Feels Like Home

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  He’d never shop for clothes again without thinking of her smug expression as she brought him the makings of her cowboy fantasy. He hoped to hell he could live up to the image she carried in that creative mind of hers.

  9

  MEG WALKED WITH RAFE OVER to the hallway that led to a row of dressing rooms, but she didn’t want their ever-helpful sales lady to guess her intention. She piled the vests on top of the clothes Rafe already held in his arms. “Go ahead and try everything on,” she said. “I’ll be out here if you want to show me anything.” Then she sat primly in one of the two leather wing chairs near the dressing rooms.

  “I’ll just put you in number three,” the woman said. “My name is Clara. Let me know if you need any different sizes.”

  Rafe cast a quick glance at Meg. “Thanks so much, Clara. I’m sure something out of this pile will work.” Then he walked into the dressing room and closed the door.

  While her pulse danced a jig, Meg counted to sixty. Then, making sure nobody was watching, she walked quickly to Rafe’s dressing room and turned the knob. He’d locked it.

  Rapping softly, she lowered her voice. “It’s me.”

  The door opened immediately and he pulled her inside. “Sorry. Habit.” Then he crushed her against his chest and brought his mouth down on hers.

  Rafe had the sort of kiss that demanded her full attention, and yet as she wrapped her arms around him, she realized that his were bare. And he was wearing one of the leather vests.

  Although she couldn’t see him, her roving hands provided enough tactile evidence to visualize her fantasy, and she moaned softly as she wiggled closer. The scent of leather and aroused male released a flood of happy hormones into her system.

  He lifted his mouth from hers. “Is this what you had in mind?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She kissed his chin, moved down to the sexy hollow in his throat, and kept on going. Spreading the lapels of the vest aside, she licked her way to each flat nipple as she stroked his soft chest hair.

  “Meg.” His voice was strained. “Maybe you shouldn’t do that.”

  “Yes, I definitely should. You’re delicious.” She used her tongue to trace a moist path to his navel and felt him shudder.

  When she dropped to her knees and reached for his zipper, he closed his hand over hers. “I don’t think—”

  “Right. Don’t think.” Pushing his hand away, she drew the zipper down. Blood pounded in her ears. She’d never been so bold with a man in a public place. Then again, she’d never been so inspired to be bold.

  He might have protested, but he was more than ready for her. When she dipped her hand inside the opening of his briefs, his erect cock surged forward. She took a moment to caress and admire the beauty of it.

  If he really wanted to stop her, he could do it now. But instead he trembled and thrust his fingers through her hair. She took him into her mouth.

  He tasted of forbidden pleasures and untamed lust. Her heart raced as she measured the length of him with her lips and tongue. He was magnificent, and tonight he would be all hers.

  This was only a short preview, and she couldn’t take long or someone would suspect. Hollowing her cheeks, she applied pressure right where she knew it would accomplish the most good. His fingers tightened against her scalp, and he gasped once before his hot, salty essence filled her mouth.

  Swallowing what he’d given her, she remained still for a moment as he fought to get his breathing under control. Then she slowly released him, tucked him back into his briefs, and zipped his fly. Then she rose, nibbling her way back up his body until she finally reached his lips.

  He kissed her deeply before drawing back, his dark eyes smoldering and his voice husky. “That was amazing.”

  “Glad you enjoyed it.”

  A sharp rap sounded on the dressing room door. “Finding anything you like?” called the saleswoman.

  Gazing down at Meg, Rafe smiled. “Sure am.”

  “Good! Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Thanks, but this should do it.”

  Meg leaned back to survey the vest, which had been her favorite of the ones she’d found. But she didn’t dare speak until the saleswoman was gone.

  “You chose well,” she said at last, keeping her voice low. The leather was dark brown and supple, the design simple and slightly retro. It showed off Rafe’s magnificent chest and sculpted arms to perfection.

  “You don’t want to see how the others look?”

  She shook her head. “This one already has a very good association for me. I’d love to see it on you again.”

  “With that kind of reaction, I’ll wear it any time you want. Sadly, now I have to pick out the boring stuff.”

  “I know. I’ll be outside in the chair, ready to give my opinion.”

  He touched her cheek. “So, did we take care of number fourteen?”

  “Fourteen and fifteen.”

  He laughed softly. “I really need to get a look at that list.”

  She fully intended to show it to him, but before she did, she might add a few things. Being with Rafe was expanding her horizons.

  * * *

  RAFE WASN’T SURE WHAT HE bought besides the vest. He was too blissed out from Meg’s dressing-room treat to care what else went on his credit card. He suspected she’d used his mellow mood to talk him into more jeans and shirts than he would ever need.

  Eventually they’d stashed the bags of clothes in the trunk of the Lexus and he put enough brain cells together to remember about the jewelry shop. “I still want to get you some earrings.” Taking her hand, he started walking around the square.

  “It’s liable to cost you. Silver Reflections only sells Native American pieces and none of them are cheap. I splurged on those silver-and-turquoise ones.”

