by Nora Roberts
didn’t take my advice.”
“About what?”
“Wearing gloves.”
“It didn’t seem worth it. Besides . . .” Letting the words trail off, she lifted her wine.
“Besides?”
“Having calluses means I did something to earn them.” She blurted it out, then sat swearing at herself and waiting for him to laugh.
He didn’t. Instead he sat silently, passing his thumb over the toughened skin and watching her. “Will you go back?”
“Go back?”
“To Philadelphia.”
It was foolish to tell him how hard she’d tried not to think about that. Instead, she answered as the practical Eden was supposed to. “The camp closes down the last week in August. Where else would I go?”
“Where else?” he agreed, but when he released her hand she felt a sense of loss rather than relief. “Maybe there comes a time in everyone’s life when they have to take a hard look at the options.” He rose, and her hands balled into fists. He took a step toward her, and her heart rose up to her throat. “I’ll be back.”
Alone, she let out a long, shaky breath. What had she been expecting? she asked herself. What had she been hoping for? Her legs weren’t quite steady when she rose, but it could have been the wine. But wine would have made her warm, and she felt a chill. To ward it off, she rubbed her arms with her hands. The sky was a quiet, deepening blue but for a halo of scarlet along the horizon. She concentrated on that, trying not to imagine how it would look when the stars came out.
Maybe they would look at the stars together again. They could look, picking out the patterns, and she would again feel that click that meant her needs and dreams were meshing. With his.
Pressing a hand to her lips, she struggled to block off that train of thought. It was only that the evening had been lovelier than she had imagined. It was only that they had more in common than she had believed possible. It was only that he had a gentleness inside him that softened parts of her when she least expected it. And when he kissed her, she felt as though she had the world pulsing in the palm of her hand.
No. Uneasy, she wrapped her hands around her forearms and squeezed. She was romanticizing again, spinning daydreams when she had no business dreaming at all. She was just beginning to sort out her life, to make her own place. It wasn’t possible that she was looking to him to be any part of it.
She heard the music then, something low and unfamiliar that nonetheless had tiny shivers working their way up her spine. She had to leave, she thought quickly. And right away. She had let the atmosphere get to her. The house, the sunset, the wine. Him. Hearing his footsteps, she turned. She would tell him she had to get back. She would thank him for the evening, and . . . escape.
When he came back into the room, she was standing beside the table so that the candlelight flickered over her skin. Dusk swirled behind her with its smoky magic. The scent of wild roses from the bush outside the window seemed to sigh into the room. He wondered, if he touched her now, if she would simply dissolve in his hands.
“Chase, I think I’d better—”
“Shh.” She wouldn’t dissolve, he told himself as he went to her. She was real, and so was he. One hand captured hers, the other slipping around her waist. After one moment of resistance, she began to move with him. “One of the pleasures of country music is dancing to it.”
“I, ah, I don’t know the song.” But it felt so good, so very good, to sway with him while darkness fell.
“It’s about a man, a woman and passion. The best songs are.”
She shut her eyes. She could feel the brush of his jacket against her cheek, the firm press of his hand at her waist. He smelled of soap, but nothing a woman would use. This had a tang that was essentially masculine. Wanting to taste, she moved her head so that her lips rested against his neck.
His pulse beat there, quick, surprising her. Forgetting caution, she nestled closer and felt its sudden rise in speed. As her own raced to match it, she gave a murmur of pleasure and traced it with the tip of her tongue.
He started to draw her away. He meant to. When he’d left her, he’d promised himself that he would slow the pace to one they could both handle. But now she was cuddled against him, her body swaying, her fingers straying to his neck, and her mouth . . . With an oath, Chase dragged her closer and gave in to hunger.
The kiss was instantly torrid, instantly urgent. And somehow, though she had never experienced anything like it, instantly familiar. Her head tilted back in surrender. Her lips parted. Here and now, she wanted the fire and passion that had only been hinted at.
Perhaps he lowered her to the love seat, perhaps she drew him to it, but they were wrapped together, pressed against the cushions. An owl hooted once, then twice, then gave them silence.
He’d wanted to believe she could be this generous. He’d wanted to believe his lips would touch hers and find unrestricted sweetness. Now his mind spun with it. Whatever he had wanted, whatever he had dreamed of, was less, so much less than what he now held in his arms.
He stroked a hand down her body and met trembling response. With a moan, she arched against him. Through the sheer fabric of her blouse, he could feel the heat rising to her skin, enticing him to touch again and yet again.
He released the first button of her blouse, then the second, following the course with his lips. She shivered with anticipation. Her lace cuffs brushed against his cheeks as she lifted her hands to his hair. It seemed her body was filling, flooding with sensations she’d once only imagined. Now they were so real and so clear that she could feel each one as it layered over the next.
