“Thanks.” She accepted both the handshake and the bulletin. “I’ve wanted to be a reporter since I was a kid, so working for the Scout is like a dream come true.”
“Oh, yeah, I heard you had gone to work for them. Congratulations on that, too. But I was talking about your wedding.”
She held up both hands. “No, I’m not getting married. That was a misunderstanding.” Why did Robert have to open his big mouth before having her answer? And to Beulah of all people. It was amazing he hadn’t posted an engagement announcement in the Scout with all the details, right down to what flavor miniquiches would be on the buffet table. She was ready to post an announcement herself, a nonengagement one: Jami Carlisle is pleased to announce she will NOT be marrying Robert Demming this September. Otherwise, damage control could take months.
She stepped into the right-hand aisle and scanned those seated until her gaze fell on Sam’s dark ponytail sticking through the hole in the back of her cap. Holly and Samantha were never hard to find. Ever since the three of them were old enough to behave themselves without parental supervision, they’d sat together halfway up on the right.
When she reached their row, Holly motioned toward her watch and grinned.
“I know,” she whispered. “I’m early. I’ve been here for the past ten minutes, pulled in as you guys were heading into the building.” She slid into the empty seat next to Samantha. “I was watching for Grant. I invited him, but he didn’t make any promises.” She bent to set her purse on the floor at her feet. “We are going whitewater rafting, though. I called yesterday and made reservations for one thirty this afternoon.”
Holly perked up. “Add one more. I wanna go.”
Jami looked at Sam. “Are you available to be our guide?”
“You bet.” She led rafting tours, but five or six other guides helped her out, especially on weekends. “I’ll trade groups if I have to. There’s no way I’d miss this outing with you and your new boyfriend.”
Jami cast an uneasy glance toward the back of the church, afraid Grant might materialize and walk in on the conversation. Her heart leaped, and her stomach followed its path, making a funny little flip. He’d come after all. He stood in the back, looking about as comfortable as a stuffy Washington politician at a southern hoedown. When his gaze met hers, relief flashed across his features, and he started up the aisle.
She turned back to Samantha and Holly, speaking in a hushed tone. “He’s not my boyfriend, he’s my neighbor. So don’t embarrass me.” The mischievous sparkle in their eyes did nothing to put her mind at ease.
She flashed him a friendly smile. “You made it.”
Grant took a seat, and a hatted figure three rows ahead turned in her chair. Beulah Fines always sat near the front, evidently unconcerned that she obstructed the view of at least a dozen parishioners. Jami frowned. It should be a church rule—big, ugly hats confined to the back row. But if there was one thing Beulah liked as well as being heard, it was being seen. Beulah scanned the rows behind her, the squint even more pronounced with the effort of twisting in her seat.
Then her gaze fell on Grant. Her brows shot upward to disappear under the brim of the gaudy hat. Fortunately, Pastor Jeff grabbed a microphone, signaling the start of the service, and Beulah turned back around in her seat. She would have to hold on to her eager questions for the next hour and a half. Knowing Beulah, it wouldn’t be easy.
When Pastor Jeff turned the service back over to the worship team, Jami drew her attention to the words on the screen. The song was one of her favorites. She lifted her voice with the other worshippers, then stole a self-conscious glance at Grant. Sam and Holly were used to her joyful noise, but he wasn’t. He met her gaze with a crooked grin, and she leaned toward him. “I warned you.”
His grin widened, and he turned his attention back to the front. When she looked at him a few moments later, he wasn’t singing, but his eyes were on the song lyrics, and he looked more comfortable than he had when he first entered. He was dressed in black pants and a striped cotton shirt, which his shoulders filled out quite nicely. The heart they’d taken from the cache the prior day rested against his chest, and the spicy-woodsy scent he wore was every bit as appealing in church as it had been on their hike yesterday.
Lyrics to a new song flashed up on the screen, and she tried to corral her wayward thoughts. With Grant standing so close, it was no easy task. She wasn’t complaining, though. She’d had to twist his arm, but he was here. Maybe he would come to realize whatever he hoped to find on his travels was no further away than a heartfelt prayer. If only he were staying longer.
