Bad Traveler

by Lola Karns

  Frowning, he glanced at the clock in the kitchen. “That gives us less than two hours. Are you sure?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” Her body and mind said yes, but above all, her heart shouted, “Hell, yes.”

  He glanced sideways, smirked, and, in one swift movement, lifted her into his arms. She squeaked, laughing as he carried her into his bedroom.

  ***

  He placed her on the unmade bed, blankets in disarray around them. His body nestled beside her. For a long moment, they gazed into each other eyes. It seemed like a dream, yet dreams didn’t radiate such warmth. A silent understanding passed between them. Looking into her eyes and seeing into her soul, he understood she wasn’t turned off by him as a man. In a moment, he’d know her reaction to his injury. She could set whatever pace she wanted or needed.

  His hand rested on the narrow gap of creamy skin peeking out between the top of her jeans and the bottom of her slim-cut, pink T-shirt. A tiny lump of scar tissue on her round belly button suggested she once had it pierced. She probably wore a gem that sparkled in the sun. Not that she needed help to sparkle. Enough with the self-discipline.

  With an arm underneath to turn her to the side, he pressed their bodies together until their lips skimmed each other. Years of simmering passion erupted in a kiss so powerful that when they came up for air, she stared at him in disbelief. She blinked, raised the left corner of her mouth, and, with a hungry twinkle in her eye, she crashed her lips against his once more. Her demanding tongue devoured him. His fingers ran through cascades of molten chocolate hair. This is bliss. The world outside of them ceased to exist. But he wanted more. So much more.

  He deftly removed her shirt, revealing softer skin underneath. Lush curves lay before him. Ten minutes earlier, he would have said her tight T-shirts left little to the imagination. Fool. Those shirts hid her skin. His fingertips traced the outline of each cup of her pink bra, flirting with fabric and her soft warmth. “You are so beautiful.”

  His mouth found the valley between her breasts. She responded by throwing her head backward in pleasure as a moan escaped her lips.

  “It’s not enough.”

  She was wrong. He could have teased her all along the edge of the cups, bringing her nipples to hard peaks before seeing her in the flesh. His erection jumped at the thought, but he didn’t have a chance to complete his wish. Not this time. She released her grip on his shoulders and unlatched her bra. Oh yeah, way better than my fantasies.

  He cupped her breasts, covering them with kisses ranging from feather-light touches to firm caresses. His tongue flicked across each delicious nipple, which pebbled tight with yearning. Every sound escaping her mouth encouraged him to touch and tease her more. She leaned against him, kissing him wherever she could find skin, tightening her hold on him. Lips pressed against his neck, shoulders, and arms. His need for Gwen increased to levels he hadn’t known possible. He wanted to plunge inside her and be wrapped in warmth. But not yet.

  He unfastened low-slung jeans with one hand and pushed them aside as he continued to taste salty-sweet skin, working his way toward the soft contours of her abdomen. His chin brushed a slight indent, and he knew what he had to do. She squealed when he nipped the belly button. The way she responded to every little touch and tease with a sigh, moan, or squeak, meant pleasing her would be a pleasure.

  She shifted, making it easier for him to get those clothes out of the way. A real team player. Her body wriggled and writhed as he worked his hands downward. Jeans and underwear fell from hand to floor as he beheld the sight before him.

  Dark hair fanned in a semicircle around her head, bold against the plain ivory sheets when she collapsed on the bed. Full breasts, perky pink nipples, curvy hips, and legs daintily pressed together from crotch to knees so that she looked like a pinup model from a past war. If he couldn’t see the rise and fall of her abdomen, he would have sworn he was looking at a magazine instead of a live woman. Her body was more wonderful than he imagined, and he’d spent plenty of time picturing it in his mind’s eye.

  She studied him, pupils dilated. Then she licked her lips.

