Bad Traveler

by Lola Karns

  His ex-wife had feigned innocence and support before revealing her manipulative self. “That’s one way to put it. I don’t like games.”

  Her gaze cut to the board in front of them and then back to him. They burst out laughing. In response to her unspoken question, he added, “Manipulation games anyway.”

  “Good. It’s your roll.”

  As they neared the finish line, he asked a question. “What is the airport code for Ngurah Rai International Airport in Bali?”

  “I have no idea. I’ve never been to any of the Pacific islands.”

  “Really?”

  “I hate flying, remember? And they don’t seem like somewhere to go alone. Have you ever been?”

  “Yes, on assignment, so it doesn’t count. Is Bali somewhere you would like to go?”

  “I would love to go somewhere tropical sometime. When I lived abroad, I was in cool climates. Phoenix was hot, but I wouldn’t describe it as a lush tropical paradise. I see the photos of the little island huts surrounded by giant palm trees and women with beautiful flowers tucked behind their ears, and I sometimes wish I could just get away like that.”

  “Sounds nice.” He could picture her there, wearing a large red flower in her hair and a matching red bikini, waving to him from their own private beach.

  “Yes, but not at all practical. Between Chloe and my bakery, a relaxing vacation is not an option for me right now. At least I can dream. Where would you want to go?”

  “Your beach sounds good.”

  She laughed. Would she if she knew what he was thinking?

  “Have you been to South America at all? I’d also love to go to South America someday. Logan and I talked about going to Machu Picchu, but we haven’t figured out when.”

  Gwen sat up so quickly, her breasts jiggled and tempted his hands with their fullness. “No kidding! I just read a book about the Incas that I swiped from a free book box outside the history department. Their culture sounded so amazing that I put Peru on my life list. I’ll have to find that book for you.”

  She stood, as if ready to run off, but he grabbed her hand. He didn’t want her to leave again. Not until he sated his desire to kiss her, to touch her.

  “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but you don’t have to get it now, do you?”

  “No. I couldn’t find it without disturbing Chloe. I’ll try to bring it to the shop this week.” She glanced around, her voice nervous. “Are you thirsty? Would you like a drink? We have wine, beer, water.”

  “And champagne for later, but a beer would be nice.” He followed her to the kitchen where she retrieved a beer from the refrigerator and poured a glass of water for herself. This was her inner sanctum. “Is this where you did all your baking back in college?”

  “Yes, on these very same appliances, in fact. They haven’t changed it in years.”

  “It’s not quite the light-filled, sparkling, holy-cathedral-like palace Matt and I imagined it was.”

  When they’d reminisced about Gwen’s cooking, he envisioned her in a red-gingham-dress-apron thing, spinning around the elaborate kitchen while holding a tray of fresh-baked cookies. That he dreamed of Gwen and not his wife added to his marital misgivings. His fantasies were one of many misinterpreted signs that his marriage was over before the “I dos.”

  “You really spent a lot of time obsessing about my food, didn’t you? Were the rations that bad?”

  He laughed rather than responding. The truth was he’d spent a lot of time in the field thinking about Gwen, with her sweet smile and long eyelashes. She never left his thoughts, even after her surprise early graduation and quick departure. Would telling her he fought to make the world safe for her be weird? Besides, the other confession loomed. He’d scare her off before she knew his innermost heart.

  She produced a tray of brownies from one of the cabinets. “Aha! Sustenance. Shall we go back to the other room?”

  They switched to a less mentally-taxing game. Using a deck of cards, they played war while nibbling away. In spite of the hormonal rush of being near him, her arms grew heavy and her head seemed stuffed with cotton. With the early hours at her bakery and Chloe’s wake-ups, she went to bed at nine thirty, and she was almost always asleep by ten. Considering the hour, not even coffee and lust were enough to overcome the powerful fatigue. She apologized profusely after her third yawn.

  “Maybe we should put on the TV—that’s even less challenging than playing cards.” He offered a sly grin. Back in college, she would have smacked him for teasing, but hitting didn’t sit right with her.

