Wild in the Moonlight by Jennifer Greene Page B

we’d split up that were part of the marriage—at the time, it didn’t matter how valuable they were or how much I liked them or even needed them. I wanted all ties severed.”
    â€œSo you understand. Why’d you get divorced, Cam?”
    â€œI told you. Because I couldn’t settle in one place. I was too restless. Not responsible enough. Not mature enough to make any kind of husband, either,” he said honestly. “And you?”
    Her bare big toe had sneaked over and found his bare big toe. Now they were playing footsie, he realized. Both of them, like kids who couldn’t stop touching each other. No matter what they were sure of and what they weren’t.
    There had to be something narcotic in the Vermont air. Something dangerous.
    Maybe it was even in her big toe.
    â€œMe, what?” She seemed to be referring to somequestion he’d asked, as if she’d lost track of the conversation.
    Hell, so had he. “Why’d you get divorced? Because he cheated? Because you fell out of love? What?”
    She didn’t answer for a long time, and then finally she made a sound—like a wry little chuckle, only not so much humor in it. “We have a problem, Lachlan.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œThe problem is that I want to answer your question. I have this horrible feeling that you could turn out to be someone I could seriously trust. How weird is that?”
    â€œWeird? You’re not used to trusting people?”
    She propped up on an elbow then. Moonlight draped the round of her shoulder, the edge of one plump, firm breast, the sweet soft curve of her hip and high. “Don’t waste your time sounding surprised, Cam. You’re no more used to trusting people than I am. You’re a loner. Just like me.”
    He didn’t know what to say, except that she didn’t strike him as a natural loner in any conceivable way. She was an earth mother, a giving lover, a warm, nurturing woman right down to her toes. He said honestly, “I can well understand your needing time to get over a hurtful relationship, but in the long run it’s impossible to imagine you living alone. Or not wanting to be in a marriage.”
    â€œI won’t be climbing into another serious relationship,” she said firmly.
    He didn’t believe her. But he said, “That’s a relief, because I don’t want to hurt you. And for darn sure, I won’t lie to you. You know my work here’s only temporary, that I’ll be leaving soon. That’s the way it has to be.”
    Again she smiled, at a moment when no other woman would have smiled at him. “And I’ll be staying here. Because that’s the way it has to be—for me. So we’re both safe, right?”
    â€œSafe?”
    â€œSafe,” she repeated. “You don’t want to shake up my world. I don’t want to shake up yours.”
    â€œYes,” he agreed.
    â€œWe do need to watch it, though,” she said carefully. “I’m totally for casual sex. Especially with a man who’s only going to be here for a short time, and who positively doesn’t want anything serious from me. But we’ll both get cranky if we start to seriously trust each other, so let’s try not to, okay?”
    She got up then. He didn’t instantly understand that the conversation—and their lovemaking—was all done. In principle, they should have left an hour earlier at least. The night temperatures were dropping fast now, and the mosquitoes had come out to feast—still, he was shaking his head as he quickly gathered their gear together.
    The woman he seemed to be falling for, very hard,very fast, very irresponsibly, was walking toward his car completely naked in the moonlight. She didn’t seem to find anything odd about that. She didn’t seem to find anything odd about wanting to sleep with a man who wouldn’t stick around for her, either.
    But