Always (6 page)

Elinor gulped as he walked around to the driver's seat. What the heck had she let herself in for?

"Exactly how far do we have to travel for this lunch?" she ventured to ask as they drove out of downtown Bayville.

"I figure ten years ought to do it."

"Ten years?"

He glanced away from the road his eyes scanning her briefly. "By my guess, you're around twenty-eight years old—"

"How kind of you to notice," Elinor commented her voice dry.

"—and that would mean you were eighteen, ten years ago—”

"A man with your math skills could have a future in accounting," she inserted with a smirk.

"—and since eighteen is a time of reckless innocence, I figured ten years back ought to do it," he concluded.

"Reckless innocence?" echoed Elinor hollowly.

"Yes." Cole reached over and patted her knee. "Nothing more rejuvenating than reckless innocence."

"Cole, I don't think . . ." Her voice trailed off as she encountered another of his amused smiles.

"Don't be a chicken, Elinor."

She fought the sudden urge to fidget. Somehow, that lowered, velvet voice of his always slipped through her defenses.

They traveled down a bumpy dirt road, heavily shaded with oak trees, and turned at last into a long-abandoned drive.

"The Lanier place?" she questioned. "We're having lunch here? No, wait. Don't tell me. You've already sold some of the property to McDonald's."

Cole chuckled as he turned off onto a rutted trail that ran along the river. "No, my dear. It's worse than that." He brought the car to a stop several yards from the river.

Elinor opened her door and climbed out, taking a deep breath of fresh spring air, her eyes roaming over the ever-soothing landscape.

Long ago, this part of the property had been the gardens surrounding a small plantation home. The house, a victim of fire, was no longer there. But the gardens still bloomed with azalea, crepe myrtles, and camellias, making the air soft with scent. This spot had been Elinor's Eden since she'd moved to Bayville.

"It's glorious, isn't it?" Cole called out as he slammed the trunk. He came to where she stood. "The perfect spot for a classic picnic."

"Picnic?" Elinor glanced away from the river to find him spreading a thick blanket under a huge live oak. A large covered basket sat on the ground next to him.

"Yes, madam," he replied with a proper British accent as he pulled a linen tablecloth out of the basket with a flourish. "We have everything required for the occasion. Delicacies for the lady's palate, appropriate dinnerware," he enumerated, placing china and matching cutlery on the tablecloth. "Even crystal goblets for the nonalcoholic wine."

"Nonalcoholic wine?"

A glinting smile lit his face. "Of course. We wouldn't want you to say I seduced your vote," he stressed the last word, "by unchivalrous means."

At this point, it wasn't her vote she was worrying about being seduced.

"How principled of you," Elinor commented as she sat down on the blanket, succumbing to the lure of the setting.

"I am nothing if not principled," Cole declared as he set out covered crystal dishes.

Elinor's mouth watered at the delicious smells emanating from them. "Since I'm about to eat your food," she commented, beginning to serve herself, "I'll let that pass unchallenged."

"How gracious of you," he remarked, a bite of pate halfway to his mouth.

They ate in silence, the only sounds provided by the clinking of cutlery and the nasal-toned hum of bumblebees pillaging nearby azaleas.

The nonalcoholic wine turned out to be a sparkling apple cider served in tulip-shaped flutes. With the headiness she felt whenever Cole was near, not to mention the romantic setting, the addition of real wine humming through her veins would have been truly dangerous.

She rested her plate in her lap, the edge now taken off her hunger. "This is such a beautiful spot. I can't see how you could want to destroy it."

"Elinor," Cole replied, patiently, "have you read any of the prospectus I gave you?"

"Some," she evaded, lifting a last bite from her plate before setting it aside.

"Well, you can't have gotten very far in it," he said, "or you'd realize that my plant wouldn't destroy this place."

Warmed by the afternoon sun that filtered through the trees, she began to take off her suit coat. "Any large construction project would do damage," she argued.

Cole leaned over to ease the jacket down her arms. "That's true. Some of the trees would have to be cut down." He put up a hand to stop her protest. "But none of the really big ones down here by the river."

