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  “What arrangement?” she replied, startled.

  “Your tutoring Johnny,” he clarified, wondering what she’d been thinking.

  “Oh, yes, of course,” Carrie said, feeling foolish. The man must be certain she was an idiot.

  “He tells me you hit a home run in the student teacher game,” Jason went on, casting about for conversation. What could he say: come into the bedroom and let me make love to you?

  Carrie shook her head. “Kids. You hope they’ll tell their parents you’re the best teacher they’ve ever had. But no. They tell their parents that you hit a home run in a baseball game.”

  Jason grinned. “Baseball prowess is much more likely to impress Johnny. He also said you didn’t run like a girl.”

  Carrie closed her eyes. “Oh, dear.”

  Jason raised his brows. “That’s high praise coming from Johnny, who considers himself to be an expert on running styles. How did you get to be such an athlete?”

  “It’s easy when your older brother is a Hartford city all star three years running. He had only me to practice with at home. I had to hit well because he wanted fielding drills. He taught me how to stand, where to plant my feet, how to put my whole upper body into the swing. It’s not really strength, you know, but more a question of coordination.”

  She stopped when she saw that he was laughing.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “But you look like the last person on earth who should be giving lectures on power hitting.”

  Carrie could feel the flush climbing up into her face. “I know. This is my first year at Grovedale and everybody at the game was surprised.”

  “I’ll bet the infield all moved up, crowding the plate, when they saw you. And then when you sailed one over their heads they almost dropped dead from the shock.”

  Carrie said nothing, but he could tell that he was right and he laughed again. What a nice sound, Carrie thought. She was glad she had made him laugh.

  The coffee steamed and Jason got up to serve it. Carrie took her full cup from his hand and sipped it, wondering how long she should linger. She wanted to stay with him but was concerned that she might be obvious about it.

  Just as Jason was resuming his seat Johnny’s voice came from the back of the house.

  “Dad, could you come here a minute?”

  Jason looked at the ceiling. “His master’s voice,” he said, and responded to the summons. Carrie watched him walk away, noticing how young he looked when you couldn’t see his eyes. He returned several seconds later carrying an envelope, which he gave to Carrie.

  “A note for Jenny Forrester,” he said solemnly. “I think she and Johnny are an item. Is there such a thing as dating in the fourth grade?”

  Carrie shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe at recess or on the lunch hour.”

  Jason snapped his fingers. “So that’s why John has been asking Rose for a split of champagne in his XMen lunch box every day. I knew there had to be a reason. He’s been trying to impress a lady.”

  Carrie smiled. “I guess his injury is going to interrupt a classic romance.”

  Jason pointed at the missive in her hand. “He’s apparently trying to keep it alive by writing. Abelard and Eloise?”

  “Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning,” Carrie answered. “Though it would take a stretch of the imagination to see Jenny as Elizabeth Barrett. She has a few problems with spelling and punctuation.”

  They looked at one another, their smiles fading as the banter subsided. Carrie took a final sip of her drink and rose.

  “I’d better get going. I have a lot of papers to correct tonight.”

  “I’ll get your coat.”

  As Jason helped her into it Carrie turned and looked up into his face. He settled the coat on her shoulders and his hands slipped down her arms.

  “Thank you for coming out to help Johnny,” Jason said quietly. “It means the world to him.” And to me, he added silently.

  “I’m happy to do it,” Carrie replied.

  “When will I—we...see you again?” he asked, still holding her.

  “Thursday,” she answered, her voice almost a whisper.

  “Until Thursday,” he said, as he moved back and his hands fell away.

  She nodded and stepped through the door as he opened it.

  “Goodbye,” she called, looking back at him framed in the doorway. Backlit by the yellow glow streaming from the house, his hair was a gilt nimbus in the October dusk.

  “Goodbye,” he echoed, wanting to ask her to stay, unable to frame the words that would keep her. Her car was parked right at the foot of the brick walkway, and he watched her get into it and drive away.

