Reconsidering Riley (4 page)

Shaking his head, unable to move from behind
the steering wheel, Riley squinted through the windshield. All
around him, life went on as usual. Greenhorn adventure travelers
milled around looking apprehensive, as though Mother Nature meant
to spit on them. Alexis alternately sulked and laughed. Gwen
greeted and smiled. Bud unfolded his arms and...
preened
?

Riley blinked. Yep. His grandfather was
actually strutting a little, puffing out his chest and putting on
his most gregarious expression—the one he used while trying to
sucker his doctor into letting him water-ski.

That was when Riley knew it was true. Only
Jayne could have had an effect like that on Bud. Only Jayne could
have had an effect like
this
on...him.

Spooked at the realization, Riley made
himself unclench his fingers from the wheel. He couldn't just sit
here like an idiot, gawping at her. Gawping at all of them. It was
embarrassing. Unmanly. And still, somehow, Riley couldn't help it.
His body refused to cooperate with his brain's efforts to make him
behave normally.

He looked at Jayne again (to be honest, he
hadn't been able to look away). What kind of cosmic "gotcha!" was
this? He'd only recently reached the point where a thousand little
things didn't remind him of her, didn't remind him of all
they'd—

No
. There was no way in hell he was
heading down
that
path again. Decisively, Riley got out of
the Suburban and strode toward the group.

Jayne's profile faced to the left, slightly
away from him. She spoke animatedly with Bud and Gwen, saying
something about how the group hadn't minded their hosts' lateness,
because they'd "bonded" during the wait.

It was more than a polite excuse, Riley
considered as he came closer, because the women's behavior did
match his somewhat-limited notions of feminine bonding. They stuck
close to Jayne's side, listened avidly when she spoke, watched her
with obvious fondness. Clearly, they'd fallen under her spell,
too.

In the dozen or so steps it took him to
reach her, Riley had time to notice the changes in Jayne. The
longer length of her hair. The glossier look of her clothes and
accessories, as though her ad agency art department work had
suddenly turned more profitable. The sadder curve to her smile. For
that last, he felt suddenly responsible—then remembered nearly two
years had passed since their time together. By now, whatever
blunted Jayne's smile owed itself to something—or
some
one
—else.

He remembered what his grandmother had said
about the self-help guru's touchy-feely "heartbreak" workshops, and
guessed Jayne must be a participant. Jayne, now a woman with a hurt
so deep it required special help—and seven hundred miles of travel
from her home in San Francisco—to overcome it.

At the realization, two conflicting emotions
struck him. First, regret—that Jayne had suffered at the hands of
some thoughtless, relationship-challenged lunkhead. And second,
eagerness—to pound the lunkhead until he apologized for hurting
her, at the least.

He stopped beside them, just as Bud
demonstrated the size of his biceps for Jayne. With Gwen's
permission, she squeezed it, making appropriately impressed
sounds.

Riley fought an insane urge to flex.

The last thing he needed was Jayne's hands
on him, he told himself. Reminding him of all they'd—

Stop it
. "Welcome to the lodge," he
said gruffly, offering a handshake.

Automatically, Jayne put her hand in his to
accept. Riley felt the contact warm him, wend through him...remind
him. At the same moment, she glanced upward.

Recognition swept the smile from her face.
Shocked silence stretched between them.
Too much
silence
.

He empathized with her inability to speak.
He'd been similarly dumbstruck upon seeing her. But with Gramps and
Nana and Alexis and five women watching, Riley doubted Jayne wanted
to run through the whole
stare-blink-gawp
routine he had
perfected back in the Suburban. He decided to help her out.

"Can anybody compete in this Mr. Universe
contest?" He mustered what he hoped was a happy-go-lucky smile and
nodded toward his grandfather's still-crooked biceps. "Or have I
been outclassed?"

Joking, he extended his left arm and struck
a pose. The short sleeve of the T-shirt he'd pulled on with his
jeans rode up just high enough to reveal his biceps. "What do you
think?"

Jayne's mouth opened and closed, but no
words emerged. A spark of something dangerous glimmered in her
eyes.

