“What are you doing for dinner?” He was washing his hands in the sink by the back door. She marveled at the foam on his forearms and imagined standing naked with him covered in bubbles and how it would feel to run her hands over his slippery skin.
“No real plans.”
“Would you like to go out or I can try out my new grill?”
“Let’s go out. I’d like to see the town. If that’s all right with you?”
“Perfect. Around six? We can eat and then drive around while it’s still light.”
“Yes. I’ll leave you to your work. See you later.” She wanted to trace the shadows along his collarbone.
She glanced up surprised to see a pained expression on his face. Would he try to kiss her as he’d done earlier? Or would he think she was too much of a bother?
Rarely had she gone out of her way to get fixed up for date. But tonight she wanted him to find her attractive. She still had to clean out the kitchen, and then she’d see what she could do with what little clothes she’d brought.
He walked her to the door. “Shall I escort you back?”
His dog greeted them outside.
“No, but thank you. I didn’t want to disturb you. What’s your dog’s name?”
“Jasper.”
“I’ll walk the yard with him. He likes to fetch.”
“I see you’ve met. Yes. Jasper loves to retrieve anything that’s thrown.” He picked up a tennis ball and heaved it a short distance.
His whole body tensed, muscles bunched at his shoulders and arms. He was built, strong enough to do whatever he wanted, take whatever he wished. She gulped, remembering the fantasy she’d indulged in earlier. Her body responded at once. A whirring as if some motor that had been wound up let loose.
He turned and stopped dead in his tracks. Did she suddenly have a sign that relayed her inner thoughts or was her face painted so deep a crimson, anyone could guess? She looked down, shy under the heat of his stare. She could sense him coming closer. Her heart leapt into a runaway pace unable to stop.
“Claire.” He said her name and made it sound like the opening verse to a prayer inside the barn.
She looked up and held his intense gaze, biting the side of her cheek. She took a step toward him. He welcomed her closer, his eyes intense. Then he placed his hands on her arms. No need for the first word. She touched him, caressed rock hard muscle that she’d felt before. She still had time to rethink.
No, this was true. This was the moment she’d created in countless stories. This wasn’t going to be a chance she’d regret not pursuing later.
Dustin was the man she wanted…had always wanted.
She leaned into him and watched his eyes darken. She smiled, stood on her tiptoes, and twined her fingers in his hair. She pulled his head down until their mouths touched. Warm and tender at first, and then his arms moved around her shoulders, crushing her body to his. He took over and took command, and she opened to his desire. He kissed her hungrily, his tongue caressing her lips, and she tentatively swiped her tongue against his. He moaned, his desire giving her courage, and she pressed her mouth harder against his. She nipped his lip and sucked lightly on his tongue. She held onto the belt of his pants and wasn’t afraid to grind into the hardness that fully met her.
“Oh, Dustin.” She groaned, wanting to fulfill her fantasy. He moved her as if they were dancing, leading her firmly back, deeper into the barn. They didn’t stop until she felt the wall of barn against her back.
They locked their mouths and hungrily explored one another with their tongues. He reached down and lifted the hem of her dress. He trailed his finger up her thigh. Streams of yearning ran wild through her body. For once she didn’t press her legs together. She spread them wantonly, rubbing her calf against his leg. The feel of his clothes on her bare skin was intoxicating. Her pulse raced, fulfillment so near, and if it wasn’t she’d burst apart on the next heartbeat. He placed his fingers at the edge of the panties she wore. She couldn’t remember if she was wearing cotton whites or the black ones she’d packed. Her body became chief decision maker, shifting ever so slightly until he grazed his finger over the spot that made her gasp in pleasure.
“Jesus, you’re so soft. Baby, I want you.”
She placed her hands on top of his. She wanted him to touch her all over. She whimpered against his lips. His mouth recaptured hers, devouring this time, and she opened, giving him more access. The taste of him was divine. The feel of his fingers between her legs aroused every nerve ending. She was afraid to open her eyes, afraid this would be another one of her fantasies.
