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Risky Moves
Carrie Alexander


Smart, pretty, personable Julia Knox has always played it safe. Dangerous Adam Brody, her first love, is the only risk she's ever taken…with disastrous results. But that's about to change! Adam is back in town and Julia is ready to make some moves and break some rules….Adam isn't convinced that Julia is just as wild and crazy as he is, or rather was, but he's never been one to turn down a dare. She wants to go skydiving and rock climbing? Fine. But as the dares escalate into emotional territory, so does the danger…and the prize.









She could see everything


Adam’s clothes made a messy trail across the floor; the tub was filled to the brim, the water perfectly clear. Five feet ten inches of presumably naked man was sunk into it up to his armpits.

With his eyes closed.

Loath to disturb him, but drawn inside nonetheless, Julia inched closer. Adam didn’t move so much as an eyelash. She should wake him up, she thought, before his bones boiled down to jelly. Soon as she got a good long look.

The thought of all that exposed skin—wet, warm and male—made her fingers twitch. What would happen if she touched him? Very, very lightly?

She leaned over the tub, one hand extended, one finger unfurling….

“What are you looking for?” His eyes were open. Electric. She sprang back, but his fingers were already locked around her wrist. She didn’t try to escape. Why run when all she really wanted was to stay?

His quiet question hung in the air. What are you looking for?

“You,” she said. For the past ten years.


Dear Reader,

When I began writing Smooth Moves (Harlequin Temptation Heat #839), I wasn’t thinking of doing a spin-off book. But as I developed Zack Brody’s story, his somewhat mysterious brother Adam became a large part of the plot, even though he remained offstage. Then Julia Knox popped up, hinting at her history with Adam—what did happen on the night of her eighteenth birthday?—and I knew there was another story to be told.

So here we go again! Zack and Cathy are getting married. The admiral’s on hand, along with the Heartbroken, and you’ll get to read more about the Brody family, too. Would I forget Lauren? She deserves a “special” hero of her very own…though some might call him her comeuppance.

Welcome back to Quimby!

Carrie

P.S. I love to hear from readers. Please write to me in care of Harlequin, through www.temptationauthors.com, or by clicking on my name in the author pages at www.eHarlequin.com.




Books by Carrie Alexander


HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

689—BLACK VELVET

704—A TOUCH OF BLACK VELVET

720—BLACK VELVET VALENTINES

839—SMOOTH MOVES

HARLEQUIN DUETS

25—CUSTOM-BUILT COWBOY

32—CONTERFEIT COWBOY

38—KEEPSAKE COWBOY

HARLEQUIN BLAZE

20—PLAYING WITH FIRE




Risky Moves

Carrie Alexander





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Contents


Prologue (#ua27d0888-6527-55aa-af00-ead2a0328e5c)

Chapter 1 (#u1377b3ed-e678-59b4-a86c-0b223f9447ce)

Chapter 2 (#u5e60594a-3f58-5dd3-9846-b5cab8880dce)

Chapter 3 (#u386b9056-a5e0-5dbe-b99c-90606cf2a35a)

Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)




Prologue


“THIS IS THE BEST IDEA you’ve ever had,” Julia said, trying to convince herself. She sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to muss the spread, and folded her hands in her lap. “Quit fussing. Just sit and wait. He’ll be here any minute.”

A bottle of the most expensive champagne she could afford—fifteen dollars—was chilling in the motel’s plastic ice bucket. Red roses were positioned on the mirrored bureau so that the reflection made the bouquet seem doubly extravagant. She’d brought along every candle she could scrounge up and had placed them all around the room, giving the anonymous space a romantic glow. She’d even bought a box of condoms and put on the sexiest lingerie she owned—a peach silk robe and matching slip-style nightie.

The minutes ticked by. Julia tightened her threaded fingers. When her stomach fluttered, she told herself it was nerves, not misgivings.

The stage was set. She knew what she was doing.

Complete physical intimacy was the next step in a logical progression.

It was time for her to make love with Zack Brody.




1


Ten years later

EVEN AT THE BEST of times, Adam Brody didn’t care for wedding receptions. The clamoring crowd, the overabundant feast, the cloying scents of flowers, perfume and aftershave—not his style. But it was clear that rock-bottom bad had been achieved when the maid of honor walked up to him and said, “I want to defy death.”

The wedding had gone off without a hitch. And, really, Adam had nothing to complain about, considering that he’d tolerated far worse ordeals. Like three months in a hospital bed flat on his back. He’d been managing—aside from his stint as toastmaster general—to fly below the radar of most of the guests.

That is, until Julia Knox made her big pronouncement.

Adam nearly swallowed the toothpick from the little sugared grape and melting cheese thingamabob he’d just popped into his mouth. The Quimby Woodwind Trio was playing a reedy rendition of “Sunrise, Sunset,” which meant his slow torture was almost over. He was one round of goodbyes away from freedom.

First he’d have to deal with Julia. Of all the words he’d imagined she might say when they met again, “I want to defy death” weren’t among them.

Carefully he removed the frilled toothpick from his mouth. “Pardon?”

“I want to defy death.” She looked straight at him with serious hazel eyes. Julia was almost always serious. Which was why he couldn’t fathom—

“Teach me how,” she said. Forcefully. Without blinking. As if she weren’t wearing several hundred dollars worth of tulle and a floral headpiece that made her look like Heidi of the Alps.

Weddings did strange things to women’s heads, inside and out. After Adam’s one brush with the phenomenon had ended in catastrophe across the board, he’d renewed his policy to avoid contact with marriage-minded females whenever possible. The fact that his older brother, Zack, was today’s groom and that he’d played the best man had necessitated some pretty fancy footwork—especially for a gimp. Luckily Zack understood, having endured three solid months of his fiancée’s obsession with color matching, ribbon tying and invitation lists.

Plain and simple, weddings made women nuts.

Julia Knox, however…

She wasn’t the type.

Maybe she’d changed in the years since Adam had left Quimby, his small Midwestern hometown. Calm, reasonable Julia was the woman least likely to change, but, hey—anything was possible.

Adam tilted his head. In spite of his vow to stay detached, she’d aroused his curiosity.

“This might not be the ideal time to bring this up,” she said, “but it’s now or never. For such a prominent member of the wedding party, you’ve been rather elusive.”

He shrugged, remaining silent. She had to know why.

Her brows shot up. “I suppose you’ve been thrust under the Quimby microscope whenever you show your face?”

“It’s not my face they’re interested in.”

Not one for sidelong looks and whispers behind hands, Julia ran her gaze over his tuxedo-clad body, from the tightly knotted bow tie to the black satin cummerbund and all the way down to the rented patent leather wing tips that pinched his toes. She lingered openly over his troublesome legs. A majority of the wedding guests had done the same, particularly when he’d offered his arm to escort Julia down the aisle. He’d wondered if they were waiting for him to stumble.

Julia’s interest was concerned and kind, not speculative. Although his reaction—a hot flush of awareness—was disconcerting, he put it down to more of the same. Ergo, further humiliation. His aversion to being the object of curiosity and gossip was a large part of his dislike for the otherwise acceptable reception. He’d joined the wedding party at the last moment and had planned to duck out of the reception as soon as possible, until his sense of obligation had stopped him. He could be elusive. He couldn’t be rude, not at Zack’s wedding. He owed his brother his life.

Involuntarily, Adam shifted from foot to foot as the muscles in his lower back and left hip started to quiver and contract. It’s only tension, he thought, concentrating on relaxing the tightness before it became a spasm. He imagined a clear, cold river washing over him. Through him.

Relax. It’s only Julia.

Her forthright gaze returned to his face. She didn’t say anything about how “good, really good” he looked. She only blinked, let go of her concern and then reassumed the determined set of her mouth. No pity from Julia, he thought. Thanks, Goldie.

She took a breath. “You wouldn’t know it to look at me—” when she touched the beaded bodice of her wedding getup he obligingly looked at the me part of her that swelled in the scooped neckline “—but my life is dull. I need a few thrills and chills. A challenge to shake up the status quo. I figure you’re the guy to come to.” She gestured with one hand. A delicate pearl bracelet slid over her smooth forearm. His gaze shifted, catching on it, then on the fragile knob of her wrist bone, and just like that he couldn’t look away. He didn’t know why, except that suddenly there was a swirling in his gut, like a strong, sucking whirlpool.