"Ooooh," cried one of the other women—a
petite brunette with a nose ring. She rushed forward to squeeze his
muscles. "Nice.
Very
nice."

As though her declaration were a signal,
they all surrounded him, loosening his grasp on Jayne's hand. The
gum-popping redhead admired his delts. The mousy, glasses-wearing
brunette engaged him in small talk, all the while eyeballing his
T-shirt hem as though wondering if he'd notice if she stripped it
off for a look at his abs. The nose ring girl murmured something
encouraging about his chest. The two gray-haired,
similarly-featured women debated the tightness of his backside
versus the width of his shoulders, and came to no agreement
whatsoever—which didn't stop them from urging him to turn this way
and that for display.

They sounded like connoisseurs evaluating
wine.
Stark, with a hint of chiseled-ness. Lean and cheery,
almost
too
accessible. A smattering of
just-fixed-the-radiator bouquet, with subtle washes of Safeguard
for balance
.

Riley knew he should put an end to it,
before his intended ice-breaker got out of hand...but he was still
hoping Jayne would weigh in with an opinion, too.

Familiar, but elusive; an
almost-forgotten favorite
.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, she
straightened. He stilled, waiting to hear what her first words to
him in twenty-one months would be.

Jayne's gaze swept up and down, measuring
him with something between curiosity and...confusion?

"Imagine seeing you here," she said.

Her voice, sweet and faintly husky, sounded
exactly as he remembered it. Hearing it, he wanted to smile, to
shout, to develop a rare case of twenty-one-month amnesia. God, but
it was good to see her.

"It's been a long time," Jayne went on.
Inexplicably, she paused for the merest instant, her gaze meeting
with those of the women who still clustered around him. Then she
fixed him with an indecipherable look. "How have you
been...
Riley
?"

At the sound of his name, all the women
stepped back. Their expressions turned from lighthearted to
revelatory to downright murderous. They shared a brief, silent
communion. They nodded.

Puzzled, Riley watched as five pairs of arms
crossed over five feminine chests. Five heads shook sorrowfully
side to side. Five equally-hostile expressions pinned him there,
with his formerly-cooed-over masculine assets figuratively flapping
in the breeze.

"What's the matter, ladies?" With a sideways
glance at his befuddled family, Riley spread out his arms. He took
another stab at that happy-go-lucky smile. "Just because I already
know Jayne doesn't mean the six of us can't still be friends."

The minute it left his mouth, he knew it was
the wrong thing to say.

Chapter Three

She needed a fix
.
And she needed
it fast
.

Hands trembling, Jayne rummaged through her
carry on luggage bag, the one that held all her most important
possessions. Around her awaited the down-home charm of the Hideaway
Lodge's private bathroom. Its plain fixtures, log cabin walls, and
single lace-curtained, multi-paned window said
rustic
as
sure as the rooms she'd traversed to get there had.

A tube of mango body scrub tumbled to the
rag rug atop the polished plank floorboards. Jayne glanced down.
The economy-sized tube barely missed smashing her stiletto-wearing
foot. She was reminded that her cute shoes probably didn't speak
Rustic
, either.

Heeeelp
!

At her side, Gwen Davis looked on with a
puzzled expression. A jar of honey smoothie lotion followed the
body scrub to the floor. Various mesh scrubbers of all sizes were
pushed aside. Finally, Jayne located the elixir she sought: a
container of Bathing Beauty Bubbles.

Just looking at it, she felt a little
better.
Calm was at hand
. Evidently, her relief showed,
because her hostess turned away to finish the job she'd followed
Jayne into the bathroom to accomplish.

"Towels are right here." She patted a thick
stack of burgundy terrycloth. "There's extra soap beneath the sink.
Plenty of hot water to fill that old tub, too."

Gwen gestured toward the old-fashioned,
four-legged white porcelain bathtub. At the sight of its comforting
curvy lines and pampering depth, Jayne nearly burst into tears.

It had been a very trying day.

