Awakening Beauty Part 8

She laughed again, and when he took her hand, she didn't pull back. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly handsome? Mom thinks so."

"Impossibly stubborn and persistent. Also a dreamer."

"Since you didn't add arrogant, ugly and a pest, I consider myself on your good side." Tyler squeezed her hand and continued walking. "Being a dreamer's not a bad thing. Don't you have dreams?"

She shrugged. "Sure." For a real life, she thought suddenly, and wondered where that had come from. "But I have what I want." So why was seclusion getting to her all of a sudden? She refused to attribute her dissatisfaction to him. She got this way every few months and would deal with it as she always had ignore it. But since the temptation to come out of hiding was overwhelming, it often made her angry.

"Is keeping this wall around yourself part of what you want?"

She shot him a look and tried to shake off his hand. He wouldn't let her go and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Overhead, the Spanish moss hanging from tree limbs swayed in the breeze. Cars drove past, ignoring the couple under the glow of an antique streetlamp.

His gaze raked her features. "Who hurt you, Lane?"

She looked away. What was she going to say now? "It's not important."

He put a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. "It is to me."

She knew Tyler well enough to know he wasn't going to give up easily, and she already felt backed into a corner. "Okay, fine, since I know you'll badger me for the next block. The man I was seeing betrayed me." Used me, said he loved me, then the night after I learned that Richard Damon, photographer, was really Dan Jacobs, freelance reporter, he took our entire relations.h.i.+p, everything I'd said to him in confidence about my family, my dreams, and exposed my most intimate feelings in the newspapers for the world to read. With pictures.

"How?"

"The details aren't important. I loved and trusted him and he betrayed my feelings in the worst way." And what difference was there in what she was doing to Tyler by keeping secrets? She had good reasons, really good ones. If her life was exposed, he'd get hurt in the process, just as she had from her brother Angel's troubles. Besides, she'd loved Dan. She didn't love Tyler and he didn't have those feelings for her, so what did it matter right now? Why couldn't he just let it be?

Tyler could see Lane's temper rising, her eyes practically sparkling with anger. She didn't like remembering her pain any more than he did, and he felt like a creep for prying. Tyler tried not to push, but this jerk had hurt her enough that she kept everyone out. He suspected that Nalla Campanelli was her only friend. It saddened him.

"He was a moron," Tyler said.

She looked up. "Maybe I was the real fool, Tyler, for trusting him."

"Don't blame yourself. The ability to trust is a blessing. Anyone who betrays that trust doesn't deserve to be in your life. Look at it that way."

"Sometimes I think he'd intended to betray me all along." She sighed. "Which of course, makes me an idiot for not seeing it from the start." She released a sigh, and with it went some tension. But she didn't say anything more.

They continued walking; she leaned into him a bit, didn't try to withdraw her hand from his. He hadn't asked her to elaborate, but he wished he could climb into her mind. At least he had an idea now of why she was so reserved with people. Mostly with him. Getting badly burned taught you ways to avoid getting singed again. He ought to know.

Wasn't that the reason he'd had only casual relations.h.i.+ps since his engagement ended? To keep a distance so that no one would get close enough to hurt him again? A man didn't have to be kicked in the teeth twice.

Tyler bent his arm, the motion bringing her closer to his side, and he felt like a teenager with his first girl. It was weird. He was thirty-four, for crying out loud. Yet his heart was thumping like a ba.s.s drum, and all he wanted to do was back her into a corner and kiss her. He was even thinking like a teenager, all hormones and fantasies.

"This is me," she said, pointing to the shop.

He looked up at the second floor. "Aren't you going to invite me up to your place for coffee or a nightcap?"

She pushed her gla.s.ses up her nose. "I don't drink, and coffee this late will keep me awake."

"Yes or no would've done fine, Lane. You don't have to make excuses."

She threw her hands up and let them fall. "Now you tell me. And here I thought 'Go away' was clear."

She noticed that his brow knit, though his smile remained. "Are you trying to be cute?"

"Ducks and bunnies are cute, McKay."

