“No, you didn’t. I can tell.” Emma gave Clare a thoughtful look as she picked at a cupcake. Emma was paint-free this morning, which hopefully was a good sign. Since she’d been back in town, Emma had been up before dawn painting, no matter what time she’d gone to bed, and Clare was starting to worry about her need to bury herself in her studio. There was, however, a cupcake on Emma’s tray, which suggested that Ophelia, at least, thought Emma was having a tough day. “You’re not glowing or traumatized enough to have done the tango with him.” Emma patted Clare’s shoulder. “Good girl.”
“I didn’t have sex with him.” Clare wrapped her hands around the coffee cup and let the heat penetrate her palms. Katie had had an early study session at school, and Clare had bailed before Griffin had emerged from his room, not quite sure what to say to him after last night. She peeked behind her to make sure no gray-haired ladies had zoomed in, but the backfield was clear. So, she leaned forward and lowered her voice, unable to keep the grin off her face. “But he kissed me.”
“Really?” Astrid clapped her hands, a delighted smile on her face. “How was it?”
Clare replayed that moment when Griffin’s lips had touched hers. The strength and heat of his body on hers. “Amazing. It was just incredible.”
“Oh,” Astrid said. “You look so happy right now. I’m so glad.”
Even Emma smiled. “Really?” She sighed and put her hand over her heart. “That’s so beautiful. You deserve a good kisser. They’re really wonderful.”
“And?” Astrid prompted. “What else?”
“Katie came downstairs and interrupted.” Clare had gone over that incident a thousand times in her head since last night. What would have happened if Katie hadn’t woken up? Or if she’d come down five minutes later? Clare still couldn’t decide whether she was glad Katie had come down, or not.
“Well, that’s okay. It builds anticipation.” Astrid sat back in her chair, her eyes dancing. “This sounds promising. Are you excited?”
Clare spun the cup around in her hands, trying to find the words. She’d sat there staring at that box of condoms this morning for at least ten minutes before getting into the shower. If anything happened with Griffin, it would be only a night, or two, and then real life would be back, facing her every morning. Could she really gallivant to the heavens with Griffin and be able to return peacefully to her world?
Emma leaned forward. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”
Clare eyed the cupcake that suddenly looked very tempting. “I don’t know what to do.”
“About sleeping with him?” Astrid asked.
Clare shrugged. “About everything. I mean, it’s been so long. I’m totally not rational about it. When he was kissing me, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. I have no frame of reference or foundation or anything.” She picked up the dessert and realized that it was an old one. From yesterday? It was totally against her morals to eat it, but she broke off a piece of the hardened frosting anyway, craving the chocolate. “I mean, it was the most amazing sensation ever, to feel his body against me like that. I wasn’t even thinking logically. I just wanted more. I would have hung from the rafters with him, and that was just from a kiss! What will happen if there’s more? I’ll be insane. I won’t even know how to think or act or respond.”
“Of course you will,” Emma said. “It’s natural—”
“And that’s not all!” Clare popped another bite of the day old dessert in her mouth and made a face even as she chewed. It was dried out and crumbly, but the sugar hit her system in a well-needed boost. “Do I even like him? Or was it just the feeling of a man giving me attention? And what happens if I do like him? And then he leaves?” She shoved the rest of the cupcake into her mouth. “It was so much better before he reminded me of what I’d been missing from my life.” She groaned and put her forehead down on the table. “I’m such a wreck.”
Astrid laughed and put her arm around her. “Oh, babe, it’s okay. You’ll be fine.”
“No, I won’t,” Clare moaned, not lifting her head. “I don’t know how to have sex anymore. I don’t know how to kiss. I was so in awe of his hands in my hair that I think I would have fallen down if I hadn’t already been in his bed.”
Emma whistled softly. “You were in his bed? How did that happen?”
“Because I’m so ignorant when it comes to dating and men that I got myself into his bed half-naked without even thinking about the fact it could turn sexual. What else am I going to do? Hop into the shower with him by accident?”
