As he molded her body to his, donned protection and eased inside, a verse she’d heard several years ago at a wedding sang throughout her head. With my body, I worship thee. Tears of joy, touched with bittersweet longing, came to her eyes as she moved with Greg, reaching for that instant when they would truly be one, if only for a moment.
She held him tightly after they could again breathe, after her brain started working.
“I’m too heavy for you.”
“I love the way you feel.”
“I…you feel good, too.”
She rubbed her damp cheek against his shoulder. He didn’t want to use the word love, she understood, even when talking about a physical sensation. She didn’t blame him. She imagined that several women—she didn’t want to think there could have been “many”—might have thought they were in love with Greg Rafferty in such a moment. She wasn’t going to be jealous; they didn’t have time for such negative emotions. She wanted to savor each minute together, because she would never be able to enjoy this type of relationship with him when Jenny was home.
Not that Greg was going to be around forever, she reminded herself.
“If we stay here much longer, I’m going to get you all hot and sweaty again.”
“Again? So soon? Did I accidentally put an aphrodisiac in the pork chops?”
“I think you are the stimulant. I can’t get enough.”
“Don’t get addicted,” she whispered against his solid shoulder.
He raised slightly, framing her face between his hands, looking down at her with tenderness. “I just might.”
Oh, no. Don’t start this. These feelings weren’t part of the deal.
She was saved from making a comment when the phone on the nightstand rang, shattering the moment. Greg gave her one last look, then pulled away, leaving her empty and chilled in the air-conditioned room.
Carole glanced at the bedside clock—the time was nearly ten o’clock—and answered on the third ring. “Hello?” She forced her voice to sound casual, not breathless and emotionally charged.
“Carole, I was wondering if you’re okay.”
“Okay?” Maybe her heart was getting a little banged around on this relationship roller coaster, but she’d survive. “Sure, Mom.”
“Well, I heard from Hank that the fire was getting close to his property line, and since you’re so close to his ranch, I got worried about you, all alone at your place.”
Chapter Twelve
“Fire?”
“The grass fire. Surely you’ve noticed.”
“I’ve been inside the house.” Busy with a fire of another sort. “What’s going on? How did it start?”
“The volunteer fire department had to call other units for help to contain a grass fire that probably got started when someone tossed a cigarette out the window where the state highway turns around to the north.”
“That’s several miles from here.”
“It’s been burning for a couple of hours. Haven’t you heard the fire trucks or the helicopter? One of the news stations from Austin sent their traffic copter for the ten-o’clock news.”
“No, I didn’t hear anything.” Except the blood roaring in my ears, my heart pounding and Greg encouraging me to let everything go. “I’m going to look outside. I’ll call you back.”
“Don’t bother. I’m coming over, sweetie. You might need some help hosing down the barn and the roof since you’re there all by yourself. See you in a few minutes.”
Her mother hung up before Carole could tell her not to come. That there was already somebody here.
“What’s wrong?” he asked from beside the bed. He’d apparently already made a quick trip to the bathroom and was now reaching for his clothes.
“A brush fire is moving in this direction. It’s threatening Hank’s property, which is next to mine.”
“Is it serious?”
Carole swung her legs out of bed, her heart pounding from the adrenaline rush. “Could be, if the wind kicks up. I didn’t pay any attention earlier.” She’d been thinking of Greg, only Greg, as she’d fixed dinner, bathed and turned down the bed. “My mother is on her way over.”
“Damn,” he muttered. He looked up. “I don’t want to leave you alone, but what if she sees my car?”
His rental was parked around back, near the barn, where it wouldn’t be noticed by anyone from the road but would be unmistakable to anyone hosing down the wooden structure.
He pulled aside the curtain at the window and peered into the darkness. A faint red tinged the horizon. “You might need more help than your mother can provide.”
“I don’t—”
Before she could tell him that she and her mother could handle the potential problem, someone pulled into her driveway. A red flashing light, making a strobe effect on her drawn curtains, told her this visitor wasn’t her mother.
“Damn,” she muttered, reaching for her panties. She wasn’t dressed. She needed to be dressed and outside now, before a fire official or neighbor assumed she wasn’t home and tried to move Puff out of the barn.
“Carole!” a man’s voice called out.
“Oh, no.”
“Who is that?” Greg asked.
“Pastor Carl Schleipinger. He’s apparently making the rounds for the volunteer fire department, alerting the homes that might be threatened. I need to get dressed!”
“I’ll get the door.”
“No!”
“You want to ignore him?”
She wanted to shout “yes” as she struggled to locate her shorts and T-shirt. Where had she thrown them earlier?
Pastor Carl pounded on her door. “Carole, are you home?”
She groaned as she looked up at Greg, already dressed. “Okay, answer the door. We’ll deal with explanations later.”
He didn’t say another word, just turned and walked out of the bedroom. She didn’t dare turn on a light because that would tell Pastor Carl where she was. What she and Greg had been doing. Why the lights were out.
Groaning, she grabbed her clothes and hurried into the bathroom to dress. When she emerged a couple of minutes later, she heard her mother’s concerned voice drifting down the hallway.