"Just help yourself. Nobody will bother
you," Gwen added, moving closer. She gave Jayne a tentative pat. As
she had since she'd helped Jayne sneak away during the
Riley-inspired mêlée, she gazed at her guest with concern. "Are you
sure you don't want to talk about it? My grandson can be a stinker,
but he's usually not—"

"Thanks, no. I really can't."

A pause. "All right, then. Whenever you're
ready, I'm here."

Jayne sniffed, clutching her Bathing Beauty
Bubbles. She nodded. This was awfully nice of Gwen. Offering to
listen to her troubles
and
volunteering the use of the
lodge's only full-fledged bathtub (the rest of the accommodations
had showers) went far beyond the call of duty. She probably thought
Jayne was some sort of compulsive bather, unable to hold out longer
than a couple of hours without a dose of steamy suds and the
honesty of 99 and 44/100% pure Ivory soap.

Actually, that wasn't far from the truth.
Especially today.

Especially after seeing Riley.

"Thank you, Gwen. This really means a lot to
me. You don't know how much. After what just happened, I—"

"There, there." Another gentle pat. A smile.
"We can talk about it when you're feeling better."

Gwen went to the tub and dropped the rubber
stopper in place to block the drain. Efficiently, she worked the
taps. They complained with a creak, then issued forth a steady
stream of water. With a few uncertain steps, Jayne joined her at
the side of the bathtub. She sprinkled in some Bathing Beauty
Bubbles, which lathered themselves into a wonderful froth within
seconds.

Her hostess raised an eyebrow. "Impressive.
I haven't seen that much foam since the last time I tackled shaving
my legs."

"It's my favorite brand," Jayne confided.
They shared a smile. "Smells like sugar cookies, moisturizes your
skin, and makes you feel like a princess. The bubbles are
practically indestructible. Here, you can try some if you
want."

She offered the container.

Gwen looked as though she'd been offered a
one-way ticket to Sin City. She shook her head. "Oh, I
couldn't."

Jayne could tell she wanted to. "Sure, you
can. My treat." She nudged the Bathing Beauty Bubbles into Gwen's
hand and closed her fingers around the container. "Enjoy."

"All right. I'll try." The words sounded
doubtful. But her expression was hopeful, even a little eager.
"Thank you."

She left, having accepted a bonus packet of
lavender bath salts and a trial-sized mud masque, too. Five minutes
later, Jayne had taken full advantage of the resulting privacy.
She'd piled her hair in a loose knot atop her head, stripped to her
birthday suit, and lost herself in the soothing warmth of her
bath.

Naturally, that was when
it
happened.

Footsteps pounded down the hallway outside
the bathroom. Since this part of the lodge housed the Davis
family's private living quarters, Jayne wasn't concerned—only
hopeful that she hadn't inconvenienced someone with an (ahem)
urgent need. But there were plenty of additional bathrooms,
including one just off the lodge's wide-beamed, antler-decorated
reception area. Surely anyone who needed—

The doorknob rattled. The door pushed open.
Slapped against the opposite wall. A large body filled the opening,
one both broad-shouldered and familiar. An instant later, her
unexpected visitor entered the room fully and slammed the door
behind him. Before she could so much as gasp in surprise, he
flattened himself against its face, looking vaguely panicky.

And completely gorgeous.

Riley
.

How had she have forgotten the impact his
presence had? Tall, dark, and thoroughly at ease with the world
around him (maybe a little less so today), Riley Davis had a
low-key confidence that seemed contagious. It invited laughs and
good times. It offered strength and masculine competence. It
suggested something adventurous was right around the corner.

In this case, adventure probably
was
right around the corner. It looked as though he were being
pursued.

Feminine voices sounded in the hallway
outside the door. Hearing them, Riley grew alert. He canted his
head to the side, listening.

His absorption gave Jayne plenty of time to
recover from the shock of his unexpected intrusion—and to assess
the changes in him. His hair, dark and buzz-cut when she'd known
him, had grown into shaggy, appealingly-tousled layers. His face,
all rugged angles and assertive nose, sported a new, faint scar
near his squared jaw. His body, always well-muscled, showed the
effects of further hard use—probably in service of the adventures
he'd had since they'd split. She wondered if he'd enjoyed those
adventures alone...or if he'd had company.