There were few men who would extol such virtues out loud. He wore his pride and love for his family like a suit of armor he never took off, a ward against anything bad. Yet there was the faintest shadow there as well, the same shadow that kept popping up whenever he talked about his parents. She wanted to press him, wanted to know more. But she knew how hard it was to open up all the way.
"And man," he said, "the Mavericks adore Lyssa. She's the little sister none of them had. They used to fight to see who got to take her to the park, not that it was much of a park. But if they saw any drug deals going down, they'd run out the offenders. Nothing was ever going to hurt Lyssa."
"You obviously love her very much."
"She's the apple of our eye, as my mom would say." He grinned wide with pride. "So pretty she makes men cry. And so smart. She graduated from college last year." Love brimmed in his voice, then with another big laugh, he added, "I pity any guy who falls for her, because he's going to have to run a gauntlet of Mavericks."
"Sounds terrifying."
"You should know, considering you've already faced them down. And they loved you."
"Evan didn't."
He reached for her hand. "He was wrong to make judgments before he knew all the facts. Now that he has them, he's on your side, Tasha. Just like I am."
When he looked at her like that, with such warmth and compassion--and something richer and deeper that she was afraid to acknowledge--she longed to throw herself at him and shower him with kisses.
But kissing him again would only bring more complications.
And more heartache when it was time to say good-bye.
Chapter Seventeen
"Tell me more about your mom and dad," Tasha asked as they waded through waist-high grass. "What made them want to foster so many boys?"
Every time he tried to shift the conversation to her, Tasha redirected it back to him and his family. But for the first time in his life, he was slightly uncomfortable talking about his parents. He used to be so sure their story was pure perfection from start to finish. Until his recent conversations with his mother had made him question that assumption.
He needed to talk with his mom again. Needed to find out if he was making something out of nothing. But he'd never felt the need to confront his mother about anything before. He'd always thought he was brave, bold. But every time he contemplated tackling the issue with his mom, a part of him questioned whether it would be easier just to go with the status quo, to tell himself it was his parents' business, not his.
At last, he answered Tasha. "I was about eleven or twelve when they started taking in my friends. We were already buddies in school, and everyone used to hang at my house. My parents were really easy to be around."
She took a bottle of water from the pack, drank for a long time, then licked her lips, leaving them glistening with invitation. "You mean because they were kind?"
"Yes." He grinned. "And because my mom makes the best chocolate chip cookies and brownies."
They passed a couple with two toddlers who were doing a great job climbing the hill.
"My parents loved kids," Daniel said. "They would have had more, but Lyssa didn't come along until I was ten. Then they started taking in the Mavericks."
Tasha turned, walking backward. "Were you okay with that?"
Before he could reply, she tripped on a rock and he grabbed her arm, steadying her with his body. "Whoa there." She was close enough for him to smell her hair and the saltiness of her skin. Close enough to see her pupils dilate. Close enough for everything inside him to turn to liquid fire. "You okay?" Daniel asked.
"I'm fine." But she definitely sounded breathless. "I should look where I'm going."
A part of him wished she wouldn't, if only to give him the excuse to hold her again. As it was, she felt too delicious to let go.
When he finally forced himself to ease away from her, the hot imprint of her body remained.
As they started climbing again, he answered her question. "Whenever Mom and Dad wanted to bring one of the guys in permanently, they always sat me down and discussed it. They never forced anything on me. But even if I'd resisted sharing my parents' time with more than just Lyssa, I knew how bad, how brutal their home lives were. I couldn't wish that kind of existence on any of them. It tore my folks up when one of them came over with bruises. Or when they wouldn't talk because something bad had happened."
"I've never known anyone who cares about other people as much as you and your parents and friends do."
"What about your father?" He knew he was pushing her, but he hoped his sharing would make her feel she could do the same. "He wasn't cruel to you or your brother, was he?"
