That Touch of Pink (11 page)

He pulled out a knife with a gazillion little tools stuck into the dividers. When he noticed her questioning look, he said, “Swiss Army knife. Don't leave home without it.”

Abby watched him. “That's particularly nasty-looking,” she said, when he started working with a serrated blade.

“This takes off the fish's skin and scales. After I fry it up in a pan, Kimmie will never recognize Nemo, his father or any other relatives.”

“For the sake of her psyche and future good mental health, I hope you're right.”

“Plus I've got MREs just in case we didn't catch any fish.”

“Define MRE.”

“Meals ready to eat,” he explained.

“If one of them isn't a dehydrated hot dog, you're going to wish we'd lugged in that box of cereal.”

When he laughed, Abby noticed the way the lines around his eyes crinkled. She watched him work, the competent, confident movement of his hands and the way the muscles moved beneath the tanned skin of his strong forearms. In that moment, she felt completely safe and absolutely content. And happy. If only it were possible to freeze this moment in time and stay here forever.

The rest of the evening was just as perfect. As the sun went down, they sat around the fire eating. After Abby told her it was “chicken,” Kimmie tried the fish and pronounced it not too yucky. Because there was no TV and she was worn out from all the exercise and fresh air, she was soon tucked into her sleeping bag sound asleep.

Abby left her in the tent and felt the chill in the air before she went to sit by Riley in front of the fire. He was using the corkscrew from his Swiss Army knife on a bottle of wine.

“Where did that come from?” she asked, surprised.

“My backpack.”

“That pack is like Mary Poppins' carpetbag—bottomless and magic.”

“Just the necessities,” he said, the fire glinting off his teeth when he grinned.

“So wine is a necessity and cereal is—”

“Empty calories.”

“Ah,” she said, gratefully accepting the plastic cup of chardonnay. “Perfect with fish. And the ambience…”
She glanced up at the spectacular sky filled with a gazillion twinkling stars.

“Perfect.” The single word was spoken in a husky voice. When their gazes collided, she saw the dark intensity in his.

Suddenly, Abby felt more sparks between them than a campfire fanned by the wind. Certainly his Swiss Army knife had just the right tool to cut the tension. But she couldn't take a chance. It was time to take the heat off.

“So,” she said, after several sips of wine. “Tell me about your life postadoption. What did you mean when you said you finally understood how your parents felt about you?”

“Where did that come from?”

She shrugged. “We're in the middle of nowhere, so the appropriate response would be—out of nowhere.”

He stared at her for several moments and she suspected he knew exactly what the question was about. After resting his forearm on his upraised knee, he said, “I was four when my mother left and never came back, but I vaguely remember it. Trauma is like that, I guess. A single moment frozen in your mind forever. Then my parents came along. They didn't think having their own kids was in the cards, so they ‘chose' me. It was scary, but they gave me lots of attention. And I had two sets of grandparents doting on me.”

“Sounds awesome.”

“It was. Until Nora.”

“She put a crimp in your style?”

“Suddenly it felt like no one had time for me.” He sipped his own wine. “I was grateful to be out of the orphanage, to have a family, but I didn't feel quite a part of it.”

“Raising a baby is a twenty-four-hour-a-day job. Things were bound to change.”

“Things definitely changed.”

“Think back,” she said. “As Nora got older, didn't things lighten up? Didn't your parents come to your sports events? Didn't someone show up for Muffins With Mom?”

“Huh?”

She shook her head. “School activities. The point is, your mom and dad probably had more time to split between you and Nora as she got older, when the needs of an infant eased.”

“It's true. And that's what I meant when I said I realized how my folks felt. I got hands-on experience with a demanding infant, not to mention firsthand knowledge of how easy it is to love a child not biologically your own.”

“That boy was lucky to have you, Riley, even for a short time. If you'd been his biological father, you wouldn't have walked out on him at all. Ever.”

“For all the good that did me.”

“Oh, Riley—” She remembered the look of profound sadness on his face when he'd talked about losing his family because his DNA was wrong. “You're plenty good enough,” she said, emphatically. “Your sister would have been the one to feel the heat of your resentment and obviously she didn't. Because you're a wonderful, decent person. Nora thinks the sun rises and sets on you.”

Automatically she reached out and rested her hand on his arm only to feel instant heat. He felt it, too, and his gaze turned hot, starting a fire in her belly. He put
his cup of wine on the ground and set hers beside it. She'd have to be an idiot not to know he was going to kiss her.

This time, there was nowhere to run, even if she wanted to. And, God help her, she didn't want to. They only had tonight and she wanted it to be all that it could be. She wanted the rush, the heat in her blood from a single, isolated dangerous deed. She yearned for the excitement of not looking before taking the leap. She craved the thrill of testing the depth of the water with both feet.

