Sunrise Point

first of their seasonal workers to arrive as usual; she came to his office to tell him good morning and he came around from behind his desk to stand before her. He took her hands in his, looked into those golden brown eyes and said, “I’ve been thinking. We’d better be careful. We shouldn’t get too involved, too quickly.”
    She tilted her head and drew her brows together. “Explain why you have such a giant smile on your face when you say that.”
    “I had a good time on Saturday. Friday and Saturday. But we’re adults, you have a family to think about and I have a lot of responsibility. Let’s not be foolish. If there’s a little attraction between us, no reason we can’t enjoy that for just what it is. But we don’t want to fall headlong into anything real complicated. We’re going to have to keep it friendly. Light. You know.”
    “Is this your idea of a ‘no strings attached’ proposal?”
    “I’m just saying—I don’t see friendship, even a close friendship, getting in the way of us each managing the lives we have to manage. If we let it get too deep, too fast we could regret it. We don’t want complications. Or heartbreak.”
    She smiled at him. “Oh, you’re right. We wouldn’t want that.”
    “You understand, then?” he asked. “That we don’t have to take this too seriously? The fact that we seem to get along so well?”
    “Perfectly.”
    “And around here—we should be professional. Set an example. You know.”
    “Of course,” she said. Then she waited. “Is that all?”
    “I think so, yes.”
    “Then I’ll get going—those apples won’t pick themselves.”
    He gave a nod.
    “I’ll need the hands,” she said, pulling her hands out of his.
    And he immediately dropped his hands to his sides. “Right.”
    She was chuckling as she left his office. Well, he thought, she could laugh it off if she wanted to, but he felt much better, having said his piece. He probably should have added that he wasn’t in love and wasn’t going to be, but then it was easier to think she’d figure that out in no time.
    The problem with his theory hit at about eleven in the morning. Junior was on the press, Jerome had offered to deliver apples to some of their local groceries, Juan and Eduardo were picking on the other side of the orchard… . And Tom found Nora. She was on a ladder, up very high, her bag holding only a few apples and not yet heavy. He climbed the tripod ladder until he was standing on the step right under the one upon which she stood so that they were face-to-face, at least partially concealed by the branches of one of the oldest, thickest of trees.
    He touched her lips once, twice, then slipped his arm around her waist, pulled her against him and covered her mouth in a deep, wet kiss that lasted for over a minute.
    “Whew,” she said. “Is this your way of keeping things light?”
    “How do you like it so far?”
    She touched his face with her fingertips. “I like the way you kiss—a couple of test kisses, then a huge kiss. I have only one problem—my imagination.”
    “Huh?”
    “If that’s your version of light and playful, I’m a little curious about what happens when you are serious.”
    “But we’re not going there,” he said. “We agreed.”
    “Fine. Okay.”
    So he did it again, kissed her like a starving man, kissed her until she couldn’t catch her breath. And again, and again, holding her tight against him.
    “You’re going to make cider out of these apples in my bag,” she said.
    Just once more, he told himself, kissing her again. But since this was going to be the last one for a good long time, he made it a very long kiss. He stopped when he started to get aroused.
    He lectured himself for a while on how only a fool would allow himself that kind of contact with a woman he wanted to keep at arm’s length. So—that was pleasant, he thought. And now it will officially stop. No more playing around; no more five-minute kisses in the apples.
    And at two o’clock in the afternoon he found her in the orchard, slid that heavy bag full of apples off her shoulders, spun her around the thick trunk of a tree and kissed the breath out of her. Over and over.
    When he let her breathe, she laughed. “I know you want me to understand that this is not passion or desire, but just friendship, but I have to be honest—I’m having a little trouble with the concept. You are very distracting.”
    “So are you,” he accused. “I’m not really doing