Sleigh Bells in Valentine Valley (11 page)

Kate went back to her table. “My break isn't up yet. Mind if I sit down?”

Lyndsay shrugged.

“So how's teaching?”

After a long pause, Lyndsay said, “It's okay. More paperwork than it used to be, less freedom to choose what I want to teach. But you're a parent, I'm sure you've heard that before.”

Kate nodded. “Dating anybody?”

Lyndsay shrugged again. “A dentist from Carbondale. He's nice. Got an ex-wife and kids, though, so he's not too serious.”

“Guess there's a lot of that going around,” Kate said with faint sarcasm.

“You date guys with kids?” Lyndsay asked with only a little interest.

“Sometimes. I never meet the kids, though, and I've never introduced Ethan. I don't seem to be able to get that far in a relationship. The older we get, the more anyone single has a lot of complications in his life.”

Lyndsay nodded.

Nicole brought out the Cobb salad and set it in front of Lyndsay, eyeing the two women as if they might attack each other.

“We're playing nice,” Lyndsay said sweetly.

Nicole backed away, hands upraised.

Lyndsay's gaze met Kate's, and Kate thought Lyndsay gave her a faint smile. But then she cleared her throat and lifted her fork.

“I better get back to work,” Kate said, standing up and pushing in her chair. “Have fun watching all my admirers.”

“Oh, I will.”

T
ony sat in the back seat of Will's pickup on the way to Aspen, watching the hypnotic quality of snow coming right at the window in the headlights.

“Are you going to freeze me out all night?” Will teased.

“I'm not freezing you out. I said everything I needed to earlier.”

There was another minute-long pause.

“I still can't believe you told her all the rumors about her,” Tony said in a disgusted voice.

Will groaned. “Come on! She's a big girl. She should know what people are saying—
I'd
want to know.”

“Look, she's going through a tough time.”

“She
says
she's just taking a break from work—guess there's more to it.”

“It's personal.”

“Funny how you know about it,” Nate said, twisting on the bench to glance at Tony with interest.

“We share a kid. We still have to talk.”

“He said ‘have to,'” Nate pointed out to Will. “Did you hear that? As if it's difficult to deal with each other. Told you he wasn't thinking about ex-sex.”

Tony choked on the sip of water he'd just taken out of his Nalgene, then spit it out on his hockey bag. “Dammit, guys, look what you made me do.”

“I think that bag could use some water,” Will said. “Lots of water. And soap.”

Nate turned his head and gave Tony a smile. “So you
are
thinking about ex-sex?”

“Of course not! We've been over for nine years. That's for guys who can't get over a breakup.”

“Not always,” Will said conversationally. “But yeah, the few times I've done it, it's been within a couple months of the breakup.”

“That never works out for anybody,” Tony said, shaking his head. “Neither of you moves on.”

“Well, I'd have to disagree. St. Nate here probably never had ex-sex, so he can't have an opinion.”

“Nope,” Nate agreed pleasantly.

“If you don't like to think of it as ex-sex, think of it as the other cliché, friends with benefits.”

Tony swallowed and looked out the foggy window into the darkness, feeling uneasy. “Look, we have a kid together, one who lives at my house. And Kate's living with her parents.”

“So the housing situation is all that's stopping you?” Nate asked with interest.

“My mind just goes to logistics first,” Tony insisted. “I have not given one serious thought to sex with her.”

“What does that mean?” Will asked, laughing. “So you've had horny thoughts about her, just not ones you took seriously?”

Tony sighed and said nothing.

“I knew it!” Will said to Nate.

“Damn, I always lose our bets,” Nate said.

“You bet about my sex life?” Tony demanded.

“Just kidding.” Nate gave him a grin from the front bench, then his smile faded. “But, Tony, things are going that well with your ex-wife?”

Tony shrugged. “We seem to be sort of okay as friends. I remember the bad things occasionally—you can't forget that, especially when . . .” He trailed off.
Especially when she was the love of my life, and there doesn't seem to be another
.

Nate just nodded in sympathy.

“Especially when what?” Will demanded.

“He doesn't need to tell us,” Nate said.

“Sure he does. We're his best friends.”

“There's nothing to tell,” Tony insisted. “I'm not looking for a long-term relationship with other women, because I've got a kid who might suffer.”

