refusing to go there. She had already beaten up on herself enough. To dwell on the now was not only detrimental to her psyche, but stupid. What happened four years ago couldn’t be changed. Nothing would ever bring her family back.
What happened this morning, however, was another matter altogether.
“Merciful heaven,” Kelly muttered, reaching for the loofah and sudsing her body so hard she left it tingling. Then, deciding she couldn’t change the morning’s embarrassment no matter how much she might want to, she got out of the tub and dried off.
Later, wrapped in a warm robe, she sat on the sofa close to the fireplace. Even though it was relatively early, she should try to get some sleep, but she knew any attempt to do so would be futile. Her mind was still too revved up. Besides, at home she hardly ever went to bed before midnight, usually kept company by a ton of work she brought home from the office.
Thinking about work, Kelly felt her heart falter.
She missed her office, her clients, her condo. She missed them with a passion. In the Houston Galleria area she heard the sounds of traffic, not owls. She shivered and wrapped her robe tighter around her. Something hot to drink always seemed to soothe her. Not this evening, however. Although she had made a cup of her favorite flavored coffee and took several sips of it, she still felt unsettled.
She lay back and closed her eyes, only to find the image of Grant Wilcox unexpectedly imprinted on the back of her lids. Instead of freaking out, she let her mind have free reign—first, picturing him again in his flannel shirt and tight, faded jeans, covering a body most men would die for, then wondering what made him tick.
Why did she care?
So he was better than average looking in his rough, sexy way—she’d already conceded that. His features were carved with decisive strokes, and he had a killer smile and dimples to go along with that amazing body.
He had that muscled, yet loose-limbed agility that most big men didn’t possess. She could picture him working outdoors shirtless, mending a fence, felling timber, or doing whatever he did.
Suddenly, her mind jumped ship and she imagined him without his jeans. No underwear, either.
The image didn’t stop there. Next came the vision of the two of them together, naked…
Stop it! She told herself. What had gotten into her?
She was so traumatized by her thoughts, she couldn’t even open her eyes. So what? No one knew what was going on inside her head. Those erotic, mental meanderings were hers and hers alone and would bring harm to no one.
Wrong.
This was a dangerous mind game she was playing—examining her life, including her loneliness and her need to be accepted and loved. Still, the images wouldn’t let go—of mouths, tongues, entwined, of kisses that sucked out the soul.
The phone proved merciful to her, ringing with a jarring clarity just then. Lurching up, heart palpitating and drenched in sweat, Kelly let go of a pent-up breath.
“God!” she whispered, mortified and confused. Loosening her robe, she reached for the receiver.
“Hey, kiddo, how’s it going?”
Ruth again. Although Kelly didn’t want to talk to her, she had no choice. Perhaps her cousin’s laughter was the antidote she needed to gather her scattered wits about her.
“How was the rest of the day?”
“Are you sure you want to know?” Kelly asked, a tremor in her voice.
“Uh-oh, something happen?”
“You might say so.”
“Hey, I don’t like the sound of that.” Ruth paused. “Okay, did the help quit?”
“No way. They love me.”
“Whew. That’s a relief. If you knew how hard it was for me to find those two, you’d be relieved, too.”
“I am. They’re great.”
“So, if the place is still standing and you’re selling the goods, what could be so bad?”
Kelly cleared her throat. “Do you know a farmer by the name of Grant Wilcox?”
Ruth laughed. “First off, he’s no farmer. He’s a forester.”
“Whatever.”
“They aren’t the same, cousin dear.”
“That’s a minor point, but I’ll concede.”
“Girl, he’s the hunk I was telling you about. Surely you figured that out.”
“I guessed as much.”
“So what do…did…you think?”
If only you knew. “He’s okay.”
“Just okay?” Ruth practically screeched. “I’m not believing you. He’s had every female in the county and surrounding ones try to get him down the aisle.” She paused with a laugh. “Without success, I might add.”
“That’s too bad. You of all people know I’m not interested in being with a farmer, for God’s sake.” Kelly found herself squirming on the sofa.
“Forester.”
Kelly ignored that. “What he is is a country bumpkin who probably prefers to hug trees rather than women.” She paused. “No offense intended.”
“None taken,” Ruth replied with more laughter. “I know how you feel about the country. Or should I say the woods?”
“They’re one and the same to me.”
“Uh, right. So back to Grant. What’s up with him?”
Kelly cleared her throat one more time, then told the unvarnished truth, leaving nothing out.
Afterward, there was silence on the other end of the line, then Ruth whooped like a banshee. “Oh, my God, I wish I’d been there to see that.”
“You mean you’re not furious at me?” Kelly asked in surprise.
“For being clumsy as a lame duck?”
“I have no leg to stand on,” Kelly said, “and no pun intended.”
Ruth whooped again.
Kelly simply held her silence, confused about her cousin’s reaction. “It sounds like you think he deserved what he got?”
“Not at all,” Ruth said, her voice still dripping with humor. “It’s just that he of all men—the county stud—got burned where it hurts most.”
“Ruth! I can’t believe you said that.”
“Well, isn’t that what you did?”
“He