“I need to take a few risks. Feel the rush.” She hesitated, putting her hands on her hips, her face infused with the drama of it all. “Teach me how to be a daredevil, Adam.”

Oh, no, he thought at once.

Not him. Not her. After all these years, definitely not her.

His silence would have been leaden if not for the clarinets. The song ended on a long, wobbly note, and he shrugged negligently, as if he really didn’t care about any of it. “Go eat a chunk of wedding cake, Goldie. The sugar high will cure you.” He turned away, trying to pretend he hadn’t seen the hurt that had lightning-flashed over her face.

She grasped his sleeve. “Just like old times, is it? You cuffing me on the shoulder and then running away? I know a brush-off when I get one, Adam Brody.”

“I’m not sure that you do.”

She looked at his sleeve. Deliberately unclenched her fingers as she said in a low voice, “No one calls me Goldie these days.”

“Too high school now that you’re a mature adult and upstanding citizen?”

She made a face at herself. “Seems like I’ve always been a mature adult, doesn’t it?”

No, he thought, remembering with a startling clarity the one time she’d been as reckless as he, Quimby’s notorious daredevil. It wasn’t something they talked about. For the past ten years, they’d been very good at avoiding the slightest mention of it. To Adam, Julia Knox was his brother’s girlfriend and she always would be. End of story.

“Zack is married,” she said, reading his face. “It’s official. Lock, stock and honeymoon.”

“That doesn’t change our—” Adam stopped. Or did it? With marriage, was the unspoken law that brothers don’t share the same girl no longer in effect? For a moment, he experienced a glorious relief. His longtime burden of guilt shifted—a boulder rocking at the first wedge of the crowbar. Then he thought of Laurel Barnard, who’d caused a rift between them so immense only a near tragedy had closed it, and the boulder rolled firmly back into place.

“It’s been years since Zack and I broke up.” Julia produced a rusty chuckle. “I think you and I are allowed to be…friends.” Her lashes lowered. He saw her swallow.

Nervous? he wondered. Unsure? Julia?

“Sure.” He nodded, acting agreeable only to get out of the tight spot. He had no intention of taking up with her—she was far too dangerous to his status quo. “No problem. We’ve always been friends, right?” He gave her arm a strictly friendly squeeze, and there went the whirlpool again. They weren’t friends, he reminded himself, stepping away from the buffet tables. They couldn’t be.

Because they shared a secret. And it was a whopper. Too gigantic and shameful to openly discuss. But it would always be there, looming between them, as unscalable as a sheer rock wall.

“Then there’s no reason you can’t teach me how to sky dive,” Julia said in a flurry, aware that he was desperate to get away.

That stopped him. He cocked his head again. “Sky dive? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’m serious. It’s the riskiest thing I can think of.”

“You’re nuts.” Flat-out nuts. And he was no longer sure it was the wedding that had gotten to her. She seemed rational enough about Zack’s marriage, what with being the maid of honor and all, so maybe that wasn’t what was freaking her out.

Still…

Julia Knox—skydiving? Conventional Julia, the pretty, popular, nice girl who’d been nicknamed Goldie after Fort Knox, although privately he’d always considered the name a suitable tribute to her shining example of female perfection. Zack Brody and Julia Knox had been the perfect Ken-and-Barbie couple of Quimby High School—basketball captain and head cheerleader, class president and Honor Society inductee, homecoming king and queen. They went together like sugar and cream.

A few years, a little trauma—even Zack’s marriage to Cathy Timmerman—couldn’t change the essence of that. Julia Knox didn’t need to shake up her life. She was, and always would be, twenty-four-karat gold.

“You’ve been watching ‘Road Rules’ again,” he scoffed. “Or maybe travel documentaries on the adventure channel?”

“Don’t condescend, Adam.”

He smiled at her stubborn resolve. Maybe her sweet nature had turned a little tart in the years he’d been away. “Sorry. It’s just that you of all people—” He looked her up and down. “Out of everyone I know, you’re the person with her feet most firmly stuck to the ground.”

“Exactly the point.”

He shook his head. “Don’t ask me to help you with this crazy idea. Go to a skydiving school if you have to, but don’t ask me.”

She reached for his hands and almost got them, too, except that he backed off. He was still quick enough for an elusive maneuver when he needed one. Too bad that meant he was trapped in the far corner of Jerome’s, blocked from the exit by a jumbled maze of guests, fancy-dressed tables and chairs at cockeyed angles. The john was nearby, but what he really needed was to get outside and breathe the fresh night air.

“Adam,” Julia said, her voice catching. He quit scanning the room for an escape route and focused on her face, intrigued despite himself. What was going on in her unleveled head? “I guess I’m scared,” she confessed. Her eyes beseeched him, shimmering with a surprising amount of emotion. “That’s why I asked you. I want someone I know I can trust. Not a stranger.”

“Moot point. I’m not certified to teach skydiving in this state.”

“Oh.” She frowned, stymied for a moment before her troubled brow smoothed. “Rock climbing, then. To begin.”

He could do that. Take her out to one of the granite bluffs he’d scrambled up and down as a kid, make her think it was steep and dangerous, give her enough of a thrill to satisfy whatever urge was driving her and pack it in before lunchtime. He could do that. Maybe.

Maybe.

Doubt crept in. He hated it. He’d never been cautious or afraid before the accident—hiking, biking, rowing, parachuting and rappelling without a moment’s fear. Even now, eighteen months after the accident, when he’d recovered to the point where walking was again a given instead of a small miracle…it wasn’t enough. He was supposed to feel blessed, and instead he was so damned uneasy about his abilities. Not to mention his future.

Julia blinked, growing dismayed by his hesitation. “Oh, Adam. I’m sor—” She stopped herself, her features crimping with concern as her gaze swept over his legs. “I thought—Zack said you’re doing great—”

“No problem.” Adam was brisk about it, though suddenly he was having trouble swallowing. His fingers felt like thumbs as he yanked at the bow tie until it finally came undone. Julia didn’t need to know how feeble he’d been, what a long struggle it had taken to regain even half of the physical skills he’d lost when he’d sped too fast around a treacherous curve on a mountain road and sideswiped a lumbering delivery van. After surviving a succession of risky adventures, he’d been done in by a squat van transporting inner tubes for the Snake River Rafters. The irony wasn’t as amusing as it might have been.

“It’s you I’m concerned with,” he said bluntly. “You’ve never been the daring type. What’s up?”

Julia met his eyes, her chin dimpled like an orange peel because her lips were so firmly set. He held back the impulse to smile. Being deadly serious, she wouldn’t appreciate knowing how cute she looked. “You think I can’t handle it?” she accused. “I’m fit, you know. I work out.” She lifted an arm, crooking her elbow and clenching a fist to show him her biceps. “I’m perfectly capable and—and mentally prepared.”

“To defy death?”

“Um. That might have been an overstatement.”

To get his attention—which she had. But he still had no idea of her reasoning. “All this because you’re bored?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you do it?”

His tight answering smile was an evasion. “I don’t remember.” Didn’t want to remember was more like it. Remembering would mean wanting, and wanting meant trying. There were times, he’d learned, that it hurt too much to try. Which was something he’d never expected to cop to, considering all the do-or-die instances when he’d hung off a rock wall with his muscles screaming, forcing his numb fingertips to clench on a handhold just…one…more…time.

“I remember,” Julia said. Her face softened. “You’ve been a daredevil ever since Chuck Cheswick double-dog dared you to climb the water tower when you were ten. I also remember how you used to scare the life out of Zack. He was always watching over your escapades.”

“And bailing me out.”

“Yes, and bailing you out.” It was obvious what they were both thinking of now. About a year and a half ago, there’d been a blowup between him and Zack over Laurel Barnard, the woman Adam had fallen for in a bad way. Laurel had manipulated the situation, playing one brother against the other until they were twisted into knots. After a major argument, Adam had made a heated escape, leaving Laurel to worm out of Zack what she’d been after all along—a marriage proposal from the man known as Heartbreak Brody, the biggest catch in Quimby. A short time later, Adam’s car accident had called Zack to Idaho on the eve of the wedding—trumping Laurel’s worst-laid plans.