  Until Thursday, he repeated to himself and shut the door.

  * * * *

  Carrie glanced at the overcast sky as she drove up to the entrance to the McClain ranch. She had been tutoring Johnny about three weeks and November was approaching. The boy had a host of signatures, including her own, on his cast and his leg was healing well. He was coming along in his studies and making good grades. In fact, Carrie thought gloomily, her mood matching the weather, everything was peachy. Except for one small problem. She was falling in love with her student’s father.

  She looked forward to their cup of coffee together after her sessions with Johnny—too much. She debated what to wear for her visits as if she were seeing the President. She restricted herself to twenty minutes with Jason each time as if she would be shot for overstaying the limit. And then she drove home at night, sick at heart and sick with longing because Jason McClain was still in love with his dead wife.

  The merest mention of her caused his mouth to tighten and his eyes to change. Johnny had a picture of his parents in his room and Carrie often examined it, studying the image of his mother. Louise McClain had been blonde and regal and beautifully tall, as Carrie had always longed to be. She had been the ideal physical match for handsome, amber haired Jason. They looked like golden gods together, tanned and perfect. Louise was, in short, the sort of woman who made Carrie feel like a Christmas elf. Convinced of the hopelessness of the comparison in Jason’s eyes, Carrie hid her feelings and suffered in silence.

  She noted the lowering clouds as she turned in the driveway and headed toward the house. The wind was picking up and fallen leaves blew across her path, twisting and dancing. She was early, hoping to avoid the coming storm, and Rose would probably answer the door. It was just as well. She was afraid she would reveal too much each time she confronted Jason. Would she look too happy to see him, say the wrong thing? She had considered asking Mr. Dunphy to switch the tutorial to someone else, but she could give no good reason for the request. Johnny would be back at school before too long anyway. Then these visits would end. She didn’t know whether to be glad or not.

  Carrie parked the car and walked to the entrance, shivering as the first few raindrops fell. It was cold, not cold enough for snow but raw and blustery, making her wish she had worn a heavier coat.

  She rang the bell and waited, rummaging in her purse for the list of assignments she had made up that afternoon. She located it and waited some more, finally ringing the bell again, wondering what was causing the delay. Rose always answered the door promptly and when she wasn’t there Jason did the same.

  No one came to the door. She looked around but the yard was empty. Did she have the wrong day? No, she had confirmed the appointment earlier in the week. She trained her eyes on the horse barn in the distance and noticed that the door was ajar. There was a light on inside; maybe an attendant there could let her into the house if Jason was not available.

  She hurried across the property through the now steadily falling rain. She slipped through the door and stopped short, shaking her damp hair out of her eyes. When she could see again she became completely still, her gaze fixed on Jason, who was grooming a horse at the other end of the barn.

  Absorbed in his work he didn’t see her, and Carrie found that she couldn’t speak. He was stripped to the waist, his hands moving
rhythmically over the large bay gelding. She was riveted by the sight of his half naked torso. It was muscular and hard, the wide shoulders tapering to a narrow, compact waist. There was not an ounce of excess weight on him; he was lean, with well developed biceps and a firm, strong back. He moved as he worked and she saw him from all angles, wincing at the scar tissue that covered his chest and upper arms, marring the matte finish of his skin. How beautiful he must have been before the accident; but how beautiful he still was, in her estimation. His disfigurement enhanced his attractiveness. He had endured terrible pain for the people he loved, and he wore the marks of his ordeal like a badge of heroism. Tears formed in her eyes; she could hardly bear the thought of what he had gone through to save his son—and his wife, she reminded herself. He had also tried to save his beloved wife.

  Jason looked up suddenly and met her eyes. Maybe he had finally felt her gaze. She started and the blood rushed to her face. He had caught her staring. Again. She was mortified.

  His face carefully expressionless, Jason put down his brush and grabbed his shirt from a peg on the wall. He shrugged into it and came toward her purposefully.

