Once Every Spring

Jaded Temptations Once Every Spring Copyright © 2011 by Lisa Logan First E-book Publication: June 2011 Cover design by J. Rose Allister All cover art and logo copyright © 2011 by J. Rose Allister Word Count: 36,357 Genre: Urban Fantasy/Romance ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you one copy for your own personal reading on your computer or device. You do not have the right to distribute or resell this book without the prior written permission of the author. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or fee, or as a prize in any contest.

ONCE EVERY SPRING LISA LOGAN Chapter One Her routine coffee ritual was the first thing Dana Stockholm did every morning, but routine was the last thing she wanted today. Still, as she staggered to the kitchen with a groan she wondered whether that logic had been faulty. By changing up the norm, she had hoped to stave off black clouds of regret. Instead she had eliminated familiar, mundane motions that might otherwise have helped distract her and kept self pity at bay. The idea to declare the day a fail before it began had seemed like a good one. By staying home from work to spare the public from her mood—preferably while cocooned in bed sheets until tomorrow dawned—she could escape the day she had been dreading entirely. Too bad the plan hadn’t even lasted until nine before she found herself measuring a precise number of scoops into the coffee pot she’d refused to set on automatic the night before. Maybe she could call the office, go to work after all. But while the boss hadn’t blinked an eye at Dana taking her birthday off, trying to un-take it would definitely raise a brow—and questions she didn’t want to deal with. Screw it. She’d just suffer through without the mindless tasks that could have diverted her attention. She glanced outside with a sigh. The garden was in full bloom, assaulting her eyes with a brilliant palette of color and wafting a delirium of fragrance through her screen door. Enough pollen swirled in the air to spawn an allergy-induced sinus attack that would last until the following spring. Rather than having the decency to allow the day to pass unmarked, Mother Nature decided to celebrate with an early morning marching band, and bird and bees chorused around the yard while tree branches scraped her exterior walls. A quick shower failed to rinse quite all the conditioner from her hair, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t like the bit of extra grease would be seen by anyone. Blue eyes in the mirror glowered at her while she gave her wet, blonde locks a half-hearted surface attack with the comb. She just glared back, and for good measure, stuck her tongue out at her reflection. Gritting her teeth in an attempt to ignore the annoyingly pleasant call of sparrows and whir-cheep of hummingbirds failed to silence the din, so she decided to face her accusers head on. “Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday!” they seemed to insist. She purposely dressed in shorts and a tank top that were a bit too summery for the near-crisp spring morning. On the way outside, she refilled her coffee mug and didn’t bother to rinse the pot as usual. A deep breath of fresh air did little to bolster her spirits, nor did the burst of fresh spring color. She was one of only three tenants in the Westside complex who had an actual yard. Other units sported cement patios with a small strip of dirt around the outer edge for plants or decorative rock or whatever struck the owner's fancy. Dana had been thrilled to be one of the lucky three, and had battled a natural brown thumb to nurture a reasonable facsimile of a real garden. She stood frozen in her surroundings, trying to force her shoulders and jaw to relax. So what if it was her twenty-first birthday, the last landmark to pass on her inconsequential life? Big deal. She was healthy, made a fair office income for a two-year college grad, and while she was no red-carpet bimbo, she wasn’t half bad looking. Not that any man aside from the meter reader who came by every month was involved in her life. The small effort to evict her crap mood drained her reserves, and she gave up. She wandered over to the yard’s majestic, if not messy, centerpiece to sit down. The jacaranda was a beautiful shade tree that produced leafy, fern-like fronds and an explosion of purple flowers each spring. The sight was breathtaking, but Dana was less than thrilled about the resulting detonation of floral debris all over the ground. At this point in the season the tree had barely begun to shed, leaving an almost-perfect ring of purple in a wide, intermittent arc around the tree’s base.

She stepped into the broken flower ring and sat down with her back against the trunk. Sipping coffee lacked its usual calming effect, considering she’d neglected to sweeten it to taste. Swallowing the bitter tang, she let her thoughts flutter back and forth like the insects landing on the snapdragons, geraniums, and pansies. Her garden was a point of pride, but today she felt an odd detachment from the masses of spring blooms, the gazing ball, her tiny fountain, and the whimsical clay frogs. Not even her beloved garden could slap some gratitude back into her existence, and part of her felt rather disgusted about that. The air stirred around her, as if attempting to console her thoughts. The breeze set loose a fine rain of lavender blossoms from the tree. Petals fell to the earth around Dana in an almost audible shower, fusing the purple arc on the ground into a complete circle. As the last purple bloom fell, she closed her eyes to shut out the view. She wished to be somewhere else in the world—anywhere else—despite the stab of guilt for wallowing in such negativity. She had no right to wish herself away just because her life felt about as full as a colander of water. It was just her damned birthday, with all the familiar regret and unmet expectations, which jarred her sense of logic. It was nothing but another ordinary, unremarkable day. With her eyes still closed, she raised her arm to take another sip of coffee and tasted air. The mug was no longer in her hand. She hadn’t remembered setting it down. She reached down and felt around for it on the soft, springy grass. Her frown in response wasn’t just because she’d lost her damn mug. She didn’t have soft, springy grass under her tree. “Wow. You must really hate grass.” Dana jerked at the unexpected voice. Her eyes flew open at the sight of something even more disturbing than the spontaneous eruption of grass. There was a strange man standing in her yard. As far as strange men went, this one wasn’t the worst deal. The intruder wore an expression of amused curiosity that turned his angled features into something far better than attractive, though not quite unattainablemovie-star. His eyes glittered in a kind of a jade green color, and the forearms exposed by his rolled-up sleeves were tanned and sinewy with a fair amount of muscle. The overall male effect was enough to speed her pulse, even if adrenaline weren’t already racing through her veins at the thought of a suspicious, possibly dangerous trespasser on her property. Then she blinked and squinted past the stranger. “Shit,” she whispered. The problem was much bigger than a trespasser on her property. Dana was no longer on her property. She was still reclining against the jacaranda tree, but her tiny yard had vanished. Nature struck out in all directions, and although she spotted no yellow brick road or Emerald City, it was clear she’d taken leave of her condo—and her senses. Her throat dried into cotton. The stranger cocked his head. “Are you allergic to grass or something?” She froze, realizing she was still stroking the soft blades of grass beneath her hand. It took a concentrated effort to find her tongue and croak out a single word. “Where?” “Yeah, that.” He shrugged, his eyes taking a brief tour of the landscape. “I’m not exactly sure where this is, actually. Your tree is new, though.” She blinked. “My tree?” He gave a half nod that tossed back a strand of russet locks. “I wasn’t certain any others still held the same magic as mine.” His eyes landed on her tree with an expression of awestruck regard. He stepped with care over the wide ring of purple flowers still circling the ground and moved forward to examine the trunk. Dana craned her neck at a painful angle to watch him, wondering why she was sitting there frozen, unable or unwilling to get up. He nodded. “I guess this confirms it can still work for other people.” “What can work for other people?” Possibilities whirring through her mind landed on a particularly notable explanation. Her tone fell to a whisper. “Am I dead?” His laugh both irritated and enamored her. “Far from it. In fact, you may find yourself feeling more alive here than you ever have.”

She felt the acute sense of his eyes on her and ran a self-conscious hand through her hair. Suddenly she wished she’d rinsed and combed with better care. “If I’m not dead, I must be wacko.” Right. Her birthday unhinged all sense of reason. This break with reality had probably been a long time in coming. The poor little orphan girl finally snapped, dreaming up an imaginary world to compensate for her empty existence. How poetic. No, pathetic. With a groan, she pushed away from the tree. Her achy back and legs protested as though she’d been sitting for hours, rather than minutes. The man reached for her, and after a brief pause, she took his hand. It felt warm and comforting, yet an unsettling electric current charged up her arm. She fought to ignore it while struggling to her feet. “The transition is a bit disorienting,” he said while pulling her up. “Makes the joints feel stiff. I guess that’s the same for both of us, too.” She noticed that despite her fair height, he stood almost a head taller. “So you live here?” she asked. He shook his head. “Not always. I get here the same way you just did, it would appear.” With a slight wobble, she wandered out from the tree for a better view. The sun fell like a beacon across the field they stood in, the flat vista broken up here and there by gently sloped hills dotted with groupings of trees. Silken green grass covered everything, with splotches of sweet clover and wildflowers the only interruption to an endless emerald blanket. Maybe she was in Oz, after all. Dana was both drawn to the beauty and reluctant to venture into it. The jacaranda tree felt like a lifeline—her last link to anything solid or real. Perhaps leaving it behind wasn’t a smart idea. The warmth of his body heat penetrated her when he moved close to stand beside her. His voice held a note of reverence. “It is beautiful, isn’t it? Powerful, and yet soothing. Like nothing could go wrong in the world.” She nodded in silence, trying to keep her thoughts cemented on something other than the fear that she'd never claw out of whatever psychological chasm she’d fallen into. This hallucination was entirely too vivid. Then again, if one was going to drive off the deep end, one might as well go over with style, right? Still, there were some notable oversights in her fantasy, such as any sign of civilization. For one thing, why hadn’t her imagination had the foresight to conjure up a five-star hotel in the meadow, complete with endless room service and a free mini bar? She closed her eyes and strained hard, forming the image in her head and willing it to appear while trying not to wonder why she wasn’t just wishing herself back home. After a moment, the man beside her stirred. “What are you doing?” “Shh. I’m focusing my thoughts on a resort hotel.” He laughed. “I tried something like that the first time, too. It won’t work.” She whooshed out an exasperated sigh and turned to face him. “Not with that negative attitude, mister. And you’re messing up my concentration.” “You’re not imagining this. This place is real, even if I don’t know where it is.” “It can’t be real. How do I leave? Maybe I can zap myself back.” “We can’t control leaving. Only whether or not we arrive.” That figured. “How long have you lived here?” He shook his head. “I told you, I don’t live here.” “But you’ve been here longer than me, obviously.” “Let’s just say I have a vacation home here.” Her snort was less than kind. “A vacation home? You mean you come and go?” “This is my third cycle. But you’re the first other person I’ve encountered.” She shook her head, feeling the first throbbing beats of a headache and wishing her psychosis had been kind enough to bring her coffee on the ride. “I don’t understand. You say you don’t know where this is, but you can visit whenever you want?” He turned to her, the sun hitting his green eyes in a way that made them light up with a fire that sparked in her abdomen. “Not whenever I want.”

“How, then?” She had trouble matching his long, easy strides as she followed him. “Do you wish yourself here? Did you know what would happen the first time? Can you leave any time?” He stopped with an amused grin and outstretched hand. “Hi. I’m Adam, by the way. And you are?” She burst out laughing. He arched a brow. “What?” “Adam?” She shook her head, still chuckling. “Adam who?” He started to answer, but hesitated. “Just Adam.” Her chuckle turned into a belly laugh sufficient to squeeze tears into the corner of her eyes, and she had to clutch her abdomen to contain it. He looked less than amused. “Is something funny?” “You, I guess. This.” She gestured around. “Me. I mean, I’ve cracked my block and teleported myself into Dreamsville with a handsome guy. Then I find out I’ve landed in the garden of Eden with none other than Adam himself. What’s not funny about that?” His grin tingled along all new nerve bundles in her spine. “You think I’m handsome?” She folded her arms, mentally berating herself for the slip. Then again, he was only a figment of her deluded subconscious. Why play coy? She shrugged. “If I’m going to have a mental meltdown, a gorgeous guy may as well be in the fantasy. Right?” His look burned into her. “Now I'm gorgeous?” “Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head. The last thing I need is a delusion with delusions of grandeur.” He chuckled as she struck off the same way he’d been headed, with no clue where she was going. Adam fell in alongside. After a minute he said, “You still didn’t tell me your name.” She swatted what she thought was an insect from her lower calf, frowning when she looked down to see the crimped the stalk of a delicate cosmos-type flower. “You’re my delusion. You tell me.” He eyed her up and down, laying a finger on his cheek as though pretending to deliberate. “Hm. I suppose Eve would be too derivative?” “Funny.” She stopped and heaved an irritated sigh. “I’m Dana. Just Dana.” “Nice to meet you. Any idea where you’re going, just Dana?” She gave her best attempt at a glare. “It’s my hallucination, so I figure whichever way I go must be right.” His tone held more than a little amusement. “Interesting theory, but consider that if this is just a delusion, your best thinking landed you the starring role in a rather bizarre psychosis.” Heat seared her cheeks. “Listen, I didn’t have to bring you along for the ride, you know. Any more wisecracks and I’ll wish you right out of this dreamland.” The threat only steel-reinforced his devilish grin. “Is that how you think I got here? You wished for me?” A flash of irritation shot through her. “No!” She stopped again, but her retort slipped away when his words sank in. “Wait, is that how this works? We get here by wishing?” “Not exactly. It’s more complicated than that.” “So un-complicate it for me.” He pushed his hands into jean pockets and they resumed walking. “I’m not sure that I can. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to piece it together, believe me. So far I haven’t figured out too much more than what I was told.” “Told? By whom?” He picked up the pace. “By the wom—the person who brought me to the tree.” Dana swallowed a stab of disappointment at the feeling his small correction involved a female he didn’t want her to know about, and wondered why it even mattered to her. “Someone brought you to my tree?” “No. I have a tree, too.”

Alice’s rabbit hole could not possibly have been more confusing. “What do trees have to do with this, anyway?” “Magic.” She threw up her hands. “Oh, of course. Magic. Why didn’t I think of that?” She laughed, and then was promptly punished for her smug attitude by tripping over a smooth stone lying in the grass. Adam made a grab for her, but she righted herself and slipped out of his warm grasp. This she managed with little dignity, but at least without falling. If she could wish male perfection into a dream, why not a hallucination where she exuded the epitome of stylish grace? Maybe with designer resort wear and a professional makeup job instead of limp, half-rinsed hair? She shook off the thought. There were bigger problems than how bedraggled she must look. “So this is all happening because of magic trees?” “I didn’t believe it the first time, either. Until I landed here.” He grunted. “I still wasn’t sure I believed it then. Not until I went back again.” “But it doesn’t make any sense. If trees are some kind of magic portal, why aren’t there crowds of people here? Shopping malls? A Starbucks? It’s not like we rode in on the only two trees on Earth.” “Hey, I’m no expert on magical theory. But I do know it’s not all trees, and not all the time.” He turned back for a moment, his gazing landing on the tree that now appeared much smaller in the distance. “Something about jacarandas makes them special.” She fought a sudden urge to lie on her back in the meadow to bask in the warming sun and tried to focus on sheer scientific logic. “Okay, so jacarandas are the magical bomb. That still means a decent hoard of people should be here.” She was a bit put out that there wasn’t a bit more reason to her insanity. It didn’t speak well of her intelligence for her delusion to be so poorly thought out. “There are jacarandas all over my town. The world must have thousands of them—tens of thousands. There’s got to be more to it.” “There is.” He paused, as if he was about to impart a vital, verbose speech he’d been preparing for ages. “The petals.” She waited, frowning when he failed to reveal more. “What about them?” He resumed walking, and she followed him up a small slope. Despite her persistent need to grasp what was happening, she couldn’t help but take pleasure in her surroundings. Whatever her failings were as a delusion conjurer, her taste in landscape wasn’t one of them. The grass was vibrant, and the hills as alive with song as an old Julie Andrews movie. Everywhere hung the scent of new life and possibility. A gentle breeze brushed alongside them as they walked, accompanying them on the journey to wherever the heck Adam was taking her. This was Middle Earth-meets-Midwestern-meadow, and it was hard to inhale in this fantasy land without breathing in all the best of things spring had to offer. Although the warm sun caressed her skin gently, she was glad for the welcome embrace of shade when they entered a clump of trees at the crest of the hill. The shadows here felt alive, somehow, as though they existed just for her comfort. She felt her body relax under the tree branches that stretched out overhead. She tossed Adam a glance and saw him heave a gentle sigh. “The first petals to fall from a jacaranda each year are the ones that matter,” he said as though the conversation hadn’t paused. He peered into the distance, appearing entranced by something far off and unreachable. “Those are the ones that form a ring on the ground around the tree.” That struck a note. “I saw a ring around my tree this morning,” she said. “It’s just debris in the dirt. So what?” “I don’t know. Best I can figure, the moment that ring is complete, some kind of energy gets released. It opens a doorway. If you’re inside the circle when that happens and you focus on another place...” he trailed off. “Then you come here?” She couldn’t keep the wonder from her voice. Amazing how her brain was filling in explanations for her wild fantasy on the spur of the moment. “I didn’t think this magic worked for anyone else now,” he went on. “Or rather, if others did discover the secret, they went somewhere else. Then you showed up.” He was eyeing her with uncomfortable scrutiny.

She swallowed. “So you stay here alone?” “Thus far.” His earlier hesitation niggled at her. “But you said someone took you to the tree. Why doesn’t she come with you?” His eyes glittered. “How do you know it was a she?” She shrugged. Figures she would dream up a fantasy hunk with someone waiting on the flip side of insanity. A tinge of sadness touched his expression. “This was something she did for me. Something personal I needed to experience for myself.” Suddenly, Dana felt like an intruder in her own dream. A flicker of guilt poked at her midsection. “I’m sorry I crashed your party.” He pushed aside a tree branch and smiled. “I get the impression you didn’t do it on purpose.” “Not quite.” A nagging question plucked at her brain strings. “But don’t you miss it?” She really meant “miss her,” but couldn’t quite force the word out. “No.” His tone turned flat, cold enough almost to invoke a shiver. The warning to let it go was implicit. Then just as fast as it came, the clouded mood was gone. “It’s just a little bit farther now.” She swallowed. “To where?” “Home.” His gaze slid over to her, measuring. “While I’m here, anyway.” Her heart fluttered a bit at this. When he pushed through the last copse of trees, he paused. His lighter mood returned, and with a grand gesture he waved her ahead. “Welcome to home sweet hut.” When she stepped past him into the clearing she sucked in a gasp. “Oh, Adam. It’s amazing!” In a tiny meadow enveloped within a circle of trees stood a modest encampment, and in an instant she was hopelessly enchanted. A sense of utter peace draped the clearing like a cozy blanket. She could hear the gentle breeze singing a barely perceptible tune in tandem with the soft tinkling of running water she couldn’t see. The hut in the center looked cobbled together from mismatched bits of wood and strips of bark and grasses that had been added to over time. The dwelling sported a kind of thatched roof, at least one small cutout window, and a door hinged to a frame with a criss-cross of reeds. A small path had been walked into the ground from where they stood, and the grass around the camp had thinned to balding and disappeared entirely around the hut and a nearby grouping of good-sized stones. A fire pit, she guessed. She moved forward with slow deliberation, reluctant to break the spell the setting was enchanted by. “You built this all by yourself?” He shrugged, but there was no mistaking the brief flash of satisfied pride in his expression. “It’s not much, but it keeps most of the rain off. Not that I get a lot of that here.” “You’re too modest.” She wandered past the stone circle and stopped several feet from the hut. All the edges fit together in an interesting pattern, but everything was rough hewn at best. “What kind of tools did you use?” He laughed. “Almost none, which I’ll admit is one of the drawbacks here. Unfortunately, there’s no hardware store around. This place provides, but in the lowest tech.” “Well, you’ve been here and back more than once. Can’t you just bring things from home?” The fast, hard look he shot prompted her to revise. “I mean, from the other side.” He shook his head. “Nothing will come through except what I’m wearing at the time.” A thought clicked. “That’s why the coffee mug I was holding disappeared.” That mug would have come in handy about now, though she noticed she wasn’t really hungry or thirsty. How long had it been since she’d left? It was hard to tell. In some ways it seemed like several hours, but perhaps it had only been thirty minutes. She turned around and scrutinized the grouping of stones behind her. It was indeed a fire pit, with a sturdy log lying adjacent to it that Adam probably used to sit on. Very cool. Still, collecting stones and wood for a fire was one thing. Building a shelter with no tools was quite something else. “But how did you do it?” she asked. “You had to use something for tools.”

