Rescue Me (Butler Island) (15 page)

His double entendre was unmistakable, she thought to
herself. Because what he really wanted was truth. He wanted clear answers to
chase the murkiness away, opacity she’d created when she’d scrambled from his
bed and barricaded her panicked soul in his bathroom. She’d asked for some time
and he’d been gracious enough to grant her some.

But now her time was up. She needed to form her feelings
into words—difficult when she didn’t quite understand them herself. “I’ll try”,
she uttered just above a whisper. “But I’m not sure I’ll be any good at this.”

Randall gestured for Connor to fetch the football from
the middle of the yard, catching it with ease when her son launched it toward
him. Smiling, Randall slowly ambled toward her, stopping once he stood directly
behind her. “I’m right here, Sweetheart. We’ll do this together.”

Chapter 18

Randall swallowed a moan as he slowly reached one of his
large hands around her middle, hauling her back against the hard plane of his
solid chest. Her tummy quivered beneath his fingertips and the sound of her
quickened breaths almost made him forget about the throwing lesson—and more
importantly, that Connor was patiently waiting at the opposite side of the yard
to catch the ball.

Focus
,
Burns
—
now’s not the time to reminisce about
last night
.

Easier said than done. Because holding her made him want
things, things he couldn’t have.

“Lesson number one”, he began, “is all in how you grip
the ball. Line your fingers along the laces, like this.” Taking her hand he
spread her fingers over the laces, noting how they trembled. “One of the keys
to a perfect spiral is to grip the ball with your fingertips—not your palm;
palming the ball is a recipe for disaster.”

Lana nodded, summarizing the lesson aloud. “Grip with
fingertips—no palm. Got it.”

“Keep your eyes downfield, but turn your body sideways”,
he uttered softly as his hands slid to her hips, rotating them until she was in
the proper position. It wasn’t necessary to the lesson, per se; she could’ve
turned on her own. But, God, touching her…

“Place your other hand underneath the ball and bring it
up toward your ear.”

“Like this?” she questioned as she demonstrated.

“Yeah.”

“You mean, I’m supposed to throw it with two hands?”

Chuckling under his breath, he answered, “No, this is for
stability and control.”

Lana turned her head to look at him. “Are you laughing at
me, Randall Burns?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Now, get back into position.” He
waited while she complied, then went on to explain the importance of proper
footwork.

“This is a lot to take in”, she admitted softly. “How
does anybody remember all this, huh?” Lana turned, looking up at him with those
beaming midnight orbs. “How does everyone make it look so easy?”

Somehow, Randall got the inkling they weren’t talking
about the mechanics of throwing a perfect spiral. A sudden gust of wind blew a
strand of silky brown hair across her pretty face, and without a second thought
Randall reached up and tucked it behind her right ear, loving how her eyes
closed when his fingertips brushed her cheek. “Just takes practice. Soon it’ll
become almost second nature. You won’t have to think about each of the steps,
you just… do ’em.”

Lana’s eyes fluttered open a moment before Connor
impatiently yelled across the yard to throw the ball. “Okay, here goes.”
Turning her attention downfield where Connor stood, she yelled, “Ready?”

“Yeah—don’t forget to yell hut! It’s the rules, right
Randall?”

“Sure is, Squirt!”

“C’mon, Randall, is that really necessary?” asked Lana.

Randall took a step back, hands low on his hips. “You
heard the man”, he uttered softly as a smirk emerged. “It’s in the rules.”

“Fine.” Lana drew in a deep breath while she lined her
fingers along the laces, and after yelling “
hut
”, she brought the ball
to her ear, positioned her feet accordingly, aimed and released the ball,
watching in amazement as it soared toward Connor in a nearly perfect spiral. “I
did it!” she shouted, throwing her hands in the air in celebration.

Christ, she was beautiful when she smiled. Unable to
resist, Randall stepped forward, lifting her up as though she’d thrown the
winning pass at the championship game. He twirled her around in a circle,
letting her laughter rain down on him, wishing—even if only for a moment—things
could be different.

