“Oh? And why is that?”
“Very simple. I come from a family that has a very bad track record.”
“But your father died,” she said.
“Oh, my parents had both been divorced and remarried by then. More than once.”
“Oh. Gee, that’s too bad. My brother, Conner, and I have each had one marriage on the record—he’s divorced. But we don’t have commitment issues. Just the opposite. And Charlie…Charlie was a soldier and his commitment was his life. His commitment to me was…” She stopped and slanted a look at Dylan. “This is surreal,” she said. “Sitting here talking to a perfect stranger about love and marriage and commitment issues. You haven’t even told me your last name.”
“Childress,” he said, watching her for a reaction. There wasn’t one. He drained his cola and tapped the empty can. “Where should I pitch this?”
“Just leave it,” she said. “I’ll take it inside.”
He put the can down beside his chair and stood. “Thanks for the soda, Katie Malone. I’d better get back to work.”
She laughed at him. “By all means. And if that job has any openings…”
Katie stayed in her chair, feet propped, watching him don gloves and helmet, mount, wrangle that big bike off the stand, rev the engine and turn out of the clearing. She had to smile to herself as she heard him rumble away, the engine noise diminishing as his distance grew. How had he managed to stumble on her little hideaway?
Then she heard another motorcycle coming down the road, getting closer and closer until—
He turned back into the clearing and drove his bike right up to the porch. Then he turned off the motor and used his long legs on either side of the bike to prop it up on the stand. He slowly dismounted, removing his helmet and gloves, leaving them on the bike seat.
“So? Back for another soda? More conversation?” she asked.
He had an odd look on his face as he approached her, smiling a little as he took those two steps up to the porch. It was the strange look that brought her to her feet.
He slipped his arm around her waist so stealthily, she never saw it coming. Then he didn’t so much draw her against him as
snapped
her against him with that one arm, which put their faces close enough to feel each other’s warm breath. And his, she noted, was a little rapid. She felt his pounding heart against her breast.
His eyes were close enough so that the startling blue appeared in mere glittering slits, buried beneath the thick lashes. Her eyes were wide, on the other hand. Her mouth open, startled. “I just wanted to be clear,” he said in a hoarse, whisper. “I wouldn’t have forgotten.”
And then he crashed down on her mouth.
Katie was startled somewhere between pain and a pleasure so remarkable, she wasn’t sure how to respond. There was a taste in him that verged on desperate, something that felt so much more welcome than nice-but-dull. Her inner voice said,
This will probably be the only kiss you ever get from him.
And with that thought, her hands slid slowly up his arms to his shoulders, shoulders so hard and inviting. But it was the mouth that sent her reeling, his soft lips, his tongue, tentative and cautious before becoming demanding. She joined the tongue play, trying to remember when she’d participated in a kiss like this, and failing.
And thank God it wasn’t quick. No, this guy wasn’t a tease, he was the real deal. He threaded his fingers up the back of her neck and into her hair until he palmed her head. He tilted her right, then left, changing their slant and deepening the kiss. And she found her own fingers on the back of his neck, in his long hair, pulling him closer, bringing him harder against her. If his mouth wasn’t intoxicating enough, that long, hard body against hers was certainly brain-numbing. Her senses became so sharp while her thinking was dull and all she wanted was to do this for a long, long time. She was tasting him, hearing his raspy and rapid breathing, inhaling that musk that contained some unidentifiable component she wasn’t familiar with… Was that motor oil? Nature? Pheromones?
Lust?
He pulled away from her lips, continuing to hold her close. “Well, that opened your eyes, Katie Malone.”
“It usually does,” she said weakly.
“I thought I heard you complain about being forgotten in the kiss department,” he said. “I felt a little sorry for you. Wanted to be sure that was taken care of.”
“Oh, I get it. I’m supposed to thank you now,” she said.
He just chuckled and released her, jumping off the porch and heading for his bike, which was only two feet away.
“You’re kind of an arrogant ass, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Depends on who you ask,” he said with a devilish grin, mounting the bike and getting the hell out of there. Fast. In fact, he popped a wheelie. Show-off stud.
When he was riding down the drive, she collapsed into the chair. “Well, if you ask me,” she muttered to herself. And then she thought,
I just Frenched a movie star.
Dylan rode hard and in some discomfort as he realized, well that was stupid. He’d acted on some lame instinct and now the only thing to do was get the hell out of her range as quickly as possible. He should never have tasted her.
Of course he’d been attracted to women before—many times. But he always calculated his moves and he never messed with young mothers. When Dylan felt a spark of interest in a female, he thought it through very carefully before he approached, touched, tempted, became tempted. One of the first things he considered was the window of opportunity, because he wasn’t interested in the long-term. There had to be an understanding and it had to be consensual. He restricted himself from Payne, Montana, residents, much to the disappointment of some. He hadn’t dated a girl from Payne since the high school prom; small towns could be harsh toward men who played the field with their women. And the closest he’d come to setting foot back in Hollywood was picking up a touring rock band in the BBJ.
