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Dermot laughed, pulling her close. “It always helps to overreact, Rachel. Just throw all your insecurities out there and see what sticks.”
“I’m not overreacting,” she protested. “Don’t you see what’s happening? I’m going to have to make a choice. The farm or my art. One or the other. I can’t continue to do both. And this is a really good opportunity.”
“You’ll figure out a way.”
“How?”
“I’ll stay a little longer than I originally planned.”
“No,” Rachel said. “No, that is not a solution. You have your own life to get back to and I’m not going—”
“But I kind of like living here in the middle of your life,” he said. “Mostly, I like sleeping in the middle of your bed.”
Rachel had already decided that she wasn’t going to take advantage of him any longer. He was far too kind to her, and though it made life easier, she had to figure out these things on her own.
“I’m going to turn it down,” she said.
“You don’t even know what it’s about,” Dermot reminded. “Why don’t you find out before you make a decision that you might regret?”
She met his gaze. He was right, of course. Dermot was always right. He took a measured approach to any decision, weighing all his options, examining the pros and cons. Rachel suspected if he were the one running the farm, they’d be milking two hundred goats, turning out cases of soap and making their own cheese. “All right. I won’t make any quick decisions. But all of this is making me a little nervous.”
“We’ll go into town later and post another ad at the grocery store. And then, we’ll put an ad in the local papers. And we’ll find someone to help you out on the farm.”
Rachel leaned over a dropped a kiss on his lips. “You’re really too good to me, you know that, don’t you?”
“I have ulterior motives,” he said, a wicked smile curling the corners of his mouth. “Which I am about to reveal.”
“You smell like a goat,” she said. “I smell like a goat.”
“We could always take a shower,” he suggested. “Together.”
Right now, she didn’t want to think about all the things she had to do, all the decisions she had to make. She just wanted to lose herself in an intriguing exploration of Dermot’s incredible body. Rachel tugged off her boots and set them on the steps. “I’ll race you.”
She ran inside, pulling her T-shirt over her head as she hurried through the kitchen. Dermot followed, hot on her heels, nearly catching her on the stairs. She screamed as she eluded his grasp, then slipped into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.
“There’s only enough hot water for me,” she called. “You’ll have to wait.”
“Come on, Rachel. We can share a shower, can’t we?”
“You know what happened the last time we did that. We got distracted and ran out of hot water before I even got my hair washed.”
“I promise. I’ll keep my hands to myself this time around.”
“Promise?”
“I’m taking my clothes off right now,” he said. “I’m almost naked. Oh, yes, now I’m naked.”
She opened the bathroom door a crack and peeked out. He was standing in the hallway, his clothes at his feet. “Can I come in?”
Her fingers twitched with the urge to touch him. He was already aroused. With Dermot, it was easy, she mused. He made it obvious that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. When it came to sex, she didn’t have to think. She just felt.
She opened the door wider to let him pass. As he did, Rachel let her hand drift across his belly. He moaned and turned into her touch.
“I’m counting on you to behave,” she said in her most seductive tone.
“Then stop messing with me,” he replied. Dermot reached behind the shower curtain and turned on the water.
Rachel quickly skimmed her jeans to the floor, then kicked them aside along with her socks. “I’m just making sure you’re only interested in a shower.”
Dermot grabbed her and kissed her, stopping her come-on with his lips and his tongue. When he finally drew away, Rachel stepped behind the curtain and into the claw-foot tub. He joined her a moment later, wrapping his arms around her waist. His mouth found hers again and he kissed her, hungry with desire. Rachel arched against him as his lips trailed over her shoulder and onto her breasts.
She slowly stroked him as he explored her body with his lips and tongue. The water made him slick, and before long, he was fully aroused and moaning with desire. Rachel knew exactly what would drive him wild, and when she closed her lips over the head of his shaft, he gasped, his hands braced on her shoulders, his eyes closed.
If this was the last man she’d know intimately, Rachel could live with that. The memories of what they shared were so deeply etched into her mind that she knew she’d be able to recall every caress, every reaction, by just closing her eyes.
