by Vanessa Hart
An hour later, Leslie stared at the blank notebook paper and the discarded magazines. The wedding story didn't suit her, but it had offered the most intriguing plot possibilities. Swearing, she threw down her pen, then forced her stiff body into motion. She gathered her writing materials, stowed them inside the motorhome, then dug out her hiking boots.
"Take a hike, sis," Kat teased, as Leslie laced up the boots.
"I might as well. Maybe the trail around the lake will inspire me. Nothing else has."
"You're trying too hard. It'll come." Kat yawned, stretched, then stood. "As for me, I'm going to relax in that lounge chair and read in the shade."
Leslie pushed a floppy khaki hat on her head, then followed Kat outside. "Go for it. That should really get the heart pumping."
Kat made a crude response, which Leslie ignored. She clomped across the gravel road toward the lake.
* * * *
Morning sun poured through the trees, bathing the weathered wooden dock in warm light. Gray reeled in his line for the last time. He missed the fog. Hidden under its misty blanket, he had relaxed with his fishing rod and absorbed the peace and silence of gray dawn. He'd also pulled in four keepers, four large bass now dangling in the water from a stringer.
He cleaned his tackle, then began to pack up. No need to be greedy. Four bass would feed him four meals, unless he shared with the ladies next door. Now there was a thought, one he stopped in its tracks. Fishing provided him with his escape from the hapless campers, not an excuse to be with them.
With her. Leslie. The woman he'd vowed to stop thinking about. And he'd behaved all morning--well, almost all morning--except for that one lapse when he'd glanced at the mini-motorhome in site thirteen, wondering where she slept. He'd guess she'd be the one to climb up into the over-the-cab bunk. Thoughts of her relaxed, slumbering figure triggered his imagination in directions he needed to ignore. He refused to envision her firm, leggy body beneath his. The sudden flush of warmth to his skin, a heat that converged then dropped like a lead ball into his gut, was from too much coffee.
Yeah, right.
Except his Thermos bottle of coffee stood beside his tackle box, untouched. As if thinking about the woman a second time that morning wasn't enough for his nervous system, he suddenly caught sight of her hiking the lake trail, headed directly toward him, wearing khaki cargo shorts, a red shirt, and a stunning smile.
"Good morning, Gray."
He managed to find his voice. "Hello. You like to hike?"
She nodded. "You like to fish?"
"Yeah."
She plopped down beside him, then wrapped her arms around her bent knees. She lifted her head, peering from beneath her floppy hat. "Any luck?"
Forcing his hands to open--he hadn't realized they were clenched--he pulled in the stringer. "Four bass."
"Wow. Those are beauties."
"Do you fish?" He lowered his catch back into the water.
"Once. I caught a fourteen-inch catfish. Pretty good for a girl."
"Good for a guy, too." Her face lit up with pleasure. He watched for the dimple at her mouth. "Did you use night crawlers?"
She shuddered. "No. I refuse to use live bait."
The same woman who enjoyed reading true crime and detective magazines had a problem hooking a worm? "What bait did you use, then?"
"A dough ball. A wadded up piece of bread, actually."
"I'm impressed."
She shook her head at the memory. "It really irked my fiancé that I caught a fish with bread and he caught nothing."
Fiancé?
He suppressed a sigh of relief--or was it disappointment? Saved from temptation, the tension inside him should have uncoiled. But the tangle of nerves in his stomach prevailed. He unscrewed the lid of his Thermos, then held it toward her. Strong brewed coffee smells wafted over them.
"Coffee? We'll have to share the cup."
"Thanks." She waited as he poured the dark steaming liquid into the lid.
"I don't have any sugar or creamer."
"Black's fine."
He couldn't pull his gaze from her mouth. She pressed her lips to the plastic lid, tilting it to drink. He swallowed. Twice. "So, does your fiancé fish without you?"
A bleakness darkened her features, then dissipated with the return of her smile. "Not anymore. I mean, he's not my fiancé anymore."