“Sticks and stones, mostly.” Hands on his hips, he turned an appraising glance at his homestead. “And a good deal of trial, error, and profanity.” He laughed. “Good thing you weren’t around for that. The monologuing involved was definitely unfit for a lady.” “A lady!” Dana rolled her eyes. “I haven’t been called that in a while.” Not ever, actually. She shucked off the thought as curiosity pulled her to the door of the hut. She reached for a small hand hole. “May I?” He nodded. “Pull. Just not too hard.” Adam’s home was even smaller than it seemed from outside. It lacked normal furnishings, but that made it no less clever. In the light spilling in from outside, she could see that the dirt floor was covered with a carpet of palm fronds. In the far corner lay what was obviously his bed, consisting of a pallet of leaves and grasses, covered with more fronds and some scattered clothing. One shirt had been stuffed scarecrow-fashion into a makeshift pillow. Along another wall lay an odd assortment of stones, reeds, and sticks, and much of the far wall consisted of a low tabletop made from a series of narrow branches of similar lengths. Adam had lashed them together with reeds, life-raft fashion. This hovered several inches over the ground, held up by four tree-part legs. The layer of floor covering in front of the table was a bit thicker—no doubt padding for him to sit on. Her shock at such an involved hallucination had yet to dwindle, and the fact that her brain had concocted all these little details about the way Adam put a roof over his head without a host of power tools boggled her mind. Maybe she wasn’t an intellectual lost cause, after all. Had she been the one to land here alone, she certainly never could have managed to build anything like this. No doubt she’d summoned up a sexy genius to blaze this trail ahead of her. Adam was her own personal Professor on Gilligan’s Island. Then her eyes landed on a sight that blew the whole delusion to hell. Her heart fluttered in erratic spasms, and while Adam rambled on about building methods and such she backed up and went out the door. “Where are you going?” She turned and began heading back toward the jacaranda tree. “Leave me alone.” “What’s wrong?” She didn’t answer, instead hastening her pace. The grove of trees had enveloped her again before he caught her arm. “Dana, wait.” She yanked away, but stopped and whirled on him. “You lied to me.” His brows shot up. “No, I didn’t.” “You said you couldn’t bring anything with you except what you’re wearing.” “That’s right.” “Ha!” She shot him a triumphant grin. “Then you should have hidden your contraband before letting me inside your hut.” “What are you talking about?” She lifted a hand and ticked off a list. “I saw a cup, silverware, and a tiny saw. Don’t tell me you were wearing all that when you got here.” To her annoyance, he chuckled. “You forgot the pen, spiral notepad, twine, and pocket knife.” Irritation flooded her stomach with bile. Despite herself, she stalked back into the clearing and waved her arms. “See! You admit it. So what’s really going on here? Why am I hallucinating? Did you do something to me? Am I drugged? Did you kidnap me?” Good God, maybe that was it. She could be anywhere. Maybe they were in some dank old motel room, holed up with her in a drugged stupor while captors sat around drinking beer. “Kidnap you? Why would I do that?” “How would I know?” She whirled to see he was following her. He stopped when she dropped into a defensive posture and held a hand out like a traffic cop. “Stay away from me.” “Dana, I didn’t do anything.” “Liar!”

He whooshed out an exasperated breath and pushed a hand through wavy, near shoulder-length locks. “I’m not lying!” She snorted. “So tableware and hand tools are a big fashion statement where you come from?” “Yes, as a matter of fact. I was trying to be clever on the way back here.” He fisted his hips and took another step forward, which she matched with an equal back step. “My favorite failed fashion attempts included a blanket, a towel, a pouch of nails, and a foam mattress pad.” Though he wasn’t making any sense and he was the enemy—criminally handsome perhaps, but an evil overlord nonetheless—the image of him wearing that kind of get up forced a grin onto her face. “I realize it’s been a while since I cracked open a Vogue, but somehow I doubt runway styles have gotten quite that crazy.” His shoulders shifted and he seemed to relax. “It was an experiment.” “I’ll say. You a big time fashion designer back home?” “Every time I come here, I try to see what I can get away with bringing through. It takes trial and error, but I have a bit more success each go-round.” She eased out of her crouching tiger, hidden nut ball pose, but kept her distance. A ray of late afternoon sun invaded her eye line, forcing her to take a step closer. “You’re not seriously trying to say you wore all that stuff here?” A boyish, one-sided smile lit up his face, along with her pulse. “I wore most of it around my neck on lengths of twine. The pocketknife I carried in a belt sheath.” She followed his gaze down to the small leather pouch on his waist. “I tried stuffing things in pockets and laying things over or under me, like the blanket and mattress pad. That stuff doesn’t get through. The items have to be attached to me, literally worn somehow. I’m not sure why it works that way.” “Great.” She put her foot up on the log-seat near the fire pit and rubbed at a few minor scratches on her bare leg. “I should have pinned on a circus tent. We could be enjoying stale popcorn and a three ring clown act right about now.” Not that she was far from the latter herself. His laughter threw her off balance—literally, as the foot stumbled off its perch on the log. “Actually, that’s not far from what I had in mind.” She shot him an incredulous look. “No, really. If I can, next time I’d like to try a nylon tent or parachute. It might help waterproof the hut. A blanket or sheet would be nice, too.” Despite the inanity of this whole conversation, she couldn’t help but get into the spirit of it. “What about food? I could wear Twinkies as earrings, maybe sew instant coffee pouches together into a rain poncho.” He snorted. “Yeah, well, too much convenience would spoil the fun of living off my own wits, wouldn’t it?” She bit off a sarcastic comment and kept silent. He took this as a sign to lunge forward, his hand extended, and she nearly flew backward in shock. “So, now that you know I’m not some sort of kidnapper keeping you in a drugged haze, can we be friends again?” Dana stared at the proffered hand. “How do I know you’re not a kidnapper? All that I’ve learned about you in the last couple minutes is that you have rotten fashion sense.” Really, how did she know he was telling the truth? One minute she’d been in her yard drinking coffee, the next she was here with this sex god. He could have spiked her drink and dragged her off so he could hold her for ransom. Even now, an accomplice could be placing a call to demand small unmarked bills in a leather briefcase. She frowned. Who would they place that call to? She was an orphan, not an heiress. No one in their right—or even utterly demented—mind would kidnap Dana Stockholm. She had no money and no family. She was barely worth the two hundred bucks in her checking account until payday. She toed the dusty ground beneath her feet. Okay, fine. That ruled out a hostage-for-hire scenario. That still left a lot of open ground to cover, and she knew nothing about the man standing in front of her. Except that his chemistry keyed in a precise chain of hormonal events in her own that made him almost irresistible. Oh, and they were apparently the only two people for miles around. Lord have mercy.

His true motives were a mystery. So why couldn’t she honestly fear him? Why didn’t she just run away? This more than anything proved that her initial gone-mental theory must be right. Adam waited in silence, watching as she waged this mental battle. Finally, she sighed and closed the distance between them enough to shake his hand. “Okay,” she said, ignoring the way her arm hairs saluted the feel of his palm sliding into hers. “Friends.” More or less. “Great. Want to help me gather some firewood? That’s what I was doing when I saw the shimmer.” With that sudden change of subject she followed him back into the trees. Leaves and brush crunched underfoot. “The shimmer?” “Yeah.” He stooped down and plucked up a few pieces of kindling. She copied him, ignoring the bite of a splinter from the very first branch she picked up. “I saw an odd shimmer in the air and walked toward it. That’s when your tree showed up with you tucked beneath it.” She shook her stinging thumb and sucked on it for a moment. “So that’s why you were there? You realized I was coming?” “I didn’t know what was happening. I was never certain whether my tree exists in both locations, either. Apparently, the tree comes and goes with me.” “How long have you been here? This time around, I mean.” “I just got back yesterday.” His arms were loaded with wood, whereas she’d only managed a few paltry bits. “That’s why I was out looking for firewood. I hadn’t restocked the pile yet. Speaking of which, it’ll be dark soon. We should get going.” Back at camp, Dana helped Adam stack wood in the center of the fire pit and sat down to watch. When he started striking sharp rocks near some dried grass piled near the wood base, she was about to make a crack about strapping on a lighter next time when she saw why he didn’t bother. The spark took little effort for him to manufacture, and within moments a poof of tiny flame winked into existence. He was good at this, damn good. She could see the determination in his expression while he worked, the spark that lit in his eyes just like the igniting tinder. Adam was a man who delighted in the ability to master fire—and the great outdoors. No doubt in the real world he was an Eagle Scout, or maybe a wilderness tour guide. A Park Ranger wasn’t out of the question, either. Picturing him in a ranger hat and garb tightened her stomach. He would look damn hot in a uniform. Adam excused himself on some unknown errand, and she amused herself by having another look around. He’d been right about nightfall. Already the most impatient of stars began peeking through an azure sky that was quickly turning to ink, and the temperature dropped enough to make her aware of her poor choice of attire. Shorts and a tank top would not likely keep her toasty at night here. And just how many nights would she be staying in la-la land, anyway? When she tired of circling the camp, she sat on the log to await Adam’s return. The night song of crickets joined with the crackle of the fire and the heady, acrid scent of fresh wood to lull her into a half daze by the time he did. His hair was damp, and he carried a bundle of items inside a spare shirt. When he sat down on the log beside her, she felt it shift slightly. The log had been dug into the soil so it wouldn’t roll, but no doubt it wasn’t used to the weight of her generous butt added to the fine, taut version now seated at the other end. He turned out the spare shirt to reveal some kind of mushrooms, other unidentifiable food stuffs, and a pair of sticks. One had been whittled clean of bark, and he whipped out his pocketknife to begin shaving the other. She nodded to his bounty. “Did you have to go deep sea diving for those or something?” He kept whittling, but shot a glance out from under his bangs. “Diving?” “Your hair’s all wet.” He cleared his throat, aiming his whittles so some of the shavings hit the fire. “I figured I should clean up before I cooked us dinner. There’s a stream nearby.” “Oh.” Way to make her feel like a groaty slime ball. In truth, she felt a little gamey after spending the day outdoors. “Maybe I should freshen up, too.”

“Sure. I try not to leave my fire unattended, though. I could point the way and give you some privacy.” She glanced again at the sky and found it had dimmed to near black, save the breathtaking patterns of unfamiliar, yet pleasing starlight. “It’s pretty dark. Maybe I shouldn’t go alone.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t suggest it if there was anything to fear here. You’ll be perfectly safe.” He stopped whittling and broke into a lopsided grin. “You can swim, right? In case you fall in or something.” Alarmed at the thought of being carried downriver by a white water rapid, she gave a weak nod. Turns out it was a needless worry. The path was lit by a bright moon just a few feet from the edge of camp, and the bank of the gently flowing river descended in a gentle, shallow slope that made it a simple matter to sit at the edge for clean up. Adam was halfway back when an urge other than a return to cleanliness struck. “Adam? Where do you, uh, you know. Go?” “Oh, that.” He offered an apologetic grin. “I have a spot off behind the hut, but I imagine you’ll want a ladies-only area.” He nodded to a clump of dense brush several feet upstream. “Make do as best you can for now.” “I take it that means you haven’t gotten around to installing indoor plumbing yet.” “That’d be a no.” She eyed the bushes and swallowed down a thick lump of nerves. “Any poison ivy or anything I should be aware of? Scorpions? Dinosaurs? Sandpapery toilet paper?” He laughed and shook his head, still headed back to camp. “None that I’ve encountered. Well, maybe the T.P. issue. Good luck.” His voice dwindled as he moved out of sight. “Yell if you fall in.” She looked at the bushes, then back at the shimmer of water and sighed. She’d better get her introduction to relief in the wild out of the way first. She’d want to wash up again afterward, anyway. Once in the brush, she stood frozen and feeling stupid as the first real waves of panic hit since her arrival. She listened hard for sounds of malevolent night critters prowling, slithering, or hopping her way, but could only make out the gentle sigh of breeze through the trees and the enchanting melody of the flowing stream. And crickets, though the ones nearby had fallen silent when she stumbled into the bush. What a ridiculous situation to find herself in. Here she was, alone in the dark in a strange land she’d undoubtedly made up, trying to figure out how to pee without wetting her shoes or being accosted by some mystical predator. She could conjure plausible explanations for hut building without tools, but not a gold throne or a hot shower? She must have some deeply disturbed, subconscious need to torment herself. The crawling sensation of hairs prickling the back of her neck sent her spinning around three different times, certain that something deadly was about to pounce. None that I’ve encountered was proving a far less reassuring statement than she could handle. Maybe wild beasts he hadn’t seen yet were simply biding their time until some unsuspecting female with no wilderness savvy and an unbalanced mental status came along. That thought clinched it. Even if she could have figured out the secret to peeing without sneaker splash, there was no way her bladder would relax enough to let it happen now. Her heart pounded war drums in her ears as she ran out of the bush, splashed water on her face, neck, and underarms from the stream while trying not to imagine alligators or giant anacondas leaping out, and made tracks back to the relative safety of camp. A stick was shoved her direction as soon as she was near enough. “Hungry?” he asked. She realized she was starved the moment the aroma hit her nostrils. The smell was heavenly— impossibly close to Steak Bernaise as she accepted her meal-on-a-skewer and reclaimed her seat. “Famished. Thank you.” Though the tantalizing fragrance had her mouth watering, she peered at the foreign shish kebab with careful suspicion while nibbling the mushroom thing near the end. It did indeed seem a bit mushroom-y, but meatier and with a good deal more flavor. It tasted like it had been soaked in some sort

of herb bath. Tarragon, maybe. There were orange chunks reminiscent of a smoky turnip, and round balls of greenish-pink flesh like some sort of plantain. “This is fantastic,” she said, barely awaiting the courtesy of swallowing her food before having to comment. “Familiar, but I’ve never had anything quite like it.” “Thanks. It’s taken quite a bit of experimentation with seasoning. Dining here sure isn’t five-star, but I’ve come to find there’s nothing like a freshly harvested meal.” “I’ll say.” She was embarrassed to note how fast she devoured her kebab, especially since Adam was still working on a fair portion of his when she was through. She set the stick aside on the ground and patted her stomach. “Filling, too.” She smiled at him. “Thank you for sharing your food with me.” “You’re welcome. Can’t quite claim that it’s my food, since it grows wild around here. But it’s nice to have dinner company.” He finished chewing his meal while she tried to imagine him sitting by this fire night after night, all alone, for three cycles. She wasn’t sure what a cycle was, but it sounded like a long time. “Don’t you get lonely?” she asked. “Here by yourself with no way to contact the outside?” She blinked. “Wait. Is there a way to contact the other side?” He shook his head. “Not that I know of. And yes.” His tone turned pensive, and he tossed a small pebble into the fire. A shower of sparks flew out. “Yes, it gets lonely.” She leaned forward, folding her arms across her knees and taking in the sight of his achingly perfect profile traced by firelight. “How do you deal with that without going nuts?” “I thought you said we are nuts?” He grinned, turning to her with a look that shot without warning right into her stomach. “For one thing, I’ve honed the art of the monologue.” He cleared his throat and muttered the rest. “I’m now on a conversational basis with local flora and fauna.” “You talk to plants and animals?” “It’s more therapeutic and less psychotic than you make it sound, thanks.” He threw a fake glare. “But don’t tell anyone. I’ve got this whole macho hunter-gatherer reputation to maintain.” She snorted. “Who am I going to tell? Except possibly my shrink.” “You have a shrink?” “Not yet. But I think I’d better get one the second I snap out of this, don’t you?” Adam picked another pebble up off the ground and sent it in a small arc into the fire. “You’re not as crazy as you think. But I get it. Believe me, I spent a lot of my first cycle here believing I’d gone around the bend.” “I suppose I should embrace the madness like you have, but I’m not quite ready to give up on sanity yet.” Adam looked around the clearing. “It may sound funny, but I actually feel a lot saner when I’m here than back in my other life.” She felt a sudden click of camaraderie, by way of the familiar echo in his tone. Maybe they weren’t quite in sync about accepting reality, but she empathized with feeling lost. “Why do you suppose I showed up in this place when no one else has?” He pushed back a strand of his burnished hair. “I’m not sure. I’ll admit it gave me quite a shock to see you materialize under that tree.” “Do you wish I hadn’t come?” His eyes searched every angle of her face until her cheeks burned too hot to blame on the crackling fire. “I didn’t say that. So far I’ve got no complaints.” She arched a brow. “So far?” He shrugged and lit up with a mischievous grin. “I suppose it will end up being the big thing this cycle.” “Big thing?” He looked up at the stars. “Being alone in this place gives you a lot of time to think. My first time here, I spent much of the time contemplating exactly how and why I’d gone stark, hard core bonkers.” Her giggle brought his glance back to her. “Last time, I spent hours bouncing back and forth between scientific and philosophical explanations for the existence of this place.”

“Did you come up with any answers?” “Plenty. But every time I settle on one theory, another idea bumps it down the totem.” “So, what was the topic this cycle?” He picked up his sharpened stick and examined the tip. “The topic was supposed to be nothing. I’d finally come to terms with the fact that I’m neither insane nor dreaming, and I decided to just embrace the experience without getting caught up in the why of it.” He twirled the stick in his fingers. “Then you came along.” “Bringing another rousing chorus of why.” “It is an intriguing question, with you attached to it.” Her heart gave a little hiccup at hearing him refer to her as intriguing, even if he didn’t quite mean it that way. “I still think if the trees have some sort of powers,” she said, “that other people in the world would know about it. Some of them must go inside a flower ring and sit against a jacaranda. Why aren’t they here?” “I don’t know. I assumed any who tried went elsewhere.” He sighed. “Actually, that’s not quite true. I’d pretty much decided nobody else does try. It is something of a precise timing issue, catching just the right energy to get here. At least I think that’s what happens.” “But I wasn’t trying to get here, though. It was an accident.” “You were in the right place at the right time, then. A fluke.” Or fate, something whispered to her. She batted away the thought. “So we’re the only two people on this whole planet or dimension or whatever this is? That doesn’t seem likely.” “Doesn’t it? People are forever running around to jobs and appointments and assorted diversions. The chances of someone stopping the rat race long enough to sit under that kind of tree at that exact right moment and in the right mindset is pretty astronomical.” “I suppose.” A thought occurred. “Shouldn’t you have children here with you, at least?” He threw a look sharp enough for her to wince. “What do you mean?” “Well, grownups get caught up in all that rat race stuff, but not kids. Children have plenty of time to sit beneath trees and dream. You’d think there would be some running around.” His back had gone rigid. “Maybe it doesn’t work on children.” Something in his posture and expression said she’d hit a sore spot. She knew she should leave it alone, but curiosity won out. “Do you have children, Adam? In the other world, I mean.” The bitter glance flashed for only a moment before he covered it up. “No. There’s no one.” She thought of the woman he’d been reluctant to speak of earlier, but held her tongue. It was time to lighten the mood. Pasting on a bright smile, she said, “So, I guess the big thing this time around is wondering why your unquestioning embrace of paradise got interrupted by my clumsy arrival?” The corners of his mouth lifted up easier than she expected. “Yes, I imagine I’ll find myself thinking about you quite a bit.” Her stomach somersaulted. A hundred questions whirled in her thoughts, but exhaustion draped her like a heavy blanket and she found herself yawning. “Wow, sorry,” she said when she saw him watching her mouth gape open like a lion. “I don’t know why I’m so tired all of a sudden.” “It’s late,” he said. “The body takes a few days to adjust to the time difference here.” She smiled. “Meaning we’re not on Mountain Standard anymore?” “We’re not on Earth time.” Her grin slipped. “You don’t really think we’ve left Earth entirely?” “Our version of it. Days are too much shorter here to think otherwise.” With that, he stood up and held out a hand. “Come on. I’ll take you to bed.” Her eyes shot wide, and she gasped. Adam winced at the reaction. “I didn’t mean it like that. You can have my bed, and I’ll sleep out here.” She frowned. “Outside? Oh, I couldn’t let you do that.” “Believe me, it wouldn’t be the first time. That hut wasn’t exactly waiting for me when I got here.”

