Captive Kisses (Sweetly Contemporary Collection) by Jennifer Blake Page B

it’s still something to do.”
    So he was not immune to boredom, or the problem of spending
long stretches of time with one person. “I suppose so,” she agreed.
    “I’m not particularly hungry just now. What about you?” As
she shook her head, he went on. “We can pack something to eat in the middle of
the morning then. We won’t have to be in any hurry to return.”
    They weren’t long in putting such a simple plan into action.
Laying out a battered, much-used picnic basket, they loaded it with a box of
raisins, a jar of dry roasted nuts, a can of processed meat, a loaf of bread,
and a jar of pickles. While Charles was putting cold drinks on ice, Kelly ran
to her room to slip on her blue bikini under her shorts and shirt. If the day
grew as hot as she suspected it might, this would be a fine opportunity to work
on her tan again. Also, you never could tell. It seemed unlikely there would be
a chance to part company with Charles, considering how good a swimmer he was
and what close quarters they would have to share in the boat, but it was best
to be prepared.
    It crossed her mind to dart into his room for a quick search
of the medicine chest in his bathroom while he was busy in the kitchen. It was
a good thing she did not act on the impulse, for as she emerged from her room,
he was just leaving his also, after changing his pants and sports shirt for a
pair of cut-off jeans and a tee-shirt.
    A life vest had to be found for both of them, as well as a
hat to protect their heads and faces from the sun, a suitable rod and reel
each, and a tackle box containing a fair collection of lures, plastic worms,
top-water baits, and all the other paraphernalia necessary for bringing home
the catch. With these things in hand, they made their way to the boathouse.
Charles unlocked it, and they stowed their gear in the judge’s bass boat. There
was another delay while the outboard motor, unused for some time, was checked out.
Charles filled the double gas tanks from the drum of spare fuel, handed Kelly
into the boat, and cranked the motor.
    At last they were edging out into the lake, pushing an
iridescent swell before the heavy boat, stirring a not unpleasantl fishy smell
from the water. Their progress scared up a young family of ducks, half-grown
birds that erupted from the water with a great squawking and flapping and
tip-toeing over the surface before they took to flight. Kelly sat in the
forward captain’s chair of the two that were bolted to the bass boat, since the
controls for the outboard motor were in the rear. She turned to Charles with a
grin, her eyes alight with pleasure.
    There was an invigorating purity to the air this morning, as
though it had been washed clean by the rain. The sun was warm, and would be
warmer still as the day wore on, but it lacked the sullen, oppressive strength
of the day before. As the boat gathered speed, the wind in her face was
agreeably fresh and sweet. Kelly sat at ease in the armchair while they wove in
and out among the green fringed cypresses and the standing snags of trees long
dead on their way to the channel of the lake. It was odd, but she trusted the
instinct and ability of the man guiding the boat, even if she trusted him in nothing
else.

Six
    Green Lake, like most in Louisiana, was a man-made lake. It
had been constructed through, the simple process of building a dam and spillway
across a natural stream. The catch basin thus formed filled quickly, inundating
thousands of acres, most of it woodland. Since the cost of clear-cutting the
proposed lake site of trees was much too steep, the bulldozers were brought in
beforehand to push out a main channel, usually along the deeper section of the
old water course, and perhaps one or two minor channels. The timber left
standing was gradually covered as the water rose. The pines and hardwoods died
quickly; their bases rotted, and they fell, sinking beneath the waves where the
process of disintegration continued. This along with constant