Jenna smiled and eclipsed the sun.

“You look great,” Gard said. “Gorgeous.”

“You’ll need to refrain from any compliments if you expect me to pay attention to work this morning,” Jenna said quietly as she got in and closed the door. “I’m serious about this research, you know.”

Gard turned the ignition key. “I know.”

Jenna slid over to the edge of the seat, wrapped her hand around Gard’s arm, and kissed the corner of her mouth. “But I had to do that first. You look pretty good yourself.”

“You ready to go to work now that we’ve taken care of the important business?” Gard said it teasingly but her heart was racing like a rabbit with a fox hard on its trail.

“Taken care of it?” Jenna laughed and settled back into her seat. “Oh, I don’t think so. Not by a long shot.”

Five hours later, Jenna climbed into the truck and moaned. “Oh my God. How far did we just walk? Ten miles?”

Grinning, Gard backed down the narrow path between the pasture fences on Warren Jones’s back ninety. “I told you to sit this one out. You didn’t need to go all the way up the hill with me.”

“I wanted to see the baby lambs.” Jenna peered down at her sneakers. What was left of her sneakers. “I need new shoes.”

“If you’re going to do any more of this kind of activity, you do.” Gard waved to Warren’s wife and kids, who were clustered on the porch, all waving vigorously.

“I’d forgotten how everyone waves,” Jenna murmured.

Gard pulled out onto the road and headed away from Little Falls toward Route 7 West into New York. “You grew up a country girl, didn’t you? It doesn’t show any longer.”

Jenna stiffened. “No, I don’t imagine it would.”

“Cassandra Hart didn’t grow up in the country, though, did she?”

“Cassandra Hart is me.”

Gard nodded. “What about Jenna Hardy? Is she you too?”

Jenna smiled wryly. “You do realize that anyone listening to this conversation would think we were crazy.”

“Probably.”

“Where are we going?”

“I thought I’d take you someplace other than Oscar’s for lunch.”

“Oh no, I can’t go to lunch. Look at me.”

“Not while I’m driving.”

“You know what I’m talking about. I’ve got dirt and…other things, all over me. I can’t—”

“You look beautiful.” Gard reached between the seats and grasped Jenna’s hand. “We aren’t going anywhere that you need to be dressed up. You look fine.”

“What about your work?”

“What about yours?” Gard shrugged. “We need to eat, right? I’m not due in the clinic until late this afternoon. And you’re trying to change the subject.”

Jenna cradled Gard’s hand in both of hers, tracing the nicks and scrapes on the back of her knuckles. She wanted to kiss each tiny cut. She wanted to kiss her, had wanted to for hours. “Your work is harder than I imagined. How is your arm?”

“Stiff. No problem, though.”

“Good.” When Gard moved her hand to the stick shift, Jenna held onto Gard’s wrist, liking the way the tendons tightened and the muscles flexed and relaxed when Gard shifted. She’d never taken such pleasure in another woman’s body before. They weren’t doing anything remotely sexual and she was becoming so aroused she was having trouble concentrating on the conversation. That was dangerous. Gard had a way of getting her to talk about things, admit things, she didn’t want to reveal. She released Gard’s arm as if that would break some deeper hold, and Gard somehow plucked her hand out of the air without ever looking away from the road. She let Gard lace their fingers together. Her stomach trembled at Gard’s silent refusal to let her go, at the way they effortlessly connected. Oh God. She was in terrible trouble.

“What are you trying to forget?” Gard asked softly.

“I thought we agreed neat and simple. Let’s not go there, all right?”

A muscle jumped at the edge of Gard’s jaw. She finally looked away from the road, her dark eyes searching Jenna’s face. “Did someone hurt you?”

The force of Gard’s question, the anger that leapt into her eyes, made Jenna’s heart stutter. For one insane instant, she wanted to tell her everything. As if somehow Gard could change it all. Take away the hurt and the fear and the disappointment. But that was foolish. No one could do that for her. She knew that. What was it she wanted, then? Just for another person to know? No. Not any person. This person. Gard.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Jenna said, nearly breathless. “It was a long time ago. You know what I mean.”

