Mother, Please! (5 page)

Gunner cut off another bite of steak. “We were definitely poor, but my mother was an incredible woman. She made sure she provided everything we needed, even though my father didn’t help out much.”

“Racing takes a lot of money,” Walt said. “Considering your circumstances, how did you get into the sport?”

Too full to eat any more but intrigued by the conversation, April pushed the rice around on her place and listened.

“My grandfather on my mother’s side sponsored me until I had enough wins under my belt to attract corporate support.”

“I’ll bet you could buy yourself half a dozen cars then,” Christie said, obviously trying to make up for her earlier gaffe.

“Not for a while,” Gunner said. “Most of the money I earned went to help with rent and the other household bills.”

April pulled Gunner’s jacket more tightly around her. He’d stated it so matter-of-factly she got the impression he thought nothing of giving his mother his earnings. “That was nice of you,” she said.

“We all contributed what we could,” he replied.

Wayne accepted a refill of his margarita. “You won early on, if I remember correctly. How old were you when you started racing?”

“I raced quarter midgets at nine.”

Tom whistled. “Jeez, that’s young.”

“Not really. A lot of kids start that young.”

“Did you go into racing full-time right out of high school?” Claire asked.

“He first got a Bachelor of Science in Vehicle Structure Engineering from Purdue,” Wayne said, then smiled when everyone looked surprised that he’d know this information. “I’m a big fan.”

“So am I,” her father said. “You had quite a career, Gunner. I was checking your stats on a fan Web site the other day. Said you’ve won over fifty-four million dollars. And your last year was your biggest ever, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

A muscle in Gunner’s cheek twitched and his smile seemed strained—signs that he wasn’t enjoying himself. But April couldn’t imagine why. They weren’t talking about his mother anymore. The conversation had veered toward his impressive racing career.

Wayne and her father asked him several more questions about racing, which he answered as succinctly as possible, and April finally stepped in.

“I think Gunner’s probably tired,” she said. “We should let him finish his dessert so he can head up to bed. He’s been on a plane all day and must be feeling some jet lag.”

Gunner put down his napkin, even though he was only half finished with his flan. “Actually, I was hoping I could talk you into taking a walk with me before I turn in.”

April had been ready to relinquish his jacket so
she could go to bed, too. But suddenly finding herself the center of attention, she hesitated. “Of course,” she said, knowing she’d get another lecture from her mother if she refused.

The tension she’d felt in Gunner a moment earlier seemed to evaporate, and the corners of his lips twitched as he stood and pulled out her chair. Evidently he liked using their pretense to back her into a corner.

“Good night,” he said to the others.

She let him take her hand and lead her away. She had to make
some
concessions. With Gunner at her elbow, her father had actually invited her mother to dine with them and, while Walt had generally avoided speaking to Claire, he did order her favorite wine. And Keith hadn’t dared so much as approach April.

All in all, she thought her plan was working out nicely—until she found herself alone on a deserted beach with Gunner.

T
HE WIND
had picked up considerably but April didn’t mind because the stars overhead seemed larger than any she’d seen before.

“You warm enough?” Gunner asked.

“I’m fine.” She hugged his sport jacket closer to her body. “But you’ve got to be freezing.” The waves crashing only a few feet away mesmerized her, but she pulled her attention from the churning, moonlit crests to glance behind them. They’d gone far enough that the hotel appeared only as a dark shape in the distance. “I’m sure we can go back now,” she said. “No one will notice us slip off to our rooms.”

“What’s the matter? Nervous?”

She tried to make out his expression, hoping for some clue as to why he’d bothered bringing her out here. “Of course not. I’m perfectly relaxed. I just don’t see the point of continuing to act our parts when no one can see us.”

“I think you can use the practice,” he said flatly.

April stopped to kick off her sandals. It was get
ting downright cold, but she liked the soft, grainy feel of the sand between her toes, enjoyed the smell of the salt air. She didn’t travel enough, she realized. This was truly beautiful. “What do you mean?”

