Unchained Memories (20 page)

“Are you sure?” She looked at him questioningly.

“Yes. I’m sure. I haven’t thought of anyone but you since I saw you at the Gala in March. You drive me crazy.”

An effervescent smile curved her luscious lips as she followed him to the parking lot.

Holding the car door open for her, he stole a kiss and slid his palm over her cheek. “You’re beautiful.”

Her face softened. “Thank you. So are you.”

The drive to the Inn at Dove’s Creek was silent. Clay held Charlotte’s hand, but she seemed lost in her own thoughts. Was he crazy to care so much about her? Was she crazy to care about him?

Maybe. But he no longer wanted to question their sanity. They had found each other after ten years, and maybe it was just meant to be.

****

The French country inn of fieldstone and concrete hugged the winding road north of New Hope. Deep green ivy climbed its walls, and window boxes, with vibrant blooms of red, pink, and purple, spilled over their sides.

It was quiet inside, as if everyone had already gone to sleep. Clay talked to the innkeeper about a room as Charlotte took in her surroundings, snapping mental photographs to keep forever. Beautiful impressionist watercolors added to the cozy atmosphere. Wicker baskets containing fresh cut flowers stood strategically placed around the foyer and reception area, very similar to a living room. Moving through the first floor, she passed through inviting seating areas and several dining rooms, each decorated with old-fashioned wallpaper and intricately carved crown molding.

But the décor, with as beautiful as it was, couldn’t hold her attention. She pressed her hand on her stomach as if to control her buzzing insides. Had Clay actually uttered the words she’d wanted to hear?

Had she actually admitted she wanted a relationship?

An hour earlier, she wasn’t sure she should continue their mating dance. She had contemplated putting an end to this casual affair, for it could only end in heartache. For years, she’d fought against binding herself to someone, from caring deeply, too deeply, for another. She wouldn’t allow herself to experience the pain that comes with loss ever again.

And that’s how she should be feeling about getting involved with Clay. Yet, this was the first time in ten years she refused to allow her fears to ruin what could be. Fate had stepped in and re-connected her with the man she used to dream of. How could she not take the risk? Banish her protective shield?

Charlotte found herself standing on a glass patio framing a back yard filled with colorful wildflowers, green velvet grass and ancient trees bowing to the slow-moving river. So peaceful. So exquisite.

Clay slipped his arms around her shoulders from behind, hugging her to him. That small gesture had her melting into him, never wanting to let go of this moment, yet looking forward to so much more.

“Are you ready?” he whispered, tickling her ear with his warm breath.

“Oh, yes.” Was she ever.

They followed the owner up the old wooden steps, creaking and straining, to the second floor. He produced a skeleton key and opened the door to a guest room. A canopy bed, fireplace, antique oak dresser, and hand-stenciled wooden chest filled the small room, making it intimate and inviting. The bedspread was pure white and the curtains over the windows blew in the soft summer breeze.

“This is lovely,” Charlotte said to the innkeeper as she walked through the doorway and into the pretty room. “When was this inn built?”

“In the late 1800’s.” He was noticeably proud of the history of his establishment and wanted to share it. “In the past this place was a barn, a girl’s school and a tearoom. But it’s been an inn and a restaurant for fifty years now.”

He handed Clay the key. “I guess you don’t need any help with your luggage.”

Charlotte blushed as Clay responded smoothly. “We hadn’t planned on staying in the area, but it’s so charming, we decided not to leave tonight. We’ll have to make do with what we have.”

“There’s a general store up the road if you need toiletries. It opens at six in the morning. The closest place to shop for clothes is Main Street. Although, you won’t find your run of the mill clothing there.”

“Thanks. I’m sure we’ll be able to find what we need.”

Clay closed the door as he left, locking it from the inside. Depositing the key in his pocket, he slowly headed toward Charlotte, a look of hunger in his eyes. Involuntarily, she backed up until she met the wall, feeling the hard evidence of entrapment behind her.

“Clay, wait...”