  “Here.” With the remote in his hands, she sat on the middle of the dusty-sage-colored couch. He settled in near her, propping his feet on the coffee table. He wasn’t touching her. Not yet, but she’d change that and see if his interest from last night remained.

  Tucking her feet underneath her on the opposite side from where he sat pushed her weight toward him. His arm came down across her shoulder, pulling her closer. Perfect. As he flipped through channel after channel, she rested her head against his broad shoulder. Warmth radiated off him. The whooshing heartbeat reminded her of the sound of the ocean in a conch shell. If this was as close as she got to paradise, so be it.

  She lifted her head to face him. “Although this is too quiet for you, this is a much better New Year’s Eve than I expected to have.”

  “I’ve never been one for big, noisy celebrations.”

  They resumed an easy silence. She wanted him to kiss her, to make her toes curl like he did last night and every time she thought about him.

  “We’re like some old married couple, too exhausted and easily annoyed to go out.” Amused at her own assessment, she chuckled, but stopped herself before continuing the idea aloud. Time would be kind to him. He’d still be sexy. “Of course, my parents have their annual progressive dinner party, and they’ve been married thirty-seven years. Do your parents do anything like that?”

  “They go to my uncle’s house in the country. The family gets together, plays games, and then lights off some fireworks. It’s okay, but this is better.”

  He touched her cheek with his fingers. Her lips parted in a silent invitation. Were the flames dancing in his green eyes mere reflections of the firelight or desire? Her hand traced the strong contours of his chin. Once, she thought she preferred a clean shave, but the way she craved feeling that stubble on her skin was a sign of how much she wanted him.

  His mouth pressed against hers, and the weight of the world slipped away. For once, she stopped thinking about Chloe or her future or her everyday responsibilities. She lost herself in the warm yumminess of his kiss. His tongue explored her contours and eagerly returned the favor. As his fingers roamed across her arms and entwined themselves in her hair, her body became an electric circuit board going haywire.

  Still holding her close, he broke their kiss. His forehead and nose touched hers. His warm breath inflamed her as he murmured, “My gorgeous Gwendolyn.” When his lips found hers again, she wanted Kyle more than ever.

  His hand slid down to her sweater. Maybe the hideous nursing bra would pop open…. He touched a ridge of fabric near the clasp. She willed it to unlatch, so he could caress her breasts that ached in a way she never thought would be possible after becoming a mother. His fingers teased, pressing the sweater firmly against her skin, then falling away. If he kept up this pleasant torture, she’d rip off her own clothes.

  She tugged at his instead, trying to liberate the undershirt he’d tucked into his jeans, preventing her access his bare flesh. His kisses stopped, but when his mouth found her earlobe, she bit her lip as a squeak escaped.

  “You deserve better—”

  A piercing cry broke through their gasps and moans.

  She bolted upright, pushing an arm’s length away from him at the same time.

  “Chloe!”

  The cold sound of reality extinguished her body’s flames.

  “Excuse me.”

  A jumble of thoughts tumbled in her mind as she
walked upstairs. As enjoyable as making out with Kyle was, a relationship was a bad idea. She was a mother, not some freewheeling girl. Although in truth, she’d never been that freewheeling. With a glance from him, her common sense absconded with her wits. When he put his mouth on hers, she might as well stick her head in the industrial mixer as scrambled as her thoughts became. Still, Chloe and her needs came first.

  In the soft glow of the nightlight, Chloe moved in the crib, but she was prone rather than in the needy upright position. With a quiet coo, Chloe tucked her legs underneath her hips and moved into a favorite butt-in-the-air sleeping position. In the doorway, she waited, ears attuned to the slightest sound until the faint rustling ceased. She crept downstairs.

  “She went back to sleep.” She kept her attention on the stairwell. Too bad the baby monitor picked up so much static as to be unusable. “She does that sometimes.”

  The couch beckoned her with soft pillows. She accepted its comfort with an audible exhale.