“No one’s going to believe you even
like
me if you jump every time I brush your arm,” he said. “Or slide over to the opposite side of your seat when I sit down next to you. People who are falling in love move
toward
each other. They touch at every opportunity because they crave the physical contact. They have trouble even looking at anyone else in the room.”

April swallowed a dreamy sigh. That was the kind of love she longed for, the kind of love she was beginning to believe would never exist. Not for her, anyway. “I admit you’re doing a much better job of pretending than I am,” she said. “But intimacy isn’t my strong suit. And I don’t lie well. Plus we already know that you have a lot more experience with, uh, relationships than I do.”

He pulled her to a stop and faced her, standing only a few inches away. “You’re a scientist, April.”

“So?”

“So experiment.”

April was halfway convinced he was joking. But he didn’t smile.

“You need to get comfortable with me,” he said, and he had a point. Surely if she could relax, the next few days would pass much more quickly and easily.

Taking a deep breath, she tilted her head expectantly. “Okay, go ahead and kiss me.” She squeezed her eyes shut and puckered up.

She waited, but nothing happened. When she opened her eyes, she found him watching her with a quizzical expression. “Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because
you’re
going to kiss
me.
”

Her heart jumped into her throat. “I am?”

“
I’m
already experienced at this, remember?”

“But the guy is supposed to be the initiator.”

He shook his head. “And I thought you were a feminist.”

“I am, but—” She felt her nails curl into her palms.

“I’d imagine an accomplished physicist at the ripe old age of…what? Twenty-eight—?”

“Thirty,” she corrected.

“—thirty years old could handle kissing a guy.”

“I didn’t say I couldn’t handle it.”

“Then prove to me that you can,” he said, but he didn’t reach out to take her into his arms, which
made the whole thing very awkward as far as April was concerned. How did she get close enough? Where did she put her hands?

“You’re purposely making this difficult because of what I said earlier about not wanting to sleep with you, right?” she muttered.

“I’m just letting you call the shots.”

“Or maybe you think that once I kiss you, I’ll turn into a puddle of desire and let you have your way with me.”

He grimaced. “That’s pretty dated terminology, April. If you want to turn someone on, you’d better not use it. And I’m not trying to take advantage of you. I’m doing you a
favor.
I’m offering to give you…intimacy lessons.”

“
Intimacy
lessons?” she repeated.

“Who can say when you might need to know more than you do?”

April wasn’t fooled that he’d be doing her any kind of service. He obviously thought he was getting the better of her in some way. But if he was really offering to teach her a few basics, no strings attached, she might actually be the one to come out ahead. At least she’d be able to make up for all the years she’d spent studying while everyone else her age was dragging Main Street and learning about the birds and the bees at Pinnacle Peak.

“Are you serious?” she said.

“Absolutely. Only…”

“What?”

“You’ve got to get rid of these.” He pushed her glasses up so they sat on top of her head.

She almost pulled them down again, for the security they provided. But he seemed resolute, and she was beginning to think that kissing him might be easier if she couldn’t see him so well.

“All set?” he said.

A shaky sensation traveled through her as April placed her hands on his chest. She could feel the thickness of his pectoral muscles through his golf shirt, which seemed
too
personal considering he was only her tutor. So she slipped her arms around his neck, going for the more traditional pose of a man and woman about to kiss and, closing her eyes at the last second, lifted her lips to his.

A
PRIL’S LIPS PASSED
quickly over Gunner’s and were gone before he could even get a taste. “You call that a kiss?” he complained.

She opened her eyes, which were wide and clear, even pretty without those ugly glasses, and wrinkled her nose. “Was it that bad?”

“It was okay,” he said, although, on a scale of one to ten, it was about a zero. “It just wasn’t very…convincing. The best kisses have some in
tent, some passion behind them. The best kisses aren’t stifled with inhibitions.”

She released him. “You think I’m
that
inhibited?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone
more
inhibited.”

