Mountain Song (7 page)

“Claudia.”

She jumped. It was as
though his glancing touch had singed her skin even through the canvas covering
her legs.

“Look, there’s plenty
of money. I mean, I don’t have the entire picture, of course, but Claudia’s got
a heck of a lot stashed away. That’s not the problem. It’s just a matter of
making sure that all the paperwork is taken care of.”

“How...how do you know
all this?”

“She trusts me. Bea
has lots of friends, hell, this whole damn town knows her, and anyone would
want to help her. But she’s so stubborn, and proud.”

Andy paused, and his
eyes on hers conveyed what went unspoken.

Like you
.

“She keeps letting her
paperwork pile up. She makes jokes about it, but I can tell she’s worried. Her
phone was cut off once, before. Just for a day or two.”

For the moment Claudia
kept very still, barely breathing. Somehow she knew that when she opened them
again, she would have to face this terrible thing he was telling her.

“Like I said, I wasn’t
sure how far this had gone,” Andy said. “I’ve been trying to get her in to see
someone else, the orthopedist, thought it might make it easier on her. But you
saw how she is...only trusts me. I was starting to talk to her about, well,
about moving. But before we resolved anything she took her fall, and now I can’t
even get her to talk about it. Arguing with Bea’s like arguing with...”

Again, he let his
thought go unfinished. Slowly Claudia lifted her lids slightly, and through a
frame of lashes saw Andy staring at her. Like arguing with
her
, he was going to say, of that she was somehow sure.

Though they’d only
argued once.

Claudia sat up
straight in the lumpy sofa, pressing her spine into the straight back, and
glared at Andy.

“You think she needs
to move into a n—excuse me, into assisted living.”

A visible wave of
relief smoothed the lines around Andy’s eyes slightly.

“So you’ll help me?”

“I didn’t say that. Andy,
she’ll never survive outside this house. Everything she loves is here. Whatever
hardships she has to go through, I know she’d want to hang onto her
independence.”

“Independence? Do you
call not being able to leave the house, not being able to see friends,
independence?”

“Can we—can you
just give me a minute to try to absorb this please?” Claudia demanded, jumping
up from the couch and retreating to the kitchen. Opening a cabinet she searched
for a glass, but found only stacks of tin paint pans, some with traces of color
still visible on their dulled metal surfaces. Another cabinet held boxes and
boxes of herbal teas.

Frustrated, she
clutched the edge of the counter and squeezed until her knuckles went white. Oh,
she could deny it if she wanted. She had been able to talk circles around Andy,
at one time.

But she couldn’t
ignore the mess she’d walked into last night. The small house looked as though
it had been abandoned. Bea had never been the tidiest housekeeper, but beneath
the books and projects and knick-knacks she’d always kept things passably
clean.

Now, it looked as
though no one cared for the place at all.
 
With the aid of her tiny key chain flashlight Claudia had located the
emergency candles and matches in the utility drawer, thank goodness—but
even in candlelight the dust, the cobwebs, the untended laundry were visible.

Damn Andy, with all
the answers, answers not at all what she wanted to hear. He was so calm, so
reasonable as he sat there and shattered a huge sharp-edged hole in her world.

Claudia whirled
around, feeling her frustration and rage funnel into a small, deadly torrent,
and readied herself to lash out at him.

And ran right into his
chest.

Andy froze as Claudia
toppled against him and then clutched his biceps in an effort to steady
herself. Without thinking he looped his arms around her and pulled her against
him.

God, she was warm. The
chill of the early morning evaporated when her cheek pressed against the small
vee of skin exposed above the top button of his shirt. In its place a coil of
heat, dangerous heat, came to life deep inside him and shot fireworks through
his body.

He pushed the loose,
soft fabric of her shirt aside as his hands found the smooth expanse of her
back. She shuddered and melted against him. Her jagged breath was hot on his
skin as she pressed her face against his neck, and Andy pulled her body closer
to his, feeling the pounding of her heart even through layers of soft flannel.

And then Claudia froze
and for a moment it was as though they stood atop some precipice. A deadly fall
was certain; it was just a matter of which direction.

At last Claudia drew
in her breath sharply, wrapped her fingers around his biceps and gave a mighty
shove, no doubt intending to propel him out of the kitchen, out of the house,
out of her life.

He meant to let her
go; with great reluctance his brain communicated that he had no business
folding her in his arms. But then that coil of heat erupted and singed them
both at the same moment.

Just as he could have
released her, she stopped pushing him away. She hesitated, her fingers
loosening their grip. She gave a small cry—of hopelessness, of pleasure,
he couldn’t be sure—and her arms snaked around him and she lifted her
face to his. His last vision before he closed his eyes and bent to taste her
was of that charcoal smudge, the one he’d been tempted to wipe gently away.

But he wasn’t gentle
now. Couldn’t be. Not when she claimed his lips in a hungry kiss, splayed her
fingers on his broad back and arched her body into his for all she was worth. Andy
slid his hands back down her sides, fingers brushing rough canvas. His thumbs
found purchase against her hip bones as he lifted her to the counter, and her
legs made way for him to hold her even more intimately.

He tasted the depths
of her mouth, then nipped her lower lip before traveling down that creamy skin
over the fine-boned jaw to her long, slender neck. He was rewarded with a
groan, a low, breathless sound that stirred his own passion to greater heights.

“Claudia,” he
whispered roughly, burying his face in the folds of her worn shirt, reaching
for her breast. No bra—his fingers found the hard nubs of her nipples,
and he eased his thumbs in a tentative caress, quickening when she responded
with another feral sound and a tightening of her thighs around him.