Now the tension melted from his body. That wasn't how it was supposed to work. Ooh, boy. He scrambled for a clever response. "You ditched him because he couldn't compete with your catch. Right?"
Her lips twitched as she sipped coffee. "Let's just say I couldn't compete with his catch."
"Ouch! That must've hurt." He wiped his hands along the length of his jeans. Damnation, he could read between the lines. She'd been hurt by the jerk. His thoughts tumbled from his mouth like a runaway horse. "The guy must be an idiot to cheat on a terrific woman like you."
"Why, thank you for the compliment, Gray." She shrugged, still smiling. But the dimple vanished. "That's history. At least I didn't have to suffer through another wedding."
Another wedding? "You'd been married before?"
She shook her head, snickering. "No. I was thinking about Kat's. Just six months before my wedding date she put the whole family through this Gone With The Wind gala you wouldn't believe. As maid of honor, I had to wear a dark green velvet dress like the one Scarlett had made from draperies. Thankfully, it was December, although the darn costumes were still hot."
"I'll bet your sister made a beautiful bride."
"Kat would shine in a feed sack. Her dress looked just like an antebellum bridal gown." She sighed, then shook her head. "Mother sews or the whole shebang would've bankrupted my parents."
"Wedding plans have a way of ballooning," he said. "My fiancée and I agreed to a small, modest wedding. Now she's really stressed from all the arrangements. I guess it's easier for the groom."
"When's the wedding?"
"Two weeks from today."
He accepted the Thermos cup she handed him. As he drank after her, he placed his mouth where hers had been, imagining how she'd taste if he kissed her. Swallowing, he banished his wayward thoughts, reminding himself he loved Myra.
"I'd better go." She stood. "Thanks for the coffee break."
By the time his stunned brain could react to her abrupt departure, Leslie had disappeared into the woods.
* * * *
Leslie stomped the pine needle path, pushing her pace until she panted for breath. She should have known. Anyone as good looking and as nice as Gray had to be taken. The good guys always eluded her.
Not that she was looking. The more she thought about it, the more she relaxed. At least now Kat would have to stop her matchmaking efforts. It would be a pleasant week if Leslie could just enjoy the park without worrying about impressing a man or evading her sister. She'd focus her thoughts on her next book's plot instead of the unwanted feelings Gray had stirred within her, threatening to bring to life ... feelings dormant for almost a year.
Sexual feelings.
The guy had stirred up her suppressed urges, the ones she'd tried to deny since Josh dumped her. Gray, safely engaged, would be no temptation now. But a tiny throb worked its way from deep inside her to her clitoris.
That did it. "When I get home, I'm buying a vibrator."
By the time she had circled the lake, returning to the dock, Gray was gone. Good. Until she had her attraction toward him under control, she'd need to avoid him. The guy was forbidden fruit, although there was nothing fruity about him. No, indeed. Slowing her pace, she exhaled a long breath. Two more laps around the lake should do it. By that time she'd be too exhausted to think about Gray Webster or his pending nuptials.
Or her sudden and intense horniness.
A red cardinal zipped past her, almost within touching distance, reminding her of why she enjoyed nature hikes. Its feathers the brilliant shade of Kat's favorite lipstick, the shade Leslie jokingly called Hooker Red, the bird attacked
a second cardinal. A battle ensued between the two males, causing her to sniff and shake her head. Macho birds. She had never seen two female birds fight for dominance.
Later as she climbed the trail back to the campsite, Leslie's emotions were under control. At least she thought so until she rounded the motorhome. Gray's lean, sexy body filled the lawn chair opposite Kat's lounge.
"Guess what?" Kat's smug expression gave her pause.
Warily Leslie asked, "What?"
"I don't have to cook tonight. We're having fresh grilled bass at Gray's."
* * * *
Gray needed Myra. Picking up the cellular telephone, he punched in his number, then the Send button. Hearing her voice would drown out his crazy obsession with Leslie.
"Hello?" Myra sounded out of breath.
