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“At home,” she said, wishing she’d never even asked him about the damn phone. Walking to the garage would have been less frustrating. Usually she didn’t go anywhere without the mobile, but she hadn’t exactly been thinking clearly when she’d stormed out of the house an hour ago. She’d kept her calm while at the emergency room, but once Max was home safe she’d needed to blow off steam.
“I’ve got a can of fuel in the back of the truck. I’ll put it in your car and follow you to the truck stop. That saves you getting a ride back out here.”
Lucy liked doing things for herself. But she wanted to get home to Max, and Clayton was offering a solution to her problem.
“Thanks. I’ll pay you for the fuel when we get to the station and I get change.”
“Forget it.”
“I don’t like accepting charity.”
“Lady, it’s a couple of dollars’ worth of fuel. Out here that isn’t charity. It’s simply being neighbourly.”
“I still intend to pay you.”
Clayton shrugged. “You can try.”
Lucy hugged herself against the chill and glanced up to see him shrugging out of the coat he wore. He held the garment out to her. “Put this on.” She made no move to take it. “Either put it on or get in the truck.”
“And when you freeze to a solid block of ice, what am I supposed to do with you?”
Clayton liked her irritation. He might have to take the long way around to get past her defences but he had a keen sense of direction. “I don’t think I’m in any danger, but if it happens you take me back to your place, thaw me out and be gentle about it. What we do after that is up to you, since I’ll be at your mercy.”
She scowled. “This is serious. Think hypothermia. Frostbite. Pneumonia!”
“If I promise not to die, will you put the coat on?” She hesitated. “Listen, you’ve got kids waiting at home. The sooner you put this on, the sooner I can fuel up your car and we can get moving.”
Lucy couldn’t decide what she hated more—the fact that he’d made a very valid point or the confident tone of his voice. She took the coat from him. Nothing she said would make an ounce of difference and she did want to get home. She shrugged into the lambswool coat, its fleecy lining warm from his body heat. It hung to her knees, but right now keeping warm took precedence over style.
Clayton walked to the back of his vehicle. Retrieving the fuel can and a plastic funnel, he came back around to where she stood. In the beam of his headlights he bent down to the task at hand.
“The boy Gerry hurt, will he be all right?”
The question didn’t surprise Lucy. The genuine concern that accompanied it did. “He’ll be stiff and sore for a few days.”
“Joshua said you’ve got four kids living out here with you.”
“Well, Thomas doesn’t like to be called a kid but yes.”
Clayton let the fuel can drain to the last drop then put the lid on it and capped the petrol tank. He closed the latch and pushed to his feet. “Don’t let Gerry get to you.”
Lucy buried her hands in the pockets of his coat. “We’ve done nothing to him.”
“Your problem is that he made a bid on the house you’re living in. He wasn’t overjoyed when Gray decided to rent it out.”
“That place was meant for a family. Gerry hardly strikes me as the home-and-hearth type. What woman would have him?”
“None around here, but your place has some of the best grazing land and it borders Anderson Farms at the southernmost boundary where the creek runs through it.”
“No wonder he wants me gone.”
“There is an upside to this.”
“And that would be?”
“We’re not all like Gerry. His kind are a very small minority around here.”
“You know him pretty well I take it?”
“He’s lived here all his life. He likes to drink, pick fights and big note himself, not always in that order. He even did it at school.”
“Well, he’ll find himself in the hospital if he doesn’t heed my warning and leave us alone.”
Clayton understood her protective nature. “Just watch your back. I doubt Gerry’s ever had a woman stand up to him…and in public.”
Lucy had known men like him before who bullied those weaker than themselves. “Thanks for the warning.”
“See if the car starts.” He stashed the funnel and empty can back in his truck, and by the time he reached her door the engine was idling. “You take off. I’ll be right behind you.”
Clayton walked back to his vehicle before she could offer the protest he anticipated and waited for her to pull onto the road before he started his truck and followed. He’d been busy on the farm this past month and hadn’t found time to socialize, but he recalled Josh saying he’d had a call out to the Harrison farm. His brother had forgotten to mention just how pretty the new tenant was. And she had courage…either that or she’d let her anger get the better of her a while ago and hadn’t stopped to think about what she was doing. He thought of how protective he and his brothers were of Molly. If Gerry had considered Lucy as an easy target, one he could intimidate into leaving, he’d just gotten a wake-up call.
When word had spread around town that Alma Harrison’s rambling, two-story house had been snapped up, the fear of big development was rife. Lucy Warner arrived a few weeks ago and replaced that fear of change with a fear of the unknown. In less than a day it seemed everyone far and wide knew of her plans to make it a home for kids who needed a new start, children who had nowhere else to go.
Clayton and his brothers had backed the idea from the beginning, and though a portion of the townsfolk had initially shied away from what they didn’t understand, most people now took the view of live and let live. Except for Gerry.
