desire. "You know I'm not," she said, hoping to hurry him along. "Eight years ago you and I..."
He froze. "Damn it!" His hand left his jeans and he smacked himself on the forehead. "God damn it."
A chill washed over Kitty's heated skin. "W-what?"
He looked down at her, his expression savage, but no longer savage with desire. "What the hell are we doing? What the hell am I doing?"
Kitty slowly sat up. Without thinking, she pulled at the straps of her overalls and slid her arms through them, so that its bib covered her nakedness. "Well, um..."
He pointed an accusing finger at her. "Don't answer that. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to be tempted. Shit."
With vicious splashes, he waded out of the creek, then turned back, glaring at her from the other side. "You stay away from me. Eight years ago you were trouble I didn't see coming. I'm not going to let it happen again.
He kicked at the water, droplets arching into the sky, then falling like shooting stars. "Damn, damn, damn. I don't have a condom on me and I can't even say for sure that would have stopped me." With one more smack to his forehead, he was gone, though she could still hear him thrashing and cursing as he headed for the road.
She followed more slowly, desire still throbbing in her body. It took her a couple of minutes to find her sandals - they'd been flung into the creek in two different directions - and then she had to pick her way back carefully in her bare feet, holding her dripping sandals in one hand.
Just over a week ago she'd ordered him never to kiss her again, yet she'd been dying to do that and more today. Begging.
Her face burning with embarrassment, she slowed her steps, giving him plenty of time to reach his motorcycle and leave.
Except that he hadn't left. Looking angry and as dissolute and desirable as ever, he was sitting sideways on the motorcycle seat, his legs stretched out in front of him. He kept his gaze on the sodden toes of his boots as she approached.
Her keys came flying through the air. She caught them in her free hand. "Thanks for fixing my car," she said, heat crawling up her neck again.
He grunted. He hesitated. He grunted again. "I'm sorry, Kitty. I don't blame you for what just happened. I shouldn't have made it sound like it was your fault."
But he should blame her. It was her fault. If she hadn't married them, really and truly married them eight years ago, he wouldn't be in Hot Water right now. She thought of his face when he'd seen the ruins of Alicia's impromptu memorial. There was no doubt he hadn't wanted to come back.
But then she thought of his touch on her body, of his smile when he'd teased her about her breasts. Oh, yes, he should blame her.
Because it was so darn hard to regret Dylan's return.
Slowly she opened the T-bird door and tossed her sandals onto the passenger seat. Obviously he wasn't going to leave until she did. Knowing Dylan, she figured he'd probably follow her back to town, just to make sure she and the new fan belt arrived safely.
The car started up just fine. She rolled down her window and looked at him. He was astride the motorcycle now and reaching for his helmet. Guilt gnawed at her. She owed him something - explanations - but some she couldn't make. This one, though, this one she could.
"Dylan."
"Yeah?" He flicked her a glance.
"I'm sorry about ... earlier. Of course it was partly my fault. A lot my fault."
"Kitty - "
"Let me finish." She stared out the T-bird's dusty windshield, trying to be as honest as she could. "The truth is - the truth is I don't remember that night eight years ago all that clearly. I told you about me and beer. So I ... I think today I just wanted to gather all those long-ago impressions and make them more ... real."
Confession made, she was so embarrassed she hit the gas and steered the T-bird into a spectacular U-turn that spit gravel in every direction. Now even more embarrassed, she didn't hesitate to press down on the accelerator again and head for home.
CHAPTER NINE
Samantha Wilder led the way into the kitchen of her small house behind Bum Luck. In one smooth movement, she pulled out a chair for Aunt Cat, then swept the white