Secrets In The Stone

Even as she reveled in Becky’s energy filling her, empowering her, the body that undulated beneath hers became Adrian’s. Adrian surrendering to her, Adrian immolating her with pure and powerful desire. The woman in her arms convulsed with another orgasm and Melinda came again, wildly, violently. Adrian’s face blazed in her mind. Exquisite.

Rapturous. Adrian!

v

Adrian whimpered and twisted beneath the tangled sheets, damp with perspiration and desire. Moonlight bathed the room. The air was heavy and still. Slipping her hands over the sleekly muscled back to the hard, tense buttocks, she bowed up to meet the body bearing down into her. She wrapped her legs around the thrusting hips, kneading her turgid sex into the answering heat. Flames danced on the moonbeams, licking up her thighs, teasing over her clitoris like a silken tongue. Need writhed in her depths, too powerful to keep chained inside.

“Oh yess,” Adrian cried. Her hips bucked and she surged toward orgasm, her eyes flying open at the instant she climaxed. She clutched desperately for her invisible lover, finding only emptiness. Shuddering, gasping, she crushed her palm to her violently pulsing center. Stop, please stop.

v

Rooke jerked upright, staring around the unfamiliar room. She lurched to her feet and only then recognized her living room. She’d fallen asleep on the sofa. Heart pounding, she listened intently, searching for some sign of what had awakened her. The silence was total. Even the usual ping of the radiators was absent. She rubbed a hand over the back of her neck, her skin tingling as if from an interrupted caress.

Uneasy, every sense warning her of some danger, she crossed to the window and stared outside. She saw nothing through the curtain of snow in the moonlit yard except her grandfather’s truck, nearly buried

• 104 •

SecretS in the Stone

under a drift. The surface of the driveway was unbroken. Not even the deer had ventured out. She was alone.

With a sigh, she made her way downstairs to her shop. When she ran her hand over the woman emerging from the stone, her unrest eased.

When all that remained in her consciousness was the spirit of the stone, she started to carve.

• 105 •

• 106 •

SecretS in the Stone

ChapTER TwElvE

I’m too early, aren’t I?” Rooke said when Adrian opened the door shortly after seven. She’d worked until the uneasy feeling that had awakened her returned and broke her concentration. Finally, she gave in to the pressure in her head that kept warning her that something wasn’t right. All she could think was that Adrian was somehow in danger. Now that she stood on the porch with the sun barely up, she felt foolish. Adrian would really think she was crazy now. “I’ll come back.”

“No!” Adrian grabbed Rooke’s arm as she started to turn away and then just as quickly let go when Rooke stared, her brows drawing down.

“What’s wrong?” Rooke asked.

Rooke’s face took on the fierce expression she’d had when Adrian had nearly fainted from the unexpected surge of energy after touching Rooke the day before, and Adrian took irrational comfort in it. Never in her life, even when her life had been in danger, had she turned to anyone for protection, and she wasn’t going to now. Just the same, the nausea that had plagued her since the shattering and completely unwelcome orgasm relented for the first time in hours. “Nothing. I was just about to make breakfast. Are you hungry?”

“Oh man,” Rooke said.

“What?”

“I’m supposed to make breakfast this morning.”

Adrian smiled, confused. “You lost me.”

“It’s my turn to make breakfast. My grandfather expects sausage and eggs.”

• 107 •

RADcLY fFe

“Oh,” Adrian said, trying to hide her disappointment. “Well then, you’d better get to it.”

Rooke surveyed the dark circles under Adrian’s eyes. They were deeper than yesterday, almost bruised, and despite her bright smile, she looked upset. Something was wrong, but Rooke didn’t know how to ask. She had no idea what to say, so she followed her instincts. “Come with me.”

“What?” Adrian laughed, completely taken aback.

“Come with me. I think we have tea.”

“Tea.”

Rooke nodded.

Adrian quickly turned away, appalled to feel tears flood her eyes.

She was going to cry just because Rooke remembered she drank tea?

What was wrong with her? She heard Rooke move, felt a hand on her shoulder. She wanted to lean into Rooke’s touch with every fiber of her being, to feel that strength and warmth surround her. And because she wanted it and didn’t understand why, she pulled away.

“I’ll go,” Rooke said quietly from behind her.

“Wait.” Adrian spun back, unable to bear for Rooke to think she didn’t want her comfort. She could let herself have that much couldn’t she? “I would love to come to breakfast.”

“You would?”

Rooke’s face lit up and Adrian’s heart gave a little stutter. God, she was beautiful.

“I would.” Adrian held up a finger. “Come inside and give me five minutes to change my clothes.”

“Why?” Rooke stepped into the foyer and closed the door behind her. “You look great.”

Adrian eyed her shapeless green sweater and faded jeans. She would have taken the statement as meaningless flattery coming from someone other than Rooke, but she’d never met anyone who seemed less capable of artificiality than Rooke. The simple compliment threatened to bring tears again, and she backed away. She needed to pull herself together, and she wasn’t going to be able to do that until Rooke stopped looking at her with that consuming intensity in her gorgeous dark eyes.

“Five minutes. Don’t go.”

“I won’t,” Rooke said.

As foolish as it might be, Adrian believed her.

• 108 •

SecretS in the Stone

v

“I’ll get that tree taken care of tomorrow,” Rooke said as she and Adrian made their way around the fallen oak to Rooke’s truck. “I see you got the Jeep out.”

“I was lucky. All this wind turned out to be helpful in one way, at least. The snow drifted away from the front of the barn and I managed to get down the driveway and around the tree in four-wheel drive.”

“If you need anything—groceries or supplies—you can call me. It would save you from driving on these roads.”

Adrian climbed into the passenger seat. “You’re driving on them.”

“I’m used to it.”

Any other morning, Adrian would have argued, or at least have pointed out that she was completely as capable as Rooke Tyler at managing a vehicle in the snow, but she was exhausted and shaken and she didn’t have the energy for verbal combat. More than that, Rooke’s concern warmed her. Rooke turned onto River Road heading away from the direction Adrian took into town, and she rubbed condensation from the window and looked out, almost too weary to keep her eyes open.

The snow had tapered off to occasional flurries, but the sun remained hidden behind sheets of slate gray clouds that portended more snow before long. The river was only yards away and completely frozen, huge chunks of ice stacked like dominoes or giant, jagged teeth across the surface. For just an instant, the image of a vehicle half submerged beneath the frozen floes flashed through her mind and she shuddered.

Adrian turned her back to the river, finding it much more soothing to watch Rooke instead. She drove with both hands lightly clasping the wheel, relaxed in the seat, her blue jean–clad legs slightly spread. Her face was intent, but not strained. She looked comfortable and confident.

Solid. Strong.

Rooke glanced over and caught Adrian staring. “Is the house too cold?”

“What?”

