arrive,” Dermot added. “Starting now.” He stood up and scooped her into his arms, then carried her up the porch steps and into the house.
Maybe this was for the best, Rachel thought. They’d become so close that it was almost impossible to imagine how she could ever let him go. Perhaps by putting some distance between them, the leaving might be a bit less traumatic.
He set her on the edge of the kitchen counter, stepping in between her legs as his hands smoothed up her bare thighs. His lips met hers, and a heartbeat later, they were lost in a deep and stirring kiss.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he said against her mouth, his hands slipping through her hair.
“What were you thinking?” she asked, her breath coming in quick gasps.
“About what would happen once we were alone again.”
“We’re always alone,” she said, unbuttoning his work shirt. “What did you imagine?”
Pushing the soft cotton aside, Rachel reached up and smoothed her hands over his naked chest. “What are we doing here?” she murmured, pressing her lips to his chest.
“I have no idea,” Dermot replied, “but I don’t want to stop.”
He ran his hands down her back and Rachel shivered at the sensation of his touch. “This is going to be impossible,” she said, nuzzling her face into his neck.
“We’re sleeping in the same bedroom. How is that impossible?”
“How long do you think we can keep this up?” Rachel asked. “It’s getting out of control.”
Dermot drew her closer, pulled her legs around his waist. She could feel his desire beneath the faded fabric of his jeans. “Out of control is good,” he said. “That’s exactly how it should be between us.”
Rachel reached up to run her fingers along his lower lip. “What do you want from me? Tell me.”
“I’m sure we can come up with something.” He gently bit at her fingertips. “God, you’re beautiful. I’ve looked at you hundreds of times in the past few weeks and I can’t seem to get enough. Not this way.”
Dermot tugged the strap of her tank top off her shoulder and pressed a line of kisses over the gentle curve between her neck and arm.
“I don’t know anything about you,” she said. “Yet I know you completely.”
“It’s strange,” he said, smoothing his hand across her breast. “But wonderful.”
Dermot smiled as he cupped her breast in his hand, teasing at her nipple with his thumb. And then, in one easy motion, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his mouth against her neck. He trailed kisses from her collarbone to her breast, then finally drew the hard nub of her nipple into his mouth. She arched back, holding her breath as he pulled her down into another kiss.
She wanted to tell him how she felt, just blurt it all out and let the consequences fall where they may. What did she have to lose? He was going to leave anyway. Rachel cupped his face in her hands and turned his gaze up to hers. “I’m not sure anymore that I can let you go.”
“I’m not sure anymore that I want to leave.”
Rachel groaned, tipping her head back and closing her eyes. “Don’t say that.” She shook her head. “Don’t tease me and let me believe you want to stay.”
“Why not?”
She opened her eyes and looked at him. “This isn’t a game. This is my life.”
“What does that mean?” Dermot said, an edge of anger in his voice.
“I think that sometimes you’ll say anything to get what you want.” Rachel sighed. This conversation was going nowhere. They usually had no trouble communicating, but she couldn’t seem to make him understand. “Don’t talk about the future like you imagine yourself here.”
“Don’t you imagine that your life might suddenly become easier?”
“Easier? You think I want you because it makes my life easier?” Though the notion seemed insulting at first, Rachel realized that maybe Dermot was right. Maybe she was falling in love with the idea of a man at Clover Meadow Farm, instead of with the man himself. What did she really know about Dermot, beyond what they shared in the bedroom?
“Are you really that delusional?” Rachel asked. “I don’t need you to complete my life. I’m perfectly capable of running this farm on my own.”
“Are you?” Dermot asked, his expression intense.
God, was he deliberately provoking her? How had this conversation managed to deteriorate in such a short time. She ought to just walk away, before she said something she couldn’t take back. “Yes, I am. In fact, right now, I wish I’d never even hired you. I thought I’d figured out what I wanted and then you came along and screwed it up.” She cursed softly. “I was all right being alone. I wasn’t happy, but I was fine.”
Rachel scrambled off the counter, crossing the kitchen to stand behind the table, creating a barrier between them. Anger bubbled up inside her. How had she let things go so far? She’d promised herself that she’d protect her heart, and somehow, without even knowing, she’d allowed herself to fall for him.
“I think you should go,” she said, humiliated at the emotion that made her voice shake.
“Are you joking?”
“I’ll pay you for all six weeks. You’ll have enough for a bus ticket home. It would be better for both of us.”
“I’m not going anywhere. You hired me to work on this farm for six weeks and that’s what I’m going to do. If you don’t want me in your bed anymore, that’s fine. But I’m not leaving. So you can just forget that.”
Rachel cursed softly. Dermot Quinn was stubborn and arrogant. “It’s better if we just end it now, before either of us gets in too deep.”
His gaze met hers. “I’m not sure that’s possible,” he replied. “I know it’s not possible for me. And I don’t think it’s possible for you either.”
“We need to try.” Rachel moved to the door, then turned back to look at him. “I’m going to try.”
She yanked open the screen door and walked outside, heading for the barn and a last check on the goats. She felt as if she’d just dodged a terrible danger, her heart slamming in her chest, her adrenaline pumping. It would be easy to fall in love with Dermot and so hard to fall out of love. And right now, she didn’t have the strength to fight that battle.
“SEND UP SOME MORE shingles,” Dermot called.
He tucked his hammer into the old tool belt and made his way down from the peak of the roof. Eddie was stationed on the ground next to the old stone house, his hands on the rope to a pulley they’d rigged up. As always, Benny was at his side, this time perched on top of a stack of packaged shingles.
Over the past few days, Dermot had worked himself to exhaustion. At first, it helped
