by Nancy Radke
Adam settled down next to her, holding himself up on one elbow so he could look into her eyes. "Nice and warm here...and soft. Relax. You still don't trust me completely, do you, Jo?"
"No. Not in a situation like this. You never do what anyone expects," she replied, putting a hand on his chest to push him back a little.
"Keeps 'em guessing," he said, grinning broadly and grabbing her hand to press it harder against him.
"That's for sure. Let go. I want to get dressed now." She tugged, but he wasn't letting go.
"What d'you want your clothes for anyhow? You'll only get hot again...and I've seen all I'm going to see...for now," he added, provoking her to pull harder on her hand.
"Which is almost everything," she claimed, indignant. "This doesn't cover much."
"True," he agreed, "I asked you to go skinny-dipping as a joke. I never thought you'd go dressed like that. It's almost more enticing than if you'd gone without. Actually a woman's more alluring when she's covered, even partially. It keeps an element of mystery to her."
"Then I'd better add to the mystery."
He smiled, dark brows flicking upward. "Not when I've solved this much so far." There was admiration and a hint of mischief reflected in his eyes. Jo relaxed slightly.
"But I feel so...." What word should she use?
"So...?" He questioned.
"I don't know. Vulnerable, I guess. Clothes at least seem protective."
"Let me be your protection."
"You're the one I'd need protection from!" she responded.
His smile disappeared. "Do you really believe that?"
"Maybe, maybe not," she said slowly. "It's just that I feel more secure with all my clothes on, thank you."
"Depends. With some guys, it wouldn't matter what you wore, they'd go after you." His expression became more serious and his voice deepened. "As long as we're getting to know each other, Jo, you might as well learn...I keep my word. That means you're safe with me whatever you're wearing. Or not wearing. Can you believe that?" he pleaded as he released her hand.
She returned his look, her features as serious as his. "I want to."
"I'll get your things," he offered, starting to rise.
"No." She stopped him. "It's okay. Like you said, it doesn't make much difference now."
He sank back down beside her. "You're sure?"
"Yes." She was even more sure, as she grew more comfortable with him. "Please, Adam, give me time. You tend to go `slowly' at such a rapid pace." She reached up a hand to touch his lips and he kissed each finger, reawakening the desire in her that had begun to cool down.
"True. I can't seem to get enough of you...now," he stated, his deep voice husky with suppressed emotion. "I'd planned to go slower, much slower, but you responded so beautifully last night...you sped up my timetable. I didn't expect you to come on that strong for a least a month, if I was lucky."
She thought it a perfectly normal reaction to a man like Adam. "Why not?"
"I thought it would take at least that long to break down your feelings against me, but they weren't as strong as I thought."
"I never hated you, Adam. But you were such a...a...."
"Go ahead, say it," he urged, although his expression was wary.
"All right. You were such a jerk in high school. That bet would've put any girl off."
Adam rolled onto his back beside her, eyes closed, hands behind his head, regret reflected in his voice. "I was, wasn't I? But you wouldn't speak to me, even after I brought you off the mountain. Just one little `Thank you,' and after that, not even `Hi.' That hurt."
Compassion hit her sharply. "Adam—"
"I'm sorry, Jo. About the bet."
"I'm sorry, too. For hurting you. Like I said...I wanted to speak to you, but I never knew what to say, and the moments would pass leaving me with nothing said."
"And I thought...you still couldn't stand me...because of your grandmother’s death."
"No. Never for that reason. I just didn't know what to say." The warm sun was baking her gently and she was quite content to lay beside him, her body relaxed, her mind attuned to his. Reaching out. Trying to heal some of the hurt that had gone before. "We should've had this conversation long ago. But you always looked so self-contained, Adam. I didn't realize it mattered. I wanted to speak to you, but—"
He sighed deeply. "I know. I had my fence up, too. I didn't enjoy being blamed for what had happened. It wasn't my fault."
"Gramps blames you because you didn't stop your dad. Didn't you even try?"