  “I feel in the mood to splurge.”

  “You may not realize it because you were sort of catatonic back there in the Western-wear store, but you already splurged. You might want to pull out your sales slip and reconsider a trip to the jewelry store.”

  He shook his head. “That was all for me. I want something for you.”

  “The vest was for me.”

  He flashed back to the moment she’d slid to her knees in the dressing room. “Maybe so, but I made out like a bandit on that vest deal. I think we could have a long argument as to who benefited the most from it.”

  “Do you think the saleswoman had any idea what was going on in there?”

  “If she did, she’s too good a salesperson to let a little thing like oral sex in the dressing room interfere with writing up a big order.”

  “Aha!” She glanced up at him. “So you did realize that we ran up a sizable bill in there. I thought maybe you were oblivious.”

  “Oblivious to the type and amount of clothes.” He smiled at her. “But finances are my game. I’m incapable of ignoring the bottom line, so believe me, I saw and registered the total.”

  “You could have objected.”

  “Nope. That was the best shopping trip of my life. If I end up giving half of those things to charity, I don’t care. I don’t have a list like yours, but if I did, I’d put getting a blow job in a dressing room right near the top.”

  “Woo-hoo!” Meg let go of his hand and threw her arms in the air. “Progress in the having-fun department!”

  “Don’t get cocky. This doesn’t mean I plan to take some unidentified woman sailing on San Francisco Bay.”

  “About that
.”

  “You can talk until you’re blue in the face, Meg, but I’m not doing it. I now have a mental picture of taking you out there, and I’m sticking with that scenario. It’s you or nobody.”

  “That suits me fine.”

  “It does?” He recaptured her hand. “I thought you were determined to get me out on a boat, with or without you.”

  “I suggested that because I didn’t want to hold you back, but…it turns out I don’t want you taking some other woman sailing.”

  “Oh?” He couldn’t help feeling really great about that.

  “I’m not proud of myself for saying so, Rafe. A true friend would want you to enjoy yourself, even if she couldn’t be there.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think we’ve gone a few steps past friendship. Not that we can’t be friends, too, but what happened back in the dressing room adds another layer of meaning, don’t you think?”

  “It wouldn’t have to. We could write it off as one of those thrilling little moments that is here and gone.”

  “Some people might be able to do that, those who skate along on the surface of their emotions.” The way he’d been accustomed to doing until he’d met her. “You don’t strike me as that kind of person.”

  “Well, I’m not, but on the other hand, we both agreed we’re not looking for anything permanent.”

  He wondered if she was trying to convince him or her. “Right. No strings, no obligations. But the sailing date was your idea, so I’m reserving that experience for you and me. Does that work for you?”

  She smiled up at him. “Perfectly. It’s simple, really. Any activity we discuss doing together is reserved for us.”

  “Like me giving you skiing lessons this winter?”

  “Precisely. And if you want a hang gliding buddy, I’m your girl.”

  His girl. The thought made his breath catch, but in a good way. He wondered if they were both kidding themselves about the future of this relationship. One of them might get invested, after all, and he had a funny feeling it could be him.

  Yet if he knew she didn’t want that, he could put on the brakes if he had to. Maybe everything would work out the way she envisioned and they’d meet at various times to sail, ski, hang glide and make love, all without a commitment of any kind.

  It was an interesting concept and the only one that made sense considering his schedule. He’d have to juggle his work in order to find time for those activities, but he’d do it. The prospect of seeing Meg several times a year was worth crunching his other obligations.

  Silver Reflections was a small shop, but dense with shiny stuff. Rafe hadn’t been inside many jewelry stores, but he was used to cases of gems like diamonds, rubies and emeralds. This place didn’t deal in precious stones.

  Instead the cases included gold and silver decorated with turquoise, mostly, although there were other opaque stones in various colors. Rafe noticed a few ornate necklaces that seemed almost old-fashioned compared with the beautiful simplicity of others.

  The shop was empty of customers when they walked in. The man behind the counter wore a Western shirt along with a bola tie containing a piece of turquoise as big as a hen’s egg. He looked Native American, and his lined and weathered face could belong to a man of fifty or eighty. Rafe couldn’t begin to guess his age.

  He smiled. “Welcome.”

  “Thank you.” Rafe expected more—an offer to sell them something, a suggestion about jewelry for the pretty lady—but the man said nothing else. Instead he simply watched them with polite interest.

  Meg walked forward and held out her hand. “Hello, Samuel. I’m Meg. You probably don’t remember, but I was in here a few days ago with my friend Olivia. We each bought earrings.”

  The man’s face creased in a wider smile as he took her hand in both of his. “Now I remember who you are! Your friend is getting married.”

  “She is. On Saturday. This is Rafe Locke, the best man.”

  “Glad to meet you, Samuel.” Rafe shook the man’s hand and noticed he was also wearing a watch with a turquoise-studded band and a couple of elaborate turquoise rings.

