Six

This is okay, Katie told herself. This isn’t going anywhere—it was just for fun. She might be a little vulnerable in the man department, but she was smart. No way was she getting involved with a guy like Dylan Childress. She remembered him all too well from her youth—she had watched his show every week when she was a girl, adored him, and lapped up every story printed about him in the gossip rags and teen magazines. He had a bad, bad reputation, which had thrilled her when she was about twelve. He had seemed very exciting and dangerous back then. But she was a grown woman now, a mother, a widow for God’s sake. Fantasies like Dylan Childress were fun brain candy, but not her weakness.

Still, she could take one lick of this ice cream cone without selling her soul.

They took off away from the Riordan cabins on his bike and headed down the mountain to Fortuna, where he parked in front of a little café between a tattoo parlor and a liquor store. While they ate omelets, he asked her a lot of questions about herself, her brother, her life before Virgin River. Clever, she thought. Directing the conversation away from himself the way he did.

She told him everything, but not the long version. Her life the past year had become very interesting. She explained about Conner’s ordeal as a witness, how they’d gone into protective custody—separately. That accounted for him coming to Virgin River and Katie going to the other side of the U.S. to Vermont. And now they were ready to start over. As a family.

“In Virgin River?” he asked.

“Well, that’s an accident. Conner came here to lay low and he met Leslie. They fell in love. We’ve agreed, Conner and I, that we don’t want to live in Sacramento again after what went on. Sacramento is a very good place, but our recent experience is a bit too jarring. It’s time for a change. And now that I’ve experienced a couple of smaller communities—Burlington and Virgin River—I think it might be a good idea to raise the boys in a different kind of place. And they should be close to Uncle Conner—Conner has been like a father to them since they were born. They need that kind of consistency. It’s the least I can do for them.”

“That sounds like you aren’t completely sold on Virgin River,” he suggested.

“Not quite yet,” she answered with a shrug of one shoulder. “But that’s because I haven’t looked around too much yet. No matter what, I’ll make sure the boys are close to Conner so they can spend time together. Why wouldn’t I do that for them? They need stability. They need family. Most of all, they need a strong masculine influence.”

“Well, then,” Dylan said, wiping off his mouth and putting down his napkin. “Why don’t we look around? See if there’s anything around here you like.”

And they jumped on the bike, heading south first.

She hung on around his waist and thought, It’s so funny that he thinks he’s anonymous. Maybe to her brother or to Jack Sheridan he would be, but to a girl who was in love with him from eight to twelve years old? Hah! Could he really be oblivious to the number of eight-year-old girls who’d loved him with their entire hearts? And grieved for him when he dropped out of sight? Well, at least until Jason Priestley and the Backstreet Boys came along.

Of course, when she was eight, nine, ten years old, she believed that Dylan lived in that family she watched on TV every week. If not specifically that family, then one very much like it. The show was called Rough Housing and it was a comedy about a dad who went to work every morning with a lunch pail, a mom who cooked and cleaned and tore her hair out because she had three sons who were constantly in some crisis that could be completely resolved in thirty minutes. They were that classic middle-America family who stayed in love and positive and devoted and wise despite their struggle with the bills, the work pressures, the challenges of family life. Dylan played the handsome middle child and was clearly the most popular of all. His additional movies that had nothing to do with Rough Housing were also successful and his popularity soared; the other boys in the series didn’t score big movies.

Over time, as she got a little older and threw him over for other teenage stars, she recognized that he was not a good boy, that all the gossip must be true. He came from a world she didn’t understand, a Hollywood family that bore no resemblance to hers.

She wasn’t going to tell him she knew. Or maybe she would when they said goodbye in a couple of days, if they actually said goodbye, just to see the look on his face. But was he used to this? she wondered. Women who’d had girlhood crushes on him gasping with awe and star worship when they recognized him? Because Katie had been that way at twelve, but not now. Hell, at thirteen she might’ve thrown her panties at him, but now she had some class. Or stubbornness. Or just plain old experience.

But there was no denying his sex appeal. Within ten miles of their twisty-turny travels she was leaning with him and the bike and loved the tight curves, scary tilting and high speed.

He took them through a small Victorian town, around a road that seemed to go into the hills but popped out on top of a small mountain high above the ocean and she squealed with delight. The descent was exciting, exhilarating. Then along the oceanfront, through a couple of towns that hardly qualified as towns. He braked for crossing deer, slowed to pass what appeared to be a bull ranch, through a dark, dense, overpowering redwood grove, into a vineyard. She was pretty sure they were trespassing in the vineyard, but she didn’t care. In fact, that made it more thrilling.

She had no idea how long they’d been riding when he took them along a winding road that went up into the trees. It felt like the spiral ascent inside a parking garage and her ears popped. When they finally broke through, they were on top of the world and in front of her the ocean spread out again. This was where he stopped the bike, turned it off and raised it onto the stand using his long, strong legs. She got off and removed her helmet and he did the same. Then he flopped down on the soft grass, flat on his back. He moaned.

“Are we quitting?” she asked.

He lifted his head. “We’re taking a break.”

“Why?”

“We’ve been riding for two hours! It’s time for a break!”

She sat down beside him, circling her raised knees with her arms. “Do you tire easily, Dylan?”

“I was driving,” he said. “You were riding.”

“Can I drive?”

“No.” He raised up, bracing on his elbows. “Did you talk to your brother last night?”

“I did.”

“Did he ask you if we were dating?”

“He did.”

“And what did you say?”

She reclined on her side, holding her head up by bracing on one elbow. “I could have just said no, but I said he should mind his own goddamn business. I have to keep an eye on Conner. When he steps up to help me or be there for the boys, it warms my heart, it really does. Getting in my personal life, that annoys me.”