“I can overcome my inhibitions.”

So he wasn’t the only one who liked a challenge. “I have to tell you I’m not very optimistic about that. You seem naturally uptight. But I’ll let you try that kiss again if you want,” he said, as though he was the most magnanimous soul who’d ever existed.

“Maybe you could help me,” she said. “I mean, you’re just
standing
there.”

He bit his cheek, trying not to smile. She was playing right into his hands. “What would you like me to do?”

“You could act as though you’re not made of wood. Maybe you should take some of your own advice and let yourself feel something.”

He
was
feeling something. Certainly more than he wanted to. Her kiss was about the most artless he’d ever received. Yet his body was ripcord tight, and his nerves thrummed with the hope that the soft mouth he’d
almost
had the chance to taste would soon come back, would linger a moment….

When was the last time such a simple thing had
excited him so much? How long since he’d burned for a woman the way he was burning for this rather peculiar intellectual?

“Would it help if I put my hands here?” He slipped his arms around her slim waist.

“That’s better, I think.”

Gunner wanted to take the lead and guide her swiftly and surely through what was very familiar territory for him. But he knew that if he pushed April too fast, she’d bolt. So he kept every movement subtle and understated, waiting for her to lead the way. She’d eventually figure it out; she’d just drive him crazy first.

“On second thought, maybe you should move your hands a little higher,” she said, her forehead creased in concentration.

“April…”

“What?”

“There’s nothing analytical about this,” he said. Then he slowly and deliberately slid his hands up, massaging the muscles on each side of her spine as he pressed her fully against him.

Her eyes flew wide open as her breasts flattened against his chest. “There’s plenty to analyze here,” she argued. “I mean, look at us. We’re complete opposites—a bookworm and a jock. Yet we’ve been able to find some common ground and work together to—”

“Whatever you’re saying, forget it.”

“Hmm?”

“Now would be a good time to quit talking.”

“Oh, right. But I was about to tell you that you’re an exceptional actor. If I didn’t know better, I might even think—”

He bent his head and silenced her with his mouth. She stiffened in his arms, and her lips remained tightly closed, but only for a moment. When he curled one hand around her bottom and used his mouth to gently coax her to relax, she suddenly let go of all restraint and started responding to him instinctively. And he had to admit she had very good instincts.

“There you go,” he murmured against her mouth, kissing her again, this time softly, gently biting her lip and pulling it into his mouth before kissing her again. “See? It’s easy.”

Her hand clenched in his hair, guiding him back to her mouth, and his blood began to rush through his body at triple speed.

Gunner let his tongue slide over her straight teeth, surprised that she wasn’t nearly as tentative as he’d expected. Her hands moved over him, touching his face, his hair, his chest as if she wanted to absorb absolutely every detail.

He found her curiosity incredibly erotic. He started to slip his hand beneath her strappy T-shirt
so he could start some exploring of his own, but she broke away.

“How was that?” she asked, sounding breathless. “Better?”

“You still need practice,” he lied. “Lots of practice.”

Skepticism darkened her expression. “I’m usually not a slow learner.”

“You’ll get it,” he promised. “The good news is I’m willing to work with you until you do.”

When her lips curved into a smile, he knew she was on to him.

She removed his coat and handed it back. “I appreciate your willingness to make the sacrifice, but you’ve given me enough to think about for one night. I’m tired. And I need to check on my mother. With my father and her in the same hotel, there could be bloodshed.”

He took his jacket, frustrated that she was finished when he felt they were just getting started. “I’m in room three forty-four if you change your mind.”

“I’ll remember that.” Laughing softly, she grabbed her sandals, which she’d dropped in the sand, and headed back to the hotel.

Gunner slung his coat over his shoulder, welcoming the cool breeze, hoping it would clear his head.

“Have a good night,” she called.

He watched her go, listening to the growl of the sea and trying to remember the last time a woman had walked out on him before he was ready to see her go.