Kelly Jamieson - Faceoff

“You should get changed,” Jenn said. “Do you want one of the boys to carry you in the house?”

“‘The boys’.” Kyla smiled, sitting up straight. “No, I think I can walk, Mom.”

But when she stood, she put out a hand to steady herself. Tag shook his head and moved toward her.

“No,” she said. “I can walk.” Her voice came out thready.

“Stubborn,” he muttered. “Let me at least help you.” He set a hand on the small of her back and guided her through sliding doors into the cottage. She crossed the spacious living area, a combination of living room, dining room and kitchen, toward a hall that led to the four bedrooms.

“I assume I’m in my usual room,” she murmured.

Her mother spoke from behind Tag. “Yes, but Emily’s staying in there,” she said. “We didn’t know you were coming. But Emily loves the top bunk, so you can have the bottom one.”

“That’s fine.”

In the room she sank down onto the bed and lifted a shaky hand to her hair. She met Tag’s eyes and grimaced. “Still feeling a little dizzy,” she admitted.

“I’ll go get your suitcase.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

Leaving the two women, he strode back outside and grabbed the case still sitting on the grass. The others out on the deck were all having a low conversation about what had just happened. “She works too damn hard,” Michael muttered.

“Yes,” Greg sighed.

Tag gave a grim nod and returned inside with the case. “Here you go,” he said. “Where would you like it?”

“Oh. I don’t know.” She gestured vaguely. The bedroom wasn’t large and Emily’s things occupied a good deal of the space. “On the floor over there.”

“I’ll let you change, honey,” Jenn said “Maybe you want to stay here and have a nap or something?”

“No. I didn’t come to sleep,” Kyla said with a frown. “I’m fine, Mom.”

“Okay.” Jenn backed out of the room with her forehead wrinkled.

Tag started toward the door too, then paused. He glanced out the door to make sure Jenn was gone, then turned back to Kyla. “What’s going on, Mac?” he asked. “Are you pregnant?”

Kyla gaped at Tag, there in her bedroom, a small bedroom that he seemed to fill with his large presence. Her heart picked up speed yet again and this time it wasn’t the panic attack. It was him.

“No. I’m not pregnant!” she whispered, glancing at the door. God, what if Mom heard that? She’d really freak out.

As if she could be pregnant! She hadn’t even been on a date in months. She rolled her eyes, but that made her head hurt and she groaned.

“What is it then?” he asked. “Your family seems to think you work too much.”

“Okay. Yeah. I do. Everybody should just get over it. I’m fine.”

His eyebrows rose. She sighed. She’d sounded like a real bitch.

“Sorry,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead.

“What’s wrong, Kyla? Are you sick?” His eyebrows now drew down above his strong nose. She immediately knew what he was thinking—her mom had just had cancer.

“No, I’m not sick.” She softened her tone. She couldn’t let him think something like that. “I…I’ve been having panic attacks.”

She hated confessing that to him. Panic attacks were for fragile wimps who couldn’t deal with life. The first two times she’d had one, she’d thought she had heart problems and it had scared her enough to go to the doctor. When the doctor had told her it was a panic attack, she’d been insulted. But apparently that’s what it was. She gave her head a disgusted shake. “I can’t seem to help it. They come even at times when I don’t feel stressed. I was all happy to come up here and see everyone and I get all the way here, and bam.”

“Huh. Panic attack.”

“Don’t tell my parents!” She glared at him. “They don’t need to know that.”

His lips lifted into a small smile. “Okay. I won’t tell them. Sounds like you need this holiday though.”

“Yeah. Maybe. Hell, I don’t know.” She pushed her hair back. Had she done the right thing by taking off for a week? Maybe she’d overreacted to the delayed decision. Maybe this was a mistake. She should be there at the office Monday morning. She should have brought that work with her.

Her lungs started seizing up again and she forced herself to take slow, deep breaths.

Tag moved closer. “You okay?”

“Yes,” she wheezed. “Damn.”

“Maybe you should lie down.”

He didn’t have to convince her. Her head spun in woozy circles. She lowered herself to the pillow and stared up at the top bunk.

“This is so stupid,” she muttered.

“You can’t help it.”

“I feel like I should be able to.”

She jumped a little at the touch of hands on her ankles. Tag was slipping her flip-flops off, the ones she’d exchanged her high-heeled pumps for at her condo even though they looked silly with business clothes. His fingers lingered on her feet for a few seconds and her skin tingled there.

“What can I get for you? More water? Maybe a stiff drink?”

She huffed out a laugh. “I almost feel like I’m drunk. I don’t think a drink is a good idea. Oh man.” She closed her eyes. “You go on back out with the others. I’ll just lie here for a while.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” She heard his heavy footsteps walking out and tried to relax. Holy hell, she hadn’t expected to react so strongly to seeing him again. She blew out a long slow breath. He was still so gorgeous. Still so freakin’ big and muscular. Still had that wide sexy smile that tied her insides in knots and melted her panties.

She drifted a little, eyes closed. Memories floated through her head, memories of Tag, of those hot summers they’d spent at the lake. He’d been her favorite of the Heller boys, although she’d liked them all. They’d all been like brothers to her, teasing her and torturing her as brothers do, including her own, but then one summer Tag had suddenly seemed all grown up. They’d all been big, physically mature at an early age, but it seemed like overnight Tag went from being a bossy big brother to…holy crap, a hot guy.

It was funny how that had never happened with the others, maybe because they were younger than her. Logan was ten years younger, he’d always been the baby. Even though now he was six foot three just like the rest of them, maybe even taller. But Jase was only a year younger than her and although he and Tag looked so much alike, she’d never had burning lustful thoughts about Jase.

