Welcome to Temptation: A Romantic Comedy (15 page)

“I’ll take you home, Mic,” he finally said, surprising himself as much as her with his words. But he’d already promised to help her. It was the least he could do.

“You?”

He nodded. “It might take a couple of weeks for someone to get to your car.” He knew she’d never be able to wait. “Could you manage without it for a while?”

She shrugged. “I wish I had thought to take pictures of it with my cell phone,” she said. “I could probably have gotten a loaner car. Who knows, I may still be able to. In the meantime, I can probably catch a ride to work with one of the other nurses, or, if need be, take a taxi.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone to give you a lift,” he said, wondering whether her doctor friend would be the one to accommodate her. “You’ll have to come back for your car later.”

Michelle pondered his offer. The man was obviously in a hurry to get rid of her, if he was willing to drive her all the way back to Baton Rouge personally. “When can you take me?” she asked.

Gator shoved his hands in his pockets. She’d jumped at the offer, just as he’d known she would. “I’ve got some things to take care of in town this afternoon, but I can drive you back tonight if you like. You’ll probably need to make arrangements with a mechanic before you leave. I highly recommend Barnes Automotive.”

Michelle stiffened. The guy wasn’t wasting any time getting her out of town. It hurt knowing how anxious he was to see her go, especially after what they’d shared, but she’d be damned if she’d let him know. She smiled brightly. “Thanks, Gator. I’ll be ready.”

Gator picked Michelle up shortly before six o’clock that evening. She was waiting for him on the front porch, dressed in what looked to be new blue jeans and a crisp white cotton blouse that made her look as fresh as morning sunshine. She must have purchased them while she was in town. The jeans hugged her hips nicely and emphasized her trim waist and long legs. He felt his gut tighten when she leaned over to kiss Reba and his mother good-bye, after promising to return for her car in a week or so. Gator planned to be long gone by then.

“Ready?” he asked when she turned to him.

Michelle nodded and grabbed her purse. A moment later, they were on their way down the dirt road.

Reba and Fiona didn’t speak at first. Finally, Reba turned to the other woman. “What d’you think, Fi? My granddaughter sure was in a hurry to get back. That can’t be a good sign.”

“I don’t know what to think,” Fiona said, shaking her head sadly. “All I know is my son is head over heels in love with that girl. He’s so much in love, he can’t see straight.”

“Well, that’s good isn’t it?” Reba asked.

“Maybe, but they walked away from each other before, y’know.”

Reba waved the statement aside. “She was only sixteen years old at the time, too young to do anything about it.”

Fiona sighed, looking tired and sad. “I have a feeling if they walk away from each other again, it’ll be for the last time. And my son is just stubborn and hardheaded enough to do something like that.”

Gator glanced at Michelle as he drove, wondering why she was so quiet. She was certainly different from most women he knew, who talked nonstop about things that didn’t interest him in the least. “Are those new clothes you’re wearing?” he asked.

She smiled. “Yes, your mother called a friend of hers who owns one of the dress shops in town, and the lady opened so I could come in and buy something.” She laughed. “It’s nice to finally wear clothes that fit.”

He wanted to tell her she’d look good in a flour sack six sizes too big, but he didn’t. “I’m glad she was able to help,” he said instead.

“Your mother is very nice. I like her a lot.” Gator gripped the steering wheel. Wasn’t that just like a woman, he told himself. First, she worked on getting a man’s mother to like her, and then she went after the man with both barrels.

“I’m really pleased your mother and my grandmother hit it off so well,” she said. “I worry about Grand out on the bayou all alone. At least she’ll have a friend to check on her now and then. And your mother convinced her once and for all to have a telephone installed. I can’t tell you what a relief that was.”

Gator frowned. For a moment it sounded as if Michelle’s relationship with his mother had absolutely nothing to do with him.

They rode in silence for more than an hour. Michelle nodded off and woke with a start when her head fell to the side.

“Tired?” he asked.

She smiled drowsily. “Riding always makes me sleepy; except when I drive, of course.” She yawned wide.