The pillows at her back were soft. His body was hard and hot. The breeze that jingled the wind chime overhead was freshened with flowers. Behind her closed eyes came the flicker and glow of candlelight. In teams of thousands, the cicadas began to sing. But more thrilling, more intense, was the sound of her name whispering from him as he pressed his lips against her skin.
Suddenly, searing, his mouth took hers again. In the kiss she could taste everything, his need, his desire, the passion that teetered on the edge of sanity. As her own madness hovered, she felt her senses swimming with him. And she moaned with the ecstasy of falling in love.
For one brief moment, she rose on it, thrilled with the knowledge that she had found him. The dream and the reality were both here. She had only to close them both in her arms and watch them become one.
Then the terror of it fell on her. She couldn’t let it be real. How could she risk it? Once she had given her trust and her promise, if not her heart. And she had been betrayed. If it happened again, she would never recover. If it happened with Chase, she wouldn’t want to.
“Chase, no more.” She turned her face away and tried to clear her head. “Please, this has to stop.”
Her taste was still exploding in his mouth. Beneath his, her body was trembling with a need he knew matched his own. “Eden, for God’s sake.” With an effort that all but drained him, he lifted his head to look down at her. She was afraid. He recognized her fear immediately and struggled to hold back his own needs. “I won’t hurt you.”
That almost undid her. He meant it, she was sure, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen. “Chase, this isn’t right for me. For either of us.”
“Isn’t it?” Tension knotted in his stomach as he drew her toward him. “Can you tell me you didn’t feel how right it was a minute ago?”
“No.” It was both confusion and fear that had her dragging her hands through her hair. “But this isn’t what I want. I need you to understand that this can’t be what I want. Not now.”
“You’re asking a hell of a lot.”
“Maybe. But there isn’t any choice.”
That infuriated him. She was the one who had taken his choice away, simply by existing. He hadn’t asked her to fall into his life. He hadn’t asked her to become the focus of it before he had a chance for a second breath. She’d given in to him to the point where he was ha
lf-mad for her. Now she was drawing away. And asking him to understand.
“We’ll play it your way.” His tone chilled as he drew away from her.
She shuddered, recognizing instantly that his anger could be lethal. “It’s not a game.”
“No? Well, in any case, you play it well.”
She pressed her lips together, understanding that she deserved at least a part of the lash. “Please, don’t spoil what happened.”
He walked to the table and, lifting his glass, studied the wine. “What did happen?”
I fell in love with you. Rather than answer him, she began to button her blouse with nerveless fingers.
“I’ll tell you.” He tossed back the remaining wine, but it didn’t soothe him. “Not for the first time in our fascinating relationship, you blew hot and cold without any apparent reason. It makes me wonder if Eric backed out of the marriage out of self-defense.”
He saw her fingers freeze on the top button of her blouse. Even in the dim light, he could watch the color wash out of her face. Very carefully, he set his glass down again. “I’m sorry, Eden. That was uncalled for.”
The fight for control and composure was a hard war, but she won. She made her fingers move until the button was in place, then, slowly, she rose. “Since you’re so interested, I’ll tell you that Eric jilted me for more practical reasons. I appreciate the meal, Chase. It was lovely. Please thank Delaney for me.”
“Damn it, Eden.”
When he started forward, her body tightened like a bow. “If you could do one thing for me, it would be to take me back now and say nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
Turning, she walked away from the candlelight.
Chapter 6
During the first weeks of August, the camp was plagued with one calamity after another. The first was an epidemic of poison ivy. Within twenty-four hours, ten of the girls and three of the counselors were coated with calamine lotion. The sticky heat did nothing to make the itching more bearable.
Just as the rashes started to fade came three solid days of rain. As the camp was transformed into a muddy mire, outdoor activities were canceled. Tempers soared. Eden broke up two hair-pulling battles in one day. Then, as luck would have it, lightning hit one of the trees and distracted the girls from their boredom.
By the time the sun came out, they had enough pot holders, key chains, wallets and pillows to open their own craft shop.
Men with Jeeps and chain saws came to clear away the debris from the tree. Eden wrote out a check and prayed the last crisis was over.
It was doubtful the check had even been cashed when the secondhand restaurant stove she and Candy had bought stopped working. In the three days the parts were on order, cooking was done in true camp style—around an open fire.
The gelding, Courage, developed an infection that settled in his lungs. Everyone in camp worried about him and fussed over him and pampered him. The vet dosed him with penicillin. Eden spent three sleepless nights in the stables, nursing him and waiting for the crisis to pass.
Eventually the horse’s appetite improved, the mud in the compound dried and the stove was back in working order. Eden told herself that the worst had to be over as the camp’s routine picked up again.
