"Humph. Absolutely not. I want nothing to do with Mr. Kelly. As soon as Monday comes, I'm calling my lawyer."
"You don't have a lawyer," Kara reminded her aunt.
"Then I'll find one."
"You are so stubborn."
"Must be where you get it from." Josephine waved at an older gentleman sitting in the first row.
Kara followed her actions with a troubled eye. "What are you up to now?"
"Stuart looks a little lonely," Josephine said. "Maybe I'll sit with him."
"Ike will punch Stuart's lights out if he buys your lunch."
"Oh, piffle. Mr. Kelly is all talk and no action. Besides, this is for charity. I'm only trying to bring in a good price for my lunch."
"And cause a little trouble at the same time. Everyone here knows that if a man doesn't bid on his wife's box, he'll spend the night on the couch."
"Stuart's a widower. He can sleep wherever he wants."
"But you can't," Kara said pointedly.
Josephine put an arm around Kara and gave her a quick hug. "Stop worrying so much. Oh, dear, my lunch is up for sale now."
Kara glanced at Ike. He was staring straight ahead, his expression grim but determined. She might not have her aunt's sixth sense, but she knew trouble was on the way.
"Let's begin the bidding at ten dollars," the mayor said.
Stuart immediately raised his hand. "Ten dollars."
Ike glared at him. Stuart slid down in his chair.
"Do I hear fifteen?" the mayor asked.
"Fifteen," Ike said.
A man at the back yelled out twenty, another man upped it to twenty-five. Ike rose to his feet. "Fifty dollars."
The crowd hushed for a moment as Ike sent a challenging look around the group.
"Do I hear fifty-five?" the mayor asked. He paused. "Going once, going twice -- "
"Just a minute there, Mayor," Ike interrupted. "Before I go and buy that lunch, I want to say something."
Josephine stiffened next to her. "What is that old goat up to?" she muttered.
Ike walked up to the microphone, carrying one of Josephine's teacups. "I just want everyone here to know that Josephine Kelly is the best damn woman in this town, and she's my woman. No matter what she thinks." He cast her a stern glance. "And to prove that to her, I want her to come up here right now and read my tea leaves."
Josephine grabbed Kara's arm, suddenly needing support.
"Are you all right?" Kara asked as the crowd turned to them, shouts of encouragement ringing from every corner.
"I -- I didn't expect this. I don't know what to do."
"Meet him halfway," Kara said. "Go on. He's waiting."
Josephine walked slowly up to the front of the group. Ike handed her the cup, which was empty save for the tea leaves at the bottom. "I poured the water out just like you showed me."
"Ike, don't do this,"
"I have to do it, Josie. I respect you and I love you. And I want the whole damn town to know it. Now tell me, does it say I'm going to have the woman I love by my side for the rest of my life?"
Josephine hesitated, then turned the cup upside-down, letting the leaves fall to the ground. "It doesn't have to say that, because I will." And she kissed him full on the lips.
Kara wiped a tear from her eye, touched by Ike's generosity, by his willingness to be flexible, by the depth of the love that allowed him to stand before God and his country, or at least Serenity Springs, and declare himself to the woman he loved. Maybe love wasn't really about the Grubners' apple strudel or Aunt Josephine's tea; maybe it was about compromise.
The mayor finally broke up their kiss with a jovial nudge, and Ike and Josephine walked into the park with their arms wrapped around each other.
"Now, let's move on," the mayor said. "Although I'm not sure we can top that." He picked up Kara's basket. "Look what we have here -- wine, cheese, chicken, a gourmet offering. Let's start the bidding at fifteen dollars."
Stuart tried again. "Fifteen dollars."
Kara sighed, her sense of romance deflating abruptly. Just what she needed, lunch with an old man whose hands roved as much as his eyes.
Will Hodgkins bid twenty from the back of the room. Harrison Winslow upped it to thirty dollars.
Kara waited for Andrew to bid. He had to know the lunch was hers. He had seen the picnic basket a dozen times. Andrew finally raised his hand.
"Forty dollars," Andrew said.
Kara breathed a sigh of relief. Andrew was her anchor, the one predictable factor in her life. He had come through for her again. She wanted to get things back on an even keel with him, put the whole business of Ryan away and go back to the way they had been.