Because he couldn’t overlook how right she felt in his
arms, couldn’t deny the way she made him feel.

It was more than physical, although it’d probably started
that way that night in his truck three months ago. Lana Phillips had wriggled
her way into his shattered being, painstakingly piecing his broken spirit back
together again with her radiant smile and her kind, forgiving heart.

He came here tonight with noble intentions, came here to
apologize for what’d happened last night; explain that he’d made a mistake—one
that wouldn’t happen again. But he couldn’t follow through. Not when he tossed
and turned every night thinking about her. When he now understood how amazing
she felt, how delicious she tasted. Not when the simple sound of her laughter
warmed him from the inside out.

Was he being selfish?

Absolutely.

He should be down on his knees begging for forgiveness
for what he’d done, but instead he wanted something else: one irresistible,
Lana Phillips.

Heaven
,
help me
…

“I had to bribe him with a promise to get ice cream
tomorrow after school to get him to close his eyes and go to bed”, Lana shared
as she sat down next to Randall on the back porch step. “Wish it worked for
everything in life”, she uttered quietly.

Randall nodded, not knowing what to say to that. He
didn’t want to complicate her life any more than he already had; being solely
responsible for her husband’s death was plenty complicated enough.

Leaning forward, he placed his forearms against his
knees, releasing a puff of air from his chest. “So, about last night…”

“You sure don’t waste any time, do you?”

Her tone was teasing, but underneath he sensed how
ill-at-ease she truly was.

Typical. She was trying her damnedest to forge a brave
smile, just one of the many things he admired about her. Shaking his head in
response to her question, he waited a few beats, allowing his silence to
indicate he was ready to listen.

“I, um…” Running her fingers through her hair, she
sighed, “Gosh, where do I begin…”

“The beginning. The beginning is a good place to start.”

“Right. Okay…” Drawing in another deep breath, she began,
“After Jimmy died I felt broken, alone. He was…my
everything
. Guess you
don’t realize how much you depend on someone until they’re gone. In the
beginning I was overwhelmed: trying to establish a new sense of normal for
Connor and myself, trying to just keep my head above water, you know?”

Randall nodded. He knew what that was like. Hell, he’d
nearly drowned himself in whiskey over the summer in a desperate attempt to
numb the guilt.

“And then you came back… I can’t tell you how good it
felt to have an ally—a partner—again. For the first time in ages I felt
strong—like I finally had the strength to move on. I started… thinking about
things.
Wanting
things.”

“What kind of things?” he questioned gravelly.

Lana covered her eyes with her hands. “Gosh, this is so
embarrassing.”

Randall carefully peeled her palms away from her face.
Holding her wrists steady, he gazed into her deep blue eyes. “Tell me”, he
urged. “Tell me what you wanted.”

Swallowing hard, she gathered her courage. “I wanted to
be kissed, touched, cherished. I-I wanted… I wanted
you
.”

Resisting the urge to lean in, he kept his expression
unreadable. Stone-like. Because her confession only generated more questions. 
He watched as she nervously nibbled on her bottom lip, so uncertain about his
reaction, so insecure.

Didn’t she know how beautiful she was? Couldn’t she see
what she did to him every time they were together? “Let’s fast-forward to last
night…”

“Last night was…” Lana closed her eyes, searching for the
right word. A word that would encompass how truly amazing it’d been. “Life
changing”, she whispered. “Last night was life changing.”

“Okaaay”, he drawled. “Is that a good thing or a bad
thing?”

“Good.
Definitely good
.”

Randall smiled for the first time since the conversation
began. The heavy mass that’d been pressing down on his chest since last night
eased a bit. But the biggest question of all still remained: Why had she fled?
“So last night was good for you?”

“Yes”, she breathed.

“Tell me what happened afterward. Why were you crying?”

“Because I… I’ve never been with anyone besides Jimmy.
And for a moment I just… panicked, I guess. It sort of felt like I’d betrayed
him.”