His mouth and hands sent her spiraling.
He moaned her name as if releasing a pent up ache. “Claire.”
She ran her hands over his hard torso. She could taste the exquisite need in his kiss. Claire rubbed and squeezed his waist, grazing her fingers over his jeans, down to his zipper, and tracing the outline of his erection. A snarl escaped his lips. He gently bit the corner of her lips and reclaimed her mouth, plunging his tongue deeper until she was soaring.
He continued searching with his tongue and hands. He touched and rubbed her, flesh upon flesh. He held her firmly, his arm around her waist. She shuddered, digging her fingers into his pockets, tugging him closer as he pushed her to the brink.
He slipped his finger into her, and she responded, an electrical jolt of pleasure so fierce her muscles clamped down and pulsed.
“I’m so close.” She wanted to scream his name and plucked at his pants, unable to remember how a belt functioned for a second or two.
“My God, you’re on fire.” He kissed her again.
“I can’t hold on. Please.” Her skin burned while between her legs, she grew wetter with each stroke. There was no way back to yesterday. Only this moment and the next and the next.
“I’ve got you.” He growled and found her clit, swirling his finger up and over and around until she cried out. He plunged his finger into her again, giving her exactly what she desired.
The pleasure was immediate and shocking, her orgasm hitting hard and quick. She didn’t expect to be thrown up and over a wall, into a place that was boundless as the sea. He set her free. She clung to him, aware that his arm was around her waist. He kissed her temple and cheek. He slid his mouth down her neck. She was perspiring. She bowed her head onto his shoulder and felt the long rigid length of him against her. He was more than erect, yet he’d not taken his pleasure.
“Claire, baby.” His ragged voice, heavy with desire, sang a song to her spirit. She hugged him and kissed his lips, salty from her sweat.
Claire rested her head on his arm and met the eyes of his dog, tail wagging, and the red ball in his mouth. She laughed. “We’ve got a company.”
Without letting go of her, he swung his head over hers, brushing his lips over her forehead. “He’s probably wondering what in tarnation is going on.”
“Do you wonder?”
“No. I’m overjoyed. I don’t want to push you. I can’t say it enough. I know these days must be a difficult time in your life, having to cope with this all on your own.”
“I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad we’re together. This isn’t some frantic escape from grief. We’ve known each other too long for that. You’ve been my friend for so long, only you could understand what I’m feeling.”
“I want to be more than a friend.”
“You are.”
He kissed her again. A hot and lazy embrace placing a hold on her, totally commanding her to join him, and she followed. He wrapped his hands in her hair and kissed her as if there were no end in sight. Her legs wobbled and she clung to him. He finished with a trail of sweet kisses along her jaw.
“Still on for dinner?”
“Absolutely, Mr. Murray.” They separated, and she immediately missed the feel of him against her.
He looked over to Jasper and raised his brow. “Give it here.”
He wanted her, she could hear it, feel it, but he was giving her space, time to
adjust to the change in their relationship. He threw the ball again and ran his hand through his hair. He smiled and his gaze roamed over her in a way that made her go weak.
“Until later.” She tilted her chin up, and he kissed her firmly, as if sealing some sort of deal. He squeezed her body before letting go again. He started to walk her out of the barn.
“Really, I’m fine. You go back to what you were doing.”
“I doubt I’ll be able to concentrate.” He grinned at her. She returned his smile then walked backward for a few steps.
“See you soon.” She turned away and had to fight to keep from giggling like a girl. God, was this really happening? Her fantasy of Dustin shifted into reality, making her body sizzle again just by thinking of him. She’d played this scene over and over. Dustin taking her in this very erotic spot. She groaned at the memory of his perfect body in the barn.
