That Runaway Summer (15 page)

Slow and steady, he repeated silently.

The phrase applied to more than just his driving. Taking things slowly with Jill was a good idea, and not only because she was skittish. Given his own romantic history, proceeding with caution was the right course of action.

“Why haven’t you asked where we’re going?” he asked. Since they’d set out on the ten-mile trip, she’d been content to talk of inconsequential things.

“And ruin the surprise?” she asked. “No way!”

He risked a glance at Jill even though the pickup was climbing the road at a steep angle, tires crunching as it labored uphill. She was sitting slightly forward in her seat, and the corners of her mouth were turned up. She wore shorts and a red sleeveless top that showed off her toned arms. Her hair was soft and loose, the way he liked it.

After about a half mile, the road flattened out and ended in a small empty parking lot.

She hopped out of the truck almost the instant it stopped. He was slower to join her, first snatching his backpack from the rear seat. By the time he slung it over his shoulder, she was having a hard time standing still.

“You must really like surprises,” he said, amused.

“Like them?” she repeated. “I love them! So lead the way.”

He surveyed the area, almost immediately locating the trampled grass that signaled a path. “I think it’s that way.”

“You don’t know for sure?”

“I’ve never been here before.” He walked ahead of her down a path that didn’t seem as though it had seen much use in recent days.

A telltale gurgling sound that grew louder with each passing step, however, told him they were heading in the right direction. She must have figured it out, too. When the path widened, she drew even with him and grinned.

“C’mon, slowpoke.” She took his hand, increasing their traveling speed twofold although he’d been going at a decent clip.

The brush thinned out and the sky brightened, affording a clear view of a waterfall. The rocks were positioned in tiers, like the wedding cake at the party for Kelly and Chase Bradford. The water cascaded over the stones, dropping into a clear stream perhaps twenty feet below.

“I love it!” Jill threw her arms open, as though trying to embrace the scene. “How did you know this waterfall was here?”

“A guy I rode the elevator with at the resort told me about it,” Dan said. “He called it a hidden gem.”

“Let’s get a closer look.” She scampered a few feet downhill to a large flat rock and got close to the edge. “The view’s prettier from here. I can even feel some spray.”

When her back was turned, he set down his backpack, removed a red-and-white-checkered tablecloth and spread it with a flourish.

She pivoted. “What’s this?” she asked, her eyes smiling.

“This is a picnic.” He sat down on the tablecloth, rummaged through his backpack and produced a bottle of cabernet sauvignon, two plastic glasses, a box of crackers and spreadable cheese. “A wine-and-cheese picnic, to be specific. I thought about take-out food, but if you’d smelled it the surprise would have been ruined.”

“It’s perfect!” She sat down beside him and tucked her legs under her. They both had a view of the waterfall, but he thought his vantage point was better because it included her. “Did you bring all this with you from home?”

“Only the corkscrew.” He pulled the item from his backpack. “The resort has a well-stocked gift shop.”

“Easy access to your own personal corkscrew is a very good idea,” she said as he opened the bottle.

“I have my big sister to thank for that. She says it’s hard to resist a man wielding a bottle of wine on a picnic.” Dan made googly eyes at her, and she laughed.

He poured wine into the two glasses, then handed one to her. “What should we drink to?”

“I know,” she said, lifting her glass. “To happiness.”

“To happiness,” he repeated, lightly clinking his glass to hers. He took a sip, then opened the cheese and crackers, arranging them on a paper plate the gift-shop clerk had also suggested he buy.

She bit into a cracker, followed it with wine, then asked, “Does your sister often give you advice?”

“
Often?
Try
always.
” He stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles. “And it’s not only one sister telling me what to do—it’s three. My youngest sister is seven years older than me.”

“I’m sure they mean well.”

“Oh, they do. Sometimes they’re even right. Karen—that’s my oldest sister—figured out I should become a veterinarian before I did. It’s when they start giving out romantic advice that they go too far.”

“What kind of romantic advice?”

“Let’s see.” He thought of the last conversation he’d had with Karen. “No. I can’t tell you that.”

“Sure, you can,” she said. “How else am I going to get to know you better?”

He shrugged. “Okay. Karen thinks I should invite you to come with me to my cousin Nancy’s wedding in Ohio.”

She gasped softly. “You told your sister about me?”

“Not you, specifically,” he said. “I told my sister I met somebody I liked. She took it from there, disregarding that I’m not even going to the wedding.”

“Why not?” she asked.

He’d already said too much, but there was no going back now that he’d brought up the subject.

“Nancy is marrying my ex’s brother,” he said. “Maggie, that’s my ex, is bringing her new husband to the wedding.”

“You’re not going because you don’t want to run into her,” Jill finished. It was a statement, not a question.

Dan let the words sink in. They sounded wrong even though they’d been true a few weeks ago. He realized a lot had changed since then.

“I don’t care if I run into her,” he said.

“You don’t?” Jill tilted her head. “Then you are going to the wedding?”

“I think I am.” He wasn’t a man who often changed his mind once he made a decision. But then, he realized, he was no longer a man with a broken heart. “I might even take Karen’s advice and ask you to come with me.”

