This Time in Timberline

by Jennifer Morey

  She'd nodded, so hot for him she tingled all the way to her toes.

  He'd grinned his sexy grin and taken her hand, lifting it to his mouth. He'd pressed warm, soft lips to her knuckles, his eyes firing a sexual message. She'd felt him touch his tongue to her skin, tickling her and sending shards of sensation spreading from where he touched to the rest of her body. The intensity had numbed her to anything but him.

  "You drive me crazy," he'd said.

  She'd climbed into his Mustang and he'd jogged around to the driver's side. Then he'd sprayed gravel racing away from the lake.

  She'd melted against the seat just looking at him, all that masculine determination to have the girl of his heart showing there. Past Burl's on a long, narrow dirt road, he'd braked to a stop deep in the trees. It was a secluded campsite.

  "What if we get caught?" she asked.

  "We won't."

  "How do you know?"

  He took a second to answer. "I've been here before."

  "With who?"

  He got out of the car. She did the same, but before she could press him for an answer, he moved in front of her and used his body to pin her against the car.

  "Jealous?" he'd asked.

  She felt his hips pressed to hers and almost couldn't remember what they were talking about.

  "Was it Megan?"

  He laughed. "No. Why would I want to bring her here?"

  "She has a crush on you." And she was his age.

  "Well, I have a crush on you."

  Still smiling, he leaned closer, his eyes twinkling before they closed and he kissed her. That's when she knew she loved him. She wasn't sure before then.

  Blinking clear of the memory, Utah became aware of her surroundings again. She looked through the driver side window and saw Mason watching her.

  She could hear Sheldon talking to him but knew he wasn't listening. His eyes were fixed on her with purposeful heat.

  Giving herself a mental shake, chiding herself for letting the memory carry her away like it did, she climbed out of the Mustang.

  "It's a lot rattier than your last one," she said, sparing only a quick look at Mason. That's all she could handle right now. Sarcasm worked to hide the extent of her wandering thoughts and the way they made her feel.

  "It won't be by the time I'm finished," Sheldon said. "When I finish with the engine, I'll start on the body."

  Utah made her way to the other side of the car and stood next to Mason.

  "It will be perfect, Sheldon," Mason said. "How much longer?"

  "Next week," Sheldon said. "I'll call you."

  Mason nodded and put his hand on Utah's lower back, guiding her into movement toward the door.

  Utah stole one more look at the car. It looked so much like the last one. Sheldon leaned under the hood, getting back to work. She faced forward as Mason let her outside ahead of him. She waited for him to walk beside her on the sidewalk.

  "If I didn't know you better I'd start to think you were planting roots," she said without looking at him.

  "It's just a car."

  "You driving back to the East Coast? Don't you already have a car there?"

  He didn't answer.

  That tell-tale sign sent a rush of apprehension through her. Surely she wasn't right. Mason? Wanting to be in Timberline?

  "Why did you buy that car?"

  "I like Mustangs."

  The tense lines of his face only increased her anxiety. Mason as a permanent fixture in Timberline would wreak havoc on her equilibrium. As long as she knew he was leaving she'd keep away from him. But if she had any hope of him staying, what then?

  "You aren't planning to stay here for good, are you?" she asked. For her own good he better say no.

  "Why would I do a stupid thing like that?"

  Relief mixed with what she could only call disappointment. The sound of their footsteps joined her tumbling speculation. "So, you're going to drive it home?"

  "Yes," he said, but too defensively.

  Oh, boy. Something heavy was going down in his brain. Something she doubted even he understood. Had his experience with the Army drawn him to Timberline? Taken him full circle? From wanting to leave small town life to running back to it?

  Hope and dread warred inside her. She couldn't risk her heart on the hope that he'd stay, but this glimmer of a new side to him was too tantalizing to pass up.

  Forcing a smile, she slid her fingers around his wrist and tugged him into the street, toward another that would lead them to her mother's house. And a car.

