Paige swallowed hard. Clay pulled back his hand.
"Clay..."
"What?" His tone was sharp and clipped.
"Why did you come today if you didn't want to?"
"It wasn't a matter of wanting."
She didn't miss the double meaning. "Well, maybe it should be."
After a taut silence, he said, "I wasn't going to leave you with the responsibility of taking care of this."
She pointed out, "I'm competent enough to order T-shirts, especially when you don't give a hoot what I order."
His eyes became a dangerous green. "Don't push me, Paige."
A temper she didn't know existed exploded. "Don't push you. Don't touch you. Why don't you simply close yourself up in your house and not let anybody in? It would keep you safe."
He looked as shocked at her explosion as she was that she'd let it loose. Slowly, in an even tone he asked, "What do you want from me?"
She wasn't sure. Since she'd realized she loved him, she wanted the freedom to explore the feelings. But Clay would never accept that. "A little honesty would be nice."
"You want honesty?" He cupped her chin firmly in his hand. "I want you so damn bad I can't see straight. I hear your voice, I see your hair slide along your cheek, I feel your fingers on my arm and all I think about is taking you to bed."
His gruff, low voice brushed over each and every one of her disconcerted nerve endings, awakening and thrilling, scaring and exciting. Heat rushed to her cheeks then settled in a much more private place.
Keeping her hypnotized by his green gaze, he asked, "Is that honest enough for you?"
She didn't have an answer. She couldn't think.
With a frustrated sigh, he released her, ran his hand through his hair and snatched up two bags of balloons.
Clay paid for the balloons and they left the store. At the threshold to the mall, he stopped.
Paige took his arm, well aware of what he'd said about her touching him. She felt his muscles tense. "Why are you so angry?"
His gaze locked to hers. "I'm not angry with you."
"It seems as if you are."
"Before you came to town, my life was perfectly acceptable. Comfortable. Uneventful."
"And now?"
"It couldn't get more uncomfortable."
She didn't understand what was causing so much turmoil for him, but it certainly sounded as if he was sorry he'd ever met her. That hurt. She turned away from him. "I'm sorry."
He must have heard the quiver in her voice. He clasped her shoulder. "Paige, look at me."
She did.
"Are you going back to Africa?"
"I don't know." She studied Clay's face, the tiny lines, the heavy brows, the sensual mouth. "Why can't we enjoy what we have now?" She couldn't believe she was being this bold, but she wanted to hang on to the bond between her and Clay. She didn't want him to toss it aside because it wasn't convenient. The one thing she'd learned in Africa above all else was that each day was precious and she couldn't take any of them for granted.
Clay traced her cheekbone. "Ah, Paige. You make me want. You make me need. I look at you, spend time with you, and I almost want to take a chance."
She covered his hand with hers, loving his touch, loving the feel of him. "Why can't you?"
"I don't want either of us to get hurt. Have you ever been hurt by someone you cared about?"
She felt sheltered, naive, much too innocent at this moment. If she could say "Yes, and I overcame the experience," she'd have ammunition. All she had were her growing feelings for Clay, so she dropped her hand and answered, "No."
He took his hand from her cheek and hooked his thumb in his belt loop. "It's no picnic, Paige. When you care too much, and something happens...hearts don't mend without leaving nasty scars."
"Believe me, Clay. I know there are no guarantees. On anything. We're given one moment at a time."
The elongated lines around his eyes manifested the strain inside him. "I don't know if that's enough. I don't know if a few weeks are worth the pain."
"Maybe the joy's worth it."
"And maybe you're a dreamer. There are so many variables, so many things that can go wrong."
"And so many things that can go right."
He almost smiled then. Almost. He looked as if he might lean forward and kiss her. But he didn't. He shifted away from her. "What else do you need to buy?"
His change of subject threw her off balance. "What?"
He did smile then and her heart skipped. "You said you hadn't been to the mall for a couple of weeks. What else do you need?"
