by Cat Schield
“Is it making you feel claustrophobic?”
“I’m not sure that’s it.”
“Are you sure you want to keep going? I could take it off you.”
The sensual tension in the room escalated. Lark vibrated with it. Keaton’s body hummed in matching harmony.
“Keaton.” She whispered his name as his hands encircled her waist, palms gliding up her rib cage. “What are we doing?”
He dipped his head and grazed her lips with his. “Save your questions for later.”
“Okay.”
With a groan he claimed her lips. She came alive in his arms, pushing up on her toes, tunneling her fingers into his hair. The bunny became trapped between them as he dragged his mouth over hers, tasting a hint of buttercream icing.
Her mouth was hot and sweet and welcoming and Keaton feasted on her lips like a man offered a gift from the gods. She matched his passion, held nothing in reserve. It was this openness that allowed Keaton to reel his wayward desires back in.
“That was crazy,” she gasped as soon as he freed her mouth.
“Not crazy,” he corrected, “wonderful.” Keaton framed her face with his fingers and held her still so he could scrutinize her face. “If you cook like you kiss, I’m going to be in trouble.”
“In trouble how?” Shadows were creeping into her eyes.
“I won’t be able to stop myself from wanting more.”
Color flooded her cheeks. She hooked her fingers around his hands and pulled them away from her skin. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry on either account.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because you’ve never struck me as a man who does anything that isn’t good for him.”
If that was her attempt at a warning, she was going to have to be a whole lot clearer. “What about kissing you isn’t good for me?”
She set her hands on her hips and regarded him incredulously. “Have you forgotten the bad blood between our families? It already forced Skye and Jake out of town. Can you imagine how bad it would be if we were caught?”
“So what are we supposed to do with these feelings between us?”
“What feelings? It’s just a simple case of proximity lust. Nothing more.”
Keaton studied her, wondering if that was what she truly believed, or if it was a way to let him off the hook. “Is proximity lust a scientific term or something you just made up?”
“It is what it is.”
Five
Lark fled to the kitchen without removing the wrap, leaving Keaton to deal with Grace. She needed a second to regain her composure, and that wasn’t going to happen if he offered to help her out of the yards of fabric.
She set about readying a bottle for Grace and plating the roast and potatoes for her and Keaton. Earlier she’d opened a bottle of red wine, but now she wasn’t sure if drinking alcohol was a good idea after what had just happened between her and Keaton. The last thing she needed was for her guard to falter. Or had that ship already sailed?
“Why don’t you eat while I feed Grace?” she offered, carrying both plates to the dining room. She’d set the table earlier and now wondered what she’d been thinking to bring out her crystal candleholders and best china.
“The table looks very nice, but you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.”
“No trouble.” She relieved him of Grace and gestured toward a chair. “I opened a really nice Cabernet, or there’s beer or whiskey.” She was rambling because he was staring at her, his gaze inscrutable.
“The Cabernet sounds perfect. Let me get it. You sit and I’ll get Grace’s bottle too.”
Lark dropped into her seat and discovered she still had the rabbit tucked into the wrap. With a wry grin, she plucked the stuffed animal free and shifted Grace’s tiny form into the pouch. The baby’s eyes widened as she settled into the sling, but Keaton had appeared with the bottle before Grace started to cry.
“I’m going to have to figure out the proper way to use this,” Lark said, stabbing a piece of carrot with her left hand and lifting it to her mouth. “Being able to free up even one of my hands is really nice.”
They traded off when Grace needed to be burped. Keaton had a knack for getting the infant to release the bit of air that she consumed with the formula. While he gently patted Grace’s back, Lark quickly wolfed down her dinner. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she popped the first bit of roast into her mouth.
“I don’t think I ate lunch today,” she remarked, shaking her head over her absentmindedness. “Grace was awake more than usual in the morning and then Julie came by and freed me up so I could get dinner ready. I don’t know where the time goes.”
