Temptation. Karen Hopkins Ann

you have a boyfriend?” He stared straight at me with smoldering eyes, and his voice was low and serious.

      That question meant I still had a chance with him, I assumed. I admitted in an equally low and serious voice, “No.”

      Watching him closely, I noticed he breathed a little easier, but he still had something on his mind.

      Not looking at me this time, he asked tentatively, “Have you ever had…a boyfriend?”

      So he wasn’t just worried about a current guy in my life; he was going to obsess about any previous boyfriends, too. That was interesting. Was he the jealous type? I spied at him from the corner of my eye and saw that he was a statue of stone, hardly breathing at all, waiting for my answer.

      “No—I’ve never had a boyfriend. You know, too busy with my horse and the dancing…” I trailed off, fidgeting with the laces on my saddle, feeling suddenly awkward explaining to this gorgeous guy why I was sixteen and always single.

      The curiosity got to me, though, and I took a little gulp of air and bravely asked, “What about you—do you have a girlfriend?”

      Instantly, he relaxed in his saddle and turned to me with a brilliant smile. “No, up until now I hadn’t met the right girl yet.”

      My eyes must have bugged out, because he laughed at my expression. Was he insinuating that I was the right girl? His confidence was beginning to irritate me. What made him think that I was automatically available?

      Somehow I managed to recover my composure enough to again change the subject to safer territory. “So how did you manage to get away tonight to go riding?” I asked in the calmest, most disinterested voice I could summon from my mouth.

      It was so infuriating how a part of me wanted Noah’s lips pressed against mine and the other part was scared to death of what he was doing to my poor body. I kind of had a clue as to which of the battling sides would ultimately win when I glanced back at him, suddenly thinking of Mom’s favorite Western movie. He was sitting straight in the saddle but still relaxed, just like Captain Call from Lonesome Dove. At ease, but ready for a gunfight. There was something very cool about him. Unfortunately, I think he knew it, with the little bit of arrogance he carried around with him. He was looking at me now with a lazy curiosity that was so mesmerizing I couldn’t turn away.

      “I try to go for an evening ride occasionally when my work schedule permits. So it wasn’t shocking to Father that I went out tonight.” He removed the flirty look from his face when he said it, but his eyes still seemed to be twinkling.

      “Do you normally come out here by yourself?” I had a bunch of good reasons to ask that question, but I hoped he wouldn’t pick up on the main one—that I had turned into a jealous vamp the moment I laid eyes on him. Now I was wondering how many Amish girls he met out here in the cozy cornfields for his joyrides.

      The amused smile erupted again on his lips and he made sure to hold my gaze with a steady stare while he answered. “Usually I’m very much alone, but occasionally—” his smile widened to keep me in suspense “—one of my little brothers comes riding with me,” he finished, flashing me his teeth.

      I wondered at that second if my face and voice were so transparent that he’d understood why I’d asked that particular question. He certainly seemed to have a clue. The thought that he could read me that well was unsettling. So, even though his answer was a good one and gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling, I still felt insecure in his presence, worried that he’d already figured out that I had a major crush on him.

      We rode along quietly for a minute or two, until we finally reached the end of the cornfields. In front of us rose a thick wood that the lane meandered into, disappearing within the dark shade of the trees. It was a fairy wood, full of secrets, and just then, as the sun dipped down in the western sky, a beautiful pinkish-red sunset spread out on the horizon, causing a magical creamy light to settle over the corn.

      The air was turning chilly. I shivered once, looking deeper into the trees.

      Noah must have seen my uncontrollable shake, and with a resolute voice of authority, he said, “I better get you home. It’s getting late, and it’ll be dark soon.”

      I nodded, totally disappointed to be leaving the magical forest behind. We reined the horses around, entering the cornfields once again. And even more disappointing was that he didn’t seem to have any plans to kiss me that night. At least he certainly wasn’t taking advantage of being out here in the middle of nowhere, without a soul to see us. Maybe he’s being gentlemanly, I considered. Or maybe I should take the lead. But then, I’d never kissed anyone, and I’d probably mess it up.

      All my friends had been initiated into the world of kissing as preteens, but I’d been different. At the age most girls were learning the dating secrets, I had been more interested in kissing my horse’s velvety nose than swapping spit with a boy. I was also cursed with an overly protective brother, who had regularly threatened to beat up any of the guys who showed an interest in me.

      Noah said he hadn’t met the right girl yet. Did that mean he hadn’t kissed before either? For guys that statement could mean any number of things. I found it hard to believe that an eighteen-year-old guy as handsome as Noah hadn’t done a lot of kissing already. Maybe he wasn’t making out with girls in the fields, but he could be sneaking off somewhere else for that sort of thing. The thought bothered me a lot more than I cared to admit, and I was starting to think my brain’s unhealthy obsession with my neighbor was bordering on a fatal attraction.

      “So, what are you going to do tonight?” he asked in an upbeat manner, giving the impression of a person without a care in the world.

      “Well, my dad is at the hospital and my brothers are seeing a movie, so I’ll probably continue unpacking and organizing stuff,” I said sullenly, still thinking about him and a bunch of imaginary girls.

      “Won’t you be afraid in that big old house all by yourself?” he asked playfully.

      “No.” I hesitated, wondering how much of my inner soul I should share with him. Feeling an odd comfortableness with him, I decided to be honest and said, “Mom dying was the scariest thing I’ve ever faced. Staying alone in a spooky old house really pales in comparison to that.” I shifted in the saddle to smile ruefully at him.

      There was really nothing he could have said to make me feel better. He seemed to know that, and instead he reached out instinctively and took my hand softly in his. His touch caused a warm feeling to spread through my body, leaving me perfectly content and totally shocked at the unexpected gesture.

      He smiled at me triumphantly, making my heart melt into a puddle, and his thumb swirling in place on my hand sent goose bumps up my arm. This was a monumental achievement in my life—my first real hand-holding experience. Not trusting the feel of his hand over mine, I had to look down and see it with my eyes to make sure that I wasn’t having a hallucination. Nope—I wasn’t dreaming. I was really holding hands with this Greek god look-alike who wore suspenders and didn’t drive a car.

      Maybe now that we’d gotten to this stage of the relationship, I could begin to relax a little, I reasoned with myself. But then the tugging of worry harassed me. What am I doing? There was little chance that Noah and I could work through the obstacles in our way. The fact that I didn’t wear dresses and a bonnet and that he probably had never heard of my favorite bands before, and even if he had, he wasn’t allowed to listen to them, were just the first things that had popped into my mind. There were so many issues we’d have to deal with. How could a relationship possibly work?

      We continued to ride holding hands, in silence, with only the sound of birds calling to each other in the air around us as they settled in for the night. I could tell that Noah’s mind was filled with as many thoughts as my own by the way he stared out into the corn with his lips pressed tightly together. But the warm press of his hand calmed the voices in my head and I relaxed, savoring the moment—until my cell phone rang.

      My rock-song ringtone raised his eyebrows, and he was suddenly alert, glancing around in quick movements.