“You look really tired. I thought maybe that was why.”

Adrian laughed self-consciously. “Hasn’t anyone ever warned you never to tell a woman she doesn’t look good?”

• 109 •

RADcLY fFe

Rooke colored. She had no idea how to talk to a woman. Or how not to. “I’m sorry. I…I don’t know much about that.”

“Rooke,” Adrian said softly, instantly sorry for her remark. She’d meant it to cover her own embarrassment and could see that she had embarrassed Rooke instead. On impulse, she leaned across the seat and grasped Rooke’s forearm. “I was teasing.”

“Oh.”

Adrian had the insane urge to slide all the way over until her body rested against Rooke’s. She wanted to tell her how good it felt to be with her. She contented herself with skimming her fingers over the top of Rooke’s hand. The brief contact made her feel more centered than she had since she’d gone to bed in physical and emotional turmoil the night before. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“Yes,” Rooke said, bracing herself for something she feared she wouldn’t be able to answer. Or if she did, Adrian would be done with her.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

Rooke jerked in surprise and answered automatically. “No.” Then she remembered Emma. She wanted to be honest. “I’ve never…” She took a breath and started again. “I have a friend I care about. She cares about me too. But we’re not…like that.”

“Okay. I think I understand.” Adrian concluded Rooke was either in a relationship that wasn’t sexual or was in a sexual relationship that wasn’t serious. She wasn’t sure which she preferred, but she was glad Rooke seemed to have no significant ties.

“I don’t know very much about women, I guess,” Rooke muttered.

Sensing Rooke’s discomfort and wanting to lighten the mood, Adrian tapped Rooke’s thigh lightly. “Lesson number one. Never tell a woman she looks tired, because what that really means is she looks haggard and unattractive.”

“That’s not true,” Rooke said, her brows drawing down. “You look tired but you’re still beautiful.”

Adrian’s heart jumped into her throat. She’d been told she was beautiful before. Men had told her she was too beautiful to be with other women when she had rejected their advances. Melinda had told her she was beautiful while trying to seduce her, and other women had

• 110 •

SecretS in the Stone

told her she was beautiful while making love to her. She had never in her life been told she was beautiful with such simple and honest sincerity. This was the first time she’d believed it might be true.

“My mistake,” Adrian whispered. “You aren’t in need of any lessons at all.”

Rooke smiled. “No?”

“Most definitely no.”

Rooke turned into the driveway at Stillwater and pulled to a stop behind the house. She turned off the engine and shifted to face Adrian.

“Did something happen to you last night?”

Adrian caught her lower lip between her teeth. What could she say? A woman I don’t want to go to bed with got me so aroused I had an erotic dream and came in my sleep? If I’m going to come dreaming about anyone, I want it to be you? Oh, that would be a conversation stopper. She settled for partial truth. “Bad dreams. And I couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“I know how that is.”

“You were up pretty early yourself,” Adrian said.

“You probably think this is crazy, but I was worried about you.”

The air in the truck suddenly seemed terribly still and warm. With another woman, Adrian would have politely but firmly told her there was no need to worry—she could take care of herself. A few days ago, she would have said the same thing to Rooke. Right now, all she wanted was to bury her hands in Rooke’s hair and kiss her. She wanted that long, tight body on top of her. She wanted those strong, sure hands on her breasts, on her thighs, inside her. She wanted, with the same wild urgency she had wanted the night before when a stranger had crouched above her, delving inside her, driving her beyond sanity. But today, the wanting was by her choice. And that was enough.

“I don’t think it’s crazy,” Adrian whispered.

“I’m glad.”

Adrian nodded toward the house. “Breakfast?”

“Yeah. I’d better get to it.”

Adrian followed Rooke up the narrow path to the back door of a gorgeous stone house that emanated the same enduring strength she sensed from Rooke. She wondered if a Tyler had built that house two hundred and fifty years before.

• 111 •

RADcLY fFe

“You live here with your grandfather?” Adrian asked as Rooke held the door open for her and she walked into the kitchen. She handed Rooke her jacket.

“No. Over the shop out back.” Rooke took both their jackets into the adjoining room and when she returned, she gestured to the table.

“Have a seat. Do you want some tea while I cook?”

“What are you having?”

Rooke hefted a coffeepot.

“Coffee is fine,” Adrian said with a smile. “I drink it all the time when I’m on assignment.”

“No,” Rooke said. “I promised you tea.”

“That would be great, then. Thank you.” Adrian settled into a chair at the table. “Can I help?”

“No. I’ve got it. Thanks.” Rooke put a pot of water on to boil and pulled a coffee can from the refrigerator.

Adrian watched her work. Mostly, she watched her move. Her white cotton shirt stretched across her shoulders as she took food from the refrigerator and dishes from the cabinets. Her stonewashed denim jeans molded to her butt and thighs as she bent down to pull a frying pan from the drawer in the bottom of the cast-iron stove. Adrian’s mouth went suddenly dry as she pictured herself running her hands over those taut muscles. Just as her musings were leading her into definitely dangerous territory, she heard footsteps and a vigorous-looking man about her grandmother’s age halted in the doorway of the adjoining room. He regarded her with a pensive expression.

“Hello,” Adrian said, shooting to her feet to cover her embarrassment at having been caught while she was cruising Rooke’s backside.

Rooke looked over her shoulder in the man’s direction. “Hi, Pops.

This is Adrian.”

Adrian held out her hand and the man took it. His hand was warm and dry. He had calluses in some of the same places as Rooke. “Adrian Oakes. I’m very pleased to meet you.”

“Ron Tyler.” He released Adrian’s hand and went to the counter, picked up a coffee mug, and filled it. Then he sat down opposite her at the table.

Not knowing what else to do, Adrian sat back down. Thankfully, Rooke brought her a cup of tea at that moment so she could occupy

• 112 •

SecretS in the Stone

herself with it. She fiddled with the teabag. She wasn’t often speechless in new situations and she didn’t usually concern herself with what kind of first impression she made. Chiding herself, she forced herself to sit back in her chair and meet Ronald Tyler’s gaze. She saw pieces of Rooke in the bold arch of his cheekbones and the square set of his jaw.

His eyes, however, were not the deep dark brown of hers, but blue.

“You’re Elizabeth Winchester’s granddaughter,” Rooke’s grandfather said.

“Yes.”

“You look a little bit like her.”

“Rooke looks quite a lot like you.”

He smiled and sipped his coffee. “Things okay at the house?”

“Rooke’s got them under control.” Adrian glanced at Rooke, who was dishing eggs and sausage onto plates, and smiled. “She’s very thorough.”

“She should be. That’s her job.”

Rooke set the food on the table, brought an extra chair from the dining room, and sat down. She gave Adrian a worried look. “Is the tea okay?”