As soon as the service was over, she nudged him into the aisle. If they hurried, they might avoid being waylaid by Beulah. They were on a tight schedule—an hour and a half to let the dogs out, change clothes, grab lunch and be on the water. But Beulah could part a crowd as effectively as God split the Red Sea. Most of Murphy ran for cover when they saw her coming or sighed in relief once they realized her squinting gaze was focused on someone else.
Within moments, she was beside them. “Hello, girls. Who’s your friend?”
Grant held out a hand before Jami could answer. “Grant McAllister, Elizabeth McAllister’s grandson.”
Beulah’s eager gray eyes went from Holly to Sam, then returned to Grant. Knowing Beulah, she was hoping to piece together a juicy story. “How do you kids know each other?”
Jami stifled a smile. Grant probably hadn’t been called a kid in over a decade.
“Jami and I are neighbors, at least temporarily, and she’s doing a feature article on my grandparents’ place.”
Beulah expelled a disappointed “Oh” and shook his hand. As soon as she walked away, Jami grinned up at Grant.
“You know you just dashed her hopes.”
“How?”
Holly flashed him a bright smile. “You were supposed to say you’d fallen madly in love with one of us and the wedding will be in two weeks. That lame answer about a newspaper story doesn’t give her anything to work with.”
Samantha laughed. “You know how every small town has a notorious gossip? Ours is Beulah Fines. And she wears the label as proudly as she wears those awful hats.”
Jami pursed her lips. Maybe she should put the older woman’s big mouth to good use. If she told Beulah about the breakup, she wouldn’t have to worry about damage control. Beulah would handle it for her. One side of her said she should leave it to Robert to decide what he told his aunt. Another side said if he hadn’t blurted everything to Beulah, she wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with.
Yeah, she’d go ahead and talk to Beulah. But not at church, when she was in a hurry and everyone was standing around. She’d call her later.
After they’d stepped out into the sunlight, Jami turned toward Grant. “All right, we’re running home to change clothes, and I’ve got to take the dogs out. We’ll pick you up at the Holiday Inn in forty minutes.”
“I’ll be ready. And what about lunch?”
“Bubba’s Burger Barn, right next to Wild River Outfitters. It’s more of a concession stand than a restaurant, but it’s fast, and that’s what we need. So it’ll be burgers and fries.”
“The lunch of champions.” He held up a hand in farewell. “Forty minutes.”
NINE
Around this next bend is our first rapids, class two.” Sam sat in the back of the large rubber raft, steering and calling out instructions. Two more people had joined them, tourists from Florida. Each rowed on command, decked out in padded fluorescent life jackets and helmets.
“Great.” Grant forced a playful frown. “This is the point where we lose the city slicker from New York.”
Jami threw a glance over her shoulder and laughed. She was sitting right in front of him, hair pulled into a high ponytail. Its tip swished against her life vest with every movement of the raft. So far they were all dry. That probably wasn’t going to last long.
“Sam knows what she’s doing. And there won’t be anything rougher
than class three. So it’ll be quite manageable, even for a city slicker.”
In spite of her reassuring words, when they rounded the bend, his heart began to pound. Just ahead was a long stretch of churning, frothing water roaring down a series of drops. Yep, they were getting ready to get quite wet.
A minute later, the raft surged forward and bounced downward amid whoops and hollers and frantic paddling. A wall of icy water slammed into him, sucking the breath from his lungs, and the raft bucked and reared like a bronco determined to throw its rider. He dug his paddle into the churning water and thrust with fast, furious strokes, not fully understanding how that was supposed to help keep everyone in the boat.
Finally, the pitch leveled out and the angry torrent settled. He brushed wet tendrils of hair off his forehead and dissolved into laughter, joined by Jami and the others. He hadn’t laughed like that in . . . well, he couldn’t remember ever laughing like that. There was nothing quite like the adrenaline rush of being propelled down a raging river with nothing between safety and disaster except a rubber raft and a few paddles.
