Читать книгу Dreams & Desires - Kat Cantrell - Страница 17

Ten

As promised Violet picked Clare up on the way to Priceless.

It was currently housed in a giant renovated red barn in the Courtyard, the growing artist’s community on the outskirts of town. Clare used to be a regular shopper in the antiques store when it was located downtown, but it had been devastated by the tornado. Since Raina had changed locations, Clare never seemed to get out that way often enough. Seeing all of the amazing stock up front in the shop as Raina led them back to the workshop was motivating Clare to come back very soon.

Violet had been quiet for most of the drive there, which was very unusual for her. She was one of the spunkiest women Clare knew. And weirdly enough, Clare, who was usually the quiet type, couldn’t seem to stop talking. She felt all bubbly and excited inside, while at the same time questioning her own sanity.

Exclusive, my ass. How could the hospital playboy make such an outrageous claim? She was betting that he’d never even been in a committed relationship. Now he wanted one with her? They didn’t even...match. He should be with someone like Grace. Someone as beautiful as he was.

Once they were inside the building under the bright studio lights, Clare realized that Violet didn’t look so good. Her skin looked especially pale against her thick auburn hair, and Clare could swear she was a little thinner than the last time she saw her.

When the class was under way, she leaned close to Violet. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little green.”

The minute the words were out she realized that Parker had said nearly the exact same thing to her earlier today. Oh, great, he was beginning to rub off on her.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Violet said, sipping gingerly on the water bottle she’d brought to class. “I’ll be fine for a while, then get this weird overwhelming nausea. It must be some sort of virus.”

It didn’t sound like a virus to Clare. “When do you seem to feel sick the most?”

“I wake up feeling pretty lousy every day, and though I’m starving all the time, if I eat I can barely hold it down. I’ve been really tired, too.”

Clare made her voice even lower and asked, “Is there any possibility that you’re pregnant?”

Violet sucked in a breath and a myriad of emotions flashed across her face. Shock, fear, confusion. Then she shook her head and said, “No, that can’t be it. I’m not even seeing anyone.”

“Are you sure, because early prenatal care—”

“That’s not it,” she insisted. “It’s just a virus or a parasite or something. I’ll be fine.”

Clare let it go, but a few minutes later, as she snapped a piece of glass in the wrong place, Violet nudged her with her elbow and whispered, “Oh, my God! Is that a hickey?”

Clare glanced at the people sitting around them. “Where?”

“On your neck, genius.”

Clare gasped and slapped a hand across the side of her neck, felt herself starting to flush. “No, of course not.”

Violet wasn’t buying it. “You haven’t stopped smiling since I picked you up and you practically talked my head off on the way here. No wonder you’ve been in such a good mood.”

She was going to deny it. Say that it was... Well, that was the problem. She didn’t know what to say. Besides, the inferno burning in her cheeks was a dead giveaway.

Violet leaned in close and whispered, “Did you do what I think you did? And if so, with whom?”

Clare opened her mouth but nothing came out.

“Was it Dr. Reese?”

Still speechless, Clare just looked at her, and Violet’s eyes went wide. “Oh, my God, it was him!”

“Shhhh,” Clare scolded, as people turned to look at them. “Keep your voice down.”

“I knew it,” Violet whispered. “I knew you had a thing for him. And who can blame you?”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Clare said, tugging the band from her hair so it would tumble down and cover the evidence. “And I mean no one.”

“Why? You guys make an adorable couple.”

No, he made her look good. He and Grace? They made an adorable couple.

“I’m not even sure if I’m going to see him again,” she told Violet. “If people knew it would just be awkward. You have to promise me you won’t say anything to anyone.”

“Of course I promise,” Violet said, laying a reassuring hand on her arm. “But you can’t keep it a secret forever.”

If she tried hard enough she could. The alternative was unacceptable. If her staff were to learn how flighty and irresponsible she’d been behaving, they would lose all respect for her.

Parker still on her mind, Clare could hardly concentrate on the class. And no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t get the damned glass pieces cut without mangling them horribly.

First stained-glass class. Major fail.

She looked up and saw Raina’s little boy Justin, dressed in a cowboy get-up, clomping around the perimeter of the room as if he was riding a horse.

Their eyes met and Clare waved. Justin changed direction and trotted over to her table.

“Hey there, partner,” Clare teased, then realized almost immediately that she sounded just like Parker and his silly nicknames. He really was starting rub off on her.

But Justin giggled and stopped at her table, all smiles. “Hi, Clare.”

“I like the threads,” she told him, tugging on his fringed faux-suede vest.

“Santa brought it,” he said, very matter-of-factly. “And he brought me a daddy.”

Clare gasped. “No way!” Everyone knew that Raina and Nolan Dane were engaged, but Clare played along, telling Justin, “You must have been super good all year.”

“Super, super good,” he said proudly.