Adam figured he owed Zack double. First for saving him from the scheming Laurel, then for saving him from despair when the doctors had told him he might not walk again. Zack had stayed for an entire year, putting his life and reputation on hold to inspire, cajole and harangue Adam until he was back on his feet. Performing as the best man at his brother’s real wedding despite the curious stares and pitying attention was the least Adam could do in return.

“Hey, Madman,” said Fred Spangler, waving from a group of plotting groomsmen. “Get over here, fella. We’ve gotta strategize over how to trash the groom’s getaway car.”

Adam looked at Julia. “Sorry. Duty calls.”

“But what about—”

He stepped around her when she didn’t move. “Nice talking to you.”

She reached out for a brief, firm hug, sending a jolt through him. Usually she kept her distance. “It’s wonderful to see you again,” she murmured. “You look…”

Good. Really good! Adam gritted his teeth in anticipation.

Julia swung her head, making her smooth golden-brown hair sweep across the small satin bows that lay flat against her shoulders. “You look thoroughly civilized.”

Civilized?

“Hey—what does that mean?” Adam said, but Fred Spangler grabbed his arm and pulled him away, leaving Julia looking after him with a taunting little smile playing across her lips.

THE WOODWIND TRIO played a slow, spitty-sounding Irish melody to wind down the evening as Julia made her way across the restaurant to her table. A slice of wedding cake waited at her place, thickly frosted with green and white globs that were supposed to be lily of the valley even though this was an autumn wedding. Julia had advised Cathy that detailed artistry was beyond Velda Thompson, Quimby’s one and only unrenowned cake decorator, but you couldn’t talk sense to a woman about to tie the knot. Brides had their own cockeyed logic. A mystery to Julia, who liked order, stability, cause and effect. Under normal circumstances, she couldn’t imagine thinking like a bride.

But these circumstances weren’t normal.

Her tablemates were off chatting, boozing or schmoozing, so Julia allowed herself a loud sigh, then propped her elbows on the table. Disconsolate, she considered the cake a long while before stabbing it with a fork. There was no need to sleep with a slice of wedding cake under her pillow. She didn’t want marriage just now—she wanted change. Excitement.

Adam Brody.

The sooner the better.

Ever since Cathy had confided that Adam had agreed to return to Quimby and act as Zack’s best man, Julia had been filled with an unusual restless energy. This was her last chance to follow the road not taken. She was certain.

Either she put the vitality back into her life or she settled for more of the same. Either she made Adam see her in a new light or she gave him up for good. A woman could live modestly and pine after a man for only so long before she became pathetic.

For these many years, she’d been careful to keep her feelings for Adam Brody secret. But some of her friends must suspect by now. Cathy knew, for certain, which meant Zack probably did. Being Zack, as honorable as he was handsome, he’d been completely discreet about the potential complications. Julia had no doubt that he’d offer his blessing, if it ever came to that.

Ever?

Or never?

Julia shivered. She could face never if she had to. There were worse things.

Like skydiving.

Oh, good grief, what was she thinking? Adam was right. She wasn’t the type. Just as she wasn’t his type.

Redheaded Allie Spangler came over and plopped into a chair. She eyed the wedding cake, pierced by an upright fork. “Aren’t you going to eat that?” she asked hungrily. Her gaze darted around the elegant restaurant, searching for Fred. She and her husband had been on a diet for several months now, but she was always sneaking snacks behind his back.

Julia nudged the plate toward her longtime friend. “Feel free.”

“Adam’s looking really good.” Allie moaned as she scooped a dollop of sugary frosting on her fingertip. “I halfway expected a wasted shell of a man, but…” She glanced at the gaggle of groomsmen, smacking her lips. “He hardly even limps.”

“Yes.” Julia didn’t need to follow Allie’s stare. An image of Adam was burned on her mind. His tousled brown hair, the lean, athletic body in a rumpled tux, tie undone, collar open. His face. His sober face. Always intense, but now hardened by an intimate knowledge of struggle and pain. And so…guarded. It hurt her to look at him, knowing what he’d been through. Except when the boyish daredevil grin emerged, even briefly, reminding her of the mischievous kid he’d been, the cocky athlete he’d become. Under the austere exterior, he was still the restless young man she’d fallen for more than ten years ago—fallen for as fast and hard as a sky diver with a malfunctioning parachute.

“Aw. Don’t look so mournful.”

Julia shot a curious look at Allie, who smiled through a mouthful of cake.

“Just because Heartbreak is off the market for good…” The redhead spoke soothingly.

“Oh. Yes, of course. Heartbreak.” Julia smiled, mimicking the brave faces of the single women in attendance. Zack “Heartbreak” Brody had been the most eligible bachelor in Quimby. Some of his ex-girlfriends had formed an informal support group, calling themselves the Heartbroken, sisters in misery. Along with Allie, Julia had been a founding member, even though her feelings for Zack were not nearly as significant as the others suspected.

Not for Zack.

“I’m fine with that,” she said, ever so brightly.

Allie patted her hand. “Sure you are.”

“Zack and Cathy are perfect together. I’m thrilled for them.”

“Yeah, yeah. We all are.” Allie’s smile wound tighter and tighter until her homely freckled face was all squinched up, twisting her expression into a grimace. She released it, casting a guilty glance at Fred. “Anyhoo. A bunch of us are getting together after to commiserate—er, to celebrate. Har, har.”

Julia murmured something noncommittal. She wasn’t in the mood to listen to Allie and Gwen and the Thompson twins and other assorted singletons moan and groan about their great unrequited love for Zack. When it came to the Brody men, she knew too well how they felt. And it didn’t pay to linger on it.

Action, she reminded herself. She’d promised that this time she would go into action instead of sitting and waiting for Adam to come to her. No more doing the right thing. No more boring, well-behaved good girl.

“It’s a warm night for October. We were talking about a bonfire on the beach, just like old times. Some of the guys are coming, too.” Allie chuckled. “With liquor, I betcha. They’re thinking if they get a few of you bridesmaids comfortably numb, the pickings will be easy.”

Julia started to shake her head, then stopped. “Will—um, who’s going?”

“Me and Fred. Gwen, Karen and Kelly. I don’t know about Faith—she’s been even quieter than usual lately. Probably grieving over Zack. All of the groomsmen will be there, and maybe one or two of the guys from Fred and Zack’s basketball league.”

“Adam?” Julia blurted.

Allie polished off the cake before she answered. “It was his idea. You know Adam.”

Never indoors when he could be out. Always the first to move, to dare, to go. Farther and farther away each time, harder and harder to catch up to.

He was a comet, burning through the sky. She was only Julia Knox, her feet stuck on the ground. If she reached for him, she might be badly burned. Did she dare try?

I have to. This is my last chance.

“I’ll be there,” she said. “After I go home and change.”

Allie scanned the pumpkin-colored dress. It was too frou-frou for Julia’s taste, but out of solidarity with her fellow Quimby shopkeepers, Cathy had insisted on patronizing the lone local bridal shop—where tasteful choices were woefully limited. The dresses at Bridal Bonanza got a lot worse than frou-frou.

“Always a bridesmaid, huh?” Allie said with a bit of an edge, because she hadn’t been asked to be one. Although outwardly happy in her marriage, her interference in Zack’s love life had once gone too far. Fortunately for her, Zack and Cathy were forgiving sorts.

Julia smiled too sweetly. “Maybe we can all move on now that Zack’s off the market for good.”

Allie shrugged, quickly changing subjects. “There’s always Adam, I guess. Even if he’s not much of a marriage prospect. No steady job, no house, no savings account…”

I already have those things, Julia thought. Turns out they’re not enough.

“…and now there are his weak legs and all. He’s sure not the kind of guy you can count on.”

Julia disagreed. She knew firsthand that though Adam wasn’t as perfect as his brother—he made mistakes, and she’d been one of them—he also had enough pride, courage and loyalty for ten men. In many ways, however, even though they were the same age and had grown up in the same small town and attended the same school, he was still an enigma to her. He was so disciplined, yet utterly reckless, seemingly fearless. She’d always found him fascinating, the kind of man who would challenge her to be more than expected.

