Part 5 (2/2)

He glanced back at her. ”Are you ready to hit the hills?”

She sat up a little straighter. ”Yes, sir.”

For nearly two hours they traveled a path Bobby reserved for inexperienced riders. The trails were wide

andscenic, the trees tall and shady, the terrain smooth yet lush with foliage.

When they reached a gra.s.sy plain near the river, he stopped. Julianne had booked a half-day tour, which included a picnic. Most folks preferred to do this tour with a group, but Bobby knew why Julianne had chosen a private session.

She wanted to be alone with him, to relax, to talk. And he didn't mind obliging her. He enjoyed her company. And in spite of that romantic dance, he was professional enough to keep his hormones in check. At least in front of her. His private fantasies, his late-night and early-morning arousals, were his own business.

Besides, she was leaving in three days, right after her party.

Speaking of which. ”I ran into your cousins this morning,” he said as he dismounted. ”And they talked to me about your birthday.”

Julianne slid from her horse. ”Oh, goodness. What did they say?”

”They asked for my advice. And I told them I wasn't too keen on the over-the-hill theme. I suggested that a cla.s.sy dinner at the lodge and a night on the town might be more appropriate.”

She gave him a pleased smile. ”You did?”

He nodded. ”There's a local honky-tonk I think you'd enjoy. It's perfect for a fortieth birthday.”

”You mean I can get drunk there and forget how old I am?”

He laughed. ”Yes, ma'am, you can.”

”Will you come to my party, Bobby?”

He adjusted his hat to look at her, to count the freckles sprinkled across her nose, to admire the fire in her hair. ”Your cousins already invited me.”

”Does that mean you'll be there?”

He moved his gaze lower, taking in the column of her neck, the curve of her waist, the flare of her hip.

”Yes. That's means I'll be there.”

”Thank you.”

”Sure.” Before things got awkward, he tended the horses and gave her the task of spreading the blanket and unpacking the food.

When he joined her, she was in the process of filling their plates.

”Your chef is amazing.” She handed him his lunch, a grilled chicken and pita sandwich, accompanied by several gourmet salads. ”Do you eat like this all the time?” ”Except when I cook for myself.” He tasted the wild rice medley,then went onto the mango andjicama concoction. ”I can throw a meal together, but nothing this fancy.” ”Me, neither.” She eyed the dessert, a colorful array of freshly baked tarts. ”I'd get fat if I lived here.” ”I've learned to curb my appet.i.te for sweets.” And those sweets included women, he thought as he swallowed the food in his mouth. She looked around, and he followed her gaze to the lull of the river and the flowers sprayed across the bank. ”It's so beautiful here,” she said. ”Yes, it is.” And so was she. An Irish fairy with invisible wings. She turned her attention back to him. ”I met your nephew. He speaks very fondly of you.” ”Michael wasn't easy toraise , but I love him like a son. I wouldn't trade that experience for the world.” Julianne sighed. ”I don't have any children. I wanted them, desperately. But it didn't happen.” She picked at a piece of chicken in her sandwich. ”We tried for years to have kids. And then we decided to have some tests done. Joe, my ex-husband, tested just fine. So that told us the problem was with me.” She paused, sighed again. ”But since our insurance didn't cover infertility, we didn't pursue it any further. I was willing to adopt, but Joe wasn't comfortable with the idea.”

Bobby studied her expression, the sadness in her eyes. ”I'm sorry.”

”It's okay. It doesn't matter anymore. He cheated on me anyway.”

”He sounds like a jerk.”

”You think so?” Looking up from her sandwich, she smiled.

”Yeah, I do.” He reached for his fork, instead of reaching for her, instead of touching her cheek.

Her smile fell. ”Our relations.h.i.+p had become rather mundane, I suppose. But he should have come to

me. He should have told me he was unhappy.”

”How long were you married?” Bobby asked.

”Twenty years.”

”d.a.m.n. That's a long time.”

She blew a frustrated breath. ”Too long, considering what he did. Joe was thirty-nine, pus.h.i.+ng forty

when he hopped into the sack with his twenty-year-old secretary.”

Bobby froze. His wife had been twenty when he'd met her, twenty-one when they'd married, twenty-two when she'd died. Julianne picked at her sandwich again, tearing it into small bites. ”I know those kinds of age differences don't bother some people. But it was quite a blow to my ego. Why is it that men get away with everything?” She ate a slice of the grilled chicken, casting the pita aside. ”Can you imagine me sleeping with a twenty-year-old? It's absurd.”

Bobby frowned, recalling his attraction toSharon. Their age difference had made their relations.h.i.+p more exciting in the beginning. And more painful at the end. ”It is a double standard, I suppose.”

”No kidding.” Julianne reached for her drink, took a small sip.

When they both fell silent, the lull of the river intensified. The wind blew a warm breeze, and the sun shone, dappling the water with specks of gold.

”I'm sorry.” She glanced down at her plate, at her torn sandwich. ”I shouldn't have vented my frustrations out on you.”

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