  “May I help you?” he asked politely. “Did you come out here to see me?”

  She shook her head, finding words at last. “No, I...didn’t know you were here. I rang at the house and there was no answer. I thought maybe a groom could let me in.”

  “No answer at the house?” he repeated, his brows coming together in concern.

  “I rang twice,” Carrie said. “I’m sorry I... interrupted you.”

  He faced her and looked down into her eyes. They were still wet. He reached out and cupped her chin in his hand.

  “Why aren’t you married?” he said huskily.

  It didn’t even occur to her to contest his right to ask. “I was engaged,” she whispered. The sound of the rain muted her words so he leaned closer to hear. “When I was a senior in college. He was a photographer, a friend of my father’s. He, well, he couldn’t keep his hands off his models. I guess they were too beautiful.”

  “They could hardly have been more beautiful than you,” he murmured, moving his hand around her neck, under her hair.

  “Oh, yes,” she replied, her eyes almost closing as his fingers caressed her. “Very beautiful. Sophisticated. And tall.”

  “He was a fool if he couldn’t be faithful to you,” Jason said, his voice suffused with anger. “And after him? Anyone?”

  “No one,” she breathed, dazed by his sudden questions, wishing that he would kiss her.

  He didn’t. He released her suddenly, so suddenly that she had to take a small step to regain her balance.

  “I’d better see what’s wrong at the house,” he muttered, brushing past her and removing a pair of slickers from the tack room. He handed one to her and put one on himself.

  “It’s raining pretty hard,” he observed, pausing at the door of the barn to lock it. “We’d better check the weather report. Stay behind me.”

  They ran together toward the house and she followed Jason inside. Once there, the reason for her unanswered summons was clear. Rose was running the vacuum cleaner and probably had been for a while. She hadn’t heard the bell.

  Jason signaled for her to turn it off and when she did he asked, “Have you been listening to the news? How bad is this supposed to get?”

  “I don’t know,” Rose said. “But I think I’m going to set out for home right now, if that’s all right with you. I’d rather not take any chances.” She rolled up the cord and put the vacuum cleaner in the hall closet.

  “Do you think you should go home, too?” Jason asked Carrie.

  She sighed. “I’m here; I might as well stay for the session. Johnny skipped one last week, remember? He can’t afford to miss the time.”

  Jason nodded, accepting her decision. “Go on in, then. I’m sure he’s waiting for you.”

  Carrie took off her slicker and handed it to Jason, who watched her go off down the hall. His expression was thoughtful.

  Rose left soon afterward and Carrie settled in with Johnny, who was glad to see her but preoccupied with the worsening weather. Storms frightened horses and he was worried about his animal friends. They worked until the thunder and lightning alarmed even Carrie and she cut the visit short, going out to the kitchen to find Jason.

  “Rose just called,” he greeted her. “She says it’s really bad out there. There’s a gale warning and the flooding is supposed to be severe. I think I’d better follow you home.”

  “That isn’t necessary,” Carrie said. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll get the van.”

  She started to protest again but he was already out the door, heading for the garage. Carrie accepted the inevitable and went back to say goodbye to Johnny.

  She was waiting for Jason when he returned. He gave her the slicker she had worn before and they left, taking their separate vehicles.

  Once out in the storm, Carrie was glad of Jason’s presence behind her. The rain was sheeting, restricting visibility, and the wind buffeted her little car, almost wrenching the steering wheel out of her hands. They crawled along the driveway to the main road. As they approached the footbridge that bordered the property Carrie could see that the stream was swollen with swirling, muddy water. She slowed down even further, and then stopped when Jason’s horn sounded and his flashers went on suddenly.

  She sat motionless as he ran past her car, his head bowed down against the rain. After a minute or two he ran back, tapping on her window.

  She rolled it down.

  “Bridge is out,” he shouted over the noise of the storm. “You have to come back to the house.”