At least some of the tension between them had eased. She wasn't sure why, but she was glad. She'd rather they talk. She'd rather he confide in her. But being with him was enough for now. "I want to buy Doc some new towels for the bathroom. He hasn't replaced his in years. I need perfume, too." She'd never worn perfume abroad. She loved wearing it now.
"Then let's go to the department store."
"Clay, I know men don't like to shop. If you want to meet me somewhere in a little while..."
"Who said men don't like to shop?"
She smiled. "I thought it was common knowledge."
"Another misconception someone spread about men. It isn't that we don't like to shop. We like to shop for different things than women. You should see the men who come into my store, examine every piece of machinery twice, buy something, and still come back in a week to look at everything again." Clay's eyes twinkled. "We just prefer not to shop in the lingerie department. It does something to our image."
"So, as long as I don't drag you through nightgowns, you have no problem?"
"It's definitely not a good idea to drag me through nightgowns."
The knowing in his eyes almost undid her because they were both imagining the same thing. She took a deep breath. "Let's go."
Clay had slowed his stride and as they passed an ice cream concession, he caught her elbow. "How about an ice cream cone? It's been a long time since lunch."
She smiled. "Sounds good."
They bought the cones and sat in the middle of the mall to enjoy them. Clay asked her, "Have you heard from Ben?"
She shook her head. "Have you?"
Clay should never have suggested ice cream. But then the most simple things with Paige took on an entirely different meaning. Clay couldn't take his eyes from her as her tongue twirled and caught a drop of ice cream on the side of her cone. She licked the side of her mouth.
His gut clenched. "Uh, no."
Clay was fascinated by the way Paige's right brow raised as she bit into her cone, the way her tongue twirled into the small spaces in the bottom. Her silky hair swayed against her cheek as she tilted her head. Her stunning blue eyes were soft and liquid and she'd never looked more lovely, even with the smudge of chocolate on her nose.
Feeling Clay's gaze on her, Paige looked at him. He rubbed his thumb gently across the tip of her nose, then licked the ice cream from his finger.
She didn't look away and he had to touch her again. For too long he'd kept his distance. For too long he'd denied his need. He trailed his finger down the side of her cheek and he felt her shiver. Lord, why couldn't he just take her to bed, live for now? She was willing.
Why couldn't he? Because it wasn't honest. He couldn't make love to her without telling her the truth. She wasn't the kind of woman you made love with and kept your distance from.
Clay removed his hand from her cheek. She was looking at him expectantly and he wanted to pull her into his arms, but...
Her cell phone beeped. Paige checked the number and took the call."
Clay saw she didn't hesitate. She didn't think about herself first and what was being interrupted. Her patients came first. Her healing came first. And he'd hoped she wouldn't go back to Africa? Dream on, Reynolds.
After a few brief comments, she said, "Tell her to stay calm and I'll be there as soon as I can." Paige turned to Clay. "It's Miriam. She's having sporadic contractions. Nothing
less than a half hour apart, though."
"It's too soon, isn't it?"
"She has three weeks until her delivery date but babies don't always read a calendar. I'd like to get to her as soon as I can and check her out."
"I'll drive you. No use taking time to stop at Doc's."
"Thanks, Clay. I owe you one."
He said gruffly, "You don't owe me anything."
A half hour later when they arrived at Miriam's, the woman was obviously upset. "Dr. Conrad, I didn't know what to do. They started about four A.M. I didn't want to call you..."
"I'm glad you did. Let's go to the bedroom and I'll examine you. You remember Clay, don't you?"
"Sure. From your office. Dr., did I interrupt something? I wouldn't have called but..."
Paige hazarded a quick look at Clay. "You didn't interrupt anything. Let's go to your room and we'll see what this baby's excited about."
Clay watched the two women go to the rear of the first floor apartment, Paige carrying her black bag. She'd brought it along with her, as always. She always seemed to be prepared.
