A slight smile crept across Spring's face. "Oh. That was a mistake, wasn't it?" she mused, thinking of her businessman brother-in-law and the toughness she'd sensed in him from the beginning.
"You got it. I'd come into the room right behind Derek, and I thought he was going to tear the kid apart. The kid thought so, too. He got off with nothing more than a deadly soft warning. He's treated Summer like fine porcelain ever since. He was dealt with officially here, of course, but it was Derek's threat that kept him straight from then on."
Spring tilted her head. "I'd be willing to bet that Summer got mad at Derek for interfering."
"Know her well, don't you? She did, as a matter of fact. Said she was perfectly capable of handling the situation herself."
"She probably could have."
"I've no doubt of it. But Derek never apologized to her. He just sat quietly while she chewed him out, then told her in that silky voice of his that he'll do exactly the same thing if the situation ever comes up again. And that he's fully prepared to carry through on his threats if necessary."
"Mr. Macho." Spring sighed, shaking her head. She'd left her hair down that evening and it fell in a silvery blond curtain to curl at her shoulders, where it swayed against her peach silk dress at her movement.
Clay reached out with his free hand to catch a soft strand, rubbing it between his fingers as he murmured, "I suddenly see Derek's point. It's amazing how protective a man can feel about his woman." He met her eyes. "I know how I'd react if I found some guy shoving you to the floor."
She blinked. Make it a joke, she told herself in a desperate attempt to lighten a suddenly heavy moment. "My, my. I do believe there's a bit of macho even in you, Clay."
He grinned and allowed her to ease the tension with her teasing. "What can I say? I'm a mere male, after all."
"Pity," she murmured, tugging her hand from his and stepping back. "I believe I'll have some more of that punch."
She sipped her punch slowly, thinking that she was almost sorry she'd backed away from Clay a moment before. Oddly enough, when he'd taken her hand, it had been the first time he'd really touched her all evening. He'd been acting rather strangely since she'd arrived with Summer and Derek earlier. Though he'd carried on in his usual offbeat manner, there'd been something different in his manner toward her. It was almost as if he'd withdrawn from her in some way.
She couldn't help thinking of their conversation the night before. He'd offered to back away from her, but she'd weakly asked him not to. So why was he?
She frowned as a sudden thought occurred to her. What if he'd been put off by her telling him about Roger? In her moment of vulnerability she'd told Clay that she fantasized about marriage and family. Was he afraid that she'd start considering him as potential-husband material, as she'd admitted to doing with Roger? Was he backing off, as he'd said he would, in a subtle attempt to warn her not to get too involved with him? It made sense, but she wasn't sure. After all, he'd just
implicitly called her his woman, hadn't he? Or had he?
No one had ever confused her the way Clay did, she thought, her mind growing weary from trying to understand him. And no one had ever made her want so very badly to understand him.
She watched him across the room, clowning around with a group of his kids. He loved them so much. She suspected that love, for him, would be an obsession. What would it be like to be loved that way by him?
She'd like to find out, she thought wistfully.
She swallowed hard and set her punch cup on a table. What was she thinking? What did she hope would happen? Could she even imagine leaving the successful practice she'd built for herself in Little Rock to move to California, where the competition would be so fierce? She loved Arkansas. Unlike her sisters, she was perfectly happy to remain in the state where she'd been born.
She tried to make herself stop thinking along those lines. She was being ridiculous. There was nothing serious between her and Clay. Nor did he appear to want anything more than a temporary alliance between them. He was a confirmed bachelor who dated women her own sister had described as drop-dead beautiful. He probably liked his life just the way it was—one beautiful woman after another, no strings, no messy entanglements. Nothing to offer a woman like her, who wanted...who needed so much more.
"Spring, I'd like you to meet Katie," Summer said, appearing suddenly at her sister's side. "She's a real sweetheart. You'll like her."
Fervently grateful for the distraction, Spring obediently followed Summer across the room.
Though he was talking heartily, appearing to be completely involved in his conversation, Clay knew every move Spring made across the room from him. It seemed that he was aware of each breath she took, though they were separated by several yards. It was no use, he decided fatalistically, even as he gave a light-hearted reply to a question that had just been thrown at him. He wasn't going to be able to insulate himself from her, no matter how hard he might try.
And he had tried. All evening he'd attempted to look at her and see just another pretty, interesting woman. Nothing special. Right?
Wrong. She was beautiful, more so each time he saw her. She Was fascinating. And he was in love with her.
And she was going to be with him for only six more days.
Okay, so he was going to miss her when she left. Okay, so it would hurt. What was he going to do about it?
Only one thing to do, he decided abruptly. He'd take advantage of every moment of the next six days that he could spend with her. He'd make love to her as soon as he could persuade her, and if that didn't satisfy his appetite for her, he'd make love to her again. And again. And again, until she was as steeped in him as he was in her.
Maybe then she would stay.
* * *