“At my age, one would hope.” When he’d bought the car, it was with family in mind. This time around speed and sleekness hadn’t been his first priority. He wanted something larger, sturdier and one that would hold a car seat or two. Wasn’t a far stretch to say that the sooner he filled up those car seats, the better. He wasn’t getting any younger. Men had mental biological clocks…and his was ticking like crazy.
“Thirty-six isn’t exactly old. I don’t see any mold growing off your chest, uh, you know what I mean.”
He smiled, amused at her reference. “Thirty-seven. I had a birthday a few months back.”
Chagrined, Trish only smiled and wished him a belated birthday. Then she became very quiet, her mind a million miles away. She was worried about Meggie. Leaving her with Helen hadn’t been in the plans, but the baby had fallen asleep earlier than expected. Clay and Helen had a hard time convincing Trish to leave her asleep in her crib rather than disrupt her sleep. She’d hated doing it, but finally she’d agreed. It was obvious Trish couldn’t keep her mind on anything else.
“She’s fine,” he said, turning slightly. With one eye on the road and one eye on her, Clay tried to reassure her.
Her lips formed a perfect pout. That look had once made Clay want to give her the world. “She’s never been without me.”
“You said yourself, she’s a good sleeper.”
“What if she wakes up and I’m not there?”
“Helen is a pro with kids. She’ll rock her back to sleep.”
“I know she’s good with children,” Trish said. “She promised to call me in an hour.”
“So see, honey, if there’s a problem, she’ll let you know. But there won’t be.”
Clay was sure of it. Trish was overprotective when it came to Meggie, but in the short time she’d been here, for all her concerns, fears and misgivings to the contrary, Trish was turning out to be a wonderful mother. The doubtful look on her face and concern in her eyes tugged at something elemental and deep in his heart. It was hard to be angry with someone who cared so much, who tried so hard. She got an A for effort. Clay had known from the start it would be this way. The family that they could have had together would have been provided for, cherished and nurtured in the best possible way. Trish hadn’t trusted in that.
But Clay had always known. It had been a bone of contention in their marriage and something he couldn’t quite forget. Anger and impatience had destroyed his love for her and made him look to another woman for the things he wanted in life. By the time Trish had gotten here, he was on the precipice with Suzy Johnson, but hadn’t yet taken the plunge.
“I hope you’re right,” she uttered softly.
She nibbled on her lower lip again and uncertainty marred her pretty face. A primal instinct took hold in his gut. Protective feelings surfaced that surprised him in their intensity. With a full-out cocky grin, Clay caught her attention. “I always am.”
Her lips curved up, amusement reaching her eyes, and she shook her head at his nonsense. Mission accomplished, he thought and the hell of it was, his own mood elevated with the glimmer of Trish’s smile.
They reached the Ridgecrest Resort Hotel in twenty minutes and met with Bruce Williams, the manager. He gave them a brief overview of the resort’s amenities and took them on a tour of the grounds. It was an impressive piece of land, with waterfall pools, spas and golf greens that rivaled PGA championship courses.
On the way to the meeting rooms, Helen called to reassure them Meggie was still sleeping peacefully. Trish visibly sighed with relief. Her shoulders relaxed and contrary to her calmer demeanor went straight into business mode. Her sharp eyes took everything in. Clay saw her mind working, clicking away, calculating and weighing options.
They reached the largest of the meeting rooms, a ballroom adorned by eye-catching crystal chandeliers, a curtained stage and polished dance floors suitable for waltzes or the two-step. Clay liked the looks of the place. He blew out a low whistle, imagining contributors dining here and opening their wallets for a good cause. Trish looked on, effortlessly giving polite smiles to Mr. Williams, but Clay’s sixth sense told him something was up with her.
“And if you’ll allow me, I’ll show you to our dining room, where you may sample from a variety of meals we offer.” Williams, a middle-aged man with thin sandy hair and a perpetual smile, showed them to their table that overlooked the first tee of the golf course and the stunning Red Ridge Mountains beyond. The minute they sat down, Williams was called away and begged their apologies.
