“Are you sure about this?” Lily asked. “I mean, I know you’re sure we won’t run into Bigfoot—oh, that’s in the Rockies, isn’t it—but can you see all right?”
Chase laughed. The trails around the lodge were so familiar, she could traverse them with her eyes closed, and nothing about the mountains at night concerned her. “I have excellent night vision—in fact, I wouldn’t ordinarily use a flashlight unless I was hunting for something, or someone, in the scrub. Night is my favorite time, really. Growing up, I’d sleep outside whenever I could, no matter the season.”
Lily slowed. “Really? I mean, what about snow?”
“Winter nights are when the sky is the best, usually—black and clear—and the constellations are closest. Some of the best ones, anyhow. Warm enough in a decent sleeping bag, as long as you get out of the wind. In the summer, when the nights got steamy, I’d just toss an old blanket on the ground. Still do, whenever I can.”
“Why night?” Lily asked. “Why is it your favorite?”
Chase hesitated. How could she explain how the night was tied to her best memories? How listening to the night sounds and watching the stars revolve overhead brought her back to a time before loss taught her to be wary of trusting joy. One of the first things her father had taught her about the beauty of the night was the constellations. Reclining beside her and pointing out the formations, he’d told her the stories, the ancient myths, behind each one. With the dark close around them and his quiet, sonorous baritone turning the night sky into a canvas of wonder, she’d been happy without ever realizing how precious the moments were until he was gone.
Avoiding the answer, Chase slowed at the crest of a moderate decline and reached out for Lily’s hand. “It gets steep here, and with the dew on the pine needles, it can be slippery.”
She felt more than heard Lily’s gasp of surprise when their fingers touched.
“Thank you,” Lily said, clasping Chase’s hand. “I came down here this morning with Sarah, but everything seems different now.” She laughed quietly. “Bigger, somehow. And I feel a lot smaller. In fact, every time I look out anywhere, I’m reminded just how insignificant I am out here.”
Chase smiled. “Once you get used to feeling part of what’s around you, that might change.”
“You don’t think you have to be born to it to belong?”
“Not if you’re willing to really look,” Chase said. “It’s not much farther now.”
“Oh,” Lily exclaimed as, suddenly, the trees gave way to the shoreline. “The lake is so…perfect.”
“That’s a good word for it,” Chase murmured, watching Lily, who was far more enchanting to look at than even one of her favorite views. Lily’s face shone as if lit from within, her lips faintly parted, her eyes, normally so green, flickering like firelight now. Seeing Lily’s pleasure was a pleasure in itself, a new experience for her. She’d always enjoyed pleasing women physically, finding unique satisfaction in the intensity of the moment, even as she felt safely apart. But she’d never shared a moment like this—when Lily’s appreciation of something so precious to her felt like a gift.
“It’s as if it’s sleeping,” Lily whispered, “totally at peace.”
“If you’re up for it,” Chase said quietly, careful not to break the spell, “there’s a spot a little farther up the beach that I think you’d like.”
Lily turned to her, and for a second, that expression Chase doubted she was aware of settled over her face—calm and impenetrable as she made her decision. Chase didn’t know what she was thinking or how she decided, but she’d seen it several times that day. Lily’s eyes would come alive as soon as she’d charted a course.
They sparkled now in her direction, and Lily said, “Lead on.”
Under other circumstances, with another woman, Chase might have interpreted that as an invitation, but she knew this wasn’t. Lily Davenport did not strike her as the kind of woman who made roundabout innuendos. Chase had been looking for—hoping for, more than she wanted to admit—some signal of interest from Lily but hadn’t seen one. Now she could accept the reality there was none or keep hoping that Lily was very good at not showing her intentions. Since she wasn’t anywhere close to giving up, she’d hold out for the latter.
As they walked along the shore, she could have released Lily’s hand, as the going was much smoother, and she’d already clicked off the flashlight so only moonlight illuminated the path, but Lily made no move to draw away, and she didn’t want to let go. Lily’s hand was smooth and warm and firm, and her fingers curled around Chase’s as if they liked being there. Chase took her around the bend into the little cove where a wooden dock, long and not much wider than she was tall, stretched out into the placid lake.
“Come on out here,” Chase said and led Lily out to the end of the dock. Water lapped gently against the pilings, and the dock swayed softly like a woman dancing in her arms. “Take your shoes off.”
“What?” Lily actually croaked, and Chase stifled a laugh.
“Take off your shoes and socks.” Chase unlaced her boots and pulled them off along with her socks and sat on the end of the dock. After a few seconds of hesitation, Lily removed her running shoes and socks and sat down beside her.
