Take Me Home (15 page)

“Good idea,” Claire said. After letting Kayleigh rattle on a little longer, Claire interrupted to mention her promise of a gallery visit the next day. “On Sunday, we’re only open from noon to four, so I’ll take them over at ten for a private tour.”

“Okay,” Holly said after a beat of hesitation, which worried Claire.

“Have there been any problems here today?” she asked.

Holly shook her head, pulling a ring hung with two shiny gold keys out of her pocket and offering it to Claire. “These are your copies of the new keys to the front and back doors. The locksmith talked me into getting deadbolts to be really safe.”

Claire felt a little glow of warmth because her sister had thought to get her the copies without prompting.

“I got lots of rest today, thanks to you, so I can put the girls to bed,” Holly said. “We’re rooting for you to win your big foosball match tonight.”

Claire leaned down to hug her sister, savoring the fact that she could do it without any constraint. “Thanks, Holl, I’ll do my best.”

“You always do,” Holly said.

Claire turned those three words around and around in her mind like a beautiful sculpture as she drove back to Healing Springs Stables. Just three little words, and yet she felt like a champion already.

Her joy in the healing relationship with her sister was tempered by the pain of Brianna’s revelations. She needed to figure out how to approach Holly about that, and a chat with Willow would help her think more clearly.

It was strange to realize that she and Brianna truly shared a whisper horse.

Claire didn’t have time to socialize, so she bypassed Sharon’s office and headed straight for Willow’s stall. Stopping outside the tack room, she scooped up a couple of carrot bits from the bowl Sharon kept there.

“You look mighty dressed up for a visit to a barn.” Tim’s voice came from behind her, making her jump.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she said, turning to find him standing with his arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing an olive-green polo shirt, neatly pressed khakis, and loafers whose polished surface was marred only by a thin film of pine bark dust. “I could say the same about your outfit. What happened to your flannel wardrobe?”

“Those are my work clothes, and it was my afternoon off.” He was smiling at her in an unsettling way.

Maybe it was his change of style that was making her antsy, but she was strangely intimidated by the new Tim. “If you’re not working, why are you at the barn?”

“Because you and I have some unfinished business from this morning,” he said, reaching for her wrist and towing her toward an empty stall whose door was standing open.

“What bus—oh!” Claire gasped as Tim closed the door and pulled her against him, his mouth coming down on hers. He gave her the same thorough kiss he had in the morning, but now he
went on to explore the pulse just behind her earlobe and the arc of skin exposed by her scooped neckline. Claire arched backward as he moved aside the ruffled fabric so his lips could skim her collarbone.

“Oh yes, there!” she hissed when his tongue began to trace the same path.

He shocked her by yanking the back of her blouse out of her linen trousers and sliding his hand up underneath the fabric to splay against her bare skin. She wove her fingers into his hair and tilted his head up so she could nip at the full lower lip that so tempted her. The heat of his hand branded her back, and she felt her nipples harden.

“Pick me up,” she said, sliding one knee up the side of his thigh as a cue. He was too tall for her to fit against him the way her body demanded.

“Good idea.” He slid his hand out from under her blouse so he could cup her behind, lifting her in one fluid motion.

She wrapped her legs around his hips and moaned his name as she felt his erection between her legs. He took a step forward so she was braced between the warm wall of his body and the wood of the stall. He shifted his grip so his hands were wrapped around her thighs as he pressed against the most sensitive spot on her body.

“Oh dear God,” she whispered as the pressure and friction sent pure arousal streaking deep inside her.

A muffled groan tore from Tim, and he went still, his forehead touching the wood beside her ear. “This is more business than I expected to do here.”

She could feel his heart pounding and knew he was exerting the self-control she couldn’t muster. Then he seemed to snap; his hands skimmed up to her breasts, where his thumbs circled her aching nipples, and his mouth skimmed up to her earlobe again. “Come home with me now,” he rasped.

Claire’s body was vibrating with nearly electric sensation. A niggling little voice insisted that she couldn’t say yes, but her mind was so fogged with pleasure that she had to think hard about why. “Can’t. Foosball match.”

His thumbs stilled. She indulged herself in one flexing circle of her hips that made them both gasp before she unlocked her ankles from behind him and let him lower her feet into the straw bedding.

Once she was safely down, he braced his forearm against the wall and dropped his head onto it. “Give me a minute, and I’ll help you tidy up,” he said.

She wanted to run her hands over his broad, muscled back displayed so invitingly in front of her. Instead, she forced herself to tuck her blouse back into the waistband of her navy linen trousers.

“How did you know I’d be here?” she asked, pulling bobby pins out of the intricate bun now hanging halfway down her neck and plaiting it into a simple French braid.

“Some research and a lucky guess. I called Holly’s house, and she said you’d just left,” he said, pushing away from the wall. “After last night, I figured you might want to consult your whisper horse.”