“Please, enjoy the meal. I’ll return as soon as I can to answer your questions,” he said.
Clay turned to Trish once he was gone. He’d always trusted her opinion on business matters. “What do you think?”
She paused a long moment, without saying a word. Clay couldn’t gauge her reaction. Eyes wary now and narrowed on her, he said, “We’re lucky they volunteered the use of the room. Red Ridge Inn can’t accommodate nearly as many folks.”
Trish’s gaze swept over the hotel dining room one more time and then she leaned forward across the table. On her cue, he did the same. Inches separated them as they stared at each other, their breaths mingling.
She lowered her voice. “It’s not right, Clay. I wanted to see this place to give it my full consideration. I’ve seen enough.”
Her hair moved softly onto her face as she shook her head. Blond streaks caught the glow of light and Clay’s mind wandered, for a second, thinking how he wanted this night to end. With Trish beside him in bed. “Okay,” he said, unsure of where she was going with this. “What do you have in mind?”
Trish looked at him with new regard as he gave her a chance to explain. He wouldn’t overreact. She’d always led him on the right path in business. That hadn’t been the root of their trouble at all.
“It’s tricky. We don’t have much time. If I was here to begin with, I would have known.” Again, she moved her head as if shaking off the thought. “We can’t have the fundraiser here. It should be held at Penny’s Song. It has to be, Clay.”
He absorbed that with a nod. “I’m listening.”
“I’ve seen Penny’s Song in action. I’ve met the kids and seen the joy on their faces. The relationship they have with the volunteers and each other is gratifying. In only a few days, I’ve come to know how very important the little ranch is to everyone involved. You can’t walk away from a day at Penny’s Song without feeling good. Benefactors and donors won’t see that here. They won’t get that from a slide show set to music. They need to walk the same ground as the kids. Get the lay of the land. See the bunkhouse, the general store and the saloon. We can still have a gala with catered food, china-set tables and entertainment. We can do it all and in the process get more bang for our buck if we do it at Penny’s Song.”
Clay envisioned the gala from Trish’s point of view and he was floored. She hit the nail on the head and it was so dang obvious now that he should have thought of it himself. If Trish had been here during construction, he was sure they would have come to this conclusion together. “Damn, you’re right. But it’s short notice and what about Williams? He’s expecting us to—”
“The only thing Mr. Williams will lose out on is volunteering his room. We’ll still use the hotel’s catering services. And we’ll make darn sure that his resort is the place our out-of-town guests will stay when they come to Red Ridge. Trust me, Clay. This is going to work. I’ll make phone calls tomorrow and make sure everyone attending knows the location has changed. As for the Red Ridge residents, those who already aren’t volunteering will get a chance to see Penny’s Song from our perspective. The goodwill the gala produces in the community will go a long way.”
“Okay,” Clay said, embracing the idea. “We’ll get out the word and make the necessary changes.” When Bruce Williams walked back into the dining room with his ever-present smile, Clay spared him a glance, then turned to Trish. “But who’s going to break the news to the manager?”
Trish w
as a good sport. She handled Williams with kid gloves and even had him thanking her for the opportunity to be a part of Penny’s Song’s gala when all was said and done. Clay had to admire Trish in action. She was good at her job and he had no doubt that she’d make the fundraiser a huge success.
Dinner was served and they discussed the new plans over the meal. The whole time Trish was talking Clay listened, but it was the lilting tone of her voice, the low rasp at times and then the excited rise when something new occurred to her, that kept his rapt attention. She was beautiful in the soft glimmer of candlelight, and when Helen called, interrupting their meal to give Trish peace of mind, Clay saw his chance for a few stolen moments alone with her later.
They sipped wine, and after the meal, Clay ordered espresso and Raspberry Decadence from the dessert menu.
