Just Once by Jill Marie Landis Page B

course. Some were widows. Some had been fallen women who had repented, given up lives of sin to devote themselves to the church.
They
certainly knew what they were talking about.” She shifted uncomfortably, suddenly too warm.
    “So tonight, in the middle of biscuits and bacon, you just thought about kissing?”
    There was no way she could tell him the truth, that seeing his bare chest had led her thoughts astray, that it was his fault for walking around half-naked, leading her mind down such a dangerous path. He had her cornered. The only thing to do was brazen her way out.
    “How many women have you kissed?”
    “Taking a survey?”
    “Something like that,” she said.
    “To be honest, I don’t see how it’s any concern of yours.”
    “No. I don’t suppose it is. I was just curious.” She felt herself blushing, thankful for the darkness.
    “I’ve kissed my share,” he offered.
    She bolted upright, nearly spilling the rest of the coffee on herself. A thought that had not occurred to her before suddenly shot to the forefront of her mind.
    “Are you
married?
”
    He shook his head emphatically. “No. I’m done with women altogether.”
    A shadow darkened his eyes. She could almost feel the hurt emanating from him, and her imaginative, romantic soul ached.
    “Someone broke your heart,” she said softly.
    “No. Someone taught me a hard lesson is all. But that just helped me realize who I am.”
    Thoughtful, her appetite satisfied after a few bites, Jemma began gathering up the plates and cups. In the morning before breakfast, she would take them to the riverbank to rinse in the still water that eddied in the rushes. She couldn’t get her mind off what Hunter had just said. A woman had taught him a hard lesson. She couldn’t help but wonder who, how, why.
    By the time she had finished clearing away the frying pan and moving the coffeepot farther from the flames, she was certain he was pining for a lost love. Hunter had slipped his shirt on once again. Jemma experienced a wave of relief, as if the door to a room full of unspoken dark secrets had been opened far too long for comfort. She was surprised to find how disappointed she was that it was closed again.
    Hunter sat back down and stretched, then crossed his legs at the ankles. He pulled his hat on, using the brim to shade his eyes from the firelight until all she could see were his lips—finely tapered, strong, masculine, but compelling. And unforgettably soft.
    “How many women have you kissed, do you think?” she asked, before the thought was fully formed.
    He shoved the hat back onto the crown of his head and stared at her hard.
    “Are you crazy?”
    “No. I just have a very fertile imagination. The nuns always thought so, at least.” She sighed, trying to picture the kind of woman who might have walked out on him. “You’ve obviously loved and lost. No matter what, you still have your memories. Just think, though. You have suffered, which means you are living life to the fullest. Why, some people never find anyone to love, never even have the experience, good or bad.”
    “Don’t make my past into some great dramatic tragedy, Jemma, because it’s not. I’m a loner. Things worked out for the best.”
    A loner
. A man who needed no one.
Perhaps he was like Grandpa
, she reasoned. A man whose sense of adventure was greater than his love of family. A man whose home was the world at large, not just one tiny corner of it. When she thought of Grandpa Hall, she could fully understand what Hunter Boone meant by being a loner.
    He was a man who wanted no ties. No future with a family. He wasn’t looking to tie a woman down with any marriage agreement, wasn’t looking to fill his coffers with her money. His life was his own and he liked it that way.
    She understood completely and began to see him in a whole new light. “If you’re such a loner, why did you decide to take me with you?”
    “I didn’t have much choice. It was either bring you