Take Me Home

by Nancy Herkness

  “Now that I think about it, he only turned down one artist who I liked,” Claire said. “Other than Julia Castillo, of course. I always thought he was just being nice and indulging me.”

  Holly snorted. “He was taking advantage of a talent he knew he didn’t have.”

  Claire’s view of herself splintered and rearranged itself in a new pattern inside her head. She was examining it from different angles when Brianna appeared in the doorway, hugging her favorite stuffed pink unicorn.

  “Mama? Aunt Claire? Isn’t it time to get up?”

  Claire glanced at the mantel clock and scrambled off the chair arm. “Oh goodness, yes! I’ll get breakfast going.”

  “I’ll do the girls’ hair.”

  “Are you sure?” Claire hesitated at the kitchen door. Untangling and braiding the children’s long hair was time-consuming.

  Brianna’s face lit up as her mother smoothed her hand over the little girl’s messy bedhead before she dropped a kiss there. “I’m sure.”

  Claire unlocked the gallery’s front door, dropped her handbag on the desk chair, and walked straight to the storeroom. Pulling out one of Kay Fogler’s paintings, she set it on the nearby easel and stepped back to examine it.

  “The colors are clear, no muddiness. Confident brushstrokes,” she murmured to herself, “but the composition has weaknesses.”

  She leaned it against the wall and put another painting in its place on the easel. Two more paintings followed in rapid succession.

  “Hmm, promising, but not quite there yet,” she declared to the empty room. She slotted the paintings back into the storage rack and left the room with a confident stride.

  Picking up the gallery’s phone, she dialed her boss. “Davis, about those Fogler paintings, I took another look at them, and I don’t think she’s ready for a show yet. She’s got promise, but it’s premature to put that group out in the market. It won’t be good for her reputation or ours.”

  “What made you change your mind?” Davis asked.

  “I didn’t change my mind. I just trusted it.”

  “All righty,” Davis said, “we’ll tell Kay maybe next time.”

  “Suggest that she concentrate on strengthening her composition.”

  Claire hung up the phone and did a fist pump. She had known all along that Kay Fogler’s work wasn’t ready for exhibition, but she kept hearing Milo’s voice in her head, telling her she’d pick a Bob Ross over a Picasso if it weren’t signed.

  “Shut up, Milo.” Her voice sounded loud in the quiet space.

  It wasn’t quite up to Holly’s public performance, but it felt good.

  She looked over at the best of the current Len Boggs paintings displayed in the gallery. “What the hell!” Rooting through her purse, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed her boss-to-be.

  “Claire!” Henry’s deep Brooklyn-accented voice transported her back to New York and the big white-walled rooms of the Thalman Art Gallery. “Are you ready to come to work?”

  Damn. She should have known that’s what he would think, but she’d been on a different mission, so she hadn’t considered it. “Well, my sister had a breakthrough yesterday, but it’s going to be a while longer.”

  “Priscilla has found a couple of possible locations she wants you to look at. Could you get away for a day? The plane flight is on the gallery, of course.”

  It was the least she could do. “How about next week? I’ll coordinate it with Priscilla.”

  “So if that’s not why you called, what is it?”

  “There’s an artist from this area I think we should represent. His name’s Len Boggs, and he does impressionist landscapes. He’s brilliant and sells extremely well both locally and to out-of-towners.”

  “Sign him up.”

  “You don’t want to see any of his work first?”

  “You say he’s good, and that’s all I need to know.”

  Claire felt the blossom of tears in her eyes. “If you were here right now, I’d hug you.”

  His big laugh boomed through the phone. “Give me a rain check for next week.”

  Ending the call, she sank down on the desk chair. Suddenly, she was sobbing in great gulps as the dark, ugly doubts Milo had hammered into her melted away in the warmth of her two bosses’ trust.

