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Rumor Has It

Page 22

by Cindi Myers


  “Maybe so,” she murmured. Once those two had made up their minds, they hadn’t waited long, had they? Why was it so much easier for other people to have that kind of faith in the future?

  “Where to?” Dylan asked.

  She laid her head back against the seat and stared out at the clear, night sky. “The old gravel pit.”

  They drove in silence, the tires humming on the pavement. The night was cool, so Dylan switched on the heater. The warm air curled up around Taylor’s ankles, but a deeper warmth grew inside her.

  “Why the gravel pit?” Dylan asked. “It’s too cold to go skinny-dipping.”

  She smiled. “I know.”

  He guided the truck up the rutted drive and parked beside the water-filled pit where generations of Cedar Creek youngsters had splashed away the summers. Gravel hadn’t been mined there for fifty years, but people still referred to the swimming hole as the gravel pit. Along with Inspiration Point, it was a popular make-out spot and, according to Taylor’s diary, the place where she and Dylan had supposedly gone skinny-dipping.

  He shut off the truck and turned toward her. “Listen, I don’t know if this is the right time or anything, but I have something for you—”

  “Wait. First, there’s something I want you to have.” She unfastened her seat belt, then opened her purse and took out a slim envelope. “Here.”

  He took the envelope and turned it over and over in his hand. “What is this?”

  “Open it.” She reached up and switched on the map light.

  He fit his finger under the envelope flap and pulled out the single sheet of letterhead. Even from here, Taylor could see the familiar engraving depicting Oxford University. “‘Dear Ms. Reed,’” Dylan read. “‘We are sorry to hear that you are withdrawing from our program. We wish you well in all your future endeavors.’”

  He looked up, gaze searching. “Then you really mean it? You’re staying here in Cedar Creek?”

  She nodded. “Yes. If you still want me.”

  He tossed the letter aside and reached for her, grasping her arms and dragging her to him. He stared into her eyes, stopping her heart with the intensity of his gaze. “You’re a liar if you say I gave you any doubts.”

  “No doubts about you,” she breathed before his lips covered hers in a drowning kiss. She surrendered to that kiss, giving up the last bit of fear that nagged her, losing herself in the power of her feelings for him.

  When at last he pulled away, she felt drained of anything but happiness. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small ring box. “I’ve been carrying this around for days, wondering when to give it to you.”

  With trembling fingers, she took the box and pried open the lid. A pear-shaped solitaire glinted in the glow of the map light. “Dylan, it’s gorgeous!”

  He took her hand in his. “Marry me, Taylor. We already wasted ten years. Let’s not waste any more.”

  “Yes.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, her voice choked with tears. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Dylan. No more wasting time.” He slipped it onto her finger and they kissed again. A leisurely tasting. We’ll have a lifetime of kisses like this, she thought.

  “Do you know what day it is?” he asked when he raised his head again.

  She laughed. “Election day?”

  He shook his head. “It’s November tenth. Ten years ago today was the senior camping trip.”

  Her eyes widened. “The night the rumors all started.”

  He smoothed his hand down her back. “In a way, that’s where it really began for us, wasn’t it? If those rumors hadn’t started, we might not have gotten together again to re-create them.”

  He bent to kiss her again, his hand sliding around to cup her breast. “Let’s go back to my place,” he said.

  His thumb was tracing slow circles around her nipple, sending shock waves of arousal through her, making it difficult to think or speak. “N-not yet.” With some effort, she pushed away from him and leaned down to pick up her purse. Sliding across the truck, she opened the door. “Come with me a minute.”

  “I told you it was too cold to go skinny-dipping,” he said as he followed her toward the lake.

  Offering no explanation, she took his hand and led him down to the edge of the water. Gravel crunched beneath their shoes and a chill breeze tugged at their clothes and hair. When they could go no farther without getting wet, she stopped and took the diary from her purse.

  “Another rumor?” he asked.

  She smiled and shook her head, then, reaching back, she lofted the diary. It sailed in a high arc over the water, tumbling end over end and landing with a loud splash. Icy droplets of water spattered them and waves lapped at the toes of their shoes.

  Dylan stared at the ripples stretching out from the middle of the lake. “Was there anything in there we haven’t done?”

  “A few things.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m through reliving the past.” She threaded her fingers through his, feeling the ring rub between them. “From now on, I’m more interested in the future.” She turned toward him. “Our future.”

  He held her tightly, their bodies as close as could be while dressed. “If it wasn’t so cold out here, I suggest we start a few new rumors.”

  “I like the way you think.” She slid her hands up under his shirt, finding warm, bare skin. “Next time we’ll bring a sleeping bag.”

  He kissed along her jaw. “And some firewood.”

  “Right now, let’s go home and make our own bonfire.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-7276-1

  RUMOR HAS IT

  Copyright © 2004 by Cynthia Myers.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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