“Has he been doing that for a long time?” Dylan asked.

She made a face. “When I was six, he walked me to school. I wanted my mother to walk me and he could have raced off with his friends, but the truth is—Conner took me on at an early age. Which is sweet, don’t get me wrong. And I love him. But I want to pick my own boyfriends.”

Dylan grinned. “Am I your boyfriend?”

“Oh, please!” She laughed at him. “A kiss just to show off and a trip to McDonald’s and a promise to be gone in a couple of days? I can do way better than you.”

He sat up. “Wait a minute. I took you to breakfast and on a fantastic bike ride!”

“That’s on the cusp,” she said. “Close, but no cigar.”

“Jesus,” he said, running a hand over his head. “You’re tough! What’s a date to you, anyway? It’s not like there are fancy places to go dancing around here.”

She was shaking her head. “I can’t remember when I last danced anyway.”

“What is it you’re looking for? Want to cut me in on the secret?”

She shrugged. “I’ll know it when I see it.”

He stared at her for a moment. He liked that smile; he liked that she was an uppity, self-confident little witch. One corner of his mouth lifted, then he slid his hand around the back of her neck and deftly lowered her to the ground. He hovered over her and concentrated on those large eyes for a second before he leaned in to her plump, delicious mouth. He teased, a little kiss, a little nibble, a lick, waiting for her to let him know she was interested in more. And it didn’t take long, either. She slipped her hands around his neck and pulled his lips down to hers, lowering her lids and opening her mouth for him immediately.

She made a low sound in her throat and he groaned. Their tongues tangled together; he threaded his fingers into her wild hair. He was drowning in her and let his lips slip from hers to her neck with a whispered exclamation. “God, you taste good.” And he kissed her neck, her collarbone, her jaw, her ear, then went back to her mouth for more, licking her open and devouring her. He hadn’t planned this part, but it came to him that he needed her and he was glad it had. Of the hundred or so women he’d kissed, this one was somehow different. As he moved over her mouth, he thought of her as belonging to him. This kind of thought had never happened before; he’d always focused on “this is for now.”

He didn’t want to let her go.

And she didn’t want him to, that was obvious. As he fell onto his side, pulling her against him, she embraced him and stroked his back, his neck, his arms, holding him close. He kissed her for a minute, two minutes, three minutes. He broke from her mouth, but didn’t let her go. “Whoa,” he whispered. He went back for more.

It had to happen. He was aroused and wanted a lot more from her, but resisted the temptation. He did consider how sweet it could be, in the soft grass, under the warm sun… If being inside her mouth felt this good, he couldn’t imagine the thrill of getting inside her body.

She tilted her pelvis against him; now she knew. She didn’t seem to mind, either. He ran a hand down her spine to her little butt and fanned his fingers, pulling her more firmly against him, pressing into her. Yeah. Bliss. He could start with the buttons on her blouse and in less than ten minutes, which was a very unhurried projection, he could turn bliss into rapture.

He lifted his head. “Is this a date?”

She shook her head. “This is making out,” she whispered back. “Very good making out, I admit.”

“How much food do I have to buy you to qualify for a date?” he asked. And she only giggled and pulled his mouth back to hers.

After a few more minutes of awesome kissing, he relaxed the hand against her perfect ass and pulled reluctantly away from her mouth. “Let’s get undressed. A little undressed, at least. Enough undressed…”

“Enough undressed for what?” she asked him, aiming her lips toward his for more.

“I want you,” he said. “Really, really want you. I promise, I’ll make it worth your while…”

“Hmm. While that just sweeps me away, I’m not prepared.”

“I’m prepared. I have protection,” he said.

“No, Dylan—I’m not prepared to get that involved with you.”

“Why not?”

“Besides the fact that you’re leaving in two days?” she asked him.

“Okay. I’ll stay the rest of the week…”

She laughed lightly. “If it matters, it is very hard to say no to you. You have fantastic lips…and stuff.”

He groaned in misery. “Katie, I’m hard as a hammer here…”

“I know,” she said. “It’s very nice. I’m sure if I were ready, it would do the trick.”

He rolled onto his back, lacing his fingers behind his head. He closed his eyes and said nothing, but his lips were tight.

“Maybe we should just go,” she suggested.

“I can’t go yet,” he muttered, not opening his eyes.

“Because…?”

“Because I’m sporting a rod,” he said.

She shook her head and tsked. “Wow, you remind me more of Charlie all the time. But don’t misunderstand, that’s not why I like you.” She flopped down beside him, lying on her back. “We’ll wait till you’re ready.”

“I’d like it better if we could get you ready,” he grumbled.

“Remind me to hold back on the making out next time. I think it makes you a little cranky.”

“Seriously,” he admitted. “Give me a little time. I’ll be fine.”

So she lay quietly beside him.

It wasn’t hard to relax, even though she had as much frustration as he. But the day was so perfect—the sun was warm, the grass soft beneath her, the cooling breeze just right. It was a perfect time to think about a few things—like was she among the first to tell the once famous Dylan Childress no? The fact was, “yes” had been on her lips. Oh, she wanted him right back. She hadn’t wanted that much or been that ready in more than five years. But she’d been through a lot and didn’t feel like piling regret on top of it all. She didn’t feel like being the girl he could turn and walk away from without a thought.

It wasn’t as though Katie had unrealistic expectations. All that she’d been through had also taught her that. She could make love to a wonderful, thrilling man without a marriage proposal in the works. She could have a fling, of course she could. But really, the idea that he could take his pleasure and move on easily, without looking back, without longing, without wanting, without even missing her a little bit, that would be very hard to take. And she knew this guy—he was a playboy born and bred. He would go and he wouldn’t lose any sleep over her.