A desk clerk noticed Christie and brought her a slip of paper. It was a message from Cash: “I have an appointment in Monterey. I’ll swing by at seven. If you don’t have dinner plans, I’ll take you to the River Inn.”
The anticipation of seeing Cash sent a shiver through her. It had been a week since she’d seen him. Seven days seemed like a lifetime. She looked at her watch: he would arrive in less than two hours. Her heart began to beat faster and she felt like a teenager anticipating a first date.
In her cabin she stashed the artist’s supplies, showered, and put on clean jeans and a pullover. She still had an hour to wait. An hour! Perhaps a walk would take the edge off her nerves. She hiked down the hill and passed the lodge.
Big Sur State Park was popular with campers and hikers. A river meandered through the grounds, lush with redwoods, on its way to the ocean. Campsites were scattered beneath the trees and along the river’s edge. Smoke curled into the air, spreading appetite-enhancing scents through the forest. A squirrel begged for leftovers at a picnic table. A pair of small girls tossed bits of food on the ground and the squirrel scurried from piece to piece, quite unafraid of humans.
The walk gave Christie time to contemplate: neither artist nor photographer could fully capture the beauty of this area. Big Sur could easily become her favorite place. It encompassed dramatic surf, moody wisps of fog, and majestic redwoods. A spiritual ambiance, a renewal of soul, existed in the combination of forest and sea.
Returning to the lodge, she spotted Cash’s SUV. She quickened her step into a semijog, eager to see him. He was perched on the split-rail fence, and when he spotted her, he stood and saluted a greeting. When she reached him, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly against his chest. He tilted her chin upward and gently kissed her on the lips.
“I’ve missed you.”
His words touched her soul. “I’ve missed you, too,” she said.
They walked arm in arm to Cash’s SUV and drove a short distance to the River Inn. The restaurant was casual, the setting was as promised: the river meandered past the redwood deck. They chose an outdoor table and ordered the house specialty. They clinked their wineglasses as they toasted each other, the night, the sea, the river, and anything else that came to mind. They were happy to be together, and she felt almost giddy.
Cash reached across the table and took her hand, linking his fingers in hers. His gaze was smoldering, and his touch hot. They spoke in quiet tones, shutting out the murmurs of other diners. It was the two of them, and only the two of them, that mattered, that existed in time and space. There was magic in the atmosphere, magic in the mood, and she wished the night could go on forever.
But forever wasn’t realistic. When dinner was over, he drove her back to the lodge. With arms wrapped around each other’s waists, they walked to Christie’s cabin. Towering pines and redwoods were silhouetted against a full moon. Stars glistened in the velvety night. This was not an ordinary evening, Christie thought. She felt close to him, as if they had bridged a gap in their relationship, going from dating to something more. Something she could not quite define.
Standing on her small deck, Cash crushed her to him for a good-night kiss that was deep and explosive. All of her nerve endings seemed to burst into flames. His hand combed through her hair and cupped her head. With a firm pressure, his other hand molded her body to his, as though they were one.
He pushed her hair up, away from her face, and kissed her neck. She gasped at the pleasure the gesture evoked.
“You’ve turned my world upside down, Christie. I’m glad we met.”
Her emotions were racing, and she hardly trusted herself to speak. “I’m glad we met, too,” she whispered.
She fumbled in her purse for the key to her room. With one arm around her waist, Cash took the key from her hand and opened the door. He kissed her once more, and she responded, wishing to be in his arms forever. He took a step forward, as if to sweep her into the room with him. Her eyes flashed open. She had boundaries, and they were on the brink of crossing the line.
“I guess we’d better say good night here.” She detected a note of regret in his voice, even though he had adhered to his own hesitation. “Pleasant dreams, Christie.”
He tipped an imaginary hat, kissed her hand in a gallant manner, and strode away. She watched until the taillights on his Jeep disappeared into the night. She knew without a doubt that she would have pleasant dreams.
CHAPTER NINE
The following week went by slowly. Cash was out of town again, and Christie was at loose ends. Her calendar was clear, an unusual situation, and that meant time on her hands. Well, she couldn’t conjure up work. At least her bills were paid; she was ahead of herself financially.
She decided a jog was in order. Digging into the gym bag she kept in the office, she yanked out her exercise clothes. She locked the door and, hopping from one foot to the other, stepped into black nylon shorts. She pulled a lightweight sleeveless cotton shirt over her head and smoothed it over her hips. The temperature was perfect for a run in Golden Gate Park, a short drive away.
Ten minutes later she was on the trail, joining other joggers out for an afternoon run. A good run cleared the mind, she mused, breathing in the scent of eucalyptus. Ahead of her, a woman and dog trotted side by side. The brown-and-white sheltie’s rear wiggled in rhythm to its mistress’s pace. She wished she had a dog to accompany her, to give her a reason for committing herself to getting out more. Tosha, however, would not adjust easily to a new roommate.
Coming toward Christie, a thirtyish man trailed a rottweiler. The barrel-chested animal tugged at the leash, almost dragging its owner. Christie gave the dog a wide berth, nearly twisting her ankle in an effort to move off the path.
A trio of horseback riders urged their mounts into a canter on the bridle path. A horn blared and one horse broke rank and trotted sideways, tossing its head up and down, yanking the reins. The rider fought to control the horse and bring it back onto the path.
Christie turned into the woods, away from the road. San Francisco was a busy city, but Golden Gate Park was a country gem. Its lush redwood, cypress, and eucalyptus groves seemed a hundred miles away from the bustle of cars and buses. And cell phones. She had purposely left hers in the car, determined not to be interrupted.
It felt good to play hooky once in a while. One of the perks of being her own boss. With her luck her desk would be full of messages when she returned in the morning, but she was not going to dwell on that. The afternoon was hers and she would allow nothing to interfere.
She swiped at the perspiration that beaded on her forehead and upper lip. She slowed to hear the notes of a song sparrow, then stopped to catch her breath. She bent over and spread her fingers across her knees; her hair fell forward, swinging back and forth. She hadn’t paced herself well, had pulled out all the stops in the first twenty minutes, and now her energy was depleted.
It was a relief to spot a bench, and she dropped onto it. She draped an arm across the wood slats and watched people stroll or jog past. The sun was warm on her cheeks.
She wondered what Cash was doing right now. Probably scrambling at top speed to accomplish five things at once. He had unflagging energy. She could never keep up with him. Her thoughts turned to Margo, as they often did lately. Margo seemed to possess a fierce protectiveness toward her unborn baby that would undoubtedly carry into motherhood. The miscarriages had cost her, in a sense of previous loss and her present anxiety.