As if sensing she wasn't quite with him, he captured her mouth, an invasion of heat, sweetness, and unbearable pleasure that banished conscious thought and brought her right back with him. He held on to her even more tightly. She gloried in the fierce pressure of Cole's embrace and wrapped her legs around his, pulling him even closer. Each thrust brought her piercing pleasure until she wanted to be lost forever within the sensual tide of ecstasy that was Cole.
The top of their wanton climb thundered over them. Cole collapsed on top of Brenna, too exhausted for the moment to do anything except gasp for deep clearing breaths. Brenna's breathing was no less labored, but she made no move to ease herself from beneath his body.
He smoothed her love-dampened hair away from her face and pressed his lips all over her face in soft caresses. She smiled, and Cole wanted to see that particular smile again and again for the rest of his life.
Cole didn't want to move. Never had making love felt this good. Not the first time, or even the second, when he knew how good it would feel. Not ever. Briefly, he wondered what it was. A difference in physiology? Maybe. But he'd made love with enough different women without it ever remotely feeling like this to doubt it. Or was it as simple as being in love with her? If so, he'd never been in love with Susan.
He finally raised himself on his elbows to look at Brenna. Her skin glowed. Her dark hair caught the sunshine, radiating color he hadn't noticed before, gold and red and coppery glints. She opened her eyes and his breath caught. Her normally clear eyes were smoky, serene. She smiled and reached to trace the outline of his brow with her fingers.
He turned his face and kissed her hand, wanting to tell her he loved her. Remembering the way she'd run every time he pushed her, he remained silent.
Making the deliberate choice to lighten the intensity of the moment, he grinned. "So much for the first part of our research."
"I forgot what you said the second part was supposed to be." She rested her fingers lightly against the pulse beating at the base of his neck.
He planted a hard kiss on her mouth. "Make love in a new location." He stood up and offered his hand, then led her toward the water.
"In the pond?" Her tone was dubious.
"Nope. This is simple skinny-dipping with a boy from Nebraska." The look he gave her was as fun-filled as his voice. "Ever been skinny-dipping with a boy from Nebraska, Brenna?"
"No."
"Good." He led her across sun-warmed stones that jutted into the pond. "Then this is a first." He released her hand and made a shallow dive into the water and surfaced a moment later with a shout of exhilaration. His invitation was irresistible, and Brenna followed him into the water. It was a cool counterpoint to her flushed body, and instead of cooling her desire, offered her sensitive body a whole new plane of sensuous delights that kept her intensely aware of her sexuality.
She and Cole frolicked in the water like a couple of kids, though she had never felt less like a child. When Cole held her in his arms a few minutes later, he was clearly as aroused as she, but he made no move to deepen their embrace from love play into something more.
They climbed out of the water and lay back down on the blanket, simply holding hands and letting their bodies dry in the warm sun. Brenna angled her face toward the sun, and a smile of contentment spread over her face. If a genie had appeared, she knew exactly what she would ask for. To let this moment extend for the rest of her life. Her conscience made a feeble struggle to be heard, but she firmly banished it. There would be time to listen later. Just not now.
They arrived back at the house an hour later, ravenous and teasing each other about the exercise that led to that state of hunger. Brenna almost hoped the hour would be late and everyone would be off with the many tasks of running the ranch. She wasn't ready to face anyone, just yet. However, Grandmom, Norah, and Jack were just sitting down to breakfast as they came through the door.
"Beautiful morning, isn't it," Cole announced, giving both his mother and grandmother a kiss before sitting down between them. "I'd forgotten how great being up in time to see the sunrise is."
"Did you enjoy it, too?" Norah asked.
"I loved it," Brenna answered, accepting the serving dishes to bacon, eggs, and raisin toast, helping herself, and passing them one by one to Jack.
"Still want to go out and check that fence along the east ridge?" Cole asked his dad.
"The help would be great, but I figured you'd want to show Brenna around."
