She glanced quickly at Tess, whose brief smile did more to help the headache than any of the painkillers she’d taken earlier, and walked back down the center of the aisle with measured steps. Ella, who’d been leaning against the wall next to the door, followed Clay outside.

Once on the steps, Ella angled close to her and pressed a hand to the small of her back. “How are you holding up?”

“I’ve been better,” Clay muttered. Ella had parked the SUV on the grass close to the front of the building, and Clay didn’t have far to walk. Even those twenty paces took most of the energy she had left. By the time Ella opened the back door of the SUV for her, Clay was light-headed. Behind her, people began filing out of the Grange, their voices a low indistinguishable rumble on the air, like thunder in the distance, presaging a storm to come.

Clay gripped the top of the rear door and eased onto the seat. She paused before settling in for the ride, searching the faces leaving the building. Tess came down the steps with a middle-aged man half a head shorter than her, and whatever they were saying made Tess laugh. The gibbous moon, sailing free above the clouds, lit her features clearly. She was more beautiful than she’d been as a teenager, and she’d stopped Clay’s heart then. Now the luminous glow of her delicately etched features created such longing, Clay’s chest ached with some primitive need to reach out and claim her for her own.

Tess turned her head as if she could feel Clay’s gaze, and her lips parted as if she meant to speak. Clay gripped the door handle and pulled herself back to her feet.

Ella, just about to swing the door closed, said, “What are you doing?”

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Clay, you’re in no—”

“I’m okay.” Clay made her way across the grass to Tess. Strangers she barely noticed streamed by on either side of her. She and Tess might have been alone on the pine-needle-strewn slope leading down to the lake’s edge where they’d met so many nights under the moon. The cool breeze off the lake was missing tonight, though, and the distant cry of the loons had been replaced by a symphony of croaks and buzzes and chirps. They weren’t teenagers and they weren’t at the lake, but Tess was still all she could see.

“Hi, Tess,” Clay said, a million other words choking in her throat.

“I didn’t expect you’d come tonight,” Tess said, although she didn’t know why she was surprised. Stubborn didn’t begin to do Clay justice, and she was very good at hiding what she felt—at least from most people. But Tess wasn’t fooled. Clay’s voice had been steady and strong the entire time she’d stood in front of the room, but her eyes had been nearly black with pain, and a fine sheen of sweat had coated her brow. “You shouldn’t be out of bed, let alone walking around. How did you get Ella to let you come here?”

“I threatened to fire her.”

“It would take more than that,” Tess murmured, sliding her hand around Clay’s forearm. She tugged gently. “Come on, you need to get back in the car. Ella needs to take you home to bed.”

Clay’s brow elevated and her quicksilver grin flashed. “What if that isn’t what I had in mind?”

“Stop that,” Tess said, ignoring her skipping pulse. She couldn’t control her biology, and Clay just had that certain something that tripped all her switches. “You’re in no shape to flirt, either.”

“I’m not flirting.” Clay laughed softly, and the low husky rumble was as seductive as a kiss. “What I am, though, is really hungry. I need dinner. Come with me.”

“What? No!” Tess jerked her hand away and glanced around for Ella to bail her out. Ella leaned against the SUV, her arms folded across her chest, a faintly amused smile on her face. When she saw Tess looking her way, she shook her head. Tess glared at Clay. “No.”

“Why not? I bet you haven’t had anything to eat. I haven’t. And I don’t think either of us had breakfast, either.”

“Whether I ate or not is irrelevant. I’m not having dinner with you.”

Clay sidestepped and blocked Tess’s path. “It’s only dinner, Tess.”

Tess had to stop too or run into her. Clay was only inches away in the dark, but Tess felt her along every inch of her body. Nothing with Clay was only anything. “What are you doing?”

“I’d like company for dinner tonight,” Clay said. “Your company. We’ll eat and relax. We won’t talk business.”

“Then what do we talk about?”

Clay laughed. “Whatever people talk about when they’re having dinner together. The food, the weather, baseball scores.”

Tess frowned. “I don’t follow baseball.”

“Don’t say that too loudly.” Clay’s eyes danced and some of the darkness in them receded. “Ella is a fanatic. She can quote any statistic for the last hundred years, probably.”

“You’re both very strange,” Tess said.