“Oh…this shouldn’t be legal,” she whispered, taking a bite and closing her eyes. The five-layer chocolate cake oozed with a filling of warm fudge drizzled with tart raspberry sauce. Her oohs and aahs continued, coming deep from her throat. The noises were sexy as hell. He didn’t know how much more he could take. He sipped coffee watching her while every nerve jumped against his skin.
When she realized he hadn’t touched his cake, her eyes fluttered and an adorable pout formed on her lips. “You’re not having some?”
“Trust me, honey,” he said, scraping the words out, “I’m getting some.”
Her mouth pursed in puzzlement and Clay lifted just enough to lean over the table and tongued a dollop of raspberry sauce from the corner of her mouth. His move elicited a soft little “oh” from her lips and Clay’s willpower crashed and burned. He moved his mouth half an inch and met with her ready lips. The kiss was hot but swift, not nearly enough. He leaned back in his seat, staring at Trish and the look on her face sent a blast of heat to his groin. Rising from the table, he offered her a hand up. “Let’s get out of here.”
Trish’s momentary surprise quickly faded into something Clay could only deem as surrender when she took his hand. He led her outside.
No words were spoken as he strode to the back of a pool house, far away from the hotel’s activities. The only sound he heard was the quiet hum of water falling from a cluster formation of rocks over the tropical pool. Clay leaned against the wall and tugged her to him, the extent of his desire revealed as their hips meshed. “You’ve got me horny as a teenager.” He growled into her hair and pushed her petal sleeve down to nibble on her shoulder.
“I don’t know what I did.” Her whisper flowed over him, breathless.
Not much, he admitted. She never had to do too much to turn him on. And now that he’d had a taste of her again, he wanted more. “The way you took that cake into your mouth and moaned. Made me wish it was me.”
Clay didn’t give her a chance to respond. He brought his mouth over hers in an urgent melding of lips that defied reluctance on her part. He kissed her senseless, slanting his mouth over hers, making her grind out those little sounds, this time, for him.
Her hair slid through his fingers and he yanked gently, bringing her face slightly back to expose the slender slope of her neck. So beautiful. He kissed her with his tongue stroking a line over her soft skin. She smelled erotic in her innocent citrus scent. Next, he moved farther down to the plump ridge of her breasts. He held her firm with one hand to her hair, while the other thumbed her nipple through the silky fabric of her dress. The sensitive nipple responded to his touch immediately and he toyed with her until she pleaded for more. He replaced his thumb with his mouth giving her what she wanted. What he wanted. Trish gasped deep in her throat. His heartbeats sped out of control, her sounds sinful with raw need. He suckled her through the material, asking for more than decorum of place and time allowed. Yet, he’d grab whatever stolen minutes he could have with her, his common sense shattered.
She arched her back, allowing him more access and he stroked one breast with a heavy hand, kneading her through the protection of her clothes as he continued his assault on her other side with his mouth.
“Clay, pleeeeze.” Her desperate plea tore through her throat.
“Hang on, honey.” His body ached for release, yet Trish’s needs came first. He’d brought her to this point. He would satisfy her, right here, right now.
He spun her around. Her rear end fit snugly against his erection and it pulsed with new life, but Clay held back. He couldn’t take her here on the hotel grounds.
A little voice in his head begged to know why not?
“Clay.” She squirmed against him.
His hand slipped under her dress. Her thigh filled his palm and he moved up slowly, relishing the feel of soft skin against his rough hand. She squirmed even more, aching, waiting with an intake of breath. Clay couldn’t torment her, she needed him and as much as he wanted to bed her in the traditional way, she wasn’t going home tonight unsatisfied.
He found her center. “Ah, man.” She was wet and he knew this would be quick. Her passion made him ache in ways he couldn’t begin to name.
He pushed aside her panties and stroked his finger over her core. She shuddered in his arms. “I know,” he murmured against her ear.
“Are we really doing this?” Her softly spoken words sounded distant and incredulous as she leaned her head back.