He blamed Katie Malone’s boobs, large, luminous eyes and easy laughter. The boobs weren’t extraordinary. In fact they were kind of small, but they certainly spoke to him. Unforgettable, when you got right down to it. What was really strange was, Dylan saw pretty breasts everywhere, but his hands didn’t usually ache to touch. And how about the laugh—so natural and filled with fun. Then there was the fact that he hadn’t really impressed her that much—that turned him on. Then there was that petite figure with a nice little…
He forced himself to block any further thoughts of her body.
He couldn’t figure out what had turned him around on a back road and sent him hurtling like a rocket back to her front porch to kiss her. He didn’t understand why she responded to the kiss—hadn’t she more or less said she was done with all that? Concentrating on her family? And he was turned on beyond his own comprehension. He’d been turned on a hundred times, but not like this. He felt as if he’d better get a lot of miles between him and Katie Malone or face dire consequences. And he had no one to talk to about this. So he rode hard for the rest of the day, stopping off to visit a couple of small airports as he went.
That was one thing Hollywood would have to recommend it—girls. There were plenty of the kind who would put their careers ahead of any relationship, but they still liked to have a man around from time to time. Brief, impersonal, nonrisky hookups.
The thought left him feeling just as empty inside as ever.
He remembered when Lang found Sue Ann, a Prescott, Arizona, girl. They’d been in college there and Lang, being a good-looking guy, was a great one to go running with; he always attracted women. But then he met this girl, this pretty but not flashy girl who was full of confidence and just wouldn’t be played. And good old Lang took a dive. He glazed over, saw no one but Sue Ann and his days of running with Dylan were over.
And Dylan was grateful that hadn’t happened to him, because he was convinced he wasn’t good for the long haul. Not that he wanted it to be that way. It just was.
Dylan stopped off in a small town near the coast where there was a little fixed base operation. He went inside, introduced himself to the airport manager and asked if they had a charter operation or any aviation instruction. The story seemed to be the same everywhere—people were chartering less often, this particular airport was sending people interested in pilot instruction to other airports. Dylan learned there had once been a couple of instructors there as well as a charter pilot who operated a six-seater and had done a respectable business, until fuel prices soared and he moved on to other work. Now that airport offered storage, maintenance and fueling for a few private plane owners and the occasional inbound flight.
He had a lot more looking around to do, but that was enough for one day. Since he was in a good area, he took the opportunity to phone Jay Romney. He was a little surprised to find that Jay took his call even though his assistant warned Dylan that Jay was in the middle of a meeting.
“Dylan!” he boomed. “If you’re calling me, I’m optimistic! How can I help you?”
“You can tell me if you have any acting work that I qualify for.”
“What? You’re coming back?”
“Not exactly, but I’d consider taking a leave from my business in Montana for the right project. And let me save you some time—no silly TV reunions or game shows or commercials.”
“Can you tell me what you
are
looking for?” Jay asked. “Because there are a lot of projects under option.”
“I can’t,” he said, inwardly shrugging. “A movie. Something that resembles what I’ve done in the past, even though it’s been over twenty years. And above all, I want a good experience.”
Dylan still had a lot of family in Hollywood and, Dylan was all too aware, Jay wouldn’t have interrupted a meeting for any of them. “Maybe you have something you’re interested in that will make a break from aviation seem worthwhile,” Dylan told Jay.
“And why the break?” Jay asked.
“The charter business is down, given the economy,” he said honestly. “A little movie pocket change can help me making a living and suck up some of the boredom of waiting for things to turn around. That is, if you have anything. I’m not looking for a favor—I’m only looking for honest work.”
Jay Romney laughed. “I’d be happy to do you a favor, Dylan, but I won’t have to. You’re still a big name around here. I’ll be in touch soon.”
“I’m spending a little time in the mountains, Jay. My cell reception is spotty. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”
“Good enough. And hey, nice talking to you. Give my regards to Adele.”
“Absolutely.”
As a kid, Dylan had been cast in an incredibly successful sitcom from the ages of eight to fifteen. He’d also done a couple of big movies, Disney features. His father had been a famous actor before his death when Dylan was twelve and his grandmother, Adele Childress, was still very much alive and working at the age of seventy-six. He was Adele’s only biological grandchild.
Back in Payne, once Dylan accepted there was no way out but to try it Adele’s way, he settled in. He first learned to ride a horse. Then he went camping with the old guy who managed the ranch and was still on their small property to this day. As time went on, Dylan took to driving to Helena and hung out at a small private airport, just watching the planes and gliders take off and land for hours. He talked someone into a ride in a little Cherokee and fell in love. He’d been looking for freedom for years and found it in the sky. He chewed the fat in the little tower and in the airport office and found out how the pilots there got in the business. And finally he screwed up the courage and told his grandmother he wanted to learn to fly, get his pilot’s license.