She felt his body stiffen, drawing away from her. "No."
"But why let him drive off drunk? You were big enough to stop him, weren't you?"
"That's not the point. I didn't want to stop him." His voice sounded raw with anguish.
Gramps was right, Jo thought. Adam could have prevented it. "Why not?"
"He got mean when he drank. I wanted him out of the house. Don't you think I've had to live with that?"
Jo made a soft sound of sympathy, not knowing what to say.
His breath came in great, ragged gulps as he summed it up, bleakly. "What a price to pay for some cans of beer. He was in lots of pain, you know, from an accident, when a tractor rolled on him. He used pain killers constantly. He’d drink to get relief."
All these years Adam had been punishing himself for that moment's decision. Jo's heart ached for him, for herself, for all of them still caught in the aftermath of tragedy. She spread her fingers apart and touched Adam's fist, tentatively. He responded, opening to take her hand in his.
"We've all paid a high price, Adam,” she said. “It's time to heal the wounds forever — for all our sakes — not just Karen's and Johnny's."
He let out his breath in a deep sigh as he visibly shook himself back to the present. "For all of us. I shared my dad's grief, too over Anna’s death. The accident tore him apart. He counted your grandparents among his best friends...and to know that he had killed her...." He stopped, the sorrow and guilt of that time still powerful enough to make itself felt. "It almost destroyed our family, but Mom is tough. She made us hold together. She and my grandparents. Dad couldn't forgive himself as long as your grampa wouldn't."
And Adam still hadn't forgiven himself for the role he'd played. "I'm very sorry, Adam." At least Jo's family hadn't had that burden.
"I know. Thanks, Jo. Someday I'd like to hear your grampa say it's over."
"That's what this is all about, isn't it?"
"Uh huh."
Adam was right...the price had been enormous. If only all could forgive and begin to forget. But for now, "sorry" would have to do. She had a tremendous urge to move the few inches that would put her in his arms to kiss away all the pain, but her lack of dress made her reconsider.
A companionable silence fell, a contentment created by the words just exchanged. They lay side by side enjoying the stillness of the forest, broken by the occasional sound of the birds and insects. The heavy scent of the lupine flower mingled with the fragrance of Engelman spruce and Ponderosa pine.
Jo closed her eyes, drowsing in the sun. The towel quickly became too hot and she threw it off. Often she had wanted to swim in a mountain lake and lay in the sun like this...and go "skinny dipping," as Adam called it. The danger of being a woman alone, unprotected, had prevented her from ever doing it. Even if she had summoned up the nerve, she wouldn't have enjoyed it because she would've been uncomfortably afraid. Yet in spite of Adam's presence — or because of it — she was thoroughly enjoying herself right now.
What would have happened if she had taken him up on his first suggestion? He said...that she would be safe. What if she took him up on it, right now? Just got up and walked down and...stripped. The thought shook her with its intensity and she rejected it. Rejected it because she knew it would be playing with fire. He might join her in the water. She depended upon his control. She wouldn't be helping them, if she pushed them both over the limits.
Her training in modesty ran deep. Although, what she was
wearing, black bra and panties, was not her usual idea of modest attire.
Things were moving rapidly. She had got caught in the wire on Tuesday, planned the ‘engagement’ with him on Wednesday, been kissed out of her mind on Thursday. And already, on Saturday morning, she was swimming in her lingerie — and enjoying it.
Gramps was right. Adam could get her into trouble if she let him. Judging from her actions the past four days, she had one more day before she let him. He had rapidly undermined her defenses. Would he undermine her morals also?
He broke the stillness first. "What's your favorite food?"
"Oh, uh, rare steak, oysters, corn-on-the-cob...why?"
"So I'll know what to feed you when I buy supplies for our pack trip. I'll get a lot of instant food. I plan to keep you much too busy to cook."
Weren't any subjects safe? "I like most food, Adam, as long as it's fixed nicely." She hadn't risen to the bait that time. Maybe with practice, she'd be able to ignore his more outrageous comments.