  “Samuel’s a silversmith,” Meg said. “He’s made many of the pieces you see. Like that, for instance.” She pointed to a dramatic necklace in the glass case.

  “I noticed that when we came in.” Rafe had never seen anything quite like it. A strip of polished silver about half an inch wide had been shaped to fit the back of a woman’s neck and then spiral forward into an elegant coil that ended in a green stone the exact color of Meg’s eyes. “I’d like to see what that looks like on.”

  Meg laughed and shook her head. “No, you wouldn’t. It’s way too expensive.”

  “I’m not saying we’ll buy it, but I’m fascinated by the design. Samuel, would you mind if Meg tried it on?”

  “Of course not.” He unlocked the case and tenderly withdrew the necklace. “I remember you looked at this one last time, Meg, but you didn’t ask me to show it to you.” He took the tag off before handing the necklace to her.

  “No point in that.” Meg turned the necklace so it caught the light. “It’s out of my price range. This is the sort of necklace Harrison Ford would buy for Calista.”

  Samuel nodded. “Harrison did look at it, as a matter of fact. But he couldn’t decide, so it’s still here, waiting for you.”

  “Not for me, but it’s fun to think I’m trying on a necklace that Harrison Ford considered.” Pulling aside the collar of her white shirt, she fit the molded silver end of the spiral around the back of her neck. “I love the idea that it doesn’t need a fastener of any kind.” She settled it against her breastbone, where it nestled as if made to rest there.

  Rafe had known he’d buy the necklace for her the minute he’d seen it, but now that she had it on, he was even more convinced. “You need to undo one more button of your blouse to show it off.”

  “How scandalous.” She winked at him and unfastened the button. “The silver feels cool on my skin.”

  “It’ll warm up as you wear it,” Samuel said. “Looks good on you. You’re the right one for malachite.”

  “So that’s malachite?” Rafe took a closer look at the stone, which had faint bands of black running through it. “I know nothing about these things, but I like it.”

  Samuel glanced at Meg. “When’s your birthday?”

  “Not for months, if you’re thinking I need a birthday present, Samuel.”

  “No, I wasn’t thinking that. I just wondered the day.”

  “November fifth. Why?”

  Rafe blinked. His and Wyatt’s birthday was November third.

  Samuel looked pleased with himself. “That’s why the necklace is so right for you. I had a feeling about you from the beginning. Malachite is your birthstone.”

  “I thought my birthstone was topaz.”

  “It can be, but so is malachite, and I personally think that’s a more interesting choice.”

  “So do I,” Rafe said. “We’ll take it.”

  Meg’s eyes widened. “We most certainly will not take it.” She started to remove the necklace.

  Rafe put a restraining hand over hers. “Meg, it’s perfect on you.” He glanced toward Samuel for backup. “Isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Samuel gazed at Meg. “I thought so the first time you came in the store, but then you left without it.”

  “For a very good reason. It’s beyond my means.”

  “I understand that, but when I create a piece of jewelry, I al
ways imagine who will wear it. You’ll probably think I’m making this up, but it’s the truth. When I worked on that necklace I imagined a woman with fiery hair and green eyes, a woman born in November who had a zest for life.” He spread both hands. “And here you are.”

  “That’s a lovely sentiment, but the necklace costs too much.” She cast a pleading glance at Rafe. “Don’t let yourself get carried away.”

  “You heard the man. He made the necklace for you.” Rafe had listened to plenty of sales pitches in his life, and he recognized Samuel wasn’t making one. The guy was an artist who wouldn’t push his creations on those who didn’t want them.

  “We came in here for earrings,” Meg said. “I’ll accept a pair of earrings from you, Rafe, but this…”

  Samuel pulled a small booklet out from under the counter. “Meg, what do you know about this stone?”

  She turned back to the counter. “Only that it’s pretty.”

  “It’s more than pretty.” He thumbed through the book. “Here we are—‘malachite is a stone for the adventurous spirit, a risk-taker who yearns to live more fully and find unconditional love.’” He closed the book and gazed at her.

  “Wow.” She swallowed and placed her hand over the green stone. “That’s…that’s me.”

  Rafe felt a little shaky. That certainly described his brother, but he’d always thought he and Wyatt were polar opposites. Still, those words struck a deep chord in him, as well.

  Maybe he wasn’t so different from Wyatt, after all. He’d tried hard to be Wyatt’s opposite, and…this was hard to admit, but he’d done it mostly to please his father. What had started out as the purchase of a beautiful piece of jewelry for Meg was turning out to be much more significant than he’d planned on.

  “You notice I designed the necklace so it doesn’t need a clasp,” Samuel said.

  Meg nodded.

  “That wasn’t just a random decision, or me trying to leap ahead of the pack with some clever innovation.” His voice grew soft and slightly roughened with emotion. “I made it open-ended to signify freedom—freedom to live and freedom to love. It needs to go to the right person.”