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if she’d had too much sun. Ah, Joni, I don’t want to rush you, he thought. I just want you to give me a chance.

      G.P. pushed aside her plate and surveyed her guests with a satisfied smile. “As soon as everyone’s finished eating, we’ll start the games.”

      The announcement was met with groans.

      “Do we have to?”

      “Aren’t we too old for that?”

      “I think I sprained my ankle.”

      “Nonsense,” G.P. countered. “The games are a tradition at every family gathering.”

      Carter leaned across the table to whisper to Joni. “What kind of games is she talking about?”

      Joni rolled her eyes. “Stupid ones. Kid stuff like three-legged races and balloon relays. She thinks they build closeness and togetherness.”

      “They keep you all from being too serious.” G.P. directed her comment to her granddaughter. “I have very good hearing for a woman who’s almost seventy,” she added.

      Carter shoved his chair back from the table. “Sounds like fun.” He nodded to Joni. “Can I be partners with Joni?”

      G.P. smiled. “But of course.”

      So half an hour later, Carter found himself standing hip to hip with Joni at one end of the backyard with her siblings, cousins, nieces and nephews paired up alongside them, ready to compete in a three-legged race. He slipped his arm around her and hugged her close. “This could be fun,” he said.

      She stared down at the pink ribbon that bound them together at the ankles. “I feel ridiculous.”

      “Actually, you feel very nice to me.” He bumped his hip against hers. “Your grandmother’s right. This togetherness thing is great.”

      “Don’t get any ideas.” Her voice was stern, but her eyes were filled with barely suppressed mirth.

      He glanced along the starting line at the competition. “So what do you think our chances are?”

      She craned her neck to follow his gaze. “Bruce and Peter won last year. The little kids generally fall apart giggling halfway across the yard. But Larry is pretty good. If he and Susan can stay together, they might have a chance.”

      He looked back at her. “Have I mentioned that I have this competitive streak? I hate to lose.”

      “Why doesn’t that information surprise me?” She put her arm around him, hooking her fingers through the belt loop of his jeans. “I’m something of a sore loser myself.”

      “Is everybody ready?” G.P. climbed onto a folding chair in the middle of the yard and raised her arms. She beamed at the ragged line of contestants. “Ready. Set. Go!”

      Carter leapt forward, dragging Joni along with him. “Hey, wait for me!” she cried. Wrapping both arms around him in an attempt to stay upright, they came to an abrupt halt.

      “Sorry. This is harder than it looks.” He checked the competition. “Damn. We’re already way behind.”

      “If we want to win, we have to work together. Like this.” She hugged him tight against her, pressing her thigh firmly against his. “Now when I say go, we take one step together.”

      “I could get used to this togetherness thing.”

      She rolled her eyes and said, “One, two, three, Go.”

      “Go. Go. Go.” They fell into a hopping rhythm, covering ground at a surprisingly fast pace, passing everyone as they headed toward the length of surveyor’s tape held by G.P. and the youngest Montgomery grandchild.

      “Here come Joni and Carter, in first place. But Bruce and Peter are gaining fast. Who will be the winner?” Joni’s father provided commentary from his perch in a lawn chair alongside the finish line.

      “Go. Go. Go.” Joni and Carter made a frantic dive for the tape, arriving inches ahead of her cousins, and collapsed into each other’s arms.

      “Did we win?” Carter gasped, rolling onto his side to face Joni. They were both breathless and laughing, still clinging together.

      “I think we won.” She smiled into his eyes, her previous shyness forgotten in the moment.

      How was it you could be surrounded by other people and suddenly be so aware of one other person? He could feel her heart beating wildly against his chest, echoing the pounding of his own. Her hair had come undone and fallen across her forehead. He reached up to push it out of her eyes and left his hand there, cradling her cheek. She grew still, eyes still locked to his, her lips parted as if in silent invitation.

      It would be so easy to lean down and kiss her….

      “There’ll be time for celebrating later, you two.” G.P. stood over them, a grin splitting her face. “We’ve got more games to play.”

      She nudged Carter with her toe and he had no choice but to shove onto his knees and offer a hand to Joni. “What’s the next challenge on the list?”

      “Next we have the orange relay.”

      Joni groaned. “G.P., no!”

      “What’s the orange relay?” Carter asked.

      “Oh, you’ll see.”

      She started to walk away, but Carter pulled her back. “We’re partners, remember?”

      “You don’t need a partner for this game.”

      “Then I need you to make sure I don’t embarrass myself by not following the rules.”

      Joni shook her head. “The whole point of this game is to embarrass yourself.”

      “Everyone line up now.” G.P. clapped her hands. “Form two lines, right in front of me. Ben, where are those oranges?”

      Carter found himself in line between Cousin Larry and Joni. “The object of the game is to pass an orange down your line without using your hands,” G.P. explained. “If you drop the orange, your team has to start over.”

      “This looks easy enough,” Carter said.

      Joni gave him a pitying look. “It’s not.”

      The thing about an orange, he discovered, is that it is small, round, and surprisingly slippery. Studying the other players, he decided that the key to accomplishing the exchange was to flex your knees, relax your neck, and let the other person do most of the work.

      Larry, for instance, was a pro. The two men were about the same height, which made it easier. With a minimum of fumbling, Carter had the orange under his chin, to the admiring applause of his team and worried glances from the competition.

      Feeling confident, he turned to pass the fruit to Joni and immediately saw that anatomy was not on his side. For one thing, Joni was a good six inches shorter than he was—and considerably better endowed in the chest area. From this angle, he had a tantalizing view of her cleavage which was, to say the least, distracting.

      “Hurry up,” she prompted, and angled her neck up to take the fruit.

      He bent to tuck the orange beneath her chin and found himself pressed against her breasts, much closer than he’d planned on getting with her entire family looking on.

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