Summer's Freedom (8 page)

He led them to a field near the summit of the mountain, a wide field fronted with trees. A great drop into nothingness edged the other side. As she followed him into the tall grass dotted with wildflowers, Maggie looked around her in exuberance.

For, beyond the safe bowl in which they stood, the mountains stretched endlessly, furry and blue in places; hazy and golden in others. “This is beautiful,” Maggie whispered in awe.

Joel grinned broadly. “My favorite spot on earth.”

A magpie flew over, flashing black-and-white feathers, uttering a harsh, but somehow cheerful, call. When it had passed, there was no other sound.

Or perhaps there was, Maggie thought, listening. A plethora of bird sounds emanated from the trees; an insect burred, the wind moaned through the valley below.

Joel squatted and unzipped his backpack, drawing out a long package wrapped in plastic and a ball of string. He shot Maggie a look of pure mischief. “Are you any good with kites?”

“Not really. Mine always take uncontrollable nosedives.”

He opened the package and unrolled a kite shaped like a bird in flight. With the kind of efficiency born of practice, he spread it out and began fitting stickers to prepunched holes.

She watched as he finished the assembly, then threaded light string through the breast of the bird printed on the kite. “Here we go,” he said, standing. “There are some cans of pop in my pack, if you’re thirsty. Help yourself.”

“Thanks.” Her mouth was as dry as dust, and she found a cola, settling in the grass to watch Joel. It didn’t take long to get the kite up, and he reeled it out into the deep sky, tugging at the string at critical moments, backing up and dashing forward until it drifted high above the earth.

He backed up, pulling the kite with him, until he stood next to Maggie. “Here, you try it.”

He held out a hand to help her to her feet and put the spool in her hands. “When it pulls hard, give it some line. When it starts to dip or lose altitude, reel it in.”

Nervously, Maggie accepted the responsibility. When, after a few minutes, the kite showed no danger of suddenly plummeting to the ground, she relaxed and began to enjoy the rhythmic pull on the string.

Joel fished an apple out of his pack, backing away to let Maggie handle the kite on her own. As he sat down on the ground, he could see the exact moment she lost her nervousness and began to enjoy herself; her stance relaxed and she shook loosened tendrils of hair away from her exotic face.

The apple was mealy but sweet. Joel savored it as he filled his eyes with her. Her T-shirt clung lightly to uplifted breasts and a slender waist. The jeans were just tight enough to outline a generous bottom and long legs, and her skin showed a hint of rosy dampness from the walk. As he absorbed her, she laughed at some inner thrill of accomplishment, and her jewelry glinted at her wrists and ears.

She was impossible to resist. Her vibrant good nature was a balm to his weary spirit, giving him a sense of warmth he had not known in many, many years.

Beyond that, there was an innocent sensuality about her that told Joel she’d never really explored that portion of herself, no matter how long she’d been married. The sultriness in her eyes hinted at the tiger lurking beneath her innocence, and he couldn’t stop wondering what it would be like to set the tiger free.

Enough, his aroused body cautioned. In accordance with its warning, Joel tossed the apple core into the trees for forest creatures and stood up to share the kite.

* * *

Heavy clouds rolled in toward midafternoon, forcing Joel and Maggie to reel in the kite and get back down the mountain. In the truck, he said, “I’m famished. Would you like to stop for something to eat in Manitou? Do you have time?”

“Are you kidding?” Maggie returned. “If I don’t get food pretty soon, I’ll eat the dashboard.” She sighed, touching her stomach.

“Great.”

“I’ll buy lunch, since you’ve so generously introduced me to such a glorious place.”

He grinned. “Fair enough, I guess.”

They drove into Manitou Springs, the somewhat Bohemian sister city that joined the western edges of Colorado Springs. Over sandwiches and huge glasses of iced tea, they laughed and talked as easily as childhood friends, a fact Maggie didn’t even notice until they were nearly finished.

After lunch, Joel led her into a games arcade that was built over the stream that ran out of the mountains and through Manitou. Shops stocked with scenic photographs and souvenirs of Pikes Peak for the coming tourist rush lined the labyrinthine open-air mall. Laughter spilled out of a skeeball parlor.

