Baby, Come Home. Stephanie BondЧитать онлайн книгу.
sounded lame and inadequate. Long time no see. How’s life been treating you? I’ve missed you every day we’ve been apart.
As he approached the area and spotted the ATV she’d parked, his stomach churned. The fact that she’d known she was coming here and hadn’t contacted him spoke volumes, didn’t it?
Maybe there was nothing to say.
He pulled the four-wheeler next to the one parked and cut the engine. He couldn’t see her through the trees, but he walked toward the area where the old bridge used to stand. When she came into view, his feet slowed and his heart sped up. Amy had set up a tripod and was bent over, looking through the camera lens. Her trim, athletic figure was silhouetted against the blue sky. She was all business in her slacks, tailored jacket and field boots, but the wind ruffled her luxurious hair that had escaped from a clasp at her neck.
She was, in a word, breathtaking.
He was sure she’d heard the four-wheeler, probably knew she was being observed. But if he wanted proof he couldn’t rattle her, he had it, because as he walked closer, she didn’t move, just kept snapping away. He stopped a couple of yards away.
“Hello, Amy.”
She stopped and glanced up. “Hello, Kendall.” Then she picked up a folded screen and extended it. “Would you mind holding this in front of the sun so I can get a few more shots?”
Her voice was the same, but her accent had changed—her pronunciation was more precise and more…Northern. He stepped forward and took the screen, feeling thoroughly dismissed. He fumbled with it, but finally opened it and held it up.
“A little to the left, please.”
He obeyed, flashing back to earlier when Rachel had been giving him similar directions.
“More to the left…and higher.”
Kendall poked his tongue into his cheek. “Is this how it’s going to be?”
She lifted her head, but was looking at the future bridge site, not at him. “What do you mean?”
He sighed. “I mean, it’s been ten years. Don’t you think we should talk?”
“Twelve.” She snapped a few more photos, then straightened and looked at him. “It’s been over twelve years.”
He swallowed under the full force of her stare. If possible, she was more beautiful now than the last time he’d seen her. Gone was the gangly freckle-faced teenage lover who’d followed him around. Here stood a woman who’d grown into her skin and her looks and who had an aloof air about her that…well, frankly, impressed him.
And worried him.
Amy’s eyebrow arched. “So, what was it you wanted to talk about?”
He gave a little shrug. “How have you been?”
“I’m fine,” she said in a tone that indicated she was surprised he’d think otherwise.
“I hear you’re a structural engineer.”
“That’s right,” she said. “My resume isn’t as exciting as yours, but I’ve stayed busy.”
“Who said my resume is exciting?” Kendall asked, wondering if Amy had kept tabs on him over the years.
It was her turn to shrug. “I just assumed that if you’ve been in the Air Force all this time, you’ve been involved in some interesting things. Actually, I’m surprised you didn’t make the Air Force a career.”
I missed you too much. “I missed…my brothers.”
She offered a flat smile. “Of course. Well, it seems as if you’ve found a way to be together again. And always.”
Kendall detected censure in her voice. “You don’t approve of our efforts to rebuild Sweetness?”
“I don’t disapprove. I just don’t understand why you’d want to rebuild the town.” She leaned over her camera and snapped more photos. “I suppose you have better memories of this place than I do.”
“I do have good memories,” he admitted, thinking they were mostly of her and feeling disappointed she didn’t share his opinion. “And I think this town deserves a second chance.”
“Good for you.” She straightened and picked up the tripod, then walked to another location.
Nonplussed, Kendall followed. “I understand you’re going to rebuild the covered bridge.”
She set down the tripod. “That’s right. Marcus called me last week and offered me the job. I take it you didn’t know?”
Kendall bristled. “I’ve been working on something else.”
“Does it bother you that I’m here?”
Only every cell in his body. “Of course not. I was just…surprised to see you, that’s all.”
“As surprised as I was to see an advertisement for single women to come to Sweetness in my local newspaper?”
His face warmed and his mind raced for an explanation.
Amy gave a dismissive wave. “Don’t worry. I figure that was Marcus’s idea, too. He seems to think you and I have some unfinished business.”
His tongue was like lead in his mouth.
Her berry-colored lips turned up in a little smile. “I assured him we said our goodbyes long ago.”
He nodded, like a puppet.
“And that it wouldn’t be a problem for us to work together on rebuilding this bridge.”
Kendall finally found his tongue. “Right, no problem. We’re…professionals.”
“And it’ll only be for a few weeks,” she added. “I’m thinking three months, tops.”
He swallowed hard. He already didn’t want to think about the day she’d leave. “Meanwhile, I can’t think of anyone better to redesign Evermore Bridge.”
When she looked up, her hazel-colored eyes held reproach. “Why?”
He could tell she was ready to deny any emotional attachment to the bridge…or maybe he’d projected his own association with the bridge onto her. “Because you knew every stick of that bridge.”
She nodded without acknowledging that she’d memorized the construction of the bridge during the hours they’d spent there together. “Were you planning to give the new bridge the same name— Evermore?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
She let out a little laugh that left him weak in the knees. “Do you and Marcus ever talk?”
“There’s a lot to be done around here. We’re usually working on different things.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “And you’re Head of Picture Hanging?”
At the reference to the injury he’d gotten hanging a picture for Rachel, a hot flush climbed his neck. “I was just doing a favor for a friend and lost my concentration.” Too late, he realized he’d made it sound as if Rachel had distracted him, when Amy herself was as least partly to blame.
She pursed her mouth, then leaned down to take another photograph. “Could you hold up that screen again, please?”
Kiss me again, please? Make love to me, please? He’d always teased her for saying please—as if he’d needed any encouragement to touch her or to do things that would make her happy.
He held up the screen while she took more pictures, taking the opportunity to drink in every inch of her that was so familiar, yet so changed. She’d matured into a beautiful woman with elegant taste. Her clothes were sensible, but beautifully tailored to fit her streamlined figure. He had to smile, though, at the smudge on the collar of her blouse—Amy was