“Oh, really?” She didn’t say no, which he took as a good sign. “What will determine whether you ask me or not?”

“I’m waiting to see how this weekend goes,” he said.

They’d both finished the wine in their glasses. She set hers down and took his empty glass from him. Without breaking eye contact, she inched closer to him.

“I predict,” she said softly, her gaze dropping to his mouth, “that your weekend’s about to get a whole lot better.”

Then she kissed him, her lips moving eagerly over his. She tasted of the wine she’d drunk and the cheese and crackers she’d eaten. He didn’t intend to have more than one glass of wine because he had to navigate the twisting road back to the resort, but he could get drunk on her.

They kissed hungrily, their hands sliding over each other, their bodies shifting in an effort to get closer. He pulled her into his lap, where she couldn’t mistake his arousal.

He kissed the side of her lips, her cheek, her neck. “Maybe we should stop,” he murmured.

“Why?” Her voice was breathy. “Nobody’s here but us.”

“The light,” he said. “It’s fading.”

She drew back from him. Her eyes were glazed but they also contained a healthy dose of mischievousness.

“Less chance of anyone seeing us if they do come along,” she said.

He felt his eyebrows rise and his heart lift. “Really?”

“Did you bring protection?” she asked, erasing any doubt of her meaning.

“In my wallet,” he said.

“Then really.” She pulled her shirt over her head, her dark hair tumbling to her bare shoulders. Her breasts were small and perfectly shaped, her nipples already taut. A siren’s smile played about her lips.

With the water tumbling over the rocks behind her and the setting sun above casting her in a soft light, he thought he’d never seen a lovelier sight.

He took a mental snapshot, already aware he’d remember this moment forever. Slow and steady was overrated, he thought as he reached for happiness.

Those dark lashes lifted, revealing the clear blue of his irises. His eyes softened and he smiled lazily. “Good morning.”

She smiled back. “You betcha.”

They both moved forward, their mouths meeting in a soft, slow kiss without a trace of awkwardness. They’d discovered the previous day and night that their bodies fit together, their rhythms matched and the passion between them was effortless.

So was the companionship. After the trip to the waterfall, they’d dined by candlelight in the resort’s five-star restaurant and enjoyed a comedy show in the lounge before returning to the room.

“Mmmm,” she said when they both broke for air, “I sure am glad you didn’t insist on going back to your own room last night.”

Tendrils of hair had fallen into her face. He smoothed them back with gentle fingers. “Didn’t you beg me not to?”

“I probably would have gotten around to that,” she said, “if you hadn’t been doing so much begging yourself.”

He laughed, then rolled over so his weight was on his knees, his body hovering above hers with his hands lightly clamping both of her wrists.

“Now that I’ve got you at my mercy,” he said, lowering his already deep voice, “you’re the one who needs to do my bidding.”

She smiled invitingly up at him. “I like the sound of that. What would you like me to do?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Tell me your favorite color.”

She frowned. “My favorite color? I thought I was going to do your bidding.”

“Then answer my question.”

He stared down at her, the expression in his eyes oddly serious. They were such a pretty shade, somewhere between the color of the sky and the water of the Caribbean.

“Blue,” she said.

“Favorite food?”

“Shrimp.” She’d eaten it last night in scampi, a dish that was almost but not quite as good as the company. “Always has been. When I was a little girl, I’d even try to order it at McDonald’s.”

He grinned. “Favorite book?”

“The Princess Bride.”
She sighed, remembering the tale of high adventure and true love. “It’s my favorite movie, too.”

“Favorite song?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Why are you asking all these questions?”

“Because somehow we got off the subject last night every time the subject was you,” he said.

She’d deliberately steered the conversation away from herself, but obviously not expertly.

“So I figured my best chance of getting you to talk about yourself was if I threatened to withhold sex,” he continued.

She slowly traced the outline of her lips with her tongue and injected a throaty quality into her voice. “Do you really think you’re that strong?”

He closed his eyes and groaned before saying, “I’m trying to be. Favorite song?”

She sighed as frustration clawed at her, privately conceding his tactic was working. The sooner she answered his questions, the sooner they could graduate to more agreeable pursuits. “It changes. Right now it’s the one Kenny Grieb sang the other night. ‘Forever and for Always.’”

“Town where you were born?”

She started to say Atlanta, then caught herself in time. “Savannah.”

“I thought you were from South Carolina.”

Lying naked underneath him, she’d forgotten her cover story. She composed as truthful an answer as she could. “I wasn’t born in South Carolina. I just lived there.”

“Where in South Carolina?”

“Columbia.” She and Chris had briefly stayed in the capital city. He waited, obviously expecting her to continue. She remembered stating she and her mother hadn’t stayed in one place for long. She would have crossed her fingers at the lie she was about to tell if he hadn’t been still holding her wrists. “Sumter and Florence. Anderson, too.”

“Is this so hard?” he asked.

It was. Excruciatingly so, even if her growing sexual frustration hadn’t been added to the mix. Without Chris’s welfare to consider, she’d tell him the truth immediately and damn the consequences to herself.

