by Gina Wilkins
Turning to Kit, Savannah said, “I’m sorry. I thought she would be joining us.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Kit answered with a shrug. “I’ll just have to keep working on her.”
“Kit brought Grandma a really pretty pin,” Miranda piped up. “It even had a diamond in the middle of it.”
“I, er, hope she thanked you as nicely as the twins did,” Savannah said.
“She was very gracious,” Kit said, then added optimistically, “I think I’m getting to her.”
Ernestine had always had a weakness for baubles, Savannah thought in resignation. A pretty pin, combined with Kit’s winning charm—she imagined that Kit was, indeed, getting to Ernestine, despite Ernestine’s concern that Savannah would be hurt and humiliated again.
She managed to smile. “It’ll just be the four of us, then. Let me take a few minutes to freshen up and I’ll be ready to go. Kit, would you like something to drink while I change?”
“I’ll get you something, Kit,” Miranda offered eagerly. “We have soda or Kool-Aid. Or orange juice.”
Savannah was just about to offer a glass of rarelyserved wine as an alternative when Kit asked, “What flavor of Kool-Aid?”
“Raspberry,” Miranda replied.
“My favorite,” Kit assured her. “I’d love a glass.”
Miranda dashed off to get it
Savannah pointed a finger at Kit. “I’d better not see a red Kool-Aid mustache on you when I get back,” she warned teasingly. “I’ll send you straight to the bathroom to scrub it off before we go out.”
Michael laughed. “I’ve heard that order enough times.”
Kit scuffed a toe on the carpet “I’ll drink it carefully,” he promised, his dark eyes glinting with amusement.
“Good.”
“Better not spill it on the carpet, either,” Michael suggested, joining in the fun. “Mom goes totally ballistic over red Kool-Aid stains on her carpet.”
“Maybe I should have asked for orange juice,” Kit said, feigning an expression of concern.
Miranda overheard him just as she walked in carrying a tall glass of iced, bright red beverage. “I’ll get orange juice for you, if you’d rather have it,” she said. “I can always drink this.”
Kit promptly reached out to relieve her of the glass. “No, I’d better take this. It sounds too dangerous for a teenager.”
Michael laughed smugly at Miranda’s puzzled expression.
The teasing and camaraderie continued during dinner at the twins’ favorite Italian restaurant. Savannah would have had a lovely time had she not been so aware of all the attention they were getting from the other diners. The stares and whispers, the belated double takes of recognition, the speculation at seeing Kit looking so cozy with Savannah and her children.
Savannah was particularly uncomfortable when she realized that Marie Butler and Lucy Bettencourt were dining together just a few tables away. The town’s most avid gossip, and a woman with a grudge. No good could come of the barely veiled attention they were paying to Savannah’s table.
Several times during the meal they were interrupted by people wanting. Kit’s autograph—usually teenagers, but occasionally adults. Savannah couldn’t imagine deliberately barging in on a private meal just to ask someone to scribble his name on a dinner napkin. How could Kit be so gracious and polite?
The only time Kit balked was when a woman pulled a disposable camera out of her purse and brashly asked if she could have her photograph taken with him.
“Sorry, but I’m having dinner now,” he answered with genial firmness. “I’d rather not.”
The woman pouted and tried again to convince him.
“Geesh, lady,” Michael said, clearly losing patience. “Can’t you see the guy’s trying to eat?”
The woman stalked away indignantly.
Savannah didn’t bother to correct Michael for his rudeness. There were times, she decided reluctantly, when nothing else would get through.
“Is it always like this for you, Kit?” Miranda asked, looking as though she didn’t know whether to envy or pity him.
He shrugged. “Some times are worse than others. When I’m at home in L.A., it’s no big deal to see me out at a restaurant. There are a lot of bigger stars there for fans to pester. When I’m on a book tour with a lot of advance publicity, or making an appearance in a small town like Campbellville, where the residents don’t see many so-called celebrities, then I get a bit more attention.”
Savannah approved of his self-deprecating tone, and the way he downplayed his fame to the twins. But that didn’t change the fact that he was, in fact, famous. And she still hadn’t reached a point where she could think of him comfortably in that light.
She still had a tendency to separate him into two distinct individuals in her mind. Kit, the man she knew and loved. And Christopher Pace, the near stranger.
But she was painfully aware that their relationship could go no farther until she learned to accept both sides of him.
After ordering dessert, Miranda whispered to her mother that she needed to go to the ladies’ room.
“Would you like me to go with you?” Savannah offered.
Miranda rolled her eyes. “Mother.”
“Oh, excuse me,” Savannah said dryly. Then she turned to Kit. “I thought she knew that women always went in pairs.”
Kit chuckled, then asked, “When’s your next ball game, Michael?”
“Tomorrow night. Are you coming?” Michael asked, trying to hide his eagerness.
“You bet I will,” Kit replied.
“Coach says I’ve been playing a lot better this week. He spent some one-on-one time with me a couple of afternoons.”
