And right there is where his common sense caught up and put an abrupt halt to the lusty, whirlwind of thoughts. He sat up, battling with the question rolling around in his brain. Was she serious?
There was really only one way to know for sure. Even as he secured his leg and tried to tell himself he only wanted to talk, talking was the last thing he had on his mind.
Chapter Six
“They’ve admitted Jerry for more tests, but the initial assessment appears to be a stroke. The severity is what they’ve yet to determine.”
“And Betty? How’s she holding up?” Sally asked.
“About as you’d expect. The woman is tough, but she looks tired. I know she was grateful that you all took care of things for her. That was a big weight off her shoulders. But she is going to keep the café closed for a couple of days, so she can be here.”
“Be sure to give her and Jerry my love. What about you? Are you heading home?”
“I’ll be sure to tell her. Actually, Dalton and Em are on their way down to pick me up. Betty wants to stay, so I’m leaving her my car.”
The threat of tears pricked at Sally’s eyes. Despite the frequent annoyances of living in a small town, there were moments—like these—when she cherished this dinky little place. “You guys drive safely and I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Thank you for the update.”
Sally stood for a moment in the quiet house. Marriage. Longevity. Her parents’ divorce. She thought of how many years Betty and Jerry had been together—all they’d weathered together over the years. It gave her pause to think about raising a child alone. There would be plenty of opinions, either way—that much she knew was true. There was a time, sure, that she’d waited patiently for her cowboy to sweep her off her feet and ride her into the sunset, but weeks turned to months, months to years and after waiting, after the dead-end dates, she’d made the decision that her happiness was not reliant on having a man in her life. She found fulfilment in her profession, working with kids, had trusted friends, and relative financial security. A child of her own, one created in her body, brought into this world by her, raised by her with her love, became her heart’s single desire. She wasn’t the type to overthink things. Once an idea presented itself, she’d research it to near obsession, and if no flaws, no deterrents were found, she’d proceed as planned. So it had been with wanting a baby. It was bringing the world around to her plan that was her greatest obstacle.
She eased into her grandmother’s rocking chair and pulled the afghan kept there around her shoulders. The view from the tiny Victorian gothic turret on the second floor gave a view of the quiet street and of the gravel drive and old garage at the side of the house. An old pine stood tall between the back door and the garage, its branches reaching out as though shading the falling apart one-car garage that was in desperate need of repair. When young, she used to sit in the little space off her bedroom and read or play with her dolls. Like many a young girl, she always assumed that there’d be a ‘Ken’ for her as well one day. But those dreams had faded with time.
“You think I’m crazy.” Her words came back to haunt her. His felt much worse.
“Bingo.”
She glanced around the room, seeing the stark changes before her, remembering when she’d stripped down the old lavender gingham checked curtains given the majority of her stuffed animals and dolls to those who could use them. Over time, when she had the money, she’d worked on stripping old flowered wallpaper and painting, polishing the beautiful hardwood floor and finding soft tufted areas rugs to sink into after a hard day.
She’d transformed the room, with its calming seas colors and shabby chic rustic décor, in a place of serenity—her little respite from the world. Over the years she’d added items she’d carefully selected from flea markets and antique stores. Her greatest splurge, before the renovations, was a bed set ordered from a hotel chain where she’d stayed during a teacher’s conference in Kansas City.
But this change was far different than anything she’d ever tackled. Her biological clock was ticking. It was true that women were often getting married and having children much later than the generation before. Having to watch her father deteriorate and so rapidly in a few years only fueled her resolve to be young enough to enjoy this child while her health was good. She dropped the blanket over the back of the chair, and tucked her shoes under the old wooden bench at the end of her bed. She slipped into her T-shirt and baggy pajama bottoms with faded hearts, brushed her teeth, and lowered the speed of the ceiling fan she preferred to overhead lighting.
Crawling beneath the thick comforter and clean sheets she’d taken from the dryer this morning, she switched off her bedside lamp and watched the ceiling blades spin lazily, until she could no longer keep her eyes open.
***
Sally didn’t want to wake up. An insistent noise had interrupted the fabulously sexy dream she’d been having with a faceless man. The sound pulled her awake and she turned her head to note the time. Uncertain if she were still asleep, she pushed up wearily on her elbow and squinted at the old alarm clock. Did that say two o’clock?
She fumbled for her cell phone and through blurry eyes searched for messages and missed calls. Much to her relief, there were none since Angelique’s last update. Another round of knocks, louder this time, brought her fully alert. She swung her legs over the bed and flipped on the bedside lamp. This was no dream. Someone was at the door. She grabbed her hoodie, struggling with the zipper as she navigated the stairs in the dark, chiding herself for not turning on the light.
As she reached the bottom step, she flipped on the porch light. Comforted that Rein had suggested the dead bolt and had put one on both the front and back doors, she peeked out of the lace curtain covering the narrow beveled window along the side of the front door. Standing on her porch, his hand braced against her door, was Clay Saunders.
He glanced up, catching her gaze just before she stepped back. Her hand over her chest, Sally stood a moment trying to quell the sudden racing of her heart.
