“Only around you,” he assured her, a little afraid that that had turned out to be true this morning. God, what an idiot.

  And how much more, how ten thousand times more of an idiot had he been not to recognize his own feelings? Maybe he wasn’t in love with Em yet, but he was awfully damn close.

  Too close to call.

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  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I’m ready for a picnic.”

  “How’s your stomach?”

  “I am allowed to have coffee again.”

  “Oh, happy day,” she said, and took his hand.

  Chapter 24

  They rode through fields of wildflowers and past farms where cows stared at them from big, vacant brown eyes before going back to grazing. The wind was fresh, and when it dropped, the still air was warm on his back. The horses plodded contentedly along, trotted when urged—

  trying to go any faster would have been cruel—

  and seemed to be enjoying the day as much as the riders.

  Naturally, Emmylou had chosen their route carefully to showcase the organic, unspoiled beauty of the area. And because she was smart, she kept her mouth shut and never once mentioned that the area was bound to lose some of its charm when it was torn up to make cat litter.

  She felt the land itself rebuked Joe every step of the way.

  After about an hour’s ride, they came to a wooded area that ran beside a slow-flowing river. “I thought we’d have our picnic here and

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  let the horses have a drink and a rest,” she said over her shoulder, then dismounted from Lucky.

  “Well done, my trusty steed,” Joe said as he patted the flanks of his black horse, Bruiser.

  The horse looked down at him and then snorted as though he did not appreciate the sarcasm.

  Emmylou took off the saddlebag, looped her reins around the pommel, and then let Lucky head for the river for a drink. Watching her, Joe said, “Shouldn’t we tie them up?”

  “Where do you think they’re going to go?”

  “Right,” he said, patting the big black gelding once more. “I guess their race is already run.

  They can nap while we eat lunch.”

  Bruiser clopped his way to the river and he and Lucky stood side by side drinking. From Lucky’s saddlebag, Emmylou retrieved the blanket she’d put in there along with the sandwiches, lemonade, fruit, and cookies.

  As she laid out the blanket on a grassy patch near the river, shaded from any chance visitors along the path by a thatch of trees, she caught Joe’s eyes on her and knew he’d clued in to exactly what was on her mind.

  Not a word was spoken, but she saw the way his gaze grew more intense, dropping knowingly to her chest. Her nipples tingled and the sensation spread. Some wayward tendrils of hair blew into her face and she felt each silky strand against her skin.

  Very deliberately, she reached out and smoothed the blanket against the springy grass, as though she were smoothing sheets onto a bed. It was made of polar fleece in a dark green

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  pattern with cranberry and mustard colored designs on it. The fabric felt soft against her fingertips.

  She glanced up. He hadn’t moved, but lounged against a tree as though perfectly content to stay there for a while.

  “Don’t you want your picnic?” she asked, surprised at how husky her voice sounded. He hadn’t even touched her, but she felt warm all over.

  His voice, that clipped, no-wasted-words voice spoke at last. “Yes. I want my picnic.”

  “Then come over here.”

  He didn’t move. “I want you naked first.”

  The spark that crackled between them should have caused a forest fire.

  “Naked,” she repeated in a strangled tone.

  “That’s right. Bare-assed naked.”

  He ought to smoke; a cigarette would have been the perfect prop for him standing there like a gambler sizing up the property he’d just won. Like he ought to take a long drag, so the tip of the cigarette would glow deep red before he blew out a lazy stream of smoke that would obscure the eyes gazing at her with such intensity.

  She swallowed. She wasn’t used to playing games where sex was concerned. She felt out of her element, and suddenly vulnerable. Excited.

  “You want me to strip?”

  “That would be the quickest way to get naked.”

  “Where . . . where do you want me to start?”

  He pondered that for a moment, then said,

  “Shoes and socks.”

  Sensible. She eased off her boots. They weren’t

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  real riding boots, but the horses didn’t seem to care. Joe’s gaze on her was so intent that even revealing her feet to him felt shockingly erotic.

  When she pulled off her socks, the air caressed her overheated toes and she wriggled them in the grass.

  She settled herself in the middle of the blanket, staring up and across at Joe, who still lounged, his back against a sturdy tree trunk about six feet away. “Now what?”

  She was wearing an old Levi’s denim shirt that snapped up the front, but since she’d had sex on her mind ever since she dreamed up this picnic, she wore a lacy periwinkle blue bra and a scrap of matching periwinkle lace that passed as panties.

  He debated for a moment. “Shirt.”

  The snap of the first fastening was startlingly loud in her ears. She felt Joe’s attention, every atom of his being focused on watching her bare herself. She slid her fingers slowly, slowly to the second snap, and the third when she eased the shirt open enough that he could glimpse her periwinkle-supported cleavage.

  A sound came from his general direction; it could have been a soft curse, or merely a groan of barely contained lust. Her breathing quick-ened as she felt him watching her, felt the air cool on her hot skin, watched her breasts rise and fall.

  She was so sensitive that the denim sliding against the silky bra cup made her nipples tingle.

