Mountain Song Read online

  But he couldn’t afford to get emotionally involved. To be pulled in to all those complicated relationships. It would take his attention away from his work, bring things up in him that were far better left buried. It was better all around if he focused all his attention on medicine. He was the doctor, and a damn fine one. No one could say he didn’t do his part.

  Claudia felt her chin start to wobble and quickly clamped her jaw shut. The sun, so bright and promising when she’d awoken at dawn, had wandered into a thin bank of clouds, and now its light was filtered and weak on the dusty carpet. If only she could turn the lamps on. The Tiffany that had been a gift from Bea’s father, the prairie style floor lamps with their stark bases and lovely ochre glass shades...

  Depression. She tested the word, turning it over in her mind. How could it possibly have anything to do with Bea, who’d merely taken a little spill on the way out of the grocery store, dropping a pint of strawberries and the season’s first asparagus and her weekly six-pack of Budweiser beer on the sidewalk beside her? “Thank goodness I buy cans instead of bottles,” she’d reported to Claudia last night. “Can you imagine—all that broken glass?”

  A depressed woman wouldn’t make a joke like that, would she? No, Bea was far too...upbeat, too alive, too Bea.

  If it were anyone else, Claudia would think Andy had made a mistake, mixed up some patient records or something. But Andy never, ever made mistakes. Not on the job, at least.

  “I think she’s had trouble with the paperwork for a while now,” Andy said gently. “I help when she lets me—”

  “Wait, wait. Stop right there.” Claudia made a slashing gesture with one hand. She felt as if things were flying out of control faster than she could even comprehend them. “Bea’s taken care of her own finances forever, I mean even back when women didn’t do that kind of thing, she was always reading the business pages—she read the whole paper, front to back. But her father, that would be my great-grandfather, and his company, well you know all about the family fortunes, I guess—”

  Claudia was aware that she was rambling, that the thoughts that tumbled through her head were going uncensored from mind to mouth, but she couldn’t seem to stop.

  Not, that is, until Andy reached out and lightly pressed his fingers against one knee again. The first time he’d done that a few minutes before, it had caught her off guard, robbing her of her train of thought, making her self conscious. This time, the touch sent a tremor of sensation up and down her skin, radiating out from where his fingers had brushed her leg.

  “Claudia.”

  She jumped. It was as though his glancing touch had singed her skin even through the canvas covering her legs.

  “Look, there’s plenty of money. I mean, I don’t have the entire picture, of course, but Claudia’s got a heck of a lot stashed away. That’s not the problem. It’s just a matter of making sure that all the paperwork is taken care of.”

  “How...how do you know all this?”

  “She trusts me. Bea has lots of friends, hell, this whole damn town knows her, and anyone would want to help her. But she’s so stubborn, and proud.”

  Andy paused, and his eyes on hers conveyed what went unspoken.

  Like you.

  “She keeps letting her paperwork pile up. She makes jokes about it, but I can tell she’s worried. Her phone was cut off once, before. Just for a day or two.”

  For the moment Claudia kept very still, barely breathing. Somehow she knew that when she opened them again, she would have to face this terrible thing he was telling her.

  “Like I said, I wasn’t sure how far this had gone,” Andy said. “I’ve been trying to get her in to see someone else, the orthopedist, thought it might make it easier on her. But you saw how she is...only trusts me. I was starting to talk to her about, well, about moving. But before we resolved anything she took her fall, and now I can’t even get her to talk about it. Arguing with Bea’s like arguing with...”

  Again, he let his thought go unfinished. Slowly Claudia lifted her lids slightly, and through a frame of lashes saw Andy staring at her. Like arguing with her, he was going to say, of that she was somehow sure.

  Though they’d only argued once.

  Claudia sat up straight in the lumpy sofa, pressing her spine into the straight back, and glared at Andy.

  “You think she needs to move into a n—excuse me, into assisted living.”

  A visible wave of relief smoothed the lines around Andy’s eyes slightly.