  The growl escaping from deep inside Kyle’s throat turned her on even more. Sprawled on the bed, she waited, but he remained standing too long. She wanted to feel the heat of his body and not because the room was chilly. The physical shiver brought a splash of reality. Her purse was in the other room, and so were the condoms she’d brought, just in case. She sat up, head at navel level. She fought the distraction his hard length offered, but couldn’t resist tracing one finger down the silky shaft. “I brought protection. It’s in my purse.”

  He took her chin in his hand and laid a kiss on her forehead. With his other hand, he draped the quilt. “How did I get to be so lucky?”

  With a chuckle, she smacked his behind. “You aren’t getting lucky yet, but since you’re a little more dressed than I am….” She indicated the living room with a head nod and tugged the quilt over her other shoulder.

  In a flash, he returned, purse in one hand as he rummaged with the other. As soon as he found the foil-wrapped treasure, he lifted the left side of his mouth, dropped the purse, and pounced on the bed.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “Do I seem hesitant?” Under the pure, sincere desire in Kyle’s gaze, her body confidence soared. Other anxieties remained.

  To convince herself of the truth, she pressed against him, giving him a quick kiss on the lips, before demanding more.

  He kicked off his pants, pulling a blanket over them as he straddled her. The lust in his eyes wasn’t enough. His arms supported his weight, preventing full contact. Heat rolled off his body except by one leg.

  “I want to see you. All of you.”

  Uncertainty appeared in his eyes. Uncertain fingers slid down, not knowing where flesh would end. In order to become one with him, she needed to quash her squeamish side. His honesty deserved nothing less than hers.

  He rolled to the side, discomfort visible in his expression, but she needed the openness before making love. And they would, of that she was certain. The blanket fell to the side. She watched his face and traced her fingers down his hard chest to the top of his hip bones. In his look, fear battled pleasure, but he offered no silent plea to stop. She resisted touching the magnificent erection. With her gaze locked on his, she offered an approving smile before trailing her fingers through the intermittent curls on his thigh. She raked her fingernails across both thighs, sensing the transition between flesh and scar tissue. He’d taken a lot of damage. But he lived. His muscles tensed beneath her touch. His eyes squeezed shut.

  “That tickles.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Her fingertips took the lead once again.

  His flesh stopped at the left knee, and she encountered a smooth, slightly rubbery surface. She straightened and assessed the unfamiliar object. His noisy inhalations and exhalations reminded her of one of the breathing exercises in her prenatal class, one of the techniques for reducing anxiety and pain.

  The prosthesis was attached to him, but it wasn’t him. He was a man with the brave heart and brave mind. Her hands rested on the transition, she smiled at him and worked her way up. This time, her mouth traced the path in kisses, leaving a damp trail along his thigh, over his hip bone, across his hard abs, up his sternum and ending with his lips.

  “Thank you.” Her forehead rested against his, noses nuzzled. She read the flash of confusion in his expression.

  “For?”

  “For trusting me. For letting me in this morning, and for everything you are about to do to me and let me do to you.”

  Before she could say what she intended to do, he rolled her onto her back and helped her get lost in a world of pleasure.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The memory of their lovemaking sustained him through the road trip, but it wasn’t enough. Thanks to a snowy puddle and the team bus’s tire, his cell phone met an untimely end. He decided to stop by the Sweet Spot first and t
hen go to his apartment. Even more than a shower or a chance to do laundry, he wanted to see her, kiss those soft lips, and inhale the scent of her strawberry shampoo as he held her close. Ten days without touching her had been too long.

  Bells tinkled as he opened the door, entering the cozy shop with its sedentary afternoon crowd and comforting aromas of coffee and cookies. Students occupied several tables, books open and heads bent in intense conversation. Gwen wasn’t behind the counter, but dishes clattered in the background. He glanced toward the play area. Empty. Strange, she usually doesn’t take Chloe with her if she has an armful of dishes. He reminded himself that family often watched her, although, he thought she’d mentioned Keira had substitute-teaching work this week. Chloe should be with Gwen all week.

  The sound of the coffeemaker shifted his attention back to the counter. She stood there, resplendent in a dark red, scooped-neck T-shirt and cherry-patterned apron. The skin of her collarbone reminded him of how she looked naked in his bed. With or without a time restriction, he couldn’t wait until next time. Smiling, he strode toward the counter as she slid the coffee toward him.