“When I was little,” Joel said, “my dad used to bring me here at night.” He paused on the wooden slats and looked down to the creek running below, its water giving a rushing, echoey undertone to the sound of the bells and buzzers on the games. “It used to scare me to death to walk on these boards in the dark and know I could fall all the way down there.” He grinned. “I never let go of his hand.”

As she stared at the quicksilver water visible between the boards, Maggie touched her forehead and blinked, imagining what it would be like here at night, with red and blue neon flashing and crowds pushing around her.

Joel chuckled. “Gets to you, doesn’t it?”

As she was about to answer, a great crack of lightning split the sky, followed almost instantly by a resounding rumble of thunder. Maggie started violently and clapped her hands to her ears. “Looks like we’re going to get our storm early today,” she shouted.

He touched her arm. “Do you want to make a run for the truck or duck into a doorway?”

The question was settled as another bolt of electricity split the sky with pink light. Maggie and Joel ran for an archway a few feet away, cringing as thunder cracked again. Joel pointed to a park bench nestled under a stone roof, and they ran to reach it between the cracks.

Maggie’s hands were shaking as she sat down. The coppery odor of raw wattage hung in the air, and the hairs on her arms stood up. “Did you know,” she said in the most conversational voice she could muster, “that more people die of lightning in Colorado than in almost any other state in the country?”

“Does it scare you?”

“Not if I’m safely inside.” A small ribbon of nervous laughter spun from her throat.

Joel smiled and started to slip an arm around her shoulders. As he touched her, a current of static electricity spit between them. He laughed. “Sparks are flying.”

And not only those in nature, she thought as he wrapped his arm around her fully, pulling her closer to him. She bit her lip at the sudden flush of awareness jumping to life all over her body. She fixed her eyes on the dazzling sky.

Joel watched the storm play on her eyes, his nerves trained on her reactions to him. At his touch, she’d gone taut, but she didn’t resist him.

Her earlobe, hung with a silver-and-coral earring that matched her heavy bracelet, peeked out from below her hair. Joel touched it with his fingers, tracing the curved edge, then moved down to the angle of her jaw, where he brushed the invisible hair protecting her skin.

He’d forgotten how soft a woman’s skin felt. He traced the edge of her face to her chin, drinking in the symmetrical slants, and Maggie sat poised, as unmoving as a doll. Under his arm, the muscles of her shoulders began to relax.

With infinite patience, he turned her face to his and waited until she looked at him. Her eyes fluttered closed as he let himself move forward to touch his lips to hers.

The storm went silent behind them, or, Joel thought, he simply couldn’t hear it through the rush of noise in his ears. It wasn’t just the static hanging in the air that stung his lips and lifted the hair on his neck, either. It was her lips, tasting of the sugar she’d put in her tea; lips infinitely succulent and warm.

A sample was all he’d intended to take, but in his soft exploration, he drifted. He felt the pale heat of her hand as it fell on his shoulder and the shift in her body as she eased ever so slightly into him. Her mouth opened in invitation, and he joyfully met the opening.

At the first blazing touch of their tongues, Maggie gasped and Joel with her. For one aching second, both hesitated, but as thunder cracked again overhead with a violent, sky-shattering noise, they were lost.

Joel grabbed her close to him, pressing them together as he gave himself up to the maelstrom that had been hovering all day. He buried his hands in her hair, feeling his chin bump hers hard, their kiss so deep he could barely breathe.

He was losing control and he knew it. In a moment, he’d be tearing away her dress to taste the soft roundness of her breasts.

With his hands on either side of her head, he quieted their joining with slower and slower movements. “I knew you were in there,” he whispered, swallowing when her darkened eyes, limpid with passion, met his.

“I don’t think I was your maiden aunt, after all, Captain,” she said with a smile.

He grinned and glanced over her shoulder. “The coast is clear on your side. Is there a crowd behind me?”

“I think we’re safe.” She relaxed her hold, a brittle trembling lingering in her fingers as the full impact of his kiss settled into her brain. “I guess it’s a little late for a blush,” she said, her eyes focused upon the hard rain falling now just beyond their enclave.

“Trust your instincts, Maggie.”

