Irresistible Stranger

He let out an amused chuckle. “You don’t think you’re just a bit on the trusting side?”

“You sound like my sisters-and they’re wrong, too. I trust very, very, very rarely. And it takes even more than that for me to trust at a gut level. Which I can prove.”

“How’s that?”

“I slept with you, didn’t I? I picked you to seduce, out of the hoards and hoards of men I could have chosen- seeing as how I’m gorgeous and smart and all that.” She figured she’d make him laugh again. Instead he shot her another strange look.

“How could you not know that you’re gorgeous and smart and ‘all that’? Or are all the guys deaf and blind where you live?”

“Aw, that Southern sweet talk is water for a girl’s worst thirst.”

“What if it isn’t sweet talk?”

“Not to distract you from this totally silly conversation, but where on earth are we?”

“Where you asked me to take you. I admit I was surprised. But I always try to do what a lady asks.”

“This is Silver Ridge?”

“Well-we’ll get to Silver Ridge, sugar. It’s just a little complicated. Now, I brought bug spray. And we’re just following this short trail to the boat. I want you to keep your hands and feet in the boat at all times. There are gators and snakes in the water.”

“What? Wait a minute. Wait, wait, wait. Wait! This isn’t what I signed up for…” She galloped after him, but it didn’t do any good.

“Too late to change your mind now. There’s a time when you can always tell a man no, sugar. But this isn’t about sex. And why ever you thought you wanted to come here, at this point you’re getting your money’s worth. I guarantee it.”

“Wait. Wait…”

After eating, she, knew they were headed for Silver Ridge, where she’d asked to go. But she was whipped after the emotional and physical day. She hadn’t paid any attention to their outside surroundings. In the car, she’d looked at Griff, only at Griff. Being with him had lifted her spirits and her heart like nothing else possibly could have. Somehow, he made her feel like a pure female-with an absolutely pure male.

His clothes certainly didn’t define him. He was just wearing chinos, sandals, a polo; his hair was ruffled up and his chin had the day’s shadow of a beard. Another guy would have looked casual. Griff somehow managed to look not quite respectable at the same time. And sexy. Damn man was always sexy. Trouble from head to toe, from his eyes to his butt to the shape of his hands.

If she had to sin, Lily thought, she was so glad it was him. There was no point in doing something halfway. Since she’d fallen off the Good Girl Wagon, she could at least fall the whole huge distance to a man as compellingly wrong for her as Griff.

But this…

She was still following him, but not happily. She’d had the sense in the car that he was testing her in some odd way; but whatever that test was, she decided she was willing to fail it. This was too darned scary.

Night hadn’t completely fallen on the jagged path from the cliff to the water. Minutes of sunset were still left, that time when the sky was a violent purple, a ruby red, a deepening sapphire. In another ten minutes, she wouldn’t be able to see the ghastly scene in front of her.

The water had that black, murky stillness of a swamp in a horror movie, backdropped by big old oaks and their bearded moss. Invisible things in the shadows made sounds, hungry sounds, scary sounds. The “boat” he motioned her toward looked like a raft. An inadequate raft. It looked as if someone had glued a bunch of boards together, makeshift fashion, creating a tiny patio with a white vinyl bench and seat, with a little box table nailed in the middle.

“We’re not going on that, are we?”

“Uh-huh.”

“But snakes could climb up on that. Alligators. There could be leeches in that water. Or the moss could strangle us. We could sink. It doesn’t have any sides. It doesn’t have any motor-”

“Hey, don’t be blaming me for this deal. This wasn’t my idea. It was yours. This is the way to Silver Ridge.”

“Griff, honestly, couldn’t you afford a little better boat?”

“This one’s ideal for where we’re going. Pretty much a pole raft is the only way to navigate a shallow swamp. It’s not something I do very often, but for this trip, it’s perfect for what you want to see.”

“Perfect?” She said the word as if testing it, then shook her head. “Bad things are going to try and grab us in the dark,” she said ominously.

“Uh-huh. It’s going to be very scary. Very dangerous. Probably the riskiest thing you’ve done in your whole life.”

“Hey. Don’t make fun of a woman when she’s busy being a major wimp.”

But Lily had to stop talking. She was having too much fun. It was like living out the old Kathryn Hepburn African Queen fantasy-not that Lily wanted any experience with leeches-but the swampy darkness and sounds and moss-draped trees were impossibly romantic. Possibly, Griff already realized she was into that kind of corniness, because she’d leapt onto the raft without prompting, and immediately took up the Princess Position, lounging on the cushions. Griff picked up the long pole.

“So-where are we shoving off to, cap’n?”

With a grin, Griff motioned into the darkness. “We’re just hugging the shore, for about ten minutes. You can take a turn steering if you want.”

“I won’t tip us over?”

“There’s only about a foot of water. And it’s warm. Not a good place to swim-the bottom’s too yucky-but it won’t kill us if we get wet.”

“Are you going to serve me champagne and grapes?”

“Nope, but there’s a cold chest in that box. Bottles of water if you’re thirsty. And emergency chocolate.”

“Chocolate is a basic food group. It’s always an emergency,” she informed him. She’d never have believed it- that the day’s stresses-the week’s stresses-seemed to ease away. She didn’t stop thinking about fires and mysteries and frustrations. It was just…this was definitely an hour off.

An hour completely free.

An owl whooed its dusty call. The rich smells of moss and loamy earth and vegetation hit her nose like an exotic perfume. Frogs burped in unison from the shoreline, where grasses rustled and vines climbed the increasingly steep bank. Mist ribboned between trees, danced in the shadows.

On the left, rock increasingly dominated the landscape. She didn’t know if the stone was limestone or granite, but it was almost stark white in darkness, and where the moonlight hit it, silver.

“So…this is Silver Ridge.” She couldn’t stop looking. The moonlight on the rock was darned near breathtaking, as shiny silver as a jeweler’s treasure.

“Yeah.” Griff locked the pole, came over and sank to the deck beside her. “As far as I can tell, it’s been the lover’s lane here for centuries. Kids park on top of the ridge. Or boat in, like we’re doing. There’s one deep spot, just off the cliff edge-the kids have used it as a swimming hole for years. There’s an underground spring there, keeps the water cool and clean. Parents have forbid kids from coming here, but it never does any good. On a weekend night-or a prom night-they could clean up selling tickets to get a parking spot on top of the ridge.”

But not tonight. There was no one here this night. But them.

Griff raised a hand, sifted his fingers idly through her hair. His touch was infinitely light, as tender as softness. His eyes found hers in the darkness.

“I forgot why we’re here,” she murmured.

“Above. On top of the ridge. This was where one of the arson fires were set, long ago. You wanted to see where it was.”

“A lovers’ lane.” She knew. Not the kind of knew where she could prove it in a court of law, but all the things she’d learned and read came together with that single snap. “It was a girl who set the fires back then. A girl scorned. Hurt by some boy she thought she liked. Or boys, in the plural.”