When Lucy indicated, Clayton slowed his vehicle and followed her into the well-lit service station.
Lucy pulled up beside the petrol pump and cut the engine. She got out and handed the keys to the attendant with a polite “Fill her up.” Walking back to where Clayton had parked, she stopped several feet from his truck. He walked toward her.
She’d known he would be as good-looking as his brother. Now beneath fluorescent lights the full impact of Clayton McKinley hit her head-on. He stood two inches over six feet and had a confident, loose-hipped stride. He walked with an easy grace, as though time would wait for him. Lucy had no doubt if he smiled and asked nicely enough it would. Blue jeans clung to him like a second skin and dusty brown boots crunched with defiance over the gravel as he came toward her. His hair was dark blond and cut short on his neck. His eyes were peacock blue and sparkled with a wicked hint of mischief. Clayton McKinley was the kind of man mothers warned their daughters about. The kind fathers had nightmares about. She would always look back on this as one of them. She almost felt like a schoolgirl again. Her palms were suddenly sweaty. Breathing was something she had to think about doing and for the first time in a long time, long dormant emotions began to awaken inside her.
Dragging her eyes away from him she began to shrug out of his jacket, loath to give up the warmth.
“Don’t even think about it, lady.”
Lucy glared at him as the command rolled seductively off his tongue. “I don’t respond well to orders.”
“No kidding,” he teased, his lips sliding into an easy smile. Not a generic smile. Oh, no! This was a knee-weakening, heart-melting, pulse-pounding smile. This man was dangerous in ways there were no defences for.
“Don’t even think of handing the coat back just yet. And arguing with me won’t do you any good.”
She looked cute swallowed up by his jacket. A small-boned woman, she stirred his protective instincts, and her subtle hourglass shape banished from his mind every stick-thin woman he’d ever dated. Her skin was pale and unblemished, her cheekbones high, her face softly rounded. Her lips were full and naturally pink and had him wondering if they were as sweet as they looked. With her hair pulled into a ponytail she looked about sixteen and more tempting than sin. From the moment she’d turned away in the bar, he’d wondered what colour her eyes were. Now he had his answer. The colour reminded him of fine malt whiskey. They were wide and expressive, guarding a keen intelligence.
Lucy pulled the coat back over her shoulders and tried to ignore the intensity of his watchful gaze. It felt as though he was committing her to memory pore by pore. She refused to be intimidated by his blatant appraisal and motioned to the shop that formed part of the service station.
“I’ve got to get a few things.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Lucy looked up at him. “You think I’m going to get lost between produce and dairy?”
“I’m having fun.” His smile was powerful. His eyes roamed over her from head to toe then made the return journey with lazy intent. Prickles of sensation skittered through her body, skating over nerve endings.
“If grocery shopping is your idea of fun then you must lead a boring life.” She said nothing when he fell into step beside her, hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“How did you know Gerry would be at the Roadhouse?”
Lucy entered the shop and picked up a plastic carry basket. She took a loaf of bread from the shelf. “I didn’t. Max said the bloke had a bunch of prissy cowboys—his words not mine—in the car with him. The Roadhouse is the place to be on a Saturday night. I took a chance.”
“Prissy cowboys?” he repeated, amused. “Now, if you’d laid that one on Gerry he would have died of embarrassment.”
She took down a box of chocolate pops, putting them into the basket. “Harrison House is going to be a success.”
“That’s what you’re calling it?”
She nodded and continued down the aisle. “We took a vote. The kids decided since Mrs. Harrison’s son donated it specifically to be used for the Second Chance project, the name was appropriate. The developers were offering a king’s ransom but he didn’t want it torn down.”
“Gray Harrison did that for you?”
She met his look with a forthright one of her own. “Yes, he did. He figured the kids needed something to work for…a goal. Getting the farm up and running again will give them incentive. Gray has been our guardian angel.”
Clayton found it hard to picture Gray Harrison with wings and a halo. Cable Creek had never been big enough for him. He had outgrown the town long before he’d had the means to leave. Now a major player in Australian financial circles, he had a reputation as a ruthless businessman who guarded his private life fiercely. But none of that mattered to Clayton. All he could think about was what put that soft smile on her face when she spoke the other man’s name.
Lucy filled the basket with orange juice, peanut butter and milk before heading for the checkout. When the cashier was finished packing the groceries, Clayton picked up the plastic bag and waited by the door while Lucy paid for both food and fuel. The attendant met them on the way out.
“All done,” he said, handing her keys back. Lucy thanked him. Clayton walked her to the car, handing her the bag after she got in behind the wheel. She took it from him with a murmured “thanks” and placed it on the passenger seat. He knelt at her door, his face level with hers.
“Oh, your coat.”
“Forget it. I’m following you home.”
Lucy glared at him. “I beg your pardon?”
