Love in Bloom (20 page)

"It's fine.  I'll see you then."

When Paige hung up, she knew it wasn't fine.  Clay didn't want to see her.  He didn't want to be near her.  Somehow she'd just have to live with that.

****

You can't die from awkwardness, Paige told herself for at least the hundredth time.  But she didn't know if she believed it.  Except for a perfunctory greeting, Clay had been silent during the drive.  Then, of course, so had she.  This situation was beyond her social expertise.

Sitting next to Clay in silence, watching his long fingers on the wheel, aware of the tilt of his elbow, the tautness of his thigh as he moved his foot from the gas to the brake, made breathing difficult.  She couldn't stop thinking about his lips on hers, his hand on her breast, the shivers of excitement she'd felt in his arms.

Obviously, Clay had already managed to forget.  But she couldn't.  Not in this lifetime.  Maybe what had happened was old hat to him, but it wasn't to her.  Irritation bubbled inside her.  How could he pretend it never happened?

Clay parked the SUV.  Paige hopped out quickly so he wouldn't think she was waiting for him to open the door for her.  He held the door for her at the entrance.  Inadvertently, her arm brushed his ribs as she passed him.  A shock forked through her.  Her eyes never met his.  She got as far as his jaw, saw the tense set and the nerve jumping, looked straight ahead, and walked into the tiled thoroughfare.

Paige let Clay lead.  He wore jeans and a red and white striped polo shirt, looking crisp and sharp, not as if he'd come straight from work.  She pictured him without the shirt, all bronze skin and hard physique.  Then stopped the pictures.

The T-shirt shop was empty except for the proprietor.  Clay explained what they had in mind.  The man showed them two styles--V neck and crew neck.

Paige looked up at Clay.  "Which do you think would be better?"

"Whichever you pick is fine."

She chose the V neck.

The proprietor asked which style of printing they preferred.  When Paige asked Clay's opinion, again he said, "Whichever you think will work best."

Paige's temper had a long fuse, but it was shortened a great deal by Clay's rejection last night, his silence on the ride to Westminster, and now by his let's-hurry-up-and-get-this-over-with attitude.  She chose the block printing.

Then they had to choose the colors.  When Clay shrugged, Paige said sarcastically, "Fuchsia on yellow would be nice."

Clay scowled.

"Would you prefer something else?" she asked sweetly.

Hot desire leapt in his eyes and his gaze scorched her.

She cleared her throat and said to the man behind the counter, "Better make it red on white."  Her fingers trembled.  She curled them into her palms and took her hands from the countertop.

After the proprietor took the appropriate information for the order, Clay said briskly, "Balloons next.  There's a party store about halfway down the mall."

They walked in silence, entered the store, and found the balloons easily.  Paige reached for a bag of assorted colors at the same time as Clay.  Their fingers brushed.

Paige swallowed hard.  Clay pulled back his hand.

"Clay..."

"What?"  His tone was sharp and clipped.

"Why did you come today if you didn't want to?"

"It wasn't a matter of wanting."

She didn't miss the double meaning.  "Well, maybe it should be."

After a taut silence, he said, "I wasn't going to leave you with the responsibility of taking care of this."

She pointed out, "I'm competent enough to order T-shirts, especially when you don't give a hoot what I order."

His eyes became a dangerous green.  "Don't push me, Paige."

A temper she didn't know existed exploded.  "Don't push you.  Don't touch you.  Why don't you simply close yourself up in your house and not let anybody in?  It would keep you safe."

He looked as shocked at her explosion as she was that she'd let it loose.  Slowly, in an even tone he asked, "What do you want from me?"

She wasn't sure.  Since she'd realized she loved him, she wanted the freedom to explore the feelings.  But Clay would never accept that.  "A little honesty would be nice."

"You want honesty?"  He cupped her chin firmly in his hand.  "I want you so damn bad I can't see straight.  I hear your voice, I see your hair slide along your cheek, I feel your fingers on my arm and all I think about is taking you to bed."

His gruff, low voice brushed over each and every one of her disconcerted nerve endings, awakening and thrilling, scaring and exciting.  Heat rushed to her cheeks then settled in a much more private place.

Keeping her hypnotized by his green gaze, he asked, "Is that honest enough for you?"

She didn't have an answer.  She couldn't think.

With a frustrated sigh, he released her, ran his hand through his hair and snatched up two bags of balloons.

Clay paid for the balloons and they left the store.  At the threshold to the mall, he stopped.

Paige took his arm, well aware of what he'd said about her touching him.  She felt his muscles tense.  "Why are you so angry?"

His gaze locked to hers.  "I'm not angry with you."

"It seems as if you are."