She looked at him. His dark hair was disheveled, his shirt rumpled at the shoulders. The moment could have been awkward, but there was something so comfortable about him that the sudden, explosive intensity of their kiss seemed the most natural thing in the world.

He smoothed a wisp of her hair away from her face. “I haven’t kissed anyone in a very long time, not like that.” His voice rumbled almost below register. “I didn’t mean to get so carried away.”

Did that mean he would have kissed anyone that way? Maggie looked at her hands, creeping nervousness easing in behind her passion. She knew
she
wouldn’t have responded like that to just anyone. No man had ever smelled and tasted so exquisitely perfect.

As if he sensed the direction of her thoughts, Joel lifted her hand and pressed the back of it to his cheek. “There’s something very special about you, Maggie. Maybe about us. Don’t fight it.”

She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe this strong and gentle man was what he seemed to be, but the power of her own reactions told her it was just too dangerous to give him that much of herself—not yet. “Passion—desire—isn’t all that uncommon,” she said, drawing her hand back. “And I have a fifteen-year-old daughter. I have to be a good example.”

“What are we doing that would be a bad example? Sharing an afternoon? Kissing in the storm?” He sighed. “Whatever you’re afraid of, I wouldn’t have torn away your clothes and taken you on the bench.”

It wasn’t, Maggie thought darkly, that she was afraid of what they had been doing. The problem lay more with what she’d wanted them to be doing, but a team of a hundred horses couldn’t have dragged that admission from her. “Frankly,” she continued, “it doesn’t seem wise to get mixed up with a next-door neighbor,” Maggie continued. “If we end up hating each other, life could get pretty uncomfortable.”

He laughed. “I’ll move if that happens,” he said. “I promise.” With a boyish grin, he nudged her with an elbow. “We’ll take it as slow as you need to go, okay?”

How was she supposed to resist those dazzling blue eyes, those impish dimples? Almost against her will, she smiled in return. “Okay.”

“Now,” he said, settling comfortably against the back of the bench, his arms spread to either side of him, his legs stretched out in front of him, “tell me about Samantha. You don’t seem old enough to have a teenager.”

“No. I married her father when I was nineteen. Sam was five. Her mother had died.” She paused, remembering the long, lonely years of her marriage. “Partly he married me so that she could have a mother, and that part worked out pretty well. He’s always traveled constantly, and when we got divorced, it was natural that Samantha continue to live with me, so that she’d have some stability in her life.”

“Does she still see him?”

Amiably, Maggie nodded. “She’ll spend six weeks with him as soon as school is out, and whenever he blows into Denver for a while, she visits him. They have a good relationship, even if it is a little different.”

“You love her.”

“She’s my daughter,” Maggie said simply.

Joel seemed to absorb this for a while, then asked, “Are you ever jealous of her natural mother?”

“Not at all.” She told him about the photographic display she had taken Samantha to the week before. “All week Samantha’s been shooting film of everything from wooden spoons to the lace on the curtains. It thrilled her when I ran one of the photos she took in the
Wanderer.”

“That’s great. Does she have any talent?”

“Naturally I think she does.” Maggie smiled. “If you want an objective opinion, you’ll have to ask someone else.”

The rain trickled off suddenly, then stopped. “Well, that’s it for the rain today,” Joel said.

“We should get back,” Maggie said. “Samantha will be wondering where I am.”

He nodded and stood up, extending a hand to Maggie. When she stood, he didn’t move for a moment, then brushed her hair from her face gently. “I had a nice time with you today, Maggie.” He paused, his eyes lazily touching each section of her face. “I’d like to see you again.”

Carried away by his nearness, enveloped by his natural scent and the power of his eyes, Maggie simply nodded.

It wasn’t until later, with her hands in sudsy dishwater after dinner, that the spell he’d cast wore off sufficiently for Maggie to realize she still knew next to nothing about Joel Summer. Which meant she still didn’t have a way to manage him, classify him.

There was nothing that made her more nervous.

A
lthough there had been several demonstrations at record stores around the city through the week, none of them had resulted in violence, and Maggie had chosen to ignore the entire problem in that week’s paper. Mail had trickled off, and what seemed to be happening was that the speed rockers were ignoring demonstrations.