Carrie sighed. “That’s something neither of us is going to be able to change.”

“Maybe. Maybe you’re right.”

“And what about you? How do you feel about what’s happening?”

“Me? I go with the flow. I’ll land on my feet one way or the other.”

“If you don’t invest much, you can’t lose much, right?”

Flannery rose and dusted off the back of her jeans. She stacked the cup on the empty plate. “You’ve clearly got my number.”

“I never asked for it,” Carrie said dryly.

“Would you like it?”

“No.”

Flann grinned, automatically hiding her disappointment. She didn’t always win, and she rarely minded when she was refused. This time she did. That was reason enough to back off. “Thank you for the coffee and the food.”

“You’re welcome.” Carrie took the dishes. “Thanks for letting me know that Presley’s okay.”

“Yeah. Let’s hope.”

*

Presley straddled Harper’s hips, both hands braced on her shoulders. The window was open. Somewhere a rooster crowed. Early morning sunlight made Harper’s dark hair glint against the snow-white pillow. They were naked in the center of her big bed, and the cool air whispered over Presley’s flushed skin like a kiss. She was wet against Harper’s abdomen, the faint friction keeping her on a razor’s edge. The threads of her control were stretched tight but she held on, loving the tension strumming through her muscles. When Harper cupped her breasts and teased her nipples with her thumbs, Presley threw back her head and moaned.

“I love the way you look right now,” Harper said. “I love you moving on top of me.”

“I’m going to come on top of you any second.” Her breath came out in ragged pants. She was oh so close now. Her vision swam. Harper’s hands tightened on her breasts, the pressure on her nipples sending a jolt to her clitoris. Electricity rippled down her spine. “God. Soon.”

The room disappeared and Presley clung to Harper’s body, found her eyes and held to the solid strength of her, rocking harder, faster. Her head dropped, her hair curtained her face, the pleasure so intense she bit her lip to hold back a cry. Harper gripped her hips, pulled her back and forth, rubbing their flesh together. Higher, faster, closer. Breaking, falling, flying.

Presley’s spine snapped back and she shattered with a cry.

Harper’s arms came around her, and in one swift movement, Presley was beneath her, still coming when Harper entered her, forcing her back to the peak. She came again. Lost her breath, lost her mind.

“Don’t move,” she whispered when Harper would have withdrawn. She wrapped her arms around Harper’s shoulders. “I love to feel you inside me.”

“I want to make you come again.” Harper kissed Presley’s throat. “I love the way you come.”

Presley laughed shakily. “I need a few minutes…or maybe a few hours. I’m not used to—” She broke off, for some reason not wanting the past to intrude on this moment. This moment, the last hour, maybe the last day, weren’t part of her normal life. She’d stepped beyond the known, and soon, in an hour or a few more, she’d have to return to the life she knew. These moments with Harper would remain apart, as separate as everything about this place—these people, this life, this painful beauty. She had been right all along—she was a time traveler, and as long as she was, she had to keep her secrets.

“Neither am I…used to this,” Harper said, unafraid it seemed, to expose her secrets. “And I—”

“I was wrong.” Presley kissed Harper, silencing her before either of them could reveal any more. “I’m ready for you again now.”

Chapter Twenty-two

Presley woke to the sensation of pleasure. Every muscle was relaxed, her body humming in the aftermath of being incredibly well used and thoroughly satisfied. She stretched with a sigh, and her fingertips grazed Harper’s hip. Harper lay curled beside her, one arm encircling her waist. Pleasure gave way to panic.

What in God’s name had she done? She knew the answer. She’d lost her mind. She’d followed her instincts and fallen into bed with a woman who couldn’t be more wrong for her on any level she could possibly define. Professionally, at least, the worst she could be accused of was bad judgment, but for her that was the worst indictment possible. Success in the take-no-prisoners world of corporate supremacy demanded she always be on top of every situation and ten steps ahead of her competition. Some would see her involvement with Presley as a smart strategic move—bringing every weapon to bear against one of her strongest foes. But she knew better. She was in greater danger of being swayed by Harper than she was of influencing her. A weakness she must keep to herself.