His hand was still extended, so she took it and let him help her up. Her backside felt numb from the hard log, but the sensation of his strong, warm hand more than made up for it. “Even more reason not to steal your lodging,” she said, wishing her voice didn’t sound so shaky over the simple touch of his palm. “You worked so hard to build it.” “I can’t very well have you out here alone while I’m cozied up in bed.” He smirked and let go of her hand sooner than she would have liked. “And I doubt you’re suggesting that we double up.” She swallowed. “Of course not.” Judging from her unconvincing tone, part of her wondered whether she really meant it. “So it’s settled. Don’t worry about me. I’m used to roughing it.” He pulled his stick out of the dirt and held it in the fire for a moment. When flames jumped off the end, he pulled it out and showed her inside the hut. The flickering light from the stick illuminated the pitch black space. She stood frozen just inside the door while he moved over to grab a metal cup sitting on his makeshift table. He emptied water out of it onto palm fronds in the center of the room, dropped the stick inside the cup, and set it down on the now-wet flooring. “Okay,” he said with an odd tinge of nervousness that drew her gaze to him. Despite his flashes of moodiness, until now Adam had come off as the epitome of calm. “I’m afraid the bedding isn’t exactly pillow-top comfort, but it’s better than the hard ground. I throw those spare clothes over me when it gets chilly.” He nodded to several assorted garments on the pallet of fronds, leaves, and some kind of moss. “And I saw your makeshift pillow, too.” He shrugged, frowning at the bedding. “It’s great,” she assured him. “Thanks.” With a smile, he nodded to the metal cup on the floor. “Don’t let that stick burn for long. These fronds are barely damp. I just wanted you to be able to see where you’re going.” “Maybe next time I come here I should strap on a flashlight or a lantern.” He grinned. “Next time?” She shrugged. “You never know. I fully expect to wake up against the jacaranda tree back at my place. Or possibly in a psychiatric ward.” She stuck a hand out. “If so, it was nice meeting you.” He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. Ignoring the offered hand, he moved so close that she caught her lip in her teeth. Her heart began to race. “Good night, Dana.” She realized he was waiting for her to move so he could get out the door. She jumped out of the way and felt the tingle of his skin brushing hers. “Good night.” The door of the hut closed behind him, and she turned to face her surroundings alone. Her eyes fell to the flickering flame-in-a-cup. She wasn’t looking forward to lying in a strange room in the dark, but Adam’s words of caution returned. Burning the place to the ground would hardly be the way to thank him for granting her use of his castle. She crunched over the palm frond floor and leaned down to blow out the flame. Immediately she was plunged into a cloying, inky black, and she blinked hard to try and force some kind of definition back into the world. After several moments of waiting, she shafts of light were evident through gaps in the hut’s framework. She still couldn’t see much, so she moved in the general direction of the bed pallet while crouched and her hands stretched in front of her. Somehow she found it without falling and turned around to sit down. The bed crackled beneath her while she pulled off the canvas deck shoes she’d put on that morning, when she was in a birthday funk but still thought she was sane. Oh, if only she’d known what the day had in store. Leaving her ankle socks on, she twisted around to lie down on the pallet. The bed wasn’t great, in truth. The plant material was scratchy and crunched with every motion. Still, there was some mossy stuff that he’d added that was bouncy and soft, and the pillow was a nice touch. Even better, it smelled like Adam—a spicy, male scent that brought a faint tickle to her stomach. Feeling foolish, she pulled some of his clothing up over her and inhaled. Everything smelled earthy and masculine, downright seductive, even. She let out a soft sigh. After a while, she settled into a more or less comfortable position by spreading a couple of his garments beneath her so the pallet didn’t feel so rough against bare legs and arms. Although she was

exhausted, she didn’t fall asleep right away. Instead, she listened to the sounds of outdoors, to crickets and intermittent crackles from Adam’s fire. She heard his occasional rustling movements. He coughed once, and she thought she heard some muttering. He was probably talking to an owl or some plants. What would happen when sleep finally overtook her? Would that be a trigger for her psyche to snap back to real life? Would it simply mean the end of a colorful REM cycle she’d succumbed to under the tree? Either way, this place would be gone—and so would Adam. And as sleep crept in, she realized with a start that she would definitely miss both.

Chapter Two What wound up happening when consciousness returned to Dana was as unexpected as her visit to a fantasy land had been in the first place. When her eyes fluttered open, she was dimly aware of the fact that a noise had awakened her. She was grateful for the interruption. She’d been dreaming that a wolf was chasing her through the woods, but she felt like she was running through waist-high water and could barely move. The slow-motion dream had felt urgent enough to make her breath come in gasps and her heart pound in dread. Slivers of pale gray broke up the darkness, meaning morning had arrived. Thank heavens. She was rid of her annoying birthday for another year, and by her count, that meant no more “landmark” birthdays until the big thirty. Landmark birthdays were the worst—the ones where rites of passage others looked forward to merely served as a reminder that her life sat on the sidelines of existence, never truly marching forward. Life could get back to status quo now, and she could lose herself again in her mind-numbing job. A smile spread over her face while she wondered whether it was time to get up for work yet. Judging by the daylight outside, she might even be a bit late getting up. Why hadn’t the alarm gone off? She yawned and glanced over at the bedside clock. A crackling sound came from beneath her when she stretched. That wasn’t a typical noise for her bedding to make. Worse, the alarm clock was gone. In fact, her whole room was gone. Everything flooded back in that instant—sitting under the tree, experiencing a complete break with reality, the gorgeous stranger she’d concocted to serve as her hot tour guide to psychosis. She blinked and sat bolt upright. “Oh, God.” The pallet crackled under her, and her right shoulder and hip throbbed in protest over the lack of pillow-top comfort. How thoughtful of her body to partner with her short-circuiting brain to make this nightmare a full sensory experience. A blanket of depression fell over her while she stared around the inside of the hut. So this was it, then. She had immersed herself in fantasy and apparently wasn’t in any hurry to make it back. How long had it been since she’d sat down under that tree? Had that even happened? Was any of her life real? We’re not on Earth time. Her head felt light and dizzy while the implications sank in. She could have been like this for months, years even. Her job, the condo, the garden—maybe all of it was a giant falsehood. Maybe she’d never left the orphanage at all. She might still be a child, lying in a fugue state back in the dreary gray girls’ room at St. Anne’s. Perhaps the sisters had shipped her off to a mental ward, where she lay strapped to a bed right now with drugs dripping through IV tubes into her arm. How old was she? Maybe this was the real reason she hated birthdays. Deep down, perhaps she knew she wasn’t really having them. Tears stung her eyes, blurring the inside of the hut just like the lines between her real existence and the fantasy world. That thought opened the floodgates, and she cradled the head that was suddenly too heavy for her body. Her ribs began to heave with silent sobs. A loud roar of thunder rumbled overhead, shaking the little hut. She raised her head, blinking through her tears. A heavy patter fell on the roof, and as she stared through the dim space, she saw drips of water falling inside. She sucked in a breath when a sharp knock on the door startled her from her thoughts. Adam’s voice came through the door, barely muffled. “Dana? What’s wrong?” Her own voice shook and she frantically wiped at the wetness on her face. “What do you mean? Nothing.” That acknowledgement brought a fresh round of tears pouring down her cheeks. “Are you sure? Listen, do you mind if I come in? It’s kind of wet out here.”

“Oh!” She hadn’t bothered to consider the fact that poor Adam was standing outside in a downpour. Even if he wasn’t real, she owed her fantasy man better manners. “Of course you can come in.” He pulled open the hut door, and what she saw made her legs go all tingly. Thank heavens she hadn’t managed to stand up yet, because she would have fallen right back down. Adam had peeled off his shirt and was holding it above him to block the rain. His hair was plastered to his head and water ran down his front in streams, almost as though each rivulet were caressing his body. And who could blame that water? His bare torso was ripped with muscle, and his shoulders were round and hard. His biceps bulged as he held his shirt above him. Her eyes trailed downward to his lean abdomen, but broke off before daring to glance below his navel to where the rest of him disappeared beneath snug blue jeans. When she met his fiery eyes, she saw him watching her scrutiny. She looked away while her cheeks grew hot. His gaze burned through her for a moment longer, and then he moved inside the room and shut the door behind him. A couple of steps later, his foot connected with something that made a tinny clank and sent it skittering across the room. That brought her to her feet. “I’m sorry. I put the stick’s flame out right away, like you told me. But I forgot to move your cup.” “It’s all right.” Palm fronds felt oddly pleasant under her stocking feet while she hurried over to him. She stopped when she realized how close together those few steps had brought them, and she turned away to search for the metal cup. She dropped to her knees in front of his table and felt around underneath, using the opportunity to sniff back more tears while trying not to picture his view of her hind end stuck comically in the air. She was grateful when her hand closed around the cup, and she scurried upright to set it back on the table. Drops of water from the ceiling hit it with a slight tap tap. Her tongue felt clumsy and thick while she tried to drum up conversation to break up the awkward silence. “You’ve got a leak.” “Several, all on this side. That’s why I moved my bed pallet over there. I used to sleep where the table is.” “It’s really coming down, isn’t it?” “More than I’ve seen in a long time.” His voice held concern. She hugged her arms around herself. “Does the weather get like this a lot? Will it get worse?” Maybe they’d be flooded out. “I hope not.” He used his shirt as a towel to rub the upper half of his body, still watching her carefully. “You’ve been crying.” She sniffed and brushed her eyes. “Is it that obvious, even in this dim light? Sorry. I’m not usually such a whimpering female.” Cynical, yes. But not outright whimpering. He ran a hand through hair the rain had soaked into a much darker shade. Then he gestured toward the door. “It was kind of hard to miss.” She frowned. She hadn’t been crying loudly. Did Adam have super ears or something? “You could really hear me all the way out there?” He shook his head. “The weather told me.” “What?” “It’s tied to my—or rather, our—moods.” A snort flew out of her. “That doesn’t even make sense.” “Neither does being here in the first place.” True, but the notion of bringing a storm on the heels of her depression was completely absurd. This lent weight to her earlier fear that perhaps she hadn’t actually ever grown up. Only the free mind of a child could concoct such a wild idea as rain tears. Despite that sobering thought, her manic grin widened. “So, I smile and the world smiles along with me?” He shrugged. “Something like that.”

“I don’t believe you.” “Do you hear it raining anymore?” She stopped and cocked her head. Sure enough, the patter on the roof had fallen silent, and the tap taps onto the metal cup had slowed to a sluggish pace. “Coincidence. A simple mood can’t control the elements.” “Not simple ones. Only strong emotion seems to do it.” He hesitated. “You had a rough night, I take it.” “I had bad dreams.” She remembered the wolf, and how she woke up with her heart sounding like hoof beats at a horse race. “Did it rain all night?” “There was thunder off and on, but only occasional showers until a few minutes ago.” “You slept in the rain?” “I went in under the tree line. But when the storm suddenly got a lot worse, I thought I’d better check on you.” “Oh.” She turned away and stared down at the table. “Thanks. Sorry I, uh, rained on your parade.” “I’m sorry you were so upset.” His footfalls crunched through the palm fronds until she could feel him right behind her. “Anything I can do to help?” She gave a wild hiccup-laugh. “Yeah, well, that’s what you’re here for, right?” She whirled to face him, unprepared for their maddening proximity. With a swallow, she took a small step back. “I mean, that’s why I dreamed you up.” His lopsided smile emerged. “You still don’t believe I’m real.” “Only in my mind.” “Is there any way I can convince you I’m not just a mental fabrication?” “Nope.” He sighed. “Fair enough.” “But since you offered to help me, I don’t suppose you can show me the way out of this mess and back to reality? This is starting to freak me out.” Adam dropped his wet shirt on the table and met her eyes. “We leave when it’s time, and not before. But I promise you, the day will come when you’ll leave this place and return to your life.” He paused. “Whether you want to or not.” He turned and crossed the room to the bed pallet, where he grabbed one of the spare shirts she’d been using as a blanket. It was a soft, gray knit that she’d pulled close around her face to inhale his comforting scent. She couldn’t help but watch in fascination while he tugged it over his head, his biceps flexing and the soft dark patches of hair under his arms and on his solid chest disappearing all too soon beneath the lucky fabric. Next he leaned over and picked up a dry pair of jeans, and her eyes widened. He wasn’t planning to strip down right here, was he? Before he could make a move she launched forward, barely remembering the tennis shoes by the bed pallet on her way out. “I’ll just wait outside.” His chuckle burned in her ears while she ducked down near his knees to grab her shoes. She stuffed her feet inside and didn’t even bother to pull the backs up over her heels before shuffling out into the early morning. Dana inhaled deep when the door was closed behind her. The air was moist and heavy, but fresh. She smelled rich dew and earth and all manner of plant life. The ground in the clearing was soaked, but the sun was shining brightly through thick fluffs of breaking clouds. Clouds she’d apparently brought on by turning on the waterworks over her plight. Now that was just deeply crazy. A bird of some sort flew overhead while she wandered over to the log bench. The fire had not only long gone out, but the blackened wood and ashes were drenched. At least there would be no danger of sparking off a forest fire from smoldering tinder. She sat on the log to finish pulling on her canvas shoes, immediately sorry when she felt her rear end getting soaked. She jumped up and spun around like a dog chasing its tail, trying to see her backside. Now she would look like she’d wet herself, which

wouldn’t be far from true in a few minutes. The call of nature denied the previous night had now become an insistent roar from the direction of her bladder. She had to act now or forever regret the consequences. There was still no sign of Adam emerging from the hut, and while she scurried down the path to the stream she tried not to think of him peeling wet jeans off that superbly muscular form. Along the way, wet shrubbery brushed her bare legs and waist, so she was a good deal wetter by the time she arrived. By now she was doing a funny little dance while she contemplated how not to pee on herself, one way or the other. Deciding not to take any chances, in a fury she kicked off her shoes and socks, then pulled her shorts off entirely before squatting behind what she dubbed the Ladies’ Bush. The only possible greater relief she could have experienced at that moment would have been to wake up and find out that this whole adventure had merely been a dream. Maybe not even then. Afterward she glanced around, at a loss for how to proceed. The bush leaves were too small to use for cleanup. With a sigh and a shrug she rose up, yanked her tank top over her head, and left it and her bra in a pile with the rest of her clothes while she wandered to the nearby stream. Flat pebbles felt smooth as they shifted beneath her feet. She dipped an experimental toe in the water to find it cool, but not frigid. She waded into the stream until she was waist deep, hoping there were no piranhas or deadly parasites swimming around her legs. She dropped down to duck her head under and felt another surge of relief when the water enveloped her. She didn’t try to open her eyes underwater, but just rubbed her hands over her hair and key spots of her body to cleanse away grit and sweat. The cool water felt refreshing, and she stayed submerged for as long as she could hold her breath. With a giggle she pushed off from the bottom of the silt bed and shot up out of the water, flipping her hair back like she was a sultry mermaid emerging from the depths. Her glee was short lived. She opened her eyes to find Adam standing on the edge of the stream, an undecipherable look on his face and his hands on his hips as he stared at her. She let out a shriek-gasp and threw her arms over the bare torso he’d just caught a full view of. “What the hell are you doing?” she fired off at him. “I was going to ask you the same thing.” “Oh, well, I thought I’d get in a quick game of water polo before breakfast. What does it look like I’m doing?” A slight smile flickered across his face, and then disappeared when he cleared his throat. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” “Why? Don’t tell me I plunged into shark-infested waters.” She glanced around in a somewhat mock panic. “Sharks don’t live in fresh water. What I meant was, I came out of the hut and you’d disappeared.” His tone sounded almost distraught, and she mentally batted away a flicker of guilt. “I didn’t mean to be gone more than a few moments. I just had to use the bathroom.” Adam folded his arms across his chest, mimicking Dana’s pose. “So you decided to strip naked and do it in the stream?” She made a face. “Of course I didn’t go in here. I decided to bathe afterwards.” He laughed. “I’ve gone in there.” “Ew!” She jumped half out of the water with her nose wrinkled in distaste and her forearms folded tight over her chest. His laugh grew louder while she slogged through the stream toward him, stopping when she realized her bare skin was already exposed to the flare of her hips. Adam clearly noticed, too. His eyes skimmed over each curve like the drops of water that were running over her, chilling her in the slight breeze. If the water were one inch lower, he’d be treated to an embarrassing full frontal view. “I haven’t done it in there recently,” he said. “That was last cycle, and this is constantly running water. Where do you think the fish do their business, anyway—the bushes?” She scowled. “Fine. Ruin the perfectly good bonding moment I was having with nature. Are you satisfied now?”

The momentary heated glimmer in his eyes suggested that asking if a man who spent all his time alone was satisfied—especially while naked—had been less than wise. She swallowed hard and tried to ignore the flip-flops in her abdomen. She shivered. “If you’re done with your lecture on the bathroom habits of marine life, could you at least turn your back or something? It’s getting cold in here.” “Could you at least let me know the next time you decide to run off?” She pressed her arms tighter over her breasts and cocked her head. “Keeping tabs on me already? It’s a free hallucination, you know.” He grunted. “And if you had come out of the hut and found that I’d mysteriously vanished? What would you have thought?” She lifted her chin, wondering why she was being so stubborn about this. “I’d have been happy. Reassured to know my psychosis was one step closer to getting better.” He fell silent a moment, a muscle working in his jaw. “I was worried. That’s all.” Her eyes narrowed. “Are there dangers here that you haven’t told me about, Adam?” “No.” “Then what’s your problem?” “I don’t have one.” After flashing a hard stare, he turned away and spoke over his shoulder. “I don’t care what you do here. Forgive me for expressing concern after you spent the morning so anguished that you tore up the skies up with thunder.” She gaped after him while he stalked off through the brush. By the time she thought to call out an apology, he was out of earshot. **** More than an hour had passed before Dana made her way back to Adam’s camp, but not because she was trying to avoid facing him again. First, she’d come out of the stream and realized she had no towel. She’d had to rub herself with her hands and await the sun’s good graces in doing the rest. Next, she had to tackle the issue of her wardrobe. Having only one pair of clothing—especially underwear—was going to present a challenge. In the end, she opted to tug on her shorts temporarily while she scrubbed out her sensible white panties, wrung them out as best as she could, and spread them on a warm rock to dry. Her other clothes and socks would have to wait. She couldn’t very well run around naked and barefoot while she washed and dried clothes every day. Gads, she’d have to sew fig leaves together or something for laundry day. Maybe Adam hadn’t been so wrong in calling her “Eve” after all. With a start, she’d realized she was already making long term plans. Had she really given up so fast on the thought that she might zap back to reality at any moment? Well, there was little else she could do. Crazy or not, she would absolutely not be running around her fantasy life wearing yesterday’s underwear. When her panties were still damp, she’d declared them good enough and slipped them back on. They clung to her rear, but she didn’t care. Her stomach had unleashed a growling frenzy she was going to have to do something about pronto. First, however, she needed to talk to Adam. The sun was hot and almost overhead by the time she got back, proving Adam’s claim that days were shorter here. An odd tickle of disappointment fluttered in her chest at the thought. She should be happy things were ticking along at a fast pace. Maybe that meant she’d snap out of this faster. Still, while she listened to birdsong and the whisper of wind through the trees, she had to admit that maybe paradise was something she shouldn’t be in such a hurry to abandon. She didn’t see Adam when she wandered into the circle clearing, nor was he inside the hut when she checked. Something sat on the split log by the fire pit, so she wandered over to find a pair of makeshift bowls made from some kind of giant leaf. One bowl was empty, while the other was piled with varying hunks of fruit. He’d left her breakfast. A stab of mixed gratitude and remorse pierced through the gnawing in her stomach. She sat down and picked up the bowl, digging in with greedy abandon. The fruit was sweet and tangy, and juice ran