  “So you’ll help me?”

  “I didn’t say that. Andy, she’ll never survive outside this house. Everything she loves is here. Whatever hardships she has to go through, I know she’d want to hang onto her independence.”

  “Independence? Do you call not being able to leave the house, not being able to see friends, independence?”

  “Can we—can you just give me a minute to try to absorb this please?” Claudia demanded, jumping up from the couch and retreating to the kitchen. Opening a cabinet she searched for a glass, but found only stacks of tin paint pans, some with traces of color still visible on their dulled metal surfaces. Another cabinet held boxes and boxes of herbal teas.

  Frustrated, she clutched the edge of the counter and squeezed until her knuckles went white. Oh, she could deny it if she wanted. She had been able to talk circles around Andy, at one time.

  But she couldn’t ignore the mess she’d walked into last night. The small house looked as though it had been abandoned. Bea had never been the tidiest housekeeper, but beneath the books and projects and knick-knacks she’d always kept things passably clean.

  Now, it looked as though no one cared for the place at all. With the aid of her tiny key chain flashlight Claudia had located the emergency candles and matches in the utility drawer, thank goodness—but even in candlelight the dust, the cobwebs, the untended laundry were visible.

  Damn Andy, with all the answers, answers not at all what she wanted to hear. He was so calm, so reasonable as he sat there and shattered a huge sharp-edged hole in her world.

  Claudia whirled around, feeling her frustration and rage funnel into a small, deadly torrent, and readied herself to lash out at him.

  And ran right into his chest.

  Andy froze as Claudia toppled against him and then clutched his biceps in an effort to steady herself. Without thinking he looped his arms around her and pulled her against him.

  God, she was warm. The chill of the early morning evaporated when her cheek pressed against the small vee of skin exposed above the top button of his shirt. In its place a coil of heat, dangerous heat, came to life deep inside him and shot fireworks through his body.

  He pushed the loose, soft fabric of her shirt aside as his hands found the smooth expanse of her back. She shuddered and melted against him. Her jagged breath was hot on his skin as she pressed her face against his neck, and Andy pulled her body closer to his, feeling the pounding of her heart even through layers of soft flannel.

  And then Claudia froze and for a moment it was as though they stood atop some precipice. A deadly fall was certain; it was just a matter of which direction.

  At last Claudia drew in her breath sharply, wrapped her fingers around his biceps and gave a mighty shove, no doubt intending to propel him out of the kitchen, out of the house, out of her life.

  He meant to let her go; with great reluctance his brain communicated that he had no business folding her in his arms. But then that coil of heat erupted and singed them both at the same moment.

  Just as he could have released her, she stopped pushing him away. She hesitated, her fingers loosening their grip. She gave a small cry—of hopelessness, of pleasure, he couldn’t be sure—and her arms snaked around him and she lifted her face to his. His last vision before he closed his eyes and bent to taste her was of that charcoal smudge, the one he’d been tempted to wipe gently away.

  But he wasn’t gentle now. Couldn’t be. Not when she claimed his lips in a hungry kiss, splayed her fingers on his broa
d back and arched her body into his for all she was worth. Andy slid his hands back down her sides, fingers brushing rough canvas. His thumbs found purchase against her hip bones as he lifted her to the counter, and her legs made way for him to hold her even more intimately.

  He tasted the depths of her mouth, then nipped her lower lip before traveling down that creamy skin over the fine-boned jaw to her long, slender neck. He was rewarded with a groan, a low, breathless sound that stirred his own passion to greater heights.

  “Claudia,” he whispered roughly, burying his face in the folds of her worn shirt, reaching for her breast. No bra—his fingers found the hard nubs of her nipples, and he eased his thumbs in a tentative caress, quickening when she responded with another feral sound and a tightening of her thighs around him.