“I do.” Gard drew Jenna’s hand onto her thigh, anchoring Jenna to her. “Didn’t mean to push you.”

“I know. It’s okay.” Jenna pressed her fingertips into Gard’s leg. She was so solid. So strong. The knot that had formed in her stomach when she’d thought of Lancaster and Darlene melted away. “I had a great time this morning. Thank you.”

“Even when you stepped in the cow shit?”

“Maybe not then so much. But I loved watching you work.”

Gard laughed.

“No, really. I mean it. It’s obvious you’re good at what you do, and the farmers trust you. That must mean a lot to you.”

Gard’s shoulders tightened. “What do you mean?”

“I just meant it’s got to feel good when people appreciate what you’re doing.”

“Is that what you meant.” Gard let go of Jenna’s hand and gripped the wheel, the skin over her knuckles tightening until the scratches stood out like angry red welts.

“I don’t know what you think I was getting at, but you’re wrong,” Jenna said softly. Something had hurt Gard, and she hated not knowing what it was. She’d just told Gard they should leave the past out of their relationship, but she’d only meant they should leave her own past in the dark. She wanted to know everything about Gard. About where she grew up. About what she dreamed. About who had hurt her and why. She wanted to erase the angry pain that poured from her in waves, filling the truck’s cab with past sorrows. Cautiously, the way she’d seen Gard gentle a frightened horse just that morning, she rested her fingertips on Gard’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Gard’s voice was so tight it sounded like a branch cracking under the weight of winter ice.

“I’m sorry for whatever hurt you. And for reminding you of it.”

Gard exhaled in a rush. “My history is not your problem.”

“Fair enough.” Jenna rubbed Gard’s shoulder, then leaned closer so she could massage the back of her neck. The muscles quivered beneath her fingers. “Do you think we could stop—”

“You want to cancel lunch?”

Jenna spread her fingers through Gard’s hair, then tugged a little. “No. I want to buy a new pair of shoes. I’m not eating when my feet are this muddy.”

Gard glanced at her, her lips pressed down on a smile that finally erupted as she laughed. “Shoes. Where are we going to get you shoes out here?”

“I’m sure there must be somewhere people buy shoes.”

“There is. Hold on.” Gard put her blinker on and swerved into a gravel parking lot in front of a long metal-sided building that looked like a gas station on steroids. A big white sign with green letters announced Agway.

“Oh no,” Jenna said. “I’m not buying farmer boots.”

“They’ll be better for you the next time you’re out on a call with me.”

The next time. Would there be a next time? She hoped so. She looked at Gard and, foolish as it was, hoped for a lot more than that.

Chapter Nineteen

“Don’t look,” Jenna said, crouching with her back to the truck in the rear corner of the Agway parking lot, the passenger side door open to block her from view of anyone driving in. “Am I clear?”

Gard swiveled behind the wheel and checked out the back to make sure no one was watching them. “You’re good to go.”

Jenna unzipped her pants. “I can feel you looking.”

“I have my eyes closed, but the cows up on the hill probably have a terrific view.”

“Liar. Get my new jeans out of that bag and hand them to me, would you?”

Gard rustled through the shopping bags on the floor, pulled out the new Levi’s, and quickly removed the labels. “Here you go.”

Jenna half turned and her eyes met Gard’s. “I knew you were looking.”

“You’ve got a really cute ass.” Gard’s throat went dry as Jenna’s smile flickered between amused and inviting. She did have a great ass, round and tight and just the right shape to fit into her hands. She remembered cradling Jenna’s butt while they were kissing in the kitchen and imagined Jenna naked on top of her, smooth muscles flexing under her fingers, hot slick skin sliding over hers. “Put your pants on.”

“That’s not what you were thinking.”