"Don't worry about me," she said, catching Grandmom's glance. "I have a date with a hoe."
"I was teasing—" Grandmom said.
"I know," Brenna interrupted. "But I wasn't. It's a gorgeous garden, and I want to know your secrets for getting it to grow like that."
"Wrong," Cole teased. "She wants that last piece of pie we didn't eat last night."
Brenna met his eyes across the table. Accepting his light banter in the presence of the amused attention of his family was easier than she had thought it would be. "Well…"
Cole mockingly shook his finger at Grandmom. "If she eats my piece of pie while Dad and I are out—"
"I'll just have to make another one, won't I?" Grandmom finished.
"I'm sort of in favor of a chocolate cake," Jack said.
Cole flashed his dad a dirty look that was returned in kind until they both laughed. "Okay. If that's what Dad wants, I guess I can stand it." He glanced back at Brenna, his eyes full of sensual promise. "Just expect retribution if you eat my pie. On second thought, I probably should stick around to keep an eye on it."
"Probably." Brenna knew just what kind of punishment he had in mind, and she couldn't wait. She was tempted to tell him he would just have to take the shirt off her back, but the only answer she gave him in front of his parents and grandmother was a silky smile that he answered with a wink.
"Good idea, son," Jack said. "Might as well help with the weeding. We can check the fence later."
Brenna and Cole followed Grandmom outside after breakfast, where she donned an old-fashioned calico bonnet with a wide brim that shaded her face. Brenna stared at her, again caught in memories of following Nonna down a long row of green beans. The calico bonnet was a reminder of times gone by. Times more leisurely than the hectic pace that filled Brenna's days.
She and Cole and Grandmom moved down the rows of vegetables, making short work of the few weeds that dared make an appearance in the well-tended garden. Cole shared his childhood memories, surprising Brenna when he was able to coax a few from her.
Her best memories were from her grandparents' farm, and at one time she had thought she'd never recall them without feeling a profound sense of melancholy. Today she remembered happier times. Riding in a wheelbarrow with her grandfather pushing. Collecting worms so they could go fishing. Counting snails in the bottom of the brook.
For the first time in years she also remembered good times with her parents. Learning to swim in the ocean with her father in Hawaii. Playing softball with her mother and brother in West Germany. Watching an eclipse with her father. Sitting on his lap and listening to baseball games. Helping him water fledgling tomato plants.
Where had it all gone so wrong? She had no answers for that and found herself left with bittersweet memories. With effort she brought her attention back to Cole and Grandmom.
He was teasing her about the bright empty seed packages stapled to stakes at the end of each row. "Not a chance that you'll pick corn and think you have peas."
"Not me," Grandmom returned. "But mighty helpful for a young man who used to help me in the garden."
Cole straightened and looped his arms over his hoe. "You're not going to tell Brenna about the time I pulled up all the corn seedlings, are you?"
Brenna chuckled, easily imagining him doing just that.
"I wouldn't, but since you brought it up—"
"That was before I could read," Cole said to Brenna.
She caught his glance, wondered for a second if his simple statement had any hidd
en messages, but his eyes revealed nothing more than the pleasure of memories shared with his grandmother.
"And he couldn't tell the difference between corn plants and grass, either," Grandmom added.
Brenna laughed. As she came to the end of the row, she paused to look at the empty package. Most of the others she had recognized from the words alone. This one she didn't. She stared at the package, unable to identify the plants even by the picture, then recited the letters in her mind, unable to get them to form a word she knew. S-P-I-N-A-C-H. Brenna began hoeing around the plants.
"I do love fresh spinach," Grandmom said. "Though I never acquired a taste for eating it raw."
Brenna glanced again at the sign. "I love spinach salad." She glanced back at the small plants, which suddenly looked more familiar. "Cooked is good, too."
A few minutes later Grandmom left Brenna alone with Cole to finish up the weeding.
"She works too hard," Cole said when the back porch door closed behind her.