He looked around curiously. Miriam's sofa was threadbare at the front of the cushions and Clay suspected she'd purchased it secondhand. The room was immaculate; he didn't see a speck of dust anywhere. Homey touches like embroidered throw pillows, a framed needlepoint, and a colorful afghan thrown over the back of the sofa made the room welcoming. One thing he and Miriam had in common. He didn't see any pictures sitting around. He imagined she didn't want reminders of the husband who'd deserted her. But what about her family?
Clay didn't keep pictures around because he wanted to experience real people, not images. During his rehabilitation, he'd spent hours with family albums, straining to remember. The pictures were just printed images. They meant nothing. He'd memorized faces. Instead of having a picture of Trish or his mother around, he called them, he went to see them. He remembered everything about them in his head. He didn't need a fake reminder.
Clay sat down on a rocker.
As often as not recently, his thoughts turned to Paige. She said she owed him. Nothing was further from the truth. Yes, she'd turned his life upside down. But he had to admit he hadn't felt this alive any time he could remember. He grimaced. Alive in very physical ways. But alive emotionally, too. Since Clare, he'd stayed away from women except on the most surface basis since Clare. He couldn't seem to stay away from Paige.
Was he headed for disaster? Was he even contemplating telling her about his amnesia? A wave of panic washed over him. Yes, he was.
Like nights when the dreams had plagued him, like the hours when he'd battled his inability to read or the immobility of his shoulder and panic had been a beast ready to devour him, he worked through it. He didn't fight it or try to wish it away. He kept his breathing even and the feeling faded.
He tried to tell himself it didn't matter if Paige couldn't accept his amnesia, if she saw him differently, as less of a man. But it did matter. Way too much for his peace of mind.
She was getting to him in a big way. She'd said she wanted to get closer to him. He wanted to get closer to her. But they were at a standstill until he made some decisions. He couldn't make an impulsive choice. He had to think about more than Paige. If the word got out about his amnesia, his life could be irrevocably changed. Langley might not be such a friendly place. He had a lot to lose including his financial investment in the store if he decided to move again, if the people of Langley couldn't accept him any better than his neighbors and friends, his father...Clare.
No, it wasn't a decision to be made lightly.
When Miriam and Paige emerged from the bedroom, both were smiling.
Clay rose. "Everything all right?"
Paige patted Miriam's shoulder. "False labor pains. But, Miriam, I want you to take it easy. Limit the hours you spend at the sewing machine."
"But I have orders for dresses for a wedding. I have to finish them by next week. And then there are draperies to finish for Mrs. Weaver."
Paige looked worried. "I understand. But if you must work, take planned breaks. Set an alarm. Get up every half hour and get a drink or walk outside. I mean it, Miriam, you have to do this for yourself and your baby."
Clay canvassed the room again. "Miriam, I was noticing your pillows and hangings. Did you do them?"
"Yes. All of them."
"Do you have any more?" Clay asked.
She smiled uncertainly. "A closetful. Why?"
"I know a man in Westminster who has a shop. He sells furniture but he has a few other crafts, too. I could ask him if he'll put some of your work in the store."
Miriam beamed. "That would be wonderful. I need so many things for the baby. And once it's born, I'm afraid I won't have enough time to work."
"I'll call him this evening and get back to you. In the meantime, you do what Dr. Conrad says. You rest."
"I will." She turned to Paige. "Dr. Conrad, thanks for coming. I'm sorry I messed up your afternoon."
"You didn't mess up anything. If you have any more problems or questions, you call me. Understand?"
Miriam nodded.
As Clay and Paige walked to the SUV, Paige said, "You did something for Miriam that I couldn't. You relieved some of her worries."
"If I can arrange it."
"You will."
CHAPTER TEN
By Friday evening, Clay was restless. Humidity hung in the air outside, not letting the summer temperature drop much even with the onset of evening. Conditions cried out for rain. A storm was brewing, the wind picking up, so he couldn't work outdoors, his basic remedy for pushing away unsettling thoughts.
