CHAPTER.

24.

Charlene huddled under the covers, embarra.s.sed and hung over. How could she have allowed herself to get so drunk last night that she lost her purse and needed to be carried from the VFW hall?

She should be ashamed of herself. She hadn't gotten that drunk since she'd been a freshman at UNC. She should have stuck to club soda.

And probably let Ruby put her hair up in something conservative like a chignon.

Now what?

She slipped from between the sheets and made a quick foray into Mike's dresser drawers, which proved interesting and intimate. His T-shirts were all white and neatly folded. He had nothing but black dress socks and white athletic socks. He was either color blind or boring.

But she knew otherwise. Somewhere he had a stash of AX jeans and Ralph Lauren polo shirts. That's pretty much all he wore.

Except for the tux last night, which was exactly like all the other tuxes the guys had rented from Allenberg Formal Wear. But, Lord have mercy, he filled out that tux like n.o.body's business. And then he'd behaved like a chivalrous knight, carrying her from the hall. He could have taken advantage of her. But instead he'd held her hair back while she puked in his toilet.

The memory made her face flame hot at the same time that her girl parts got kind of excited. Sort of pitiful all the way around.

She grabbed one of his T-shirts and a pair of sweats with a drawstring and hurried into the bathroom, where she borrowed his toothbrush. He used Colgate toothpaste, just like she did.

She turned on the hot water in his shower and hopped in. Maybe she could wash away last night's mistakes, but she seriously doubted it.

Sobriety had returned with a vengeance.

Rainbow looked adorable and ready for church. She'd washed her face, even behind the ears. She'd eaten a bowl of Cheerios, which const.i.tuted a minor miracle. She'd sat still for a whole ten minutes while Mike plaited her hair and secured each braid with a pretty yellow barrette that matched the yellow of the dress that Charlene had given her on Tuesday.

He felt insanely proud of her when Elsie knocked on the door to pick her up. The chairwoman of the Altar Guild took one look at her and beamed.

"Look at you, child, don't you look like a little cream puff today."

Cream puff? Elsie loved to bake, so he'd give her a pa.s.s on that one. Rainbow looked adorable, but nothing like a cream puff.

"I declare, Mike, you've done wonders with this child. I'm sure Pastor Tim appreciates it all."

The comment irked him in so many ways.

He hadn't done wonders. The miracle worker had to be Charlene.

And Rainbow herself. Timmy would probably give Rainbow no credit for this achievement. When, in fact, the little girl had achieved a lot in a short time. She had gotten up when she didn't really want to. She'd behaved and followed instructions. She had even said one or two words.

Timmy would probably give all the credit for this transformation to Dr. Newsome. Timmy never stopped talking about the therapist. And after his brother's confession last night, Mike understood why.

So Andrea, not Charlene, would become Rainbow's mother.

He didn't like that idea, even though Andrea Newsome seemed to be a competent doctor and a wise therapist. She had kept a professional distance from Rainbow. Charlene had not. He flashed on the picture Rainbow and Charlene had made this morning, cuddled together in his bed.

It felt as if someone had put a tourniquet around his heart and had started to tighten it. He didn't want Andrea to become Rainbow's mother.

He squatted down and took Rainbow by the shoulders. "You'll be good in Sunday school? For me?"

The little girl said nothing. She merely threw her arms around his neck and gave him a quick hug. And whispered, "Will Tigger be here when I get back?"

He blew out a breath. The band around his chest ratcheted up a notch. Of course Rainbow could see what was happening. She was a bright kid. She understood that when she went to live with her uncle Tim, Tigger couldn't come with her. "She'll be here," he said. But, of course, he intended to drop the cat off at the shelter tomorrow.

The uncertain look on Rainbow's face shattered him. He connected with it in so many ways. Would she ever forgive him for taking Tigger away? Would she feel abandoned?

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Be good, kiddo."

He stood up, only to find Elsie giving him a sharp-eyed stare. Elsie's gaze took in his pajamas and then moved beyond to sweep the living room. The church lady was clearly seeking out evidence of hanky-panky. No doubt she'd heard that he'd taken Charlene home from the fund-raiser last night. He wasn't about to give Elsie any time to interrogate him, so he looked at his watch.

"Gee, it's getting late. You don't want Rainbow to be tardy for her first day at Sunday school, do you?"

She gave him thirty more seconds of the evil eye and then took Rainbow by the hand. "C'mon, sweetie, you're going to love Sunday school."

Mike stood in the doorway watching as Rainbow and Elsie headed down the stairs. It took a lot for him to close the door. As she walked away, it was almost as if a big hollow place opened up in his chest.

d.a.m.n, he needed to get his emotions under control. Coffee might help. He headed off to the kitchen, where Tigger immediately a.s.saulted him, wrapping herself around his ankles.

Feeding time. The cat showed him nothing but disdain except early in the morning right before he put down food. He opened a pouch of cat food for her and then poured a cup of coffee for himself.

He leaned against the counter watching the parking lot, which seemed surprisingly busy this morning. Folks around here really took their Sundays seriously, didn't they?

He gradually became aware of the water running in the master bathroom. Charlene was taking a shower. An image of her naked and wet flashed through his head. A part of him-not his rational brain-wanted to go help her get clean. He could wash her back or something.

He leaned against the countertop staring at nothing out the window, while he tried to sort out his feelings. l.u.s.t for the girl next door ranked pretty high on the list. Followed by the gut-wrenching tightness in his chest every time he thought about Rainbow being raised by Andrea Newsome.