“The tea is perfect. And breakfast looks great.” Adrian touched Rooke’s bare forearm. “It’s exactly what I needed.”

Rooke’s smile blazed at the same instant as light burst in Adrian’s vision, as if the sun had suddenly leaped above the horizon and turned night into day in a fraction of a second. Arms wrapped around her middle from behind and she leaned back against a strong chest, secure in the knowledge that she would not fall. Warm lips moved over the curve of her neck and she tilted her head back, content to let the pleasure enfold her.

“Good,” Rooke said.

Adrian blinked and felt her face go hot. She almost didn’t dare to look across the table at Rooke’s grandfather, but she forced herself to do it. He seemed engrossed in his breakfast. Thank goodness she hadn’t made a sound, because in her mind, she had moaned from absolute bliss.

“So I gather Rooke has told you about the damage to the house,”

Adrian said, searching for a safe topic of conversation. She edged her chair a little farther away from Rooke so their thighs wouldn’t touch, not wanting a repeat of her last little loss of control.

• 113 •

RADcLY fFe

“Yup. Rooke give you the estimate to discuss with your grandmother?”

“Not yet.”

Rooke pushed her plate aside and reached into her back pocket.

She handed Adrian a folded square of white paper. “I was going to give this to you later.”

“Thanks,” Adrian said.

“Well, I think I’ll have a look at the trees. Make sure we don’t have any branches down.” Rooke’s grandfather rose and donned a dark green canvas jacket and matching hat that he lifted from pegs on the far side of the door. “Nice meeting you, Ms. Oakes.”

“You too, Mr. Tyler,” Adrian said as he disappeared out the back door. She sighed inwardly with relief. That seemed to go all right. She glanced at Rooke, who was drinking her coffee and watching her. “He didn’t even seem surprised to find a stranger in his kitchen at a godawful early hour of the morning. Do you often bring home strays?”

“I’ve never brought anyone home before.”

“Oh, I just assumed you grew up here. I don’t know why.”

“I did. I just got the place out back five years ago.”

“Then how…” Adrian realized she was prying. But how could Rooke have never brought anyone home? She must’ve misunderstood.

Trying to cover her confusion, she unfolded the paper Rooke had given her and spread it out on the table between them. “So. Anything special here I need to know when I discuss this with my grandmother?”

Rooke pushed back in her chair as if Adrian had dropped a snake between them. “The total is $15,800.”

“I see that. I was just wondering…”

Adrian frowned when Rooke stood abruptly and walked into the other room. She waited a moment and, when Rooke didn’t return, followed her. Rooke stood with her back to her, bent over a large table in the middle of the room, her arms braced on it, her head lowered.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something to upset you? I’m not doubting your figures. I just wanted to be sure I understood everything. You don’t need to review it with me. I’m sorry…”

“Stop.” Rooke turned, the expression on her face one Adrian had never seen there before. She looked resigned, almost defeated. “You didn’t do anything wrong at all. It’s me, okay?”

“I don’t understand,” Adrian said quietly.

• 114 •

SecretS in the Stone

“I can’t read it.”

Adrian looked down at the paper in her hands, then back at Rooke.

“What part can’t you read?”

“Any of it.” Rooke picked up their jackets and handed Adrian hers. “I can’t read anything at all. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Reflexively, Adrian reached for her jacket, a thousand jumbled thoughts careening through her mind. This wasn’t a third-world country. This wasn’t some isolated pocket of rural Appalachia. How was it possible that in a community like this a child did not learn to read? And why had Rooke, as an adult, not taken steps to change that?

She thought of her grandmother’s veiled comment about Rooke. She’s slow. But Adrian knew that wasn’t true. Rooke was far too perceptive, far too sensitive, too bright to be impaired in that way. But what then?

Why…

The back door slammed and Adrian was left alone with her questions.

• 115 •

• 116 •

SecretS in the Stone

ChapTER ThiRTEEn

Adrian found Rooke leaning against the front of her truck, her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket, her face turned away from the house. Away from Adrian. Although her pose looked relaxed from a distance, the set of her shoulders and the tight line of her jaw said otherwise.

“Hey,” Adrian said, coming up beside her.

Rooke finally looked at her, and her eyes were so bleak all Adrian wanted to do was put her arms around her and hold her. She wanted that so much her chest ached, but she was afraid Rooke might misinterpret her actions as pity and she was absolutely certain Rooke would not want that. She contented herself with running her fingers down the arm of Rooke’s jacket.

“Can we take a walk?” Adrian said.

“Where?”

Adrian smiled. “Show me Stillwater.”

Rooke hesitated and Adrian was afraid she was going to say no.

She didn’t know what she would do then, but she couldn’t bear to feel the barrier that had suddenly sprung up between them. Ordinarily, she welcomed barriers, and she was always the one erecting them. She decided how close she allowed anyone to come. More than one lover had complained that she wouldn’t let them in, wouldn’t share enough, and that was probably the main reason why she’d never had a serious long-term relationship. Most of her affairs were casual and mutually convenient and the few times they’d drifted toward something deeper, she’d pulled back. Breaking those connections, even with women

• 117 •

RADcLY fFe

she’d slept with, had never left her feeling as bereft as Rooke’s sudden withdrawal.

“I started research for a new article,” Adrian said casually, propping her hip against the truck next to Rooke as if they weren’t standing outside in fifteen-degree weather. As if Rooke hadn’t just told her something she still couldn’t quite take in. “I’m going to do a series on cemeteries.”

“Cemeteries.” Rooke shot a quick look at Adrian. “Why?”

“Not cemeteries per se, actually.” Adrian tried not to smile, but she loved that Rooke always wanted to know. She didn’t seem to take things for granted or make assumptions. Her uncluttered, grounded view of the world was terribly refreshing. “Grave markers. Their design, the symbols that have been used over the centuries to indicate all kinds of things. Family associations. Superstitions. Religion. Social and economic status. It’s like the gravestones are history books with their own language. If we know the language, we’ll know how to read them.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to take them back. God. Could she have picked a worse time to bring up this subject?

“I’m sorry,” Adrian said quickly.

“What for?” Rooke grimaced. “I’ve had a long time to get used to what I can’t do, and what people think of me.”

“I’m not people.” Adrian shivered, more from the coldness inside than the lancing wind that blew ice crystals from the surface of the snow into her face like tiny, invisible knives. “Damn it, I’m doing this really badly. Take me to the older part of the cemetery, and I’ll show you what I mean.”

“All right. But you’re going to get wet.”

Adrian laughed, relieved to see Rooke’s shoulders relax and hear the teasing in her voice. “You mean more than I am now?”

“The paths aren’t cleared. We could wait—”

“No.” Adrian grasped Rooke’s hand and tugged her away from the truck and toward the one road into the cemetery that had been plowed.

