Handle With Care (7 page)

She tossed her head, and he watched with fascination as her soft, chestnut-colored hair moved across her cheek. “I’m not tense, and I don’t have sexual energy.” She wouldn’t look at him. “And if you do, why aren’t you dating any one of the nurses that have the hots for you?”

“Not interested. I don’t have time to date, as you’ve already pointed out.” He hesitated, and then said, “You should go out with Kevin. He’s an okay guy, and definitely wants to get it on with you.”

Her eyes narrowed and took on a hint of that ice. “Don’t insult me—or Kevin. If he were interested in me, he wouldn’t expect a quick fling. He knew my husband, and he knows how hard it was when I lost him.”

“Well, someone else then.”

This line of conversation was better. Safer. The last thing he wanted was to be the object of her desire. He hadn’t been with a woman since he’d lost his hand; and if he wanted sex, it wouldn’t be with her. It would be with … well, he didn’t know who it’d be with, but Lauren deserved someone a hell of a lot better than him.

“Look, Josh really wants a father. And he and Brad are good buddies.” He rubbed his jaw. “But if you’re not interested in Kevin, there’s probably a zillion lucky guys who’d line up to date you.”

“Spare me.” She rolled her eyes. “Not you, too.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Josh and I are a team. We don’t need anyone else.”

“It was hard for my mom raising me by herself, and if the opportunity comes along, you shouldn’t close your mind to it. That’s all I’m going to say on the matter.”

“It may have been hard on you and your Mom, but we’re doing fine.” There was heat in her voice when she added, “Perfectly fine. Why do people think we’re not?”

He threw up his hands, knowing he’d pushed too far. “My mistake. Of course you’re fine. Josh is a great kid, you’re a great mother, and I have two exams next week.” He opened one of his textbooks.

“Yes. Sorry.” She glanced at her watch, then at the door of her son’s bedroom. “We got distracted.”

He leafed through the book, looking for the right section. “I’ve been having problems with this one—”

“It’s been a year.”

He looked up at her. “What has?”

“Since my last kiss.”

L
auren waited for a reaction.

Shane dropped his pen on the floor, bent down to pick it up, and hit his head on the table’s edge as he straightened. “Damn!”

He looked so embarrassed and confused, Lauren almost laughed.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He rubbed his head. “I thought we were done with that conversation. As you said, it’s none of my business.”

“I changed my mind.” She abruptly pushed her chair back and stood. “I’ll be right back. I need to put Josh to bed.”

Unusual for her, she dragged out the bedtime ritual, reading Josh an extra two pages in their current book and then letting him retell part of what he and Shane did at the Aquarium. She needed a bit of time away from Shane. This whole evening was threatening to get out of hand.

First there had been her untoward delight in having him in her home; then that long moment when they had simply stared at each other in her kitchen; and then her confession about her attraction to him. Which he had echoed. And then she’d gone and told him it had been a year since she’d had a kiss. What was wrong with her?

Exactly that, she thought as she turned out Josh’s light and left the room. It had been a year since she’d been kissed. All of these exciting sensations that went zinging inside her when she spent time with Shane were simply signs of sexual neglect. They had nothing to do with Shane himself. And she’d prove it.

“Okay,” she said when she returned to the kitchen. “Where were we?”

“Someplace we didn’t want to go.” He tapped a pen on his open book and kept tapping.

“Oh, yes, I remember now. The kiss.”

He crossed and uncrossed his legs, looking clearly uncomfortable. “I don’t want to know about it.”

“Sure you do. It was with Ron, the guy I told you about. We dated for two and a half months.”

“And he left. The jerk.”

“That’s right, but before he left, he was very nice to me.” Lauren gave him a direct look. “I’m not always stuffy like I am at the hospital.”

“Not interested.” He looked down at his textbook. “Can we study now?”

“In a minute. First things first.” She sat in the chair beside his, inching it closer. “Just as an experiment, could we try something?”

“Like what?” He shifted his body farther back in his chair.

“I need to know that I’m in control. So …” She studied him. “I don’t want to be thinking about kissing you when I’m at work, so let’s do it once and get it out of our systems. Okay?”

“No, not okay.” He shook his head. “Bad idea.”

“You brought up the subject.” She leaned forward, moving within range.

“Now I wish I hadn’t.”

She noticed he was staring at her mouth.

She eased even closer. “I’m sure it will be like kissing your sister or something. We’ll satisfy our curiosity and get over it.”

His eyes met hers. “This is ridiculous. It’s child’s play, like spinning the bottle. Besides that, curiosity can kill the cat you know.” He ran a hand over his mouth. “And what if it’s not like kissing my sister, which I don’t have, by the way? What then?” He glanced away. “This is crazy. Playing with fire.”

