Almost Home (15 page)
"Jesus!" Zach murmured, finally drawing
back, breath ragged, his black eyes dancing with gold glitter. "I didn't
expect that."
She stared at his eyes, then dropped her gaze to his
mouth, to his full lips, and she couldn't help licking her own.
"Don't," he said.
Don't what?
She had
no idea what he meant, and the conflicting signals in his eyes told her he didn't
have any idea either. "It's not enough," she said softly, standing on
tiptoe to press her mouth to his once more.
"Damn you, Katherine." His hands came around
her waist, his fingers locked with each other, as he pulled her against him.
She could feel every hard, muscled inch of him, and
the friction between their legs, their hips, their chests, drove her crazy with
need. She wanted bare skin against bare skin, her breasts against his chest.
She wanted to feel all that power beneath her, on top of her, inside of her.
She closed her eyes as his lips trailed across her
face to her ear, the corner of her neck. She wanted him with every fiber of her
being. She'd never understood how a woman could meet a man and jump into bed
with him. But she understood it now. She'd known this man for three days, but
it didn't matter. Nothing mattered as long as he was holding her, touching her,
making her heart beat faster and her mind spin out of control.
"I should have taken you to my house," Zach
said as he lifted his head.
And she would have gone without question, because
since she'd stepped off the plane onto
"You are so…"
His
voice drifted away.
"So what?"
"Hot."
She wrinkled her nose. It wasn't the most romantic
declaration she'd ever heard. "Thanks, I think." Now that he'd
stopped kissing her, now that she had time to think, she felt somewhat awkward
and embarrassed by her lustful response to his kiss. What must he think of her?
She'd practically attacked him, devoured him. She'd never done such a thing in
her entire life.
"Second thoughts already?" Zach asked with a
raise of one eyebrow. "Your pulse hasn't even slowed down."
"I've never—I don't usually. I mean…"
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know why I kissed you like that. I
suddenly wanted you more than I've ever wanted anyone in my life." She
swallowed hard, not sure where the confession had come from. "I forgot…"
Her voice trailed away as she tried to remember
everything she'd forgotten.
"You forgot who you were kissing?" he asked
tightly, completely misunderstanding her hesitation. "Well, let me refresh
your memory. I'm a farmhand, Kat. I'm a dirty, sweaty, illegitimate son of a
con artist, who got left at the altar by the last girl who momentarily forgot
who she was kissing."
Katherine drew in a sharp, painful breath at the
bitterness in his voice. "I didn't forget who you were, Zach. I forgot who
I was, and why I was here in
She paused, wondering how it had gone wrong so fast. "Weren't you the one
who told me yesterday that we should concentrate on our goals, on your horse
and my father?"
He let out a breath. "Yeah, that was me."
"What changed?"
"It's easy to forget things when you're around."
She knew exactly what he meant. "I don't think we
should kiss again."
His eyes met hers. "Definitely not."
"Because you're you and I'm me."
"And we don't fit."
"It sure felt like we did." The words came
out before she could stop them.
"Oh, we'd be good in bed together," he
drawled. "If you want a fling, I'm your man. But I'm not looking for
anything else—no church service, no white rice, no honeymoon cottage. I tried
that once. I won't try it again."
"Oh, please," she said sharply. "I wasn't
planning on dragging you to the altar before dinner. Why does every man think
every woman is after a wedding ring?"
"I don't think that about every woman, but I do
think it about you. You probably have a list of the top ten qualities to look
for in a husband."
She flushed guiltily. She hadn't titled it that, but she
had written something along those lines.
He smiled again. "I'm right, aren't I?"
"Well, if I did have such a list, you wouldn't
fit any of the qualities. Because you're a dark, moody cowboy with a huge chip
on his shoulder, who doesn't trust anyone not to lie, cheat, or steal from him.
And…"
"And what?"
"I don't want to get hurt."
"You think I could hurt you?" he asked
slowly, his eyes never leaving her face.
"Couldn't you?"
He didn't answer.
"I better go." She turned away from him and
headed toward the door. She paused, her hand on the knob. "Don't kiss me
again, okay?"
"I don't make promises I can't keep."
Chapter
8
K
atherine sat in her car for
ten minutes before she
felt calm enough to
drive. Coming here had been a big mistake, and she wouldn't repeat it. She'd
drive straight back to the hotel and return Maggie's car before she did
anything more foolish.
With that resolve, she started the engine and pulled out
of the parking lot. Her passion cooled as she drove down the quiet winding road
that surrounded Stanton Farms. She had to admit it was beautiful here with the
sun shining through the trees, the pastures green for grazing, the gentle hills
promising new wonders beyond each rise.
Katherine slowed the car as a riot of color invaded
her vision. Off to the right, toward the top of one hill, she saw a bevy of
wildflowers, reds and yellows and purples, bright and flamboyant against the
green bushes and thick, sweeping trees. It was so beautiful she couldn't stop
herself from hitting the brake. Before she knew it, she was out of the car and
climbing the hill.