“Hey, mister,” Raina said to her son, stopping at the table to check Clare and Violet’s progress. “Do we bother the customers during classes?”

His little bottom lip rolled into a pout and he shook his head.

“Skedaddle.”

He sighed and said, “Okay.”

Raina chucked him on the chin and he trotted off on his invisible steed. Then she looked down at the mess on Clare’s table and tried to smile.

“I guess stained glass just isn’t my thing,” Clare told her.

“It takes practice,” Raina said.

Not to mention concentration and a steady hand. Neither of which Clare possessed at the moment. She still couldn’t believe Parker had given her a hickey, when he knew how important it was to keep their relationship secret. If people in town got wind that she was seeing someone—anyone—she would be under the microscope. Because that’s the way it was in Royal. Everyone was all up in each other’s private business.

The longer she thought about what he’d done, the angrier she became, and by the time Violet dropped her at home she was so hot under the collar it was a wonder steam wasn’t shooting out her ears. She knew she had to settle this or she would be up all night fuming.

Thankfully her aunt was home. She sat in her recliner reading one of her murder mysteries.

“Would it be okay if I use your car?” Clare asked her.

“Sure, hon, help yourself.” Her head tipped a little to the left. “Are you okay? You look upset.”

Upset didn’t begin to say it. “You have no idea.”

“Uh-oh. Parker?”

“I’ll explain when I get back.” She dialed Parker’s number on her way to the garage.

“Hello,” he answered.

“I need your address.”

There was a slight pause. “You do?”

She started the car and initialized the navigation. “Yes, I do.”

He recited the address and she punched it in. He was only fifteen minutes away. “Thanks.”

“You don’t sound happy.”

“I’m not.”

“So why did you want my address?”

“So I can come over there and kill you.”

* * *

Parker wasn’t sure what was going on, or why Clare would be unhappy, but it didn’t take long to find out. She got there in ten minutes flat and started pounding on his front door. He opened it and there she stood on his porch looking incredibly unhappy. After they’d hung up he’d wondered if this was some sort of revenge for pretending to be mad at her earlier that day.

Apparently not.

“Whatever you’re unhappy about, I’m certain it’s not the door’s fault.”

She glared at him. “You gave me a hickey?”

Was that what had gotten her panties in such a twist? He stepped back and gestured her inside. “Come on in. Let’s talk.”

She charged past him. “Violet saw it, and she made me admit I’m seeing someone. And she knows it’s you.”

“Clare, I didn’t give you a hickey.”

She made a rude noise. “Well, I didn’t give it to myself.”

“Let me see,” he said.

She took her coat off and dropped it over the back of the couch, baring her neck to him. “See? How do you explain that?”

He examined her neck. “Explain what?”

“What do you mean, what? Don’t tell me you don’t know what a hickey looks like.”

“Clare, there’s nothing here.”

Her lips pressed into a tight line. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny. Is it maybe on the other side?” Frowning, she turned so he could look. “Sorry, nothing there either.”

“How can that be? Violet said—” She blinked, then blinked again. “Oh, my gosh, that little sneak.”

“I don’t get it,” he said.

She collapsed onto the couch, dropping her head in her hands. “She suspected that I was seeing someone so she lied about the hickey to make me spill my guts. And I fell for it, hook, line and sinker.”

Was that all?

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s okay.” He sat down beside her, took her hand, which she promptly retracted.

“No, it’s not. I’m an intelligent person. You’d think that I would have the good sense to at least confirm it in a mirror before I started flinging accusations.”

“I could think of a few ways you could make it up to me,” he said, but he didn’t get the smile he’d been hoping for. He wasn’t sure if she’d even heard him.

“This is ridiculous,” she said, and was up on her feet again, pacing the rug. “I’m acting like a crazy person.”

He took her hand to hold her still. “Don’t you think you might be overreacting a little? I’m assuming you told Violet the truth because you trust her.” Or because deep down, she actually wanted the truth to come out. It was too soon to say.

She looked up at him. “Did you mean what you said today? About being exclusive? It wasn’t just a line to get me back into bed?”

They were back to that? He should have known that this wouldn’t be easy, that she would question his every move. What had made her so afraid to follow her heart?

“Come here,” he said, pulling her down into his lap, surprised when she didn’t resist. He looked her dead in the eyes, so she would know he was telling the truth, and said, “It was not a line. I meant every word I said.”

She looked as though she really wanted to believe him but wasn’t quite there yet. Which was a little frustrating, but not a deal breaker. She would get there.

“Have you ever even been in a committed relationship?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“Then how can you promise to be exclusive to me? Do you even know how?” She paused then said, “Don’t answer that.”

Oooookay.

She looked around his living room, as if actually seeing it for the first time since she got there. “Nice condo. Although I would have imagined you in something a lot bigger. I like the decor, though.”