She tempted him with her lips and her tongue, surprised by how easily she could bring him to the edge. And then, she took him too close. Dermot grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet, his eyes closed, his jaw tense. Rachel watched as he struggled to maintain control.
He gently drew her against his body, her back to him, his fingers slipping between her legs. Every nerve in her body tingled, his touch causing her pulse to race. He could read her reactions, and when she had reached the point of no return, Dermot slipped inside her.
The feel of him buried deep was almost more than she could take. The fears and insecurities that had kept her from loving him were gone. Why couldn’t she feel like this all the time, as if there were no way anything could come between them?
The sensations coursing through her body obliterated rational thought, and a moment later, she was caught in the vortex of her release. Rachel’s body went boneless and it was all she could do to stay upright. A moment later, he found his own release, his hands clutching her hips as he drove into her one last time.
They clung to each other beneath the shower, her backside nestled in his lap, both of them trembling in the aftermath of their orgasms. It would never be like this with another man, she mused. The passion they shared was singular and powerful, and becoming more frightening to her with every encounter they shared. How would she ever do without this?
Though she wanted to imagine a happy ending for the two of them, the odds didn’t seem to favor them. Was she willing to give up everything she’d known, everything she promised, to find a life with him? And was he ready to make that kind of commitment?
There were too many questions left unanswered and she was running out of time to ask them all.
THE STORM BEGAN IN the middle of the night. Lightning flashed and the thunder was so loud it rattled the windows. Dermot sat up in bed, reaching out for Rachel. But her side of the bed was empty.
He tossed the sheet aside and stood, searching the room for something to wear. In the end, he pulled on a pair of jeans and walked downstairs barefoot. He found her, curled up in front of the television, tuned to the weather channel. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“Tornado warning,” she said.
“Tornado? Really? How close?”
She pointed to the television. “About twenty miles.” Rachel drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around her legs. “I hate bad weather,” she said. “In town, they have the sirens to warn you. But out here, you just have to listen to the storm. It was so hot and humid today. I knew this was coming.”
He sat down next to her, his gaze fixed on the television. “Are there a lot of tornadoes around here?”
Rachel nodded. “Sure. We get some each summer. They don’t always do a lot of damage.” She shuddered. “I was terrified of tornadoes when I was younger. My dad would listen to the radio and wake us up in the middle of the night and we’d go down into the cellar and wait for the storm to pass. My mother would sing songs and try to distract me, but it didn’t help.”
“We don’t really have tornadoes in Seattle,” he said.
“Spring is usually the worst,” she said. “But a few years ago, we had a tornado in October. It tore the roof off a barn not far from here.” She snuggled up against him. “I think I watched The Wizard of Oz too many times when I was a kid. Between the tornado and the flying monkeys, I couldn’t sleep for days.”
Dermot wrapped his arms around her. “You don’t have to be scared,” he said. “I’ll protect you.”
“You can’t protect me from tornadoes.” She sighed softly. “What about you? Aren’t you afraid of anything?”
“Nothing. I’m made of steel,” he teased. “They call me Superman back in Seattle.”
Rachel wove her fingers through his. “Tell me.”
Dermot hesitated for a long moment. They’d been so intimate, and yet neither one of them had confessed their deepest fears. They’d both carefully avoided revealing too much. Maybe it was time. “I’m… I’m afraid that if I love something too much, I’ll lose it.”
“So you never fall in love?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I try very hard not to.”
“Interesting,” she said.
“That’s your reply? ‘Interesting’?”
She snuggled closer. “It doesn’t surprise me, considering what happened with your parents. Especially at such a young age. I’m surprised you’re as normal as you are.”
“What about you?”
“I think loss is something farm kids deal with at an \ age. We see the circle of life all the time. Animals that we love die. We cry and then move on. That doesn’t mean it becomes any easier, but it’s… understood?”
“What scares you, Rachel? Besides tornadoes?” He waited for her answer, wondering what she’d say. Dermot had never met a woman as strong as Rachel Howe, as stubborn or determined.
