Love in Bloom (9 page)

But there was something he could do about Ben.  He could give the boy a pep talk.  He wouldn't have to reveal anything about the amnesia.  If necessary, he could tell Ben about the rehabilitation he'd had to go through with his shoulder.  Nothing intense.  Nothing wrenching.  Nothing that might bring the nightmares back.

He didn't know why he hadn't thought of this before.  Maybe because the recovery from his shoulder injury had been so much simpler than the rest of his recovery.  But it might work.  ****

Later that evening, Clay answered a knock at his front door and couldn't have been more surprised.  Paige stood there, smiling hesitantly.

Her pretty blue eyes, simply styled hair, and uncertain expression twisted something inside him that was deep and hungry.  "A little late for house calls, isn't it?" he teased.

"I had a few late late appointments.  I wanted to stop by to apologize."

"For what?"

"For trying to make you do something that might not be right for you.  May I come in?"

Clay stepped back and with a quick glance made sure the closet door was shut.  It was.

Paige walked into the living room and sat on the sofa.  He tried to ignore the way she looked so at home in his surroundings.  Her questions, her curiosity, her caring were as natural to her as her blue eyes.  "Would you like a cup of coffee?  I made a pot a little while ago."

"Sure."  She started to get up.

"No.  Stay there.  I'll bring it in."

Paige studied Clay as he walked into the kitchen.  His legs were so long, his shoulders so broad.  And her stomach still fluttered every time he smiled.  It was his quiet strength she admired most; she could feel it whenever she was around him.

Looking around the room, she tried to find out more about the man.  He liked restful colors--blue and earth tones.  He appreciated texture--tweed, wood, hand-thrown pottery, rough plaster.  Apparently he didn't like clutter.  A Native American sculpture, stoneware lamps, and copper ship bookends holding David Copperfield, The Prophet, and Wildlife of Northern America were the only items decorating the furniture.

What she didn't find struck her as much as what she did.  There were no photographs.  Nothing...personal.  Her most precious possessions were the photograph of her parents and a small ceramic clown her best friend in boarding school had given her.  As much as she traveled, wherever she traveled, those two mementos went with her.

Clay returned to the living room and handed her a mug of coffee.  He took his to the chair instead of sitting on the sofa beside her.  In a way, she was glad.  When he was too close, she had problems thinking straight.

"Did you decorate the house yourself?"

"For the most part.  Trish made a few suggestions."

Clay's voice always softened when he spoke of his sister.  Obviously, she was special to him.  "Do you have a picture of her?"

Clay didn't even glance around as if one might be located somewhere else.  "No."

"Your family isn't big on pictures?"

He took a sip of coffee from his mug and gazed at her over its rim.  "I don't need pictures sitting around.  The ones I need are in my head."

That was an unusual answer.  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what those pictures were until Clay asked a question she hadn't expected.

"What's Ben Hockensmith's biggest problem?"

Apparently Clay had done some serious thinking.  "His frustration and anger that he can't play football.  He doesn't want to change his dreams."

Clay set his mug on the hearth in front of the fireplace.  "And you really believe if I speak with him, it will help?"

Her heart sped up.  "Yes."

The silence in the room was an anticipatory hush.

Clay's green eyes were as serious as Paige had ever seen them.  "All right," he said, "I'll talk to him.  But I'd like it to be on a casual basis.  I don't want him to feel trapped with me."

Paige couldn't imagine anyone feeling trapped with Clay.  "We could go to the lake on Sunday for a picnic and a swim."

"You think Ben will go for that?"

She took a few sips of coffee as she considered his question.  "He's been cooped up too long.  I can't see him turning down sunshine, fresh air, and..."  She smiled.  "Good company."  She paused for a moment.  "What changed your mind?"

Clay shrugged.  "I found something that reminded me--"  He picked up his coffee mug.  "It doesn't matter."

"Thank you."

He seemed embarrassed.  "No thanks necessary."  He nodded to her mug.  "More coffee?"

She enjoyed sitting here with Clay, but she also knew she shouldn't stay.  She'd be flying away in a couple of months.  "No.  I'd better go.  Doc will worry.  I didn't tell him I was going to stop by."

Clay stood, too.  "I guess he might."

They both knew it was a poor excuse.  But Clay had his reasons for keeping his distance; she had hers.

He walked her to the door.  When she glanced up at him to say good-bye, the words wouldn't come and she couldn't look away. 

He raised his hand and gently smoothed his thumb along her cheek.  "What makes you care so much?"

"My background, I guess."

He searched her face, the depths of her eyes, and then shook his head.  His hand lightly tapped her heart.  "No, I think it's what's in here."