"I think it's what keeps her young." Brenna stopped at the end of the row of radishes.
"What keeps you young?" he teased. "Is that what you need to keep you young? A garden?"
Brenna smiled. "It wouldn't hurt. I'm not sure I'd be this neat, though. I always wanted one of those wild-looking English cottage gardens that look overgrown and lush and beautiful."
"Kind of tough to have in an apartment."
"Yeah."
"I have room for a garden like that," he said. "Maybe that's what my place needs."
Brenna looked up, squinting against the sunshine behind him. "With the way you love weeding, I don't think that's a good idea, Cole. You'd end up with a yard full of thistles."
He stepped across a row of lettuce and a row of beets, bent to her, lifting her face, and kissed her. Thoroughly. "I thought maybe you'd like to help me with a garden. Now that you're not working nights all the time, we'll have time to get you out to my house."
The implied promise made Brenna's breath hitch.
From the back porch, Grandmom called, "Lemonade, anyone?"
Cole's gaze swept over Brenna's face one last time before he stepped around her, answering his grandmother. "That's what I like about you, Grandmom. You always know just what I want."
Her answer was lost beneath another taunting onslaught from Brenna's conscience. Gardens and spending time at this house and this visit to his childhood home and making love with him. Each one of those had taken the relationship to a new level. It was all consummately alluring to her. She wanted this. Lord, how she wanted it.
"Brenna!" Cole held up his glass of lemonade. "I'm gonna check on my dad. Want to come?"
Her emotions in turmoil, she shook her head. "You go on ahead. I promised I'd finish this, and we're almost done."
"I'll be back in a bit." He waved and headed across the yard.
Grandmom came back down the steps with another glass of lemonade in her hands. "This one is for you."
Brenna laid her hoe down and stood up. Grandmom sat down on the bottom step, and Brenna joined her.
"This is a special, special place."
"Most young folks think a farm is a boring place. Cole's fiancée never thought much of it when he brought her here. She couldn't wait to leave."
Cole's fiancée.
Surprise held Brenna speechless.
She should have guessed he would have been engaged, maybe even more than once, maybe even married at some point. She frowned, trying to remember if he'd ever mentioned it. His only reference had been vague—a woman he had brought here a long time ago.
In as casual a tone as she could muster, Brenna asked, "When was that?"
Grandmom thought a moment. "A couple of years ago, I guess. Maybe even three. It was about the time he went to work for that big law firm of his." She glanced at Brenna. "Anyway, that young lady didn't like the ranch, and we all wondered what you'd be like when he told us he was bringing you home."
Reminded of the acceptance and sense of homecoming she'd felt last night, Brenna wondered if Cole's unmentioned fiancée had been given the same welcome. Brenna would bet Cole's parents trusted Cole's judgment enough to give anyone the warmth and hospitality they had given her. A flare of jealousy surprised her and made her intensely curious about the kind of woman Cole had asked to marry him.
Choosing more neutral ground, Brenna said, "What's not to like? Maybe a farm isn't for everyone, but some of my best memories come from my grandparents' farm in Pennsylvania."
Accepting the change in subject, Grandmom asked about the farm and soon had Brenna relating anecdotes about her visits there. They eventually got back to weeding, the conversation flowing comfortably between them. They finished just before lunchtime. Jack and Cole returned, and Norah, who had spent the morning in the office, helped prepare lunch. They ate on the front porch and made plans for the Fourth of July celebration on Friday.
Grandmom wanted to go into Scottsbluff to see the fireworks, and Cole said they absolutely had to have watermelon or the holiday would be canceled. After lunch Cole again disappeared with his father to finish the repair on the combine. Norah returned to the office. Brenna helped Grandmom wash and dry the dishes, enjoying the older woman's easy companionship.
"Did you make all the doilies I've seen on the furniture?" Brenna asked, putting the last of the glasses in the cupboard.
"Most of them. Norah made a few and one or two are from my mother."
