LITMIR.BIZ

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a decent splashing. He guided her under the water of the falls. They could stand up here, and he helped her find her feet. He put his arms around her naked midriff to steady her against the pummeling of the water. She lifted her face to it. And he lifted his.

      He stood there, in awe of it, of being baptized by mother earth, cleansed, purified, as if he was being prepared for a new beginning.

      Finally, cooled, drenched, pleasantly exhausted, they dragged themselves out onto a huge sun-warmed rock beside the pond. They lay there side by side, until their breathing had returned to normal.

      She reached out and laid her hand on his naked back as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

      “I never want to leave here,” she said.

      And he heard himself saying, “I don’t, either.”

      He closed his eyes. He let the energy ooze from her hand like heated oil, thick and healing, onto his back. And then through the skin of his back and inside of him, bringing light to a place that had been in darkness.

      And days later, he knew the place had not been about the waterfall, because they had left the waterfall and yet that feeling of a warm energy, of something deeply comfortable and playful, remained between them.

      Jefferson told himself he was allowing this to happen only because he was being a better man. He was distracting Angie from the pure terror of discovering her predecessor in Winston’s affections had gone missing.

      But somehow it wasn’t a job he was doing. There was a kind of joyous discovery of the world they were sharing. His world was boats and water and woods and waterfalls. They took the boat out; they swam, they picnicked, and one memorable afternoon he taught her how to catch a fish. In the perfect marriage of their worlds, she taught him how to cook it.

      After the success of that, she invited him into her world even further. He could see what an amazing teacher she must be as she taught him how to make cookies and the correct way to do his laundry and how to sew on a button.

      “When I have young guys in my class?” she said. “I consider it my obligation to their future wives to make sure they have a few rudimentary skills.”

      Who would have guessed gaining a few rudimentary skills would be so much fun? And so intense?

      The awareness between them was like a storm circling. The electricity crackled around them. It was in their eyes meeting and in the accidental brushing of their hands. It was in everything.

      And yet, he would not allow himself to follow it. He was always the one who pulled back, reminding himself, sternly, that she was here under his protection and that she was as vulnerable as she had been after her fiancé had left her.

      He could not take advantage of that.

      It was Angie who reminded him they had a house to get ready for a photo shoot.

      And somehow, doing that, was also a journey in discovery.

      A few days later, Jefferson watched as Angie settled back into the deepness of the couch and sighed with contentment. The house was nearly ready. They were sitting outside on his deck in the comfort of his living room furniture. It was the last big job they needed to do, get the furniture out. She had insisted on spending a very hot afternoon scrubbing the floors and waxing them.

      Now, as they waited for them to dry, the sun was going down. Jefferson, without asking, had placed a glass of wine in her hand.

      “I should have thought of this before,” Jefferson said, looking out over the lake. “This furniture is great out here. Very comfortable. I think I’ll leave it out here.”

      They were sprawled out on the sofa. He was covered in sweat, and so was she.

      As far as romantic moments went, moving furniture was probably way down the scale. But honestly? If you wanted a woman to see your muscles? Woo-hoo.

      “You will not leave it out here,” she said. “You’d wreck it.”

      “Who cares? I barely use it anyway.”

      “Don’t you like it?”

      He was silent.

      “You don’t like it.”

      “Hailey picked everything for this house.”

      “Ah, so it has sentimental value.”

      “The funny thing? I don’t think she much liked it, either.”

      “But why, then?”

      “It’s a long story.” He did not feel ready to tell it. For when he told her the truth about his marriage, all this magic between them would dissipate. She would see who he really was, that there was nothing remotely heroic about him. But for now, he was not strong enough to break the enchantment between them.

      “I think I can hook up the TV to work out here,” he said. “You want to watch Wreck and Me?”

      “Yes!”

      And so, as the stars winked on in a glorious night sky, they sat on his couch outside and watched the movie about a solitary ogre who reluctantly falls in love.

      Jefferson found himself frowning. That ogre, living alone in his cave, enjoying his life of solitude, reminded him of someone. The beautiful princess, who so desperately needed the reluctant ogre’s help, reminded him of someone, too.

      He had refilled her wineglass several times, and when the final song, “A Night for Us,” came on, it made her bold.

      “Dance with me,” she whispered. “There’s nothing in the living room. The wax is dry. It makes for a perfect dance floor.”

      “I’m not much of a dancer.” He had to stop this nonsense before he created a problem worse than the one she was running from.

      “I love to dance,” she said.

      “Did you dance with him? With your fiancé?”

      She smiled, a touch wryly. “No. He hated dancing. I don’t think we ever danced together. Once, I bought tickets to a ball. They were very expensive. He said he would go, but then he was conveniently ill that night.”

      Jefferson contemplated that. If you loved a woman and you knew she liked something, was it not part of what you had signed up for—to put yourself out a bit?

      “What did you love about him?” he asked. He wished he could take the words back. Why did he want to know?

      She sighed and took the last sip of her wine. “Looking back on it now? It’s more like I selected a candidate than fell in love.”

      “Selected a candidate?”

      “I wanted the things I lost when my father abandoned our family. I wanted to feel secure and safe. Now, I’m not so sure what that has to do with love.”

      Jefferson felt a shiver along his spine. Why would she know more about love now than she had then?

      “It seems to me,” she said softly, “maybe love is a leap into the unknown rather than retreat into the known.”

      This was not going well, Jefferson thought. He was sitting out on his deck on a star-studded night, discussing love with a beautiful, beautiful woman.

      The well-known female vocalist’s voice soared out over the lake. It seemed to mingle with the stars and the warmth of the summer breeze.

      “‘We have come through every valley, we have come through every plight,

      “‘Let me take your hand and show you the magic of the night...’”

      Jefferson did the worst possible thing. He needed to avoid this discussion. At the same time he felt a deep, masculine desire to show her he was a better man than Harry.

      In his haste to do both, he held out his hand to her. He said to her, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Let’s dance.”

      He

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