His phone rang and he glanced at the number. “Amy, do you mind getting that? It’s my sister,” Shane said as he steered the rental car down the two-lane highway toward his hometown of Tyler, Tennessee.
“Hi, Natalie. It’s Amy, Shane’s friend.”
Shane frowned. She needed to quit with that friend bullshit and call him her boyfriend.
“Oh, really? Okay. We’re on Route 40 at . . . ” She glanced at Shane with raised eyebrows.
“An hour away.”
She told Natalie where they were and then pressed the phone to her chest. “Your mom’s been discharged. Your sister’s got her settled in. Now Natalie’s at her own house and wants to know if you could stop by on your way to your mom’s.”
“Tell her of course.”
“Shane says of course,” she relayed. “Okay. See you soon.”
“She’s already been discharged?” Amy asked, though whether surprised or impressed he couldn’t tell. He nodded. “I’m sure she insisted on it. It’s too soon, but she probably wanted to get home to start smoking again.”
Amy’s eyes widened. “Wow.”
“Yeah.”
She looked out the window. “Shane, it is so gorgeous here. I can’t get over how green it is—and these rolling hills.”
“Mmm hmm,” he muttered, distractedly.
“What?”
“Wondering what’s going on with Natalie.”
“You guys are close, right?”
He shrugged. “We were. Growing up, it was the two of us against the world, or at least against my mom. Nat and her husband, Jesse, live nearby. My mom is . . . well, you’ll see. She’s a tough nut.”
“Well, she’d have to be if she left the hospital after a heart attack so she could go home and smoke,” she replied.
His lips twisted. “I’m serious, Amy, she’s not a nice person. Be on your guard with her, okay? If you don’t let her in, she can’t hurt you.”
She shot him a curious look.
Forty minutes later they turned off the highway onto a two-lane road, then onto a gravel driveway. A modest ranch house sat nestled under a few giant oaks.
Amy stepped out of the car and her stretch lifted the baby doll t-shirt to bare her flat stomach. He’d had her at zero dark thirty this morning and considered stopping at some fleabag motel to have her again. Instead of falling into any kind of sexual normalcy, his desperation for her grew exponentially. He adjusted his jeans as his erection swelled.
Amy caught the motion and the expression on his face and grinned. “You’re insatiable, Shane Marx.” He reached her in five strides as she backed away laughing. He took her by the shoulders and pressed her body up against the hood of the car. Dipping his head, he found her laughing mouth. She turned her head away. “Shane! Anyone in there can see us.”
“So what?” He set her on the hood of the car, and stepped between her legs. Widening his stance, yanking her knees on either side of his hips, he took her lush mouth, stroked his tongue into her moist, minty cavern, and swallowed her moan.
He was desperate to fuck her, to get out of his own head. He lifted her skirt; his hand rubbed over her silky thigh and made straight for her panties.
Amy leaned her head back. “Shane?”
He recaptured her mouth, sliding the palm of his hand to cup her mound. He could feel her, hot and damp through the cotton. His hand moved to the front of his jeans.
“Shane!” She put both her hands on his chest and shoved.
He took two startled steps back. “What?” he ground out.
“What’s the matter with you? We’re in the driveway of your sister’s house,” she snapped, hopping off the hood. “Get a grip, would you?”
He raked a hand through his hair.
Amy grabbed her purse off the ground and held it in front of her, wide-eyed and irritated.
“Sorry,” he muttered, leading the way up down the walkway to his sister’s front door. Behind him Amy muttered about grown men who behaved like teenage boys and making good impressions.
What had he been thinking? He hadn’t, that much was obvious. He hated being back here.
His sister opened the door before he knocked and from the grin on her face she’d seen them going at it by the car.
Natalie held him tightly. Her body was a shade rounder and her narrow face wreathed in smiles. “God, Shane. It’s been too long!”
“I know, Nat. I wish you would come out to California and see me more often. Hey, this is Amy Astor,” he narrowed his eyes at her, “my girlfriend.”
Amy smiled and shook hands with Natalie, who pulled her into an embrace instead.
“Girlfriend?” his sister thunked him on the back, “and one you bring home for a change? Will wonders never cease? Come on in and sit down. I made coffee ’cause I figure you all have been traveling since the butt-crack of dawn.”
When they had settled onto the couch in the sunroom, Natalie perched on the edge of her seat across from them, lacing and unlacing her hands as she attempted small talk.
Shane couldn’t take it anymore. “Out with it. Is it Mom?” he interrupted.
“Is what Mom?”
Shane took a sip of his coffee. “Whatever has you so keyed up, Nat.”
“Oh. That. No. Mom’s the same.” She looked Amy up and down. “Avoid being alone with her,” she suggested.
Amy cocked her head. “Excuse me?”