“It’s an executive rental—it came this way.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll buy something eventually. I just thought I should settle into the job first, before I tied myself here.”

“So you’re not sure you’re staying?”

Definitely not what he’d said. “I wasn’t sure then.” He picked up her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. “But I am now.”

“If you tell me you’re staying because of me, I’ll probably have a panic attack. Just sayin’.”

He grinned. “No panic attacks tonight.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Would you stop apologizing?” He rearranged her on his lap so she was straddling his thighs. “I have a great idea. Why don’t you kiss me.”

“You’re just trying to shut me up.”

He grinned. “Pretty much.”

She tried to look offended, but laughed instead. “There is such a thing as too honest, you know. But this time, I guess I’ll let it slide.”

“I think it’s time for a tour of the house,” he told her. “Specifically my bedroom, though I do have a fairly sturdy desk in my office. Just sayin’. Or there’s the trundle bed in the spare room—”

She folded a hand over his mouth, a saucy grin on her glossy lips. “We can do it wherever you want. Now, shut up and kiss me.”

* * *

Despite all the options Parker had mentioned, they went to the bedroom first, then never left. Every time she told herself that the sex couldn’t possibly get better, he pulled out the stops, making her even crazier than he had the time before. It was as if someone had written a handbook on her emotional and sexual needs, and he’d read it from cover to cover. Twice.

Afterward he pulled on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and headed to the kitchen for a snack. Which wound up being leftover reheated spinach and bacon quiche—coincidentally, her favorite kind—and a huge bowl of grapes. And it was delicious. They sat side by side on his bed, eating the quiche and feeding each other grapes.

“This is so good,” she said, and always on the lookout for palatable frozen fare, asked, “What brand is it?”

“It’s not,” he said.

“Oh. Did you get it from a restaurant?”

He looked at her a little funny. “No.”

“Does someone cook for you?”

He shook his head. “Guess again.”

“Elves?”

He laughed. “Is it really so hard to believe that a man can cook?”

In her family it was. “The men in my family don’t cook.”

“How about you?”

“I was banned from the kitchen a long time ago. Forget to turn off the burner under the frying pan and almost burn down the kitchen one time, and you’re branded for life.” Which was fine because she had always hated cooking. And still did. “You really made this?” she asked.

“I really did.” He popped a green grape in her mouth. She bit down and the sweet juice exploded onto her tongue. Lately food seemed to taste so much better than before. In fact, everything about her life felt pretty darn good.

If only she could let go and just trust it. Trust him.

“Can you cook anything else?” she asked him.

“Anything you want, as long as I have the ingredients. And a recipe.”

“Did you take classes?”

“I dated a chef. We saw each other on and off for about six months, I guess. She would cook for me and I would watch. Then I started experimenting on my own. I realized I was pretty good at it, and I found it incredibly relaxing. And I’m not gonna lie, the chicks dig it.”

“Hit me again,” she said, nodding to the grapes.

“For someone so trim you sure can put the food away.” He fed her another grape, the pad of his thumb grazing her lower lip.

“I’ve lost almost twenty pounds since December.”

He looked genuinely surprised. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“That’s a lot.”

“Did you not notice that I was a bit on the chubby side?”

He shrugged. “You looked good to me. Besides, chubby is okay.”

Was this guy for real? “Aside from your weird fascination with me, I was under the impression that you were more attracted to the Barbie-doll type.”

“So was I.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was he deliberately trying to confuse her?

“So what changed?” she asked him.

“I saw you.”

If it was a lie, it was the sweetest lie anyone had ever told her. And the idea that it might be true scared her half to death. “Haul out the boots and shovels,” she said. “The BS is getting deep.”

He laughed. “Why is it so unbelievable?”

“Because everyone knows the kind of man you are. You’re a womanizer and a serial dater. That sort of guy doesn’t settle down. He conquers. And when he gets bored he moves on. And even if he does eventually settle, it never lasts.”

“Yep, that pretty much sounds like me.”

She blinked, taken aback by his honesty. He sure wasn’t helping his case. “So I’m right?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“What are you saying?”

“People change. Priorities change. I’m not the man I used to be.”

In her experience, people could change, but not that much. “So you’re telling me that you’re ready to settle down?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. There was a time when I never would have considered a wife and kids. Now it doesn’t seem so far-fetched.”

He would make an excellent husband and father, and she envied the woman who snagged him. And she wished that it could be her. Even though she knew it was impossible.

“As much as you love kids, I’m surprised you don’t have any,” he told her. “Just haven’t found the right man?”

She hadn’t even been looking. “My patients are my children,” she said. “Besides, I’m only thirty-three. I still have a few good childbearing years ahead of me. Or maybe I’ll follow in my aunt Kay’s footsteps and never have any. God knows there are enough of us already. Another baby in the family would be like white noise. Especially a child of mine.”