Clay’s answer was to slip his finger inside her. She trembled. And as he moved, she moved. They found a rhythm together that brought her higher and higher. He’d been right. Her climax came fast. Short and damn sweet as she uttered his name like a prayer. Her tremors made him break out in a sweat. He brought her to completion with one hand covering her mouth to keep her noisy gasps from echoing off the surrounding trees.
Clay kissed the back of her neck, holding her steady, letting her come down at her own speed. When she did, she turned slowly, her beautiful blue eyes glowing under a paltry beam of moonlight. “I’ve never been a selfish lover.”
She set her hand on his belt buckle, her fingers splayed over his stirring erection. His need grew with every passing second. “Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he warned with a growl of desire.
Drawing her lower lip inside her mouth, she blinked and hesitated. “Tell me this is only about sex.”
Clay could tell her that. She needed to know it was a pre-divorce fling and nothing more. He hadn’t forgiven her. She hadn’t forgiven him. Maybe that’s all it was and he was okay with that right now. “It’s only about sex.”
She unhooked his belt.
“Hey, you kids come outta there right now!” a gravelly voice commanded. “This is hotel security.”
Clay met with Trish’s wide, stunned eyes. She gasped and put herself back together with lightning speed.
“Come out, where I can see you.” The beam of a flashlight darted in front of them. Clay heard footsteps approach.
He took Trish’s hand and pulled her into the light with him. “It’s okay, officer. I was just showing my wife the sights.”
An elderly man in a blue uniform and hat appeared. His stern expression changed instantly when he saw them, and he relaxed his stance. Scratching his head and sighing deep, the guard asked, “What the heck kind of sights are you showing her this late at night?”
Clay kept his tone serious. “You’d be surprised.”
The man shook his head as if the notion was ridiculous. “Thought you were kids doing what they shouldn’t. You folks registered at the resort?”
“No, sir,” Clay said earnestly. “We had business with Bruce Williams, the manager.”
“That so?” he asked, still a little skeptical. Then his aging eyes sparked with recognition. It was the “look” Clay had come to know from days of being in the limelight. “Hey, aren’t you that singer?”
“Yes, sir, I am.”
“Clayton Worth, right?”
Clay nodded.
“You folks live around here.” It was a statement of fact.
“Not far from here.”
“Okay, well, then. You go on. I�
�ve got a maple bar and cup of coffee waiting on me back at the guard shack.”
“Sure thing.” Clay squeezed Trish’s hand tighter and they walked toward the hotel with heads held high. As soon as the guard was out of view, they took off at a run heading toward the car, Trish keeping pace with him. When they reached the parking lot, Clay clicked open both doors and they jumped inside the car breathing heavily from their jaunt. With chests heaving, they turned to each other and the second their eyes met, they broke out laughing.
“Bet you’d never thought we’d almost get hauled to the slammer tonight,” Clay said, amusement gleaming in his dark eyes. He leaned casually against her front door, brows arched devilishly.
She stood facing him and gave a nod. “It was a night for the books.”
His eyes narrowed in concentration as he lifted a lock of her hair and studied it. “Yeah, it was.”
She swallowed back the invitation on her lips. The evening didn’t have to end. He was waiting for her to say so and oh, how she wanted to. They could have another mind-blowing night together.
“It’s late. There’s a lot of work to do tomorrow,” she said finally, chickening out. Sometimes, Trish wished she could go for broke, damn the consequences and not be so rational in her thinking. Why couldn’t she just invite him in for a wild time on the Trish Fontaine express and be done with it?
Because that’s not you, that insipid voice in her head answered back.
Think of Meggie, she cautioned. She needs stability in her life now. In a quiet voice she said, “I should let Helen get home. It was nice of her to—”
Clay took her into his arms and kissed her. It was less urgent than before, less erotic. Savoring her mouth, he lingered on her lips and it was pure heaven to have him touch her this way. His lips felt familiar and oddly safe, as he demanded nothing from her. The kiss soothed her and brought a measure of peace to her heart and she kissed him back, relishing his giving lips and the warmth they brought with them.
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