Kate inhaled raggedly. He was too close. Too tantalizingly near. She could smell him. And he smelled deliciously like the outdoors. What would it be like to taste him? Kiss him? Tumble into that rumpled, messy bed with him?
Whipping around, she hugged her arms to her chest. Stop it! Stop it! You have no business going there!
With her back to him, Kate could sense his hesitation. She heard him take a step toward her. She bit back a curse and battled the ever-ready tears of insecurity. “I need a budget,” she managed to say in a weak voice.
He cleared his throat. “No problem. I have it in my office.”
She trailed him into the third upstairs bedroom. At least it wasn’t his real bedroom. Danger lurked there. At least in her mind.
Naming a price, Scott handed her his Visa card and a business card. “That’s the painter I’ve used,” he said, “if you want to have the room painted.”
She nodded, staring down at the credit card in her hand. “You trust me with this?”
“Of course, I trust you.”
Memories flooded through her. It dawned on Kate that she’d heard Scott say those words years ago. But back then, he couldn’t trust her. Not really. She was already sleeping with Jerry during freshman year. She had betrayed Scott, and he didn’t know it. Was she worthy of his trust now?
Her heart shuddered. She lifted her gaze to find him staring at her. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You can,” he said softly. “You can do whatever you put your mind to.”
“But why me?”
“Because I need it done,” he replied. “And because I think you need to do it.”
She blinked, her heart beating out of rhythm. “I don’t understand.”
“That’s okay.” Head tilted, a slight smile on his lips, Scott gave her the key to his apartment. “Take this. You’ll need it, too.”
They exchanged long looks as she accepted the key. She trembled inside. Could he guess? Why was he being so kind after what she’d done to him?
She ducked her head. “Okay, I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will.” His voice was deep and confident.
When she raised her gaze, she wondered if he was going to kiss her.
He didn’t, of course.
Instead, he told her he had to get to work, eyeing the pile of papers on his desk. Kate got the message and left him alone, letting herself out the front door.
Back home in her own study, she did a Google search on the Internet, looking for ways to decorate a bachelor pad. She called and engaged the painter for Monday morning. Scott’s pale apartment walls needed color, but Kate had no clue what color to use. That would depend upon the focal point she found for the room.
But she couldn’t find anything on the Internet. So she spent the rest of her morning and early afternoon scrubbing her bathrooms and vacuuming her floors. Housecleaning was always a good outlet for pent-up energy. Then she picked up Reagan early from camp, bringing along a pair of shorts and sandals for her daughter to wear.
Reagan’s eyes lit with anticipation. “Where are we going?”
“We’re going on a hunting expedition,” Kate explained. “We’re going shopping.”
They ended up in Midway, a small college town right smack dab in the middle of thoroughbred country. Legendary horse farms flanked the town, where famous studs bred the next Kentucky Derby winners and well-known race mares spent leisurely days grazing and caring for their prize foals.
“What are we looking for?” Reagan asked as they entered the first antique store.
Kate shrugged. “I don’t know. I hope I know it when I see it.”
They strolled through three stores before entering the last one on the block. It was filled with equine art. Horses, mainly thoroughbreds, were depicted in prints, watercolors, oils and modern photos. Most were framed. All were expensive.
“Look, Mommy!” Reagan said with excitement. “That’s a pretty horse!”
“They’re all gorgeous.” Kate acknowledged as her mind raced with inspiration. Scott liked to ride. Why not pick out a painting of a horse and make it the focal-point of his room? Then the colors would fall into order, and she could select window treatments and bedding from there.
But which one should she choose? She didn’t know anything about paintings, let alone about ones with horses.
“May I help you?”
Kate turned to the young clerk who came up beside her. “I’ve been asked to decorate a man’s room.” She couldn’t bring herself to say “bedroom.”
“Are you thinking about buying a painting?”
“Well, yes, but I don’t know what to select,” Kate said. “And I don’t want to blow my budget on it.”
What if Scott hated her idea? The fear of failure was her ever-present phantom.
“Have you thought about using ‘sporting art’? We have quite a collection of prints over here.”
“I don’t know what that is.” Kate followed the clerk to another corner of the shop.
“You said it’s for a man. Well, there’s nothing that speaks more of country gentlemen than a nice piece of sporting art.”
Kate received a quick education. Sporting art had its roots in the early eighteenth century when British noblemen wanted to commemorate their favorite horses, dogs or other sporting scenes and commissioned the top artists of the day to paint these subjects. In America, the immigrant, Edward Troye, became known as the greatest American painter of horses in the nineteenth century.
“I like that one.” Kate pointed to a print of a painting by Troye. It was the portrait of the champion horse named Kentucky. What caught Kate’s eye was the light blue background with the fine carriage and well-dressed passengers and horses. In the foreground, the race horse was a deep mahogany color, providing the perfect segue from it to the colors she could use in the room.
The print was framed in a heavy mahogany wood frame, matching the color of the horse. Kate knew exactly where she’d hang it. She’d move Scott’s bed from the far wall and place it on the long wall so that it faced the doors to the bathroom and walk-in closet. When she found a chest of drawers to set between the doors, then she would hang the painting over it.