One of the men staying at the Gatehouse bid forty-five dollars.
Then Ryan stepped in with a bid for fifty.
Kara's heart came to a thudding stop. Ryan couldn't buy her lunch. She looked over at him, silently telling him to back off. He simply grinned, as did Angel, who was sitting next to him. Good grief, her own daughter was conspiring against her.
Why couldn't Angel have chosen Andrew to adore? Why Ryan?
Andrew stood a little taller at the sound of Ryan's voice. He bid sixty. Mayor Hewitt turned to Ryan.
"Seventy-five," Ryan said.
The rest of the bidders fell silent, as if sensing the battle was only meant to be waged between these two players.
"Eighty-five," Andrew replied.
"One hundred," Ryan challenged.
Andrew hesitated. "One hundred and ten."
Kara held her breath. Let it go, Ryan, she pleaded silently.
"One hundred and fifty dollars," Ryan said.
The crowd hushed. Even Mayor Hewitt stumbled over the figure.
"I have one hundred and fifty dollars," the mayor said. "Do I hear two hundred?"
Andrew didn't speak.
"Going, going, gone, to Ryan Hunter for one hundred and fifty dollars."
Kara stared at Ryan in shock. One hundred and fifty dollars for her picnic basket? She barely heard the auction move on, so fixated was she on the fact that Ryan had just bought her lunch and Andrew had let him.
In fact, Andrew was now bidding on Loretta's lunch, and he won it for sixty dollars. Kara tried to smile, knowing that Andrew and Loretta were friends, and Loretta probably needed a friend right now, but deep down she was hurt that Andrew had let her basket go to Ryan.
At the end of the auction, Ryan waited for her with a gleeful expression. Kara picked up her basket, shoved it into his outstretched arms, and walked away from him, carefully avoiding Andrew and Loretta.
Ryan followed her through the park. He knew she was angry. He could see it in the thrust of her chin, the stormy light in her blue eyes, and the way she stalked across the picnic grounds without saying a word to anyone. She was no longer the conciliatory president of the chamber of commerce or the gracious hostess from the Gatehouse. She wasn't even the conscientious mother or the bitter ex-wife. No, this time she was simply Kara, a woman, passionate, angry, glorious.
His pulse began to race. At this moment he wanted her more than he had wanted any other woman.
Unfortunately she didn't seem to want him at all. She stopped at one point, hands planted on her hips. "Where the hell do you want to eat?"
He grinned. He couldn't help it.
"Are you laughing at me?"
"No."
She stormed over to the last picnic table and sat down, tapping her foot rapidly against the ground.
Ryan set the basket down on the table. "How about some wine?"
"How about a punch in the nose?"
"I'd rather have wine."
"Why? Just tell me why."
"Because I'm thirsty."
"Why did you buy my lunch?"
"Because I wanted to eat with you." And that was the complete, unvarnished truth. He wanted to have lunch with Kara, and dinner and breakfast, too. He wanted to spend every waking second with this woman. The thought caught him off guard, and he sat down on the bench, feeling suddenly weak. Wanting to spend all of his time with a woman was not his style. Even with his long-term, live-in relationships, he had always cherished his own time, his own space.
"You didn't want to eat with me," Kara continued. "You wanted to stake a claim. You were grandstanding. Using your money to beat Andrew. I think you're disgusting."
"I think you're beautiful when you're angry."
"Hah! You think that line is going to work on me? Forget it. I can see right through you, Ryan Hunter. And I will not be pulled back and forth between you and your brother like some wishbone."
"Who are you really mad at? Me or Andrew?"
"You, him, both of you," she shouted.
"That narrows it down."
"I will not be put in the middle of your stupid feud. I will not be some prize that goes to the best, the strongest, the whatever."
"That wasn't my intention."
"Oh, to hell with you." She jumped to her feet and took off down a path leading into the forest.
"Wait up," Ryan called, running after her, but she continued on, stumbling over rocks and brush until only the sound of rushing water brought her head up.
When Ryan reached her side, he knew why she had stopped, why the anger had suddenly fled, why she couldn't move, and why he couldn't move either. The river was more than just a few feet higher. It was halfway up the bank and churning with an anger and energy that overwhelmed them both.