  “How about I get the champagne? No need to wait until midnight.”

  “Good idea.” One glass wouldn’t hurt. Chloe wouldn’t nurse again for hours. Besides, the bubbles would revive her. The tiny bursts tickled her nose and exploded like itty-bitty fireworks in her mouth. Sort of the way her skin burst into flames at Kyle’s touch. Heat flowed through her body, a welcome recovery after Chloe’s splash of cold water earlier.

  Chapter Eight

  The phone rang at eight in the morning. Startled at the sound, Gwen dropped a spoonful of applesauce all over her last pair of clean pants. This year is off to a great start. She grabbed the phone as Chloe grunted. “Hello.”

  “Hi, sis, is this a bad time?”

  “Chloe is having breakfast, and it’s all over me. Mom and Dad aren’t up yet.” She could be honest with Keira.

  “That’s okay. I wanted to talk to you, find out how things went last night.”

  “Terrible. I fell asleep.” She settled back in front of Chloe, who calmed down and opened her eyes wide as soon as the spoon headed toward her little open mouth.

  She whistled into the phone. “I can’t believe you did that. Couldn’t you have had a Red Bull or something? No man wants to be boring enough to put a woman to sleep. Please tell me you two weren’t naked when you fell asleep. I don’t think any man could recover from that level of embarrassment.”

  “I’m the embarrassed one, and, yes, we were dressed, although that is really none of your business.”

  “Well, it is a little. I did offer use of my apartment if you needed a place out of Mom and Dad’s hair for a bit. But, I guess I won’t have to change the sheets after all.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Gwen shook her head. “I have to call him and apologize. I half hoped it was him calling when the phone rang. I have no idea what he considers a decent hour.”

  “Don’t call him!” Urgency raised her voice. “It’s far too early in the relationship for you to call and apologize.”

  “But I was rude—”

  “But if you apologize now, he’ll walk all over you just like Cody did—”

  “He didn’t—”

  “Don’t interrupt! You apologize too often, and you know it. Cody took advantage of you. When I went to visit you out there, it was sickening how often you caved in, batting your eyelashes ‘Yes, Cody, I’m sorry, Cody. I’ll make fresh eggs with more pepper this time.’ That relationship wasn’t healthy. Seriously, did he beat you?”

  “No! Why would you think that?”

  “He’s a scary dude. I never liked him.”

  “I know. You tried to warn me.”

  “Anyway, the important thing is that you smartened up and got the hell out of Dodge. Don’t get dumb again.”

  “Why, it’s dumb to apologize?”

  “Calling him to apologize over falling asleep sounds desperate, especially if you call today. You’ll just set yourself up to be a doormat again. Trust me. You have Chloe to think about. You need to grow a spine.”

  “Ouch.” Her sister did have more experience with men than she did, sad to say.

  “Listen, Kyle comes to the Sweet Spot for breakfast, right?”

  “Yes, unless he’s traveling.”

  “So, wait until he comes in to offer your apology. It will mean more when it’s face-to-face and he can see your sincerity, even if he has to wait a day or two. Besides, I’ve seen him when women come up and fawn on him. He always looks uncomfortable. I don’t think he likes aggressive women much.”

  “You just told me not to be passive.”

  “No, I said not to be a doormat.”

  She chewed her lip, trying to make sense of Keira’s observations. “I suppose you are right about waiting. I don’t want to scare him away.” She paused. “That’s funny about aggressive women. He dated my roommate, Brooke, in college, and she was a barracuda. I hated seeing them together.”

  “I thought there had to be a man involved with your early graduation! But I assumed that you finished early to run away with some man, not because you were running away from one. Not like you told me anything back then.”

  “You’ve worn out a lot more running shoes in the dating world than I have, sis.”

  “Touché.”

  “Oops. Chloe’s done. I better clean both of us up. I’m glad we can talk now.”

  “Me, too. See you at dinner, and remember, do not call him!” Keira hung up. Her company consisted of guilt, Chloe, and one heck of an applesaucy mess.