down her arm while she popped chunks of it in her mouth. One bite reminded her of guava and berries. The next tasted like citrus, with the consistency of melon. And there was more of the sticky-sweet plantain they’d had at supper. Despite her starvation, she was full almost before the bowl was empty. She stacked it carefully inside Adam’s leaf. Should she rinse them out at the stream? Or did Adam pick new leaves each time? Dana glanced around the clearing, her eyes landing on the spaces between each of the surrounding trees. The sun shone overhead, like high noon, but there was still no sign of Adam. Maybe he was still angry and didn’t want to see her. Where had he gone? Or had he just gone? When she’d said it would be good if he was gone, had she brought it to pass? Had Adam disappeared into the nether because she’d wished it? She jumped up at the thought and spun in a circle, checking the trees again. Then she made her way toward the edge of the clearing, searching for him. She winced when she thought back over the words they’d exchanged earlier. It would serve her right if he vanished, leaving her here all alone. He’d been nothing but kind and gracious, feeding her and giving her his own bed to sleep in—even when she’d brought down the heavens thanks to her mood. For someone whose own parents hadn’t even wanted her, she should know better than to say something so ungrateful in return. A heavy pulse thudded in her throat while she walked the circle perimeter. She bit back the urge to yell Adam’s name. That would make her sound like the simpering, desperate little girl she had suddenly become. She’d barely known him for a day, yet here she was racing around in a blind panic. Was she that fearful about surviving here in this imaginary kingdom? Or did she miss his reassuring warmth and sexy laugh? “Adam?” The word jumped out before she could stop it. “Adam!” Perspiration sprang up over her forehead and neck as she picked up her pace. Her breath quickened, as did her pulse. She finished her circuit and returned to the center of the clearing. “Damn it.” Her and her stupid wishes. Why didn’t she have control over her own delusion? When she looked up, the sky was no longer azure blue. A roil of massive cloud was building right over her, dark and menacing. She stretched out her arms and said to the sky, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.” “Wow,” a voice said behind her. “I didn’t know you could drum up a storm just by insulting the sky.” “Adam!” She rushed toward the spot where he’d just emerged from the trees, barely stopping herself short of throwing her arms around him. “You’re back.” He held up a shirt he’d wrapped into a bundle. “I went to gather a few things for later.” He glanced down below her waist and an odd smile quirked the corner of his mouth. “What happened to you?” Her gaze followed his and then widened. Her shorts had wet spots in the front and back. “I, uh, washed out my underwear. Guess I was in too big a hurry to let it dry all the way.” “I burned mine.” She gawked at him. “Excuse me?” “During my first cycle here. I wound up wrapping my underwear around a branch and burning it.” “That’s a bizarre ritual. Do you hate laundry that much?” His eyes lit with a merry twinkle. “Can’t say it was my favorite chore, but that’s not why I did it. I needed a torch and didn’t have much in the way of spare cloth.” “Oh.” The question of whether he went commando all the time now sat on her tongue. “So what’s with you shouting apologies at the sky?” She swallowed. “I thought you’d gone away. I thought maybe I’d…” she stopped, realizing how stupid she must sound, dithering like a fawning idiot while looking as though she’d wet herself over his disappearance. Understanding dawned on his face. “You thought you’d wished me away, didn’t you?” “No.” She flicked him a glance. “Maybe.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easy.” He walked toward the hut. “I was here first, remember?” She hurried after him. “I know it sounds nuts, but I sort of have abandonment issues. An orphan thing, I guess.” He flicked a curious glance over his shoulder and slowed his pace. “You’re an orphan?” The label stung more coming from him than it had falling off anyone’s lips in a long time. “Try not to make it sound like a disease.” “I’m not. It just surprised me.” “It sounds like a stupid excuse, I know.” They stopped in front of the hut. “That whole thing shouldn’t matter anymore. I’m an adult now. But sometimes it just creeps up on me.” “It’s not stupid. My parents died when I was eighteen.” She felt a pang as she saw the flash in his eyes. “I’m sorry.” “Me, too. What about your parents?” Her jaw tightened. “Oh, they didn’t die. Not that I know of. They just had better things to do than raise me. Dropped me off at St. Anne’s when I was four weeks old.” “I’m sorry.” He pulled open the door, but she held out a hand. “Adam, wait.” He stopped and turned to her. She forced her eyes to meet his, despite their intense scrutiny. “You didn’t have to make me breakfast after the way I acted earlier.” “I had to eat anyway. No use wasting the extra.” “Oh.” Not quite the answer she expected, but she supposed she deserved it. “Well, I’m still grateful. Thank you.” “Not a problem.” He made another move toward the hut. “Look,” she said. “I’m sorry for what I said down by the stream. It wasn’t true.” She heaved a sigh. “My mouth is definitely not my greatest asset.” The smile he switched on when his gaze fell to her lips sent a tingle through her. “I’ll have to agree with you there. But I’d say it ranks somewhere in your top five.” With that he disappeared inside the hut, leaving her blinking in shock. A smile spread across her face, and the clouds blew away to leave the sun blazing against a brilliant blue sky.

Chapter Three By the fourth night, Dana was sleeping better than she had in months. There had been no more bad dreams, no more waking up to the rumble of thunder or rain. The next morning, she woke up alert and ready for the day. She dressed quickly, pulling her tank and shorts over the panties and bra she’d worn to bed. With nights warming up, she’d taken to sleeping without her clothes and just a couple of Adam’s garments tossed over her. That, she theorized, would slightly reduce the need to do laundry. She found herself rising earlier each day, too, and now she stepped outside to a blanket of early morning fog around the hut. If she had to guess, she’d say it looked to be around six, though the time reference didn’t quite mesh here. Her gaze fell to the large shape on the ground near the fire pit, and a tiny smile lit her face. This was the first time she’d managed to beat Adam awake. Keeping her steps light, she wandered to within a couple feet of him and studied his sleeping form. He’d spread palm fronds beneath him and had stripped off his brown knit shirt to roll up into a pillow beneath his head. He was lying on his back with one leg bent and the opposite arm up over his head. The self-assured, joking-yet-serious expression he wore most of the time was gone. Now, his face looked completely relaxed and at peace. Although smiles and laughter came easily during his waking hours, he looked even happier now. The way his face was turned toward the arm extended over his head made his fair fall higher across his smooth brow. Long lashes rested against his cheeks, and despite the slight stubble shadowing his jaw, the effect gave him a boyish, innocent look. When she let her scrutiny fall lower, however, there was nothing boyish about him. Without the usual worry that he might catch her checking him out, she permitted herself a careful study of his barechested splendor. Every inch of this man’s torso was defined, including striations denoting muscles she didn’t know existed. Yet he wasn’t pumped up and oiled-looking like a body builder. This was a man who spent his life working outdoors, which was no doubt why he was so adept at carving out a modest, yet impressive living here. His underarm exposed a dark thatch of hair she found appealing and masculine, and the skin there seemed softer and a good deal whiter than the rest of his tanned flesh. His nipples were small and brown, not like her pinkish ones. The way his flat stomach gave way to the faint indent of his navel brought a little skip to her heartbeat. She meant to bypass certain other parts in order to survey the long, lean legs that were largely visible thanks to the cargo shorts he wore. When her eyes skimmed over a rigid bulge behind his zipper, however, she had to stifle a gasp at the size and apparent hardness of his male anatomy. It hadn’t ever looked that way to her before, not that she sat around staring at his crotch. She’d never seen a man naked, but she knew enough to know what lay in his shorts. Adam had an erection. Her eyes traveled back to his face. His face was still smooth and impassive, giving no hint as to his innermost thoughts. What was he dreaming about to make his body react that way? Was she part of it? A rush of heat filled her cheeks. With the sudden feeling that she’d intruded on a private moment, she spun around and crept away with as much stealth as she could manage. “Dana?” The voice coming from behind her sounded sleep-encrusted. She froze for a moment, but then her feet took over. With a manic outburst of laughter, she ran off toward the path. “Gotta go wash up,” she managed, still giggling like an idiot, the way she had the time a few of the braver girls at the orphanage tiptoed over to the peer inside the forbidden boys’ dorm. What a dolt, running away like this. No wonder Adam sometimes looked at her with a puzzled look, like she was the world’s biggest mystery. He probably thought she was a freak. At least she had an excuse for avoiding him a while today, since she planned to wash all her clothes. They should dry fairly quickly on the flat rock in the warm weather. Meanwhile, she could take a leisurely swim, and afterward, pick some of the berries she saw not too far from the place where she took care of private business.

She thought about Adam while she headed for the water. He might look at her like a puzzle, but the man was an enigma himself. He spoke his mind, but not a lot of it. He seemed downright lighthearted at times, laughing at the slightest provocation. But certain topics were guaranteed to earn a gruff answer and a scowl—like any time she tried to ask him about his life on the other side. The last time she’d pestered him about where he lived and what he did for work in his “real life,” he got up from the log bench and said, “I don’t consider that my real life. This one is.” He stalked away, and that was that. Today, she didn’t bother stripping down before her bath. She kicked off her shoes and waded straight in wearing her socks, clothes, and all. The water felt like heaven lapping against her skin, and she smiled while she dove underwater. The extra clothing stuck to her uncomfortably and weighted her down, but she didn’t care. The stream was only shoulder high at the deepest point. Soon, she removed her socks, shorts, and shirt, leaving her in just bra and panties. Those would get clean enough today from her swim. The rest she scrubbed together and swirled around in the stream, and when she waded over to the big rock she was pleased to feel it had already grown hot under the rising sun. She stood on the shore to wring each item out as best as she could, thankful for once that she just had shorts to deal with. Long jeans would be harder to wring out and would take longer to dry. When she’d squeezed out as much liquid as possible, she laid everything out on the rock. “Care to tell me what all the laughter was about back there?” With a little gasp she shot around to find Adam at the edge of the path, shirtless and barefoot. She started to grab the wet tank top off the rock to cover herself, but she stopped. Really, she wasn’t wearing any less right now than if they’d been at the beach, though a swimsuit might be a tad less transparent. She folded her arms over herself and shrugged. “Can’t a girl be happy around here without comment?” “Not when I get the feeling she was laughing at me, rather than with me.” “Don’t be silly.” Dana felt his eyes sliding over her, and her momentary bravado about standing around in her underwear faded. She tried not to appear as though she was alarmed while she waded back into the water, not stopping until everything up to and including her nipples was safely hidden. “Fine,” he said. “Have your secrets at my expense.” Her attempt at nonchalance did a one-eighty when he started unzipping his cargo shorts. She couldn’t quite keep panic out of her voice. “What are you doing?” “Joining you.” Her thoughts raced while she glanced around. “In the water?” He laughed. “You’re not the only one who likes a bracing morning swim, you know.” She shut her eyes with a gasp when he pushed his waistband down over his hips, but a moment later she couldn’t help but peek. He was wearing light blue boxers, answering the question as to his current commando status. The “condition” that had been evident in his jeans earlier was no longer straining against the fabric like it was about to burst a seam. There was still a noticeable bulge, though, and she quickly glanced away. This would be fine, right? No big deal. He was pretty much wearing shorts and she was wearing something of a bikini. This was no different than being at the public pool. So why did she back up a step for each one he took into the water? “Don’t look so terrified,” he said with a grin. He was waist deep and a mere half-dozen feet away. “I’m not.” Her shaky voice betrayed the lie. “It’s a big creek, you know. I speak from personal experience.” That stopped her retreat. Curiosity flared despite herself. “How big?” “Unknown.” He disappeared under the water for a moment and came up with his hair slicked back. “I’ve been up and down as far as I could go and never found the end.” “Really?” She peered downstream, then up. Running water stretched as far as the eye could see. “Where do you suppose it winds up?”

“I originally assumed it led to the ocean.” His voice came from much closer than it had before, and she spun to find him chest deep and only a few feet away. “Someplace familiar, maybe. Back on the other side.” She perked up at this rare mention of the real world. “You were trying to find your way home?” He scoffed. “Hardly. I was just curious.” She attempted a matter-of-fact tone to prod gently for more information “What’s your beef with the other side, anyway? Does life suck that bad?” His eyes flashed, but he just shrugged. “Everyone’s got problems.” He leaned his body forward into the water and swam a large circle around her with deft, powerful strokes. “Are you this nosy on the other side?” She twirled around to follow his motion until he’d finished his circle back where he’d started. “Not really. I pretty much mind my own business over there. It’s easier to just go through the motion of my days without getting involved.” She sighed. How pathetic her life sounded. He grunted. “No interests?” “Not particularly. Except for gardening.” “Not much need for a green thumb around here,” he said, lowering his body so he was treading water with his arms. “But it’s still one hell of a garden.” Her eyes found the shoreline and traced it. “It’s definitely that.” Everything was green and lush, but so much of the terrain looked alike. She tried to imagine Adam here alone, deciding one day to strike off toward the horizon with no idea where he was or where the stream would take him. “Weren’t you afraid of getting lost?” she asked. “When you explored where the water went, I mean.” “I figured I was already lost. If I didn’t find my way back here, I’d have just picked another spot. That was during my first cycle, though, before I built the camp. Now I’ve put so much work in on the hut that I’m much less inclined to start over elsewhere.” “How did you find your way back?” “I tied my pants to a low branch.” He twisted around and pointed to a craggy tree that had one arm stuck out over the creek. “Over there.” She nodded. “Sort of like planting your flag to claim this place?” He turned over to float on his back, and she tried not to look where dark hair and other things were evident beneath the thin material of his boxer shorts. “More like a GPS marker, but yours is an interesting viewpoint.” Though the flow of the creek was gentle, it pushed his body away from her and soon he was a short ways downstream. Then he turned over and swam back. A smile curved her lips. It looked fun. She held her breath and flopped onto her back with her head pointed downstream. Away she went, floating along like a leaf swaying on an idle breeze. She closed her eyes, still smiling, aware of the sun hitting her face intermittently through the mottled shade of the trees. When she opened her eyes and stood up, she was shocked to see Adam quite a few yards away, watching in silence. The creek carried her faster than she’d thought. Still, it wasn’t difficult to swim back against the mild current. She dipped herself underwater and smoothed her hands through her hair, then came up dripping. “It would be neat to build a raft sometime, ride far downstream,” she said. He cocked his head. “In that big a hurry to find your way back to Kansas?” “I just think it would be interesting to see where Oz goes.” She gazed downstream. “Moving water always leads to the ocean, doesn’t it?” “Eventually. In the other world, anyway.” “It could be a fun adventure.” She turned back, seized by a sudden fit of mischief. “Since you’re a great white hunter and all, surely you can handle a little adventure with a weak city girl?” She cupped her hand and splashed him. His eyes widened in shock. “Are you actually trying to have…fun?” He pretended to flinch when she scowled at him. “Hm. Maybe not.”

fun.”

“For your information, I know damn good and well how to have fun. I am the absolute epitome of

“Is that a fact?” He moved closer, a devilish grin sliding up his face. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to put that claim to the test.” Before she could reply, he karate-chopped the water and a sizable wave crashed over her. She gasped and splashed back, and then they were in the midst of a full-on water war. Her squeals were almost drowned out by the sound of the creek being hurled back and forth between the pair, and each of Adam’s strokes delivered a greater volume than the one before. He was not only stronger, but was moving closer to her with each splash. With so much water coming in, she could barely get in a breath in between her laughter and shrieks of mock protest. Still, she tried to give as good as she got until she finally had to break off and retreat, swimming away downstream. He dove after her in a shot, and within moments she felt his hands grasping her around the waist. She wriggled and pushed at him, still giggling, but he pulled her close and she was caught. The two of them stood in water up to Dana’s ribs, both soaked beyond reason and echoing raucous laughter. He swung her around in the water, and when he put her down again he kept his hands on her waist. Their joyous chuckles gradually slowed, and when they fell silent their eyes were locked in a twinkle of amusement. In tandem, their chests heaved with exertion. The longer their gazes held, the more subdued their smiles became, and the more strongly she felt the heat of his hands on her skin. Dana shivered and felt the pucker of her hardening nipples. A glance downward sent a wave of self-consciousness through her. The darker color of her nipples was obvious and straining against her bra. Adam’s hands clasped her just a little tighter, and her breaths grew uneven now for reasons having little to do with their game. When she glanced back up, she saw his gaze had dipped down to her chest, too. He flicked his attention back and cleared his throat. “So,” he said after a maddening silence, “do you give in?” She wanted to give in to him, all right, and the idea sent a mixed frisson of pleasure and fear along her spine. She swallowed, hoping he’d attribute her slight shiver to the chill of having her damp skin exposed. “Okay, I recant my earlier claim. You are the absolute epitome of fun. I’m just the backup singer.” When his hands fell away from her, she felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he said. “I’d say we’re more like co-stars, but I have slightly higher billing.” She cracked a grin. “Starring in what movie? Two Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest?” “Better than Jurrasic Park 4, all things considered.” She snorted. “Can’t argue that.” A thought tamed her smile. “Seriously though, aren’t there any dangers here?” Like her giving up her heart to the man whose lips were close enough to seriously contemplate kissing? “None that I’ve found. Honest.” That was still less reassuring than she’d have liked. The thought that she might round a bend Adam hadn’t discovered yet and stumble into a nest of raptors didn’t thrill her in the least. “There has to be some kind of animals here.” “There are fish and birds,” he said. “Bees and insects, too, but they don’t seem to feast on humans. Oh, and there’s some kind of giant butterfly I’d never seen before.” He saw her wide eyes and laughed. “Not Mothra-sized.” He held his hands maybe a foot apart. “More like this.” “That can’t be all,” she said. “There has to be more animals. Predators. Where there’s fish, there are sharks.” He shook his head and started slogging toward the water’s edge. “What is it with you and fresh water sharks, anyway?” “Not fresh water sharks. I guess I’ve just seen one too many Jaws movies.” “A girl who watches the classics. I heartily approve. But this is real life.” He glanced around. “Sort of.” “The jury is still out on that.” She moved after him. “Don’t tell me you weren’t the slightest bit freaked about what goes bump in the night when you first came here?”

“Not when I first came. I just assumed I’d gone mad, like you.” “Hey!” “I mean like you assumed the day you got here.” “And still am assuming.” He turned. “If that’s the case, you seem to be accepting insanity with better grace lately.” She shrugged. “Why not embrace the madness? Life’s too short to sit around dissatisfied with your lot all the time.” For the first time in as long as she could remember, Dana realized she meant it. Something flickered in his gaze that she couldn’t read, but then it vanished. “But not too short to avoid paranoia over invisible animal threats,” he said. “So sue me for wanting to keep my short life from being further reduced.” “There’s no legal system here, but I’ll keep it in mind.” Her reply disintegrated when Adam rose fully from the water. His thin boxer shorts were clinging to a round, taut backside and muscular legs, and she felt her mouth go dry. No legal system here. No rules of propriety, no recourse if he wanted to take advantage of the sole female in his world. Still, he hadn’t done anything of the sort, and part of her wondered why. She had indulged many thoughts of him that could get her arrested if acted upon in a public venue. Maybe he wasn’t interested in her. In which case, drooling over him made her all the crazier—especially considering she’d likely dreamed him up in the first place. Only Dana would be loony enough to invent a fantasy world that came with a disinterested, emotionally unavailable man. With a sigh, she slogged out of the water. Adam stood over to the flat rock, staring. She squeezed water from her hair and followed. “What’s wrong?” “I usually lay down here to dry off, but I don’t want to mess up your laundry.” He started to turn back, but she hurried forward. “No, go ahead. I can move my stuff.” In her rush to get past him, they brushed together briefly. A jolt surged through her body at each point of contact, enough electricity to consider dangerous to her health since she was currently dripping wet. Damn it. Touching Adam was like plugging into a light socket. She resisted the urge to do it again after she gathered her damp clothes. Instead, she sidestepped him with caution and wandered to a nearby bush. “I’ll just lay these on top of the bushes to dry,” she said, and did just that. “By the way, I noticed some berries growing back through the brush. I thought I might pick some, if you think they’re okay to eat?” “Probably.” He was already stretched out on the rock, the sun glinting off his magnificent body. One forearm was raised and across his eyes to block the glare. “I know a lot of the berries here. If you want to play it safe, don’t eat any before you show them to me.” “Okay.” Adam sat up. “Sure you don’t want to dry off and get dressed first?” He scooted over. “Plenty of room for two.” She hesitated, picturing the two of them lying on the rock, pressed against each other while wearing practically nothing. Then she shook her head. “I’m fine for now.” He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” When he settled back down, a scoot from his backside gapped open his boxers for a moment. She caught a flash of dark hair and some pale flesh that she thought twice about contemplating too closely before the fabric closed again. His arm went back over his eyes while his other hand flopped down casually over his crotch, concealing any further view. “Watch out for getting scratched up in bad places.” She frowned. “What?” “Some of the bush branches are sharp or thorny. Your clothes would offer better protection, if you want to rethink getting dressed.” While she was no expert on the subject of relationships, she knew a thing or two. Most guys alone with a half-naked girl would be trying to convince her to take the rest of her clothes off, not put more on. That seemed to confirm her theory that he wasn’t interested in her.

A wave of irritation passed over her and she rested her fists on her hips. “Side kick to the absolute epitome of fun, remember? If I want leap from bush to bush stark nude and pluck berries with my teeth, so be it.” He lifted his elbow enough to turn his head and peer at her with one eye. “Your idea of fun sounds a lot more like you’re asking for trouble. I thought you were trying to avoid danger?” A hot stab of anger shot through her stomach, and she had a sudden image of a fresh water shark leaping up to nip the heels Adam had stuck out over the edge of the rock. That might wipe the smug smile off the great white hunter’s face. It shouldn’t bother her so much that he wasn’t trying to grab her and rip her clothes off. She’d just run screaming if he tried. Maybe Adam was gay. Maybe he had someone back on the other side. Like the woman he’d been hesitant about bringing up the day she arrived. Her eyes widened at the thought. She’d forgotten all about that. Well, so what if he did? She shouldn’t care about his love life. She had no claim on him. “Ugh,” she said in disgust. “What?” She snapped up her sneakers, stalked back to the stream, and washed her feet off one at a time before sticking them inside her shoes. Without another word, she stomped off and pushed through the brush. She promptly felt the sting of branches on her arms, legs, and abdomen, and gritted her teeth in annoyance. Every time another scratch reddened her skin, she thought she heard Adam laughing and saying “I told you so.” When she whirled around, however, there was nothing but the wind and her own tangled, chaotic thoughts.

