"No, yes. No," she finally decided, annoyed with him. "Just really confused."
His smile fell. "How so?"
She tipped her head. "I don't know what your angle is. You keep showing up and working your way into my life, and I'm wondering if it's real interest or if I'm just another gotta-have-it-because-I-can't conquest."
"I thought you'd at least know me better than that by now."
"I don't know you at all." Except that he was handsome, stubborn and a great kisser. Her body responded to the memory of their kiss, and she hurriedly selecting items off the shelf. If she didn't get out of here she'd probably attack him in the middle of the grocery store.
"We're back to me trying to change that."
She looked at him. "For pity's sake, talking to you is like talking to wood."
"Give me one reason you don't want to see me."
Because I want you, she thought and quickly buried that idea. "I'm just not interested in a relationship, and like I mentioned before, you have a lousy reputation."
"That's weak."
"Oh, really? Look around us and tell me we aren't being watched – intently."
He did and they were. "It's a small town."
"My point exactly. You might have the name and stamina to weather gossip and whatever comes along, but I don't."
He reared back. "You won't see me because I'm a McKay." No doubt a first for him, she thought.
When she didn't respond, Tyler's gaze narrowed on her. "My family is not me, Lane. But they come with the package. I can't help who I am."
"Neither can I."
He leaned nearer, his hand closing over hers on the cart handle. His eyes were intense and simmering with something she'd never seen before. The calm and charm were gone, and all that was left was pure Tyler.
"I don't know who hurt you so badly that you're terrified of being with me," he growled lowly. "But I'd like to punch the jerk."
Her eyes rounded. Then he kissed her. Nothing sweet and soft for the public, but a deep kiss of lips and tongue that curled her toes and left her electrified and breathless. Customers gasped and giggled, though she barely heard them over the roaring in her ears. All she saw was Tyler, inches from her and filling her with heated emotion she wasn't sure she was ready to accept.
"Just so you know, darlin', I don't intend to keep taking the blame for him," Tyler said.
He made an about-face and walked away, leaving her alone between the pork chops and chicken.
And like every time he was near, she didn't know whether to be happy or scared.
* * *
Tyler climbed into his car and slammed the door, his angry gaze on the store. Someone had done a number on Lane. He should just walk away. He didn't want to work past the damage left by another man. But he'd already tried staying away from her and hadn't lasted forty-eight hours. He was trying his best to take it slowly, to charm his way into her good graces. And he was failing miserably. He started the engine of the rental car, wanting his own Jaguar back, then shifted gears, and pulled out of the parking lot. He'd get her car fixed and that would be it. She'd have to come to him.
He'd driven half a block before he wondered why he was making demands on a woman who'd love for him to get lost. If he truly believed that, he reasoned, he would disappear. But he didn't believe it. Lane Douglas had something special, and he admitted he was enjoying breaking down her barriers, one by one. Soon, she'd tell him what had happened to make her erect so many walls. Tyler just wanted to scale them one at a time. Because their kisses spoke of more than just desire. Hell, it practically screamed power and fire, something he hadn't had in a very long time. He was surprised that he wanted to discover more. He'd put strict rules on his relationships since Clarise had betrayed him, and he was man enough to admit that while they sounded good in practice, they made him feel a little superficial. Why should he expect more from a woman than he was giving himself?
Charming his way into Lane's life was more work than he'd ever had to do with a woman, and she still kept everything from him. Everything. Yet like a glutton for punishment, he kept coming back. That alone was a message he couldn't ignore, and if he was honest with himself, he was tired of being cautious.
* * *
The pageant launched the Winter Festival. Lane attended the children's play, smiling at the little toy soldiers and fairies, thinking she'd never seen anything so adorable in her life. The children looked as if they were having as much fun as the audience. Missed lines produced giggles, and one girl kept nudging a toy soldier until the boy nearly fell over. Lane had gone to private schools, and as a kid she'd never been involved in anything like this. But the sight of the kindergartners, so small and filled with wonder, opened up a longing she didn't think she had. While the choir sang, she wondered if she'd ever have children of her own, wondered if she'd be a good mother.