“Hard?” She wriggled beneath him, her eyes skimming down his body to the proof of his arousal. “Does that mean you’re through withholding sex?”

He managed a low-throated laugh even though his skin was rosy and his eyes slightly unfocused. “Yes.” He dipped his head until his mouth was just inches from hers and whispered, “The rest of my questions can wait.”

His mouth came down on hers, reigniting the passion that easily flared between them. Sensation swamped her, and she lost herself in him, forgetting all about those questions he still had.

Until later that afternoon.

Once they were out of bed, she peppered him with her own questions, even talking during their mountain bike ride. Not only was the cliché true about the best defense being a good offense, she really wanted to know the answers.

She discovered, among other things, why the dogs he’d kept as pets in the past all had such odd names. Like his current canine duo of Starsky and Hutch, Matlock, Columbo, Crockett, Tubs and Ironside had been named for TV cops.

“I feel worst for Ironside.” She and Dan had returned the bikes to the resort’s rental shop and walked hand in hand toward the main building. The sun shone overhead, and the lake gently lapped at the shore. “What was wrong with him?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Why?”

“Wasn’t he handicapped? That TV Ironside was paralyzed from the waist down, wasn’t he?”

Dan chuckled. “My Ironside had a silverish marking over his nose and eyes. He could run all day. Didn’t need a wheelchair at all.”

He held open the door to the side entrance of the hotel, a gentlemanly gesture that made him even more attractive. He was thoughtful, too. He’d requested a late checkout so they could shower and change clothes before returning to Indigo Springs.

They headed down a wide hallway, off which a ball room and assorted meeting rooms were located, toward the lobby and the elevator that would take them to their rooms. This time she grabbed his hand.

“By the way, you did fine on the ride.” She’d set a moderate pace that he’d had no trouble matching. “Makes me think you weren’t blowing smoke about being a mountain biker after all.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” He wouldn’t, either. She had no doubt everything he’d told her about himself was the absolute truth. “My sister Erin—she’s the youngest of my sisters, but no less bossy—got me involved. She’s a real jock. You’ll like her.”

He spoke as if it were inevitable she and his sister would meet. She dared to hope it was.

“How about you?” he asked. “How did you get into mountain biking?”

“My father.” She answered the question without fore-thought, personally raising the subject she was desperate not to discuss. Now that she’d brought up her father, however, she had no choice but to elaborate. “He got me into mountain biking so we’d have something in common. Every weekend he had custody, we’d go for a ride.”

“Did you love it right away?” he asked.

“Right away,” she confirmed. “Daddy went out of his way to make things fun for me. He even organized a few father-daughter rides.”

“Sounds like a great thing to do with your little girl,” Dan remarked.

“I was a big girl by then,” she said. “The last ride was only about three or four years ago.”

They’d drawn even with the meeting room where Jill had presented the proposal the day before. She got a mental flash of Sally Tomlin, the resort’s marketing representative, sticking her head around the frame of the door.

Recognition jolted her, harder this time. Because she remembered where she knew Sally Tomlin from, and it wasn’t the Blue Haven.

“Oh, no!” she exclaimed.

Dan stopped walking. “Something wrong?”

Her stomach lurched and she felt as if she was going to be sick. The red hair had thrown her because three years ago during that father-daughter bike ride, Sally had been a brunette.

“Jill.” Dan’s voice seemed to come from a great distance. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

She focused on his face, noting that his forehead was crinkled with concern. Yet how could she tell him about Sally without explaining why remembering where she’d recognized the woman from was a problem?

She cleared her throat. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure? You look pale.”

“I probably just need some water,” she said. “It’s hot outside today.”

“Then let’s get you some water.” He took her elbow and guided her through the resort to the gift shop in the lobby. He went straight to the cold beverages, opened the refrigerated compartment and handed her a bottle of water.

She opened the bottle and drank from it as he went to the cash register and paid. Her mind whirred as the cold liquid slid down her throat. She tried—and failed—to remember if Sally had been on more than the single ride, yet she did recall that Sally’s father was an avid member of the Atlanta biking community.

Yet Sally had seemed satisfied that she recognized Jill from the Blue Haven. If Jill hadn’t been talking about mountain biking as she and Dan passed the meeting room, she wouldn’t have put the puzzle together. Sally might not, either.

“Thanks for the water,” she told Dan when he rejoined her and they walked together out of the gift shop.

“Any time.” He placed a hand at her back and lightly steered her toward the elevator, not giving her the option of taking the stairs as she usually did. He pressed the call button, then ran concerned eyes over her.

“Would you mind taking a shower in the other room so we can get on the road quicker?” she asked. Even though Sally Tomlin wasn’t working the rest of the weekend, Jill was afraid she’d suddenly materialize.

“Sure,” he said. “Are you feeling better?”

Jill arranged her mouth into a smile. She was over-reacting. Even if Sally remembered how she knew Jill and mentioned their meeting to her father, what were the chances that Sally’s father would contact Jill’s father?

Slim, Jill thought. Since Jill’s father had married Arianne, he’d largely lost touch with his old life and his old friends.

“I’ll be fine,” Jill answered, praying she spoke the truth.