"You're no bunny." He inched closer and she let him. Little alarms were pinging inside her, but Lane ignored them as she stared into his eyes. A girl could get lost in those blue depths and like it, she thought.

"You walked me home for a kiss, didn't you?"

He tugged at the collar of her jacket. "Yup."

"I should have set you straight then."

"Set me straight now, Lane. I'm feeling crooked and dastardly." He gave his best villain laugh.

She grinned. "You're something else, McKay." She brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen over his forehead, then rose on her toes and kissed him. Just as quickly she hopped back, shocked at herself. "Oh, d.a.m.n. I didn't mean to... I shouldn't have-"

He latched on to her jacket lapels and pulled her against him. "Shoulda, coulda, woulda," he muttered, saying the last against her mouth. His tongue swept over her lips, then slid deep inside. He devoured her mouth. There was no other word for it. He kissed her as if he was dying, as if he'd never have another chance. Taste, nibble, plunge, taste some more. Each touch gathered her desire like a tether and pulled her along at a dizzying speed. Her head was spinning, her blood rus.h.i.+ng, and she sank into the dark, hot pleasure of his mouth.

He molded her body to his length. Full contact. She could feel his rock-hard arousal.

It was divine. His strong arms closed more tightly, and while he was going to know she wasn't all layers of ugly clothes, she didn't care. Not at this moment. All she wanted was a little bit more, to keep her company in her lonely nights. But when his hand moved down her spine and pressed her hips to his, Lane's head went light. How could it not, with all her blood rus.h.i.+ng through her body and looking for a place to settle? Then it did. In the center of her, the very core that was a jumble of pumping sensations and blood and pure liquid desire. She pushed her fingers into his hair and held on as his lips and tongue played over hers with exquisite skill. Oh, yes. She wanted to feel him touch his chest, touch something more. than his hair and preferably while naked, and just when she thought she'd drag him upstairs for more than a nightcap, he stopped and let her go.

Lane staggered, grabbing the wrought-iron fence to keep from melting into a puddle at his feet.

"There are some things I don't want anyone in this town to see," Tyler said, shoving his hands in his jean pockets and struggling for his next breath. His groin was thick and aching, and every muscle in his body was so tight and taut he thought if he moved too fast, he'd snap in two. He looked at Lane through hooded eyes. All hot and fl.u.s.tered, she was s.e.xier than ever before.

He wanted her in his bed, naked, hair down, gla.s.ses gone, and open for him. He really should stop thinking like that in public. Especially when his body shouted reaction like a beacon.

"See you tomorrow, Lane."

"Tomorrow?" she croaked. Just where had her breath gone now? Why wouldn't her lungs fill?

"Yes, I'm volunteer crowd control." He back-stepped down the street, one hand shoved deep into his jacket pocket while the other twirled the ends of an imaginary mustache. "And guess where my post is?" He waggled his brows.

Lane's gaze moved to the small poster tacked to the lamppost and marking the spot in front of her shop, then to Tyler. He was already fading into the darkness, that villain laugh floating back to her on the night breeze.

Oh, dear. What mixed signals had she just given him?

But Lane knew they weren't mixed, but right on target with his.

Chapter 6.

The streets practically vibrated with the ba.s.s from the band on the waterfront. Oldies and country-western music followed the breeze with the scent of waffle cakes, cinnamon-baked apples, hot dogs, cotton candy and beer. It was an interesting mix and fairly shouted festival, Lane thought as she moved to the edge of her porch.

All the narrow roads in Old Town had been blocked and cleared of traffic, and throngs of people danced in the streets in the chilly night air. Police officers were everywhere, and men like Tyler stood in fluorescent orange vests holding flashlights to direct visitors. It looked like fun. He looked like fun.

No, she corrected. He looked like an ad for the "manly" things: beer, cigars, power tools and big trucks. Tyler in black jeans and a leather bomber jacket that was so worn it was almost beige brought b.u.t.terflies to her stomach that refused to settle. Tyler in a suit gave him the James Bond look and made her heart skip a couple of beats. What would Tyler in nothing do to her?