Chapter Four Dana avoided Adam for most of the day. That night, they sat on opposite ends of the log for supper, and the lack of typical light conversation was near deafening. Crickets and the popping of logs in the fire provided the only interruption to utter silence while Dana sat with a new leaf bowl in her lap, scowling down at her hands. They were stained reddish-purple from berry picking that afternoon, and no amount of scrubbing had helped clean them off. Adam had declared the fruit safe and delicious to eat, but why hadn’t he warned her about the seemingly permanent dye job on her skin? In fairness, perhaps if she’d had a regular childhood, where berry picking was a typical summer pastime, she might have had better common sense. At least she’d managed not to get berry juice on her clean clothes. Adam was seated as far away from her on the log as possible, but he might as well have been pressed against her side. She felt a keen sense of his presence, a solid and palpable energy that she couldn’t ignore. He, on the other hand, seemed quite oblivious to her while he tackled a dinner of wild mushroom salad and berries. He sat almost hunched over his leaf bowl, his boyish bangs hanging into his eyes with irritating appeal while he ate. He wore the cargo shorts that defined his lean legs, and to make matters worse he had changed into a tight, black tank top that exposed a good deal of muscle and just a scant bit of chest hair. Dana couldn’t stand the thick quiet any longer. Something had been whirling in her mind all day, in between images of how the sun had glinted off Adam’s wet body and the way hers had tingled when his hands were on her. These memories were followed by stern reminders to stop acting so ridiculous. He obviously didn’t feel the same way about her, either because she wasn’t his type or because there was already a “his type” waiting on the other side. In any case, she decided to focus on the other topic that had been weighing heavy on her mind. “How long will we be gone?” she asked. He stopped chewing some leafy greens and shot her a quizzical look. “Gone?” She nodded. “Let’s say, strictly for argument’s sake, that I’m not insane. If this place is real, and I’ll eventually return to the other side, how long will I have been gone?” She had given this a good deal of thought. Although she was still unsure about her mental condition, it wouldn’t hurt to take other possibilities into account. If some whoosh of a magic tree had truly zoomed her off to Neverland, she had to consider the consequences of going back. Would she return to find her face plastered on milk cartons? Would she still have a job? Would her condo have been repossessed? “You won’t have been gone at all.” She picked up a mushroom and frowned at it, though it was perfectly formed and smelled rich and delicious. “Right. Because we’re not really here.” “No, because we pick up where we left off.” “So it’ll be the same date as when I left?” Firelight cast fine shadows on his face. “Yep.” “I’ll be back in my garden, and my coffee will still be warm.” He nodded. She popped the mushroom in her mouth while she thought about this. After she swallowed, she said, “And how long will it be before we get pulled back there?” “A year.” She jumped up, scattering berries and leaves on the ground. “What? A whole year?” “A year doesn’t mean the same thing here, remember. It’s a lot shorter. That’s why I like to refer to it as a cycle.” She cocked her head at him. “How much shorter?” Adam finished his dinner and tossed the leaf bowl into the fire. “You’ve already seen that the days here aren’t as long.”

She glanced up at the starry sky. “True. But I’ll admit I haven’t quite figured out how many hours are in a day.” “Twelve.” “So time is half as long here. Does that mean a year is six months?” “Not exactly.” He paused. “So this is what’s been bothering you?” She felt tension knot in her stomach. “It isn’t bothering me. I was just thinking about it.” “So what is it, then?” “What’s what?” “You’ve been avoiding me all day. Did I do something wrong?” A pulse thudded against her temples. “No.” She stalked several feet away, but then she spun back around. “Yes, actually.” He set his hands on his hips. “Okay. Let’s have it.” She spread her arms out and looked down at herself. “Just how big of a freak am I, anyway?” “Excuse me?” “You must think I’m some sort of Frankenstein reject.” His face screwed up with confusion. “I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re talking about.” She paced back and forth behind the log. “Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. I mean, there I was at the stream, all wet and wearing nothing but practically see-through underwear, and you didn’t even care.” His eyebrows lifted until they disappeared beneath his bangs. “I didn’t?” “No. And I find that a bit insulting.” She scowled when he started chuckling. “This isn’t funny.” He patted the log. “Sit down.” When she glared at him he added, “Please?” She rounded the log and sat, almost falling off the edge in her attempt to place herself well away from him. After a moment’s silence, he leaned his elbows on his thighs and sighed. “Believe me, I cared.” Dana sniffed. “I don’t believe you. You didn’t do anything about it. You don’t ever try to kiss me, let alone anything else.” She realized she was treading on babbling idiot territory and snapped her jaw shut, but it was too late. The confession that she wanted him to lust after her was out. “Not because I don’t want to. I’m trying to be a gentleman.” She glanced over at him. “Is that really the reason?” “Of course. It isn’t always easy, you know. I warned you earlier that your idea about stripping naked to pick berries was asking for trouble.” Her eyes widened. “I thought you were talking about the dangers of thorny bushes.” “No. That wasn’t what I was talking about.” He shook his head. “Dana, why do you think I got out of the water when I did? You were practically in my arms, dripping wet and sexy and looking at me with those giant, vulnerable blue eyes.” He stopped and whooshed out a breath. “And yeah, I really wanted to do something about it.” Her stomach had given up on the mere jitters. It was now performing a complete acrobatic circus, complete with a juggling mime and elephants on parade. She couldn’t trust her voice, but she had to ask. “Why didn’t you?” “I told you. I was trying to be a gentleman.” “But why?” He shot her a look. “Would you rather I act like an unscrupulous cad?” “No. I just mean we’re a healthy man and woman alone together in paradise. It would seem natural that one thing leads to another.” She glanced away. “Unless you don’t want me for some reason. Unless there’s something wrong with me. Which brings me back to my ‘I’m-a-Frankenstein-freak’ theory.” “Is that what you really think?” She shrugged. “There has to be something wrong with me. Maybe you think my eyes are too buggy or my mouth is too wide. Or maybe my breasts aren’t big enough and my ass—”

The problem with her backside was abruptly cut off when he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers. His mouth was hot, almost fevered. So was the hand he pushed into her hair. She froze, her eyes wide and filled with the proximity of his face. His firm, unyielding lips unleashed a chaotic shockwave of emotion, and she could barely catch her breath. Then she inhaled his scent—the male, earthy smell that clung to the garments she held close each night—and she melted into the kiss. The three ring circus in her stomach opened a fourth act while his lips moved over hers, and her eyes fluttered closed. When she felt his tongue sweep out over her upper lip, heat spread through her body and a faint, yet insistent pulsing stirred between her thighs. She was about to circle his neck with her hand to hold him against her forever when he broke contact. Her breath came in gasps while his dark, clouded eyes searched hers with a look of frustration. His voice deepened to a smoldering whisper. “Does that feel like I think there’s anything wrong with you?” Her tongue had gone numb and she could barely speak. “I suppose not.” Several emotions flickered across his features while she waited, her heart hammering against her sternum. A mental wish that he would kiss her again slipped away, unheard by the universe. To her disappointment, Adam got up and walked around the fire pit. He stopped on the opposite side with his back to her. The frantic patter of her pulse turned to a dull thud. “So what is it, then?” she asked. “Why don’t you want me? Or at least, why don’t you want to take this any further?” He turned his head to speak over his shoulder. “It’s not that I don’t want to.” He broke off and dragged a hand through his hair. She got to her feet, but made no move toward him. “Ever since I got here I’ve had the feeling you’re holding something back. You don’t want to talk about your life away from here.” “Does it matter? You don’t even believe this place is real. Or that I am.” A bitter taste crept up the back of her throat. “So is your reluctance because I’m having doubts about my sanity? Or about you really being here?” “No.” “Then you are hiding something.” He turned back, his face almost menacing with the wild flames from the fire pit dancing in front of him. “I didn’t say that.” The answer welled up and burst like a bubble in her chest. “Is it because of her?” His eyes narrowed. “‘Her’ who?” “The woman you don’t want me to know about. The one who brought you to the tree.” She saw recognition flicker in his expression. “That’s it, isn’t it? You can’t get involved with me because there’s someone waiting on the other side.” She waved a hand around to gesture at the cam. “Why do you keep coming here, then? Don’t you miss her? Is she your wife?” “No. I’m not married.” Dana swept back a strand of hair and folded her arms. “Girlfriend, then.” He whooshed out a breath. “There isn’t anyone else.” “Then who is the woman you mentioned?” “She’s just a friend.” She shot him a look of open skepticism. “Yeah, a lot of guys say that it would be inconvenient to admit otherwise.” He started back around the fire pit, his volume increasing with each sentence. “You’ve got it all wrong, Dana. She was a friend to me during a time when I thought I had none. It’s a debt I can’t ever hope to repay, and I don’t owe you any apology for my feelings about that.” Dana had never heard him speak with so much emotion. “Seems I hit a nerve. I’m sure you can see how that makes this look.” “I don’t care how my life looks to you.” His eyes blazed brighter than the flames behind him. “It’s my business, not yours. Besides, considering you’re certain all I am is a hiccup in your psychological well being, why should it matter if I have a harem full of women?”

She lifted her chin even though it felt as if he’d just slapped it. “It doesn’t matter in the slightest. Go ahead and wish a hundred girlfriends here on magic trees. I don’t care.” “If you don’t care, then why are you so upset?” “Who’s upset?” An answering clap of thunder shook the clearing, and they both glanced up. Adam raised a brow at her. “Don’t flatter yourself, “she snapped. “It’s this whole place that has me upset. It annoys me that I’m here at all, and now you say I’m stuck for a whole year. By the way, you never did clear up just how long that is.” “Are you really in that big a hurry to get away from me and back to your life?” “Why aren’t you in a hurry to?” Now they were both shouting over a roaring sky. Then without warning, the fire left Adam’s eyes, and he turned to her with a somber expression. “I’m sorry, Dana.” She’d already had her mouth open to fire off a reply, and she blinked in surprise at the sudden shift. “For what?” “For not realizing everyone wouldn’t necessarily be as thrilled as I am to be in this situation. For not keeping in mind how much of an imposition this must be for someone who actually has a life they are anxious to get back to.” “I didn’t say that.” She hugged herself, her breath whistling through pursed lips. “My life is nothing to envy. It’s just me, my nondescript office job and my little condo. From what you say, they’ll all still be waiting for me like I never left. But that doesn’t mean I don’t get freaked out by this whole thing. I’m not like you.” “Don’t be so sure. I was pretty freaked when I got here. Rebecca didn’t give me fair warning when she took me to the tree.” So, the woman had a name now. Dana flinched at the sound of it, despite his claims that there was nothing romantic between them. “You said she told you about this place.” “Not until after I got back. All I knew up front was that she was giving me a special surprise.” “You can say that again. How did she know about this?” “She’s experienced it. Went through a rough time in her teens and wound up with firsthand knowledge of springtime magic. She claims it saved her life.” “I thought you said nobody has ever come here?” “She didn’t come here, exactly. When we compared notes, the place she described visiting didn’t entirely jive.” “So she didn’t tell you about this place, and you had no idea what would happen when she took you to the tree?” Dana offered a sympathetic smile when he nodded. “You thought you were nuts, too.” “Worse. I was in a full, blind panic. I was propped against the tree, looking around this beautiful landscape. But all I could see was that there was nobody else. Rebecca was gone. I was completely alone. Then I realized…” He trailed off and stared at the ground. “You realized what?” There was a pause. “I realized that I didn’t need anyone. Before long, I didn’t want anyone, either.” Dana felt herself grow rigid. So that was it. “You’re happy being alone.” He smiled. “Ecstatic. I can’t really explain, but I revel in that feeling. The great Adam Shay, master of his fate. The loss of solitude is one of the things I dread when it’s time to go back.” She barely registered the fact that Adam had just revealed his last name. The rest of his words were what mattered. Her tone went flat. “I understand.” “You do?” She nodded. “Completely. One more thing. Not to keep harping on the same topic, but just exactly how long is a cycle?”

“Well, there are four seasons, though winter here is relatively mild. Each season lasts three weeks’ worth of our twelve hour days.” Her brain worked the calculation. “Eighty-four days?” “Eighty-four shortened days.” “Okay, then. Thanks.” With that, she gave an exaggerated yawn. “Speaking of which, it’s getting late. Think I’ll turn in, if you don’t mind.” She could see a momentary flicker of surprise in his expression. “Okay.” “Good night.” His intense stare threatened to unhinge her resolve, so she looked away. “Good night, Dana.” Her limbs quivered while she walked toward the hut, making her feel disjointed and uncoordinated. She hoped Adam didn’t notice. Once inside, she laid down on the pallet without bothering to take anything off. She stared into the black for a long while, flicking glances at the reassuring slivers of moonlight filtering through the cracks. The moon here was always full and bright, shining through the spots where reeds and posts were spaced wider, like around the door frame. At certain times of night, the entire doorway was illuminated. So, there was no way out of this for seventy-nine more days. All she could do was make things better or worse while she was stuck here. If she could just be brave enough to do what she had to do now, things could be better for the both of them. Well, better for Adam, anyway. She thought through her plan for a while longer, waiting. At last, she rose from her bed. Clutching the shirt-pillow to her front, she crept back outside. Her body shivered more from nerves more than the cool of the evening. Adam’s back was to her while he stoked flames in the fire pit, his burnished hair a fiery sheen of russet gold against the backdrop of light. For a long moment, she stared at him. Her heart pounded with an almost painful longing while she took in his sculpted perfection. Then, before she could change her mind or Adam could spin around and catch her, she turned and slipped away into the night.

Chapter Five It rained for two days and nights. On the third day, Dana huddled under the outermost tree in a small grove, glowering at the relentless sky. Clouds flew over the vista with reckless speed, caught in volatile updrafts over the landscape. Yet the winds never cleared a path through the clouds to the blue sky above. They merely brought in more clouds and miserable rain. The precipitation had been almost constant since she’d left Adam’s camp, with only brief breaks, mostly late at night. At this rate, she could imagine Adam floating by on an ark fashioned without any tools, whereas she’d be lucky to find a fallen branch to cling to when this entire fantasy went underwater. “I don’t know what you’re going on about,” she shouted at the broiling storm. “I’m not that upset. Not nearly.” And it was true, really. Once she’d made the break and severed her dependence on a man who valued his solitude and didn’t want her—or anyone, for that matter, she hadn’t felt much emotion at all. It was a sensation she recognized, the one the nuns at the orphanage referred to as her “shutting down and cutting off.” She hugged the pillow against her and coughed. So what if she did? People handled feelings in far worse ways than to just flip them off like a switch. Maybe if more folks had her talent, the world would be a safer, saner place. Then again, she was the one who couldn’t control her own delusional world, so she could hardly judge. Out of habit, she inhaled the shirt’s scent when her nose was pressed to the pillow. Her sinuses were blocked, thanks to the weather, and she couldn’t smell anything. She shouldn’t have taken his pillow. It was a silly impulse, not to mention a poor thanks-for-having-me gesture. Still, even if there was no future for her and Adam, she found comfort in the scent the stuffed fabric still carried a hint of. It would fade completely soon, much sooner than her memories of him or her ardent wish things could have been different. Both would stay with her for as long as she remained in this place. Once her eighty-four day sentence was up, she could go back to her life and forget about Adam Shay. Maybe she’d cut down the damned jacaranda tree and its cursed blossoms altogether. She glanced around the small clearing outside the tree line she was sheltered under. The spot she’d found to spend the rest of her days in wasn’t nearly as impressive as Adam’s camp, of course, but the smaller clearing seemed more appropriate for someone with her utter lack of survival skill. She hadn’t used the clearing at all, considering she spent the bulk of her time evading waterlog under the trees. Still, her spot was close to the stream, and a spot near water was one of the only requirements she’d had when setting off to make her own way in paradise. Of course, at the time she’d had no idea water would be following her in droves from the sky wherever she went. The other requirement had been a spot far enough away from Adam’s camp to ensure he wouldn’t stumble over her. It was bad enough that she was ruining his vacation with this run of bad weather. The awkward experience of running into Mr. Solitude while out gathering berries was an issue she could do without. The thought of food produced a rumbling from her stomach that rivaled the occasional rolls of thunder overhead. She put the pillow aside and groaned to her feet, her legs and back protesting the cramped position she’d been curled into against the tree. The back of her shorts were wet and soiled and stuck to her miserably, but until the rain let up there was no point in washing them. Humidity frizzed her already-limp hair, at least from what she could tell by the slight wiry feel and the wisps that looked lightning-fried when they dried enough to blow into her face. Her hair had somehow grown longer in the week she’d been here, and considering she’d been thinking about growing it out, that was sort of neat. Less appealing was the other hair growing exponentially on her legs and underarms. She wished she’d have bothered to shave the morning she arrived here, though that would make little difference by now. She felt like a woolly mammoth, and probably looked and smelled a good deal like one, too. Granted, she

wasn’t here to win any beauty pageants, and there was no one else around to see her looking so bedraggled. But she felt gross, and that wasn’t improving her mood. Then she remembered how Adam got stubble off his face with a rock. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? Maybe she’d been too preoccupied with filling her stomach and staying out of the ever-present deluge. Twenty minutes of looking around netted her a good handful of berries to eat, plus several stones of a promising size. She ate while beating the stones against a larger rock until her fingers cramped. Finally, one stone shattered enough to shear the end off into a sharp edge. Down by the stream she found some slimy mud, and with a grimace she slathered a thin layer on her wet shins. The rock scraped against her skin as she “shaved” with it, skimming off the mud and what seemed to be some hair with it. Ha! Triumph. She’d managed to acquire berries and a razor. See, she could survive on her own after all. After doing her legs with only a couple minor cuts, she peeled off her shirt and tackled her underarms, an arduous task that took much longer. Rain fell on the stream with an insistent patter while she rinsed off in the stream. Her teeth chattered while she tried to tug her clothes back on, and while she was not thrilled about feeling like a drowned muskrat, being more or less clean again helped make up for it. She wandered back to her spot under the tree, feeling quite pleased with herself—until she looked up and froze. Adam stood in the clearing, rooted in place while rain poured over him. His jeans and plaid shirt were soaked. “Jesus, Dana,” he said in a shocked tone. “There you are.” He started toward her, but stopped when his eyes fastened on her narrow gaze. “Where have you been?” She offered him a bitter smile. “Did you think you’d wished me away? Sorry to disappoint you.” “What the hell are you talking about?” He looked up, seeming to notice the downpour for the first time. He came in under the tree line and stood dripping in front of her. “Damn it, I’ve been searching everywhere for you.” Realizing her wet clothing was also partially transparent, she folded her arms over her breasts and tried to speak through teeth that were chattering more with tension than cold. “Why?” “Why?” He slicked back his hair and wiped water from his face. “Why the hell do you think? What’s wrong with you?” “That’s what I’ve been asking myself my entire life.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand you. First you tell me you’re unhappy because you thought I wasn’t interested in you. When I told you I am interested, you run away completely.” He reached out and took hold of her chin. “Why did you leave?” Despite the chill of the rain, his hand heated her skin. “Look, you made it clear enough that you don’t want anyone here. I was doing you a favor.” “No, what you were doing was worrying me sick. I never said I didn’t want you here.” “Not me specifically. But you said you didn’t want anyone here.” “I didn’t mean it like that. And you should have said something, not just taken off the way that you did.” She blinked. “I didn’t mean to cause you trouble. I was trying to do the right thing. I thought you’d be happy I was gone.” “I’m not happy. Not one bit.” He glanced at the sky. “Which should be beyond obvious.” Her eyes widened as she glanced at the rain still dripping behind him. He’d been responsible for the weather? A shiver swept over her. “Sorry. I didn’t think it would bother you if I left.” “You really think that poorly of me? It bothered the hell out of me when you took off.” He heaved a sigh. “Always so quick to assume the worst. Like the way you thought I didn’t want you in the first place.” She shrugged. “My own parents didn’t want me. Why should someone as amazing as you?”

