by Sandra Owens
“What did I do wrong, Charlene?” They reached her car and he blocked the driver’s door with his body. “I’m just asking. I don’t have experience at dating, you see.” He glanced away, hiding the pain he knew showed in his eyes. There had only ever been Kathleen for him, and he’d never learned how to play the game.
“Yeah, right.” She tried to push him away, sighing when he didn’t move.
“Yes, that is right.” He smiled at her expression of disbelief. Ryan knew he was considered good-looking, fit, and halfway intelligent. It did sound far-fetched, even to him, who knew it as the truth. “One thing you need to know about me, cherub. I’ll never lie to you, and that’s a promise.”
Her gaze roamed his body, from his face on down, then back up. “Look at you. How can you stand there and say you never dated? Were you a monk or something like that, then decided you didn’t like it?”
After the past year, he certainly felt like a monk. At what point when you met a woman you liked did you tell her you had been married? Just another thing he didn’t know. What he did know was that he didn’t want to have that kind of conversation standing in the middle of a parking lot.
“If you want to know why I haven’t dated, let’s go for a ride.” He stepped away from the door and eyed the car. “I’ve never ridden in a Vette. Come on, Charlie, take me for a spin up the beach road.”
“Are you a serial killer?”
Ryan sputtered a laugh. “I’m a lot of things, but that’s not one of them.” When she seemed undecided, he said, “I have no way to prove that, I guess, other than my word. But you don’t know me, so let’s do this. We’ll go inside and ask for the manager. I’ll give him my driver’s license to copy, and we’ll tell him that if you’re not back in an hour to call the cops.”
That seemed to satisfy her, and the tension lines around her eyes smoothed.
“Okay, you’re not a murderer. I didn’t think you were, anyway.” She smiled and dangled her keys. “Wanna drive?”
“Hell, yeah!”
She dropped the keys into his hand, a smirk on her face. “I’m not stupid, you know. If you’re driving, you can’t strangle me.” With that, she laughed and skirted around the back of the car.
Ryan grinned. His tiny cherub was going to be a handful. As she opened the passenger door, he leaned over the roof. “Can we put the top down?”
Her face lit up. “Hell, yeah.”
Once on the beach road, she turned on the radio, tuning it to an oldies station. When she turned up the volume to where it made talking impossible, Ryan relaxed. Maybe he wouldn’t have to talk about his marriage after all. Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On” came on, and as he drove one of the coolest cars on the road with a woman he really liked sitting next to him, and the night wind blew across his face, Ryan felt something he hadn’t experienced since losing Kathleen. He’d all but forgotten how light in spirit happiness made one feel.
Charlie sang along with Marvin, and although she didn’t have a great voice, it wasn’t terrible either. Unable to resist showing off, he joined in. The surprised look she gave him made him laugh. His family members were singing fools, and blessed with a beautiful voice, Kathleen had fit right in. At family gatherings—whether cookouts, at Christmas time, or for no reason at all—he and his wife had been the stars of the show with their duets.
No, not gonna think about Kathleen, not when he was with Charlie. Taking a chance, he reached over and wrapped his hand around hers. Either she was too caught up in the song to notice, or it was okay with her to hold hands. He hoped it was the latter. As the high-performance Vette cruised up US 98 under the moonlight, Ryan couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be right then. Not even with Kathleen, and that was epic.
“Turn in there,” Charlie said, pointing to the access road leading to a state-owned picnic area. The place was empty except for two cars parked right in front of the pavilion. Two couples with five kids between them sat together at one of the tables, enjoying a dinner at the beach. Ryan parked the Vette away from them, at the far corner. He turned off the ignition and waited to see what Charlie wanted to do.
“Let’s walk on the beach.” Without waiting for his agreement, she slipped off her sandals, then opened her door. Halfway out, she glanced over her shoulder. “Coming?”
“Give me a sec,” he said as he struggled to remove his shoes and socks in the cramped space.
“You can catch up with me,” she tossed back, and off she went.
