Small-Town Redemption (22 page)

He’d never known she’d had a mean streak.

Smiling, his bedside manner obviously not just for show, but a part of his everyday charming, polite, happy-go-lucky life, the doctor reached his right hand across the bar.

“Justin,” he said, as if Kane wanted to be on a first-name basis with him. “How are you doing?”

Kane raised his cast to show he wouldn’t be shaking his hand. “I’m healing.”

Justin gave a self-deprecating laugh at his handshake blunder. Settled his hand on Charlotte’s waist. “Good to hear.” He turned to Charlotte, his fingers curving along the slope of her hip. “Excuse me for a minute?”

She nodded, stood there looking all bright and out of place in his dim bar. Her lips a glossy red, long silver earrings dangling from her ears.

The damn necklace Kane had bought her hanging from her neck. A guy bumped her as he came up to the bar and ordered a draft. She stepped to the side, had the silver pendant swinging.

“Do you need a drink?” Kane asked, his voice a low growl.

She startled as if surprised he was asking that of her. She was in a goddamn bar, wasn’t she? She must have been sipping on something for the past hour.

“No. Thank you.” She moved closer, set her sparkly bag down. “Justin saw you and wanted to come over. To see how you were doing after the accident.”

Well, that explained it. Though she didn’t have to. It also made it clear she would have kept her distance if it was up to her.

Yet she was the one who’d come to Kane’s bar.

Since he had nothing to say, he kept silent. Gave the customer his beer. Took another order, all the while aware of her there, close enough to touch.

“How’s your father?” she asked when he came her way again.

“The same.” Carrie and C.J. were trying to decide where Senior should have his rehab, in Pittsburgh or Houston. Zach had gone back to base after his two days off and Oakes had flown home the same day as Meryl and Estelle, needing to get back to a court case he was working on.

Charlotte ran her finger back and forth across her bag. “That’s good. That he hasn’t taken a turn for the worse, I mean. What about Estelle? Is she still hanging out with Andrew?”

“She’s gone. Her mother took her back to Houston.”

Now she looked sad, disappointed, as if she’d miss his kid. “I thought she wanted to stay with you.”

He lifted a shoulder. “She changed her mind.”

Charlotte touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t move, simply stared at her fingers on his skin. She slowly drew her hand away. He wished he could drag her out back where they could be alone, but he wasn’t going to play the jealousy card. Wouldn’t let it, or these confusing, conflicted feelings he had for her rule him.

Not when he was afraid she had too much power over him already.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, angling his body over the bar so he could speak quietly and still have her hear him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I kissed you in the elevator and haven’t seen you since, and now, you just happen to come here with a date?”

Color washed up her neck. “We...we were at dinner and we came in for a couple of drinks. That’s all.”

It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. They could have gone to three different bars, all within a mile of here.

“Whatever you’re trying to prove,” he told her, “you’ve proved it.”

Her eyes flashed with building temper, and for a minute, he thought she’d whack him with that beaded purse of hers. Almost wished she would. Seeing her here, after wanting nothing more all week than to talk to her, touch her again, made him feel tight with tension, antsy with unnamed emotion, the kind that built up in a man until the only way to rid yourself of it was to explode.

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” she insisted.

“You think the doc is safe?” Kane asked, his gaze holding hers. “You think he’s the perfect guy for you, someone to fill the role of future husband?”

“I think he’s a nice man, an intelligent, handsome man who is interested in me,” she said softly. And Kane wondered, worried, that she hadn’t brought the doctor there to make him jealous.

That she was with Justin because she was moving on with her life. Moving away from Kane.

And that was even worse.

He straightened. Smirked. “My mistake.” Tossing down his rag, he called across the bar to Sadie. “Switch sides with me.”

She did as he asked, looking at him curiously as they passed each other.

A few minutes later, Justin returned and he and Charlotte walked out.

Hand-in-hand.

For several long moments after they left, Kane stared at the closed door, his back teeth ground together so tightly, his jaw ached. He wanted to run after her, demand she quit playing these games. Tell her to give the doctor his walking papers.

He wanted to beg her to stay with him. To give him a chance.

He whirled around. Beg. She’d reduced him to this. Turned him into a jealous, pathetic loser willing to toss aside his pride.

He took an order for a kamikaze from a pretty brunette, poured vodka into a martini glass. He’d never been a fan of vodka, but when the potent scent of it hit him, it was all he could do not to raise the glass to his mouth and down the shot in one swallow.