"My God," he said, more to himself than her. "The monster returns."
Kara put a hand on his arm. He barely felt her touch. "Ryan? Are you all right?"
The words came from a lifetime ago. They were Andrew's words. His brother had said them over and over again as they waited in the old cabin for their father to rescue them. Ryan hadn't been able to answer his brother then, and he couldn't answer Kara now.
"Ryan." Kara touched his face. He jerked away. He had to get away. He could hear her calling after him. He could hear Andrew. The past and present became one. All he knew was that the river was after him, and if he didn't escape, he would die.
"Ryan," Kara called as she ran after him.
Ryan didn't take the path to the park, but headed deeper into the woods. She didn't know what had set him off, but the anger she had felt toward him now turned to concern and worry.
The branches tore at her arms and face as she barreled through them. She had to save Ryan from whatever or whoever was chasing him. She was the one who had brought him back to the river. That made him her responsibility.
Despite her repeated cries to stop, Ryan kept going. Finally, using her last bit of energy, she tackled him like a linebacker and sent them both flying onto the rocky, uneven ground.
Kara landed on top of Ryan. A dozen sharp pine needles stabbed her hands where they landed on either side of Ryan's body, drawing tears to her eyes at the painful stinging sensation.
A pack of birds scattered in squawking protest at their invasion, and a family of squirrels scrambled into the trees, escaping the chaos below. Then the sounds of nature disappeared, replaced only by the sound of their breathing, fast and furious.
"Ryan, are you all right?" Kara asked as she picked some of the needles from her hands.
Ryan groaned. "If you wanted to jump me, you could have just told me."
She laughed with relief. "You scared the hell out of me." She slid off his back.
"So what? I think you killed me." He rolled over onto his back. "Did we just land in a pit of knives or what?"
"Pine needles."
"Same thing." He closed his eyes.
Kara studied his face for a long moment. It was a strong face with a square jaw, well-defined bones, and thick, bushy eyebrows softened only by impossibly long black lashes. There was a fine scar under his chin and another off to the corner of his right eye.
Several pine needles clung to his chin. Carefully she pulled them away from his skin, noting several red scratches that would linger for the next day or two.
Scars and flaws, she thought. The man had too many to count. He shouldn't have been appealing to her at all. But he was. Probably because he wasn't perfect, just human, and probably because he had the greatest pair of eyes she had ever seen, the sexiest lips she had ever tasted.
"Kara?"
She started. "What?"
Ryan sat up. He brushed needles off the front of his denim shirt, carefully avoiding her questioning eyes.
Finally he spoke. "Did I just embarrass myself?"
"Completely."
"You couldn't lie?"
"No." She looked him straight in the eye. "Now, do you want to tell me what your little dash through the forest was all about?"
Ryan sat back on his heels. "The river. It -- "
"It what?"
"It terrifies me."
"Why?"
Ryan pulled at the collar of his shirt, as if he were choking on his emotions. "You ask too many questions."
"That's not an answer." "It's stupid."
"Tell me, Ryan. Tell me why you don't like the water."
Ryan got to his feet and walked over to a tree. He peeled off a piece of bark and worked at it with his fingers as he thought about what he wanted to say. Kara waited patiently, trying not to push him but desperately hoping he wouldn't brush her off, wouldn't tell her that she couldn't possibly understand.
She wanted to understand, to know him as a man, not as a celebrity or a rebel son or a black-sheep brother, for that matter. She wanted to make her own decision about him, not clouded by the judgments of others.
"The last time the river flooded, Jonas took Andrew and me to an old cabin in the north woods. He said we would be safe there." Ryan's mouth tightened at the memory. "Jonas stayed away that whole day. Andrew didn't care that we were alone. He wanted to watch the water rise; he was as fascinated by the river as Jonas was. But I didn't like it, so I stayed indoors. I wanted my mother. I even wanted Jonas at that point. But he didn't come back, not even when it got dark. The next day the river grew higher." Ryan closed his eyes as the memories washed over him.
Andrew flung open the door to the cabin, his eyes alight with excitement. "The river is hitting the bottom step, Ryan. Come and see."
Ryan stood behind one of the kitchen chairs, holding on to the arm with a grip so tight his knuckles turned white. "I want to go home."