He arched an eyebrow while placing his hands on either side of her head against the wall. His tall frame and broad shoulders invaded her space. She could scarcely breathe, with her heart pounding like a jackhammer on speed then stalling as he captured her eyes, holding them with his. His spell was total. Her gaze moved from his eyes to his lips, just inches from hers.

Raising her lids, she could stand the tension no more. Her body felt like a tightly wound guitar string, ready to ping at the slightest touch.

Clay’s index finger slid down her cheek to her lips and brushed them before tracing her chin and running down her neck. A tingling sensation coursed through her with this lightest of touches, fueled by the sexual desire burning in his eyes.

He raised her chin, and leisurely bowed his head to meet her lips. At first the kiss was soft, fleeting, but within moments it became sensual and hot, demanding, melting any reserve she might have felt just moments before. Charlotte drew her arms up and slid them around his neck, drawing him closer and at the same time sliding her fingertips into his silky dark hair.

His hands found their way to her breasts and sensations of exquisite delight radiated through her as she ached to get rid of her clothes and his. In one swift movement, Clay picked Charlotte up and laid her on the bed, moving over her while bestowing the passionate kisses she craved. She dared not interrupt, even to remove the material that kept her from feeling his hot, male skin. She heard him moan as she arched her back, pressing against him. Ecstasy.

Charlotte pulled his shirt up as she moved her hands along his torso, finally feeling his naked chest against her palms, broad and strong and muscled. He yanked the shirt over his head in one flashing movement and held his weight up over her with his arms, as he gazed at her with heavy lids. His eyes were emerald green tonight, dark and dangerous, boring into her soul. The loss of physical contact with him was as excruciating as withdrawal. She felt like an addict, needing to be connected to him with her lips, her body. But he held back.

“Tell me what you want,” he said in a husky voice, laden with sexuality.

“I want you,” she whispered, unable to move her eyes from his. “I want you to make love to me. I want you inside of me.” A lump in her throat threatened to give away the emotion bottled up inside.

He gazed at her as if to verify the sincerity of those words, but there was no hesitation, no uncertainty. She felt like an open book, allowing him to see her vulnerability, her need for him, her unquestionable desire for him. The desire that had lain dormant for ten years had recently been unleashed, and Charlotte couldn’t stop it now if she wanted to.

Heat radiated from her limbs, reaching up to him, to melt him down on her. Her mouth sought his and joined his lips again, this time with her initiating the demand. She slipped her tongue inside, seeking his and mimicking what she wanted to do with other parts of their bodies. Her passion was overwhelming and she felt herself drowning in his arms, swirling as if in a whirlpool, but feeling only the rush of her senses. The rest of the world blocked out, her mind closed but to one thing: this. This commingling with Clay.

He tugged at the zipper on her slacks and within seconds they were tossed to the floor along with her panties. Next came her blouse with her utmost cooperation. When the front hook of her bra freed her from the final confines of her clothing, a rush of cool air excited every pore on her blazing skin.

Clay impatiently unzipped his pants and Charlotte reached to help him do it faster. She reveled in the exquisite form before her, muscled and strong, aching for him to join with her.

Once protected, he complied with her wish. They moved in unison, slowly at first, but gaining momentum with each stroke. The excruciating pleasure of this feeling brought Charlotte to new heights. As the waves built in intensity, threatening to wash her away with them, she knew she was in trouble.

For she was in love.

Chapter Nineteen

In no hurry to reach its destination, the Delaware River inched southward as it flowed between the forested banks of Pennsylvania and New Jersey. Charlotte sat across from Clay at a wrought-iron table in the wildflower-strewn backyard of the inn, the only guests this early in the morning. Fresh blueberry popovers sat in a basket lined with a yellow linen napkin, the oven-warm crust assaulting her olfactory senses.

Temporarily ignoring her grumbling stomach, Charlotte sipped on coffee while focusing on her surroundings. “It’s so pretty here. And so peaceful.”

“Now that you dragged me out of bed, I’m glad you did.” Clay smiled following her eyes to the crystal clear water.

Charlotte smiled through a memory. “When we were kids, we used to rent canoes a little south of here on the Jersey side, my parents in one, my sister and I in the other, and paddle down the canal next to the river. It felt so adventurous. As if we were part of Washington’s army crossing the Delaware.” A warm breeze rustled through the trees and kissed Charlotte’s cheek.