Savannah’s mouth twisted. Michael’s coach had heard about Kit’s work with her son. He’d immediately claimed that he had been just about to start working with Michael himself. Whether it had been spurred by piqued pride or celebrity imitation, Michael had loved the special attention.
“That’s great, Mike. I look forward to watching you play tomorrow.”
The sheer joy that Kit’s casual comment brought to Michael’s eyes caused Savannah’s stomach to clench with renewed concern. She was convinced that Kit would never deliberately wound her children, but she didn’t know if he realized how vulnerable they could be. It took so little to win their hearts. And so little to break them.
The thought of her own heart being shattered was. painful enough, but she simply couldn’t bear the thought of her children being hurt She had tried so hard to balance her own needs against theirs, worked so diligently to make sure that the children would always come first.
Their desserts arrived and Kit and Michael dug in. Savannah waited for Miranda. She looked toward the ladies’ room door and frowned when she saw Marie Butler and Lucy Bettencourt walk out, glance her way, then leave the restaurant.
Miranda was certainly taking a long time, Savannah thought in concern. She was just about to go and check on her when Miranda appeared.
It was immediately apparent that something was wrong. Miranda’s eager smile had vanished, replaced by a troubled frown and a distant expression.
“Miranda? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, sure, Mom.” Miranda didn’t quite meet her eyes as she picked up her dessert fork. “So, did I miss anything while I was gone?”
“Kit’s coming to my ball game tomorrow,” Michael announced.
“Great.” Miranda tackled her dessert without visible enthusiasm.
Savannah glanced at Kit across the table. He, too, seemed to sense that something was amiss with Miranda. He lifted an eyebrow, as if asking if they should pursue it. Savannah gave a tiny shake of her head. Obviously, Miranda didn’t want to talk about it now.
Savannah would wait until they got home. But if Marie and Lucy had said something to upset her child, they would be hearing from her very soon.
KIT TURNED DOWN a group invitation to come in after he drove the McBride family home.
�
�It’s getting late,” he said. “I’d better go on back to my cabin.”
Savannah thought longingly of the cabin where they’d spent the previous Sunday evening. He must be staying in the same one, she thought, wishing she could go there with him again, but knowing she needed to stay here to find out what was bothering Miranda.
“You kids go on in,” she said without reaching for her door handle. “I want to talk to Kit for a minute.”
She half expected a teasing comment from Miranda. The fact that Miranda only nodded, said, “Good night, Kit,” and climbed out of the car gave Savannah even further reason to be worried.
“What’s wrong with Miranda?” Kit asked as soon as the kids had gone into the house. “Have I said something wrong?”
Savannah shook her head, wryly amused that Kit immediately assumed it was something he’d done. “No. She was fine until she went into the rest room.”
Kit frowned in concern. “You think she isn’t feeling well?”
“I don’t know.” Savannah thought again of Marie and Lucy leaving the room just before Miranda emerged. She decided not to mention her suspicions to Kit until she’d had them confirmed.
“You’ll let me know if there’s anything I can do? Let me write down my cell-phone number so you can reach me at the cabin if you need me.”
He reached for a small notebook in the console of the rental car, scrawled some numbers on a page, ripped it out and handed it to Savannah. She put the paper in her purse.
“I’m sure everything will be fine. You know how it is with teenagers and mood swings. One minute they’re little angels, the next they’re showing fangs and claws.” She tried to speak lightly to reassure him, hiding her own concern.
“No, actually I don’t know much about teenagers,” Kit replied. “Other than being one myself a few years back, I haven’t had any experience with them.”
“You’re very good with them.”
“I like your kids,” he answered simply.
His words touched her, though she tried not to show him how much. “They like you, too.”
“I hope so.”
Kit shifted sideways in his seat and reached out to touch Savannah’s cheek. “I’ve missed you.”
She caught his hand and pressed it against her face. It was the first time he’d touched her since they’d left for dinner. “I’ve missed you, too,” she admitted.
“That’s nice to hear. I’m never sure with you,” he surprised her by saying, his expression rueful. “You make me feel like a nervous kid again sometimes. Asking myself questions… ‘Does she like me?’ ‘Does she think about me when I’m not around?’ ‘Does she think I’m cute?’”
His smile invited her to laugh with him.
She did. “Yes, I like you. And, yes, I think about you when you’re not around. And, yes, I think you’re very cute.”
Chuckling, he slid his hand behind her head and pulled her closer.
“You make me happy, Savannah McBride,” he murmured, and then covered her mouth with his before she could reply.
This man knew exactly which buttons to push to turn her into oatmeal, Savannah thought as she slid her arms around his neck and responded to the kiss. Every word, every touch, every smile could have been specifically designed to seduce her. And, oh, did he succeed.
He spent a long time exploring her mouth, tasting, testing, savoring. He ran the tip of his tongue along her lower lip, then slipped it between, teasing her into opening for him. Her tongue met his, and the kiss changed from playful to ravenous.
His hand slid very slowly down her side, then back up again to cup her breast. His thumb circled her nipple, slowly, sensually, reminding her of the way he’d kissed her there when they’d made love. He lowered his head to kiss her chin, and then her throat. And then he tugged down the opening of her scoop-necked top to rub his lips against the top of her breasts, which he cupped in both hands.
