“And in return, I didn’t shoot you,” Dexter replied.
“Well, that’s true,” Clem agreed. “But that was because I had your shotgun.”
“I was close enough to get it back, if I wanted it. I could have shot you out in the desert and left you for dead.”
“You wouldn’t do that.” Clem was positive. Even though he’d been none too friendly, his smile did odd, fluttery things to her chest.
He gave her a sidelong look. “And what makes you so sure? You know, a female all alone isn’t necessarily safe.”
She’d had that thought herself. But she’d forced herself to keep going. She’d found him, even though he didn’t want to be found. “Sometimes it’s not always a good thing to be safe.”
“Safety is a human need,” he said.
Clem nodded and saw that her truck was indeed closer, even though it seemed as if he’d actually stopped. “True. But I’ve been safe all my life. This was one time that I thought more about what I needed to do than what would be safe. And I got what I wanted. Your friends are coming to help me.”
There was a long pause. Clem could hear the tires crunch over the gravel.
Finally, Dexter admitted, “They’re good men. The best. If you have a cow problem, they’ll be able to fix it.”
Maybe it was a note in his voice, maybe it was the way that he furrowed his brow, but something made Clem want to reach out and pat his arm. Instead, she blurted, “You sure you don’t want to come, too?”
For a moment, no longer than it took to blink, Clem swore that he did. He studied her and Clem felt the familiar flush creep up her neck.
“You blush easy.”
Clem didn’t know how to answer that. “It’s because I’m so fair.”
“Or you’re shy.”
“Maybe. That’s safe, too, huh?”
“Shyness?”
She nodded. “Sure. If I’m shy, I don’t have to risk meeting new people. Shy is like those gates that you’ve got. They minimize the chance of people intruding. Seems as if we’re alike that way.”
Dexter didn’t say anything, and after a moment they were at the gates.
Clem struggled to open the door.
“The old handle broke,” he explained. “Let me.” He leaned over, his arm brushing up against her legs. With an easy jerk, he popped the door open. While he was at it, he unclipped her seat belt.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
She saw him getting out and assured him, “I’ll be fine. I promise I won’t bother you anymore.”
“How are you going to get through the gate?” he asked, his voice dry.
“The same way I got in. I’ll climb over it.” She gave him a big grin.
He held up a key. “Save your energy. You’ve got a long drive back.”
She waited as he crouched down next to the lock. It was hard to believe that she was never going to see him again. She resisted the urge to lay her hand on his shoulder, to run the back of her hand along the soft skin under his collar.
He released the padlock and stood up, swinging open the gate. “There you go, ma’am.”
“I guess I should thank you for not shooting me.” She made her tone as light as possible, as she stepped past him, but it was hard because her lips felt dry and dusty. She licked them, not at all sure why she was possessed with the overwhelming urge to kiss this man. Was it the loneliness in his eyes? Her heart thumped harder at the thought. She knew about being lonely even when surrounded by other people, about being lonely even when you were married or sleeping in the same bed with someone. Maybe Dexter Scott had chosen solitude. Maybe he’d chosen to erect the fences around his property, but no one, not even Dexter Scott, would choose loneliness.
His eyes were trained on her face, as if he could read her thoughts. She focused on his lips.
It’d been so very long since she’d had a real kiss. There’d be nothing to regret, because kissing Dexter Scott would be merely a crowning regret on the top of the six hundred regrets running around on her father’s property.
Besides, she’d never see him again.
CHAPTER THREE
AS CLEARLY AS IF SHE HAD already kissed him, she could feel his stubble under her hand. Heat reflected off his clear eyes and she stepped toward him. As if choreographed, Dexter met her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling the solid muscles. He flinched just slightly and she remembered his tender shoulder.
“Sorry,” she murmured.
“What for?” His voice was right in her ear, low, husky. She could feel the moist warmth of his mouth right at the curve of her jawline.
“Your shoulder.”
“It’s fine.” He held her tighter as if to prove to her there was nothing wrong with his shoulder. The weight of his arm against her waist was reassuring. His hand was splayed across the small of her back, warming her. It had been a long time. Perhaps a lifetime. She didn’t remember having this feeling with Nick, not ever. Not even on their wedding night.
Dex’s face was so close she could see the individual pores that the rough stubble grew out of. She inhaled, smelling saddle wax, sweat, dust. It was a dangerous combination. Clem became fascinated by the slight cleft in his chin, the indentations in his profile, the distinct cupid’s bow, the dimple that flickered in and out. He seemed to have stopped breathing and was waiting.
Simply waiting.
“This isn’t what shy women do,” he informed her with a low, guttural whisper. “Kiss strange men.”
His words should have jerked her back to reality, but right now, she couldn’t think, all she could do was feel the strength of his arm behind her, the heat of his body in front of her, the brush of his powerful thighs, supporting the both of them, because she was certain that if he let go, she’d fall over.
“I haven’t kissed you yet.” She searched his eyes, which he tried to shutter.
DEXTER FROZE. Instead of letting go, as he intended, he found himself pulling this woman, this Clementine, closer to him, just to feel her press up against him.
Let go, his rational mind hollered at him. Just let go and step back. Okay, it finally conceded, if you can’t step back, just let go. You can step back in a second.
Too late.
He felt her lips graze his, the heat of even that slight contact exploding in his chest. Bad idea. This was what playing with fire meant. He felt like a moth, fluttering up against a stark lightbulb, drawn to the very thing that would cause the destruction of all his walls. He didn’t move, but rather lowered his head. If exploring that tender bottom lip of hers was going to be his destruction, then so be it.
His mouth covered hers, tentatively at first and then with the intensity of a moth that had been too long without light. She moaned and pulled herself onto her toes, her fingers stroking his neck and shoulders in a concentric circle that was making it hard to think. His eyes began to flutter closed, and then she was gone.
CLEM JERKED BACK, gulping for air, trying to pretend the kiss wasn’t the best kiss she’d ever had and wondering what else she’d been missing. If someone had told her Dexter Scott would one day kiss her the way he just had, she would have never married Nick. She would have waited for Dexter Scott, even if it took him years to find her. Incredible.