Great. Carole couldn’t imagine a worse scenario than her mother and her pastor talking to her lover in her darkened living room at ten o’clock at night.
She took a deep breath, clutched the stack of towels to her chest and hurried toward the voices.
“Mom, Pastor Carl. What’s going on with the fire?”
“It’s not moving very fast, but we decided to alert everyone in the area so you could take precautions,” Pastor Carl replied. “Move any firewood or brush away from your house or barn, wet down the roof and get any animals ready to evacuate if it gets worse.”
“I didn’t know you had company,” her mother said.
“You didn’t give me time to tell you that Greg had come by for supper so we could talk about his company.”
Her mother glanced at the wall clock. It was after ten o’clock. She raised an eyebrow.
Carole decided to ignore her. “Thank you so much, Pastor Carl. How many more houses are you visiting?”
“There’s just about four more on the road. We don’t think the fire will get this far, but better be careful.”
“Right. I was just going to wet down these towels in case we need them. I wasn’t sure how smoky the air might get.”
“I’ll be going,” Pastor Carl said. “Y’all be safe tonight.”
“Oh, we will be,” Greg replied. He was probably thinking of safe sex, Carole thought.
“Maybe we’ll see you at services on Sunday,” the pastor said, opening the front door. He didn’t know that Greg would be gone soon. But she didn’t have time to think about that now.
Carole attempted a smile. “Good night, Pastor Carl.”
“If you’ll show me what to do, I’ll get started hosing down the roof. Or whatever else you need,” Greg offered as soon as the door closed.
/> “Mom, can you turn on the outside lights? Greg can make sure everything is moved away from the house while you and I start on the barn. I’ll get Puff’s halter and lead rope on him just in case we have to move him out. I’ll also hook up the trailer and pull it into the driveway.”
“Okay. Oh, and sweetie, you might want to gather your photos and important papers,” her mother said, shrugging. “Just in case.”
Carole nodded, dropping her stack of towels on the kitchen table and hurrying into the family room. While she placed photo albums and scrapbooks into a tote bag, she noticed the lights coming on outside. Through the windows she heard her mother and Greg talking. Please, Lord, don’t let her quiz him about me. I want to keep this simple.
She knew she wasn’t good at having an affair. But she didn’t have time to think about that now. Grass and brush fires in the summer were a fact of life. Some were caused by lightning, but most were caused by careless people. Smokers, outdoor cooks, campers. Arsonists.
She didn’t have time to think about that, either. She went to the file cabinet and placed her important papers in the tote. Her property deed, investment accounts and one very important paper dissolving her brief marriage.
She paused for a moment, remembering how she’d paid little attention to the details at the time her mother had petitioned the court on her behalf. She’d been too involved in her own angst, worrying about what everyone thought of her, how she looked and how she was going to care for a baby. She’d been so young, so stupid. Those days seemed like a lifetime ago.
She’d considered putting the baby up for adoption, but her family had appeared appalled by the idea. Kerry had sworn they’d get through it together, that they were family and would all pitch in. The baby was family, too, her sisters reminded her, and deserved to be raised right here.
Carole was so glad she’d listened to her heart. Jenny had made the family stronger. She’d made Carole stronger, too, by forcing her to grow up.
Just like Greg had made her stronger by making her face her fear of intimacy. Sexual intimacy. He’d blown away the last vestige of that shallow, superficial girl who’d taken far too much pride in how she filled out her Wranglers.
Shaking away thoughts of Greg, she focused once more on the crisis at hand. She wasn’t about to let Jenny’s home burn, she thought, pushing to her feet. She had a truck to move, a trailer to hitch and a mother’s questions to avoid.
GREG STRETCHED the kinks from his back as he settled into the kitchen chair. At the counter Carole and her mother, Charlene, were fixing coffee. Dawn had just broken. The fire was contained, straying only slightly onto Carole’s property after the volunteer fire department used water from her stock tank—which was really a man-made pond—to put it out. Only three fence posts had been charred by the flames.
Of course, they all bore remnants of the night. Their clothes smelled of smoke, they were sweaty, tired and hungry. He needed coffee, food and a shower—preferably with Carole after her mother went home.
“Are you sure I can’t go get breakfast? The fast-food place has a drive-through, don’t they?”
“Yes, but that’s not necessary,” Charlene answered. “We can fix something here in a jiffy.”
“Mama, don’t you have to get to work?” Carole asked as she removed mugs from the cabinet.
“Yes, but I wanted to make sure everything was fine at your place. I couldn’t go off to the café not knowing what was happening.”
Greg sincerely hoped Charlene meant about the fire, not about him.
“As you can see, we’re fine.”
“Yes, but—”
“And Greg is here in case any embers pop up or there’s another problem.”
Charlene poured coffee, ignoring her daughter’s question. “Cream or sugar?” she asked, turning toward Greg.
“No, thanks. Black is fine.”
She placed the mug on the table in front of him with a strained smile. “Greg, how long are you going to be in town?”
“I have to be back in Chicago for a Monday-afternoon board meeting.”
