“I was seventeen.”
“Still in high school?”
She nodded.
Kit’s wandering right hand had found the low scoop neck of her T-shirt. He traced the neckline with his fingertip, just brushing the upper swell of her breasts. She felt her nipples tighten in response.
She opened her eyes. He was studying her face, and she knew that his movements weren’t random. He knew exactly what he was doing to her.
As if he’d only been waiting for her to look at him, he lowered his head and smothered her mouth with his before she had a chance to prepare herself. Still aware that they were standing in the light of her front porch, Savannah stiffened a moment, then went limp as his grew more thorough, discretion lost in a flood of pleasure.
She could remain rational—at least partially—when they talked.
But when Kit kissed her…
When he kissed her, she couldn’t think of anyone or anything but him.
Her arms went around his neck. Her hands tunneled into his thick, dark hair. Her body pressed eagerly against his. She didn’t deliberately decide to respond so hungrily to his kiss; it was as if her body decided for her.
She heard a groan rumble in Kit’s chest, felt his arms tighten around her.
He tore his mouth from hers for a gasp of air. “I’ve been wanting to do this for hours,” he muttered, then crushed her lips beneath his again before she could confess that she’d been wanting him to.
Kit’s hand slid down her back, dipping in at her waist, stopping at her hip to pull her even more snugly against him. She was left in no doubt that he wanted her. Badly.
Whatever obstacles existed between Savannah and Kit—and a tiny, still grimly logical part of her knew there were probably too many to overcome—there was no doubt that the attraction between them was strong, and volatile. It took only a kiss to ignite an explosion of desire. She didn’t understand how or why, but the connection they’d made on that island was stronger than ever.
And she didn’t know what on earth she was going to do about it.
The embrace might have gone on forever had a pickup truck not sped past, a heavy thud of bass coming from the deafening radio inside it.
The sound broke through Savannah’s passioninduced delirium. She broke off the kiss with a gasp, suddenly aware again that they were standing outside on her front porch where anyone could see them. She could almost feel prying eyes trained upon them from behind the curtains of every house nearby, and even though she told herself she was being paranoid, she still found herself hastily putting an arm’s distance between herself and Kit.
“You’d better go,” she said, her voice almost unrecognizable.
He nodded. “We’ll continue this later,” he said. She wasn’t sure if the words were meant as a promise or a warning.
Uncharacteristically clumsy, she turned, fumbled for the handle and shoved open her door. With cowardly haste, she hurried inside and closed Kit outside. Even as she did. so, she knew that the escape was only temporary.
Kit—and her quandary about what to do with him—would return tomorrow.
WHATEVER KRR SAID during the two hours he spent with Michael the next afternoon, it did wonders for the boy’s self-esteem, at least when it came to baseball. Michael entered the house chattering about how Kit had taught him to compensate for his “distance deficiency”—Kit’s words, apparently.
Michael wanted to call all his friends and brag to them that Christopher Pace had been giving him baseball pointers. He wasn’t at all happy when Savannah reminded him that his grounding included telephone privileges. She worried that he hadn’t been taking his punishment very seriously over the weekend. Punishment wasn’t effective unless it was uncomfortable enough to make him not want to risk receiving it again.
Michael sulked a bit because of her refusal, but was still pleased enough by his afternoon with Kit to let it go without much argument.
Miranda, who’d spent the past half hour practicing a particularly difficult piano piece, was obviously envious that Michael had had Kit’s full attention for so long. She was appeased when Kit asked her to play for him, and then effusively complimented her playing. He even sat down on the piano bench beside her and helped her with the section of the piece that was giving her the most trouble.
It turned out that Kit played the piano beautifully, as he demonstrated for them at the twins’ urging. He explained that he’d come from a musical family that had instilled a love of classics and musical theater in him. He’d even considered becoming a songwriter instead of a novelist, he added. Michael and Miranda immediately assured him he’d made the right choice by producing his popular books and movies.
Savannah wasn’t surprised that Kit played the piano so well—she was beginning to think there was nothing he couldn’t do.
The twins were already convinced.
It concerned Savannah that her children were bonding so quickly with Kit. Her son, especially, was so hungry for male attention. Savannah suspected that one reason Michael was drawn to Nick Whitley was because Nick’s father was actively involved in Nick’s life.
Savannah didn’t approve of the way Ernie Whitley overindulged his son and made excuses for everything the boy did, right or wrong, but she couldn’t deny that he was very visible. She couldn’t blame Michael for being envious, since he’d never even seen his own father.