His hands shook, his body craved the alcohol like his lungs craved their next breath. But he knew what would happen if he gave in. One drink wouldn’t be enough. It had never been enough.

When faced with his greatest weakness, the best thing, the smartest thing a man could do was get as far away as possible.

He slowly, deliberately, added lime juice and triple sec to the drink, set it on the bar, took the brunette’s money and did what he was best at.

Walked away.

* * *

“I
HAD
A
NICE
TIME
,” Justin told Char as they reached her back door.

She smiled, hoped it looked more natural than it felt. “Me, too,” she lied. But really, one harmless fib could be forgiven between them, right? They were...perfect together. Everyone who’d seen them tonight had told her so, especially after they found out he was a doctor.

Doctors and nurses. Nurses and doctors. God, you’d think they were peanut butter and jelly.

But at least they hadn’t run out of things to talk about as she and James had last year. Nope, they’d had plenty to say. Interesting medical cases they’d come across, their time at college, his years at med school, their coworkers and patients and the town. He was happy in Shady Grove, ready to stay here and settle down. He was handsome and nice, and while he didn’t seem to get her sense of humor, that was okay.

You think the doc is safe? You think he’s the perfect guy for you, someone to fill the role of future husband?

Her fingers curled. So what if she did? There was nothing wrong with making a plan or wanting to be with a certain type of person.

“Thanks again,” she said as she unlocked the door. She kept her hand on the knob, smiled up at him, the porch light illuminating his features.

“Thank you,” he said. She ground her teeth together. One of them had to stop thanking the other. At least their kids would be polite. Polite and cute with his warm brown eyes and brown hair. Polite, smart and taking care of all their friends, making sure everyone around them was happy and healthy. They’d excel in school and never cause their parents any trouble.

A sudden vision of a little boy with her fiery hair and freckles and Kane’s green eyes and wicked smile filled her mind. He’d come home with holes in his best jeans and marks from playground scuffles. He’d charm his teachers and have his mother wrapped around his little finger. Or what about a little girl? One with strawberry-blond hair and Charlotte’s eyes who’d boss around all her classmates and adore her daddy and be his little princess.

She shoved the visions from her mind. They weren’t real. This, the man in front of her, was, and she was going to make things work with him. It didn’t matter that, while there hadn’t been any lulls in their conversation and she found him to be perfectly nice, Justin hadn’t been able to truly hold her interest tonight. Her own fault for stupidly suggesting they have a drink at O’Riley’s.

Whenever Kane was near, she didn’t, couldn’t, think straight.

Whatever you’re trying to prove, you’ve proved it.

She’d been doing nothing of the sort. Justin had suggested an after-dinner drink and she’d complied. O’Riley’s just happened to be the closest establishment to the restaurant. Her sister worked there, for God’s sake. Char had every right to go in there with anyone she wanted.

But it had been hard to focus on Justin when she’d felt Kane watching her. She’d ignored him as much as possible, until Justin had wanted to check on his well-being.

She had wondered about the possessive look in Kane’s eyes. As if he’d been...jealous.

Which was ridiculous. He’d almost ruined her date with his snarky comments and bad attitude. But she refused to let him get to her, refused to let his behavior upset her or let herself dwell on the questions running through her mind. Such as why he’d said those things he’d said. What it meant, if anything.

Justin smiled at her, held on to the door frame above her head, leaned forward. “I hope we can get together again.”

See? He was sweet. Patient. Not pushy or confusing at all. With him, she knew where she stood.

Sort of.

“Of course.”

Next time it’d be better, she assured herself. They’d stay far away from O’Rileys. Maybe go into Pittsburgh where they could spend a few hours over a leisurely meal, get to know each other even better. They’d date for a while, get engaged, then she’d plan the perfect wedding for them, the perfect life.

Just as she’d always dreamed.

His smile widened and he seemed really pleased. “Great. I’ll call you.”

“Okay.” Why was he still standing there when all she wanted was to go inside and crawl into bed so she could replay her conversation with Kane? Analyze how he’d looked at her. How he’d sounded.

Justin leaned forward and her eyes widened. Her fingers tightened on the door handle but she forced herself to remain still. He kissed her, his mouth firm and warm as it moved over hers. It was...nice.

Nice. And absolutely, positively without any heat, fireworks or tingles on her end of things.

She could have cried, wanted to, badly. Wanted to bawl and scream and, yes, stomp her feet in a full-fit tantrum.

He pulled back, straightened. “No, huh?” he asked, looking disappointed.

She opened her mouth to lie, to pretend she had no idea what he was talking about. To assure him it was great, the best kiss she’d ever had.

