by Gina Wilkins
He kissed the tip of her nose. “You were very young when you had your children.”
Her children. She tried to remind herself that they were just inside the door. That she and Kit weren’t technically alone—no matter how badly she might wish they were.
“I was seventeen.”
“Still in high school?”
She nodded.
Kit’s wandering right hand had found the low scoop neck of her T-shirt. He traced the neckline with his fingertip, just brushing the upper swell of her breasts. She felt her nipples tighten in response.
She opened her eyes. He was studying her face, and she knew that his movements weren’t random. He knew exactly what he was doing to her.
As if he’d only been waiting for her to look at him, he lowered his head and smothered her mouth with his before she had a chance to prepare herself. Still aware that they were standing in the light of her front porch, Savannah stiffened a moment, then went limp as his grew more thorough, discretion lost in a flood of pleasure.
She could remain rational—at least partially—when they talked.
But when Kit kissed her…
When he kissed her, she couldn’t think of anyone or anything but him.
Her arms went around his neck. Her hands tunneled into his thick, dark hair. Her body pressed eagerly against his. She didn’t deliberately decide to respond so hungrily to his kiss; it was as if her body decided for her.
She heard a groan rumble in Kit’s chest, felt his arms tighten around her.
He tore his mouth from hers for a gasp of air. “I’ve been wanting to do this for hours,” he muttered, then crushed her lips beneath his again before she could confess that she’d been wanting him to.
Kit’s hand slid down her back, dipping in at her waist, stopping at her hip to pull her even more snugly against him. She was left in no doubt that he wanted her. Badly.
Whatever obstacles existed between Savannah and Kit—and a tiny, still grimly logical part of her knew there were probably too many to overcome—there was no doubt that the attraction between them was strong, and volatile. It took only a kiss to ignite an explosion of desire. She didn’t understand how or why, but the connection they’d made on that island was stronger than ever.
And she didn’t know what on earth she was going to do about it.
The embrace might have gone on forever had a pickup truck not sped past, a heavy thud of bass coming from the deafening radio inside it.
The sound broke through Savannah’s passioninduced delirium. She broke off the kiss with a gasp, suddenly aware again that they were standing outside on her front porch where anyone could see them. She could almost feel prying eyes trained upon them from behind the curtains of every house nearby, and even though she told herself she was being paranoid, she still found herself hastily putting an arm’s distance between herself and Kit.
“You’d better go,” she said, her voice almost unrecognizable.
He nodded. “We’ll continue this later,” he said. She wasn’t sure if the words were meant as a promise or a warning.
Uncharacteristically clumsy, she turned, fumbled for the handle and shoved open her door. With cowardly haste, she hurried inside and closed Kit outside. Even as she did. so, she knew that the escape was only temporary.
Kit—and her quandary about what to do with him—would return tomorrow.
WHATEVER KRR SAID during the two hours he spent with Michael the next afternoon, it did wonders for the boy’s self-esteem, at least when it came to baseball. Michael entered the house chattering about how Kit had taught him to compensate for his “distance deficiency”—Kit’s words, apparently.
Michael wanted to call all his friends and brag to them that Christopher Pace had been giving him baseball pointers. He wasn’t at all happy when Savannah reminded him that his grounding included telephone privileges. She worried that he hadn’t been taking his punishment very seriously over the weekend. Punishment wasn’t effective unless it was uncomfortable enough to make him not want to risk receiving it again.
Michael sulked a bit because of her refusal, but was still pleased enough by his afternoon with Kit to let it go without much argument.
Miranda, who’d spent the past half hour practicing a particularly difficult piano piece, was obviously envious that Michael had had Kit’s full attention for so long. She was appeased when Kit asked her to play for him, and then effusively complimented her playing. He even sat down on the piano bench beside her and helped her with the section of the piece that was giving her the most trouble.
It turned out that Kit played the piano beautifully, as he demonstrated for them at the twins’ urging. He explained that he’d come from a musical family that had instilled a love of classics and musical theater in him. He’d even considered becoming a songwriter instead of a novelist, he added. Michael and Miranda immediately assured him he’d made the right choice by producing his popular books and movies.
Savannah wasn’t surprised that Kit played the piano so well—she was beginning to think there was nothing he couldn’t do.
The twins were already convinced.
It concerned Savannah that her children were bonding so quickly with Kit. Her son, especially, was so hungry for male attention. Savannah suspected that one reason Michael was drawn to Nick Whitley was because Nick’s father was actively involved in Nick’s life.
Savannah didn’t approve of the way Ernie Whitley overindulged his son and made excuses for everything the boy did, right or wrong, but she couldn’t deny that he was very visible. She couldn’t blame Michael for being envious, since he’d never even seen his own father.
Miranda, on the other hand, had obviously concocted a romantic fantasy in her mind about Savannah and Kit, and the hints she dropped were anything but subtle. Savannah was sure that Miranda, too, missed having a father, and wouldn’t mind filling the position with someone famous, glamorous and wealthy.