She couldn’t put away her romantic notions and was holding out for an over-the-top first time. She imagined when they made love tonight, their first time would be in a big soft bed after being so turned on neither could wait another day. Hot, yes, but with romance so heady to make her heart weep with pleasure…him seducing her and she beguiling him. She wanted to feel the chase, at least the first time.
She floated across the yard. Her whole being tingled. She wanted to sing. Her soul was ready to sigh. Her heart was melting.
Claire glanced back from the gate. Dustin had waited for her to cross the yard. He waved and then turned back to the barn. In a moment, she could hear he’d returned to pounding on the bike, and then his whistle floated across the yard. The sound filled her with a yearning to go back, to forget her plan to clean out the kitchen. Claire’s heart pounded, clip clopping, loud and swift beats already seeing the scene unfold of what might happen tonight between them.
* * *
She finished cleaning out the refrigerator and cabinets. She made piles along the counter and used the kitchen table to further separate out items. Some were keepers and some she set out for donation. The rest she bagged and boxed and moved to the porch. She wheeled out the garbage can to the driveway and filled the can with the perishable contents of the refrigerator. Only a couple of bottles of wine and juice as well as coffee, canned goods, and sugar remained. Not even Fran could argue with how well she’d taken care of removing and cleaning the contents of the kitchen.
She glanced down at her watch. Four forty-five. She’d let the time get away from her. Dustin probably thought she’d show up as usual. Wet hair, no makeup and some wrinkled outfit. Well, not tonight. She walked inside and made a beeline for the bathroom. She ran water into the tub, deciding she’d take a bath. She luxuriated in bubbles, taking little time to truly relax but enough to get squeaky clean. Finally she stood before the mirror, combing her hair and tried to envision what she’d wear.
Standing wrapped in a towel, she stood over her suitcase filled with dark colors. She’d already worn her only summer dress. She pulled out clothing that was black, somber, and conservative. Not a piece of clothing that whispered provocative. She walked to her old closet. Her mother hadn’t gotten rid of one item. She fingered the hangers and stopped to look at her riding pants, worn-out jeans, and even a tiny pink tutu.
She rapidly crossed over hangers until she came to a light, aquamarine blue dress. She removed the hanger and ripped off the plastic from the drycleaners. This was the dress she’d given her salutatorian speech in for graduation. It wasn’t exactly sexy but without the short jacket, it was strapless, somewhat feminine, and elegant.
Claire pushed boxes back on the shelf, pulling out one particular shoe box. She opened the top, and inside were strappy high-heeled sandals. She’d always had a fascination with pretty shoes. These were made from lizard skin. She tried each shoe on, wrapping the long laces up her legs.
She dropped her towel, turned and peered over her shoulder into the mirror, dressed in nothing but a thong and high heels. This was so not her style. But she imagined this was what one of her characters would wear, and she took a breath. It was time she stopped feeling out of place in her own story. Tonight she wanted to look sexy. She stepped into the dress and worked at the back zipper. She peered into the mirror. A little tight across the chest but the rest of the dress fit as if she’d just bought it recently. It was five-thirty and she still needed to do something with her hair.
She took out her blow dryer and crossed to Fran’s closet. Somewhere she’d seen…there they were. Hot curlers. Ready in five minutes. She finished blowing her hair dry. She wanted to do her hair like she’d seen other women wearing—long, soft curls. She didn’t have time to practice and did what she imagined was required. She opened her makeup bag and sighed at the limited assortment of goods.
She went to her mother’s room and scouted around the vanity. Her mother didn’t have many cosmetic items but she did have foundation and powder. Claire felt a pang of sadness coming into her parents’ room. She tried to put aside those feelings but tears were impossible to stop. She sniffed and wiped away the tears, not wanting to appear with eyes puffy from crying one more time. She’d definitely need Fran to help with this room. There was no way she could begin to throw anything from here away. That simply didn’t seem possible.
