"About three years after the accident, I started dating again. Trish insisted dancing was a must-know. Much more important than ancient history."
Paige wanted to ask him something but wasn't sure how. "Am I different from other women you've known? I mean, I haven't had much experience and--"
Clay moved her hand from the classic position into his chest and held her tighter. "Yes, you're different. You're special. Experience sometimes makes a person hard. There's nothing hard about you, Paige. Or fake. You're naturally lovely, naturally soft, naturally sexy."
There was no doubt in the way he said it that he meant each and every word. She laid her head against his shoulder, appreciated the hard warmth of his body, his breath against her cheek, his lips nuzzling her neck. She couldn't think of a moment in her life that had ever been this happy.
As more couples crowded the small dance floor, Clay brought her closer. She wound her arms about his neck and pressed her lips to his throat. They were rocking to the music rather than dancing. But it didn't matter. She molded to Clay as if she were part of him, and maybe she was.
He didn't shift away from her or try to hide his arousal. He wanted her, and her heart danced its own free dance of joy. Clay kissed her temple, her cheek, the tender spot behind her ear. She trembled and held him tighter.
When the song ended, Clay gazed into her eyes. "Let's take a walk. I want to kiss you and this is a bit too public."
She smiled, kissed her forefinger, then touched it to his lips.
He shook his head and growled, "Actually I'd like to do a lot more than kiss you."
They returned to the porch and went out the back. Clay took Paige's elbow on the steps. They headed toward the path, and Clay held her hand as they walked. The smooth flow of the water was soundless. The slight breeze wafting over it gently lifted tendrils of Paige's hair and spread them across her cheek. She glanced at Clay as the breeze ruffled his hair, too. He looked pensive and didn't seem to notice.
She realized that since the first night they hadn't yet "slept" together in the true sense and guessed why. She said quietly, "I'd like to spend a whole night with you."
He knew exactly what she meant. "That might not be a good idea."
"Clay, I've seen your nightmare."
"No. You probably just caught the tail end. I don't want you around me when that happens."
"Why?"
He stopped walking. "I shouldn't have to spell it out. I'm not myself...I'm..."
"Vulnerable? There's nothing wrong with that. There's nothing wrong with needing someone to hold you. Why do you think there is?"
"Because when I have the nightmares, I feel helpless. I don't want you to see me like that."
"I would never think you're helpless. You're the strongest man I know. Just think about it, Clay, and know it won't make a difference between us, except maybe to bring us closer."
Clay surrounded her with his arms and brought her to him. When he bent his head, she lifted hers. Their lips met, caressed, held until he slid his tongue along her lower lip.
With an excited little moan, Paige opened her mouth to accept him. He didn't rush, but taunted her with tiny flicks and quick forays. Soon she had enough of the teasing. Her hands held his head, and she gently caught his tongue between her teeth. There was no more playing.
Clay cupped her breasts as he delved deeper into her mouth. She rubbed against his hand wantonly. He tried to push the strap on her dress to the side, off her shoulder. But it wouldn't budge.
He broke the kiss and held Paige tight against his chest. "A kiss is never enough. I'd better take you home."
"I could get a few things together at Doc's and go home with you."
"I'm not ready for that yet, Paige. I had a wonderful evening and I don't want to spoil it by waking up in a panic, out of control."
"All right." She tried to hide her disappointment.
Clay tenderly brushed her hair back from her ear. "Tomorrow we'll have all afternoon and evening." He smiled. "Unless you have other plans?"
She returned the smile. "No other plans."
Clay switched on soft music as they drove. He held her hand. When he had to break contact to make a turn, she rested her hand on his thigh. At a stop light, they glanced at each other and he kissed her. A soft, fleeting touch of his lips. She wished he'd change his mind about taking her home with him tonight.
When they arrived at Doc's, lights blazed in the living room, kitchen, and spare bedroom. Paige murmured, "That's unusual."