Using Scott’s credit card for the purchase gave Kate a tingly feeling. She’d spent more than this on oil paintings for her house in Louisville. At that time, expensive home decorators had advised her purchases. Now, it was totally up to her. If she screwed up, it would be her fault. Scott would blame her, not a high-priced interior decorator.
Well, you get what you pay for, Kate thought shrugging off the trepidation. Scott wanted her help. She’d give it to him and try her hardest to do a good job, no matter what happened.
* * * *
Friday night, Kate and Reagan made brownies to take to the picnic the next afternoon at the barn. After Reagan went upstairs to bed, carrying with her an iPad full of children’s eBooks to read, Kate made a cup of soothing hot chamomile tea and cut two brownies to sample. She took them outside on the front porch and settled down in one of the white wicker chairs to savor the small-town quiet.
“Mind if I join you?”
Scott’s deep voice broke the night silence. He approached quietly, almost as if he wanted to catch her unawares. Kate startled, sitting forward and gripping her mug. She gazed up at him, her heart warming, then scooted back into the chair, swallowing the last bite of brownie.
“Sure, have a seat.”
She hadn’t talked to him since Wednesday morning, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t on her mind. Constantly. Like a nagging gnat swarming around her head. At first she thought it a good thing, her preoccupation with the man next door. She was doing a project for him, after all, and it took her thoughts away from Jerry and his upcoming wedding. But then, she wondered if she was being silly and foolish.
Kate had seen her single friends acting absurd, like schoolgirls, falling in love with men who cared only for the next night of sex, not a long-term commitment. She’d
nursed her friend, Jennifer, through several such crises. All with different men. All were Jennifer’s true love…at the moment. Kate had vowed not to be desperate like that after she got divorced.
Besides, it was all too premature for her. Too impossibly early to become involved with another man. Even a hottie like Scott Gray.
“Would you care for a brownie?” Kate asked, offering Scott the plate with one remaining brownie on it. “I promise it won’t poison you.”
“Thanks.” He smiled at her when he lifted the brownie from the plate. “Is it homemade?”
Kate lifted a shoulder and cocked her head. “Brownie mix.”
Chewing and swallowing the first bite, Scott gazed at her with amusement in his eyes. “You shouldn’t have told me that,” he said. “It tastes homemade to me.”
He finished eating, and they sat on the porch together in companionable silence, enjoying the cool of the night. Why was he so comfortable to be around? Kate’s alarm antennae rose. She shouldn’t feel this way. She shouldn’t let herself.
“I didn’t know I missed having a front porch to sit on,” Kate remarked, wishing to stop the low throb that unfurled in her stomach.
Scott sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands. He stared at the empty street, at the large, grassy lot that backed the houses facing Maple Street a block away. Kate followed his gaze and noticed the lights on at the corner house where Dr. Sullivan lived with her husband Judd.
He didn’t respond to her remark, and Kate wondered if he’d heard her. The silence between them lengthened, but this time there was a new edge to it, less comforting.
Kate noticed little things about him—the way his hair parted on the side, the shadow of his beard, the tiny scratch on his forearm. The muscles ticked in his jaw. She swallowed and looked away, her heart beating a little too fast.
Finally, he turned his head to the side and looked at her. Then he straightened, letting his shoulders rest on the back of his chair. He angled slightly so that he could see her through the growing gloom.
“I didn’t know how much I missed you,” he said.
Kate swallowed again and stared, losing the ability to breathe. What did he say?
O…M…G.
Looking away, as if that would make a difference, she was too aware of his presence, the strong energy he projected, the words he had uttered.
“I know that’s not what you want to hear,” he murmured.
“I don’t know how to answer you.”
“You don’t have to.” His voice was soft and tender. “It’s a simple statement of fact. It doesn’t require your response.”
“But…”
He stopped her words with the touch of a fingertip to her lips. “Hush.”
Her body pulsed at his touch. She was transfixed by the light in his eyes.
Then he stood quickly. “Thanks for the brownie.”
“You’re welcome,” she choked out politely, and she rose too so that she wouldn’t be looking up at him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Before she could ask when, he disappeared down the steps and strode out along the sidewalk toward Maple Street. Kate figured he was taking a walk. She needed one, too, so she could clear her head.
Instead, she went back into her house and softly shut her door.
Chapter Ten
He’d wanted to kiss her. Damn! How he’d wanted to kiss her. But he respected Kate too much to get involved that way. Just for sex. He wanted more than that, but she wasn’t ready.
Work wasn’t enough for him anymore. Nothing waited for him at home except a self-sufficient calico cat that didn’t care if he was there or not. He thought he’d gotten over Kate years ago, but that was before she’d moved in next door.
It didn’t help that his sister was matchmaking, he thought as he turned down the gas on the grill. Sarah had invited him to her after-camp picnic. He had no business attending, but he couldn’t stay away. That’s why he’d volunteered to cook the burgers and franks. Perhaps it would give him something to do to keep his mind off the woman who had come back into his life so unexpectedly.
“I want a hot dog, Mr. Gray,” Georgia said, holding out her plate with the open bun on it.
