she was a woman aching for all the experiences she’d never had. And if she were back home, she’d confess all this to her mother, then refute her mom’s suggestions that Robin was once again being overly dramatic. Because, for the first time in her life, Robin had tasted sinful heat—so hot, the rest of her experiences seemed lukewarm if not plain cold.
She glanced at the clock. Twelve-thirty. Going-home time. Robin donned her sweater, the one with colorful kitties crocheted into the threads, for the walk to her nearby apartment. Al was in the back, calling somebody on the pay phone. He glanced up when she waved bye, and although he said good-night in the same gruff voice he always did, he gave her a funny look. Probably a “Try to behave tomorrow night” look. She smiled. She’d have the reputation as a hottie at DU and Davey’s Diner. Not a bad way to end the worst day of her life.
Walking out the door, the night air had a hint of fall—a teasing cool breeze that traced the late-summer darkness. Above, a full moon hung suspended, like a promise.
“Robin.”
A man’s voice. She looked down. Not just any man, that man. The stranger she’d kissed. Her heart leaped in her throat. How’d he know her name?
“You don’t remember me.”
She looked at him under the streetlight, observed how the light spilled over him in a silver haze. It filtered through his dark, tousled hair, poured over his black leather jacket. Under the light, his face was cast in light and shadows. He looked at her intently, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders slouched as he leaned against the lamppost.
Heat shot through her. “Johnny,” she whispered.
2
JOHNNY WATCHED Robin stand there, gaping at him. She looked as cute as she had back in grade school. Straight, flyaway blond hair and those big gray-green eyes that took in everything. Those eyes he’d almost recognized back in the diner before he’d been hit with that blast of passion that had melted his logical, rational thoughts…the kind of thoughts that normally filled his mind as Jonathan Dayton, CEO of OpticPower. Which is who he’d been back at that diner, a CEO—well, a CEO in disguise—intently reviewing legal papers for the upcoming board meeting.
Then, like a bolt of lightning, this young, fiery woman damn near burned his logical brain to smoldering ashes.
He looked into her face, trying to read the look in her eyes. If they were inside, under the bright fluorescent lights, he bet he could read what she was thinking right now. He’d been able to do that years ago, back home, anyway. Back then, he guessed her thoughts by the sparkle in her eye—and most of the time, he’d been right. And he’d been able to sense her emotions, too. Hurt darkened her eyes, clouding them over like a distant storm. Joy lightened them to a sparkling green, like sunlight on the sea. A hundred thoughts, emotions would be racing through her, and she’d think keeping her mouth shut meant no one knew.
He knew.
But back then, it was easier to stay focused on her eyes. Now it was damn hard.
The gangly legs had turned shapely. Like the rest of her. She had one of those curvaceous figures that reminded him of early twentieth-century illustrations by Charles Gibson where women were round and pink and womanly. Back in the diner, he’d liked how she felt, how her body pressed against his. Liked even better how she kissed.
He still wasn’t certain at what moment he’d been fully aware this hot encounter was with the Robin Lee he’d known. Maybe when he’d caught a determined glint in her eyes, and he’d flashed on a similar look in a girl’s eyes back home….
But those thoughts had melted when the kissing heated up. And what a kiss. Hot, intense, full of surprises. One moment she was nibbling and suckling his lip, the next she was doing that squeaking thing with her feet as though one part of her body had decided to dance while the rest of her made love to him. And he’d gone along, at first a bit stunned, then warming up until he was gorging on the sensations, like a starved man sitting down to a feast. An indulgence he never experienced in his logical, business-centered life.
Then afterward, when they’d disentangled themselves, and she stumbled over the word “coffee,” the pieces of her personality fell together. Had to be Robin Lee, the kid sister of his childhood pal. But just now, when she’d whispered his name—a soft, awe-filled “Johnny”—that’s when he knew for certain. He’d heard that same awe-inspired tone from her as a girl. He’d thought it was endearing back then. Now it was downright intoxicating.
Curious as to what lay behind her unique assertiveness-training techniques, he’d hung outside, waiting for her to leave. But now, he realized he’d waited outside for another reason. Knowing it was Robin was like reacquainting himself with his past, a time when life was purer. Not necessarily easier, but purer. Less complicated, more understandable. The life he often wished he could step back into again, even while knowing it was too late.
“I—I’m sorry,” Robin whispered.
He paused. “Because you kissed me?” He’d leave out the pie-dipped fingers and the writhing on the table.
She nodded.
He waited. Although it appeared she was bursting to speak, she remained silent. He knew she could be chatty as all get-out—he’d seen it many times with her family. But outside her home she clammed up. If only there was more light, he could read the thoughts and emotions in her expressive eyes.
“I don’t regret you kissing me,” he said gently. He could have said more. Confessed that no woman had kissed him the way Robin had tonight—a kiss tendered with the years of a heart-struck kid turned woman. A kiss that tasted like something sweet turned mouthwatering delectable. And he thought he’d experienced every possible kiss available. Especially after Denver’s slick 5280 magazine had nominated him one of the top ten “Most Eligible Bachelors of the Year” two years running, Johnny had had his share of lip-locks. He could almost categorize them. There were the “Good night, will I see you again?” kisses, the “I promise you a good time” kisses, even the “I want to get married” kisses.
But none compared to being blindsided by Robin’s sizzlingly sweet, hitched-up-on-the-table, I’m-gonna-take-you kiss. Hell, she was a category unto herself.
But it didn’t take an idiot to see that this thunder-struck woman was obviously chastising herself for her spontaneous whatever-it-was moment back there in the diner. She’d surprised him, but he was a master at playing people and situations—and this one he’d play with a sense of humor. Get her to lighten up a little.
“You always serve customers like that?” he teased.
She shook her head rapidly back and forth. A wisp of her blond hair fell across her eye, which she shakily brushed back.
Okay, cool it with the lightening-up approach. Robin Lee had been a stutterer, and from what little she’d said to him tonight, she still struggled with talking.
But damn talented with words. The written ones, anyway. It was as though all that creativity flowed from her soul down to her fingertips as she wrote her essays and short stories. And for one of those she’d won a prize at school. He remembered the day well—she’d been twelve, he eighteen. Johnny had cut classes to hunt for his kid brother Frankie who was fast believing that the solution to poverty was to shoplift and hot-wire cars.
Only instead of finding Frankie, Johnny