“No,” she said then winced. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” He stepped back, ducked his head. “Is it because of that guy? Bartholomew?”

“Bartasavich. Kane Bartasavich.” She cleared her throat. “No... Yes... I don’t even know.”

“That’s what I thought.” He stared out at the dark night then faced her again. “I really enjoy spending time with you, Charlotte. I think we could be good together. So, if things don’t work out between you two—”

“They won’t,” she said with a harsh laugh. “I mean, they haven’t. I mean...” She inhaled. “We’re not...we’re not together.”

“I’m not sure he knows that.” Justin took her hand. “I saw how he watched you tonight. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” He kissed her knuckles, then gave her hand a gentle squeeze and walked away, disappearing into the night.

She went inside, not bothering to turn on the light as she slumped into one of the kitchen chairs. Held her head in her hands and tugged at her hair. What was wrong with her? She’d just sent away the perfect man. She had no doubt Justin would be a great husband and father, and she couldn’t work up the slightest interest.

She knew why. Kane. He filled her thoughts. She’d been such a fool to think she could ignore her feelings for him. That if she tried hard enough she could pretend she didn’t want him.

Oh, God, Kane was right, she realized, bile rising in her throat. She had gone there to prove a point. To prove to herself there was nothing between them, that anything she thought she felt for him was nothing more than physical attraction.

Shame turned her stomach. She was such a fool. Before she could talk herself out of it, she stood, grabbed her keys and purse, and headed out to her car.

If she was going to be a fool, she might as well do it big.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

S
HE
’
D
COME
FULL
circle, Char thought, staring at Kane’s closed door. Right back to where she’d started this journey all those months ago.

She knocked, stepped back and waited. A moment later, he opened the door, looking dangerous and untamed, his hair wild around his face, his shirt no longer tucked in.

Those damn tingles she hadn’t felt with Justin washed over her body, causing her scalp to prickle, gooseflesh to rise on her arms.

Her throat was dry, her head spinning. Oh, God, this was a mistake, her thoughts, her feelings...they were all wrong. Worse, they were going to get her into an even bigger mess than before. But she couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t stop what was going to happen any more than she could stop being a redhead.

Some things were beyond control.

It was scary as hell, but it was worth it. Kane was worth it.

“You were right,” she said, pushing the words out, hoping they were enough to stop him from slamming the door in her face. “I came to O’Riley’s tonight to prove something. But not to you. To myself. It didn’t work.”

His eyes gave nothing away. “Where’s your date?”

“Home.” She didn’t dare step forward, not when he was so cool toward her. “I guess. He dropped me off and left.”

“Ah, the perfect gentleman. Don’t tell me, he walked you to your door then gave you a chaste kiss good-night. One you could think about for the rest of the night.”

“His kiss—” She wouldn’t say the other man’s name, not now, not when things between her and Kane were so intense. “It doesn’t have to be the last thing on my mind,” she whispered.

His gaze heated and he took a step forward, only to stop. “What are you doing here?”

“I...” Taking her courage in hand, she met his eyes. And told him what was in her heart. “You. I’m here for you.”

After a long moment, he held the door open and she stepped inside. Without a word, he shut and locked it. But he didn’t touch her, and she wanted desperately for him to do just that. For him to take away her nerves and her doubts.

Then again, the last time she’d let her body determine her actions, it hadn’t worked out so well.

She’d make sure this time was different.

He cupped her head with his good hand, dragged her to him slowly, giving her plenty of time to evade. To pull away. But she couldn’t stop him now, didn’t want to, truth be told. Not when he was standing so close to her, his mouth tight, his eyes hot with want. With need.

She laid her hands on his chest, slid them up to his shoulders and tipped her head back for his kiss. It was soft. Gentle. So unlike the first time when a fire had raged between them, heating her insides, taking her thoughts and her sanity. This time he kept the kiss in control.

It was lovely.

But she wanted the heat, that flash of desire and need she sensed inside him as if he were barely holding it together, holding on to his control. Having no idea what she was doing, only knowing she didn’t want him to treat her like some damn china doll, as if she’d break at the slightest hint of desire. Didn’t want him to treat her like a quivering virgin. She wanted him to treat her like a woman. A woman he desired. And if he wasn’t going to go there, wasn’t going to let their passion have free rein, then she’d have to.

