Thunder Canyon Homecoming Page 3

  She lifted a shoulder. “Because I didn’t really do anything that required thanks.”

  “You were—are—her friend.”

  “And she’s mine.”

  He nodded. “But why—”

  Someone nudged his shoulder.

  He scowled and turned, an irritated retort on the tip of his lips until he saw that it was his cousin Dax.

  “Come on, Cor. We’ve got bottles of champagne ready to toast the bride and groom.”

  “And I’ve got a beautiful woman in my arms,” Corey pointed out to his cousin.

  “I’m not suggesting you let go of her,” Dax said and winked at Erin. “Bring her along.”

  And that was how she ended up with Corey at a table where his friends and family were gathered.

  During the time she’d been in Thunder Canyon, she’d already met most of the others at the table. The Traubs—Dax and Shandie, DJ and Allaire, and the Cates—Marshall and Mia—now back from their vacation, Mitchell and Lizabeth, Marlon and Haley and Marlon’s twin brother, Matt. Erin realized that Matt Cates was the only one not married or engaged, though he had brought Christine Mayhew as his date. Her boss, Grant Clifton, was also there with his wife, Stephanie, and Grant’s best friend, Russ Chilton, was in attendance with his spouse, Melanie. Erin had met the rest of the groom’s family at the rehearsal, but other than the parents—Claudia and Peter—she didn’t remember any of their names, and she was grateful when Corey repeated the introduction of his brothers, Ethan, Jason and Jackson, and his sister, Rose.

  Erin hovered on the periphery as glasses of champagne were passed around, thinking that she might be able to sneak away. But Corey kept an arm around her shoulders, making it clear that he had no intention of letting her go. So she stayed beside him as toasts were made and glasses refilled, and she found herself following the various conversations with avid curiosity.

  When conversation shifted to the Thanksgiving holiday, only a few weeks away, Grant remarked that he expected his mother and his sister would both return to Thunder Canyon for the occasion.

  “It’s been a long time since Elise has been in town for her birthday,” Grant said. “So I’m planning a surprise party for her while she’s here.”

  “How old is she going to be?” Erin asked.

  “Twenty-six,” her boss replied. “On the twentieth.”

  Erin paused with her glass of champagne halfway to her lips.

  Her twenty-sixth birthday was on the twentieth, too.

  It was probably nothing more than a coincidence, but a sudden startling thought occurred to her. All this time she’d been looking for a man who might have had an affair with her mother, but maybe aunt Erma had been referring to something completely different.

  Erin lowered her hand and focused her attention more intently on her boss, noticing—for the first time—that his eyes were the same blue color as her own. And that his hair was dark blond, also similar to her own. She shook her head, as if to rid it of the fanciful imaginings. But the questions that had rooted in her mind wouldn’t be easily dismissed.

  “I haven’t seen Elise since high school,” Matt remarked. “I’m not even sure if I would recognize her.”

  “I’m sure you would.” Grant reached into his back pocket for his wallet. “She hasn’t changed much.”

  Erin, who had been wondering how to ask Grant if he had any pictures of his sister, leaned closer as her boss tugged a photo out from its holder and slid it across the table toward Matt.

  “This was taken last summer,” Grant told the other man.

  Matt leaned closer to look at the photo, and Erin did, too.

  “You’re right,” Matt said. “In fact, she hasn’t changed at all.”

  Erin’s first thought was that Grant’s sister was an attractive woman—her blond hair was worn in a pageboy style that brushed her shoulders and she had pretty blue eyes and an innocence about her that made her appear younger than her years. Her second thought was that Elise didn’t look much like her brother. In fact, the shape of her eyes and her chin was more like that of her own brothers, Jake and Josh.

  She pulled back, her stomach suddenly churning, her heart pounding. The conversation continued around her, but she didn’t hear a word of it. She couldn’t think of anything but that picture of Elise.

  “More champagne?”

  “What?”

  Corey held the bottle of champagne over her glass. Erin shook her head and set her glass on the table. “I, um, I need to get some air,” she said, and slipped away from him and toward the exit.

  She hadn’t expected that he would follow her, but she’d only just pushed through the doors and barely registered the cold November wind on her bare shoulders before they were covered.

  “You shouldn’t be out here without a coat,” Corey said, draping his tuxedo jacket around her.

  “Now you are,” she told him.

  “I’m not wearing a sleeveless dress.”

  Her lips curved, just a little, at the thought of the all-too-masculine Texan in any kind of dress, and she slipped her arms into the sleeves of his jacket.

  She could feel the heat from his body, smell the scent of his skin, and the quivering that reverberated low in her belly was almost enough to take her mind off of the kaleidoscopic thoughts swirling in her mind.

  Twenty-six years earlier, on November twentieth, she’d been born in Thunder Canyon. Elise Clifton had been born on the same day in the same town. And Elise looked a lot like Erin’s brothers—certainly more than she resembled Grant. Which made Erin wonder—was it possible that the hospital had somehow mixed up the two babies? Was it possible that the man she knew as her boss could be her biological brother?

