Two weeks before Joy's departure, Walker sat at the kitchen table with her while they sipped cinnamon tea and Misty slept. Whenever he thought about her leaving, his stomach got a hollow feeling. He would be forever grateful to her for helping his daughter, and although Misty only spoke one or two words occasionally, Joy had accomplished more in a few weeks than he had in a year. They had decided to wait another week before breaking the news of her leaving to Misty.
To distract his sadness over her departure, he said, "Tell me about Tucson and San Diego. I wish I could have seen those paintings.
Joy's eyes lit and she leaned forward. "Everywhere I've visited, I've researched the history of the area. Do you really want to hear it?"
Walker loved the intelligence in her eyes and also leaned forward, placing his chin in his palm. "Yes, I do."
She grinned. "Did you know that at one time Tucson was part of New Mexico Territory?"
"No, I didn't"
It wasn't until the 1860s that Arizona Territory was formed and the town became part of it. Tucson was even the capital for ten years. And Arizona only recently received statehood in 1912. By then five flags had flown over Tucson: Spanish, Mexican, American, Confederate, and the State of Arizona. And my Uncle Luke told me that some of the stagecoach robberies he wrote about in his stories were patterned after actual Tucson robberies."
Walker reached and trailed a finger down Joy's arm before he realized it. Pulling his hand back to his teacup, he said, "So, tell me what you painted while you were there."
Joy rubbed her arm and her complexion flushed. Being a doctor, he noticed everything. He'd know for weeks that she was attracted to him, but he'd stifled his own attraction because his blasted conscience kept telling him it was too soon after Emily's death to feel drawn to another woman.
Joy continued her history lesson, her cheeks a pretty pink. "Tucson is surrounded by five mountain ranges and has adobe structures similar to those in Santa Fe."
Walker was having a hard time concentrating on her words while watching her mouth.
"My host and hostess were a husband and wife theatrical team who starred in one of my Uncle Luke's stories adapted for the theater a few years back."
She grinned and Walker imagined himself pulling her onto his lap and tasting that pretty mouth.
She continued, "I went to see the play when it debuted at Sally's Theater in Dallas. The theater is owned by a dear friend of my mother's named Paddy Pensing, and I have to tell you, Mr. Pensing is the heaviest man I've ever met, but he's also the happiest. Not only that, he has a treasure trove of western tales. I could listen to him for hours."
There was an awkward silence while Joy stared at the table.
Walker said, "Now tell me about San Diego. Did you like California?"
She lifted her head. "Oh, I loved it. It's vastly different from the other places I visited. Capturing ocean sunsets on canvas is indescribable when the sun transforms the waves into shimmering diamonds. Sometimes I painted on the beach, other times, on the cliffs." She bit her bottom lip, and asked shyly, "Am I boring you, yet?"
Walker reached and placed his thumb and forefinger on either side of her chin, gently rubbing her skin. "Nothing about you is boring, Joy. I love listening to you."
Her eyes widened, her cheeks flushed, and she chewed on her bottom lip.
Walker almost groaned. Joy was killing him. He removed his hand and reached for his cup.
She said, "The history of San Diego goes all the way back into the 1500s, but it wasn't until the early 1900s, when the rails provided a link to the east, that the city started to boom. And it was even the site of The World's Fair in 1915 and 1916. How I would have loved to have been there."
There was another silence, and Walker said, "Now tell me more about your Lest We Forget collection. I take it there are paintings in the collection from all the places you've visited."
Joy's eyes sparkled and Walker felt like a hero just by asking that simple question.
She said, "I've actually completed twenty-four paintings with twelve of them in the series. There are seven oils and five watercolors. Would you like to hear how I'm going to describe them on a brochure? Well…you know…if I ever get a showing?"
"I would love to hear it."
She looked embarrassed, but continued, "Okay, here goes.
Oil painter and watercolor artist Joy Abigail Ryder invites you to never forget the craggy mountains of Colorado or the desolate, beautifully stark hills of New Mexico. In Arizona it is purple sunsets overshadowing a desert of tall saguaro and squat prickly pear cactus. Farther west, California's aqua ocean crashes wildly against glittering sand crystals, while up north, a wagon train in Oregon settles for the night under a forest canopy.
She shrugged. "Well, something like that. I've been working on it."
The eloquence of her words was a painting in itself and stole Walker's breath. In a swift movement, he stood and pulled Joy into his arms. For a moment, he just held this precious woman against his heart. When he could no longer resist, he lowered his mouth to hers. By sheer force of will he kept the kiss gentle, even though he wanted explore her sweet mouth and devour it with hot kisses. She made a sighing sound and leaned into him. Lifting her arms, she cupped the back of his head and tangled her hands in his hair.
He increased the pressure of his mouth and wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling her against his hard body. Her tiny gasp let him know she'd felt what she'd done to him. He lowered his head to her neck and suckled, and when he used his tongue to explore behind her ear, she moaned and pressed herself even tighter against him, as if trying to step into him. His erection hurt and felt wonderful at the same time. He hadn't felt so alive in over a year. He splayed his hands over her small waist and squeezed. He wanted to move his grip lower and cup her buttocks, lifting her softness higher against his hardness, but he knew she wasn't ready for that. A sound startled them and they jumped away from each other.
In the next instant, Misty walked into the room rubbing her eyes and holding her doll. She said, "I'm thirsty."
Joy rushed to the cupboard for a glass and Walker turned around to adjust his clothing. He heard Joy talking to Misty and after a few deep breaths, faced them. Joy wouldn't meet his eyes.
He said, "Joy, I can drive you home now. Misty can ride with us."
She nodded, but still didn't look at him.
Unbidden, his conscience started blasting him with recriminations.