He pressed his lips together. “I don’t know the circumstances of your life, and I’m sorry things happened the way they did. But I most definitely want you. How could you think otherwise, after the way I kissed you?” Her heart skipped at the memory of that moment, one she’d fought off a thousand times since she’d left him. “I told you, I thought I was a freak. You might have just been trying to make me feel better by being nice to me.” So she’d told herself a hundred times since leaving. “Nice?” He blinked. “So this is what you do when you think I’m being nice? You run away?” Her reply was cut off when he ducked down with a swift motion and scooped her up, then slung her over his shoulder so she found herself abruptly staring down his back at the ground. She shrieked and grabbed hold of the rear of his soaking wet shirt. “Are you crazy? What are you doing?” He turned and headed toward the far edge of the clearing. “If leaving me is what you plan to do when I’m nice, let’s try me not being nice.” Each long stride touching the ground sent a jolt of impact through her, but it was the hand resting firmly on her bottom that had her full attention. “Adam, stop! Where are you taking me?” “Back where you belong.” The rain had ceased, but the sky still boomed in rolling waves. Her hair hung down past her head and dripped on the ground. “This isn’t funny, Adam. Stop playing around.” “Oh, I’m dead serious.” “You can’t possibly carry me this way all the way back to your camp.” “Watch me.” They went several more steps, but before they reached the edge of the clearing he stopped short. Then he slid her down his torso until she was on her feet. Nevertheless, he kept his hold on her tight so that every inch of her body was pressed to his. The sensation was so intimate that she could no longer breathe. “On second thought,” he said, “maybe you’re right.” “Good.” “I’ll never make it all the way back to camp without wanting to do this.” He leaned down and kissed conscious thought right out of her, until paradise faded away and left nothing but the heavenly feel of his mouth on hers. His hands roamed over her curves, and his intentions grew obvious with a rising hardness pressing against her pelvis. Her first thought was to push away in protest. But every nerve ending tingled with need, and her body took over. She kissed him back, her hands sliding onto his shoulders to pull him closer to her. “Adam,” she whispered against his lips. “I’ve never been with anyone before. Like this.” He growled, and an answering clap overhead almost drowned out his reply. “I’m right there with you. It’s been a very long time.” He pulled her down on the wet ground in the clearing, not caring how the thunder boiled above them or the way mud splashed on their bodies while he peeled away the clothing between them. Then he proceeded to show her just how wrong she’d been about him not wanting her. Much later, when they lay muddy and sated in one another’s arms, the sky fell silent and cleared to a calm twilight.

Chapter Six Dana’s lips curved into a bittersweet smile at the feel of a warm evening breeze on her skin. Weeks had come and gone with new discoveries each day, new skills gained as Adam taught her how to eke out an existence with her own two hands and minor tools. Fire making had proven the hardest for her to master, though it was a task Adam could accomplish with ease. Two weeks of trying had finally earned her a spark that caught and smoldered the dry tinder for their fire pit. What ability she lacked in lighting sticks, however, she made up for in lighting a fire even more vital to her survival—the smoldering desire between her and Adam that she never wanted to dwindle. She sat on the ground in front of the log, leaning against it while she used Adam’s pocket knife to cut bits of mango-like fruit into leaf bowls for their supper. Adam sat on the log behind her, with her snuggled between his legs. He was busy tossing tiny new berries and stalks of a celery-type green into their salad. They worked in a comfortable silence, as they often did now when going about mundane tasks she no longer needed step-by-step guidance for. A stray memory flicked to mind of the night they’d sat in a very different kind of silence on opposite sides of the log. Despite the shorter days in this place, that night still felt like ages ago, almost too far back to remember in clear detail. So much had happened since then, so many ways Adam had blown apart her theory that he didn’t want her here. They’d grown close in many of the ways that mattered between a man and a woman, but there was still a distance between them. That chasm was palpable now, even while sandwiched between his powerful thighs. It was a distance she couldn’t quite figure out, let alone span, although she suspected part of the reason they both held a piece of their hearts in reserve was the inevitable march of time. When their days together had been fresh and it seemed like time stretched out forever before them, her biggest worry had been the coming of winter. She felt justified in her concern because of her light wardrobe, but Adam had been right in saying the cold season would be mild. She’d weathered the season comfortably enough, wearing borrowed pants of Adam’s and a long-sleeved plaid she called his “logger-man” shirt. In winter they spent a lot more time in the cozy hut, too, occupied with sensual delights that kept them plenty warm. There was no snow and no more rain since the day they’d reunited, though the passion of their lovemaking often brought churning clouds and thunder. Today had come as close to bringing sorrowful rain clouds than any since Adam had brought her back to his camp, carrying her in his arms the way a man carries his bride across the threshold. As much as she’d feared the coming of winter during the fall, this mid-spring evening was the one she’d fretted about most. Eighty-three days had flown by on a breeze of happy contentment. Now, according to Adam’s paradise calendar, their time was up tomorrow. Dana should be happy about her return to sanity. The built-in time limit must have been invented as a way to give herself permission to begin the journey back to mental health. But now she knew a hard truth about herself. She didn’t want to get better. She wanted to stay lost in her delusion, without worry that she would discover her time with Adam had been nothing more than a cruel lie. She didn’t want to face the fact that he wasn’t real, even though every nerve ending in her body screamed otherwise when his arms were around her. It was all her fault for falling in love with a fantasy man she knew could vanish at any moment. But how could she help herself? He loved her, too, she thought, although they never said the words to each other. They were afraid to, and she knew why—in her case, at least. His feelings shone in his eyes when he made love to her, and were evident even now in the occasional caress of his hand while they prepared supper. Maybe he never said those three words because he knew their time was short. Or maybe both of them knew it was useless because none of it was really happening. In the end, she figured the most likely reason Adam still would not discuss his life on the other side with her was that he didn’t have one. Perhaps she’d put so much energy into maintaining the overall delusion that she hadn’t any left to concoct a back story for her dream lover. Or maybe she was too

jealous and selfish to think up a life for him aside from her. She did think of it, though, at nights while they lay together on the pallet that had been expanded to accommodate them both. She listened to his low, even breaths and the gentle hum of the wind through the cracks in the hut and wondered who he really was. She believed Adam when he said he didn’t have another woman in his life, or else she would never have entered his bed. Nevertheless, it irked her to know so little about him. Where did he live? What did he do for work? How did he spend his leisure time? So far she’d learned little by digging and casual slipups. He didn’t like watching sports, for one thing, and he did a fair amount of reading. His favorite color was green, and his favorite food was mushroom-slathered prime rib. That pretty much summed up what she knew about the Adam who might or might not exist in the real world. The Adam who existed here, well, that man never stopped surprising her, no matter how well she thought she knew him. She finished cutting up fruit and handed Adam back his knife. “So, how soon can I come back here?” There was yet another topic he’d been reluctant to discuss, but in this case, she’d been equally unwilling to broach the subject of leaving him behind forever. He smoothed his fingertips along her brow, brushing aside the bangs that had long since grown to beneath her chin. “Do you even want to come back? I thought you were in a hurry to get away because this place annoyed you so much.” “That was a long time ago. I’ll admit paradise has kind of grown on me.” She glanced around at the dark silhouette of trees the moon hadn’t lifted quite high enough in the sky to spotlight yet. “The whole idea is rather appealing. So yes, I’d love to come back again.” She turned to him with a teasing expression. “Unless you have other plans for next cycle. Like poker nights with the guys or something.” He grunted. “I’d much rather have you snuggled up here with me than some scruffy, beer-bellied poker player.” “Good. Then it’s a date.” She frowned. “How long before we come back, anyway?” There was a brief hesitation. “Next spring.” “What?” A sense of déjà vu hit while she jumped to her feet. “A whole year?” A shake of his head tossed back the hair that had grown long enough to brush his shoulders. “Remember how I said this works? There is one day in spring when a ring of the first jacaranda blooms fall around the tree and release the right energy.” She stared into the fire. “Well, damn. That’s too long to wait.” “I know. Believe me, I think that every year. No more so than this time.” A sigh chuffed out of her. “I suppose I should be more grateful. How many people get an eightyfour-day vacation each year? So how does it work? Do we go sit at our trees and wait until they take us home?” A thought brightened her smile. “Wait. What if we don’t go back to the trees?” She revised the thought. “What if we chopped them down?” “Even if we had an axe, it wouldn’t work. You’d still leave.” He frowned. “Without a way to come back, if you cut it down.” Good point. “What if we sit at the same tree? We could go back together.” “I don’t think so.” Her scowl deepened. “How do you know? You haven’t tried it, right? No one else has been here with you.” He shot her an unreadable look. “We don’t even have to be near a tree. We’ll just leave from wherever we are, and then we’ll show up back where we’re supposed to be.” The ugly feeling that he truly reviled the idea of facing reality with her beside him struck. “What if fate decided that where we’re supposed to be is together?” He shrugged. “I don’t think it happens like that. It will happen like it always does. We’ll each wind up back at our own trees on the other side.” “Well, that’s some fine news.” She paced around a moment. “So we’ll just have to look each other up when we get there, won’t we?” She stuck out her hand as if in handshake. “Dana Stockholm, 1215 Mojave Drive in La Mesa, New Mexico.”

He nodded, but the smile on his face registered as being rather off. He took her hand gently and stood up. “Do we have to spend our last night in paradise worrying about the other side? I’d rather enjoy it to the fullest.” The light touch of his fingers feathering her throat unhinged her jumbled thoughts. “Let’s just be here tonight. Together. Okay?” Her frantic pulse didn’t ease up any, but pounded for an altogether different reason now. Adam was right. There was time enough for last-minute arrangements tomorrow. She stroked her free hand along his sandpapery jaw. “Okay.” She tugged on his hand to pull him toward the hut. When he resisted, she turned with a frown. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want to?” “Not in the dark hut.” He glanced at the flames. “Here, where I can see every bit of you in the firelight while I make love to you.” A shiver tingled along her spine at the heat in his expression, and for just a while he made her forget that time would not stand still forever.

Chapter Seven Dawn nudged Dana awake with slivers of creamy yellow light across her face. Adam was facing her with his upper arm tossed carelessly over her bare hip. His warm breath fanned across her cheek at regular intervals. For several long moments she watched him sleep and felt a profound, deep sense of belonging. Then she remembered. A grip of panic clutched at her throat, and she circled his body with her arm and held him tight. After a moment of listening to her pulse pound in her ears, she slid away and pushed him onto his back. She slid a hand over his warm, hard chest, and by the time his eyes fluttered open with a groan, she was straddling his hips and nibbling one of his ears. She needed to feel his skin against hers. She needed to do whatever she could to cement them together in time and space. Maybe she could thwart the impending change. Maybe the springtime magic would see the folly of bringing her to Adam only to separate them again. With a lazy smile, his body responded to her urgent attentions. Soon, the pair were entwined in a fever she prayed would burn away any forces seeking to divide them. Much later in the morning, they grabbed their clothes and wandered naked to the stream to clean up and take care of other needs. They dressed in silence and went through the motions of preparing fruits and nuts with the fleshy mushroom they used as a meat substitute. It wasn’t until the sun was high overhead that they spoke in more than brief, perfunctory sentences. “You’re quiet today,” he said. “You, too.” “I guess there’s not a lot to say.” She glanced at him. “Or so much to say we don’t know where to begin.” He nodded, and then his fiery jade eyes searched the overhead sky. “I will say I usually get yanked back earlier in the day.” Hope leapt to her chest. “That’s good, right? Maybe we won’t go back.” His gaze returned to her. “What would you do if that happened? Embrace the insanity for good?” Her instant pleasure dwindled while she gave it serious thought. True. She’d never know whether the whole thing was just a fantasy. She shrugged. “Then I guess I’d have to let go of reality forever. I hear sanity is rather overrated, anyway.” He laughed for the first time that day. Her heart swelled with joy at the sight of the sheer happiness in his eyes, but a pang of shock burst her happiness when his expression went cold. Adam was staring at her at though she was an apparition. “What is it?” she whispered. “The shimmer.” With a gasp, she looked down and saw faint flickering light shining around her, glittering like the starry sky they had made love to each other beneath the previous night. When she looked back up, her eyes widened as the same aura began pulsing around him. “You’re shimmering, too,” she whispered. “Damn. So much for not going back.” She tried a brave smile that faltered. Dana grabbed for his hand, as if joining together might keep them from parting. “I’m scared, Adam.” “Don’t be. Just say we’ll see each other again.” “And damn soon. You better call me five minutes from now. You memorized the number I gave you, right? Shall I tell you again? If only the rains hadn’t ruined your note paper. Oh well, just remember Dana Stockholm, La Mesa, New Mexico. I’m listed. Wait—where do you live? You never did say.” He smiled, and the shimmer brightened until her view of him began to fade. He grabbed her face and kissed her, and against her lips his voice sounded almost anguished. “I want you to know something before we go.”

“Just tell me how to find you.” “I love you, Dana.” The words he’d never said to her before rang through her spirit, buoying her through the sinking feeling in her soul. “I love you too, Adam.” “I am so in love with you I can’t think straight,” he went on. “Please believe me, and please come back next year. I’m sorry.” Tears were falling on his cheeks now, making their kiss salty. A thick lump in her throat made her reply almost inaudible. “Sorry for what?” “I can’t come find you.” “What? Why?” The world dimmed for a long moment, and she could barely hear his “Goodbye” echo through the darkness. “Adam? Adam!” Dana opened her eyes to a strange sight. Or rather, to a familiar sight that felt strange because of the eternity it had been since she last saw it. Sun glinted off the gazing ball peeking out from under large, broad hosta leaves. A house finch perched on the bird bath she had neglected to fill, lifted its tail to deposit a splotch on the cement basin, and flew off. She jerked away from the back of the tree, blinking at the sight of her own little yard. Then she yelped in pain. “Ouch!” Her bare thigh burned from hot coffee sloshing over the mug that had appeared in her hand. She set the cup down and rubbed her leg. “I’m back,” she said in a slow drawl. “I’m really back.” She had to steady herself against the tree to stand up, because her limbs felt creaky and sore. They would barely support her weight. Adam had mentioned that when she’d first arrived on the other side. She wiped at the brown fluid running down her now-pale legs. Her fantasy tan was gone. Her fantasy world was gone. Adam was gone. Panic beat against her chest. What did he mean when he said he wasn’t going to look for her? She babbled aloud to herself. “My coffee is still hot. I haven’t been gone more than a few minutes.” She looked around. “Was it all a dream? A really intense, steroid-enhanced REM cycle?” Her eyes fell to the bare ground, where the blooms from her jacaranda lay. “It’s still early spring.” She walked around the tree, faster with each step. “Yes! The blossoms are still in a circle. I can go back.” In her hurry, she almost kicked over her mug. She plopped back down and pressed her back tight against the jacaranda trunk. Squeezing her eyes closed she whispered, “Take me back. I want to go to paradise. No, I want to go wherever Adam is. Please.” Five beats, then ten went by with her eyes still shut tight. Then she squinted to take a peek. She was still in her garden. So that was that. The whole thing had been nothing more than a ridiculous delusion that her mind had finally had enough of. Or maybe spring magic was just what Adam had said, a one-time-a-year burst of energy deal. Either way, the man she loved was gone. While he claimed to love her in return, he would not be phoning or knocking on her door. She was alone, just like she’d been her entire life.

Chapter Eight “Dana.” The voice was whispered, urgent, and coming from the cubicle next to hers. Dana glanced up from the manila folder she’d been twirling around idly on her desk. Anabelle, the other clerk typist at Worthington, Manners, and Ford, was glaring her direction while a French-tipped manicure drummed impatience on her own desk. “Please tell me you’re not making another one of those calls,” the woman said in a harsh whisper, looking around to be sure no one else was listening before turning a glare back to Dana. Dana shrugged and covered the mouthpiece of the receiver. “Shh.” A voice came on the other end of the line just as she finished shushing her co-worker. “Hello?” The voice was thin, elderly, and not promising. Still, it could be someone else answering. “Adam Shay?” she asked. “Yes?” She sighed. “Sorry, wrong number.” She hung up and flipped open the folder, clicked open her ballpoint pen, and scratched off the most recently dialed number on her list. A pair of high-heeled feet came into view on the floor beside Dana’s desk. “You’re going to get fired if you keep this up,” Anabelle said. “They’ll catch you eventually. Besides, I thought you said you hired someone to track this guy down?” “I did. But the search will go faster if I work on it, too.” “I don’t even know why you’re bothering. All this for a guy you met on your birthday? If he wanted to be found, you’d have found him. If he doesn’t want you to find him and you do anyway, he’ll think you’re a crazy stalker for trying. To be honest, honey, I’m starting to think you’re a crazy stalker.” The woman now stood in front of her with a smooth, gray-tinged bun over a wrinkled frown. She wore a knit Neiman-Marcus dress and Italian leather strappy heels. Dana wore a thrift store navy blazer and skirt, and her hair was frizzed out from the humidity of an early-onset summer. She wondered how the woman could afford designer clothes and thousand-dollar handbags on their salaries. Anabelle wasn’t married, so she lived off her own meager income. Then again, if Dana wanted, she could delve into her savings and buy a fancy pair of pumps, too. She was obsessive about watching her money grow, however, preferring microwave macaroni and cheese to restaurant lunches with the rest of the workers every day. So what? Her thrifty habits had come in damn handy when it came time to plunk down a down payment on her condo, not to mention when she’d shelled out a mint to hire Stan Myers—a boy she’d grown up with at the orphanage who’d gone on to become a private eye—after three weeks of trying to find her fantasy man on her own. Not that she hadn’t located Adam Shay. She had, all right—more than two thousand of them in twelve states, courtesy of the internet Yellow Pages. The trick would be to ferret out the Adam Shay, assuming he actually existed and was one of the candidates on her ever-growing phone list. She’d dialed five hundred numbers in the six weeks since they parted, dodging her bosses at work to sneak in calls and then making more from home to those states where it wouldn’t be considered too late by the time she got in. Some numbers she couldn’t rule out right away, because lines were busy or went unanswered. None had the courtesy of offering an answering machine message that said, “Hi. I’m the man who dumped you in paradise. Leave your name at the beep.” As she sat there only half-listening to Anabelle chide her about her quest, Dana wondered whether the woman was right. Of course, her cubicle mate had no idea that Dana had fallen in love with a man who had romanced her for a dizzying eighty-four days in her own personal Eden. The story Anabelle got was that Dana had met a great guy while celebrating her birthday—on the single day she’d taken off from work—and had lost his phone number afterward. In context, Dana probably did look like a mug shot waiting to happen.

Perhaps Anabelle was right. Adam clearly didn’t want her, and hunting him down like this rang with a note of pathetic desperation. She had warned him about her abandonment issues, and maybe that’s what this was about. Maybe she couldn’t let go because she refused to accept that he had held her in his arms, then walked—or in his case, shimmered—away. Yes, the more she thought about it, the more this sounded like orphaned child issues. Maybe she should be shelling out her hard-earned savings on a good shrink, rather than hunting down a man who either didn’t exist or didn’t care that she did. She could decide later on, after several months on a strong dose of anti-psychotics, whether to try and return to the meadow next year to give Adam a piece of her mind. A familiar tug on her stomach cooled her line of reasoning. Despite her frequent lapses into self doubt, two questions kept her searching. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t rest, until they were answered. One, did Adam Shay truly exist? If she could find him in the real world, she would at least prove to herself once and for all that she hadn’t suffered a mental break so complete and consuming that she probably had no business wandering around in public. Two, if he was real, why had he been so insistent about telling her he loved her if he planned to let their days together fade into nothing? Anabelle waved a hand in front of Dana’s face. “Hello? Are you even listening to me?” “Sorry.” The woman shook her head. “I was saying that you can’t keep going on like this. I’m really worried about you.” A ringing phone cut her off. Dana lunged for it, and her grin grew wider with each word she heard on the other end. Her coworker looked on with open suspicion until she hung up. “The detective thinks he found him,” Dana said. Anabelle rolled her eyes. “Fantastic.” She wandered back to her desk, muttering something about jail and press coverage. By twelve-fifteen, Dana was seated in Stan Myers’ office. “I can’t believe you found him in just three weeks,” she said. “If this is your guy, he wasn’t trying very hard to hide.” The man scratched at a fuzzy gray sideburn that reminded Dana of a caterpillar wearing a fur coat. “Although the most recent photo I found of him is over five years old.” His chair squeaked when he leaned forward to lay a large photograph on the desk in front of her. Her eyes fell to the black and white image and flew wide. “That’s him. Oh my God, that’s him!” The shot wasn’t some dark, clandestine candid taken during a private eye’s surveillance. This was some sort of official-looking headshot portrait. His hair was shorter and his manner more serious, but there was no mistaking the angled features and penetrating eyes. It was her Adam staring out from the glossy paper. Her stomach did a little flip. “I can’t believe you did it,” she said in awe. Stan sat back in his chair and folded weathered hands across an ample belly. “Didn’t think I could, with your limited information. Especially not at the price I offered you.” “I told you, you didn’t have to give me a discount.” He waved a square hand. “Least I could do for a fellow St. Anne’s survivor. Anyway, I managed to track him down using your description.” He hesitated. “Quite easily, in fact. You might have mentioned the guy is loaded.” She glanced up from the photo and frowned. “Loaded?” “As in the heir of Shay Industries?” Her eyes widened. “It never dawned on me. There are lots of Shays, hence why I hired you. You specialize in missing persons.” She paused. “Are you sure? When we met, he was traveling quite light and didn’t look rich. He never mentioned it.” Why would a rich guy be so eager to live in a stick hut? She stared at the photo. “Staying under radar, no doubt. Rich folks do that sometimes.” Stan was eyeing her closely. “Incidentally, there aren’t any records of him having visited Sedona, which is where you claimed you met.”

