For months her mother had tried to talk her into packing the photos away. "How can you move on when you keep the past staring you in the face all the time?" she'd said.
And now her mother was gone as well as Jimmy.
But, it wasn't the same, she quickly reminded herself. Jimmy was never coming back, but her mother was. Savannah had to keep the faith and believe it was true—it was just a matter of time before her mother returned to them. To even entertain thoughts to the contrary was impossible to bear.
She looked at the picture of Jimmy one last time, then turned away and went back to the window to watch for Riley. Just one day, she mentally told her husband. It's just one day with Riley.
It doesn't mean anything at all. It can never mean anything. You were my soul mate, Jimmy, and nothing will ever take away from my love for you.
Riley and I have things to discuss … things about the crime. That's all it is. She closed her eyes and allowed herself another moment to wallow in the familiar grasp of grief.
When she opened her eyes again and looked out the window, she saw Riley's truck pulling into the complex. She watched him park and get out of the truck. As he approached her door, all thoughts of Jimmy seeped out of her mind.
Riley looked so handsome. He was dressed casually in a pair of jeans. His short-sleeved white shirt was open at the collar and tucked into his jeans, emphasizing his slender waist and lean hips.
She smoothed a hand down her denim sundress, a flutter of crazy nervous anxiety rippling through her. What did he have planned for the day? He'd said to be ready for anything.
He spied her through the window and his lips curved into a smile that shot a river of warmth through her. And in that moment she knew she was—she was ready for anything.
* * *
Chapter 10
«^»
"Are you hungry?" Riley asked as he headed his truck out of town. He tried to keep his eyes on the road, but it was difficult when all he wanted to do was gaze at her.
She looked so pretty in her denim sundress, with her cinnamon-colored shoulders and long legs bare. She smelled as pretty as she looked, and he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, willing himself not to think about how much he wished he could kiss her again.
"Not really. I had a late breakfast. So, where are we going?" she asked curiously.
"I'm being self-indulgent and taking you to my dream."
"Ah, Riley Estates." She settled back in the seat, appearing relaxed.
"Actually, I have several things planned for the day," he said. "And there's only one rule."
"What's that?"
"I think we should make a deal that we aren't going to talk about murders or missing mothers or crimes of any kind. We are not going to talk about Internet searches or anything else that makes us feel bad or sad. What do you say? Is it a deal?"
"Sure, but that doesn't leave us much to talk about."
He flashed her a look of incredulity. "Savannah, we aren't the sum total of the crimes that happened to us. We'll find lots of things to talk about."
She nodded, a small smile curving her lips. "All right. I'm game if you are."
"Good." Riley's main concern today was giving her a day off, some time where she wasn't thinking about or working a case.
Each night that he'd spoken with her by phone he'd been struck by how tired she sounded and he'd known it wasn't a physical tiredness, but rather a mental exhaustion. He wanted to take her cares away, if only for this day.
"I spoke with Breanna this morning. She told me Maggie has named the doll you gave her Rose."
"Rose is a nice name. You like roses?" he asked. She smiled again, that little smile that was merely a flirtatious hint of the kind of smile her lips were capable of. "What woman doesn't? However, my absolute favorite flower is black-eyed Susans … I think because my father used to call me black-eyed Savannah which always made my mother mad because she said if he was going to call me a nickname it should be my Cherokee name."
"And what's that?" he asked curiously.
She grinned teasingly. "Ah, I can't tell you. It's a Cherokee taboo to tell anyone your Native American name. If I told you, then I'd have to kill you."
"Really?"
She laughed. "No, I just made that up." Her laughter died and she eyed him thoughtfully. "But I don't think I'm ready to tell you my Cherokee name yet."
"Okay," he agreed. This was a side of Savannah he hadn't seen before. The coy teasing, almost flirtatious banter intensified his desire for more from her. "But, I won't be happy until I know your Cherokee name," he warned.
The drive to Sycamore Ridge seemed to take no time as they talked about all kinds of things. It was amazing how much they found to talk about, even without the mention of what he'd announced off-limits.
She spoke about some of the Cherokee traditions, enlightening him on a culture that was steeped in beautiful beliefs and ideals. It was obvious she was proud of her heritage, and he found himself wanting to learn more.
Although they had agreed not to discuss their mothers, she told him about Rita's work at the Cherokee Cultural Center and how that had been such a big part of Savannah's childhood.
By the time they reached the entrance to Riley Estates, he could tell she was more relaxed than he'd ever seen her. Her smile came frequently, and the tiny stress lines that had wrinkled her forehead seemed to have magically disappeared.
"Oh, Riley," she said as they drove through the entrance. "This is quite impressive."
Pride swelled inside him. "We still have a lot of landscaping to do around the entrance," he explained. "I want shrubs and flowers everywhere … you know, to add warmth." He parked in the driveway of one of the model homes, then smiled at her. "How about I give you the dollar tour?"
"Sounds nice," she replied.
For the next hour Riley led her around his dream. He showed her where the swimming pool would eventually be, where he intended to place a central park area. They went in and out of the model homes, climbed on equipment to see into the distance, hiked until they both were near exhaustion, then he took her to his office to meet Lillian.
