sound he hadn’t heard for six years. He pulled her close and rocked her in his arms in the old, familiar, brotherly way.
She stiffened, and he realized what he had done. His hips, with the hard bulge in front, were pressed tight against hers. There was no way she could mistake his condition.
“Damn, Jewel,” he said, backing away from her, putting her at arm’s length and gripping her hands tightly in his.
He smiled, but she didn’t smile back.
When she pulled free, he let her go. “We can still talk,” he said, wanting her to stay, wanting to confess the truth to her. She was still his best friend. But somehow things had changed. He couldn’t tell her everything, not the most private things. Not anymore.
Maybe he had been wrong to expect her to confide in him. Maybe she felt the same awkwardness he did, the distance that had never been there before. A distance he had put there, because he saw her not just as a friend, but as a woman he wanted to kiss and touch.
“I’m going to bed, Mac.”
“Will you walk with me tomorrow?”
“I don’t think—”
“Please, Jewel. You’re my best friend. I’d really like the company.”
She hesitated so long, he thought she was going to refuse. “All right, Mac. I suppose I owe you that much.” She turned and left without another word.
He waited until her bedroom door closed before he moved, afraid that if he did, he would go after her.
He wondered what had been troubling her. He wondered what she would have done if he had lowered his head and sucked on her breasts through the thin cotton. Blood pulsed through his rock-hard body, and he swore under his breath.
Mac went to bed, but he didn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, troubled by vivid erotic fantasies of himself and Jewel Whitelaw. Their legs entangled, their bodies entwined, his tongue deep in her mouth, his shaft deep inside her. She was calling to him, calling his name.
Mac awoke tangled in the sheets, his body hot, hard and ready, his heart racing. And all alone.
He heard Jewel calling from outside the door. “Mac. Are you awake?” She knocked twice quietly. “It’s time to walk.”
Mac groaned. “I’ll be with you in a minute.” As soon as he was decent.
From the look of Jewel at the breakfast table, she hadn’t slept any better than he had. She was wearing something even less attractive than the sweatshirt and cutoffs she had worn previously. It didn’t matter. He saw her naked.
Mac shook his head to clear it. The vision of her breasts, large and luscious as peaches, and her long, slim legs wrapped around his waist, remained as vivid as ever.
“Are you all right?” Jewel asked.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
She chattered the whole way to the canyon, but he would have been hard-pressed to remember a word of what she had said or his own responses.
Everything was different. Something was missing. And something had been added.
He wanted their old relationship back. He was determined to quench any desire he might feel for her, so things could get back to an even footing. He figured the best way to start was to bring the subject out into the open and deal with it. On the walk back to the house, he did.
“About what happened last night…It shouldn’t have happened.” His comment was vague, but he knew she understood exactly what he meant when pink roses blossomed on her cheekbones.
She shrugged. “I was just a woman in a skimpy nightgown.”
“Jewel, I—”
She stopped and turned to him, looking into his eyes, her gaze earnest. “Please, Mac. Can we pretend it never happened?”
He gave a relieved sigh. “That’s exactly what I’d like to do. It was an accident. I never intended for it to happen. I wish I could promise it won’t happen again, but—” He shot her a chagrined look. “I’ll be sure you’re never embarrassed again. Am I forgiven?”
“There’s no need—”
“Just say yes,” he said.
“Yes.”
She turned abruptly and started walking again, and he followed after her.
“I’m glad that’s over with,” he said. “I can’t afford to lose a friend as good as you, Jewel.”
“And I can’t afford to lose a friend like you, Mac.”
Jewel’s eyes were as brown and sad as a motherless calf. Mac wished she had told him why she was crying last night. He wished she had let him comfort her. If she ever gave him another chance, he was going to do it right. He wasn’t going to let his hormones get in the way of their friendship.
When they got back to the house, she hurried up the back steps ahead of him. “I get the shower first!”
“We could always share,” he teased. He could have bitten his tongue out. That sort of sexual innuendo had to cease.
To his relief, Jewel gave him a wide smile and said, “In your dreams, Mac! I’ll try to save you a little hot water.”
Then she was gone.
Mac settled on the back stoop and rubbed the calf muscles of his injured leg. It was getting easier to walk. Practice was helping. And it would get easier to treat Jewel as merely a friend. All he had needed was a little more practice at that, too.
AFTER HE HAD SHOWERED, MAC MADE a point of seeking Jewel out, determined to work on reestablishing their friendship. He found her in the barn, cleaning stalls and shoveling in new hay for the dozen or so ponies Camp LittleHawk kept available for horseback rides. “Can I help?” he said.
“There’s another pitchfork over by the door. Be my guest.”
Mac noticed she didn’t even look up from her work. Not a very promising sign. He grabbed the pitchfork and went to work in the stall next to the one she was working in. “I thought your mom usually hired someone to do this kind of heavy labor.”
“I don’t have anything better to do with my time,” Jewel said.
“Why not?” Mac asked. “Pretty girl like you ought to be out enjoying herself.”
Jewel stuck her pitchfork into the hay and turned to stare at him. “I enjoy my work.”
“I’m sure you do,” he said, throwing a pitchfork of manure into the nearby wheelbarrow. “But there’s a time for work and a time for play. I don’t see you doing enough playing.”
“I’m a grown-up woman, Mac. Playing is for kids.”
“You’re never too old to play, Jewel.” Mac filled his pitchfork with clean straw