She gripped his head on either side, her hands fisting in his hair, and rose onto her toes, pressed against him fully, heard his grunt of surprise. She had no idea what she was doing, how to get a man to respond to her, but it wasn’t rocket science. It was sex. Human nature and instinct. She’d just go with the flow. God help her. The last time, their only time, the problem arose because she’d been overwhelmed by her feelings. Her doubts and fears and how much she’d wanted him.

But tonight, she’d be the one in charge.

She proved it by deepening the kiss, her hands tugging on his hair, her tongue sweeping into his mouth. He made a sound in the back of his throat, one that told her he liked what she was doing, so she did it again, now smoothing her hands over his shoulders, up his arms, but she couldn’t feel enough of his skin so she leaned back enough to work on the buttons of his shirt.

He kissed the corners of her mouth, his touch incredibly sweet. Seductive. “You know this is a mistake.”

“A doozy.” She didn’t like to make mistakes. Was afraid one of those mistakes would be irreversible. It was better, safer, to stick with the tried and true. To plan, to think of every contingency, every possible outcome—good or bad.

“Some mistakes, though,” she told him, “are worth it.”

He brushed another kiss over her mouth, raised his head to meet her eyes.

She could hardly believe this was happening, that she was here, about to make love with Kane Bartasavich. This man with the broken arm and bruised face, stubble covering his chin, his hooded gaze. He was dangerous. Not the type of man she went for, not the type of man she dreamed of being with, of having a future with.

But it didn’t feel like a mistake.

It felt right.

He kissed her with a heat and need that burned through her. She deepened the kiss, clenching his shoulders.

He made another sound, this one half laugh, half groan, and grabbed first one wrist, then the other, circled them both in his large hand. Holding her away, he broke their kiss. “What’s the hurry?”

“No hurry,” she said, testing by tugging, but he held firm.

“Worried you’ll change your mind?” he asked with that grin of his she’d come to adore.

“Worried you’ll change yours,” she heard herself say honestly.

His expression softened. “Not a chance. I want you. I dream of you, of your skin and that bright hair. You, Charlotte,” he said roughly, softly, “are under my skin. In my head. I can’t get you out.”

He wanted to, it was clear. Wanted to rid himself of her. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, couldn’t worry about it. Not now. Later, when she had time to think things through, she’d sort through all of these conflicting feelings inside her.

Much later.

“You’re in my head, too,” she admitted. But held back her greatest fear. That he might just be in her heart as well.

He let go of her and she stripped him of his shirt, finally touching him the way she wanted, her hands smoothing over his cool flesh. She placed kisses along his collarbone, let her hand trail down his ribs to his stomach, felt the muscles there quiver.

He gave a low, rough curse and yanked her to him, kissing her hungrily as he maneuvered them down the hallway and into his bedroom, backing her to the bed where she sprawled on her back. Kane flipped on a lamp.

Gaze intense, mouth unsmiling, he walked toward her, bare chested, his body a piece of art, his face so handsome. Her stomach did one slow roll as she drank in the sight of him. This hard man with his demons and past sins. This man who adored his daughter, who fought each day to be better. And she knew, as long as she lived, she’d never forget this moment.

The moment she fell in love with him.

He lay beside her, kissing her, his hands roaming over her, memorizing every detail of her face and body, every slight curve and angle, every dip and slope. He slowly undressed her despite her need for him to hurry up, but she knew it was her nerves pushing her to want this over quickly.

Even as she prayed every second would last a lifetime.

She helped him take off his jeans, pull off his briefs.

“Stop thinking,” he whispered as he settled next to her on his right side, his head resting on his arm above his cast. He trailed the fingers of his left hand over her breasts, circled her nipple with his forefinger.

“I never stop thinking,” she said, knowing it was an impossibility.

“Let’s see if I can help with that.” And he scooted down, bent his head, took her nipple into his mouth and sucked.

Sensations flowed through her, building higher and higher. His hand swept over her, leaving trails of pleasure in their wake, his mouth working magic. Her body heated. “Aren’t we going to...” She gasped as his hand traveled down her stomach to trace a line above her pubic bone. “You know...”

“We’re definitely going to you know,” he said, brushing his mouth down her rib cage, “but first you deserved to be cherished. Worshipped.”

She let her head fall back. “Oh. Well, you’re the expert, after all.”

And he proceeded to prove he was as he slipped his hand between her thighs. Her hands curled into the sheets, her head tipped back. Her hips rose of their own accord as pleasure built and built until finally, she exploded into a million pieces. When she was able to open her eyes again, she smiled. “I was right. You really are an expert.”

