Redwood Bend

Four



Katie laughed at what seemed like a perfect life shaping up. She’d had a great dinner with her brother last night—burgers on the grill with Leslie. She took her boys to the new Virgin River school, introduced them to Miss Timm, the teacher, and signed them up for the summer camp program. They needed at least one program to keep them busy, and to keep them from becoming bear food. She couldn’t watch them every second. Then she went back to her enchanted cabin in the woods and installed the newly purchased TV in the loft, hooking it up to the satellite dish. Then she changed her oil.

How sexy, she thought. Well, after a major trip, that was a good idea, and these were the kinds of things it was always hard to find time for. When she’d finished and used a cone to pour the oil into an empty plastic milk container for discarding, she relaxed on her porch with a soda. She drank it out of the can and put her feet up on the porch rail. A small shaft of sunlight on the porch warmed her bare legs; it was nice to finally be in shorts again. Summer in the mountains would be so much more comfortable than the hot, steamy summers of Sacramento had been.

The hood of the SUV was still up, the jug of oil sitting next to the oil-coated pan on the ground and she thought, I am seriously demented, because I consider this a flawless life. Time for everything. No rush. Someone else watching the boys for a while. Isolated in the woods, surrounded by the beauty of nature. In fact, if it hadn’t been marred by the growl of an engine, she would think she was in the Garden of Eden.

And then he drove his motorcycle right into her yard.

She didn’t move a muscle, but took a drink of her cola as he, hidden behind the dark visor of his helmet, revved his engine a couple of times.

Then he shut down and got off the bike, dragging off the helmet. She gave herself a lot of credit for not sharply inhaling at the shock of his good looks. He swaggered toward her, peeling off his gloves. He had that swagger thing down; it was probably due to the constriction of the tight jeans around his hips. She took another slow slug of the soda. “Lost?” she finally asked.

“Just checking out the back roads,” he answered. “Car trouble?”

“Nope. Everything’s fine.”

“You usually park with the hood up like that?”

“I just changed the oil,” she informed him. “Lots of miles on that car in the last few months. I just moved here from Vermont.”

He grinned at her and touched his cheek, indicating the oil on hers. “You might’a got a little on you, there.”

“Yeah?” she asked, returning the grin. “I’ll clean up later. I thought you left. I heard the gang pulled outta town.”

“The boys left,” he said, slapping his gloves into the palm of his hand and looking around her clearing. “I’m hanging out for a couple of days. Taking a closer look at this place. Interesting area.”

“Don’t you have a job?” she asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

“Right now this is my job,” he answered. “Don’t you have a job?”

She gave him that one, laughing. “Besides mothering five-year-old boys? Not yet,” she said, finally taking her feet off the rail and standing up. She tugged on her shorts; they’d been riding up. “Want a Coke?”

“Why not.” He shrugged.

“Can okay?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She disappeared into the cabin and was back in seconds with a cold can. She handed it to him and he studied it briefly. “Diet,” he finally said.

“Well, if I sat on a vibrating machine all day, I probably wouldn’t have to watch my weight, either. By the way, who pays you to do that? I might be interested in that job.”

He came up on the porch and casually took the second chair, propping his feet up on the rail as hers had been. He wore leather pointy-toed cowboy boots; she wore old beat-up tennis shoes with a little oil on them.

“I probably wasn’t clear. The bike was recreation while I was riding with my friends but it’s now transportation—I’m here on business.” He popped the top on the can and took a drink. He made a face.

She returned to her seat, put her feet back on the rail. “What kind of business?”

“Well…my friends and I have a small air charter operation in Montana. Very small. A little airport in the middle of a bunch of national parks, great hunting grounds and dude ranches that aren’t doing such a great business right now. People are a little too hard up for fancy vacations. So I’m checking out the area fixed base operations to see if there’s any opportunity around here.”

She sat up a little. “Really? You fly?”

He gave a nod. “I fly. Our airport is a long way from the big airports, so, sometimes people need a puddle jumper. Or a charter to a lodge or something.”