But most important, she felt as if she would shrivel up and blow away—or worse, have major regrets—if she didn't kiss Riley Dixon.

He cupped her face in his big hands and she forgot to breathe. Then he touched his mouth to hers and her breathing went from zero to hyperventilation in half a second. He tasted of wine and wonder, and for several seconds she savored the sweetness of his soft lips. Heat wavered through her from the first brushing of their mouths and shimmered all the way to her toes. Suddenly she didn't feel the cold any more.

When he traced the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue, she parted and welcomed him inside. An erotic heaviness settled in her chest as their mouths mimicked the act of making love. Then he changed direction; he was a man of action, after all. And his mouth was hot on her neck as she nestled into his arms. She was warm as much from the fact that this man was holding her close as she was from his body.

He slipped his hand under her sweatshirt and her breath caught at the exquisite feeling of his warm palm
spanning her back. The sensation of skin to skin made her yearn for—for everything. Then he slid his fingers around her ribs and skimmed his hand over her breast. The first contact was like lightning, followed by electricity zinging through her.

“Abby,” he whispered against her hair, as he teased her nipple to arousal through her bra. “You're so beautiful.”

“No, I—”

“Yes, you are. You're beautiful and I want you.” He shifted his weight, then grunted and reached behind him to move something out of the way.

It was Kimmie's princess backpack, and the equivalent of a cold shower. This was the wrong time and the wrong place. If her daughter weren't sleeping in a tent just a few feet away, she would give Riley anything he wanted. Without question. Or regret. He could have her—mind, body, soul. But it would only be one night, and that would be a mistake.

“I can't, Riley.” She drew in a shuddering breath as she slid away. “I'm more sorry than I can say. But I can't.”

“I'm sorry, too.” He raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. “More than you can possibly know.” He traced a finger over the backpack's pink handle. “But I understand.”

She nodded. “I think I better say good-night.”

“Yeah.”

Before she could change her mind and stay with him, Abby went into the tent and slid into the sleeping bag beside her daughter's. In the dark, she listened to Kimmie's steady breathing and replayed what had just happened. The man knew his way around a kiss better than
he knew his way around the outdoors. But the truth was that she and Riley could never have more than tonight because he didn't want to take a chance any more than she did. Although, more and more, that wasn't entirely true in her case, based on her all-consuming reaction to his kiss. Clearly their association was ending in the nick of time. Then again, she'd thought that before.

But this time, she really meant it.

“W
here's Kimmie tonight?” Molly asked.

“At my folks'. As usual,” Abby added. She and her friends had girls' night out often. Her parents loved taking their granddaughter, and Kimmie was treated like a princess for real.

She hadn't seen her friends since the auction and was anxious to find out what was going on with them. So here they were at the Nuthouse. It was booths, beer and beer-battered shrimp.

“Okay. Abby, you bought Riley at the auction,” Charity said. “Actually, if memory serves, you bought two guys. What's up with you and Des O'Donnell?”

Abby met Molly's gaze, and the redhead shook her head slightly. “I'm not at liberty to say. But I can tell you that Riley fulfilled his commitment.”

“That sounds interesting. And?” Charity stared expectantly.

“And—nothing.” Abby heaved a big sigh.

“That is not the face or body language of a woman to whom nothing has happened,” Jamie said. “I know this because as an attorney I study juries to decipher their verdict.”

Abby knew there would be no peace if she didn't give them something. “Okay. He took us hiking and we camped out last weekend so Kim is officially eligible for her Bluebonnets badges. End of story.”

Beside her, Molly half turned. “That big sigh moments ago and your Gloomy Gus face since we walked in here say there's more to this story. Give it up, Ab.”

“You spent the night with him?” Charity asked.

“Outdoors. As in dirt, hard ground, cold, tent and sleeping bags.”

“As in stars, clear sky, romance,” Charity added.

“He did pull a bottle of wine out of his magic backpack and open it with the corkscrew on his Swiss Army knife.”

“My kind of man,” Charity said.

“Did he kiss you?” Jamie asked suspiciously.

“Why would you think that?” Abby hedged.

“Come on, Ab. Wine?” Jamie prompted. “I know he did because if he didn't, you would have simply said no.”

“Is he a good kisser?” Charity demanded. “And don't edit out the good stuff. Tell us like it is.”

Abby should have known her friends would wring every last detail out of her. “The man has a mouth and he knows how to use it.”

“Then what's the problem?” Molly took a peanut from the red plastic basket in the center of the table and cracked it.

“I would think a close encounter of the kissable kind would perk you up.”

“The problem is that he's not my type.”

“Tell that to your mouth,” Charity said. “And your hormones.”

“How is he wrong?” Jamie asked.