Clay hopped out of the SUV and came around to open her door. "Let's find out what's going on."
The door was standing open. Paige unlatched the screen door and they stepped inside.
Doc was sitting in his recliner, reading the newspaper. He looked up. But before he could say anything, a woman came into the living room.
Paige took a step back. It was her mother.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Paige recovered quickly and went to hug her mother. Monica returned the hug with a tight squeeze. "It's good to see you, honey. I missed you."
Monica leaned away and Paige studied her mother. Her hair was short in an easy-care style. It was the same dark brown as Paige's but liberally laced with gray. She wore jeans and a cotton blouse, her usual uniform.
Paige remembered Clay standing behind her. "Mom, this is Clay Reynolds."
Clay stepped forward and extended his hand. "It's good to meet you, Mrs. Conrad."
Monica looked him over thoroughly, then her gaze returned to Paige. "It seems like you've been out on the town."
"Clay took me out to dinner."
"I see." Monica tilted her head and examined Clay again as if searching for answers.
To break the sudden silence, Paige said, "I didn't expect you for another week."
Monica shrugged and brought her attention back to her daughter. "I finished up business sooner than I expected. I found half a dozen interested doctors to volunteer for six- month stints. I can do all the paperwork here while I visit with you. I thought we could leave at the end of the week."
The end of the week. Leave Langley. Leave Clay. "I can't."
"What do you mean you can't?"
Paige glanced at Clay, then at Doc. She wasn't prepared for this. She wasn't prepared to make her decision. But the two men in her world didn't come to her aid. She latched on to the first excuse she could think of. "I'm involved in planning the Fourth of July Celebration. I can't leave before that."
Monica gave Doc a speculative look. "That's a week and a half away. I was hoping to be in New York by then."
Paige wasn't budging on this. "You can go on ahead if you have to."
Monica studied her daughter carefully. "No, I don't think so. I'll wait until you're ready. I can make phone calls and arrange for supplies from here. But I do wonder if Doc wants me underfoot that long. I can get a room somewhere--"
"Nonsense, Monica," Doc finally said, moving his newspaper from his lap and folding it. "You and Charles and Paige used to stay here on your furloughs. I'm at the office almost as much as Paige is now, and we'll both be in and out. You'll be here most of the time by yourself."
Monica smiled. "I do hope we'll have some time to visit."
Paige hazarded a glance at Clay and wondered what he was thinking.
His expression was inscrutable as he said, "I'd better be getting home. Mrs. Conrad, it was good to meet you."
Monica gave him a curt nod.
"I'll walk you out," Paige decided. She couldn't let him leave without knowing what he was thinking--or without a kiss or a touch.
She and Clay walked to the SUV in silence. Finally he asked, "What are you going to tell her?"
Why did she feel like a child still longing for her mother's approval? "I don't know."
His voice was harsh in the darkness. "Does this mean I won't be seeing you?"
The words rushed out before she had time to think about them. "No. Absolutely not. Clay, this doesn't change anything between us.
It just means I have to make some time for my mother, too."
His tone lowered, gentled. "What about tomorrow?"
She wanted her mother to get to know Clay. She wanted him to get to know her mother. "Why don't you come over for brunch? Then you and I will have the afternoon together. Tomorrow evening I can spend with my mother."
"All right."
He was so removed, so stoic. "Clay, I still want to be with you."
He clasped her shoulders. "And I want to be with you." He bent his head, surrounded her with his arms, and with his kiss told her exactly how much.
****
Eight days later, Monica came into Paige's bedroom as she dressed for her day with Clay and his family. Paige had bought a rose-colored gauzy dress with a peasant top and full skirt when she'd purchased the fancier sundress for their dinner date. These were the first two impractical dresses she'd ever owned.
As Paige faced the mirror and put on her mother-of-pearl earrings, her mother sat on the bed. "You look nice."
"Thank you."