Instead of telling herself no, instead of reminding herself that she couldn't have a relations.h.i.+p with someone with the notoriety Tyler gained, she let her mind break free and imagine his naked body. He was all lean muscle and smooth, tanned skin, maybe a couple of scars ... a really tight behind...

As if sensing her, he looked back over his shoulder. His smile fell slowly and even from the distance between her porch and the street, she could see his eyes darken. He knew what she was thinking! She blushed furiously and understood that his thoughts weren't far from hers. Now the warning that this was dangerous ground pulsed through her brain. Still, when he waved her over to him, she went.

"Hi," he said softly.

She stared up at him, light from the antique street lamp gleaming over his dark hair. "Hi yourself." Her heart thumped being near him, and though she wasn't a small woman, she suddenly felt delicate and vulnerable.

"Were you here last year for this?" he asked.

"Yes, but I'd only just opened the shop. I don't think half the town even knew the bookstore was here."

He hadn't known she was here, either, Tyler thought, smiling down at her as she looked out over the crowd across the street. People danced where they stood or danced down the street.

"Dance with me."

She tensed and Tyler noticed. "I really need to get back to the shop," she said.

"Lock it up and put the Closed sign in the window."

"Tyler, I'm running a business."

"Who's going to shop for books while all this is going on?" He gestured at the vendor wagons, the dancers, the sparkling lights.

That was true. "I do need to take Peggy more supplies. She's manning my vendor wagon."

Tyler smiled to himself. Lane had to have an excuse to have fun. "Then get them and we'll go."

"Aren't you on duty?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I can't have fun, too. Go on, go." He turned to give directions to a festival goer as Lane hurried back into the store. She returned shortly with a box of coffee supplies and wearing her jacket. Signaling to the next man stationed a little farther down the street, Tyler removed the safety vest and stuffed it in his pocket, then took the box from Lane.

They made their way through the crowd, and in a few minutes reached Peggy and the vendor wagon, both beneath a spreading oak tree. An attractive young man was perched on the flagstone wall that curved along the waterfront.

Peggy handed a customer a latte and looked at Lane. "Hi, Miss Lane. Hey, big brother," Peggy said.

Lane swung her gaze to Tyler. "Brother?"

He shrugged, setting the box near Peggy. "I've known Peggy since she was born," he explained. "Her oldest brother, Jace, is my age."

Lane blinked. "Whoa, small-town life must agree with Diana," Lane said. "She doesn't look old enough to have a son your age."

"Mom and Dad married right out of high school. Mom put Dad through college," Peggy said. Tyler remained silent, glowering at the young man sitting near them, and Peggy sent him a wide-eyed "Would you please stop staring, you're embarra.s.sing me" look. He didn't oblige her. Lane could almost see the kid sweating under Tyler's regard.

"Dad says he'd never have amounted to anything if Mom hadn't been with him," Peggy added. "This is Dean Parker. He's a senior at the University of South Carolina."

Lane shook his hand. "Nice to meet you."

Tyler just stared at him.

Lane nudged him and he scowled at her. "Lighten up, will you?" she said softly, and he shook the young man's hand. "Why don't you take a break?" Lane said. "I'll cover you for a bit."

"Are you sure? What about the shop?"

"Closed it. As Tyler pointed out, who's going to shop for books on a night like this?"

"You sure?"

"Of course. Go on. Nice to meet you, Dean," Lane said.

"Thank you, ma'am," Dean said, and glanced briefly at Tyler.

The couple walked away, hand in hand.

"Don't go far," Tyler called.

"Tyler! For pity's sake, she's nineteen, a grown woman not a child," Lane said.

"And he's a man. I know how they think." Tyler was still scowling at Peggy and Dean's backs.

"Well, I don't think Dean'll do anything after the way your eyes drilled a hole in him."

"He looks unsavory."

Lane found this highly amusing. Tyler was like a father defending his daughter against all hormone-challenged males. "Because he wears an earring?"

"Partly."

"My brother wears an earring."

He lifted a brow at that.

"And Peggy told me Dean's got a full scholars.h.i.+p. I doubt if he's any kind of slacker." Lane's lips quirked. "It's not like they just met, you know."

"I've never seen him before."

"And you're privy to everything in her life?"