Temptation Ridge (7 page)

“Do you know what it means to get mixed up with someone like me?” he asked, his voice husky.

“Danger? Heartbreak?” She took a breath. “Adventure? You don’t scare me as much as I scare you, Luke.”

He slowly lowered his lips to hover over hers. “You sure about this?” he asked. “Because I think you know where all this flirting is headed. I’m no kid. This is headed someplace real naked.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she said with a weak whisper. “I’m not taking my clothes off.”

“Not yet?” he asked, his lips so close to hers she could feel his breath in her mouth, warm and sexy.

“Maybe never,” she whispered.

“Maybe,” he whispered back. “I like that word,
maybe.
” Then he lowered his lips to hers and pressed against them softly. He ran his hands up her sides, catching her under the arms and stretching them out, bringing them around his neck, showing her how to hold him. His arms went around her waist and he pulled her against him, kissing her more deeply. He could feel her firm breasts against his chest and he’d like nothing so much as to lower his lips to one, but this was not a woman to ravage. This was a woman to lead. Besides, Jack’s front porch was not the place. For the things he wanted to do, they needed to be assured of more privacy. He opened his lips, sucking at hers. And she opened hers, letting her tongue make a gentle, silken swipe of his mouth, bringing a deep and passionate groan from him. He ran a hand down over her bum and pulled her hard against him. He was already aroused; she just knocked him out.

Something like a whimper came from her as she pressed herself against him, opening her lips more to admit his tongue. His kiss was hot, wet, deep and long. He had been right about one thing—she could mold her small body against him in a way that made him think he might go completely crazy. The one thing that helped him keep his sanity was the belief that when this was finally consummated, it was going to be sweet. And good. For both of them.

“I have a feeling I’m not what you were expecting,” she whispered against his lips. “I’m not very experienced.”

“I already know that,” he said. “I am.” He kissed her again, holding her tight, and he felt a slight trembling in
his arms. He pulled away from her lips, still holding her small bottom and pushing her hips against him, and whispered, “You’re right, Shelby. You’re pretty much all surprises.”

She expelled a small huff of air, smiled and said, “You have no idea.”

He ran a hand along the hair at her temple. “Shelby, how does a young woman as beautiful and sweet as you not have a man in her life?”

She glanced down briefly. “There was no time for that. My mom… She was completely dependent on me.” She looked up into his eyes. “I took care of her. That was my full-time job. Until she died.”

He was stunned speechless for a moment. “For how long?” he asked softly.

“Five years or so.”

“Aw, Shelby…”

“It was my choice. It’s what I wanted.”

He leaned toward her and pressed his lips tenderly against her head. “Not many people would do that.”

“Oh, probably more than you think.”

He was surprised at how much that moved him, touched him. He lifted her chin with a finger and brushed his lips across hers again. He threaded his hand under her thick mane of hair at the back of her neck and put soft kisses on her mouth and temples and eyes. Then her lips again. And he said, “No. Only a certain kind of person takes on something like that. Your kind of person.” This young woman was every beautiful thing he’d ever imagined, from her body to her spirit. He gave her lips another light kiss. “I’m going to put you in your car now.”

“Seems like maybe you changed your mind about this…this flirting….”

He shook his head. He wished he could. He knew he should. But he hadn’t. When the time was right for her and the tension gave way to need, when there was no more maybe about it, she was going to come to him, soft and willing, and he was going to make long, slow, fabulous love to her—damn the consequences. And he would be sure she’d have no regrets about the experience. It wouldn’t be too fast and it wouldn’t be too soon—and it would be exquisite. It wasn’t a good idea, but it was the only idea he had.

“Nah,” he said. “I have a one-track mind.”

She laughed at him. “Big surprise.”

“Before this goes any further, we’re going to talk about some things,” he said.

“What things?”

“Expectations. Needs. You have to know what you could be getting yourself into. While there’s still time for you to come to your senses.”

She put her hand against his cheek. “I look forward to that.”

He gave her a brief kiss and said, “Come on. Time for you to go home.”

