The Welcoming

business suit and sensible shoes, have my own office and quietly go out of my mind.” She dug into her bag for her sunglasses. “You should understand that. You have good hands and a sharp mind. Why aren’t you head carpenter for some big construction firm?”
    “Maybe when the time came I made the wrong choices.”
    With her head tilted, she studied him, her eyes narrowed and thoughtful behind the tinted lenses. “No, I don’t think so. Not for you.”
    “You don’t know enough about me, Charity.”
    “Of course I do. I’ve lived with you for a week. That probably compares with knowing someone on a casual basis for six months. I know you’re very intense and internal. You have a wicked temper that you seldom lose. You’re an excellent carpenter who likes to finish the job he starts. You can be gallant with little old ladies.” She laughed a little and turned her face into the wind. “You like your coffee black, you’re not afraid of hard work . . . and you’re a wonderful lover.”
    “And that’s enough for you?”
    She lifted her shoulders. “I don’t imagine you know too much more about me. I’m starving,” she said abruptly. “Do you want to eat?”
    “Pick a spot.”
    “Head over that way,” she told him. “See that little jut of land? We can anchor the boat there.”
    The land she’d indicated was hardly more than a jumble of big, smooth rocks that fell into the water. As they neared it he could see a narrow stretch of sand crowded by trees. Cutting back the engine, he maneuvered toward the beach, Charity guiding him in with hand signals. As the current lapped at the sides of the boat, she pulled off her shoes and began to roll up her jeans.
    “You’ll have to give me a hand.” As she said it she plunged into the knee-high water. “God, it’s cold!” Then she was laughing and securing the line. “Come on.”
    The water was icy on his bare calves. Together they pulled the boat up onto a narrow spit of sand.
    “I don’t suppose you brought a blanket.”
    He reached into the boat and took out the faded red blanket Mae had given him. “This do?”
    “Great. Grab the basket.” She splashed through the shallows and onto the shore. After spreading the blanket at the base of the sheltering rocks she rolled down the damp legs of her jeans. “Lori and I used to come here when we were kids. To eat peanut butter sandwiches and talk about boys.” Kneeling on the blanket, she looked around.
    There were pines at her back, deep and green and thick all the way up the slope. A few feet away the water frothed at the rock, which had been worn smooth by wind and time. A single boat cruised in the distance, its sails full and white.
    “It hasn’t changed much.” Smiling, she reached for the basket. “I guess the best things don’t.” She threw back the top and spotted a bottle of champagne. “Well.” With a brow arched, she pulled it out. “Apparently we’re going to have some picnic.”
    “Mae said you liked the French stuff.”
    “I do. I’ve never had champagne on a picnic.”
    “Then it’s time you did.” He took the bottle and walked back to dunk it in the water, screwing it down in the wet sand. “We’ll let it chill a little more.” He came back to her, taking her hand before she could explore deeper in the basket. He knelt. When they were thigh to thigh, he gathered her close and closed his mouth over hers.
    Her quiet sound of pleasure came first, followed by a gasp as he took the kiss deeper. Her arms came around him, then slid up until her hands gripped his shoulders. Desire was like a flood, rising fast to drag her under.
    He needed . . . needed to hold her close like this, to taste the heat of passion on his lips, to feel her heart thud against him. He dragged his hands through her hair, impatiently tugging it free of the braid. All the while his mouth ravaged hers, gentleness forgotten.
    There was a restlessness in him, and an anger that she couldn’t understand. Responding to both, she pressed against him, unhesitatingly offering whatever he needed. Perhaps it would be enough. Slowly his mouth gentled. Then he was only holding her.
    “That’s a very nice way to start a picnic,” Charity managed when she found her voice again.
    “I can’t seem to get enough of you.”
    “That’s okay. I don’t mind.”
    He drew away to frame her face in his hands. The crystal drops at her ears swung and shot out light. But her eyes were calm and deep and full of