air was always crisp and clean, the tree branches glistened under their coating of white, and the gray stones jutted from the unblemished landscape like faithful soldiers standing guard over the innocent. Today, she barely noticed her surroundings. She couldn’t think of anything except the way Adrian’s fingertips had skimmed over her cheek, freezing her in place at the same time as every muscle in her body vibrated with excitement so intense it was nearly painful. She’d never experienced anything like that before. Emma often touched her casually, a hand on her shoulder, a quick brush of fingers over her cheek. Sometimes when Rooke made love to her, Emma stroked her neck and back. Those caresses were warm and soothing, often blunting the tightness in her chest and easing some of the tension that seemed to simmer deep inside her all the time. But she’d never ached the way she had when Adrian touched her. Even now, her body thrummed with so much pent-up energy she felt like she might explode.
She unlocked the door to her shop, dropped the keys on the workbench, and quickly shed her sweatshirt. Pushing on into the back room, she didn’t bother to switch on the heater, but stripped off her denim shirt even though her breath clouded in the cold air. The muscles in her shoulders and arms bunched tightly as she set out her tools. Hammer and chisel in hand, she circled the monolith in the center of the floor until her blood rose in response to the call of the stone. Then she set to work, searching for the woman hidden within.
*
Adrian sent a thank-you to whatever powers might have been watching when the Jeep started on the second try. Rooke had been right about one thing—the Jeep had not been serviced in a while. The windshield was covered with grime and the left front tire was flat. Fortunately, she found an air compressor and was able to fill the tire rather than change it. Of course, by the time she got the vehicle in working order she was filthy and had to go back to the house to shower and change. She’d left plenty of time, though, and after pulling on clean jeans, a navy cotton pullover sweater, her boots, and a black field jacket, she was ready for her afternoon of investigation.
Driving into town, she was surprised to find she had a case of nerves, as if she were on her way to a date. Strange, because she wasn’t looking for one, and she didn’t really think Melinda intended their meeting that way. Nevertheless, her insides swarmed with butterflies and her heart bounced around in her chest like a buoy on a stormy sea. She didn’t have time on the fifteen-minute trip to talk herself out of her irrational reaction, so when she parked in front of the hotel and started up the walk, she decided to approach her appointment with Melinda the way she would a difficult interview. She was well practiced at hiding her emotions in professional situations, and Melinda didn’t need to know the disconcerting effect she had on her. Just because she’d been behaving completely unlike herself recently didn’t mean she couldn’t handle a little mild flirtation. She’d certainly had enough practice saying no to quite a few of the men she met in her travels, and some of the women too.
The small lobby was empty save for the desk clerk when Adrian entered, so she walked through the bar to the parlor on the opposite side. Melinda stood by the fireplace, one arm stretched out along the mantel, a glass of deep red wine cradled in her other hand. She was taller than Adrian had appreciated in the dark train, appearing particularly svelte in tapered black slacks, black boots with three-inch heels, and a black cashmere cowlneck sweater that hugged her full breasts and slender waist. Her long blond hair shimmered with reflected firelight, and her patrician features seemed pensive as she watched the flames. She was very beautiful.
“Melinda,” Adrian said quietly.
“Hello.” Melinda smiled, her gaze drifting languidly over
She unlocked the door to her shop, dropped the keys on the workbench, and quickly shed her sweatshirt. Pushing on into the back room, she didn’t bother to switch on the heater, but stripped off her denim shirt even though her breath clouded in the cold air. The muscles in her shoulders and arms bunched tightly as she set out her tools. Hammer and chisel in hand, she circled the monolith in the center of the floor until her blood rose in response to the call of the stone. Then she set to work, searching for the woman hidden within.
*
Adrian sent a thank-you to whatever powers might have been watching when the Jeep started on the second try. Rooke had been right about one thing—the Jeep had not been serviced in a while. The windshield was covered with grime and the left front tire was flat. Fortunately, she found an air compressor and was able to fill the tire rather than change it. Of course, by the time she got the vehicle in working order she was filthy and had to go back to the house to shower and change. She’d left plenty of time, though, and after pulling on clean jeans, a navy cotton pullover sweater, her boots, and a black field jacket, she was ready for her afternoon of investigation.
Driving into town, she was surprised to find she had a case of nerves, as if she were on her way to a date. Strange, because she wasn’t looking for one, and she didn’t really think Melinda intended their meeting that way. Nevertheless, her insides swarmed with butterflies and her heart bounced around in her chest like a buoy on a stormy sea. She didn’t have time on the fifteen-minute trip to talk herself out of her irrational reaction, so when she parked in front of the hotel and started up the walk, she decided to approach her appointment with Melinda the way she would a difficult interview. She was well practiced at hiding her emotions in professional situations, and Melinda didn’t need to know the disconcerting effect she had on her. Just because she’d been behaving completely unlike herself recently didn’t mean she couldn’t handle a little mild flirtation. She’d certainly had enough practice saying no to quite a few of the men she met in her travels, and some of the women too.
The small lobby was empty save for the desk clerk when Adrian entered, so she walked through the bar to the parlor on the opposite side. Melinda stood by the fireplace, one arm stretched out along the mantel, a glass of deep red wine cradled in her other hand. She was taller than Adrian had appreciated in the dark train, appearing particularly svelte in tapered black slacks, black boots with three-inch heels, and a black cashmere cowlneck sweater that hugged her full breasts and slender waist. Her long blond hair shimmered with reflected firelight, and her patrician features seemed pensive as she watched the flames. She was very beautiful.
“Melinda,” Adrian said quietly.
“Hello.” Melinda smiled, her gaze drifting languidly over
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