Mountain Laurel (9 page)

"You ready?" he asked.

"One second." Laurel darted into the bedroom, where she had laid out a sweater and a small blanket. Standing by the bed, she inhaled deeply, willing herself to relax. More excitement churned in her stomach than she'd felt in a long time. A very long time.

You better be careful, girl
, she thought.
He's almost too good to be true
.

The fingers brushing through her hair stopped in midair as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Frowning, she leaned closer and whispered, "Don't let things go too far."

Her eyes widened and she straightened as she realized what she'd said. Well, why not? Why shouldn't she enjoy herself for once? Forget about family responsibilities and just have a good time? She moistened her lips and grinned before turning toward the bedroom door.

"Lead the way!" she chimed, and followed Michael out into the bright sunshine.

"We can take the path out back," he told her. "The meadow I want to show you is at the top of this mountain."

"Top of the mountain?"

He chuckled. "It's not that far. Come on!"

Laurel breathed in the crisp mountain air, marveling at the kaleidoscope of color in the trees. Stretched out before her was a wild display of foliage, hues ranging from calm patches of soft violet and indigo to bright bursts of lime green, orange and red.

"Autumn is my favorite season. No matter how often I come out here, I find everything's changed," Michael said. Reaching out, he took her hand and helped her up a particularly steep incline.

"It may sound silly—" she was so reluctant to take her eyes off the vibrant autumnal scene, she wasn't paying close attention to where she was walking "—but I can almost
feel
the beauty radiating off of everything."

Although she realized they had stopped, she wasn't the least bothered. In fact, she took full advantage of the moment to feast on the lush and vivid landscape. Finally, she felt the gentle pressure of his fingers under her chin, guiding her gaze to his.

"It doesn't sound silly," he said quietly. "Beauty is radiating off of everything."

It was as though there was a complete and utter cessation of the world around her. The breeze stopped blowing, the birds went silent, the rustling tree branches seemed to go still—so lost was she in his dark, searching gaze.

For a long moment they were motionless, facing each other, the only two people in the universe.

Reluctantly, Michael tore his gaze away, tugged at her hand, and they resumed their trek along the mountain path.

He didn't know what it was about this hot-tempered redhead, but he hadn't been able to get her out of his mind. Even in his sleep he'd been haunted by erotic images of her—of the two of them. Together.

The kiss they had shared last night had blown his mind. Just thinking about it now made the blood run hot through his veins, made him want to stop right there and kiss her again. His breathing became labored, and he knew it wasn't just the hike up the mountain that was causing it.

She was everything a man could want in a woman. Full of fire and ice, she had demonstrated both to him last night; fire in her passionate kiss and ice in her frosty anger. A life spent with her would never be dull. Dropping her hand, he stopped to wipe his damp brow.

"You want to stop and rest?" He could tell she wasn't tired, but he needed a diversion, something to change the direction of his thoughts.

"No, I'm fine."

"It's not much farther. If you turn down that way—" he pointed off to the right "—in a few hundred yards you'll be at my place."

He pulled her up the last rocky rise, and when she smiled, the sun glinted in her green eyes. They walked another hundred feet and the trees opened up to a large meadow. A lone oak stood in the middle of the expanse of wispy grasses and weeds. The tree's huge gnarled branches dripped with thousands of yellow leaves tinted golden by the sun. They fluttered in endless movement in the light breeze.

"It's beautiful!" Laurel exclaimed.

"I spent a lot of time up in that tree as a boy."

"Looks like a kid-friendly oak."

While Michael spread the blanket and unloaded the wicker basket, she walked over to the edge of the field where she could see the valley below. Hundreds of swirling colors danced before her. A winding river peeked intermittently from between the foliage of the trees and bushes, the rippling water a deep blue ribbon woven through colorful fabric.

She was aware of Michael's presence behind her before she felt his hand on her shoulder. Turning her head toward him, she smiled, knowing in her heart she was glad Ginny had made other plans for the day.

"It's so peaceful."

"I think so, too," he said. "I come up here whenever I need a little peace and quiet." Looking out over the valley, he added, "I never get bored with this place. Never."

His gaze returned to her face, his eyes soft, and for a brief instant Laurel was sure he was going to kiss her. But instead, he took her hand and pulled her toward the blanket under the oak.

"Let's have lunch," he said. He watched her sit cross-legged before he settled himself against the tree trunk. Handing her a glass of white wine, his fingers brushed against her chilled hand.

"Here, this will warm you up a little."

"Thanks. Where'd this come from? I didn't pack wine." Her eyebrows knit together as she looked at the clear liquid. Alcohol was something she stayed away from. It always went straight to her head. The only time she had ever argued with her father had been after she'd had a couple of after-dinner drinks.

"No, I did." He grinned. "I slipped it in the basket when you went to get your sweater."

Bringing wine for their picnic was sweet of him, and romantic too. And she
was
chilly. One glass wouldn't kill her. She sipped, the wine warming a path down her throat as she swallowed.

Over chicken sandwiches and potato salad, she told him a little about herself and her family. Noticing how easy it was to talk to him, she told him how her mother had cut herself off from life, something Laurel rarely spoke about to anyone.