“You can lay your head on my lap and stretch out on the seat If you like.”

“That’s okay.” She yawned again.

“What’s the big deal? You look as if you could use some shut-eye. I won’t bite.”

She blushed. “I know that. I just don’t—” She paused.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

So she
was
backing off, he told himself, surprised at the fact. Most women would have used the opportunity to cozy up to him, used their feminine wiles to get what they wanted from him. But Michelle wasn’t like most women, he’d learned over the past few days. Or maybe he’d known that sixteen years ago. Even then, she’d stood out among the crowd. Still, he couldn’t stand to see her uncomfortable, with her head lopping to the side every time she dozed. He hated the position they were in. They’d gone too far to simply be friends.

“Look, Mic,” he said, his dark eyes locking with hers briefly. “I’ve seen and tasted every inch of you. I don’t think it would be out of line for you to lay your head on my lap.”

Michelle blushed. He really knew how to put things into perspective and make her toes curl at the same time with his blatant remarks. Arguing with the man was pointless, and the fact that she couldn’t stop yawning would only prove how sleepy she was and make him think she was afraid of touching him. How could she appear cool and indifferent to him if she acted afraid of his closeness? “Well, if you’re sure,” she finally said. “I just don’t want to get in the way of your driving.” She rearranged herself in the seat, and Gator raised his elbow so she could slip her head onto his lap.

That was his first mistake; Gator realized the moment her head came in contact with his thigh. He flinched inwardly when her ear brushed his crotch as she attempted to get comfortable. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

Michelle tried to find comfort against Gator’s hard thigh, but she was very much aware of his belt buckle at the back of her head, his zipper pressing against her hair. Her thoughts ran wild. She closed her eyes and tried to block out the sensual images. Thankfully, the sound of the engine and the slight rocking sensations of the truck made her sleepy.

It was all Gator could do to keep his eyes on the road ahead and not stare at the woman who slept with her head on his lap. He tried counting the exit signs, read billboards, and played a game of solitary cow poker whenever he spotted cattle grazing along the way. Nothing helped. The truck jostled her head slightly from time to time, creating enough friction to keep him thoroughly aroused. His mind ran amok. He imagined her waking, unbuckling his belt, working the zipper open … He clenched his teeth.

Michelle awoke with a start when her head bumped the steering wheel, and the truck veered sharply to the right. She grabbed Gator’s knee to keep from sliding off the seat and heard him groan.

“What are you doing?” she asked, raising up from his lap and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Gator didn’t quite meet the look in her eyes. “We’re stopping for dinner. There’s a great steak restaurant at this exit,” he said. “I promised you a steak dinner, remember?”

“Steak?” She said the word as though it were foreign to her.

“Uh-huh.” He drove up the ramp and paused at the stop sign.

“With a baked potato swimming in butter and sour cream and sprinkled with green onions and bacon bits?” she asked hopefully.

Gator was so happy to have her head off his lap, he grinned. “Yep, you can have anything you want.”

Sharing dinner with Michelle was about as sensual as sharing her bed, Gator decided once their food arrived. He watched her, slightly amused, as she slathered enough sour cream on her potato to feed a family of four. She took great delight in swirling it about, mixing it with the creamy butter, bacon bits, onions, and shredded cheese. Once she’d popped a forkful into her mouth, she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes dreamily. She attacked her T-bone with a vengeance.

Gator chuckled. “Do you always eat like there’s no tomorrow?”

She smiled. “Only when I’m forced to live on canned food for a while.” She ended up eating everything on her plate and some of his.

“I’m going to have to carry you out to my truck,” Gator said, laughingly, once he’d paid the bill.

“Oh, Lord, I’m waddling like a duck,” she exclaimed, following him out the door to the parking lot. “I’ll have to eat salads and skip dessert for weeks to make up for cheating on my diet like this.”

“You could always eat canned tuna,” he said. “That’s good for diets.”

Michelle stopped dead in the middle of the parking lot and threw her hand over her mouth. “Did you have to mention canned tuna?” came her muffled reply.