She started walking once more, head down, her expression hidden from him. "I always thought I was lucky to have such a great dad." Her sorrow was easy to hear, to feel, as she spoke. "But he never asked me or my brother how we felt about moving again."
Abruptly, she stopped in her tracks. "We've got to cross that?" She pointed to the log across a stream ahead. Swollen with the snowmelt, the water rushed below.
Before he could reply, however, she straightened her shoulders and started across. Walking as if it were a tightrope, one foot in front of the other, she teetered for a moment that made his breath catch, then found her balance again and darn near dashed the rest of the way.
He caught up on the other side. "I should have remembered about that crossing."
Taking him totally off guard, she cupped his cheek. "Actually, I like that you push me past my boundaries and think I can handle whatever you're going to dish out."
He knew exactly what he wanted to dish out--the kiss of a lifetime. But just then a couple of guys rounded the bend and passed them, practically leaping across the log as they headed down the trail.
"Showoffs," she muttered, making Daniel laugh, before she took off again at a fast clip.
Whether it was because she was trying to show the other hikers that she was every bit as good on the mountain, or because she'd sensed how badly Daniel wanted to kiss her and was intent on evading him, he didn't know.
The trail took a turn, and suddenly the alpine lake spread out before them, clear as glass, the reflection of the mountains like a painting on the water's surface.
"Wow."
She didn't have to say more. Its majesty was why he loved this place. Why he wanted to bring her here today--so that she could experience the same peace and sense of awe it gave him.
He took her hand, needing to touch her again, and led her around to a flat rock where they could spread out their picnic. She seated herself, and he settled beside her, opening the pack to pull out an insulated bag with ice packs.
He tore off the lid on the first plastic tub. "Crackers." Another lid. "Local Brie and goat cheese." Then a smaller container. "Pepper jelly that's great with both."
She looked impressed. "And you said Matt was all about the food."
"He is." Daniel grinned. "But I can hold my own with the good stuff." Yet another tub contained fresh mango, papaya, grapes, and berries, plus a cheese knife and a jelly spoon. "Close your eyes, and try this." He sliced off creamy cheese, slathered it on a cracker, then topped it with pepper jelly. "Open up."
He fed her, touching her lips, letting her tongue caress his fingers. The sounds she made as she swallowed were ones he'd hear in his dreams.
"Wow."
"That's what you said about the lake."
She opened her eyes to gaze at him. "It goes for the food too."
And it went most especially for her.
"Wait, there's more." Tucking into the pack once more, he whisked out a split of champagne and two plastic flutes.
She laughed, a sound he'd loved since the first time he'd heard it. "You billionaires are too much," she teased.
"The champagne has nothing to do with my being a billionaire. You deserve to be wined and dined by anyone you're with." He thought of the ex who'd lied to her and winced, waiting for the reminder to take the shine
out of her.
But though something dark flashed through her gaze, for the first time, she didn't let it conquer her. Instead, she whispered, "Feed me more."
*
After the meal, sated with champagne, scrumptious cheese, and luscious fruit--and most of all, with the thought of how sweet Daniel had been to pull all of this together for her--Tasha was tempted to throw her fears to the winds and kiss him again.
When Eric had treated her to a fancy meal and a night out, it had only been to bolster his lies, not because he thought she deserved anything special.
Although Daniel was far more gorgeous and wealthy than her ex could ever hope to be, he was also real and sincere. Every cell in her body knew it.
But Daniel had to leave Fallen Leaf Lake eventually. Though he'd never given her the exact date of his departure, he wouldn't be able to stay in the mountains with her forever. His real life--his company and all the beautiful women who were surely a far better match for him--awaited his return.
Breaking into her maudlin thoughts, he announced, "Time to get wet."
"Wet?" She sounded like a nervous virgin, but she couldn't help it. Whenever she was around Daniel her heart beat too hard and her breath came too fast.
"It'll be nice to soak our feet in the water for a bit. Unless--" A wicked light glinted in his eyes. "--you have other ideas?"