“She’s a nasty piece of work.” Natalie eyed Shane before continuing, “Frankly, I’m astonished you came back after all she’s done.” But there was no judgment in her tone.
“Same goes. Why are you helping her?”
“Someone had to drive her ass from the hospital home—I wore earplugs and cranked the radio.”
Amy’s eyes darted to his.
“She’ll be fine, you know. She’s a tough, mean old bird,” Natalie said.
“So why are you so on edge?”
Nat glanced over at Amy.
Amy caught the look and stood. “I’ll go refill my coffee, if that’s okay.”
She waved her down. “No worries, hon, it’s not top secret.” But his sister twisted her hands together in her lap. “Jesse and I have been trying to have a baby.”
“Okaaay,” he said.
“For the last five years.”
Shane stiffened. “What’s wrong?”
“We don’t know exactly, but I’ve never been able to conceive. We’ve, uh . . . ” She took a deep breath.
Amy pulled her hair back and gestured to the other room. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Why don’t I . . . ”
Shane’s sister shook her head. “No, it’s okay. We’ve done a few procedures, small stuff—but nothing’s covered by insurance.”
Shane relaxed back into the couch. “Nat, you know I’m happy to do whatever you need.”
“Well, we’ve exhausted our savings—between Jesse’s contracting business slowing down with this economy and my income, well, we can’t swing anymore and . . . ”
“Whatever you need,” he repeated. “Money? Or do you want to come to California to try? We must have good clinics for that.”
“No, no. We’ve been happy with our doctor. It’s that, well, if we do the in-vitro thing, it’s really expensive. We’re also considering adoption, which is nearly as much. Our real concern is that we’ll spend so much money trying to have a child that by the time we get one, we won’t be able to provide for it.”
Shane studied his sister, but Natalie’s light-blue gaze wouldn’t meet his. “What’s this about, Nat? You know I’d give you anything.”
She sighed. “Jesse.”
Shane sat back, blowing out a breath.
Natalie rubbed a hand across her eyes. “I’ve decided to borrow from you and not tell him. I’m going to use the frozen stuff we have and . . . do the procedure. If it works, he’ll be happy.” Tears filled Natalie’s eyes and she caught her breath on a sob. “There’s no other way. I want a baby so badly and he won’t . . . he won’t.”
Shane went over and knelt in front of his sister, taking her hands. “Natalie. Don’t do that.”
She wrenched her hands away. “You don’t know what it’s been like. For years, Shane. For years we’ve tried and tried, and hoped and prayed. I’ve taken hundreds of those damn ovulation predictor tests and pregnancy tests if I’m even a half day late. Nothing,” she said dully. “Now we’re here, at the end of the line financially. We got a second mortgage on the house. We tried three times the less invasive way. It didn’t work. Nothing has worked,” she repeated, brokenly.
“I’m so sorry, Nat. I’ll write you a blank check. But if you don’t get Jesse’s consent, he won’t forgive you.”
“He will,” she insisted. “He’ll forgive me when he’s holding our baby in his arms. He’ll let go of his damned pride then.”
“Let me talk to him.”
His sister shook her head. “You know he won’t listen to you.” She bit her lip and grabbed for his hands, but Shane had already stood.
“He’ll never let that go, will he?”
Natalie put her head in her shaking hands.
Amy scooted up to him and took his hand.
His body vibrated with guilt and anger.
Natalie glanced at Amy. “She doesn’t—”
“No,” he bit out. “Does he even know I’m in his house?” he asked.
“No,” his sister said softly.
“God, Nat. I’m sorry. But I can’t be responsible for another rift. The first one is bad enough. Get him on board—”
“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” she wailed.
He stood, pulling Amy to her feet.
“I’m sorry. Fuck, am I ever sorry, Sis. If I could go back and fix it, I would. But I won’t give you money that ends your marriage.”
He strode out the front door, leaving his sister sobbing on the couch. Amy trailed after him. He unlocked her car door and held it for her. Shutting it and going over to his side, he put the key in the ignition and backed up so fast, gravel spat from under the tires.
They drove for ten minutes in silence. Before they got to the highway, Shane turned onto another gravel road with a curse. He put the car in park and pounded on the steering wheel.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Amy sat silently.
He grabbed her by the back of the head and pulled her over into his lap, kissing her desperately. She crawled over and straddled him, pushing the seat back as far as it would go. He licked into her mouth, holding her hips down on his erection. Amy tried to soothe him, stroking his back and murmuring, but he wanted none of that. No tenderness. He had to have her. Now.
He peeled her panties down from under her dress; in her contortions to get them off, her knee jabbed into him and he didn’t care.
He cursed, hands moving to his fly while he lifted his hips and struggled with his jeans.
