Thunder Canyon Homecoming (3 page)

He settled her in the passenger seat and immediately cranked up the heat. After a few minutes, her teeth stopped chattering but she kept her arms folded across her chest and continued to stare straight ahead out the window.

She was quiet during the short drive to her condo on the outside boundary of the resort property, only speaking when it was necessary to tell him to turn left or right. He kept stealing cautious glances at her, hoping for some clue as to how she was feeling, but neither her posture nor her expression gave anything away.

He'd been talking to DJ and Allaire and hadn't really paid attention to any of the other conversations. She'd been chatting with Grant and Matt, and he wondered now if either of those men had inadvertently said something that might have upset her. If so, no one else in the group seemed to have picked up on anything that might have caused her distress. Because the more Corey thought about it, the more convinced he was that Erin wasn't drunk—she was upset.

But whatever was on her mind, her silence clearly indicated that she had no intention of talking about it. Not with him, anyway.

“Right here,” she said.

He pulled into a narrow driveway, behind a dark-green Kia, and turned off the engine.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said, reaching for the handle before Corey could come around to help her out.

“I'll see you to your door,” he told her.

“That's really not necessary.”

“Necessary or not,” he said, falling into step beside her,
“my mama would never forgive me if I left without making sure that you were safely inside.”

“Okay, you walked me to my door,” she said, stopping under the porch light. “Now your mother can hold her head up, confident she raised her boys right, and you can go.”

“Not just yet,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

She did look better, as if the effects of the champagne had already dissipated.
If
the champagne had truly been the reason for her abrupt departure.

“No nausea? No dizziness?”

She shook her head. “I'm fine,” she said again. “Really. It was probably just too warm in the ballroom and once I got out into the fresh air, my head cleared.”

“You're sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure.” She smiled up at him, and though the smile didn't quite erase the shadows in her eyes, it made him forget his concerns and remember how much he wanted to kiss her.

“Good,” he said and lowered his head to taste the sweet curve of her lips.

 

It was a testament to how preoccupied Erin's thoughts were that she didn't anticipate his kiss.

She'd been kissed plenty of times before, and she knew how to read the signs and signals that usually led to the first touch of lips on lips—and how to dodge that touch if she wanted to.

Not that she wanted to dodge Corey's kiss. In fact, she'd spent an inordinate amount of time wondering what it would feel like to be kissed by him. She'd wondered if the same spark and sizzle she felt when he looked at her would translate through actual physical contact…or if the anticipation of his kiss would be more exciting than the actual event.

No worries there, she thought, as his lips brushed against hers again, sending tremors of longing through her body.

He kissed the way he talked—softly and smoothly, as if he had all the time in the world. And as if he intended to spend all of that time just kissing her.

His hands skimmed up her back and, even through the fabric of the jacket she still wore, she could feel the heat of his fingertips tracing the ridges of her spine. Then his hands moved across her shoulders and down her arms.

The keys that she held slipped from her fingers and crashed to the ground.

Erin didn't even notice.

She was far too busy enjoying the slow, sensual assault on her mouth.

His tongue slid between her lips, licked lazily.

There was nothing leisurely or casual about her body's response.

Each flick and flutter of his tongue shot flame-tipped arrows of heat and hunger spearing toward her center. Every careful and unhurried pass of his hands made her blood pulse and pound.

She moved against him, and both the tempo and intensity of the kiss changed.

He drew her closer, his arms wrapped around her tighter, he kissed her deeper.

Erin felt her own arms glide up his chest, her hands sliding over impressive pecs and broad, hard shoulders to link behind his neck. He was so big, so strong, so wholly and undeniably male.

And her response was completely and helplessly female.

She shuddered and melted against him.

Corey groaned into her mouth and delved deeper.

Yeah, she'd been kissed before. But never like this. In
her experience, most men approached kissing as nothing more than a brief prelude to the main event, but not Corey Traub. His kisses were worthy of top billing. He kissed her as if she was the object of all desire and the source of all pleasure, and as if he never wanted to stop.

And Erin never wanted him to stop.

But just when Erin was about to throw all common sense and caution to the wind and drag Corey inside with her, he eased away.