She averted her eyes and shrugged. “He obviously didn’t want to be recognized. Maybe he was using a different name, paid cash for everything.” “You wanted a phone number. Here.” He slid a piece of paper across the desk. Dana stared at the digits, which seemed to swim on the page. Numb shock swept through her. This proved it, then. She wasn’t crazy after all. Adam was real. Suddenly, the thought of dialing his number held zero appeal. After a moment, she slowly shook her head. “No. I want his address.”

Chapter Nine Dana’s rented Ford Focus snaked through narrow curves along a quiet countryside. When she’d learned Adam lived in upstate New York, she had pictured skyscrapers, traffic jams, and shouting taxi drivers. There was nothing like that out here, just trees and pastures and occasional cows staring out over rustic wood fencing along the roadway. While it lacked the ethereal perfection and sweeping wildflower blankets in the paradise they’d shared, it did remind her of the untamed beauty found on the other side. Every mile that passed under her wheels quickened her heart rate more. Part of her felt disconnected from her body, as though her arms and legs had gotten her through the task of navigating three terminals, a delayed connecting flight, and the drive from LaGuardia airport completely on autopilot. The rest of her felt frozen in time, in utter denial that every moment brought her closer to the man who had left her almost three months before. Her turnoff rose up in the distance, and she pulled onto the narrow road. A half-mile up, she realized it wasn’t a road at all. It was a driveway. Adam’s house loomed up before her, and she pressed the brake hard. David Myers had said Adam was wealthy, but she hadn’t asked for any details aside from his address. She knew of Shay Industries, of course, but despite learning he was related she hadn’t grasped just how “loaded” he really was. His home rose up against the backdrop of sprawling acreage like a modern-day Tara, and she could almost picture a hoop-skirted Scarlett O’Hara bustling out the front door during its glory days. The house was painted a muted shade of green that would have almost disappeared into the backdrop, if the grounds had been in any way similar to the lush countryside she’d passed on the drive up. Here, however, much of the plant life was withered and brown, while the rest was overgrown to the point of encroaching on one another in a battle of tangled chaos. The exterior of the home itself, on the other hand, showed obvious and meticulous care, right down to the three-tiered cement fountain splashing in the middle of a circular expanse of brick fronting the house. She wondered at the bizarre contrast while she made the rest of the drive and parked at the top. Moist, cloying heat greeted her when she got out of the car. Her legs felt rubbery from the long trip, not to mention from the adrenaline now flowing through her veins. Nearby voices and rustling caught her attention, and she spotted a pair of weather-beaten men wearing gardening hats and gloves. They were attempting to tame some of the overgrowth. They saw her and offered nods and wide grins, as though they couldn’t be more delighted to have company watch them hacksaw through years of criminal gardening neglect. She stifled the urge to ask them about it, instead walking straight up to a pair of heavy doors complete with ornate brass knockers. “This is it,” she said, glancing down at herself to smooth the bright yellow sundress that looked a good deal cheerier than she felt. She lifted her hand, but hesitated. What would Adam say when he opened the door and found her here? Worse, what if he wasn’t the one who answered? What if, despite his claims, there was a Mrs. Shay? A Shay Junior who would wonder about the strange woman who had flown all the way from Arizona to talk to his Daddy? She hadn’t pressed Stan Myers for a full background check, after all, especially considering the generous discount he’d given her. She’d only wanted Adam’s location. Perhaps that had been a big mistake—along with coming here at all. Dana swallowed. She could almost hear the tick-tick of her wristwatch, as though time itself was mocking her for standing at the door like an idiotic statue. She hadn’t come all this way to turn back now. Dana had the answer to the most important question of all. Adam existed in the real world. Still, now that she knew that for sure, he damn well owed her an answer to the second question. With gritted teeth, she rapped the brass knocker against the striker in a rhythm similar to her own pulse. After agonizing long moments, the door pulled open to reveal an older man she didn’t recognize. Watery gray eyes looked Dana up and down, and she felt sudden regret at having been in too big a hurry to change out of her rumpled clothes. The summery print on her gauzy yellow dress, another thrift store

find, clearly hadn’t disguised travel wrinkles as well as she thought. Or perhaps the man could simply smell the lack of money. “The roadside farm stand is two miles up the highway, on your left,” he said. “Oh, I’m not lost. I’m here to see Adam Shay.” Momentary surprise registered on heavily lined features. “Mr. Shay doesn’t see guests.” “He’ll see me,” she said, taking a small step forward that didn’t quite bring her to the threshold. “Please tell him I’m here.” “And you are?” “Dana Stockholm.” There was no glimmer of recognition, just suspicion. After a beat he said, “This way, please.” Stepping through the door into Adam’s home gave Dana a glimpse of how Alice must have felt after drinking the shrinking potion in Wonderland. She felt tiny standing in the huge entryway, whose ceiling seemed to loom three stories high. At the top was a glass dome that arched gracefully over her head, flooding the area with light. Cream marble glimmered beneath her feet, and a nearby gilt mirror failed to hide her astonished expression. “Wait here in the foyer, please,” the man told her, and he nodded toward a pair of upholstered chairs along the far wall. “I’ll announce you.” He disappeared so fast she couldn’t tell which of two archways that opened onto different halls that he’d gone through. The one in front of her was empty and spanned on for a ridiculous enough length that it seemed the unlikely choice, but he could have gone into one of the numerous doorways. The bottom few steps of a massive staircase were visible in the other hall. With a shrug and a sigh, she glanced around at the velvet-lined seats the butler had gestured at. The last thing she wanted to do was sit down. Every nerve ending buzzed with so much static that she could barely think. She wandered around the perimeter of the entry way, examining sculptures and furnishings while listening for any sign of Adam’s voice in the massive house. The color scheme was black, cream and white—very masculine and commanding. It was impressive almost to the point of meaningless pretention, which didn’t strike her as Adam’s style at all. He’d inherited the place, judging from what the Stan had said, but surely anyone who gained such apparent pleasure from turning a few sticks into a hut could transform his real world décor into something that better reflected his personality? And what was with the decrepit landscaping? How could a man who had called paradise “one hell of a garden” tolerate living in such brown, shriveled surroundings? Perhaps this mansion didn’t belong to her Adam Shay, after all. Maybe Stan had made a mistake. This Adam might just be her lover’s doppelganger, or a cousin twice removed, or the wrong man entirely. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced she had the wrong Adam Shay. After all, it made no sense whatsoever to look forward to struggling along with a pocket knife and a drafty stick hut when he lived in the midst of splendor like this. She was debating leaving altogether when her gaze fell on a picture on the wall nearest her. A tiny gasp flew from her lips. The painting magnetized her, and she crept over to study the rolling hills and majestic trees up close. An accent light brought out every familiar detail until it seemed to glow with magic. Her heart began skip-drumming an erratic beat. It was their Eden, all right, down to the last patch of clover. She was definitely in the right place. “He was an amazing artist, wasn’t he?” a voice said behind her. “Among other things.” Dana whirled around to see a woman wearing a designer jogging suit. Workout clothes always made Dana’s figure look shapeless, but the black velour on this gal clung to every pronounced curve enviably. Her red hair was sleek and shiny and pulled into a chic ponytail behind a slender, long neck. Her bright blue eyes sparkled, but with a hint of melancholy when they flicked to the painting. Dana studied the woman carefully. “Who do you mean?” “Mr. Shay.” “Which Mr. Shay painted this?” “Adam, of course.”

Dana’s eyes flicked back to the painting. The lower right corner bore the signature A. Shay, the S drawn with a large flourish. Then the choice of words hit her stomach like a hammer. “What do you mean, he was an amazing artist?” The woman stepped forward. “Mr. Shay is not available to see you,” she said. “I’m so sorry you had to travel all this way.” Dana blinked and folded her arms. “Not available.” The woman nodded. “As in, not available because he’s off in Europe, or as in he won’t bother to come to the door when I took two planes and a rental car to travel over two thousand miles?” “Perhaps if you’d have phoned first, you could have saved yourself the trouble.” Glittering eyes slid up and down over Dana’s dress. “And expense.” A lump rose in the back of her throat. “Is that what I am to him? Trouble?” “Please, keep your voice civil. He did tell you in advance that he wouldn’t be able to contact you at this time.” This was almost as unbelievable as the day she’d landed in paradise. “Civil? You didn’t drag a carry-on bag a quarter of a mile down a terminal to find out your flight was two hours late, and then sit next to a guy who has apparently never heard of the word ‘shower.’” Dana eyed the woman up and down while a vile, almost diseased feeling curled around her stomach. Her suspicions had been right after all. He’d sworn there was no one else. But what other explanation was there? “So who are you?” Dana asked, trying not to spit out too much venom. “His wife?” The irritating laugh that tinkled out of the woman jabbed like needles through Dana’s skin. “Hardly.” “What, then? His girlfriend? Concubine?” The laughter died. “Ours is strictly a professional relationship. Jealousy isn’t the issue here, Dana. I’m sorry I can’t be of any more help. I really am. Charles will see you out. Good day.” Anger pounded through Dana’s veins when the prissy woman spun on her heel and walked off. Then something clicked in her mind. “Rebecca?” Dana called after her. The woman stopped without turning around. “I see he mentioned me.” “You could say that. He pretty much credits you with saving his life.” The woman’s face pinked a bit when she spun to face her. “Adam likes to exaggerate.” “You’re the one who showed him the tree.” There was a pause. “Yes.” “So you must care about his happiness.” The woman’s fine, pink lips pressed into a fine line. “Of course.” Dana took a step forward. “Then let me see him. It’ll only take a minute.” Rebecca’s expression wavered. “I can’t.” “Please. You can’t believe turning me away like this is right. He was happy when we were together.” She hesitated. “He said he loved me.” Rebecca’s voice dipped low. “That doesn’t mean he can be with you here. You just have to trust that things are better this way.” “Better for whom?” “He says it’s better for both of you.” “He says.” Dana pressed a hand to her forehead. “So what does he expect me to do? Just walk away and forget him? Wait around patiently for a whole year, hoping I’ll be able to go back to paradise so he can spend another eighty-four days lying to me?” “He isn’t lying to you.” “He’s hiding something, or I wouldn’t be stuck in his foyer.” The redhead’s tone turned pleading. “Please, just leave well enough alone. Be grateful you got to see a place few on earth have ever experienced. You got to see him the way few others can experience. Go back to the meadow next year, if you really care about him. Maybe then he’ll be ready to tell you.”

Dana threw up her hands. “Tell me what?” Rebecca shook her head. “Well, you can tell him that if he doesn’t come clean right now, I won’t be going back. Ever.” “He thought you might say that.” She crossed her arms. “And?” Remorse tinged Rebecca’s face. “And he said that it would hurt him deeply, but he would understand if you don’t want him anymore.” “Don’t want him?” She heaved out a sigh of exasperation. “Why the hell does he think I went to all the trouble of hunting him down and coming here?” Rebecca tried to sputter an answer, but Dana held up her hand to stop her. “Look, I can’t do this. I can’t phone this conversation in via third party. I need to talk to Adam, now. He owes me that much.” Without awaiting a reply, she swept past Rebecca and started up the long hallway leading from the main entrance. “Dana, stop,” she heard behind her. “Charles!” Rebecca grabbed for her arm, but Dana yanked back and sped up to a near run. “Adam?” The butler emerged from a doorway and stepped right into Dana’s path. She pushed past his startled expression, almost knocking over what was probably an irreplaceable antique vase on her way. She shot quick glances into open doorways, her flat leather sandals smacking against the floors with each desperate step. She saw sitting rooms and some kind of conference room and an atrium. No sign of Adam. Rebecca and Charles were yelling after her, and from their voices it was clear they were catching up. She ducked inside the next doorway and found herself in a library. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with rich leather volumes, and she wobbled in place for a moment. Adam said he read a lot, and this library was no doubt where he did much of it. But he wasn’t here now, whereas his servants were— and blocking the way out. “Come along, Miss,” Charles said. “I’m afraid I’ll have to escort you out. Don’t make me call the authorities.” Gripping the wing-back chair she stood behind, Dana looked around wildly. Books were stacked on a round gilt table beside her, and she did a double take. Adam was researching quantum mechanics, alternate universes, and surrealist theory. Not exactly light reading. “Dana,” Rebecca said. “If you care about him, please respect his wishes.” Dana sighed and came around the chair. “Fine, you win. I’ll go.” Appearing somber, she walked up to the pair of surprised expressions over her sudden surrender. “Sorry for the trouble I caused.” Dana walked just in front of Charles down the hall. His hand lightly held onto her upper arm. Back in the foyer, they passed by the archway leading to the staircase. That’s when she made her move. She yanked out of the man’s grip and bolted for the steps, taking them two at a time when she got there. She heard Rebecca swear. “Charles, don’t just stand there. Go after her!” Dana didn’t look over her shoulder, but she heard him shout up the stairs, “I’m calling the police.” Footsteps pounded behind her, and she quickened her pace. By the time she got to the top, her breath was coming in heaving gasps, and her thigh muscles burned with fatigue. The bottoms of her feet shrieked in protest from running in her thin-soled sandals, too, but she didn’t care. At the top of the steps, another hall loomed before her that was wider than the one downstairs. Without hesitation, she set off over the thick carpet. She yelled out, “Adam? Adam Shay! Answer me, damn it.” “Stop this, Dana.” Rebecca’s voice was closer than Dana would have liked. “Right now.” The doors upstairs were mostly closed, and with Miss Jogging Suit on her tail Dana didn’t have time to open each one. She saw light spilling into the hall from an open door halfway down and ran for it. “Can’t you respect that he doesn’t want you here?” “No.” “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

The desperation in Rebecca’s voice fueled Dana faster. She must be getting close. Her feet carried her at a dead run, and when she hit the open doorway—literally, since she had to reach out to break her speed against the door jamb—she sucked in a gasp and froze rigid. Adam sat in a large exercise room, staring out the window with his back to her. Considering the magnificent physique she’d seen every inch of, the fact that he had a private gym in his home shouldn’t shock her in the slightest. But this was no ordinary gym. Nor was Adam sitting in an ordinary chair. Tears stung her eyes enough to blur her vision. “I’m so sorry, Adam,” Rebecca said from behind her, taking hold of her arm. “She got past us and ran up here before we could stop her.” “It’s not your fault,” he said, his voice strangely hoarse. “She’s stubborn.” “What, that’s it?” Dana snapped. “Let go of me,” she added to Rebecca, yanking away and stepping inside the room. Plush carpet gave way to thin, industrial grade beneath her feet. She walked up to a set of steel parallel bars and leaned on one to steady herself while she felt blood drain from her face. “Nice to see you, too.” Adam kept his back to her. “How did you find me?” His voice sounded desperate, almost angry, and broke on every other word. “I never even told you my last name.” “Yes, you did.” She did a mock imitation of his voice. “‘The great Adam Shay, sole master of his fate.’ Remember?” She heard him mutter a disgusted oath. Then, “Why did you come here?” “How could I not?” “If you’ll give us a minute, Rebecca.” The woman was gone by the time Dana flicked a glance over her shoulder. Adam whirled around and pushed a lever on the arm rest of his chair to wheel him forward. His eyes blazed with a fury she’d never seen before, mixed with anguish and exhaustion. “Are you happy now?” He raised the hand he’d used to operate his chair. The other hand lay limply in his lap. “Aren’t you thrilled that you made it here so you could check out the freak show?” She blinked back tears and watched him roll forward. With a yank, he pulled off the plaid blanket covering his lap. The hand lying on top of it jerked up with the motion and flopped back down again. He wore a gray tank top and shorts, so it was easy to see the difference from the Adam she’d left behind in the clearing. She’d changed some when she returned, too. Her tan and some of her muscle tone was gone when she’d stood up from the tree in her yard, and her hair was no longer grown out. Adam’s skin was china white, and the muscles in his legs were no longer corded. Both lower limbs were painfully thin, in fact, from his upper thighs down to the bare feet on footrests attached to the bottom of the wheelchair. So was his right arm. His left arm and chest had some muscle, though not as much as she remembered. Jagged scars marred part of his chest and down one thigh, too. Nevertheless, despite the face that was etched with a great deal more cares and the eyes that glowed with the fire of inner demons, he was still undeniably her Adam. “What happened to you?” she asked in a hushed tone. Bitterness dripped from his voice. “Does it really matter?” Her arms crossed. “Of course it matters. How?” He looked away. “There was an accident.” She tried to picture him coming back to his tree just as a bulldozer rammed it, or getting into a car wreck afterward. “When you came back?” “No. It’s been five years.” She blinked. “Five years? But how can that be? I was just with you two months ago.” Her gaze fell along the contours of his thin body. When her eyes returned to his face, his gaze had narrowed in near disgust at her scrutiny. “In the other world you were—” He cut her off. “A man?” “No.” She frowned at him. “I was going to say unhurt.” “You were going to say normal.” He rolled closer, glaring. “Not a cripple. A real man.”

She glared back. “Stop putting words in my mouth.” “Why not? They’re true.” “Don’t be absurd.” She shook her head. “Boy, I thought I had the market cornered on righteous self-pity. No wonder you didn’t want me to find you.” He growled. “Making fun of the handicapped guy?” She curled her lip at him. “Knocking some sense into the head of a normal, sometimes intelligent man.” When she took two steps forward, he wheeled back. “A man I happen to love.” “Sorry. He isn’t here.” A flick of his lever whirled the chair around, and he headed back toward the window. “Go to the meadow next year. He’ll be around then.” “I don’t want to wait a year.” “And I didn’t want a drunk to mow me down while I was out jogging. Life is full of little disappointments. Isn’t that right, orphan girl?” She sucked in a breath at the harsh, mocking tone, but she lifted her chin. “If we choose to see it that way, wheelchair boy.” Light streaming through the sunny window lit a halo around his russet hair, which he now wore close-cropped. The halo bobbed while he shook his head. “What other way is there to see it?” “We could be grateful to be alive, for one thing. My parents could have left me in a dumpster, and you could have been six feet under after the accident.” His laugh sounded hollow. “That’s exactly where I wished I’d ended up.” He turned back around to face her, still framed by the window. “For a long time.” “Until you went to paradise,” Dana said. He nodded. “Shocked by my confession? Now you know the truth. Your ‘awesome’ great white hunter is more fucked up than you ever imagined.” They stared at one another, his eyes challenging her to deny it. The whole thing made sense to her now. His revelry in the ability to scrap out a living with his own two working hands and legs, and his reluctance to return here or even refer to the real world as home—it was all because this was the reality that awaited him when his eighty-four days in paradise were over. Bitter sorrow clutched at her chest. “So somehow, going to the other side takes away your injuries.” He nodded. “Rebecca is the one who found that out. I told you she had a rough time in her teens. What I didn’t say was that she tried to kill herself.” Dana’s eyes widened. “My God.” “She cut her wrists and sat down against a jacaranda. When she wished herself away from this world inside the circle of spring flowers, she wound up on the other side instead. Her freely bleeding wounds were completely gone. She thought she was dead at first. Then she thought she’d snapped. In any case, by the time she returned, she had found the will to live.” “What happened?” “She made it to a phone and called an ambulance. Turned her life around and became a physical therapist to help others. She returned to the tree several times over the years, until the real world finally became a place she didn’t want to leave.” Dana shook her head.“How extraordinary.” He glanced down at his lap. “She never told anyone that story until she met me. When she recognized the same despondence in me that’d she felt that day, she was afraid I might do something stupid.” “Was she right?” Green eyes glittered, but he said nothing. “When spring rolled around, she brought me to my own jacaranda tree and told me that everything could be all right again. And it was, for a while.” Dana shrugged. “I had no idea. There wasn’t anything all that different about me when I was over there.” Other than she’d felt truly happy for the first time in her life. “There isn’t anything wrong with you.”