Just Tag. She gave a pleasant little sigh and rolled onto her side, burying her face in the pillow.

She awoke later, throbbing between her legs. Omigod, she’d been having a sex dream, a really hot one. She slipped her hands between her legs. She’d been so close to coming, in her sleep. That hadn’t happened for a while. She’d been dreaming about Tag, she knew it, even though the dream was rapidly receding into a nebulous haze, the details vague. She wanted to go back to sleep and finish it and have the orgasm she’d been so close to. Damn!

But she was awake now. It all flooded back, the embarrassment of fainting outside and having Tag carry her up onto the deck. Heat slid over her body and she rolled to her back on the bed. God, she hated appearing weak. Collapsing like that just as she arrived was her worst freaking nightmare. Well, okay, it would’ve been worse if it had happened as she was walking into a business meeting.

Someone had closed the bedroom door at some point and she blinked into the darkness. She heard faint noises, conversation, laughter, music. The scent of steaks on the barbecue teased her senses and made her stomach rumble. She laid a hand there. When had she last eaten? She’d told her mom she had, but that Tim Horton’s coffee and sour cream donut had been at…ten o’clock that morning. Gad, she was starving.

She sat up carefully, waiting for the wave of dizziness. But none came. She blinked into the dim room, then swung her legs over the side of the bed and eased her head out from beneath the top bunk.

She actually felt okay. Hungry, but okay.

She flicked the light on and found her suitcase, smiling at the Rapunzel doll, Cinderella’s castle and Minnie Mouse beach towel on the floor. She pulled out a pair of knee-length shorts and a T-shirt and quickly changed, grimacing at the wrinkles in her blouse. Ah, who cared. She crumpled it into a ball and shoved it into a corner of the case.

She checked the mirror before leaving, swiped her fingers over the smudges of mascara beneath her eyes, then dragged a brush through her hair. Okay. Presentable. Somewhat.

She followed the smell of food and voices back out onto the deck. The sun was just setting across the lake, sending shimmering rose and peach over the surface of the water and tinting the clouds. The trees down by the beach were dark silhouettes against the evening sky. She inhaled the fresh air as she stepped outside, cooler now, but still at least twenty-two degrees.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Michael called, spotting her. “You’re up.”

“Yeah. I guess I fell asleep.”

She greeted everyone, this time properly, with hugs for Scott and Jessica and Logan and Matt and Jase. And Tag. As they moved closer, every nerve ending in her body went on sizzling alert. After that sex dream, she was hyperaware of him and his big, muscular body, his easy, sexy smile. She gave him a barely touching hug and an embarrassed smile.

“You look better,” he murmured. “Must’ve been a reaction to seeing me again. I have that effect on women.”

Her eyes flew open and met his, which held a teasing glint. “As if,” she said, rolling her eyes. He grinned.

Jase introduced her to his girlfriend, a tiny little blonde named Remi. And Kyla got to hold her new nephew, Caleb, though he was sleeping. She gently rocked him in her arms as she smiled and talked to the others.

“Sorry about the drama,” she said. “I don’t know what happened. I guess I needed that little nap.”

“Are you hungry, hon?” Mom asked. “I’ll get you a plate. We just finished, but there’s lots of food left.”

“I’m starving,” she said, smiling down at Caleb, admiring his delicate lips, blue-veined eyelids and long eyelashes. “He’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah,” Scott said. “He looks like me.”

Kyla snorted. “That is totally Jessica’s nose. Thank god.”

Scott grinned.

Kyla returned Caleb to his mother so she could take the plate of food from her mom, then sat down, setting the plate on her lap. She dug into a small steak, potatoes that had been cooked in foil with onions and garlic, grilled veggies and a salad dressed in tangy vinaigrette. “This is so good,” she moaned. She looked up. “Is there any wine?”

“Is there any wine,” Michael said. “Har. What would you like? Red? White? Chardonnay? Sauvignon blanc? Zinfandel?”

Kyla grinned. “Zinfandel sounds lovely.”

A glass arrived and she set it on the wide arm of the wooden chair in which she sat. Little white lights twinkled in the tree near the deck as twilight descended. Crickets chirruped in the shrubs. A shout and a splash from one of the neighboring cottages reached their ears. Someone taking a late night dip in the lake.

“Tomorrow we’re having a beach volleyball tournament,” Logan said. “You in, Kyla?”

She caught the amusement in his eye. He was thinking about all the times she’d tried to play with them—volleyball, baseball, golf, you name it—and how hopeless she had been. “Sure,” she said, tossing her hair back. She effing hated volleyball. No matter what she did, she could not coordinate things between her hands and arms and the damn ball. It never went where it was supposed to.

“Maybe you should take it easy tomorrow,” Mom said, giving her an out.

She shrugged and cut another piece of steak. “Maybe.”

She finished her meal, eating everything on her plate. She could’ve eaten more. Must be the fresh lake air giving her an appetite.

“Seconds?” Tag asked, leaning on the deck rail beside her, holding a beer loosely in his long fingers. “Or dessert?”

“There’s dessert?”

He laughed. “My mom brought chocolate chip cookies and a couple of apple pies and ice cream. I think there’s some left.”

“Mmm. Sounds good.” She started to rise and he held out a hand.

“Give me your plate. I’ll go get you dessert. What do you want―pie or a cookie?”

She grinned up at him, handing him her plate. “Both.”

“All right.” He sound approving. He strode into the cottage with easy familiarity. They’d practically lived at each other’s cottages, their parents taking turns hosting dinners and game nights, the boys having sleepovers. She watched his back, broad and muscular in a snug T-shirt, her gaze tracking down to his ass in a pair of beige cargo shorts. He had a great ass, muscular enough to grab onto, but not a big bubble butt.