And she needed such a challenge. She needed it now.

Julia forced herself to focus on the conversation instead of her secret desires. “You know Adam better than me,” she told Allie with a shrug, even though that wasn’t completely true. Allie, who’d lived next door to the Brody brothers, had been buddies—only buddies—with both of them. She and Adam had egged each other on in their pranks and misadventures, with Zack the guardian who was always there to get them out of trouble.

“Sure, but I never woulda dated him.” Allie was watching the men, who apparently thought they were slipping out of the restaurant unnoticed. Fred Spangler tiptoed past the bar, as if a two-hundred-pound car salesman with a mop of curly blond hair could sneak anywhere. His wife shook her head fondly. “I like a beefier man.” She chuckled. “And I got me a steer.”

“I didn’t date him, either,” Julia said, her eyes on Adam. He moved easily between the tables, avoiding hails of recognition by keeping his gaze focused on the exit.

Eyes on the exit. That was Adam Brody to a T.

“Nope.” Allie had switched her attention to the newlyweds. “It was always you and Zack, two peas in a pod.”

Adam looked over his shoulder at the last moment, straight at Julia. A telling warmth bloomed in her cheeks. She’d been wanting him for too many years to be able to switch her feelings off fast enough to completely hide them from his notice. Not even years of practice made perfect.

She swallowed past the lump forming in her throat. “Maybe we were too perfect together,” she heard herself saying, as if from a distance. All her energy was focused on Adam, who broke their moment of mutual awareness as quickly as he’d started it. He slipped beyond her sight, the heavy carved doors of the former bank building closing solidly behind him.

“How’s that?” Allie asked.

Julia waved a vague hand, waiting for her hammering pulse to fade. “Um, you know. There was no lasting heat.” Not a problem as far as Adam was concerned, even with very little encouragement.

Zack had been her first love, a puppy love, the summer she was sixteen. Adam hadn’t caught her attention in that way then—he was still a scrawny boy, always off poking around in the woods and climbing anything vertical, including the post office flagpole. Zack had been slightly older, a handsome icon of maturity and popularity, working as the lifeguard at the Mirror Lake beach. Everyone had said they belonged together. Soon Julia and Zack believed it, too. And since they were the kind of people who did what was expected of them, they’d lasted longer than they ought to have.

“No heat?” Allie repeated. “C’mon. I remember how you two always looked so right together. High-school sweethearts. Every girl in town envied you.”

“That was years ago. We broke up, remember?”

Allie reached for a beribboned party-favor bag and tore apart the netting with her fingernails. Pastel mints and candied almonds spilled across the tablecloth. She began popping them in her mouth one by one until her lips were puckered. “And it’s just coincidence that you haven’t been serious with anyone since?”

“I’ve dated,” Julia said. “Plenty.” At least by Quimby standards.

“Yeah, stodgy guys with briefcases and beepers.”

“Suits me fine. I have my own briefcase and beeper.” Julia nibbled an almond. After working for one of the nationwide real-estate franchises for a few years, she’d come back to Quimby to open her own agency. It was doing very well, by Quimby standards.

“Which is why you need the opposite, of course!” Cathy Timmerman—Cathy Brody, Julia remembered—swooped on them with the numerous layers of her swagged ivory skirts bunched in her hands. She kicked out a chair with the toe of a dyed-to-match ivory pump and collapsed with a loud exhale. “Gad. Weddings really take it out of you.”

“But the honeymoon puts it back in,” Julia said, giving Cathy’s hand a squeeze. Quite a reach over their voluminous, rustling gowns.

“No, that’s the groom’s job,” Allie said mischievously.

Cathy groaned. “Please, no more bawdy honeymoon jokes. I’ve had enough of those from Zack’s uncle Brady. Brady Brody, if you can believe it. That’s him in the magenta velvet tux. He thinks it’s funny to sneak into every picture our photographer takes.”

“I remember Uncle Brady,” Julia said. “He used to pinch my derriere at family functions. Consider yourself forewarned, Cath.”

“Too late. He got in a good one right there in the receiving line. But with all these layers of tulle and genuine polyester silk, what was the point?”

They laughed.

“Zack didn’t tell me about his relatives,” Cathy continued. “Turns out there are heaps of them.” She tried to frown, but nothing could take away the happiness that wreathed her face as clearly as the floral headpiece framed her sable hair. Despite the over-the-top Bridal Bonanza finery, Julia had never seen a bride who glowed more than Cathy. There was no doubt that Zack had chosen right this time around.

“We booked hotel rooms all over the county, and it still seems as though most of them are bunking in at either Zack’s house or mine. We haven’t managed a moment to ourselves for days and days.”

Then neither would Adam, Julia thought, knowing how much he’d hate that.

“When do you escape?” Allie asked, crunching.

“Very soon now.” Cathy’s eyes gleamed with anticipation as they followed Zack, who was making one last turn around the room, distributing thanks and handshakes. “I can hardly wait.” She looked sidelong at her grinning friends. “Not for that. For the peace and quiet.” She paused, reflecting. “And maybe some of that, too.”

Cathy was a lucky bride, Julia told herself. Her groom was an exceptional man. Julia had known so even before a dozen Quimby busybodies had taken it upon themselves to inform her that she’d let a good one get away. She had no hope of explaining why their chemistry hadn’t worked when she didn’t understand it herself. Put Zack together with Cathy, a relative newcomer to Quimby, and the pair of them smoked. You could practically see the steam rising from their pores.

Maybe it was the comfort and normalcy that had doomed Julia’s relationship with Zack. And that continued to doom her with the few acceptable men she’d encountered since. Briefcases, beepers and boredom—she knew them far too well.

The other two women were discussing the honeymoon plans, six days of autumnal marital bliss at a mountain resort. “By the time we return, I’m hoping all the relatives will have gone,” Cathy confessed in a whisper. “It’s going to be cozy enough as it is, living right next door to Zack’s parents until our new house is built.”

“And Adam, too,” Julia said. “If he stays, that is.”

“Oh, his mother’s working on that. Whereas Zack said we were lucky that his brother agreed to fly in last night instead of putting it off until this morning. I hear Adam’s always been impossible to peg down.”

“He missed the rehearsal dinner.” Julia had been all pins and needles, anticipating the sight of him. Instead her first glimpse had come this afternoon, in the church itself, when she’d preceded Cathy down the aisle. The shock of Adam’s magnifying presence and stark, handsome face had put a noticeable stutter in her step. Enough that the busybodies had clucked over it, though none had guessed the true reason. They all thought she was regretting the loss of Zack.

“Does he know that Laurel booked herself onto a convenient Mediterranean cruise ship so she wouldn’t be in town for the wedding?” Allie said, looking from one woman to the other.

“He knows.” Cathy was eyeing Julia with too much sympathy. Now that the mints were gone, Allie was beginning to notice. “Laurel’s not what matters.”

Allie’s lips pursed. “His legs?”

“His legs are fine,” Julia insisted. Too much emphasis.

Allie squinched again, her eyes narrowing to slits, her long nose twitching suspiciously.

“You only have to look at him to see.” Julia couldn’t seem to stop herself. Very unlike her. “He’s every bit as vital as he was when he left.”

“Vital?” Allie echoed. “Like a daily vitamin?” She chortled. “If I were you, I wouldn’t count on Adam sticking around for another dose tomorrow, let alone the long haul.”

Julia winced. “If you were me? I—I’m not counting on anything. Which isn’t the point, anyway. All I meant—” She took a breath, appalled at herself for losing her cool for so little reason. “Nothing. Forget it.”

Cathy stepped in. “Allie, would you gather together the single women? It’s time I threw the bouquet.” As soon as Allie was out of earshot, she turned to the flustered Julia. “Honey—are you okay? I knew it was going to be hard on you, seeing Adam again.”

You don’t know the half of it, Julia thought. She clenched her hands, safely hidden in a lapful of tulle netting. Cathy had guessed about Julia’s feelings for Adam months ago, when Julia had confessed that—contrary to public speculation—she was not heartbroken over Zack. But Cathy didn’t know that there was a lot more to the story.

“Well, sure,” Julia said slowly, “I was a little nervous about what to expect. But it turns out that Adam’s still Adam.”

