He laughed. An unexpected spurt of embarrassment caused her to duck her head. She stared at the proof of his maleness straining against the button-fly of his jeans and felt a fierce longing. She wanted to touch him there, to feel him surge against her hand.
He pressed his forefinger under her chin and forced her to look at him. 'What are you thinking about?' he asked, lowering his hand to his side.
Embarrassment deepened to mortification. 'Nothing,' she said, her voice coming out in a squeak. She searched her brain for a safe topic. 'Just that, ah, we can't do this again.'
He looked as surprised as she felt. Where had that thought come from? But as soon as she said the words, she knew they were true. She couldn't risk it, not with him. He was completely wrong for her. She wanted a different kind of man, although she wouldn't mind if he kissed just like Kyle.
But instead of getting angry, he simply nodded. 'Okay, what can't we do anymore?'
'You know.' She waved vaguely, motioning to the space between them. He was still on the step below hers, so they were almost at eye level. 'No, I don't know. What?'
'Kissing. We can't kiss anymore.'
'Sure we can. But what you really mean is you don't want us to make love.'
Somehow it would have been better if he'd said 'sex' instead of 'make love.' Sex was more impersonal. 'Whatever. We can't.'
'Why?'
It was a perfectly reasonable question. Unfortunately, she didn't have a reasonable answer. Why couldn't they have sex? Kyle was probably an expert at it, not to mention the fact that he wouldn't expect much from her- emotionally. They could have a fling. She'd never had one before. She wasn't sure how one went about arranging it. Did she ask specifically? 'Gee, Kyle, how about some cheap meaningless sex for a few weeks. Just until I'm back on my feet?' No, she couldn't say anything like that. Could she? Maybe she was supposed to simply hint broadly.
She searched his face. By reputation, the Haynes brothers were interested in a good time and nothing else. She could take advantage of that, then get back to her regularly scheduled life. She could be just one of countless women.
Sandy drew in a deep breath, then let it go slowly. Who was she kidding? She wasn't the fling type. She was far too responsible. She had her life planned out and Kyle Haynes wasn't part of her program.
'If you're trying to think of a good reason we shouldn't become lovers, you're taking an awful long time,' he said.
She couldn't risk telling him the truth. 'The list is so long, I don't know where to start.'
'I wouldn't be surprised.'
But he wasn't smiling as he spoke the words, and there was something in his eyes, something dark and undefined that made her feel unsettled. As if he had a secret he was close to revealing. Sandy wasn't sure if she wanted to know what it was, or if she should pretend she couldn't see it. Before she could decide, he blinked and the secret was gone.
'Your problem,' he said, leaning close enough to make her want to kiss him, 'is that you've forgotten how to have fun.'
'You said that before. It's still not true.' He had the audacity to laugh. 'You've got your life so well planned, you wouldn't know a spontaneous thought if it bit you on the butt. Maybe if you stopped organizing the world for everyone else, you would have a little time to find some happiness.'
He was right. She hated that. With a flash of insight that made her uncomfortable, she realized she could graciously agree with what he was saying and try to change, or she could get angry. It was easier to get angry. Easier because acknowledging how empty her life was would force her to face the truth.
She'd learned early she couldn't depend on anyone but herself. Trusting others left her open for heartbreak and loneliness. But Kyle didn't know that about her. He only saw Sensible Sandy who refused to have fun. He didn't see the way she worried about her children, her job and holding it all together. He didn't see how she hated always being the bad guy. He didn't see the fear.
'Who do you think you are?' she asked, stepping up onto the porch and backing away from him. 'I don't need you or any man telling me what to do. I've been on my own for the last two years. The children and I have survived very nicely without your interference.'
'Surviving isn't the same as living. You've shut yourself off from the best parts of life.'
'That's just your opinion. In
She held her breath and waited. A part of her wanted him to turn and go, but a voice inside cried out for him to force her into admitting the truth. She was desperate for some happiness, but she couldn't give up control to anyone. It wasn't safe. Thomas had taught her that, and before him, her mother. She had to be responsible for herself and her children. There wasn't anyone else she could depend upon.
Kyle stared at her, then he reached forward and grabbed her left hand. He tugged until she stumbled closer. Behind them, she could hear the sound of a TV show blaring through the open window.
He continued to hold on to her hand, then he glanced down and rubbed his thumb over her wedding ring. 'You ever get lonely? You ever get tired of being the only one? Don't you ever want someone to help you, to care about you?'
She snatched her hand back. Yes, her heart cried. But she was too afraid to speak the words. Kyle tempted her with what she could never have. 'Wanting it isn't the same as having it happen.'
'Maybe it's right here in front of you, but you're too stubborn or too scared to see what's being offered. 'Night.'
He turned and walked down the stairs, then disappeared into the darkness. Sandy stared after him, watching until she saw the light click on in the gatehouse. She stood there, abandoned, feeling the brush of his fingers against her wedding band and fighting the loneliness that threatened to consume her soul.
Grilled-cheese sandwiches and a tossed salad hadn't sounded so bad when she'd first suggested the children make lunch, but now, surrounded by the mess, she realized she'd made a mistake. Sandy stared at the cooked bits of cheese and the burnt spill next to the right front burner. She had no idea what it could be because they weren't supposed to have cooked a liquid. There were dishes piled in the sink and open containers of salad dressing and cheese on the counter. Her feet crunched on the crumbs underfoot. Exchanging cooking for cleanup had not been one of her better ideas.
It was Kyle's fault. The kids had been bugging her all morning and she'd just wanted them to go outside and leave her in peace. If he hadn't spoiled them by entertaining them, they wouldn't have been so bored with their usual activities in the afternoon and they wouldn't have gotten on her nerves, so she wouldn't have suggested they cook lunch and she clean up. It was also his fault because she wasn't as patient as she usually tried to be because she couldn't stop thinking about the kiss.
Sandy crossed to the window and moved the new crisp blue-and-white curtains aside. If she tilted her head slightly to see around the big oak tree in her front yard, she had a view of her entire driveway and the back of Kyle's house. Even now, he was outside with her kids, washing his car as he did every week. A warm afternoon breeze fluttered through the open window, bringing with it the faint sound of laughter. They were having a good time with him. Only a really horrible mother would begrudge her children that.
Sandy sat down at the dirty table and sighed. Okay, she was a bad mother. There was a part of her that resented her kids' easy relationship with Kyle. For her, nothing about him was simple. It didn't seem fair. Not only did they get to spend time with him, but he really seemed to like it. She half suspected he'd changed his work schedule just to be with them. Since the kiss-which in her mind often appeared in capital letters as 'THE KISS'-he'd been working nights, coming home shortly after dawn, sleeping until about one in the afternoon, then hanging out with her children. As if he were their father.
She'd tried to ignore the situation. However, that was difficult when every other sentence Nichole spoke started with 'Kyle says…' followed by whatever bit of wisdom he'd imparted. Lindsay was still pursuing him with the fervor of an old maid watching her last, best hope slip away. At least that was amusing and almost made up for her concern. But it was Blake who kept her from approaching Kyle and telling him to back off. Her quiet, uncommunicative, withdrawn son had started laughing.
Not a lot, not all the time, but enough for her to know that he was coming out of his shell. And she would do anything to see Blake return to the bright, outgoing boy he'd been before his father had rejected him. She would