Did she ever. But she'd spent the past couple of days reminding herself over and over that she couldn't take more from Daniel than she already had, so instead of listing all the sinfully sexy ideas that immediately popped into her head, she chirped, "Soaking our feet is perfect!"
She nearly groaned at her hyperbole as she unlaced her hiking boots. Thankfully, putting her feet into the cool, crisp water cooled down both her embarrassment and her desperate desire. For a few minutes, at least.
"What a marvelous day," she said in as easy a voice as she could manage, considering she was reliving every luscious touch of his fingers on her lips as he'd fed her. He'd seduced her completely--he always did, even when they were both wearing tool belts and working side by side on her floorboards or her paneling.
God, it was hard not to give in to her feelings for him. But that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy this one perfect, sunny afternoon, did it? Would it be so wrong to let the pleasure of being with Daniel, even if only on a purely platonic level, fuel her for the difficult days ahead? Especially now that she'd decided to search for her father and brother and make absolutely certain they hadn't started another con. She should have looked for them months ago. But she'd been so shell-shocked that she'd hidden away in the mountains instead.
It wasn't until Daniel had come into her life and showed her that she was braver and stronger than she'd given herself credit for that she was finally able to take the steps she should have all along.
More grateful to him for his kindness and understanding than she could ever express, she turned to smile at Daniel...and he gave her a smile so sweet, so sexy, so dazzling that her heart skipped like pebbles tossed across the lake.
*
Backlit as she was by the sunlight, Daniel had never seen a more gorgeous picture. Tasha's beauty should be immortalized on canvas and hung on museum walls for future generations. He'd ask Sebastian to sketch her.
He wanted to see her smile like that always. She had so much laughter inside her, so much sweetness and caring. So much loyalty.
Suddenly, she squealed and jerked her feet out of the water. "What was that?" She stared down into the depths.
He followed her gaze. And laughed. "It's the fish. They nibble." He wiggled his toes in the water and tiny fish darted away, slowly returning when he stilled again.
"You mean they're eating us? Like piranhas?" She hugged her knees to her chest, properly horrified.
"They're just nibbling," he explained through his laughter. "Looking for plankton or moss."
She proclaimed in mock indignation, "I don't have moss or plankton on my toes."
He leaned in close to whisper, "But I bet you still taste really, really good." Her cheeks instantly heated. "Now put your feet back in."
She wriggled her toes. "If I lose these, it will be your fault. And you'll owe me big time."
"All right, I'll owe you. What do you want?"
She gazed at him for an endless moment, and the laughter went out of him as she stole his breath.
"I'll tell you if they bite off my toes." Then she plunked her feet down in the water, splashing and scaring the fish away.
"You did that on purpose," he teased. "Be still and let them come back."
With her thigh pressed against his, the heat of her body arced through him like an electrical current. He laced their fingers, his thumb stroking patterns on her skin... and he nearly sighed with relief when she didn't pull away.
"Wait for it," he whispered as the fish circled closer.
"That is so cool." Her voice held such awe, as if she were witnessing a miracle. "It's like..." She bit her bottom lip, thinking hard. "Like feathers tickling your toes. Or dragonfly wings against your cheek. Or champagne bubbles bursting in your mouth." She laughed again. "Or Pop Rocks."
He watched her, not the fish, totally mesmerized by the fun-loving, gregarious woman inside her. "Weren't those the candy things that exploded in your stomach if you drank them with soda?"
Her eyes sparkled. "That's an urban legend."
Racking his brain for ways to keep her smiling, he said, "Want to hear a Maverick legend?"
She flipped off her cap and lay back against the rock. "Of course."
"When my sister was about six years old, my parents sent us out to find a puppy for her."
She turned her head. "I thought you said you didn't have pets."
"There was one pretty big caveat--the puppy had to be a stuffed toy. But that cost money, so we needed ingenious ways to follow Mom's edict. Without stealing. She'd tan our hides if we did that."