S
helby wasn’t quite ready to leave Luke; she was in the mood for more of that kissing and touching. But, sensing he was right to put a little space between them if she wasn’t ready to go further, she let him put her in her Jeep and went home. She let herself into Walt’s house and found it dimmed and quiet. A light was left on for her in the great room and Uncle Walt’s big Tahoe was missing from the driveway. It was only ten, but there was no doubt in her mind that Vanni and Paul had turned in the minute the baby was asleep.

She was too stirred up for sleep. She pulled off her boots, built a fire, pulled the throw from the couch around her shoulders and curled up in the big leather chair near the hearth. She hugged herself dreamily.

Only about fifteen minutes had passed when Vanni came out of her bedroom wearing her robe and furry slippers. She smiled at Shelby, then went to the other chair facing the hearth, kicked off her slippers and pulled up her bare feet, tucking the robe around her legs.

“Did I wake you?” Shelby asked quietly.

“I wasn’t asleep.”

Shelby laughed conspiratorially. “Did I disturb you?”

“Not at all. In fact, I was thinking about you, wondering when you’d get home.”

“Are you staying awake for me? To be sure I get in safely?”

“No,” Vanni said. Then she laughed and said, “Yes. Paul said you stayed at the bar to have dinner with Luke.”

“Yes. And not only did Paul come home and report on me, every person there glanced at us as they left Jack’s. Good thing I’m not trying to get away with anything, huh? Good thing I’m not fifteen, right?”

“I think maybe Luke’s a little too old for you.”

“He is. And he’s made it real clear that I’m too young for him.” Then she laughed softly. “Oh brother, he doesn’t know the half of it.”

“You know, I grew up around soldiers. Honey, they have some real rough edges. It’s the nature of the beast. The life they lead, the things they’re required to do, it puts them on the tough side of life. They harden up, you know? They can become insensitive, brash and… Well, they learn how to live in the moment, without looking back, if you know what I mean.”

“Would you say that about Uncle Walt? Jack or Paul?”

She shook her head. “They’re pretty special men.” She was quiet for a moment and then said, “You’ve been locked in with your mom for so long, you practically missed the real beginning of young womanhood. And now when you could really use a mom to talk to, she’s gone. Maybe you and I should go over a few things. About men. About relationships.”

“Aw, Vanni—you’re worried about me.”

“I can’t help it. I know how old you are. But I also know how inexperienced you are.”

But
he’s
experienced enough for both of us, she
almost said. “You know, you can’t have the kind of talk with me as you would with a thirteen-or sixteen-year-old girl. True, I haven’t been around, but I’m not ignorant. While I was housebound, postponing my life, I still had books and television. I might not have experienced much firsthand, but I’ve been watching from the sidelines. I’ve witnessed women’s romantic problems from Scarlett O’Hara to Anna Karenina. And that’s not even taking into account prime-time TV. But you go ahead, Vanni,” she said with a smile. “Anything you think I should know—lay it on me.”

“You like him,” Vanni said.

“I do. I didn’t expect to, but I just can’t help it.”

“And you know
exactly
what you’re doing.”

She laughed. “No. I know what I’d like to do, but I’m such a clumsy novice, it’s amazing he’s not bored to death by me. I’m a twenty-five-year-old going through puberty. When I was supposed to be learning these things in high school, I was too shy. I was afraid to flirt, afraid the boys would laugh at me. I could have learned a little later, when I was older and braver, but I was busy.” She shrugged. “So here I am. Trying this out for the first time. With a guy whose first time probably came before I was born.”

“I don’t want you to be hurt,” Vanni whispered. “You’re the sweetest, kindest person I know.”

“Vanni, I barely know Luke Riordan, but it’s real clear he’s not my knight in shining armor. He’s done everything he can think of to discourage me, but let’s be honest—this was no frontal attack from him. He admitted he’s avoided me because of my age. The coward.”

Vanni laughed at her.

“When you get down to it, my first choice was a completely different kind of man. Closer to my age, less sea
soned, someone who doesn’t come right out and promise to ravage you—”

Vanni sat up straight, eyes very large. “He
said
that?”

“Not in so many words, but I got the message.” A wonderful shiver passed through her. “Besides, even if I found myself attracted to a younger man, he’d still be more experienced than me, he might even be divorced with kids. There are a couple of things I know about Luke, though. He might be a little on the rugged side, but he’s actually very tender. Gentle. Patient.” Her eyes glistened when she looked at her cousin. “He kissed me,” she whispered secretively. “I’ve
never
been kissed like that. It was unbe
liev
able.”