"Even fried grasshoppers?"
She laughed and made a face to herself. "No, I've never tried that. I like most things I've tried though." She broke off a grass stem to chew on. "How about you?"
"Steak and potatoes."
"That figures."
"And pie, especially apple."
"And...?"
"Like you, most things." He turned onto his side and plucked the grass out of her hand, chewing on the end she had already started, his dark eyes a few inches from her own. "Come have dinner with me tomorrow after church. Wear something pretty and feminine and I'll give you your rare steak." His voice was low and enticing.
"No grasshoppers?" she teased, drowsy but fully aware of him.
"Some other time, beautiful. Don't go to sleep on me, either. Don't you ever sleep at night?"
"Sure, when I get a chance. It hasn't been exactly calm around here lately. I've been keeping such odd hours—"
"Not my fault."
"Yes — no....I guess you're right. You seem to be in the middle of things, but I guess it hasn't been your fault." How had so much happened in such a short time? She yawned.
"Let's go." He sprang to his feet, leaned over and pulled her up. "You can sleep when you get home." He held her tightly against his warm, hard chest. "Your freckles are out," he said as he kissed each cluster.
"Of course."
He nuzzled her hair, then gently kissed her slightly opened lips. "I really do like coconuts."
Encompassed by sheer delight, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back. His hands dropped to her waist, pulling her against him, their sun-warmed bodies smooth as silk.
It surprised him as well as her, for when they stopped he said, "Ah-hah. What brought that on?"
"Oh, just...practicing. You said we needed practice."
"Minx." He tossed her up on his shoulder again, strode over to the truck and dropped her onto the hot vinyl seat.
"Ouch!" She thrust her hands underneath to hold herself up.
"Sorry! I didn’t think." He pushed the towel under her as she raised up again.
"My clothes." They were still down by the lake some distance away so she decided to let him make the barefooted trip. "Get them, please."
"Why?" he teased.
"Because this seat is hot. And I daren't go home like this."
He stepped closer, lazily surveying her again. "But you don't realize how beautiful my view is. Now if we were up in the Wallowas with a tent nearby—" He stroked three fingers up her leg, watching her jump sideways on the hot vinyl, to quickly jump back to the towel. Fully awake from these tactics, Jo watched fascinated as he laid his hand on her thigh, the warmth generating a powerful longing.
"It is almost as good as a swimsuit at that. It covers as well as most bikinis I've seen. Don't you want to wear it home?"
"Stop teasing. In no way could this scrap be mistaken for a swim suit. It's nowhere near substantial enough."
"Ah, yes...it might be a little too much for Gramps. Too fast, you say?"
"Definitely!"
“I could keep this up all day, but we'd better get moving. All good things must end sometimes. I'll get our clothes." He pulled on his jeans and boots, piled her things together with his tank top, and dumped them into the truck bed behind them.
"Hey!" she exclaimed, half-turning. What was he up to now?
"I'll give them to you before we reach the road." He climbed in beside her, started up and turned around.
The return distance seemed shorter than it had on the way in, despite the fact that Adam drove slower, one arm over her shoulder, humming and singing songs or parts of songs. Jo joined in, harmonizing when she could, and when she knew the song.
"Do you know the words to Behind Closed Doors?" he asked.
She had heard it enough to know most of it, it had been on one of her mother's CDs. "Yes."
He started and she joined in, the words having a more subtle meaning when directed personally at her. They finished as he pulled up to a stop.
Confidently he gathered her up onto his lap, tilted her head back and took full measure of her sweetness displayed for him. Pliant in his arms, she half-turned, laying her hand against his broad chest, shining eyes lifted to his. His lips took hers again, and this time she met him with soft response. "You cuddle so beautifully, precious. What would you do for me, behind closed doors?"
She held her breath at the sudden image that returned to her mind, put there by the song, of Adam and her together, and she realized that he had pictured it also. "I don't know, I can't say." She squirmed upright, agitated. "Don't ask."