  Carrie nodded. He stood back as she tried to turn around but her wheels spun uselessly. She gave up, turning her hands out in resignation.

  “Your tires are stuck in the mud,” Jason yelled to her. “Get in the van; it has better traction.”

  Carrie did as he said, grabbing her purse and locking the car door as she hurried to join him. He took her arm and practically carried her along with him, handing her into the passenger side of the van and then running around to the driver’s side. He got in, turned the van around, and headed back toward the ranch.

  “I guess we’ll have to come back for my car later,” Carrie said to him as he peered through the curtain of gray, pelting rain.

  He turned to look at her. “I don’t think so,” he replied, his eyes unreadable. “This is going to go on for hours. You’ll have to spend the night.”

  Chapter 3

  Carrie didn’t answer for a moment, her mind a whirl of conflicting thoughts. Jason continued to pilot the van through the storm, absorbed by the task.

  “I suppose you have the room,” she finally said, wincing as the words left her mouth. His house was gigantic; he had room for the Russian army.

  He glanced at her quickly and looked back at the road. “Of course. There’s a guest room across the hall from Johnny’s bedroom. You can stay there. It’s very comfortable.”

  “I’m sure it is,” Carrie agreed rapidly. Did he think she was worried about sleeping in a pup tent on the porch?

  “Is there someone you have to call?” he asked, as he pulled in front of the house.

  “What?” Carrie said, turning and facing him.

  “Someone who’ll be expecting you back?” he clarified, his voice neutral.

  Was he asking her if there was a man waiting for her at her apartment? Hadn’t they covered that ground?

  “I have to report for work in the morning, that’s all,” Carrie replied. “I hope all of this will be over by then.”

  He nodded. “I’m going to let you off here. I have to put this in the garage and check on the horses. I’ll be right inside.”

  “Okay.” Carrie opened her door and vaulted into the pelting rain, slamming the door behind her and running headlong for the house. She was drenched in seconds despite the raincoat. She left a puddle as she put the wet slicker in
the mudroom off the kitchen. Then she returned and sat at the table, combing her damp hair back with her fingers.

  I won’t think about it, she told herself. I won’t think about him sleeping across the hall. I won’t think about the way he looked without his shirt, or about the fact that he definitely won’t be wearing one in bed. Or much of anything else. Then she realized that she was thinking about it and groaned aloud.

  Carrie rose and went down the hall to Johnny’s room, where the door was closed. She listened but could hear nothing. Was it possible he was asleep already?

  She knocked softly. “Johnny? John, it’s Miss Maxwell.”

  “Come on in,” came the response.

  Carrie entered to find Johnny reading a British soccer magazine. He put it down when he saw her.

  “Hi,” he said. “I thought you went home.”

  “I tried to,” Carrie answered ruefully. “The storm is very bad; it washed out the footbridge. I’ll have to stay the night.”

  He sat up straighter, interested. “Great. We can play cards. I’m tired of playing with Dad; he always lets me win.”

  “You may find I’m not so generous,” Carrie replied archly.

  “Good. I need some real competition for a change.”

  They both heard the front door bang and Johnny said, “Will you tell my dad I want to talk to him? I have to know how the horses are doing.”

  He sounded so mature that he reminded her of his father. “I’ll tell him,” she said and left, finding Jason in the kitchen, where he was toweling his hair.

  “Got a little wet,” he announced as he saw her.

  “John wants to talk to you about the horses,” Carrie told him.

  “The horses are doing better than I am,” Jason grumbled, unbuttoning his damp shirt. He stopped when he saw her reaction and she looked away.

  “I’ll go see him,” Jason said and brushed past her, leaving Carrie tongue tied and staring at a calendar on the wall. This was going to be one fascinating evening.

  When Jason returned he was carrying a large terry robe, which he handed to Carrie. “You’d better change into this,” he said. “I don’t want you to catch cold.”