Last Night's Kiss (7 page)

“You two have a very special relationship.”

“The Osbornes and I have a special relationship. I learned to ride horses on their ranch. Medea taught me how to make the best corn bread in the West. Bailey told me stories about the settlement of Waymon Valley that were more alive than anything I learned in a school history class. And Adam and I practically grew up together on roads that are now streets.”

“I understand a little more now.”

“What do you mean?” Vida sipped her lemonade.

“He’s extremely protective of you.”

“Not just me.” She smiled. “It’s his nature. He’s a sucker for a woman in jeopardy. He’d do the same for anyone.”

Rosa wasn’t so sure—although he had come to her aid in Butte when he thought she needed it.

“Have you lost your mind?” Adam nearly shouted when Rosa pulled into the driveway after dropping Vida off at her house. She opened the door and he brushed by her, walking into the middle of the room. He stopped as if he hadn’t decided what to do after getting inside.

“Not to my knowledge,” Rosa answered, her tone as soft as his was harsh.

“Why did you let Vida go roaring down the road like that? If she’d hit something, she could break that leg again, not to mention breaking your pretty little neck.”

“Welcome,” Rosa said, acknowledging his lack of manners. “Won’t you come in?” She closed the door.

He glared at her but didn’t bother saying hello.

“Vida may have been roaring, but it wasn’t down the road. And her leg was not broken.
And
in case you haven’t noticed, she’d not an invalid. She seemed to do very well taking care of herself without you around for several years to my
personal
knowledge. You’re acting like her father and even if you were she’s way too old for you to make decisions for her.”

Rosa moved to the counter that separated the kitchen from the large living room. “Why are you really here? This is no longer your house. You don’t have the right to come barging in here reprimanding me as if I were a child.”

He took the time to look her up and down, slowly as if he were deciding something. “I can see you’re no child.” His voice was low and sexy.

Rosa’s body flashed hot under his stare. After a moment of enduring it, she said, “What is it about me that you don’t like?”

“You’re beautiful,” he replied. “Too beautiful.”

It was the last thing she expected to hear. Adam certainly wasn’t like other men she’d met. Most of them followed her around like a lapdog. Adam followed her around, but only to get a rise out of her. And she seemed to play right into his hands.

“Beauty isn’t something I can do anything about,” she said. “My looks were determined by my parents, the ones I never knew. But it’s worked for me. And it worked for you. Don’t think your face didn’t get you into places where others would have been turned away.” She paused a moment. “But you’re not here to talk about my face.” She looked at him a moment. His expression was unreadable. “Why don’t you tell me about
her
?”

“Her? Who?”

“The other woman. The beautiful one. The one who was too beautiful.”

His shoulders dropped a second later. Rosa knew she’d touched a nerve. She moved around the kitchen counter. Opening the refrigerator, she took out a carton of ice cream and filled two bowls. Adding chocolate syrup, nuts, and cherries to one, she took them to the living room.

“Well, follow me,” she said, using her arm to wave him over.

She handed him a bowl along with the syrup, nuts, and cherries and sat down on one of the huge sofas in front of the fireplace.

“Am I in therapy?” he asked, tasting his ice cream.

“Not today,” she said. “Therapy involves lying down, with soft music in the background and hot oils.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. What does ice cream indicate?”

“Friendship…maybe.”

“Maybe?” he questioned.

“You don’t like me, remember?”

He nodded. “Why’d you come here for your vacation? With all the cities open to you, why Waymon Valley?”

She stopped him. “Oh no, this is your floor show, not mine. You’re going to do the talking.”

“Did I agree to this?”

“Of course you did. It’s healthy. It’ll make you less cynical.”

His look said he didn’t believe her, but he took a seat and laid his head back against the upholstery. For a long time he said nothing. Rosa didn’t think he was going to. He seemed to have drifted back in time to a place where only he and his demons knew the address.

It was unusual for Adam to come across someone like Rosa. Her name indicated delicacy, someone who needed and wanted pampering. And heaven knows her body spoke of the type of woman who needed caring for. But her disposal of four healthy teenagers in the “male out for trouble” category proved she’d passed the shrinking violet period long ago.

Adam admired her ability to keep her head and protect herself. She reminded him a lot of Maureen. The two women were radically different in looks and personality, but Adam hadn’t had to worry about either. At least that’s what he thought, until the police knocked on his door at 3:00
AM
and took him to the morgue to identify the body of camerawoman Maureen Carter.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Adam closed off the mental image of Maureen lying naked under a sheet, her face gray with death. And the aftermath of her passing. He’d seen worlds torn apart. Witnessed the worst that man could do to himself, but when that cruelty touched him, he never knew how deeply it could cut, how much it could change his life.

Purposely he pulled the image of Rosa Clayton to mind. She was sitting across from him, but he visualized her in the car—her hair a mass of long curls pulled into a swinging ponytail, her face clear, unadorned by a frame of hair, her makeup flawless, and her smile inviting his mouth to ravish hers.

His eyes flew open. She stared at him. Standing up, he moved to the fireplace. Abruptly he dropped thoughts of Rosa, although his body, aroused from mental pictures, took longer to resume a normal state.