Jami turned toward him, face flushed with excitement. Water dripped from her ponytail and bangs, and not one square inch of her appeared dry. Even her back was soaked. “So what do you think?”
“This is a blast!” Several more rapids followed, broken by periods of calm. He leaned toward Jami. “I don’t know what else you have planned for me, but this’ll be hard to top.”
“I may not be able to top this, but by the time I get done showing you all we have to offer, you won’t want to leave.”
That was what he was afraid of. He was only two days into her two-week tour, but time was passing too quickly. The activities themselves were pleasurable. But doing them with Jami made them outstanding. He was enjoying every minute he spent with her. Maybe too much.
Yesterday, he’d almost kissed her. She’d stood so close, her arms looped around his neck, the lavender scent of her shampoo teasing his senses. It had been innocent on her part. She had simply tried to secure the cord around his neck.
Fortunately, he’d regained his sanity before he did something they’d both regret. He’d agreed to hang around for two weeks and let her show him the sights. Having some romantic fling while he was here wasn’t part of the bargain. And if he started anything with Jami, that was all it would be. In two weeks, he’d pack his bags and be gone.
He dipped his paddle beneath the now-calm surface and rowed in time with the others. With each stroke, the raft made short forward surges. It was hard to believe they were on the same river that had given them such a roller-coaster ride a few minutes earlier. But the tranquil scene was deceiving. The distant roar of raging water was a constant reminder any reprieves were temporary.
Jami stopped paddling to twist on the inflatable seat. “Your upcoming itinerary includes the art walk, Fields of the Wood, the Salty Dog and the Murphy River Walk.”
“Sounds like you’ve got everything well planned out. You’re organized.”
“Ha! I’ve never been accused of that before.”
He studied her for a moment. Who told her she was disorganized? Probably the same person who’d said she wasn’t practical.
“So what’s the Salty Dog? It sounds like a bar.”
Her grin widened, and he couldn’t help but smile back. Jami found pleasure in little things. He’d probably been like that at one point in his life, but he couldn’t remember that far back.
“The Salty Dog Gem Mine. Ever been gem mining before?”
“Nope. Another new experience to enrich my life.”
Enrich his life. A good choice of words as far as Jami was concerned, because that was exactly what her presence seemed to do. The instant Bethany had left, his zest for life disappeared, as if she’d bundled it up with her personal belongings and taken it with her. Maybe he was about to find it again.
“I think it’s about time for me to treat you. How about if I take you to dinner tomorrow night? Or I could cook for you. The kitchen is fully stocked, right down to my grandmother’s china, crystal and linen tablecloths.”
He clamped his mouth shut, but the words had already escaped. What on earth was he thinking? Long ago, he’d entertained regularly—friends, business associates, members of the orchestra. But he hadn’t cooked in over two years, even for himself. If a restaurant offered quality takeout and was anywhere near his office, the menu was stowed in his top desk drawer. Rusty didn’t begin to describe his cooking skills.
But it was too late. A dazzling smile climbed up her cheeks and settled in her eyes. “I’d love that.”
“I’ll see what nice restaurants I can find, too.” He had to leave himself an out, in case dinner was a total disaster.
“Okay, everyone.” Sam again addressed the group from the back of the raft. “Coming up is our second class three. It’s a little rougher than the other one, with a small waterfall at the end. So stay sharp and paddle hard.”
The stretch of white water grew more ominous the closer they got. Feet wedged under the inflatable seat in front of him, Grant tightened his grip on the paddle and dug in with strong, smooth strokes, trying to anticipate the raft’s movement. The wild current grabbed the rubber boat and tossed it around like a beach ball. When it jerked sideways and spun ninety degrees, he threw his weight into the movement and barely stayed in the raft.
Jami wasn’t so lucky. The sudden shift propelled her upward and sideways, and before he could even reach for her, she was sailing face-first toward the churning water. He made a belated, desperate lunge as she plunged beneath the surface.