"It's so nice to meet you," Lillian said as she motioned Savannah into one of the chairs in Riley's office. "Riley has spoken so highly of you. Iced tea … that's what we need. You both look parched. I suppose he had you traipsing all over the countryside."
She disappeared from the office and a small giggle escaped Savannah. Riley grinned. "Hard to get a word in edgewise when she gets going."
"She seems quite sweet."
"She is," Riley replied. "I'm not sure what I would have done without her the past six months."
"You would have done just fine," Lillian said as she reentered the office carrying two tall glasses of tea. "But, you wouldn't be as organized and you definitely wouldn't be eating enough fiber."
She handed Savannah a glass of the tea and smiled. "Nobody realizes just how important fiber is to the diet. Let me know if you two need anything else," she said to Riley, then left the office once again and closed the door behind her.
Riley sat in the chair behind his desk and grinned at Savannah, then took a deep drink of the iced tea. "And this … is my world," he said as he set the glass down on his desk.
"And a nice world it is," she replied. "I can't imagine anything nicer than being a builder, knowing that each house you build will be a family's home, the place where they live and dream and love."
She got it. She got his dream. "A lot of people assume builders go into their trade for the money and there's no denying that if you are successful there's plenty of money to be had with building homes."
She took a sip of her tea, then smiled at him. The warmth of her smile eddied through him. "But, that's not the reason why you do it, is it?" She stood and walked over to the window and peered out. "Your vision here isn't about money. It's about people." She turned back to face him.
He'd never wanted to kiss a woman as much as he wanted to kiss her at that moment.
He wanted to take her into his arms, feel her warm curves against him as his mouth explored hers. In truth, he wanted to do far more than kiss her.
He cleared his throat, fighting against the desire that simmered in his veins. "You hungry?" he asked.
She nodded. "Starving."
"Me, too." He got up from his desk. "Let's go get something to eat." They finished their tea, said goodbye to Lillian, then got back into Riley's truck.
"So, where are we eating?" she asked.
"Chez Riley's." He cast a quick glance in her direction. "I thought I'd take you to my place, let you see where I live and where a meal fit for a king is waiting for us."
"Really? You cooked?"
He grinned sheepishly. "Actually, to be perfectly honest, I shopped." He hesitated a beat. "Little Doe?"
"Excuse me?"
"Just making a guess about your Cherokee name," he said.
She laughed. "Little Doe? Couldn't you at least be a little original?"
"Okay … Foolish Fawn," he teased.
Her laughter rang in the truck and he relished the sound of it. He wanted to make her laugh always, to see that glimmer of happiness shine in her eyes every day of his life.
"Not even close," she exclaimed. She grew silent as he pulled into his driveway. He shut off his motor and turned to look at her. "It's beautiful, Riley. Absolutely beautiful, and the setting is stunning."
He looked back at the house. It was a beautiful place, and there wasn't another house in sight, only trees and grass and carefully planted shrubbery. "Thanks."
They got out of the car and he led her inside, and as he saw the living room through her eyes he realized his mother had been right. It was a beautiful house, but it wasn't a home, and he felt the need to apologize for the cold, impersonal living conditions.
"I'm not here much. The place needs a little TLC."
She walked across the living room and stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a scenic view of a small brook and ancient trees. "Why hang pictures and put out knickknacks in a house that offers this kind of view?"
He came to stand just behind her, drawing a deep breath of the scent of her. "It is beautiful, isn't it?" He pointed to a spot down by the brook. "That's where we're going to eat our dinner."
"How wonderful." She turned to look at him and they were so close he could feel her breath on his face. Time seemed to come to a halt as they stood face-to-face, a mere breath apart.
Every muscle in his body tensed as desire rocked him nearly mindless. He wanted to back her up against the window, claim her lips with his while his hands caressed up the length of her legs, up beneath her denim skirt. He wanted to press himself against her, let her feel the extent of his need for her.
Her eyes widened, as if she could read his thoughts, see inside his head and into his deepest desire. "When … when do we eat?"
He saw her mouth move, and somewhere in the back of his brain the words registered, but her voice sounded very faraway and huskier than usual.
"Riley?"
The moment shattered as Riley heard the apprehension in her voice. "Now," he said as he stepped back from her. "Now we eat."
The picnic basket he'd prepared earlier was in the refrigerator, all packed and ready to go. He handed her a neatly folded red blanket then he grabbed the basket and the jug of cold sweet tea and they headed outside.
It was a perfect evening for a picnic, warm but with a slight breeze that made the temperature comfortable. "How did you find this property?" she asked as they spread the blanket out in the lush grass.
"It was part of a ranch that belonged to a friend of my father's. He couldn't use this area for planting because it was too wooded so he sold me these three acres."
"It's beautiful," she exclaimed.
No, you are, he thought. You're beautiful and sexy and have me half-crazy with wanting you.
They both sat on the blanket and he opened the picnic basket. He was hungry, but the last thing he hungered for was food.
* * *
As they ate, Riley entertained her with stories about his job. He told her about temperamental workers, small-time thugs and crazy prospective home buyers.
