“It was a simple lesson, really. He could never, ever allow misplaced ideals to seduce him. He would not employ death as a tool.”

“If Spence had really wanted to bed Miss Nordstrum, he would have said how she’d been in his mind since the moment he arrived in Reederville. He’d have added that her visits to Amanda after the baby’s birth had given him hope that she might have come in part to see him.And he would have ended by assuring her that when he agreed to go riding with her today it hadn’t been with the intention of kissing her, buther beauty had stolen his senses away and he couldn’t resist hercharms. He wouldn’t have fucked her that afternoon, but sometime within a month, he could’ve seduced her into bed.Spence was a master at weaving a spell of words to charm a womaninto doing what he wanted. Hadn’t he proven that with Amanda? Amanda, who wouldn’t leave his head, day or night.Amanda, the most colossal mistake of his life.”

“She thought that they could live together for twenty years and he might never consider asking her about marriage. Tom didn’t follow the usual patterns.If marriage was what she wanted, then she would have to be the one to propose to him.”

“He waited a few more seconds, hoping her tight jaw would unclench and she’d ask him to stay, but she sat staring down the empty track.There was nothing for him to do but walk away. The drum of his boot heels as he left Amanda and Lydia behind sounded like the clang of thedoor slamming shut on his prison cell in Lexington. Each step away fromthem felt like a year added to his sentence.Spence only walked about a hundred yards before he stopped. His chest ached so much he could hardly draw breath. He couldn’t do this.He looked back over his shoulder at Amanda sitting on the bench. She held Lydia on her lap facing her, resting against her arms and looking up into her face. They were involved in an intimate, one-sided conversation.He stood and stared. He couldn’t leave them, but Amanda had made it clear she didn’t want him. God, he would give anything if he could goback and change the way they’d met. But how could he have done thingsdifferently and still have met Amanda? If he hadn’t pretended to be Travis Baxter that day at the station, she never would’ve spoken to him at all. Spence couldn’t regret what he’d done nor could he condone it. It was a double-edged sword.”

“Alan prayed she wasn’t complying from some sense of obligation. He didn’t want that, but neither could he bear for her to leave him to spend another night alone.”

“There were many things he had to tell her, but what he really needed to say was simple. “I’ve missed you so much and ache to see you again. Every moment of the day no matter what else I’m doing you’re in my thoughts. I want to … need to see you again.Please come to me.”Pressing pencil to paper, he wrote. “See me. 7. Jim.” He thought a moment and added “Livery Stable” just as it was printed on the sign above the door of the building.Folding the paper, he wrote “Miss Johnson” on the outside.”

“But, after one quick trace of his tongue between her lips, he abruptly pulled away and stepped back from her. She was leaning into him so hard he had to put his hands on her shoulders to steady her.Catherine’s eyes flew open. Releasing her shoulders, he pointed past her to the books he’d set on the desk.She opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again. As she followed Jim, she caught a glimpse of his profile when he picked up the books and slate. There was a smug grin on his face. He was toying with her, teaching her a lesson—that two could play at heating things up and abruptly cooling them down.Indignation and amusement competed in her as she took her seat beside him and he handed her the paper he’d written. She hadn’t set him any homework. He’d done it on his own, printed a brief description of their picnic in short sentences or single words. It wasalmost like a poem without rhyme. “Fish swim water. Sky. Trees. Leaves. Eat food. Drink.”She smiled at him. “Very good.”He touched his lips, puckering them ina kiss, and tapped the signing book.“Kiss,” she said and looked up the sign for it. “Fingers touching thumbs as bothhands come together,” the text said. Her cheeks flushed as she read, “trembling slightly to indicate the degree of passion.”Catherine made the movement as she repeated the word aloud. “Kiss.”Jim copied the movement, shaping his lips like hers. He pointed to the slate and offered her the chalk so she could spell the word. He studied each letter as she wrote it, before printing them himself: K-i-s-s.Catherine’s cheeks flamed even hotter from seeing it written in glaring white against the black slate. Kiss. Kiss. Somehow there seemed to be no denying or hiding it now that it was written down. She glanced at Jim’s lips and her nipples tightened at the memory ofhis mouth sucking them.”