“Come on.” Clay took her hand, surprising Tess so much she didn’t pull away. Clay tugged her toward the car, calling to Ella, “Tess and I are going to dinner. We’ll drop you at the B and B.”

“You can’t drive, Clay,” Ella said.

Relieved at the opportunity for a buffer between her and Clay’s unnerving magnetism, Tess jumped in. “Well, you can come to dinner with us too.”

Ella glanced at Clay. “Actually, Tess, you can drive.”

“Oh, but—”

“Really,” Ella said. “I appreciate the invitation, but some other night would be better.”

“It’s settled, then.” Clay pulled Tess into the SUV with her, and Tess sank into the buttery leather as far away from Clay as she could mange. As the SUV slid away from the Grange into the dark countryside, she wondered what she was doing. No, she knew what she was doing. She wanted to spend time with Clay, as foolish as that might be. She’d wanted to be with her from the instant she’d seen her walking down the center of the room. Before that even, when Clay had roared up to her farm on a shiny black motorcycle. Being around Clay was more exciting than anything else she knew. Just dinner, Clay had said—she could go along, and pretend that’s all it was.



* * *

Tess drove to a small, casual restaurant in Greenwich where the home-cooked food was excellent and the service unintrusive. Beside her, Clay sighed, leaned her head back, and seemed content not to talk. Tess didn’t mind the silence—it gave her a chance to observe Clay unobserved. Fatigue and pain had painted shadows beneath her eyes, but she was still beautiful—her face boldly carved and strong, her body compact and radiating a muscular sensuality. Tess barely resisted the urge to rest her hand on Clay’s thigh, instead gripping the wheel even harder. She couldn’t trust herself to behave rationally around Clay—her emotions were all over the place—first angry, then protective, then aroused.

“Wonderful,” she muttered.

“What?” Clay asked without opening her eyes.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Nope. Just enjoying the quiet.”

Tess slowed to park. “We’re here.”

Clay caught her arm before she could open her door. “Do you think it’s as strange as I do that one minute I think I know you and the next I have no idea who you are?”

Tess’s throat closed. “Please don’t, Clay. Not tonight.”

“I’m sorry, Tess.” Clay rubbed her eyes. “I’m off my game.”

“I’d prefer that to what I’m sure is a very smooth and practiced routine, if I were interested in any game at all. Which I’m not.” She tried to keep her tone light. Clay had opened herself up, but she wouldn’t make the mistake of leaving herself vulnerable in return. Clay was not herself tonight, she’d admitted as much. And Tess had no idea who she really was or what the next day could bring.

“Okay.” Clay smiled weakly. “Just dinner.”

After they ordered, they didn’t talk about business or baseball or the weather or politics. Clay asked her about the farm, and before Tess realized it, she was explaining to Clay what it took to convert a standard dairy farm to an organic dairy one. When she paused to let the waitress take her plate away, she shook her head. “Wow. I sure monopolized that conversation. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Clay said, finishing her second glass of iced tea. “It’s fascinating. I never realized it took so long to make the transition, but when you outline everything that has to happen, it makes sense. All the animals, of different ages and history, getting certified—it’s like a rotation system, right?”

Tess nodded. “Something like that, yes. The calves and ones under a certain age are naturally certified from birth since everything they’re ever fed is organic, and presumably everything they’re drinking is too. But the older ones—well, it takes time.”

“I think it’s great, Tess. And jumping on the yogurt thing now is a really smart move.”

Tess swelled with pride. So many people had tried to dissuade her, first Ray before he’d become too disinterested in anything to care what she did with the farm, and then a half dozen neighbors including Pete Townsend, who told her the plan was costly, time-consuming, and might not pay for itself. Of course, usually their advice was followed by a lowball offer to buy her land. As if she would just give it away. For the longest time, she’d been completely alone in her dreams. Hearing Clay support her made her happy.

“What?” Clay asked gently.

Tess felt her face flush. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was just—not very many people have been supportive of my plans.”

“Well, that’s because they don’t know you very well,” Clay said with conviction. “Or they weren’t paying attention. It’s obvious you wouldn’t start something if you didn’t have a pretty good idea it would be successful, and you’ve clearly researched everything thoroughly, and you’ll do whatever it takes to succeed.”