She grinned. “I have the fire station on speed dial.”

“Your funeral.” He looked up and his hazel eyes warmed and softened, as they met hers. “I’m a really good kisser.”

“Stop talking and do it.” She closed her eyes. “Once.”

He cupped her face in his hands and guided her mouth to his. Her pulse raced, and she could barely breathe. Afraid she’d change her mind, she quickly closed the distance.

The second their lips met, she unfolded like a neglected accordion that had sat in a box too long. His lips were warm and moist, gentle but firm, and instead of pulling back, she lingered, running her tongue over his bottom lip until he opened and let her slip in. His breath was peppermint sweet from the mints he’d had after dinner. Her tongue shyly met his and lit a fire inside her, a burning need that she’d ignored but didn’t want to ignore anymore.

She missed her husband, missed being held in a man’s arms, being kissed, being loved. Far too long. Her hands clasped behind his neck, and she couldn’t let go.

“Lauren,” he murmured between kisses. “We should stop this. Now.”

“Okay.” She pulled him closer. “Just one more; then never again.”

He softened the kiss and then broke it off altogether. Instantly, she missed his lips, the warmth of him.

She kept her eyes closed and steadied herself. Drew in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. She knew how to be strong. Life had taught her that.

When she felt back in control, when that melting sensation had dissipated, she opened her eyes and sat back. “Thank you.” She kept her voice cool, rational. “That was nice.” Her heart thudded, but she didn’t want him to feel her excitement or to know how much that kiss had meant. Kissing him could be highly addictive, and of course she would want a lot more than that. Foolish girl! What had she been thinking? That she could play with fire and not get burned? She’d wanted it regardless of the consequences. A memory of that kiss could warm her bed at night for a very long time.

“Nice?” His eyes narrowed. “It was better than that.”

She laughed. “Okay, better than nice, but now we’ve done it and can put it out of our minds.” She picked up his book. “So? You ready? Let’s get to work.”

The study session was a joke. Shane’s entire focus was on the tantalizing woman sitting next to him. When he leaned forward to peer at the book, his nostrils picked up her scent. He couldn’t identify it but loved the smell. It was her special scent, and he’d recognize it anywhere.

She licked her lips a few times, probably because he’d worn her lipstick off and kissed her mouth dry. And now, watching her, he felt his own mouth go dry.

“I need some water,” he said in a voice he barely recognized. “How about you?”

“No. I’m fine.”

He grabbed a bottle from the fridge, poured a glassful, and took a long slug. “You sure you want to do this tonight?”

“Do what? Oh … tutor you. Of course I do. I’m happy I can help.”

He wanted to throttle her.
I’m happy I can help!
Jeez. Give a guy a fuckin’ break. That kiss had been good. Damn good. It had definitely gotten a rise out of him, and she behaved like it was nothing.

Well, two could play this game. He stretched and yawned. “I can hardly keep my eyes open. Guess a day at the Aquarium with an active six-year-old can do that to a man.”

“I guess so.” She smiled and stood up. “Well, we’ll do this another time. Just remember, I owe you one.”

“I expect you to pay up, too,” he said with just the right amount of nonchalance. He gathered his books. “So, I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

“You know where to find me.” She walked him to the door. “Good night, Shane. Thanks for everything.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. You want a kiss, you’ve come to the right man. Yep, I’m a real kissing champ.” Two could play this game. If she wanted to act casual, well so could he. Nice, my ass. That kiss had been hot, dammit. Smokin’ hot.

She raised her eyebrows but said nothing, just closed the door behind him.

Shane whistled all the way to his car, then stopped the second he got in. What the hell had happened tonight? He felt like he’d just been had. One minute she was sucking the oxygen from his lungs; the next, she’d been all business. Kiss over. Had she not enjoyed it as much as he had? Maybe he was badly out of practice.

Naw. She’d gotten into it big time. The worst thing was, he’d allowed it. Big mistake. He’d allowed his little head to overrule the big one. Damn! The last thing he wanted—the very last—was to go to bed with a woman and see the disappointment in her eyes.

It had happened once, about ten months ago. He’d met a nice lady, took her out a few times. They’d gone to bed, and he hadn’t been able to get it up. That had never happened to him before, but then he’d never had a prosthesis before. He’d been so damned concerned about his mechanical hand that it had taken away his sexual drive. To save them both from further embarrassment, he hadn’t called her again.

He didn’t need romance. Or sex. One day, maybe. But right now, he still needed to prove a few things to himself.