“I think I should say good-night now, before I forget that my mama raised me to be a gentleman,” he said.

She should have been grateful he'd backed off. She didn't know him nearly well enough to even kiss him the way she'd kissed him, never mind indulge in any of the other erotic fantasies her mind had conjured up while he'd been seducing her with his skillfully creative mouth and his dangerously talented hands.

He bent to scoop up the keys she'd dropped and put them in her hand, curling her fingers around them.

His other hand lifted to her face, his fingertips skimming lightly over the swollen curve of her bottom lip.

The gentle touch set off bursts of erotic tingles that warned her to put some distance between them before she urged him to forget his mother's teachings.

“Good night,” she said softly.

He stepped back, and Erin fumbled with the keys in her hand for a moment before she found the right one for the door. She fumbled some more fitting it into the lock, but then the bolt released with a click.

Corey didn't say anything else, but he waited on the step until she'd slipped inside and locked the door again, then he turned away.

Erin watched from the window as he walked back to his car and reminded herself that she'd done the right thing,
the smart thing, in letting him go. There was too much uncertainty in her life to consider any kind of personal involvement right now.

But that knowledge didn't stop her from wishing otherwise.

I
t was a kiss, Corey reminded himself—for the umpteenth time—as he got dressed the next morning.

Yeah, it had been pretty spectacular as far as kisses go, but it was still just a kiss. Certainly there wasn't any reason for him to have lain awake into the wee hours of the morning thinking about that kiss—and the woman he'd shared it with.

But the truth was, even before they'd shared that one scorching kiss, he'd been haunted by thoughts of Erin Castro.

Thoughts of wanting to kiss Erin Castro.

He shook his head as he tugged on his jeans.

He didn't know what it was about the woman that had gotten under his skin. Sure, she was attractive in a classic blue-eyed, blond-haired, porcelain-skinned, soft curves sort of way.

Okay, more than attractive. He hadn't been giving her a
line when they were dancing and he'd told her she was the most beautiful woman at the wedding because from the first moment he'd set eyes on her, he hadn't seen anyone else.

And now that he had kissed her, now that he'd tasted the sweet seductive flavor that was hers alone, he worried that he'd made a mistake. Because now he wanted more.

Cursing himself for his weakness, he picked up his phone and dialed the number he'd obtained from directory assistance. She answered on the third ring.

“Hey, Erin, it's Corey.”

“Corey?” She sounded distracted, as if he'd caught her in the middle of something. Or maybe as if she didn't recognize the name.

He was frowning over that possibility when she spoke again.

“Oh, Dillon's brother. Hi.”

Dillon's brother?

That was how she thought of him? How about the man who'd taken her home the night before? The man who'd kissed her breathless and continued to kiss her until they'd both wanted a lot more?

But of course he didn't ask any of those questions. He didn't want her to confirm that he'd thought about her a lot more than she'd thought about him.

“I'm sorry I didn't make the connection right away,” she said. “I just—you caught me when my mind was wandering.”

“Is this a bad time?”

“No. I don't think so.”

“You don't think so?” he prompted.

“Well, I guess that depends on why you're calling,” she said.

“Partly just to find out how you're doing.”

“I'm fine.”

“You said you had too much champagne last night, so I wanted to make sure you weren't suffering any lingering effects today.”

“Champagne. Right. Well, that certainly explains the…uh…”

She faltered, and he suspected that she was thinking about that kiss again. Or maybe he just wanted to believe she was thinking about it because he was.

“…the headache I had this morning,” she continued. “But I took a couple of aspirin with breakfast and I'm fine now.”

“Good,” he said, even while silently wishing he could rid himself of the residual effects of the night so easily. But he suspected that the only thing that could cure his craving for Erin was Erin herself.

“And since you've already had breakfast—which was the other reason I was calling—why don't you let me take you to lunch?”

“Lunch?”

“You know—the meal usually served in the middle of the day,” he teased.

“Yes, I do know what lunch is,” she assured him. “I'm just not sure I understand why you're inviting me to have lunch with you.”

“Because I don't like to eat alone. And because I really enjoyed spending time with you last night and I'd like to get to know you better.”