And who would she love enough to want to make those babies with? Tyler's face blossomed in her mind and she immediately cut the fantasy short. There was really no point in dreaming, she thought sadly. He'd never forgive her if he knew the truth, and to tell him the truth she'd have to trust him.
She didn't trust anyone. Except maybe Nalla. Yet while the children performed in the costumes she'd made, she felt more involved with the townspeople than she had in a year and a half. She liked people. She missed being with people. She missed a lot of things she'd thought she wouldn't.
Her career had surrounded her with fashion buyers, designers, models, reporters, photographers and textile merchants. Her own family was large and loud. Sure, they'd been in the papers a lot, the rich and notorious always were, but holidays were just like anyone else's – huge dinners, gift exchanging and traditions. When they were all together. In the past eight years, those moments had been rare. Her parents lived separately, which wasn't a bad thing, though they were still legally married. Just too different to live in the same house. Lane accepted the fact that her mother was a little shallow and that she liked nightlife, traveling and being seen a smidgen more than she liked motherhood. Her father tended his vineyards as though they were another crop of children. As if she and her five siblings weren't enough. Lane forgot about the people around her, the children singing, and was still thinking about her father and missing him when the play ended.
See your good fortune, Elaina, her Papa would say. Why would you want more? There was more. She'd known it when she'd been with Dan – even if it was one-sided, a complete lie and had lasted less than a year. She'd loved Dan, and sunk her whole heart into their relationship and had become lovers. For a while, it was wonderful, till he betrayed her. Yet there was a certain dark-haired man with a killer smile she blamed for making her even think of wanting more.
As the crowd filed out of the town theater, Lane received dozens of compliments on the costumes from proud parents, and she felt their warmth and good wishes flow through her like warm honey. Soon she was standing on the street in front of the old theater. Her gaze moved over the historical section of town. Bay Street ran through the center, near the river, then curved sharply to the area where her shop was located. While her end of the street hadn't been decorated yet, and she supposed some of that was up to her, on Bay the banners for the street dance were already up and flapping in the cool evening air. The construction of the stage near the waterfront park was nearly completed. Someone had strung lights on it already, and they twinkled like a ship in the harbor. She'd be able to hear the music from her shop.
Her vendor's cart would be at the waterfront, and her store would be open later. She hoped Peggy Ashbury, Diana's nineteen-year-old daughter, could handle the crowd. In the store she was doing fine already, and Lane was glad she'd hired her. Diana liked the ten-percent employee discount, too. Lane headed toward home.
After a few steps she heard, "Hi."
She jerked around. "Tyler. I didn't see you in there."
"I was backstage moving sets."
A millionaire moving children's stage sets. It made her smile.
Tyler was so different from the men she'd dated before coming to Bradford. Money and privilege hadn't affected him, which was an attraction all on its own, she decided. He was involved in everything, wasn't above lending a hand, getting dirty. And right now he had paint smears on his hands.
"Not quite dry?" She pointed to them.
"Cheap paint." He rubbed at it. "I know this is going to sound really high schoolish, but can I walk you home?"
She smiled, shoving her hands deep into her pockets. "Sure."
He fell into step beside her, and they strolled without speaking for a few moments. Then he said, "I saw you running the other night on the beach."
She glanced his way. "A girl has to stay in shape."
"Who would know under all those clothes?"
"I beg your pardon?"
He loved that indignant look of hers. "I saw you in leggings and a sweatshirt, Lane." He whistled softly.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, it was too dark to see anything." Exactly the reason she ran at night.
He knew that, but he liked teasing her. "I'm a man – I have chick radar." He paused and then said, "And binoculars."