After their visit to Miriam, Clay had dropped Paige off at Doc's. She'd touched his hand, said, "See you soon," and was gone. He longed to see her soon, he longed to do more than see her, but doubts still ran rampant in his head.
Since then, nothing had held Clay's attention for very long. He'd picked up Miriam's handwork earlier that day and taken it to the shopkeeper in Westminster. Now, stuck in the house, he couldn't decide what to do next. He wandered around the living room, picked up a magazine, and tossed it back to the coffee table. He could go into the store, but that wouldn't keep him from thinking about Paige. His connection to her was Ben. How was the boy doing? What decision had he made about college?
Clay went to the phone. When Ben's mother answered and learned it was Clay, she said, "I'll get him. Maybe you can talk some sense into him."
What had happened now?
Ben came to the phone. "Hello, Mr. Reynolds."
"Hi, Ben. I wondered how everything was going."
"It's all right."
"Have you made up your mind about college?"
"Yeah. I'm not going."
The teenager's decision surprised Clay. "Ben, if it's the money, don't let that stop you. I could set up a scholarship fund to get you started." He was met by silence. "You wouldn't have to pay it back."
"That's great of you, Mr. Reynolds, but I've made my decision."
Clay heard the intractability. Where was it coming from? "Why?"
Ben's tone was angry. "Because I'm tired of pushing and pushing. Look how long I've been working on this leg. Months and months. And it's not better."
Clay gentled his tone so he could reason with Ben. "It's better now than when you started, isn't it?"
"But not good enough. Why work for the future when it's never enough?"
"Ben, give it time."
"I'm tired of giving it time. Gus offered me a job at the convenience store. In a month, I'll have my diploma. I can work full-time till I save enough for a car, then I can go to Westminster and look for something better."
The naivete and inexperience of youth, Clay thought. "Like what?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe a salesman at a sporting goods store."
Clay closed his eyes and sighed. "That can't be all you want. Ben, an education can open so many doors. Don't you see that?"
"I see that everyone wants me to do what they
want me to do. What about what I want?"
"What do you want?" Clay asked, understanding that was the essence of the problem. Ben didn't know.
"I want my life back. I want everything I lost. But since I can't have that, I'll take what I can get. Right now, a job and some money will do it."
Clay couldn't keep the words from pouring out. "You're being foolish. You don't know what you're throwing away."
"You threw away your college education."
"That's entirely different."
"Why?"
"You don't understand, Ben. I had to start over from scratch. You don't. You can go on from here."
"It's my life, Mr. Reynolds, and I'm going to do what I damn well please. I wish everybody would leave me alone."
Clay heard the click of the receiver, the finality of Ben's decision. But Clay couldn't accept the boy's decision. Ben wanted immediate gratification. Life wasn't like that. There was only one way Clay could make the stubborn teenager understand. And if he was going to tell Ben, he might as well tell Paige at the same time. Maybe he was just safeguarding himself against her reaction. He didn't know; he didn't care. He just knew he had to tell Ben how lucky he was and why.
Thunder grumbled as Clay drove to Doc's. There were storm-watch warnings out again. But Clay ignored the cloud-filled, almost-night sky. Even as rain drizzled on the windshield, he didn't give it a second thought. Just as he didn't give a second thought to whether Paige might be out.
He wrapped on the door...hard. A few moments later she opened it. "Clay." The brightness in her voice vanished when she saw his expression. "What's wrong?"
"Ben's decided he's not going to college. I want you to go with me and convince him otherwise."
"But if his mind's made up--"
"I have a few things to tell him that might change his mind. You need to hear them, too."
She studied Clay for a long moment. "All right. Let me make sure everything's turned off in the kitchen."
The determined purpose on Clay's face almost scared Paige. His defensive stance warned her. What was he going to tell Ben? As Paige climbed in the SUV, she saw the carton on the backseat and wondered what was in it. She caught a glimpse of shiny gold but couldn't tell what it was.
Love In Bloom Page 12