“Babies take up more time than I imagined possible,” Keaton agreed. “And I think establishing a routine with Grace will eventually help, but right now we’re both learning about her needs and how best to meet them.”
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For saying exactly the right thing to stop me from feeling so overwhelmed. I just need to take it one day at a time.”
“We,” he corrected. “I’m here for Grace, as well. You don’t have to do everything yourself.”
Without warning, her chest tightened to the point of pain. Even though she’d let Keaton move in and surrendered part of Grace’s care, she hadn’t really let herself rely on him. In her mind he was an extra pair of hands that freed her up for short periods of time. Since bringing Grace home four days ago, she hadn’t left the house, because to do so would be to fully relinquish responsibility for Grace to him, and Lark wasn’t comfortable doing that.
“I haven’t visited Skye since Grace left the hospital. Would you be okay if I went first thing tomorrow? I’ll only be an hour or so.”
“That’s not a problem. I have the electrical inspection for the ranch house tomorrow, but it’s not until the afternoon.” Keaton reached across the table for Grace’s bottle and settled her into his arm so he could finish feeding her. “Don’t worry about us, we’ll be just fine.”
* * *
“Keaton moved in to help me with Grace,” Lark told her sister after glancing around to make sure she couldn’t be overheard. Her nerves were already a tangled mess. She didn’t need the added stress of becoming the focus of hospital gossip. “The day we brought Grace home he suggested the idea and I should have turned him down flat. I mean, what was he thinking that I couldn’t handle things?”
Hands moving compulsively across Skye’s bed linens, smoothing, straightening, Lark let her thoughts revel in the previous night’s kiss. It was what she really wanted to talk to Skye about, but she’d never been one to share something so private and needed to warm up to the telling.
“But then Grace had a bad first night. Oh, don’t worry. She didn’t get sick or anything,” Lark rushed to assure her sister. “But I think the transition from the NICU to my house was a little jarring. She couldn’t calm down and then we had trouble swaddling her.”
Of course, recalling that night revived the memory of that first, brief kiss and how soft Keaton’s lips had been. Lark closed her eyes and swayed a little as she relived the delicious sensations she’d experienced.
“Apparently she likes being swaddled really tight.” Lark noticed that she’d grabbed fistfuls of Skye’s blanket, and released her grip with a soft exhalation of self-disgust. Was Julie’s theory of proximity lust the best explanation for the way her body awakened to his slightest touch? “It took us quite a few tries to figure that out. And somewhere in the middle of all that, he kissed me.”
Lark half expected her sister’s eyes to fly open at such shocking news, but Skye remained unconscious. “It was a nice kiss. Impulsive. Didn’t last long.”
Spilling this first secret had taken its toll. Lark bustled around, checking the equipment in a feeble attempt to calm her pulse and restore normal breathing. When it became apparent that her emotions were messing with her body’s electrical signals, Lark decided the bes
t thing to do would be to spill everything all at once.
“He kissed me again a few days later. This one was longer and more premeditated. He made me feel as if I was the sexiest woman alive. Is that how Jake makes you feel?” She felt a little stupid asking. “Of course, that’s why you left with him, isn’t it? I’ve never had anyone treat me like that before. I wanted to...”
Confession might be good for the soul, but Lark had only just admitted to herself what she’d wanted that night. Her hormones, on alert since the night before, quickened. A mild ache invaded her body.
“Funny about Keaton,” she continued. “I expected him to be the kind of guy who got in and got things done.” Not exactly a flattering description, but he was always so stern and efficient. “How was I supposed to know he’d be so passionate? Such a great kisser. I...I didn’t want him to stop.”
There. She’d said it. The truth was out in the open. She wanted to have sex with Keaton Holt. Lark clapped her hands over her mouth and stared at Skye. Why wouldn’t her sister wake up and give her advice about how to handle things with Keaton? She was completely out of her depth. No man had ever made her long to tear his clothes off and take big bites out of him. Well, not literally.