Savannah threw back her head and clenched her fingers in his luxurious dark hair, her body beginning to throb with the need for more of him.
“I want you.” Kit’s voice was gruff. “I want you so badly.”
She was only a breath away from ripping his shirt off and taking him right there in the car. It took the last ounce of her willpower to draw back, her breathing heavy, her body quivering with regret
“I’d better go in,” she said finally, her voice hardly recognizable. “I have to check on Miranda.”
“I know.” He made a visible effort to look understanding.
“Good night, Kit.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. The word had become somehow important to them. Maybe because each time they parted now, it was with the certainty that they would see each other the next day.
As Savannah walked through her front door, dragging a weary, still unsteady hand through her hair, she wondered how long she would have that reassurance.
ALWAYS THE FIRST in bed, Ernestine was already in her room with the door closed and no light shining beneath it when Savannah passed. She was tempted to tap on the door and have a long heart-to-heart with her -mother about Kit, but she decided to wait. She wasn’t quite ready for that talk herself.
She stopped by Michael’s room next He was just climbing into bed.
He yawned loudly. “I’d better get some sleep so I can play ball tomorrow. Kit said every athlete needs a good night’s sleep the night before a big game.”
The obvious adoration in his youthful voice was terrifying to Savannah. She wondered if she should try to warn him not to start expecting too much from Kit just yet. If she could only explain to him that everything between herself and Kit was still so tentative, so uncertain.
But she wasn’t quite ready for that talk, either, she found. Especially not while her son looked so happy. She merely nodded and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Good night, Michael. I love you.”
“Love you, too, Mom.”
Miranda, too, was already in bed, her head almost hidden by her covers.
“Are you sure nothing’s wrong, sweetheart?” Savannah probed gently. “You’ve been so quiet since dinner.”
“Just tired, Mom. Good night”
“I love you, Miranda.”
“I love you, too.”
Savannah closed herself into her own room and rubbed her temples. It almost felt as though a tornado was going on inside her skull. Her feelings for Kit warred with her concerns about the changes he was making in her family’s lives, and the conflict was tearing her apart.
She thought again of her mother’s fears. Savannah didn’t blame Ernestine for worrying. After all, Ernestine had had to pick up the pieces the last time Savannah had made a mistake. But she told herself again that it would be different this time. For one thing, she was an adult now, capable of taking care of herself when something went wrong.
And she knew all too well that something could go wrong between her and Kit. But, unlike her mother, she trusted Kit. She had to believe that he wouldn’t hurt her deliberately. That he wasn’t using her, as Vince had.
The obstacles between them could well be insurmountable, but she refused to believe that Kit was anything but a good man. An honest man. If he’d just wanted another notch on his bedpost, he would have gone after someone with a lot less baggage. Or he would have disappeared for good after he’d made love with her last weekend.
But, instead, he’d come back. And he’d brought gifts for her family. Taken her children to dinner. And left Savannah at her door rather than pressuring for time alone with her because they’d both been concerned about her daughter.
She hadn’t fallen in love with a pretty face, she realized with a faint sense of relief. She’d fallen for a man who happened to be rich and famous along with his other very admirable characteristics.
And maybe—just maybe—there was a chance they could make this thing work.
SAVANNAH KNEW the moment she opened the door to Kit the next afternoon that something was wrong. She could te
ll by the apologetic look on his face.
“What is it?” she asked apprehensively.
He gave her a fleeting smile, then brushed a kiss across her mouth as he stepped past her into the house. “See? You’re getting to know me pretty well.”
“Well enough to know when there’s something you don’t want to tell me.” She followed him into the living room, then turned to face him, searching his face for clues.
“I have to go back to L.A.”
Her stomach sank. “When?”
“Today. This afternoon. My flight leaves Atlanta in an hour and a half, which just barely gives me time to get there after I tell everyone goodbye.”
He wouldn’t be there for Michael’s game that evening, Savannah thought. Michael would be so disappointed.
She would deal with her own disappointment later.
“It’s business,” he explained. “A last-minute glitch in the new deal. I tried to talk my agent into handling it without me, but he thinks I need to be there.”
“I understand,” she assured him. “Go take care of your business, Kit”
“Are the kids here? I want to explain to Michael.”
“Michael’s already at the ballpark. The coach wanted the players there an hour early.”
Kit frowned and nodded. “Be sure and tell him I really wanted to stay. I’d be there if I could.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“Is Miranda here?”
“She’s in the kitchen with Mother.”
Kit glanced toward the hallway that led to the kitchen. “Is Miranda feeling better?”
“Yes. Whatever was bothering her, she seems to have put it behind her. She’s been chattering like a magpie this morning. Moody teenager, remember?”
Taking advantage of their momentary privacy, Kit turned to place a hand behind Savannah’s head and pull her to him for a quick, hard kiss. “I don’t want to leave you again so soon,” he groaned.
“I don’t want you to go,” she admitted. “But I understand.”