“Whew. Really?”

Shelby nodded. “You just can’t imagine how good he is at it. Shew. But don’t worry—I told him I wasn’t taking my clothes off. I wanted to, though. Boy, did I.”

“Shelby!” Vanni said, stunned.

“Well, I did, but the porch at Jack’s bar didn’t seem the place. Plus, it’s pretty cold. I mean, I wasn’t cold—Luke was wrapped around me like a straitjacket.”

Vanni giggled in spite of herself.

“And he likes me. He hates that he likes me—Uncle Walt has him scared to death. And you know what? I love that in spite of that he can’t resist. Do you have any idea what that means to someone like me?”

Vanni was quiet for a long moment. Finally, she said, “What can I do?”

“Let’s have that talk. It would be nice to have someone to talk to about this. About where it’s going, which I think I’m pretty clear about. Can you do that without telling Paul all my personal business?”

“Sure,” Vanni said with a smile. “Men don’t care about these things anyway. Where should we start?”

“Why don’t we start with you telling me about your first experiences with this,” Shelby suggested.

“Well,” Vanni said, looking into her lap for a second. “First of all—I wasn’t shy in high school. Or in college. Or while I worked with the airline….”

Shelby giggled. “Oh God, this is going to be delicious! I can’t wait!”

Luke was up early the next morning, as was usual for him. But this morning he had a mission in cabin six. He got out the bread, mayonnaise and mustard, bologna and cheese and made a half-dozen sandwiches. He wrapped them, put them in a sack and grabbed a big bag of chips and two canned sodas. The sun was just coming up when he pushed open the cabin door.

The man was curled up on a broken-down sofa in the corner in a big, chubby ball, sleeping, his jacket spread over his body. He rested his head on an arm. Luke crouched down beside him, but the guy didn’t move a muscle. He was pretty filthy; Luke wondered how long he’d been homeless. He gave his shoulder a little shake and the man’s small eyes opened slowly.

He rolled slightly, rubbed his eyes and scrambled into a sitting position.

“How long have you been sleeping in here?” Luke asked.

He shrugged. He yawned. “A couple nights,” he said. “I’ll go.”

“I brought you something to eat,” Luke said, handing him the bag.

“I don’t have any more money,” he said.

“It’s free. It’s from my kitchen and I’m sharing with you. What’s your name?”

“Art,” he said, opening the bag and digging out a
sandwich. He nearly stuffed the whole thing into his mouth.

“Slow down,” Luke said and laughed. “Who hit you, buddy?”

“He din’t mean it,” he said, chewing and gulping. “He said he din’t mean it.”

The guy was starving. “Who didn’t mean it?” Luke asked.

“Stan,” he said. He made a final gulp and reached into the bag for another. “My boss at the grocery.”

“Hmm. Where are you from?”

“Eureka,” he said, unwrapping another sandwich. “I came through the big trees. I like ’em. The big trees.”

“The redwoods. You walked all that way?”

He shrugged and swallowed. “I hitched some. You’re not supposed to hitch, you know. Then I walked through the big trees.”

“Through the grove, huh?” Luke said. “Yeah, they’re nice. How old are you?”

“Thirty. My birthday is in November. Then I’m thirty.” He dived into another sandwich.

“Your parents live in Eureka?”

He shook his head. “My mom’s gone now. I have a group home, but if I stay there I have to work at the grocery. For Stan.”

Luke was still crouched, sitting on the heel of his boot. He’d only known one kid with Down’s while growing up—a neighbor kid. He’d been younger—his brother Sean’s age—and Luke and his brothers all looked out for him. No one dared give him any trouble—they’d have to answer to the scrappy Irish Riordan boys. He was the sweetest kid on earth; Luke had learned they had a reputation for being the gentlest-natured people alive. But this guy’s boss had slugged him in the face. Now, why would
a person do something like that? So Art is on the run from an abuser. Wouldn’t his caretaker be onto that? Make that right? Unless the caretaker was also abusive…

Luke thought about calling someone, get this guy some help. But he only thought about it for five seconds. He couldn’t have some agency toss this guy back into a group home where he was mistreated. “You need a job where nobody hits, buddy?”

