Finally the
shirt felt as neat as she could get it without a mirror. Now the boots. She could hear footsteps and
voices from not too far away.
"Lookin' for us, folks?"
"Actually, we weren't. Pancho wanted to show me the gazebo." It was Sophie. Darn! Of all
the people to catch her in a situation like this.
"You missed a good dinner, Rock." Even Genny could hear the laughter in Pancho's voice.
How could she ever face him? He had to know exactly what she and Rock had been up to.
There. Her boots were on. Her shirt was tucked and her pants were zipped. Ducking under
Rock's upraised arm, she slipped in front of him. "Hi. Sorry I deserted you, Sophie. Rock wanted to
show me the gazebo. And the woodlot. Isn't it amazing that woods like these can grow here in the
desert? I've never seen the like. They're so green and..."
Sophie was looking her over like she was a specimen under a microscope. Her aunt's smile
grew broader and more knowing as she took in Genny's appearance from head to toes.
Involuntarily, Genny patted her hair, the style Sophie had labored over just a few hours ago. Oh, no!
The braids were unpinned and hanging every which way. Some felt undone. She must look a
fright.
"I'm sure it was all very interesting, dear. You must have had an extensive tour, to have
taken so long."
Yes, that was definitely a smirk on Sophie's face. And she'd thought her aunt was a
lady!
"Well, I guess we'll go see if there's any dinner left. Come on, Rock." She knew her face
was the exact shade of ripe beets as she grabbed Rock's wrist and tried to pull him with her.
It was like trying to move Vale Butte. He didn't budge.
"Rock, please." She tugged again. "I'm really very hungry."
His grin was less than sympathetic, but he moved. "Gotta feed the little lady, folks. See you
later."
"Perhaps Miss Forsythe will give you a ride to the ranch, Rock," Pancho called. "I will
bring Miss Enderby in my pickup later."
Rock stopped, dragging Genny to a halt. "That's not a good idea," he said. "I think--"
"I think it's a delightful scheme," Sophie said. "Pancho has promised to show me the home
ranch on the way in." Genny saw her smile up at Pancho, a smile of amusement and something else,
something more fundamental. "Don't wait up for me, Genille. We may be very late."
Were those canary feathers all around her aunt's mouth? No, Genny decided. Not
Sophie.
Rock walked beside Genny, feeling lower than a snake's belly. He'd had her, just as he'd
planned. Just as he'd hoped to do since that day in the 'copter.
So why didn't he feel good about it?
It had been the best sex he'd ever experienced, and not because of technique. Genny
Forsythe didn't have technique as such. She was enthusiastic and passionate, instead. What
had made it special was the feeling of rightness when he was inside her, the conviction that this was
the first of many times when they would join bodies and more, finding pleasure and paradise
together. She wasn't a woman he could use and discard--not that he ever had, but he'd intended this
time to be a first.
Genny was all wrong for him. He knew that as well as he knew his own name. He knew
and he was still looking forward to next time. To many next times, if he had his druthers.
He looked at her, walking slim and graceful beside him. Her stride was free, with none of
the mincing or hesitation he had often seen in women unused to living outdoors. She swung her
arms loosely, took long strides, and held her chin high.
Her silvery hair, half-undone from the fancy style she'd started with, fluttered in the breeze
of her motion, glinting in the slanting afternoon sun. It must be natural, although he had never seen
hair that pale on anyone older than three before. He clenched his hands, resisting the urge to run
them through the silky strands, freeing the remaining braids, letting the long strands fall naturally
down her back.
"Did you know your hair's a mess?" He heard the harshness in his voice, the abruptness of
his
shirt felt as neat as she could get it without a mirror. Now the boots. She could hear footsteps and
voices from not too far away.
"Lookin' for us, folks?"
"Actually, we weren't. Pancho wanted to show me the gazebo." It was Sophie. Darn! Of all
the people to catch her in a situation like this.
"You missed a good dinner, Rock." Even Genny could hear the laughter in Pancho's voice.
How could she ever face him? He had to know exactly what she and Rock had been up to.
There. Her boots were on. Her shirt was tucked and her pants were zipped. Ducking under
Rock's upraised arm, she slipped in front of him. "Hi. Sorry I deserted you, Sophie. Rock wanted to
show me the gazebo. And the woodlot. Isn't it amazing that woods like these can grow here in the
desert? I've never seen the like. They're so green and..."
Sophie was looking her over like she was a specimen under a microscope. Her aunt's smile
grew broader and more knowing as she took in Genny's appearance from head to toes.
Involuntarily, Genny patted her hair, the style Sophie had labored over just a few hours ago. Oh, no!
The braids were unpinned and hanging every which way. Some felt undone. She must look a
fright.
"I'm sure it was all very interesting, dear. You must have had an extensive tour, to have
taken so long."
Yes, that was definitely a smirk on Sophie's face. And she'd thought her aunt was a
lady!
"Well, I guess we'll go see if there's any dinner left. Come on, Rock." She knew her face
was the exact shade of ripe beets as she grabbed Rock's wrist and tried to pull him with her.
It was like trying to move Vale Butte. He didn't budge.
"Rock, please." She tugged again. "I'm really very hungry."
His grin was less than sympathetic, but he moved. "Gotta feed the little lady, folks. See you
later."
"Perhaps Miss Forsythe will give you a ride to the ranch, Rock," Pancho called. "I will
bring Miss Enderby in my pickup later."
Rock stopped, dragging Genny to a halt. "That's not a good idea," he said. "I think--"
"I think it's a delightful scheme," Sophie said. "Pancho has promised to show me the home
ranch on the way in." Genny saw her smile up at Pancho, a smile of amusement and something else,
something more fundamental. "Don't wait up for me, Genille. We may be very late."
Were those canary feathers all around her aunt's mouth? No, Genny decided. Not
Sophie.
Rock walked beside Genny, feeling lower than a snake's belly. He'd had her, just as he'd
planned. Just as he'd hoped to do since that day in the 'copter.
So why didn't he feel good about it?
It had been the best sex he'd ever experienced, and not because of technique. Genny
Forsythe didn't have technique as such. She was enthusiastic and passionate, instead. What
had made it special was the feeling of rightness when he was inside her, the conviction that this was
the first of many times when they would join bodies and more, finding pleasure and paradise
together. She wasn't a woman he could use and discard--not that he ever had, but he'd intended this
time to be a first.
Genny was all wrong for him. He knew that as well as he knew his own name. He knew
and he was still looking forward to next time. To many next times, if he had his druthers.
He looked at her, walking slim and graceful beside him. Her stride was free, with none of
the mincing or hesitation he had often seen in women unused to living outdoors. She swung her
arms loosely, took long strides, and held her chin high.
Her silvery hair, half-undone from the fancy style she'd started with, fluttered in the breeze
of her motion, glinting in the slanting afternoon sun. It must be natural, although he had never seen
hair that pale on anyone older than three before. He clenched his hands, resisting the urge to run
them through the silky strands, freeing the remaining braids, letting the long strands fall naturally
down her back.
"Did you know your hair's a mess?" He heard the harshness in his voice, the abruptness of
his
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