“Wait, Shane, wait,” she mumbled into his mouth. “Do you have something?”
His hands stilled and he swore. “In the trunk.”
She moved off until she was lying half on the gearbox, head in his lap.
Was she . . . “No Amy,” he tried to pull her up, “you don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to,” she said, wetting her lips she glanced from him to his cock. He groaned, thickening with anticipation. “I want to.” She worked him free of the bunched jeans. She tilted her head, watching him.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her glistening lips, her pink tongue peeking out.
He groaned and slid down in the seat as she gave him a few experimental strokes.
“Amy,” he panted. “Amy.”
She teased him at first. And when he was well beyond teasing, she sucked strongly until her cheeks hollowed, then licked the underside decisively. How could he be on the verge so soon? She’d just started.
“Amy . . . I’m close,” he said hoarsely, but the sight of her working his cock, looking up at him sent him right to the edge.
“Mmmm,” she mumbled, her mouth full, her hand pumping the base of his shaft.
“Amy,” he gasped. “Please . . . fuck . . . stop. If you don’t want . . . I can’t . . . ” And then it was too late, she was taking all of him.
Afterward he sat in the seat, calm and relaxed for the first time in hours, staring down at her. Feeling like this after sex was a revelation. There was no shame. No panic. None of the usual anxiety about how to extricate himself from the person he was with. He helped her across to his side of the car and cuddled her against his chest. Here was this woman he’d thought was spoiled. Instead she turned out to be generous, sympathetic, and hotter than hell. He hadn’t anticipated finding someone he cared about this much about. Their first few weeks in Los Angeles had been so blissful, he hadn’t even noticed other women. Hadn’t cared. But lately he’d more than noticed. The more he tried to push away the fantasies, the harder they were to stifle. Thoughts about the checkout woman at the grocery store—hell, he’d gotten worked up fantasizing about the flight attendant in first class on the way here while Amy slept in the window seat next to him. Guilt rolled through him.
Apparently being with one person, faithful and happy, wasn’t part of his repertoire. If he cared about her as much as he did, why were the temptations coming back?
He reached into the cooler in the backseat, handed a bottle of water to her and she drank, gratefully.
His body still trembling, he took out another water and finished it, crushing the plastic and tossing it into the back seat. She made a move to slide back over to her side of the car, but he held her tightly, his heart still racing. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” she whispered with a shake of her head, grinning. “It’s not like you haven’t done that for me, countless times.”
“I know, but here. And like this.” He gestured to the car.
She shrugged. “Figure skaters are flexible. And adaptable. You needed it.”
He crushed her up against him and admitted what he could no longer keep inside. “I’m crazy about you, Amy Astor, and it scares the holy hell out of me.”
• • •
Amy watched Shane steer the car back onto the highway.
“You wanna tell me about it?” she asked.
“No.”
“Shane.”
She resettled back in her seat waiting, fearful. Her gut clenched.
“I fucked my brother-in-law’s sister.”
“Oh.” That was not good, and guys could be weird about their sisters’ sex lives—at least from what she’d gleaned from Kyle’s relationship with his. But surely if they were both consenting adults? Her body relaxed.
It bubbled out of him. “It was at Nat’s wedding. And Danica was married. She has a big mouth—everyone knew by the end of the weekend. Her husband divorced her and she’s been married twice since then—she’s not even thirty. So Jesse hates my guts. And he’ll never let Natalie take anything from me—hell, I can barely see her without causing problems between them. If I give her money, it will end them. For her sake, I try to stay away.” He rubbed his mouth. “I love my sister, but I made a mess of things. Jesse’s not a bad guy, but he’s an angry, stubborn son of a bitch.”
“God.” She felt his eyes on her and tried school her features into something other than disgust. He was going too fast to keep looking over at her the way he was—probably trying to gauge her reaction. She met his glance with an attempt at a reassuring smile that must’ve had the opposite effect.
“I know,” he said. “It’s a screwed up situation. I’ve tried talking to Danica, to Jesse—it’s useless.”
“Try again,” she suggested. “You’re both older—you’ve changed.” But had he? She hated to keep thinking about his past, since most of what she knew was gossip and rumors, he was tight-lipped about his history. She’d known he had issues with this stuff from the onset. There was something about the way he looked at women that made her uncomfortable. It wasn’t anything as blatant as flirtation, nothing like he’d been with that waitress at Spoke, but he exhibited a level of awareness—like with the flight attendant on the way here—that tied her stomach in knots. If it had been less subtle she would’ve said something.
“And say what?” he said.
“That you’re sorry? That you were stupid?”
“Do you think I haven’t tried that over the years? And all the shit that continues to come down about my life adds fuel to his fire.”
Silence reigned in the car for several miles. At least he was able to associate his problems with his past with the problems in his present. That was good, right?