  Another snap, and another. Her belly was bared, and finally she flicked open the last fastening. The shirt fell away from her as she sat straighter and, with her gaze holding Joe’s,

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  snapped the fastenings at her wrists. She rolled her shoulders and let the fabric slide.

  Leaves shushed above her in the canopy of trees, the river gurgled, and somewhere a bird called.

  The lace and elastic and underwire felt like a prison for her breasts suddenly, so she reached behind her and undid the hooks, then slipped the straps over her arms, holding the cups coyly in place until she was done.

  Joe might have looked casual lounging against his tree, but she felt the strain he imposed on himself to remain still and watch.

  She tossed the bra to the blanket and let her breasts spill free.

  He stared at her breasts as though he’d never seen them before, then his gaze moved down, clearly waiting for her to shuck her jeans. Instead, she leaned back on her arms and lifted her face to the breeze. A shaft of sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves and she shifted until she felt the warmth on her face. She moved her legs so her feet were shoulder-width apart and flat on the blanket, her knees raised. The air brushed her unfettered breasts and she felt the points stiffen.

  “You’re killing me,” Joe said softly.

  “I know.”

  She raised her hands over her head and stretched, lengthening the muscles in her back and breathing in deep so her breasts hiked, then, feeling his restraint close to breaking, she unbuttoned the fly of her jeans. She wriggled out of them and slid them off, then resumed her position so she reclined in nothing but a bit of periwinkle lace and a whole lot of heat.

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  She gazed at him. She was trembling and she heard her own breathing.

  “I said naked,” he reminded her softly.

  It was all she could do not to moan. She lay flat on her back, knees raised, and eased the panties down her legs, making sure to give him the maximum view as she did so.

  When she tossed the foolish scrap of lace behind her, she felt enervated, curiously exhausted, and yet pulsingly alive as she lay back and waited.

  She gazed up at the shifting patterns of the greenery above her, and beyond that a scraping of cloud against the blue bowl of sky.

  She didn’t hear him approach over the noises of nature and her own heart, so she jumped, startled, when she felt his hands on her thighs, pushing them apart.

  A quick panting breath in and out. He pushed her wider still so she felt open to the sky and the trees and the water rushing by, so all her needy self was open. His hair brushed the soft skin of her inner thigh as he shifted her hips. She was boneless, compliant, and then she felt the warmth of sunlight between her legs and realized he’d exposed her even more completely.

  She felt his eyes on her; he was so close, his breath stirred her curls and wafted over her hot, wet, intimate flesh.

  Her hands fisted, and she found she was grabbing the soft blanket, open and needy and waiting, and then suddenly he was there, his mouth there, his tongue inside her, all the way inside her with no teasing first, no preparation, and the shock of it, and the amazing way he made her feel, had her crying out. Not all the way, not

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  yet, but oh, she was so close. As though he knew, he stayed clear of her hot button, licking his way around the opening to her body, nibbling lightly, and then when she was so desperate her hips were dancing with him, trying to lead, and he was teasing her, giving her almost but not quite what she wanted, he suddenly grabbed her hips and put his mouth right exactly where she wanted it. He sucked her lightly, the way he’d learned she liked it, and his tongue danced over her clit with perfect rhythm and pressure.

  Her climax started deep and she rode it, letting it build until everything, every part of her, every nerve ending, every emotion, all of it concentrated in that one central spot, and then exploded.

  Her legs were wrapped around his neck and she was thrusting against his mouth; he was loving her, taking her impossibly high, and even as she cried out, “Yes,” somewhere in her a voice panicked and cried, No!

  Even when the climax subsided, she felt empty, achingly empty, and without a word he grabbed a condom, unzipped his jeans and yanked them down, then crawled on top of her and plunged inside.

  He was kissing her, thrusting inside her, loving her; she tasted her own passion, felt the gorgeous hardness of his ready-to-burst arousal, and sensed that the pounding of his heart matched the rhythm of her own.

  The buttons of his shirt scratched her but she still pressed him closer. She felt the waistband of his jeans and the swinging belt when she wrapped

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  her legs around him; she grabbed his naked butt with one hand, reached for his balls with the other, wanting all of him.

  His breathing was loud in her ear, or maybe that was hers. Impossible to tell where one of them left off and the other began.

  He stroked hard and deep until the empty, needy places in her filled to overflowing and she cried out again, clenching him to her everywhere.

  His body stiffened and the world seemed to stop for a second, then he spilled into her.

  She closed her eyes against a rush of tender-ness so intense it frightened her. “Joe, I . . .” She opened her eyes, feeling like she needed to be open everywhere so she could say the words that burned in her throat like tears.

  But when she opened her eyes, she started to laugh.

  Joe pulled his head off her shoulder long enough to stare down at her in some indigna-tion. “What is so damned funny?”

  She couldn’t even speak, she could only point.

  He turned, and staring back at him were the two horses, their brown eyes big and unblinking.

  Lucky was chewing and had a hunk of green grass hanging out of her mouth, but Bruiser just stared, obviously wondering what all the noise was.