Rosa was about to say something. He could feel it, but the ringing of the telephone stopped her. Both of them turned to look at the white instrument on the table next to where she sat.

She picked up the receiver and a moment later, her eyes met his. She hadn’t said anything beyond hello.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” he said. As he started to move, she stood up.

“It’s for you.”

When he turned, she was holding the phone out to him. Who could this be? Adam hadn’t lived here in years. Who had this phone number other than his father and people in the Valley? But none of them would call him here.

Putting the phone to his ear, he said, “Hello.”

“Adam, good to hear your voice.”

“Not interested,” he said, recognizing the deep bass tone of Benjamin Masterson. Ben was a producer at WNN, his former employer. He’d called Adam several times, always with a more lucrative offer to get him back to D.C. and a news job.

“You haven’t heard what I have to say,” Ben said. “At least give me a chance.”

“It doesn’t matter what you’re offering. I’m not interested.”

Adam could imagine Ben in his big office overlooking the Potomac. He knew Ben had deliberately used this line. Adam had been home for a few weeks one summer and done some work from here. He’d called Ben and left the number for him to return the call. Apparently, he’d kept it. If he’d called on Adam’s cell phone, his name and number would display on the tiny screen and Adam wouldn’t answer the call.

“It’ll make your career,” Ben insisted.

“I don’t have a career,” Adam said. “Get someone else. I’m out of the business. Good-bye.”

Without waiting for Ben to ring off, Adam hung up. Turning around, he saw Rosa staring at him perplexed. He could tell she wanted an explanation. But he wasn’t ready to explain himself.

“Why?” she asked.

“Why what?”

“Why don’t you have a career? You were the fair-haired boy, moving up the ranks, the anchor’s chair practically had your name stitched into the fabric. And without warning you’re gone.”

“How do you know so much about me? You aren’t even in the business.”

“According to my family, I’m a news junkie. I watch the news. And I read. You know, inquiring minds…”

“My life isn’t exactly written up in grocery store rags.”

“No, it isn’t. On the road, one of the models read a lot of
Variety
and news magazines. She had a brother in sportscasting and he’d fill her in. So of course, she’d tell the rest of us all the juicy gossip.”

He didn’t nod, but Rosa could see agreement in his actions.

“I have to go now,” he said.

“Coward,” Rosa said when he began walking toward the exit.

Adam stopped in midstride. He turned back to her. “I am not a coward.”

“Touched a nerve, did I?” She smiled and he understood why men thought she was delicious enough to eat.

“You’ve dodged two of my questions by retreating. Sounds like a coward to me.”

Adam’s life was personal. He didn’t have to answer to anyone. His reasons for leaving the rat race behind were his own. And the beautiful women in his past had let him down. But when he saw Rosa standing there, he could think of nothing to say. Only something to do. Before he knew what was happening, he’d crossed the room and cupped her face in his hands.

He saw the flash of surprise in her eyes, quickly replaced by awareness. Adam’s heart was racing, and his mind was on sensory overload. In one fell swoop he lowered his mouth to hers. Adam intended to satisfy an itch. He understood as soon as their lips touched that the itch was greater than he’d known. His arms went around her slender body and he gathered her close. His tongue dove into her mouth, the two mating and dancing the ancient tango. Rosa relaxed in his arms. He felt her body melt into his as if they were made for each other. The thought should have had him forcing her away, but the truth was he wanted her close. He hadn’t felt anything so good in years. She wasn’t enamored by his looks or his celebrity. She’d just as soon throw him out as she would feed him ice cream.

Lifting his head slightly, he repositioned it, still holding her as close as possible. He felt her push back, but they didn’t separate. Her eyes were closed. They opened slowly like someone waking from a pleasant dream. Adam lowered his mouth and took hers again.

What had gotten into him? He was holding fire in his arms and he knew it. The flame was bright, beautiful, enticing, but he’d dealt with fire before and he knew better than to put his hand in the flame. So why did she feel so good? Why did her mere presence send his hormones into overdrive? Why did her mouth tantalize his like a drug he couldn’t get enough of? Adam had no answers. Maybe he did, but he was unwilling to let them have a voice. At least not now. He pulled her even closer, never thinking two people could withstand this much closeness without passing through each other.

His head bobbed with hers. Their mouths danced in unison. Every inch of them touched. Her arms were around him, his circumventing her. He could feel her heart beating, his own thundering in his head. Knowing this was a different experience for him, Adam didn’t consider stopping. He deepened the kiss, his hands running long, slow strokes down her back, gathering her closer, caressing her, feeling her muscles contract and relax under his touch. It aroused him just to feel her, smell the exotic scent of her hair and body.

Suddenly he lifted his head, breaking contact as if they’d been forced to separate.

Adam wanted to hold her, to put her head on his shoulder and stand like this for the rest of the day. But logic caught up with him. He stepped back, putting some distance between them. He wasn’t sorry he’d kissed her. He’d wanted to kiss her since she came off the plane, looking tired and worn. She no longer looked like that. Her face was healthy, her eyes drowsy, and he could think of nothing other than the huge bed in the loft and carrying her up the stairs.

