He turned to look at her, seeing her lean forward to help Josh disentangle a line. Her thick braid fell over one shoul- der. Cal’s gaze drifted down to her round bottom. The cut- offs she was wearing were brief, her smooth long legs only inches from his, pale next to his dark skin. He ached to slide his fingers along them. With a silent curse, he looked at the water.
“I don’t sit in an office all the time,” he corrected. “And I think I should say thank-you, but I’m not certain.”
“Yes, you should,” she said, unable to resist glancing at his chest again.
“Oh, babe,” he said softly. “That summer sun doesn’t generate half the heat you do.”
“Cal! Do I have to move away, or will you?”
“I will, but just because this isn’t the time or place. I think it’s time for Quin to take a turn rowing.” Cal stood to move forward, walking with an easy balance to get the boys to trade places and to sit beside Quin. Cal rowed with one oar and Quin with the other, both oars dipping into the water at the same time, Cal adjusting his rowing to Quin’s.
They sailed beneath the highway bridge and the wind tugged at tendrils of Juliana’s hair that had escaped her braid. She picked up her braid and absentmindedly drew the ends of her hair down her cheek, feeling light tickles, re- membering last Saturday when he had unplaited her hair.
Cal watched her draw the thick braid across her cheek, tickling herself with it. Clearly, she was a sensual woman. He suspected she hadn’t thought about what she was do- ing. He watched her draw the braid slowly along her cheek and could imagine his hand there, sliding lower, sliding down over her soft curves. Her gaze was in the distance. What was running through her thoughts?
She looked up, discovering him watching her. She must have realized what she’d been doing, because she dropped the braid and her cheeks flushed as she turned to study the water.
They spent the morning with the boys; she could see Chris and Josh warm to Cal like flowers to sunshine. Only Quin remained quietly withdrawn, but it was so typical of him that she accepted it.
That night, Cal grilled burgers and they played ball, again recruiting Stoddard while Gladys sat on the porch step to cheer them on. Red sat beside her and she scratched his ears. And all through the game, Juliana kept recalling the game the week before and the time spent with Cal afterward, the kisses they had shared. She found herself looking forward to the night with a longing that surprised and worried her. She didn’t want to look forward to being with him.
Later, when they finally were alone, as they sat on the porch and talked, he reached over to take her hand again, drawing his fingers over hers. “You’re damned good with the boys.”
“Thank you. I love them,” she said, aware of Cal’s fin- gers lightly skimming over the back of her hand, then the inside of her wrist, down over her fingers. “You’re pretty good with them yourself.”
He shrugged. “I told you, I was one once. I’m sharing with them what I like to do.”
“You’re sharing yourself with them.”
“I hope so,” he answered solemnly. “I grew up with a man who wasn’t a good father.”
Startled, she stared at Cal. “You were abused?”
“Not physically, but my father was not the ideal dad. That’s all long ago and we get along fine now. I got over my resentment and anger and we have a fair relationship. As fair as it can get with a man who keeps things bottled up in- side.”
“You do a little of that yourself.”
“I have no intention of holding back from you,” he said softly and his voice changed, giving her a tiny thrill. Thun- der rumbled in the distance.
“A storm’s brewing,” she said.
His hand slid up her arm and he turned toward her as he moved his hand behind her head, his fingers stroking her nape. Juliana inhaled, everything within her tightening in expectation while she was torn between wanting him and trying to avoid getting involved.
“Yeah, it is,” he said in that same husky tone that con- veyed his mind was on them, not the coming storm. “A fire storm that’s about to burn me to a cinder,” he whispered, turning his chair to face her and spreading his legs, to pull her chair between them. He leaned forward and drew her closer by a faint pressure against the back of her head.
“Cal, we agreed—”
His lips brushed hers and the slight kiss made her insides clench. “Shh, Juliana. You’re ready for kissing,” he whis- pered. “You’re a warm, passionate woman and we have something special here. I feel it and I know you do, too.”
Her pulse pounded from his words, his mouth, his kisses that sparked into flames. An inner voice screamed warn- ings that fell unheeded because his mouth was so tantaliz- ing.
With a scrape of his chair, Cal shifted and picked her up as he kissed her, lifting her to his lap. Her protest was muf- fled, taken by his mouth over hers. Then her words van- ished as she moaned softly and wrapped her arms around his neck. His strong arms tightened as he pulled her close, cradling her against his shoulder.
Thunder boomed, a dim sound over the roaring of her pulse and warnings flashed in her mind like lightning streaks dancing over the yard, but she turned a deaf ear to them. His kisses made her feel desirable again.
While he held her, Cal fought an inner battle. He knew he needed to leave her alone. He didn’t want a cozy marriage because he intended to walk