  “Erin?” Corey frowned and touched a hand to her cheek. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”

  “Actually, I’m not feeling all that good,” she told him. “I think I’d better call a cab and head home.”

  “I’ll give you a ride, if you’re sure you’re ready to go.”

  “I am,” she told him. “But you don’t have to—”

  “I’ll take you home,” he insisted.

  Because he’d had a couple of beers earlier in the evening and knew he would be driving, Corey had barely touched his own glass of champagne. He didn’t think Erin’s had been refilled more than once, but she was obviously feeling the effects of the bubbly, and because he’d been the one who refilled her glass, he felt responsible and was determined to ensure she got home safely.

  As they waited for the valet to bring his truck around, he noticed that some of the color had returned to her cheeks. Or maybe they were just pink from the cold. In either case, she didn’t really look intoxicated. Her words weren’t slurred and her steps weren’t unsteady, but her eyes were a little glassy and, even with his jacket on, she was shivering uncontrollably.

  He settled her in the passenger seat and immediately cranked up the heat. After a few minutes, her teeth stopped chattering but she kept her arms folded across her chest and continued to stare straight ahead out the window.

  She was quiet during the short drive to her condo on the outside boundary of the resort property, only speaking when it was necessary to tell him to turn left or right. He kept stealing cautious glances at her, hoping for some clue as to how she was feeling, but neither her posture nor her expression gave anything away.

  He’d been talking to DJ and Allaire and hadn’t really paid attention to any of the other conversations. She’d been chatting with Grant and Matt, and he wondered now if either of those men had inadvertently said something that might have upset her. If so, no one else in the group seemed to have picked up on anything that might have caused her distress. Because the more Corey thought about it, the more convinced he was that Erin wasn’t drunk—she was upset.

  But whatever was on her mind, her silence clearly indicated that she had no intention of talking about it. Not with him, anyway.

  “Right here,” she said.

  He pulled into a n
arrow driveway, behind a dark-green Kia, and turned off the engine.

  “Thanks for the ride,” she said, reaching for the handle before Corey could come around to help her out.

  “I’ll see you to your door,” he told her.

  “That’s really not necessary.”

  “Necessary or not,” he said, falling into step beside her, “my mama would never forgive me if I left without making sure that you were safely inside.”

  “Okay, you walked me to my door,” she said, stopping under the porch light. “Now your mother can hold her head up, confident she raised her boys right, and you can go.”

  “Not just yet,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine.”

  She did look better, as if the effects of the champagne had already dissipated. If the champagne had truly been the reason for her abrupt departure.

  “No nausea? No dizziness?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine,” she said again. “Really. It was probably just too warm in the ballroom and once I got out into the fresh air, my head cleared.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.” She smiled up at him, and though the smile didn’t quite erase the shadows in her eyes, it made him forget his concerns and remember how much he wanted to kiss her.

  “Good,” he said and lowered his head to taste the sweet curve of her lips.

  It was a testament to how preoccupied Erin’s thoughts were that she didn’t anticipate his kiss.

  She’d been kissed plenty of times before, and she knew how to read the signs and signals that usually led to the first touch of lips on lips—and how to dodge that touch if she wanted to.

  Not that she wanted to dodge Corey’s kiss. In fact, she’d spent an inordinate amount of time wondering what it would feel like to be kissed by him. She’d wondered if the same spark and sizzle she felt when he looked at her would translate through actual physical contact…or if the anticipation of his kiss would be more exciting than the actual event.

  No worries there, she thought, as his lips brushed against hers again, sending tremors of longing through her body.

  He kissed the way he talked—softly and smoothly, as if he had all the time in the world. And as if he intended to spend all of that time just kissing her.

  His hands skimmed up her back and, even through the fabric of the jacket she still wore, she could feel the heat of his fingertips tracing the ridges of her spine. Then his hands moved across her shoulders and down her arms.

  The keys that she held slipped from her fingers and crashed to the ground.

  Erin didn’t even notice.

  She was far too busy enjoying the slow, sensual assault on her mouth.

  His tongue slid between her lips, licked lazily.

  There was nothing leisurely or casual about her body’s response.

  Each flick and flutter of his tongue shot flame-tipped arrows of heat and hunger spearing toward her center. Every careful and unhurried pass of his hands made her blood pulse and pound.

  She moved against him, and both the tempo and intensity of the kiss changed.

  He drew her closer, his arms wrapped around her tighter, he kissed her deeper.

  Erin felt her own arms glide up his chest, her hands sliding over impressive pecs and broad, hard shoulders to link behind his neck. He was so big, so strong, so wholly and undeniably male.

  And her response was completely and helplessly female.

  She shuddered and melted against him.

  Corey groaned into her mouth and delved deeper.

  Yeah, she’d been kissed before. But never like this. In her experience, most men approached kissing as nothing more than a brief prelude to the main event, but not Corey Traub. His kisses were worthy of top billing. He kissed her as if she was the object of all desire and the source of all pleasure, and as if he never wanted to stop.

  And Erin never wanted him to stop.

  But just when Erin was about to throw all common sense and caution to the wind and drag Corey inside with her, he eased away.

