met his look with a forthright one of her own. “Yes, he did. He figured the kids needed something to work for…a goal. Getting the farm up and running again will give them incentive. Gray has been our guardian angel.”
Clayton found it hard to picture Gray Harrison with wings and a halo. Cable Creek had never been big enough for him. He had outgrown the town long before he’d had the means to leave. Now a major player in Australian financial circles, he had a reputation as a ruthless businessman who guarded his private life fiercely. But none of that mattered to Clayton. All he could think about was what put that soft smile on her face when she spoke the other man’s name.
Lucy filled the basket with orange juice, peanut butter and milk before heading for the checkout. When the cashier was finished packing the groceries, Clayton picked up the plastic bag and waited by the door while Lucy paid for both food and fuel. The attendant met them on the way out.
“All done,” he said, handing her keys back. Lucy thanked him. Clayton walked her to the car, handing her the bag after she got in behind the wheel. She took it from him with a murmured “thanks” and placed it on the passenger seat. He knelt at her door, his face level with hers.
“Oh, your coat.”
“Forget it. I’m following you home.”
Lucy glared at him. “I beg your pardon?”
He grinned. “It’s on my way and I’d like to know you get there safely.”
Did he think she was going to be abducted by aliens between here and there? Lucy bit back the retort. “You don’t intend to take money for the fuel, do you, Mr. McKinley?”
“Not for doing the neighbourly thing. And nobody calls me ‘mister.’ Clayton’s fine. But if you really don’t want to be in my debt, I’ll settle for a cup of coffee.”
“I doubt there’s anyplace open this time of night, and I noticed the machine in the shop was out of order. Would you take a rain check.”
“I’m guessing you own a coffeepot.”
“You want coffee…at my house?” She did owe him something for helping her out. He could easily have kept going, leaving her stranded. Lucy wished he would be mercenary and just take her money. “It’s well after midnight.”
“I’ll drink it fast.”
“The kids are sleeping.”
He shrugged. “I’ll be extra quiet.”
Subtle wasn’t going to work with this man. “I might want to go to bed.”
Clayton smiled. “Well, I’m usually not that easy on a first date but I could be persuaded.”
Lucy blushed, annoyed as much at herself as him. She’d walked right into that one. “I meant I might want to go to bed…alone…to sleep,” she said firmly. “And this isn’t a date.”
He looked as if he’d made a major new discovery. “So that’s the other thing people do in bed.”
Lucy steeled herself as he smiled again. If he would stop doing that maybe she could concentrate on the conversation and keep herself out of trouble. If she kept this up, she’d be in more hot water than she had ever known.
“One cup, McKinley.”
McKinley. Not Clayton. Just McKinley. Polite yet formal. Something that allowed her to keep her distance. Clayton smiled. It would do for now.
“I accept, and remember, I’ll be right behind you.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she muttered to herself. She watched in the rearview mirror, studying his compact backside with female appreciation as he walked away. One cup of coffee, she told herself. Then he would leave, if she had to push his gorgeous body and that come-get-me grin out the door.
Chapter Two
At the house he met her on the veranda steps. Once inside she left the groceries on the couch and excused herself to go check on Max. Clayton was left to close the door behind him. He took off his hat, almost able to hear Mrs. Harrison reprimanding him for such a breach of etiquette in her home. This house was like an old friend. He hadn’t been inside in years but the memories came flooding back. The sleepovers and camping trips. The fishing expeditions and the carefree weekends spent helping Gray’s grandfather build the tree house in the backyard. Those days seemed a lifetime ago now.
Lucy came back downstairs, her jaw clenched.
“Everything okay?”
“I’d like to take a two-by-four to Gerry Anderson’s skull, though I doubt it would even leave an impression.” The warmth of the house reminded Lucy that she still wore his coat. She shrugged out of it. “Thanks for the loan.”
“Any time.” Clayton took it from her, making sure his fingers brushed over hers. Lucy looked up, her eyes wide and wary. A reaction was all he’d wanted. He laid the coat over the arm of the couch, inhaling the light, flowery fragrance that clung to it. He sat his hat on top. “It’s a beautiful old house.”
Fine. If he wasn’t going to mention the last few seconds, neither would she. He’d taken her by surprise but she wouldn’t let it happen again. “The hardwood floors need sanding, then I’ll polish. The wallpaper in some rooms needs replacing and the whole structure needs a coat of weatherproof paint.” The house had stood idle for the last two years. The large living room had boxes still stacked in a corner waiting to be emptied. “I think we’re going to be very happy here.” She picked up the sack of groceries. “I’ll put the coffee on.”
Clayton followed her into the kitchen and made himself comfortable on a straight-backed chair at the table. The room was inviting. The pale lemon of the freshly painted walls blended nicely with the brand-new light grey linoleum on the floor. While the coffee perked, Lucy set out ceramic mugs on the counter. She went to the refrigerator and withdrew a container. “Chocolate cake?”
“Thanks.”
She sliced two pieces of cake with medical precision and set them on plates. When she paused to lick a dab of chocolate icing from her finger, he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t do much of anything! The only basic function he maintained was breathing…but only with a concentrated effort. Her lips closed around her finger back to the first knuckle. She pulled it out of her mouth so slowly he almost groaned. She broke the spell by placing the knife in the sink and the cake back in the refrigerator. Clayton shifted in his chair to relieve the beginnings of arousal.
The coffee was finally done and she busied herself placing forks, milk and sugar on the table. She set cake and coffee before him, then went back for her own, carrying a can in the crook of her elbow when she sat down opposite him at the table.
“Whipped cream?” he asked. “I thought all you city people were health nuts. Low-fat this, high-fibre that.”
She shook the can vigorously before squirting a quantity onto her cake. “Not me. There are some things I won’t give up even for the sake of my arteries.”
“Such as?”
She