He watched her dance-hop over the rocky pavement, smiling as she skipped over the first sand dune the same way a child of six would. “I like her, Kathleen. A lot.”
Not expecting an answer from his wife, he rolled up his pants, then did his own hopping over the stones. As he passed the families at the picnic table, the smell of hamburgers caught his attention, and his stomach growled. Did dating include giving up one’s dinner when the date decided the restaurant she had picked didn’t suit her?
Apparently, yes.
Since he wouldn’t die from missing one meal, he dismissed that particular rule as insignificant. There was a cherub somewhere out there in the dark, and he intended to find her. He reached the top of the sand dune and paused to get his bearings. The moon was still low on the horizon, but bright enough to see Charlie standing at the edge of the water, looking up at the stars. He jogged down to the beach and came up beside her.
“You’re wishing you were up there, flying among the stars, aren’t you?”
She lifted her face toward his. “How did you know?” Then she grinned. “Stop sneaking up on me like that.”
It was too dark to see her eye color as she looked at him, but it made no difference. He had their blue gray memorized. “I watched you when you took me flying. You love it. You live for it.”
“Flying’s my life.” She returned her attention to the sky. “Sometimes when I’m in my plane at night, I just want to keep going up until I can touch one of those stars. I don’t care which one.” She turned in a full circle, and fascinated, he watched her. “Maybe that one,” she said, pointing at Sirius. “Sirius, the dog day of summer. I’ll touch him, I think.”
Ryan stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the sky. “This is just dream talk, right? You’re never going to point the nose of your plane up, knowing you’ll not come down in one piece?” Something ripped at him, thinking she would even consider such a thing. “Right?”
Her gaze returned to him. “Every time I fly, Ryan, I point the nose of my plane up, never one hundred percent sure how I’ll come down. No, I would never purposely do something like that. I’m just dreaming, that’s all. If I ever have to go out, though, I want it to be when I’m reaching for the stars.”
Jesus walked on water! Ryan was floored by this woman. “I was married,” he said, surprising them both if the expression on her face was any indication. He didn’t doubt his face showed surprise at what he’d just blurted. “I was married to the woman I had loved since the third grade.” He turned away from her and headed down the beach. How was it that he was heartbroken by the loss of his wife, yet felt like he was ready to step off a cliff for the woman scurrying to keep up with him?
“You said were. Are you still?”
He walked faster, yet he didn’t seem to be able to leave Kathleen behind. “She died.”
“Oh God, I’m so sorry.”
If he hadn’t realized Charlie was two-stepping to keep up with him, he would have run. Away from her, away from Kathleen’s ghost, away from a baby that wasn’t his.
“She was pregnant,” he said, then wished to God he could take those words back. They weren’t meant for anyone’s ears but his. He started walking again. The woman must be stupid. Instead of turning her back on him, she grabbed his arm and tugged him to a stop.
“Ryan, God, I don’t know what to say. I can’t imagine how hard it was for you to lose your wife and your child.”
“The baby wasn’t mine,” the mouth he wished would shut up said.
“Holy shit.”
Not quite his exact words when he’d read the autopsy report, but close. Done with talking, he turned and walked down the beach. The water cooled his temper as the cold waves lapped at his feet. It wasn’t Charlie’s fault his wife had been pregnant with another man’s baby, and that fact slowly sank in. Letting out a deep breath, he stopped and waited for her to catch up.
“I sent my stepfather to prison,” she said, coming up beside him. “It tore my family apart, and now my stepsister hates me. My mom . . .”
Ryan turned to face her when she hesitated. “Go on.”
“My mom, she died believing I lied about seeing him molest my best friend. She refused to accept that Roger would do such a thing. My friend, she got a rope out of her father’s shed, went into her closet, and hung herself. She did that after I went to my guidance counselor and told her what he had done. Mrs. Bronson . . . my guidance counselor, she called the police. The same day my friend killed herself, she mailed me a letter. She wanted me to know that she hated me for telling what I’d seen, that she had never wanted anyone to know. Because of me, she said everyone would talk about her, that our other friends would think she asked for Roger to do what he did and would say she was a slut.”
