“No, no. Wine’s fine.” He sipped it, then cocked his head. “It suits you. I can’t imagine your drinking beer.”
“Why not?”
He propped himself on an elbow and crossed his legs at the ankle. Then he looked at her, studying her intently. Finally, he reached for a thick ham sandwich. “You’re more delicate than beer,” he said, his eyes focusing nowhere in particular.
“If that’s a compliment, I thank you,” she said, making great efforts—and succeeding overall—to hide her glee. She helped herself to a sandwich and leaned back against a tree. “This is nice. Very quiet. Peaceful.”
“You like peaceful places?”
“Not all the time,” she mused softly, staring off into the woods. “I like activity, things happening, but this is the best kind of break.” And the best kind of company, she might have added if she’d dared. She didn’t dare.
“Are you looking forward to going to Wellesley?”
Her bright eyes found his. “Oh, yes. It was my first choice. I was deferred for early admission—I guess my board scores weren’t as high as they might have been—and if I hadn’t gotten in I suppose I would have gone somewhere else and been perfectly happy. But I’m glad it never came down to that.”
Web asked her what she wanted to study, and she told him. He asked what schools her friends were going to, and she told him. He asked what she wanted to do with her future, and she told him—up to a point. She didn’t say that she wanted a husband and kids and a house in Connecticut because she’d simply taken that all for granted, and it somehow seemed inappropriate to say to Web. He wasn’t the house-in-Connecticut type. At this precise moment, being with him as she’d dreamed of being so often, she wasn’t either.
They talked more as they ate. Web was curious about her life, and she eagerly answered his questions. She asked some of her own about the jobs he’d had and their accompanying adventures, and with minor coaxing he regaled her with tales, some tall, some not. They worked steadily through the bottle of wine, and by the time it was done and every bit of their lunch had been demolished, they were both feeling rather lazy.
“See? What did I tell you?” Web teased. He lay on his back with his head pillowed on his arms. Marni was in a similar position not far from him. He tipped his head and warmed her with his blue eyes. “We might never get down from this place.”
Her heart was fluttering. “We haven’t reached the top yet.”
“We will. It’s just a little way more, and the trip down is faster and easier. Only thing is—” he paused to bend one knee up “—I’m not sure I want to move.”
“There’s no rush,” she said softly.
“No,” he mused thoughtfully. His eyes held hers for a long time before he spoke in a deep, very quiet, subtly warning voice. “Don’t look at me that way, Marni.”
“What way?” she breathed.
“Thatway. I’m only human.”
She didn’t know if he was pleased or angry. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Of course you didn’t mean. You’re seventeen. How are you supposed to know what happens when you look at a man that way?”
“What way?”
“With your heart on your sleeve.”
“Oh.” She looked away. She hadn’t realized she’d been so transparent, and she was sure she’d made Web uncomfortable. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.
Neither of them said anything for a minute, and Marni stared blindly at a nearby bush.
“Ah, hell,” Web growled suddenly, and grabbed her arm. “Come over here. I want you smiling, not all misty-eyed.”
“I wasn’t misty-eyed,” she argued, but she made no argument when he pulled her head to the crook of his shoulder. “It’s just that … maybe Ethan was right. I am a pest. You didn’t want me along today. I’m only seventeen.”
“You were the one who pointed out that your age was irrelevant to your going mountain climbing.”
“It is. But …” Her cheeks grew red, and she couldn’t finish. It seemed she was only making things worse.
He brushed a lock of hair from her hot cheek and tucked it behind her ear. The action brought his forearm close to her face. Marni closed her eyes, breathed in the warm male scent of his skin, knew she was halfway to heaven and was about to be tossed back down.
“I think it’s about time we talk about this, Marni,” he said, continuing to gently stroke her hair. “You’re seventeen and I’m twenty-six. We have a definite problem here.”
“I’m the one with the problem,” she began, but Web was suddenly on his elbow leaning over her.