Erin was tempted—too tempted—to jump at his invitation. And not just because she knew he would be able to distract her from the questions that had been pounding inside of her head since she'd seen that picture of Grant Clifton's sister the night before. Unfortunately, all of the reasons that Corey would be such a great distraction were the same reasons that she had to refuse. Because she was
far too attracted to the man, because she couldn't think of anything else when he was near and because she could very well end up with her heart broken when he went back to Texas.

So instead of accepting, she said, “I'm afraid I may have given you the wrong impression last night.”

There was a pause, as if he was surprised by her response. And he probably was because she'd no doubt given him the impression of a wild, willing woman who wanted to gobble him up in big, greedy bites.

And the impression wasn't really wrong, but it was misleading because nothing like that was going to happen between them. She couldn't let things move in that direction with him while her life was veering off course in so many other ways.

“The only impression I got,” he finally said, “was that of a smart, beautiful woman who was the last thought on my mind before I fell asleep last night and the first when I woke up this morning.”

“Oh. Wow.” Erin didn't know what else to say. Was it the words, she wondered, that made her heart pound so fast? Or the sensual tone that turned the words into a verbal seduction?

She used her free hand to fan her flushed cheeks, grateful that he couldn't see what she was doing, couldn't know the effect that he had on her, even over a phone line.

“Then you definitely got the wrong impression because I'm really not looking to get involved with anyone right now.”

“I invited you to lunch, darlin', not to shop for an engagement ring,” he said.

The heat in her cheeks intensified. He was right—she was overreacting. But even an invitation to lunch was danger
ous when she wasn't sure she could control her instinctive response to the man issuing the invitation.

“I know,” she said. “But I still don't think lunch is a good idea.”

“Because you're philosophically opposed to eating in the middle of the day?”

She had to smile. “Because you're far too charming for your own good.”

“You think I'm charming?”

“I'm going to say goodbye now,” she told him.

“Wait, Erin.”

But she couldn't wait, because she knew that if she let him say anything else, she might very well give in—not only to his invitation but to the desire stirring again in her blood. “Goodbye, Corey.”

Corey continued to hold the receiver to his ear, as if he didn't quite believe that he was hearing a dial tone instead of Erin's voice. He didn't think any woman had ever hung up on him before but, for some inexplicable reason, the realization made him smile.

As a management consultant, his professional reputation had been made on the basis of identifying a problem and determining the best solutions. He would simply analyze Erin's resistance in the same way. And if she thought he was the type of man to be dissuaded by one terminated phone call, well then, she was very soon going to learn differently.

But thinking of his business objectives made him remember that he had other reasons for being in Thunder Canyon than his brother's wedding and more reasons for staying than a pretty blue-eyed bridesmaid.

Pushing all thoughts of Erin Castro from his mind, at least for the time being, he pulled out his laptop and got to work reviewing the reports he needed for his meetings
on Wednesday. The information he'd seen so far had been in complete and often contradictory, warning him that the evaluation he'd expected to finish within a couple of weeks might take a lot longer than that.

At first, he'd been frustrated by this realization, but now—thinking of Erin—the idea of extending his stay in Thunder Canyon didn't bother him at all.

 

Erin called home on Sunday and spoke to both of her parents. Betty and Jack still didn't know her real reasons for going to Thunder Canyon, but they tried to be supportive of her decision. They asked about her new job and her friends and, as usual, when she would be coming home for a visit.

She had originally planned to go back to San Diego for Thanksgiving, certain she would have all of the answers she sought by then, but she warned her parents now that a trip at that time might not be possible. The holiday was the start of one of the busiest seasons at the resort and she wasn't sure that she would be able to get any time off. But she had another reason for changing her plans—she didn't want to leave Thunder Canyon just when Grant Clifton's sister would be arriving.

She continued to battle against the guilt she felt for not sharing her suspicions with them. She'd never really kept secrets from them before, and certainly never anything of this magnitude—if there could be anything else of such magnitude. Although she'd always felt a little disconnected from her parents and her brothers—as if they shared a deeper bond that somehow eluded her—she'd never been deceitful or dishonest, and the lie that she'd been living for the past several months was weighing heavily on her conscience.

