Page 521 of Summer Heat
Tamara stood there in the florescent-lit aisle, trying to pretend she didn’t notice Lance’s shirt was open to the third button. She tried not to notice how alluring she found the tendons of his neck when he turned his head, or that he smelled of something spicy. She tried to pretend her gaze didn’t skitter over his smiling mouth every ten seconds and fall on his hands, so broad and strong, the rest of the time.
She really tried not to notice the way he was looking at her, a little shyly, when he thought she wouldn’t notice, or that his gaze traveled all over her.
But both of them looked up at the same instant. Tamara was swept into the bright jeweled blue, snagged hard on the half-sober, half-teasing way he looked at her. She couldn’t think of anything to say, and she couldn’t look away, and so they just stood there looking at each other for a long time. Tamara wondered if he was remembering the kiss last night, as she was—
He touched her hand with his index finger. Covertly, so only she would know. “Would you let me take you and Cody to the carnival tonight?”
The words didn’t penetrate for a minute. “The carnival?” she echoed.
His grin flashed then, that irascible, devil-may-care grin that went straight through her. “You know, the one right outside here? I figured it might be something you could do with your son, so you wouldn’t have to find a baby-sitter.”
Damn him. For an irresponsible wild man, he was awfully considerate sometimes. Or was that good? Tamara couldn’t remember. He also made it very hard to think rationally.
“That would be great,” Tamara heard herself say. “I can’t stay out late, though.”
“That’s fine. How about if I come get you around six?”
“Make it seven, so I can feed him before we go.”
He shook his head. “I’ll buy you both supper.”
“Me?” Cody said, having learned everything he could from Mrs. Jordan about her pin. “Can I have one of them big hot dogs?”
“‘May I,’” Tamara said automatically. “And ‘one of those,’ not ‘them.’”
Cody rolled his eyes, and Lanc
e ruffled his hair in the classic male gesture of affection. “Listen to your mom. And yes, you may have one of those hot dogs.”
Mrs. Jordan poked Lance’s arm. “Enough, young man. I don’t have all day.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lance said, and moved off, allowing Mrs. Jordan to lean on him as they went down the aisle.
Tamara watched them go, struck by the rarity of a man that patient. Maybe she’d been wrong about him. It sure looked that way.
Then Mrs. Jordan glanced over her shoulder, and there was no mistaking the expression on her wizened face.
Pity.
Tamara blushed. Even old Mrs. Jordan knew Lance’s reputation as a ladies’ man—and she thought Tamara was his next victim.
Tamara lifted her chin. Mrs. Jordan didn’t know anything.
Chapter Nine
Louise Forrest loved carnivals, always had. She liked the smell of them—cotton candy and dust and frying onions. She liked the tubes of neon in candy colors and the tinny music and the crowds of people. Most of all, she loved the feverishness of the combination, the excitement.
Tonight was no different. She and her youngest son, Tyler, had brought Curtis out to ride the kiddie rides. They stood by the baby Ferris wheel, waving at the three-year-old cheerfully when Louise caught sight of Lance and a woman coming closer.
Louise grabbed Tyler’s arm. “Who’s the woman your brother is with?”
“I knew he wasn’t going to leave her alone.” His mouth thinned. “That’s Tamara Flynn. She’s a bartender at the Wild Moose.”
“Is that her child?”
“Yeah.” Ty gave his mother an odd look. “Why?”
Louise pursed her lips and looked at Curtis, who was now free of the Ferris wheel and bolted toward them, blond hair flying, face full of glee. Then she looked at the boy walking alongside Lance, bubbling about something.
