Distracted (13 page)

“It’s remarkable, really. It’s like living inside a
glass box, it has so many windows. The walls are white, a gallery
for Spence’s paintings. Oh, Mariah. Wait ‘til you see his
paintings. They’re so beautiful. His colors are so rich, so
saturated and so … um … so sexy. His paintings are among the most
exciting work on the contemporary art market. Universities offer
classes that study his technique. That’s why the publisher wants
the book.”

Mariah leaned back and crossed her arms. “You know
enough about art to help him write this book?”

“No, but I don’t have to. Like I said, my job is to
keep him on target, persuade him to talk about his art and about
his life. That’s the hard part. He’s so reserved. People think he’s
standoffish, but really he’s just incredibly shy.”

Mariah chuckled. “Shy, eh? He doesn’t look shy to
me.”

Erin blushed and averted her eyes. “You’ve got to
remember, we’ve been working together for a few of weeks now so we
know each other better. He’s comfortable with me. I know; there’s
this thing going on between us. It’s not ethical, but I can’t keep
my hands off of him.”

Mariah arched an eyebrow at Erin’s confession.

“I can handle it. I don’t want a relationship. Not
that he wants one, either. It’s just a physical thing. I know that.
Once the job is over, that’s it. I’m back in D.C.”

Mariah wasn’t convinced. “You say this is just a
fling?”

“Yes. No. I’m really not sure what it is. God, he’s
so handsome and sweet. From the beginning he’s been so kind to me.
I feel guilty. I was hired to work with a headstrong artist and
instead I’ve been on a tropical vacation with sexiest man I’ve ever
met.”

Erin ducked her head in shame. Mariah waited.

“He’s a dedicated artist and it’s amazing to watch
him paint. I’m lucky, I guess. He trusts me.”

“You think he trusts you?”

“Oh yes. I know he does.”

Erin had always been overly confident as a child, but
Mariah could tell from her bravado that she wasn’t as sure of
herself in this situation.

“Well, call me crazy but I don’t think you’re walking
away from this as easily as you say.”

“What are you saying? That I’m in love with him?”

Mariah didn’t miss Erin’s nervous laugh. “Maybe. Just
be careful. You’ve got a good life in Washington. I’m just worried
that you’ll get too involved and be hurt.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I learned my lesson with
Aidan.”

Mariah stood and gave her sister a warm, comforting
hug. “Okay. Go to bed, sis. We don’t give wakeup calls around here.
The roosters take care of that.”

“Goodnight.”

Erin slept restlessly that night, kicking the covers
off and then pulling them back on. She hugged one of the pillows
and told herself, over and over again, “I’m asleep.” It didn’t
work. By 2 o’clock, she gave up and, grabbing one of her pillows,
tiptoed down the hall to Spence’s room. She slowly turned the
doorknob and peeked in.

Moonlight flooded the room and she could hear
Spence’s gentle breathing. She reached out and touched his bare
chest.

“Spence?”

“What? Is everything okay?”

“I miss you.”

Spence slid over in the bed and swept the covers to
the side. Erin curled against his chest, hugging her pillow. He
dropped the blanket and tucked it around her.

“Better?”

“Oh yes.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

It may have been dawn, but if it was only the rooster
could tell. Spence jerked awake at the eerie screech.

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s the rooster,” Erin murmured sleepily. She
rolled over, facing Spence and put her extra pillow over their
heads. “This will help.”

But it didn’t. Spence could feel her breath, silky on
his face. He became all too aware of her leg pushed between his.
Her hand rested against his chest, rubbing it softly in her sleep.
He couldn’t see. The pillow created a feeling of sensory
deprivation, heightening his other senses. He kissed Erin’s nose
and she grunted softly, moved closer. He touched her breast.
Flannel? Was this some kind of nightgown? Like a blind man, he
explored with his fingers, moving over lace, buttons and what felt
like small knots. Flowers? The nightgown buttoned down the front to
her knees.

Erin woke slowly to the sensation of Spence’s hands
over her breasts. He kissed each one softly.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Spence? I was dreaming about you.”

“Yes?” he asked, taking advantage of her distraction.
His fingers sought warmth between her thighs and he caressed her
softly.

“Oh, what a nice way to wake up,” Erin said, sighing.
“I like it when you do that.”