Cathy laughed. “Is that good or bad? I haven’t known him long enough to tell.”

Julia mulled it over. He was good for a change—her change—but a mighty bad influence on her usual rock-steady equilibrium. “It’s both,” she said. “Adam’s always been…” She gave a wordless gesture, knowing there was no rhyme or reason for her attraction to the man. Adam Brody was just there—a dream in her head, a knot in her stomach, a longing in her heart.

“Impossible to peg down,” Cathy said, nodding. “I like him, though. After hearing all the stories, I thought he’d be one of those careless extreme-sports dudes with the cocky attitudes. But he’s not—he’s quiet and intelligent, with a dry sense of humor. When I think of all he’s been through—” Catching Julia’s misting eyes, she broke off. “Ah, but I don’t need to tell you, do I?”

Julia gave a watery sniff. “At eighteen, he was pretty darn cocky. The Brodys worried like crazy over his daredevil tendencies, and they never even learned about some of the wilder escapades.” She thought sadly of the new hesitation about Adam, the look of worry in his eyes that had aged him beyond twenty-eight. “But I suspect he’s changed some after the car accident.”

“Maybe you’ll get the chance to find out?” Cathy gave her a sisterly little nudge.

“Maybe.”

“Try to persuade him to stay, will you?”

Julia was going to say that Adam had never before paid any attention to her requests, but just then Allie and a swarm of eager guests arrived, buzzing with excitement over the bridal bouquet and the newlyweds’ impending departure. Julia was swept into the celebratory crowd despite her reluctance. She didn’t believe in superstition and sentiment—she believed in drawing up a plan and making things happen.

The wedding guests surged out of the restaurant into the gravel parking lot. Zack’s black Jaguar was decked out in shaving cream, ribbons of crepe paper, tin cans, pinwheels and the traditional Just Married placard. Julia picked Adam out from the crowd, her heart expanding when she saw the genuine smile on his face. The honey-colored glow of the sunset caught in his mossgreen eyes, lighting them up like twin fireflies.

Ten years, she thought, her chest hurting. I’ve been feeling like this for ten years. That’s long enough.

Long enough to make even a sane woman ready to jump out of an airplane.

Cathy and Zack stood on the doorstep beneath the deep stone arch of the entrance, looking exactly like the model couple for a wedding cake topper. They hugged Zack’s parents and Cathy’s dad, Admiral Wallace Winston Bell, then ran toward their getaway vehicle in a shower of flower petals. Cathy paused at the open car door, held up her bouquet to a cheer from the crowd and with a graceful flick of her wrist tossed it high in the air.

The single women jostled for position. Julia followed the bouquet’s spinning arc, her hands involuntarily reaching to the sky before she remembered and pulled them in. Gwendolyn Case, a token member of the Heartbroken club even though she’d already been married and divorced twice, made an impressive leap and catch despite the billowing skirts of her size eighteen pumpkin-colored bridesmaid dress and size eleven dyed-to-match pumps. A roar went up from the guests as the admiral swept her up for a big hug and smooch.

As Zack and Cathy drove away in a clatter, Julia met Adam’s eyes over the milling crowd. I don’t want a bridal bouquet. I’m as free and easy and daring as you, she wanted to say, but settled for a little smile of mutual amusement before his extended family of uncles and in-laws and cousins thrice removed descended en masse, blocking him from view.

Poor Adam, she thought, getting an idea.




2


YES, INDEED. Now that she was eighteen and officially legal, making love to Zack was the safe, even expected thing to do. None of their friends would have believed they’d held out this long, considering they’d been going together for two years. Julia wasn’t sure why they had delayed, except that she’d always pulled back at the last moment. Losing her virginity was a momentous occasion, and she was a cautious person.

Too cautious, maybe.

“It’s now or never,” she vowed, but flinched when a knock at the door finally came. How silly. She’d considered the situation very carefully before deciding that Zack was the one. There was no reason to be unsure about letting him in.

It would be okay. Julia put her hand on the knob. Zack was the safe, smart choice. He would take care of her.

“JULIA!” The cries went up.

“Girlfriend! You made it! Come and join the party.”

“Hot damn, another bridesmaid!”

Adam didn’t chime in. Instead he crouched to feed another piece of wood into the bonfire, trying unsuccessfully to keep his eyes off the latest arrival at the impromptu beach party. Julia wore black leggings with low boots and a bulky sweater, her hair pulled straight back from her face. When she turned to accept a beer from Fred, the firelight gilded her profile like the delicate, curved designs on a Chinese vase. She’d always had a way about her—neat, clean, exacting, pedestal pure. Even after he’d ruined it all by touching her.

The flames leaped, devouring the dry wood. He threw on a chunk of punky log. Sparks rose in a glittering curtain. Rocking back on his heels, he watched as they dispersed, finding one glowing fleck that floated high in the dark sky, following a meandering path before finally winking out.

Most of the crowd sat on lawn chairs or beach blankets. Julia passed up a couple of offers, circling the group until she came to Adam. “Have a seat,” he said after an awkward moment, aware of her in his peripheral vision even though his gaze remained on the crackling fire.

“Hi.” She sat on the old felled log he’d been using as a seat. It had been on this beach for as long as he remembered.

“Hi.”

“There’s room for two.”

The fire wasn’t going anywhere. He edged backward until he was perched on the log. Half buried in the sand, it was weathered gray and smooth, all but a few stubborn shreds of bark worn off by countless numbers of beach bums.

“Want a beer?” she said, tilting her bottle.

“I’ve got one, thanks.” He reached for it, tucked out of the way in a fork of the log’s broken branches.

The tension between them seemed unbearable. What had happened to his long resolve to treat her as just another of his brother’s admirers? It had worked for years, keeping them from exchanging more than the average meaningless chitchat. And stopping him from touching her, except for the occasional quick hug hello or a casual brush of the shoulders or hands or hips.

Had Zack’s marriage ripped away the chains?

No. Adam’s limbs wouldn’t feel so heavy and his reactions so slow if that were the case.

The electric shock zinging through his veins he could ignore if he kept trying.

Julia looped her arms around her knees. “I can’t help thinking that Zack should be here,” she said softly, keeping their conversation to themselves among the more raucous back-and-forth of the others.

“I miss him, too.”

“He’s always been the leader of this crowd.” She scanned the circle of good friends, laughing and talking in the warm, radiant glow of the fire. “Even with most of us married or moved away, busy with careers and children, we’ll always be close. That’s what’s so special about small towns.”

“Is that why you chose to live in Quimby permanently?”

She glanced at him, then quickly away. “Sure. Partly.”

He didn’t press. He never did—not with Julia. It wouldn’t do him any good to know the answers.

Arm’s length, he thought. A safe distance. Even though he could feel her, sitting beside him so blamelessly, their legs not quite touching. Her cheek was rosy in the firelight, the smooth sweep of her ponytail honey gold threaded with a rich amber brown. He’d never stopped wanting to touch her hair. Her face. Her throat. Her breasts.

“I was surprised that Zack came back,” he said, “after all the trouble with Laurel and the wedding that wasn’t.” His brother was a good subject to keep between them.

“Oh, no. Zack belongs here.”

“Not like me.”

Someone had brought a CD player. Fred jumped up and shook his rump—and his beer gut—in an attempt to get Allie to dance around the fire with him. Jeering, she pelted him with corn chips. Through all the noise, Zack heard Julia’s quick intake of breath.

“How can you say that?” She leaned closer, looking him full in the face with her hand on his knee. “You belong here as much as anyone.”

“I’m no Zack.”

She gave a mystified shake of the head. “So what?”

He shrugged. Put that way, he sounded like an idiot. “All I meant was—Zack is more prominent. The leader, like you said. No one would miss me if I stayed away permanently.”

Julia lifted her hand off his knee. “I guess not.”

Oh.

She took a long drink of the beer, even though he knew she wasn’t crazy about the taste. Dabbed her lips with the edge of her sleeve. To show she was aware that he was watching, she gave him a bland smile, deliberately saying nothing more.