Will met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Then what's stopping you from ex-sex with your wife?”

“Too complicated. Let's leave it at that.”

But now Tony was going to be plagued by memories of the mind-blowing sex he'd shared with Kate so long ago. She'd made him wait through sophomore and junior year of high school, saying they were too young, and part of him had agreed—and part of him had not. Making out had certainly been a lot of fun. But the pleasure had been even sweeter when, on a warm spring day, they'd driven to a remote trail to go hiking and she'd surprised him by saying she'd been on the pill for two months, and they were finally alone. Leave it to Kate to have everything planned, but boy, he'd appreciated it. They'd made love outdoors, and he'd never forget it as long as he lived—the spectacular beauty of Kate, naked on a blanket, the dappled sun through the trees making patterns on her body. They'd both been eager, and things had gone too quickly the first time, but they'd had hours to practice, and the second—and third—time had been amazing.

Tony grimaced and told himself to stop thinking about the past. He wasn't going to have sex with Kate because . . . because of everything that had happened between them.

Damn, he needed a cold shower. An ice rink would have to do.

K
ate finished putting the linens bag near the back door and returned to a deserted bar. Lamar had already gone home, and since Nicole had finished her side work quickly, she'd gone, too, along with manager Stephen. Chef Baranski was overseeing the kitchen cleaning. The radio was still softly playing and taking callers, and an old woman's voice said, “Why did you change the music? In the middle of the night, my donkeys want to hear classical and jazz.”

Kate snorted and thought,
Only in Valentine Valley
.

She was just about to start putting the chairs upside down on the tables when someone knocked on the front door. She looked up and saw Tony.

Smiling, she unlocked and let him in. “So how did it go?”

And then she saw the small bandage oozing blood on his right cheek.

She gasped. “Tony!”

He shrugged and dropped his bag near the door. “It looks worse than it is.”

“But it's bleeding through the bandage! Weren't you wearing a helmet, a face mask?”

“Of course I was—I don't want to lose my teeth. But we were warming up, and someone on the other team was hitting too hard, and I'd taken off my helmet to adjust . . . never mind the details.”

She followed him into his office. “You could have lost an eye!”

“I know, I know.”

“And you need a new bandage.”

“This was a new bandage after the game, and I ripped off the scab that had formed.” He rummaged through his shelves until he found the medicine kit.

“Maybe you need stitches?”

“Naw, I'm fine. I have antiseptic things in here somewhere.”

She pushed his big hands out of the way, found the little packet, and opened it. “Sit down on the desk so I can reach you.”

“Kate—”

“Shh!”

With a sigh he complied, sitting on the edge of the desk. That put his face a little above hers, and she had to stand between his knees. She bit her lip as she tried to be gentle peeling off the bandage.

“Just rip it away,” he said with amusement.

So she did, and she was the only one who winced. The cut wasn't too long, nor was it an open gash or oozing blood too badly. Using the damp antiseptic wipe, she gently cleansed it, then looked for a bigger, square bandage. After applying it, she stood still, admiring her work.

“There,” she murmured with satisfaction.

Tony wasn't smiling anymore. Those chocolate brown eyes were staring at her as if out of the past, back when he'd desired her, needed her.

And she realized she was standing between his thighs. The shock of awareness and heat that moved through her body was swift and overwhelming. He put his hands on her waist, as if he knew she was suddenly weak with longing.

“What are we doing?” she whispered.

But she didn't move away.

“I think I'm kissing you,” he said, leaning closer.

Their breaths merged, the heat of him seared her.

“Stop me now,” he warned in a hoarse voice.

Their lips almost, almost touched.

And she couldn't speak, didn't want to deny him, found herself deep in the past, where Tony had been the only boy, then the only man, who'd drawn her, who'd made her desperate for his touch, who'd made her lose herself.

He kissed her, openmouthed and hungrily, no gentle exploration but inspiring a renewal of a desperation that she'd buried within her for over nine years. He pulled her against him, her hips into the openness of his, her aching breasts flattening against his broad chest, her head turning until it practically rested on his shoulder. She felt greedy with the need of him, desperate for the taste of his tongue. And then his hands slid to cup her backside, pressing her even harder against the erection outlined by his jeans. She let her hands roam him, remembering his biceps and shoulders, the broad planes supporting his collarbones, the lean pillar of his neck. His hair was thick and warm, and so good to touch.

