Secret Desire(42)

He held out his hand and they walked downstairs. “My Lord, Dustin.” She stood in the kitchen. “This is really beautiful. May I look around?”

“Please. Make yourself at home.” Hell, she could get her things and move in. He watched her open some of the custom cabinets. He flipped open a stainless container and scooped coffee into the filter basket.

“That’s fancy. Copper. Are you like a real barista?”

“I can steam milk for froth. I do like a good cup, and you’ve distracted me from my morning routine.” He pressed the brew button and then pulled her into his arms. In his T-shirt, she looked damned near perfect.

“What about your dog?”

“Jasper? He’s probably out back. There’s a dog door but he rarely stays inside. Sleeps on the porch.”

“You did all this?” She trailed her fingers along the granite counter top of the island.

“Come see the rest of the place.” He walked her into the den.

“I always loved this room. We had a lot of really great memories here.” Her forehead creased. She blinked, and he was prepared. Claire wasn’t one to break down and cry much. She might not even remember the times he’d held her as children, but he hadn’t forgotten. This time, just as before, he was ready and moved over to her.

“It’s all right.” He stroked her hair as she cried. Her tears splashed down his chest. “Shush.” He kissed the top of her head. He kept her in his arms, whispering to her that everything would be right again. He kept her firm and safe and let her cry. Her body lurched.

“I’m sorry.” She hiccupped. “I don’t know why that happened.”

“We spent a lot of hours in this room, your parents, my parents; our families were very close.”

More tears appeared in her eyes and fell. He tried to wipe them away and would have done anything to help her feel better. He rocked her against his body, letting her wash away grief. “I’m so sorry. So sorry. Soon you’ll feel better.”

“Thank you.” She slowed her breathing. “May I use your bathroom?”

He led her down a hallway and opened the door. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Can I get you anything?”

“You’ve done more than you know. Really.”

He closed the door for her and didn’t know what to do. Only time would heal her sadness. If he could speed up that process he would, but it was impossible. He took out two mugs and poured the coffee. He laid out the sugar container and left the cream on the counter. He took his coffee black. He walked to the porch and blew into his cup. The sun was bright on the yard and he whistled. Jasper came running. He threw a Frisbee and the dog ran off to retrieve it. Dustin reached for his food bowl and caught sight of Claire coming into the kitchen.

“Hey, I’m here with your friend. There’s coffee poured. Cream and sugar if you still drink coffee like before.” He opened the dog food container and dipped the bowl inside.

“Yes. Thanks.” She came to stand on the porch and watched Jasper jump. “He’s a wonderful companion, I bet.”

“I’ve no complaints.” He smiled at her. “Want a try?”

The dog returned, ears perked up. She tossed the Frisbee and Jasper didn’t hesitate, running after it and bringing it back in short order.

“Sit,” Dustin commanded. He threw the Frisbee for another round. “Are you hungry?”

“Actually, I need to check my email. I don’t know what time Fran’s coming in. She said her assistant would send a message with her itinerary.”

He looked down. He didn’t want Claire to see the thoughts that might saturate his expression. What type of her person sent messages to her sister through an assistant? He inhaled.

“You can use my computer. Same offer as the other day. Then if you’ve got time, we can eat.”

“Deal. Where’s your computer?”

“I’ll get you set up over in my office.” He pulled her along with him toward the front of the house. His office was off the front door and overlooked the driveway. He pulled out the desk chair for her. She sat and the T-shirt eased up her legs. “Better watch yourself or you might get ravaged on top of this desk.” He logged onto the computer and stepped away from the desk.

“I think we share many of the same fantasies.”

“You’re a vision. I can’t help myself.”

The sight of her seated at his desk reminded him of her mother. How many times had he been in her house and seen Mrs. Robertson seated at a desk, doing some paperwork for the family business? The idea passed through his mind of Claire working at home. A writer. Did she ever consider that route? He rubbed his knuckle against her cheek.