“Sure thing, Georgia.” He spiked one that wasn’t badly blackened and transferred it into the bun. “Ketchup and mustard are on the table.”
Mandy was next in line holding out her plate. “How about a burger, medium well?”
“‘Fraid it will moo if it’s too rare?” Standing behind her, Mandy’s husband Judd poked fun. “I’ll take mine rare if you please, Scott.”
Mandy made a face. “I can’t stand it rare.”
“That’s about the only thing we don’t have in common,” Judd quipped, eyeing his wife’s very pregnant belly and accepting the rare hamburger from Scott, who was enjoying their banter.
Mandy stuck out her tongue but allowed Judd to escort her to the picnic table where they found seats next to Mandy’s sister, Marisa, and her husband Robert. The long table was already crowded with Sarah’s riders and their families. Scott had seen little Reagan come through earlier with a pack of young campers. But he hadn’t seen Kate.
Until he felt her presence behind him as the line thinned. What was it? Her soft vanilla scent? Or a sixth sense that turned on just when Kate was near?
He glanced over his shoulder. His nerves tingled at the sight of her. “I don’t bite,” he said quietly.
Kate flushed. Didn’t she recall saying that to her daughter about him? She must not believe it.
But she stepped forward with a confidence he suspected she didn’t feel. “Is there anything left?” she asked.
Scott turned back to the grill and counted out, “Six hot dogs and three burgers. I’m afraid Judd got the last rare one.”
“I don’t like burgers that way.” She came nearer.
He met her gaze briefly. “How about medium well?”
“That’s perfect.”
Scott took her outstretched plate from her hands and piled the burger on top of the open bun. “Will you save me a seat if there are any left?”
“Sure.” She sounded cautious and cast him a wary look as she turned from him toward the table.
Sarah had set up the picnic table in the garden area behind the owner’s classic federal-style home, a true antebellum mansion. The garden was near the pool where the kids had been splashing and swimming all afternoon.
The thirty-stall horse barn with its indoor arena was located at the side of the property and surrounded by green pastures and black, creosote-painted fences. Scott loved the place, and was glad Sarah had found a home there. Robert Bass was a good boss as well as an excellent Saddlebred trainer. His little sister was happy, one last thing Scott needed to worry about.
But then there was Kate, and the sadness in her eyes. He wished he could wipe the sorrow away, make up for what her husband had done to her.
Carrying his heavy plate and hamburger to the table, Scott asked, “Got room for the chef?”
Judd scooted nearer to his wife so that Scott was able to squeeze in next to Kate. “Thanks, man.” Scott nodded at the cowboy.
“No problem.” Judd gave Scott a knowing, “good luck” look.
Scott hid a grin and turned to Kate. “Will you pass the baked beans, please?”
For the next few minutes, Kate was forced to interact with him by passing dishes of picnic food. His arm bumped hers. Her skin felt warm.
Although Kate was quiet, others at the table were chatty and animated. Jokes passed between Judd and his brother-in-law, Robert. Sarah sat across from him and kept up a flow of chatter.
Scott wondered if he isolated himself too much. Was he too focused on work? An evening like this made him rethink his life, especially with Kate sitting next to him.
He could almost fantasize they were a couple. More than sexual fantasies, Scott found himself dreaming about Kate as a partner, a wife. His mind scrambled with the possibility.
He drew in a deep breath, his heart beating a little too fast.
After dinner and cleanup, several families left, but others settled down to watch the little girls playing in the pool. It was still light, the longest day of the year approaching. And it was hot with only a slight breeze to cool Scott’s ardor.
He caught up to Kate as she returned her empty brownie dish to her Honda. “Walk with me, will you?”
That cautious look crossed her face. “Sure. Where?”
“I want to show you a horse.”
Scott hung back to watch her sweet, curvy hips as she walked. She was gorgeous but unaware of her beauty. She was so many things she didn’t know. He wished she had more self-confidence.
Entering the dimly lit show barn, he turned on one row of lights. Shadows haunted the stalls and the horses moving inside.
“Robert wants me to buy a young horse,” he explained.
“For you to ride?” Kate turned her gaze up at him.
“No. Robert will show him. This one is young. If he does well, I can sell him in a year, and make a little money.” They approached the horse’s stall. “His name is Social Media, but his barn name is Bart.”
Scott slid the door open so that they could get a better view of the young gelding that turned bright, intelligent eyes toward them. A lightweight green sheet hid the big chestnut except for its long, muscular neck and pricked, alert ears.
“He looks pretty,” Kate observed hopefully.
Scott glanced down at her. “That he is, but you can’t tell much in here. He’s something when you see him move. At three, he’s just a baby.”
“Are you going to buy him?”
“I don’t know.” Scott slid the door shut. “What do you think?”
He took in her uncertain stance. The glaring, overhead lights threw strange shadows over her face. Her gaze searched his. She licked her lips.
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about horses.”
“It’s a business deal. The question I must ask myself is, ‘do I risk that kind of money on an unproven colt?’”
“I don’t know how I could ever sell him after I bought him,” Kate said with a glance toward the stall. “I’d be too soft-hearted, I’m afraid.”
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