He grinned. “It’s on my way and I’d like to know you get there safely.”
Did he think she was going to be abducted by aliens between here and there? Lucy bit back the retort. “You don’t intend to take money for the fuel, do you, Mr. McKinley?”
“Not for doing the neighbourly thing. And nobody calls me ‘mister.’ Clayton’s fine. But if you really don’t want to be in my debt, I’ll settle for a cup of coffee.”
“I doubt there’s anyplace open this time of night, and I noticed the machine in the shop was out of order. Would you take a rain check.”
“I’m guessing you own a coffeepot.”
“You want coffee…at my house?” She did owe him something for helping her out. He could easily have kept going, leaving her stranded. Lucy wished he would be mercenary and just take her money. “It’s well after midnight.”
“I’ll drink it fast.”
“The kids are sleeping.”
He shrugged. “I’ll be extra quiet.”
Subtle wasn’t going to work with this man. “I might want to go to bed.”
Clayton smiled. “Well, I’m usually not that easy on a first date but I could be persuaded.”
Lucy blushed, annoyed as much at herself as him. She’d walked right into that one. “I meant I might want to go to bed…alone…to sleep,” she said firmly. “And this isn’t a date.”
He looked as if he’d made a major new discovery. “So that’s the other thing people do in bed.”
Lucy steeled herself as he smiled again. If he would stop doing that maybe she could concentrate on the conversation and keep herself out of trouble. If she kept this up, she’d be in more hot water than she had ever known.
“One cup, McKinley.”
McKinley. Not Clayton. Just McKinley. Polite yet formal. Something that allowed her to keep her distance. Clayton smiled. It would do for now.
“I accept, and remember, I’ll be right behind you.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she muttered to herself. She watched in the rearview mirror, studying his compact backside with female appreciation as he walked away. One cup of coffee, she told herself. Then he would leave, if she had to push his gorgeous body and that come-get-me grin out the door.
Chapter Two
At the house he met her on the veranda steps. Once inside she left the groceries on the couch and excused herself to go check on Max. Clayton was left to close the door behind him. He took off his hat, almost able to hear Mrs. Harrison reprimanding him for such a breach of etiquette in her home. This house was like an old friend. He hadn’t been inside in years but the memories came flooding back. The sleepovers and camping trips. The fishing expeditions and the carefree weekends spent helping Gray’s grandfather build the tree house in the backyard. Those days seemed a lifetime ago now.
Lucy came back downstairs, her jaw clenched.
“Everything okay?”
“I’d like to take a two-by-four to Gerry Anderson’s skull, though I doubt it would even leave an impression.” The warmth of the house reminded Lucy that she still wore his coat. She shrugged out of it. “Thanks for the loan.”
“Any time.” Clayton took it from her, making sure his fingers brushed over hers. Lucy looked up, her eyes wide and wary. A reaction was all he’d wanted. He laid the coat over the arm of the couch, inhaling the light, flowery fragrance that clung to it. He sat his hat on top. “It’s a beautiful old house.”
Fine. If he wasn’t going to mention the last few seconds, neither would she. He’d taken her by surprise but she wouldn’t let it happen again. “The hardwood floors need sanding, then I’ll polish. The wallpaper in some rooms needs replacing and the whole structure needs a coat of weatherproof paint.” The house had stood idle for the last two years. The large living room had boxes still stacked in a corner waiting to be emptied. “I think we’re going to be very happy here.” She picked up the sack of groceries. “I’ll put the coffee on.”
Clayton followed her into the kitchen and made himself comfortable on a straight-backed chair at the table. The room was inviting. The pale lemon of the freshly painted walls blended nicely with the brand-new light grey linoleum on the floor. While the coffee perked, Lucy set out ceramic mugs on the counter. She went to the refrigerator and withdrew a container. “Chocolate cake?”
“Thanks.”
She sliced two pieces of cake with medical precision and set them on plates. When she paused to lick a dab of chocolate icing from her finger, he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t do much of anything! The only basic function he maintained was breathing…but only with a concentrated effort. Her lips closed around her finger back to the first knuckle. She pulled it out of her mouth so slowly he almost groaned. She broke the spell by placing the knife in the sink and the cake back in the refrigerator. Clayton shifted in his chair to relieve the beginnings of arousal.
The coffee was finally done and she busied herself placing forks, milk and sugar on the table. She set cake and coffee before him, then went back for her own, carrying a can in the crook of her elbow when she sat down opposite him at the table.
“Whipped cream?” he asked. “I thought all you city people were health nuts. Low-fat this, high-fibre that.”
She shook the can vigorously before squirting a quantity onto her cake. “Not me. There are some things I won’t give up even for the sake of my arteries.”
“Such as?”
She thought about it for a few seconds. “Hamburgers, pizza, potato chips…whipped cream. The kids say my eating habits are going to kill me some day but hey, why not die happy?”