  "Come on," she said. "A hundred bucks says I can still beat you at golf."

  He resisted only slightly as they crossed the street. "That isn't fair. You've had more practice than me."

  "Exactly." She laughed. Why not enjoy him in public? As long as they had no privacy, she'd be safe.

  "You gamble now?" he asked.

  "Chicken?"

  One side of his mouth hitched up and humor lit his eyes. "What do you think?"

  ###

  The last time Mason played golf with Utah, her innocence had saved her from what he really wanted to do. This time the promise of escape was a lure he couldn't resist. Some of his fondest memories of her were those that swept him away like she was doing right now. So many times he'd lost himself in the easy way they had with each other, in the blue of her eyes, so happy and full of life.

  Part of him warned not to lead things too far. Sure, he'd bought a Mustang. But did that mean that on a subliminal level he wanted to live here again? No. He just needed distractions. The Mustang was one. Utah offering a whole afternoon with her was another.

  A subtle prick of conscience warned him that toying with Utah for the summer wasn't fair to either one of them. He didn't want to get too involved. He wasn't in the right state of mind. After he completed his leave, he'd go back to what he was doing before.

  But one afternoon with her was harmless enough. Besides, he'd gone too long without feeling like this. Good and happy. And it was Utah who made him feel this way.

  She drove her Toyota FJ Cruiser off Highway 40 to Clubhouse Drive. The SUV was far less than she could afford, but its fun style suited her personality. She was always no-fuss, if not tom-boyish. It was refreshing to learn so much of her hadn't changed. She parked the vehicle in front of the clubhouse and he got out her clubs.

  He let her pay for both their fees, not cheap at over a hundred a piece. This was her idea and her game. She'd be getting most of the fee back when he lost anyway.

  As they made their way to the green, he watched her from behind dark sunglasses that allowed him more freedom to look without being caught. She wore a yellow and white cotton top that scooped in the front with white shorts. She didn't have on any jewelry. Her long, dark hair was pulled back with a clip and silky strands hung down her back. Her blue eyes were shaded by a white visor. But it was the way her breasts moved that kept drawing his gaze. Round and firm, he was dying to see if they filled his hands as well as he remembered.

  Her steps were airy as they approached the first hole and he didn't miss the transformation on her face. Pure glee. He never could figure out what about golf turned her crank so much. But he remembered how much he adored that about her. He'd adored a lot about her.

  "When's the last time you went golfing?" he asked. This was going to be a great afternoon.

  "Too long." She smiled and pulled out a club. "I recommend this one."

  He held the club in his hands, testing its weight. "These were made for a girl. Are you sure I won't break it?"

  She smirked at him. "As if any club would make a difference."

  He grinned. "You're awfully cocky for somebody who hasn't played in a while."

  "It's been two weeks."

  He chuckled and practiced a couple of swings before giving the ball a good whack. It sailed through the air. He sensed Utah studying its progress. When it landed in the trees a couple hundred yards out, she snorted in humor.

  "I can get it out of there,"
he said, not at all sure he could.

  She eyed him skeptically as she moved for her turn. Taking the golfer stance, she shifted her weight experimentally between feet and looked down the fairway. Her ass looked great in those shorts. Round and fit. Those thighs were smooth and tanned.

  Seconds ticked by before she swung the club in a perfect stroke, body twisting, head facing the ball, knees bent just right. She could be on the Golf Channel instructing schmucks like him how to play the game. The ball landed on the green, probably right where she wanted it. At this rate, she'd make the hole well under par.

  Her attempt to smother goading triumph failed miserably.

  Quelling a new grin, he took her club and stowed it in her bag, then started down the fairway toward the trees. Ah, the trees.

  "You know, if you wouldn't spend so much time surviving in third world countries, you'd actually be able to compete with me," she said, her tone full of sweet sarcasm. It was the only thing that spared him from grim memory. Surviving.

  "That was the first stroke, angel. A few more and I'll have you sounding a whole lot different." He drew out the last words so she wouldn't miss the innuendo.

