played several popular Fleetwood Mac songs and then “Landslide.” A number of the circle sang along until gradually their voices dropped away and only Julia was left. Her voice was smooth and clear as she sang about seasons and changes and reflections in the snow-covered hills. Adam looked at her until the ache in his throat was too much and then he closed his eyes and swallowed hard, unable to stop wanting this to go on forever—Julia’s sweet voice, the strumming guitar, the riveting contrast of cool night and hot flame. And, for once, no restlessness rankling inside him.
Eventually the song ended with a smattering of applause, signaling the end of the evening. The group began to break up. Julia blinked and tucked the stray strand behind her ear again, hesitating for a moment before hopping to her feet. She stuck out her hand to Adam. “Come with me. I have something to show you. And if you’re very good, I’ll even let you have it.”
HE’D INSISTED on taking her in his Jeep. The practical side of her kept pointing out that it would have made more sense for her to lead in her own car, but when did Adam Brody ever listen to sense? To his senses, sure, all the time. But to sense—common sense? Average people didn’t throw themselves off cliffs and out of airplanes in their spare time.
His mother used to say, wringing her hands over his most recent white-water or skydiving adventure, “That boy spent all his common cents years ago.” Whereas Julia had always counted her piggy-bank savings down to the exact penny, knowing in advance exactly where and on what she would spend them, practical soul that she was.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Adam said, following her directions to veer off the highway onto a newly paved road that led to the other side of Mirror Lake.
She laughed at the coincidence. “I was thinking that I probably shouldn’t bring you here. Your mom won’t like it. She wants you home to stay.”
“I’m never home to stay.”
“True.” Julia clutched the door handle, her stomach flip-flopping. Adam wouldn’t stay, no matter what. All she could hope was to prolong his visit by making it slightly more comfortable. “I hear your house is overrun with relatives.”
“Don’t remind me.” Adam whipped the Jeep around a tight turn. The road curved sharply through the thick forest before the vista opened to a cleared section overlooking the eastern end of the lake. He slowed the vehicle drastically at the sight of raw land. “What happened here?”
“It’s a new development.” She indicated the large, flagged sign that announced the project. Evergreen Point, Coming Soon.
She hadn’t counted on the look of devastation on Adam’s face. “I used to camp in these woods,” he said. The Jeep crawled along one of the new roads that wound past rows of homes under construction. Other areas were marked with surveyor’s stakes. “Jeez.”
“I thought you might need a place away from the Brody crowds.”
He looked askance. “You’re trying to sell me a house?”
“No! Of course not. But I am the listing agent for this development. I have keys to the model home.” A bad idea, she thought. He’d sooner pitch a tent in a mall parking lot. “If you wanted to use it,” she said haltingly. “Just to, you know, get away….”
Julia stopped and took a breath. What was wrong with her? She was unflappable; everyone said so.
Adam touched the brakes and turned to look at her. “What are you saying?”
“I’m offering you the use of the model home. At night. You’d have to clear out during working hours. There’s lots of construction going on, and I have clients to show through the house.”
“Sneaky,” he said, raising his brows. “This isn’t like the Goldie I remember. She always followed the rules.”
Heat crawled up Julia’s throat. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”
“Guess not. Skydiving, rock climbing, housebreaking. What’s next?”
“This is a straight-up swap. I give you a place to stay, you give me rock-climbing lessons.” She unsnapped her seat belt, eager to get away from his open curiosity. “Are you interested? Shall we take a look?”
“Why not?”
“You might even like it.” He followed her through the most advanced section of the development. Even so, it was like a ghost town—gaping windows, bare bones of new walls, utter silence.
Beyond the lots, the lake glistened, black onyx dappled with silver moonlight. She might have been wrong about the house, but Julia was certain that the desolation would appeal to Adam.
The model home was one of several that were finished, the only one furnished and decorated. It was a large house with a two-story entry and living room. The vast proportions should appeal, as well—Adam could never live in a box.
She took the keys from her purse as they followed the newly laid herringbone brick walk to the front door. “Solid construction,” she said, letting them inside. “Good design. Built to stock plans, but the builders hired Zack to modify the blueprints so each house will be unique.”
“No need to sell me.” Adam’s glance skated across the plush furnishings and went straight to the clerestory windows. Tiny stars dotted the strip of visible sky.
“Sorry. Automatic response.” Regret gripped her. Suddenly it was clear-cut. This wasn’t Adam’s kind of place. “You hate it, don’t you?”
He eyed the pristine decor, the sparkling whiteness of the walls. “It’s straight from the pages of a glossy magazine. I’d be afraid of messing things up.”
“Ha. I know you. You wouldn’t leave a crumb.” He might be reckless with his life, but he was surgically precise in his mode of living. Even tonight, at the bonfire, he’d been the last to leave, tending to the fire pit and sweeping the area free of debris. She’d always thought he was like a night creature lurking in the woods—silent and swift, leaving nary a broken twig or an overturned leaf behind as he passed by. Not one sign that he’d been there.
Except for me, she thought. Inside me. She’d always remember.
“It’s just a place to sleep,” she said, surprised at the roughness of her voice. “You don’t have to like it.”
“Thanks for the offer, but it gives me the creeps.” He walked out the open door without looking back.
“You didn’t even go upstairs. There’s a cupola.” She hurried after him. “You like heights, don’t you? You could bunk down in the cupola. There’s a great view of the lake from up there.”
He turned and scanned the roof. “It’s all glassed in.” Playfully, he put his hands around his neck to simulate choking. “Ever read The Bell Jar?”
Not a joke, although he acted as if it were. At times she wondered if he was claustrophobic. He disliked the indoors more than anyone this side of a South Seas islander, which was why the months after his accident must have been a living hell as much for the confinement as for the threat of paraplegia.
“I suppose you can go back to your parents’ house,” she commented, light as air. “Who’s sharing your bedroom again?”
After