He got the point. One, quit whining. Two, don’t ask for ego reinforcement from the one woman who had particular reason to notice when he was gone. Even though she couldn’t admit it, Julia was as aware of him as he was of her. And that was plenty. Each time he returned home, he scrutinized every detail about her. When they were together, he was continually aware of where she was in proximity to him, who she was talking to, of her every laugh and gesture and smile. He could close his eyes and identify her by smell. Clean and fresh with a hint of sunny lavender. Never cloying.

Better for him to stay away, he thought, feeling desire stirring his gut.

Always the same attraction—and the same conclusion.

“I suppose you’ll be leaving soon,” she said casually.

He’d been in Idaho far too long—a stay enforced by his accident and slow recovery. As much as he enjoyed the state’s rugged outdoor life—the beautiful but treacherous mountains and rivers—he usually craved new experiences before too long. But this past year had been different. Idle and faced with too much time to think, he’d found himself longing not for unseen vistas but for the rolling hills and open farmland of Quimby, his humble hometown.

But that was only because the unknown was out of reach to him now.

Had to be.

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” he confessed.

Julia showed her surprise. “Oh, pfft. Adam Brody always has somewhere to go.”

“No job.” Over the years, he’d worked a variety of jobs, from tree surgeon to river guide to sky dive instructor to construction. All of them physical and beyond his present capabilities. “Gave up my lease.” First time in his life he’d had a lease—an experience he didn’t plan to repeat. “All my meager possessions are packed in the back of my Jeep.”

“A sleeping bag, a tent, a mountain bike and a kayak,” she said. “A pair of hiking boots and enough rock-climbing equipment to scale the Manhattan skyline.”

“That about sums it up.” He tilted his head and drained the beer, thinking of two possessions she’d missed—the cane that Zack had kept replacing each time Adam snapped one in frustration and the worn photo that was always buttoned in one of his shirts or jacket pockets. He kept the first under the car seat for the rare times he needed it. The second was Julia on her eighteenth birthday.

“Then you’re free to stay for a while.” Was that hope in her voice or was he imagining it?

“I wasn’t planning on more than a few days.”

“Long enough to teach me to rock climb?”

He sent her a slanted smile. “Kinda hoped you’d forgotten about that.”

“Nope. I’ve penciled you into my date book, smack dab between an estate-tax seminar and the Holliwells’ open house.”

She was kidding. He was sure she was kidding.

Gwendolyn Case came around, passing out hot dogs. Adam took two and chose a twin-pronged stick to roast them on. “You’re looking really good,” Gwen said, lingering.

“You, too, Gwen.” The buxom bridesmaid had put jeans on under her formal dress and bunched the skirts at her waist, strapping them in with a belt. Snagging the bridal bouquet had made her bolder than ever—despite her interest in the admiral, she’d been making a game of sizing up the available choices over the bonfire. Adam’s response was perfunctory at best. To him, Gwen would always be the brassy, bossy baby-sitter who’d once wrestled him out of a tree and sat on him till he’d promised not to climb it again.

“Chuck’s looking hungry,” Julia said.

Gwen spun around, lighting up when she saw that Chuck Cheswick, who was as big as a bear and twice as ravenous, had already finished his third hot dog.

“Sneaky,” Adam said when Gwen had gone.

“A woman with a bridal bouquet is a dangerous creature. A few more seconds and you’d have shot to the top of her eligible bachelor list.” Julia smoothed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You owe me now.”

“I can take care of myself,” he said, then stopped, feeling uneasy because he’d learned that the statement wasn’t always true. He positioned the hot dogs over a chunk of burned log that glowed orange with black edges, good for a slow roast.

“No excuse not to express appreciation for my diversion tactic.” Julia’s tone was light and teasing, but he could see that she recognized what he was going through. Since the accident, his self-image had taken a serious beating. He still struggled with the adjustment. Against it, truthfully.

He remembered resenting Zack, especially on the days he needed him most. His brother had an easy charm, a large capacity to love and forgive. He also had good fortune, good looks and two good legs. There had been days Adam hated him.

“Leave me alone,” he’d said again and again. Sometimes with bitterness, sometimes with fear or twisted pride or weakness. He hadn’t wanted anyone, even a brother, to see him that way.

Zack refused. “For once you can’t do the leaving, brother. I’m taking advantage of that for as long as I can.” And he’d stayed, with never a complaint. As if it had been for his own benefit.

“I can handle this on my own,” Adam said when he began physical therapy. Never mind that he was running with sweat, clinging to the bars of a walker as though it tilted on the edge of a precipice.

“Of course you can,” Zack said. “I’m just here for the entertainment value. This is better than your teenage Evel Knievel motorcycle act.”

Adam cursed him out all the way across the hospital room till he stood panting at the open door.

Zack had applauded. And then said, “Dare you to keep going.” He’d known exactly how to treat his prickly brother—with brusque affection and a dare. Adam had never turned down a dare.

“All right, all right,” he said now to Julia. “I appreciate you running interference. Just don’t expect a reward.”

“You’re burning the hot dogs.”

He pulled them from the flames, waving as the breeze turned and stinging smoke billowed into their faces. “I am not teaching you to rock climb.”

She squinted. “Yes, you are.” She folded a bun around one of the charred wieners and slid it off the stick. Then the other. “Ketchup, mustard?” she asked, flicking through the packets of condiments that were being passed around the circle. “Relish?”

He stabbed the stick into the sand, digging into the cool grains with his knuckles. “Why should I?”

Carefully she squeezed ketchup over the hot dog balanced on her kneecaps. “Because…” She licked her thumb, looking at Adam from the corners of her eyes. Other noises seemed to recede until he heard only the sound of the lake lapping at the shore, the gentle swish of evergreen branches brushing against each other.

“Because I have something you need.” Julia’s voice was soft, seductive—and as much a part of him as the infinite sky and the flow of water and the silken sand that ran through his fingers faster than before.

Life is short, he’d learned.

Grab her while you can.

THEY ATE HOT DOGS, they talked briefly about Zack and Cathy—whom he really didn’t know at all except that he liked her for not fussing at him for coming late to her wedding—and they joined in a dozen conversations except their own. Adam began to feel easier about being home now that he was past the humps of gossip and open speculation.

“You haven’t changed at all,” one of the women said resentfully when he’d repeated his plan to depart as soon as possible. They were all suddenly interested in knowing what he was doing next. He was operating under the assumption that saying it out loud would make it so, even if he didn’t know where to go or what to do.

Julia smiled a little at that. Secretively. As if she had plans for him. He waited for a spurt of annoyance, but it never came. A prickle of anticipation did.

Eventually one of the guys brought out a guitar, and the music lulled the group into a lazy mood. They sang a few folk songs. Hokey stuff, but he liked it. Julia’s eyes were luminescent, giving him a pleasant jolt each time he intercepted her gaze. He resisted the urge to put his arm around her.

The guitarist played several popular Fleetwood Mac songs and then “Landslide.” A number of the circle sang along until gradually their voices dropped away and only Julia was left. Her voice was smooth and clear as she sang about seasons and changes and reflections in the snow-covered hills. Adam looked at her until the ache in his throat was too much and then he closed his eyes and swallowed hard, unable to stop wanting this to go on forever—Julia’s sweet voice, the strumming guitar, the riveting contrast of cool night and hot flame. And, for once, no restlessness rankling inside him.

Eventually the song ended with a smattering of applause, signaling the end of the evening. The group began to break up. Julia blinked and tucked the stray strand behind her ear again, hesitating for a moment before hopping to her feet. She stuck out her hand to Adam. “Come with me. I have something to show you. And if you’re very good, I’ll even let you have it.”

HE’D INSISTED on taking her in his Jeep. The practical side of her kept pointing out that it would have made more sense for her to lead in her own car, but when did Adam Brody ever listen to sense? To his senses, sure, all the time. But to sense—common sense? Average people didn’t throw themselves off cliffs and out of airplanes in their spare time.

His mother used to say, wringing her hands over his most recent white-water or skydiving adventure, “That boy spent all his common cents years ago.” Whereas Julia had always counted her piggy-bank savings down to the exact penny, knowing in advance exactly where and on what she would spend them, practical soul that she was.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Adam said, following her directions to veer off the highway onto a newly paved road that led to the other side of Mirror Lake.

