early on a weekend morning. They usually have lunch and spend the afternoon together.”
“I’ve seen your grandmother,” he said. “The elegant lady?”
Maggie nodded with a grin. “That’s her.”
“Is that where you get that Texas sound in your voice?”
“I didn’t know I had one.” Maggie frowned quizzically. “Do I?”
“A little bit—just a word here and there. I heard it when you talked to the cat.”
Maggie laughed. “They tell me I had a right proper slur until I went to school. And I’ve never even visited Texas—isn’t that strange?”
“Was your grandmother around?”
“Yes.” With a barely audible sigh, a reflexive gesture linked to any mention of her childhood, she said, “My father was stationed at Fort Carson until I was seven. My mother doesn’t have a drawl anymore, but she must have when I was a child—they’d only been in Colorado for a year or so when my parents got married.”
“Are you an army brat?”
“Yes,” she said, immediately defensive.
“I would never have guessed.”
“Is there something you look for? A mark on the forehead or something?”
Joel grinned. “I didn’t mean it like that—army kids always made me feel like the biggest hick in the world.”
“Really? Why?”
“Your living rooms had things from Germany and Europe and Okinawa.” He laughed, meeting her gaze briefly before glancing toward the cat stretching and resettling on the couch. “You all had braces when you needed them and had seen dozens of places that were just names on a map to me.”
Maggie laughed in sympathy. “And I envied the natives of whatever city we were living in with a spirit bordering on hatred. You all had friends you’d known since kindergarten, and you didn’t have to start school in a new place all the time or live with the prejudice some entire towns hold against the military.”
He lifted his coffee cup in a mock toast. “To shattered misconceptions,” he said.
Maggie grinned and touched his cup. “Did you grow up here, Joel?”
He nodded, looking into his cup. “It’s been a long time since I’ve lived here. I left to go to college and didn’t come back until eight months ago.”
“Where’d you go to school?”
“Colorado State and Cornell.”
“Cornell? Well, now,” she said with a teasing lilt to her words, “I had no idea I was in the company of such a nimble brain.”
Joel laughed—a rich, earthy sound. “I’m no smarter than the next guy. Just dedicated. Like a pit bull.”
Maggie looked at him. He was undoubtedly dedicated, but the brains were there, too.
Another still pause fell between them, a space of moments Maggie filled by letting her gaze wander around his living room. Predictably, the books on the shelves leaned toward the natural sciences, and there was a huge collection of titles on birds. But there were other books, as well—Longfellow and Wordsworth, a cross section of modern paperbacks and a handful of the kinds of books required for a college English credit.
On the walls hung a distinctive selection of framed photographs: a trio of hawks at dawn; an empty beach; a single, watering deer. They were lonely photos. She wondered silently if he had taken them.
“So, Maggie,” he said, breaking her reverie, “I was planning to go out in a little while, go up to the mountains. Would you like to come along?”
Such a straightforward invitation, she thought, biting her lip—but spending time with him wasn’t the way to overcome her crush. Even now, as he waited calmly for her answer, he exuded an astonishing level of sexual appeal. Was it his eyes? His shoulders? His wide mouth?
Joel tried to maintain a poised facade, but he felt Maggie’s intense perusal. When her pale brown eyes tangled with his, he was surprised by the sultriness in them. For a moment, he let himself meet that fire, feeling his breath fill his chest with hot pressure, but when his imagination provided him with a vision of her, tawny and
“I’ve seen your grandmother,” he said. “The elegant lady?”
Maggie nodded with a grin. “That’s her.”
“Is that where you get that Texas sound in your voice?”
“I didn’t know I had one.” Maggie frowned quizzically. “Do I?”
“A little bit—just a word here and there. I heard it when you talked to the cat.”
Maggie laughed. “They tell me I had a right proper slur until I went to school. And I’ve never even visited Texas—isn’t that strange?”
“Was your grandmother around?”
“Yes.” With a barely audible sigh, a reflexive gesture linked to any mention of her childhood, she said, “My father was stationed at Fort Carson until I was seven. My mother doesn’t have a drawl anymore, but she must have when I was a child—they’d only been in Colorado for a year or so when my parents got married.”
“Are you an army brat?”
“Yes,” she said, immediately defensive.
“I would never have guessed.”
“Is there something you look for? A mark on the forehead or something?”
Joel grinned. “I didn’t mean it like that—army kids always made me feel like the biggest hick in the world.”
“Really? Why?”
“Your living rooms had things from Germany and Europe and Okinawa.” He laughed, meeting her gaze briefly before glancing toward the cat stretching and resettling on the couch. “You all had braces when you needed them and had seen dozens of places that were just names on a map to me.”
Maggie laughed in sympathy. “And I envied the natives of whatever city we were living in with a spirit bordering on hatred. You all had friends you’d known since kindergarten, and you didn’t have to start school in a new place all the time or live with the prejudice some entire towns hold against the military.”
He lifted his coffee cup in a mock toast. “To shattered misconceptions,” he said.
Maggie grinned and touched his cup. “Did you grow up here, Joel?”
He nodded, looking into his cup. “It’s been a long time since I’ve lived here. I left to go to college and didn’t come back until eight months ago.”
“Where’d you go to school?”
“Colorado State and Cornell.”
“Cornell? Well, now,” she said with a teasing lilt to her words, “I had no idea I was in the company of such a nimble brain.”
Joel laughed—a rich, earthy sound. “I’m no smarter than the next guy. Just dedicated. Like a pit bull.”
Maggie looked at him. He was undoubtedly dedicated, but the brains were there, too.
Another still pause fell between them, a space of moments Maggie filled by letting her gaze wander around his living room. Predictably, the books on the shelves leaned toward the natural sciences, and there was a huge collection of titles on birds. But there were other books, as well—Longfellow and Wordsworth, a cross section of modern paperbacks and a handful of the kinds of books required for a college English credit.
On the walls hung a distinctive selection of framed photographs: a trio of hawks at dawn; an empty beach; a single, watering deer. They were lonely photos. She wondered silently if he had taken them.
“So, Maggie,” he said, breaking her reverie, “I was planning to go out in a little while, go up to the mountains. Would you like to come along?”
Such a straightforward invitation, she thought, biting her lip—but spending time with him wasn’t the way to overcome her crush. Even now, as he waited calmly for her answer, he exuded an astonishing level of sexual appeal. Was it his eyes? His shoulders? His wide mouth?
Joel tried to maintain a poised facade, but he felt Maggie’s intense perusal. When her pale brown eyes tangled with his, he was surprised by the sultriness in them. For a moment, he let himself meet that fire, feeling his breath fill his chest with hot pressure, but when his imagination provided him with a vision of her, tawny and
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