Genuinely interested, she turned and faced him. “Fun,” she said, smiling. “I’d love to do that. Fly planes. Or jump out of them. Fun.”

“Why don’t you?” he asked. Because it never occurred to Dylan that you didn’t pursue any old thing that came to mind.

She laughed indulgently. “Oh, gosh, a little busy, I guess. And my line of work never left a lot of disposable income for extras, like learning to fly or skydive or mountain climbing or…or a lot of things.”

“What line of work is that?” he asked, completely interested.

“Hmm,” she said, taking a drink of her soda. “Well, my dad owned a hardware store, in which I was working on Saturdays by the time I was eleven. By the time I was twenty and had a couple of years of college under my belt, both my parents were gone, and Conner and I were struggling to run the store. He made sure I stayed in school, but I worked as hard in that store as he did until I got married and moved away.”

“In a hardware store?” he asked. Then he gave a little laugh. “She changes tires and changes oil…”

“I do a lot of things. When the boys came along, Conner stuck me with paperwork. I was happier in the store, building things, helping customers learn how to build and repair things, but you know—a person can only do so much.” She whistled and shook her head. “Twins. Couldn’t be twin girls, right? I’m probably better off with boys, given that I enjoy team sports a lot more than things like ballet and origami.”

He looked into her eyes. “You were kind of busy, I guess.”

“I lost Charlie right before they were born,” she said. “If not for Conner, I don’t know what I would’ve done, so when he gets all big brother on me, I let it go. But from twenty-one to twenty-six I worked full-time in that store. I worked as hard as Conner and I did as much, too. I wasn’t some girlie girl who could only do the books. I trained to be a phys ed teacher, but we had a commitment to the store.”

Now, this business about losing Charlie, this brought Dylan upright. His feet came off the rail; he turned toward her, leaning his elbows on his knees and said, “If you don’t mind my asking about Charlie…”

“He was army. He was deployed, I was pregnant, he was killed on a mission, the details of which I’ll never know, and the boys never knew him. But I have medals and pictures and I try to be sure they know about their dad. He was a great guy. He was a hero. When they’re older, they’ll be proud of him.”

Dylan nearly blanched. The closest he would ever come to being that kind of hero would be playing one in a movie. “Army widow,” he said for lack of anything intelligent.

“Army widow.”

He cleared his throat. “And you can do all the guy chores because…”

She looked at him with dead seriousness. “My dad taught Conner and I all the mechanical and maintenance stuff. He was so proud of that—that he didn’t cut me out of the loop. That store was to be in the family for as long as we wanted it to be. And it was to be as much mine as Conner’s. You don’t get a bigger cut for being a boy.” Then she laughed and said, “My mother did none of that stuff, by the way. She was old-fashioned and not very stylish. She cooked and cleaned and tended kids. She could never have been a soccer or softball coach and I might’ve been such a disappointment to her—I pitched girl’s softball rather than sewing or learning to bake. But when I was fourteen she said, ‘Katie, never underestimate the power of red lipstick.’ From that point on I knew when their anniversary was because they went out to dinner alone and she put on the red lipstick.” And she laughed. “My parents were pretty boring,” she added. “But they were in love in their own way. I mean, come on,” she said with a lift of a brow. “Red lipstick! Priceless, right?”

Dylan was transfixed by the smile, the laughter. How did she do that? Talk about dead people, people who had ultimately let her down, even though not by choice, and laugh with such beauty? He wanted that mouth....

“What?” she asked, studying his expression.

“That must have been hard. Losing your parents when you were young.”

She sat forward and her expression became serious. “Everyone I lost, I lost young,” she said.

He was quiet for a minute and then said, “We have that in common.”

She relaxed back in her chair, waiting.

“My dad died in a car crash when I was twelve. My best friend when I was fifteen.”

“Wow. I’m sorry. I should’ve known there was something that linked us. We kind of connected the first time we looked at each other.”