When her mother said, “I love you, Erin,” as she always
did at the end of a conversation, Erin's eyes filled with tears.

They
had
always loved her. She didn't doubt that. And she wondered now if the feeling that there was something missing in their relationship was actually indicative of some thing missing within herself. Maybe she was chasing after something that didn't exist except inside her own imagination.

The original seed had been planted by Erma, but her aunt was gone now and Erin was starting to wonder what purpose could possibly be served by continuing to nurture the old woman's suspicions. And if there was no purpose, then maybe it was time for her to forget everything Erma had said and just go home.

As she readied herself for bed, Erin realized the doubting and confusion had become as much a part of her Sunday night ritual as her call to her parents. Because talking to them inevitably made her realize how much she missed them, and missing them made her question why she was willing to upset the status quo.

Her family wasn't perfect, but they were hers.

Weren't they?

With a sigh, she pulled back the covers and crawled into bed.

As she settled back against her pillows, she acknowledged that it was entirely possible that her birthday being on the same day as Elise Clifton's was nothing more than a coincidence. And both of them being born in the same hospital was probably just another coincidence. But the physical resemblance she'd noticed in Elise's photo and her own brothers was a little harder to ignore.

Or maybe she'd just been looking for answers for so long that she was grasping at straws.

Determined to push these thoughts out of her mind, she
picked up the Stephanie Plum novel she'd just started reading. But she was too distracted to focus on the story and she set the book down again after reading only a few pages.

It took her a long time after that to fall asleep, and when she finally did, she had the strangest dream.

She was in the hospital, and the cry of a baby slowly penetrated the thick fog of pain that surrounded her.

No, not a baby.
Her
baby.

She struggled to sit up but felt as if she was strapped to the bed, unable to move.

“My baby.” She tried to shout, but the words were barely a whisper.

“Your baby is fine. We're going to take her to the nursery so that you can rest.”

She couldn't see the speaker, but the gentle tone both soothed and reassured her.

A short while later, after she'd rested, she wanted to see her baby. But the hall that led to the nursery seemed to stretch ahead of her forever. She walked faster but made no progress. So she started to run. She ran until her legs were weak and her lungs ached, and still she hadn't reached the end of the long, narrow corridor.

Then suddenly she was there, standing in the middle of the nursery, and her baby was crying again. But there were dozens of bassinets, dozens of crying babies, and she didn't know which one was hers. She ran from one to the next, desperately hoping for some sense of recognition, but they were all the same, all strangers to her.

But then another woman came into the room, and she went directly to one of the bassinets and picked up the crying baby and carried it away. Then another, and another, and another. Until it seemed as if a whole parade of women had come into the room and, one by one, taken away the crying babies until there was only one left.

She tried to rationalize that the one remaining had to be her own, but she wasn't certain. She didn't know how each of the other new mothers had been sure that the baby she was taking belonged to her. What if someone had taken her baby?

She lifted the last infant from its bed, yearning for some sense of connection. But there was nothing. Her eyes scanned the room frantically, searching for someone, anyone, to help her. But she was alone. And when she looked at the baby again, it was gone, too.

Erin awoke with a start. She struggled to sit up and pushed her hair away from her face. Her hands were shaking, her heart was pounding. It was easy to tell herself that it was only a dream. It wasn't so easy to shake the feelings of helplessness and fear that lingered.

There was no reason to believe that the scenario played out by her imagination had any foundation in reality, but she knew that the questions would continue to haunt her until she'd figured out the truth.

Maybe she should go home. Not forever, just for a while. If nothing else, the disturbing dream had proved that she definitely needed a distraction, something to stop her from thinking about hospitals and babies and questions that might never be answered. As if anything could distract her from these thoughts.

Unbidden, an image of Corey Traub came to mind.

Okay, there was a man who could make a woman forget her own name. Just one kiss had proved that. But she wouldn't—couldn't—let him get that close again. She snuggled under the covers, reminding herself that he would probably be heading back to Texas soon anyway, disappearing from her life as abruptly as he'd appeared.