Raeanne Thayne Hope's Crossings Series Volume One: Blackberry Summer. RaeAnne ThayneЧитать онлайн книгу.
sleepy and far more sexy than she’d ever been at sixteen.
He, not surprisingly, had the same reaction he’d had in that hallway of his childhood house.
“What time is it?” Her voice sounded husky and low, which didn’t help anything.
“A little past two. You shouldn’t have let me fall asleep.”
She yawned and massaged her arm just above the cast. “You looked so tired. I figured a few moments might help you feel better.”
“A few moments, maybe. That was three hours ago.”
She gave a rueful smile. “I guess I fell asleep, too. Sorry about that. Is your neck sore from sleeping in the chair?”
“No, actually. I slept better than I have in…a while.”
Her face softened with compassion that he didn’t want to see, so he decided to go for the shock factor.
“I have to tell you, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I was fourteen and used to fantasize about sleeping with you.”
Her jaw dropped and in the dim light from the fire and the area lamp, he watched a tinge of adorable color climb her cheekbones. “You did not.”
“Oh, Claire, my dear, I most certainly did. You were the subject of many a heated fantasy. And a fourteen-year-old boy, unfortunately, can have a pretty vivid imagination.”
She still didn’t look as if she believed him. “Why on earth would you have given me more than a second thought? I was only your older sister’s friend. You always ignored us, unless you were figuring out new ways to torment us.”
In the age-old dance of idiotic boys, he had mostly teased them as an underhanded way to make Claire pay attention to him. He supposed he was always drawn to her, even before he reached an age where he saw her as a very attractive female.
Despite the emotional toll of the past few weeks, he had to smile a little at the shock in her eyes. She probably had no idea she’d been an object of lust, not just to him but to plenty other adolescent males in Hope’s Crossing.
“You’re breaking my heart here, Claire. I had a crush on you from the time I was old enough to figure out girls didn’t really have cooties. Maybe even earlier than that. I used to have all these really great fantasies where one day you’d come to me with your hair all tousled and sexy—lips pouty, eyes heavily made-up like something out of a Bon Jovi video, you know the drill—and tell me you were into me, too. Now you’re basically saying you never once thought of me that way. That’s harsh.”
Her eyes were huge and he couldn’t tell if she was horrified or intrigued. Or maybe both.
She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out and he finally took pity on her.
“I’m teasing, Claire. Oh, the torrid fantasy part is true, much to my shame and embarrassment, but that was all a long time ago. We were completely different people back then.”
He saw her throat work as she swallowed and her hands curled convulsively on the light quilt covering her. Now he’d made her nervous.
“I should get out of here, let you go back to sleep. I never meant to stay so long. Would you like me to take the dog out before I leave?”
She swallowed again, her gaze shifting from him to the dog, then out the window at the rain-soaked darkness before returning to him.
“That would be great. Thank you. There are still far too many things I’d like to do but can’t right now, you know?”
He thought of pressing her back on her pillow and burying his hands in her hair and then kissing that delectable mouth. “I think I have a fair idea,” he said dryly. “Come on, Chester.”
Riley wasn’t quite sure how he managed it, but somehow her dog managed to look excited beyond all his inherent basset gloominess. He opened the kitchen door for him and Chester hurried out into the rain.
Riley stood waiting for him, grateful for the cool, wet air to clear out the rest of his cobwebs. He was also grateful he had the next day off so he could try to sleep in a little, though he had a feeling Claire would show up in his remaining dreams.
That beat the hell out of the alternative, though. He would far rather dream about her than those vivid nightmares about his undercover work or about the accident.
As he waited, he did a quick inventory of her lawn in the glow from the porch light.
“Looks like you’ve lost a few branches from the wind earlier,” he said after he’d let the dog back inside, dried him off a little with a towel hanging by the door and then returned to Claire’s family room.
“Oh, drat,” she muttered.
Who said drat these days? he wondered, charmed all over again by her.
That silly word was a firm reminder to him, as if he needed one. Anyone who said drat instead of the blue curses he would have uttered was far too sweet for someone like him. He had too many black marks against his soul to deserve a woman like Claire Tatum Bradford.
“I guess that’s what happens when I live in a house surrounded by hundred-year-old trees. Do you think they’re too big for Macy and Owen to clean up when they get back from Denver with Jeff and Holly Sunday night?”
“I couldn’t see all that clearly in the dark, but from what I could tell, I think you’re going to need a chainsaw for a couple of those limbs.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sure I can find someone to help me.”
He hesitated for just a moment, obligation fighting against his better judgment. He had to make the offer, even though some part of him knew spending more time with Claire wasn’t a good idea. But he was in Hope’s Crossing now and that’s what people did in a small town. They helped each other when they could. Beyond that, he owed her. If not for him, she could be taking care of her own branches.
“It’s been a few years, but I’m sure I can remember how to fire up the Stihl.”
Her eyes widened with surprise. “You’re far too busy, Riley. You don’t have time to be cleaning up my yard. I’ve got a man I hire to help with the heavy repairs and yard work around here, Andy Harris. If he can’t do it, Jeff could probably take care of it after he brings the children home.”
He tried to picture the entirely too smooth doctor dirtying his hands with his ex-wife’s yard work with his young, lovely wife at his side. The image wouldn’t quite come together.
“I’ll round up a chain saw and come over later in the morning. Would eleven work?”
“Riley…”
He didn’t want to argue anymore, not when it was taking all his concentration to keep his hands off her. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said shortly. “Do you need anything else before I leave?”
“No. I… Thank you.”
“What are friends for?” he murmured, then let himself out of her warm, pretty house while he still could find the strength to leave.
SHE SHOULD NOT BE DOING THIS.
As the hungry growl of the chain saw cut through the afternoon, Claire sat in her blasted rolling chair, Chester at her feet, sneaking another peek through the filmy curtains at her bay window, like something out of an Alfred Hitchcock movie. Only instead of spying on her neighbor burying a body in the garden, she couldn’t seem to stop watching the very attractive male currently wielding that chain saw on her downed tree limbs.
Something was seriously wrong with her.
Riley had made short work of the storm debris over the last hour. When he finished,