She thought Mitch was going to open the door, and only realized he hadn’t moved yet when she came up face to face with him.
“You’re not going to sell the house. Keep the money.”
She couldn’t meet his eyes anymore, and turned back toward the interior. “I’ll probably sell it anyway. It doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.” She wasn’t sure if that was true, at least not yet.
He startled her by saying, “Sure it does. But no matter what you do, the money is yours.”
She turned to Mitch again. “Why would you do that?”
He took his time answering, as though he were running through several different reasons. “You’re my brother’s wife.” Simple words, yet laden with textures she couldn’t decipher.
And then he opened the door and walked outside. “Damn. I forgot about my bike.”
She was still weighing his previous words. Was that how he saw her, as only Paul’s wife? Jenna walked outside and saw the bike, all shiny and inviting in her driveway. They’d made reservations at the airport early that morning, but neither had thought about his bike being there.
“I suppose I could fly back here and then ride the Harley back to Texas,” he said, walking down the front steps.
Something tickled her insides. “Or we could take the bike.”
He turned at that, lifting an eyebrow. “For a two-day ride?”
That tickle became the feeling of liberation, of adventure and freedom. “It would clear our heads.”
He made a sound that contradicted her words. “I doubt that.” He seemed to assess her, but she kept her eyes on the bike, imagining hours of riding in the wind. When would she ever get a chance to ride on the back of a bike … arms wrapped around Mitch, her inner voice added. This was the new Jenna, the one who wanted to embrace her new life.
“You sure?” he asked.
“Let me cancel the airline reservations,” she said, turning back to the house.
Riding on the open highways was everything Jenna thought it would be. Okay, her rear was getting a little numb, but all she had to do was give the word and Mitch would pull over. They’d already stopped once, and he’d asked her about those other symptoms experienced by organ recipients.
She was determined, though, to be an easy rider. No complaints about her butt, the noise, or the rock and roll pounding from the radio. She wore Mitch’s jacket again, and her arms were wrapped around his waist, body pressed against his hard back. It was innocent touching, after all, perfectly harmless.
Yeah, right.
Yes, there was something illicit about enjoying that part of it, and maybe it was that illicitness that had spoken to her when she’d seen the bike sitting in the driveway. Images of the night before drifted through her thoughts, stepping up the awareness of her body. She rocked her head back and let out a sigh no one could hear but her. Sensuality rippled through her, a new and wondrous sensation. For these hours on the bike, she didn’t have to face anyone or think about the future, nor the past. For these precious hours, she could just feel, let go and feel whatever came to her.
Only once in a while did she remind herself that to truly let go, she had to put Paul and Mitch in her past and go on without any reminders of that part of her life.
A pack of Harleys caught up to them, leather-clad biker dudes just like the ones on television. Biker chicks hung onto their men just like Jenna hung onto Mitch. Some even rode their own bikes. Mitch waved, they waved, Jenna even waved. She felt part of them, and for several miles they all rode together like that. And she felt a part of life for the first time in a long, long time. Maybe ever.
That night they found a small, clean hotel just off the highway. What if they only have one room, she found herself wondering. The thought didn’t bother her, and in fact, when Mitch walked out with two keys, she could have sworn disappointment niggled at her.
Ridiculous! The last thing she needed was to fall into bed with Mitch again. And by the distant look in his eyes, he wasn’t too keen on the idea either. The nice part about riding on a bike, he’d said before, was that you didn’t have to talk to one another. But Jenna found herself wanting to talk.
“We’ll get cleaned up and grab a bite to eat,” he said, heading straight to his room.
She was about to comment on how exhilarating the ride had been, how neat that those bikers rode with them, but she simply nodded. “Okay.”
Their rooms were next to each other, and while she took a shower, she could hear the water running in his room, too. It was easy enough to picture him naked beneath the water, all those muscles and tanned skin. Nothing like Paul.
“What are you doing, Jenna? Just what do you think you’re doing?”
