Love in Bloom by Karen Rose Smith Page B

smiled.  It was his quiet strength she admired most; she could feel it whenever she was around him.
    Looking around the room, she tried to find out more about the man.  He liked restful colors--blue and earth tones.  He appreciated texture--tweed, wood, hand-thrown pottery, rough plaster.  Apparently he didn't like clutter.  A Native American sculpture, stoneware lamps, and copper ship bookends holding David Copperfield, The Prophet, and Wildlife of Northern America were the only items decorating the furniture.
    What she didn't find struck her as much as what she did.  There were no photographs.  Nothing...personal.  Her most precious possessions were the photograph of her parents and a small ceramic clown her best friend in boarding school had given her.  As much as she traveled, wherever she traveled, those two mementos went with her.
    Clay returned to the living room and handed her a mug of coffee.  He took his to the chair instead of sitting on the sofa beside her.  In a way, she was glad.  When he was too close, she had problems thinking straight.
    "Did you decorate the house yourself?"
    "For the most part.  Trish made a few suggestions."
    Clay's voice always softened when he spoke of his sister.  Obviously, she was special to him.  "Do you have a picture of her?"
    Clay didn't even glance around as if one might be located somewhere else.  "No."
    "Your family isn't big on pictures?"
    He took a sip of coffee from his mug and gazed at her over its rim.  "I don't need pictures sitting around.  The ones I need are in my head."
    That was an unusual answer.  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what those pictures were until Clay asked a question she hadn't expected.
    "What's Ben Hockensmith's biggest problem?"
    Apparently Clay had done some serious thinking.  "His frustration and anger that he can't play football.  He doesn't want to change his dreams."
    Clay set his mug on the hearth in front of the fireplace.  "And you really believe if I speak with him, it will help?"
    Her heart sped up.  "Yes."
    The silence in the room was an anticipatory hush.
    Clay's green eyes were as serious as Paige had ever seen them.  "All right," he said, "I'll talk to him.  But I'd like it to be on a casual basis.  I don't want him to feel trapped with me."
    Paige couldn't imagine anyone feeling trapped with Clay.  "We could go to the lake on Sunday for a picnic and a swim."
    "You think Ben will go for that?"
    She took a few sips of coffee as she considered his question.  "He's been cooped up too long.  I can't see him turning down sunshine, fresh air, and..."  She smiled.  "Good company."  She paused for a moment.  "What changed your mind?"
    Clay shrugged.  "I found something that reminded me--"  He picked up his coffee mug.  "It doesn't matter."
    "Thank you."
    He seemed embarrassed.  "No thanks necessary."  He nodded to her mug.  "More coffee?"
    She enjoyed sitting here with Clay, but she also knew she shouldn't stay.  She'd be flying away in a couple of months.  "No.  I'd better go.  Doc will worry.  I didn't tell him I was going to stop by."
    Clay stood, too.  "I guess he might."
    They both knew it was a poor excuse.  But Clay had his reasons for keeping his distance; she had hers.
    He walked her to the door.  When she glanced up at him to say good-bye, the words wouldn't come and she couldn't look away. 
    He raised his hand and gently smoothed his thumb along her cheek.  "What makes you care so much?"
    "My background, I guess."
    He searched her face, the depths of her eyes, and then shook his head.  His hand lightly tapped her heart.  "No, I think it's what's in here."
    She could feel the lingering warmth of his fingers where he'd touched her.  She'd never wanted to feel a man's hand on her breast before.  The boldness of her thoughts should have shocked her, but it didn't.  Because Clay was awakening something wonderful inside her and she wanted to feel his touch.  The longing was such