  He turned back and the laughter died. They looked into each other’s eyes and she saw more than she was ready to face.

  Just as she shifted her gaze, he said, “Em, I—”

  “I know, you’re starving,” she said overbrightly.

  “Roll your fine self off me and I’ll feed you.”

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  For a second she thought he was going to resist, then he let it go and rolled off her. She put her clothes back on while he straightened himself up and led the horses back to the riverside.

  Joe loved her, and he’d been going to tell her; she knew it as well as she knew that she loved him.

  But what was the point torturing themselves and increasing each other’s inevitable pain?

  She slapped the wrapped sandwiches onto the blanket. The man couldn’t even sleep in the same room as her, he lived in New York, and he wanted to destroy the very life she loved.

  She hadn’t even seen it coming. One minute he was this major sexy but hopeless workaholic, and now he was the only man she’d ever loved.

  They ate, but there was so much they couldn’t talk about: the future of Beaverton, her future, his future, the fact that they loved each other and it was hopeless. It wasn’t like there was a single huge pink elephant in the middle of the picnic blanket that they were both trying to avoid mentioning, but a herd of the bloody things. All trumpeting and stamping around.

  Somehow they got through lunch, but all she could think was that this was probably the one and only picnic they’d ever enjoy together.

  She didn’t even know when he was going back to New York. He’d had the all-clear from Gord, but he hadn’t said anything about leaving. Obviously he’d stay for the town meeting, then what? She wondered, as they folded the picnic blanket, when they were going to make love and she’d know that it was the last time.

  She ached at the thought.

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  “Are you okay?” Joe asked suddenly, grabbing her shoulders while she hugged the folded blanket against her chest.

  No, she wanted to wail. I’m so far from okay I’ll need a road map and a guide to find my way back there.

  “Yes, of course.” She turned to pack their things back in the saddlebag, then she mounted Lucky.

  Joe talked softly to the large gelding he was about to mount, and Emmylou wondered if he were apologizing that he was about to climb on the old horse’s back. Or maybe he was going to ask its permission first. She tried to stop herself from going weak at the knees but still her kneecaps turned to jelly.

  The way home seemed a lot quicker than the way out and she suspected they’d both urged their horses on.

  When they’d returned to Amy’s, Joe helped put the horses away, and Amy said, “Well?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve tried to make him see how special this place is, but honestly, I think we’re in trouble.”

  “It’s not Beaverton I’m worried about, it’s you,” her friend said. “I’ve known you a long time. With this guy, it’s different.”

  “Maybe. But once he’s back in Manhattan, and I’m out here . . .” Emmylou shrugged.

  Amy looked as though she had more to say, then seemed to change her mind. “Anytime you want to come and talk, the kettle’s always on.”

  There wasn’t time for more. Joe was back.

  When they were settled in his rental car, he

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  said, “How about we drive to the next town and I buy you dinner somewhere decent?”

  That’s when she knew. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

  “Day after tomorrow. I need to go to the town meeting tomorrow night, and then I’ve booked a flight out Friday.”

  She swallowed over the lump in her throat.

  Nodded. “I’ll miss you.”

  “Em, I can’t make any promises. I don’t know how to work this out, but you have to know I—”

  “Don’t say it,” she stopped him in a panic.

  “Please don’t say it.” She felt tears forming and she forced them back.

  He touched her arm lightly. “Let’s have dinner tonight. A swanky night out like lovers do.”

  She smiled at him, loving him so much and wishing things could be different. “I can’t tonight. I’ve got guests checking in.”

  “Really? Who?”

  “I don’t know. A couple. Lydia took the booking yesterday when I was out.”

  “Well, their timing sucks. I want to take you for a night on the town.”

  “I’ll have to take a rain check.”

  “Come to New York,” he said suddenly.

  “Pardon?”

  “We’ll have our night on the town in New York, one of the best night-on-the-town cities in the world.”

  “You want me to come to New York for one night?”

  “No. Stay as long as you like.”

  “I can’t.”

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  “That’s it? You can’t? Look, I’ll send you a ticket, pick you up at the airport, we’ll—”

  “We’ll only make it harder on ourselves. It’s best this way.”

  For a second he looked as though he were going to argue, then he simply pulled her into his arms and hugged her hard. “I am going to miss you like hell,” he said.

  She nodded. “Me, too.”

  Chapter 25

  “Our new guests must be here,” she said as they pulled into the Shady Lady’s parking area and she noticed an unfamiliar rental car.

  She’d prepared the Yellow Room earlier for them. It was the second nicest after the Blue Room. This one also had a queen-sized bed and a small balcony overlooking the garden, but there was no fireplace. She had hoped they’d arrive later in the afternoon. Olive and Lydia could check the new guests in—but they could be a bit of a surprise to the unwary.

  She hurried up the path and discovered that everything was not running as smoothly as she might have hoped. She heard a male voice raised in anger and broke into a trot. What on earth could have gone wrong already?

  Two men stood in the entrance foyer, and Olive was obviously trying to calm them down.