me see what’s up there, and then I promise I’ll go.”
Clay checked his watch. “We agreed that you’d leave after ten minutes, yet you’ve been here for over thirty.”
That long? “I can’t shake the feeling that there might be something up there of Tammy’s,” she said. “Please.”
Clay blew out an exasperated breath. “Don’t tell me you’re going to pull that again.”
Having no idea what he meant, she frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Making your eyes extra big and biting your bottom lip.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. One look around the attic is all I ask. Then I’ll go, and you’ll never see me again.”
“Is that a promise?”
Sarah bit back a retort, which wouldn’t help. “You won’t have to do a thing. Just point me to a stepladder and I’ll take care of the rest.”
He muttered something about her stubbornness.
“You’re right,” she said. “When I want something, I am stubborn.”
“Will you quit doing that?”
She was biting her bottom lip again, she realized. She rolled her eyes and forced a smile. “Is this better?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
He advanced toward her with an intent expression she felt clear to her toes.
Swallowing, she stepped back. “The stepladder?”
“I think there’s one in the utility room,” Clay said, moving closer still.
Her heart pounding, Sarah retreated another step, but the wall stopped her. “I-is it off the kitchen?”
“You’re driving me crazy,” he said in a low voice, and leaned in even closer.
“Clay, I don’t—”
He silenced her with a kiss.
* * *
CLAY DIDN’T TRUST Sarah, didn’t want her there and sure as hell shouldn’t go near her. But there was something about her he couldn’t resist.
Her eyes were huge and a little scared, but as soon as he brushed his mouth over hers, the look in them softened and her eyelids drifted closed.
Clay also closed his eyes. Her perfume, flowery and as fresh as a spring day, was different from before, but every bit as seductive. She’d cut her hair short, but it felt just as silky as when it had reached her shoulders.
If there were other differences, he didn’t sense them. She felt good in his arms, tasted sweet.
Just as he remembered.
With the little sigh he’d been waiting for without realizing it, she gave in and kissed him back. Her hands slid up his arms and wrapped around his neck, bringing her soft breasts tight against his chest.
Wanting to get closer, he shifted his weight. Wrong move. His leg screamed, snapping him out of his haze of desire.
What was he doing? Was he nuts? He dropped his hands and stepped back.
Looking slightly unfocused, Sarah tugged at her blouse. “Why did you do that?”
Because he hadn’t been able to stop himself. “I wanted to find out if you tasted as good as I remember,” he drawled. “And you do.”
Good enough that for a brief time he’d forgotten the searing pain in his knee. He needed to pop four extra-strength aspirin now, and then prop up his leg.
Not in front of Sarah. It was only out of sheer willpower that he managed to stay on his feet.
She as good as ran for the door.
Gritting his teeth, he strode after her and banged it open in time to let her out. “Goodbye, Sarah Tigarden.”
She left without a backward glance.
* * *
MRS. YANCY, THE sixty-something grandmotherly widow Sarah had rented a room from, seemed glad for the company. When Sarah returned from putting her things in the bedroom up a narrow set of stairs, her temporary landlady showed her around her colorful house, pointing out treasures she’d collected. She liked primary colors and flowers, and the fabrics of the drapes and furniture were filled with both. An eclectic selection of pictures and wall hangings decorated most of the wall space, and knickknacks crowded every available table and windowsill.
The woman herself was just as bright and energetic, and a whole lot friendlier than Clay.
But Sarah wasn’t going to think about him—even if she was still reeling from that kiss. A kiss every bit as potent as the ones she remembered.
What really rattled her, though, was that she’d enjoyed every moment of it so much. The hard strength of his arms, the delicious press of his mouth...
“The washer and dryer are behind those corded doors,” Mrs. Yancy said just before they entered a modest but homey kitchen. “You’re on your own for lunch and dinner, and if you want to cook your own meals, feel free to use the kitchen. You will get breakfast every morning. I hope you like eggs and biscuits. I didn’t know if you drank coffee or tea, so I stocked up on both.”
She clasped her hands at her ample waist, as if anxious for Sarah’s approval.
No one had cooked for Sarah in ages, and she relished the thought. “Eggs and biscuits sound delicious, and I’m a coffee drinker.”
“So am I, but if you decide you want tea, there’s a sampler box in the cabinet above the stove. Which reminds me—for groceries, head to Spenser’s General Store, about seven miles up the highway. You’ll find just about anything you might want there, including prepared food. If you’d rather eat out, Barb’s Café is right next door to Spenser’s. It’s our only real restaurant, and the food is excellent. We also have pizza and fast-food places.”
Sarah mentally stored away the information.
“If you have questions about anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask,” Mrs. Yancy continued.
Maybe the woman had known the Beckers. “Have you lived in Saddlers Prairie long?” Sarah asked.
“Almost twenty-five years. After John and I married, I moved here from Ely, Nevada. He was my second husband. The first one didn’t work out.” Briefly, her smile dimmed. “I’ll bet you’ve never heard of Ely.”
The woman jumped subjects like a leaping frog. “No, I haven’t,” Sarah said.
“It’s on the east side of the state. I met John when he came through town, offering insurance policies to ranchers. His home was Saddlers Prairie, so this is where we settled.
“At first, it seemed awfully small—even