Well, she knew what her body was doing, getting all tingly and warm just thinking about Mitch. How much of Paul was wrapped up in her feelings toward Mitch? How much was because of their hearts?
“He probably doesn’t even want you anymore,” she told her mottled reflection in the mirror as she dried off. “You’re lousy in bed, you know.” Though he certainly hadn’t looked bored. “You’re skinny, and you have this ugly scar …” She ran her finger down the scar, remembering how Mitch had kissed it. Even she saw something dark in her eyes when she looked at it, but she’d seen nothing dark in his eyes, nothing but desire. She relived the moments when he’d pulled off her shirt and looked at her body so lovingly. “Stop it. Get some food into you, that’s all you need.”
Yeah, right.
Mitch’s knock on her door a few minutes later had her rushing to get dressed. “Be right there!”
He was kneeling next to the bike when she opened the door a few minutes later. “Something wrong?” she asked.
“Just checking her over.”
He didn’t even look up at her, and that produced a strange pang in her chest. He was back in jeans and a T-shirt, and though his jeans were a little baggy, they still looked sexy on him. She wore shorts and the usual top that buttoned right up to her neck. For the first time, though, she’d actually wanted to wear something that went lower. For the first time, she had an awareness about her body, the way it moved and looked, the way Mitch would see it.
“We passed a place down the road, said they had the best steak this side of cattle country,” Mitch said, straddling the bike.
She slid up behind him. “That little red dive that looked like it used to be a house?”
“Or we could find a Denny’s or something if we go into town. If there is a town.”
Her mouth quirked as she put on her helmet. “The dive sounds perfect.”
He glanced at her, tilting his head. Then he turned back and started the bike.
The Red Spur did, in fact, have great beef, and Jenna ordered a T-bone before Mitch could tell her she needed more meat on her bones. She remembered the meal they’d shared, and watched him dive into his juicy steak with gusto. She put a piece in her mouth and savored the taste of it.
See, Paul, you didn’t trample me. I’m still here, still strong. I was your wife for five years, but I didn’t know who you were. You were a lie, so I must have been, too. Now I’m going to learn who Jenna is.
She caught Mitch staring at the place where her ring used to be, but he quickly averted his gaze. She opened her mouth to explain, but closed it again. How could she tell him that she needed a break from being Paul’s faithful wife, that she needed time to find out who Jenna was, and who Paul had been.
It wasn’t until Jenna went to the restroom after dinner that she realized the music she’d heard in an adjacent room wasn’t a jukebox but a live band. She’d never liked country music much, but as she leaned against the railing, she found her body moving to the beat. There were a few people on the dance floor, lined up and dancing in unison. Line dancing, she thought it was called. She smiled, watching a skinny woman in a cowboy hat try to learn the dance. Instead of being embarrassed by her awkward moves, the woman was giggling. The man with her was laughing, too, shaking his head and patiently starting o
ver.
Jenna leaned against the rough-hewn post next to her and wondered how she’d thought her life was so complete while life was going on out here in the world. She was only living such a tiny part of it all.
“Thought you’d up and run off on me,” a low voice said.
She turned to find Mitch standing right behind her. He leaned against the same post, arm behind her head.
“I’ve never danced before,” she said, meaning to say that she was watching the dancing. She quickly turned back to the dancers. “I just got caught up in the dancing.”
“I’ve never line danced either. Never been into country music.”
“Paul only liked to listen to classical, and I got hooked on that.” Mitch’s face darkened at the mention of his brother. “I’ve never even been in a bar before.” She took in the cluster of tables by the dance floor, the dark corners that offered a place for a sultry kiss. Her gaze took it all in, ending with Mitch. “I like it.”
“You really haven’t danced before?” he asked. “Ever?”
“Never. Paul wasn’t much into dancing, and for a while, I couldn’t muster the energy for dancing anyway. My parents thought it was sinful.” She turned back to the dance floor. “It doesn’t look awfully sinful to me.”
