“Well, you weren’t lying about the first part.”

“Hello,” Presley said, shaking Ida’s offered hand and turning to the woman at the table. “You must be Carson.”

“Guilty.” Carson reached around the baby, who was waving a cookie in the air with vigorous delight, and took Presley’s hand. “Good to meet you.”

“I’m Carrie,” Carrie said, shaking hands all around. “I’m Presley’s admin.”

“Welcome to town.” Ida went back to her preparations. “Flannery, get our guests something to drink.”

“Wine? Beer? Something soft?”

“Would iced tea be a possibility?” Presley asked.

Carson laughed. “In Mama’s house? Always.”

Flannery edged around her mother and took glasses down from a glass-fronted wooden cabinet hanging above the counter. She set them on the table and filled them with tea. Presley took a glass and sat at the plank table as a vehicle rumbled outside, followed a moment later by footsteps. The screen door swung open and Harper strode in.

Harper stopped abruptly, taking in the group. For just an instant, Presley thought she saw pleasure sweep across Harper’s face before Harper glanced at Flann and something else moved into her eyes. A question. Or displeasure. She had probably been looking forward to a pleasant family dinner only to discover, instead, the enemy in her camp. Her gaze settled on Presley.

“Hi, Presley.”

“Harper. Good to see you again.” And despite the way they’d parted, it was. Harper radiated a deep, intense energy that caught one up like the slowly building pleasure of a fine wine, heady and strong.

“Hello,” Harper said to Carrie, holding out her hand. “I’m Harper Rivers.”

“Carrie, Presley’s admin.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Have you heard from your father?” Ida asked.

“A few minutes ago. He’s on his way.” Harper leaned against the counter and stared at Presley. “How was your afternoon?”

“Educational,” Presley said, her throat dry despite the iced tea. Harper had changed as well and wore faded black jeans, an open-collared white short-sleeved shirt, and black boots. She must have just showered. Her hair was still damp and a few thick strands clung to her neck. She looked lean and taut and darkly forbidden. As with the finest chocolate, one bite would never be enough. Presley gave herself a mental shake. She’d never really cared for chocolate. “Flannery is an excellent guide.”

“No doubt.”

The glint in Harper’s eyes brought heat to Presley’s face. She pulled her gaze away when the swinging doors on the far end of the room opened and a teenager barreled in. The last Rivers sibling. Tall and coltish and destined to be a blue-eyed beauty.

“I’m starving.” The girl glanced around, took in Carrie and Presley. “Hi, everybody. Dinner soon?”

“Soon enough,” Ida said.

“Awesome.” With the remarkable self-assuredness of a teenager, she passed through the kitchen and out to the back porch, a book under her arm. As she passed, Presley caught a glimpse of the title. Money in the Twenty-first Century.

“We’ll have dinner when your father gets home,” Ida announced to the room in general. “Let’s say half an hour, if I know what on his way means to him.”

“Is there anything we can do—” Presley began.

“Yes, you can relax and enjoy yourselves. Flannery, Harper, show your guests around.”

“Oh, that’s really not nec—”

Carrie jumped up. “If it’s all right, I would love to see the house. I adore old historic homes.”

“You’re in the right place,” Flannery said. “I’ll give you a tour. Presley?”

“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll just enjoy the view.” Presley escaped to the back porch and out of range of Harper’s brooding gaze. The teenager was sitting on the top stair, her back against the carved white post. “Do you mind company?”

“Nope. I’m Margie.”

“Presley. How’s the book?”

“Not bad, but I think it’s already a little outdated. They’re recommending bonds, for one thing.”

Presley nodded. “That’s a problem with books—by the time they’re published, some of the data is already outdated, especially in fast-moving areas like the economy.”

“Are you here about the hospital?”

“Yes.”

“Independent institutions like the Rivers have trouble running in the black.”

“Sometimes.”

Margie set the book aside and wrapped her arms around her knees, studying Presley with unwavering scrutiny. “Can you turn it around or are you going to liquidate?”

Presley wondered if the girl was a plant. Maybe she was just a very young-looking twenty-something. She tried to remember what Harper had told her about the order of the siblings. She could have sworn there were only four. She hedged. “I just got here. No decisions without data, right?”

“True, but someone must’ve done it before the acquisition, though, right?”

Presley narrowed her eyes. Definitely a plant.

From behind them, Harper said, “Margie, subjecting a visitor to an inquisition would be considered impolite even by Yankee standards.”