"Paige, this thing with you and Clay Reynolds--it's not serious, is it?"
The time had arrived. They'd skirted this issue all week. Paige would come home from her time spent with Clay to her mother's ideas and hopes for the future. Monica hadn't asked questions, just assumed Paige would fall in with her plans. As her mother had spoken of new programs, the reality of Africa came back. The needy people, the children, where Paige fit into the scheme of healing. It beckoned to her. But so did Clay. She wasn't any closer to a decision now than she'd been a week ago.
Clay hadn't questioned her, either. They hadn't discussed it. They'd spent most of their time making love.
"Yes, it's serious," Paige answered, not sure herself what that meant for any of them.
"He's not right for you."
"How can you know that? You've only seen him a few times." And each one of those times, Clay had been polite to Monica and Monica had been polite to Clay. Conversation had never gone below the surface.
"You need to be with someone who shares your dreams. Not a small-town store owner who can't see beyond the state's boundaries."
Paige sat on the bed next to her mother. "I thought you were a better judge of character than that."
Monica lifted her chin in the regal gesture Paige knew well. "I am a good judge of character."
Paige usually deferred to her mother, but not this time. "There's a strength and depth to Clay you know nothing about."
Monica hopped up and paced the room. "No, what I think there is--is a physical attraction between the two of you. You're infatuated with it...and him."
"You're wrong. I love him."
That stopped Monica in her tracks. "You can't. You've only known him two months."
Paige folded her hands in her lap.
Monica shook her head. "You're being foolish. I just hope for all our sakes you're taking precautions."
"Mother!"
"I'm a doctor, Paige. Just because you're my daughter doesn't mean I'm blind."
Paige felt sad and disappointed her mother truly didn't realize the issue before them. It wasn't only Clay. "I was hoping you'd understand."
Monica impatiently flicked her hair behind her ear. "What am I supposed to understand?"
"That I don't know if I want to go back to Africa."
The silence in the bedroom was too heavy to weigh. Finally Monica said, "You can't be serious."
"I don't know if I'm serious. I need time to find out."
Her mother moved closer to the bed. "Honey, you were under a strain. You were vulnerable when you came here. Clay took advantage of that--"
"He took advantage of nothing. Mom, did you ever think that maybe I'm not cut out for the same life as you?"
"That's ridiculous! You fit right in, you travel well..."
"I've never known anything else."
Monica waved her hand in exasperation. "Paige, I have to make up schedules, assignments, itineraries. Go back with me. See if Clay Reynolds is so important to you once you're away from him."
That was an option. But did she want to consider it?
****
Clay took a stuffed mushroom from the buffet table in the dining room and popped it into his mouth. Paige was on the other side of the room talking with Trish. The two women had connected right away. They were discussing something intently now and he wondered what it was.
Paige had been quieter than usual on their drive here. Because of his conversation with Doc, Clay was hesitant to poke or push. But it was evident she was troubled and so was he. The few times he'd spent with Monica Conrad, he'd realized what a strong woman she was and how much she influenced her daughter. In a way, Paige looked to her mother for her own identity.
When he made love with Paige now, some of the joy was missing. The passion was as strong as ever, but desperation had taken joy's place.
He crossed to Paige and casually curled his arm around her waist. "Are you two hatching a plot?"
Trish laughed, smoothing her hand over the hips of her yellow linen dress. "Hardly. I was telling Paige about our honeymoon plans to Hawaii. But now I have to mingle or Mom will have my head for not spending enough time with the relatives. I'll talk to you later." Trish went to the French doors and let herself outside onto the patio where more guests were gathered.
"I can see why you love her so much," Paige said.
"In a sense, she helped me recreate my world. I wish I could remember growing up with her." Paige's hand on his arm was the balm he needed. How would he feel when she wasn't around to touch him?
"I haven't had much opportunity to speak with your mom."
