her could only mean trouble, and more trouble was the very last thing he needed right now.
After a few minutes had passed, he saw the light in a second-story window come on. The curtain was pulled aside and someone peered out. Quickly, the figure stepped back, then pulled the shade. That simple act made Jesse feel as if he’d just been cut out of someone else’s life.
All the way home, Jesse relived the kiss he’d shared with Karen. That common sense had prevailed pleased him. Who had taken the initiative and ended the kiss bothered the hell out of him. Hindsight was 20/20, but he should have been the one to pull back, not Karen. Far from a novice with women, he’d never experienced anything to equal that kiss before in his life, and it had shaken him right down to the soles of his feet. While he’d initiated it, she’d been as much a participant as he had—until thoughts of Paul stopped her. It annoyed him that she had even wanted to end it.
However, the effect it had and continued to have on him bothered him even more. The memory of how her mouth had felt beneath his occupied his thoughts, overriding the warning bells going off in his head and most of all making him wish for things that could never be. He kept recalling how her laughter spread warmth through him, how her smile lit up her whole face, the way her touch made his skin tingle for more, the way she fit into his family better than he ever had. Without even trying, Karen had become a part of him.
Was the woman a witch? Had she woven a spell that had them all captured in her silky web?
No more, he told himself. It couldn’t happen again. Once was an accident. Twice would be emotional suicide. Aside from her connection to Paul, getting involved with a woman from the city had to be one of the stupidest things he’d ever contemplated.
Hadn’t his father’s experience with his mother taught him anything? Sure, Karen would be happy now, when country life was all new and exciting, but what about after the shine wore off? What then? She’d be back in her little red sports car, speeding toward New York, back to the place that spelled safety and comfort for her. And where would he be? Would he turn into a bitter, resentful old man like his father? No. He refused to spend his life like Frank Kingston had—making other people pay for his disappointments and mistakes.
Despite all his arguments and common sense analogies, the fact remained that Jesse could not get Karen off his mind.
It was all a moot point anyway. He couldn’t get involved with the girlfriend of the man he’d allowed to die. But did he have to let it go that far? He was an adult, after all, not some adolescent with out-of-control hormones. All he had to do was remove the temptation.
Couldn’t he just keep her at arm’s length, control his own emotions, tell her what she wanted to know about Paul, help her get her pictures as quickly as possible, then encourage her to leave town? He realized that it was little compensation for a life, and that nothing would ever replace Paul, but how could Jesse not help her?
Still fully clothed, Karen lay across her bed. What in God’s name had she been thinking to let him kiss her? Letting him wasn’t the half of it, she corrected. How could she have responded like a twenty-dollar hooker to a man she’d just met?
Worst of all, why hadn’t she talked to him about Paul? She couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity. Yet she hadn’t taken advantage of it. When the answer—which she didn’t like at all—came, she realized it was because Jesse had pushed away all thoughts of her baby’s father.
She lay there for a long time, thinking. What was this attraction she felt for Jesse? And why was it strong enough to veer her away from her intended path? She waited, but no answers came.
Hell, she didn’t even know why she’d started the conversation about his acceptance of his family. He’d been totally right. She’d stuck her nose in where it didn’t belong. She’d get her answers about the fire and Paul’s family, then she’d be gone, and life in the sleepy little hamlet of Bristol would go on. How it went on was none of her concern.
When would she learn that there were some things that were better left alone? Like men with some big-time emotional problems, and dark cars that invited intimacy with a man she had no business even thinking about, much less kissing as if her life depended on it. Let the Kingstons exorcize their family ghosts. She had her own problems to contend with.
Resolutely, she jumped up, then went to the dresser. She extracted her nightie from the top drawer. Throwing it, her towel and a robe over her arm, she headed down the hall to the shared bathroom. Her bedside clock had read eleven o’clock. She still had time before her landlady turned off the hot water, Mildred’s way of saving on the electric bill. Putting thoughts of Jesse and their encounter aside, she concentrated on enjoying a relaxing shower and then a good night’s sleep.
Laying her nightie on the vanity and hanging her robe on the back of the door and the towel over the bar, she moved aside a shower curtain covered with all species of colorful tropical fish. She adjusted the water to the hot temperature she preferred, then stripped off her clothes and stepped under the spray.
The silky caress of the water brought to mind again the feel of Jesse’s lips on hers, the way he gently stroked her mouth, almost as if he worshipped it. Her body began to tingle anew and not from the hot water. Slowly, she ran her hands over her skin, her mind conjuring up the image of Jesse Kingston.
Taking the soap, she lathered her body, then massaged the bubbles into her sensitive skin. Slipping back beneath the spray, she leaned against the tiled side of the shower stall. Eyes closed, she luxuriated in the sensual feel of the hot water running over her, rinsing away the velvet lather like a lover’s hands easing away the sweet ache of desire. Jesse’s hands.
She knew with a certainty that making love with Jesse Kingston would be an experience that she’d never recover from. Right now, even with her skin tingling and her lips still swollen from their kiss, she wasn’t willing to take that risk.
Tiny shards of ice attacked her without warning. Her eyes flew open. She’d stood under the shower much longer than she’d intended. The water had turned to arctic runoff. Her memory played back Mildred Hopkins’s warning. The diminutive landlady had been quite firm.
I turn off the water heater at eleven-thirty. No sense letting it run all night. That’s just a waste of good money.
Gasping for breath and fighting a shower curtain that insisted on adhering itself to her slick body, Karen battled her way out of the shower. Grabbing her thick bath towel from the towel bar, she wrapped it around her frigid body, turned off the water, then leaned against the sink, gasping for air.
“Talk about your rude awakenings…. I’ll have to remember that for the next time I have a run-in with Jesse.” No. There would be no more run-ins, no more incidents of her sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong. And above all, no more kisses.
Jesse posed far too much danger to her peace of mind, and she’d do well to remember that. She had not come here to have an affair with a man who could leave scars the size of Texas on her heart, a man who carried his own scars and refused to share them with anyone. She might know way more than she should about the Kingston sisters and nothing about the brother who held himself apart, but she didn’t plan on rectifying that. The less she knew, the better. Once she’d gotten what she’d come for, she’d head back to the safety of New York City.
Grabbing her nightie and slipping it on, she headed back to her room. So much for a good night’s sleep. She deposited her dirty clothes in a pile beside the dresser, promising herself she’d