Her skin tingled at his touch. This is so right, she
thought. Could this be love? How could it not be? The idea drugged
Erin. Each kiss, stroke of his finger, soft bite and lick became a
heightened sensation. He can feel it too, she thought, as their
kiss slowed and deepened. His hands stilled and for an eternity
they were connected only through their lips, even their breathing
synchronized. She could feel his pulse in his tongue, felt as it
picked up. Ah yes, he feels it.

Spence growled softly and swung his leg over Erin.
Pushing her onto her back, he pinned her hands behind her head,
burying them in the soft pillow. Then, shoving her legs wide with
his knee, he entered forcefully and they fused. He paused at Erin’s
gasp but then she bucked against the savage sensation and begged
for more. She marveled at the blending of his strength and her
softness.

Inevitably, he sank into her arms and she frantically
kissed his cheeks, his ears and neck, cooing. Their heartbeats
slowed and they quietly lay on the bed watching the sun rise. Erin
had so much to say, but couldn’t open her mouth. Her lips felt dry
and bruised, her throat parched. Her body ached, yet she cherished
each throb. Spence pulled the blanket over them and tucked her
against his chest. She yawned, closed her eyes and fell back
asleep.

* * *

That morning, the family gathered in the farmhouse
kitchen. The windows were open to the July breeze and the sounds of
livestock: chickens clucking, cows mooing and Marsh, the sheepdog,
barking at an errant sheep.

“I love cooking with this old, black frying pan,”
Jerry said.

The official cook of all egg dishes, he whisked
nearly a dozen fresh eggs into a yellow froth. “Cheesy, scrambled
eggs are my specialty,” he said, winking at Erin.

“Spence, why don’t you get the orange juice out of
the ‘fridge and pour everyone a round?” Mariah asked as she put a
platter of bacon on the table.

Erin rose to help but Spence put a staying hand on
her shoulder. “I can handle this. You keep buttering the
biscuits.”

In Spence’s honor, Mariah had made a Southern-style,
country breakfast, which included grits.

“Can’t get this kind of service at those Waffle
Houses in the South,” she joked.

“You’re right about that, ma’am,” Spence said, his
North Carolina drawl more prominent this morning.

Ben, who hadn’t had a chance to meet Spence the day
before, looked interestedly at their guest.

“You’re a Confederate?” he asked.

“A Southerner,” Spence explained. “Confederates went
out of style after the Civil War. Now we’re plain old Americans,
just like ya’ll.”

Ben, already forgetting Mariah’s warning, began his
favorite game of Twenty Questions.

“Where do you live? The ocean? What kind of boat do
you have? Wow; how fast have you gone? Yeah, I can sail, but I’d
prefer your speedboat. What do you do? What kind of art? Oh, like
that dude Van Gogh? You make much money? You rich? That’s cool. You
play sports? Any good? Did you play pro ball? Really? Get outta
here. No way. How long? What happened? That sucks. You married? No?
Got any kids? Well, how am I supposed to know, Mom? People have
kids nowadays without being married. Alright, I will. Sorry Mr.
Spence. Sorry Aunt Erin.”

Erin, breathless from watching the Ben-Spence
marathon, couldn’t believe that this twelve-year-old kid could get
more out of Spence in three minutes than she had in two months.

“You played baseball?”

“When I was younger. That was a long time ago,”

He reached under the table and squeezed her hand,
then held it in his lap. Mariah, who noticed the gesture from her
vantage point at the stove, ignored it. Sure, she can handle him,
Mariah thought.

“We’re going to the store after breakfast. You need
anything?” Erin asked.

“I thought you took care of that yesterday. I’m
sorry, was the cabin that much of a mess that it took you all
afternoon to get it ready?” Mariah replied.

Erin opened her mouth, then abruptly closed it when
she recalled how she spent her afternoon. “No; it was fine. We just
did a little exploring.”

“That’s right. We were exploring.” Spence echoed.

Ben piped in, “Hey, I know some good places. Let me
know next time you guys go exploring and I’ll come with you.”

Spence grinned and said, “Sure will, Ben.
Thanks.”

Mariah gave Ben her evil eye and growled, “What did I
tell you yesterday? You go about your business and you leave them
alone. They’re working.”

Jerry broke into the fray, bearing a bowl of steaming
eggs. “Ah, perfect. Now, dig in everybody. Even bookworms need a
good breakfast to start the day.”

