FATHER IN TRAINING Page 8

  Several boys chased one another up and down the aisle, but Blake didn't show any interest in the activity around him. He sat silently, staring at his lap. Kyle was surprised that the boy was always so quiet. He and his brothers had been loud enough for a dozen kids, or so their mother had told him. He couldn't remember ever sitting quietly, unless he was sick. Craig's three boys were the same.

  "What do you think of the house?" Kyle asked. "It must seem more like home with all your stuff there."

  "It's okay."

  Blake pushed up his glasses, then glanced at Kyle. He wondered if the kid missed his father.

  "There are lots of boys in the neighborhood. Have you met any of them yet?"

  Blake shook his head and lowered his gaze back to his lap.

  "Maybe I could introduce you to them," he offered. Blake shrugged.

  Kyle searched his memory for something he'd liked when he was Blake's age. There had to be a way to get the boy to open up. Being this well behaved wasn't natural.

  Finally, he settled on the one thing they had in common. "I know it's hard to settle into a new place where everything's different. It probably makes you miss your dad more."

  Blake shrugged again and continued to stare at his lap.

  "My mom left when I was fifteen," Kyle said. "I had a hell, ah, a difficult time after she was gone. I missed her a lot."

  "I've heard that word before. Mom says it's bad, but grown-ups say it all the time."

  "Gee, thanks."

  Blake gave him a quick smile, then the corners of his mouth turned down. "Did your mom die?"

  "No. She just walked out."

  "Oh. Sometimes people talk about my dad leaving, but I know he's dead. He's not coming back. Ever."

  "I'm sorry."

  "He didn't like me much." Blake hunched forward as soon as he spoke, as if he regretted the confession.

  "Blake, your father loved you." He was sure of it. Sandy wouldn't have stood for anything less.

  "He was gone a lot."

  "Traveling on business?" He wouldn't have thought a professor would need to go away on business too often. Maybe there were big conferences on philosophy. Kyle grimaced. He'd rather be flogged and left out for ant bait than attend a convention where stuffy professors spent days discussing the lofty thoughts of some dead guy.

  Blake shook his head. "He'd go surfing or climb a mountain. Sometimes he took Lindsay. She liked to do that stuff with him. Dad got mad when I read too much, or played on the computer. He wanted me to be on a Little League team, but I didn't want to. He took me climbing with him once, but he made fun of me when I got scared."

  It was the longest speech he'd heard from Blake. His heart went out to the boy. But none of what he said made sense. Why would Thomas have been so mean to his son? So what if Blake wasn't the outdoor type? That didn't mean he wasn't a good kid. Maybe the boy had misunderstood his father.

  He leaned back in his chair and knew he was kidding himself. If Blake thought his father was a selfish jerk, then the man had probably been one to the boy. Kyle knew he and his brothers had figured out what was going on with his parents long before anyone else suspected they knew. Children heard things and sensed the changes in a situation. So why had Thomas acted that way around Blake? Where was Sandy in all of this? He couldn't imagine her letting anyone hurt her son.

  Kyle leaned close to Blake. "You know, I've never been very good at video games. Is there a trick to it?"

  "Yeah." Blake grinned. "You have to practice, and stuff, but there are some secrets. I could show you."

  "I'd like that."

  The boy stared at him for several seconds, then smiled. Kyle ruffled his hair and grinned back.

  "Tomorrow?" Blake asked. "I could bring the game by."

  "Check with your mom first. If she agrees, that would be great." He glanced over his shoulder and saw the girls heading back, their arms filled with bags of popcorn. "We better give them a hand before they spill everything," he said, standing. Blake giggled. It was, Kyle thought, a very happy sound.

  Kyle eased his car to a stop in front of Sandy's house. A quick glance at the clock told him it was 8:05, exactly. Before he figured out how he was going to handle Lindsay getting out of the car, Nichole was pushing against the front seat and ordering her sister to move. Lindsay got out grudgingly. She hadn't been that happy with him since he'd had Blake sit on one side of him and Nichole on the other at the theater. She'd claimed the movie had been juvenile and hadn't spoken in the restaurant afterward or on the way home.