“Now put your feet in the water.”
“Oh no. No way,” Lily said adamantly. “It’s dark down there. There could be anything down there. In fact, there is anything—many anythings—down there. No.”
Laughing, Chase nudged Lily’s shoulder teasingly. “Okay, I’ll go first.”
She dangled her legs over the side, and the warm water came up to the middle of her calves. “Nothing down there but my toes.”
Lily peered down. “I can’t see a thing. This close, the water is black.”
“I know you’re not afraid of the dark.”
“I’m afraid of quite a lot of things,” Lily said softly in that tone that told Chase she was thinking of those moments when the crisis had been at its worst. Moments Chase could only try to imagine and knew she couldn’t even come close.
All the same, she ached to reach out, somehow touch those memories, and smooth away the sharp edges that still caused Lily to bleed. She knew that wasn’t possible but wished it still. Instead of offering empty words, she offered what she could. Silence. Slipping an arm around Lily’s waist, she pulled Lily a little closer against her side and watched the moonlight skim the surface of the lake like a lover’s hand.
Slowly, Lily lowered her legs until her feet dipped into the water. She caught her breath. “It’s so warm! It was freezing this morning.”
“It happens at night, because of the reversal of the thermal currents,” Chase said. “The cool air pulls the heat from her depths—kind of like a kiss.”
Lily leaned away until she was facing her and laughed into her eyes. “That might be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Go ahead, laugh. I can take it.” Chase grinned. “But it is pretty relaxing, to sit here like this and look at the stars.”
“Mmm, no doubt.” Lily braced both hands behind her on the dock and tilted her head back, gazing up at the sky.
Chase mimicked her position.
“You know all of them?” Lily asked.
“Yes,” Chase said quietly.
“Tell me.”
“Just one tonight,” Chase said, pointing up to Polaris. “There. Ursa Minor—the little bear. That one will always be up there, all year round.” She told Lily how in Greek mythology the big and little bear constellations represented the two nymphs who protected Zeus when he was small, and how, as a reward, he placed them in the heavens.
“I can actually see that one,” Lily said. “You’ll tell me the other stories?”
“Next time we have a chance to stargaze,” Chase murmured. “Although many of the most romantic stories involve ones that are seen best in the fall.”
“That’s too bad,” Lily said. “I’ll be back in the city by then, and stargazing, even if I had time, would be impossible. Too much light and God knows what else in the air.”
The swift shaft of disappointment caught Chase by surprise. Of course Lily would be leaving when the camp closed after Labor Day. The kids would be gone by then, and Lily’s job would be over. Not that it mattered, really. Even with women she actually dated, three months was a long time.
“You’ll probably be happy to get back to civilization by then,” Chase said.
“Yes. Probably. I should get back to the lodge, Chase,” Lily said abruptly, as if mention of the future had broken their spell.
“Of course.” Chase rose and pulled off her T-shirt, leaving her in the tank she wore underneath, her jeans, and barefoot. She quickly wiped the water from her lower legs and tops of her feet and handed the damp tee to Lily. “Use this before you put your shoes on. Otherwise you’ll end up with sand and pine needles stuck everywhere.”
When Lily didn’t answer, Chase realized Lily was staring at her.
“Something wrong?” she asked, but she knew the look. Lily was taking in her body, and she liked it. Chase liked her looking too, a pulse jumping low in her belly.
“Not in the slightest,” Lily said, her voice throaty. She took the shirt, still looking at Chase. “Thank you.”
“Sure.”
“Do you do this often?” Lily asked.
“Do what?” Chase held back, cautious with her reply. If Lily only knew all the things she’d been doing since they’d left the lodge—marveling at the softness of Lily’s skin, being mesmerized by the way the moonlight set Lily’s face aglow, wishing she could read Lily’s mind, and wondering if any kind of overture from her would be welcome.
“Come down here at night like this?” Lily said, pushing into her running shoes.
“Ah,” Chase said.
“What did you think I was asking?” Again, no playful note to suggest flirtation. Direct, interested.
“Could have been a couple of things,” Chase said as she pulled on her boots. “To all of which I would’ve answered, no, this is a first.”
“Oh,” Lily said, her voice caressing the word.
Aha. Lily liked that, being the only one, and Chase enjoyed a rush of satisfaction. She’d answered truthfully, but she’d learned something too. Lily was interested.
“I’m not usually at the lodge at night,” Chase said.
“Oh,” Lily said, this time sounding a little disappointed.
