Chapter 18

Clarissa sighed, rubbed her tired eyes with the pads of her fingers and shut down the computer. In the past three days, she’d had less than a total of eight hours sleep. Monday afternoon she’d had to admit a teenager who’d overdosed on cocaine, and she wound up spending the night in the I.C.U. monitoring his rapidly deteriorating vital signs. By morning, his condition had improved, he’d woken and then had been admitted to the county psychiatric ward for treatment. Tuesday brought with it a full schedule, which included one patient in kidney failure, another in cardiac distress. She’d crawled home at ten to be awoken by her beeper at two A.M. with a baby wanting to be born.

The delivery was an easy one. A quick stop at home to shower and she was at her desk at eight to start her day.

Clarissa sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. Pat’s face appeared before her immediately. Even though she was alone, she could feel her cheeks heat at the thought of how he tasted, how he looked when he was inside of her, the determined, focused passion in his eyes.

Passion for her.

The thought thrilled and terrified her equally. For a man like Pat, who clearly hadn’t been a monk, to show such an intense desire for her, she mused, was astounding. Clarissa may have been the smartest person in any room she was in, but she was still filled with the undeniable social self-doubt that had plagued her all through her scholastic career. She knew he had feelings for her, whether simple desire because she was a woman, or something more.

And she was coming to realize she really wanted it to be something more.

The moment she came through her front door, her cell phone pinged.

I’m all done. You? Pat’s text read.

She typed back she was free.

B there in 10.

She tore up the stairs and shook out of her work clothes, replacing them with jeans and a light sweater. She pushed her hair off her face with a headband and put her contacts in.

When the doorbell chimed ten minutes later, she couldn’t stop the smile from growing on her lips.

“Punctual to a fault,” she murmured and opened the door.

As she had before, the moment she saw him standing there, all gorgeous six foot two of him, Clarissa’s mind went blank.

“My parents taught me to be on time or call if I couldn’t.” He smiled and walked by her into the foyer. With a quick kiss that sent her pulse into orbit, he asked, “You ready for your first lesson?”

She nodded. “I’m a little nervous.”

He pulled her into his arms and nestled her head on his chest. “Don’t be. You’ll be fine. I’ve already got a mare picked out for you who’s perfect for a beginner. Besides—” He pushed her back and grinned. “—you have the best teacher in Carvan.”

“Oh?” She widened her eyes and tried her best to look guileless. “Quentin’s taking me?”

She grew giddy watching him struggle not to laugh. He pinched her butt, eliciting a loud yelp, and told her, “For that crack I might realize I have work to do and cancel.”

“Aunt Carly’s barn is larger than my parents’,” he told her after helping her up into his truck. “When we were kids, we’d keep our horses in our own, but since the only one left at home is Steps and he doesn’t ride much, Aunt Carly offered to board Moira’s and mine.”

“Why does your family call him Steps? I keep meaning to ask Moira.”

Pat chuckled and reached across the cab to grab her hand. The gesture, so easy and unexpected, warmed her insides.

“Denny started it right about the time Steps started walking. Mom always wanted us to call him Al. Q is the only one who does.”

“Where did the name come from?”

“He started walking early, probably because he wanted to keep up with Denny and Ted, Q’s brother. Denny used to run up the stairs in our house to get away from Alastair. One day Moira and I came home from school, and we found him trying to climb the stairs to follow Denny. We grabbed him and told him he couldn’t go up the steps without help, and he started yelling ‘Steps, Steps.’ Denny heard him and cracked up. From then on he called him Steps. The name stuck.”

“What a sweet story.”

“I don’t think my brother thinks it’s so sweet. And FYI,” he added, slanting a glance at her across the cab, “the kid’s got a huge crush on you.”

“I know.”

“Denny does, too. In fact, I think my father may as well.”

Clarissa laughed out loud. “Yup, that’s me. A multigenerational heartbreaker.”

He rubbed his fingers across her knuckles and squeezed her hand. When she looked over at him there was a strange, pensive look in his eyes.

“Why do you look so serious all of a sudden?” she asked, turning in the seat so she could face him.

“I just realized something.”

When he didn’t elaborate, she said, “Care to share?”

He tossed her a cryptic look, then quickly turned back to watch the road. “You’re closer in age to Denny than to me.”

Clarissa ran her tongue across her teeth. “So?”

He started to say something, then stopped. With a shrug—which didn’t appear as careless as he probably intended—he finally said, “He’s gonna be twenty-two at Christmas, and you’re twenty-three.” He shrugged again. “Not much of an age difference between you two.”

“And you’re what? An old man of twenty-eight?”

“Five years older than you, Clarissa. And a world of difference, if you think about it. You two share more age-related life experiences right now than you and I do.”

She had to bite her bottom lip to keep from smiling. When she didn’t say anything, his gaze ping-ponged from her, to the road and then back again. “Why are you suddenly so quiet?”

“I’m trying to figure out how to break up with you gently so I can date your much younger, more age appropriate brother.”

When his brow grooved into a thick, harsh line and his mouth actually pouted, she couldn’t keep the laughter locked in place a moment more.

She squeezed his hand and then brought it up to her lips for a quick kiss. “For your info, old man, I’m almost twenty-four. When I am, I’ll be three years older than your brother and four years younger than you. It’s almost a statistical heat.”

“It’s not the actual age I’m thinking about,” Pat told her. “It’s more the maturity level.”

“And what? Denny is more mature than you, even though you’re seven years older?”

“No.”

“What’s your point, then, about our ages?”

He was silent for a moment. “I know what I mean. I can’t put it in words.”

Clarissa smiled. “I can’t believe I’m dating someone so dumb.”

In place of the sarcastic retort she’d thought to hear from him, she was surprised when he took a deep breath and smiled.