  The sobs subsided, and as she mopped her face with a Kleenex, she understood exactly why Holly had dressed up and styled her hair this morning. Energy surged through her, and Claire wanted to drag people in off the street so she could sell them the perfect artwork for their tastes.

  She drummed her fingers on the desktop for a few minutes, then dialed Tim’s number. “Want to meet me at Healings Springs Stables for lunch? I thought we could take Willow out with us in the pasture and have a picnic.”

  “How about we take Willow out to the pasture and have a picnic in her empty stall?”

  The seduction in his voice made her breasts tingle and her insides turn liquid with heat. “I think we could relocate the picnic.”

  “I’ll be there at twelve thirty. What do you want me to bring?”

  “How about dessert?”

  “I’ll bring some for you, but I already know what I’m having for dessert.”

  The heat began to pool, and she crossed her legs. “I hope like hell Estelle Wilson can’t hear you.”

  “Only three kittens and a parrot are within earshot.”

  “Does the parrot know how to talk?”

  He laughed and hung up.

  Claire led Willow out of her stall, smiling at the new spring in the mare’s step. “Look at how much more energy she has now! Her coat has such a nice sheen to it.”

  “You want me to give her a quick checkup?” Tim asked as Claire paraded her whisper horse in front of him.

  She nodded, stroking the arch of Willow’s neck as Tim ran his hands over the horse’s frame, probing for any tenderness or swelling. She knew what those big, capable hands felt like on her own skin, and a delicious anticipation shivered through her. Willow’s eyes were heavy lidded too, and Claire leaned in to whisper in the mare’s ear. “He’s got a good touch, doesn’t he, girl?”

  The horse grunted.

  “Does it hurt there, Willow?” Tim asked, dancing his fingers carefully back across the same spot.

  When the horse didn’t react again, Claire giggled. “I think she was agreeing with something I said to her.”

  Tim bent to slide his hands down the mare’s hind leg, turning his head to look up at her. “Anything I want to know about?”

  “She just had the same look on her face I’m pretty sure I get when you run your hands over me.”

  He straightened abruptly. “Willow’s doing fine, and I’m feeling right hungry. Why don’t you take her out to the pasture while I grab the picnic supplies?”

  Claire grinned and murmured to the horse, “Sorry, girl! Didn’t mean to shorten your time with the doctor. You’ll enjoy the sunshine, though.”

  As she led Willow past Tim, she looked up and gasped. His eyes blazed with intention and heat. “Okay, girl, let’s move it along,” she said, tugging on the mare’s lead line.

  “Willow looked a little sad when I left her in the field.” Claire teased as she spread a blanket over the thick straw in the stall. Instead of using Willow’s, they had sneaked off to the foaling barn, which was active only when mares were near their delivery time. The mothers-to-be were out to pasture for the day, so Claire and Tim had commandeered a newly cleaned stall.

  “Willow will continue to look sad until she puts on about fifty more pounds. She’s just underweight.” Tim set down the two bags Claire had ordered from Food and Folks and settled onto the blanket, pulling her down with him. His weight crushed the straw, sending a billow of newly mown scent wafting around them. “I want an appetizer.”

  He put his arm around her waist and snugged her up against his side, bending his head to touch her lips with his. She touched the soft, faded flannel of his shirt, loving the sheer expanse of skin-warmed
plaid she had to slide her palms over to reach the column of his neck. She threaded her fingers into the straight auburn hair on either side of his head and pulled his face closer to hers. Their kiss started as a gentle tasting, but when his tongue traced along her lower lip and she opened her mouth to him, he rolled her onto her back under him, driving his thigh between hers. She bowed up against him in an arch of pure arousal, and he dragged his mouth down her neck and into the V of her blouse. He pushed up to kneel over her, yanking open the buttons of her blouse and unfastening her bra.

  She rubbed against the hard thigh between her legs as he towered above her, gazing down at her as he cupped her breasts and ran his thumbs over and around her nipples. “So beautiful,” he said.