"Hi, beautiful. It's me."
She giggled. "Hi yourself, sugar. What's up?"
"Not a thing. I just needed to hear your voice. I miss you."
"Good. Like I told you, I want you to miss me like crazy."
"I do."
"Um, is there anything else? I'm kinda rushed this morning. I've a lot of errands to run."
"I understand. We'll talk later."
"I'll call you tonight, okay?"
She'd hung up without a good-bye. She must have been in a real hurry. The damn wedding consumed so much of her time lately she had no time for him. Or was he being overly sensitive? The wedding held great importance to Myra and to her family. He could suffer through it. Then the two of them would have a lifetime together. And that was what mattered most.
A knot gripped his stomach, so painful, so unexpected, it pushed the breath from his lungs. Doubling over in pain, he squeezed his eyes shut against the white stars in his vision. What in the world was wrong with him? He'd just had a physical exam. Doctor Powers had proclaimed him to be fit and healthy.
He collapsed onto the sofa. His pulse raced wildly. Trying to relax, he forced slow, deep breaths. Calming breaths. Within minutes the attack had passed, his heart rate had normalized. He really needed to lighten up on the caffeine, or at least switch to decaf.
Closing his eyes, he let his mind drift back to thoughts of his earlier conversation with Kat. She had told him about Rob's trailer-building business, their house in the Atlanta suburb of Sewanee, and Rob's love of fishing. The guy apparently made good money to afford a house, a motorhome, and a wife who described her occupation as "part-time beauty consultant."
Not that he envied Rob's success. Gray stayed in his engineer's position at the power company because of the regular work schedule and generous vacation benefits. He knew the price he'd pay for starting his own business would be leisure time. After growing up with a workaholic father, Gray had no intention of losing the balance he'd achieved in his life. No, Gray didn't envy Rob's money.
But he did envy him. Without having met the guy, he could see how happily married he must be. Kat didn't begrudge her husband a single day of pleasure in his fishing camper. She bubbled over with talk of Rob, of activities they shared, plans they'd made. The woman was besotted with her husband, and made no secret of her feelings. Could that be what he envied? Did Myra feel that passionate about him? And could he honestly say his enthusiasm rivaled Kat's?
There he went again, with the pre-wedding doubts. He had been warned it would happen. But doubts hammered him, ever since ... was it only yesterday he had met Leslie Turner? Was she merely a symptom of bridegroom jitters--or the cause?
Ooh boy.
* * * *
"Rob's coming over tonight," Kat announced at dinner.
She and Leslie sat opposite Gray at his campsite's picnic table, feasting on grilled fish, baked potatoes and salad, while buzzing mosquitoes looked to feast on them.
Leslie scraped the last of her salad from the plastic bowl. "When did you talk to Rob?"
"I didn't. I just know." Kat winked, grinning. "He won't be able to stand two nights in a row without seeing me."
"This is true," Leslie muttered, waving away a mosquito.
"I look forward to meeting him."
As if on cue, a slow-moving sport utility vehicle crept past the campsite, then wheeled into site thirteen. Kat stood, waving at the driver.
"Rob! Over here!"
Kat didn't wait. Leaping from the bench, she ran into the arms of her husband, who had bolted from the Explorer.
"This may take a while," Leslie told Gray. "They still think of themselves as newlyweds, so there's a lot of lip-locking going on."
Gray smiled. "I think it's great. How long did you say they've been married?"
"About a year and a half."
"Good thing I caught four bass. We'll be able to offer Rob dinner."
"Hmm. I have a feeling that's not what he's hungry for."
Rob and Kat managed to disentangle themselves. Arm in arm they strolled over to Gray's campsite. After Kat introduced the two men, Gray invited Rob to eat. Leslie picked at the remains of her food, half-listening to the conversation around her. Rob and Gray traded fishing tales as well as camping stories. She braced herself for Gray's account of the sisters' camping disasters. But Gray didn't betray them. Kat did.