S
hane headed straight home, fighting the urge to stop at a bar. One year sober, and he still struggled with the demon drink. He had it well controlled, but every now and then he had the need for a sip. He knew the worst was behind him, but in truth, he could only be responsible for one day at a time.

He’d partied some in his youth, but he’d never been a heavy drinker. The fourteen months he’d spent in Iraq, including six months of captivity, had created that need in him and taken its toll. Like so many vets coming home from the recent wars, he returned broken, unfixable. The stump where his hand should be ached all the time, and the constant pain made his memories all the more real. Haunted visions filled his head when he closed his eyes. Night terrors left him screaming, soaked in his own sweat.

It wasn’t an excuse, but just the God-given truth. After his rescue and back in the good ole’ US of A, he’d been nurtured back to health. Surgeons had had to amputate a little of his arm and clean up the wound so he could be fitted with a prosthetic that he’d deemed unfit to wear. His mood blackened, and the medication didn’t make his pain go away. Pain, both physical and emotional, went soul deep—and seeing other victims of the war only increased his anger, his hostility to the world at large, and there was no help for him.

Released from the hospital, he began to hit the bottle hard, trying to find some small measure of peace, a place in la-la land where he could dwell without hearing the screams inside his head. The more he drank, the deeper his despair.

When he unexpectedly showed up at his family home in Jupiter, Florida, he was welcomed with open arms, but after a short time his own mother threw him out. It had been his own fault, of course. He had no direction, no motivation except to get drunk enough to ease the pain.

His mood swings had been more than his dear mother could handle, and his stepfather asked him to leave. There were support groups and centers for people like him but he didn’t seek them out, preferring to be left alone. Instead, he wandered around aimlessly, eating at soup kitchens and finding cover in the woods at night, until he spotted an abandoned car in a Walmart shopping mall. He’d watched it for days, and when no one came along to claim the car, he’d taken it for his.

That’s when Jake, Brent’s older brother, found him, and got him off the streets. If it weren’t for the love and support of that family, he’d probably be dead by now.

Should be, too. After all, he’d never done a damn thing in his life to be proud of, with the exception of going to war, and even there he’d screwed up.

Well, no more. He had to be responsible now. He was going to be a doctor, help the wounded vets like himself who came back filled with anger and self-loathing, wondering why some of their comrades had to die when they’d been allowed to live.

Now he had another reason—Lauren and Josh were depending on him, too. He hadn’t wanted that to happen. Hell, he had enough trouble looking after himself, keeping sober, working himself to the bone so he didn’t feel the need to drink.

He never kept alcohol in the apartment, and bars were not for him. Truly, he’d never really liked the bar scene much, except in his younger years when he’d used them for picking up chicks. He’d been quite a stud in those days—young and fit, long before the war had turned him into damaged goods. Now, women still gave him the eye, but they didn’t have a clue what was going on inside.

No one knew about the night he’d lost his limb. How the terrorists holding him captive had forced him to perform surgery in order to save a commanding officer’s life. He’d butchered the job so badly, they’d taken a dagger and sliced off his left hand, sawing through bone. He’d passed out from the pain, and for days afterward had a high fever and fought infection. The only reason he’d survived was because they had used a tourniquet to stop the bleeding, and someone had carelessly stitched him up so he could still be of use to them. His right hand had been left intact so he could still patch up their wounded. Fucking bastards.

Why he’d had the sudden urge to stop at a bar tonight, he had no idea. Unless it was because of Lauren. She was something special and he didn’t deserve a woman like her. She was probably right to be afraid. He wasn’t whole, and if he continued to see her and Josh, their attraction would undoubtedly grow stronger, and where would that get them? In trouble.

His head throbbed. He wanted to do the right thing and walk away from her and Josh, but the look in her eye, the way she responded when he kissed her, how could he possibly walk away from that?

Yet, would hurting them both now be better than hurting them later? Hell, he had no idea.

Shane lay down on his bed and put his hands on his head, trying to ease the torment. A bottle of scotch would help, but he’d promised himself—never again.

The last time he’d gone to a bar, some old drunk had come up to him, razzing him about his artificial hand. When Shane told him what it was, he’d staggered over and offered to buy him a beer. “Come, have a drink on me. Least I can do for a wounded soldier.”

He’d declined, wanting a quiet drink before returning to his apartment, but the old guy wouldn’t leave him alone. Slurring his words, he’d said, “I’m not one of those people that think you got hosed by going over there. Hell no. So what if they didn’t have any of those nuclear weapons. Makes no difference. Those damn terrorists need to be put down. I’d go myself, but the recruiters say I’m too old.” He’d laughed. “Too damn old to get killed. Now does that make any sense? So how many have you killed? Bet it must have been hundreds, right?”