Their mouths explored as if in homecoming, as memories swamped her of laughing kisses, tender kisses, urgent kisses. Tony was still all of that for her, and no one had ever made her feel like this but him.

That made her break off the kiss and stare at him, wide-eyed. His eyes smoldered as they watched her mouth. He didn't look like he could stop, and for a moment, she wondered if she could, if Tony once again could create a passion that made her forget everything but him.

And then they heard a sound. She turned her head and saw the chef pausing in the doorway. He glanced at them and just kept walking.

“Oh, my God,” Kate said, backing away.

Tony sighed and leaned his hands back on the desk as if his bones needed support. He dislodged a stack of files, which tumbled to the floor, but he made no move to pick them up.

“He saw us!” she whispered.

“Yeah, he did. We weren't doing anything illegal,” he said, his voice still husky, but eminently practical as always.

She touched the back of her hand to her damp mouth, even as she gaped at him. “Tony!” She didn't know where to start, couldn't understand why he didn't see all the problems.

He straightened up, and suddenly he was so tall in the small room, overwhelming, very male. For a moment, he didn't move, and the hesitation had her both hoping he'd touch her and praying he wouldn't. He came toward her, putting his hands flat on the wall on either side of her head. He leaned down and nuzzled the side of her neck into her hair.

“Tony,” she said more faintly, even as a wave of desire made her shudder. “We can't do this.”

“Why not? We're both single.”

“You're—you're acting like we're two people who've never dated, let alone been m-married.” She stifled a moan and closed her eyes as he took her earlobe between his teeth and bit gently. She could hear his harsh breathing, felt the heat of his body so close.

“If it helps, pretend we're strangers.” He licked her neck long and slow.

She groaned aloud, then ducked away from him, reaching to close the door. “Whatever physical attraction we may still feel, Tony De Luca, we both know that emotionally, this is a disaster in the making. And pretend we're strangers? Like that would work?”

“You're right—we're not strangers. I kinda thought this last week had proven we'd become friends, finally, after all this time.”

“Friends! Ohhhh.” She put a hand on her forehead and winced. “I get it—you mean friends with benefits.”

He folded his arms and continued to stare down at her. “Kate, I'm just as surprised as you that every feeling of desire I ever had for you has still been there all this time, waiting for—I don't know, extended time together, time to heal, whatever. One of my biggest regrets of our marriage was that we didn't talk enough. We just assumed that since we'd been together our entire lives, we knew what the other was thinking.”

That made her flinch. He was so right.

“I'm not ever going to stay silent again,” he continued, “even if it's about sex. I admit, I haven't given this—us—any thought at all. I know there would be consequences, and I sure as hell don't want to hurt Ethan. It's probably a bad idea. But I can't stop thinking”—his voice dropped to a gravelly whisper—“how good I can make you feel.”

She stared at him, unable to speak. His eyes were hot again, and he was looking at her like she was the night's special and he could eat her up.

A firm no was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't make it come out. Now she couldn't stop thinking about sex either, imagining pulling off his shirt, running her hands over the ridges of his stomach and up his chest, and remembering, oh, remembering how good he really had made her feel.

Tony studied her, and she knew her expression gave away too much.

She hugged herself. “I . . . I have to go. Ethan—Ethan must be expecting me.”

“It's a weeknight. He's on his usual schedule, hanging out with”—he paused in thought—“the widows.”

“They can't be babysitting him.”

“They told me they miss him, and he gets a kick out of it. Every so often they pick him up, take him out to dinner, and bring him back to the boardinghouse, where they spoil him rotten. He does odd jobs for them while he's there.” He looked at her mouth again. “So my house is empty this evening.”

To her surprise, she started to laugh. “Oh, Tony, this is . . . this is . . . I never thought—”

“Aha, I can still make you laugh,” he said with satisfaction.

He bent to pick up the folders they'd dislodged, and she knelt to help him.

“You don't have to do that,” he said, his voice hasty.

She didn't understand his concern. “The mess is my fault, too.”

