the glove-soft leather, shutting her eyes, silently thanking her mother for sending away for one of those cassette sets of The World’s Best-Loved Melodies for $24.95 when Luanne wasn’t but a little girl. “It’s beautiful.”
Which would have been the cue for most men to say, “So are you,” but he didn’t. Instead he said, “So tell me—when that jerk opened your car door, why didn’t you pop out the passenger side and run back to Ed’s?”
“Can’t,” she said on a shrug. “That door hasn’t worked since probably 1976.”
“Never mind the engine?”
“Oh, the engine’s all right, usually.” Then she laughed. “Hey, I bought her off of Fred Sellers for two hundred bucks, what did I expect? And Jeff keeps her tuned up for me for free. Ordinarily Flo and I get along just fine.”
“Flo?”
“The truck. Which reminds me—don’t let me forget to call Jeff when I get home, have him go over and see what’s wrong with her.”
She thought she saw Alek do one of those things with his jaw that men do when they want to ask you something that’s none of their business, but they were pulling up in front of his room at the Come On, anyway, which Luanne figured was probably fortuitous.
He wasn’t gone five minutes, during which time the storm pretty much played itself out. When he returned, he was wearing a serious bad-boy leather jacket over fresh jeans and a plain white shirt, open at the collar, that showed off his dark complexion quite nicely.
Luanne reminded herself that staring was impolite.
She also reminded herself, as she directed Alek onto the dirt road that led to her trailer on the Carlisles’ property, where she lived rent free in exchange for her tutoring their kids during the school year—which was more of a challenge than she’d ever admit to the children’s parents—that she was not in the habit of inviting strange men into her house in the wee hours of the morning, not even those who had come to her rescue. Heck, she didn’t even invite men she knew inside her trailer. Bad enough fending them off in their trucks.
And if the rest of the ride from Alek’s motel had passed in silence, or been filled with dribs and drabs of stilted, boring conversation, she supposed she wouldn’t be tormenting herself like this.
But it hadn’t. And because it hadn’t, it struck Luanne that she had been sorely neglecting herself of late. And then there was this out-and-out sexual attraction that was making her itchy all over and her blood purr like the Porsche’s engine. So by the time they got to the trailer, and Blue, the shepherd mix who’d shown up on her doorstep last year, had made a mad dash out of his dog house for the car, barking his fool head off, she had just about twisted herself inside out with her ambivalence.
Then she looked up and saw her home for what it was—a tacky single-wide with fake wood paneling and fifteen-year-old gold shag carpeting besides.
Alek cut the engine. Luanne leaned out and told Blue to go on, git, which he did. Then she sat there, smelling Alek and listening to her heart stutter, reminding herself that she was not an impulsive person, and that expressing even a friendly interest in this man was very possibly the most impractical, illogical thing she could ever do. Except, right on the heels of that thought came the equally compelling argument that life was awfully short and unpredictable and here was an opportunity that, in all likelihood, would never come her way again. And that tacky though her place might be, it still beat the Come On all to heck.
Staring straight out the windshield—she somehow couldn’t bring herself to look at him—she said, “I don’t suppose you’d like to come in for a little while? For a glass of iced tea or something?”
Silence followed, and she thought, Oh, Lord, I have gone and done it now, except then Alek asked, very softly, “Are you sure?” and her heart bumped even harder in her chest as she replied, still not looking at him, “Yes.”
Then Alek leaned over, his smooth, elegant fingers carefully bracketing her jaw, turning her to face him. And oh, my, how her insides went all liquidy and warm. The clouds having moved off, silvery moonlight flooded into the car, accentuating what was easily the most handsome male face she’d ever seen. A handsome male face that was now within easy kissing distance, she realized. His scent mingled with that of the cool, rain-washed air as his fingers grazed her face with more gentleness than she’d ever thought possible from a man. And she thought, Oh, dear Lord—! but that’s as far as the thought got when Alek whispered, “It’s very late.”
Oh.
All she could do was nod, not having the wherewithal to know what else to do. He was giving her an out, she realized. So she should feel neither rejected nor disappointed, but grateful for his concern for her person and reputation.
Except he leaned just the tiniest bit closer, now clearly intent on kissing her, which both confused and delighted her. Then he hesitated, just as clearly waiting for her to give the go-ahead. So she edged a little closer, too, closing the gap between them, and then she heard herself sigh as his lips touched hers. It was a soft, sweet kiss, not at all what she might have expected from someone who she imagined had known more than a few women in his time, but all the more arousing for the tenderness of it.
There was a lot to be said for a man restraining himself, she thought as the first, tentative contact blossomed into something with a little zing to it. Never before had a man touched her as if she was something rare and precious and delicate, something to be cherished, not wrestled into submission. And when the kiss ended, instead of feeling her usual sense of relief that the ordeal was at last over, she felt a sense of wonder, as if something magical had happened. Oh, it was silly and girlish to feel such a thing, her practical self knew that, but magical moments were few and far between in her life, and she saw no reason not to clutch this one to her heart.
And while she was thinking on all this, she realized Alek had gotten out of the car and was standing by her open door. Slowly, as if in a dream, she gathered her wits and purse, sure by now he could hear her heart pounding in her chest. But then she got a good look at his face, which seemed to be filled with all manner of confusion, and it was only then that it occurred to her that he had yet to answer her question.
“If I accept your invitation,” he said, all seriousness, “I would be no better than the man you thought I was earlier this evening.”
Well now, that was certainly a good argument. Only she heard herself say, “It was only for a glass of tea….”
He snagged her chin in his fingers, his eyes blazing in the moonlight.
“Was it?” he asked, and she felt her skin go warm that he should have guessed her innermost thoughts when she herself hadn’t even had a chance to take a good look at them yet. But it was true: crazy though it might be, this was the only man she’d ever met that she’d been the least bit inclined to let see her naked. To touch her in places she didn’t normally like to be touched. That he was one step removed from being a complete stranger, that she’d had colds that had lasted longer than this relationship would, and that neither of those things particularly bothered her, made no sense.
“I guess it wasn’t,” she heard herself say, nearly stunning herself with her own boldness, only to turn and walk away, her palms cool and damp against her hot cheeks.
“That hardly seems fair to you.”
She twisted around, her laugh sounding a little tinny to her ears in the breeze smelling of clean air and damp