Shane had ignored him, but he didn’t give up. He’d moved in closer and whispered, “You ever see those kids, all innocent like, just before they toss you a fuckin’ grenade. I’d pop them one right between the eyes.”

That had done it. Shane had popped
him
and ended up spending a night in jail. It was the night he swore to quit drinking.

Lauren didn’t see Shane for a couple of days. When he made an excuse not to see Josh the following week, she was sure it was the kiss that had caused the problem.

She was furious with him for behaving in such a juvenile manner, but angrier at herself. Her poor son would be broken-hearted if Shane refused to see him again, and it would be all her fault. Why the hell did she kiss him anyway? To prove how strong she was, that she could control her emotions? If that had been her reasoning, it was certainly flawed.

To make it up to Josh, she decided to take him to Magic Kingdom for the day and invited Brad along. Kevin insisted on coming too, and they had a great day on the rides, followed by a wonderful seafood dinner at the White House Restaurant. Kevin ordered a delicious pinot noir, and the boys drank sodas and pretended to be walruses with their straws.

Kevin flirted with her at dinner and tried to kiss her good night, but she put a quick stop to that. One screw-up was enough.

If Shane backed out of their agreement, maybe she’d be more open to the idea of spending time with Brad and his dad. But she was perfectly happy keeping things casual for the time being.

Shane finally called and asked if she and Josh would like to go to the beach with him the following Sunday. For Josh’s sake, she agreed.

“You bring a picnic lunch,” he said, “and I’ll bring a kite. Figured Josh might enjoy that.”

“He’d love it.” She paused and then added, “He was disappointed last week when you couldn’t make it, so I took him to Disney’s Magic Kingdom. Brad and Kevin joined us.”

“Oh.” There was silence for a minute, before he spoke quietly, “I see.”

“You do?” she asked, wishing it didn’t hurt.

“Glad to see you took my advice,” Shane said smoothly, as if he didn’t care. Which he probably didn’t. “Kevin’s available and he likes you.”

“Yeah, well, that’s hardly the point, is it?” She knew she sounded snappish, but she wished Shane weren’t so gung-ho about pushing her into Kevin’s arms. “I’m not doing this for me, but for Josh. It’s his happiness that matters.”

“There’s no reason for you not to date. You’ve been widowed—what? Two, three years?”

“Three. But I’d rather spend my nights with Josh. He’s my number one.” Plus, she made a lousy wife. She nagged, she argued, she’d distracted her husband .…

Shane made a snorting sound. “I’m sure that’ll change.”

“Not likely. I like my independence too much.”

“I can certainly relate to that. But you’re a young woman with a young child. I imagine you’ll feel differently one day.”

“But until I do …”

“Until you do, you still need a mentor for Josh. That’s me. I’ll pick you up at one.”

Now that he had called, Lauren was no longer worried. Whatever had caused his disappearance the previous weekend was none of her business. He had a right to a life, one that didn’t include her or her son.

Lauren was slightly nervous about being seen on a beach. She was slim, but her body was far from perfect. Wanting to look her best, she went shopping and bought a new swimsuit, a conservative black one-piece that was supposed to make her look ten pounds slimmer. Earlier in the week, she’d also stopped at a salon for a bikini wax and a pedicure.

For their picnic she filled a basket with a store-bought rotisserie chicken, a loaf of French bread, and homemade potato salad. She added some cheddar cheese and apple slices and finished packing with oatmeal raisin cookies.

She wore her swimsuit under shorts and a T-shirt, and Josh had on his knee-length swimming trunks and a purple T-shirt with a large shark in the middle. By one o’clock, they were both ready.

When Shane knocked on the door, Josh ran to let him in. “Are we really going to fly a kite?” He jumped up and down. “That’s so cool!”

“We sure are.” He looked at the boy’s arm. “How does your elbow feel?”

“Feels good. Like I can do anything.” He grinned his gap-toothed smile. “It’s awesome!”

“You’re awesome.” Shane gave Lauren a quick glance, then turned his attention back to Josh. “Ever done it before?”

“No. Can you show me how?”

“I can and I will.” He turned to Lauren. “Something smells good. Have you been slaving over a hot oven?”

She laughed. “No. Rotisserie chicken, but homemade cookies.”

“Works for me.” His eyes did a quick inventory of her body, and she felt a tingle of pleasure inside and out. A tingle that she quickly squelched and told herself to ignore.