofing around when I created it. Some guys, maybe most guys, would say I’m weird.”

  Her description of herself included many of the tendencies he’d worked hard to banish from his life—impulsive behavior, indifference to money, lack of defined career goals. The woman was on the flaky side, which should make him avoid her like the plague. Instead he wanted her so much he ached.

  He decided against saying that. She was convinced that he wanted her only because they’d met when he was ready to get back in the game. “You mentioned an ex-boyfriend. What happened there?” If she could discuss his situation, then he should be able to ask about hers.

  “Simple. He works for a computer-game company and he taught me how to create a game. So I did and sold it to his company. But then I lost interest.”

  Regan took note of that, but he wasn’t ready to build a whole case on it. Making up a computer game would have been a one-shot deal for him, too. It was about electronics, not living creatures. “So then what?”

  “He begged me to create more computer games and make a bunch of money. He started test-driving fancy cars and checking out coastline real estate. Then he offered to take over as my manager-slash-accountant because I obviously didn’t want to deal with the financial side of my business, according to him. I didn’t have a business, just one silly game.”

  “In other words, he wanted to use you to get rich.”

  “Pretty much. We had a big fight, and I threw him out of my funky little apartment in San Francisco.”

  “Which had no couch.”

  She pointed a finger at him. “Right. Anyway, we’d managed fine there for about a year until I sold the game and he started seeing dollar signs whenever he looked at me. Come to think of it, his affections increased in proportion to the size of my royalty checks.”

  “Bastard.”

  “He said I was wasting my talent. He even tried to make a case for a troubled world needing my happy games. That way he could pretend he was pressuring me for the good of humankind, when all he really cared about was the good of Alfred G. Dinwoody.”

  “That was his name? Alfred G. Dinwoody?”

  “Yep. After my game became a hit, he insisted I start calling him A.G. instead of Al. He said it sounded cooler.”

  “And I thought I had it rough being stuck with O’Connelli.”

  “Are you kidding? Your name is fantastic! I’ve been dying to ask you where it came from.”

  So he told her, and naturally she loved the concept. She’d get along with his parents like peanut butter and jelly. His explanation led to more questions, and eventually she wormed the whole story of his vagabond childhood out of him.

  Sometime during the telling, she suggested they eat their dinner before it got stone-cold. That made sense, so they picked up their plates and dug in while they continued to talk and drink more wine. He refreshed the fire, and she left with their empty plates while promising to bring back a package of sandwich cookies for dessert.

  She didn’t fancy them up by putting them on a plate, either. She arrived in the living room with the open package and handed it to him. “Be warned that I twist them apart and lick out the filling. If that grosses you out, too bad.”

  He reached inside for a cookie. “I’m used to it. Half my family eats them that way.” He gave her the bag.

  “The O’Connor half or the Spinelli half?” She pulled out a cookie and set the bag between them.

  “Some of each.” He bit into his cookie. The taste rocketed him right back to his childhood. Jeannette wouldn’t have dreamed of serving packaged sandwich cookies for dessert, let alone right out of the bag.

  “I figure you took after your mom’s side. Do any of your brothers and sisters look Irish?”

  “They do. In fact, two of my sisters have red hair like my dad’s, but it’s not the same shade as yours.”

  Lily groaned. “I’m not surprised. Nobody has hair the shade of mine. It’s the bane of my existence.” She twisted her cookie apart.

  “You’re kidding, right?” This time he took out two cookies.

  “Why would I be kidding? It’s a shocking color that goes with almost nothing, and it’s so curly it’s impossible to style. Most of the time my head looks like a giant orange chrysanthemum.” She proceeded to lick the frosting from her cookie.

  Watching her clean the last bit of vanilla from the chocolate didn’t gross him out, but it might turn him on if he paid too much attention. He’d recently been in intimate contact with that tongue of hers and wouldn’t mind repeating the experience. But she seemed to think he wanted to kiss her only because he was ready to start kissing girls again and she was available.

  His attraction to her didn’t feel like that, but he was unsure of his position and didn’t want to argue the point. That meant no kissing would happen anytime soon, no matter how her cookie-eating affected him. So he focused on the burning logs, instead, and continued the conversation. “I happen to like your hair.”

  “You’re just saying that to be nice, but thanks, anyway.”

  He finished chewing and swallowed. “No, I mean it.” He looked at her so she’d know he was serious. She’d already twisted another cookie apart but wasn’t into the licking routine yet. “You said that the wild colors on the house and barn make you happy. When I look at your hair, especially in the sunlight, it makes me happy.”

  “Really?” She smiled. “That might be the best compliment a guy has ever given me. Thank you.” She lifted the frosted half of the cookie to her mouth.

  That was his cue to turn away.

  “You are grossed out! I can tell!”

