patches of warmth with the coolness. The scent of damp earth and fresh water filled the air. After a few minutes, they emerged from the trees into a clearing of vibrant green grass dotted with violets and dandelions and patches of blue and white phlox. Beyond the meadow lay the shore of a lake, its surface glassy smooth, reflecting the azure blue of a cloudless summer sky. The motorcycle rolled to a stop. Jack put down the kickstand and climbed off before extending a hand to help her dismount. In less than an hour, they had left behind the constraints of their lives and been transported to an idyllic world where there were no rules and no prying eyes to judge. They were miles from anywhere and completely alone.
“If you pull a rope and some duct tape out of those saddlebags, I’m going to freak,” she said with a nervous smile.
He had already removed his helmet and turned to unbuckle the strap on hers. “Only if you use them on me.” He chucked her under the chin, a gentle caress of his fingers. “I knew that girl was inside there somewhere.” He began to dig in the saddlebags and removed a blanket that he spread out on the knoll overlooking the shoreline. “Take your shoes off and have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
A hot wind gusted across the meadow, rippling the grass like an ocean wave, as Jack disappeared behind one of the trees. When he emerged a few minutes later, he carried a small cooler and a picnic basket. Once again he had put thought and effort into pleasing her, as if he really liked her. Why did she find that concept so unbelievable?
Uncomfortable with this revelation, she focused her attention on Jack as he went about the arrangement of an intimate picnic for two. He set the cooler beside the blanket. From its depths he pulled out a bottle of wine, grapes, and an assortment of cheeses cut into cubes. After the food had been arranged to his satisfaction, he popped the cork on the wine bottle. Frowning, he looked around and scratched the back of his head. “Well, shit,” he said, “I forgot the wine glasses.”
“That’s okay.” She took the bottle from him, sniffed the opening then took a swig, and handed it back to him. “Nice vintage. I didn’t know you were into wines.”
“My father owned a bar when I was a kid. He taught me everything he knew about wine and liquor and bartending. That’s what I’d really like to do someday – have a nice wine and beer establishment.” The winged black brows met in a scowl. “This really isn’t meant to be guzzled from the bottle.”
“How did you ever find this place?” With her legs extended in front of her, she leaned back on her hands, exhaled, and wiggled her toes in the grass. How many years since she’d been outside barefoot? Three? Four? As a child, it had been one of her favorite things. The cool blades prickled beneath her soles and brought back a rush of pleasant memories. Jack stretched out on his back next to her and folded his arms behind his head.
“I like to fish here,” he said. “The guy who owns this place is a friend of mine. He’s the one who suggested I bring you here.”
“You talk about me with other people?” That notion brought a sudden rush of pleasure.
“Seems I can’t keep off the subject lately.” He grinned and rolled over onto his side. With a blade of grass, he stroked along the length of her calf. The skin puckered into gooseflesh. “What about you? Do you ever talk to your friends about me?”
“I don’t really talk to many people,” she said. “I’m too busy with work and I like to keep my personal life private.”
“That might be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” he replied. “So what do you do for fun?”
“I work. And I like to read,” she added. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple. The sun had lowered in the sky and beat with full force upon the meadow.
“If work was fun they’d call it something else. Jesus, it’s hot.” He sat up and pulled
“If you pull a rope and some duct tape out of those saddlebags, I’m going to freak,” she said with a nervous smile.
He had already removed his helmet and turned to unbuckle the strap on hers. “Only if you use them on me.” He chucked her under the chin, a gentle caress of his fingers. “I knew that girl was inside there somewhere.” He began to dig in the saddlebags and removed a blanket that he spread out on the knoll overlooking the shoreline. “Take your shoes off and have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
A hot wind gusted across the meadow, rippling the grass like an ocean wave, as Jack disappeared behind one of the trees. When he emerged a few minutes later, he carried a small cooler and a picnic basket. Once again he had put thought and effort into pleasing her, as if he really liked her. Why did she find that concept so unbelievable?
Uncomfortable with this revelation, she focused her attention on Jack as he went about the arrangement of an intimate picnic for two. He set the cooler beside the blanket. From its depths he pulled out a bottle of wine, grapes, and an assortment of cheeses cut into cubes. After the food had been arranged to his satisfaction, he popped the cork on the wine bottle. Frowning, he looked around and scratched the back of his head. “Well, shit,” he said, “I forgot the wine glasses.”
“That’s okay.” She took the bottle from him, sniffed the opening then took a swig, and handed it back to him. “Nice vintage. I didn’t know you were into wines.”
“My father owned a bar when I was a kid. He taught me everything he knew about wine and liquor and bartending. That’s what I’d really like to do someday – have a nice wine and beer establishment.” The winged black brows met in a scowl. “This really isn’t meant to be guzzled from the bottle.”
“How did you ever find this place?” With her legs extended in front of her, she leaned back on her hands, exhaled, and wiggled her toes in the grass. How many years since she’d been outside barefoot? Three? Four? As a child, it had been one of her favorite things. The cool blades prickled beneath her soles and brought back a rush of pleasant memories. Jack stretched out on his back next to her and folded his arms behind his head.
“I like to fish here,” he said. “The guy who owns this place is a friend of mine. He’s the one who suggested I bring you here.”
“You talk about me with other people?” That notion brought a sudden rush of pleasure.
“Seems I can’t keep off the subject lately.” He grinned and rolled over onto his side. With a blade of grass, he stroked along the length of her calf. The skin puckered into gooseflesh. “What about you? Do you ever talk to your friends about me?”
“I don’t really talk to many people,” she said. “I’m too busy with work and I like to keep my personal life private.”
“That might be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” he replied. “So what do you do for fun?”
“I work. And I like to read,” she added. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple. The sun had lowered in the sky and beat with full force upon the meadow.
“If work was fun they’d call it something else. Jesus, it’s hot.” He sat up and pulled
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