"All right. But I'd love to find out." He got out and retrieved their clothes, and they dressed without haste, reluctant to end their time at this place. The gate was around the bend and Jo walked ahead, closing it after them.
"Thanks. Remind me to always bring you along."
"You're welcome." What would happen, next time they came? She had better wait for her swimsuit.
As they came around the corner, they spotted a dark panel truck pulled off to the side of the road. Adam slowed so he could look at the Oregon license plate.
He read the numbers off to Jo. "Write those down,” he said, repeating the numbers. “These might be our cattle thieves."
“We saw a truck last time.”
“Would you drive the same vehicle after someone saw you in it?”
“No.” She flipped open his glovebox, found a paper and pencil he kept there for notes, and wrote it down.
He gave her the model and probable year. It was hard to tell now-a-days. The cars looked so much alike. As they slowly passed, he looked back—and read her off a second number.
"You gave me two different numbers," Jo said.
"That's right."
"Aren't they supposed to be the same?"
"Yes. I think the back one was cardboard. It didn't look like professional printing. You know how the numbers are stamped into the metal, so they are raised?"
"Yes."
"They didn't look like it."
"Couldn't we drive back and look better?"
"Not with you."
"Why not?"
"They’re armed. I have a rifle, but I'm not taking you into a gun fight. I'd never forgive myself if you got hurt when I could have prevented it.”
"I don't want you going in either."
"I don't plan to." He took out his cell phone and speed dialed Sheriff Allerton.
"This is Adam Trahern," he said. "I've got a possible suspect for the cattle thieving that's been going on. There's a dark paneled truck on FH 29. Could you have it checked out?" He glanced over at Jo's paper and read off the license numbers. "The first one is on the back and looks like a fake." Adam stopped the car, checked his GPS unit and read the coordinates off to the sheriff. "Just past that, headed north."
"No, I've got a woman with me. I can't detain them."
"Send a car to each end, then have them drive toward each other. There's only one oth
er road off this one. You've got a two out of three chance to intercept them."
He hung up.
"Do you think they'll get them?" Jo asked.
"I have no idea. It might not be them. But those license plates were surely wrong."
"Could we let the air out of their tires?" Jo asked.
He smiled. "No. Let the sheriff handle this. Now what colors do you want for our wedding?" he asked as he drove back across the mountains.
Talking about wedding plans might be better than other topics, so Jo entered into the discussion with zeal. If only it were real. By the time they reached her home, they had everything planned, from best man to flowers.
Pulling up in the driveway, Adam caught her hand as she slid over to get out. "Remember me tonight, honey — when you're out with this Peter character. And tell him, no more dates."
"Sure." One date with anyone but Adam, was one too many. As for remembering Adam — he'd given her plenty to remember. She wasn't about to forget this morning.
Her grandfather wasn't home. Karen said he went to Cindy's to be with his great-grandchildren after Jo left.
That evening Jo was tempted to throw on jeans and sweatshirt, but knew those wouldn't please Gramps, so chose a cotton sun dress with spaghetti straps and a light jacket. As she was dressing, Karen came in. "I'll zip you," she offered, suiting action to words. "How'd it go with Adam today?"
"Fine," Jo replied, glad that Karen was behind her and couldn't see the blush redden her face.
"I was afraid the two of you would fight all the time, although Johnny said differently."
Johnny and his information. "How would Johnny know that?"
"I asked him last night how he knew when none of the rest of us did. He said Adam has two letters you wrote him."
"After all these years?"
"When'd you write them?"
"One was after his father's death, but the first was when I fell and broke my arm."
"What'd you say?"
"Not much. Just ‘thank you’ in the one, and sympathy in the other."
"There must've been more. Why not ask Adam some day?"
Jo looked skeptical. "I probably wouldn't see anything in them now...I didn't when I wrote them. How do I look?"
Karen surveyed her sister, as Jo turned around. "Nice. I have some earrings that match that color you can borrow, if you like. I'll expect a full report when you get home, so take note of the menu and whatever else. Poor Johnny and I haven't even been to a movie together."