  Sandy stood on the porch. Kyle couldn't read her expression. He got out slowly and grabbed the plastic bag containing the milk and bread they'd picked up, then slammed the door shut and headed toward the stairs. The children crowded ahead of him.

  Nichole reached her mother first. "Mommy, Mommy, we had popcorn, then Kyle took us to dinner and I had spaghetti. I didn't spill very much and there was ice cream for dessert, but I was too full." Her red curls danced as she told Sandy what had happened. Her small body quivered with excitement. She flung her arms around her mother's waist. "I had the best time, and Lindsay was a brat only part of the time."

  "You better watch it," Lindsay warned, glaring at her younger sister.

  "I'm glad you had a good time, Nichole. Go on inside," Sandy said, giving her daughter a little push. "Did you have fun, Blake?" she asked as the boy approached.

  Blake glanced back at Kyle and grinned. "Yeah." Then he ducked indoors.

  Lindsay paused by her mother. "It was a cartoon. Can you believe it? The children there were so immature. Nichole and Blake hardly know how to act in a restaurant. You really need to do something about them, Mother."

  "Maybe I'll do something about you, young lady," Sandy said.

  Lindsay sniffed, then turned to Kyle. "Thank you for a lovely evening."

  He paused on the top stair, confused. "It was…" Damn, he didn't know what to say. "I'm glad you three kids could join me."

  Lindsay visibly flinched. "I'm not a child, Kyle."

  Sandy saved him by taking the grocery bag from him and handing it to her daughter. "Honey, put this away for me. I need to have a little talk with Kyle."

  Lindsay paused by the door as if she had something else to say, then she swept inside and let the screen bang shut behind her.

  Kyle sat on the top stair and patted the wood. Sandy crossed the porch and perched next to him. She wasn't sitting very close. He could have fit a whole other person between them, but it was probably as good as it was going to get. She folded her arms over her chest. Was she protecting herself from him or holding something inside? Did he really want to know?

  He stared at the sky. It was still only midsummer. The sun didn't set until close to nine. It had dipped below the trees. The temperature was lower, though the evening air was still warm and pleasant. He could smell the jasmine by the house. He had a bush blooming by his back door. He liked the sultry scent, although not as much as the fragrance of Sandy's shampoo. She was too tense to have soaked in a bath, so he figured she'd taken time for a quick shower and nothing else.

  "Why are you mad?" he asked. "We were on time. No one got hurt, or food poisoning, at least not yet."

  "How do you know I'm mad?" she asked.

  "If your spine was any stiffer, we could use it for a flagpole."

  She surprised him by smiling. "A flagpole?"

  "Well, maybe not a flagpole, but something."

  Her smile faded. "You were five minutes late."

  He glanced at her. "You're kidding, right? You can't be mad about that."

  "I'm not." She glanced at her folded arms and shrugged. "Okay, I'm a little mad. But you're right, five minutes isn't very late."

  "Were you worried?"

  "Maybe. No. Yes."

  "Why?" he asked. "Were you seriously concerned that I'd let something bad happen to them?"

  "Not exactly. I wasn't being that rational. You asked if you could take them to a movie and dinner, and I was so grateful to be
without them for a few hours that I said yes. Then when you were gone, I got scared. I realized I don't know you. What if you have some secret past no one knows about? What if—" She glanced up at him. Her green eyes were dark and troubled. "I overreacted, I guess. Probably because I'm so tired."

  "Aw, honey, everything was fine."

  "I see that now. It looks like everyone had a great time."

  She hunched over slightly, resting her forearms on her bare thighs. She'd changed clothes while he'd been gone. She wore a sleeveless shirt tucked into red shorts. He wanted to slide next to her and give her a big hug. Or maybe just hold her close. Sandy looked as if she needed a little holding. But he didn't move. For one thing, she would probably get all huffy and push him away. For another, he was assuming an awful lot.