But this was wrong. She was the wrong woman.

The thought of taking a jacket occurred to Rosa when she left the house. After Adam’s exit, she couldn’t stay there. Her mind kept replaying the kiss, the feel of his arms around her, the imprint of his body aligned with hers. She got in the car and started driving. She would have gone to Vida’s, but her friend would have known something had changed and within minutes Rosa would have been pouring out all the details.

So she headed the car away from Adam and let the engine take her as far as it would go without leaving the state. She was in the mountains. The air was thin. She’d forgotten how far above sea level she was. Her lungs labored to maintain breath. Rosa stopped and looked out. The scenery was awesome. Dark mountains in the distance were as imposing in height as the Grand Canyon was in depth. Slipping out of the car, Rosa leaned against a boulder.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Instantly Adam’s image surfaced against her closed lids. She could see his face coming toward her, blurring as it lowered to kiss her. Her body went hot against the chill in the air. Her eyes flew open, and she pushed herself away from the rock. She swallowed to wet her throat and took several deep breaths.

Rosa remained there until she started to shiver. She walked back through the paths to the place she’d left the shiny new car. Starting the engine, she turned on the heater to dispel the coldness that seemed to seep into her bones. It was irresponsible to come out without a jacket and drive into the hills. Rosa hadn’t been thinking rationally at the time. She was running, getting away from Adam and the memory of the scene in her living room.

The Corvette drove like a dream. Being raised with older brothers had its rewards. They’d taught her about cars. The four-hundred-horsepower engine with 542 foot-pounds of torque purred with the smoothness of water running down a straight glass pane. Rosa sped along the road, the speedometer needle well past the limit. With the top down, the wind ripped her hair back from her face.

She gave it no thought. The radio blared a country-western song and she belted out the lyrics as if she were on the stage of the Grand Ole Opry.

She was almost home when she saw a truck parked along the side of the road. It had pulled over, too far over, she thought. In fact, the pitch of the truck must have been forty degrees off normal. She slowed down. Usually she would have passed it without a backward thought. She was a woman alone and while she could defend herself, there was no need courting danger. But this wasn’t one of the major crime capitals of the world. This was Waymon Valley where crime was low and people helped each other.

As she was passed the truck, she saw a man inside. He was slumped against the steering wheel. She recognized him. Stopping, Rosa jumped from the car, not bothering to stop the engine or close the door. She ran back to the truck and pulled at the door. It was locked. Tapping on the window, she called to the man inside. Slowly he raised his head. His body fell back against the seat as if it were a grocery bag shifting from a sudden stop.

“Bailey,” she shouted. “Open the door.” His movements were sluggish, but he eventually touched the button and she heard the click as the locks released. Yanking the door outward, she touched his head and looked him over, trying to see if he had any visible injuries. “Are you all right?”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. A moment later he tried again, but the words came out garbled. She remembered quickly that Adam had told her he’d had a heart attack. And Bailey had said he had a bad ticker. He was having another one now. Rosa recognized it. Her mother had had a heart attack, too. Rosa hadn’t been in the room when it happened, but she knew the symptoms. Her mind raced as she tried to remember what to do. She had a brother and a sister-in-law who were doctors, but none of their medical training had rubbed off on her.
What should I do?
she asked herself. Then she remembered her sister-in-law Stephanie. Aspirin. Rachel had given her mother aspirin. Rosa didn’t have aspirin. She usually took Tylenol and she had none in the car.

“Medicine, Bailey?” She controlled her voice, forcing herself not to shout. “Do you have any medicine?”

He said nothing. She rifled through his pockets frantically, but came up empty.

She needed to get him to a hospital. And fast. Seconds could mean the difference between living and dying.

“Move over,” she ordered.

He didn’t budge. He couldn’t. She wasn’t going to be able to lift him or carry him or get him around to the other side of the truck. And she couldn’t get him out and into her car. Releasing his seat belt, she pushed him over as far as she could, then climbed into the driver’s seat, thankful that she was a
skinny girl
. Rosa turned the key. The engine groaned, but didn’t catch. She tried it again. This time it started, but the moment she moved the gearshift, it sputtered and stopped.

“Come on,” Rosa coaxed, trying to get the truck to start by the force of her will. She tried the key again. The motor roared loudly. Rosa tapped the accelerator several times, giving gas to the engine.

Gingerly putting the truck into gear, she pressed the accelerator. The tires spun on the unpaved surface; then suddenly the truck leapt forward.

Rosa quickly moved her foot from the gas pedal. She didn’t want the truck to die on her again. She followed the uneven ground until she got the four tires on paved road.

She could drive anything. Growing up with her brothers, she and her sister Luanne had learned a lot about driving. Rosa had tackled everything from a minibike and a tractor to a big rig. Rosa pulled out of the ditch and scuttled around her own car, then headed toward town as fast as she dared.

The truck needed overhauling. The engine chugged and Rosa couldn’t get much acceleration out of it. She pushed the pedal closer to the floor. The truck groaned in protest and she backed off. She couldn’t afford for the engine to cut out on her before she found the hospital.