Ben hadn’t gone for a run in a while. He’d been too busy getting the school ready to open. But the following morning he was up earlier than usual anyway, and he decided it might do him some good.
So he pulled on a pair of cutoff jeans and his ratty old gray sleeves-torn-out T-shirt and, after some stretches to warm up, he set off just as the sun was making its first appearance.
He’d started running for exercise as a teenager. Exercise itself was something the ACA—the Arizona Center for Adolescents—had required. One of the many things required there. But running had given him the only sense of freedom he’d had in placement—even though he’d had to do it with a staff member along. So it had been something he’d adopted early on, something he’d stuck with ever since.
It just felt good. It helped him ease stress. It helped clear his head.
And right now he needed his head cleared. It was full of lists of things he had to get done so the school could open in the next two weeks. Full of guidelines, codes and requirements he had to meet. Full of questions he had for Clair Cabot.
Full of Clair Cabot…
Okay sure, she was really what had him up and running this morning. Thoughts of her. He might as well admit it. Why not, when thoughts of her weren’t such a strange occurrence since the reunion anyway? Since he’d woken the next morning to discover she’d left him behind like a dirty shirt. In fact she’d been on his mind so much that trying not to think about her almost seemed like his new hobby.
But now that he had a glimmer of an idea of what might be going on with her, he really wanted her cleared out of his mind.
Damn Cassie for setting him up like that, he thought as he increased his speed a little.
His sister hadn’t told him that Clair was divorced—let alone newly divorced.
And she should have. Cassie, of all people, knew how he felt about playing rebound guy for anyone. She knew he’d learned the hard way not to get within a hundred yards of any woman not long—long—past a breakup. Which was probably why she hadn’t told him that the reason that her friend was having a lousy time at the reunion had something to do with an ex-husband and his new wife. Cassie had to have known that if he’d had that fact at his disposal there would have been no chance in hell that he would have helped Cassie out by trying to cheer up Clair Cabot that night.
Let alone gone back to her room with her.
Or slept with her.
And opened himself up for something like what had happened when she’d hightailed it out of that room in the cold light of day. Hightailed it completely out of town without so much as a note or a phone number written in lipstick on the mirror or an it’s been nice knowing you….
Yes, it was good to finally find out that he hadn’t done something wrong that night. Not that he’d been able to figure out how that might have been the case when it had actually seemed like they’d both had a pretty fantastic night together.
But he had had a lot to drink beforehand and when Clair had disappeared on him like that it had left him wondering if he’d been mistaken, if things between them hadn’t been as amazing as he’d thought.
That was the point in situations like these though, he reminded himself. The point was that no matter how fantastic, how amazing things were, when one person was fresh out of another relationship, it just didn’t matter. A rebound was a rebound was a rebound.
And now even just assuming that that was the case with Clair, he wished he’d left that reunion before he’d ever set eyes on her.
Or at least before Cassie had teamed him up with her—he’d actually noticed Clair well in advance of his sister’s request to keep her friend occupied.
He’d noticed Clair in the school parking lot when she’d first arrived at the reunion. Cassie had forgotten the yearbook and sent him to her car to get it. As he was leaning inside the open passenger door trying to find it, Clair had pulled into the spot in front of Cassie’s, nose-to-nose, which had started a series of glances at her from Ben—one, two, three glances….
He hadn’t recognized her or had any idea that she was the friend his sister was excited to see. During those last few months he’d been home before graduation he’d probably only crossed paths with her a few times. And that had been ten years ago. Besides, he’d been so busy trying to toe the line then that he hadn’t had time to be involved with his sister’s active social life.
But that evening at the reunion had been different.
He wasn’t sure why. Maybe she hadn’t looked the same ten years ago. Or maybe she had and it just hadn’t struck him then. But in that initial glance at her in June he’d liked the look of her. Which was a little odd in itself when he ordinarily went for dark-haired women.
But the sun had hit her just right when she’d pulled into that parking spot, shining through her side window and glimmering in the golden-blond streaks of her hair. And all of a sudden glistening blond hair had looked uncommonly good to him.
So uncommonly good to him that he wasn’t sure he liked that she’d cut most of it off now.
He remembered her flawless skin—he guessed the shorter hair did show off more of that, anyway. Flawless skin with healthy pink tones dusting high cheekbones that somehow gave her an air of exotic innocence—if there was such a thing—then and now.
But it hadn’t only been her shiny blond hair, fine bone structure and porcelain skin that had spurred him to take a second glance at her that night in June.
He’d stolen the second glance when she’d opened her car door and long, shapely legs had made their appearance below it. Then she’d closed the driver’s door, and he’d been treated to the view of long, shapely legs easing into a cute little body with just enough up front and behind.
She’d opened the rear door to get something from the back seat and he’d averted his gaze again. He’d gone on with his search under Cassie’s seat for the yearbook.
But once he’d found the yearbook he’d backed out of the car just as Clair Cabot had closed her rear door, too. And something about that simultaneous movement had been enough of an excuse to draw yet a third glance at her.
She’d looked directly at him that time, meeting his eyes with hers. And holy cow, what eyes they were!
They were the color of the lilacs that grew on the bush alongside his mother’s house. Purple eyes. Clair Cabot had big, deep, dark purple eyes that still managed to be bright and sparkling in spite of all that depth of color. Eyes that had held him transfixed for a moment and almost unable to break that hold. Or certainly unwilling to…
And then, with the softest-looking, rose petal lips, she’d smiled at him. Tentatively. Uncertainly. Obviously wondering if he was someone she should remember. But with enough warmth to make him glad he’d gone to the reunion after all.
He’d actually been thinking about introducing himself to her, wondering if he would discover that she was someone he’d known all along. But before he’d had the chance, two other women had spotted her and rushed to say hello, calling her by name.
That was how he’d found out who she was.
Clair Cabot.