His heart pounded, and panic spiraled through him. He had to do something.
“Everyone stay in the boat.” Samantha’s commanding tone brought him up short. “She’s got her life vest and helmet.”
He waited for her head to break the surface, but there was nothing behind them except angry white water. A giant fist clamped down on his heart and squeezed. Maybe only seconds had passed, but it seemed like an eternity. Jami was in trouble, and nothing else mattered. He threw the paddle onto the floor of the raft and thrust himself over the side, Sam’s scolding words echoing in his ears.
Then the icy water engulfed him, and he didn’t hear anything else.
Jami fought the panic pounding up her spine. Icy water churned around her, sucking her downward and toppling her head over heels until she no longer knew which way was up. She kicked her feet and flailed her arms, helpless against a current determined to keep her under. Suddenly a strong arm tightened around her waist, pulling her to the surface and molding her against a hard body.
She wrapped an arm around the neck of her rescuer, then gave in to a coughing spasm. Submerged rocks continued to buffet her body, and she kicked her feet, trying to get purchase on anything that would bring her upright and stop her mad descent downriver. When she wiped the water from her face, incredible blue eyes stared back at her, filled with concern.
“Grant.”
He winced as the current slammed him against a rock but didn’t loosen his grip. “Let’s work our way to the edge.”
When they reached calmer water, she tried to stand, but her knees buckled. Grant’s hold on her tightened. “Whoa, easy.”
She kept her arm around his neck. Even soaking wet, his warmth radiated into her, his muscular arms offering strength and protection. A shiver shook her, and she laid her head against his chest, drawing his heat into her body. The current moved against them, gentle now, the water waist deep. The raft was somewhere downstream, the bends in the river hiding it from view.
“I’m sorry you got thrown out, too.” She drew in a quivery breath. Hopefully he wouldn’t regret going. “It doesn’t happen often, I promise.”
“I didn’t exactly fall out. I saw you go overboard and went in after you.”
Her stomach settled into a doughy lump. His first time on the river, and he’d dived in after her. She tilted her head back, heartfelt thanks on the tip of her tongue, but her breath
caught in her throat.
All the concern that had shone from his eyes earlier was still there. But so was something else: longing, a silent plea her heart was responding to of its own accord.
“I’d do it all over again.”
His voice was low but rich, mesmerizing. It wove a web around her, silken strands holding her motionless. He lifted one hand to cup her face, and she pressed her cheek into his palm. She needed to say something, to disperse this strange energy passing between them. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
His gaze dropped to her lips, and he leaned forward ever so slowly. “No regrets.” His breath was hot against her mouth, sending shivers all the way to her toes. This time they had nothing to do with the temperature of the water.
She still had time to back away, to stop them from doing something they’d both regret. But her mind and body didn’t seem to communicate. At that moment, she couldn’t have moved if her life depended on it.
His lips brushed hers, his touch the merest whisper. Strength drained from her limbs, carried away with the gentle current. She tightened her grip on his neck to keep from sinking back into the water, and he took the cue. His mouth slanted across hers, no longer gentle, but possessive and demanding. A tidal wave of emotion swept through her, as if every yearning she’d ever experienced had pointed to this very moment. If she had ever wondered whether a simple kiss could make her pulse race, her knees weak and her head spin, she would never wonder again. Because this one did all that and more. Suddenly, those flowery descriptions in romance novels didn’t seem so exaggerated.
Then, just like that, it was over. He broke the kiss and held her away from him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
She let her arms fall from his neck and shivered at the sudden loss of his warmth. “You’re probably right.” No, he was definitely right. It was going to be a long time before she fully recovered from the experience. She brought her fingers to her lips and drew in a steadying breath. “It’s one of the rules of journalism, you know—no kissing interview subjects. We learned that in school.” She flashed him a crooked grin, trying to convince herself as much as him that their kiss hadn’t affected her the way it had. Hopefully she was fooling him, because she wasn’t fooling herself.
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