“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Gard said quietly.

“Nothing,” Jenna said quickly. “I’m just a little—” She laughed, hearing the tremor in her voice. “I’m a little done in. You’re pretty powerful, Dr. Davis.”

Gard looked away from the road, giving Jenna a searching glance. “You’re flattering me. Don’t insult me, not after what just happened.”

“You’re wrong about the flattery part. I know what happened up there. How…it was.”

Gard nodded slowly. “Intense.” A grin flashed across her face and quickly disappeared. “Pretty damn amazing.”

She reached across the seat to take Jenna’s hand, but Jenna folded her hands in her lap, pretending not to notice. She couldn’t touch her, not without losing her mind. Maybe losing herself. “I don’t want you to think it was anything less than spectacular for me. You were—you are—wonderful.”

“I hear a but coming.”

“No. No buts.” Jenna struggled to get everything back on solid, safe ground. Back to where they were before. “Not at all. I love being with you. The company is splendid. The sex outstanding. What more could anyone want?”

“Not a thing.”

Gard sounded agreeable, but when Jenna sneaked a look at her out of the corner of her eye, Gard’s hand was clenched on her thigh, the knuckles white, and the edge of her jaw so sharp Jenna could have bled on it.

“Good,” Jenna said, ignoring the stab of guilt and disappointment. Damn it, she was doing this all wrong and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out where she’d gotten so off track. She had to keep going, though, no matter how much of a mess she was making. If she didn’t, they would both end up getting hurt. “Then we’re still on the same page about what this is. Right?”

“Absolutely. After all, we both know how this is going to end. In another couple of weeks, you’ll be back in New York.”

“Yes,” Jenna said softly. “I will.”

Gard turned onto the drive at Jenna’s a little before five in the afternoon. The thirty-mile return trip was a blur. They’d made casual conversation, light and easy and totally meaningless. As if nothing had happened an hour before under the cover of sunshine and rain. Jenna had said all the right things, and probably meant them too. The sex had been great. Hell, a whole lot better than great. Her heart still hadn’t settled after the crazy, mind-blowing orgasm. No wait, two orgasms. That never happened to her. Jenna was right. The sex was spectacular. If she could just get the incredible scent of Jenna off her skin, out of her mind, she might be able to get her head back on straight. And now she was lying to herself.

She wasn’t turned around about great sex. She was turned around about Jenna. The way Jenna opened for her, yielded for her, let herself be touched. Just thinking about it made her head swim and her belly tighten. God damn it. She wanted her again, right now.

“Sorry I had to cut things short,” Gard said. “Katie said Windstorm isn’t looking so good. I need to check him.”

Jenna opened the door but didn’t get out. “Katie. She’s the blonde with the big black stallion. We saw him this morning, right? That testicular torsion?”

“That’s right. I thought he was mending, but she told Rob he’s off his feed now. Chronic pain and anxiety can disrupt the intestinal function and horses can colic. When that happens, they can go quickly. I don’t want to lose him.”

“Of course. I hope he’s going to be all right.” Jenna smiled faintly at Gard. “You do realize she has a thing for you.”

Gard frowned. “A thing. Katie? No, I don’t think so.”

Jenna’s brows rose.

“Okay, maybe a little interest, but it’s nothing serious.”

Jenna climbed out and leaned her forearm against the cab roof, gazing in at Gard. “Nothing serious. Like us, you mean.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Jenna,” Gard said. “There’s nothing casual about what happened up there on that mountainside.”

Jenna sighed. “I know. And I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”

“Do you want to do field calls with me again tomorrow? I start at five.”

Jenna shook her head. “I don’t think so, thanks. I’ve got a lot of writing to do and with everything I’ve seen today, I’m anxious to get at it. I usually write at least six hours a day, sometimes more. A whole day away and I’m off my schedule.”

“I understand. I’m glad it was helpful.”

“Gard…”

“It’s okay.” Gard tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. Saying good-bye felt so final. She had to go—Katie and Windstorm were waiting. But she had a sick feeling that if she drove out of the driveway, she was never going to see Jenna again. “I don’t want to say thanks for today, because that’s not what I mean. But…” Gard took a deep breath. “I want to thank you for what you made me feel. I haven’t felt anything like that in a long time. And I’m not talking about the sex.”

Jenna closed her eyes. “I know. Me too.”

“I’ll see you, then.”

“Yes,” Jenna said.

Gard pulled away, knowing they were both pretending everything was all right. When she looked back, Jenna stood on the porch, watching her go. Leaving her made her want to howl in protest. She wanted to slam the truck around, gun it back there, and take her right where she stood. Driving away hurt so much, she was surprised she wasn’t leaving a trail of blood on the road.