"Before you came to town, my life was perfectly acceptable.  Comfortable.  Uneventful."

"And now?"

"It couldn't get more uncomfortable."

She didn't understand what was causing so much turmoil for him, but it certainly sounded as if he was sorry he'd ever met her.  That hurt.  She turned away from him.  "I'm sorry."

He must have heard the quiver in her voice.  He clasped her shoulder.  "Paige, look at me."

She did.

"Are you going back to Africa?"

"I don't know."  She studied Clay's face, the tiny lines, the heavy brows, the sensual mouth.  "Why can't we enjoy what we have now?"  She couldn't believe she was being this bold, but she wanted to hang on to the bond between her and Clay.  She didn't want him to toss it aside because it wasn't convenient.  The one thing she'd learned in Africa above all else was that each day was precious and she couldn't take any of them for granted.

Clay traced her cheekbone.  "Ah, Paige.  You make me want.  You make me need.  I look at you, spend time with you, and I almost want to take a chance."

She covered his hand with hers, loving his touch, loving the feel of him.  "Why can't you?"

"I don't want either of us to get hurt.  Have you ever been hurt by someone you cared about?"

She felt sheltered, naive, much too innocent at this moment.  If she could say "Yes, and I overcame the experience," she'd have ammunition.  All she had were her growing feelings for Clay, so she dropped her hand and answered, "No."

He took his hand from her cheek and hooked his thumb in his belt loop.  "It's no picnic, Paige.  When you care too much, and something happens...hearts don't mend without leaving nasty scars."

"Believe me, Clay.  I know there are no guarantees.  On anything.  We're given one moment at a time."

The elongated lines around his eyes manifested the strain inside him.  "I don't know if that's enough.  I don't know if a few weeks are worth the pain."

"Maybe the joy's worth it."

"And maybe you're a dreamer.  There are so many variables, so many things that can go wrong."

"And so many things that can go right."

He almost smiled then.  Almost.  He looked as if he might lean forward and kiss her.  But he didn't.  He shifted away from her.  "What else do you need to buy?"

His change of subject threw her off balance.  "What?"

He did smile then and her heart skipped.  "You said you hadn't been to the mall for a couple of weeks.  What else do you need?"

At least some of the tension between them had eased.  She wasn't sure why, but she was glad.  She'd rather they talk.  She'd rather he confide in her.  But being with him was enough for now.  "I want to buy Doc some new towels for the bathroom.  He hasn't replaced his in years.  I need perfume, too."  She'd never worn perfume abroad.  She loved wearing it now.

"Then let's go to the department store."

"Clay, I know men don't like to shop.  If you want to meet me somewhere in a little while..."

"Who said men don't like to shop?"

She smiled.  "I thought it was common knowledge."

"Another misconception someone spread about men.  It isn't that we don't like to shop.  We like to shop for different things than women.  You should see the men who come into my store, examine every piece of machinery twice, buy something, and still come back in a week to look at everything again."  Clay's eyes twinkled.  "We just prefer not to shop in the lingerie department.  It does something to our image."

"So, as long as I don't drag you through nightgowns, you have no problem?"

"It's definitely not a good idea to drag me through nightgowns."

The knowing in his eyes almost undid her because they were both imagining the same thing.  She took a deep breath.  "Let's go."

Clay had slowed his stride and as they passed an ice cream concession, he caught her elbow.  "How about an ice cream cone?  It's been a long time since lunch."

She smiled.  "Sounds good."

They bought the cones and sat in the middle of the mall to enjoy them.  Clay asked her, "Have you heard from Ben?"

She shook her head.  "Have you?"

Clay should never have suggested ice cream.  But then the most simple things with Paige took on an entirely different meaning.  Clay couldn't take his eyes from her as her tongue twirled and caught a drop of ice cream on the side of her cone.  She licked the side of her mouth.

His gut clenched.  "Uh, no."

Clay was fascinated by the way Paige's right brow raised as she bit into her cone, the way her tongue twirled into the small spaces in the bottom.  Her silky hair swayed against her cheek as she tilted her head.  Her stunning blue eyes were soft and liquid and she'd never looked more lovely, even with the smudge of chocolate on her nose.

Feeling Clay's gaze on her, Paige looked at him.  He rubbed his thumb gently across the tip of her nose, then licked the ice cream from his finger.

She didn't look away and he had to touch her again.  For too long he'd kept his distance.  For too long he'd denied his need.  He trailed his finger down the side of her cheek and he felt her shiver.  Lord, why couldn't he just take her to bed, live for now?  She was willing.

Why couldn't he?  Because it wasn't honest.  He couldn't make love to her without telling her the truth.  She wasn't the kind of woman you made love with and kept your distance from.