"So, that's it," he said.

"That's what?"

"That's why you treat your sister more like she's your daughter. It's a perfectly natural feeling," he remarked. "Especially if you helped raise her."

"We have a strange relationship. Since Mom's too sick to act as a parent, I've always tried to guide Ginny. But, believe me, if I get too domineering, she's quick to point out that I'm not the boss of her. Especially now."

"What do you mean, 'especially now'?"

She paused a moment. "I'm not really sure. But there are times when Ginny seems angry with all of us. Mom, Dad and particularly me. I've racked my brain trying to figure it out. She's been going out of her way to do things to upset us—running around with a bad crowd, staying out late, drinking. She plays her stereo in the middle of the night so loud that my mattress springs vibrate to the beat of the music."

Wiping her hands on a napkin, she continued, "It's the drinking that worries me most." Her voice had dropped to a whisper, and a frown creased her forehead as she looked at Michael with troubled eyes. "I don't think my mother could stand it if anything happened to Ginny."

"What does your father have to say about all of this?" Michael asked.

"Dad's not home much. He does a lot of traveling, buying merchandise for the shop. That's why Jim's been such a godsend to us. I really needed the help." She brushed her hair back with a swish of her hand. "It was Dad's suggestion that I take Ginny on vacation, to try to find out what's bothering her."

"It sounds like a good idea to me," he said. "Getting your sister away from her friends would give you a much better chance of talking to her."

Hearing his frank opinion, Laurel knew he understood. And for some reason she was filled with a warm happiness knowing he agreed with what she was doing.

"I've tried talking to her," she said dryly. "But now she's got things all twisted around."

"How so?"

"Well, when I brought up the subject of her future, Ginny immediately blew a fuse, accusing me of trying to force her into being just like me." Laurel tipped her wineglass back, sipping the last drop. "Apparently I'm as boring as American cheese."

Michael laughed heartily. "Listen to me," he said, his gaze steady. "I've known you less than forty-eight hours, and believe me, you're anything but boring!"

Feeling color rush to her face, Laurel hoped her grin hid her embarrassment. "Yes, but you met me under extenuating circumstances."

The wine, combined with Michael's intense stare, made her overly warm.

"Anyway, my sister ended up forcing me to accept a nice little wager. My end of the deal didn't sound too difficult at first, so I took her up on it."

"A wager, huh?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Sounds interesting." He sat up and rested an elbow on his bent knee, bringing himself closer to her.

The resonance of his deep voice made Laurel's pulse pound furiously. She found his nearness distracting. He was utterly perfect, she thought. Everything about this man was ideal: he was kind and understanding, easy to talk to, and funny. Add to that his dark good looks, his muscular body, his rich, sensuous voice, and you came up with absolute perfection. Her chest rose and fell at an abnormal rate, then she started as if waking from a trance, realizing she had stopped talking and had been brazenly staring at him. The empty wineglass in her hand caught her attention and she frowned.

Picking up the pitcher of iced tea she had packed, she sloshed some into her glass. She clutched it with both hands and gulped down a swallow. The icy bitterness of the tea calmed her a little. She took another sip, trying frantically to remember what they had been discussing.

The bet! she remembered. He had said Ginny's bet sounded interesting. She cleared her throat with a little cough before speaking.

"Not very interesting, really," she told him. "I want Ginny to be a responsible person. And, Lord knows, she equates responsibility with stagnation. So I have to show her that it's possible that a person can be responsible and also have a good time. She says if I go out on some dates, with men, of course..."

"Of course," Michael interjected.

Hot color mantled her cheeks when she realized what she'd said. The man doesn't need to know that going out on dates "with men" wasn't something she often did!

"Anyway, if I go out...then she'll go to college." Laurel lifted a finger and tilted her head. "No, wait. She said she'll
think
about going to college."

"Sounds kind of one-sided to me." Michael stretched out on his side, resting his head on his hand.

As he moved, Laurel couldn't stop her eyes from traveling down his long, muscular frame. She held her breath and quickly looked up, riveting her gaze to his face.

"Well, if I can change her attitude even a little bit, it'll be worth it." She picked up an apple, offering it to Michael before crunching into its juicy flesh.

A dribble of apple juice trickled down her chin. Michael could almost taste the tangy sweetness of the Macintosh on her soft lips. But he was too bothered by the sound of this wager business to act on the urge. It bothered him to think of her out on the town having a good time with a different man every night. What did "having a good time" mean, anyway? Maybe he should suggest one or two of his friends as able dates. At least he'd know whom she was out with. But that idea nettled him even more.

"But," he heard her say after she swiped her fingers across her mouth, "I'm a little worried about exactly how far she expects me to take this."

"Listen," he said. Not wanting her to sense the irritation he himself couldn't understand, he lounged back against the tree trunk, hoping he looked cool and collected. "I don't know if this little wager you have with Ginny is such a good idea."

Frowning, Laurel swallowed a bite of apple and waited for him to elaborate.

"You don't seem like you're the kind of person who can handle a casual affair." The words hadn't come out quite as he'd intended, and watching her take a tiny bite of apple and chew it slowly, he was unable to read her expression.