solutions. Monday morning they would go into town, find the bank, open the safety deposit box, and discover the answers to the puzzle. An in the meantime they had the whole weekend ahead of them.
He turned to find Jennifer standing behind him. So infinitely lovely. "It’s a beautiful view," she said.
Jerome smiled, taking in everything about her. "I was just thinking the same thing. How would you like to see some of that view first hand? Maybe we could walk along the lake, then have an early dinner at the lodge."
She returned his smile, and that elusive dimple showed itself. "I’d like that."
The wide cowl collar of the white cashmere sweater she was wearing showed the delicacy of her throat and the enticing depth of her cleavage. With it she had teamed a Black Watch plaid skirt that flared out around her leather knee-high boots.
How she managed to look earthy and fragile at the same time he would never know. A man would never be able to make love to her without giving away some vital part of himself. Jerome knew now that that was why he had been holding himself back. What he didn’t know was whether or not his restraint could last.
She was staring at him, her forehead wrinkled in question. "Jerome, are you ready?"
He nodded abruptly. "Get your cape. It’s cold out there."
The afternoon was gray. The clouds were low and heavy and pressed against the skeletonlike branches of the oaks and the almost black leaves of the evergreens. In silence Jennifer and Jerome made their way around the uneven shoreline.
Leaves crunched beneath their feet, and a lone squirrel skittered away with his treasured acorn. Out in the middle of the lake whitecaps churned.
Jennifer smiled up at him. "If the lake weren’t so rough, I’d show you how many times I can skip a stone."
He chuckled and reached for her hand. "I’ll take your word for it. Damn! Your hand is like ice! Why didn’t you tell me you were cold?"
"I’m not. Just my hands, and they’re not too bad. I didn’t want to spoil our walk. It’s been so nice."
"Here." He turned her to him. "Let’s stop for a while and get you warm." He took her hands and slid them around his waist, inside his double- breasted overcoat, then he put his arms around her and pulled her close. "How’s that?"
"Good." Looking up at him, Jennifer thought. Too good. She wanted him almost too much. To get her mind away from the dull throbbing ache that had begun within her body the second he had pulled her to him, she asked, "Do you suppose there’s a monster in this lake? You know, like the Loch Ness monster?"
Jerome feigned exasperation. "Now, that’s the kind of question I would expect from someone who used to pretend her family cat was a dragon."
She made a face at him and pushed her hands under his sweater, the better to warm them. He inhaled sharply, but she hurried on. "I bet there is, and I also bet that he’s a good monster."
"How can a monster be good?" he asked a bit unsteadily as her hands played across his back.
"Oh, well... he wasn’t always a monster."
"No?"
"No. You see, many, many years ago, two warring tribes lived on opposite banks of this lake. Everything went along quite smoothly for years, with them taking turns raiding each other’s village. But one day the son of one chief and the daughter of the other fell in love, and their fathers became very angry. When the young brave went to ask for the maiden’s hand in marriage, her father’s no was loud enough to be heard across the lake."
Jerome reached to catch a strand of her shining brown hair and push it away from her face. The wind had colored her cheeks to a rose, and her eyes were sparkling with enjoyment of the story she was enthusiastically making up. Watching her, Jerome decided he had never seen anyone quite as beautiful as Jennifer Prescott.
She paused and took a deep breath. "Well, what do you think happened next? Her father’s shaman turned the handsome young brave into a monster! And the beautiful
He turned to find Jennifer standing behind him. So infinitely lovely. "It’s a beautiful view," she said.
Jerome smiled, taking in everything about her. "I was just thinking the same thing. How would you like to see some of that view first hand? Maybe we could walk along the lake, then have an early dinner at the lodge."
She returned his smile, and that elusive dimple showed itself. "I’d like that."
The wide cowl collar of the white cashmere sweater she was wearing showed the delicacy of her throat and the enticing depth of her cleavage. With it she had teamed a Black Watch plaid skirt that flared out around her leather knee-high boots.
How she managed to look earthy and fragile at the same time he would never know. A man would never be able to make love to her without giving away some vital part of himself. Jerome knew now that that was why he had been holding himself back. What he didn’t know was whether or not his restraint could last.
She was staring at him, her forehead wrinkled in question. "Jerome, are you ready?"
He nodded abruptly. "Get your cape. It’s cold out there."
The afternoon was gray. The clouds were low and heavy and pressed against the skeletonlike branches of the oaks and the almost black leaves of the evergreens. In silence Jennifer and Jerome made their way around the uneven shoreline.
Leaves crunched beneath their feet, and a lone squirrel skittered away with his treasured acorn. Out in the middle of the lake whitecaps churned.
Jennifer smiled up at him. "If the lake weren’t so rough, I’d show you how many times I can skip a stone."
He chuckled and reached for her hand. "I’ll take your word for it. Damn! Your hand is like ice! Why didn’t you tell me you were cold?"
"I’m not. Just my hands, and they’re not too bad. I didn’t want to spoil our walk. It’s been so nice."
"Here." He turned her to him. "Let’s stop for a while and get you warm." He took her hands and slid them around his waist, inside his double- breasted overcoat, then he put his arms around her and pulled her close. "How’s that?"
"Good." Looking up at him, Jennifer thought. Too good. She wanted him almost too much. To get her mind away from the dull throbbing ache that had begun within her body the second he had pulled her to him, she asked, "Do you suppose there’s a monster in this lake? You know, like the Loch Ness monster?"
Jerome feigned exasperation. "Now, that’s the kind of question I would expect from someone who used to pretend her family cat was a dragon."
She made a face at him and pushed her hands under his sweater, the better to warm them. He inhaled sharply, but she hurried on. "I bet there is, and I also bet that he’s a good monster."
"How can a monster be good?" he asked a bit unsteadily as her hands played across his back.
"Oh, well... he wasn’t always a monster."
"No?"
"No. You see, many, many years ago, two warring tribes lived on opposite banks of this lake. Everything went along quite smoothly for years, with them taking turns raiding each other’s village. But one day the son of one chief and the daughter of the other fell in love, and their fathers became very angry. When the young brave went to ask for the maiden’s hand in marriage, her father’s no was loud enough to be heard across the lake."
Jerome reached to catch a strand of her shining brown hair and push it away from her face. The wind had colored her cheeks to a rose, and her eyes were sparkling with enjoyment of the story she was enthusiastically making up. Watching her, Jerome decided he had never seen anyone quite as beautiful as Jennifer Prescott.
She paused and took a deep breath. "Well, what do you think happened next? Her father’s shaman turned the handsome young brave into a monster! And the beautiful
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