We did
.
Damn it
,
we both did
.

The fact didn’t sit well with him—and clearly it hadn’t
with Lana, either. But it was almost as if they were powerless to do anything
about it, like their attraction was too strong, the allure too spellbinding to
resist. “And what about now, huh? How do you feel now?” he asked as he palmed
the side of her face, his thumb gently brushing over her cheek.

“I still want you”, she uttered just above a whisper.
“God knows I shouldn’t, but I do.”

With a groan Randall gave in to temptation, pressing his
mouth against her soft pink lips. He kissed her like he meant it—like she meant
something to him.

Because she did.

Lana had become the single most important thing in his
life. She was his beacon in the dark, his guiding light.

You should stop
.
Do the right thing
.
Walk away
.

Lana released a breathy moan when their tongues collided.
The sound went directly south to his groin, instantly silencing his conscience.
Hauling her onto his lap, he gripped her hips, grinding her core against his
already hard cock, allowing her to feel just how much he wanted her, too.

Lana tore her mouth away, gazing at him through hooded
eyes. “How are we going to do this?”

“Any way you want, Sweetheart”, he uttered, his voice low
and gritty. “From behind. Against the wall—hell, right here.” Randall placed
his lips against the hollow of her throat, releasing a groan when she tilted
her head back, allowing him better access.

“No—I meant us.” Palming the sides of his face with both
hands, she drew him away from her neck and looked into his eyes. “How do we do
us?
Is there an us
?” She asked with uncertainty.

“There’s definitely an
us
. Definitely…” Randall
nipped her bottom lip with his teeth, then laved the succulent flesh with his
tongue. Her half-moan/half-sigh threatened his self-control. He’d spent the
better part of the last twenty-two hours replaying that sexy sound in his head,
wondering if he’d ever be privileged enough to hear it again. It was even
better than he remembered. The soft, breathy whimper signified that Lana was
losing the battle against her self-restraint, too—that her mind and body were
both in tune, coexisting in harmony, both focused on one common goal.

Him.

With a deep guttural groan, Randall swept his tongue
between her lips as though her kiss was his only lifeline, desperately clinging
to the safe haven her body provided. A sudden burst of hissing wind rushed
past, vigorously thrashing the leaves on the oak canopy. Lana’s long brown
locks surrounded him like a veil of dark silk as bamboo wind chimes clanked and
crickets serenaded.

It was then something strange took hold of him—an odd
sensation, really. It was like a cold shiver, raising the hair on the back of
his neck, followed by a kick of adrenaline. The fight or flight response caused
his hands to shake, his heart to quicken.

And with good reason, too. Because the splintering crack
of wood snapping, followed by a thunderous crash as the solid oak limb fell to
the earth caused his already jittery body to jump.

“Omigod!” Lana gasped. “What was that?” Glancing over her
shoulder, she quickly climbed off Randall’s lap, covering her moistened mouth
with her hands. “Omigod, Randall—Connor was standing underneath that tree a
half-hour ago! What if… what if he’d—”

“Don’t”, Randall uttered as he stood, gathering her in
his arms as much for her comfort as his own. “You can’t think like that.”

“I’m a mother—I have to think like that! If he’d been
standing there, he would’ve… he could have…” Lana closed her eyes. “I can’t
lose someone else I love, Randall. I’m not strong enough.”

Nuzzling his face in her hair, he squeezed her tight,
breathing her in. “I’m off tomorrow. If you can push a permit through first
thing tomorrow morning, I’ll start cutting it down.” Randall felt her subtle
nod against his shoulder. If that’s what it took to put her mind at ease he’d
gladly do it.

He owed her that much.

Eyes tracking the mass of oak, overflowing with prosperous
green leaves, Randall got that strange feeling again. He didn’t believe in
ghosts, but he was beginning to think maybe something—or rather,
someone
—was
trying to send him a message.

I’m sorry
,
Jimmy
.
So damn sorry
…