Astrid was laughing openly now. “If you get in the shower with him, there’s no way I’m going to believe it’s by accident.”
“It’s not funny!” Clare sat back and folded her arms against her chest. Her breasts felt heavy against her arms, and she could almost feel Griffin’s chest against them. “Emma was right. I’m in no shape for intimacy with a man. Some women are supposed to be celibate, and apparently, I’m one of them.”
“If you were,” Astrid said cheerfully. “It wouldn’t have felt so incredible, now would it?”
“It felt too incredible. I can’t be trusted.” Clare groaned. “I don’t even know what I’m doing.” She searched the faces of her friends for answers she didn’t have. “Would I really have had sex with him? I mean, I don’t even know him. He’s an outsider. He’ll be leaving soon. He’s everything that’s wrong.”
“And yet he’s completely tempting.” Emma drummed her fingers on the table, chewing her lower lip as she always did when she was in the middle of thought. Her white cotton blouse was soft, making her look even more fragile than she already did. “Maybe he should move out. I’m not sure that his staying there is a smart idea. Things could happen because of the proximity, not necessarily because you’ve thought it out and decided you were willing to take the risk of the fallout.”
Astrid raised her brows at Emma. “You think she should kick him out?”
“No!” Clare’s panicked response came out before she could stop it, and she saw the knowing looks from her friends at her intense reaction. “Oh, God. I’m already too dependent on him. I do have to make him move out, don’t I? Or I’m going to jump him while he’s sleeping.”
“Oh, no.” Astrid gave her a contemplative look, absently fingering the double heart necklace she was wearing. “You aren’t just attracted to him. You actually like him.”
“Yes, you do,” Emma agreed with a grimace. “I thought sex would put you over the edge and make you get emotionally involved. But all it took was one kiss, and you already like him?”
“Well, yes, but it was a really good kiss.” Oh, Clare didn’t like how that made her sound a little too harlot-like. “Plus, he’s a good man,” she added hastily, as she brushed the cupcake crumbs off the table. Had she really scarfed an entire day old cupcake in two bites? Yes, she had. It was official. She’d lost her capacity to cope.
“He might be a good man, but he has major baggage with an ex-wife, and he lives in Boston,” Emma said gently.
“I know, but—”
“It nearly wrecked you when Ed died,” Emma said. “Don’t get emotionally invested in a man who’s guaranteed to leave you. If you’re going to like a guy, at least pick one that has a chance of working out.”
“You know, Clare,” Astrid said. “I still believe you need to start dating again, and get some action, but I agree with Emma.” She looked at Clare with concern. “Your heart is too big, and you’ve already opened it to Griffin. You can’t sleep with him. You have to let him go.”
“You’re right.” Clare bit her lip, trying not to think about that amazing kiss. “I know. You’re right.” She made a face. “But I really, really liked kissing him.”
“Liked kissing who?” Ophelia asked as she walked up, carrying several plates of food from the deli. A personal delivery from the store owner meant one thing: that Ophelia was about to get personally involved, unless Clare could deflect her.
“Ed,” Clare said quickly as Ophelia gave Astrid a w
armed croissant and an orange. “My late husband. We were reminiscing about how he won me over.”
Ophelia waggled a finger at her. “Now, now, missy, don’t try to lie to me.”
“I’m not. I—”
“I may have been married for fifty-three years, but I know a good looking and good-hearted man when I see one, and that Griffin Friesé is all that.” Ophelia set another cupcake down in front of Clare, giving her a knowing nod that made Clare realize Ophelia had seen her scarf the cupcake and concluded she needed another one. “It’s natural and right that Griffin would look at you the way he does, and what girl with a beating heart would be able to resist those smoldering looks he dishes your way?”
“He ‘smolders’ at me?” Clare grinned. Okay, if she wasn’t going to convince Ophelia that she’d been talking about Ed, she might as well abandon the pretense and enjoy dishing about Griffin. Seriously. It wasn’t every day someone told her a man like Griffin Friesé was giving her dark, lusty looks. “Really?”