  She didn't say anything and he wondered if she was thinking of that last time on the hood of his old Mustang. He'd felt every inch of those strokes. She had, too. That's what she'd been thinking about when she sat in the Mustang at Screws. He could see it all over her face. Damn, what that had done to him. Transported him like a fiery rocket right back in time with her.

  "I am sure going to love kicking your butt today, Mason." She stopped at the edge of the trees where his ball had disappeared and shooed him on his way with her hand. He obliged her and went on his search.

  "D'you lose it?" Utah yelled after a while.

  He leaned to see her around a tree trunk. "Nope. Got it right here."

  Her smile said she knew. She also knew he couldn't cry obstruction. He had to aim well or he wouldn't make it out of here on one stroke.

  He did the golfer stance thing and tried to aim with the club. Taking the swing, he watched the ball clip a branch at the edge of the trees and die a quick death not far from there. At least he was out of the trees.

  Utah laughed.

  He headed toward her.

  "You look like an ape when you swing," she said when he started walking beside her.

  "Thanks."

  "All that muscle just gets in the way."

  "You prefer your men stick-limbed now?"

  "I'm not saying I don't like it."

  Her flirting surprised him. He didn't try to restrain his satisfaction but didn't push her. Reaching his ball, he found the direction he wanted to plant it and swung without preamble.

  "I think you hit a bunker," she stated the obvious.

  "Good. It'll be softer when I start stroking."

  She sent him a reproachful look. "You're being nineteen again."

  He didn't respond. If he pushed too much, she'd stop flirting and that would be terrible. This day was too perfect.

  They started walking.

  "Do you have a girlfriend back in North Carolina?" she asked.

  She was always wary of other girls when they were teenagers, too. "No." He wondered where the insecurity came from. Or maybe it was just with him. She didn't trust him.

  "Not at the moment?"

  "It's been a few months."

  "What was the last one like?"

  He angled his head to look at her. "Why do you want to know?"

  She shrugged. "Just curious."

  "I like brunettes."

  "So, she was brunette. Did you like her a lot?"

  "She was okay. Kind of quiet. Too shy."

  "I guess you'd have to be tough to snag a Delta man."

  "You're trying to say something. Just say it, Utah."

  "Not anyone could live with a man who's never home," she obliged him. "Someone who might never come home alive."

  "I suppose that's one way of looking at it."

  "Is that why you came home?" she asked. "Is it starting to get to you?"

  "No." He felt his mood begin to go south.

  "Why, then?"

  She was going to ruin a perfectly good afternoon. "I haven't spent time with my dad in a while."

  "You see him during the holidays, don't you?"

  "When I can get away."

  She sighed. "I wish you'd tell me what happened, Mason. You used to be able to tell me anything."

  He reached his ball and prepared to swing. West Africa was not up for discussion. She could talk about anything but that. He swung and over-shot the green. The ball landed on the rough.

  "So that's it, then? You won't tell me?"

  He looked at the care and concern in her beautiful blue eyes, shaded beneath the visor. "No."

  "Burying whatever happened won't help you get over it."

  She didn't understand. He would never be able to forgive himself for the colossal failure of his last mission. There was no forgiving something that horrible. No amount of therapy would change that.

  She cocked her head and eyed him. "You really can't talk about it, can you?"

  Hearing the warm sympathy in her tone, he got a sinking feeling she saw far more than he wanted her to.

  "Andy said as much, but...I don't know, I guess I couldn't believe it," she went on.

  "Can we just enjoy the afternoon together?" he asked.

  She stared at him for long seconds. Then finally she started up the fairway toward his ball without pressing him further. He could tell she was upset. Over him. She cared, and he had to tread lightly there.

  She stopped at his ball. He could see a crease between her eyebrows that wasn't there before, and her pretty mouth had lost its animation.