He made her laugh again and again and she realized how desperately she'd needed this day away from the strife, the worry and the very torment of her life.
He made it impossible for her to think of anything but him and this moment of laughter and good food. He made it impossible for her to regret the impulse that had made her accept his invitation for the day.
Dinner consisted of what he'd once told her made a perfect picnic meal—thick ham sandwiches, potato salad and chips, and for dessert, big slices of chocolate cake.
As they talked and ate, evening shadows danced first around the base of the trees, then spread to embrace all they could find.
Savannah ate too much, and as Riley finished his meal, she stretched out on the blanket, a languid sense of well-being seeping through her. The nearby brook made little bubbling noises as it cascaded over rocks. The sound was almost hypnotically soothing.
She didn't realize she'd gone to sleep until she opened her eyes to discover the sun had fallen from the sky and the moon had taken its place. Riley was stretched out beside her, propped up on his elbow, watching her.
"Oh, goodness. I'm sorry," she exclaimed. She propped herself up on her elbow facing him, embarrassed that she'd apparently slept for a little while. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."
"Don't apologize," he said with a smile. "You were obviously exhausted."
"It was all that good food you provided," she replied. "And the sound of the little stream." She knew she should sit up, tell him it was time to take her home, but she was reluctant to call an end to what had been a near-perfect day.
Besides, he looked so handsome in the purple shadows of night. His blue eyes glowed with an almost silvery sheen and the bright moonlight that streamed through the trees emphasized the chiseled planes of his face.
"Thank you, Riley, for a wonderful day," she said softly.
"No. Thank you," he returned. "I can't remember a day that I've found more pleasurable." The glow in his eyes seemed to intensify and he reached out a hand and stroked a strand of her short hair away from her forehead.
"I like your hair short," he said softly. "It draws attention to your beautiful face. And you are so beautiful," he murmured.
He didn't pull his hand away from her, but rather it lingered, touching her cheek, tracing down the line of her jaw.
She could feel it in the air; her senses were taut with it. Desire. It shone from his eyes, radiated from his touch and welled up inside of her. She knew he was going to kiss her and for the life of her she couldn't imagine telling him no.
He leaned forward and she met him halfway. His warm mouth moved against hers with feather-light softness, but the softness lasted only a moment before his mouth became more demanding.
She gave in to the kiss, opening her mouth to him as his tongue met hers. He was no longer inches away from her, but rather pressed against her, his arms gathering her closer … closer against him.
It felt good, to be held intimately against the length of him, her softness against his strength, her heat melding with his. The kiss went on and she reveled in the taste of him, the hot demand that was in his lips.
She tangled her hands in his hair, loving the feel of it between her fingers. Her heart pounded a rhythm to match the beat of his … racing … almost frantic.
His mouth left hers and trailed a hot rain of kisses down her jaw, then behind her ear. The sweet sensations forced a shiver of need to work through her.
She felt his fingers behind her working at the zipper of her sundress and she didn't want to stop, knew they were both beyond stopping. Her need for this human contact was too great and she wanted Riley, the man who made her laugh, the man who seemed to understand her from the inside out.
Hunger thrummed in her veins, crashed in her heart. She didn't want to think. S
he only wanted to feel … experience making love with Riley.
"Savannah," he whispered, his voice no louder than the babble of the nearby brook. "Sweet Savannah…" Her zipper hissed down and he pulled her to a sitting position. The opened dress fell from her shoulders and she got to her feet, letting it fall to the blanket.
At the same time he stood and kicked off his jeans, then yanked his shirt open and tore it off. Together they fell back on the blanket, guided by a frenzied need and in no time at all they both were naked.
There was a surreal feeling to the whole thing … the night air coupled with moonlight splashed their bodies. She'd never made love outside before, and there was a part of her that marveled at the abandon she felt, the utter freedom of it all.
Her head was filled not only with the male scent of Riley, but also with the sweet smell of grass, the rich fragrance of earth and the hint of woodsy wildness. She felt as wild as the landscape that surrounded them … as soft as the grass, as liquid as the stream, as warm as the ground that retained the day's sunshine.
He stroked her skin, his hands feeling fevered as they cupped her breasts, caressed down the length of her stomach, and smoothed across the tops of her thighs.
She wanted to weep with pleasure and scream at him to take her. She didn't want foreplay. She'd been ready for him since the moment of their first kiss.
"Riley," she finally managed to gasp. And that was all it took to snap whatever control he'd fought to maintain. He entered her in one smooth thrust and groaned as he remained unmoving, buried completely inside her.
She raked her fingers down his bare back and with another groan he moved his hips against hers. And in that moment they were at each other like hungry animals. Only their gasps and moans, their ragged breaths and groans, broke the silence of the night.
Almost as quickly as it had begun, it was finished. They fell apart, each trying to catch their breaths. Rational thought was still impossible for Savannah. She was a bundle of feelings, overwhelmed by sweet sensations, and in any case she didn't want to think—not yet.
He reached out and drew a finger down her cheek, his eyes glowing in the moonlight overhead. "You are so beautiful, Savannah." His voice held a softness that touched her deep inside.
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