He shrugged and chewed.

“I could use some help. Maybe if I let you have a place to sleep while I’m working around here, you could do some chores for food and clothes and stuff. Any interest in that?” Art nodded without making eye contact. “Can you count?”

Art looked up, swallowed and said, “’Course I can count. I’m not stupid.”

That made Luke smile. “’Course you’re not. Okay. I can let you sleep in the trailer a few nights till we get a cabin straight for you. There’s some plumbing that works in the trailer. I’ll find you a sleeping bag and something clean to wear. How’s that?”

He gulped down the last of his sandwich. “What’s your name?”

“Luke,” he said, standing up.

“Okay. Luke.”

“When you’re done eating there, go down to the camper and wash up. The water’s not real hot, but I’ll get you a bar of soap and a couple of towels. I’ll meet you down there in a little while, how’s that?”

“Okay. Luke.”

“It’s a roof and a bed. We’ll get a cabin in shape for you so you have a little more room, but the trailer’s not so bad. It’s better than this.”

“Thanks. Luke.”

“You’re welcome, Art.”

Luke went back to the house and dug around in his things. Luke was a big guy, but his waist was trim, so nothing of his would fit Art. He finally settled on a bathrobe he never wore, and with towels, soap, pillows and a sleeping bag, he went back down to number six. It was empty. He hoped Art hadn’t panicked and run, because the guy needed a little assist.

But Art had gone, as he was told, to the trailer. The shower, barely warm and tiny as hell, was running. Luke knocked on the door. “Art? Hey, Art?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I hand you over some soap? Leave you a bathrobe and some towels?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Don’t look at me.”

“I won’t. You put on this bathrobe and I think I’ll wash these clothes for you. They’re nasty, Art.”

“They’re dirty,” Art corrected.

They were way past dirty. Luke handed a bar of soap into the shower and left the towels and robe hanging on the hooks right outside. Then he gingerly plucked the clothes off the floor and, leaving the shoes, carried them to his house. But before he entered, he changed his mind. They were so awful and probably infested, he didn’t even want them in his washing machine. They were also threadbare, the underwear gray…yet the bruise was new. Suddenly Luke realized this was how Art had been dressed in the group home. So, Luke dug around in his toolbox for a tape measure and went back to the trailer. He walked in to find Art in his blue terry robe. Art jumped in surprise.

“Don’t worry,” Luke said. “I looked at your clothes and they seem to be in bad shape. I don’t have anything that
will fit you, but since you’re going to work for me, I’m going to buy something in your size. Any chance you know your size?”

“Forty.”

“What’s forty, Art?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Okay, no problem. Let me measure your waist. I bet it’s your waist. But I’ll need—” He stopped. He couldn’t measure the man’s inseam. Art had asked not to be looked at and Luke had a momentary concern that maybe something uncomfortable, if not horrible, had happened to him. He’d measure the inseam of the discarded pants. That would do.

Art stood still for him while he put the tape measure around his waist. Forty—the guy was fairly competent. Time would tell how competent, but Luke had made his decision. He was going to give him a chance to not be homeless or beaten. He’d work out the details later.

“What size are your shoes?”

“Ten,” Art said. “Wide. Very wide.”

“Good. Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to get you some clothes because yours are ruined. Then I’m going to make sure you have dinner. And tomorrow we can talk about your chores. Can you stay here, inside, until I get back? It’ll be more than an hour.”

He looked at the rolled-up sleeping bag on the bed in the trailer. “Can I open that? It’s okay?”

“Sure. Have a nap if you want to.” Luke smiled at him. “You look good all cleaned up. How long you been on the road, buddy?”

He shrugged. But it couldn’t have been too long—the bruise was still fresh. He must have had some rough experiences in a short time to get so filthy.

“I’ll be back. Stay inside. I don’t want you scaring anybody in your bathrobe.”

“It’s your bathrobe,” Art said. He was clearly very literal.

“I’m giving it to you, pal. I never once put it on. I think my mother gave it to me. I think she gives me one every Christmas. Maybe she’s trying to keep me from walking around naked.”