Her relief was short-lived. Something was wrong. Even though both their hands were bare, she couldn’t feel Rooke. She’d lost the sense of her, and the absence of that quiet strength made her ache. Adrian feared if Rooke took her home now, she would never have another chance to

• 118 •

SecretS in the Stone

restore their lost connection. “My friends tell me that when I get started on a project, I’m like a dog with a bone. I can’t let up.”

“Okay, if you want to go exploring, we will.”

Rooke withdrew her hand from Adrian’s and the hollow place inside grew larger, and so did the pain of loss. Did Rooke really think she would find her lacking because of what she’d just confided? Of course she did, because very clearly others had. She doubted there was anything she could say to combat those old hurts. She would have to convince Rooke that what mattered to her was the woman she was, the whole person, not just one aspect of her. She’d need time to show her, and hoped they would have it.

“You’re elected tour guide,” Adrian said, trying for a casual note.

“You have to put your gloves on,” Rooke said, removing her own from the inside pocket of her jacket.

When Adrian pulled on her leather gloves, Rooke took her hand again. Adrian clutched Rooke’s arm against her side, happy for the slightest bit of contact. Before long she was holding on even tighter to keep her footing on the icy surface as Rooke led her off the semi-cleared road into a section of the cemetery where the stones were obviously very old. Most were marble, and on many, the engravings were so worn by the years that the names and dates were illegible.

“There—the matching crossed hands on those two stones,”

Adrian said, indicating two markers side by side jutting from the snow.

“According to what I’ve read, those symbolize—”

“Relatives,” Rooke said. “Sometimes marriage.”

“Yes,” Adrian said eagerly, pointing to another marble marker with a scrolled top and the image of a bird in flight carved above the names. She hadn’t come across that in her initial research. She looked at Rooke questioningly. “What about that one?”

“The soul—the birds are usually shown rising, because—well, you know. Heaven and all. The lamp is for innocence, the lily for purity, the anchor for hope.”

“You know all about this, don’t you? Of course you would.”

Adrian shook her head. “I could have saved myself a lot of time on the computer yesterday.”

Rooke shrugged. “There’s probably a lot more I don’t know. I’ve only seen this cemetery and some of the small family plots in other parts of the county. According to what you said, symbols might be

• 119 •

RADcLY fFe

different in other places, right? Depending on what the people were like who lived there.”

“Yes,” Adrian said softly. “Exactly.” She hesitated because she didn’t want to make Rooke self-conscious, but she couldn’t pretend she didn’t know that Rooke could not read. She could only imagine how hard it had been for Rooke to share something so personal, and she wouldn’t treat the subject as if it were something Rooke should be ashamed of. “How do you know all of this?”

“It’s the family business. I know it the same way I know how to do the carvings.”

“Does your father do this too?”

“No, my grandfather said he didn’t have it in his blood. He joined the army instead. My great uncle taught me. I started when I was eight.

Simple stuff.”

“So will you explain to me about the other symbols?”

“Yes, if you want me to. When the weather lets up, we’ll come back out and I’ll show you. Some of the earliest markers at Stillwater are right here,” Rooke said. “These are the founding families.” She pointed to a large obelisk-type monument with a simple cross at the top surrounded by many small rectangular markers. “The Brewsters.

Harold and Hannah were the first. Then, their children—Matthew, Thomas, Lydia, and James.”

Adrian followed Rooke’s hand as she pointed to each smaller stone in turn, reading off the faint names on the stones. She looked from the stones to Rooke. “I thought—”

“I’m not reading them,” Rooke said gruffly. “My grandfather told me who they are.”

“And you remember them all?”

Rooke smiled faintly and nodded.

Adrian dragged Rooke by the hand to the next grouping. “Well?”

“The Smiths. Reginald and Elizabeth. Their sons, Arthur, Charles, Robert, and Thomas,” Rooke said, pointing to each gravestone. “Their daughters Elizabeth, Margaret, Roberta, and Anne are buried with their husbands further down this row.”

“Oh my God. That’s amazing!” Adrian turned and took in what she could of the cemetery. It stretched beyond the crest of a tree-lined hill farther than she could see. Dominic had said Rooke knew the story

• 120 •

SecretS in the Stone

behind all of the stones, but she hadn’t taken him literally. “Tell me you know everyone here.”

“I do. I remember things like that.”

Adrian couldn’t contain her astonishment and wondered how it could be that people like her grandmother had no idea what a remarkable person Rooke was. She couldn’t restrain her need to let Rooke know just how special she found her. Guided by instinct, she took off her gloves and pressed her palms to Rooke’s face. “You’re amazing.”

The wind howled and snow danced in the air like spirits released from the grave, but Adrian didn’t feel the icy cold. Heat emanated from Rooke, reaching to Adrian’s very core. She saw herself standing before a great stone hearth in a vast hall, torches flaming on the walls, huge arches disappearing into the darkness overhead. Thick furs covered the stone floors and hung over openings chiseled through the thick walls.

In the shadows, a warrior watched. Adrian sensed great strength and great power. And more—passion and desire. Belonging. The yearning for those feelings was so strong she felt herself drifting into the dream, even while part of her knew it was not real. Would never be real.

“Adrian.” Rooke’s arms came around her and her embrace was very real. Rooke held her close, shielding her from the biting wind, and brushed her hair back, searching Adrian’s face. “We need to go back.

You’re shaking and pale again.”

“Your skin is warm,” Adrian said thickly, wanting to stay by the fire, surrounded by thick walls of stone and fierce passion. But Rooke’s call was strong, and the vision receded, leaving her a little disoriented.

She let herself lean against Rooke for just a few heartbeats. Rooke felt so good.

“Damn, I was an idiot to bring you out here,” Rooke said gruffly.

“Don’t say that.” Adrian’s voice came out hollow and weak and she forced herself to straighten, even though it meant moving away from Rooke. “You are not responsible for me. I wanted to come.”

“I’m responsible for my own bad judgment.”

“Stop.”

“Come on,” Rooke muttered. “Before we get into another power struggle and freeze.”

Adrian didn’t argue, because Rooke was right. She was cold to the bone. Rooke kept an arm around her shoulder, putting herself between

• 121 •

RADcLY fFe

Adrian and the wind as they walked back to the house. Instead of taking her to the truck, Rooke turned up a path toward a big cement-block building that looked like a garage. Rooke unlocked the door and guided her to an overstuffed chair in front of a wood-burning stove.

“I’ll get the fire going and you’ll be warm in a few minutes.” Rooke quickly stacked logs from the pile next to the stove and lit them. Then she knelt in front of the chair where Adrian had kicked off her boots and curled up with her legs beneath her. Rooke reached out as if to rest her hand on Adrian’s knee and then moved it to the arm of the chair at the last moment. “How about hot chocolate? I don’t have tea here.”

“Where are we?” Adrian asked, looking around at the cement floor and counters covered with tools. “I thought you said your apartment was here. Tell me you don’t consider this an apartment.”