  “Howdy, stranger. I thought you forgot about me.” Her chocolate eyes bored into his and, combined with her husky tone, it sounded like an invitation. He longed to dive over the counter and have her on the floor. The health inspector wouldn’t approve, though.

  “What else can I get you?”

  Before he could answer, a piercing cry filled the air. On instinct, he turned toward the cry. A fuming, burly man held Chloe in his arms.

  “Son of a bitch! She bit me!”

  Gwen bolted across the room, leaving a vacuum in her wake. She took Chloe in her arms and rubbed her daughter’s downy hair. Being either the nuzzler or the nuzzlee would have been pleasant. But the setup was all wrong. Chloe cried, and that man did not belong in the Sweet Spot.

  “There, there, sweetie pie. Mommy’s here.”

  The sobs grew less frantic. He wanted to grab the tissue box she kept behind the counter, but he didn’t want to let that guy out of his sight.

  “Sorry about that.” She spoke to no one in particular, but loud enough so most customers could hear her. “Everyone is okay.”

  He pulled a few napkins from the dispenser, remembering how much Chloe drooled when she fussed. Gwen accepted his offering and moved closer to the counter and him.

  “Thanks.”

  As she wiped Chloe’s nose, the guy with ham hocks for arms stepped closer, putting his arm around Gwen. His eyes narrowed as his face transformed into a scowl.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “Watch your language around Chloe, and me for that matter.” With a shoulder wriggle, she pulled herself free. The tension in her voice belied her cordial tone as she stood between the two men, cradling Chloe close against her body.

  “Cody, this is my friend, basketball coach and former special ops, Kyle Collins. Kyle, this is Chloe’s father, Cody Nolan. He came up from Phoenix for a visit.”

  Friend? That’s all? And why hadn’t she warned him sooner that the son of a bitch was here? Had she lied when she said her ex was out of the picture? Something needed to be destroyed, or at least punched. Preferably, the jerk in front of him. His gaze met Gwen’s, a mix of pleading and nerves. He would play nice.

  As he extended a hand, he forced the tension away from his eyes and put on the game face. “Nice to meet you. How long are you visiting your daughter?” The word caught on his tongue. The man was no father.

  Cody ignored his hand and stared hard, but his neutral expression offered nothing to the man desperate to measure him. He appeared calm and unflustered, focusing the urge to twitch, scowl, and glower into a tightening of his abs, imperceptible to his opponent.

  “The coach in the flesh. Or part. I haven’t decided when I’m going back yet. I have some time. I got a little cut working a four-alarm fire, so the bastards made me take some medical leave. Figured it’s a perfect time to come see my girls.”

  Cody reached to put an arm around Gwen, but she flinched and covered the move with a bouncy rhyme spoken to Chloe. He saw through her act, even if Cody didn’t.

  Kyle withdrew his hand. The desire to replace it with a fist to the jaw increased, especially after that little dig. Chloe cooed, as if reminding him of the need to stay even-tempered. “Workplace injuries are a bear. Does your hotel have a weight room? It’s tough to rehab without one.”

  Cody clicked his tongue and responded. He’d touched a nerve. Good. “They claim they have one, but it’s just a treadmill, a stationary bike, and a resistance machine. I’ve got to get a temporary pass to a better place.”

  “Good luck with that. There’s not too many options in town.”

  He kept his voice unemotional but cheered inside. Cody had a hotel room, so he shared neither a roof or nor a bed with Gwen. She didn’t seem to reciprocate his possessiveness. During the exchange, she kept her hands on Chloe. Whatever their past relationship was like, he didn’t want to know. But Gwen wasn’t herself, and that was a problem.

  The doorbell jingled. Someone left. Gwen brushed past him, en route to the empty table, Chloe on her hip.