Jenna’s eyes had gotten hazy and her lips seemed to swell, as if readying for Gard’s mouth. Gard twitched as if someone had poked her with a cattle prod. When she groaned softly, Jenna laughed a satisfied laugh.

“Cut it out,” Gard said through gritted teeth.

“Or what?” Jenna stepped into the pants and took her time pulling them up, her brazen expression daring Gard to look, to touch, to take.

“If you don’t cut it out, you’re going to get a lot more than a new set of clothes at the Agway.”

“Is that right?” Jenna laughed and hopped up onto the seat, her feet clad only in her socks, and dug around in the bags. She came out with the new boots. “And what would that be, exactly?”

While Jenna was busy with the laces on the new shitkickers, Gard took advantage of her distraction and slipped an arm behind her shoulders. She leaned over the gearshift and kissed Jenna on the neck.

Jenna jumped. “Gard!”

Gard caught Jenna’s head with a hand on her neck and took her mouth in a hard kiss. Jenna’s lips parted, warm and welcoming, and Gard deepened the kiss. Then Jenna’s fingers were in her hair and Jenna’s breasts were pressed to her chest and their tongues were searching, delving, demanding. Jenna hadn’t zipped her jeans and when Gard reached around her to hold her more tightly, her fingers grazed bare skin and the top of silk panties and Jenna jerked away.

“We’ll get arrested,” Jenna gasped, her pupils huge and deep as night. “One more second of kissing you like that and I’m going to have to have you inside me.”

Gard’s chest exploded as if she’d been shot. “Jesus Christ, Jenna.”

“Don’t tell me you can’t tell.”

“I can’t even think when all my blood and half my brains are headed between my legs.” Gard heaved herself back into her seat and scanned out the window. No one around. She rubbed both hands over her face. Her mind was mush and all she wanted was to touch her again—good sense, consequences, and lookie-loos be damned. “You’re making me nuts.”

“Stay over there while I put these damn boots on.” Jenna jammed her feet into the ankle-high work boots, quickly laced them up, and jumped out of the truck. She pushed the tails of her pale yellow cotton shirt into her jeans, zipped and buttoned them. “Safe now.”

Gard rolled her head on the seat and studied her. Her cheeks and neck were flushed, her eyes bright, her lips swollen. She let her gaze drop lower. The faint outline of Jenna’s nipples, hard and round, pressed outward beneath her shirt. Jenna’s breathing grew faster the longer Gard looked. “You’re a long way from safe. You like teasing me, don’t you?”

Jenna rested her arms on the roof of the truck cab and leaned in, her crotch riding against the seat, her breasts pushing forward. She rocked her hips back and forth. “I haven’t even started to tease you yet.”

“Get in the truck.”

“In a hurry for lunch?”

“If you keep it up, we’re gonna have to get takeout.” Gard gripped the steering wheel in both hands. “There’s no way I can sit across from you in a restaurant without everybody knowing exactly what I’m thinking. And what I’m thinking is private.”

“Is that right.” Jenna got in, closed the door, and put her hand on Gard’s thigh. She dragged her nails along the seam inside Gard’s thigh, up and down, up and down, until Gard’s hips lifted off the seat. “Then let’s have a picnic.”

“Where are we exactly?” Jenna peered out at the small turnaround where Gard parked. The road ended in a rutted trail narrowed by creeping undergrowth at the base of a mountainside thick with evergreens.

“Right on the Vermont–New York border.” Gard cut the engine and came around to Jenna’s door. “Go ahead and pass me the food. There’s a blanket behind your seat too.”

Jenna handed out two bags filled with sandwiches, takeout containers of coleslaw and rice pudding, a nice bottle of white wine, and a faded olive-green blanket. They’d stopped at a little place in a strip mall incongruously called the Epicurean Café, and it had lived up to its name. According to the newspaper reviews tacked up inside, the owner, a well-known French chef, had wanted out of the rat race of competitive big-city restaurants and had retired to the countryside, where he still cooked as if he were in a five-star establishment.