Baby, Don't Go. Stephanie Bond

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СКАЧАТЬ flowing by, the water crystal clear and inviting. If she could make it to the water’s edge, she could wash her feet, she mused, laughing to herself. But when she spied a path down to the water and didn’t see anyone around, she started thinking it wasn’t a half-bad idea. It certainly beat showing up at a hotel looking like a vagrant, or asking for a key to use a gas station bathroom.

      From her suitcase she retrieved her toiletry kit and a clean T-shirt, then on impulse grabbed a bra, too, reasoning she could change underneath the shirt. At least she’d look presentable and smell respectable when she rolled into town.

      Her mind made up, she locked the truck and made her way gingerly down the rocky path. She wasn’t much of an outdoorswoman, but Pilates had given her good coordination and balance. She nervously eyed the weeds and rocks along the path, certain they were riddled with snakes and scorpions. When she reached the edge of the water, she was relieved to find herself unscathed, and to see she was hidden from the road. The opposite bank was equally as tall and rocky, so she felt safe to remove her sandals. After scrutinizing the clear depths for water snakes, she waded in up to her ankles.

      Alicia sighed in pure pleasure at the rush of cool liquid over her feet. Instantly her body temperature started to fall. She enjoyed the sensation for several minutes before crouching to wash her feet with one of the cloths. When she finished, she wiggled her clean toes, then felt compelled to dip her hands in the running water and splash her face—heavenly. She laughed ruefully, thinking if only her boss Nina could see her now, bathing like a hedonist. She wrung out the cloths and held them against her neck, groaning in relief.

      She was crouched on a smooth rock, obscured by an outcropping. She glanced all around and, feeling confident she was alone, lifted her T-shirt over her head, then hurriedly ran the wet cloth over her exposed skin. The sun was so hot, the water evaporated almost instantly. Feeling braver now, Alicia looked right, then left, then reached around to unhook her bra.

      Marcus almost dropped his fishing pole. When the dark-haired woman had first appeared on the opposite creek bank, he’d been irritated. He hadn’t expected to catch anything at this shallow spot in Timber Creek—the scorching sun had driven the fish to deeper, cooler waters. But he’d expected to be alone with his thoughts for ten damn minutes.

      He was sure she would spot him, but from the way she’d panned the area with no reaction, he guessed he blended into the foliage where he sat a little ways downstream holding his pole. He’d assumed she was another tourist stopping to take pictures of the bridge. If he was the neighborly type, he might’ve waved…but no one had ever accused him of being neighborly.

      When she’d slipped off her shoes and waded into the creek, he’d been amused by the look of sheer pleasure on her face. When she’d crouched to splash her face, he’d presumed she was travel-weary. But when she’d pulled her T-shirt over her head to reveal a lacy pink bra, he’d gotten nervous.

      He should’ve divulged his presence, but at that point he was afraid he’d embarrass her. So he’d tried to look away while she dabbed a wet cloth over her skin.

      Tried to. It was no big deal, he’d told himself. She wasn’t revealing more of her long, lithe body than she would in a bathing suit…maybe less. She was, after all, still wearing a skirt.

      But when the bra had come off, he knew he was in trouble.

      He sat there, frozen. Well…most of him. His lower half reacted rather fiercely. He felt like a schoolboy, thrilled by his first sight of female breasts.

      It wasn’t his first sight, but it had been a long… long…long time. And hers were spectacular.

      Sitting high and full, her breasts were perfectly tilted upward, like an offering. Judging from the pale hue of her skin, she didn’t make a habit of undressing in the wild. But the tattoo he couldn’t make out at this distance suggested she wasn’t modest.

      She was a vision, kneeling on the rock, splashing water on her bare chest. Her nipples tightened to a point, coinciding with his own body tightening in places he’d disciplined himself to forget about. He knew he should try to disappear before she realized he’d seen her, but he was afraid he’d only attract her attention and make matters worse.

      And besides, he was mesmerized. He found himself hoping she’d slip off her skirt and the matching pink panties she was probably wearing to skinny-dip for a while. He held his breath when she stood—her body was silhouetted in the golden sun, her hands at her narrow waist as if she were contemplating exactly what he was thinking. But then she leaned over to fish another bra from the pile she’d made on a dry rock, and quickly put it on, followed by a different T-shirt.

      Marcus exhaled slowly, still afraid to move. He watched her while she put on her shoes and made her way back up the rocky footpath until she disappeared onto the bank. The loud rumble of an engine turning over reverberated down to him—the lady needed a muffler. He waited until the vehicle pulled away before he dared to stir. He didn’t realize how tense he’d been until he stood and his muscles protested.

      She’d driven in the direction of town, he mused, wondering what her business was. Probably just a tourist…or maybe an acquaintance of someone else living here…maybe the girlfriend of one of the men.

      The idea that she could be visiting one of his workers bothered him, although he wasn’t sure why. He didn’t even know the woman, but didn’t the fact that she was so transient that she’d stopped for an impromptu bath in the creek tell him all he needed to know about her character and background?

      He gave himself a mental shake to loosen the half-naked image of her from his mind. If he had time for a woman in his life, it would be someone who had her act together, not a high-maintenance nightmare.

      But he didn’t have time for a woman—he had a town to build.

      A few months before his father had passed away, he’d invited a teenage Marcus to go fishing, just the two of them, which was unusual since his younger brothers almost always tagged along. Marcus had known his father had something on his mind. Later, when their baited lines were dropped into a deep pool of water, and they were each chewing on a blade of sourgrass, Alton Armstrong in his quiet, wise way claimed that Sweetness was more special than anyone realized. He’d said it was a golden place that molded people instead of the other way around, and that life in the mountains, despite its challenges, was a way of life worth passing on to the next generation. He must’ve had a premonition about his own death because that day he’d extracted a promise from Marcus to keep the Armstrong family planted in Sweetness, no matter what.

      That promise was the reason Marcus had gathered his brothers together after they’d all left respective branches of the military to rebuild this town, why Marcus had practically blackmailed Amy Bradshaw to tell Kendall about his son once Marcus discovered his existence—the boy was an Armstrong, and the family had to stay together…in Sweetness. Which meant Sweetness had to prosper.

      Nothing was going to distract him from his promise or his goal. He felt the mantle of responsibility of this town’s future every morning when he opened his eyes and every night before he closed them. If they stayed on track, at year end they would meet the requirements of the federal program and the land that made up the city limits of Sweetness would be turned over to the chartered resident shareholders, including him and his brothers.

      But he was afraid if he took his eye off the ball for a minute, was distracted by anything personal, something would happen to derail the entire plan he’d worked so diligently to orchestrate. And he would let his father down.

      He couldn’t allow that to happen.

      Marcus СКАЧАТЬ