FATHER IN TRAINING (7 page)

"That's the second time you've said that. You're really hung up on which day it is, aren't you?"

"No. It's just that, well, you
are
a single man."

"And you're a single woman."

She swallowed. "No, I'm not. I'm a single mother. There's a big difference."

"Bull."

She risked glancing at him over her shoulder. He'd propped his legs up on the chair to the right of him and leaned back against the wall. His arms were raised, his hands tucked behind his head. A slow, lazy grin tugged at his mouth. He was six feet two inches of fed, satisfied, hunky male.

She forced her thoughts away from his body and back on the conversation. "If I've learned one thing in the two years Thomas has been gone, it's that most men don't want a woman with children."

"You mentioned that before, too. I happen to like kids."

"You're in the minority." She reached for the dirty plates and lowered them into the soapy water, then turned off the faucet. "It's been very enlightening to be single again. Things have changed since I was young."

"Because you're so old now?" he teased.

"I'm mature."

"You were born mature."

"Maybe." She rinsed the plates and slipped them into the dish rack. She hadn't been born mature, but she'd grown up fast in her house. She hadn't had a choice. Painful memories threatened, but she pushed them away.

"Do you miss him?" Kyle asked. His voice was quiet. "You don't have to answer that if you don't want to."

She picked up a glass and placed it in the soapy water. "Thomas, you mean? I do. Sometimes. I see him in the children. Blake looks a lot like his father. So does Nichole."

"But she has your eyes."

She almost dropped the glass. He'd noticed? Why? What did it mean? Nothing, she told herself firmly. After all, he was Kyle Haynes and she was just an ordinary person. Or she would be as soon as she got her body's reactions to him under control.

"I heard somebody mention he was a professor, right?"

"Uh-huh. Philosophy."

"You're kidding?"

She finished washing the last glass and pulled the plug. As the water swirled down the drain, she reached for a dishcloth and wiped her hands. "You sound horrified," she said, glancing at him.

"I am. Philosophy? Why would anyone do that on purpose?"

"Thomas was a very good professor."

"I bet he was. Is there a more boring subject?"

"Some people like intellectual pursuits."

Kyle didn't look convinced. "Did you guys, you know, talk about philosophy a lot? Is it something you discussed over pizza?"

"We didn't have pizza very much." Ever, she reminded herself. Maybe that's what had gone wrong in her marriage. There hadn't been enough pizza.
Sandy
shook her head. That was crazy. What had gone wrong in her marriage was that Thomas had refused to grow up. He'd left her in charge of everything while he'd run off to play. She'd spent most of her marriage being a single mother.

"I didn't mean to bring up unhappy memories," he said.

Sandy
took the seat opposite him and rested her forearms on the table. "They're not unhappy in the way you think. It's been two years. I've gotten used to the fact that he's never coming back. The children and I have started a new life together. In many ways, it's better."

He shifted on his chair and leaned forward. Before she knew what he was going to do, he reached out his hand and touched her fingers.
Sandy
told herself to pull back. Except she couldn't.
Sparks
leapt between them. She was surprised when she didn't actually see them arcing across the table. A warm feeling of lethargy moved up her arm, heating her blood and making her yearn for something more. Something … dangerous.

The cartoon video played on in the background. She could hear her children talking. Beyond the house were the sounds of the night. A car driving by, crickets chirping. She felt caught in some powerful force. Slowly, she raised her gaze from the table to Kyle's chest, then higher to his face.

Stubble shaded his jaw. There was a dab of paint on one cheek. His eyes darkened to the color of a
midnight
sky. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and the shape of his lips. She wondered what it would be like to be kissed by that mouth. Kyle had probably kissed hundreds of women. She'd kissed about five men. No doubt she would be completely out of her league. Still, the thought had merit.

Tension crackled around them. She wanted to lean closer, but the table was too long. She thought about getting up and walking over to him. Would he pull her close and kiss her? Would he hold her in his arms and—

He yawned.

Sandy
straightened, blinking frantically as if she'd just been doused with a bucket of cold water. "I hope I'm not keeping you up," she snapped.

"No." He covered his mouth with his hand and yawned again. "It's not you. I pulled a double shift last night. Normally it doesn't bother me, but I didn't get any sleep today. Sorry."

"You haven't had any sleep since the night before last?"

He shook his head. "It's catching up with me."

Now that she looked closer, she could see faint shadows under his eyes. There were lines of weariness around the mouth she'd been admiring.

"I should have realized," she said, rising to her feet. "I'll get the kids and we'll go."

"They can finish their movie."

"Nonsense. They've seen it before. You need to be in bed."

She hoped he couldn't tell what image had sprung to her head at the word
bed.
It was too embarrassing. She'd been sitting there having incredibly erotic thoughts, and he'd been struggling to stay awake. Figures.

"Okay," he said, standing. "I'm pretty tired. But I'll be back tomorrow to finish the painting."

