She relaxed into a moment of stillness. And with it, the stirring in the pit of her stomach she had squelched with almost constant activity, surged. A liquid warmth rose within, threatening to engulf her completely. She braced against the tide, but with a sigh, she surrendered. Longing, pure and simple, coursed through her body like sap to the sycamore’s tiniest twigs. The sensation pulled at her insides, parting her lips until she almost tasted it. She desired…someone, and she desired him deeply. Splinters dug into her shoulder blades, and pain mingled with the breeze’s soft kiss on damp skin. The rustling of full summer leaves tickled at her ears. “Tomorrow…tomorrow…tomorrow…”

****

Minutes before noon on Thursday, Tessa turned onto the farm lane too fast, and the heavy gardening gloves she wore to prune roses slid across the dashboard. Lunging, she snagged them and tucked them beneath a denim-clad thigh. Despite stifling heat, she wore jeans.

The seatbelt dug into her neck, and she pulled it slack. She hadn’t seen Jonas since the big blowup with Nora and his icy farewell. How would he act today? Moreover, how would she feel? Bolting without saying goodbye was downright rude. But then he left a message. His voice, nervous and sweet, moved over her towel-clad skin like warm mist. Her brittle annoyance softened into a mixture of curiosity and compassion and something else, too. She closed a mental door on what that something else might be. After all, she had an unofficial boyfriend in San Francisco.

She rounded the bend, and the farmhouse came into view, brilliant white clapboards flashing through the trees.

Balancing a piece of rough-hewn lumber atop one shoulder, Jonas strode across the lawn. He lowered it onto a neat pile, and the muscles in his back strained against a sweat-darkened shirt.

A current of last night’s longing swirled in her belly. How could she hold a grudge against a man who looked like that? She snatched her gloves and swung out of the van.

Turning, he caught her gaze and broke into a slow smile. “You got my message. I’m glad.”

Not a sliver of ice glinted in those blue-lagoon eyes. The guarded stranger was gone, replaced by a man who was simultaneously familiar as a childhood friend and breathtaking as a movie star. Everything about this guy scrambled her insides. “How did you get my phone number?”

A brown boot landed atop the lumber, and he rested his forearms on his knee. “The telephone book.”

The phone company still published telephone books? “But where did you…you know…” She gestured weakly toward the house. “Make the call?”

One corner of his mouth twitched. “The community shares a telephone. It’s in a shanty about a mile away. In case of emergencies.”

She plunked one hand on her hip and raised a brow. “Emergencies?”