  A voice in the back of his mind was growing a little more insistent. This is wrong, Andy thought muddily, something about this is wrong, but then Claudia’s finger’s snaked through his hair as she pressed him to her, guided his delving tongue down to relieve his hand of its explorations. He tore a button free, then another, and then bent to taste her flesh, and as his tongue circled the tips of her breasts, larger than he remembered, he stilled the protesting voice for good.

  It might have been for good, at any rate, if Claudia hadn’t suddenly gone still. He could feel her body tense, the fingers looped in his hair stiffen, then slowly withdraw. As he inclined his head, questioning, she hastily clutched the front of her shirt closed and forced her knees together tightly, then slipped off her countertop perch and away from him, as though he were on fire.

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her eyes on the floor. “I don’t know—”

  “No,” Andy spat out, self-rebuke making his voice sharp. “No, I’m sorry. This shouldn’t have happened, and I’m to blame. I—I’m not sure what happened here.”

  Contrition made him honest, too honest. In an unguarded moment he didn’t have time to don the doctor persona, the cool competency, the unruffled voice. Andy wasn’t accustomed to admitting he was out of control.

  But that’s what she did to him. Stripped away his defenses, left the raw edges exposed. More than he intended to reveal: the tender and unguarded and passionate parts of himself that few ever saw.

  A mistake. He’d always known that, known he gambled away his paltry advantages whenever he reached for her. But he had so little to offer, and accepted the conditions of the trade.

  Years before, when Claudia had shared his humble cot, made tea on his battered hot plate, hung her designer clothes on a nail in the cracked walls of his room, he didn’t dare question his luck. Instead, he’d drunk deeply of her potion, wanting nothing more than this golden girl, a girl who had everything, and yet loved him, who had nothing. He had suspected all along it was a pleasure never meant for the likes of him.

  True enough, as it turned out. But now she’d returned, and it was clear that her power over him was undiminished.

  “It’s me,” Claudia said. “I’m upset, and I haven’t slept, and I haven’t had anything to eat.” Large tears spilled from the corners of her eyes as she fumbled with the oversized collar of her shirt, trying to keep it from gaping open where he’d yanked off the buttons. “And you were here and I needed a familiar face, needed to—to hold someone.”

  Andy shook his head. He ought to go. Needed to go, to be away from here, from the sight of her, from her scent, which lingered in the air between them. He ought to just agree with her, tell her to change her clothes, order her a decent meal, get on with his day. But for some reason he couldn’t let things stand.

  A deep, calming breath. Another. He considered her words. So she needed to hold someone. She said it almost off-handedly. She had a need, he filled it.

  Something triggered inside him. He suited her purposes, was that it? The need of the moment, met by whomever was available. Yes, they had a history. But more importantly: he was available. He would do.

  For now. No illusions that it would be any big deal, though. Not for the likes of her. Claudia had made it abundantly clear that while she dallied with the common folk, he’d never get too close to her.

  The gnawing doubt inside him grew a little bigger, and Andy stood a little straighter, squared his shoulders.

  “You...I’m more than just an available body,” he said, taking it slow, finding the right words. “You reacted to me just now, Claudia, and me to you. I’m not saying it should happen again. Or even that it should have happened this time. But let’s call it what it is. There’s something between us, something powerful, and trying to ignore it is only going to make even more of a mess.”

  Claudia shook her head, her lower lip quivering. With her free hand she swiped the pooled tears angrily from her cheeks.

  “No,” she whispered fiercely.

  “Damn it, Claudia, you felt it, too. You responded. You wanted me as badly as I want—as I wanted you.”

  “No! That’s not possible.”

  “Why not?” Without even being aware of it, Andy had taken a step closer, so that he was within an arm’s length of Claudia again. Her eyes darted to the side, but she couldn’t back up any further. Andy stopped himself, arms hanging at his sides. “Why not,” he asked again, forcing his voice down. “Was this what made you run, Claudia? Was it—too much? More than you could handle?”

  “No!” She drew up and met his intense gaze, glaring with eyes narrowed to slits. Having roused her from her quivering retreat, Andy knew he’d struck on something important.

