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Did he feel the way her pulse raced? Did he know what he did to her?
“Look at me, Cat. And give me your answer.”
She looked up. Read the raw intensity he no longer hid. Noticed the dark shadow that bruised the tender area beneath his intensely blue eyes. Saw the evidence he hadn’t shaved.
Clay always shaved.
Unless he’d been awake all night.
As if totally in tune with her thoughts, he said, “Two nights.” Marginally he loosened his grip on her hands. “I haven’t slept in two nights.”
More incessant pounding continued on the door.
The tension elevated between Clay and Catherine.
She reached one hand to his cheek, tracing the stubble, outlining the determined jaw and finding the slight indentation—he refused to name it as a dimple-in his chin. Business was the only thing Clay lost sleep over.
Wasn’t it?
“I don’t know what went wrong, Cat. But I intend to find out. And fix it. If you’ll let me.”
“Two weeks,” she countered.
“A month.”
His expression lightened. He knew he’d won, but obviously didn’t intend to gloat. Thank goodness.
“Two and a half.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “A month.”
Clay stood so close. Too close. He filled her vision, her thoughts. Stole her breath. “But—”
“You said it yourself. It’ll take time to sort through what went wrong.”
“You want to spend the entire month at the cabin?”
He nodded.
“Is there a phone?”
“No.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean to tell me you want to spend a month with me? And no phone? No computer? No modems or faxes?”
“No television, either. And the nights are long. Plenty of time to become reacquainted.”
The corners of his mouth began to crinkle. Oh, Lord, she prayed, don’t let him smile. Clay’s smile combined with an engaging attitude was powerful. Overwhelming. Irresistible.
“Do it, Catherine. Run away with me.”
“But my business...”
“Isn’t Melissa still your assistant?”
“Yes, but—”
“She’s capable of running the shop for a few weeks.”
She sighed and nodded, admitting defeat. There wasn’t much else to do when faced with the power of an oncoming locomotive.
“I’m leaving Jeremy in charge of Landon Construction.”
Catherine worried her lower lip. He hadn’t trusted his younger brother, Jeremy, to water their plants when they went on their honeymoon.
“That’s how important this is.”
The memory of their idyllic honeymoon just served as a needle in the expansive balloon of his idea. Their weeks in sensual solitude had been as close to perfect as possible.
Hawaii had been beautiful—paradise on earth. Her new husband lavished all the attention of a devoted spouse on her. She’d been spoiled, pampered and well loved.
She suspected the same would happen for the next few weeks.
But then reality would intrude as it always did.
When the plane had parked at the gate at Denver’s airport, her husband had been a changed man, consumed with thoughts of making Landon Construction a success in a recessionary market. No one thought he could do it. Except her.
And he’d succeeded.
Admirably.
At the cost of their marriage.
As much as she wanted to believe things could be different, experience told her otherwise. Still, in order to win the war—her freedom—she had to concede the battle.
“Yes, Clay. I’ll go with you.”
He leaned toward her, breath fanning her ear as he whispered, “You won’t be sorry.”
She sighed quietly. “I already am.”
Two
“We’re here.”
Dreamland didn’t want to let her go. And she didn’t want to leave it, either.
A gentle hand shook her shoulder.
She snuggled deeper into her pillow.
No, not her pillow.
Leather upholstery. Soft and supple. She frowned. Became aware of unnatural silence. And the scent of...
Mountain spice.
Clay.
Her eyes shot open.
It wasn’t a dream. Or a nightmare. It was reality. A four-week reality with her husband. Her heart picked up tempo.
Maybe it was a dream.
“Clay,” she said softly.
She expected uncertainty to cloak them. After all, things had been tense when they’d faced down their attorneys. Mr. Dobson had insisted Catherine had lost her mind and that Clay must have issued a threat of some kind. Indignant, Jack Simmons had slammed a fist on the table and issued a loud objection, suitable for the actual court case.
Clay had taken her by the wrist, pulled her from the office and shut the door on the argument.
As he’d pressed her against the wall near the elevator, she’d expected him to lean just a bit closer and seal their bargain with a kiss.
He hadn’t.
She’d felt strangely bereft.
In her apartment, alone with her doubts and fears, she’d reached for the phone half a dozen times, intent on telling him she’d changed her mind about their month in seclusion.
The call to Melissa hadn’t helped, either. Melissa had eventually agreed to run the shop, but not until she’d voiced her opinion that Catherine was insane.
Catherine had nodded in silent agreement.
Despite her misgivings and apprehensions, she’d been ready to leave at the 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.