"Still, you admit that your plant would drastically change this site." She felt cooler now in her white cotton blouse.

"Of course," he acknowledged. "But change isn't always a bad thing. When you read the rest of the prospectus you'll see that we have environmental consultants to ensure that the ecology of the river life will be undamaged."

When she remained silent, he went on. "The plant will be located in the area that requires the least destruction of the grounds. And we plan to add to the natural flora to enhance the area."

"It all sounds good," Elinor conceded grudgingly. "And I accept that you'd do everything you could to avoid a toxic spillage, but you can't protect against human error. If there's a plant here, there is a possibility of environmental damage."

"That's true," Cole admitted. "But the kind of damage you're worried about is related to the more volatile plastics production plants. My business involves the processing of recycled plastics. It's a different scenario altogether."

Elinor sighed. He made it all sound so good. When she looked into his blue eyes, she wanted to believe him. Heck, she wanted to help him build the thing, a definite clue to loss of objectivity.

As if sensing her weakening, Cole leaned nearer. "There's also something else in the prospectus that I think you'll like."

The soft warmth of his cologne drifted up to her along with the breeze from the river. "What's that?" she asked, her voice feeling strangled.

"A college fund for the children of the plant employees."

"Really." She straightened up with a frown. "I don't remember reading about that."

"You haven't gone far enough." A lazy smile curled his mouth as he lay back on the blanket.

"Oh." Feeling a sudden need for activity, she began gathering their discarded plates.

"We're also committing to a yearly contribution to the Bayville school system," Cole added, a sensual smile lurking in his somnolent eyes as if he knew the chaos he stimulated in her.

"That sounds really good." For some reason, she felt breathless, as if the air by the river had suddenly heated.

"I thought you'd be pleased."

Elinor glanced at him sharply, not fooled by his meek tone. The man was too used to winning. She thought briefly about maintaining her hard line against the plant, just to spite him. But it might not be in the town's best interest. As things were unfolding, Cole Whittier might just be the best thing that had ever happened to Bayville.

Finished packing the picnic basket, Elinor settled onto the blanket, battling the urge to relax. Lying back on the blanket could only lead to one thing, given the sexual tension that hummed between her and Cole. And she couldn't allow herself to be seduced just because the man had set up a college fund.

"I think," Cole stared up into the canopy of branches as he spoke, "that it's time to subtract those ten years we were talking about earlier."

"You mean this wasn't it?" Elinor gestured to the picnic basket.

"Oh, no," he dismissed. "What's risky about a picnic?" He vaulted to his feet in a sudden, athletic move.

"Risky?" Elinor echoed, staring up at him. "This has to be risky?"

"All the really good things in life are," Cole told her, holding out his hand.

"Oh." What on earth could he be up to now? She'd been sure he was about to make a move on her, but the sudden, dancing light in his eyes didn't look the least bit seductive.

"Come on, Elinor. Let's be eighteen."

"Eighteen wasn't a really good year for me," she grumbled, letting him pull her to her feet.

"Sometime I want you to tell me about your best year," he commented, dragging her by the hand as he purposefully approached the river.

"Wait a second!" Elinor yelped, trying to tug her hand loose from his grip to no avail.

"You must approach life with a more open attitude," Cole lectured, towing her to the bank of the river.

"Cole! Don't you dare!" she howled.

Standing next to the water, he suddenly dropped her hand.

Elinor backed up, gaping in shock as Cole began to shuck his shoes and socks.

"What on earth are you doing?"

"Rolling up my pants," he replied with equanimity.

"You're going to . . . wade?"

"Yes, my lovely chicken. If I were planning to skinny dip, I'd be dropping my pants." Dressed only in a short- sleeved oxford shirt and trousers rolled up to his knees, he presented an incongruous sight. "And I am not planning to wade alone."

"Now, Cole." Elinor started backing up in earnest. True, it was a great relief not to be thrown into the water, or asked to strip down to the buff. But that didn't mean she wanted to go wading. "Cole, it's too cold to go wading."