Margie grinned at Presley. “Sorry.”

“Not at all,” Presley said. “If you like, I can give you a couple of titles you might enjoy better than that one.”

“Great, thanks.”

Harper said, “Dad just called and he’s going to be just a few minutes later than he thought.”

Presley stood and dusted off her trousers. “I’ll leave you two—”

Harper stepped closer, her intense gaze all Presley could see. “Would you like to take a walk down to the river?”

The words came out before she could stop them. “I would. Yes.”

Chapter Eleven

Harper guided Presley on a winding stepping-stone path across the grassy lawn and down toward the river where clusters of maples and evergreens leaned out above the water, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. As they walked, she slipped her hand beneath Presley’s elbow. “It’s a little uneven on these stones. I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right. I think I’ll have to give up wearing any kind of heels.”

Harper laughed. “You’ll probably be fine inside the hospital. Besides, you look good in them.”

“Ah…thanks.”

Presley seemed surprised and maybe a little embarrassed by Harper’s comment. Harper felt much the same. She rarely—okay, possibly never—commented on a woman’s appearance, at least not one she wasn’t dating. Presley somehow had her acting unlike herself in all sorts of ways.

They stopped on the riverbank where craggy boulders edged the water. An occasional powerboat sped by, its engine an unnatural growl in the otherwise still air. Strands of Presley’s hair floated around her face, and Harper had the urge to catch one in her hand and tame it back into place—or loose all the rest.

Presley turned and caught her staring. For a long moment neither spoke. Finally Presley broke the silence. “I didn’t realize the river was so large this far north. I’ve seen it in New York City, of course.”

“It doesn’t really narrow until a little farther upriver from here, although there are falls intermittently along the way.”

“Do you have a boat?”

“Not anymore. We did when we were kids, but none of us have much time, and truthfully, there’s too much traffic on the river now. I prefer to canoe or kayak on some of the smaller lakes around here.”

Presley threaded an errant lock back into place with a swift, economical gesture, as she seemed to do everything. That motion decided Harper—she definitely wanted to tug free the clasp at Presley’s nape and watch the wind run through her thick hair like subtle fingers. Presley was a woman who needed rumpling.

“I suppose after a week in the hospital, getting away to someplace quiet is what you’re looking for,” Presley said.

“Most of the time.” Harper slid her hands into her pockets to avoid embarrassing them both again and watched the waves ripple by on the river. “Although I’ve always liked quiet places.”

“Oh? And where did you go to find that in a house with four sibs?”

Harper considered how to answer. The question was personal, and she didn’t do personal easily. She found herself wanting to answer, which made her pause. Parts of Presley came out when she was away from work that Harper very much enjoyed. Presley’s question indicated she’d remembered Harper had once had four sisters, even though she had only mentioned Kate once. Presley listened and took note of things. There was power in listening, and Harper already was at a disadvantage. Presley had the ultimate authority at the hospital, and now she was here at the farm, the one place Harper always believed to be unassailable. This was where she came when she was disappointed or uncertain or disillusioned. When she’d walked into the kitchen and seen Presley at the table, her first reaction had been pleasure, followed quickly by disquiet. Presley had looked right sitting there, and there was no reason she should. Harper had intended to limit her socializing with Presley to the simple courtesies extended to any guest in her home until her mother came up beside her as she leaned on the counter by the open window, listening to Presley and Margie talking on the back porch.

“Took you by surprise, didn’t it,” Ida said. “Them being here.”

“Yeah.”

Ida rubbed Harper’s shoulder. “You’re not one for liking surprises.”

“You think I would be after all these years with Flann.”

“True enough.” Ida laughed. “Sometimes, Harper, you have to look beyond what you know to find what you want.”

Harper glanced at her mother. “Could you speak plain on that?”

“I think I just did.” Ida gave her a little shove. “Go entertain our guest. I raised you with better manners than this.”

Harper had done as her mother asked, and when Presley had agreed to the walk, she’d been surprised again at the pleasure the prospect of a walk gave her. Now she was enjoying their lazy conversation that ambled like the breeze through the grass, shifting direction with careless ease, and enjoying looking at her too. She puzzled over the inexplicable urge to share something even more personal than the time they’d spent together in the hospital. Practicing medicine was personal, but this, this place was a private passion and secret pleasure. Presley watched her, waiting, as if knowing she was trying to come to a decision. That was enough to make her decide.