It was just the thought of both of them naked. His big body pinning her to the mattress. Or a wall. While he drove inside her...
Lark gave her head a vehement shake to clear it of such thoughts. She couldn’t want those things with Keaton. He was a Holt. She was a Taylor. Her sister and Jake had left Royal in order to be together. The town was too small to hide a romantic relationship. Word would get out. Her parents would never forgive her.
* * *
Keaton was standing in the middle of Lark’s empty third bedroom, slowly rocking Grace, when he heard the door to the garage open. In a couple days Lark would be going back to work and he was going to take over the baby’s care. He wanted Grace in the bedroom next to his so he could handle her late night feedings.
“What in heaven’s name is that?” Lark’s normally soft voice, coming loud and clear from the living room, rang with shock and dismay.
Obviously she’d discovered his newest purchase. Keaton strode into the living room and found Lark staring at the sixty-inch flat-screen television that had been delivered this morning.
“A television,” he responded. “Surely you’ve seen one before.”
“That’s a television?” She set her hands on her lush hips and faced him. “It takes up the whole wall.”
“The better to watch the play-offs and not miss anything.”
“Play-offs?”
“Football...”
Although he’d never considered himself much of a TV watcher, he hadn’t realized how much he enjoyed unwinding after a long day with a beer and a sports channel until he couldn’t. Granted, both Lark and Grace were plenty entertaining. He found a great deal of satisfaction in watching Grace sleep and Lark read. But after they went off to bed, he had far too many hours to keep his mind occupied and paperwork wasn’t cutting it.
All too often, his thoughts strayed in the direction of Lark’s bedroom. He contemplated if she slept in pajamas or nightgowns. Cotton or silk. She owned a queen-size bed and he liked picturing her in the middle of it, asleep on her side, her body curved, hands beneath her cheek. He doubted she snored, but it amused him to wonder if she did. Did she puff out her breath in little spurts? Maybe she drooled.
This last should have turned him off, but he found the image intriguing. In the short time he’d been living with her, he’d discovered she wasn’t much of a morning person. Until she got a cup of coffee into her, she was downright grumpy. But at the same time her defenses were down and she was far more likely to smile. Naturally she reserved her happiest expressions for Grace, but what Lark didn’t realize was that even though her grins weren’t directed at him, he got to enjoy them, as well.
“It will only be here as long as I am,” Keaton assured her. “Or until the ranch house is finished enough to receive it.”
Lark gave the television the evil eye and then turned her back on it as if what she couldn’t see didn’t exist.
“It’s getting late,” she said. “Let me take Grace so you can get going.”
Despite his need to be at a meeting at the Texas Cattleman’s Club in thirty minutes, Keaton was reluctant to give up his niece. He’d enjoyed their time together. Since bringing her home, Lark had been Grace’s primary caregiver, making Keaton feel like an unnecessary third wheel. Today, being alone and in charge, he’d been able to relax fully. Granted, Grace had slept through most of Lark’s absence, but if she’d needed anything, he would have been ready and able to take care of it.
“The remote is on the coffee table,” he said as he handed Grace over. “If you want to check out the TV.”
Lark wrinkled her nose. “Not really my thing.”
“When I get home later, we can watch the Discovery Channel together. You might find that you like what you see.”
“You are persistent, aren’t you?”
“If by persistent you mean bullheaded, then yes.” He’d hoped for a smile but had to settle for a sparkle in her moss-green eyes. “I won’t be home until around eight tonight. I have a dinner meeting. Will you be okay?”
“We’ll be fine.”
Reluctant as always, Keaton headed out to his truck. As he backed down her driveway and pointed the vehicle in the direction of the Texas Cattleman’s Club, he wondered why leaving her and Grace took so much effort. Although he’d shared the ranch house with his parents until the tornado wiped it out, the place was big enough that he didn’t spend all that much time with them.