She could feel the lingering warmth of his fingers where he'd touched her.  She'd never wanted to feel a man's hand on her breast before.  The boldness of her thoughts should have shocked her, but it didn't.  Because Clay was awakening something wonderful inside her and she wanted to feel his touch.  The longing was such an ache, her eyes pricked.

She still couldn't say good-bye, but she managed, "Good night, Clay.  I'll call after I talk to Ben."

He nodded and she opened the door.  Walking into the evening, she took in a cool breath of air, waiting for it to blow out fires that both frightened and excited her.

****

Clay glanced at Paige beside him as he drove to the teenager's house.  For Paige and Ben's sake, Clay hoped the outing would go well.  He reminded himself he was going to watch his step today.  He'd been incredibly stupid the other night, touching her like that.  He'd only meant to...Hell, it didn't matter what he'd meant.  He'd seen the surprise passion flare in her eyes, and he'd experienced his own body respond all too vehemently.

His aim today was to give Ben Hockensmith a pep talk and stay unaffected by Paige.  As easy as paddling a canoe...he hoped.  He took another look at Paige.  She wore red shorts and her legs were every bit as lovely as the rest of her--tanned, smooth, curvy, and long.  He could see the outline of her swimsuit's scooped neck under her navy top.  He wondered what the rest of it looked like.  What the rest of her looked like....

He shut off the thought and asked, "How's Ben's family reacting to the accident?"

"Better than Ben.  His dad says he'll take a second mortgage on the house and send him to college anywhere he wants to go.  His mom makes sure he does his exercises and encourages him to get out.  He's an only child, so he has all their attention."

"Is his dad having a problem now that football is out of the picture?"

"I don't think so.  He wants Ben to get on with his life."

Clay wished his own father had wanted that for him.  But his situation and Ben's were entirely different.  Ben's father didn't feel as if he'd lost a son.

Ben was waiting outside along the curb.  Paige could see his mother standing inside the screen door.  She waved as Ben made his way to Clay's SUV.

Ben was quiet as they drove to the lake.  Paige tried to draw him out, but his answers were monosyllabic.  Clay could feel the teenager staring at him and probably wondering about him.  Paige had told Ben that Clay had been in an accident too.

They found a weather-worn table in a grove of trees.  Clay carried the picnic basket to the table.  With his cane, Ben's carrying ability was limited, but he managed the jug of lemonade and his rolled towel.  Paige brought her duffel bag and Clay's and the blanket for the grassy beach.  They left the cooler in the SUV for the time being.

The late afternoon sun shone in the cloudless azure sky.  "How about a swim first?" Paige asked cheerfully.

Clay said, "It's up to Ben.  That water's still cold."

"I'm not afraid of cold water," the teenager muttered.

That might be true, but Clay knew he was afraid of other things.  He watched Ben's eyes dart around the swimmers on the grassy shore.  Then Ben looked down at his leg still encased in his jeans.  Clay imagined what the teenager was thinking.

Clay took the blanket from the picnic bench.  "Let's go sun on the beach.  We can play a card game until we decide if we want to get wet."

Ben seemed thankful for the reprieve.

Paige exchanged a look with Clay that said she appreciated his thoughtfulness.  He didn't want her appreciation.  He didn't want anything from her that would increase the attraction between them.  Because it couldn't go anywhere.

They settled on the blanket.  To combat the awkwardness of strangers getting to know each other, they concentrated on a game of gin rummy.

After three rounds, Clay wiped his brow.  "I don't know about you two, but it's too hot to sit here with clothes on.  Ready for that swim?"

When neither Ben nor Paige answered, Clay lifted his shirt over his head.

"Jeez!  What happened to you?" Ben asked.

Paige's gaze didn't seem to be drawn as much to the long jagged scars around Clay's shoulder as to his chest.  Her eyes on him made the eighty-degree temperature seem over a hundred.

"Climbing accident."

"Mountain climbing?"

"Rock climbing.  Mt. Everest was never in my plans."  So he'd been told.

"Jeez," Ben repeated.  "Did a bear get you, too?"

Paige moved slightly and Clay knew she was going to cut off Ben's questions.  But he shook his head at her.  After all, this was what today was all about, wasn't it?

"No bear.  Rocks.  The safety gear was defective.  I went over the shelf first and..."  He shrugged.  "The rest is history.  The doctors tell me I'm lucky to be alive."

Ben just stared and shook his head.  "My leg doesn't look anything like that.  And you don't care if people see it?"

"It's me, Ben.  I have a right to swim or work out or do whatever I want.  Sure, people stare.  But usually a few words of explanation stop that.  I just say I was in an accident.  That's enough."  He'd learned people could accept physical disabilities much more easily than mental ones.

Paige was watching him more closely than Ben.

Clay stood and unbuckled his belt.  "So, you ready to swim?"