~ Yesterday's Child ~

by

Rhonda Kirk

One

Claire Daniels admitted to breaking a few promises in her lifetime, but none as readily as this one. She’d vowed six years ago never to give in to her father, but yesterday’s frantic phone call from her mother changed all that. In less than twenty-four hours she’d tossed aside her pride, packed up her stethoscope and was going back to a place she’d sworn she’d never see again.

Claire was heading home.

Gripping the steering wheel, she maneuvered her Maxima up the steep, winding Pennsylvania mountain highway. Careful to hug the centerline, Claire kept her distance from the flimsy guardrail that stretched along the shoulderless edge. She pressed her foot to the brake as she rounded another turn and a flashing sign warned WATCH OUT FOR FALLING ROCKS.

Claire grunted and hit the accelerator. Facing a few falling pebbles was nothing compared to the landslide she was about to walk into. The emotional wounds caused by her last meeting with her father had left scars. He’d been so full of praise when she’d chosen to follow his example and become a physician, but when the direction of her career veered from his unfaltering footsteps he made no attempt to conceal his disappointment. His bitter, angry words still stung.

She lifted her chin. That was ancient history, what did it matter now? Besides, she was through trying to please her father.

A sudden thump from her right front tire had her clutching the steering wheel. Claire held tight as her car tugged toward the guardrail. Damn! It was the second time this month she’d blown a tire.

At the first sign of a shoulder, Claire eased off the road and went to survey the damage. She was just about to kick the darn thing when she noticed a motorcyclist had pulled onto the shoulder in front of her. Her breath ceased, mistrust of the Good Samaritan rising.

In one fluid move he was off his bike and pulling his helmet from his head. He walked toward her with an easy stride, his jeans hugging every sinewy inch of thigh. Claire was stunned by the mix of fear and fascination that caused her pulse to race.

"Got a problem?" His voice was smooth as silk but did nothing to ease her misgivings.

She released the breath she’d been holding and attempted a stiff smile. "I’m afraid I have a flat tire."

"I’ll have a look." He unzipped his leather jacket and tossed it onto the hood, then moved a step closer to examine the damage.

Claire took a hurried step backward.

He hesitated, his frown deepening.

Her pulse beat triple-time. She knew him. The town bad boy was coming to her rescue. Maybe her fears weren’t so completely unfounded.

Placing his hands on his hips, he squinted in the sunlight. Clearly, he didn’t recognize her, but how could he? It had been ten years since their last meeting. Gone was the reed-thin figure and short, curly perm he would remember. Still, Claire felt her skin heating beneath his regard and was thankful for the shield of her sunglasses as she stared into the face of the man she’d spent her adolescence fantasizing about.

Jake Weston was the only boy in Indian Creek daring enough to awaken her youthful sexual desire. She never understood her attraction to bad boys, but thank goodness she’d outgrown that particular taste in men. It had taken her a long time to get over him. She moved a finger to her mouth, feeling the ghostly imprint of Jake’s lips.

"Look, lady, I’d like to help you out here, but I’ll need a little cooperation. Your spare?" He nodded toward the trunk of her car.

"I’m afraid I don’t have a spare." Her cheeks warmed a second time. She’d forgotten to replace it after her last tire went flat.

His frown deepened. "Then as I see it, you have two options. Either I can offer you a lift into town, or I can go in alone and send a repair truck back. It’s your choice."

Claire hesitated, cursing herself for having neglected to replace her spare. She bent to inspect her tire a second time and the sunglasses she was wearing fell onto the gravel. She snatched them up, then stood to face him.

Irritation had turned his blue eyes cobalt. "I’m afraid you’ll have to make up your mind. Most of the service stations close in an hour, only the gas pumps stay open--" He stopped mid-sentence, his expression undergoing a series of changes. Recognition finally sparked and his gaze became hot, consuming as blue coals. His eyes torched a trail from the tips of her leather sandals to the hem of her cotton skirt before returning to her face. A quick, teasing grin spread like wildfire across his features. "Well, if it isn’t Claire, don’t you dare, Daniels. My, my, how you’ve grown." A taunting light entered his eyes.

His use of her nickname caught Claire off-guard. She stiffened her shoulders and made an effort to ignore his baiting. "I’d like that ride into town, please."

"Sure thing." He cast her a wolfish grin and retrieved his jacket. Turning his back, he strode toward his bike on long, lean legs. His backside reinforced Claire’s belief that some things actually improve with age.

Retrieving her purse, Claire locked the doors, then moved to join him. Her heels were wobbly on the uneven road, but she somehow managed to approach the bike without falling. He handed her his helmet.

"You’ll have to wear this if you’re going to ride with me."

She accepted his headgear with a reluctant frown. "But what about you?" Visions of accident victims she’d tended swam in her head. Those wearing helmets fared better than those without.

An easy grin lit his tanned face. "Those who know me best like to accuse me of being hard-headed. According to them, it’s the pavement that’s in danger."

Claire hesitated, uncertain that the risk to him was worth it.

"Look, I swear to you that I’m a good driver. Hop on while there’s still time to get someone out here to fix your tire." Jake lifted his kickstand and turned his key in the ignition, then squeezed the clutch and pushed a starter button on his right handlebar. The engine roared to life. "Let’s go."

Trying to ignore her safety-first training, Claire lifted his helmet to put it on.

"By the way, Claire, what happened to your skinny legs?"

Her temper rose as she attempted to ignore his baiting a second time. She pulled on the helmet, thankful for its cover. Now she recalled the reason her interest in him had always remained her secret. He’d teased her mercilessly in high school. No wonder she’d slapped him after he’d stolen that kiss. That slap had earned her the nickname.

"The same thing happened to my skinny legs that happened to your hairless jaw." She focused on his five o’clock shadow. "Hormones." Without another word, Claire straddled his motorcycle, thankful that he was at least gentleman enough to look the other way while she adjusted her skirt.

"Hang on tight, Claire. You’re in for the ride of your life."

Somehow, she believed him, and she wondered if she’d live to regret her impulsiveness. Placing her arms around his waist, she pressed her chest against his back and eased her body as close to him as space would allow. A pang of excitement shot through her. She had her arms around Jake Weston and he felt just as delicious as she’d once imagined.

The mountain seemed to spin with them as their bodies swayed into the curves. The ride was invigorating; and despite their speed, Claire began to relax and move with the bike. As a physician, she’d never understood the allure of motorcycles. They seemed a silly risk, causing injuries that were devastating and sometimes deadly to the biker. But now that she was experiencing the ride she could understand the thrill and sense of freedom it evoked.

It felt like only seconds passed before they reached a small service station on the edge of town. Jake slowed the bike and pulled it to a stop. He turned off the engine and helped her dismount.

Oddly reluctant to let go of him, Claire slid from the bike and lifted his helmet from her head. Her hair fell forward into her face and she brushed it back with an unsteady hand.