Christ. Ryan took Charlie’s hand and led her up to dry sand, then sat, pulling her down beside him. “Why would they think that?”
“You know how kids are, but I think that it was more like how she saw herself in her own mind. She thought Roger was handsome and worldly, and she had this weird crush on him. Whenever she came over, if he was around, she would flirt with him. Sometimes she would joke about taking him away from my mother, but I never took the whole thing seriously. If I had, maybe I could have done something to stop what happened.”
There was regret and self-blame in her voice. “How old were the two of you?”
“Fifteen. I guess I didn’t think much of it. At the time, I had a major crush on my biology teacher. I thought he was the hottest thing ever, but it never occurred to me to do anything but stare at him with dreamy eyes. I thought it was the same with her.”
“Good God, Charlie, no fifteen-year-old is responsible for what a grown man does. He was the one who should have known better than to touch a young girl.”
She huffed a weary-sounding sigh. “I know that now, but back then, it felt like I was the one who put that rope around her neck. On top of that, I tore my family apart, and my mom died of a broken heart. She never forgave me for talking to the police.”
“You did the right thing, you know, even considering the consequences, ones you couldn’t have guessed at when you reported him. If he would molest one child, he would do it again. You get that, right?” She flopped back onto the sand, and he followed her down.
“I get it, but if I had known the consequences as you say, I would have kept my mouth shut. Then five months ago, my stepfather came up for parole and I went and spoke against his release. Now Ashley . . . that’s my stepsister . . . hates me more than ever. If not for me, her father would be out of prison.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” A falling star shot across the sky and he followed its progress until it disappeared from sight. The night hadn’t gone at all like he had envisioned when she had agreed to meet him for dinner.
“Because you shared a secret with me, and I’m guessing it’s one you’ve never told anyone. Because I wanted you to know that you’re not the only one whose heart hurts. But most of all, because I like you, and I don’t want you to feel so alone. Because I think you do. Feel alone, that is.”
Ryan kept his gaze on the night sky until he was sure he could speak without a catch in his throat. Why had he told her so much? All she had needed to know was that he had been married to his childhood sweetheart, just enough to explain why he didn’t have dating experience. Her response made him feel as if she could see into his soul, a place he no longer invited anyone.
When he was sure he had control of his emotions, he lifted onto an elbow and stared down at the woman who seemed to see too much. “That’s a lot of becauses, cherub.”
He lowered his head until their mouths met, then paused, giving her time to push him away. Her hand snaked around his neck and he took that as permission. Like their previous two kisses, this one knocked his socks off. Or maybe it was because Charlie was only the second woman he’d ever kissed, and it was the novelty of it. He didn’t think so, though. He thought it more likely that it had everything to do with the girl who didn’t want him to feel alone.
Charlie tightened her hold on Ryan’s neck, letting him know she wanted this, wanted his mouth on hers. His tongue slid across the seam of her lips, and she opened her mouth, welcoming him in. He groaned and covered the right side of her body with his. Warmth seeped into her at all the parts he touched.
Although she had only been intimate with one man—her rat-fink ex-boyfriend—in high school, she had kissed a lot of boys. Most had bumbled their way through the experience, a learning process for them as much as her. One though, Levi Greenberg, had definitely known what he was doing, or so she had thought at the time. She mentally struck him off her one-person list of all-time great kissers and replaced him with Ryan’s name.
“Ahhh,” she said, her mind going blank when he nibbled his way to her earlobe and sucked it into his mouth.
His chuckle vibrated against her skin. “Was that a good ahhh, cherub?”
Was he kidding? “Mmm.” Sheesh, not only had he stolen all the thoughts in her head but all her words right along with them.