The song turned slow, and the people out on the floor moved into tight groups of two.
Mitch chuckled. “It’s only as sinful as you want it to be.” He kept watching the couples moving to a song about missing the dance … the dance of life. Then he looked at her. “Wanna give it a try?”
Her heartbeat jumped. “Are you … asking me to dance with you?”
One side of his mouth went up in a smile. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Should we?”
He took her hand, twining his fingers with hers and leading her down the steps to the dance floor. “No body contact.” He swung her in front of him, keeping one hand twined with hers, the other hand going around her waist. Her free hand rested upon his shoulder. They started to move, eyes locked, bodies in perfect unison.
She wanted to cry. The tingling behind her eyes, the lump in her throat, all threatened to turn into gushy tears. He was dancing for her, because she’d wanted to dance. He was doing this for her. Paul had done a lot of sweet things for her over the years, but this was … different. It meant more, this simple thing that felt innocent and sensual at the same time.
Their small circle widened as they become more confident in their moves. They turned, knees brushing, turned again. Her palms were hot and moist, but she didn’t want to let go of him to wipe them off. As if he knew her thoughts, his fingers tightened on hers. Their bodies had started out at the maximum distance, but now they were only inches away from touching. She could feel his hand tighten on her back, as though he wanted to pull her closer but was fighting it.
She wanted to move closer, to feel the length of his body against hers the way the other couples were dancing. She wanted to press close enough to feel him grow hard against her stomach, to hear him make that sound he’d made last night. She wondered what it would be like to dance naked.
Her parents were right. Dancing was sinful.
Mitch cleared his throat. “Jenna, we’d better stop dancing.” He said it in the same way he’d spoken when she had, beyond her thoughts, wrapped her fingers around that very male part of him. What had gotten into her? It was as though Mitch sparked the base part of her.
“Why?”
“Because the song ended a minute ago.”
She blinked, looking at the line dancers maneuvering around them. It was that song she’d heard on the radio when she’d left Bluebonnet Manor, “T-R-O-U-B-L-E.”
They’d stopped moving, but were still linked together. Mitch mouthed the letters, then led her away from the dance floor.
“I thought you didn’t do country music,” Jenna said.
“I don’t. But I know trouble when I hear it.”
To Mitch the sound of the motorcycle engine seemed to explode against the walls of the hotel as they pulled into the parking lot. It was late, dark and quiet. He should be exhausted from riding all day in the hot sun, but restlessness ran through his body like a drug. He cut the engine, and Jenna jumped off the bike. She rode as though she’d been born to ride on the back of his bike. Born to dance in his arms.
Damn, this wasn’t any good at all. He took his time getting off the bike, removing his helmet and shaking his head. The Red Spur had sold him a six-pack of beer to go, and he pulled that out from the storage compartment. Maybe a few of those would kill his restlessness, along with a few other things.
He removed one of the bottles, opened it and held it out to her. She shook her head, and he took a slug.
“Thanks for dancing with me.” Her soft voice reached out and snagged him around the throat.
He cleared the feeling away and said, “You looked like a woman who wanted to dance.” Hell, with that look on her face, if she’d wanted to jump off the roof with him, he would have accommodated her.
She nodded, a faint smile on her face. “I did.” She looked shyly downward. “I liked it.”
“Well, maybe the next guy you, well, end up with …” He hated the words, but he had to say them for his own sake. “Maybe he’ll like to dance. But even if he doesn’t, don’t let that stop you.”
She looked up a little too quickly, and that shyness evaporated. “There won’t be a next guy.” Her shoulders stiffened. “I’ll never let another man hold me back. I don’t ever want to be in a position to put my whole life in anyone’s hands again. It hurts too much when they drop you. And don’t you dare feel sorry for me. Because you know what? I’m going to be just fine.” She fished her hotel key from her pocket. “Just fine.” And then she turned and went inside her room.