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

"But, I—"

He grabbed her hand and pulled her close. Kyle did a whole lot of touching, she thought, wondering if she should step back or just plain give in. Her body was already humming. Jeez, she'd spent the last two years without a single sexual thought, but since arriving in Glenwood, she couldn't get sex off her brain.

"You talk too much," he said lazily. "In my experience, women who talk too much are generally hiding something."

"I'm not one of your women." She jerked her hand free, but didn't step back. "I don't have anything to hide and I don't want anything, so don't waste any of your smooth, practiced lines on me."

"I promise." He made an X over his chest,
then
stared down at her. "You have the most beautiful eyes."

"I thought you just promised you weren't going to try any of your lines on me."

"It's not a line, it's the truth. Green is one of my favorite colors."

She stared up at him, immobilized. She told herself to run. This wasn't happening, and if it was, it was happening too fast. She couldn't get involved with Kyle Haynes. He would use her and dump her. He was irresponsible, immature. She didn't need any more children in her life.

But the feelings he aroused in her were far from maternal. She felt trapped by the heat of his gaze. Or maybe it was her own stupidity that kept her standing so close to him, staring into his dark eyes and praying he would just kiss her and get it over with.

"Kyle, this is a mistake," she said desperately as his head lowered toward hers.

"Tell me about it. But I've been waiting sixteen damn years for this, so either run or pucker up."

Chapter 4

«
^
»

"
S
ixteen
years?"
Sandy
asked, staring at him. He couldn't have meant what he'd said. Kyle had been waiting to kiss
her?
"What are you talking about?"

"It's not important."

Nothing in his expression gave away what he was thinking. His mouth was still impossibly tempting, his gaze steady. She must have misunderstood him. But for a brief moment, she desperately wished it had been true. That Kyle had thought of her and longed for her all this time.

Get a grip on reality, she told herself. Kyle had no more spent the last sixteen years missing her than pigs had suddenly sprouted wings and taken flight.

So why was he staring at her so intently? And why were they still standing close enough for their bodies to generate the heat required to start a bonfire?

She told herself she was a fool, but that wasn't new information. She'd suspected it for a long time. She continued to stare at his face,
then
lowered her gaze to his mouth. With every bit of energy she could summon, she willed him to kiss her.

He bent forward, lowering his head until their lips nearly brushed. She could inhale the masculine scent of
him,
feel his sweet breath on her cheek. She could almost—

"Mommy, can we go get some ice cream?"

Nichole's voice cut through the silence in the kitchen.
Sandy
stepped back at the exact moment Kyle shook his head and straightened. She glanced over her shoulder, but the doorway to the living room was empty. Nichole hadn't seen anything.

"Ah, sure, honey,"
Sandy
called.

She walked around Kyle and stepped into the other room. All three children were sitting on the floor facing the television. They didn't know what had almost happened. Relief swept through her, leaving her a little shaky. At least she told herself it was relief. The tremors in her legs couldn't possibly be the result of her having just been so close to Kyle.

"Let's go now," she said.

Lindsay glanced up at her. "The movie isn't over yet."

"I know, but you can finish it another time. It's getting late, and Kyle needs his rest. He was up working all last night."

Lindsay grumbled something under her breath,
then
stood up. Blake joined her without saying a word. Nichole turned off the video and the television,
then
bounced to her feet. "I want chocolate ice cream."

"No problem,"
Sandy
said. She pushed the children through the kitchen, barely stopping long enough to thank Kyle for his help that day. Once outside, she took a deep breath and sent off a brief prayer of thanks that nothing had happened. If she was this nervous and shaky after
almost
kissing him, imagine what she would have been like after the real thing!

Sandy
was avoiding him. Kyle dipped the brush into the can of paint,
then
wiped off the excess. There was no denying the truth. If he walked into a room, she walked out. Aside from mumbling a greeting to him that morning, she hadn't said a word to him. Not even to ask him how he liked his coffee. She must have asked Travis, because shortly after he'd started work, she'd silently handed him a cup, then disappeared before he could say anything. He'd taken a sip of the steaming liquid. Black, two sugars. Yup, she was avoiding him.

He glanced around the bedroom he was painting. He was about finished with the windows and the trim. Next, he would use a roller on the walls. Conversation and bits of laughter drifted up from downstairs. He knew Travis was still working down there, as were Sandy and her kids.
Austin
was up here with him, but in another bedroom. Kyle didn't mind the quiet, but it gave him too much time to think. About
Sandy
and about last night.

He shouldn't have tried to kiss her. He wouldn't have except she'd been looking at him the way a woman looks at a man she's attracted to. He was familiar with the look. He'd been getting it from women since he'd turned sixteen. It had never been anything but a convenience before. Yet last night he'd been glad
Sandy
was attracted to him. He'd wanted to kiss her, even knowing her kids were in the other room. Not his brightest idea. From what he remembered—and it didn't look as if she'd changed all that much—
Sandy
wasn't the type to fool around. Besides, she'd only been back a week. What did he really know about her?