“I’m afraid that I’ll be alone. I’ll be like Eddie, regretting all the mistakes I made in life, wondering how things might have been different.” She drew a ragged breath. “I’m happy, don’t get me wrong. But I’m afraid that, someday, I’ll wake up and it will be too late.”
“That will never happen,” Dermot said. He wanted to say more, to tell her how much she meant to him, to make her understand that if he could ever love anyone it would be her.
Dermot could imagine a future with her, a life that included more happiness than he’d ever had in the past. He had never had a serious relationship. There’d been dating relationships, and sexual relationships, but none of them ventured into the realm of “emotional.”
Yet, when he was with Rachel, he didn’t want to be anywhere else. If he were honest, he was almost afraid to leave her, afraid that what they had found together might suddenly evaporate. At this point in every other relationship, he was usually looking for a way out. But with Rachel, he was still trying to figure a way in.
Neither one of them had any expectations, beyond hard work and constant companionship. And when there was a promise of more, he accepted their relationship for what it was—for as long as it lasted.
Was that why he was so confused? Without a point of reference, he had no way of judging what they shared together. Was this love? Friendship? Or just sexual desire being satisfied? Suddenly, it was important to put a name to it.
A clap of thunder shook the house and Rachel jumped, groaning softly. Dermot took her hand in his. “Come on.”
“No, I’m not going to bed until this is over.”
“This will help. I promise.”
Reluctantly, she followed him into the kitchen. He opened the door and rain-damp wind buffeted them both. The sky was a riot of light, each flash illuminating the huge clouds. The air was full of electricity.
“I’m not going out there,” she said.
“We’re just going to stand on the porch. If it gets really bad, we’ll come back in. I promise. Trust me, Rachel.”
He held out his hand and she reluctantly stepped outside. Dermot wrapped his arms around her waist. “Now, we just have to wait for the next big flash of lightning and—” The sky split open and he yanked her into a long, deep kiss. He continued through the thunder crack, distracting her with his lips and his tongue.
When it was over, Dermot stepped back. “Wait for it.”
“What are you doing?”
“You’ll see. You’ll never—” The lightning flashed and he kissed her again, the thunder calling an end to the kiss. “From now on, whenever you’re in the middle of a storm, you’ll think of kissing me. You won’t be able to help yourself.”
“You’re crazy,” she said.
Another bolt of lightning flashed in the sky and she barely noticed. “See,” Dermot said, “it’s working.”
She turned and walked along the porch railing, staring out into the storm as if the answers were all there. “It is beautiful,” she finally said, the wind whipping at her hair. “Powerful. Exciting.” She paused. “And dangerous. Kind of like you.”
“I’m not dangerous, Rachel.”
“You are,” she insisted. “You have no idea. You make me need you. The more time I spend with you, the more I can’t do without you.”
“That’s usually the way it is,” Dermot said. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Because I feel completely safe with you, too. I don’t understand how that can be. I don’t know why I feel this way. I’ll never be able to forget you.”
“Then don’t. Don’t forget a single moment.”
The wind shifted suddenly and Rachel glanced over at him. “It’s coming now. You can smell it.”
In a matter of seconds the storm had whipped itself into a fury. The rain was driven sideways and the maples around the house rocked and bent to the breaking point. A limb snapped and fell near the end of the porch and debris blew across the yard. In the distance, he heard the goats bleating from the barn.
“We better get back inside,” he said.
Rachel shook her head. “No. I want to face this fear. You were right.”
“I might have been wrong.” Dermot grabbed her hand and dragged her to the door, pushing her back into the kitchen. He peered out the window, stunned to see that the wind was blowing even harder. “Maybe we should go in the cellar.”
He opened the door and flipped on the light and followed Rachel to the bottom of the steps. They sat down on the last one. A few seconds later, the stairwell went dark.
“There’s a flashlight at the top of the stairs,” she said. “I’ll get it.”
“No, stay here,” he said, holding tight to her hand.
“Are you afraid?”
“Yeah, I’m kind of creeped out. I saw that movie Twister. I’m just waiting for the house to disintegrate around us. Are the goats going to be all right?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice coming out of the dark. “They’ll go in the barn. The stone foundation is strong. They’ll huddle up in a corner.”