Chase chuckled and laced her fingers through Lily’s. Lily didn’t pull away. “And I’ve never walked along here in the moonlight with anyone.”
Lily laughed softly. “Obvious, was I?”
“Anything but. I have a hard time figuring out what you’re thinking.”
“Why try? You could ask.”
“Maybe I’m afraid of being disappointed,” Chase said.
Lily stopped and tugged on Chase’s hand until they faced each other, the lake water lapping against the shore a few feet away, moonlight streaming through the trees, focusing on them like a pale spotlight on nature’s stage. They were almost of a height, but Chase had to look down just a little to find Lily’s eyes. Her hair, shimmering gold by day, was like an afterglow of sunlight at night, delicately pale. The bit of a breeze blew silky strands against her cheek, and Chase caught them with her fingertips and brushed them back along the line of Lily’s jaw. She let her fingertips drift downward to Lily’s throat where a pulse fluttered like bird wings, fragile and swift.
“I’ve never kissed anyone out here either,” Chase said. Her voice was hoarse, the hunger rising swift and hard from deep within her, clamping urgent fingers around her throat.
Lily’s hands came up to her shoulders, and she tilted her head ever so slightly to the side. “Neither have I.”
“Would you like to?” Chase whispered.
“I believe I would.”
As hard as the want beat within her, Chase whispered the kiss against Lily’s mouth, a brush of her lips over Lily’s, a fleeting taste, sweet as honeysuckle. Her breath came hard and fast, and she held herself carefully apart from Lily’s body, even when every instinct bade her to touch. Lily’s hands cupped Chase’s shoulders, fingers digging a little bit into the muscles of her back. Chase’s pulse trip-hammered as if she’d been climbing for hours, the muscles in her arms and legs trembling, breath burning through her chest, sweat streaming into her eyes, exhausted, exhilarated, so very much alive. She shuddered.
“Chase?” Lily murmured. “What?”
“Nothing,” Chase said gruffly and kissed her again, driving away the memories with the heat of Lily’s mouth. Lily kissed her back, a hungry kiss, the slide of teeth over her lower lip, the flick of tongue that sent heat streaking low between her thighs. She slid an arm around Lily’s waist and pulled her closer until the darkness between them disappeared and their bodies met.
“Damn it, you feel amazing.” Chase explored and teased and lost herself in the scent of her.
Lily pulled away, her breasts rising and falling swiftly against Chase’s chest. “Time-out.”
“What?” Chase muttered, her head clouded with everything Lily—her scent, her taste, the soft heat of her breasts against Chase’s.
“I don’t usually do that,” Lily said, her words breathless.
“What?” Chase repeated, struggling to focus.
“Invite a woman I barely know to kiss me.”
“Did you now? Invite me?” Chase kissed the angle of Lily’s jaw before tugging the lobe of Lily’s ear carefully between her teeth. “Forward of you.”
Lily arched into her, her head dropping back with a moan.
“I believe…I did. I was…I…God, that feels good, Chase.”
“You feel good,” Chase whispered, her mouth against the beating pulse in Lily’s throat. “I can’t get enough of kissing you.”
Lily laughed, a sound as light and fleeting as a breeze. “I think we’d better stop. Considering…”
Chase raised her head and blinked. “Why?”
“We don’t really know each other,” Lily said, “and…mmm, right there, you have such a gorgeous mouth…and you’re my best friend’s sister, and—”
“My sister has nothing to do with this, and I know enough.” Chase kissed the base of her throat. “I know you like fast cars, and cream in your coffee, and see beauty in silence…” She unbuttoned the top button of Lily’s cotton shirt and kissed the spot she’d exposed. “I—”
“If we keep going, it will be harder to stop.”
“So?” Chase went back to kissing Lily’s throat, and Lily wrapped both arms around her neck, her body gently surging against Chase’s. Lily’s fingers stroked through her hair, setting her skin on fire wherever she touched.
“We’re standing on a rocky beach in the middle of the night,” Lily said. “It’s stop or go insane.”
“I’m already insane.”
Lily laughed and gently pressed both hands against Chase’s shoulders and pushed herself back. “You make me forget.”
Chase tried to catch her breath and couldn’t remember the last time she’d been senseless with need, if ever. Her stomach twisted with urgency, and her muscles twitched with the relentless pressure to touch her again. “Forget what?”
“Everything, Chase. Everything.”
“Is that bad?”
“I don’t know. But I think I need to.”
“I…all right. Enough for now.” She brushed the back of her knuckles gently along Lily’s jaw. “But I want to do this again.”