She laughed at the coincidence. “I was thinking that I probably shouldn’t bring you here. Your mom won’t like it. She wants you home to stay.”

“I’m never home to stay.”

“True.” Julia clutched the door handle, her stomach flip-flopping. Adam wouldn’t stay, no matter what. All she could hope was to prolong his visit by making it slightly more comfortable. “I hear your house is overrun with relatives.”

“Don’t remind me.” Adam whipped the Jeep around a tight turn. The road curved sharply through the thick forest before the vista opened to a cleared section overlooking the eastern end of the lake. He slowed the vehicle drastically at the sight of raw land. “What happened here?”

“It’s a new development.” She indicated the large, flagged sign that announced the project. Evergreen Point, Coming Soon.

She hadn’t counted on the look of devastation on Adam’s face. “I used to camp in these woods,” he said. The Jeep crawled along one of the new roads that wound past rows of homes under construction. Other areas were marked with surveyor’s stakes. “Jeez.”

“I thought you might need a place away from the Brody crowds.”

He looked askance. “You’re trying to sell me a house?”

“No! Of course not. But I am the listing agent for this development. I have keys to the model home.” A bad idea, she thought. He’d sooner pitch a tent in a mall parking lot. “If you wanted to use it,” she said haltingly. “Just to, you know, get away….”

Julia stopped and took a breath. What was wrong with her? She was unflappable; everyone said so.

Adam touched the brakes and turned to look at her. “What are you saying?”

“I’m offering you the use of the model home. At night. You’d have to clear out during working hours. There’s lots of construction going on, and I have clients to show through the house.”

“Sneaky,” he said, raising his brows. “This isn’t like the Goldie I remember. She always followed the rules.”

Heat crawled up Julia’s throat. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

“Guess not. Skydiving, rock climbing, housebreaking. What’s next?”

“This is a straight-up swap. I give you a place to stay, you give me rock-climbing lessons.” She unsnapped her seat belt, eager to get away from his open curiosity. “Are you interested? Shall we take a look?”

“Why not?”

“You might even like it.” He followed her through the most advanced section of the development. Even so, it was like a ghost town—gaping windows, bare bones of new walls, utter silence.

Beyond the lots, the lake glistened, black onyx dappled with silver moonlight. She might have been wrong about the house, but Julia was certain that the desolation would appeal to Adam.

The model home was one of several that were finished, the only one furnished and decorated. It was a large house with a two-story entry and living room. The vast proportions should appeal, as well—Adam could never live in a box.

She took the keys from her purse as they followed the newly laid herringbone brick walk to the front door. “Solid construction,” she said, letting them inside. “Good design. Built to stock plans, but the builders hired Zack to modify the blueprints so each house will be unique.”

“No need to sell me.” Adam’s glance skated across the plush furnishings and went straight to the clerestory windows. Tiny stars dotted the strip of visible sky.

“Sorry. Automatic response.” Regret gripped her. Suddenly it was clear-cut. This wasn’t Adam’s kind of place. “You hate it, don’t you?”

He eyed the pristine decor, the sparkling whiteness of the walls. “It’s straight from the pages of a glossy magazine. I’d be afraid of messing things up.”

“Ha. I know you. You wouldn’t leave a crumb.” He might be reckless with his life, but he was surgically precise in his mode of living. Even tonight, at the bonfire, he’d been the last to leave, tending to the fire pit and sweeping the area free of debris. She’d always thought he was like a night creature lurking in the woods—silent and swift, leaving nary a broken twig or an overturned leaf behind as he passed by. Not one sign that he’d been there.

Except for me, she thought. Inside me. She’d always remember.

“It’s just a place to sleep,” she said, surprised at the roughness of her voice. “You don’t have to like it.”

“Thanks for the offer, but it gives me the creeps.” He walked out the open door without looking back.

“You didn’t even go upstairs. There’s a cupola.” She hurried after him. “You like heights, don’t you? You could bunk down in the cupola. There’s a great view of the lake from up there.”

He turned and scanned the roof. “It’s all glassed in.” Playfully, he put his hands around his neck to simulate choking. “Ever read The Bell Jar?”

Not a joke, although he acted as if it were. At times she wondered if he was claustrophobic. He disliked the indoors more than anyone this side of a South Seas islander, which was why the months after his accident must have been a living hell as much for the confinement as for the threat of paraplegia.

“I suppose you can go back to your parents’ house,” she commented, light as air. “Who’s sharing your bedroom again?”

After a moment, Adam smiled. “My cousin Jack. The one with asthma and the suitcase full of medicine bottles. His vaporizer whistles all night long.”

Wordlessly, Julia held the key to him.

He put out his palm to catch it.

Her impulse was to grab his hand in both of hers, to hold it against her cheek as she folded the key into his palm and pressed kisses over his knuckles. He had artistic hands—long-fingered, nimble, hardened with calluses but ultrasensitive to stimuli. Another little fact about him that she’d filed away in her memory banks for warm dreams on long, cold, lonely winter nights.

But now was not the time to get seriously kissy-faced with his hands. Skilled at turning back her impulses, she dropped the key and stepped away without betraying even one emotion, certain she’d pushed far enough for one night. It wouldn’t do for Adam to guess her feelings so soon when he’d probably put her out of his mind years ago.

No, he hasn’t, an inner voice told her, but it was small and quiet and easy to overlook.

Adam slipped the key into the pocket of his black tuxedo pants before gesturing at one of the unfinished structures. “Now, that, Goldie, is more my speed.”

“You can’t go there,” she said, but he was already gone. She rushed to catch up, her low-heeled boots pounding the dirt. “Adam, no.” She stepped over a pile of bricks. “It’s dangerous.”

He looked at her and smiled, and that was when she knew what she should have done was bonk at least one of them over the head with the closest two-by-four.

Because dangerous was Adam’s middle name.

The house’s walls were up and wrapped in Tyvek, the roof partly shingled. The interior was a hollow shell, whistling with the wind that came in through a couple of openings that weren’t yet glassed in. Their footsteps rang on the plywood subfloor as she followed him to a makeshift staircase that any self-respecting carpenter would have called a ladder.

“Careful,” she whispered. There was no handrail.

“Stay downstairs,” he said. “I’ll take just a quick look.”

“I’m coming.” She tromped up the steep stairs without looking down. Looking down wouldn’t get her anywhere. Her whole life had been spent checking for stumbling blocks because homecoming queens weren’t supposed to fall on their faces. Enough was enough. She wanted to step outside the box and really live.

Adam gave her his hand to help her up the last steps, and that was good because she could blame the gnawing in her stomach on their chemistry instead of queasiness. One quick survey of the second floor and she knew for certain what he was going to do. And that if she were to keep up, she’d have to follow him. “You can’t possibly mean to—”

He did. The house had a cupola similar to the other, except this one was unfinished. Open stud frame, no glass, no stairs, not even a ladder. “Think of the view,” Adam said as he poked his head out the huge hole that would eventually be filled with the master bedroom’s picture window.

She gripped the ledge, taking a quick glance before backing away. “The view’s fine from right here.” Dark water glinted through the heavy fringe of the pine forest.

“You can’t see over the trees.” He leaned farther. She nearly grabbed for his belt, but he wasn’t wearing one. Only thin black suspenders over the pleated tuxedo shirt, its collar open and the sleeves shoved up to his elbows. James Bond after a mission, devastatingly sexy in his throwaway glamour.

“What’s the point?” she nearly wailed when Adam climbed onto the window ledge. For a man who’d seemed unsure of his physical abilities, he was tremendously limber.

Crouching, he threw a glance over his shoulder, calming her with his easy bravado. His face had lost the serious cast that she found so worrisome. “You know what they say about Everest. Because it’s there.” He gave her a boyish, lopsided grin and then leaped like a cat.

She let out an “Eep!” and rushed to the window in time to see Adam’s dangling legs disappear over the eaves. Apparently he’d used a trim board as a step, but she didn’t want to think of how he’d hoisted himself over the edge. There was no way she could follow.

Staring intently at the slanted ceiling, she listened for his footsteps, hearing nothing until he stuck his head out of the gap where the cupola stairs would go. “Over here.”

She circled beneath him, craning her neck and kicking up sawdust. “You’ve done this sort of thing before, haven’t you?”