A voice in the back of
his mind was growing a little more insistent. This is wrong, Andy thought
muddily, something about this is wrong, but then Claudia’s finger’s snaked through
his hair as she pressed him to her, guided his delving tongue down to relieve
his hand of its explorations. He tore a button free, then another, and then
bent to taste her flesh, and as his tongue circled the tips of her breasts,
larger than he remembered, he stilled the protesting voice for good.

It might have been for
good, at any rate, if Claudia hadn’t suddenly gone still. He could feel her
body tense, the fingers looped in his hair stiffen, then slowly withdraw. As he
inclined his head, questioning, she hastily clutched the front of her shirt
closed and forced her knees together tightly, then slipped off her countertop
perch and away from him, as though he were on fire.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her eyes on the floor. “I don’t know—”

“No,” Andy spat out,
self-rebuke making his voice sharp. “No, I’m sorry. This shouldn’t have
happened, and I’m to blame. I—I’m not sure what happened here.”

Contrition made him
honest, too honest. In an unguarded moment he didn’t have time to don the
doctor persona, the cool competency, the unruffled voice. Andy wasn’t
accustomed to admitting he was out of control.

But that’s what she
did to him. Stripped away his defenses, left the raw edges exposed. More than
he intended to reveal: the tender and unguarded and passionate parts of himself
that few ever saw.

A mistake. He’d always
known that, known he gambled away his paltry advantages whenever he reached for
her. But he had so little to offer, and accepted the conditions of the trade.

Years before, when
Claudia had shared his humble cot, made tea on his battered hot plate, hung her
designer clothes on a nail in the cracked walls of his room, he didn’t dare
question his luck. Instead, he’d drunk deeply of her potion, wanting nothing
more than this golden girl, a girl who had everything, and yet loved
him
, who had nothing. He had suspected
all along it was a pleasure never meant for the likes of him.

True enough, as it
turned out. But now she’d returned, and it was clear that her power over him
was undiminished.

“It’s me,” Claudia
said. “I’m upset, and I haven’t slept, and I haven’t had anything to eat.” Large
tears spilled from the corners of her eyes as she fumbled with the oversized
collar of her shirt, trying to keep it from gaping open where he’d yanked off
the buttons. “And you were here and I needed a familiar face, needed to—to
hold someone.”

Andy shook his head. He
ought to go.
Needed
to go, to be away
from here, from the sight of her, from her scent, which lingered in the air
between them. He ought to just agree with her, tell her to change her clothes,
order her a decent meal, get on with his day. But for some reason he couldn’t
let things stand.

A deep, calming
breath. Another. He considered her words. So she needed to hold someone. She
said it almost off-handedly. She had a need, he filled it.

Something triggered
inside him. He suited her purposes, was that it? The need of the moment, met by
whomever was available. Yes, they had a history. But more importantly: he was
available. He would do.

For now. No illusions
that it would be any big deal, though. Not for the likes of her. Claudia had
made it abundantly clear that while she dallied with the common folk, he’d
never get too close to her.

The gnawing doubt
inside him grew a little bigger, and Andy stood a little straighter, squared
his shoulders.

“You...I’m more than
just an available body,” he said, taking it slow, finding the right words. “You
reacted to
me
just now, Claudia, and
me to you. I’m not saying it should happen again. Or even that it should have
happened this time. But let’s call it what it is. There’s something between us,
something powerful, and trying to ignore it is only going to make even more of
a mess.”

Claudia shook her
head, her lower lip quivering. With her free hand she swiped the pooled tears angrily
from her cheeks.

“No,” she whispered
fiercely.

“Damn it, Claudia, you
felt it, too. You responded. You wanted me as badly as I want—as I wanted
you.”

“No! That’s not
possible.”

“Why not?” Without
even being aware of it, Andy had taken a step closer, so that he was within an
arm’s length of Claudia again. Her eyes darted to the side, but she couldn’t
back up any further. Andy stopped himself, arms hanging at his sides. “Why not,”
he asked again, forcing his voice down. “Was this what made you run, Claudia? Was
it—too much? More than you could handle?”

“No!” She drew up and
met his intense gaze, glaring with eyes narrowed to slits. Having roused her
from her quivering retreat, Andy knew he’d struck on something important.

“There’s a very good
reason why you don’t arouse any feelings in me,” she added, with a defiant toss
of her head. “There’s someone in my life.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Andy drew back as
though he’d been slapped.

Someone in her life.

It took him a minute
to process the simple phrase. It just didn’t make sense. Seconds ago Claudia
had wrapped those long arms around him, searing him with her hunger. A woman
who was satisfied with her lover didn’t radiate this sort of unmet need. Even a
woman who was
dis
satisfied with her
lover, if that woman was Claudia, would never consent to an embrace like that
one.

It wasn’t
casual
.

But then, nothing
about this encounter was casual, was it? He and Claudia weren’t two strangers
meeting in a dark nightclub at closing time. They were people whose past once intertwined
in a complicated relationship that had changed him, possibly forever. And they
were both under a lot of stress, over-tired, over-caffeinated, undernourished. Maybe
it was no wonder that, given the conditions, they had sought some sort of
temporary salve or release or whatever it was—

No. Maybe Claudia
could lie to herself, but Andy had no intention of taking the easy route out
of...whatever it was that still existed between them. If Claudia had some other
lover, she would never have allowed the kiss; there had to be some other
explanation.

So she was lying.