agenda.
The following day, Kristin learned that Cathie’s funeral was scheduled for two days later at eleven in the morning.
When she called to tell him, Derek said, ‘‘I’ll close the clinic for a few hours. Sandy says she’ll come over to the house and watch Mollie while we’re gone.’’
‘‘Tell her thank you,’’ Kristin offered.
‘‘I’ll just bring her over when I pick you up at ten-thirty.’’
She hesitated, thinking of her new resolve. ‘‘That’s not necessary.’’
He was silent for a moment. ‘‘This isn’t the time for prickly independence, Kris,’’ he said quietly. ‘‘We do this kind of stuff together.’’
Funerals, he meant. As they’d done first her father’s, and then his wife’s. Together. Suddenly, it occurred to her that the funeral of a young woman might be difficult for him. ‘‘All right,’’ she said, her heart aching for him.
Kristin hadn’t stayed for dinner any night since she’d issued that ultimatum. Despite that, Derek was all too aware that she still made sure there was a hot meal waiting for Mollie and him at the end of the day when he came home.
He used to look forward to getting home, to having Mollie run into his arms while he and Kristin traded smiles as she babbled about her day. To sitting on the stool in the kitchen with Mollie on his lap while he told Kris about his day, to her reactions to everything from animals he’d been unable to save to owners who thought he was crazy to bill them for certain services. This week, he’d been called out of bed in the middle of the night to try to save a dog who’d been hit by a car while running loose. The dog died, and the owners couldn’t understand why he billed them. He’d had to take Mollie to the spare bedroom at the clinic until Kristin arrived to get her. Then he’d had to call his surgical technician to come in, and they had worked for three hours and administered several bags of IV fluids before the dog finally succumbed to shock.
But Kristin hadn’t heard that story, because she hadn’t stuck around to talk since Tuesday. Dinner was on the table when he arrived and she was out the door before he even had his coat off. He’d eaten alone with Mollie—which wasn’t a bad thing, he hastened to assure himself. It was just that he’d gotten used to the adult companionship.
And if he was honest, he missed her. He was actually looking forward to Cathie’s funeral today because he would have some time to talk to Kris.
But when he picked her up for the funeral, she was unusually quiet. Despite the warmth of the early June morning, she was wearing a black pantsuit with a matching jacket and her oval face was unreadable. This was probably hitting her hard. Cathie had known Kris’s dad, in a way had been one of the few remaining links to her past.
He held the car door for her and then went around to his own seat. As they drove toward the funeral home, she was still quiet.
‘‘How was your morning?’’ he asked.
That elicited a brief smile. ‘‘Fine. I took Mollie to play with the Mothers of Preschoolers group at the Methodist church. She’s in love with Jethrup Sowers’s little boy. They walked around holding hands the whole time.’’
He chuckled. ‘‘Sounds like more fun than mine. Three overweight, geriatric dachshunds whose owner doesn’t understand why they’re having back trouble, a macaw who’s plucking her own feathers and a Yorkie with a broken leg.’’
‘‘How did it get broken?’’
‘‘Stepped on.’’
Silence.
Derek felt like a fidgety fourth-grader again as he braked for a red light. ‘‘Has the board spoken at all about hiring someone to—to replace Cathie?’’ He felt crass, voicing the thought aloud but Cathie had loved the sanctuary and he knew she’d be concerned if she were in their position.
‘‘No. Not yet.’’ Kris was gazing out the window. Her hands lay limply in her lap and without thinking he reached over and put one of his atop them.
The moment he touched her he knew it was a mistake. Dammit! All these years they’d been friends, and ever since she’d said what she’d said, he’d been more aware of her physically than he had any woman since…since he was young. Her hands were warm, her skin silky, and he resisted the fierce urge to smooth his thumb across the tender flesh. If her hands were that silky—cut it out, Derek.
Kris hadn’t moved a muscle since he’d touched her. Now, she looked down at her lap, where his much larger hand easily covered both her dainty ones. His fingers actually curled around and under hers and he could feel the give of her thigh, soft and very warm, beneath the backs of his fingers.
She lifted her head and looked at him and he felt as if he’d been hit in the stomach, breathless, gasping for air. Her eyes were as green as emeralds sparkling in sunshine, soft and vulnerable, and a bolt of intense sexual attraction shot through him with the unexpected ferocity of a clap of summer thunder.
‘‘Stop it,’’ he said harshly, barely aware of the words. He pulled his hand away as if touching her would blister his skin.
Her eyebrows rose in bewilderment. ‘‘Stop what?’’
‘‘Stop teasing me.’’ The instant he said it, he knew it was unfair, but he was too stirred up to retreat. In some weird way, he wanted to have a rip-roaring fight with her.
‘‘Teasing you?’’ She repeated the words as if they were in a foreign language. Then he saw fire kindle in her eyes. ‘‘Teasing you! I was doing nothing of the kind.’’ She sucked in a breath of outrage. ‘‘You were the one who touched me!’’
‘‘I’m not talking about touching.’’ Although he’d probably give up the deed to his home if he could put his hands on that yielding, tender flesh again. ‘‘I’m talking about the come-hither looks.’’ The light finally changed and he started through the intersection. The church was only two blocks away.
‘‘The…’’ Her voice trailed off into silence. ‘‘What on earth is the matter with you? I wouldn’t know how to give a ‘come-hither look’ if my life depended on it.’’
He was already regretting his words, aware that he wasn’t exactly acting rationally, but the steady increase in arousal he was experiencing, a longing that only grew sharper as the tension grew between them, prevented him from admitting it. Staring through the front windshield, he concentrated on his driving.
Beside him, Kristin made a small motion of frustration that he caught in his peripheral vision. ‘‘You,’’ she said in a controlled, precise tone, ‘‘are a jerk.’’
And those were the last words spoken. He parked at the church and she was out of the car and stalking across the parking lot before he could come around to get her door. He took long strides to catch up with her although she completely ignored him, signing her name in the register and slipping into a seat near the back of the quiet room. He took the seat beside her, and she made a production out of moving over so that her body didn’t brush his.
Hell. What was he going to do about Kristin? Nothing. She’s too young for you. But ever since she’d mentioned marriage and he’d begun to think of her as a woman rather than the girl he’d felt responsible for for the past eight years, he hadn’t been able to ignore her lithe figure.
The funeral service began then, and he tuned in with relief, shoving aside his troubled thoughts. Most of the board members of the animal sanctuary were there, as were employees and a lot of other local people who had come to know Cathie through her skillful fund-raising efforts. He’d closed his clinic, and Faye was there as well, along with several other members of the staff.
Beside him, he was aware that Kristin was crying quietly as the minister delivered a touching eulogy. Fishing in his pocket, he offered her his