  Maybe she didn't want to be comforted by him. After all, she'd been the one so set on keeping them "just friends." Kyle grimaced. How many times had he said that exact line to a woman he was dumping? They must have hated it as much. He swore he was never going to say it to anyone again.

  "I'm not surprised you're feeling overwhelmed," he said. "This is a lot of responsibility for one person."

  "Because I'm a woman, right?"

  He turned until he was facing Sandy. His back pressed against the railing. He bent one leg at the knee and put that foot on the porch. His other foot rested on the bottom step. "You have a real problem with this woman thing, don't you? Have I ever said anything about your being a woman? Have I ever hinted that you couldn't do something because you're a woman?" He raised his eyebrows and waited.

  She cleared her throat. "Well, not in so many words."

  "Ah-ha! So you're assuming that's what I'm thinking. Why?"

  "I know men like you, Kyle."

  "Men like me?" He had a feeling he knew what she was getting at, but he wanted to hear the words. And he wanted to see her squirm, just a little, for being so quick to judge him.

  "Men who have an easy time with, you know, women." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Stop looking at me like that… You want me to say it, don't you?"

  He grinned. "Oh, yes. More than anything."

  "Good-looking men. Okay? Are you happy? Most good-looking men assume all women are stupid. I guess because women have been doing stupid things to get their attention. Maybe I should stop jumping to conclusions about you, but it's difficult."

  He wanted to strut around the yard like a rooster. Sandy thought he was good-looking. It didn't make a damn bit of difference, but he was pleased as hell. It meant she'd been thinking about him, and not just as her neighbor. At least he hoped it did.

  "I'll accept that you think I'm handsome and incredibly charming—"

  "I didn't say anything about being charming," she interrupted.

  He ignored her. "And incredibly charming, if you'll accept the fact that I don't assume you're incapable of doing things simply because you're female. I have great respect for women."

  She snorted. "I'll just bet you do. You must respect them all the way through that revolving door in your bedroom."

  "Is that what you think?" he asked, his voice low and controlled. His smile faded along with his good humor. "Is that why you were upset when I took the kids? Do you think I was meeting with some woman and dragging them along?" His flash of anger surprised him. "I would never do anything like that. Despite my reputation, I don't have a revolving door in my bedroom, I don't bring women to my house and I sure as hell wouldn't act inappropriately in front of your children."

  He started to stand up. Sandy leaned toward him and placed her hand on his forearm. Her gaze met his. "I'm sorry," she said. "Really. I didn't really think that about you, and I shouldn't have implied it. You were teasing me, and I couldn't think of anything funny to say, so I just lashed back. It was wrong of me. I'm sorry."

  "Apology accepted," he said. He settled back down.

  She squeezed his arm briefly, then withdrew her hand to her lap. "Getting back to your original statement, yes, this has been a lot of responsibility for just one person. Even for a woman." She gave him a slight smile. He returned it. The tension between them eased.

  But his anger continued to lurk below the surface. Later, when he was alone, he decided, he would think about what she'd said and what it meant. He was annoyed that she'd heard enough about him to think he was irresponsible where women were concerned. Of course, she might just be assuming the worst based on what she remembered about his brothers.

  "I worry about the kids," she said. "What if they hate it here?"

  "We both liked it when we were their ages."

  "That was a long time ago. Kids have changed."

  "Not that much," he said. "Times have changed. It's tough now. There are more ways for a child to screw up his life than there used to be, but your children know right from wrong. I don't think you have to worry."

  "Lindsay still hasn't forgiven me for moving her here." Sandy leaned her head against the railing. "She's so confused."

  "She's not the only one," he muttered.

  Sandy chuckled. "Did she give you any trouble tonight?"

  "Not exactly. It wasn't what she said, it was more her expectations." He shuddered. "I didn't dare let her sit next to me at the movie."

  Her chuckle turned into a laugh. "Poor Kyle, afraid of a twelve-year-old girl."

  "It's easy for you to think this is funny. I'm the one trying to tap-dance around her feelings. I don't want to encourage her, and I don't want to hurt her. It's not easy."

