To Seduce a Rogue by Tracy Sumner Page A

detected the gentle lap-splash against the bank before she saw it. Dropping to her knees by the creek’s edge, she splashed her face. Moisture seeped through her dress, but she was too hot to care. She leaned back on her elbows and extended her legs, dangling her feet in the water. A hawk swooped and dove into the trees.
    She rolled her head back, stretching her neck until the crown of her head brushed the ground. Oh, it felt good. Even if someone did stop by, they would never know where to find her.
    Too bad I wasn’t hiding yesterday .
    Oh, Tom . She bit her lip, holding back a smile. At least she hadn’t had trousers on.
    Truly, she couldn’t figure out why he insisted on pursuing her. Didn’t he see they were a mismatched pair?
    He was a good man, yes, invariably.
    She knew this...and she still wasn’t interested the way he seemed to be interested. The way she would need to be interested to marry. There were too many things missing.
    Eyes the color of burnt chestnuts. A pair of irresistible dimples. Dark hair that showed auburn highlights when the sun hit it just so.
    How had he reacted to the sight of her in trousers? With a subtle show of male appreciation and implied respect, that was how.
    Her grin shriveled. Oh, her week had been full of Adam Chase.
    They worked at the newspaper every day, writing, deliberating, proofreading—long after Gerald left. Despite Chase’s objections, she stayed late each night. She didn’t want to tell him—it had been hard enough to admit it to herself—that the work was more stimulating than ever.
    It was hard not to get excited about a project when you worked with him. He was ambitious and energetic, and painstakingly demanding, a firm believer that every story could be a bit better.
    He was a good editor, encouraging her to write using her own style. All the while, he calmly observed, in a way that was neither intimidating nor autocratic. It was a challenge to write a piece and have him dissect it. He could review an editorial she had worked on for days—one as flat and lifeless as a pancake—and instantly spot the missing element. It was almost as if he climbed into her mind and helped her redirect her thoughts to paper.
    He walked her home each night, her lunch basket a silent chaperone between them, a deserted road and bright moonlight their only companions.
    She had never had anyone to really talk to, except her father and the Lamberts. She and Chase discussed everything: life, philosophy, religion, politics, trade, agriculture.
    Everything but love and misfortune.
    Chase described his home in Richmond and the newspaper there, his travels to Europe and the west, even a little of the summers he spent along the Virginia coast as a boy—rare descriptions of his mother cropping up between the high dunes and blue sea. Personal subjects seemed forbidden fruit.
    Often, they didn’t discuss anything at all.
    She closed her eyes. Sunlight scattered by tree limbs danced across her lids. As much as she wanted to deny it, Adam Chase intrigued her.
    More than that: they shared something. Something she had never shared with another person in her life.
    She only wished she knew what that something was.
    * * *
    “Miles!”
    Miles leaned his ax against a maple tree and waved in greeting. “Adam, hello.”
    Adam slid from the saddle.
    “So, this is Taber.” Miles nodded approvingly. “Landsakes, what a beautiful beast.”
    Adam grinned. “He’s a damn fine beauty, is he not? We haven’t even begun to stretch his legs.” He pushed his hat back and flexed his shoulders. “Do you know this is the first day this week I’ve had a chance to ride?”
    “How about a drink to cool you off? Do you have a little time?” Miles hitched his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the farmhouse behind him.
    Adam shrugged. “Depends on the drink.”
    Miles clapped him on the shoulder. “I think I have one that’ll convince you.”
    They laughed and climbed the porch steps, entering the