“I can’t promise that,” Lily said quietly.
“You don’t have to.”
The night grew steadily cooler as Chase took Lily’s hand, and they walked in silence back to the lodge.
“Thank you for that,” Lily said at the foot of the steps.
“Which part?” Chase asked quietly.
“Every minute of it. It was wonderful.”
“It was.” Chase closed her hands into fists or else she would’ve touched her again. “Good night, Lily.”
“Good night, Chase,” Lily murmured and waited a few moments as Chase walked away into the night. She took a deep breath. “Well.”
A cold nose rubbed against her hand, and she jumped. “Baily! You have to stop surprising me like that.”
“He thinks everyone loves him,” Sarah said, coming to the edge of the porch, her loose, blue-and-white checked flannel pants and a shapeless, long-sleeved T-shirt just visible in the faint light from the windows behind her. “Somewhat like my sister.”
“He’s right,” Lily said, scratching the ecstatic dog behind the ears and ignoring the unexpected comment about Chase.
“Have a nice walk?” Sarah asked.
“Yes. The lake is even more gorgeous at night,” Lily said, climbing the stairs, Baily glued to her side. She stretched and sighed. “And it’s later than I thought. Are you headed inside?”
“Mmm. I was just getting ready to turn in when Baily wanted to come out for one last sniff around. He’s always hopeful he’ll find the squirrel, but he never does.”
Lily laughed.
“I’m sorry,” Sarah said as she held the door for Lily, “but in all of the rush this afternoon, I forgot to mention that sick call is from six to seven every morning. Any campers who won’t be participating in the day’s activities can be seen then and given a medical excuse to exempt them from the day’s events.”
“That’s not a problem,” Lily said. “I’m used to being up early. Besides…”
“Besides?” Sarah asked.
“Oh, nothing.” Any other time, Lily would have confided her plans to her best friend, but the hint of censure every time Sarah mentioned Chase made her reluctant. She hadn’t seen Sarah in years, and she didn’t know Chase at all, beyond the obvious. Blushing and glad Sarah couldn’t see it in the dim light, she vowed to resist Chase’s charms before she did something she would regret.
* * *
Lily should’ve been tired, but she lay awake strangely energized by a day like none she’d ever experienced. She’d driven two hundred miles to leave behind a life that had grown gray and hopeless, without the passion and joy that had always given her purpose. She knew all the explanations for the weariness, the mental and physical exhaustion, the emotional deprivation that had taken its toll over so many months. But understanding was different than feeling.
What she felt now was not just the absence of that gray pall, but the excitement of reawakening passion for the world…and the people in it. Of course, she knew what that was all about too. In this new place, with the burdens lifted from her shoulders, surrounded by a sense of serenity that was completely different than anything she’d ever known, she could imagine herself a different person in a different place. That would pass, probably quickly, and along with that, whatever impulse had motivated her to invite a kiss from Chase Fielder. Even lying alone in the dark, she closed her eyes and shook her head. Whatever had she been thinking?
Of course, that was the entire explanation. She hadn’t been thinking. She’d been seduced—by the newness of walking through the wilderness in the moonlight, by a woman who was at once charming in an oh-so-unpolished way and quietly sensitive in unexpected moments. All that without even mentioning how utterly and unabashedly sexy she was.
And, surprise surprise, she wasn’t so far gone that she hadn’t noted Chase’s interest from almost the moment they’d met. The appreciative glances, flirtatious smile, the gentle but not-too-subtle innuendos. No, she hadn’t lost so much of herself in the last two years that she hadn’t noticed that. She would’ve said it was impossible a few days before that any woman could have her acting so unlike herself, but then Chase was like no one she’d ever met before either.
Lily turned on her side and hugged her pillow, watching the moonlight flicker through the trees outside her window. They’d shared a kiss, a few moments of human connection, something universally, intrinsically human. And that’s all it meant. She was human, and surprisingly, she was still alive.
She must’ve drifted off to sleep, because she woke with a start and, for an instant, couldn’t place her surroundings. An on-call room? A cubby in the ER? No. The air was too fresh. No alarms blared. No beeper at her waistband trilled a warning. She took a deep breath, stilling the racing of her heart.
She wasn’t in the hospital. She was in the mountains. Far away from all that.
Then what?
The rumble of an engine cut through the silence, and Lily rose up in bed in time to see headlights flash for a moment outside her window before they disappeared into the forest. Someone leaving. The quiet returned, and she settled back down, pulling the light blanket up against the unexpected chill, and let sleep come.