He hated the idea.

But what the h.e.l.l could he do about it? Let himself get sucked into a love affair with Charlene? Stay and raise Rainbow himself? Marry Charlene and become a day trader and a daddy?

No. No. No. No.

The lonely little kid at his core raised his battered head. Mike paid attention to that boy.

That boy had taught him to be independent. That boy had built walls. That boy lived behind a poker face. That boy walked out on Angie and saved Mike's life because Richard probably would have killed him sooner or later.

That boy knew when to walk away. And right now that kid was screaming that the stakes in this game had gotten way, way too high.

Charlene stood in the kitchen doorway, her hair wet, her stomach empty, and her heart suddenly racing. Mike leaned against the counter, his head hung low. He seemed to be struggling to draw breath.

She crossed the room and put her hand on the middle of his back. His T-shirt was soft, the body beneath it hard and warm.

He straightened and let out a big breath. "Sorry."

"What's wrong?"

"Killer heartburn," he said, then immediately changed the subject. He moved toward the coffeemaker, shaking off her touch. "You want some coffee?"

He turned and gave her a quick glance. That's all it took.

Her heart wrenched, and she responded the way she always did when confronted with unspoken pain. She encountered it often, usually in the eyes of animals. But it was there, beyond that mild-mannered expression he tried to wear. He was hurting. She reached up to stroke his cheek. Her fingers encountered his warm skin and rough stubble. That touch flipped her switch. Electricity flowed inside her.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as her fingers moved over his face to his ear and up into his bright red hair.

"Don't," he whispered, but he made no attempt to move away. He reminded her of an abused animal that growls when all he wants is a little kindness. She cupped the nape of his neck and pulled him down as she rose up on tiptoes.

She gave him a soft, gentle kiss. Nothing deep or s.e.xy, just a little kiss, intended to comfort. But it didn't stay that way. Mike grabbed her by the cheeks and pulled her up into the kiss like a man starving for love. His tongue stroked hers. His right hand dropped to her hip, and he yanked her forward and into his chest.

Her knees almost buckled. But she didn't fall, because Mike had her. His hand found the small of her back as he sagged against the counter. They leaned together, thigh to thigh, chest to chest. The kiss turned utterly carnal. His hand wandered up over her spine to her breast. He palmed it. Her nipples came alive. He groaned.

And her whole body throbbed.

She broke the kiss and looked up into his face. His eyes had dilated with desire. His breath sounded ragged. His skin flushed red.

"I want you," he said in a hoa.r.s.e voice. "I want to strip you naked and do it right here in the kitchen."

His words ignited a bad-girl fire that pretty much torched her reservations about him. "Okay."

His gaze widened. "I'm not a reliable bet," he said.

She laughed. "You think I don't know that?"

"Oh."

She could almost feel him having second thoughts. And she had no intention of allowing that. She'd have the rest of her life to regret this choice. Or not.

Which would she regret more? Letting her reservations about him put the kibosh on this? Or spending the rest of her life wondering if maybe she should have bet on Mike Taggart?

Heartbreak was her middle name. "I'm a gambler," she whispered. "And sometimes the long shots pay off."

"Not usually," he said.

"Maybe not. But I'm the eternal optimist."

Call him crazy. Call him desperate. Call him immature. Whatever. But when Charlene started to move her hips against him, he put his brain in neutral and let his body take over. He lost himself in Charlene's deep, sweet, amazing kisses. She tasted so fine. Like nothing he'd ever tasted before. She had curves in all the right places, and her touch made his skin catch fire.

And maybe something else began to stir inside him, but he was too drunk on l.u.s.t to identify it. Besides, he was preoccupied by her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, which were as amazing to touch as they were to look at. And she smelled really good, too.

He needed more skin. Right now. So he pulled the T-shirt over her head and spent one smoldering moment feasting his eyes on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. And then he feasted his mouth on them.

d.a.m.n. He'd wanted to touch her b.o.o.bs from the first time he'd seen her in one of her tight sweaters. But they weren't her only charms. Her b.u.t.t was nice and round and soft. And she was making these really great noises that were an utter turn-on.

He wanted to bury himself in her.

Now.

"Uh, you want to do it here? I'm ready."

"Yeah, I noticed," she said with a laugh as she touched him through his pajamas. He couldn't breathe for a while as she kept it up. She had magical hands.

"Uh, look, we need to decide. Here or in the bedroom?"

She glanced at the kitchen window with its direct view to the busy parking lot. "I think bedroom."

"I'm glad someone's thinking." He hoisted her up into his arms.

She let go of a little squeak of alarm.

"Don't worry, dollface, I didn't drop you last night, and I won't do it now."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "You carried me like this last night?"

"You don't remember? You lost your shoes. I couldn't let you walk on the gravel."

"Sadly, no. And I'm kind of ticked off about it. Cinderella moments like that don't happen all that often, you know."

Somewhere in his brain an alarm went off. "Listen, doll, I'm not Prince Charming. Please don't confuse me with that guy."

"I know," she said as she twirled the hair at the base of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. "And I'm not really Cinderella."

He turned and looked into her face as they arrived at the bedroom door. G.o.d almighty, this woman had a face any fool could read.

She would fall for him.

"I'm going to break your heart," he said.

"I know."

He hadn't expected that. "You do?"

Her eyes went dark and mysterious. "Stop thinking, Mike. Just take me to your bed, okay?"

The words were like magic. He carried her across the bedroom floor, put her down on her feet, stripped off her clothes, and had his way with her.