The Dreammaker. Judith Stacy
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can stay with us,” Kaitlin said.
Tripp shook his head. “No. Charlie stays with me. Come on, son.”
Julia followed the boy to the door and closed her hand over Rafe’s arm. “You won’t be out late, will you?”
He eased her fingers away. “I’ll be back in a while.”
The men went outside, with Charlie running ahead of them. It was dark now, with only lanterns from the back windows of the shops to light the way.
Rafe stopped a short distance down the boardwalk. “I ought to apologize for Julia.”
“Apologize for what? She seems like a nice woman, a good wife.”
Rafe shook his head. “She’s pretty headstrong, if you get my meaning.”
He’d never known a woman more headstrong than Kaitlin Jeffers, but didn’t think that was exactly what Rafe meant.
“Damn…” Rafe hesitated to speak, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Julia just won’t keep her hands off of me. You know what I’m saying?”
Tripp’s gut tightened. “What?”
“Every time I turn around, there she is. Every morning. Every evening. Every time I get near her, she’s wanting to—Well, you know.” The man blushed.
Tripp’s mouth went dry. “Every time?”
“Every time.” Rafe sighed heavily. “But I’ve got a business to run. I’m at the livery before dawn, and most times I work straight through until after dark. You know what I’m saying, don’t you? I mean, seeing that you’ve got little Charlie, you must have been married once. Did you have this problem?”
Hell no, he hadn’t had this problem. In fact, he didn’t even understand why Rafe considered it a problem.
“So you don’t like making love to your wife?” Tripp asked.
“No, it’s not that.” Rafe shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe what that woman does to get me into bed with her. Why, just this morning I was trying to shave and here she came. Took my shaving soap, and before I knew what was happening, she had her top off and the lather all over her.”
Tripp gulped. “Shaving soap?”
“I told her I had to go to work.” Rafe grunted. “She needs to realize I haven’t got time for that stuff.”
Tripp’s jaw sagged. “You mean you didn’t…?”
“That’s the last thing I need, coming in to work late. Shoot, my brothers give me hell about Julia as it is.” Rafe nodded solemnly. “Lucky you’ve got a business partner and not a wife. You don’t have those problems.”
Heat pulsed through Tripp. He dragged his hand across his forehead. Oh yeah, he felt like the luckiest man on earth, all right.
At the big oval mirror in the corner of her room Kaitlin studied herself from head to toe, turned in a quick circle, and headed for the door. With all the work she had planned for today, she looked good enough.
Stepping into the kitchen, she saw Tripp at the stove tending a pan of frying bacon. She wasn’t sure which -was more disconcerting—seeing him first thing in the morning, or seeing him cooking.
“Looks like I got the best end of this partnership.”
Tripp jumped, then ran his hand over his chest. “How’s that?”
“I won’t have to do all the cooking.” Kaitlin smiled and walked over to the stove.
He turned his back to her. “I cook for Charlie and me.”
Kaitlin peered around him. “What happened to your chin?”
Tripp touched his finger to his face, and turned away again. “I cut myself shaving this morning, that’s all.”
“Oh.” Kaitlin gestured to the rolled-out biscuits and the bowl of eggs on the sideboard. “What can I do to earn my share of this meal?”
Tripp glanced back over his shoulder at her. “You can—” He sucked in a quick breath. She wasn’t wearing a bustle.
The fabric of her simple blue dress hung in loose folds from her waist, draping her hips with clarity. He groaned softly as an all too familiar stirring coiled inside him.
Bad enough that he’d lain awake most of the night smelling her sweet scent all the way in his room, and that he’d cut his chin just looking at his shaving soap a while ago, but did Kaitlin have to be running around this morning dressed—or hardly dressed—like that?
“Well?” Kaitlin stepped closer, her eyebrows raised. “What can I do to help?”
Putting on some decent undergarments would sure as hell help. Tripp turned back to the stove. “Nothing. I’ll take care of it.”
“But that’s not right. We’re partners. I should do my share. I’ll put the biscuits in the oven.”
“No!” Tripp whirled around and pulled the pan from her hand. No, she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t bend over right there next to him at the stove.
Kaitlin shrank back and eyed him up and down. “I’ll just set the table.”
“Good. That’s good. You do that.” Tripp shoved the biscuits into the oven and slammed the door. He reached over the pump and pushed the window all the way open. Damn, it was hot in here.
“Do you remember where the plates are?” Kaitlin asked.
Tripp turned to find her bending down, rummaging through the crates that lined the wall, her round bottom bouncing up and down, and up and down as she searched box after box. He sagged against the sideboard and mopped his brow with his sleeve.
What was wrong with him? Tripp watched her, savoring every move, every rustle of her skirt. He hadn’t been so randy since—well, he couldn’t even remember the last time.
Maybe it was just the things Rafe had talked to him about last night. Of course, Rafe and Julia had been the furthest thing from his mind when he’d stared at his shaving cup this morning, and nicked his own chin. And it hadn’t been the two of them who had crept into his thoughts as he lay staring at the ceiling during the night.
Tripp licked his dry lips as Kaitlin lifted a stack of plates from the packing crate and carried them to the table. Maybe it was just the natural order of things, he thought. He’d not had much interest in such things since—
He spun back to the stove and scooped bacon from the pan, trying to push away the memories. Emily. His wife, Emily. Even after all this time the images still came back with such force. All the old feelings, the pain. He’d put it behind him for the most part, but sometimes without warning it all rushed into his thoughts again. And God, how he hated these moments.
“Coffee?”
Kaitlin peered around him, her brown eyes bigger and wider than usual this morning.
“Sure. Coffee’s fine.” He cracked eggs in the skillet and wiped his hands on a linen towel.
“I’m anxious to get started on the store today,” Kaitlin said as she poured two cups of coffee.
“We need to talk about that.”
“How did I know you were going to say that?” She passed him one of the white mugs. “Where’s Charlie?”
“Upstairs.”
Kaitlin sipped her coffee. “Did Charlie have trouble sleeping last night? Being in a new place does that.”
“Charlie’s