“He's the Marlboro Man and I'm
Trading Spaces.
” Abby ran her fingernail through the condensation spot on her paper place mat and ripped a hole in it. “He's physical fitness and I'm a couch potato.”

“None of this is serious stuff,” Molly said. “What's really bugging you?”

“I bought him at the auction because I'm not the outdoors type. Automatically that makes us diametrically opposed.”

“And you know what they say about opposites attracting?” Charity offered.

“Attraction isn't everything,” Abby countered.

“It's a darn good start,” Molly said.

“We came together for a specific goal—Kimmie's scouting badges. Mission accomplished. Now we have no reason to see each other again.”

Charity pushed her half-empty wineglass away. “No reason except this attraction between the two of you. It would be a shame to waste it.”

“The real problem is trust,” Abby said, thinking about the kiss they'd shared. And bad timing—or maybe good, she thought. If she'd been alone with him… “I'm not looking to make another mistake, and neither is Riley.”

“Speaking as the person who handled your divorce, how do you know it's a mistake?”

“You should know, Jamie. Don't you remember
when I first approached him about the weekend I bought, and he tried to buy it back?”

“Oh. Right. I forgot. Things on my mind,” Jamie admitted. “You wanted to sue Riley, as I recall.”

“It all boiled down to the fact that he didn't want to be around Kimmie and me. Since then, I found out that he had a painful break-up of his own. The woman he married to give her baby his name went back to the baby's biological father. He really misses his family.”

“Wow,” Molly said. “So you're afraid even if he's ready to take another chance, that you're a replacement for the family he lost.”

“Exactly,” Abby said, ripping the place mat to shreds. “I'm glad someone finally sees my point.”

Molly shook her head. “But I don't. At least not when you look like you lost your best friend.”

“The problem is that he spent more time on us than I paid for. He set up a training schedule for physical fitness, showed us how to use the camping equipment—”

“Not to mention that you went to the Chamber of Commerce dinner with him.” Jamie shrugged. “My folks mentioned it.”

“So you got used to having him around?” Charity asked.

“Yeah,” Abby said simply. Sadly.

“Then don't let go of him,” Jamie suggested adamantly.

Abby stared at her in surprise. “This from my divorce attorney?”

“What can I say? It's my job to protect my client's welfare, but I still believe in happy endings.”

“I'm not so sure,” Abby said.

Charity shook her head. “You can't turn your back
on him, Abby. That's the easy way out. And you're quitting before you even get started.”

Abby thought about why Riley had insisted on training them for camping. He didn't want Kimmie to learn the lesson that quitting is okay. “I don't know.”

“Sure you do,” Molly said. “He was hurt because he lost his child. If he's a good father, I'll bet he's probably good husband material, too. Unlike the man who walked out on you.”

“And he's good to his sister,” Abby volunteered helpfully.

“This guy's too good to be true,” Charity said. “So it makes perfect sense that you would thumb your nose at fate and turn your back on him without giving him a chance.”

Abby looked at each of her friends. “And here I was counting on you guys to reenforce my decision not to see him again.”

“What are friends for?” the three of them said in unison.

 

Abby and Kimmie walked past the client reading a magazine in the Dixon Security waiting room and into the Dixon Security inner sanctum. She told herself she wouldn't be here if (a) her friends hadn't convinced her not to give up and (b) her daughter hadn't lobbied long and hard for a visit with Riley to talk to him about “stuff.”

So here they were. And there he was, behind his desk.

Although she knew he'd been on the high school campus from time to time, she hadn't seen him since the camping trip. It had only been about a week, but it
seemed like forever. He looked awfully good dressed in his usual working attire of jeans worn in all the most intriguing places and a long-sleeved white cotton shirt rolled to the elbows. His dark hair was neatly combed and the pleased expression on his face said he was glad to see them. There was also a sexy sparkle in his blue eyes and she wondered if he was remembering their kiss in the Texas moonlight. God help her it was never far from
her
thoughts.

“Hi,” Abby said, wiggling her fingers in a small wave. “I'm sorry to barge in, but Kimmie wanted to see you. And she was relentless.”

“It's okay. A very welcome surprise,” he said, his gaze going dark and intense for a second. Then soft and tender when he looked at her child.

“Hi, Riley,” Kimmie said, marching straight up to him.

“Hi.” He sat behind his desk and pulled her onto his lap.

She touched his keyboard tentatively, then looked around at the desk, chairs, and pictures on the walls. This time, Abby could see they were photos of a younger Riley with his soldier buddies. Her throat went tight at the sight of the uniform and what it represented—putting his life on the line to keep his country safe.

“I like your office,” Kimmie said.

“Thanks. Me, too. To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from the princess?”

“She wanted to talk to you about stuff,” Abby explained. “Then she has something very important to ask.”