  “There’s a very good reason why you don’t arouse any feelings in me,” she added, with a defiant toss of her head. “There’s someone in my life.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Andy drew back as though he’d been slapped.

  Someone in her life.

  It took him a minute to process the simple phrase. It just didn’t make sense. Seconds ago Claudia had wrapped those long arms around him, searing him with her hunger. A woman who was satisfied with her lover didn’t radiate this sort of unmet need. Even a woman who was dissatisfied with her lover, if that woman was Claudia, would never consent to an embrace like that one.

  It wasn’t casual.

  But then, nothing about this encounter was casual, was it? He and Claudia weren’t two strangers meeting in a dark nightclub at closing time. They were people whose past once intertwined in a complicated relationship that had changed him, possibly forever. And they were both under a lot of stress, over-tired, over-caffeinated, undernourished. Maybe it was no wonder that, given the conditions, they had sought some sort of temporary salve or release or whatever it was—

  No. Maybe Claudia could lie to herself, but Andy had no intention of taking the easy route out of...whatever it was that still existed between them. If Claudia had some other lover, she would never have allowed the kiss; there had to be some other explanation.

  So she was lying.

  Disbelief edged into something like fury. Claudia wanted him, of that he was sure. She’d stopped herself only with what was clearly a monumental effort—but then she had the temerity to announce that the incident meant nothing because there was someone else in her life.

  Then another possibility occurred to Andy. What if there was a man in her life: someone she didn’t love, but who had something to offer Claudia besides raw passion. After all, Claudia was 26 now, old enough to marry. Bored, perhaps, with being single; sick of performing bridesmaid duties at slick society weddings.

  The image slowly took shape. Rich. Powerful. Socially prominent. The kind of man who played polo and marked birthdays with blue boxes from Tiffany’s. Who would squire her to the ballet and the symphony and charity balls and all the other places a woman like Claudia Canfield needed to be seen.

  Places Andy had never been. Not with her, anyway. It was true that the last few years had brought invitations, opportunities, of the sort he’d never dared dream of. But when he entered a restaurant or found his seat in a theater he was aware—always aware—that he was out of place.
When he caught the admiring eye of a woman or the respectful glance of a colleague, he knew that it wasn’t really him that they were seeing.

  Sure, Andy Woods, MD, well-paid and widely-admired physician, was welcome everywhere.

  But would he ever truly be that man?

  “I see,” he said tightly. “So, you still only open your arms to men who can afford to be there.”

  Now it was Claudia’s turn to recoil. “No, Andy,” she said, ice in her voice, “It’s not like that.” Any trace of anxiety was gone as she regained her composure.

  “Perhaps.” Andy shrugged. “But you could say that history speaks for itself.”

  Claudia pulled herself to her full five feet ten inches—in socks—and stared straight into his eyes. Funny how she managed to look regal even in the old baggy clothes she wore; not many women could pull off a trick like that. “You make me wonder if we ever really knew each other at all.”

  Seeing her pull up the wall, closing herself off to him, only angered Andy further. “What’s his name? Charles? Preston? Met him at a polo match, did you? Or maybe you’ve known him all your privileged, country club little life?”

  “His name is Paul,” Claudia said quietly. When her mouth formed the name Paul, she seemed to soften a little, and he a second he saw through her bravado to the fatigue beneath. Fatigue and other emotions he couldn’t read, troubling ones.

  “And I’ve known him only four years, and from the first moment I ever laid eyes on him I knew I’d love him for the rest of my life.”

  Despite his anger, Claudia’s quiet conviction tore at Andy. The image in his mind—a tall, blonde, figure leaning on a sports car, smooth hands that never labored, an East coast lockjaw schooled into a silver tongue—fell away in tatters.

  Because if Claudia loved this Paul, if she truly loved him the way she claimed, then he must be extraordinary. Of that Andy was almost certain.