Mariah turned her evil eye on her husband.

* * *

On the way to town, Erin chatted about Eaton, so
named for a prominent pioneer. About 2,000 inhabitants were
scattered throughout the mountainsides, most on farms settled in
the late 1700s and early 1800s, with another 8,000 in town. The
jewel of the region was Breakthrough Lake, spring fed and crystal
clear.

Surrounded by verdant forests of white pine, cypress
and hemlock, the lake had become a resort in the early 1900s.
Wealthy families yearning to escape the city during the summer
would flock to the lakeshore. Some built extravagant lodges; others
built small one-room cabins like the Andersen’s. Their bedroom and
bathroom had been an addition built in the 1950s when the newly
married couple was expecting their first child.

Breakthrough Lodge had become a popular retreat.
Through the years it evolved into a youth camp. Teens in the area
loved it because it meant summer jobs and short romances with city
girls and boys.

When Erin worked at Breakthrough Lodge, she also had
a summer romance. It lasted for two years. She even selected the
same college as her boyfriend.

“Eventually,” she said, “we got married.”

“What? You’re married?” Spence was incredulous.

“No. Not anymore. We’ve been divorced for a
year.”

“When were you going to tell me?”

Erin didn’t answer. She hadn’t thought about telling
him about Aidan because, well, because when they first met it
wasn’t his business. Theirs was a working relationship and he
didn’t need to know about her personal life. Then, when things
changed, and they changed so quickly, she didn’t even think about
Aidan. Spence dominated her thoughts as easily as he dominated her
body.

She glanced at Spence. He was staring out the
passenger window, frowning. She had never seen him angry.

Ten interminable minutes later Erin pulled into the
half-empty lot of Peachy’s, the area’s grocery store. Once a
mom-and-pop operation, it had been in business since 1842. It had
evolved from a feed store into a general store, and now served as
the area’s grocery/video/gas station/beauty salon/pet store. Each
generation of the Peachy family had added on to the business,
expanding it as their various interests and talents emerged.

Cindy Peachy ran the gas station, smiling at
customers while she checked their oil and washed their windows. She
took pride in offering good, old-fashioned service.

“Well, hey girl. Long time no see,” she called out
when Erin climbed out of the SUV. Cindy’s eyes widened when she saw
Spence. She quickly closed her yap; she’d ask Mariah about her
sister’s new man later, she thought.

Erin waved and smiled, but her heart wasn’t in it.
“Hi Cindy.”

She pulled a shopping cart from the corral and headed
for the store. Spence followed quietly, his eyes widening with
interest. Peachy’s, to the untrained eye, was quite monstrous.
Through the years and as the business diverged, additions were
haphazardly slapped together. The people of Eaton understood this.
Newcomers, however, weren’t impressed.

“This place is hideous,” Spence said, adding. “Well,
most of it.”

Erin lifted her chin. “I think the place is great,”
she said defensively.

She followed his gaze and noted a new business in the
complex – an open-air coffee house. Wrought iron draped with
realistic grapevines camouflaged the ceiling. Pretty wrought iron
tables were artfully placed on the newly installed terra cotta
tiled floor. Water gurgled from the large olive jar urn fountain.
She sniffed appreciatively at the aroma of exotic coffee blends and
fresh cooked pastries. “That’s nice! Another Peachy has come home,”
she said.

As she and Spence surveyed the cafe a movement from
one corner caught her eye. Behind the counter, a young woman
operated an espresso machine.

“That’s Shelia Peachy,” Erin said. “She must have
opened this café after culinary school. Have I been gone that
long?”

The sound of metal scraping tile caught her attention
and she turned to see Katrina Hall, a beautiful prissy-pot she knew
from high school, stand abruptly from one of the iron chairs. She
knocked over a cup of coffee and it poured onto the table top and
began to drip right into a designer handbag.

Erin smirked as the woman swore aloud and grabbed
napkins, dabbing at the spill. The guy with her, a hunk in jeans
and a flannel shirt, seemed unperturbed. Erin didn’t recognize him
and wondered if he was new in town. She snickered at Katrina’s
dilemma and when Spence eyed her quizzically she shrugged and said,
“She was a stuck-up snot when I knew her in school. Nice to see
karma in action.”