Mitch stared at her door for a long time, wanting to knock and knowing he shouldn’t. Finally he won the war and went to his own room with his six-pack. Did Paul even know what kind of woman he’d married? Did he appreciate all her layers, the way she glowed when she found pleasure in something? The tilt of her mouth. He dropped back on the bed, legs spread, hand holding his beer bottle upright. Had she ever made those noises when she’d made love with Paul?
He lifted his head and took another slug of beer, trying to push those memories away. Jenna was a strong woman, stronger than probably she even knew. But that strength came from anger, and that wasn’t going to give her pleasure in life, that was for sure.
“Neither one of us deserves her, Paul. You lied to her, and I took away her happy memories. Worse, I look like you, and once, I hated thinking that every time she looked at me, she thought about her love for you. Now I know better: every time she looks at me, she feels her anger at you.”
But she’d said his name. Mitch couldn’t get past that, could not put it away like he should. He’d made love to his brother’s wife, and it made him soar that she’d said his name. “We’re both bastards, cut from the same genes and blood. I just hope to hell you’re not the murderer it’s sure looking like you are.”
He took another drink, set the bottle on the nightstand and reached for the phone. Betzi’s sleepy voice answered. “Hey Betz, it’s me. Sorry for calling so late. I wanted to let you know we’re coming in tomorrow, probably toward evening.”
Betzi yawned long and loud, right in his ear. “We?”
“Me and Jenna.” He even liked the sound of her name on his tongue. Cripes, he was in it.
“You’re not dragging that poor girl back with you, are you?”
He chuckled. “She may look dainty and fragile, but let me tell you, the woman has teeth.”
“Mm, sounds like you’ve been bitten.”
Mitch could well imagine that smug little smile on Betzi’s face. He rubbed his finger down the bridge of his nose. “You could say that. The lady is something else.”
“Mm.”
He didn’t like the sound of that ‘mm,’ but he had no defense. “We’ll see you tomorrow sometime.”
“Wait a minute. What are you doing about your bike?”
“We’re on it.”
Now he imagined Betzi’s eyebrows jumping up the way they did when she was riled. “You mean to tell me you made her ride from New Hampshire to Texas on the back of your bike?”
“No such thing, ma’am. She wanted to take the bike. Couldn’t have said no even if I wanted to.”
“Mm. I think I like her even more than I did before. I’ll get the guest room ready. Not that she used it much before you chased her away last time.”
Yeah, he’d heard all about that, up one side and down the other. “Our girl’s not going to run away anymore. When she leaves, she’s going to turn her back and walk without ever looking back.”
Chapter 11
Jenna felt that strong sense of homecoming as soon as they crossed Ponee’s city limit, and it grew stronger as they neared Bluebonnet Manor. Even Harvey, the big, black dog ran to greet them from his place near the stables. The sun had just set, spraying the bowl of a sky with pink rays. It was hard to believe that a week ago she’d been living in blissful, lonely ignorance. Since then she’d had her memories shattered, she’d made love with her husband’s brother, grown stronger, and ridden halfway across the country on a motorcycle glued to a man she had no business wanting.
No matter how many times she told herself she should hate him, or at the least, not like him very much, something deeper told her to let herself go and love him. Paul? No, that connection again. Everything was so tangled up inside her.
Not that it mattered. She didn’t want to fall in love with anyone, especially not Mitch. And he didn’t want to fall in love with her either. Hadn’t he said last night that he hoped the next guy liked to dance? How much clearer could it be? Maybe he was just as confused by the feelings their connection inspired.
She looked up at the house as they turned onto the driveway. Certainly she had enough to face without getting mixed up with Mitch.
He punched a button on his bike, and the garage door opened. She was glad to get on her feet again, to get away from Mitch at last. When she returned home, she would fly. She already envisioned that flight as a symbol of her freedom, of leaving the past far behind. She just didn’t know what she was going to do with her life once she landed.
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