Basically he was accustomed to being alone.
But since moving into Lark’s cozy house, sharing space with her and Grace, he’d adapted to their company. When Lark visited her sister in the hospital, her house had an empty feeling about it that nagged at him. He liked being with her. More than that, he craved her companionship.
It was an unexpected development for a lone wolf like him. Then he remembered that wolves were pack animals. Maybe he’d just been waiting for the right woman to come along. Was the change temporary? When he and Lark stopped playing temporary family, would all his longing for her dissipate? That he hoped it wouldn’t trouble him.
She’d made it pretty clear that she didn’t trust him. For years her parents had filled her head with inflammatory rhetoric against the Holt family. He might have overcome her reservations regarding his right to help with Grace, but despite the soul-stirring kisses they’d shared and her acknowledging a case of proximity lust, Keaton doubted she’d want to have anything to do with him once Skye and/or Jake claimed Grace.
Too bad she was such a tempting package. If he hadn’t been driving, he might have shut his eyes to better savor the memory of her curves beneath his hands. Full breasts, narrow waist, flaring hips. Add to all that her long legs and the way she’d fit into his arms. Most men didn’t notice her latent sensuality. She’d spent her entire life building a defense of invisibility.
It had never worked on Keaton. She’d always stood out to him. A tranquil pool amidst the white-water rapids of the people around her. Her still waters ran deep and he found this endlessly fascinating.
Keaton put his mulling aside as he parked his truck beside the rambling single-story building that housed the Texas Cattleman’s Club and strolled toward the clubhouse’s front door. The interior decor was classic men’s club. Dark paneling, lots of leather chairs and the walls were lined with hunting trophies.
A few years earlier the club had opened its doors to a few women. This had caused a great deal of consternation in many of its members. They’d grumbled and fussed, but the women had remained and then proceeded to ruffle even more feathers by transforming the billiards room into an on-site day care.
Keaton had sat back and watched the entire drama unfold, saying little, but throwing his support toward the women. It was long past time the Texas Cattleman’s Club stepped in
to the twenty-first century. Watching Tyrone Taylor sputter in ineffectual annoyance had merely been a satisfying bonus.
The status update meeting had already begun when Keaton entered one of the private meeting rooms and took a seat in the back. President Gil Addison stood at the front of the room, running through the list of all the ongoing projects the members were in charge of.
“How are our tarp teams doing?” he asked Whit Daltry, owner of Daltry Property Management. His task had been to coordinate small groups of people to make sure damaged roofs were covered until repairs could be made.
“They were keeping up pretty well until the wind kicked up last week. At least we haven’t had much rain.”
A murmur of agreement went up around the room. Keaton nodded. He’d volunteered to coordinate the club’s efforts to clean up the demolished town hall and preserve whatever records hadn’t been damaged by the tornado. Much of the building’s rubble had been cleared and they were close to being able to get at the filing cabinets. Depending on the ability of the old cabinets to withstand a building coming down on them, it was going to be dicey getting the records out intact. For the last few weeks he was wishing he’d volunteered to head up the chainsaw team.
When they finished the official business and Gil concluded the meeting, Keaton waved at a few of the other members, but didn’t linger to chat with anyone. The meeting had run longer than he’d expected and he was late for an appointment with the acting mayor to discuss his concerns about moving the town’s records.
As he drove, his phone chimed and the truck’s electronic voice announced that he’d received a text from Lark. He listened as the message was read to him and then smiled. She’d sent him another of those artistic pictures of blissfully sleeping Grace dressed like a fairy amongst flowers or sailing in a boat. Lark used fabric to create the scene on the floor and then set Grace into the tableau.
At a stop sign, he checked the photo she’d sent him and chuckled at the sight of Grace as Rapunzel in her tower. Lark’s creativity surprised him over and over. If she wasn’t baking and decorating cakes, she was seeking other outlets for her rich imagination.