Lane laughed deeply and Tyler wanted to hear more. The breeze offered a whiff of her perfume, spicy, a little citrusy. It didn't fit the picture he was seeing. Her hair pulled back in a tight bun and the round glasses, slipped low on her nose so often she had to keep pushing them up. Dowdy. Bookish. Then he remembered the woman running like a deer on the beach at midnight.
"You're not what you appear to be."
Everything inside her went on full alert. "How so?"
He leaned closer. "Kiss one and kiss two for starters."
"You're counting?"
"I'm hoping for a matched set. Six or eight, to start."
She laughed again, and when he took her hand, she didn't pull back. "You're impossible."
"Impossibly handsome? Mom thinks so."
"Impossibly stubborn and persistent. Also a dreamer."
"Since you didn't add arrogant, ugly and a pest, I consider myself on your good side." Tyler squeezed her hand and continued walking. "Being a dreamer's not a bad thing. Don't you have dreams?"
She shrugged. "Sure." For a real life, she thought suddenly, and wondered where that had come from. "But I have what I want." So why was seclusion getting to her all of a sudden? She refused to attribute her dissatisfaction to him. She got this way every few months and would deal with it as she always had – ignore it. But since the temptation to come out of hiding was overwhelming, it often made her angry.
"Is keeping this wall around yourself part of what you want?"
She shot him a look and tried to shake off his hand. He wouldn't let her go and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Overhead, the Spanish moss hanging from tree limbs swayed in the breeze. Cars drove past, ignoring the couple under the glow of an antique streetlamp.
His gaze raked her features. "Who hurt you, Lane?"
She looked away. What was she going to say now? "It's not important."
He put a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. "It is to me."
She knew Tyler well enough to know he wasn't going to give up easily, and she already felt backed into a corner. "Okay, fine, since I know you'll badger me for the next block. The man I was seeing betrayed me." Used me, said he loved me, then the night after I learned that Richard Damon, photographer, was really Dan Jacobs, freelance reporter, he took our entire relationship, everything I'd said to him in confidence about my family, my dreams, and exposed my most intimate feelings in the newspapers for the world to read. With pictures.
"How?"
"The details aren't important. I loved and trusted him and he betrayed my feelings in the worst way." And what difference was there in what she was doing to Tyler by keeping secrets? She had good reasons, really good ones. If her life was exposed, he'd get hurt in the process, just as she had from her brother Angel's troubles. Besides, she'd loved Dan. She didn't love Tyler and he didn't have those feelings for her, so what did it matter right now? Why couldn't he just let it be?
Tyler could see Lane's temper rising, her eyes practically sparkling with anger. She didn't like remembering her pain any more than he did, and he felt like a creep for prying. Tyler tried not to push, but this jerk had hurt her enough that she kept everyone out. He suspected that Nalla Campanelli was her only friend. It saddened him.
"He was a moron," Tyler said.
She looked up. "Maybe I was the real fool, Tyler, for trusting him."
"Don't blame yourself. The ability to trust is a blessing. Anyone who betrays that trust doesn't deserve to be in your life. Look at it that way."
"Sometimes I think he'd intended to betray me all along." She sighed. "Which of course, makes me an idiot for not seeing it from the start." She released a sigh, and with it went some tension. But she didn't say anything more.
They continued walking; she leaned into him a bit, didn't try to withdraw her hand from his. He hadn't asked her to elaborate, but he wished he could climb into her mind. At least he had an idea now of why she was so reserved with people. Mostly with him. Getting badly burned taught you ways to avoid getting singed again. He ought to know.
Wasn't that the reason he'd had only casual relationships since his engagement ended? To keep a distance so that no one would get close enough to hurt him again? A man didn't have to be kicked in the teeth twice.
Tyler bent his arm, the motion bringing her closer to his side, and he felt like a teenager with his first girl. It was weird. He was thirty-four, for crying out loud. Yet his heart was thumping like a bass drum, and all he wanted to do was back her into a corner and kiss her. He was even thinking like a teenager, all hormones and fantasies.
"This is me," she said, pointing to the shop.
