Little Girl Lost. Marisa CarrollЧитать онлайн книгу.
for.”
“I’m a banana cream man myself,” he’d answered with a smile.
Faith had managed a smile in return. Her eyes had been drawn to the hard muscles of his thighs as he worked, and suddenly, from out of nowhere, she remembered the feel of legs and bodies tangled together in lovemaking, and she nearly dropped the stack of receipts she held in her hand. The flash of eroticism had come and gone in a heartbeat, but the aftereffect left her shaken. In her vision the arms holding her hadn’t been Mark’s. They’d belonged to this man.
She’d mumbled something about liking banana cream, too, and made some excuse to leave the greenhouse. Her legs were wobbly as she picked Caitlin up to carry her to the house, her breath coming in quick little gasps that couldn’t be blamed on the heat or the slight weight of the child in her arms. It was lust. Something that for three years had been completely absent from her thoughts.
That incident wasn’t the last erotic thought she’d had about Hugh Damon, but it was the last one she had let get the best of her. Perhaps because she also couldn’t quite forget the disquieting certainty that he was here, not just to avoid spending several weeks at an interstate off-ramp motel, but for some secret reason of his own.
A rumble of thunder announced the arrival of the storms that had been predicted all day. Peg angled her head to check the sky visible between the branches of the big maple outside the kitchen window. “Nasty-looking clouds,” she said, forgetting, at least for the moment, her fixation with Hugh Damon. “I have a feeling we’re going to get a real bad storm out of this cold front.”
“I think you’re right,” Faith agreed.
“You’re sure you don’t need me to watch Caitlin Wednesday and Thursday?”
Those were the days Faith was scheduled to work at the hospital. It was going to be her last week of duty until the fall. She would be busy with her own businesses from now on and had taken a leave of absence until September. “No, thanks. Martha’s going to watch her.” Martha Baden was Peg’s mother-in-law.
“Well, then she’ll probably end up at my house part of the day anyway.”
“Probably.” Faith laughed as they headed outside.
“Introduce me to your engineer,” Peg said under her breath as she held the screen door open for Faith.
Faith continued on into the yard, setting the paper plate of cookies and the sippy cup on the picnic table. She introduced her sister to Hugh Damon and then followed her to her truck to say goodbye.
“My Lord, he’s even better looking up close than he was from the kitchen window,” Peg said fanning her cheeks with her fingertips. “If he asks you out while he’s here, you go. You’ve been alone for three years, that’s long enough.”
“I don’t want another man—”
“That’s what I said, too, until I met Steve.” Peg switched on the engine and drove off. She loved having the last word.
Faith walked slowly back to the big maple. Caitlin dragged her little sneakered feet in the wood chips layered under the tire swing to slow its movement. She was wearing a pink top and darker pink shorts. Her fine silvery hair was in pigtails, and she looked like a spun sugar angel to Faith. An angel, but a mischievous one.
“Juice,” she squealed as Hugh stopped the swing so that she could hop out and come dancing across the grass to Faith. “I want juice. I’m hot.”
Faith bent down and gathered her daughter against her heart. “That’s because it’s hot outside and you’ve been swinging and laughing and talking real hard.”
“Hugh’s hot, too.” That went without saying. Faith was glad she had her face buried in Caitlin’s neck. She was having more and more trouble controlling such unsuitable thoughts. “He needs a juicy,” Caitlin declared.
“I’ll settle for a drink of water.” Hugh moved toward the old-fashioned hand pump that stood by the gate. Once there he took the antique ladle off the hook and began working the long handle up and down. The well was as old as the house, but the water was pure and spring fresh. Faith had it channeled into the greenhouse to water the plants and keep the waterfalls topped off.
As soon as a steady stream of water began to rush out of the pump into the shallow stone trough that had once held chicken feed a century before, Caitlin wiggled out of Faith’s arms and darted over to Hugh. “Swim,” she said loudly. “Let’s swim.” She squatted down and started to untie her shoes to wade in the trough.
“No way, Kitty Cat. The water’s too cold and I’m too big for the basin.”
Faith followed Caitlin to the pump. She wondered when Hugh had started using her pet names for Caitlin. The endearment came so naturally to his lips she felt churlish in mentioning anything about it. “No playing in the water now. It’s going to storm and you have to help Mommy bring in the plants and shut up the greenhouse.” Peg had offered to help before she left but Faith knew she was anxious to get home before the rain so had assured her she could manage on her own. Besides, she didn’t want to answer any more questions about Hugh Damon. Since she’d remarried, her sister’s mind was focused entirely too much on sex, especially Faith’s lack of it.
“Would you like a drink of water?” He rinsed and refilled the ladle and held it out to her.
She took it gratefully. It was hot and she was thirsty for something that wasn’t full of sugar or caffeine. Her hand brushed his knuckles and she felt a tremor like a tiny earthquake rattle her bones, just as another long rumble of thunder boomed overhead.
“It’s getting close,” Hugh said, raising his eyes to the sky.
“I have a feeling the cold front is going to get here ahead of the weatherman’s prediction.” She handed the ladle back to him. “Please excuse me, Mr. Damon. I think I’d better batten down the hatches in the greenhouse.”
“I’ll help. And I think we’ve known each other long enough to drop the honorifics. My name’s Hugh.”
“Thank you, Hugh.” She liked the way his name sounded on her tongue. “And please, call me Faith.”
Addy grabbed her much chewed Frisbee in her teeth and trotted along at Hugh’s heels as they walked toward the greenhouse, obviously hoping for a game of catch. So Faith could add her faithful sheltie to the list of females at Painted Lady Farm who had fallen for her guest.
“I can manage,” she started to say, but he was already moving the remaining flats of bedding plants off the old farm wagon she used to display them. It had grown noticeably darker in the ten minutes they’d been standing in the yard. And the clouds were moving fast, roiling like water in a saucepan. The green cast to their undersides was more pronounced than ever, a sure sign of hail.
Faith deposited Caitlin at her table behind the counter and went to help Hugh. They were both soaked by the time all the bedding plants were inside. She struggled to close the wide panels that were usually folded back against the side of the greenhouse. Hugh reached a hand over her shoulder and unhooked the panel, then tugged them into place. He had just closed the final one when the hail came pelting down.
The roof of the greenhouse was made of the same industrial weight plastic as the sides and the hailstones, small ones thankfully, bounced off harmlessly. But the roof of the butterfly habitat was made of glass. It was reinforced and supposedly shatterproof, but so far it hadn’t been put to the test. Faith picked up Caitlin and hurried into the chrysalis room. The sound of hailstones on glass was deafening. She’d reached for the handle of the pressurized door when Hugh spoke from behind her.
“It might be better if we get back to the house in case there’s a tornado.”
“Oh, God, don’t say that.” Ohio wasn’t technically a part of Tornado Alley, but they still had their share of the deadly storms.
“Back in Texas this is the kind of weather that has us heading for the nearest storm