Redwood Bend (Virgin River #18)(36)

Damn, he thought. Look at her. She gave her long hair a toss and gathered it on top of her head before entering the bathroom. And he was hard again. She was way under his skin.

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Well, there was an upside, he thought. Now that it was all out in the open, she would understand where he was coming from, why he was a bad relationship risk and was doing her a favor by not getting involved with her or her kids. She would know all the names in his familial periphery—all those Hollywood losers who couldn’t stay out of trouble or make a normal family life work. And obviously she’d heard all the rumors about how much trouble he’d been in, how unreliable he was....

If you’re still here when I’m done…

He could spend a little time with her, as long as it didn’t get too serious. As long as he explained, with consideration for her feelings, why he’d have to move on. And she’d be fine with that because she was no longer a twelve-year-old fan girl.

And he leaped out of bed and went to the bathroom. The shower was running and he stepped inside. “You’re not going to get away with this,” he said.

“What?”

“Showering alone while I’m still counting.” And he took her lips just as he took the soap out of her hands.

Katie was making coffee in the kitchen when the door to the cabin opened and the boys came in. “Shh,” she said. “Be very quiet. You can go to your bedroom and change clothes for summer program if you’re very quiet.”

Right behind them, Conner stepped into the cabin.

“Well, you’re not Leslie, now are you?”

“There’s a motorcycle outside your cabin.”

“Yes, Conner, I know this,” she whispered. “Please don’t wake him.”

“Why? Did he have a rough night?”

“Don’t go there unless you really want to know, because if it will back you off just to give you the grim details, I’ll do it,” she said.

“Don’t,” he said, closing his eyes. “I don’t want my ears bleeding… Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

Unlikely, she thought. But she said, “I’m a grown-up.”

In the bedroom, Dylan felt the sunlight on the back of his lids and thought, whoa, that last session they’d had had really knocked him out. God, she was going to kill him, she was that good. He slept like the dead. And in the distance, he heard soft talking. Phone call to a girlfriend? He smiled to himself—guys always got the bad rap for locker-room talk when really, the girls were worse. They couldn’t wait to get their friends on the phone and describe every detail.

He felt eyes on him. He opened one blue eye and met with four brown ones.

“Did you have a sleepover, too, Dylan?” one asked.

“Did you forget about your pajamas, too? Because we had to sleep in our unders because we forgot about them.”

“Did you have to sleep in your unders?”

He lifted his head. “Katie!” he yelled.

She darted into the bedroom and when she saw her sons, she put her hands on her hips. “Is this where you keep your school clothes?” she asked. “Go change, right now.”

“Mom, did Dylan have to sleep in his unders?”

“Did he forget his pajamas?”

Her lips twitched as she struggled to keep from laughing. “Well, for heaven’s sake, will you look at that. He must have. I wouldn’t have noticed, since I’m more polite than you—I gave him privacy and slept in the other room, since he’s a guest.” She shuttled them out of the room. “Get changed now—you don’t want to be late.” Then she looked at Dylan and covered her laughing mouth with a hand.

“Not funny,” he said grumpily.

“Funny,” she insisted. “You can have the cabin to yourself—get up, go back to sleep, whatever. I’ll be gone about a half hour. Coffee’s on. I’ll bring back breakfast from Jack’s.”

“Then I have to go,” he said.

“Of course,” she said with a smile. “I understand completely.”

My God, he thought. Did she take nothing seriously? Here they’d romped the night away in complete carnal pleasure and at first light he’s caught na**d in her bed by her children! They’d be in therapy until they were twenty.

But of course they hadn’t seen anything… He was covered, Katie claimed to have slept in the other room and the clothes he’d left on the living room floor the evening before were neatly folded on the top of the chest of drawers, his boots standing politely on the floor. Even the dresser drawer where she kept all the extra condoms was closed; no wrappers on the night side table. Katie had tidied up and taken a shower; the ends of her hair were still damp and she wore jeans and a sweatshirt.

But they knew he’d been there. Was that a bad thing?

He took a shower and while the spray ran over him he closed his eyes and remembered the last shower here, in the middle of the night, with Katie. And with the help of a little soap and shower gel, he had her up to seven while he lingered around four because she couldn’t keep her soapy hands off him and he didn’t have a condom in the shower and he lost his mind and damn! She really was going to kill him. And he was going to die with a smile on his face.

But how did she do that? Show him the sex goddess when they were alone and that primly amused young mother in the light of day? She was like two completely separate women in one skin. He was going to have to get out of here before it became any more obvious he couldn’t be without her in his life. Over breakfast they would talk, he would thank her for being the best sex of his life, tell her truthfully that he’d never forget their “date” and then he’d head for L.A. or Montana.