  “I think I should say good-night now, before I forget that my mama raised me to be a gentleman,” he said.

  She should have been grateful he’d backed off. She didn’t know him nearly well enough to even kiss him the way she’d kissed him, never mind indulge in any of the other erotic fantasies her mind had conjured up while he’d been seducing her with his skillfully creative mouth and his dangerously talented hands.

  He bent to scoop up the keys she’d dropped and put them in her hand, curling her fingers around them.

  His other hand lifted to her face, his fingertips skimming lightly over the swollen curve of her bottom lip.

  The gentle touch set off bursts of erotic tingles that warned her to put some distance between them before she urged him to forget his mother’s teachings.

  “Good night,” she said softly.

  He stepped back, and Erin fumbled with the keys in her hand for a moment before she found the right one for the door. She fumbled some more fitting it into the lock, but then the bolt released with a click.

  Corey didn’t say anything else, but he waited on the step until she’d slipped inside and locked the door again, then he turned away.

  Erin watched from the window as he walked back to his car and reminded herself that she’d done the right thing, the smart thing, in letting him go. There was too much uncertainty in her life to consider any kind of personal involvement right now.

  But that knowledge didn’t stop her from wishing otherwise.

  Chapter Three

  It was a kiss, Corey reminded himself—for the umpteenth time—as he got dressed the next morning.

  Yeah, it had been pretty spectacular as far as kisses go, but it was still just a kiss. Certainly there wasn’t any reason for him to have lain awake into the wee hours of the morning thinking about that kiss—and the woman he’d shared it with.

  But the truth was, even before they’d shared that one scorching kiss, he’d been haunted by thoughts of Erin Castro.

  Thoughts of wanting to kiss Erin Castro.

  He shook his head as he tugged on his jeans.

  He didn’t know what it was about the woman that had gotten under his skin. Sure, she was attractive in a classic blue-eyed, blond-haired, porcelain-skinned, soft curves sort of way.

  Okay, more than attractive. He hadn’t been giving her a line when they were dancing and he’d told her she was the most beautiful woman at the wedding because from the first moment he’d set eyes on her, he hadn’t seen anyone else.

  And now that he had kissed her, now that he’d tasted the sweet seductive flavor that was hers alone, he worried that he’d made a mistake. Because now he wanted more.

  Cursing himself for his weakness, he picked up his phone and dialed the number he’d obtained from directory assistance. She answered on the third ring.

  “Hey, Erin, it’s Corey.”

  “Corey?” She sounded distracted, as if he’d caught her in the middle of something. Or maybe as if she didn’t recognize the name.

  He was frowning over that possibility when she spoke again.

  “Oh, Dillon’s brother. Hi.”

  Dillon’s brother?

  That was how she thought of him? How about the man who’d taken her home the night before? The man who’d kissed her breathless and continued to kiss her until they’d both wanted a lot more?

  But of course he didn’t ask any of those questions. He didn’t want her to confirm that he’d thought about her a lot more than she’d thought about him.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t make the connection right away,” she said. “I just—you caught me when my mind was wandering.”

  “Is this a bad time?”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t think so?” he prompted.

  “Well, I guess that depends on why you’re calling,” she said.

  “Partly just to find out how you’re doing.”

  “I’m fi
ne.”

  “You said you had too much champagne last night, so I wanted to make sure you weren’t suffering any lingering effects today.”

  “Champagne. Right. Well, that certainly explains the…uh…”

  She faltered, and he suspected that she was thinking about that kiss again. Or maybe he just wanted to believe she was thinking about it because he was.

  “…the headache I had this morning,” she continued. “But I took a couple of aspirin with breakfast and I’m fine now.”

  “Good,” he said, even while silently wishing he could rid himself of the residual effects of the night so easily. But he suspected that the only thing that could cure his craving for Erin was Erin herself.

  “And since you’ve already had breakfast—which was the other reason I was calling—why don’t you let me take you to lunch?”

  “Lunch?”

  “You know—the meal usually served in the middle of the day,” he teased.

  “Yes, I do know what lunch is,” she assured him. “I’m just not sure I understand why you’re inviting me to have lunch with you.”

  “Because I don’t like to eat alone. And because I really enjoyed spending time with you last night and I’d like to get to know you better.”

  Erin was tempted—too tempted—to jump at his invitation. And not just because she knew he would be able to distract her from the questions that had been pounding inside of her head since she’d seen that picture of Grant Clifton’s sister the night before. Unfortunately, all of the reasons that Corey would be such a great distraction were the same reasons that she had to refuse. Because she was far too attracted to the man, because she couldn’t think of anything else when he was near and because she could very well end up with her heart broken when he went back to Texas.

  So instead of accepting, she said, “I’m afraid I may have given you the wrong impression last night.”

  There was a pause, as if he was surprised by her response. And he probably was because she’d no doubt given him the impression of a wild, willing woman who wanted to gobble him up in big, greedy bites.

  And the impression wasn’t really wrong, but it was misleading because nothing like that was going to happen between them. She couldn’t let things move in that direction with him while her life was veering off course in so many other ways.