wondered what it would be like to have them touch her body, feeling all of her,
lingering slowly across her skin. Just thinking about it made her take a deep breath,
and she felt her nipples begin to tingle and a new warmth between her legs.
She realized then that something had changed since she'd come here. And although
she couldn't pinpoint the exact time‐‐yesterday after dinner, or this afternoon in
the canoe, or when they saw the swans, or maybe even now as they walked holding
hands‐‐she knew that she had fallen in love with Noah Taylor Calhoun again, and
that maybe, just maybe, she had never stopped.
There was no uneasiness between them as they reached the door and both of them
went inside, pausing in the foyer, clothes dripping.
"Did you bring a change of clothes?"
She shook her head, still feeling the roll of emotions within her, wondering if it
showed on her face.
"I think I can find something here for you so you can get out of those clothes. It
might be a little big, but it's warm."
"Anything," she said.
"I'll be back in a second."
Noah slipped off his boots, then ran up the stairs, descending a minute later.
He had a pair of cotton pants and a long‐sleeved shirt under one arm and some
jeans with a blue shirt in the other.
"Here," he said, handing her the cotton pants and shirt.
"You can change in the bedroom upstairs. There's a bathroom and towel up there
too if you want to shower."
She thanked him with a smile and went up the stairs, feeling his eyes on her as she
walked. She entered the bedroom and closed the door, then set the pants and shirt
on his bed and peeled everything off. Naked, she went to his closet and found a
hanger, put her dress, bra, and panties on it, and then went to hang it in the
bathroom so it wouldn't drip on the hardwood floor. She felt a secret thrill at being
naked in the same room he slept in.
She didn't want to shower after being in the rain. She liked the soft feeling on
her skin, and it reminded her of how people used to live long ago. Naturally. Like
Noah. She slipped on his clothes before looking at herself in the mirror. The pants
were big, but tucking in the shirt helped, and she rolled up the bottoms just a little
so they wouldn't drag. The neck was torn a little and it nearly hung off one
shoulder, but she liked the way it looked on her anyway. She pulled the sleeves up
almost to the elbows, went to the bureau, and slipped on some socks, then went to
the bathroom to find a hairbrush.
She brushed her wet hair just enough to get out the snarls, letting it rest on her
shoulders. Looking in the mirror, she wished she had brought a clasp or a couple of
hairpins. And a little more mascara. But what could she do? Her eyes still had a little
of what she'd put on earlier, and she touched up with a washcloth, doing the best
she could.
When she was finished, she checked herself in the mirror, feeling pretty despite
everything, and went back down the stairs.
Noah was in the living room squatting before a fire, doing his best to coax it to
life. He didn't see her come in, and she watched him as he worked. He had changed
his clothes as well and looked good: his shoulders broad, wet hair hanging just over
his collar, jeans tight.
He poked the fire, moving the logs, and added some more kindling. Allie leaned
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