Secret Desire(17)

She parked the car in front of the garage. She gasped as the sunny sky was replaced by the shadow of a man’s silhouette.

“Claire?”

She immediately recognized his voice. A deeper and richer version than when she’d heard it last. She froze, her mind went blank, and any sensible speech went right out the window.

Claire grabbed her coffee cup, almost sloshing the brew, and took a sip, wishing she could come up with an excuse to put the car in reverse and back away. It was no use.

Dustin opened her car door and held out his hand. She glared at his palm. Swallowing back her refusal to let him help her, Claire placed her hand within his grasp. His fingers were warm and strong and sent a ripple of pleasure through her. He pulled and she rose to stand next to him.

Her heart sprinted. Stop staring, the critic whispered. For goodness sakes, say something.

Nothing original sprang to mind.

“Dustin. How nice to see you again.” Great, her critic groaned. What an amazing command of the English language.

She gazed up into emerald eyes that still mesmerized her. Nothing had changed there.

He stepped closer. “I’m so very sorry about your parents. We all were devastated by the news.”

She glanced down. His words stabbed her sadness. She was ready to crumble. No. No. No. The critic hollered vehemently. Not in front of him. She bit the corner of her lip until she gathered enough sense to steady her emotions.

“Yes.”

He was not only taller than when she’d seen him last, he was too handsome for his own good. Heartfelt warmth spilled from his fingertips into her hand. His expression disarmed her completely, and she blinked back tears, a gallon of grief threatening to spill out from her eyes.

She chided herself for acting like a crybaby. She had to get a grip and stop this desire to pour her heart out to him. Ridiculous nonsense. Was she still so enamored by Dustin that he could break through walls she’d carefully, consciously constructed with just a touch and a warm sentiment?

My God. She was here because of a tragedy. Her focus should be on her parents, not how handsome Dustin was or some historical infatuation that he would have forgotten long ago.

Then why was she still holding on to him? Part of her wanted to fold into his arms while another part of her wanted to run away and hide. She brushed back a tendril of her hair with her free hand. He reached into his pocket and brought out a handkerchief.

“Here, please.”

“I’m sorry.” She rubbed her fingers over the handkerchief’s monogrammed initials. Once he would’ve never have thought to own something like this. He’d grown up and changed.

He squeezed her hand. “No. Don’t apologize. How are you holding up?”

“Fine. I’m not certain where to begin. I have an appointment with the attorney, Bob Chase. Do you remember him from school?” She finally let go of his hand.

“He works with his father in the law firm. Chase and Chase, downtown in the Courthouse Towers. They took care of a real estate matter for me this year.”

“Yes. I didn’t know. And you? Your family?”

“Good. I moved back about six months ago. Mom and my father divorced. He moved in with his girlfriend and my mom is somewhere in Europe on a tour for the summer. My mother decided she preferred traveling over staying cooped up in a small town. Living life, they both say…the only thing they agree on.”

“That’s good, I suppose.” She dabbed at her eyes and wished the ground would open and gobble her whole.

“I heard you lived in Seattle?” Dark stubble covered his square jaw and caught the light. Once, she’d thrilled at the feel of that stubble against her cheek. She closed her eyes, inhaled, and steeled herself. She had never allowed her infatuation to get out of control. She wasn’t about to be another duo of twin girls with the same boyfriend. That was one plotline she firmly avoided. She regrouped, gazed up at him, ready to face him as a mature adult instead of a dithering teenager.

“Yes, I work for a magazine, Ethos. Not too well known in the East. We have a circulation of about a hundred thousand on the West Coast. Pretty good for a local publication.”

“What do you write?” He smiled, revealing perfect teeth, white against his tanned skin.

Her jaw nearly dropped. Most people didn’t think to ask about her department or even what interested her. She wanted to say something exciting. She should just say it. Erotica.

She imagined the look on his face. Oh, I write erotica. Easy enough considering my sex life. Hot and tasty. She remembered last night, her fantasy of him, and was unable to stop a heat wave from engulfing her face. Her inner critic arched an eyebrow, but thankfully remained silent.