Suddenly his grin was enormous and his eyes twinkled and she remembered the wet T-shirt display when his eyes dipped to her chest, which was such an ordinary chest.

“You’re a dog,” she said.

“I am a dog,” he admitted, smiling. “So, your husband was lost five years ago or so, yet you didn’t get married again? It wouldn’t have taken my mom that long.”

She shrugged and studied her cola can.

“Oh-oh,” he said. “I smell a broken heart.”

She looked up suddenly. “Me? Oh, God, no. A slightly disappointed heart, maybe. I haven’t even dated much since Charlie died. I was just starting to get interested again when…I guess I just lost that old knack for knowing what to look for in a guy. Besides, I’m happy with my life—my family.”

Dylan was quiet for a second. “My grandmother said I made my dad more perfect every day after he was gone. Did you—?”

She shook her head. “I don’t do that. I remember every one of his faults even though I loved him like mad. But the last guy I was optimistic about was talking about marriage and family, and he never even kissed me.” She briefly considered the details of that experience and decided not to share too much. “That should’ve tipped me off, right? Think maybe he forgot? That’s when I decided to count my blessings. I’ll stick with the men I have in my life and call it a day.” When he looked a little confused she added, “The boys and Uncle Conner.”

Dylan cocked his head. “Is that right? Dated you and didn’t kiss you? What did he date you for?”

“Well, I’m a very good cook, even though that never interested me as a girl. And I can keep small appliances running…”

“Wow,” he said facetiously. “Every man’s dream.”

She smiled at him and asked, “Are you married?”

“No,” he said on a laugh. “No-ho-ho. I am not the marrying kind, trust me.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Very simple. I come from a family that has a very bad track record.”

“But your father died,” she said.

“Oh, my parents had both been divorced and remarried by then. More than once.”

“Oh. Gee, that’s too bad. My brother, Conner, and I have each had one marriage on the record—he’s divorced. But we don’t have commitment issues. Just the opposite. And Charlie…Charlie was a soldier and his commitment was his life. His commitment to me was…” She stopped and slanted a look at Dylan. “This is surreal,” she said. “Sitting here talking to a perfect stranger about love and marriage and commitment issues. You haven’t even told me your last name.”

“Childress,” he said, watching her for a reaction. There wasn’t one. He drained his cola and tapped the empty can. “Where should I pitch this?”

“Just leave it,” she said. “I’ll take it inside.”

He put the can down beside his chair and stood. “Thanks for the soda, Katie Malone. I’d better get back to work.”

She laughed at him. “By all means. And if that job has any openings…”

Katie stayed in her chair, feet propped, watching him don gloves and helmet, mount, wrangle that big bike off the stand, rev the engine and turn out of the clearing. She had to smile to herself as she heard him rumble away, the engine noise diminishing as his distance grew. How had he managed to stumble on her little hideaway?

Then she heard another motorcycle coming down the road, getting closer and closer until—

He turned back into the clearing and drove his bike right up to the porch. Then he turned off the motor and used his long legs on either side of the bike to prop it up on the stand. He slowly dismounted, removing his helmet and gloves, leaving them on the bike seat.

“So? Back for another soda? More conversation?” she asked.

He had an odd look on his face as he approached her, smiling a little as he took those two steps up to the porch. It was the strange look that brought her to her feet.

He slipped his arm around her waist so stealthily, she never saw it coming. Then he didn’t so much draw her against him as snapped her against him with that one arm, which put their faces close enough to feel each other’s warm breath. And his, she noted, was a little rapid. She felt his pounding heart against her breast.

His eyes were close enough so that the startling blue appeared in mere glittering slits, buried beneath the thick lashes. Her eyes were wide, on the other hand. Her mouth open, startled. “I just wanted to be clear,” he said in a hoarse, whisper. “I wouldn’t have forgotten.”

And then he crashed down on her mouth.

