Take Me Home (35 page)

“So we’re staying in our house?” Brianna asked, and Claire remembered what she’d overheard the little girl say to Willow about her friend’s having to move away.

Holly threw a meaningful look at Claire before she turned to her daughter. “As long as we want to.”

The tension seemed to go out of Brianna’s small shoulders.

They had gotten past the first shock of Holly’s explanation that Papa wouldn’t be living with them anymore. Claire had stayed quiet, letting Holly handle the revelations. Now the girls’ solemn, baffled faces tugged at her heart.

“Mama, could we take one of the barn kittens home?” Kayleigh asked.

The fist around her heart unclenched as Claire blessed the resilience of youth. Frank was allergic to cats, so Kayleigh had never been able to have one as a pet. That obstacle had been removed, and her niece was already taking advantage of it. The girls were going to get through this fine.

“How about if we take two kittens home?” Holly suggested. “You’d like one too, wouldn’t you, Bri?”

Brianna’s face brightened as she nodded. “Aunt Claire, can you ask Dr. Tim to give them their shots?”

Claire almost choked at the mention of his name. He seemed to have become woven into her life. “He’d be happy to. Why don’t you go decide which kitten you’d each like, and we’ll talk to Ms. Sydenstricker about taking them home.”

The little girls trotted off toward the barn.

“You did a great job, sis,” Claire said. “You kept it simple, and you didn’t say anything mean about Frank. In my book, that qualifies you for sainthood.”

Holly smiled with a sigh. “I’m sure they’ll have more questions after they’ve thought about it. That’s why I suggested they talk to you. There may be things they aren’t comfortable asking their mother.”

“I’m really honored by your trust. I hope I do half as well as you.”

Holly pushed herself off the bench. “I’m going to go supervise the kitten debate. That will give you some time with Willow.”

After hugging her sister, Claire walked back to the paddock gate and swung it open. Willow left her patch of thick grass and walked over to rub her head against Claire’s shoulder.

“You’re looking pretty good, sweet girl,” Claire said, running her hand over the horse’s coat. It was beginning to shine in the sunlight as the mare’s health improved. She scratched behind Willow’s ears, making the horse huff out a sigh of contentment.

“Willow, I have this crazy idea about staying here, and not going back to New York.” There. She’d said it out loud. “Holly and I are just getting close again, and I’ve started real relationships with my two nieces. I adore those little girls.”

She let her hand drift down the strong arch of the horse’s neck.

“The way the town supported Holly when Frank got ugly at the 4-H shindig was amazing. You should see the number of casseroles stowed in the freezer.”

Willow butted her forehead against Claire, asking for another ear scratch.

“But you know the real reason I’m thinking about staying. It’s your vet.” She looked the mare in the eye. “He offered to loan Holly the money rather than have me sell the Castillo. And he
really, really wants that painting. I mean, how much more amazing can a man get?

“The problem is that I have no idea if he wants me to stay. When I floated the possibility yesterday, he didn’t respond.”

Willow shook her head, making the wisps of her mane fly.

“Are you trying to tell me something, or are the flies just bothering you?” Claire brushed off the annoying insects. “How stupid would it be to give up a fantastic job in the center of the art world if Tim doesn’t want to have a relationship? I can’t get a read on him. He likes my company—and other things about me.” Her lips curved in a reminiscent smile as memories of the foaling shed floated back. “But he backs away when I try to go deeper, and I just don’t see him as the kind of man who’s in it for casual sex.”

She stroked Willow’s velvety nose a few times. “I’m intimidated by Anais Tremont. I see her memory claw at him. I’ll say the wrong thing, and he gets that cloud of pain in his eyes. Maybe he’s not ready yet, and that’s a huge problem.”

She hooked the lead line on Willow’s halter. “I knew it was a crazy idea.”

But she was already considering how she could tell Henry Thalman she was resigning.

The horse swung her head around so Claire could see one of her brown eyes. Claire could swear she saw a beam of approval in Willow’s deep, liquid gaze.

A
S
C
LAIRE PULLED
out of Holly’s driveway at nine, she hit the speed dial for Tim’s cell phone. “I’m leaving Holly’s house now. Your place or mine?”

“Did you notice it’s a full moon?”

She peered up through the windshield to see the brilliant white disc hanging in a sky crowded with stars. “Yes, it’s really pretty, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

“It gives me an idea. I’ll meet you at your house in twenty minutes.”

She couldn’t stop a smile from curving her lips as she pictured Tim bathed in moonlight and nothing else. He would look like some pagan warrior with the light and shadow playing over his muscles. The speedometer’s needle crept upward.

Once home, she figured she had about ten minutes before he arrived. She yanked off her work clothes and slipped into a bra and panties that were mere cobwebs of pale-blue lace. She’d bought them on impulse a few days before for an occasion just like this one. Over them, she tied a short cream-colored silk robe. Then she brushed her hair so it spilled around her shoulders like a cloud. She tried a look of seduction in the mirror, making herself laugh before she raced down the stairs to open a bottle of wine.

As she pulled the cork out, the doorbell rang.

“Who is it?” she called, her ear to the door.

“Tim,” he said in his familiar low rumble. “You mean you were expecting someone else?”

She opened the door. “I was just making sure since I’m not dressed for just any guest.”

“No, you sure aren’t.” His gaze traveled down to her bare feet and back up, and she could see the heat building in his eyes. “In fact, I’d be a little perturbed if you hadn’t asked who it was.”

He was wearing a rust-colored polo shirt and faded jeans, along with his usual scuffed tan boots. She was curious about what he had planned, so she didn’t distract him by giving in to the temptation to plaster herself against him.

“I just opened some wine,” she said.

“Bring it with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re going moon-watching.”

Claire looked down at her clingy robe. “I’ll have to change.”

