Mind Over Matter

falling backward. Even as her eyes widened in shock, he was tumbling with her onto the bed.
    “What the hell’s gotten into you?” she demanded as she struggled to sit up.
    “You,” he said, so simply she stopped in the act of shoving him away. “You,” he repeated, cupping the back of her neck. “I thought about you the whole time I was gone. I wanted you in Chicago. I wanted you in the airport, and thirty thousand feet up I still wanted you.”
    “You’re—this is crazy.”
    “Maybe. Maybe it is. But when I was on that plane flying back to L.A. I realized that I wanted you here, right here, alone with me for days.”
    His fingers were stroking up and down her neck, soothing. Her nerves were stretching tighter and tighter. “If you’d asked,” she began.
    “You’d have had an excuse. You might have spent the night.” His fingers inched up into her hair. “But you’d have found a reason you couldn’t stay longer.”
    “That’s not true.”
    “Isn’t it? Why haven’t you spent a weekend with me before?”
    Her fingers linked and twisted. “There’ve been reasons.”
    “Yeah.” He put his hand over hers. “And the main one is you’re afraid to spend more than a few hours at a time with me.” When she opened her mouth, he shook his head to cut her off. “Afraid if you do, I might just get too close.”
    “I’m not afraid of you. That’s ridiculous.”
    “No, I don’t think you are. I think you’re afraid of us.” He drew her closer. “So am I.”
    “David.” The word was shaky. The world was suddenly shaky. Just passion, she reminded herself again. That’s what made her head swim, her heart pound. Desire. Her arms slid up his back. It was only desire. “Let’s not think at all for a while.” She touched her lips to his and felt resistance as well as need.
    “Sooner or later we’re going to have to.”
    “No.” She kissed him again, let her tongue trace lightly over his lips. “There’s no sooner, no later.” Her breath was warm, tempting, as it fluttered over him. “There’s only now. Make love with me now, in the light.” Her hands slipped under his shirt to tease and invite.
    Her eyes were open and on his, her lips working slowly, steadily, to drive him to the edge. He swore, then pulled her to him and let the madness come.
     
    “It’s good for you.”
    “So’s calves’ liver,” A.J. said breathlessly, and paused to lean against a tree. “I avoid that, too.”
    They’d taken the path behind his house, crossed the stream and continued up. By David’s calculations they’d gone about three-quarters of a mile. He walked back to stand beside her. “Look.” He spread his arm wide. “It’s terrific, isn’t it?”
    The trees were thick and green. Birds rustled the leaves and sang for the simple pleasure of sound. Wildflowers she’d never seen before and couldn’t name pushed their way through the underbrush and battled for the patches of sunlight. It was, even to a passionately avowed city girl, a lovely sight.
    “Yes, it’s terrific. You tend to forget there’s anything like this when you’re down in L.A.”
    “That’s why I moved up here.” He put an arm around her shoulder and absently rubbed his hand up and down. “I was beginning to forget there was any place other than the fast lane.”
    “Work, parties, meetings, parties, brunch, lunch and cocktails.”
    “Yeah, something like that. Anyway, coming up here after a day in the factory keeps things in perspective. If a project bombs in the ratings, the sun’s still going to set.”
    She thought about it, leaning into him a bit as he stroked her arm. “If I blow a deal, I go home, lock the doors, put on my headset and drown my brain in Rachmaninoff.”
    “Same thing.”
    “But usually I kick something first.”
    He laughed and kissed the top of her head. “Whatever works. Wait till you see the view from the top.”
    A.J. leaned down to massage her calf. “I’ll meet you back at the house. You can draw me a picture.”
    “You need the air. Do you realize we’ve barely been out of bed for thirty-six hours?”
    “And we’ve probably logged about ten hours’ sleep.” Straightening a bit, she stretched protesting muscles. “I think I’ve had enough health and nature for the day.”
    He looked down at her. She wasn’t A. J. Fields now, in T-shirt and jeans and scuffed boots. But he still knew how to play her. “I guess I’m in better shape than you are.”
    “Like hell.” She