He looked up at the second floor. "Aren't you going to invite me up to your place for coffee or a nightcap?"
She pushed her glasses up her nose. "I don't drink, and coffee this late will keep me awake."
"Yes or no would've done fine, Lane. You don't have to make excuses."
She threw her hands up and let them fall. "Now you tell me. And here I thought 'Go away' was clear."
She noticed that his brow knit, though his smile remained. "Are you trying to be cute?"
"Ducks and bunnies are cute, McKay."
"You're no bunny." He inched closer – and she let him. Little alarms were pinging inside her, but Lane ignored them as she stared into his eyes. A girl could get lost in those blue depths and like it, she thought.
"You walked me home for a kiss, didn't you?"
He tugged at the collar of her jacket. "Yup."
"I should have set you straight then."
"Set me straight now, Lane. I'm feeling crooked and dastardly." He gave his best villain laugh.
She grinned. "You're something else, McKay." She brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen over his forehead, then rose on her toes and kissed him. Just as quickly she hopped back, shocked at herself. "Oh, damn. I didn't mean to… I shouldn't have—"
He latched on to her jacket lapels and pulled her against him. "Shoulda, coulda, woulda," he muttered, saying the last against her mouth. His tongue swept over her lips, then slid deep inside. He devoured her mouth. There was no other word for it. He kissed her as if he was dying, as if he'd never have another chance. Taste, nibble, plunge, taste some more. Each touch gathered her desire like a tether and pulled her along at a dizzying speed. Her head was spinning, her blood rushing, and she sank into the dark, hot pleasure of his mouth.
He molded her body to his length. Full contact. She could feel his rock-hard arousal.
It was divine. His strong arms closed more tightly, and while he was going to know she wasn't all layers of ugly clothes, she didn't care. Not at this moment. All she wanted was a little bit more, to keep her company in her lonely nights. But when his hand moved down her spine and pressed her hips to his, Lane's head went light. How could it not, with all her blood rushing thr
ough her body and looking for a place to settle? Then it did. In the center of her, the very core that was a jumble of pumping sensations and blood and pure liquid desire. She pushed her fingers into his hair and held on as his lips and tongue played over hers with exquisite skill. Oh, yes. She wanted to feel him – touch his chest, touch something more. than his hair and preferably while naked, and just when she thought she'd drag him upstairs for more than a nightcap, he stopped and let her go.
Lane staggered, grabbing the wrought-iron fence to keep from melting into a puddle at his feet.
"There are some things I don't want anyone in this town to see," Tyler said, shoving his hands in his jean pockets and struggling for his next breath. His groin was thick and aching, and every muscle in his body was so tight and taut he thought if he moved too fast, he'd snap in two. He looked at Lane through hooded eyes. All hot and flustered, she was sexier than ever before.
He wanted her in his bed, naked, hair down, glasses gone, and open for him. He really should stop thinking like that in public. Especially when his body shouted reaction like a beacon.
"See you tomorrow, Lane."
"Tomorrow?" she croaked. Just where had her breath gone now? Why wouldn't her lungs fill?
"Yes, I'm volunteer crowd control." He back-stepped down the street, one hand shoved deep into his jacket pocket while the other twirled the ends of an imaginary mustache. "And guess where my post is?" He waggled his brows.
Lane's gaze moved to the small poster tacked to the lamppost and marking the spot in front of her shop, then to Tyler. He was already fading into the darkness, that villain laugh floating back to her on the night breeze.
Oh, dear. What mixed signals had she just given him?
But Lane knew they weren't mixed, but right on target with his.
* * *
Chapter 6
«^»
The streets practically vibrated with the bass from the band on the waterfront. Oldies and country-western music followed the breeze with the scent of waffle cakes, cinnamon-baked apples, hot dogs, cotton candy and beer. It was an interesting mix and fairly shouted festival, Lane thought as she moved to the edge of her porch.
AWAKENING BEAUTY Page 6