Rooke grinned. “My shop. I live upstairs, but the stove down here is better. So, hot chocolate?”

“That would be great. And you can stop looking so worried. I’m all right.”

“You’ll be even better in a few minutes.” Rooke straightened. “I’ll be right back.”

Adrian waited until she heard Rooke’s footsteps fade, then leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She didn’t want Rooke taking care of her, although Rooke’s tenderness made her feel special, something she’d never thought she’d wanted before. Still, she didn’t want to appear weak. Now that her head was clear, she needed to figure out what was going on. She’d always been open to heightened sensation, especially when she was emotionally vulnerable or intensely connected to someone. At odd times she would also pick up energy from strangers, but lately she seemed to be more susceptible than ever before. Maybe with Rooke it was because she wanted a connection between them, but she couldn’t offer the same explanation for Melinda. She’d be just as happy never to experience the disconcerting reactions Melinda stirred in her again.

Adrian sighed. Melinda was a question for later. She glanced at her watch. She owed Melinda a phone call too. It was almost ten. And before she made that call, she needed to decide what she was going to do about Melinda and Rooke.

v

• 122 •

SecretS in the Stone

Rooke set the cup of hot chocolate down gently on the packing crate that she used for an end table next to the chair in which Adrian was sleeping. She checked the fire and added a log. When she turned, Adrian was awake and watching her. Adrian no longer looked pale, and it might have been the dim light in the room, but the bruises beneath her eyes seemed lighter too. She appeared relaxed and peaceful. Rooke liked the way she looked, curled up in the chair. Almost at home.

“How are you feeling?” Rooke asked.

“Well-done.”

Rooke grinned. “It’s not that warm in here yet.”

“Says you.” Adrian pulled off her sweater and stretched, feeling as rested as if she’d just awakened from a two-hour nap. In fact, she felt wonderful. When Rooke’s eyes narrowed and dropped to her breasts, she remembered that she hadn’t put a bra on under the T-shirt she’d layered beneath her sweater. The instant she realized Rooke was staring at her breasts, her nipples tightened. A breath later, she was wet and ready. She fought to keep anything from showing in her expression and picked up the hot chocolate.

“Thanks for this,” Adrian said.

“You’re welcome.”

Rooke sounded tight and strained and Adrian was afraid to look at her. If she saw that intense fascination in Rooke’s face again, she was likely to explode right there in the chair. She sipped the hot chocolate and ordered her body to behave.

“This is where you do all your work?” Adrian chanced a glance and was only halfway disappointed that Rooke appeared to be engrossed in something on the ceiling. At least one of them had some control.

Work ought to be a safe subject, and Rooke was clearly an expert in the subject she was currently absorbed in.

“Yes,” Rooke said.

“How do you carve the names if…”

Rooke met Adrian’s gaze. “If I can’t read them?”

“Yes.” Adrian kept her voice carefully neutral, as if they were discussing an everyday occurrence. She never wanted to see that defeated look in Rooke’s eyes again.

Rooke’s stomach became leaden. No one had ever asked her to explain how she worked before. Everyone seemed to assume what she was capable of, or what she wasn’t. She had learned not to care what

• 123 •

RADcLY fFe

others thought of her, but she desperately wanted Adrian to understand.

Crossing to the counter, she picked up several sheets of paper and offered them to Adrian.

Wordlessly, Adrian took them and leafed through them. They were all drawings of gravestones. The designs were all different—some were completely plain, others ornate. Above each marker, a name was hand printed in simple letters. On the stones, the same name appeared several times in different styles, from block lettering to ornate script. Adrian frowned.

“You need to interpret for me,” Adrian said.

“When I carve a symbol, like a bird, on a marker, I don’t carve the same one every time,” Rooke said.

“Okay. That makes sense.”

“The letters are symbols, like the bird or a tree or a lantern. I can carve symbols, I just can’t…” Rooke sighed and she rubbed her forehead as if it hurt.

Rooke’s hand was shaking and Adrian heard the frustration in her voice. God, she wanted to understand, and she was making it worse.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to…”

“I want to,” Rooke said fiercely. She paced a few steps, her back to Adrian, then spun around. Her body was taut, her hands clenched. “I want to tell you.”

“Okay,” Adrian said softly. “Can I ask you a question?”

Rooke nodded.

“Why can’t you read?”

Rooke’s head jerked as if she were startled. Then some of the tension went out of her body. “I was in an accident when I was a baby.

Something happened to my brain. I can see the letters but my brain can’t make them into words.”

“No words at all?”

“No. Not numbers, either.”

“My God,” Adrian said quietly. “That must be so hard.”

Rooke smiled. “I don’t think about it all that much. It’s just the way it is for me.”

Adrian wanted to ask a thousand questions, starting with, Was that your mother who was killed in the accident in the Hudson? but she wanted to focus on Rooke, and what Rooke needed to tell her.

“Your grandfather prints the names for you?”

• 124 •

SecretS in the Stone

“Yes. When he takes the order. Then I work up the samples and let the family choose. Sometimes they have specific things they want, and I work those in.”

“It all sounds highly personal.”

“Shouldn’t it be?”

Adrian smiled. “Yes. It should.” She put her cup aside and stood.

“Can you show me one you’re working on?”

“You want to see a gravestone?”

Rooke looked so surprised, and so immune to her own charm that Adrian had a hard time not touching her. But she was afraid if she did, with her feelings for Rooke so very close to the surface right now, she’d fall into her again, and she didn’t want this moment to be about her.

“Yes, please. I’d like you to show me.”

“All right.” Rooke held out her hand.

Adrian hesitated, then willed herself to close everything down.

Tentatively, she slid her hand into Rooke’s and Rooke squeezed gently.

Warmth flowed into her, the connection reestablished, and she breathed a sigh. They were holding hands, nothing more complicated than that.

“You have beautiful hands.”

Rooke stared down at their joined hands, then into Adrian’s eyes.

“They’re pretty rough and banged up. Your skin is so soft I’m not sure I should be touching you.”

“It’s fine,” Adrian said, her throat threatening to close. “Perfect.”

Then Rooke smiled as if she’d been given a gift, and Adrian felt herself falling and had no desire to stop. She wasn’t dizzy, she wasn’t disoriented. She knew exactly where she was and with whom. What terrified her was that she knew exactly how she was falling, and that wasn’t at all what she had planned.

“Over here,” Rooke said, leading Adrian into the far end of the room where several mounds were covered with tarps. A big exhaust fan occupied the space there the windows had been. “This one is actually part of a much bigger marker. This figure will be inset near the top.”

When Rooke pulled the tarp away, Adrian stared at the head of a lion emerging from the stone. It was so lifelike, the eyes so hypnotic, she would have sworn it was alive. “It’s incredible.”