"With the rolling pin."
"Yup," he said, grinning. "With her white-haired-old-lady rolling pin."
Smiling back, she said, "So what did you all do?"
"Will entered a street-boxing match. He won, of course, then took his prize money to buy Lyssa a Saint Bernard big enough to ride. At the same time, Matt, who was all about mechanics and robotics, mastered one of those arcade grab machines where you use levers to pick up toys. He got three stuffed puppies."
"You guys are wonderful."
"Wait, there's more. Sebastian charmed a salesgirl into selling him a puppy with a missing eye. He got it for a quarter, then he sewed up the eye and told Lyssa that she had to take very good care of her one-eyed puppy. Then Evan, like the financial wizard that he's always been, played the stores off each other, telling the clerk that the store over there sold the same thing for a cheaper price. In the end, he price-matched them down to almost nothing."
"And you? What did you do?"
"I rode a bus to a really expensive neighborhood and shopped their thrift stores. The stuffed animals looked like they'd never been used, by kids who had way too many toys. I got them for a song." He grinned. "Lyssa ended up with a dozen stuffed animals. They were all over her bed, and she insisted on sleeping with every single one every night."
"Even the Saint Bernard?"
"He stood guard at the bottom of her bed. I think she might still have some of them."
"Thank you," Tasha said suddenly, the words seeming to fall from her lips before she could stop herself.
He turned his head to look her in the eye. "For what?"
"For helping me see that not all men are bad. Some men, like you, are so very good."
Chapter Eighteen
The depth of emotion in Tasha's voice touched Daniel like nothing ever had. "You're so beautiful," he told her.
"You're the beautiful one."
"Tasha." He needed her to know, "I won't hurt you."
She sat up and stared into his eyes, and he swore he could see all the way into her soul. "But what if I'm the one wh
o hurts you?"
"You won't," he promised, wanting nothing more than to lean in to kiss her. But it had to be her choice--if it wasn't, nothing would ever truly change for them.
Their first kiss had been a sudden, shocking burst of glorious heat. Their second had been a mash-up of emotions--relief, longing, desire. Daniel knew their third, and all the others that came after, could be so much more.
But only if Tasha allowed herself to want him, to open up to him, to truly be with him.
For long, excruciating moments, he waited. While she weighed the pros and cons, measured the good and the bad, fought yet another battle with herself over what she believed to be right and what she was absolutely certain was wrong.
He wanted to sway her, to show her that the two of them were all pros and goods and rights. But she wasn't a building that could be put together by taking careful measurements and using the right tools.
Tasha was a flesh-and-blood woman whose heart and soul had been crushed by the people she trusted most. No matter how badly he wanted to lead her toward happiness, she needed to rebuild at her own pace, in her own way.
Letting her breath go, she made her decision. His heart hammered inside his chest, and he feared she might pull away, turn from him, and close up again.
Instead, her lips brushed over his, like dragonfly wings. Soft and gentle, barely there. Teasing him with everything he wanted from her.
"More," he whispered, relief--and desperate desire--drenching every letter of the word.
With a hand cupping his cheek, she angled deeper, taking him exactly where he wanted to go. He couldn't breathe without breathing her in. He couldn't swallow without tasting her. He couldn't move without the delicious feel of her against him.
She pushed him back on the rock, leaning over him, her scent enthralling his senses, her ponytail falling over her shoulder to caress his cheek as she kissed him. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her tight. Her heat surrounded him, turning him as hard as the rock beneath them.
But her mouth was the delicacy he couldn't get enough of--and she seemed to feel the same urgency as she took him with long, delicious sweeps of her tongue, toying with him, tangling with him, consuming him with desire.
He pulled her hair free, letting it fall over them like strands of silk. He filled his hands with her, from the round firmness of her hips, pressing her hard against him, to her magical hair that had a life all its own, binding him to her.