“At least you finally admitted it.”

“What?”

“We’re dating.”

Now it was her turn to frown. “What else would you call what we’ve been doing, other than dating?”

This time he didn’t try to mask the tension in his shrug. “I know what I’ve been calling it. You’re the one who hasn’t wanted anyone to know.”

The hurt in his voice was palpable even though he’d kept his tone light. Why had she been so insistent they keep their budding relationship a secret? She knew now he wasn’t the player she’d been led to believe. Why, then, was she still thinking they needed to keep their association private?

She really couldn’t come up with a good enough reason if based solely on his reputation.

But it wasn’t, not really. And she knew he deserved an explanation, so Clarissa decided to do something she wasn’t very good at: divulge.

“I want to tell you something, but I don’t want you to say anything until I’m done. Can you?”

He nodded.

“For lack of a better word for it, you’re the first boyfriend I’ve ever had. The first guy I’ve ever spent time with other than as a lab partner, a resident, or a co-worker. I’d gone out on exactly two dates in my life before I came to Carvan. Both with different guys and neither ever called me after the first time.”

“Morons,” he muttered.

She squeezed his hand again. “I guess I’m not used to acting and behaving like a girl who’s dating.”

“I understand being young and surrounded by guys older than you were can be confusing. But you’re exceptionally smart. You had to know when a guy was genuinely interested in you, Clarissa.”

“Being smart doesn’t make you a good judge of character,” she said.

Pat drove silently for a few moments. Clarissa took some solace from his continued hold on her hand.

“You weren’t a virgin the first time we had sex,” he said after a while.

The heat flew up her neck and cheeks, and she cursed her skin for the umpteenth time. “N-no. I wasn’t. But to be honest, before I slept with you, I’d had sex exactly two times. Two. And neither of those times with the guys I went out with.”

She stopped, mortified, and dropped her gaze to their joined hands.

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

When she did she saw nothing but kindness in his eyes.

“I’m not judging you.”

She nodded and had to concentrate on not crying.

“Want to tell me about them?” he asked.

“Not really,” she murmured. “It’s embarrassing.”

He brought her hand up to his mouth and ran it across his lips, kissing the knuckles. “Remember the conversation about you being able to tell me anything?”

“I do. But I’m not comfortable talking about this. And before you get upset, I’m not comfortable talking to anyone about it, not only you. Okay?”

“Okay. We’re here, anyway. Enough talking and time for your lesson.”

He parked the truck in the driveway. Before he got out, he pulled both her hands into his. “Listen. I respect you don’t want to be gossiped about in the community. Believe me, if I could have stopped half the garbage said about me over the years I would have.”

“It’s different for a guy.”

“Not so much. But regardless, if you want to keep our relationship on the down low, fine. But you need to know something.”

“What?”

His lips twisted, but he didn’t look happy when he cocked his head to her right and said, “That’s my mom’s car.”

Clarissa turned her head and spied the older model BMW parked alongside the barn.

“I didn’t tell her we would be here today. In fact, I didn’t tell anyone,” he said. “I swear she has some kind of eerie sixth sense when it comes to her kids. Are you okay with this? With her knowing we’re going riding? With her knowing we’re seeing each other?”

“Why won’t she merely assume you’re giving me a riding lesson and leave it there?”

“My mother never leaves anything just there,” he told her. “Believe me. She won’t grill you about it, but she’ll know we’re together. Are you okay with it? We can leave right now if it makes you uncomfortable.”

She was surprised when it didn’t. “Nothing about your family makes me uncomfortable, Pat.”

She saw something move across his gaze, grow, then darken in his eyes. He yanked her to him and wrapped his arms around her, his lips taking hers prisoner.

The kiss was equal parts of desire, desperation, kindness and acceptance, and they all flowed from him into her. She tasted the passion seething within him as his tongue sought hers, twined and mated.

How long they sat there was a mystery. But Clarissa felt something change, shift and deepen between them while they did.

Pat pulled back and laid his forehead across hers. Her hand cupped his cheek, and he burrowed against it, swiping his lips across her palm before pulling back.

“Come on.” He opened the cab door.

Before they were out of the cab, Serena came down the porch steps, a cell phone in her hand.

She stopped at the bottom and raked her gaze from Clarissa and then to her son, concern on her face.

“Q’s looking for you.” She handed him the phone. “He called your cell, but he said it went straight to message.”

The deep breath he exhaled was filled with annoyance. He stepped away from them and spoke to his partner.

Serena took the opportunity to hug Clarissa. “How’s my favorite doctor?”

It was easier to accept the Cleary hugs now. With a smile she said, “I’m your only doctor.”

Serena laughed. “Even so.” She glanced down at Clarissa’s jeans and boots. “You two going riding?”

“Pat’s going to give me a lesson. I’ve never been before.”

Serena nodded, her eyes wrinkling with an inner smile.

“I’ve got the afternoon off and since Moira’s working at the high school now, Pat volunteered.”

She crossed her fingers mentally against the fib. Moira had never been a part of the equation.

“I’ll bet he did,” Serena said, the smile dropping down to her lips.

Clarissa realized Pat had been correct. His mother knew they were together without a word or question ever asked.

“Serena—” She stopped when Pat came back to them.

His fabulous mouth, which moments before had tortured her with pleasure, was turned downward. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb, the pressure so tight it made the skin around his nose blanch.

He handed the phone to his mother and said, “Change of plans. I’ve gotta get out to Buddy Jamison’s farm right now.”

“Trouble?” Serena laid a hand across his forearm.

“Yeah.” To Clarissa he said, “I don’t have time to bring you back home. Q needs me now.”

Clarissa turned to get back in the cab. “Let’s get going, then.”

Pat kissed his mother’s cheek.

“Call me later,” she told him when he hoisted himself back up.