  “Let me get those.” He gathered the plates and empty coffee cups as best he could. Leaning underneath her, they shared a glance. As she looked at him, he saw relief in her eyes, as if she’d found shelter on a miserable, rainy day.

  “Thank you.” Gwen’s words came out as a whisper. “This is a mess, and I don’t mean the table.”

  He sensed Cody staring at them. His voice loud enough so Cody would be sure to hear him, he spoke. “Happy to help. Does Chloe go to bed early?” He bumped Gwen with his elbow “accidently”, hoping she caught onto his ruse.

  She walked toward the counter. He followed with the dishes.

  “Yes. It works for me though. Being stuck at home with her means I can still get a full night of sleep even though I get up for the day around four thirty.” She emphasized the word stuck, glancing at Cody. “I get to bed an hour after she does. Cody’s been here three days, and we haven’t had a chance to go out or anything.”

  Her response took the conversation a different direction than expected, but she revealed something useful. He set the dishes on the counter. “Say, can I get a couple of oatmeal-raisin cookies to go? I’ve got a long night of laundry and catching up ahead of me.”

  “Sure.” Rather than handing Chloe to Cody, she put her in the playpen while she packaged cookies and rang up the sale. Instead of going to his daughter, Cody hovered near the cash register, and Gwen. Testosterone-rich waves of hatred rolled off him. Good. He recognizes me as the competition. There would be a battle. He’d keep an eye on Cody, learn what he could, breakdown his weaknesses, which he could already tell were numerous, and destroy him. No different than watching tape and developing a plan.

  Her soft voice interrupted his thoughts. “By the way, congratulations on your two road wins. My dad said they were good games overall, but he thought you made a few mistakes. He hopes you’ll call him to discuss it.” As she slid his change across the counter, she winked.

  With a chuckle, he walked out of the shop, optimistic Gwen still cared, but fearful she would reconcile with Cody. Not on my watch.

  ***

  The ticking clock tormented her. Although the store closed at three, a few stragglers and Cody delayed her final closing procedures. Chloe would have more fun at home. Rather than fuming, she used the time to draft job requirements and calculate a pay rate for the part-time job she intended to advertise. The sooner she brought on help the better. Childcare expenses loomed in her future. As Chloe grew more active, the playpen at work seemed so limiting. How could her daughter explore, learn, and grow when cooped up most of the day? Part-time care might be better, but the thought of spending her days apart from Chloe broke her heart.

  Tonight, all that beckoned was a glass of wine, a good romance novel, and a bathtub full of bubbles that would never become tepid or turn her skin pruney. She could
think of one thing better: wine, a bathtub, no interruptions, and Kyle. That fantasy seemed as likely to come true as a pig flying all the way to the moon and back.

  She took Chloe home after turning down yet another invitation to see Cody’s hotel room. Yesterday, her parents invited him dinner on Friday, a more than generous intrusion in her life. There was no need to encourage more privacy than that.

  Still, he was Chloe’s father and trying to make amends for being such a poor one for her first seven-and-a-half months. After being welcomed home with open arms, she appreciated more than ever the special type of unconditional love a parent provided. Even though her father teased it was “a little too late for the sex talk now” after she confessed her pregnancy, he never once criticized her poor life choices. At least, not within her earshot.

  Cody might not be much of a father, but, for her daughter’s sake, she wanted to bury the hatchet and build the foundations for a relationship that might one day be of value to Chloe.

  While Cody lurked in her shop the last few days, her stomach knotted, aching in a way antacids couldn’t control. Yesterday, two customers had left when he glared at them. He took their table and parked himself there the rest of the day. His presence made her jumpy. She broke three coffee mugs, all dropped when he’d materialized from behind, on her side of the counter, and goosed her. He didn’t offer to help with Chloe unless she specified what to do. Being a parent was new to him. The learning curve was steep. Understanding Chloe’s moods and wants was a skill she’d developed over months of observation and practice.

  Mostly Cody ate scones, cookies, and whatever else he could grab. He drank coffee by the gallon. His wallet remained secure in his back pants pocket. Cody was not good for business in more ways than one.