“Oh, yes,” Astrid said.
“’Fraid so,” Emma added. “Are you going to eat that?” She pointed at the cupcake on Clare’s plate. “Because if you’re not, I’m going to, seeing as how you ate mine.”
Clare looked at the cupcake and saw that the frosting definitely looked a little bit crustier than it should. “These are all from yesterday.” She frowned at Ophelia. “You’re supposed to throw away the old ones. You know it’s against my rules to serve old ones.”
“Well, we didn’t get any new ones today because our cupcake baker didn’t come through. Live with it.”
Guilt twinged through Clare. She hated letting people down, and she was religious about delivering to Wright’s. There were people in town who’d had one of her cupcakes every day for the last five years for their afternoon sugar high. “I had work.”
“Oh, I’m teasing, girl.” Ophelia waved her off. “Day-old cupcakes don’t bother me, and they can still help the spirit revive.” Ophelia rested her palm on the table, balancing the pot of coffee on her hip, her hazel eyes focusing on Clare. “Now, listen to me, Clare. Norm and I have been watching you for the last fifteen years...well, we’ve been watching you for the last thirty-three, but it’s those later ones that matter right now.”
Clare glanced across the room and saw the ancient owner of Wright’s studying them beneath the rim of his red hat. Always watching. Always vigilant. She smiled at him, and he gave her a nod.
“We’ve been waiting for the light to return to your eyes,” Ophelia said, drawing Clare’s attention back to her, “and we’re tickled pink to see that it’s come back.”
Clare was surprised. Had her light been out for so long? Twelve hours ago, she would have denied it, but after her response to Griffin last night, she had no defense. Last night he’d brought her to life in a way she hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. Maybe even fifteen years? Maybe longer? Oh, God, she hoped not.
“But a spark like that is fragile,” Ophelia continued. “It can be snuffed out in a heartbeat when it’s still so new. Griffin could be the one to either bring it to full flame, or knock it right out for good.”
Clare stiffened. “He’s a good man—”
“So he is. But sometimes, that’s just not enough.” Ophelia pushed the cupcake toward Clare just as Emma reached for it. “Be careful, Clare. If not for yourself, for your daughter. That girl of yours can go on only so long watching her mama’s spirit fading away. You need to live, my dear. Don’t go back to where you were, not ever again. Nurture that spark, and coax it back to life. Got it?”
“Yes, I got it.” Clare’s response got a skeptical sniff from Ophelia, but Norm called her away before Ophelia could press harder.
Clare stared after Ophelia as she shimmied up to Norm and nuzzled the old man endearingly, her heart sinking. “Was I that bad? I mean, I’m pretty happy, right?”
Emma put her arm around Clare’s shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t listen to her, Clare Bear. You’re doing a great job with Katie.”
“Am I?” She sighed, thinking about the night before. “Katie’s fifteen, and she still sleeps in my bed several nights a week. She’s started having nightmares about me dying and leaving her all alone.”
Astrid looked surprised. “You never told us that before.”
Emma nodded. “It makes sense. She lost her dad, and now she’s hit puberty. Teens become aware of things they didn’t notice before. You’re her world, Clare.”
“I know.” Which was why she had to do right by her. Ophelia was totally correct. Clare had to make her daughter’s world safe. But what was the answer? To retreat back to where she’d been in her safe, protected world? Or to start exploring the feelings that Griffin had stirred in her? To stoke the fire, as Ophelia might say.
Clare watched Ophelia sneak behind the counter and talk to Norm. He bent his head toward hers, and his wrinkled old hand held onto Ophelia’s as they spoke. There was such beauty between them, a connection as old as the earth. A partnership where they talked about things together, shared their worries, helped each other with solutions.
Clare had watched them huddle up hundreds of times, and she had always thought it was sweet. But for the first time, watching them made her feel empty inside, because she realized now what she didn’t have in her life. Last night, helping Griffin with his crisis about his daughter had felt good. She’d never had that kind of bond with a man, sharing burdens, understanding each other, connecting. Not even with Ed.