Already she’d exposed too much—physically and emotionally—allowing Harper in a near-suicidal gesture to draw her into the Rivers’s world of community and family, to put faces to the numbers she must see dispassionately, to create a sense of responsibility and empathy that could only cloud her judgment. Harper was dangerous. She made Presley do things—worse, made her want to do things—that she knew were ill-advised. How many more Jimmy Reynoldses would she see before she too disregarded the bottom line and started making exceptions that would end in disaster?

She saw these dangers clearly, had seen them from the first moment Harper caught her attention, yet here she was, naked, body and soul, and the thing utmost in her mind was more. More of what Harper made her feel. Singularly special. Infinitely desirable. Uniquely essential.

When she was with Harper, when Harper’s hands were on her, inside her, she knew what she had never known before—that she mattered not for what she had done or could do, but for what Harper saw inside her. She mattered for those parts of herself she’d held back for so long, knowing they were not wanted. She should not be here, but she wanted nothing else, at least for a little while longer. She turned on her side and kissed Harper.

“That’s a nice way to wake up.” Harper pulled Presley tighter until their bodies touched. She played her fingers down Presley’s stomach, feathering lower, over and over, until Presley’s thighs tensed and her belly hummed.

“We can’t,” Presley said.

Harper partially opened one eye. “Why not?”

“I don’t have the strength. I need food. You must too.”

“Food before sex. Hmm.” Harper grinned. “Obviously not a country girl.”

Presley delicately bit Harper’s lower lip. “City girls have other virtues.”

Harper rolled over on top of her, pinning her arms to the bed, a hand around each wrist. She slid one thigh between Presley’s and kissed her. “Virtues? I certainly hope not.”

Presley felt herself melting again, a wanting so sharp the pleasure was nearly pain. She lifted her hips and when Harper pressed down against her, she moaned. “You’ll have trouble explaining the dead body in your bed.”

“Nah. I’ll hide you in the barn. No one will ever know.” Harper shifted lower on the bed and settled her shoulders between Presley’s thighs.

Presley watched her, a pulse beating in her center, anticipating, needing. She tilted her hips. “Then let me die happy.”

“I won’t let you die.” Harper kissed her.

“Oh,” Presley sighed. “I don’t care as long as you do that.”

Harper kissed her again, her lips a soft circle of power and pleasure.

Presley whimpered and closed her eyes. “So good.”

“Mmm. Yes.” Harper raised up, kissed Presley’s belly, and rolled over her and out of bed.

Presley’s eyes flew open. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Naked, Harper strode across the room to a big chestnut armoire by the window. She opened it, pulled out a pair of faded jeans, and yanked them up her long, lean legs. “I promised to fix you breakfast, remember? I keep my promises.”

“Now?” Presley heard the edge in her voice and didn’t care if she sounded petulant or demanding or both. She wanted. Needed. God, she had to come.

Harper’s gaze swept over her and her eyes darkened. “You’re not going anywhere right away, are you?”

“I’m not going anywhere at all until you get back over here and finish.”

“Is that right?” Harper’s voice held a dangerous edge, one Presley liked very much.

Presley slowly stroked the inside of her thigh, letting her fingers brush as near as she dared to where she wanted Harper’s mouth. She was afraid if she got too close she might explode. “That’s right. Unless you want me to do it myse—”

Harper strode to the bed, gripped Presley’s hips, and swung her around until her legs drooped over the side. She knelt on the floor, lifted Presley’s thighs to her shoulders, and took Presley into her mouth in one swift motion.

“Damn you.” Presley arched off the bed, gripping the sheet with one hand and Harper’s head with the other. She was close to fracturing into a thousand brilliant shards. Harper’s mouth was hot and wet, fierce, demanding. “I’m going to…oh!”

Presley came hard, faster than she wanted, unable to stop a cry. Shaken, she could only struggle for breath.

Harper leaned back, shirtless, her neck flushed and her eyes triumphant. “Are you good for now?”

“For now,” Presley gasped. “Go away…for now.”

Laughing, Harper rose and gently eased Presley’s legs back onto the bed. “I’ll get to work on that breakfast.”

Presley watched her pull on a T-shirt, captivated by the way the muscles in her shoulders and chest shimmered beneath her smooth skin. She loved the arch of her rib cage, the indentation of her navel, the hollow above her hipbone. Unbelievably, desire stirred. “You are dangerously sexy.”

Harper regarded her solemnly. “If I am, it’s because you do things to me. Make me a little crazy.”

“I’m glad I’m not alone, then.”