Dreams & Desires. Kat Cantrell

of her throat.

      A wisp of dark blond hair had escaped the messy bun she wore, so he reached up and tucked the silky-soft strand back in. Clare’s breath caught and her pupils dilated, and as the tips of his fingers brushed the shell of her ear, she leaned into his palm. He realized, with spine-tingling awareness, that this was the first time he’d touched her. They had bumped shoulders or elbows a time or two while treating a patient, and he’d held her hand to pull her up on the steps today. Touching her felt exciting, and a little naughty.

      Her skin was just as smooth and soft as he thought it would be, and damn, she smelled good. He knew that if he kept touching her this way the chase would end right here, right now.

      He dropped his hand to his side. “You need a push?”

      She blinked with confusion. “A push?”

      “To get the kettle. I don’t think it’s going to turn itself off.”

      “Right, the kettle,” she said, peeling her eyes from his, taking a slightly unsteady step back. The truth was, he was feeling a little unsteady himself.

      He gestured her through the office doorway, and she shook her head. “Uh-uh. There’s no way I’m taking my eyes off you for even a second,” she said. “Next thing I know you’ll be going through my closet or something. You’re too sneaky.”

      And she was way too much fun.

      He went down first, with Clare watching him like a hawk. When they got to the kitchen, Clare shut off the burner, never once turning her back on him. Not that he blamed her.

      “I’m going to head out,” he told her.

      Her look of disappointment made him smile. “I thought you were staying for tea.”

      “Watch yourself, Clare, or I might have to assume you like having me around.”

      “We wouldn’t want that,” she said, but it was too late. It was written all over her face. “Thanks for the ride home. And dinner.”

      “My pleasure.” And boy, did he mean that. He walked to the door and pulled his wool coat on. Clare met him in the foyer.

      “Do you need a ride to work tomorrow?” he asked her.

      “I can use my aunt’s car until she gets back next week. I don’t like relying on other people.”

      “And you’re afraid that someone will see us together and get the wrong idea.” Or the right one.

      She folded her arms across what he was sure were a perfect pair of breasts. And he would know soon enough. “We never did discuss Janey.”

      “Good night, Parker.”

      He winked. “Good night, hot stuff.”

      Her eye roll was the last thing he saw as she closed the door. Oh, yeah, she was definitely into him. As if there had ever been a question.

      * * *

      Clare lay awake half the night, and the other half she spent dreaming about Parker. It was as if she couldn’t escape him, no matter how hard she tried. Not even when she was sleeping. He was starting to get under her skin. And that was a very bad thing.

      The absence of any physical contact between them had been her secret weapon, but he’d taken care of that, hadn’t he? The warm weight of his palm against her cheek had been unexpected and startling and so erotic that the resulting surge of estrogen had short-circuited the logic pathways in her brain. It was a wonder smoke hadn’t billowed out of her ears. She had been positive that he was going to kiss her, then he didn’t and she didn’t quite understand why.

      She got out of bed late, pulling her hair back into a ponytail and dressing in her warmest jogging outfit. According to the weather report she had seen online last night, the daytime high would barely break thirty degrees. She was so ready for spring and warmer weather.

      Her breath crystalized and the icy air burned her lungs as she stepped out the back door onto the multilevel deck. She crossed the yard to a gate, which led right to the jogging path.

      She was getting warmed up, stretching her hamstrings, when she heard a familiar voice, using a really bad fake Southern accent.

      “Fancy meeting you here, ma’am.”

      Oh, no, not this morning. She turned to see Parker leaning casually against a barren tree in what looked like a brand-new jogging getup.

      “God, give me strength,” she mumbled, and told Parker, “You really need to stop trying to sound Southern. You’re not any good at it.”

      He just grinned that adorable grin, making her a tiny bit weak in the knees.

      “What are you doing here?”

      “It just so happens that I jog, too, and I’m always looking for a change of scenery. A different path to take. Your description of the park intrigued me so I thought I would check it out.”

      “I said it was a cute little park. Which word got you? Cute? Or little?”

      Despite her snippy tone he smiled.

      “If I asked you to go away, would you?”

      Looking apologetic, he shook his head.

      Of course not. She sighed and said, “Let’s get this over with.”

      They started down the path toward the pond, Parker huffing along beside her. But gradually he started to fall behind. They were no more than five minutes in, and Parker was gasping for air. She hadn’t even broken a sweat.

      Then he stopped altogether, and she had to backtrack. He stood hunched over and out of breath, holding his side. “Damn, this is harder than it looks.”

      Clearly he was not a jogger. And of course she planned to use that to teach him a lesson. “I’ll race you to the pond,” she said.

      “Are you trying to kill me?”

      “I’ll make you a deal. If you can beat me there, I’ll sleep with you.”

      His stunned expression was the last thing she saw as she took off running, leaving Parker in the dust.

      She got to the pond and was using a bench to stretch when Parker finally wheezed his way over. He dropped like a lead weight onto the grass at her feet, red-faced and sucking cold air into his lungs.

      She shook her head sadly. “I know eighty-year-olds in better shape than you.”

      “You really are trying to kill me,” he gasped.

      “You did lie about being a jogger. You sort of asked for it.”

      “Technically I didn’t lie, because starting this morning I plan to be a regular jogger. If I don’t die from exhaustion first. Or a heart attack. I don’t suppose you have water.”

      She took the bottle from her jacket pocket and handed it to him.

      “Thanks.” He sat up, chugging half the bottle.

      “Maybe you should head back to the house while I do my laps. When I’m finished I’ll make you breakfast. I guess I owe you that much, since I did almost kill you. Not that I was trying or anything.”

      “Sure you weren’t.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Can I wait in the house?”

      Did he honestly think she would fall for that one again? “Sure. If you can figure out the alarm code.”

      She took off running again and he shouted after her, “You’re really going to make me sit out in the cold? I could freeze to death!”

      She waved without turning around, feeling not an ounce of guilt. More than likely he had a still-warm luxury vehicle parked somewhere nearby. There would be no freezing to death for him.

      She jogged her usual laps around the park, then just for fun added a few more, pushing herself harder. Maybe if she