“I’m here. I was listening to the sounds—the owls, the breeze in the leaves. Most of all I like the scents—the pines and the sage.”
His voice was a deep rumble in the shadows. “I’ve centered my life around the scents, the sounds, the textures of the landscape.”
She wished he’d step into the moonlight so she could see his expression. “You made a life around it. During my life I made memories of it. As soon as I was old enough, I ran up these mountains to escape the noise of the bar and Mom bringing men home. Those sensory memories will always be a part of me, just as holding Abby in my arms for the first time will be, remembering the warmth and softness of her skin.”
Now he took a step into her space, right into the glow of the moon. If he wanted her to step back, she didn’t. She could see the silver flecks in Clay’s eyes, almost feel the muscled fitness of his body. The heat of the July day was almost gone now, yet she could feel heat between them. Maybe that was just on her part.
“Are you trying to convince me of something?” he asked roughly.
“No. I’ve just told you how I feel.”
He swore, turned away, then faced her again, the tension in his body so evident that she could practically feel the sensual ripples.
“Clay.” She said his name so softly it was almost a whisper.
“Don’t,” he ordered.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t look at me as if you want to be more than Abby’s mother. Don’t you get it, Celeste? I’m feeling, too.”
She knew if she asked the next question, she might not like the answer. But she asked anyway. “What are you feeling?”
He seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. “I’m attracted to you. I can’t get you out of my mind. Sure, it’s part worry about you and Abby. But so much of it is just …” He stopped to study her … to assess how she might react. “So much of it is raw desire that’s making me crazy!”
She knew she could run. That’s probably what he expected her to do. Instead, she stood her ground because this was Clay—a boy she’d fallen hard for, a man she now desired. So she said, “I dream about you, too.”
Her words seemed to break a wall between them. He reached out and touched her face. His fingers were scorching. She didn’t breathe.
His groan was low as his arms encircled her and his lips came down on hers. Her breath became trapped in her chest as she kissed him back, bringing her hands to his shoulders, gripping him tightly so her knees wouldn’t buckle.
She heard his deep groan, felt his desire ratchet up as his tongue parted her lips, and he claimed her more possessively. She’d imagined this moment when she was in high school, yet she’d never expected it to happen. Once Zoie and Clay were dating steadily, she’d locked all her feelings tightly in a corner of her heart, never intending to let them show, never intending to act on them, never intending to let Clay see them.
As he pressed his body against hers, she felt herself melting into him, fitting against him as if this kiss was going to go a lot further. Clay rubbed against her, explored her mouth more thoroughly, took the kiss into the realm of deep passion instead of skimming the surface of their desire.
But just as suddenly as they’d come together, he pulled away and took a long, deep breath. “That never should have happened. Ever since you came back …” He abruptly stopped and shook his head. “You look like Zoie, yet you don’t. And you’re different than she was. You’re passionate and so natural with Abby. I don’t know if I’m attracted to you or if this is just some kind of libido-memory thing.”
Could he possibly know how much that hurt her? To be compared to Zoie and brushed aside as if she weren’t capable of inciting a man’s desire?
Even in the dim light, he must have seen the emotion on her face because he clasped her arm and said, “I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”
“Maybe you did. Maybe this has nothing to do with me at all.”
He seemed to consider that and then shook his head. “No. Ever since we danced, there’s this … buzz between us. You obviously feel it, too, or you would have backed away. Why didn’t you?”
Now he was the one who wanted answers, yet she couldn’t give them. She realized now she didn’t want to reveal too much. Knowledge was power, and he could use that knowledge and power in all sorts of ways. She didn’t think he would, but as protective as he was of Abby, he might not take any chances by giving her even a little bit of leeway.
When she didn’t answer him, he concluded, “We have to ignore it.” His words were filled with conviction. “Chemistry will only complicate our lives even more. It was all Zoie and I had when we started and we didn’t even have that when we finished.”
There was a world of pain in that admission, pain from giving his life to someone and having her tear it up. She knew about that, but not as much as Clay did.
“Have you dated since the divorce?” she asked quietly.
He rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. “Celeste, there’s no reason to get into this.”
“I’d like to know if there have been any other women in Abby’s life.” And in yours.
“I wouldn’t have brought a woman into Abby’s life, not unless I was absolutely sure she’d be committed to staying in it. So, no, I haven’t dated.”
That summed up the intensity of the kiss for Celeste. If he hadn’t been with a woman, it would be easy for his desire to blaze out of control.
His voice was gruff as he lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes. “I can’t say that what you’re thinking isn’t wrong.”
Another zinger. He could read her mind. That was almost as scary as the fact that he might have kissed her simply because she reminded him of Zoie.
“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked, dropping his hand. “Are you involved in Phoenix?”
There was suspicion in his eyes, a remnant from Zoie’s betrayal. “I wouldn’t have kissed you if I was.”
She hoped that was true. But all those old longings had coalesced into a passionate encounter she wouldn’t soon forget. If one of his kisses could shake her up that much, heaven help her if they went further than that.
But he wouldn’t—because of Abby. Because he didn’t want to stir up a hornet’s nest.
“Tonight was a test run, wasn’t it?” she asked.
“You mean with Abby?”
“Yes.” What else would she mean, unless—”Did you kiss me to see what I would do to get access to Abby? Was that the test, too?”
“Don’t make more of it than it was, Celeste. I have to know what you’re planning to do now.”
“I’m serious about moving here, Clay. The question is—how often will you let me see her?”
He raked his fingers through his hair, glanced toward Abby’s bedroom, then said, “Let’s start with a couple of visits a week for now. My mother will be here while you’re with her. Is that acceptable to you?”
He sounded as if he were setting up a legal agreement.
“That’s fine. I hope in time you’ll trust me with her alone.”
“I don’t have an abundance of trust right now.”
The truth of that statement was as evident as the fine lines around his eyes, the tension in his jaw, the defensiveness in his stance. She wanted