  “Nope.” He bit down hard on his latest cookie and stared into the flames while he chewed.

  “Yes, you are, or you wouldn’t have turned your head like that. You turned it really quick, too. I know avoidance when I see it.”

  He swallowed and reached into the bag without looking at her. “I’m just enjoying the fire.” That wasn’t working, either, because the flames were systematically licking the wood. He’d never considered fireplace logs to be phallic symbols, but they were tonight.

  “Sorry, I don’t believe you. If it bothers you that much, I’ll eat this one the normal way. I’m putting the top back on, so you can relax.”

  He glanced at her. “I really don’t care how you eat that cookie.”

  “Oh, you care, all right. It surprises me, because after the way you waded into the mud, I didn’t peg you as a finicky person.”

  “I’m not.” He hesitated, torn between admitting the real problem or letting her think he was squeamish. Finally his ego won out. “Watching you lick the frosting is...erotic.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

  “Happy, now?”

  “No, I’m not happy. I apologize. I had no idea.”

  “We might as well get this out in the open. I’m sexually attracted to you, Lily. You seem convinced it’s only a r
ebound situation, which means my reaction would be the same with any good-looking woman and isn’t specific to you. Do I have that right?”

  “Um, I guess so.” Color rose in her cheeks, making her freckles stand out. “When you explain it like that, it sounds kind of insulting.”

  “It insults both of us.”

  “I suppose it does. Sorry about that.”

  “Apology accepted. But I assume that the possibility of me being on the rebound is why you think kissing me was a mistake.”

  She nodded.

  “But when you kissed me, I hadn’t told you about breaking up with Jeannette. Yet you said then it was a mistake and you’d explain later.”

  Her color heightened further and she glanced away. “I...sensed that you had some...secret anguish.”

  “Oh?” That sounded like bull to him. “Are you psychic?”

  “A little, maybe. I pick up on things. Besides that, you kept your sunglasses on the whole time we talked this morning.”

  “The sun was very bright.” But he had to admit he’d taken to wearing those shades more often following that last miserable Christmas, so she could have a point. He’d think about that one. “Okay, let’s say that was a clue that I had a...how did you put it? Secret anguish?”

  “I said that, yes.” She looked uncomfortable as hell.

  “What made you jump to the conclusion that it was connected to my love life?”

  “Well, it was!”

  “Yes, but you didn’t know that until after we kissed. A secret anguish could apply to all kinds of things. It didn’t have to be about romance gone wrong. Something’s not adding up.”

  She swallowed. “You’re right. And I can’t tell you what it is.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just can’t.” She grabbed the bag of cookies and pushed herself to her feet. “I need to put our clothes in the dryer.”

  He got up. “I’ll help.”

  “No, don’t. I’ll handle it.” She glanced at the fireplace. “The fire’s going out.”

  “Want me to build it back up again?” He doubted it.

  “No.” She avoided looking at him. “I think it’s time to call it a night, don’t you?”

  “Apparently so. But I can load the dishwasher while you’re dealing with the clothes.”

  She finally met his gaze. “The dishes are taken care of. I put everything in before I brought out the cookies. If you’ll bank the fire and put the pillows back, I’d appreciate it. Good night, Regan. Sleep well.”

  “I doubt I will.” He looked into her blue eyes. She might say she didn’t want to get involved with him, but her eyes told a different story. Desire flickered there, waiting for him to fan the flames.

  “Why?”

  “Damn it, you know why.” His control threatened to snap.

  “I don’t. I—”

  “Because I’ll be thinking about doing this.” With a growl of frustration, he reached for her, cookie bag and all. He had one brief glimpse of her startled expression before he kissed her for all he was worth.

  And she kissed him back. God, did she ever. Open-mouthed and frantic, she burst into flames as he’d known she would. Wiggling closer, she pressed her sweet body against his in a move guaranteed to send him into orbit.

  He moaned and shoved both hands under her sweatshirt, desperate to touch her silky skin. She answered by dropping the cookies and sliding her palms under the bathrobe’s lapels. Eager hands. She touched him as if she couldn’t get enough. The rapid stroke of her palms against his skin drove him wild. This. Yes, this! His cock thrust against the terry cloth, and he wanted her with an intensity that made him dizzy.

  Abruptly she twisted out of his arms. Breathing hard, she spun away from him.

  “Lily...” He heard the plea in his voice. Couldn’t help it.

  “I don’t want this.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Okay, I do.” She gulped for air. “But it’s a bad idea.”

  “I don’t get it. That kiss was hot. And I’ve seen the way you look at me. Before dinner, while we were standing in the kitchen, I half expected you to jump my bones.”

  When she faced him again, her cheeks were bright pink. “I’m...I’m sorry about that. The robe is revealing.”

