Mckinley's Miracle. Mary Kate Holder
up, the fear of big development was rife. Lucy Warner arrived a few weeks ago and replaced that fear of change with a fear of the unknown. In less than a day it seemed everyone far and wide knew of her plans to make it a home for kids who needed a new start, children who had nowhere else to go.
Clayton and his brothers had backed the idea from the beginning, and though a portion of the townsfolk had initially shied away from what they didn’t understand, most people now took the view of live and let live. Except for Gerry.
When Lucy indicated, Clayton slowed his vehicle and followed her into the well-lit service station.
Lucy pulled up beside the petrol pump and cut the engine. She got out and handed the keys to the attendant with a polite “Fill her up.” Walking back to where Clayton had parked, she stopped several feet from his truck. He walked toward her.
She’d known he would be as good-looking as his brother. Now beneath fluorescent lights the full impact of Clayton McKinley hit her head-on. He stood two inches over six feet and had a confident, loose-hipped stride. He walked with an easy grace, as though time would wait for him. Lucy had no doubt if he smiled and asked nicely enough it would. Blue jeans clung to him like a second skin and dusty brown boots crunched with defiance over the gravel as he came toward her. His hair was dark blond and cut short on his neck. His eyes were peacock blue and sparkled with a wicked hint of mischief. Clayton McKinley was the kind of man mothers warned their daughters about. The kind fathers had nightmares about. She would always look back on this as one of them. She almost felt like a schoolgirl again. Her palms were suddenly sweaty. Breathing was something she had to think about doing and for the first time in a long time, long dormant emotions began to awaken inside her.
Dragging her eyes away from him she began to shrug out of his jacket, loath to give up the warmth.
“Don’t even think about it, lady.”
Lucy glared at him as the command rolled seductively off his tongue. “I don’t respond well to orders.”
“No kidding,” he teased, his lips sliding into an easy smile. Not a generic smile. Oh, no! This was a knee-weakening, heart-melting, pulse-pounding smile. This man was dangerous in ways there were no defences for.
“Don’t even think of handing the coat back just yet. And arguing with me won’t do you any good.”
She looked cute swallowed up by his jacket. A small-boned woman, she stirred his protective instincts, and her subtle hourglass shape banished from his mind every stick-thin woman he’d ever dated. Her skin was pale and unblemished, her cheekbones high, her face softly rounded. Her lips were full and naturally pink and had him wondering if they were as sweet as they looked. With her hair pulled into a ponytail she looked about sixteen and more tempting than sin. From the moment she’d turned away in the bar, he’d wondered what colour her eyes were. Now he had his answer. The colour reminded him of fine malt whiskey. They were wide and expressive, guarding a keen intelligence.
Lucy pulled the coat back over her shoulders and tried to ignore the intensity of his watchful gaze. It felt as though he was committing her to memory pore by pore. She refused to be intimidated by his blatant appraisal and motioned to the shop that formed part of the service station.
“I’ve got to get a few things.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Lucy looked up at him. “You think I’m going to get lost between produce and dairy?”
“I’m having fun.” His smile was powerful. His eyes roamed over her from head to toe then made the return journey with lazy intent. Prickles of sensation skittered through her body, skating over nerve endings.
“If grocery shopping is your idea of fun then you must lead a boring life.” She said nothing when he fell into step beside her, hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“How did you know Gerry would be at the Roadhouse?”
Lucy entered the shop and picked up a plastic carry basket. She took a loaf of bread from the shelf. “I didn’t. Max said the bloke had a bunch of prissy cowboys—his words not mine—in the car with him. The Roadhouse is the place to be on a Saturday night. I took a chance.”
“Prissy cowboys?” he repeated, amused. “Now, if you’d laid that one on Gerry he would have died of embarrassment.”
She took down a box of chocolate pops, putting them into the basket. “Harrison House is going to be a success.”
“That’s what you’re calling it?”
She nodded and continued down the aisle. “We took a vote. The kids decided since Mrs. Harrison’s son donated it specifically to be used for the Second Chance project, the name was appropriate. The developers were offering a king’s ransom but he didn’t want it torn down.”
“Gray Harrison did that for you?”
She met his look with a forthright one of her own. “Yes, he did. He figured the kids needed something to work for…a goal. Getting the farm up and running again will give them incentive. Gray has been our guardian angel.”
Clayton found it hard to picture Gray Harrison with wings and a halo. Cable Creek had never been big enough for him. He had outgrown the town long before he’d had the means to leave. Now a major player in Australian financial circles, he had a reputation as a ruthless businessman who guarded his private life fiercely. But none of that mattered to Clayton. All he could think about was what put that soft smile on her face when she spoke the other man’s name.
Lucy filled the basket with orange juice, peanut butter and milk before heading for the checkout. When the cashier was finished packing the groceries, Clayton picked up the plastic bag and waited by the door while Lucy paid for both food and fuel. The attendant met them on the way out.
“All done,” he said, handing her keys back. Lucy thanked him. Clayton walked her to the car, handing her the bag after she got in behind the wheel. She took it from him with a murmured “thanks” and placed it on the passenger seat. He knelt at her door, his face level with hers.
“Oh, your coat.”
“Forget it. I’m following you home.”
Lucy glared at him. “I beg your pardon?”
He grinned. “It’s on my way and I’d like to know you get there safely.”
Did he think she was going to be abducted by aliens between here and there? Lucy bit back the retort. “You don’t intend to take money for the fuel, do you, Mr. McKinley?”
“Not for doing the neighbourly thing. And nobody calls me ‘mister.’ Clayton’s fine. But if you really don’t want to be in my debt, I’ll settle for a cup of coffee.”
“I doubt there’s anyplace open this time of night, and I noticed the machine in the shop was out of order. Would you take a rain check.”
“I’m guessing you own a coffeepot.”
“You want coffee…at my house?” She did owe him something for helping her out. He could easily have kept going, leaving her stranded. Lucy wished he would be mercenary and just take her money. “It’s well after midnight.”
“I’ll drink it fast.”
“The kids are sleeping.”
He shrugged. “I’ll be extra quiet.”
Subtle wasn’t going to work with this man. “I might want to go to bed.”
Clayton smiled. “Well, I’m usually not that easy on a first date but I could be persuaded.”
Lucy blushed, annoyed as much at herself as him. She’d walked right into that one. “I meant I might want to go to bed…alone…to sleep,” she said firmly. “And this isn’t a date.”
He looked as if he’d made a major new discovery. “So that’s the other thing people do in bed.”
Lucy