  ***

  Two days later, Kyle paced the floor of his apartment, berating his stupidity. How could he have forgotten to take his cell phone to his parents’ house? The dead battery would take forever to charge. If only he could convert his nervous energy into a rapid charger.

  The interstate slowdown cut into the turnaround time, especially since they’d moved the departure for the team flight up an hour. Over the course of the next twenty-four hours, he needed one pair of khakis, one shirt, workout clothes, a suit, and, of course, underwear and socks. Packing his suitcase took a few minutes and left plenty of time to agonize over Gwen.

  There were no messages on his home phone, so he expected Gwen had called his cell. As soon as the phone worked again, he called his voice mail. No messages. He called Gwen.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi.” Hearing her voice filled him with relief, loosening knotted muscles in his shoulders.

  “I’m glad you called. After the other night, I thought….”

  “Did you get my note? I was wondering if you’d had a chance to think about Sunday night.”

  “What note?”

  Kyle released his breath. Maybe she hadn’t ignored him on purpose. “You were so tired, I left a note detailing my visit to my parents and upcoming work trip. I leave for the airport in twenty minutes, but I wanted to hear your voice and know if we could have dinner together Sunday at six perhaps?”

  “Even after I fell asleep on you?”

  “Especially after that. I have to prove I’m not completely boring.” Gwen’s laugh brought a smile to his face.

  “I’ll see you Sunday. And Kyle, I’m sorry about the other night.”

  Kyle wanted to wrap Gwen in his arms and stroke her hair, offering whatever comfort or reassurance she needed. “It’s okay. I’ll see you Sunday, but if you fall asleep, then my ego may never recover.”

  ***

  The historic inn where Presidents had slept and dined was off the beaten path, accessible by a half-hour drive on country roads, yet always crowded. He’d tried three other restaurants, all over an hour away, but only the inn could accommodate his reservation on short notice. Probably because no one wants to venture on these winding roads when it gets icy.

  “These trees used to scare me.” Her admission surprised him.

  “Really?”

  “We came out here a few times for special occasions like my parents’ twenty-fifth anniversary and my grandfather’s seventy-fifth birthday. It was dark when we drove home.
The bare trees looked like witch fingers trying to get me after I’d stuffed myself full of sweets.”

  “Like Hansel and Gretel?”

  “We didn’t return to a gingerbread house, but it’s so dark out here. I always wanted a trail to follow.”

  “We have moonlight tonight.”

  “Better yet, I have you to keep me safe.”

  I will. With the seat belt and bucket seats, he couldn’t pull her closer. He patted her leg instead.

  “I’ve never eaten in the main dining room, from the full menu. We only did the catering in the party room. I’ve always wanted to sit in the main room. It’s not something I ever thought I’d do.”

  He kept quiet about his one previous visit here. The area around Corwin lacked formal dining. This was the closest romantic venue, and people drove hours to get there. The inn revealed the problems of small-town life. Gwen deserved to go somewhere fresh, but at least her memories of the place weren’t tainted in ill will like his. He’d proposed to Brooke here, although since she’d picked out the ring and informed him where she wanted to get engaged, the evening had been anticlimactic.

  Stars twinkled through bare tree limbs, bringing with them a cool clarity. He wouldn’t ruin tonight talking of the past. The present was so much better. Most of the time. Or at least when he was with Gwen or on the court.

  The hostess took their coats, leading them to an intimate table with sheer red curtains and a flickering candle. After agreeing to swap bites and share a bottle of Merlot, she ordered the buffalo medallions, and he chose rosemary pork in wine sauce.

  “So, is it everything you thought it would be?”

  Peering over the edge of the wineglass, her brown eyes reflected the Merlot like a raspberry on a brownie. Delicious.

  “If this is how you indulge me after I fall asleep on you, I wonder what will happen if I stay awake?”

  His groin tightened at the thought. She was his indulgence, but self-doubt nibbled at the corners of his mind when it came to women. “Gwendolyn Jones, are you flirting with me?”