"It's never too cold to wade in Louisiana." He snagged her wrist again, this time bending down to hoist her over his shoulder.

"Cole!" she shrieked between helpless giggles as he strode toward the river. "Put me down!"

He set her down just at the river's edge. "Now." He leered evilly. "Do you need any help getting out of those panty hose?"

"No," Elinor averred quickly.

Cole laughed. "Okay, but I'm only turning my back for ten seconds." He swiveled around and began counting loudly.

"Good grief!" She grappled under her skirt with urgent hands, grateful she'd left the hated shoes back at the blanket.

"Seven and a half," he counted. "Eight, eight and three-fourths."

Elinor tugged at the stretchy material, wondering why panty hose never came down when you needed them to.

"Nine, nine and five-eighths."

She balanced, waveringly on one bare foot, tugging desperately to free the other.

"Ten!" Cole pivoted around just as she was smoothing her skirt down around her hips.

Unholy mischief lit his face. "I knew you could do it. There's something so attractive about a woman who can shed her lingerie at rapid speed."

"I'm sure," Elinor retorted, staring at the sluggish green water of the river with resigned eyes.

"Come on, chicken." Cole took her hand again.

"I can do this without assistance," she commented, allowing him to lead her into the river's edge.

"Life's more fun when it's done together," he told her, a glimmering, banked promise in his eyes.

Elinor gulped, absorbing the shock of sensations. Cold water raced past her calves as her toes buried themselves in river mud. Cole's hand was warm and strong around hers, as the splendor of his approving smile drew her on.

They waded in the river, Cole picking up stray objects from the river floor with his toes. He scattered drops of water in her direction, just enough to send her in retreat. Elinor felt like a tentative flamingo, picking her way along the shore as her body adjusted to the cool water.

Finally she got out, standing on a convenient rock long enough to let the river wash the mud from her feet. Cole skulled along without her, going deeper into the river, unconcerned about the water lapping at his expensive trousers.

Feeling freer than she could ever remember and deliciously relaxed, Elinor settled on a grassy spot, the river lapping at her feet. She leaned back, admiring the small puffs of clouds that dotted the sky, drifting timelessly.

"Hey, El!" Cole called out.

Propping herself on her elbows, she saw that he'd waded closer and was now bent down at the bank, scooping mud from just above the water line.

"I used to do this all the time when I was a kid," he told her. "I wonder if I've lost my touch." He formed a ball with a small clump of damp earth.

"That better not be for me," Elinor warned, not feeling alarmed.

Cole laid one mud ball on the bank and bent to scoop up another handful. "Don't you know a statement like that is an invitation?"

"No, it's not," she denied, reaching down to brush a fly from her knee.

As he glanced up, Cole's eyes followed her movement, drifting down the length of her legs with suddenly taut features.

A frisson of excitement ran through her like a warning, but Elinor ignored it. She was too content to play safe, too replete in his company to even want to avoid the possibilities.

He formed a third ball with the river mud, shaping it carefully to brush off loose clumps. "Now." He retrieved the other balls in his hands and stepped back into the river.

With a simple toss, he sent the balls into the air, one at a time, until all were aloft in a flowing triangle of movement. He had to reach for the first one as it fell wide, but within a few moments he kept all three balls up in the air with amazing ease.

Elinor's surprised gasp turned to a strangled chuckle. Cole stood knee-deep in the flowing river, juggling mud balls like a carny in a sideshow.

Then one of the mud balls lofted a little high and off center, just beyond Cole's reach. It hit the water in front of him, detonating like a torpedo, followed by the second and third as he failed to get back into position to catch them.

~~~********~~~

Four

A spray of droplets covered him. His rolled-up trousers and strong muscled calves were splattered with water, the cuffed sleeves of his dress shirt speckled with mud and damp.

Laughter burst out of Elinor as he stood in the river, a droll expression on his face. Giggling so hard she couldn't catch her breath, she leaned over, trying to breathe between chortles.

A satisfied expression flitted over Cole's face as he bent to wash the mud from his hands.

"I can't believe you," she choked out as her mirth subsided. "I've never seen anyone look less like a millionaire."