Chapter Twenty-one

Jenna ignored the insistent tapping as long as she dared. Finally she couldn’t pretend she didn’t hear the knocking any longer and swiveled in the desk chair, squinting in the murky half-light cast by her computer screen at Alice, standing in the doorway of her new office. Dressed in casual stone gray pants, a pale blue boatneck sweater, and docksiders, with her hair caught back in a loose ponytail, she looked for all the world like a New England native.

“Hi,” Jenna said. “You look terrific.”

“I discovered the true lifeblood of the economy in these parts.” Alice came in and sat on the end of the sofa facing Jenna. “Outlet malls. I may have lost a little control in J.Crew. Or maybe it was Calvin Klein. I had to buy another suitcase.”

“That look on you works.” She checked the time on her monitor. After midnight. The last time she’d noticed had been shortly before seven. “Been out on a date?”

“Hardly. I did have a serious case of cabin fever, though, and visited Ye Olde Tavern on the other side of town.”

Jenna laughed despite the ache in her heart. “Is it really called that?”

“No. I think it’s called something ingenious, like Joe’s or Charlie’s or Bill’s Beer Joint.”

“God, Alice. You probably shouldn’t be wandering around by yourself out in the wilds.”

Alice snorted and pulled the tie from her hair. When she shook her head to loosen the waves, her breasts swayed beneath the almost-tight cotton sweater. The motion was wholly unconscious and completely sensual. Her full lips, luscious body, and earthy magnetism promised passionate pleasures.

“I’m serious. A woman like you, without an escort? Dangerous.” Jenna smiled, conscious of Alice’s charms and just as aware she didn’t feel the slightest spark. Whatever attraction she’d entertained before… before Gard had evaporated.

“Dangerous? For whom?” Alice grinned. “Really, everyone was completely civilized. I was, however, the only unattached woman there who didn’t seem to be angling for someone to take her home. And I have to tell you, the pickings were slim.”

“Were you the only lesbian?”

Alice rolled her eyes. “Probably within a thousand miles.”

“Well, we know that isn’t true. There’s the lovely sheriff, don’t forget. And I’m here.”

“Yes.” Alice’s expression grew solemn. “And that’s what I’m here about. You’ve been holed up in this office for three days. Have you even been to bed?”

“Yes. Every night.”

“When?”

Jenna looked sideways, wondering how far she could stretch the truth. “I’m getting enough sleep.”

“And that’s avoidance. Which generally means the opposite of what you’re saying.” Alice propped her elbows on her knees and cupped her chin in her hands. “What’s going on?”

Jenna gestured to the computer in self-defense. “You can see what I’m doing. I’m twenty-five thousand words in and about getting to the end of the first act. This is always the hardest part for me, you know that.”

“I know you think it’s always the hardest part. You always lay a perfect foundation for everything that comes later on in the book, you just don’t believe it until you’re done.”

“Well, none of that helps me when I’m in the middle of it.” Jenna probably sounded petulant but she couldn’t help it. She was tired, her nerves were a wreck, and the only time she had any peace was when she was actively working. The second her concentration lapsed and she surfaced from the fictional world she was creating, she hurt all over. She couldn’t stop thinking about the interlude on the mountainside with Gard. How wonderful she’d felt and how hard it was not to see her. Gard hadn’t called and she hadn’t called her. She didn’t blame Gard for staying away. She’d driven her away, knowingly, intentionally. All the same, she hurt.

“What?” Jenna asked, drifting again.

“I said, this sabbatical thing isn’t going to work if all you’re going to do is behave exactly the same way here as you do in the city.” Alice pointed a finger at her. “You can’t work twenty hours a day.”

“Writing is not work for me.”

“Tell that to your body. Remember why you’re here?” Alice’s frown softened. “I think you should come back to Manhattan as soon as you can. What more do you have to do here, anyhow?”

“I haven’t made any real provisions for Elizabeth’s property,” Jenna pointed out. She’d intentionally been stalling and hadn’t contacted the realtor. Elizabeth had been buried in the family plot per her instructions. Also according to her wishes, friends and neighbors had been asked to make a donation to the local farm preservation association in lieu of flowers or a service. All that remained was for Jenna to secure the paintings and put the house on the market. She hadn’t done anything about either, because when she did, she’d have to decide whether to go or stay. And she didn’t want to make the obvious choice. Her life awaited her in New York City. Little Falls was a detour, a pleasant side road, and she had no reason to linger. The pain lodged deep in her breast throbbed.