  “Please, your mouth...I want your mouth on me,” she gasped.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. He leaned down and nipped at her shoulder, the side of her neck, her earlobe, her lower lip, while still continuing to tease her breasts with his fingers.

  “You don’t take direction well,” she rasped before taking his head between her hands and pushing it downward.

  The breath of his chuckle huffed against her sensitized nipple, and she came up off the blanket again so her breast brushed against his lips. He obliged her by taking it into his mouth and sucking hard.

  “Oh. My. God.” She grabbed his shoulders and held on as his mouth and hands sent bolts of pleasure searing straight down to sizzle between her legs.

  She bucked hard against his thigh, trying to satisfy the longing inside her.

  She felt his fingers at her waistband, and reached for his belt buckle. They helped each other yank at zippers and buttons until Claire’s panties went flying in one direction and Tim’s boxers went in the other.

  Then he was inside her and his bare chest was crushed against her breasts and her legs were wrapped around his waist as he thrust in again and again and murmured her name against the hollow of her neck as he held her hard against him as though he were trying to merge them into one.

  “Yes! Yes! Oh God, yes!” she cried out as an orgasm slammed into her. The muscles of her body clenched as it spread in an explosion of sensation.

  His voice was loud in her ear as he called out in the throes of his own climax. As she felt his weight begin to relax onto her, he rolled them both over so she was draped across him. Her head rested on his chest, where his heartbeat thundered in her ear.

  As she caught her breath and his heart slowed its pounding, she began notice the slightly rough texture of the hair on his thighs where they touched hers, and the warm spot where his hand rested on the curve of her bottom, and his breath ruffling her hair. She sighed and let the corners of her lips turn up in a contented smile.

  “So you call that an appetizer?” she murmured.

  “No, I call that a feast. I just wish I’d had some whipped cream.” He feathered his fingers through her hair, making her purr with delight.

  “Mmm, everything you do feels good,” she said.

  He slid his hand under her chin and lifted it so he could see her face and she could see his. He was smiling, but only with his mouth. “That’s the best thing a woman’s ever said to me.”

  She wanted him to smile with his eyes too. “Well, that’s the best thing a man’s ever done to me,” she said, slowly scooting up the length of him, maximizing the friction of her skin against his, until she could reach his lips to kiss him.

  “Oh hell!” The clop of horse hooves coming closer made her brace her hands against his chest.

  His arms tightened around her so she was pressed against him from knee to shoulder. “Just one more moment of heaven,” he said, sweeping one hand down her back and up again in a leisurely caress before he released her.

  She tossed him his boxers before retrieving her panties and trousers. They were dressed fully, if somewhat messily, before they heard Sharon’s voice coming through the window.

  “Hey, Chuck, put that mare in stall three.”

  “Which stall is this one?” Claire whispered.

  “Damned if I know,” Tim said, “but we’re just having an innocent picnic.”

  Claire stooped to fish his condom wrapper out of the straw and held it out with a grin. “If we’re going to claim innocence, we need to conceal the evidence.”

  He crumpled it up and shoved it in the pocket of his jeans. “I always knew I’d be a lousy criminal.”

  The stable hand peered through the bars between the stalls. “That you, Dr. Tim?”

  “Sure is.”

  “You come to take a look at Starlight here?”

  “No, I came to have lunch.”

  “Oh, okay.” Chuck sounded puzzled, but he asked no more questions. “See you.”

  Claire was doubled over behind Tim in a fit of laughter. As Chuck left, she straightened and gasped between her giggles, “I c...came to ha...have lunch. And he just let it go. How did you do that?”

  “I kept it simple.”

  She reached up and smoothed his rumpled hair. “Words to live by.” She sat down and patted the blanket.

  He folded himself down beside her. “I don’t care what’s in those bags, this is already one heck of a good mealtime.”