Katie was startled somewhere between pain and a pleasure so remarkable, she wasn’t sure how to respond. There was a taste in him that verged on desperate, something that felt so much more welcome than nice-but-dull. Her inner voice said, This will probably be the only kiss you ever get from him. And with that thought, her hands slid slowly up his arms to his shoulders, shoulders so hard and inviting. But it was the mouth that sent her reeling, his soft lips, his tongue, tentative and cautious before becoming demanding. She joined the tongue play, trying to remember when she’d participated in a kiss like this, and failing.

And thank God it wasn’t quick. No, this guy wasn’t a tease, he was the real deal. He threaded his fingers up the back of her neck and into her hair until he palmed her head. He tilted her right, then left, changing their slant and deepening the kiss. And she found her own fingers on the back of his neck, in his long hair, pulling him closer, bringing him harder against her. If his mouth wasn’t intoxicating enough, that long, hard body against hers was certainly brain-numbing. Her senses became so sharp while her thinking was dull and all she wanted was to do this for a long, long time. She was tasting him, hearing his raspy and rapid breathing, inhaling that musk that contained some unidentifiable component she wasn’t familiar with… Was that motor oil? Nature? Pheromones? Lust?

He pulled away from her lips, continuing to hold her close. “Well, that opened your eyes, Katie Malone.”

“It usually does,” she said weakly.

“I thought I heard you complain about being forgotten in the kiss department,” he said. “I felt a little sorry for you. Wanted to be sure that was taken care of.”

“Oh, I get it. I’m supposed to thank you now,” she said.

He just chuckled and released her, jumping off the porch and heading for his bike, which was only two feet away.

“You’re kind of an arrogant ass, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Depends on who you ask,” he said with a devilish grin, mounting the bike and getting the hell out of there. Fast. In fact, he popped a wheelie. Show-off stud.

When he was riding down the drive, she collapsed into the chair. “Well, if you ask me,” she muttered to herself. And then she thought, I just Frenched a movie star.



Dylan rode hard and in some discomfort as he realized, well that was stupid. He’d acted on some lame instinct and now the only thing to do was get the hell out of her range as quickly as possible. He should never have tasted her.

Of course he’d been attracted to women before—many times. But he always calculated his moves and he never messed with young mothers. When Dylan felt a spark of interest in a female, he thought it through very carefully before he approached, touched, tempted, became tempted. One of the first things he considered was the window of opportunity, because he wasn’t interested in the long-term. There had to be an understanding and it had to be consensual. He restricted himself from Payne, Montana, residents, much to the disappointment of some. He hadn’t dated a girl from Payne since the high school prom; small towns could be harsh toward men who played the field with their women. And the closest he’d come to setting foot back in Hollywood was picking up a touring rock band in the BBJ.

He blamed Katie Malone’s boobs, large, luminous eyes and easy laughter. The boobs weren’t extraordinary. In fact they were kind of small, but they certainly spoke to him. Unforgettable, when you got right down to it. What was really strange was, Dylan saw pretty breasts everywhere, but his hands didn’t usually ache to touch. And how about the laugh—so natural and filled with fun. Then there was the fact that he hadn’t really impressed her that much—that turned him on. Then there was that petite figure with a nice little…

He forced himself to block any further thoughts of her body.

He couldn’t figure out what had turned him around on a back road and sent him hurtling like a rocket back to her front porch to kiss her. He didn’t understand why she responded to the kiss—hadn’t she more or less said she was done with all that? Concentrating on her family? And he was turned on beyond his own comprehension. He’d been turned on a hundred times, but not like this. He felt as if he’d better get a lot of miles between him and Katie Malone or face dire consequences. And he had no one to talk to about this. So he rode hard for the rest of the day, stopping off to visit a couple of small airports as he went.

That was one thing Hollywood would have to recommend it—girls. There were plenty of the kind who would put their careers ahead of any relationship, but they still liked to have a man around from time to time. Brief, impersonal, nonrisky hookups.

The thought left him feeling just as empty inside as ever.