"We can't go anywhere. The driveway is flooded."
Ryan licked his lips. "Dad will be back soon, right?"
Andrew gave him a look that was a mixture of pity and triumph. "Are you scared?"
"No."
"You are scared."
"I am not."
"Are too."
Andrew grabbed Ryan's hand and pulled him toward the door. Ryan dragged his feet, but his older brother was too strong, too determined.
"I don't want to see it," Ryan said. "Let me go."
Andrew pushed him into the doorway. "Look at her, Ryan. She's roaring."
Like a snake, the river lifted its head and snapped its tongue at them, showering the front steps with water as if intent on devouring them. It was the monster of his nightmares. It was unstoppable. Ryan ran away from Andrew, into the back bedroom, into the bathroom. He locked the door and began to cry.
Andrew pounded on the door, demanding to be let in. Ryan wouldn't open it. He sat in the corner of the bathroom, counting the dirty tiles, concentrating on the spider weaving its web in the corner of the window, contemplating the yellow stain of urine around the toilet bowl. He hated this bathroom. He hated this cabin. He hated the stupid river.
He didn't know how long it was before Andrew knocked on the door again. This time his voice sounded panicked. "Open up, Ryan. I need your help."
Ryan was going to refuse until he saw the water seeping under the door frame. The river was inside the house.
He opened the door and looked into the face of the monster. "We're going to die," he wailed.
"We have to get on the roof," Andrew said. "Come on, we'll climb up the trellis out back."
Ryan followed his brother, wading through six inches of water on his way to the back door. The weathered rose trellis was old and splintery and looked as if it could fall apart, but the water swirling around their feet sent both their heads skyward.
"You go first," Andrew said.
"I can't do it." Actually under normal circumstances Ryan probably could have climbed to the roof faster than Andrew. But he couldn't think. He was mesmerized by the river, watching it eat away everything it came in contact with.
"Come on," Andrew yelled at him over the roar of the river. "Move it, you jerk."
"You go," Ryan ground out between tight lips. He couldn't move. He was paralyzed. He was going to die in this very spot.
Andrew pushed him toward the trellis, forcing him to move, calling him a chicken and a coward and a stupid idiot and every other name he could come up with until Ryan forgot about the river and just wanted to get away from Andrew.
When Ryan finally reached the roof, he sprawled out on the shingles, trying to catch his breath as Andrew landed somewhat clumsily next to him. They looked out at the river. There was no land in sight. They were all alone in a swirling, churning sea of brown, muddy water.
They clung to each other on that roof through the long, lonely hours of the day, two brothers who could only count on each other.
"Andrew saved your life," Kara said, startling Ryan out of the past.
He tossed the piece of bark onto the ground. "Yeah, I guess he did."
"So you didn't always hate each other?"
"No. That came later. We were never that bad when it was just the two of us, but when Jonas was around, he'd pit us against each other. I don't know, maybe Becky Lee did the same thing."
Kara walked over to him. "I'm sorry, Ryan."
"For what?"
"For what you went through." She paused. "I remember that storm, too. I was more afraid of the thunder and the lightning than the water. I thought the end of the world was coming. I remember those nights at the shelter. The old men snored, the old ladies grumbled, and the babies cried. I just lay there, feeling alone."
He touched her hair. "How did you get through it?"
"I hid under the quilt my aunt Josephine made for me, telling myself stories, pretending the outside world didn't exist. I wanted my dad to come to the shelter and hold me in his big, strong arms and make everything bad go away. But my mother said he was trying to save the theater and he would come when he was done. He never came, and we eventually left to go to the city. I never saw the river the way you did. So all my memories of the town were good ones. The only good ones, because once we moved the rest of my life fell apart." Kara took a breath. "I guess the flood changed both our lives."
"More than you know," Ryan said, his voice suddenly husky, his body too close to hers, his fingers entwined in the strands of her hair. "I want you, Kara."
The statement was so bold, so abrupt, Kara didn't know what to say. But a reply wasn't possible, because Ryan's mouth covered hers and he kissed her as if his life depended on it, as if she could give him back what he had lost, as if he could do the same for her.