At six on the dot, she heard a knock at the front door. The man was punctual. She needed a wrap and grabbed a gauzy crème-colored wrap she’d used as a teenager. After a spritz of hairspray and a dab of perfume, she took one last look in the mirror and nervously made it to the door without tripping.
Claire swung open the door and smiled. “Please come in.” From his expression, she thought he liked what he saw. He held out a bouquet of flowers. “They’re gorgeous. I love sunflowers.”
“I remember you planted them every spring. They populated the field.”
“That’s right.” Dustin stood before her in a white dress shirt and dark trousers. He wore loafers without socks, quite a change from the man in grease-covered jeans and boots. His gaze went straight to hers, and something in his eyes seemed to glitter when their gazes met. She inhaled, then stopped breathing, drinking in the heat from his eyes.
He was clean-shaven and his square jaw appeared even more pronounced. The fire in his eyes flashed when she caught him looking down at her legs. Were the shoes overboard?
“You’re the most beautiful woman.” His voice was low. His body loomed over her and seemed to fill the small kitchen. Her stomach lurched and she fumbled with the vase. He steadied her by holding onto her elbow.
“I’m not used to high heels.” She wasn’t used to him.
As soon as she turned, the wall of his body blocked her. He feathered his fingers across her cheeks, took hold of her and kissed. Not hard and demanding but sure and possessive. He lightly caressed her jaw with his thumb. A growl of pleasure grew in his chest. He stepped back and inhaled, seeming to observe all parts of her at once.
She wanted to ask him why he wasn’t attached to some woman. He was an absolute hunk standing there with the late sunshine catching and framing his face. He smiled and the light reflected jade-green from his eyes outward. His dark hair was combed back. His ear was pierced, and he wore a small hoop. There was nothing ordinary about him.
If she didn’t say something, they’d kiss again and it wouldn’t take Anaïs Nin to foresee how it might end. “You said you were taking some time off. So you’ve done well in business?”
“I guess I’ve done alright. I’m in the process of negotiating some contracts, selling what I own.”
“Where do you call home?”
“Right now, here. I’ve lived a gypsy life, traveling mostly. Had an apartment in Palo Alto to be near my business office. Funny, isn’t it? We both left here and settled on the West Coast.”
She’d heard from her parents’ comments on how proud he’d made his family, but it wasn’t that simple. She didn’t understand his timeline, considering the fascinating tidbits she’d heard about his life. She was intrigued by the complexity of h
im. “But you came back and you’re not certain if you’ll stay?”
She wondered what made him want to live a life they’d all talked about escaping—the small town, living with people they’d known all their lives. It wasn’t a bad idea, actually, when she stood in the kitchen with him so near.
“I’m at the point where I’m trying to see the big picture and define the future on better decisions. It’s probably just human nature before we hit thirty. You know, reassess for the next phase.”
“Would you like a glass of wine? It’s the only thing left, unless you’d like some juice.”
“No, thanks. We have reservations at six-thirty. If you’re ready we can begin the city tour.”
She took her wrap and suddenly wondered how she’d keep her hair from blowing all over the place. His Jeep was open and she’d wished she’d braided her hair. They stepped out on the porch and she went slack-jawed at sight of his car. She looked over at him but he had slipped on a pair of sunglasses.
“Nice ride.” A shiny silver sports car sat in the driveway. Low, sleek, and masculine. All his toys were. Dustin said nothing, but his lips quirked boyishly.
“Come with me.” He encircled her wrist with his fingers. The sensation of his hand on her arm exuded a charged, raw power she was coming to understand was his. Automatically her body responded, her nipples beaded into tight points, and she became the silent one.
The car was convertible but the top was up. He held on to her as they descended the porch steps. Dustin opened her door and even brushed her dress from the door frame as she sat down. He reached over and took hold of the seatbelt. The medallion fell from his shirt collar and brushed her shoulder. The medal was warm as it trailed over her skin. She felt tiny bursts of pleasure. His face was inches from her, his breath caressed her neck and shoulders.
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