And then she saw something with the words
Valentine Valley
in bold print. She pulled it out even as he tried to grab it from her hands.

It was a wall calendar, with a gorgeous view of their valley and mountains and the title “The Men of Valentine Valley.”

She gaped at it, then at him. Was he blushing? Could that mean—? “Tony—are you in this?”

He sank back on his heels with a heavy sigh. “It was for the Valentine Valley Preservation Fund,” he said lamely.

“The
widows
made you do this?”

“Well, they didn't
make
me. They asked.”

She began to page through it, staring in shock at all the men she knew, posing mostly without shirts. There was Chris Sweet, Emily's brother, reading by a fire in January; Dom Shaw, Monica's brother, posing with flowers and chocolate for February. Page after page of men she knew—and then she reached May, and saw Tony hip-deep in the Fryingpan River, fly fishing. The sun gleamed off his chest, curved along the muscles of his arms, and highlighted his dark hair.

Glancing up, she found him grimacing as he watched her.

She smiled. “You look really good.”

He rolled his eyes.

She kept paging through until she found the July group shot at the hot springs behind the Sweetheart Inn. “Wow,” she mouthed, looking at the selection of men in their bathing suits, all grouped in and around the hot springs. “Hey, you're in back. I can hardly see—”

“That's enough.” He took it away from her, buried it in the middle of the stack of folders, and shoved it onto his desk.

He pulled her to her feet, and though Kate was tempted to hold onto his hand, she backed away and opened the door. The kitchen was quiet and dark, only the radio making any sound in the restaurant. She went into the main room and started stacking the chairs on the tables.

“So how did you and my sister do?”

With a start, she turned and found Tony leaning against the bar, watching her. And suddenly the quiet and sense of aloneness was almost as intimate as their kiss.

She cleared her throat and continued to stack chairs. “We did fine. I think we've even declared a truce.”

“That's good to hear.”

“We talked about her job and dating. Polite conversation, not too deep.”

“It's a start.”

She walked to the back room to continue stacking chairs, and he followed her in, leaning against the doorjamb to watch her.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “You want me to be on good terms with your sister again? Why?”

He shrugged. “She doesn't seem happy lately. Maybe getting over part of the past can help.”

Her hand on a chair, Kate paused. “Has something happened?”

“I don't know, she won't admit to anything. I'm not asking you to get information out of her or anything—”

“Good, because I wouldn't spy.”

“—I'm only saying I hope forgiving an old friend will somehow help.”

She nodded, finished the last chair, and started for the door. He stepped to one side, but she was still forced to squeeze past him and her breasts just brushed his chest, causing her stomach to flutter.

“Unfair,” she scolded, walking backward to face him.

He grinned.

“I'm out of here.” She grabbed her jacket from the back and hurried toward the door before he could stop her. He didn't try, and she was almost disappointed.
Uh-oh
.

T
ony watched Kate run away, and he wasn't surprised. What had really surprised him was himself. It was as if one conversation about ex-sex had made every horny thought about Kate something that couldn't be ignored. He hadn't meant to suggest anything at all, but then she'd touched his face, stood between his thighs, and suddenly he hadn't been able to think of anything else but her, exploring her body, which he'd once known as well as his own. His logical mind with all its warning bells had faded so far away that he'd only been able to hear the pounding of his heart, feel the desperation in his trembling hands.

To hold Kate again had been . . . mind-blowing.

To know she still felt the same desire had only made everything better. So the attraction hadn't gone away. He couldn't be surprised, and it was a relief to openly acknowledge it.

But as he slowly turned off the last of the lights and his body cooled and his mind reasserted itself, Tony was almost glad Kate had been the sensible one. Not glad, exactly, but . . . maybe relieved.

It was a mistake to think they could just stop thinking and forget about everybody else but themselves.

E
than was getting dropped off at Tony's next door when Kate arrived home. Sure, Tony had the house to himself, she thought, shaking her head. Kate waved to Mrs. Thalberg as she drove away in her old station wagon. On the icy sidewalk, Kate and Ethan talked a few minutes about his evening with the widows, then he started toward Tony's to finish up some homework.

“If you need help, just let me know!” she called hopefully.

He kept walking but did a slow turn. “Mom, you hate math.”

“Doesn't mean I'm bad at it.”