All Summer Long (Fool's Gold #9)(24)

Before she could figure out what to say to that, he leaned in that last little bit and kissed her.

She’d been kissed a few times in the past decade. Her sad attempts at dating had usually ended with a kiss. Then the guy expected more and she ran. Sometimes literally.

This was different, she told herself. Clay was practically a hired professional. She needed to trust him, to give herself up to him. Or at least endure.

That decided, she braced herself for the inevitable. The clawing sense of panic, the unease low in her belly, the overwhelming need to bolt. She curled her free hand into a fist and told herself to hang on. It would be over soon.

His mouth lightly touched hers. A quick brush, then nothing at all. He did it again. The third time his lips lightly pressed against her own, she found herself able to breathe. The sensation of dread faded a little.

He dropped his hand to her shoulder, then slowly slid it down to the clenched hand. His fingers pried hers apart.

“Relax,” he murmured.

“Are pigs flying?”

“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

He released her other hand, then cupped her cheeks. “I’m sorry for what that bastard did to you.”

She immediately stepped back, moving until she was too far away for any contact at all. “You had nothing to do with it.”

“I’m apologizing in general.”

“Thank you.”

He looked at her for a long time. She wanted to put more distance between them, like a table or a continent, but forced herself to stay where she was.

“I’m not going to give up,” he told her. “Just so you know.”

“I can’t decide if that’s good or bad.”

He chuckled. “Like I said. Honest. That’s a good thing.” He stepped toward her. “I’m going to kiss you again. On the mouth. You’re going to let me.”

She waited for the rush of discomfort, the unwelcome tightness. But as she watched Clay approach there was only mild concern. Maybe because she knew he would be gentle. Careful. Maybe because her desire to have a child was getting bigger than her fear. Whatever the reason, she hung on to the lack of terror and went with it.

When he was right in front of her, he paused. “Want to touch me?”

“Maybe next time.”

He laughed, then leaned in and pressed his lips to her cheek.

She’d been expecting a kiss on the mouth, so the cheek contact was a surprise. A chance to relax. She took a breath.

He kissed her other cheek.

“How very European,” she murmured.

“Chère,” he said, in a bad French accent.

He kissed her nose, then her chin. Finally he touched his lips to hers.

Without thinking, she let her eyes close as she absorbed the feel of what he was doing. There was heat and firmness. He didn’t move, didn’t demand. It was a chaste kiss, but also kind of, nearly, almost... Nice.

She wasn’t sure how long they stood there, lips barely touching. Seconds ticked by. Instead of getting more tense, she felt herself relaxing. An unexpected urge to raise her arms, to rest her hands on his shoulders had her starting to move. Only Clay stepped back and then he wasn’t kissing her anymore.

“Lesson one,” he told her.

“How many are there?”

“As many as it takes. This is going to be a full service seduction.”

“Oh, my.”

He gave her one last smile, then turned and walked out of her kitchen. She heard the front door open, then close and she was alone with the idea that maybe, just maybe this wasn’t going to be too awful after all. Maybe she could find her way to normal.

Smiling, she, too, went out front, prepared to collect her gardening tools then head inside and shower. She’d just put the last of them in the garage and was walking toward the front door when a long, black limo pulled up in front of her house.

Limos weren’t common in Fool’s Gold. It was more of an SUV kind of town. So she immediately assumed the driver must be lost. That safe, happy feeling lasted until a powerfully built guy in a suit got out of the passenger side and walked around to open the rear door.

Even before the tiny foot in a ridiculously high heel touched the street, Charlie knew. Her gut twisted and the pressure in her ears increased. The world went silent. It was that last incredibly still moment before the tornado hit—when animals knew a storm was coming, but humans could only blink at each other in confusion.

A second foot joined the first, then Dominique Guérin stepped back into her daughter’s life.

CHAPTER SIX

“CHANTAL!”

Charlie flinched at the sound of both her mother’s voice and her real name.

“Mom.”

Dominique walked toward her, arms outstretched. She moved with a dancer’s grace, her body fluid and elegant, her head high. She wore a tailored suit and her gold-blond hair was in a stylish pixie cut that flattered her delicate features and large green eyes.

Dominique was pushing sixty but looked to be in her early forties. She was petite, maybe five-one or -two, but powerful. Charlie might have inherited her height and looks from her father, but she’d gotten her strength from her mother. As a child she’d watched Dominique practice for hours, working until she was drenched in sweat and her male partner nearly unconscious with exhaustion, and that had been after she’d retired.