* * *

K
ANE
HAD
NEVER
seen anything like Charlotte. Her long limbs supple and almost glowing in the dim light, her hair a bright contrast to his white sheets, her skin flushed prettily, a look of surprise and satisfaction on her face.

He’d put it there. It made him feel powerful. And scared the shit out of him because he wanted to be the only man to do so.

Because being with her, touching her, loving her and bringing her pleasure brought him a sense of rightness that he’d never had before. As if this was where he was meant to be. With her. Always with her.

But that wasn’t real, wasn’t what she was here for. Yes, he liked being with her. Yes, he enjoyed talking to her and listening to her, liked seeing her smile and hearing her laugh. None of that meant he had to start spinning fantasies about what this was between them. About imaginary feelings that weren’t real.

This, he thought, skimming his hand over her hip, was real. The feel of her soft skin, the scent of her arousal and perfume, the way they sank into the bed together. The feminine smile on her face, the teasing glint in her eyes. He’d absolved himself of his mistake with her, of the first time they’d been together.

But he wasn’t done with her yet.

“Not an expert,” he said, sliding his lips over her shoulder. “Experienced.”

“It came in handy,” she said, pulling him closer. His erection nudged her outer thigh and she raised her eyebrows. “Guess I’m not doing too badly at this, either.”

He kissed her. How could he not when she looked so damned pleased with herself? When he was so happy to be with her?

The kiss soon heated. He loved the way she responded to his touch, the little sounds she made as if amazed and very, very pleased by what he did to her. She grew emboldened as they kissed and touched each other, their skin heating and growing slick with sweat. Her hands roamed over him, seeking and curious, and he couldn’t let her do anything but explore to her heart’s content, even if it did drive him crazy having her soft fingers encircling him, stroking him.

Finally, when he couldn’t take it any longer, when he knew she was ready for him, he sheathed himself with a condom. Kissing her, he rolled them both so that he was on top of her, holding his weight on his left arm. It was awkward and not easy, but it was worth it to be with her.

She looked uncertain. Nervous. He didn’t mind the uncertainty, liked that he could put her on edge. He was feeling the same himself. As if a stiff breeze would push him over, stumbling down a path he wasn’t sure he wanted to take.

But he didn’t want her nervous. Not now.

He kissed her again until her body lost its stiffness. Until she was writhing underneath him. He entered her slowly, watching her face for any signs of distress or that she’d changed her mind. But there was nothing but pleasure. Her gaze held his and what he saw in the blue depths humbled him. Trust. She really did scare the hell out of him. He wanted to be worthy of her but he wasn’t. Still, he had this moment and he could be worthy of this.

He slid deeper inside her wet heat. She was so tight, he had to stop so as not to go too fast, too hard, but she groaned and lifted her hips. He set an easy motion, his hand gripping her slim hip. She met him, thrust for thrust, her hands moving over his shoulders, down his arms. He felt her body tighten and heat beneath his. He shifted, angling his body to give her even more pleasure, going deeper and deeper until she climaxed, her body tightening around him.

As she came down from her orgasm, he buried his face in the crook of her neck, pressed his mouth there as he increased his pace. Her nails dug into his skin; her breath was hot and came out in short gasps next to his ear. “Kane,” she gasped. “Kane...”

The sound of her saying his name pierced him. He had a sudden and vicious need to hear her say it again and again. To wake up next to her. To see her face before he fell asleep. To hear her voice, the sound of her laugh every day. The want hit him with the force of a baseball bat, the ensuing images of her with him, day and night, forever, threatening to knock the breath from his lungs.

She licked his earlobe, sucked it into her mouth and scraped her teeth against it. “Kane,” she whispered yet again.

With a roar he came, emptying himself.

Later―could have been hours, though it was more than likely just a few minutes―he managed to roll to the side, taking her with him, holding her against him. She snuggled close, laying her head on his shoulder, her hand resting above his heart.

“So,” she said after a while, sounding content and pretty damned pleased with herself, “that’s what all the fuss is about, huh?”

He smiled against the top of her head. “That’d be it.”

“Is that pretty much how it always is?” she asked.

“Pretty much,” he lied, though he’d never experienced anything quite as earth-shaking as what had happened between them. But if he believed that, if he bought into it, then he’d have to believe all the bullshit about sex being better with someone you love, someone you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

Pure fantasy, that.

Char traced the lettering above his heart, Savage, the nickname he’d been given in the service due to his last name. Could she feel the way his heart tripped under her touch? How unsteady it—and he—was? Did she have any idea how unsteady he felt around her, as if he had to be extra careful of his next step.