"They're beautiful. Learning to crochet is something I've always wanted, but never taken the time to do."
"If you like the doilies in the living room, you'd love some that my husband's mother made. Tiniest little stitches you ever did see."
Brenna followed Grandmom to her bedroom where she opened a cedar trunk that was full of handmade linens, some dating back to the Civil War era. The stories Grandmom told about each piece were magic to Brenna. As she fingered the old quilts and coverlets, she felt a connection that transcended time.
"This is really beautiful," she said when Grandmom laid a white batiste christening gown across Brenna's lap. The aroma of the cedar chest and starch filled the air, which Brenna liked as much as she liked the texture of the fine stitches.
Their conversation gradually turned from the past to the present, and Brenna confessed that knots were all she had ever been able to make.
"It's not that hard." Grandmom pulled a skein of thick yarn out of a basket setting on the floor and sorted through a group of crochet hooks until she found the one she wanted. She demonstrated making a slip knot, then a chain, then the stitches required to make a granny square. The two of them laughed over Brenna's efforts.
"I don't know about this," she said skeptically, after producing a lopsided rectangle.
"You're doing fine," Grandmom said. "I've got an instruction book here someplace that has pretty good diagrams." She stood up and went to a bookshelf, leafing through a group of magazines until she found the one she wanted.
"I couldn't impose like that," Brenna said.
"Sure you can," Grandmom said. "The diagrams are easy. And you can borrow this as long as you want."
"Thank you," Brenna said, "but…"
Oh, God, not again, she thought. When had the deceptions gotten to be so difficult to carry off? When had the glib half-truths she had told for years suddenly begun to sound exactly like what they were—lies?
Grandmom sat back down next to Brenna. "There was once a young girl," she said. "Her mother died when she was twelve. And this girl had six younger brothers and sisters she had to care for. And she had a father who thought school was overrated, and certainly not something a girl needed. So, even before her mother died, she didn't have much schooling. Afterward, she quit. She read well enough to get by—barely. Like you, she left home when she was very young."
"You?"
Grandmom nodded. "Like you, she needed to read much better than she did to make her way in the world."
Ice replaced the blood flowing through Brenna. "How did y
ou know?" she whispered.
* * *
Chapter 18
« ^ »
Grandmom took both of Brenna's hands in hers. "I watched you, my dear."
"Oh, God," Brenna muttered.
"Cole doesn't know…"
Brenna shook her head, equally astounded and alarmed this woman had seen through the deceptions. Not only seen through them, but challenged her as well.
"How did the two of you meet?" Grandmom asked. "He never did say."
Brenna glanced away. Remembering his shock over her being a dropout, she wondered what he had told his family about her. Too easily she imagined the kind of woman Cole was probably accustomed to dating. Doctors and lawyers and MBA executives.
Brenna cleared her throat. "He was the attorney representing a man who sued me."
"Oh, my. You two certainly would have had some differences to overcome."
The surprise in Grandmom's voice made Brenna smile. "That's putting it mildly." She met the older woman's gaze. "I didn't intend to deceive him. I really didn't."
"That's often the case with lies of omission."
The statement might have been a sharp accusation or a reprimand at the least. Instead, it was merely a mild statement of fact, uttered without the slightest rancor. The lack of accusation made Brenna feel worse, compelling her to explain.
"At first, I thought we'd go out just once or twice, and that would be the end of it. I didn't expect to enjoy his company so much." She ducked her head, then looked up. "He makes me feel so good. And he listens to me, you know? Really listens like what I think matters."
Grandmom nodded as though she understood.
Brenna plunged on. "I kept getting in deeper, and my lies of omission … I know they're going to cause trouble. I just can't stand the idea of telling him anything that would…"
"Be the end of it," Grandmom finished, compassion in her voice.
"Yeah." Brenna swallowed the lump in her throat.
"You're right. He'll be angry," Grandmom mused. "Not so much about the reading, but about the deceit."
CASSIDY'S COURTSHIP Page 18
