Deanna Talcott - A Ring And A Rainbow

Claire scrunched her eyes closed. She didn’t want praise. She didn’t want explanations. She’d only wanted to do the right thing by Ella, as hard as it had been, and as hard as Hunter had made it for her. “Hunter—”

Before she could reply, he looped his arms around her back and drew her full-length against his chest. “Hush. Just for a minute,” he whispered against her ear. “Because there’s a part of me that needs you now.”

Ripples of longing, of empathy, coursed through her, and Claire struggled to repulse each and every one of them. It would have been so easy to sag against him, to absorb his heat, his strength, to let herself go…but she stoically refused to do it. “Hunter…” she said softly, gently pulling back and trying to extricate herself, “…don’t.”

Claire Dent, Hunter realized, was the epitome of strength. In his arms, she was as willowy as a sapling, as resilient as a rock. Her hair was longer now, at least four inches past her shoulders, in a wavy, loose style that was invitingly silky, sexy. In high school she had curled and crimped her hair into submission. Now he wondered why she’d ever bothered.

He also wondered why the hell he’d never realized what she’d grow into.

She was a beauty. Simple as that. Everything about her was seductively simple. From her khaki slacks to the powder-blue T-shirt top she wore. Pearl studs in her ears and the sheerest of makeup. Her skin was flawless, and her high cheekbones carried a natural blush.

She didn’t have the hollowed-out, starved look of a cover model; her face was firm and full, the curve of her jaw solid. Her nose was so straight and perfect that she could have posed as the scale model for a plastic surgeon.

But it was Claire’s darker-than-mocha gaze that leveled a man. Her deep-set eyes were so luminous that he’d caught himself searching for a reflection in their depths. She’d always had a brooding, thoughtful quality shadowing her eyes, but then, that was no wonder, given what she’d been through.

“Hunter…don’t,” she repeated.

Claire’s lower lip, which was provocatively fuller than the top, had always had the most incredible way of working around a word. It worked that way now. With that single word. Don’t. He ought to heed the warning, but he couldn’t help goading her. “Don’t what?”

Claire pursed her lips and spat out the answer, “You know what!”

Inside, he ached to laugh. His mother used to claim Claire Dent didn’t pout very often, but when she did it was the prettiest little pout this side of the Mississippi. He was inclined to agree.

Hunter slowly, reluctantly, released her.

She’d found herself. He could see it in every mannerism, in the way she carried herself and the way she talked. She was a woman, confident and assured. She’d grown up—and he experienced a glimmer of regret that he hadn’t been around to see it.

“I just needed a ‘welcome back home.’And,” he admitted, “maybe a little hug.”

“I’m not the one to offer it, Hunter. We both know that.”

“Claire, the first half of my life you were my best friend. I don’t want to spend the last half of my life thinking I’ve made you my enemy.”

“I’m not your enemy,” she denied. “I doubt thoughts like that will keep you up at night. I just want to walk out of this awkward situation with some class, that’s all.”

“You want to go out of this with class?” he repeated. “Fine. I’ll let you. But first, before you walk back out that door, let’s resolve our hard feelings. I say we kiss and make up.”

Hunter’s mouth brushed over hers. She should have stopped him, Claire thought dizzily, before she allowed his powerfully sweet kiss to addle her brain and destroy her defenses.

Yet Hunter didn’t overpower her, and his mouth made no demands. Instead he expertly touched and tasted, meeting her hunger halfway. In a gesture of comfort that did seem to have some inexplicable healing power.

Years and burdens fell away as he magically carried her back to her youth, to memories that were steeped in expectation and hope. He lifted her, and she soared, weightless for the first time in years.

No hard feelings? she thought woozily. Everything about him was hard. The way he held her, the way he cradled her. The way his fingers pressed into her back, drawing her to him, the way his knee instinctively sluiced between her legs, taking possession.

It would have been easy to give herself up to the kiss. Remarkably easy. But she restrained herself, slapping a conscious rein on her emotions, willing her tongue to still, her lips to cease their explorations.

Hunter pulled away, the coarse stubble on his cheek grazing hers. “Now that,” he whispered huskily, “makes me feel like I’ve come back home.”

His arms dropped loosely to her sides, his fingertips sliding down the length of her forearms and her wrists. She imperceptibly drew back, shaking him off.

“Hunter,” she said shakily, “that won’t happen again. You can joke and say that we’ve kissed and made up. But all we will ever be toward each other is polite. Anything else is out of the question. We can be neighbors for the few days you’re here. But anything more than that is—”

“Out of the question?”

She took a step back, regret nipping at her heels. “Yes. I think maybe we understand each other now.”

“Don’t count on it, Claire. I never did things the easy way. You, better than anyone, should know that.”

“The whole town knows that, Hunter. Because you didn’t just walk out on me, you walked out on your dad and your mom. They expected you to run the station, to keep it going.”

“It wasn’t what I wanted,” he retorted, dismissing her reproach.

“Apparently, neither was I,” she pointed out softly. She turned to go, then stopped at the back door, the key still in her hand. It was all she could do to walk away from him, but she forced herself to do it. “I meant to tell you. I know you’ll be crowded here, and there’s no good place to stay within thirty miles. So, if you decide you need an extra bedroom, someone’s welcome to use the guest bedroom at my place. You can let them know.”

She opened the door and had one foot on the steps.

“Thanks, Claire. I’ll bring my stuff over later.”

She swung around to face him, unable to wipe the surprise off her face. “You’ll what?”

“I’ll shower first, then bring my stuff over,” he said nonchalantly, “after the girls get in.”

“I didn’t mean you,” she stammered. “I meant Courtney or Lynda or—”

“You’ll want me,” he said decidedly.

Her eyes widened.

“That is, I’m the one that’s the best houseguest. The girls and their families are loud and noisy and on a schedule that runs counterclockwise to the rest of the world.”

“I can adjust.” She’d have to adjust, because there was no way she could live in the same house with Hunter. Not even for a few days.

“But Courtney’s baby is colicky. Beth’s little boy has asthma and—”

“I know that.”

“But he’d probably be allergic to your cat.”

“What! How do you know I have a cat?” Claire bristled, incensed that he knew even one intimate detail about her. Huh. He probably regarded her as an old maid who had nothing to do except sit around carrying on conversations with her cat.

“Mom mentioned it. Said you found the kitten in her garage.”

“Well, she couldn’t take care of it,” she said defensively. “That was the winter she went on that whale-watching cruise.”

He chuckled. “Mmm, nice of you to take it in, though. Even so, it would most likely send Brendon into an asthma attack. Cat dander, and all that.”