She had no idea if she was trespassing, but there was
no one around to ask for permission. The canopy of trees prevented any view of
what was beyond. When she reached the top of the hill, Katherine expected to
see more white fences, more pastures, but instead she saw the entire valley
spread out before her, like squares on a patchwork quilt—her quilt.
An odd tingle ran down her spine, accompanied by the
tantalizing scent of lavender. Katherine turned her head as the scent grew
stronger with the breeze. There was a path off to the right that wove through a
forest of trees. As she moved along the path, a wrought-iron gate appeared
before her, wildflowers weaving their stems around the metal bars.
Feeling a little like
stepped closer. She pushed the gate open and walked into an unexpected bower of
flowers. Irises, lavender, lily of the valley, roses, camellias, the list went
on and on and on. She couldn't believe the sight in front of her, a spectrum of
color blooming wildly among the weeds and overgrowth. A cobblestone path wound
its way around the flower beds, leading to a cement bench set in the center
next to an old dried-out water fountain with—what else?—a horse atop the spout.
Katherine walked over to the bench and sat down,
feeling the cool cement beneath her hands. The air was heavy and still, filled
with perfume. The garden had obviously been designed, yet neglected. She couldn't
imagine who had gone to such trouble, only to let the garden descend into
madness.
She leaned over, catching sight of a small lavender
plant almost buried beneath the weeds. Another moment and she was on her hands
and knees, pulling the weeds away, digging her fingers into the dirt, feeling
the pleasure in unveiling the tiny flower. When she was done, she sat back on
her heels and contemplated the tiny plant in front of her. Now that the flower
had been unearthed, the lavender scent wafted toward her, sensual, mysterious,
caressing
…
The hairs on the back of her neck began to tingle. She
suddenly felt like someone was watching her. Before she could move, a woman's
voice came out of the shadows.
"Margaret?"
Katherine whirled around to find herself facing a
tiny, slender woman with silky white hair and bright blue eyes. Her fair skin
was almost translucent, tiny little wrinkles on her face and weather spots on
her hands belying her age. Late sixties or seventies, Katherine thought, but
she must have been a strikingly beautiful woman in her youth.
"You're not Margaret." She put a hand to her
heart. "For a moment there…"
Katherine scrambled to her feet, wiping her hands on
the legs of her jeans.
"When I saw you kneeling on the ground," the
woman said haltingly, "I had the strangest feeling that I knew you. I
thought you were someone else. Someone very special." She shook her head
as if wondering where that thought had come from.
Katherine wasn't sure what to say. "I'm sorry if
I'm trespassing. I saw the flowers from the road, and I couldn't resist. I
never imagined I'd find a secret garden."
The older woman smiled sadly. "A secret garden.
That's what Margaret used to call it. My daughter. She practically lived in
this garden." The woman stopped, a startled expression flitting through
her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't introduce myself. I'm Claire Stanton."
strayed as far away from Zach as she'd hoped. "I'm Katherine Whitfield."
Katherine offered her hand to Claire for a brief squeeze.
"It's nice to meet you," Claire said.
"And you. Your land is beautiful. Especially this
garden. I shouldn't have come in without asking. I hope you'll forgive me."
"It doesn't matter. No one comes here anymore."
Claire looked around the garden. "I haven't been here in years. I used to
try to keep it up—for Margaret's sake. But my arthritis got so bad, I couldn't
weed anymore. Now I wish I'd hired someone to do it for me. I guess a part of
me always hoped she'd come back to take care of it herself."
"I'm sure you could turn it into the beautiful
garden it once was. The flowers are still blooming despite the odds. That's
something."
Claire smiled at her. "I saw you weeding. You
couldn't resist?"
Katherine smiled back. "It's a weakness. I have a
hard time walking by a weed without pulling it."
"My daughter was the same way. She loved flowers
far more than she loved horses." Claire ended her sentence with a sigh. "And
this is horse country, you know. Not much else matters."
"So I've been told."
Claire sat down on the bench and patted the seat next
to her. "Sit down, Miss Whitfield. There's no need to run off so soon.
Tell me how you came to find our secret garden."
Katherine sat down next to Claire, turning slightly so
she could look into her warm, friendly, motherly eyes. "I came to see Zach
Tyler."
"You know Zach?"
"Well, I wouldn't say I know him exactly. We've
met a few times."
"You're the beautiful blonde who ran him off the road."
A gleam of curiosity lit up her eyes and her smile. "I should have guessed
right away."
"Did Zach tell you about me?" Katherine
asked, somewhat surprised and touched by his description of her.
"No, I think it was Leeanne or Mary Jo or maybe
Sharon. I can't recall. We were all at the quilting."
"The quilting?"
"Wednesday night. Oh, it's a long story, dear,
but suffice it to say, news travels fast in
"I can see that."
Claire patted her on the leg. "I'm sorry if I
made you uncomfortable with my gossip."
"You didn't. What is a quilting exactly?"
Katherine couldn't help the shiver of anticipation that ran down her spine.
This woman knew about quilts. She might even know about
her
quilt.