She could hear him laughing when she came up for air. The sound echoed through the trees around her. She would have laughed with him, but she was too busy trying to stay afloat. Her skirt and petticoats had absorbed quite a bit of water and were weighing her down. She was able to swim, but she stayed close to the bank, and after fifteen minutes or so, she was exhausted.
Getting into the water had been much easier than getting out. She made three attempts before she gave up.
All she had to do was call to him and he was there. He reached down with one hand and pulled her out of the lake with incredible ease.
He didn't let go of her. Honest to God, he tried, but his hands seemed to have a will of their own. They slid around her waist and pulled her up tight against his chest.
Her clothes were plastered to her, and she was dripping wet. He didn't mind. Her head was tilted back, and all he wanted to think about was kissing every inch of her perfect neck. No, that wasn't true. He wanted to do a whole lot more than simply kiss her.
Her hands were pressed against his chest. She could feel his heart beating under her fingertips, and she had the almost overwhelming desire to caress him. She blamed the urge on him. The way he was looking at her made her shiver with excitement. He was so serious and intense.
She stared into his eyes and felt as though she were drowning under his dark, sensual scrutiny. Was he going to kiss her? He was frowning, and she didn't think he wanted to, but, oh, God, she would die if he didn't.
'Adam?' she whispered. 'What's come over you?'
He shook his head. How could he tell her that he thought she had cast a spell on him and he didn't know how much longer he was going to be able to resist her? From the moment he'd met her, she had ruled his every thought.
The infatuation had to end. 'You'll be leaving tomorrow,' he said, his voice rough, angry.
'Yes, I will,' she whispered.
'We'll never see each other again.'
'No, we won't,' she agreed.
She was making circles on his chest with her fingertips. The feathery light caress was driving him crazy.
'It's for the best.' He was slowly pulling her arms up around his neck.
'Yes, it's for the best,' she said.
His frown deepened. 'My life's all mapped out, Genevieve. I don't have time for you.'
'I don't have time for you either,' she told him. Liar, liar, she silently chanted. 'Adam? Are you going to kiss me?'
'Hell, no.'
And then his mouth came down on top of hers, and it was the most amazing kiss she had ever experienced. His mouth was warm and firm and wonderful. He nibbled at her lips until she opened her mouth, and then his tongue slipped inside, and, oh, Lord, that was even more glorious. She clutched handfuls of his shirt and held on for dear life while he slowly, meticulously devoured her.
The kiss seemed endless, and he didn't lift his head away from hers until he had taken every ounce of her strength. She sagged against him and closed her eyes.
Her head rested in the crook of his neck. She sighed into his ear. 'Are you going to want to kiss me again?' she asked dreamily.
'No.'
'It was very nice,' she whispered.
She kissed the side of his neck and felt him shudder. Then he slowly pulled her arms away from him. The moment was over.
'Tomorrow you're going to get on that coach and I'm going to go back home.'
'I know,' she replied. 'I'm going to Kansas.'
'No, you're not. You're going to Paris.'
'Yes, Paris.'
He put his hands on her shoulders and took a step back. She had a bemused look on her face, and damn if he didn't want to kiss her again.
He made himself turn away from her instead. 'I shouldn't have kissed you. It won't happen again.'
'I wouldn't mind…'
'I'd mind,' he snapped. He softened his voice when he next spoke. 'You're shivering. You should get out of those wet clothes.'
'That isn't why I'm shivering.'
'I'll build a fire.'
Those were the last words he said to her for a very long time. She thought he was probably thinking about all the work he had to do when he returned to Rosehill.
The long day had worn her out. Wrapped in a blanket he had given her, she fell asleep and didn't wake up until the following morning.
After a breakfast of fresh fish, Adam saddled the horses while she put the supplies away. They left paradise a few minutes later. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the sky became an omen of what was to come.
Chapter Eight
Trouble was brewing in Gramby.
The pretty little town was nestled high up in the shoulder of the mountains. Several years ago the population had swelled considerably when rumors circulated that there was gold to be found in the surrounding hills and creek beds. The Pickerman Hotel had been constructed during that booming period, as had countless other buildings, but as luck would have it, the rumors turned out to be false, and as quickly as folks had hightailed it into town, they packed up their belongings and hightailed it out. Now there were more buildings than people to occupy them.
Hard times called for hard measures. The Pickerman Hotel was rarely full, but every once in a while, when he became desperate enough, Ernest Pickerman would join forces with his arch enemy, Harry Steeple, the owner of the neighboring saloon. The two men would pool their money and pay outrageous sums to entice entertainers to come to their town. What made their collaboration remarkable was the fact that Pickerman and Steeple had been trying to kill each other for years. Neither could abide the sight of the other, but business was business, they both agreed, and they could put off feuding until their coffers were refilled.
They had a gentleman's agreement, but since they didn't happen to be gentlemen, the rules governing conduct didn't apply.
Pickerman and Steeple were both skating on thin ice with the rest of the folks of Gramby. Twice in the past month alone the two men had collected money from them to send for entertainers, and both times the entertainers hadn't bothered to show up. It never occurred to either man to give refunds, which made them extremely unpopular fellows with the good citizens, but Pickerman and Steeple were about to redeem themselves by pulling off their greatest coup of all time.
Adam and Genevieve just happened to ride into town on the day that Miss Ruby Leigh Diamond-showgirl extraordinaire, as she was billed-was expected to perform at the Gold and Glitter Saloon. The folks of Gramby were suspicious that they were once again about to be fleeced, but they still paid in advance for tickets on the off chance that Ruby Leigh would show up. Word had spread like smallpox, and folks had flooded into the town from as far as fifty miles away. They were also willing to pay an exorbitant price to get a peek, or gander, depending on where they were seated, at Ruby Leigh's spectacular legs.
The two mismatched entrepreneurs had worked out all the arrangements so that there wouldn't be any problems. Pickerman would personally take Ruby Leigh from the coach to her hotel room. When she was rested and ready, he would escort her halfway down the boardwalk, where Steeple would be waiting, then step back and hand her over to him. Neither man had set foot in the other's establishment in over ten years, and not even a pair of magnificent legs would make them break that important tradition.
Gramby was the turning point for the stagecoach. It came up from Salt Lake City once a week, then turned
