Love in Bloom (28 page)

                                                              ****

Doc was sitting on the deck when Paige and Clay emerged from the woods after their picnic.  Clay was sure Doc would know something had changed between himself and Paige.  The older man didn't miss much.

Doc gave Clay a probing look, then grinned at Paige.  She blushed prettily and took the picnic basket from Clay.  "I'll put this away."

They hadn't made arrangements for the rest of the day, and Clay wanted to be with her.  "Do you want to go to the lake this afternoon?"

"I usually spend Saturdays in the office working on notes and updating files if there aren't any emergencies.  But I think a day at the lake sounds much more therapeutic."

When she smiled at him like that, he could forget where he was.  It was going to be a short afternoon at the lake.  His bedroom sounded like a much better idea.

She went into the kitchen and Doc commented, "She's much more relaxed than when she arrived."  He looked at Clay.  "I think you've had something to do with that."

"What do you think the chances are she'll stay?"

"Truthfully?"

Clay nodded.

"Even if she's thinking about it now, and realistically I don't know if she is, it will be a different cup of tea when her mother arrives."

"She's got to want what's best for Paige."

"Do you know what that is?"  Doc's gaze was too penetrating, too knowing.

Clay looked out over the backyard.  "I know what I want it to be."

Doc's voice brought Clay's gaze back to him.  "I'm not sure Monica has ever really seen Paige as her daughter, but more as an appendage of herself.  Monica and Charles' vision for their lives was so intense, Paige couldn't help but have it, too."

Clay ran his hand through his hair, more troubled by Doc's insight than he wanted to be.  "So there's nothing I can do to help Paige with this."

"She has to make the decision on her own."

Anger rose in Clay.  "With her mother pulling her her way."

"If you pull too, Paige will be torn apart.  She has to decide what she wants for her life, Clay.  If you influence that and she makes the wrong decision, she'll resent it.  She'll resent you."

The anger subsided and Clay shook his head.  "Why is it when I think I finally have a handhold on my life, I don't?"

A faint, wry smile touched Doc's lips.  "Because life's constantly changing."

An idea had been forming in Clay's mind.  "Do you think Paige would like to get dressed up and go someplace special?"

Doc grinned.  "As in a real date?"

Clay grinned back.  "Yeah.  Women seem to like that sort of thing.  It's just that Paige seems so different sometimes."

"I think she'd like it a lot."  He stood.  "Clay, if you're going to wage a campaign to get her to stay, you have about two weeks.  Monica's due in around July first."

A campaign.  Did he want to do that?  He only knew he didn't want her to leave.  "I'll keep that in mind."

****

Clay tugged at his tie as he walked to Doc's door the next Saturday evening.  He hadn't worn a suit in at least a year.  But he'd made reservations for dinner at a posh restaurant along the Chesapeake Bay.  Paige's eyes had lit up like stars when he asked her to go dining and dancing with him.

The past week had seemed unreal in a way.  He'd seen Paige almost every night.  For propriety's sake she hadn't stayed overnight again and he didn't push it because he was still concerned about the nightmares.  But after they made love, he'd wanted to keep her curled up next to him.  Something seemed wrong about getting up, getting dressed, and going their separate ways.

He didn't have the chance to knock.  Paige opened the door and his heart somersaulted.  She'd swept the left side of her hair away from her face and clipped it with a pearl barrette.  Her floral-patterned sundress was a natural bloom of colors in pink and lilac.  The top fitted to her body perfectly while the knee-length skirt had three tiers.  The neckline in front looked like the top of a heart.

She asked, "Would you like to come in for a few minutes?"

His mouth had gone dry.  He cleared his throat.  "No, I'm not sure how long it will take to get there.  Are you ready?"

She lifted her small white purse.  "All set."

She couldn't seem to take her eyes from him any easier than he could take his from her.  Finally, she broke eye contact and turned the lock on the door before pulling it shut.

"Doc's not here?"

"He went to get a newspaper and a few groceries."

"He's almost back to full steam, isn't he?"

"He's doing well.  He really doesn't need me here anymore."

Clay did.  Yet how could he ask Paige to give up a dream when he didn't know if they had a future together?  They needed time, just to be together.  This was Paige's first serious relationship.  He couldn't rush her into something she didn't want.

When Clay and Paige arrived at the restaurant, the maitre d' asked if they would rather sit in the dining room or on the screened-in porch.  They chose the porch.

Towering lights stood between trees at the back of the restaurant and cast their glow down levels of steps and a path along the bay.  Clay could make out sparkling ripples under the moonlight.

Paige smiled.  "This is lovely."

"You're lovely."