Yet oddly, the lull brought out a restlessness she’d been able to ignore while the worst was happening. At dusk, she wandered to the stables with her sackful of apples. It wasn’t hard to give a little extra attention to Courage. He’d gotten used to being pampered during his illness. Eden slipped him a carrot to go with the apple.
Still, as she worked her way down the stalls, she found the old routine didn’t keep her mind occupied. The emergencies over the past couple of weeks had kept her too busy to take a second breath, much less think. Now, with calm settling again, thinking was unavoidable.
She could remember her evening with Chase as if it had been the night before. Every word spoken, every touch, every gesture, was locked in her mind as it had been when it had been happening. The rushing, tumbling sensation of falling in love was just as vital now, and just as frightening.
She hadn’t been prepared for it. Her life had always been a series of preparations and resulting actions. Even her engagement had been a quiet step along a well-paved road. Since then, she’d learned to handle the detours and the roadblocks. But Chase was a sudden one-way street that hadn’t been on any map.
It didn’t matter, she told herself as she finished Patience’s rubdown. She would navigate this and swing herself back in the proper direction. Having her choices taken away at this point in her life wasn’t something she would tolerate. Not even when the lack of choice seemed so alluring and so right.
“I thought I’d find you here.” Candy leaned against the stall door to give the mare a pat. “How was Courage tonight?”
“Good.” Eden walked to the little sink in the corner to wash liniment from her hands. “I don’t think we have to worry about him anymore.”
“I’m glad to know that you’ll be using your bunk instead of a pile of hay.”
Eden pressed both hands to the small of her back and stretched. No demanding set of tennis had ever brought on this kind of ache. Strangely enough, she liked it. “I never thought I’d actually look forward to sleeping in that bunk.”
“Well, now that you’re not worried about the gelding, I can tell you I’m worried about you.”
“Me?” Eden looked for a towel and, not finding one, dried her hands on her jeans. “Why?”
“You’re pushing yourself too hard.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m barely pulling my weight.”
“That stopped being even close to the truth the second week of camp.” Now that she’d decided to speak up, Candy took a deep breath. “Damn it, Eden, you’re exhausted.”
“Tired,” Eden corrected her. “Which is nothing a few hours on that miserable bunk won’t cure.”
“Look, it’s okay if you want to avoid the issue with everyone else, even with yourself. But don’t do it with me.”
It wasn’t often Candy’s voice took on that firm, no-nonsense tone. Eden lifted a brow and nodded. “All right, what is the issue?”
“Chase Elliot,” Candy stated, and she saw Eden freeze up. “I didn’t hound you with questions the night you came back from dinner.”
“And I appreciate that.”
“Well, don’t, because I’m asking now.”
“We had dinner, talked a bit about books and music, then he brought me back.”
Candy closed the stall door with a creak. “I thought I was your friend.”
“Oh, Candy, you know you are.” With a sigh, Eden closed her eyes a moment. “All right, we did exactly what I said we did, but somewhere between the talk and the ride home, things got a little out of hand.”
“What sort of things?”
Eden found she didn’t even have the energy to laugh. “I’ve never known you to pry.”
“I’ve never known you to settle comfortably into depression.”
“Am I?” Eden blew her bangs out of her eyes. “God, maybe I am.”
“Let’s just say that you’ve jumped from one problem to the next in order to avoid fixing one of your own.” Taking a step closer, Candy drew Eden down on a small bench. “So let’s talk.”
“I’m not sure I can.” Linking her hands, Eden looked down at them. The opal ring that had once been her mother’s winked back at her. “I promised myself after Papa died and everything was in such a mess that I would handle things and find the best way to solve the problems. I’ve needed to solve them myself.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t lean on a friend.”
“I’ve leaned on you so much I’m surprised you can walk upright.”
“I’ll let you know when I start limping. Eden, unless my memory’s faulty, we’ve taken turns leaning on each other since before either of us could walk. Tell me about Chase.”
“He scares me.” With a long breath, Eden leaned back against the wall. “Everything’s
happening so fast, and everything I feel seems so intense.” Dropping the last of her guard, she turned her face to Candy’s. “If things had worked out differently, I’d be married to another man right now. How can I even think I might be in love with someone else so soon?”
“You’re not going to tell me you think you’re fickle.” The last thing Eden had expected was Candy’s bright, bubbling laughter, but that was what echoed off the stable walls. “Eden, I’m the fickle one, remember? You’ve always been loyal to a fault. Wait, I can see you’re getting annoyed, so let’s take this logically.” Candy crossed her ankles and began to count off on her fingers.
“First, you were engaged to Eric—the slime—because of all the reasons we’ve discussed before. It seemed the proper thing to do. Were you in love with him?”
“No, but I thought—”