“I see.” She turned to Carole. “That’s not very long.”
“No, but I can always come back,” he added.
“And I’m sure you’d be welcome. But really, your life is in Chicago, right?”
Carole spun around. “Mama, that’s not even the least bit subtle. I know Greg’s life is in Chicago, but he’s here now. Let’s just leave it at that.”
Charlene sighed. “I will if you can.”
Greg watched Carole’s face, noticing a flash of pain in her tense features and blue-gray eyes. “Of course. Greg and I have a professional relationship. I’m still Ms. Carole, after all,” she said with a forced laugh.
The coffee settled in his stomach like acid as he listened to her false bravado. He couldn’t be a bystander to any more subtle confrontation between mother and daughter. He jumped from his chair and walked toward Carole.
“We have more than a professional relationship, Mrs. Jacks. I care about your daughter, but you’re right—my job and my life are in Chicago. She knows that. We’ve been honest with each other.” He placed his arm around Carole’s shoulders and pulled her close. “I’m only here temporarily, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have an adult relationship.”
Charlene took a deep breath. “I know. You’re right. I’m just meddling,” she said, sweeping her arm in a dismissive gesture. “I don’t have a lot of experience as a meddling mother.”
Carole eased away and put her arms around her mother. “It’s okay, Mama. I’m not seventeen anymore. I know what I’m doing.”
“I know you do. But when I came here tonight, thinking you were all alone, and Greg was here with you and I’d obviously interrupted something—”
“Actually, Pastor Carl almost interrupted something,” Carole corrected.
“That’s even worse.”
“It’s not better or worse,” Greg pointed out. “That’s just what happened. Carole and I were having a wonderful evening and then there was a fire. That’s all anyone needs to know.”
“I’m not worried about anyone else!” Charlene exclaimed. “I’m just thinking of Carole.”
“I’m fine, Mama. Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl now.”
He supposed this was the part of an awkward conversation where, if there was a father involved, he asked the “young man” about his intentions toward his daughter. But there wasn’t a father because he’d split years ago, leaving Charlene and the three girls alone. Greg could understand why they’d all have an issue with men who were here today, gone tomorrow.
“Whatever our personal or professional relationship, I hope to see Carole in the future. I would never do anything to hurt her or Jennifer. I care about them both.”
“Then that’s fine with me. Carole is right. You two are both adults. Jenny is away at camp, and what you do when you’re alone isn’t anyone else’s business. I don’t know what got into me.”
“You’re just tired, Mama. You’ve been up all night.”
“We’re all tired,” Greg said. And he still wanted something to eat, a shower and Carole beside him while he slept.
“I’m going to take my coffee ‘to go,’ grab a shower and call the café. Maybe I do need to take the day off.”
“That’s an excellent idea.”
“Why don’t we all go out to dinner tonight?” Greg suggested. “You and Cheryl could join us at Bretford House.”
“That’s a nice idea. I’ll ask her. I don’t think she has any appointments for her petting zoo on a week-night.” She gathered up her purse and car keys. “I’ll talk to you later, sweetie.”
“Later, Mama,” Carole said, giving her mother another hug.
The kitchen door whooshed shut, filling the house with blessed silence. Suddenly awkward silence.
Carole turned to look at him, her expression unreadable. “So, you’re leaving on Sunday.”
SHE KNEW he was leaving soon, just not when. As
long as she didn’t know the exact day, she could ignore the warning bells in her head that rang out “watch your heart” over and over again.
“I have to go back to Chicago. The board has called a meeting to discuss what we’re doing about the crisis.”
“You mean about the mess Brad caused.”
“A mess, yes, but one we must clean up soon. I’ve taken some interim steps with a revised ad campaign, but we still need a spokesperson.”
She felt her heart pound in her chest. Her blood pressure must be through the roof. First the fire, then their “discovery,” and now this revelation.
“I told you I wouldn’t do it.”
“Have I asked you lately?” he said, clearly irritated. His hands were on his hips and his expression was one she hadn’t seen in a while. Acute frustration tinged with a bit of a challenge.
“No, but I…Oh, I don’t know what I meant.”
“I think you’ve said ‘no’ so much that it’s a programmed response.”
“That’s not true!”
“Really?”
“No! I just don’t like to be pushed into a corner. I also don’t like to be talked about. And I’m still tense about people showing up when you were here, with the lights out, around bedtime.”
“You think your pastor or your mother are going to run back to Ranger Springs with tales of you doing the wild thing with a Chicago businessman who’s just in town for a few days?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
She wanted to scream. Instead, she ran her hands through her messy hair and pressed her thumbs against her throbbing temples. “I don’t know. I’m too tired to think.”
With her eyes closed and her head pulsing, she didn’t hear Greg walk up. But suddenly he was there, wrapping his strong arms around her, pulling her against his chest.
“I’m not trying to corner you into doing anything, Carole. I’m also not trying to flaunt our relationship. It’s no one’s business but our own.” His hands lifted hers away from her head and placed them around his neck. Then he massaged her tense shoulders and neck until she was practically purring like her mama’s cat.
The C.E.O. & the Cookie Queen Page 15