If she could only bottle this feeling and use it sparingly on the days when being with Clay was only a distant memory. Or maybe use it as a potion to bewitch him when he realized he didn’t want or need a relationship with her.

“What are you thinking?” He broke into her dark thought. “You’re wrinkling your forehead.”

“I can’t believe I’m sitting out here eating breakfast with you instead of working, even though it is Sunday.” Hopefully, that sounded plausible.

“I can’t believe I’m sitting out here eating breakfast instead of rolling around in bed with you.” His gorgeous smile and flashing eyes had her insides spinning at the thought.

She sighed, a contented sigh, and reached across the table to touch his hand. “Thank you for indulging me. I was hoping to take a little stroll. I love to walk around small towns and discover their soul, especially before everyone is up and around.”

“So, are you going to give up your day to me?” A wolfish grin sent her imagination to x-rated fantasies. “If you say yes, I’ll agree to your morning plan if you agree to spend the afternoon exploring more carnal activities.”

How could she refuse? If propositioned, she might even give up her half of the day to extend his. “You’re on,” she said, keeping her weakness for him to herself.

She took a bite of her blueberry popover, knowing she’d need nourishment for the day to come. Being with Clay last night had unleashed an emotion she hadn’t known existed. He’d heated her erogenous zones until they seared her heart, and she no longer had a choice as to whether she should walk away from him before things got too complicated.

He was so damn sensual. And hot. And caring.

Her stomach swirled like an eddy at the memory of their lovemaking. When she’d finally silenced the battle in her head and given in to Clay’s sensuous kisses, it was as if neither of them could wait a moment longer. Tearing at clothes and pushing toward the climax that would satiate their fevered need was the only goal. Dinner had been their aphrodisiac, the drive to their destination, teasing foreplay.

But once satisfied, at least temporarily, they were able to slow things down, to explore and tease and heighten and learn what made the other crazy. What pushed them to the edge. And then over.

“Why are you smiling?” Clay asked, zeroing in on her eyes with his. Doing that thing that pulled her into him without the slightest touch.

“I was thinking about last night.” Her voice was deeper than usual, an involuntary manifestation of what he did to her.

“We can skip the walk around town, the tourist boat that tells you about the local birds while it scares them off with its motor. I don’t mind.”

She inhaled, beating down her lust. “No. We’re here. We’re taking the day off. Let’s enjoy the town.” A grin took over her mouth. “When we go back to the room later it will be that much more passionate.”

His Adam’s apple moved in his throat. He wanted her. And she wanted him just as much.

They walked hand in hand down the narrow sidewalks of New Hope, not yet populated with the tourists that would start arriving at noon. For now, it was their retreat.

And Charlotte would use this time to get to know him even better.

“So, I’ve gotten the impression you’re not big on long-term relationships. Why?” She held her breath, waiting for the response to her incredibly personal question, all the while hoping she wouldn’t hate the answer.

She dared to glance at his face, to see the reaction to her question. But all she saw was the hint of a smile.

“I’m not against them. I’ve just been busy. Working too hard. Chasing my goal, I guess.”

“Which is?”

His hand tensed as he held hers. There must be no easy answer.

“I want to be the best ER doctor around. To stop the bleeding, treat the stroke, defibrillate the heart. Whatever it takes to give each patient a chance to heal, to survive. What happened to my father spurs me on. He was only thirty five when he had chest pains that sent him to the ER. Unfortunately, he wasn’t treated fast enough. He had the heart attack and although he didn’t die, he wasn’t able to work or have the life that a thirty-five-year-old male should have. It broke him.”

“I thought you worked so many hours to help your brothers and sisters through school.”

“No. I work long hours because I can’t seem to let go. Every day, every night, people come into my ER in crisis. They depend on me to get them through.”

“It’s not just you, though. There are others. Matt, Becky, more.”

“Yes. But I’m in charge. So if someone can’t make it in, like Vic the other day, or if there’s a problem with nursing shortages, or an issue over treatment, I’m the one who’s called.”