"I need to show you what I did to the side of the motorhome," she said, pulling at his arm.
To Leslie's amazement, Kat's eyes filled with tears. Robbed of speech, she lowered her head, her shoulders shaking with sobs. What was going on?
"Oh, baby, it's all right." Rob wrapped her into his arms, then walked her over to examine the damage.
"I've never seen that happen before."
"What?"
"Kat cry like that. Oh, she'll bawl over some book or movie, but never over a real life crisis."
"I told you it'll buff out. Rob won't be mad."
"I didn't expect him to be. He's a good guy."
Gray nodded. "I like him."
She shook her head, then stood. "You cooked. Let me clean up."
"We'll both clean up. Then we can relax and visit."
He flashed her one of his bone-melting smiles, the smile that brought a glitter to his gorgeous blue eyes. The smile that squeezed the air from her lungs. Damn him again.
The slamming door from Rob's motorhome snapped her attention from Gray. The muffled click of the deadbolt followed. "Oh, no."
"What is it?"
"I think I'm locked out for a while." Mercy, what was she supposed to do outside, alone with a practically-married blue-eyed hunk?
"Rob is comforting Kat in private, I presume?"
She nodded. "I told you they still think they're newlyweds."
"Well, let's clean up and go for a walk. There's plenty of daylight left."
"Good idea."
The farther the distance from the sounds of her sister and brother-in-law making passionate love, the better. Not that she resented her sister's happiness. But it had been a long, long time since Leslie'd had any passion in her life--even longer than it'd been since she'd had sex. Refusing to dwell on memories of Josh, she concentrated on gathering trash and wiping off the tablecloth.
"The few dirty utensils we have can soak while we walk." Gray emerged from his motorhome gripping his flashlight and insect repellent. "Let's refresh our bug spray."
"Good idea."
Evening shadows darkened the campground road as their footsteps crunched gravel. Neither spoke, yet seemed to agree to take the trail down to Lake Helen. When they reached the fishing dock, Gray broke the silence.
"Want to watch the sunset?"
What a perfectly romantic idea. Except she couldn't get romantic with Gray. He had a fiancée, for crying out loud. She needed to remember that. She nodded, then folded herself into a cross-legged position beside him.
"Tell me about your fiancée." There. Might as well get it out in the open so she'd remember her place.
He gazed across the water, his brown hair lifted by the cool breeze. "Her name's Myra. She's a nurse at a convalescent home on Roswell Road."
"How did you meet her?"
"Geriatrics? How old was your mom?"
"Fifty-nine. She wasn't a geriatrics case, but her cancer had disabled her to the point she needed constant care."
Without forethought, Leslie placed her hand on his arm in a gesture of comfort. But comfort was the last thing she felt. Disturbed would better describe her reaction. As quickly as grace would allow, she withdrew her hand.
"I'm sorry for your loss. Is your father still living?"
He turned toward her, his lips curved into a weak smile. "Still living, still working. Still a dedicated career man. Ever watch Meteorology Network on cable? He's the storm expert."
"Eugene Webster is your father?"
"Yep."
"So how long did you know Myra before you knew she was The One? I'm curious since I have rather poor judgment in that department."
"We dated a few times, but we saw a lot of each other at the convalescent home. She was everything I wanted in a wife, and as Mom kept reminding me, I wasn't getting any younger."
"You aren't that old."
"Thirty four, tomorrow."
"Happy Birthday."
"Thanks. Anyway, I couldn't see waiting, so I asked Myra to marry me. It just felt like the right time, I guess. The thing to do." He paused, swallowing. "We announced our engagement to Mom the night before she slipped into the coma."
He turned away then, staring across the lake at the red glow of leftover sun peeking over Brasstown Bald, Georgia's highest peak. She left him alone with his thoughts, remembering the starkness in his eyes as he'd talked about his mother's death. The sun's light faded to a coral pink, streaked with indigo and lavender.
Gray cleared his throat. "Your turn. Tell me about your engagement."