“Remember the abandoned barn on Old Town Road? I used to swing out the haymow on a rope and walk the peak of the roof to get to the cupola.”

“Figures.” She rocked on her heels. “I hope the view is worth it.” Upside down, his face was still compelling. Even more so because now every shred of reserve was gone. This was the Adam Brody she remembered. For once, she understood the attraction of conquering the unconquerable obstacle. For that, she was glad she’d brought him here.

“Want to see?” He extended an arm, waggling his fingers at her.

She reached, knowing it was useless. Six feet of empty space separated them. “There’s no way.”

“You said you wanted to climb.” The reversed position had reddened his hollow cheeks. “Dare you.”

Adam and his friends had always flung dares around like chicken feed. As Miss Prim and Proper, popularity on a pedestal, she’d never been included.

No way was she turning her first one down.

She looked around the room, finding it littered with various building supplies. Sacks of plaster made an untidy pile against the side wall. “Maybe there’s scaffolding or a ladder,” she said, wishing—absurdly, but since when had her interest in this man ever been sensible?—that for once she could join Adam in midair. “Send in the clowns,” she muttered to herself, grunting as she rearranged the heavy sacks. One of them toppled off the precarious pile, landing with a thud and a puff of white dust.

“I’m coming down,” Adam said, briefly disappearing before his legs swung into the gap.

“No—stay there!” Julia climbed to the top of the stack and balanced with her arms out to her sides, biting her lip with determination. Suddenly it was very important that she get up on the roof. “I’m coming up.”

But not nearly high enough. She’d made up four feet, at best. Until Adam swung around again, going prone with his entire upper body hanging from the gap. They were able to clasp hands. “This doesn’t help,” she gasped, except that it did. His sure grip steadied her footing. She stretched higher, wrapping her hands around his forearms like a trapeze artist, and suddenly felt herself rising toward the ceiling.

The strain must have been incredible on Adam’s shoulders. For one instant, right before he pulled her the last bit and her elbows landed on solid wood, she wondered if his muscles would give out. He was using his legs as much as his arms; they were hooked around one of the cupola’s support posts, anchoring both their weights.

“Oof.” The lip of the staircase opening bit into her midsection as he grabbed her by the waist and the rear end and hauled her bodily onto the platform. They collapsed, breathing hard. The smell of fresh sawn wood was strong in the air. “What was that?” she gasped, her pulse hammering. “The Flying Wallendas?” She lifted a limp hand, let it fall. “You’re strong. I didn’t know you were so strong.”

He blew out a big breath. “I’m deceptively wiry.”

They propped themselves on their elbows. She looked warily around the framed but not enclosed cupola. It was like being in an open-air cage perched high among the treetops. Although the roof was on, she could see the stars between the studs of the open walls. “How will we get down?”

“Going down is always easier than getting up.”

“Not when you’re a trapeze artist.” She peered over the edge, then past the slope of the roof to the hard bare ground. It was a long drop. “No safety net, either.”

With a concentrated look on his face, Adam got slowly to his feet. “Risks don’t come with safety nets, Goldie. Quit worrying and get up to admire the view.” His hand went around her elbow as he helped her stand. She swore she felt each one of his fingertips press hotly into her flesh right through her thick sweater, as if the half-inch of wool was no more than a wisp of silk. Then his arm wound around her, setting her waist afire. Her hairline began to perspire. The stars danced in the sky. For a few wonderful moments, she remembered what it had been like to have his hands on her—everywhere.

Casually, he took his arm away. But she saw how he gripped the raw wood sash, his eyes aimed at the view of Mirror Lake.

The wind caught her hair. She smoothed it, licking her parched lips. “Well. This is pretty nice.”

“Worth risking your life?”

“I’m not saying that.”

“Then why the hell do you want to scale a mountain or jump out of a plane?”

Julia felt as though all her acceptable notions were in upheaval, crashing and colliding inside her head like tectonic plates, made even more tumultuous by Adam’s presence. She’d said she wanted change. But change equaled Adam, and Adam equaled heartache, because she knew, she just knew that he would leave. It was what had always stopped her before, the idea of being left in Quimby with a whole lot of pleasant nothingness stretched before her. Nothing but memories.

“Because I…” She filled her lungs with the sweet night air, her gaze glued to the far shore, where the glistening blue-black of the lake met the dense green-black of the trees. It was a conundrum. Did she want nothing but memories, or memories of nothing?

Just jump, she thought, and so she did.

“Because, aside from the physical challenge, I want you—” A metaphorical wind whistled past her ears. “I want to be with you and see if we—if we—” Here comes the thud. “If we might still have feelings for each other.”

A deep silence encased her, hollow as a well, stifling as a bell jar.

Julia’s instincts for self-preservation screamed inside her head. Adam had probably dared her up to the cupola to show her that she was not capable of feats of derring-do. But he’d miscalculated. She’d done it, and now she was taking another flying leap, risking more than a hard landing.

Broken bones heal, you goose. Hearts don’t—not as easily.

She remembered Cathy saying that the Brody spell lasted a long time. It was true. Julia had been wanting to try again with Adam ever since her eighteenth birthday—the night they didn’t talk about because to do so would be to acknowledge a major betrayal of trust.

It had been ten years. Long years. Other than the aberration of his involvement with Laurel, Adam’s asceticism had been known to reach monklike proportions. Julia had tried to be as disciplined, but she wasn’t. She was human and frail and filled with yearnings for what she couldn’t forget.

The terrible silence continued.

She looked at Adam crosswise. His hard-edged profile was inscrutable.

He’s all bone, she thought. Bone and sinew and tough muscle. No softness at all…or is there? Buried deep beneath the bravado and the austerity and the iron will, was there maybe a soft spot for her? The tiniest bit of tenderness?

She thought there might be. Was counting on it, in fact.

All I want is a safe place to land, she told herself.

Which was such a lie, but a lie she’d better darn well stick to.




3


“ADAM?”

“Julia?” Adam stared in shock. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m—it’s—” Julia clutched the lapel of a loose, shimmery robe beneath her chin—she sure hadn’t been wearing that last time he’d seen her—and glanced over her shoulder at the candlelit motel room. He tried not to gape at the way her breasts moved beneath the silk. “I wasn’t expecting y-you. I was expecting….” Her voice died as she backed away, flushing pink with embarrassment.

Zack. Of course, Adam thought. She didn’t want him. She wanted Zack.

The sound of an approaching car made Julia rush forward. She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the room, then slammed the door. “Isn’t Zack coming?”

“I don’t know. I got this note—” Adam reached into his shirt pocket, making sure to withdraw the note and not the photograph he’d filched from the party.

Julia snatched it from his hand, her eyes wild. Wilder than he’d ever seen them. “Who gave this to you?”

“One of the guys. The party was breaking up and someone said Fred left this for me. Didn’t make sense, but…” Adam shrugged. In her distress, Julia had forgotten about the robe. And the short gown she wore under it. Her legs were bare, and the rest of her, too, he’d bet, beneath the not-quite-sheer silk.

Abruptly, Adam sat on the bed. Oh, man. He was hard. She’d see. And be horrified, because she was his brother’s girlfriend and he wasn’t supposed to think about her that way.

Julia was staring at the crumpled note, her long blond hair falling against her cheeks.

Adam cleared his throat. “You got the wrong brother, huh?”

AT FIRST, Adam refused to look at her. “Did you know I went to Japan?”

She gave a wordless gesture, apparently thrown by the non sequitur.

“Three years ago.” His heart was racing at a ridiculous pace.

“I heard about it secondhand,” she said, brittle-voiced.

“It was a memorable trip. I went to do some ice climbing in Hokkaido, but I ended up staying for six months. Their philosophy of living in harmony with nature is inspiring. I hadn’t thought the Japanese way of bringing order to the outdoors would appeal to me, but it did. Have you ever seen a Japanese garden? Absolute perfection. There are people whose job it is to pick shreds of debris from the great moss gardens—painstaking hours spent on their hands and knees…”

She wrinkled her nose. “And you’ve decided it’s your calling to be one of them?”

“God, no. They’d have to take me away in a straitjacket by the end of the first working day.”




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