She laughed. “Oh, there’s plenty wrong with me. But I guess there’s some damage that even a fantasy world can’t cure.” He grunted. “My visit gave me the willpower to go on after the accident. I return to this same cursed form, but each time I go back my body starts off in the physical shape it was in when I left. I’m not any older there. My muscle tone doesn’t need rebuilding. I can do all the things the accident stole from me. Then I leave and I’m useless all over again. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful as hell for those days. That doesn’t mean coming back to this isn’t hard. It’s damn hard. But I’m learning how to cope.” Her stomach clenched. Adam didn’t want this life, even if she was part of it. He didn’t want her waiting for him, because even her love for him wasn’t enough to anchor him here. Rebecca may only have used the springtime magic as a survival crutch until things got better, but for Adam it was the only place he could be truly whole again. She bit back a flood of anger while her thoughts drifted elsewhere, back to the painting in the foyer. “You never told me you’re an artist.” “I was a lot of things, once.” “You still are. I saw the painting in the entryway.” “I can’t paint anymore, Dana.” He tapped his limp arm. “I’ve tried. I seem to be rather irreversibly right-handed where brush strokes are concerned.” She frowned. “But you must have kept on with your art after the accident. That painting is the spitting image of our meadow.” He shook his head. “I painted that piece before the accident.” Her jaw fell open. “How could you paint something without ever having seen it?” He gave a small laugh. “I have no idea. But I’m telling you, that landscape came right out of my head.” He tapped his temple with his good hand to reinforce the point. “The bigger question is, how did I get somewhere that existed solely in my imagination?” Her thoughts raced at this new information. “Maybe you imagined it because fate knew you were headed there.” He gave another nod. “One of many theories I’ve researched.” She whooshed out a breath. “This is incredible.” “I know. For a while I thought I’d fallen into my painting. You thought you’d gone crazy when you went there? Try waking up in one of your oils sometime. That first cycle, I was waiting for other subjects of my artwork to come strolling up.” He gave a snort. “Since I went through a dragon phase in my late teens, I wasn’t looking forward to that.” She leaned against the desk, feeling a bit woozy. “Maybe the whole place spilled right out of your imagination, then. Maybe your artistic energy somehow created it.” “That’s another possibility.” “I can’t believe you never said a word about your art.” “I did lots of things, once upon a time.” He twisted and nodded toward the window. “The gardens here used to grow enough food to make this place almost self-sustaining. I tended the whole thing myself with minimal help.” “Which explains why you’re so adept in the outdoors.” “After the accident, I lost complete interest. I even forbade the gardeners to touch it.” “They aren’t listening,” she said. “I just saw men working out front on my way in. They were clearing overgrown brush—and looking quite pleased about it, I might add.” He sighed. “That’s because I finally lifted the moratorium this week.” He gave her a tiny smile. “I have you to thank for that.” She was taken aback. “Me?” “When I saw through your eyes how much you enjoyed learning to sustain your existence, I remembered how much it used to mean to me.” He glanced away. “Thank you for that.” Her heart thudded dully in her chest. At least she’d had some impact on him that hadn’t died out the minute they came back. Too bad it wasn’t enough. “I’m glad. But if you stopped gardening and painting, what do you do all year while you’re waiting to go back?”

“Besides the monthly board meeting at Shay Industries?” He gestured toward the room. “Physical therapy twice a day, six days per week. I’ve actually regained a bit of control over my hand. See?” He picked the limp arm up with his other hand and held it out in front of him. After staring a moment in what seemed complete concentration, two of his fingers gave a slight twitch. A smile breached one side of his face—a genuine grin that lit his soul. For a moment when their eyes met, he was her Adam again, and they were together in paradise. She felt all the tension between them melt away, except for the butterflies stirring in her stomach. Then his grin faltered. “Doesn’t seem like much to you, but…” He shrugged. She beamed at him. “Are you kidding? That’s huge.” He stared at her for a moment. “There’s one other thing I do that you should probably see.” The chair whirred to life at the press of a lever, and she followed Adam out of the exercise room and halfway down the hall. He opened a door with his good hand and led them into what appeared to be an office. Unlike the bright, sunny library downstairs, the windows here were covered by louvered wood blinds. A large desk with its back to the window graced the middle of the room. No chair sat behind it, but a laptop stood open on top. Comfortable brown leather furnishings and more shelves circled the perimeter. Adam rolled around to the back of the desk, looking almost like an executive despite his gym attire. The image of him as corporate rather than naturalist struck her as funny. He picked up a sheaf of paper and held it out to her. Knitting her brow in curiosity, she wandered over to the front side of the desk and took the bundle. The papers were secured at the top by a large plastic binder clip. The front sheet had only two typewritten lines, right in the center of the page. “Once Every Spring,” she read aloud. “By Adam Shay.” She looked up at him over the top of the sheet. “What is this?” “See for yourself.” After scanning a few pages, understanding dawned. “This is about the other side. Is it a journal?” “Not exactly.” He wheeled around and stopped in front of her. “The manuscript is pure fiction, even though the setting and some of the details are true. No one would believe it was real, of course.” She rifled through a few more pages. “I’m still not sure I believe it, and I was there. When did you write this?” “All last year, after I returned from my second cycle. I thought it might be a good artistic outlet. I might not be able to paint my fantasies any more, but I can still type with the other hand.” He waggled his left fingers to demonstrate. “It isn’t finished, though.” He cocked his head. “I could never quite figure out how to get the ending right.” “I think it’s a great idea. I’m very impressed.” His smile lacked real humor. “Thanks, but that’s not the reason I showed you this. Go to Chapter Four.” She flipped pages until she found the right section and read the page. “After so many days had passed that the magical realm had become his status quo, John thought nothing could surprise him.” She paused and shot him a look. “John?” “Just keep reading.” “But the woman sitting in the meadow changed everything.” Dana frowned at the page. “What woman? I thought you said no one else had ever come there?” “There was no woman.” He held out a hand, and she gave him back the manuscript. He waved it at her. “Like I said, this story is pure fiction. It felt like it was missing something, though. I thought adding a romance would be a nice touch, so I made up the idea of a woman showing up in the meadow.” An odd smile played on his face. “Then lo and behold, what happened the very next time I went to the other side?” She gasped. “I showed up.” He gave her a meaningful look. “And changed everything.”

Dana swallowed. That wasn’t true. She hadn’t changed a thing for him. He’d left her without even looking back. Still, she tried for a smile. “Is that how you think I got there? You wished for me?” His expression showed that he got the irony, but he shrugged. “Maybe I did. That wasn’t the plan, though. It was only make-believe, a way to enhance the story. I never thought a woman would actually materialize. But who knows? Maybe subconsciously, that’s exactly what I was hoping for.” Her heart pounded harder with each second his eyes held hers. “I wasn’t sure you were real at first, either.” Something snapped almost painfully inside her chest. “So you wrote me into your story, got the real version, and then pushed me away. That’s why you can’t write the ending. You got what you wished for and realized you didn’t want it.” He swiveled his chair around. “That isn’t what happened. But now you know the truth about why this can’t work in real life.” “Says who?” She fisted her hips and marched around to force him to look at her. “We said we love each other. Were those just empty words to you? Did you think leaving me like that was some kind of game?” “The man you fell in love with doesn’t exist here. Only there.” “Funny, because you look like the exact same Adam to me.” His expression blanked. “That isn’t funny.” “And I’m not joking.” She knelt in front of him and reached out for his withered hand. “So what if we’re both a little less tan over here? Who cares?” “Don’t try and placate me out of pity. We both know damn well I’m not the same. I can’t do the things for you here I can do there.” She snorted. “Fine by me. I don’t need bonfires started all that often.” “I can’t…” He trailed off with a sigh and shut his eyes. “Are you going to make me say it? I can’t be what a healthy woman needs a man to be.” “So far I don’t see anything that supports your argument.” His voice raised enough to echo through the room. “I’m paralyzed, Dana. From the waist down. Get it? I can’t make love to you here. I can’t do anything but write stories about the romance I won’t ever have outside my fantasy world.” She rose. “So that’s what this whole dumping me thing is about? Feeling sorry for yourself?” His eyes flashed. “For myself? I’m trying to do the right thing for you. I can’t doom a woman to wait a whole year for me to function like an actual male for a few short weeks. I’m not a selfish bastard.” “No, just a stubborn one.” His jaw clenched. “You’re not big on sympathy for the handicapped, are you?” “We all have handicaps, Adam. It’s part of being human.” “Except that I’m a bit less than human.” She put her hands over her ears. “Stop it. Just cut it out.” She stomped over to a bookcase and steadied herself by laying a hand against it. “Did you honestly take me into your bed thinking I only cared about what was below your waist?” He glowered at her, but remained silent. “Wow, don’t go hurrying to deny it. You really think I’m that big a tramp, even knowing I gave you my innocence?” “I know you did, and I was shocked and honored that you allowed me to be your first.” “So honored that you tossed me away.” “You deserve better. You deserve a man who can make love to you every night.” “You did make love to me every night.” “For a few weeks in some inexplicable alternate existence. All that stops when we come back to reality, which is where I can barely get on a toilet by myself. Romantic, but true.” “I don’t care about that. There’s more to loving someone than engaging in one specific sexual act.” He swallowed visibly. “Yes, there is more to loving someone. Like children.” She stiffened. “What about children?”

“Exactly.” With a protest from the spine still aching from the journey, she rose. “Meaning?” “I can’t give you any. The right man for you could.” He hit the lever and rolled away. “It’s not like you could have that guy in your life and still run away with me each spring. So it’s better that we do the right thing here and now, and avoid the inevitable heartache.” She’d hardly dodged that bullet. “So you felt this way all along?” The biting accusation in her tone brought a guilty glance. “Why get involved with me at all, then? Why did you drag me back to your camp like some Neanderthal after I took off? You could have left me alone, Adam. I wouldn’t have come back. But you pursued me.” His voice sounded thick and almost foreign. “I know. I’m sorry. It was a mistake.” Nausea crested over her stomach, threatening the loss of the watery eggs she’d had on the plane. “So you figured what the hell, get some while you can write the next idiotic virgin into your fantasy?” His eyes turned steely. “That’s not what happened, and you know it.” “I don’t know anything of the sort. In fact,” she turned and walked to the doorway and stood with her hands braced against the frame, “for all I know I’m still lost inside a psychotropic nightmare.” “I was in love with you. So much that I turned the skies upside down for days while I tried to find you.” “Was in love. Past tense. Thanks for clearing that up.” She watched a muscle work in his jaw while her feet throbbed with the urge to flee before he could reject her any more thoroughly. But she hadn’t come all this way to run off like a coward. “I still love you,” he said. “But that doesn’t make this right.” “What makes you think I even want kids?” she snapped. “What if I decided I was a bad parenting risk, since I never had any? My role models were a bit shaky, you know. Maybe I feel there are enough children on the planet already, and as an orphan I’d rather adopt if I ever considered a child at all?” He blinked. “Is all that true?” “Does it matter?” She flicked him a guilty glance. “Not completely. The point is, you didn’t know what I want, because you never asked. Shouldn’t my opinion factor in before you decide what’s best for me?” Indecision wavered in his face, but he shook his head. “I can’t expect you to go without sex. At best, it would strain the relationship.” “Oh, I don’t intend on going without sex.” His face darkened. “And I don’t intend on sharing you.” “Is that an offer?” Before he could reply, she pushed herself away from the jamb and closed the door behind her. She sauntered back to where he sat staring at her. She bent down to rest her hands on the arms of his chair, close enough to catch a whiff of aftershave. It was a new smell, lemon and musky. But underneath she could still catch the scent she knew well, one that made her heart skip. “I was a virgin for over two decades,” she said. “I think I can manage a few months without the one part of you I’d never experienced before you came along.” Her hand moved to rest high on his bare thigh, right at the hem of his shorts. “As unbelievably impressive as that part is, the rest of you is even more so.” His eyes fell to where her hand lay, and were almost black when they flicked back up. “So we’ll be a bit more creative on this side,” she went on. “You’re an artist. Creativity shouldn’t be too much of a stretch.” He shifted in his seat so their lips were a tantalizing short distance apart. “Dana…” “And for the record, your little theory on not being able to give me any children is a bit off.” His eyes flew wide and he stared at her, his mouth agape. “Are you pregnant?” “No. But you’re forgetting that your injuries don’t exist over there. When the time is right, we could probably manage something in eighty-four days.” The stunned expression remained. He licked his lips, and her heart fluttered. “I never thought of that.”

“For a guy who dreams up alternate worlds and crazy women to populate it, you sure can be short on imagination.” “Woman,” he said. “As in just one.” Then she leaned close to his ear and whispered a few suggestions of how to pass their alone time in the real world. His gasp and moan in response shot low in her abdomen, and she felt familiar warmth between her thighs. She stayed bent over him, waiting. The sound of their uneven breaths was the only punctuation to silence. Her lips ached to taste him, but she wouldn’t give into the urge to close that distance. He would have to make the move. Instead he said, “I’m sorry.” An ice spear jabbed her heart. She straightened. “So am I. I won’t bother you anymore.” On her way back to the door he spoke. “Where are you going?” “Home. Where I should have stayed.” “Wait.” She heard a soft whirring sound behind her, and suddenly a hand grabbed her wrist. She spun around and glanced down to his desperate stare. “I don’t want you to go.” “You didn’t want me to come in the first place. You said you were sorry.” “I am sorry. For not fighting harder for us.” He slid his hand down her wrist until their fingers laced. “For being too wrapped up in my own self-pity to consider the possibility that you might accept me for what I am.” “What’s not to accept? You are a sexy, vibrant man who took everything I thought was real and turned it upside down until all I could see of paradise was him.” She got on her knees in front of him. “I love that man. I love you.” A suspicious sheen glittered in his eyes. “I love you.” She wasn’t sure how their lips found one another, but suddenly she was in his lap with her arms around his neck. Everything that had ever gone wrong in her life was swept away in that instant, and his declaration of love in the world where she’d been abandoned reignited her spirit. He kissed the breath out of her, and her body melted for him when his tongue swept teasing circles around hers. When he broke off, she could barely croak out a whisper. “Wow.” “Definitely.” His hand stroked down her shoulder along her bare arm. “I really am desperately in love with you, you know. It hurt so bad, being torn away from you and sucked back here.” She searched his eyes. “I’d rather go a year without sex than spend one day of my life without you in it.” A smile curved his delicious, full lips. “I thought you said you don’t intend to go without sex?” She cocked her head. “Damn right I don’t. And since my man is apparently a creative genius, I guess I won’t have to.” Soon after, she was deposited in Adam’s real-world bedroom, a stately suite that was larger than his entire campsite on the other side. Then he proceeded to spend the next three hours demonstrating just how creative an artist could be.

Chapter Ten Two Years Later Dana rose early to find Adam already awake and gone, as usual. Getting dressed took a lot longer today, so the breakfast she found waiting in the kitchen was already cold. She devoured her eggs and bacon in a hurry, and at last she headed out the back door into a sunny spring morning. A stone path wound her through the gardens, past the waterfall and through the grape arbor that was already beginning to show new green against bare wood. She waved to one of the gardeners and smiled at the hundreds of baby sprouts in the kitchen garden. Just past the stacks of wooden hive frames buzzing with honeybees was the path that parted an expanse of green lawn to wind over to a thick tree grove. Not far off, she spotted Adam waiting for her. She hurried over to where he sat, and when he saw her, he burst out laughing. She stopped in front of his chair and shot a mock glare down at him. “Making fun of your bride the morning after your wedding?” His eyes raked over her in amusement. “Guilty as charged. Are you taking your entire wardrobe?” She glanced at the several layers of clothing she wore. “I’m not getting stuck in a tank top and shorts.” “So you said last year, but you didn’t take this much along. Your arms don’t even lay flat at your sides.” “You haven’t even seen how many pairs of underwear I’ve got on.” He waggled his brow. “One of the first things I intend to remedy.” “Anyway, you’re one to talk. You’ve got some interesting layers on yourself.” She eyed the blanket tied strategically around him. “With that plaid on you look like a highlander.” He tossed back his russet locks. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But at this rate, I’m going to have to build you a walk-in closet over there.” She stuck her tongue at him and pulled open the light hooded jacket she wore. Slung over her shoulder were several strands of twine bearing utensils, a toothbrush and paste, and a hand mirror. “And I’ll need a chest of drawers. What are husbands for?” “Maybe you should bring the laptop, too,” he said with a teasing tone. “You could hang it around your neck.” She waggled a finger at him. “I intend to keep you far too busy to be writing stories, Mr. Shay.” He arched a brow. “Oh? Busy doing what, Mrs. Shay?” “Exploring all new story ideas.” “Mm. My publisher will be thrilled.” Her glance fell to the grass beneath the jacaranda tree. Lavender petals lay in a wide, graceful arc around the base. A smile curved her lips. “I’d say we timed the wedding just right.” “And your birthday.” Adam set the brakes on his chair and gave her a saucy wink. “Ready?” In a practiced motion, she looped his arm around her neck and helped him out of the chair while bracing his weight against her thighs. Together, they lowered him to the ground beneath the tree. She straightened his bent legs before settling herself next to him, and the items strung around her clinked together with every movement. When she took his weak right hand, he was able to curl his fingers around hers slightly. The small action brought a smile to her lips. With his other hand, he played with the new diamonds glittering around her ring finger. A warm breeze fluffed her hair while she looked out over the landscape around the main house. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked. “Seems to me we’ve got paradise right here.” “That’s very true.” He reached a hand up to stroke her neck. “But there’s a little matter of a reintroduction between certain body parts I’ve been greatly looking forward to. It’s our honeymoon, after

all.” She watched as his gaze wandered over the gardens that they had not only rebuilt, but expanded beyond their former glory. “Besides, how many people get an eighty-four day vacation and still get to return a minute later to enjoy the rest of spring?” A breeze brought lavender petals floating down to the ground around them. She shivered in anticipation of the days and nights to come, moaning in his arms inside the little hut, in front of the fire pit, and even in the stream while he did the one thing to her they couldn’t do in bed all year—though they certainly managed other things that brought a flush to her cheeks now. “Do you think when we have a child that we can take him with us when he’s old enough?” “And give me a chance to run and swim with my kid? You bet.” He chucked her under the chin. “But for now, this is strictly an adults-only trip.” He tugged on her thick layers of fabric. “Clothing optional.” He kissed her deep while they closed their eyes. With her back pressed to the bark, she wished herself back to where they had first met. To the place where they had fallen in love, and where Adam had proposed during their last trip. Then she became lost in the same dizzying sensation she always felt when his lips touched hers. When she opened her eyes, Adam was already standing in front of her, blocking the glare of overhead sunlight with his broad back. He wore a wide grin as he held his right arm out to her. He looked just the way he had the day they met, tan and muscled with the boyishly carefree attitude he was gradually regaining in the other world. She took his hand and let him help her up onto stiff, wobbly legs. A memory flashed of how warm and safe his grasp had felt the first time he’d plucked her up from under the tree. It still felt that way. “Last one to the camp has to build the fire,” he said. “Considering the fifty extra pounds of stuff you’re wearing, I’m guessing you’d better stop for some kindling on the way.” Her fists settled on her hips. “Oh, really?” He took off running. She felt a pang of pride and the bare hint of joyous tears while she watched his long, powerful strides. Then with a determined grin, she crouched and sprang after him at full speed. Had another lucky soul happened to find the same magic of springtime at that moment, they might not only have wondered about the inexplicable change of setting, but the odd assortment of clothing, twine, and gadgetry tossed along a crooked path stretching halfway to the grove of trees on a distant hill.

THE END

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Award-winning story writer Lisa Logan resides in Southern California with her triple-A husband (an Author, Artist, and Actor) and their 7-year-old daughter. She has authored more than fifteen books under three different pen names. During rare moments where she is not writing, she enjoys gardening, cooking, movies, and schools her daughter at home.