“Thanks.”

Adrian thought of the picture in the newspaper of the mausoleum and the gargoyles. She remembered Melinda saying how lifelike they

• 125 •

RADcLY fFe

were. With a sinking sensation, she said, “I met someone coming up here who’s trying to find a sculptor. She saw a picture of a mausoleum in the newspaper with gargoyles at the four corners. You did that, didn’t you?”

Rooke stiffened and dropped Adrian’s hand. “Yes.”

“She was hoping you might know the sculptor she’s looking for.”

“Why is she looking for the sculptor?”

“She has a picture of a sculpture that’s being sold at an estate sale here. She was impressed.” Adrian began to worry as Rooke’s face lost all expression. “Is something wrong?”

“I want to see the picture.”

“I’m sure she’d be happy to show it to you. I was going to bring her out here later to talk to you. She’s staying at the Heritage House.”

Rooke shook her head. “Call her and tell her I’ll come there.”

“All right.” Adrian told herself there was absolutely no reason why Rooke shouldn’t meet with Melinda, but her stomach was instantly queasy. “When?”

“As soon as possible.”

• 126 •

SecretS in the Stone

ChapTER fOuRTEEn

Melinda said she’d meet us at the hotel in an hour,” Adrian said, watching Rooke pace in the small space between the stove and the chair. “She wants me to come along.”

“I knew the moment I saw you that we’d make good partners, darling,” Melinda said. “You’re bringing her to me here?”

“You don’t really need me along,” Adrian said reluctantly, even though an irrational part of her did not want Rooke to meet with Melinda alone. “I don’t have anything to lend to the discussions—”

“You two already know each other. She’ll probably be more comfortable with you making the introductions. Besides,” Melinda said, her tone susurrus, “I want to see you.”

“Well, I suppose since I’m already with her—”

“Wonderful. I look forward to seeing you both.”

Rooke stopped pacing. “You’d do that? Come with me? You don’t mind?”

“No, of course I don’t mind.” Adrian couldn’t tell if Rooke was angry or anxious, or a little bit of both, but as soon as they’d started talking about Melinda and the sculpture, she’d become progressively more agitated. “What’s upsetting you?”

“She’s from New York, you said?”

“Yes. She’s an art dealer with a gallery in Manhattan.”

Rooke shook her head, frowning. “I don’t understand why she would come all the way up here just because she saw a picture of something.”

• 127 •

RADcLY fFe

“That’s what art dealers do,” Adrian said, although she did think it was odd that Melinda would come personally rather than sending a representative. “The successful ones are able to identify talent before an artist becomes popular. That’s often how they make their greatest profits. And of course, young artists are always hoping that someone will see something unique in their work and promote them.”

“What does it matter what anyone else sees? The story is already in the stone.”

Adrian perched on the arm of the chair and studied Rooke. “You know who did the work, don’t you.”

“Not for sure.” Rooke walked to the door and looked out onto the cemetery and the rear of the main house. With her back to Adrian, she said quietly, “But what does it matter who did it? Isn’t something like that supposed to exist independently? Free of the artist?”

“Well, that’s an age-old question.” Adrian chuckled. “I think you’d find some pretty opinionated people on both sides of that argument.

Is that what you think? That the artist doesn’t inject some part of themselves in the work—that it’s a case of art for art’s sake and nothing else?”

Rooke glanced at Adrian over her shoulder. “I think the artist is just a tool. The stone is everything.”

Adrian pictured the grainy photograph of the mausoleum and the gargoyles that so enchanted Melinda. She glanced to the far corner of the room where the lion’s head emerged half formed from the stone, eyes gleaming with life. Then her mind skipped to the figure Melinda had shown her in the catalog, a woman who seemed so alive, even in the small, faint photo, that Adrian had expected her to breathe and move. Dominic, saying there was no one anywhere around who could do what Rooke could do with stone. Already certain of the answer, Adrian asked, “You sculpt, don’t you? More than just what you do with the gravestones.”

As the silence stretched, Adrian tried to tell herself there was no reason for her growing sense of foreboding. Melinda was a businesswoman, and her interest in the sculpture and the artist who created it was perfectly reasonable.

“Rooke?”

“Yes. I sculpt other things.”

“Anyone else around here do that?” Adrian asked lightly.

• 128 •

SecretS in the Stone

“Not that I know of.”

“Well, then I guess you really do need to talk to Melinda.”

Rooke turned and leaned her back against the door. “I don’t see how she has a picture of anything I did. I don’t sell them.”

“What do you do with them?”

“I just make them.” Rooke shrugged and glanced toward a door in the far wall that Adrian assumed led to another room. “My grandfather has a couple.”

“How many are there?”

“A dozen.”

Adrian tried to sort out her conflicting emotions. If Rooke was the artist Melinda sought, and her work was as extraordinary as Melinda seemed to believe, Melinda could make a huge difference in Rooke’s life—financially, of course, but also in every other way. Melinda could introduce Rooke to an entirely new world—an exciting and seductive new world of celebrity and adventure. A world with Melinda at its center. Adrian tried to mentally shrug off the surge of jealousy. Rooke was an intelligent woman. She could handle herself. She could handle Melinda.

“Adrian?” Rooke asked.

“I’m sorry.” Adrian hadn’t realized she’d drifted off until Rooke touched her arm. Rooke looked worried, probably because she was telegraphing her own misgivings, and that wasn’t fair. She wanted to be happy for Rooke. She was happy for Rooke. “Do you have photographs of your other work?”

Rooke shook her head.

Adrian plucked her cell phone from the waistband of her jeans and thumbed through to the camera setting. Then she held it out to Rooke.

“Why don’t you take a few shots of some of them. Just point and press here.”

“Why?”

“Because if you sculpted the figure Melinda is interested in, she’s going to want to know what else you’ve done.”

“Even if I did, I don’t think I want her to see the rest.”

“Why not?” Adrian asked gently.

“I don’t know her.”

Adrian heard the protectiveness in Rooke’s voice and thought of the warrior in her visions. Perhaps this was what she’d sensed all

• 129 •

RADcLY fFe

along—Rooke’s fierce desire to guard her sculptures from those who might not understand or respect the stories they revealed. She wanted to see them very much herself, but she wouldn’t ask. She would see them when Rooke offered, when Rooke trusted her enough.

“There’s no rush.” Adrian was secretly glad that Rooke appeared to have reservations about Melinda and making her work public. She told herself she was being selfish, wanting to keep Rooke all to herself.

Rooke wasn’t hers, and she deserved the chance to decide what direction her life would take. Even if her choice led her to Melinda Singer.

v

A clock somewhere in the lobby chimed noon as Melinda settled onto a love seat in the corner of the parlor with a glass of Pinot noir.