Savannah wished she could think of an easy way to warn her children not to become too attached to Kit, or to weave too many daydreams about him. They were too young to understand that some dreams simply weren’t meant to come true.
As for Ernestine—well, she seemed to be going out of her way to avoid Kit. Even when she reluctantly invited him for dinner—her deeply-ingrained Southern manners too strong to overcome—she did so without much enthusiasm. Kit accepted, and tried during the meal to charm Ernestine the way he had the rest of the McBride family. He didn’t meet with much success. She was polite, but hardly encouraging.
As interested as Ernestine was in being a social success, Savannah would have thought she would welcome a celebrity into their home, and all the fawning attention that accompanied him. Savannah didn’t quite understand her mother’s wariness where Kit was concerned, unless Ernestinie was simply worried that Savannah would be hurt again by another smoothtalking male. And heaven only knew that Savannah had worried enough about that herself.
Maybe because of Ernestine’s coolness, Kit didn’t linger long after dinner. Once again, Savannah walked him to his car after he bade everyone good-night.
“Your kids seem to like me, but I think your mother wants me to disappear into thin air,” Kit observed dryly when they were alone outside.
Savannah shook her head. “My kids are crazy about you. My mother…well, she’s not always the easiest woman to understand,” she admitted.
“Mmm. I’ve always enjoyed a challenge.”
His determined tone worried her. Did he consider her just another challenge to overcome? Was he the kind who soon grew bored and moved on once he considered himself a victor? Just a grown-up and more experienced version of Vince?
“Savannah.” Kit rested his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her.
She tensed, remembering the way he’d kissed her the night before, the way she’d lost all reason. She couldn’t do that again tonight. She was too aware of those imaginary eyes watching them.
But all he said was, “I want to spend some time alone wi
th you. We need to talk.”
“About what?” she asked warily.
“Everything,” he answered simply. “I want to know everything about you. And maybe there are some things you’d like to know about me.”
There were definitely a few things Savannah wanted to know about Kit. She just wasn’t at all sure she would have the nerve to ask the questions that kept nagging at the back of her mind.
“Will you have dinner with me tomorrow evening? Just the two of us?”
She moistened her lips. “Yes.”
He nodded in satisfaction. He brushed his mouth across hers, then stepped back quickly, as though making an effort to avoid the temptation to linger. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.
Savannah’s heart was pounding when she let herself back into the house. Tomorrow it would be just the two of them. And she wasn’t at all sure she would be able to keep up the emotional barriers she’d been trying so hard to build between them.
BY THE TIME Kit picked Savannah up Sunday evening for their date, she was well ready to get away from her family. Much as she loved them, there were times when they got on her nerves. Today had been one of those times.
The twins had been hyper all afternoon. They’d both expressed disappointment and envy that Savannah intended to dine with Kit without their company.
Again, she worried that they were growing too accustomed to having Kit in their lives. She was terribly afraid that they would be hurt when he moved on—as, of course, he would. Like most mothers, Savannah hated it when her children were hurt.
In case Kit had not already figured it out, she would have to spend tonight convincing him that she was a mother first and a single woman second. She couldn’t chance indulging in behavior that could have repercussions for her children. It was past time she made that perfectly clear.
Savannah didn’t invite Kit in when he rang her doorbell. Instead, she slipped outside and closed the door behind her with a guilty sense of relief.
“You look beautiful,” Kit told her, admiring her sleeveless red dress. On impulse, she’d worn the tropical-flower pin he’d given her on her left shoulder.
“Thank you.” She didn’t bother telling him that he looked fabulous in his black slacks and gray patterned shirt. She figured that was a given. Kit couldn’t look bad no matter what he had on.
She didn’t even want to think about how good he would look without anything on at all. Not if she wanted to carry on a coherent conversation.
Kit waited until they were both belted into his rented car before asking, “What’s wrong, Savannah?”
She tried to keep her expression neutral. “Nothing. Why?”
“You look tense.”
“I’m fine.”
Though he didn’t look convinced by her breezy denial, he let it go.
“Michael and I had a good time yesterday,” he said instead, making casual conversation as he guided the car away from her neighborhood.
“Yes, he’s been talking about it ever since. Apparently, you made him feel much better about his ballplaying.”
“He’s not bad, really. He just hasn’t had any coaching.”
Savannah shrugged. “The coach tends to concentrate on the boys with more natural ability, I suppose. His own son seemed to have been born knowing how to pitch. It doesn’t come as easily for Michael.”
Vince Hankins hadn’t even given his son his athletic ability, Savannah thought with a trace of old bitterness.
But she didn’t want to think about the past now. And she didn’t want to talk about her family. She looked out the window beside her. “Where are we going?”
“I thought I would surprise you.”
Savannah wasn’t at all sure she liked the sound of that. She’d been dealing with one surprise after another since Kit had arrived in town. She wasn’t sure how many more jolts she could handle.
They drove for almost half an hour without saying much, both pretending to listen to the soft music from the radio while they pursued their own thoughts. When Kit turned onto a county road that led toward Lake Sidney Lanier, Savannah assumed he was taking her to a fishing resort restaurant. Instead, he drove toward a secluded cabin at the end of a winding gravel road. Lights burned in the windows, making the little A-frame look welcoming in the deepening dusk.