Her voice was husky.  "You look different tonight."

"Different how?"

"I almost feel you're a stranger.  You're very impressive in a suit and tie."

He took her hand and held it to his cheek.  "I'm no stranger, Paige.  I'm the same man you made love to last evening, the same man who wants you more each time he sees you."

"It's not just physical for you, is it, Clay?"

He couldn't say the words yet.  Maybe because he wasn't ready to risk that much, maybe because he didn't want to pull her in two directions.  But he could be honest.  "No.  It's not just physical."

The waitress came then with the wine list and he released Paige's hand.

Paige didn't know what she'd expected Clay to say.  She certainly didn't want him to say something he didn't mean.  What if he said he loved her?  What would she do about it?  Yes, she loved him.  But she wasn't sure yet what that meant to her life.  Her path had been mapped out for her since she was born.  She'd never taken the reins herself to change direction because she thought she wanted what her parents wanted.  Now she didn't know.

As she read over the menu, Clay asked, "What do you think?  I've heard the chateaubriand's excellent.  Is there anything you haven't tried before?"

She grinned.  "The one without the price."

"Lobster?  You've never had lobster?  Then you haven't lived."  He closed his menu.  "We'll both have it."

"But you don't know how much--"

He took her hand.  "There's no price limit on tonight, Paige.  There's no limit at all."

The deep green of his eyes embraced her, and she felt as if she'd ascended to heaven.

Paige had tasted a multitude of foods ranging from snake to shark, both considered delicacies in some countries.  She'd always tried to fit into her surroundings, to see the country through the eyes of its inhabitants.  Tonight she wanted to see clearly, through her own eyes.

After the lobster arrived, she watched Clay dip a forkful into his melted butter.  She did the same.  The taste was sweet, tender, succulent.

Clay tilted his head and raised his brows as he waited for her verdict.

"It's wonderful."

His eyes twinkled then leapt with hot desire.  "It can be even more wonderful."  He took his fork, secured a small bite and dipped it into the butter.  Then he held it in front of her.

She opened her mouth and he gently placed the fork on her tongue.  Her gaze locked to his, she closed her lips and he pulled the fork away.  She savored the taste; she savored the intimacy.

Clay traced her bottom lip with his thumb, catching a drop of butter.  He ran his thumb back and forth across her lip until she tingled to her fingertips.  She licked her lips and his finger.

Passion flared brighter in his eyes.  "Eating is supposed to satisfy hunger, not make it worse."

"It depends on what kind of eating you're doing."  She picked up her knife and fork and cut off a piece of lobster.  She dipped it in the butter and offered it to him.

He closed his lips around it and smiled.

Music wafted into the porch from the dining room.  When they'd finished eating, Clay asked, "Would you like to dance?"

She wouldn't like anything more.  At least she'd be closer to him, not a table length away.

Clay led her to the dance floor, his hand warm and protective on the small of her back.  She felt safe when she was with Clay.  And not just safe, but valued for who she was, not what she could do.

The ballad was perfect for a first dance.  Clay guided her in the traditional box she'd learned at boarding school.  But dancing with a man was much different than dancing with another fourteen-year-old.

Every once in a while Clay would embellish the box with a rocking step or a walking step that took them across the room.  He'd warn her by the pressure of his hand on hers, a slight shifting of his palm on her back.

"When did you learn to dance?"  She was eager to know everything about him.  He'd told her what he'd learned from his family about his childhood, his college days.  But she was much more interested in the years since the accident.

"About three years after the accident, I started dating again.  Trish insisted dancing was a must-know.  Much more important than ancient history."

Paige wanted to ask him something but wasn't sure how.  "Am I different from other women you've known?  I mean, I haven't had much experience and--"

Clay moved her hand from the classic position into his chest and held her tighter.  "Yes, you're different.  You're special.  Experience sometimes makes a person hard.  There's nothing hard about you, Paige.  Or fake.  You're naturally lovely, naturally soft, naturally sexy."

There was no doubt in the way he said it that he meant each and every word.  She laid her head against his shoulder, appreciated the hard warmth of his body, his breath against her cheek, his lips nuzzling her neck.  She couldn't think of a moment in her life that had ever been this happy.

As more couples crowded the small dance floor, Clay brought her closer.  She wound her arms about his neck and pressed her lips to his throat.  They were rocking to the music rather than dancing.  But it didn't matter.  She molded to Clay as if she were part of him, and maybe she was.

He didn't shift away from her or try to hide his arousal.  He wanted her, and her heart danced its own free dance of joy.  Clay kissed her temple, her cheek, the tender spot behind her ear.  She trembled and held him tighter.