  “Something I couldn’t do much about.”

  “I know. I apologize for ogling.”

  “Don’t apologize! I was flattered, but I’m confused as hell. What’s going on?”

  She straightened her shoulders. “Let me explain. I was involved with a guy on the rebound a couple of years ago. My friends warned me not to get too attached, but I did.” She took another unsteady breath. “I won’t pretend that we were soul mates or anything, but I didn’t expect him to take off the minute he was over his breakup.”

  “But...he did.” He could see where this was going. He would pay for another guy’s callous behavior.

  “Yes, he was gone like a shot and immediately hooked up with another woman. None of that was pleasant. My friends were right. He used me to feel better about himself, and once his ego was repaired, he dropped me for someone else. Maybe I was a reminder of that bad period. Whatever. The girl who comes after a breakup usually doesn’t make the cut.”

  “I don’t know the statistics on that, but the guy was a jerk.” That made two users she’d been involved with recently.

  “He was, but from what I hear, the pattern is fairly predictable, so that’s why I have a rule. No rebound relationships.”

  “I understand why you would make that rule.” He ran his fingers through his hair and dragged in some air while he tried to think this through. Something didn’t add up. He gazed at her in confusion. “How do you know my ego needs repairing? All I said was that I broke up with my fiancée. As it happens, it was my decision to leave. For all you know, my ego’s in fine shape.”

  “Then why haven’t you dated before now?”

  He didn’t have a good answer for that, so he countered with a question of his own. “Have you dated since you broke up with your boyfriend?”

  “No, but that’s different.”

  “How?”

  Her blush deepened. “Good night, Regan. I’ll put your dry clothes in your bathroom. See you in the morning.”

  He thought about pushing the issue. She’d already proved she was a softie, as the guy had said this morning. When someone needed her, she couldn’t say no. But taking advantage of her generous heart would be a lousy thing to do. It wasn’t how he rolled.

  They still hadn’t finished their discussion, though. Why had she assumed that his ego had been bruised by his fiancée? He was missing some key fact.

  Well, he had time to sort it out and examine his own motivation for wanting her. She deserved more than a rebound guy, and if that was truly his deal, then he should admit it and move on. If not, then he would convince her that this attraction was real and exceedingly specific to her, Lily King of the wild red hair and blue, blue eyes.

  She’d asked him to stay through the weekend. In the next couple of days, he’d figure everything out. He wasn’t about to give up on her yet.

  7

  IRONICALLY, LILY HAD asked Regan to stay for the weekend so she wouldn’t be awake all night worrying about the animals. Instead worry about Regan and the potential of causing a problem between him and Nick kept her awake. Well, that and sexual frustration. Her resolve to stay out of the rebound trap was being seriously tested, and she was kept awake for longer than she’d like to admit.

  She woke up earlier than usual, too, but that was fine because she wanted a head start on Regan. Putting on a clean pair of jeans and another of her favorite tie-dyed shirts, she pushed her feet into the boots she’d wiped off before going to bed. Then she brushed her teeth and wrestled with her hair until s
he had it secured with a clip at the back of her neck. The soft glow of dawn had just begun as she headed for the kitchen.

  It was empty, as she’d expected it would be, which gave her time to brew the coffee, feed the horses and chickens, and maybe even chop veggies for the pigs before he woke up. The more she could accomplish, the less they’d end up doing together.

  If it weren’t so early, she’d call Nick Chance and confess that she’d made a mess of things. But he wouldn’t appreciate being roused from sleep on a Saturday morning so that she could unburden herself. Basically she wanted his permission to tell Regan what she knew about the breakup.

  As she plugged in the coffeepot, she wondered if she could find a way to take all the blame for Nick spilling the beans. She could say she pestered him until he accidentally said something that had allowed her to guess what had happened. Under the circumstances, Regan might not care if she knew, anyway. They’d moved past the acquaintance stage, so it might be fine with him that she knew.

  On the other hand, Lily wasn’t keen on telling Nick about the mud incident, which had led to the kiss encounter and prompted yet another kiss later on. Nick didn’t need to know any of that, or that Regan had ended up wearing her bathrobe for the evening meal. She tried not to think about that too much, either. The mental image of Regan in the bathrobe still got her hot.

  She probably should move past her fears about the animals rebelling and find a gracious way to let him leave today. She had no idea how to bring that up after begging him to stay, though. Besides, asking him to go implied that she was more afraid of an ill-advised relationship with him than she was worried about the animals running amok.

  That didn’t say much for her self-control or her priorities, now, did it? She’d have to think this over while she fed the horses. Tucking her phone in her hip pocket, she started to unlock the back door and realized it wasn’t locked in the first place. Either she’d forgotten last night or Regan had beaten her to the punch, after all.