“Let me in, Sally.” His voice, low and steady, came through the two-inch thick, wooden door.
She swallowed, wondering if he’d closed down Dusty’s after leaving the restaurant. “Have you been drinking?” she asked, leaning against the door.
“Not a drop. Open up, we need to talk,” he said in response.
Chewing her lip, she debated the wisdom of opening the door—in particular, since she was fairly sure the faceless man in her sexy dream had been Clay.
“Sally, it’s damn cold out here,” he said. The screen door squeaked open.
She released a deep breath, turned the deadbolt, unlocked the door, and stepped away as he pushed his way around the door.
“Shut the door,” he ordered, taking off his gloves and unzipping his coat. He hung his jacket beside hers on the shabby chic coat hanger she’d gotten last week on a whim at deep discount. The contrast between coats was intriguing, but not nearly as much as why he was standing in her foyer at two in the morning. He looked around and rubbed his hands together.
She pulled her gaze to his.
“Did you really mean what you said tonight?”
Oh, shit. Sally swallowed and held his steady gaze. She’d been right. He’d rolled out of bed, tossed a T-shirt and jeans on and drove all the way into town—just to ask her if she’d been serious. “You mean the thing… about the p-proposition?”
He kept his eyes to hers as he reached out and bolted the door. “Yeah. The proposition.”
She darted a glance at the door. It wasn’t fear that caused her heart to feel like a thundering herd of wild horses. “What are you doing?” His eyes held hers as he closed the gap between them.
“Practicing. Auditioning.” He cupped her face with his hands. “Whatever you want to call it. Sorry, my hands are still cold.”
She hadn’t noticed. Her temperature was already on the rise given that dream she’d been having. Sally shut her eyes. His fingertips brushed across her cheek,
slipping down the side of her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Opening her eyes, she met his just inches from hers. Was this going to happen?
“I’m going to kiss you,” he stated lowering his mouth within a breath of hers. “Is that okay?”
“S-sure, okay.” She heard the word, but focused on memory of his kiss, of how he tasted—how his tongue had teased, wanting surrender.
“We’ll see how things go from there, agreed?” he whispered, his breath fanning her face as his lips brushed over hers.
She succumbed to his soft seduction, clinging to the hem of his shirt to steady herself when her knees felt like buckling. “I don’t have any paperwork,” she said quietly, though she couldn’t have cared less. It had been a very long time since a man had seduced her.
“Just a trial run.” He kissed her then, full on lip-lock. Sally’s brain went into shutdown, while her girl parts all but trembled with anticipation. She grabbed the back of his head, holding his face to hers, giving back the hunger in his kisses. A basket fell as he backed her against the wall. Heat ignited between them. Sally wanted to see him, touch his skin bronzed by the sun. She wanted his hands all over her. “Clay,” she spoke breathlessly between kisses, “I’m not sure this is wise. I don’t have protection.”
He captured her mouth again, even as he unzipped her hoodie, unceremoniously dragging it from her shoulders and tossing it over the stair railing. “If it comes to that, I’ve got it covered.”
Surprised when he lifted her, she hooked her legs around his waist as he carried her to the couch in the front room. He perched her on the arm of the chair and held his arms up as she tugged the shirt over his head. Good lord. She touched him, delighted to feel him shudder. Moving her hands over the hard muscled plane of his chest, she stood ready to show him to her room. He stopped her.
“Tell me what you want, Sally.” His eyes searched hers.
“You, Clay.” She took his hand and he held her in place.
“You’re sure?”
She had no hesitation. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Okay, but tonight we do things my way.” He tugged her back to the couch.
He sat her on the chair arm, and kissed her, his hands meanwhile slipping her pajama bottoms down her hips. She clung to the couch as he slid them off and tossed them aside.
“You’re so damn beautiful.” He took her face, tilting it up to meet his. His kiss was slow, thorough, drugging her senses.
“I knew when I slept here that night this would be perfect,” he whispered, nibbling her ear lobe.
“Oh?” was all she could answer, delightfully lost in the wonder of his kisses. “Perfect?”
His hand cradled the small of her back as he tipped her back on the couch. He braced one hand as he bent down to kiss one breast and then the other. His calloused hands moved down her body, parting her knees, his fingers skimming her sensitive flesh.
“I’m not sure what to do.” She looked up at him from the odd angle.
“Enjoy.” He leaned down, brushing his shadowy jaw to the soft flesh of her inner thigh.
“Oh lord,” she sighed, reaching out tentatively to touch the top of his head.
He chuckled low. “Relax, Sally, I got this.”
She dug her fingers into the couch cushion, surrendering to her sensations, floating between bliss and reality. Control slipped away. It’d been so long…so very long since she’d allowed herself such freedom. “Clay,” she whispered. He continued, relentless, drawing her to a blind euphoria. At last, digging her heels into the couch, she came apart in a shattering climax.
He leaned over and pressed his lips to her navel.
She lay listless—divinely—astounded by his prowess, by how easily she’d given him control. As she tried to catch her breath, she opened her eyes and found him standing at the end of the couch holding his hands out to help her up. “Wait. Are we done? Is that it?” God, she felt sexy, freed from inhibition. This was new and intoxicating.