“Okay.” He looked at Kim. “You have my undivided attention.”

Kimmie cleared her throat. “I just wanted to show you the scar on my knee from my boo-boo.”

He frowned as he studied the small leg in front of him. “Yup, definitely left a mark. Are you okay with it?”

The child nodded. “I think it's cool.”

“Then it is. What else is on your mind?”

“Well, I asked my grandpa if he's older than Santa Claus.”

Riley's mouth twitched, a dead giveaway that he was struggling to keep a straight face. “What did he say?”

“That Santa's older. But I'm not so sure. Do you know how old Santa is?”

“Nobody knows,” he said, imitating her serious tone. “It's top secret.”

“But what do
you
think?” she insisted.

“I don't know how old your grandpa is.”

“How old is he, Mommy?” Kimmie asked, shifting her gaze for the first time.

When Riley was around, Abby felt like a fifth wheel. But she couldn't bring herself to mind. “He's sixty-five.”

Riley nodded. “Okay. Now we have a starting place.” He thought for a moment. “Santa looked the same when I was your age. Which means it took a long time for his hair and beard to turn gray.”

“My grandpa has some gray hair. When he needs to shave, his whiskers are all gray.”

“Do you remember when he wasn't gray?” he asked Abby.

“Yes.”

He nodded. “Then it's my best guess that Santa is older than your grandpa.”

“Okay,” Kimmie said, as if his word was gospel.

“Is there anything else?”

“We need to leave, Kimmie. There's someone waiting to see Riley.”

“I'm not done yet, Mommy. I got a couple more things.”

“It's all right,” he said. “I'll make it up to the client. What else did you want to run by me?”

“Well, I have a Bluebonnets meeting in…” she touched her lip as she thought. “How many days, Mommy?”

“Two.”

“In two days. And I'm gonna get my badges for hiking and camping.”

“Congratulations.”

“Well, I was thinkin'…”

“Uh-oh,” he teased, looking at Abby.

“I know. When she thinks, you can almost see the lights in downtown Charity City flicker from the power drain.”

He laughed, then returned his attention to the little girl. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinkin' maybe you might want to come see me get my badges.”

“Well,” he said, “I'm honored.”

Abby felt the need to jump in. First, because she didn't want him to think she'd put her daughter up to this. She didn't need a child to troll for men. Second, she didn't want him to feel any sense of obligation.

“Riley, it's all right if you're busy. I had no idea this was part of the ‘stuff' she wanted to talk to you about.”

“I need to check my calendar.” He looked at Kim with an expression of complete and utter seriousness etched on the features of his lean, handsome face. “Get
ting your badges is kind of like getting a medal when you're a soldier.”

“It's important,” Kimmie agreed.

He nodded. “A very big deal. You worked very hard.”

Kimmie smiled. “You helped me. And I just thought you might like to see.”

“I wouldn't miss it.”

Kimmie threw herself against him and his arms came around her in a hug. Abby felt her throat grow tight for the second time in less than ten minutes. She could be in a major state of monthly hormones. Or, and she was afraid this was more likely, her heart was melting for this big, tough ex-soldier who was putty in the hands of a little girl.

Abby cleared the emotion from her throat. “Okay, kiddo. We've taken up enough of Riley's time.”

“But, Mommy, there's just one more thing.”

“There's someone waiting, sweetie. We can come back another time—”

“It's okay, Ab. There's a lot of good reading material in my waiting room.”

“I remember,” she said wryly. “
Guns & Ammo
is pretty explosive stuff. Way more exciting than a good gossip magazine.”

His mouth turned up at the corners before he returned his entire attention to her little girl. “Now, what else can I do for you?”

She scrambled off his lap and walked to Abby for her princess backpack. After unzipping it, she pulled out some paperwork. “My school is selling wrapping paper and ribbon and stuff. A lot of it's for Christmas. It's a fund-raiser and if I sell the most, I get the best prize.”

“What is it?” he asked.

She frowned. “I don't remember. But it's good.”

Abby sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “I feel like the world's worst mom. Again, I had no idea she was going to hit you up. This is the first I heard about a fund-raiser.”

“It's okay. I'll take one of everything,” he said, looking at the order form. “Do you take checks?” he asked Kim.

“Yes,” she said, nodding happily.

“But, Riley,” Abby protested, “you don't seem like the wrapping-paper-and-ribbon type.”

He met her gaze and amusement glittered in his eyes. “What? You think I don't celebrate the holidays?”

“It's not that. I get this really weird visual of you and ribbon and scissors and it's just wrong.”

“The stuff will get used,” he said. “Between Nora and my folks…”

“If you're sure,” she said doubtfully.

“I'm sure.” He looked at Kim, then met Abby's gaze with a sudden warmth in his own. “I have a feeling it's going to be a great Christmas.”