Clay chuckled. "When she throws a shindig like this, she tries to be three places at one time. And usually manages it. Let me show you the rest of the house. Maybe we can find her and slow her down for a few minutes."
The house was grander than any Paige had ever seen. Hardwood floors gleamed. The rooms were spacious and elegantly furnished with mostly traditional cherry pieces. Clay led her into a small parlor decorated with a Victorian flavor--ecru lace curtains and high-back cut-velvet chairs.
"This is lovely, Clay."
He turned her to face him. "Not as lovely as you are. It's nice to get you alone."
She smiled. "You didn't really want to show me the house?"
He lifted her chin with his knuckle. "Sidetracking the tour seemed like a good idea." When he touched his lips to hers, the passion that always burst when they kissed had his heart racing, his tie tightening. He lifted his head and took a deep breath. "We should have gone upstairs."
"With a party going on?" she asked breathlessly.
He caressed her cheek. "We'd have our own party."
As a surge of voices swept down the hall, Clay cocked his head. "I think I hear Mom. Wait here. I'll go steal her away from the crowd."
Paige was staring out the window at the manicured lawn, the perfectly trimmed hedge, the impeccable gardens, when she heard footsteps.
She turned and came face-to-face with Vincent Reynolds. She'd met him briefly when she first arrived, but then in the crowd of thirty or more, she hadn't seen him again. She wondered about this man who had caused Clay so much pain. He'd found himself in an extraordinary situation, too, but that didn't excuse his attitude all these years later.
She wasn't sure what to say to him. "You have a beautiful home."
He nodded. "Thank you. Unfortunately, I'm not here as much as I'd like to be to enjoy it."
An awkward silence fell between them. Vincent cleared his throat. "My wife tells me you're a doctor."
"Yes, I am."
"Was Clay one of your patients?"
"No, we met through a mutual friend."
Vincent shrugged. "I was just surprised Clay was dating a doctor. Your occupation doesn't seem compatible with his."
Vincent Reynolds and her mother belonged on the same boat. The anger she'd found herself capable of since coming to Langley raised its head. "We're people
, Mr. Reynolds. What we choose to do for a living is not the sum total of who we are."
He looked taken aback. "But a profession carries with it certain prerequisites--educational background for one, social strata for another."
She tried to keep her temper. "That's not always true. And even if it were, those things don't determine what a person is inside."
He studied her for a moment. "You sound very much like Clay."
His statement implied criticism. "Is there something wrong with that?"
He sighed. "I suppose not."
She knew she was overstepping her bounds but didn't care. She might be gone in a week. Maybe she could do something for Clay. "Mr. Reynolds, do you know your son?"
"Excuse me?"
"Do you really know Clay as he is today? Do you know that he's a good, compassionate, caring man? Do you know that he's a business success? Do you know how much he needs your acceptance?"
"He doesn't need anything from me," Vincent said bitterly, stuffing his hand in his pocket. "He's made that clear. He makes sure he keeps his distance."
Nothing Vincent Reynolds could have said could have made her more angry. She knew Clay longed for a relationship with his father. Vincent must be blind not to realize it. "And just why do you think he keeps his distance? Why would he want to be around you when you can't accept him for who he is but only for what you expected him to be?" She couldn't believe she'd said that. But it was the truth as Clay saw it.
"She's right, Dad." Trish came into the room, her high heels clicking on the parquet floor. "None of us have ever had the guts to say it to you. God knows, Clay's tried. Don't you think it's time to put the past where it belongs? Forget about the family albums and get to know the son you have now?"
Vincent glanced from one woman to the other and looked defeated. "Clay and I can't talk."
"Maybe that's because you don't know how to listen," Trish offered bluntly.
Vincent was quiet for a few moments. "All these years I've been hanging on to the hope Clay would come back to the business."
Paige took a few steps closer to the man who Clay felt had rejected him at every turn. "Instead of being part of your business, wouldn't it be better if he was part of your life?"
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