drifted to the loft, where it teased at Carolyn's subconscious. Her lashes fluttered open, and she lay there a moment, unmoving. The sound of humming and the soft thud of the refrigerator door indicated that Clay was there.
Her stomach quivered at the thought. She wasn't ready to face him. If I'd taken a course on sophistication in college, I would have flunked, she decided with grim humor. That was certainly more than a kiss between friends last night. Even I know that. So she could get up and try to make the best of it, or cower in her bed for the remainder of her vacation.
She was surprised to discover how long it took to convince herself that cowering was not a viable option. Refusing to admit that she was a coward, she marched determinedly into the bathroom, took a cold shower as punishment for some offense that was vague, even to her, and after donning her red jogging suit and matching shoes, she forced herself down the stairs.
She tried to think of something original to say, something that would set a light tone. "Good morning," she managed. Everyone knew she was without creativity.
Clay glanced around, then continued to watch the bacon frying in the pan. "You think so? You obviously haven't looked outside this morning." He deftly lifted the bacon from the pan and cracked two eggs to fry in its place.
Carolyn glanced toward the glass wall and watched the rain as it dashed against the glass, hissing and spitting like a convention of angry cats.
"It doesn't matter. There's always something to do here, I've found." Then she blushed at the interpretation he might put on her innocent comment.
Clay placed two full plates on the counter and joined her without answering. It was just as well. She was surprised to discover an appetite and made no more effort to carry on a conversation.
Neither did he.
When she finished, she had no desire to linger at the bar, sipping coffee. Instead, she rinsed her dishes at the sink, placed them in the dishwasher and quietly excused herself. She wasn't even sure he heard her.
So that was the way he wanted it. He was obviously embarrassed about last night, and so was going to pretend it hadn't happened, which was fine with her. She admitted to a feeling of disappointment intermingled with relief. Admittedly, she was positive she wanted Clay Kenniwick to introduce her to and instruct her in the mysteries of lovemaking, but she wasn't sorry when it didn't happen. Maybe she wasn't meant to know that part of life. Maybe she was meant to be a single businesswoman, too involved with her profession to become involved with anyone. Especially Clay Kenniwick. What had she been thinking of? The man probably didn't have a regular job. What would have happened if, after spending a few days with her, he had decided to follow her to Portland, expecting her to support him?
No, thanks. She'd had a narrow escape, and she was grateful that he had called a halt the night before. She wasn't at all sure she could have. At least I know I'm not frigid! Her hours of restless tossing had convinced her that her body was definitely aware that there was something she was missing. And I'll keep on missing it, thank you very much.
It was late afternoon before Carolyn returned to the room. She'd forced herself to stay busy all day with swimming, tennis, and racquet ball, throwing herself into each sport with an athlete's zeal, until all she wanted to do was collapse on her bed for a nice, long nap.
She let herself into the room, mentally reviewing her wardrobe for something to wear for dinner with Brad. She started toward the stairs, then came to an abrupt halt.
Clay stood in front of the glass door with his arms around a tall, slender blonde. He was smiling as he touched his lips to hers. Carolyn must have made some sound to penetrate their preoccupation with each other because Clay turned his head and saw her. When her presence registered, his face flooded with color. "Oh, hi, Carolyn. I didn't hear you come
Her stomach quivered at the thought. She wasn't ready to face him. If I'd taken a course on sophistication in college, I would have flunked, she decided with grim humor. That was certainly more than a kiss between friends last night. Even I know that. So she could get up and try to make the best of it, or cower in her bed for the remainder of her vacation.
She was surprised to discover how long it took to convince herself that cowering was not a viable option. Refusing to admit that she was a coward, she marched determinedly into the bathroom, took a cold shower as punishment for some offense that was vague, even to her, and after donning her red jogging suit and matching shoes, she forced herself down the stairs.
She tried to think of something original to say, something that would set a light tone. "Good morning," she managed. Everyone knew she was without creativity.
Clay glanced around, then continued to watch the bacon frying in the pan. "You think so? You obviously haven't looked outside this morning." He deftly lifted the bacon from the pan and cracked two eggs to fry in its place.
Carolyn glanced toward the glass wall and watched the rain as it dashed against the glass, hissing and spitting like a convention of angry cats.
"It doesn't matter. There's always something to do here, I've found." Then she blushed at the interpretation he might put on her innocent comment.
Clay placed two full plates on the counter and joined her without answering. It was just as well. She was surprised to discover an appetite and made no more effort to carry on a conversation.
Neither did he.
When she finished, she had no desire to linger at the bar, sipping coffee. Instead, she rinsed her dishes at the sink, placed them in the dishwasher and quietly excused herself. She wasn't even sure he heard her.
So that was the way he wanted it. He was obviously embarrassed about last night, and so was going to pretend it hadn't happened, which was fine with her. She admitted to a feeling of disappointment intermingled with relief. Admittedly, she was positive she wanted Clay Kenniwick to introduce her to and instruct her in the mysteries of lovemaking, but she wasn't sorry when it didn't happen. Maybe she wasn't meant to know that part of life. Maybe she was meant to be a single businesswoman, too involved with her profession to become involved with anyone. Especially Clay Kenniwick. What had she been thinking of? The man probably didn't have a regular job. What would have happened if, after spending a few days with her, he had decided to follow her to Portland, expecting her to support him?
No, thanks. She'd had a narrow escape, and she was grateful that he had called a halt the night before. She wasn't at all sure she could have. At least I know I'm not frigid! Her hours of restless tossing had convinced her that her body was definitely aware that there was something she was missing. And I'll keep on missing it, thank you very much.
It was late afternoon before Carolyn returned to the room. She'd forced herself to stay busy all day with swimming, tennis, and racquet ball, throwing herself into each sport with an athlete's zeal, until all she wanted to do was collapse on her bed for a nice, long nap.
She let herself into the room, mentally reviewing her wardrobe for something to wear for dinner with Brad. She started toward the stairs, then came to an abrupt halt.
Clay stood in front of the glass door with his arms around a tall, slender blonde. He was smiling as he touched his lips to hers. Carolyn must have made some sound to penetrate their preoccupation with each other because Clay turned his head and saw her. When her presence registered, his face flooded with color. "Oh, hi, Carolyn. I didn't hear you come
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