Carrie Alexander - Risky Moves

He blew out a big breath. “I’m deceptively wiry.”

They propped themselves on their elbows. She looked warily around the framed but not enclosed cupola. It was like being in an open-air cage perched high among the treetops. Although the roof was on, she could see the stars between the studs of the open walls. “How will we get down?”

“Going down is always easier than getting up.”

“Not when you’re a trapeze artist.” She peered over the edge, then past the slope of the roof to the hard bare ground. It was a long drop. “No safety net, either.”

With a concentrated look on his face, Adam got slowly to his feet. “Risks don’t come with safety nets, Goldie. Quit worrying and get up to admire the view.” His hand went around her elbow as he helped her stand. She swore she felt each one of his fingertips press hotly into her flesh right through her thick sweater, as if the half-inch of wool was no more than a wisp of silk. Then his arm wound around her, setting her waist afire. Her hairline began to perspire. The stars danced in the sky. For a few wonderful moments, she remembered what it had been like to have his hands on her—everywhere.

Casually, he took his arm away. But she saw how he gripped the raw wood sash, his eyes aimed at the view of Mirror Lake.

The wind caught her hair. She smoothed it, licking her parched lips. “Well. This is pretty nice.”

“Worth risking your life?”

“I’m not saying that.”

“Then why the hell do you want to scale a mountain or jump out of a plane?”

Julia felt as though all her acceptable notions were in upheaval, crashing and colliding inside her head like tectonic plates, made even more tumultuous by Adam’s presence. She’d said she wanted change. But change equaled Adam, and Adam equaled heartache, because she knew, she just knew that he would leave. It was what had always stopped her before, the idea of being left in Quimby with a whole lot of pleasant nothingness stretched before her. Nothing but memories.

“Because I…” She filled her lungs with the sweet night air, her gaze glued to the far shore, where the glistening blue-black of the lake met the dense green-black of the trees. It was a conundrum. Did she want nothing but memories, or memories of nothing?

Just jump, she thought, and so she did.

“Because, aside from the physical challenge, I want you—” A metaphorical wind whistled past her ears. “I want to be with you and see if we—if we—” Here comes the thud. “If we might still have feelings for each other.”

A deep silence encased her, hollow as a well, stifling as a bell jar.

Julia’s instincts for self-preservation screamed inside her head. Adam had probably dared her up to the cupola to show her that she was not capable of feats of derring-do. But he’d miscalculated. She’d done it, and now she was taking another flying leap, risking more than a hard landing.

Broken bones heal, you goose. Hearts don’t—not as easily.

She remembered Cathy saying that the Brody spell lasted a long time. It was true. Julia had been wanting to try again with Adam ever since her eighteenth birthday—the night they didn’t talk about because to do so would be to acknowledge a major betrayal of trust.

It had been ten years. Long years. Other than the aberration of his involvement with Laurel, Adam’s asceticism had been known to reach monklike proportions. Julia had tried to be as disciplined, but she wasn’t. She was human and frail and filled with yearnings for what she couldn’t forget.

The terrible silence continued.

She looked at Adam crosswise. His hard-edged profile was inscrutable.

He’s all bone, she thought. Bone and sinew and tough muscle. No softness at all…or is there? Buried deep beneath the bravado and the austerity and the iron will, was there maybe a soft spot for her? The tiniest bit of tenderness?

She thought there might be. Was counting on it, in fact.

All I want is a safe place to land, she told herself.

Which was such a lie, but a lie she’d better darn well stick to.

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