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, the two of them listening to the storm raging outside. And when it was over, they climbed the stairs and walked outside to survey the damage from the porch.
Small branches and clumps of maple leaves were scattered over the yard but all the buildings were still standing, their roofs intact. The cushions from the wicker chairs on the porch had disappeared and one of the hanging pots had fallen into the garden, but that was the limit of the damage.
He turned her to face him and kissed her softly. “That was kind of scary,” he admitted.
“I told you. Flying monkeys all over again.” She drew a deep breath of the cool air. “Smell the ozone? It’s from the lightning.”
Dermot slipped his arm around her shoulders and they walked back inside. A breeze now drifted through the screen door, taking the humidity out of the air. The storm was a reflection of their relationship, he mused. All the wild, crazy emotions one minute and the beautiful calm the next.
And yet, there was a danger there. He couldn’t predict the weather and he didn’t know exactly what was lurking just beyond the horizon—fair weather or the storm of the century?
7
THE TWO TEENAGE BOYS stood in the yard, staring at their mother’s car as it pulled out onto the road and drove off. Rachel held her breath, trying to think of something to say that might erase the fearful expressions from their faces.
She hadn’t seen her nephews in six or seven years and she barely recognized them. Trevor, the eldest, was nearly sixteen, and as tall as Dermot, well over six feet. Taylor was a year younger and appeared to be the more sensitive of the pair, tears swimming in his eyes as he tried to be brave.
Rachel glanced over at Dermot. He’d been a teenage boy at one time. Maybe he knew what to say. The last thing she wanted to do was cause them more emotional upset. She drew a deep breath and pasted a smile on her face. “Why don’t I show you your room. You can get settled and then I’ll make you something to eat. Are you hungry?”
Trevor shook his head. “No. We ate lunch on the road.”
“I—I’m kinda hungry,” Taylor said.
“No,” Trevor whispered. “We’re not hungry. It’s all right. We can wait until dinner.”
“Come on, then,” she said.
Trevor picked up the single suitcase they’d brought along and then hitched his backpack onto his other shoulder. Taylor had a backpack of his own.
“I’m going to check the goats,” Dermot said. “We could really use your help in the barn, guys. If you’re up for it, why don’t you change and come out after you’ve had something to eat.”
“Okay,” Trevor said. He put his arm around Taylor’s shoulders as they climbed the porch steps.
Rachel held the screen door open for them. When they reached the top of the stairs, she pointed to the room across the hall from her bedroom. “I hope you don’t mind sharing. It’s the only room with two beds.”
Trevor stood in the doorway, taking in the surroundings. “It’s good,” he said.
“Good,” Taylor repeated. “Do you have Wi-Fi?”
“Wi-Fi? No,” Rachel said. “There’s a cable hookup in the kitchen. That’s usually where I work. You’re welcome to use my computer to write to your friends or go online.”
“We brought our own laptops,” Taylor said. “I can hook up Wi-Fi if you want. I brought along my router and modem if you have broadband.”
“All right,” Rachel said with a smile. “That would be really nice. You sound like you know what you’re doing with computers.”
Taylor returned her smile. “I’m pretty good at computers. I built my own CPU. I couldn’t bring it along, though.”
“So are you going to do your school work on your computer?” Rachel asked.
“We stopped at the school and mom enrolled us,” Trevor said. “Didn’t she tell you?”
Rachel shook her head. Jane had been so distraught that she’d barely said a word. She was doing all she could to keep from breaking down and Rachel could do nothing but reassure her that she’d take good care of the boys. “That’s good. It’s Friday. We could go to the football game tonight. Maybe you’d have a chance to meet some of the kids?” Trevor gave Taylor an uneasy look and Rachel quickly shook her head. “Maybe it’s best to just get to know the farm first. Why don’t you unpack and then come down when you’re ready?”
She walked out of the bedroom and hurried down the stairs. Dermot was pacing the porch as she stepped outside. “I have no idea what I’m doing. They seem so fragile and terrified. I don’t know what to say.”