He remembered when Lang found Sue Ann, a Prescott, Arizona, girl. They’d been in college there and Lang, being a good-looking guy, was a great one to go running with; he always attracted women. But then he met this girl, this pretty but not flashy girl who was full of confidence and just wouldn’t be played. And good old Lang took a dive. He glazed over, saw no one but Sue Ann and his days of running with Dylan were over.

And Dylan was grateful that hadn’t happened to him, because he was convinced he wasn’t good for the long haul. Not that he wanted it to be that way. It just was.



Dylan stopped off in a small town near the coast where there was a little fixed base operation. He went inside, introduced himself to the airport manager and asked if they had a charter operation or any aviation instruction. The story seemed to be the same everywhere—people were chartering less often, this particular airport was sending people interested in pilot instruction to other airports. Dylan learned there had once been a couple of instructors there as well as a charter pilot who operated a six-seater and had done a respectable business, until fuel prices soared and he moved on to other work. Now that airport offered storage, maintenance and fueling for a few private plane owners and the occasional inbound flight.

He had a lot more looking around to do, but that was enough for one day. Since he was in a good area, he took the opportunity to phone Jay Romney. He was a little surprised to find that Jay took his call even though his assistant warned Dylan that Jay was in the middle of a meeting.

“Dylan!” he boomed. “If you’re calling me, I’m optimistic! How can I help you?”

“You can tell me if you have any acting work that I qualify for.”

“What? You’re coming back?”

“Not exactly, but I’d consider taking a leave from my business in Montana for the right project. And let me save you some time—no silly TV reunions or game shows or commercials.”

“Can you tell me what you are looking for?” Jay asked. “Because there are a lot of projects under option.”

“I can’t,” he said, inwardly shrugging. “A movie. Something that resembles what I’ve done in the past, even though it’s been over twenty years. And above all, I want a good experience.”

Dylan still had a lot of family in Hollywood and, Dylan was all too aware, Jay wouldn’t have interrupted a meeting for any of them. “Maybe you have something you’re interested in that will make a break from aviation seem worthwhile,” Dylan told Jay.

“And why the break?” Jay asked.

“The charter business is down, given the economy,” he said honestly. “A little movie pocket change can help me making a living and suck up some of the boredom of waiting for things to turn around. That is, if you have anything. I’m not looking for a favor—I’m only looking for honest work.”

Jay Romney laughed. “I’d be happy to do you a favor, Dylan, but I won’t have to. You’re still a big name around here. I’ll be in touch soon.”

“I’m spending a little time in the mountains, Jay. My cell reception is spotty. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

“Good enough. And hey, nice talking to you. Give my regards to Adele.”

“Absolutely.”



As a kid, Dylan had been cast in an incredibly successful sitcom from the ages of eight to fifteen. He’d also done a couple of big movies, Disney features. His father had been a famous actor before his death when Dylan was twelve and his grandmother, Adele Childress, was still very much alive and working at the age of seventy-six. He was Adele’s only biological grandchild.

Back in Payne, once Dylan accepted there was no way out but to try it Adele’s way, he settled in. He first learned to ride a horse. Then he went camping with the old guy who managed the ranch and was still on their small property to this day. As time went on, Dylan took to driving to Helena and hung out at a small private airport, just watching the planes and gliders take off and land for hours. He talked someone into a ride in a little Cherokee and fell in love. He’d been looking for freedom for years and found it in the sky. He chewed the fat in the little tower and in the airport office and found out how the pilots there got in the business. And finally he screwed up the courage and told his grandmother he wanted to learn to fly, get his pilot’s license.

She said, “Talk to me when you bring home straight A’s and I like your chances.”

He’d never worked so hard, and that was the beginning of his new life. After high school he went to Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University in the mountains of Prescott, Arizona, and while logging flying and instructor hours, got himself a degree in aviation management. And that’s where he met Lang.

When he learned to fly, life really turned around for him. And here he was, considering going back to that insane movie life. But, at least this time he had a good reason.

There were more airports to visit and Jay would need at least a few days to come up with an idea that might put Dylan to work. And during those few days, Dylan thought he might have to see what could happen if he ran into Katie Malone again.