  Sandy sobered. "I appreciate your effort. I'll have a talk with her."

  "With my luck, she won't listen."

  "Children rarely do."

  "Great." He leaned back and studied her profile. The sun had slipped below the horizon and the sky grew darker. Light from the house spilled out onto the porch. He could see the straight line of her small nose, the outline of her full mouth, the slight point of her stubborn chin. He'd always thought she was beautiful. That hadn't changed.

  "The problem is," he said conversationally, never taking his gaze from her. "You work too hard and you've forgotten how to have fun."

  Instantly she stiffened. "Excuse me?"

  "You heard me. You expect too much of the kids. It's summer. They should be outside playing, not washing walls and painting."

  She glared at him. "So I should do all the work?"

  "That's not what I said. But you must admit you don't get out much."

  "I want to know where you get off telling me what I should and shouldn't do with my children. You've known them for less than three weeks, Mr. Haynes, so I'll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself."

  "Blake thinks his father didn't like him."

  Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She stared at him mutely, then rested her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. "Damn."

  "I shouldn't have said it like that."

  "No, it's okay. I'd rather know. I've been afraid of that. Thomas wasn't very subtle when he was annoyed. I know he loved his children, but he wasn't always the greatest father." She raised her head and pushed her hair out of her face. "Thanks for telling me. I'll talk to him. Did he say anything else?"

  Kyle shook his head. "That was about it. I had a good time with them tonight, except for Lindsay's problem, but I'm hoping she'll outgrow it. I wouldn't mind taking them out again."

  "Why?"

  "I like kids. I always have."

  "So have a couple dozen of your own."

  He shook his head. "It's not going to happen. I'm not the type." He couldn't risk it. He couldn't risk giving his heart to someone who was going to leave.

  Sandy straightened. "I don't want them confused. You're not their father or stepfather."

  "Can't I just be some guy they like?"

  "I suppose." She didn't sound very enthusiastic about the idea.

  "Is it because you don't trust me?"

  "No, it's… I can't explain it."

  "They haven't had a man in their lives since Tho
mas died. For that matter, neither have you."

  "That's none of your business."

  "I never said it was, I was just pointing out a fact."

  She turned toward him. Her mouth pulled straight. "Are you so sure of your facts?" she asked, obviously irritated.

  He stared at her for a long time, first studying her face, then glancing at her body. She tilted up her chin slightly, but otherwise didn't move. "I'm pretty sure, but I wouldn't mind being the one to change things."

  "You have a lot of nerve, mister."

  He grinned. "You're not the first one to accuse me of that. Come on, Sandy, would it be so bad to take your first steps with me? I won't let you fall."

  She glared at him as if he'd asked her to dance naked in church. "I'm not interested in a relationship."

  At least she hadn't said she wasn't interested in one with him. He thought about backing off and simply saying good-night, but he'd always had more curiosity than sense. Right now, he was noticing how fast Sandy was breathing and the way her nipples had hardened and were pressing against her shirt. According to the signals her body was sending, she wasn't as immune to him as she would like him to think. It was kind of like standing in front of a growling, tail-wagging dog. Which end did you believe?

  Which Sandy was telling the truth? "If you're not interested in a relationship, how do you feel about passion?" he asked, rising to his feet.

  "What?"

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her up next to him. "You heard me."

  Wide eyes stared at him. Her mouth trembled. That mouth. Damn it all to hell, he remembered being fourteen and thinking he would die if he didn't know what her lips would feel like touching his. Those old longings overwhelmed him. Or maybe they were new longings. Or maybe he was just an old man playing a kid's game. He told himself to step away. He would have, too, if Sandy hadn't placed her hand on his chest. If she hadn't leaned forward slightly, inviting him.

  It was stupid. It was inevitable. He bent down and kissed her.

  * * *

  Chapter 7

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  Sandy wasn't prepared to be swept away. She wasn't prepared for the need that crashed through her. Like a wave from the sea, it broke over her body and tugged at her feet until she was sure she would fall and go under. She already couldn't breathe; what difference would it make if she found herself drowning in sensation?