“But of course it does…” His jaw dropped. “You mean you still can’t drive a standard?”
“No.”
“You’re kidding!” Kit exclaimed.
Julie glared at her. “You mean you can?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.” Kit looked very smug. “Monty taught me.” Monty was Kit’s absent husband.
“Then you can teach me.”
“Okay…but not this week. I’m working split shifts at Clearwater Regional so I’ll be out more than in.”
Julie just shook her head. How Kit, who worked as a relief nurse all over town, ever kept her complicated schedule straight Julie just didn’t know.
“I can teach you,” Don said.
“When?” Julie demanded.
“Whenever you want,” he replied. Then he frowned. “Except…It’s officially Saturday, isn’t it? I’ve got top salesmen arriving around nine a.m. I have to pick them up and get them settled at their hotels. Actually, I guess I’ll pretty much have to entertain them during the day until next Sunday.”
“You mean neither of you can help me before next weekend?” Julie heaved a heartfelt sigh of disappointment.
“Maybe Dad would show you how,” Kit suggested.
“I’m sure he would,” Julie replied. “I’m also sure neither of us would survive the experience.” She well remembered another driving lesson—back when she was a teenager yearning for a license. Apparently Kit remembered it, too, for she winced.
“Why don’t we go inside and ask for a volunteer?” Don asked. “Surely one of our guests would be willing to take you on.”
“No!” Julie replied, so loudly that her brother jumped. “If you so much as hint to those people I can’t drive this car you are a dead man, understand?”
Eyes twinkling, Don nodded.
“I have some time on my hands,” Tyler said. “I’ll teach you.”
Julie’s heart somersaulted at the unexpected suggestion. “No thanks—”
“But that’s a great idea,” Don argued, cutting off her refusal.
“Yeah, great,” Kit echoed with enthusiasm. Clearly both of them thought Tyler’s idea the perfect solution.
Unfortunately, Julie didn’t. Her gaze locked with Tyler’s. She noted that a hint of a smile—no doubt of triumph—now turned up the corners of his mouth.
“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” she murmured, vastly irritated. She opened the car door and stepped out on the pavement.
“You don’t have to ask,” Tyler replied. “I’ve already volunteered.”
“That’s very generous, but I—” Julie broke off, suddenly aware of Don’s and Kit’s puzzled frowns. They didn’t understand her dilemma—never would, unless she told them everything. Julie had no intention of admitting she’d never gotten over that two seconds’ worth of foreplay eight years ago.
So why not keep things simple and accept his offer? Julie asked herself. A possible argument sprang to mind immediately: she didn’t want to spend a single moment alone with Tyler. Didn’t want to hear the explanation or the apology that would justify what he’d done back then and eliminate all excuses not to fall for him again.
Not that she really would…
Although deadly attractive with those chiseled features and that rugged jawline, Tyler Jordan was undoubtedly as much of a daredevil as ever and, therefore, totally incompatible to her current goals of marriage to a rock-solid man and lots of babies. Ignorance of what she really wanted had contributed to her devastation when he left so abruptly all those years ago. Inexperience then exaggerated the impact of the encounter, etching it so indelibly on her brain.
Or perhaps the problem was the nature of their parting. He was unfinished business for sure. As for her physical reaction to him now…a momentary lapse, nothing more.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Julie therefore asked, adding a sweet smile. “I mean…you did come to the mountains to ski.”
“I’ll still have time for that.” He returned her smile, revealing teeth that flashed gypsy white against his naturally bronze-toned skin.
Julie gulped at the sight and wondered briefly if she hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of her life. Then she gave herself a mental kick in the backside. They would only be together an hour, maybe two at the most. She could keep her hands to herself for that long— would have to if she intended to shift gears and steer. “All right then. How about later this morning, after we sleep off the party?”
“Fine with me,” he replied, cheerfully adding, “And don’t you worry. After a week or so of lessons, you’ll be a pro. I guarantee it.”
A glass-domed anniversary clock on the mantel chimed the time—3:00 a.m. Tyler Jordan, a volunteer member of the clean-up crew, worked his way through the living room, picking up abandoned paper plates and disposable plastic cups to toss into a trash bag. He battled with his conscience, knowing full well that Julie wanted him to leave, but reluctant to do so until he explained his behavior all those years ago.
So what if she’d already told him she didn’t care why he ran away? Her body language said she lied, and even if she spoke the truth, he needed to say his piece. Tyler hated unfinished business. This was definitely that— and the only reason he’d abandoned his ski plans so abruptly when he’d run into Don at the gas station.
Don’s news that Julie was now widowed had nothing to do with anything. It was the birthday party and the fact that Julie lived with her dad again that cinched the impulsive decision to drop by. When presented with the perfect opportunity to right old wrongs, Tyler had made the most of it. Any man with scruples would, and heaven knew he could claim more than his share of those—the very reason he’d landed himself in this mess.
“I’m on my way out to the trash barrel. Want me to take that for you?” Don reached for the bag Tyler held. “This was the last bag in the box, but I think there are more in the pantry. Go ask Julie.”
With a glance around the still-littered room, Tyler nodded and made a beeline to the kitchen, hoping to catch Don’s sister alone. If they could talk now, he wouldn’t have to sleep over. Contrary to what he’d told her brother, Tyler did have accommodations for tonight—a motel room he’d already put on his credit card and would have to pay for whether or not he utilized it. Fairly certain he wasn’t welcome at the Newman house—at least by Julie—Tyler preferred utilizing it.
Worse, he’d paid a hefty entrance fee for a downhill skiing competition on a slope the locals had dubbed GR—Grim Reaper. Tyler planned to win the race and add another trophy to his growing collection.
A push on the swing door later, Tyler stepped into the kitchen, painted bright yellow and trimmed in blue gingham. Julie stood alone with the dishwasher she loaded. Since she didn’t look up when he entered, he paused for a moment to study her, just as he’d done eight years ago.
The years had been kind. She was almost the same size as when a teen, though a little more filled out, as mature women usually are. Her brunette hair hung to just below her shoulders, slightly curled on the ends and gleaming reddish in the light. And though she had her back to him, he knew feathery bangs framed her oval face.
For just a second Tyler closed his eyes and pictured that girl-next-door