He pulled her upright, took her face in his hands and kissed her thoroughly. “I hope we’re just getting started, Sally. That’s up to you.”
“But you haven’t touched me, I mean…”
“With my dick? Yeah, I know. I think we should leave it at that for tonight.”
“Are you serious?” she asked, still reeling from the most amazing thing she’d experienced since post-it notes.
He held out her clothes and kissed her on the forehead. “I had to know if you were serious and,” he shrugged, “if we had chemistry.”
“Does there need to be?” she asked tugging on her pajamas, though it was the last thing she truly wanted.
“I’m not a machine, Sally.” He studied her. “And I won’t lie to you. As much as we both think it’s wise to keep emotions out of this arrangement, I warn you it could get complicated.”
Sally watched as he pulled his shirt back on. She hadn’t expected the war of emotions occurring inside her. For the first time, she questioned not Clay, but herself, in keeping things in check. She nodded. “I didn’t think it would be easy. I guess that’s why I thought you were the perfect candidate. I have no past with you, no future.”
He held her gaze a moment longer, then nodded. “I should go. Don’t want neighbors seeing my truck parked out front.”
“Oh, right.” She hugged her arms as she followed him to the door where he slipped on his coat.
“Uh, Clay. About the bachelor auction coming up.”
He nodded, righting the umbrella stand, and faced her.
“For… well, lots of reasons, really, I think it’d be best, that is if you’re agreeing to this, if you weren’t with,”—she crooked her fingers for emphasis—“other women during the term of our contract.”
He glanced away as if in thought, then met her gaze. “Does that apply to you, as well?”
“Of course.” She grabbed her hoodie and slipped it over her chilled arms. “Also, just so you’re aware, I plan to bid on you at the auction.”
He frowned. “I figured I would drop the auction. Come up with some reason.”
“No, we can’t do that. It’d send up a red flag.”
“And you don’t need any more rumors.” He blew out a sigh and pulled his knit cap down over his ears. “Okay, you let me know when you have the papers ready.” He looked at her and she could see the heat smoldering in those dark orbs. “Get some sleep.” And with that he was gone.
Sally stared at the door and folded her arms over her still-tingling breasts. She had to remember that this had to do with an agreement and nothing more. No secondary emotions of possessiveness, wanting to cuddle, having breakfast and laughing over the Sunday comics. She was hiring him to perform a task—do a job. Her heart raced in anticipation of their next meeting and what skills she had yet to experience. Sleep? “Not likely,” she muttered to herself.
***
Clay hadn’t heard from Sally. It’d been over a week since the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep, his mind unable to forget the sexy fantasy they’d shared. Maybe she’d changed her mind. It’d probably be in her best interest if she did. God, he hoped she hadn’t.
It was three days until the auction. He had to admit he was more than a little nervous. They agreed to be monogamous and there was little required of the bachelors other than to escort the winner to the dance and the remainder of the evening. They’d never really finalized the idea that she’d bid on him. He could very well wind up with one of the nursing home blue hairs. That thought led back to Betty’s call earlier in the day. She’d called to give him an update. “I wanted to thank you and the girls for taking care of things the other night. They’ve released Jerry to the nursing home up here in town and then he’ll have some home health care therapy after he comes home. He’s going to be okay I think, but it will be awhile before he’s able to work at the café.”
“Yeah, Betty, about that,” Clay started. “Listen, things are slow around here right now and if Rein can schedule his remodel aroun
d it, I thought I’d offer to step in as your cook. Just until you find a better replacement. I’m pretty decent around the kitchen.”
“Clay Saunders, you are a God-send. An angel sent to this earth.”
“Uh, Betty, I’m not Wolfgang Puck, but I can do comfort food.” Clay was warmed just the same by the woman’s appreciation.
“You’ve no idea how much pressure it takes off me right now. I haven’t had the chance to talk with Jerry about the future. I was waiting to see how well he responds to his therapy.”
“And that’s exactly where his focus needs to be right now, Betty. Trust me on this. I’m more than happy to help. When do you need me?”
“Tomorrow, six a.m.?”
He wasn’t at all surprised she’d be anxious to get the café back open after being closed for almost a week. “Let me work out my schedule, Betty. But I’ll be in as soon as I can.”
“Thank you, Clay. Angelique has also offered also to come in and help with prep work.”
He heard a sniff on the other end of the line. “Don’t worry, Betty. It’ll all work out. You tell Jerry to take care and don’t give the nurses grief.”
“I will. Thank you, Clay,” she replied. “A wonderful God-send,” she said quietly.
Hours later, he leaned back on his couch, tossed his game controller aside, and took a sip of a homemade brew that Dalton had been testing. His cell phone rang, and he had to shift aside a pile of newspapers and mail to find it. It was his sis, Julie, calling from California. He glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantel. Ten-thirty, which made it around nine-thirty her time. He’d just signed off with his nephews not more than an hour ago. “Hey, Jules, everything okay?” It wasn’t like her to call at random in the middle of the week like this. Her calls, rare at that, were generally Sunday afternoons.
No Strings Attached (Last Hope Ranch Book 1) Page 10