Another chuckle as his warm breath tickled the hairs along her neck. From her ear, he made his way to the vee of her blouse, then his tongue did a long lick down to the first button. She fisted her hands to keep from ripping her shirt apart to give him better access.
“You taste so good.” He swiped his tongue over her skin once more.
“Fresh,” she said, then gave an inward groan. Real sophisticated there, Charlie.
He lifted his head and grinned down at her. “That, too.”
“No, the lotion, it’s some kind of sunshiny-fresh beachy stuff. Or maybe it’s beachy-fresh sunshine. I can’t think too good right now.” If she stopped talking, maybe he would go back to what he had been doing. Actually, she should stop talking altogether, because nothing but nonsense was coming out of her mouth.
His grin morphed into laughter, and he flopped back onto the sand. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut? Now he was laughing at her. Mr. Hot Guy probably wished he’d let her walk out of Dockside and into the night where he’d never have to see her again.
He reached over, picked up her hand, brought it to his mouth, and kissed the top of her palm, near her wrist. “I like you, Charlene Morgan. A lot. Can I see you again?”
Oh, not what she’d expected to hear, and her heart did a somersault while screaming, “Yes!” She rolled onto her side and the big hand he had wrapped around hers caught her gaze where their hands rested against his chest. She could feel his strong heartbeat, the thump, thump of it, under her palm.
“I’d like that,” she said, lifting her eyes to his. Was he done with kissing her?
A smile curved his lips as he tugged on her hand. “Come here, cherub.”
“And do what?”
“Whatever you want.”
That was an invitation to sin if there ever was one. She pulled her hand from under his, then traced the outline of his lips with her finger. His smile faded, and he watched her face with an intensity that was both unnerving and exciting. She lowered her mouth to his.
She equated letting him into her life with shutting down the engine of her plane at the top of a hammerhead stall. Anything could happen, and it could be the most thrilling ride of her life, or she could crash and burn. Either way, she would have no regrets. That she promised herself.
One thing she’d fantasized about doing since the first night they’d met was exploring all those muscled parts of him. He dropped his
hands to his sides, and other than their tangled tongues—busy tasting each other—he remained still. She understood his message that she was in charge.
With their mouths locked together, she unbuttoned his shirt down to where it was tucked into his pants, then slipped her hand under the material. His skin was smooth, taut, and hot. The little hum he gave when she trailed her fingers along his side encouraged her to be bolder, and she found the arrow of hair leading down his stomach to his belt.
She had never touched a man as muscle hard as Ryan, and all that power was sexy as hell. With her hand poised at his belt buckle, she asked herself if she was ready to go that far with him. From the time she had flown her first aerobatic plane, she had found her passion, discovering a strength and courage inside her she had never known existed. “Reach for the stars” had become her life’s motto. This man was a shining star, one she couldn’t resist. Refusing to allow her fear of rejection to keep her from what she wanted, she began to unbuckle his belt.
So fast that she yelped, he had her under him. “Not tonight, cherub. I promised to have you back in an hour and time’s up.”
Confused, she blinked up at the face hovering over hers. “I don’t understand.”
“What? That I’m not taking you on a public beach where anyone could come by, even though it’s night? Here’s the thing. I thought . . . no, I hoped, we would end up in bed, yours or mine, didn’t matter. Then I thought we probably wouldn’t see each other again once we both got what we wanted.”
“But?” she asked when he paused and looked out over the gulf. If he said he didn’t want to see her again, she might cry.
“But,” he said, returning his gaze to hers, “what I said earlier. I want to see you again. I’m not looking for another wife, but I’m also not a man who gets off on seeing how many women I can sleep with.”
He laughed. “At least, I don’t think I am. Never had a chance to find that one out. I want a girlfriend, someone I can spend time with, someone who wants to be with me. So, before we go and screw up the chance of that happening by having a one-night stand, I want to tell you that I think I’d like for you to be my girlfriend. If you’re interested, that is.” Another laugh, one that sounded as if he were embarrassed. “Christ, I sound like a high school kid. You wanna go steady?”