“Nope. You’re perfect just the way you are, and I’m looking forward to unwrapping my present.” He gave the bow at her waist a playful tug.

“Tim, I can’t wander around town in my bathrobe and not a whole heck of a lot else.”

“We’re going in my car, so no one will see you. You don’t even have to put on shoes. I’ll carry you.”

She remembered what it felt like to be cradled by his strength and decided shoes were not necessary.

“Okay, Grog, I’ll grab the wine, but I can walk as far as your car.”

He chuckled, but it had ragged edge.

She retrieved the wine and handed it to Tim. “You go first, and make sure no one’s around.”

“All clear,” he called.

She heard the chirp of his doors unlocking, and padded over the smooth slate sidewalk to his SUV, feeling wicked and daring in her state of undress.

The passenger door stood open, and Tim scooped her and slid her onto the seat, his hands lingering as he tasted her lips. She nearly burst into flames.

“Again,” she breathed against his mouth.

He slid the robe off her shoulder and kissed her bare skin. His hand slid up her thigh to find the satin tie holding the lace over her hip. He made an odd strangled sound as his fingers tangled in it.

“The moon,” he grated and drew away to slam the door shut. As he walked around the car, he scraped both hands through his hair.

Claire settled in the leather seat and let the delicious ache of arousal flow through her. She pulled the robe back up on her shoulder but let the lower edges fall open across her thighs.
Let Tim suffer too
.

He nearly leaped into the driver’s seat. When he glanced sideways as he started the car, she heard him suck in a sharp breath. “I wish this were a shorter drive.”

“So where are we going?” She grabbed the Jesus handle as he peeled out of the driveway.

“To a mountaintop where we can get closer to the sky.”

“Wait! In my robe?”

“It’s private, and I have blankets. And a telescope.”

She peered at the road unspooling in the headlights, trying to follow the turns he was taking. “Okay, I’m lost.”

“Sometimes making farm calls pays off.” Tim swung onto an old dirt logging road, the SUV’s suspension bouncing over ruts and rocks as they climbed through a dark forest. After a few minutes, they burst into a grassy clearing washed in silvery light.

“It’s an old fire cut,” Tim said, killing the headlights and the engine. “No trees to block our view of the sky, although I’m going to have a hard time tearing my eyes away from you.”

He swung out of the car, and she swiveled in her seat as he went around to the back of the car and opened the rear door.

“Stay put,” he called as he pulled a dark case out of the interior. “I’ll be there to get you in a minute.”

Her breath hitched as she anticipated the feel of his arms supporting her, his hands pressed against silk and skin.

The door beside her opened, and Tim leaned into the car, blocking out the moon and the stars with his shoulders as he lifted her. She put her arms around his neck and looked up as he carried her, watching the shadows make stark shapes under his cheekbones and jaw. He set her down gently in the back of the big vehicle, and she realized she was sitting on a quilt spread out across the roomy interior. In front of her was a telescope mounted on a tripod and aimed at the moon.

He sat beside her, the car dipping under his weight. She followed his gaze and saw that her robe had slipped so the lace of her bra was clearly visible.

She started to pull it back when his hand shot out to grasp hers. “Let me,” he said, releasing her and then reaching downward to pull the end of the sash out of its bow. The robe fell completely open. In the moonlight, the lace looked silver, and she heard him pull in another deep breath. “Diana, goddess of the moon.”

For a moment, it felt strange to be sitting almost naked in the outdoors. Then she saw the expression on Tim’s face and felt power surge through her. She deliberately arched her back so her breasts strained against the lace.

“The hell with the telescope,” he growled, toppling her onto her back as he came down on one elbow beside her.

He laid his palm on her bare stomach and began to skim it up over the thin fabric of her bra where her nipples peaked, then down over the same fabric at the V of her thighs. She gasped every time he grazed a nipple.

“Not a goddess, a witch, stealing a man’s mind so he can’t think.”

“Thinking is not what I want from you right now,” she managed to say as his fingers slid under the lace between her legs. She could feel how wet she was already, and he easily slipped inside her.

His mouth came down on her breast, and he sucked hard at the nipple. She bucked against him, driving his fingers deeper. Then his mouth and fingers were gone, and she opened her eyes to see him ripping his shirt off over his head. She enjoyed the magnificence of the view as he yanked off his boots, jeans, and boxers.

She started to unhook her bra. “Let me,” he said, kneeling over her, again blocking the light with his shoulders. She trailed her fingertips over the flex of his thigh muscles as he flicked open the bra’s front closure and peeled the lace away from her skin. He cupped her breasts for a moment and then shifted downward to untie the bows at her hips. He pulled the triangle of flimsy fabric from between her legs and then bent to kiss her where the tension was building to an almost unbearable pitch.

His tongue circled and flicked at her, and she planted her feet to tilt up to him. “Yes, yes, there, yes, again. No, wait!” She felt the orgasm coming. “I want you inside me.”

He twisted to the side to get a condom, and then he was kneeling between her legs. He slid his hands under her bottom and tilted her hips upward, pulling her up onto his thighs as he drove into her. She grabbed fistfuls of the quilt and hooked her ankles around his waist.

He towered over her in shadow while the moon slanted through the car’s windows to turn her skin nearly white. Only one strong thigh and his hands where he gripped her hips were brushed by the moon. It was a strange but erotic effect, like having a mystery lover.

His hands and hips guided their speed and rhythm, so he would bring her to the edge of climax and then ease back. It was exquisite torture, and she let herself relax into his control, the tiniest movement sending waves of sensation washing through her.

She felt his hands tighten and his pace quicken. He drove deeper, and she exploded in an orgasm so potent she thought her internal muscles would tear in the delicious agony. She felt him strain and pump against her and call out her name as he came.