“This is where we’re having dinner?” she asked, her voice breaking a bit with nerves.
He parked the car and nodded. “If it’s all right with you,” he assured her. “I have a meal waiting inside for us. It will give us a chance to be alone, without interruptions.”
She bit her lower lip. While she liked the idea of not worrying about prying eyes, she wasn’t so sure she was ready to be this much alone with Kit.
“Savannah, relax,” he said, touching her hand. “I promise, I won’t ask for anything more than you want to give. Surely you know by now that you can trust me.”
She could have told him that she trusted him implicitly. He’d given her no reason not to.
It was herself she didn’t trust tonight.
But she couldn’t tell him that. Nodding, she reached for the handle of the car door. She would take the evening as it came, she decided. And she would try very hard to keep her feet on firm, level ground.
9
“IS THIS WHERE you’ve been staying?” Savannah asked, as Kit led her up the gravel pathway to the cabin’s doorstep.
“Since Friday. I stayed in a motel Thursday night, but I didn’t care for it So I called a Realtor Friday morning and she directed me to this place. It’s quite nice, really.”
Savannah suspected that it was also quite expensive. It looked like one of those places wealthy businessmen used to get away from their high-stress jobs on fishing weekends. Sometimes she forgot that Kit was one of the rich and famous. He acted like such an average guy, she thought wistfully.
She wished selfishly that he really was an insurance salesman. That it would make it so much easier to imagine a future with him.
The cabin was rustically decorated, as Savannah had imagined it would be, but the furnishings had obviously been selected by a professional. Comfortably overstuffed sofas and chairs, colorful throw rugs on the polished wood floor, appealing artwork on the panelled walls. A doorway at the back of the living room probably opened into a kitchen. A wooden staircase on the other side led upward to the single sleeping loft.
Savannah refused to look at those stairs.
A small round table flanked by four bow-back chairs sat at the back of the airy living area, but Savannah saw no evidence that Kit was prepared to serve dinner there. Instead, he led her to the glass doors behind the table.
Stepping outside, he flipped a switch.
And Savannah was instantly reminded that Kit was the most romantic man she’d ever known.
The glass doors had led to a large flagstone patio. Tiny white lights had been strung overhead to illuminate the blooming flower boxes and the wrought-iron patio furniture—a round table, four chairs, a clever little serving cart, a glider-for-two, and a couple of invitingly cushioned chaise longues. From where she stood, Savannah had a breathtaking view of the moonsilvered lake.
Kit quickly lit the candles that flanked the centerpiece of fresh flowers on the table. The flickering candlelight created an even more romantic ambience.
“Oh, Kit,” Savannah breathed, immeasurably touched by his gesture. Even if this was something he did all the time for the women he dated, no one had ever done anything this special for her. And she loved it.
He pressed another switch and soft, dreamy, instrumental music began to play from unseen speakers.
And then he turned to Savannah. “Well?”
“It’s beautiful. Perfect.” She looked at him with an unguarded expression. “Thank you.”
He caught her left hand and lifted it to his lips. “You’re welcome.”
For a long, shimmering moment they stood just that way, surrounded by music and candles and flowers, his lips warm against her skin. S
avannah held her breath until her head spun from lack of oxygen—or was it just Kit’s touch?
It was with a show of reluctance that he drew back. “I’ll go get our dinner. I’ll be right back.”
She nodded, not quite trusting her voice.
He urged her to take a seat at the table, and then disappeared into the cabin, leaving her to enjoy the beautiful, peaceful setting. He wasn’t gone long, returning with a large wicker hamper from which he began to unpack china plates, silverware and crystal, followed by covered silver serving dishes.
“I ordered this from a local restaurant this afternoon,” he explained. “It’s a cold meal that I was able to keep in the refrigerator. I didn’t want to waste any time in the kitchen this evening.”
“A cold meal sounds fine to me,” she assured him. She often ate a light supper on Sundays, when Ernestine usually prepared large, heavy lunches.
Kit served their meal with a skill that spoke of experience.
“I worked as a waiter once,” he explained when she complimented his expertise. ‘Back when I was a struggling young writer who still hadn’t published his first book. I was pretty good at it, too.”
Savannah lifted an eyebrow. “Is there anything you do badly?” she asked, her tone rather dry.
His grin turned cocky. “Not that I can think of at the moment.”
She shook her head in feigned exasperation. “Must be nice to be so confident.”
Kit only laughed and filled her wineglass.
The meal was delicious. They listened to music and talked while they ate.
Savannah insisted on hearing about Kit. He was finding out more about her all the time, she reminded him. But she still knew little about him, except his profession.
He shrugged with a self-deprecating air that didn’t really suit him. “I’m not so interesting,” he assured her.
“That’s not what the tabloids and talk shows seem to think,” she retorted, her tone wry. She didn’t follow them herself, but she’d heard plenty about Kit’s appearances in them now that people knew she knew him.