She crossed her legs beneath her burgundy cashmere pencil skirt, enjoying the slide of the soft wool upward over her bare thighs, almost as exciting as a woman’s caress. She’d left the top three buttons of the matching jacket open, exposing a hint of the black lace cupping her breasts. Her nipples had been tense and tingling since Adrian had called. She regretted she had not relented and allowed Becky to stay when the girl had pleaded to do so earlier. The excitement of Adrian’s unexpected announcement that she might have found Melinda’s elusive artist aroused her so much her sex ached and hunger clawed at her depths again. She sipped the wine and pressed her thighs together until pleasure speared through her clitoris. The shaft distended rapidly and pulsed harder as Adrian, looking as beautiful as ever in a plain black sweater and slacks, stepped into the parlor. Melinda smiled, her attention immediately captured by the woman in a plain navy button-down shirt and jeans by Adrian’s side.

She was delicious. Slightly taller than Adrian, whip-slender, with short, thick dark hair and midnight eyes. Her dark gaze searched Melinda’s face with curiosity and cool appraisal. Melinda lusted for the power coiled in the woman’s muscular shoulders and taut torso, and envisioned sweeping her hands, her lips, over that tight, bold body—sucking her, drinking her ecstasy. Melinda’s sex blossomed and twitched in anticipation.

“Melinda, this is Rooke Tyler,” Adrian said. “Rooke, Melinda Singer.”

• 130 •

SecretS in the Stone

“Hello.” Melinda rose, her hand outstretched. In her high-heeled boots she was several inches taller than Rooke, but their eyes met on the same plane. She held the strong hand for several heartbeats longer than necessary, gauging Rooke’s energy. She sensed a force darker than Adrian’s, heavy and foreboding, of the earth, whereas Adrian radiated the light and heat of the sun. Adrian’s passion promised to set her ablaze; this woman’s would brand her very essence. For a fleeting second, she imagined the three of them together, of their bodies fused and their passion melded—earth and air, dark and light, consumed to ashes in her fire. Their release would satisfy her in her deepest reaches.

“Hello,” Rooke said, pulling her hand away.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Melinda said.

“How do you know it’s me?”

Melinda smiled and glanced at Adrian, whose eyes held worry and a possessiveness Melinda doubted she was aware of. Oh yes, there was passion here to surpass any she had known.

“I just have a feeling that we were destined to meet.” Melinda slipped her fingers around Rooke’s wrist and drew her down onto the love seat next to her, close enough that their thighs touched. Adrian took an adjacent wing-backed chair, her expression wary. “My intuition is never wrong.”

Rooke glanced at Adrian, whose eyes softened. Energy hummed between them, but Melinda doubted either was really aware of the intensity of their connection. Her skin vibrated with it, and she wasn’t even touching them. Her excitement escalated. She was very much going to enjoy these two. So much more together than apart.

“Adrian said you wanted me to look at a picture of a sculpture.”

Melinda opened her purse and removed the page she had printed from the sale catalogue. She handed it to Rooke and pointed to the sculpture. “This is yours, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Rooke said without looking at Melinda or Adrian. She held the paper in both hands so the other women would not see her shaking.

Until now, she hadn’t really believed that a woman she’d never met had traveled from New York City to find her because of one of her sculptures. “I don’t understand how this happened.”

“Did you sell this to someone?” Melinda asked, stroking Rooke’s forearm.

• 131 •

RADcLY fFe

“No. I’ve never sold any of my sculptures.”

Melinda caught her breath. “How many more?”

Rooke looked at Adrian again.

“She has quite a few more,” Adrian said quietly. She almost hated to admit it, feeling as if she were somehow delivering Rooke to Melinda. That was crazy, she knew, but Melinda was beautiful and alluring and from the way she looked at Rooke, she was interested in more than just Rooke’s sculptures.

“Where are they?” Melinda asked.

“At my shop. My grandfather has a few in the house,” Rooke said.

“No one else has ever had one.”

“Did he have this one?” Adrian asked. “Maybe he sold it?”

Rooke shook her head vehemently. “No, he wouldn’t sell my work.” She paused. “But maybe…”

“Maybe what?” Adrian wished she could make this easier for Rooke. Learning one of her sculptures was about to be auctioned off had to feel like a violation.

“Pops might have given one to my grandmother.” Rooke focused on Adrian. “Where is the sale you were talking about?”

“It’s at Fox Run Mansion,” Adrian had. “Is Bea Meriwether your grandmother?”

Rooke shook her head. “No. Ida Hancock is.”

Adrian gasped. She’d just assumed that Rooke didn’t have any other living relatives. Ida Hancock was her grandmother’s best friend.

They were in Florida together right at that moment. Adrian had known Ida all her life. How was it possible she’d never heard Ida talk about Rooke? Why had she never met Rooke at any of the summer parties her grandmother hosted? Ida was always there. And how, if her grandmother knew Ida, could she ever have repeated such ridiculous rumors about Rooke? When she realized Rooke was staring at her, she said lamely, “I didn’t know Ida Hancock had any grandchildren.”

“She wouldn’t have mentioned me,” Rooke said with a shrug. “As far as she’s concerned, we aren’t related.”

Melinda laughed softly, running her fingers over the top of Rooke’s hand. “Ah, the luscious intrigue of small towns. How foolish of anyone not to claim you.”

Rooke handed the paper back to Melinda and eased her hand

• 132 •

SecretS in the Stone

out from under Melinda’s fingers. She didn’t want to talk about her grandmother. She didn’t want to talk about her sculptures, either.

“What are you going to do with it? When you buy it?”

“I’m going to display it in my gallery. And I’d like to represent your other works as well.” Melinda finished her wine and set the glass aside. When she breathed in the scent of desire emanating from the other two women, she almost laughed, wondering how they couldn’t know. “When can I see the rest of your work?”

“Why?” Rooke asked.

Melinda did laugh then. “Most artists would be begging me to review their portfolio at this point.”

Rooke frowned. “I don’t have a portfolio. I guess I’m not really cut out for this kind of thing.”

“Oh, my dear,” Melinda murmured, lightly caressing the edge of Rooke’s jaw. “You have no idea how perfect you are. Exactly what I was looking for.”

Adrian edged forward, forcing Melinda’s attention away from Rooke. “You’ll be offering a contract, spelling out the terms of representation?”

“Of course, darling. You needn’t worry. I have no intention of mistreating her.” She smiled at Rooke. “In fact, I promise to treat you very, very well.”

“I have to think about it. I don’t know if I want to sell my sculptures.”

“I understand.” Melinda took a card from her purse and handed it to Rooke. “You can look up the gallery on the Internet. Study some of the pieces we have on display. I think you’ll like what you see. If you don’t want to put your pieces up for public sale, I have private collectors who I know would be interested. I can assure you, it would be quite lucrative for you.”

Rooke glanced at the card, then tucked it into her shirt pocket. “I don’t know if I want anyone to have them.”