She brushed a few stray wisps of straw off her trouser legs.

“Turn around,” Tim said, “and I’ll do your rear.”

“That’s what got us in trouble to begin with,” Claire said, slanting him a heavy-lidded glance.

Tim held up his hands in the gesture of a scrubbed surgeon. “As a doctor, I’m trained to use my hands in a purely professional way.”

“You’re trained to use your hands on horses and cows,” Claire said. “And you claimed I didn’t look anything like a sow.”

The teasing light in his eyes dimmed for a split second before he ran his palm down the curve of her hip, finishing with an
affectionate pat on her bottom. “I’ll try to think of you as one, if you’d prefer.”

“No, I’m fine with the way you think of me.” She directed all the heat seething inside her into the look she threw him.

“Then I get another rain check. This is the second one you owe me.” He drew his finger down the center of her nose to her lips, which he traced with a deliberation that made her close her eyes and whimper. He smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes. Have a good talk with Willow.”

He flicked her cheek with his finger and walked out of the stall, leaving Claire to sag against the wall. How was she supposed to tell Willow her concerns about Holly when Tim had left every nerve ending in her body standing at attention, demanding satisfaction. All she could think about was the feel of his mouth...and his hands tracing the swell of her breasts...and his erection pressing between her thighs. She shoved away from the wall and stalked out into the barn’s wide corridor.

She’d lost the carrots during her encounter with Tim, so she detoured back to the bowl and scooped up some more. Slipping into Willow’s stall, she held them out. “Can you handle these yet, girl?”

Willow whinnied a greeting before she crunched through all three of them with enthusiasm. Some of Claire’s frustration drained away as she savored this small triumph in the mare’s recovery. “You know, your friend Dr. Tim is a tease. He’s got me all revved up with no place to go except a foosball game. How am I supposed to concentrate on a little white ball rolling around a table when I feel like...well, this?”

Claire couldn’t even admit to her whisper horse what she was feeling about Tim right now.

Maybe it was a good thing she had this foosball match to distract her. When she considered it more rationally, she’d kissed
Tim exactly once before she nearly had an orgasm up against the wall of a barn. That was probably moving too fast to be healthy.

“I’m newly divorced, and his wife committed suicide,” she muttered. “We’re a couple of emotional disasters.”

Except it didn’t feel that way. He seemed so grounded, so careful and deliberate. Not the sort to dive in without being able to swim.

“I need to focus on my sister’s problems,” she said as Willow snuffled at her empty hand. “You’re not going to believe what Frank did last night...”

W
HEN HER DOORBELL
rang at nine o’clock, Claire took a deep breath before she went to the door. Describing Frank’s behavior to Willow had helped clarify her concerns about him, but her body still hummed with the tension Tim had coiled there.

She swung open the door to find Paul standing on her front porch. He was dressed for the Sportsman: jeans, sneakers, a dark-blue zippered windbreaker, and a baseball cap with the John Deere symbol embroidered on it. When she invited him in, he flipped the cap off and rolled it down his arm to catch the bill between his fingers.

“That brings back memories,” Claire said. “You spent hours practicing.”

Paul grinned, his teeth flashing white against his olive skin. “Got to keep the manual dexterity sharp.”

“Oh, so you’re using intimidation now.” She shrugged into a gray West Virginia University hoodie. She had changed into jeans, a hot-pink T-shirt, and running shoes and added a layer of concealer over the bruise on her cheek.

“You’re using distraction,” Paul said, eyeing the neon-bright color of the T-shirt.

“I never even considered it,” she lied.

“You can’t fool me. I taught you that trick.”

Claire laughed and threw her arms around him in an impulsive hug. “It’s so great to see you, Paul. I should have called you sooner.”

His return embrace was like whipcord around her shoulders. “Damn straight you should have.” He pulled her in close. Stirred up from her encounter with Tim, her body responded with a little jolt of pleasure. Her response shocked her, and she jerked back.

Paul let his palms slide down her arms to take her hands. “You know, I always wanted to ask you out on a real date in high school, but I was afraid you’d say no.”

“Are you serious?” There had been a time when she had wanted her relationship with Paul to become more than friendly. She’d flirted outrageously with him, but he hadn’t taken the bait.

Now their lives had diverged, and they had become different people. Paul offered a friendship that was easy and uncomplicated. There was nothing to hide, no need to keep up a facade, because he’d known her before her grown-up identity existed.

“Pretty ridiculous, eh? You were the smartest girl in the school, and I was the screwup.”

“I would have cramped your style,” Claire said. “And you weren’t a screwup; you just never worked up to your potential.”

He laughed. “How many times did my parents hear that from the principal?”

“You seem to have made up for it since then.” She squeezed his hands and let go. “No more delaying tactics. It’s time to show you how we play foosball in New York.”