  They ate the sandwiches and cold salads with Claire propped against Tim’s chest so they were always touching. He opened the bakery box he’d brought and let her choose a cupcake before taking one himself.

  Her eyes danced as he bit into it. “So a cupcake is what you planned to have for dessert?”

  “No, this is just a temporary substitute because we both have to get back to work. I’m saving my real dessert for later.”

  “Oh.” She felt a flutter of anticipation between her legs. “When were you thinking of having it?”

  “Whenever my craving for something sweet gets the better of me.” His eyes were dark again, but this time it was with sexual hunger. He brushed the top of his cupcake against her lips, leaving a smear of icing on them. Then he leaned over and carefully licked the icing off.

  She wanted to rip her clothes off so he could brush the icing over her breasts and lower. “I had no idea a cupcake could be so sexually arousing.”

  “When I’m around you, anything can be sexually arousing.”

  “So I could make brussels sprouts sexy?”

  He twisted a lock of her hair around his finger and gave it a tug. “They’re my favorite vegetable.”

  They gathered up their lunch wrappers and folded up the blanket before heading out to collect Willow. As soon as they were out of sight of the main barn, Tim twined his fingers with hers.

  As they walked side by side over the emerald-green grass, with the soft ridges of the mountains rising in the distance, Claire felt a swell of contentment. A pang struck at her as she remembered her conversation with Henry Thalman and her planned trip to New York next week. It was the first step in her departure from Sanctuary.

  “You know, maybe I could be happy living here,” she said.

  Tim’s grip on her hand tightened, then eased. “You can’t beat the view, that’s for sure.”

  His words were so carefully neutral that she blushed as she considered he might be thinking her change of heart was because of the sex. That contributed to her mellow mood, but it was more than that.

  “I mean, last night showed me Sanctuary at its best—everyone supporting Holly, offering all kinds of help. It made me proud of my hometown, and I never thought I’d say that.”

  “Folks make a point to take care of each other here. That’s the good and the bad of small-town living.”

  “You mean they know too much about you?”

  “Or too little, so they fill in the blanks on their own.”

  Was he talking about his wife? Did she dare bring it up again? She sucked in a deep breath, then blew it out. She didn’t want to ruin the pleasantly languorous awareness thrumming between them.

  “Willow’s over by the hickory grove,” Tim said, starting to unlatch the gate.

  “Just a minute. Before
we go back to the real world, I want to do this.” She climbed up the fence until her head was slightly higher than his. Grabbing his sleeve, she tugged him closer, smiling down at him as she skimmed her fingers over the planes and angles of his face. “I wanted to try a different perspective.”

  He stood without moving, letting her trace the arch of his brows, the strong line of his jaw, the slight bump on the bridge of his nose. Only the tension of his shoulders showed the effect her touch had on him. Finally, she buried her hands in his sunlit hair and leaned down to brush her lips across his.

  He returned her kiss with the same gentle questing, and words welled up in her throat. As she pulled back to speak them, she realized what they were and gasped, setting off a coughing fit.

  “Are you all right?” Tim asked, lifting her down from the fence.

  She nodded as she cleared her throat. “Swallowed a bug.”

  “One of the hazards of sex al fresco,” he said with a grin.

  Claire managed a weak smile, but she was still reeling from shock. What she’d very nearly said to Tim as though it was the most natural thing in the world was “I love you.”

  Back at the gallery, Claire spent ten minutes in the bathroom, putting her clothes and makeup back in order. She’d seen the knowing look Sharon gave the two of them when they’d strolled into the barn leading Willow. Sharon hadn’t said anything, but her raised eyebrows and sly grin spoke volumes.

  The afternoon stretched before her as she stared out the gallery window, wishing someone would come in to take her mind off her close call with Tim.

  What had she been thinking? The sex had addled her brain. Combine that with her sudden surge of professional self-confidence this morning and all was right with her world. It had been so long since she felt good about herself that it simply spilled over onto the man who had just given her a terrific orgasm.