Lovers Only. Christine Pacheco

agreed hour.

      Clay hadn’t been there when the clock had struck the hour.

      Catherine had spent ten minutes pacing in front of the fireplace...wondering if he’d changed his mind. Hoping he had.

      Praying he hadn’t.

      He hadn’t.

      He’d given her a quick kiss on the cheek, setting her insides on slow, remembered burn, then grabbed her suitcase and headed for the car.

      “Are you awake?” Clay asked. Then he shocked her. He smiled for the second time that day.

      Her heart melted.

      She hadn’t seen him smile this much in years. And it was a real smile. It reached his eyes, igniting them with fire. With desire?

      The sun barely cast a glow through the tall pines, and she noted that the evening’s first stars had started to peek through the faded purple velvet backdrop.

      She resisted the fanciful notion of wishing on one of the twinkling stars.

      What would she wish for?

      The impossibility of her and Clay falling in love again? The possibility that he’d give her the divorce she asked for?

      Neither option sounded like what she truly wanted.

      She yawned and stretched. Then she shifted uncomfortably. Clay’s miss-nothing gaze hadn’t left her face for a single second.

      “Your palace awaits.”

      Even she couldn’t help but smile at that imagery. The cabin was okay, as far as cabins went, but... She and Clay had visited once a long time ago. The lack of indoor plumbing hadn’t made her anxious to return. The wood-burning stove had seemed romantic at first, but when the fire died in the middle of the night and there was no furnace to take the chill from the air... Suddenly she wasn’t glad she’d accepted the invitation.

      Clay opened the car door, and emerging night sounds spilled into the interior.

      Her new apartment was close to downtown. The night sounds that surged through her open windows there included honking horns, rowdy teenagers and the impassioned speech of an occasional religious fanatic.

      “Coming?”

      “Enjoying the silence.”

      “There’s been a lot of that at the house.”

      He said it without accusation. Just a simple comment that cut her to the quick.

      Clay opened the back door and grabbed two bags. “I miss your lousy CDs.”

      “My CDs aren’t lousy, they’re—”

      “Spiritually healing.”

      She allowed that comment to pass with nothing more than the hint of a grin. He was teasing. It surprised her that she recognized it at all. Surprised her even more that he still knew how.

      Clay walked to the cabin and unlocked the front door, pushing it open with his foot. He used their bags to prop open the entrance, then flipped the light switch. She sat in the car, watching him.

      He moved with fluid grace, muscles tight, flannel shirt stretched taut across his back. Jeans hugged his hips and thighs, conforming to him the way she might have...years ago. He had a nice butt. Still.

      Clay was magnificent.

      She met a lot of men in her job. None were his equal.

      Clay returned to the car. “Gonna let me do all the work?”

      What would he do if she said yes? After all, this trip had been his idea. If she had her way, she’d be toasting her new life with a lonely glass of champagne amid the hollowness of an empty apartment.

      “Is that a yes?”

      Deciding to yield to unnatural impishness, Catherine yawned.

      Clay leaned toward her menacingly. Without a word he unsnapped the safety belt and scooped her from the car.

      “Put me down,” she protested, laughing.

      He didn’t.

      Suddenly she didn’t want him to.

      She wanted, if just for this moment in time, to believe this craziness might truly last.

      And why not? She was well and truly stuck for the next month. He held the keys to the car. Along with the one to her heart.

      She vowed he wouldn’t open that lock to the same hurt a second time.

      Clay carried her inside, holding her tight to his chest. She heard the steady ebb and flow of his breaths, noted the fact his dark hair was now shaded with subtle streaks of gray.

      “Well?” he asked, letting her slide down the length of his hardened body.

      She glanced around the cabin. Sucked in a deep breath. “You did all this?”

      He shrugged. “Not much use owning a construction company if you don’t put the talents to good use.”

      “It’s stunning.” Old, worn wood had been replaced with bleached pine. A fireplace graced an inside wall. A bank of windows formed the exterior wall. No drapes hung on the picture windows to mar the sensational view of the valley below.

      Warm throw rugs adorned the hardwood floors. Dried mountain wildflowers sat in vases scattered through the living room and kitchen.

      “I did it for you.”

      Her eyes squeezed shut. “Clay...”

      He turned her to face him. Then he ran a fingertip across her eyelids, commanding her attention. “I’m not trying to guilt you into staying with me, Cat.” He laid one finger across her lips. “Don’t make any decisions. Don’t say anything. Just enjoy the moment. ”Can you do that?”

      She managed a shallow nod.

      “First things first.” He moved his finger, slowly trailed it to her chin, pausing on the small cleft.

      “Dinner?”

      “Nope.”

      “Unloading the rest of our supplies?” asked Catherine.

      “I carried my bride across the threshold.”

      Her breath seemed frozen.

      “I need to give her a kiss to welcome her home.”

      Oh, heavens.

      “Slow and soft, Cat?”

      Her mind ordered her to run.

      “Or with the passion that built inside me during the months you weren’t in my house, the months you weren’t in my bed?”

      Her heart held her firmly in place.

      “It’s your choice. But know one thing. I’m going to kiss you. And it won’t be a kiss you’ll forget anytime soon.”

      For all the aspens in the high country, she couldn’t find her voice.

      His finger trailed lower, down the middle of her neck, then lower again. Before he’d arrived to pick her up, she’d shed the suit jacket and opened the top button on her blouse.

      Now Clay opened the next one.

      His callused finger dragged her tender skin as he eased down even farther. She shivered. Vulnerability began to chum inside. No man ever touched her the way Clay did. No man knew exactly the right words, the right combination of sensual pleasures that undid her.

      Her lips parted.

      She wanted.

      Wanted to resist.

      No and yes blurred in her mind as he prolonged the torture. She no longer knew the meaning of the words, no longer cared.

      “Which will it be?”

      He