And maybe he could. Because she kissed him with the same sense of desperation. Time was running out. She could feel it in her bones, in her heart, in her soul. She couldn't hold back the river, and she couldn't hold back the desire she felt for this man. She wanted him, too.
She wanted to make love, to taste his mouth, to feel his lips against her breasts. She wanted to wrap herself around him, to take his power and strength and make them hers. To give him back the softness, the loving that she sensed he needed, even though he would never admit such vulnerability.
Ryan slid his mouth along her jawline. He nipped at the edge of her ear with his teeth and ran his tongue along the tip, bringing a shudder through her soul.
"Don't stop," she whispered.
Strangely enough, it was her words that made him stop, that made him lift his head and question her with his eyes.
"No?" he asked.
"No."
He dropped his hands from behind her neck and took a step back. "I can't believe this. You're saying yes, and I'm saying -- no."
"Actually I just said no." Actually Kara was totally confused and more than a little annoyed. "What are you -- some kind of a tease?" she demanded. The words came out of her past, from her ex-husband's mouth. She knew exactly how deep they could wound. Only Ryan didn't look wounded; he looked amused.
"I've never been accused of that." He paused. "Kara, you're a nice woman, and I'm leaving in the morning."
She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. "I'm tired of being a nice woman," she said, feeling as foolish as her words, but it was too late to take them back. "Maybe I just want a fling. Maybe I don't care that you're leaving. Maybe I prefer it that way. I happen to like sex."
"I'm glad to hear it."
"You're laughing at me."
"A little." Actually he wasn't laughing at her as much as he was enjoying her. She was a lovely, passionate woman, as down-to-earth as the ground they were sitting on, her eyes as blue as the sky, her hair as red as the trees. And redwood trees lasted forever. They were strong and tough and glorious. Just like Kara. They were also too beautiful to be messed with.
"Let's go back," Ryan said.
"No." When Ryan started to walk away, Kara pushed him back. He lost his footing and landed flat on his back, moaning for the second time that day. Kara took advantage of his situation, straddling him with her legs, her inner thighs caressing a very sensitive part of his body. Ryan instinctively hardened against her. "What the hell are you doing?" he muttered.
"Taking charge," she said with a pleased smile. "I'm tired of men making all the decisions. You get to kiss me when you want and stop when you want. What about what I want?"
He placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her down on top of him. "What do you want, Kara?"
"You," she whispered. "I know it's crazy and irresponsible and the absolute wrong thing to do. But I want it anyway."
"That kind of thinking can get you into big trouble."
"I'll take that chance." She kissed him on the mouth, taking her time, taking what she wanted; and Ryan let her, even though it was painfully difficult not to strip her sweater from her body, push down her jeans and get inside her.
But as much as Ryan wanted to hurry, he also wanted the moment to last forever. And he had never wanted anything to last forever. That thought scared him to death. Suddenly he wasn't worried anymore about hurting her. He was worried about hurting himself.
Kara didn't appear to be worrying about anything as she caressed the side of his face with her hands and pressed her lips against his jawbone, his nose, his eyes, his forehead. Every time she touched him, a flashbulb went off behind his eyes, illuminating his feelings, bathing his desire in a bright light that he couldn't escape behind. He wasn't taking the photograph. He was in it.
And like a Polaroid, he was coming alive, each second bringing him heightened awareness, heightened desire.
He grabbed her shoulders and held her away from him so he could see her expression. The same emotions were written in her eyes, the same need, even the same fear of getting involved. They were both wary. They were both scared. But damn if they weren't great together.
Kara lifted her head as raindrops began to fall on her hair, clinging to the red strands like clusters of diamonds. It was a perfect opportunity for her to move, for them to laugh off the moment.
Kara did move. But instead of getting off him, she pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it on the ground, revealing a black lacy bra that barely covered her lush white breasts and a stream of freckles that absolutely fascinated him.
He cupped her breasts with his hands, watching her face, watching her come alive for him.
"Make love to me, Ryan."
"It's raining, Kara."
"I want to get wet -- with you."
"Oh, God," he groaned. "I thought you would be the sensible one."
"And I thought you would be the one ripping my clothes off. Looks like I'll have to do everything," she teased, unbuttoning his denim shirt with deliberate and purposeful fingers.