She’d never even thought about the lack of it in her life before. But now she was so achingly aware of it, of the hollowness in her chest. Clare realized then that the appeal of last night hadn’t just been about the kissing.
It had been about the man himself. His mind. His heart. His fears. And, of course, the way he’d held her and kissed her and—
“Look who just walked in the door,” Astrid whispered. “And he is looking mighty fine.”
Clare turned sharply, and there he was.
The man himself.
* * *
Griffin gave Norm a cheerful salute as he stepped into Wright & Son. The old country store was bustling, and there were people everywhere. But this time, Griffin didn’t feel overwhelmed. He was just in a damned good mood, and he grinned at a couple of locals discussing the best fishing spots on the lake as he headed toward the owner. “Good morning, Norm.”
The grizzled old man tipped his hat back. “Things going well, I see.”
“Oh, yeah.” Griffin swept a New York Times off the counter and tucked it under his arm. “I had a great sleep last night. The best I’ve had in years.”
Norm gave him a speculative look. “The Maine air will do that for a man. Nothing like the fresh scent of Mother Nature.”
And the scent of a certain woman that had lingered on Griffin’s pillows all night long. Last night was the most vivid that nightmare had ever been. Sleep was always a lost cause after that dream. But last night, Clare had soothed him. By the time she’d left, Griffin had been at peace and had decided to try sleeping again. He’d crashed hard and woken up feeling completely rejuvenated. Somehow, with her soft voice, earnest concern, and sensual kisses, Clare had chased away the demons brought on by his failed trip to River Junction to see his daughter.
Speaking of River Junction... Griffin contemplated the older man for a moment. A potential resource? “Hey, do you know anything about Dan Burwell?”
Norm nodded. “Sure do.”
Griffin grinned at the news. It had been hard as hell to walk away from Dan last night without engaging, but he’d made the call that he needed to reassess his strategy. Now that he knew Norm had information about the man who’d supplanted him, Griffin was glad he’d followed his instincts to step back and regroup. The key to a successful war was good information, and now he was going to get it. “Well, what’s he like? Tell me about him.”
Norm tipped his head, studying him. “Known the guy for forty years.”
Anticipation rushed thr
ough Griffin. This was what he needed. He leaned on the counter. “Talk to me.”
Norm’s gaze drifted over the busy store, and Griffin noticed that a line had formed behind him. There were already eight people in it. “Come back tonight after closing,” Norm said. “We’ll talk.”
Griffin ground his jaw, frustrated by the delay, but he knew it would be worth the wait. One thing he’d learned in business was not to move too soon. He’d run into complications with Dan Burwell, and he would take the time to figure out the best approach. “What time do you close?”
Norm shrugged. “Whenever the last person leaves.” He nodded past Griffin, dismissing him. “Morning, Patsy. You want to put that on your account?”
Griffin moved aside as a young woman with a baby on her hip stepped up to the counter. He glanced around the store, inspecting the crowds, and then he saw Clare, her blue eyes focused on him. She froze when he caught her gaze, and the rest of the store vanished instantly, and all that was left was the two of them.
There she was, the woman he’d dreamed about last night, sitting with two of her friends. Her hair was pulled back in a loose bun, a few strands hanging loosely around her face, tempting him to wrap those locks around his fingers and tug her over to him. She was wearing a loose peasant blouse and a long skirt that flowed decadently around her legs. He knew how soft her skin was below that casual top, and he knew what it felt like to have her legs wrapped around him. And he knew, with vivid clarity, exactly what it felt like to kiss her.
Griffin grinned, tossed money for the paper onto the counter, and headed right toward Clare.
Chapter Eleven
“Oh, he’s coming over here,” Clare whispered as Griffin began to work his way through the crowd toward them. She instinctively touched her hair to make sure it looked all right, then jerked her hand down. Hadn’t she already decided she wasn’t going to get involved?
“Of course he is.” Astrid watched him approach, her eyes gleaming in anticipation. “You teased him and left him hanging last night. No man can resist that kind of temptation.”
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