They reached her apartment shortly after nine o’clock, the day having faded into night. Gator shut off the engine and stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. This was it, he thought. He’d done everything in his power to get her home, and now he didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t quite ready to let her go.

“Please come in for coffee,” she said. “I can’t just let you turn around and drive all the way back without a good dose of caffeine.”

He pondered her offer. He really should get back, he told himself. There was a lot of work still left to do before he handed over his badge in a few days. But he couldn’t say good-bye that easily to a woman who meant so much to him, to the woman he’d fallen in love with. Not only that, but he was curious. He wanted to see the inside of her apartment, find out how she lived.

“Maybe for a minute,” he said at last. “But then I really do have to get back.”

Gator liked her place, although it was a bit prissy for his tastes, with its overstuffed blue and yellow floral sofa and two solid blue chairs. On her coffee table sat a vase of flowers, the petals brown and shriveled. Gator wondered who had sent them to her, but there was no card so he had no way of knowing for certain. He wondered if they were from her doctor pal. Just thinking about it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Her kitchen was as warm and cheerful as his mother’s, with brightly painted wicker baskets adorning one wall and another devoted to gleaming copper cookware. Michelle dumped the dead flowers and went about making coffee.

“Why don’t you have a seat in the living room?” she suggested. “It won’t take but a minute for the coffee to drip through.”

Gator sank onto the fat sofa and leaned back, then kicked off his boots and propped his feet on the coffee table. He thought better of it after a moment and pulled them back down.

“You can put your feet up,” Michelle said, watching him with a smile from the kitchen doorway.

“Thanks. My legs are kind of cramped from riding.” He stretched them on the table once more, careful not to disturb the neat stacks of magazines and brass knickknacks.

“It sure is nice to have electricity and running water again,” Michelle said a few minutes later as she carried in two cups of steaming coffee. “I should have asked Grand to come back with me.”

Gator chuckled. “She wouldn’t have left het pets
or
the bayou. It’s in her blood.”

“But not in yours, right?” Michelle said, offering him a dainty porcelain cup that looked much too small for his big hands. She wished now she had grabbed one of the old mugs she normally used. She took a seat in the chair across from him.

“Right,” he said. With great amusement, Gator studied the cup she’d handed him. He was almost afraid it would crumble in his hands. He thought of the chipped pieces he’d served coffee to her in at his place and was almost embarrassed. He probably should put more thought into his possessions, he told himself, then realized how useless they were for a man bent on shucking anything that slowed or tied him down.

“So, have you decided where you’ll go when you leave Temptation?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Who knows? I think I’ll just travel for a while.”

“I’ve always wanted to travel. I’d like to see Paris one day, but that’s where everybody goes so maybe I should choose a different place.”

“You could always come with me.” Gator could not believe the words that had come out of his mouth.

Michelle didn’t know whether he was serious or not, so she laughed to hide her uncertainty. “I have a job, remember? Plus, I’m afraid to leave the country because of my grandmother. I’ve always worried that something might happen and I wouldn’t be able to get back quickly enough.”

“What about your parents?”

“The truth? I can’t count on them. I’ve never been able to count on them.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Sorry. I don’t mean to complain.”

It occurred to Gator that Michelle had never discussed her parents, and he had not thought to ask. “You’re not close to them?”

“I was raised by nannies. The only family I really had was Grand. My parents allowed me to spend the summers with her, but I think it had more to do with knowing I would look after her.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

Their gazes met and locked, but neither of them said anything for a moment. “It’s none of my business,” Gator said, “but I think I would sit them down and tell them to take more responsibility. It’s not fair for you to give up part of your life just because it’s convenient for them.” He paused and shrugged. “But, hey, what do I know.”

“Gator?” Michelle set her cup down.

“Yeah?”

“I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

He set his cup down, pulled his legs from the table, and stuffed his feet into his boots, taking great pains with the simple task to keep from looking at her. “I hope you do too, Mic,” he finally said. He stood and shoved his hands in his pockets, not really knowing what to say or do. “I really have to go,” he said at last.