it.”
Astonished pleasure tightened the muscles in her stomach. “I don’t have a problem with that.”
“But I believe you will, eventually.”
Kate stopped on the shoulder of the road and set her hands on her hips, forcing her breathing to slow, even as her pulse soared off to heights unknown. “Gideon, look. I barely know you. In a very short time I’ve learned that you’re a horticulturist, a widower, that you look good naked, and that you’re extremely private, and obviously for good cause. Whatever holds you back from pursuing a…a romantic relationship is your business. I’m not prying.” He moved closer to her, his expression impossible to read, half-hidden behind the reflective lenses. “You sound like you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Do you think everything will stay as sensible and rational as you make it sound if I kiss you?” Her heart jolted into another frenzied dance. She had to tilt her head back to see his face. “I have no way of knowing that unless you kiss me.” Before he could respond, a semi-truck roared by them on the two-lane blacktop, followed by a dusty SUV and a beat later, a dilapidated sedan. Then silence fell again, a disturbing stillness, as though even the early evening breeze had paused to see what would happen next.
Nothing happened. Gideon looked at her; she looked back at him, waiting, and for what? Bemused, Kate made a wide berth around him and began to run again. He could lag behind and ponder the what-ifs. She was going to finish the three miles and get on with her life.
“Cut left at the path,” his voice came suddenly behind her, and she nearly stumbled. How had he caught up with her so quickly and quietly? His approach had been utterly soundless on the pavement.
Panting more from turbulent emotion than exertion, she matched her pace to his and jogged beside him under a canopy of verdant trees, where the woodchip path wound onward into a shadowy hammock. It was dark in the woods, as dark as if dusk had already fallen. A moment later Putnam Creek appeared, a narrow chasm rushing through the damp, shaded terrain.
Kate slowed and stopped at the base of a thick oak, where she rested her hands on her knees, gulping in breaths. Gideon’s gaze burned into her, but she wasn’t about to engage him. She meandered down to the creek’s edge and stared through the dimness at the crystal water flowing gently over mossy stone and leaves.
His presence behind her stung her skin, raised the hair on her arms, as though he radiated electricity and she was too close to the current.
“You’re overheated,” he said, in a soft, insinuating tone that made her want to wobble to the ground in a gelatinous puddle.
She ventured a look at him. “That’s right. Overheated and annoyed.” Gideon shook his head and blew out a slow, steady breath. “You know, for a long, long time I’d forgotten what it feels like to be a teenager, and suddenly it’s all coming back to me. I don’t know what it is about you, but every time I get around you I have thoughts, only they’re not just thoughts because they seem to flow right out of my mouth—without any help from me, I might add. That officially makes them statements, and inappropriate ones. You’re doing a great job with Jude, and God knows I don’t want to run you off. My intentions are honorable. I—” “Gideon.” She took a step toward him, heart fluttering like a trapped moth in her chest. “Take off your sunglasses so I can see your eyes.”
He glanced skyward, studied the shadowy branches overhead for a long, uncertain moment, then carefully slipped the aviators from his face. His gaze was liquid, black as Egyptian ink as it searched hers, then shifted lower, to her lips. He stepped closer to her, and his thumb came up to brush the base of her throat.
“Mosquito,” he explained, his mouth quirking.
“Damn bloodsuckers,” she said huskily. “They’ve always liked me, for some reason.”
“Oh?” He
Astonished pleasure tightened the muscles in her stomach. “I don’t have a problem with that.”
“But I believe you will, eventually.”
Kate stopped on the shoulder of the road and set her hands on her hips, forcing her breathing to slow, even as her pulse soared off to heights unknown. “Gideon, look. I barely know you. In a very short time I’ve learned that you’re a horticulturist, a widower, that you look good naked, and that you’re extremely private, and obviously for good cause. Whatever holds you back from pursuing a…a romantic relationship is your business. I’m not prying.” He moved closer to her, his expression impossible to read, half-hidden behind the reflective lenses. “You sound like you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Do you think everything will stay as sensible and rational as you make it sound if I kiss you?” Her heart jolted into another frenzied dance. She had to tilt her head back to see his face. “I have no way of knowing that unless you kiss me.” Before he could respond, a semi-truck roared by them on the two-lane blacktop, followed by a dusty SUV and a beat later, a dilapidated sedan. Then silence fell again, a disturbing stillness, as though even the early evening breeze had paused to see what would happen next.
Nothing happened. Gideon looked at her; she looked back at him, waiting, and for what? Bemused, Kate made a wide berth around him and began to run again. He could lag behind and ponder the what-ifs. She was going to finish the three miles and get on with her life.
“Cut left at the path,” his voice came suddenly behind her, and she nearly stumbled. How had he caught up with her so quickly and quietly? His approach had been utterly soundless on the pavement.
Panting more from turbulent emotion than exertion, she matched her pace to his and jogged beside him under a canopy of verdant trees, where the woodchip path wound onward into a shadowy hammock. It was dark in the woods, as dark as if dusk had already fallen. A moment later Putnam Creek appeared, a narrow chasm rushing through the damp, shaded terrain.
Kate slowed and stopped at the base of a thick oak, where she rested her hands on her knees, gulping in breaths. Gideon’s gaze burned into her, but she wasn’t about to engage him. She meandered down to the creek’s edge and stared through the dimness at the crystal water flowing gently over mossy stone and leaves.
His presence behind her stung her skin, raised the hair on her arms, as though he radiated electricity and she was too close to the current.
“You’re overheated,” he said, in a soft, insinuating tone that made her want to wobble to the ground in a gelatinous puddle.
She ventured a look at him. “That’s right. Overheated and annoyed.” Gideon shook his head and blew out a slow, steady breath. “You know, for a long, long time I’d forgotten what it feels like to be a teenager, and suddenly it’s all coming back to me. I don’t know what it is about you, but every time I get around you I have thoughts, only they’re not just thoughts because they seem to flow right out of my mouth—without any help from me, I might add. That officially makes them statements, and inappropriate ones. You’re doing a great job with Jude, and God knows I don’t want to run you off. My intentions are honorable. I—” “Gideon.” She took a step toward him, heart fluttering like a trapped moth in her chest. “Take off your sunglasses so I can see your eyes.”
He glanced skyward, studied the shadowy branches overhead for a long, uncertain moment, then carefully slipped the aviators from his face. His gaze was liquid, black as Egyptian ink as it searched hers, then shifted lower, to her lips. He stepped closer to her, and his thumb came up to brush the base of her throat.
“Mosquito,” he explained, his mouth quirking.
“Damn bloodsuckers,” she said huskily. “They’ve always liked me, for some reason.”
“Oh?” He
Similar Books
