Free Take Me Home by Nancy Herkness Page B

with my skin tone,” he said.
    Her laugh was hearty with relief. “Nor your muscle tone.”
    “Thank God!”
    “Let me grab my wrap, and I’m ready.” If she didn’t fumble her purse again.
    As they walked out the front door, he took her elbow in his warm, enveloping grasp. She had always thought of herself as an independent woman who didn’t need a man’s support. Yet she found herself savoring these little demonstrations of Tim’s physical strength. It made her feel...cherished. It was an old-fashioned word, but Tim seemed a bit of a throwback to her, like a knight protecting those weaker than he was, whether they were abused horses or cats named Chuck.
    “Oh,” she said, doing a little stutter step when she saw the car on the gravel driveway. A dark-green Range Rover, shining as though newly waxed, stood where she had expected a pickup truck. “Nice car.”
    “It’s big and useful.”
    Like you
, she almost said.
    “I really wanted a Porsche,” he said, “but I got leg cramps during the test drive.”
    Claire’s laugh was pure amusement as she pictured Tim levering his substantial frame into the tiny interior of the sports car. “I think you’d have to get one custom built.”
    “Now why didn’t I think of that?”
    She was surprised to see his eyes light up with serious intent. He truly
did
want a Porsche. She realized that being so large imposed limitations she had never considered. Flying coach must be sheer torture for him.
    He walked her around the car and opened the door for her, giving her a little boost up onto the high step. When he carefully tucked the voluminous folds of her skirt out of range of the door-frame, her delight at the gesture put extra warmth into her thanks.
    He responded with one of his slow, safe smiles before he closed the door.
    As he came around the car, she settled herself in the capacious leather seat and traced the elegant woodwork while admiring the fancy sound system. This was a high-end model—and a new one. Maybe Tim
could
afford the Castillo. Not that she was selling it.
    The other door opened, and Tim slid into the driver’s seat without bothering to use the car’s running board. He started the engine before reaching into his jacket pocket and sliding a pair of tortoiseshell glasses onto his nose.
    “I’ve never seen you in glasses before,” Claire said.
    “Just for driving. Too much staring at the computer screen, according to my ophthalmologist,” he said, turning to give her a rueful look.
    “They suit you.” The transformation was striking. Between the tailored clothes and the stylishly intellectual glasses, he looked like a man with lots of initials after his name. Even his unruly forelock seemed to fall onto his forehead in a more restrained fashion. She still had an urge to brush it back, but his altered appearance and the intense moment by her couch had pushed the intimidation factor up several notches. Her impulse to touch him was easier to squelch.
    “You’re not really a simple country vet, are you?” she said as he put the big SUV into gear. “I mean, look at these speakers! They probably cost more than my entire car did.”

    Tim slowed down so he could look over at his passenger. Her brown eyes were smiling, so he decided she wasn’t criticizing him.
    “What about you?” he asked. “You look like you’re from the big city, but you have that little touch of country in your voice. There are some hidden layers there too.”
    “I thought I’d lost my accent,” she said. “Everyone here says I sound like ‘one of those uppity New Yorkers.’ ”
    “They aren’t paying as much attention as I am.”
    He saw her look down at her hands where they clutched her purse amidst the billows of purple skirt and realized he’d made her nervous for the second time tonight.
    The first time had been when she’d licked her lips. As a scientist, he knew it was an unconscious response triggered by his half-joking scrutiny, but as a man, it had