“Just leave them alone for now,” he said. “Let them lean on each other. Their whole world has been turned upside down. They don’t know who to trust.”
Rachel grabbed his hand and held it to her heart. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Dermot pulled her toward him and kissed her forehead. “Why don’t you make them something to eat. Even though they say they’re not hungry, boys that age will always eat if you put something in front of them. I’m going to go work on replacing that window in the milk house that got broken in the storm.” He kissed her again, this time on the mouth, his tongue teasing at hers. “What are we going to do about this?” he murmured.
“I’ll meet you right here, after they’ve gone to bed. I’ll bring the wine. You bring yourself.”
“It’s a date.”
He walked down the steps and Rachel smiled to herself. There had been so much going on at the farm lately that she’d forgotten he’d be leaving in another week. If she had the power to stop time, she’d turn off all the clocks at this very moment.
She was happy and hopeful and only a bit worried about the decisions she’d have to make about her future. And she was falling in love with Dermot Quinn. Rachel giggled, then spun around and went in to gather things to make sandwiches. It was apparent that Dermot was just as smitten as she was. And she had to believe that once he left, he’d realize the depth of his feeling for her.
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” she reminded herself.
Rachel was counting on that. Their relationship was like dream, a fantasy come true. And though they both lived in the real world, the passion they shared was something very special. Would a life with Dermot ever be “normal”? Would their desire for each other fade over time?
A shiver prickled her skin. Just the thought of him touching her caused an instant reaction. Rachel arranged sliced ham on whole-wheat bread. She’d have to ask if the boys liked mayo or mustard. “Potato chips.” She grabbed a bag that Dermot had brought home from the grocery store, then set the cookie jar on the table and peeked inside to see that it was well stocked with the chocolate chip cookies she’d made a few days before.
Rachel walked to the stairs, but stopped herself from calling to Trevor and Taylor. She’d follow Dermot’s advice when it came to the boys. He’d been exactly where they were years ago. He knew what they were going through.
She grabbed her sketchbook and sat down at the kitchen table, then turned to the illustration she’d been working on. Beavers. Rachel smiled. With their funny teeth and flat tails, they made for a humorous image, one that would find its way onto a greeting card sometime next year.
“What are you drawing?”
Rachel glanced up to find Trevor standing in the doorway of the kitchen. She held out the sketchbook. “Beavers,” she said. “I mostly draw animals. I’ve been working on squirrels, too.”
“Wow,” he murmured. “These are good.”
“Do you like to draw?”
He nodded. “I mostly draw robots and alien creatures.”
“I’d like to see your drawings,” she said.
He shrugged. “I left them at home.”
Rachel pushed back from the table and crossed to the desk at the far end of the kitchen. She grabbed a fresh sketchbook and her box of colored pencils, then returned to the table. “Here,” she said. “Take these.”
“Really?”
Rachel nodded. “Yes. You should pursue your drawing while you’re here. When I was younger, I used to draw all the time. You never know where it will lead. When I got out of high school, I went to art school in Chicago. And now I draw greeting cards.” She shrugged. “Well, why don’t you have something to eat. It will be a while until dinner. We have to do the milking first. Where is Taylor?”
“He fell asleep. He was really upset in the car. All the crying kinda wore him out.”
“It’s good that he has you,” Rachel said.
Trevor nodded, then sat down at the table and grabbed a sandwich. He gobbled it down in huge bites and Rachel quickly poured him a glass of milk. He ate a second sandwich, then polished off a handful of potato chips and four cookies, before he was sated.
“Feeling better?” she asked.
He nodded. “I’m gonna go out and see the goats.”
Rachel wanted to tell him to change his clothes, but then decided against it. “There are some rubber boots in the milk house. Take off your shoes and find a pair that fits before you walk through the barn. You don’t want to step in goat poop your first day on the farm.”
Trevor headed out the door and Rachel cleaned up the mess from his lunch. Then she put a plate together, poured another glass of milk and took it upstairs to Taylor. As Trevor had said, he was sprawled across the bed, sound asleep. She set the meal on the bedside table, then pulled the shades against the afternoon sun.