  He ignored the ball and came to stand before her. Lifting his hand, he brushed the backs of his fingers along her cheek and jaw. "Don't worry about me, angel. I'm a grown man and I can take care of myself."

  "Mason-"

  He pressed his forefinger over her mouth, stopping her. "Shh," he murmured. "Build your golf course. Make a life for yourself in Timberline. You deserve to be happy. And don't listen to what anybody says about you."

  He traced the outline of her lower lip with his finger, feeling the soft exhale of her breath with the caress. The sweetness of it lightened the weight inside him.

  She swallowed and stepped back. "You better stroke now."

  A grin hit him because she wasn't aware of what she'd just said. "Here?" he looked around. "Now?"

  Her mouth curled into a derisive frown.

  He chuckled, levity returning.

  Turning away and going to his ball, he swung and watched it land about fifty feet from hers.

  "So, how'd you meet Johnny Cash, anyway?" he asked.

  "Johnny Cash? Aren't you full of it today." She started walking.

  He walked beside her and let the question stand.

  "Which Johnny are you talking about? The one who stole all my money or the one who gave all of his to me?" she asked.

  "You know what I meant."

  "I was working. He came to golf on a regular basis. We started talking. We hit it off. He wrote me into his will."

  "And everyone thought you wooed a geriatric for financial gain."

  "We talked a lot," she went on, not looking at him. "He had his problems, I had mine. Pretty soon we became a therapy session. After that, it got closer. He understood me. And he needed someone to care. Really care. About him as a person." Now she turned to him. "You know?"

  For a moment he was back in time, when they used to talk for hours. He could say anything to her. And he always felt good. Like he did today.

  He understood me.

  "Yeah, I know," he said. And he did. Utah cared about Arthur. Her feelings were genuine. Arthur's age didn't matter. The connection did. Mason understood her, too. That's how he knew the relationship hadn't been more than two people needing each other on a fundamental level.

  They reached their balls. He shot f
irst, then she did. They resumed their trek up the fairway.

  "What about Johnny Con Man?" he asked as he hauled the golf clubs and walked beside her. "How'd you meet him?"

  "At a seedy bar in Denver. Went there with a friend."

  "Really?"

  "Yep. Got trashed, took him home and had wild sex until dawn. He reminded me of you."

  A second or two passed before he realized she was kidding. "Come on, Utah, how'd you meet the loser?"

  His heart lurched when he noticed the slight slowing of her stride, the twitch of her head as she averted her gaze. He couldn't see her eyes, but he'd bet grief hovered there. The bastard hurt her. She'd cared about him and he'd taken all her money. After beating her.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have asked like that." There was a line between teasing and hurting. He never wanted to hurt her again after that night he had to drive away from her standing on her mother's front porch. The realization he was really leaving had wiped the adoration off her face. In all the years since then, he'd never forgotten that look. He could not let history repeat itself.

  She shook her head. "No. It's okay."

  "You don't have to tell me."

  "I met him at the Boom Days festival in Leadville. I was watching a pack burro race when he came up and introduced himself."

  A smile pushed the corners of his mouth. Utah loved festivals. She was a mountain girl. Small-town and full of heart.

  "He was very charming. We had fun together that day. It didn't take much to convince me I had feelings for him. Especially after..."

  She didn't continue.

  "After what?" he pressed.

  She shrugged, an attempt at nonchalance. "We hit it off. I thought he understood me. He made me feel important. Valued. All that." She shook her head as though shaking off the memory. "I thought it was for real."

  "You loved him."

  "He filled a void."

  They reached the next hole and Mason was glad for the diversion. It troubled him to wonder what void the guy had filled. He and Utah may have been young when they fell in love, but one thing he'd always known...it had been the genuine article. As first loves went, theirs had lit the fuse.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Trustworthiness wasn't a trait Utah could count on in men. Yet, here she was, spending an afternoon golfing with Mason. Flirting with him. It felt good. Dangerously good. Take-him-to-bed good. She should have never brought him here. The end of summer would come, and where would that leave her?