“Then why did you create them?”

“Because…” Rooke didn’t know how to explain, but Adrian’s gaze said she understood, so she tried. “Because that’s what I do.”

“Is it pleasurable?” Melinda asked.

Rooke flushed, remembering the stone heating under her hands,

• 133 •

RADcLY fFe

the fluid arch of a neck, the fullness of breasts flowing through her mind, stirring her flesh. Excitement burgeoned, making her groin tighten and throb. She met Melinda’s eyes and saw her arousal reflected in the flickering green-gold.

“More,” Melinda murmured, her voice thick as honey. “I can promise you the pleasure will be greater than you dreamed if you let me share your gift.”

The longer Rooke looked into Melinda’s eyes, the more uncomfortable she became. She sensed danger everywhere, but she couldn’t find a focal point for it. Darkness encroached on the edges of her vision, and she wanted to grab Adrian’s hand and leave this place. She wanted to be back in Adrian’s kitchen, in the soft glow of the lamplight, listening to Adrian talk about places she’d been and the things she wanted to write about. A fist squeezed tightly in the center of her chest and she almost groaned.

“I need to go now,” Rooke said so abruptly Melinda gave a small cry of disappointment. She lurched to her feet, casting wildly about for Adrian, unable to find her.

Adrian rose quickly and rested her palm against Rooke’s cheek.

“Hey. It’s okay.” She brushed her fingers through the thick lock of hair that fell across Rooke’s forehead. Sweat misted along Rooke’s hairline.

“We’ll go.”

“I’m sorry.” Rooke closed her eyes and tilted her head into Adrian’s palm as the tension eased and she could breathe freely again.

“We’re done here,” Adrian said to Melinda, who watched them with an avid expression. She gripped Rooke’s shoulder. “Come on.

Let’s go.”

“Good-bye for now,” Melinda whispered. “Thank you for bringing her to me.”

“I didn’t do it for you.” Adrian heard Melinda laughing softly as they left.

Didn’t you?

• 134 •

SecretS in the Stone

ChapTER fifTEEn

I think you’d better drive until we get out of town,” Rooke said, handing Adrian her keys.

“Sure,” Adrian said uncertainly. “Why?”

Rooke didn’t reply, just pulled open the passenger door and climbed in. Adrian slid behind the wheel and started the engine. When she checked in the side-view mirror before pulling out onto the nearly empty Main Street, she noticed a sheriff’s patrol car parked on the opposite side, half a block down. She drove carefully along the snow-covered street and turned off Main onto River Road. After they’d gone a mile and there was no one behind them, she pulled over and looked at Rooke, who sat facing forward, her hands in the pockets of her jacket, her face still as granite.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine.” After a beat, Rooke said, “I can drive now.”

“We’re not that far from my house. Come over and have some lunch.”

“I do still need to check the tarp to make sure it hasn’t come loose.”

“That works out, then.” Adrian flicked the keys hanging from the ignition. Rooke was upset, but Adrian couldn’t tell if it was due to learning that her sculptures were no longer her secret or if Melinda’s obvious attentions bothered her. Or, something Adrian didn’t want to contemplate, maybe Rooke was brooding because Melinda’s attentions were welcome and Rooke wanted more, something Melinda seemed confident of delivering. And maybe, she growled inwardly, I can sit here and wonder for the rest of the afternoon and never know the answer.

• 135 •

RADcLY fFe

She’d always gone after what she wanted and what she wanted to know.

Indecision was foreign to her and she rebelled against it now. “Why am I driving?”

“Because I don’t have a license.”

“Ah. And I guess the local authorities know that,” Adrian said, recalling the sheriff’s car.

“Everyone knows.”

The way she said it made Adrian’s heart hurt. No wonder Rooke had kept her work a secret in a town where she had no secrets. “You’ve been driving out to my place.”

“The sheriff has better things to do in the middle of a blizzard than haul me in because I’m driving without a license.”

“Haul you in?”

Rooke’s eyes were dark deep pools of anger and frustration. “I graduated from just getting ticketed a few years ago. The last time they stopped me, I spent half the night in jail.”

“They can’t do that!”

“They did. For some reason it took them a while to call my grandfather.”

Adrian reached across the space between them and took Rooke’s hand. “That’s not right. For God’s sake, you grew up here. You don’t need to read the street signs to know where you are or to recognize a stop sign. Aren’t there any lawyers in this town?”

“It’s not just because I can’t read,” Rooke said in a low, strained voice.

“What then?”

“I don’t have a license because I can’t pass the written test, but even if I could, I would have a problem getting a license. I have…”

Rooke blew out a breath. “I have seizures.”

Adrian twined her fingers through Rooke’s, squeezing gently.

“From the accident?”

Rooke nodded.

“How bad is it?” Adrian couldn’t bear the thought of Rooke being hurt, and the idea of her having a seizure at any time, but particularly while driving, terrified her.

“Not bad. I haven’t had one in a long time.” Rooke bowed her head and cradled Adrian’s hands between both of hers, brushing her thumb back and forth over Adrian’s knuckles.

• 136 •

SecretS in the Stone

“You take medication?” Adrian asked faintly, riveted by the sweep of Rooke’s thumb back and forth over her skin.

“Yes.”

Adrian barely heard her as the rhythmic caress sent teasing currents of pleasure into her breasts and lower. The longer it went on, the more her clitoris swelled and pulsed. Tendrils of excitement twined through her pelvis and along her spine. She’d never been so sensitive before, even in the midst of making love. The arousal was so intense she wanted it to go on forever, and needed it to stop immediately before she moaned aloud and humiliated herself. When her thighs tensed and her pelvis clenched, she was on the verge of screaming from the pressure to climax. Carefully, not wanting Rooke to know just how close to the edge she was, she eased her hand free of Rooke’s hot grasp and clutched the steering wheel. Beside her, Rooke was breathing hard, looking almost dazed.

“I’d better drive us home,” Adrian said, her throat tight.

Rooke didn’t answer, and out of the corner of her eye, Adrian saw her hand ball into a fist on her thigh. It wasn’t until she put the truck in gear and started cautiously down the rutted, snow-covered road that she realized while Rooke had been touching her, all she’d felt was Rooke.

Here and now and overwhelmingly potent. She hadn’t sought to shield against her, wasn’t certain she could have if she tried. She seemed to have no ability to keep Rooke at a distance. She never allowed herself to be so vulnerable. How had she let this happen?

v

“You want this, don’t you?” Melinda murmured, leading the fresh-faced porter into a dim alcove on the third floor of the hotel.

Absorbing the intoxicating desire radiating from Rooke and Adrian had inflamed her, and the urge to feed the raging hunger had come over her so intensely, so violently, she had to satisfy it now. She couldn’t wait for Becky to come on duty tonight, and she couldn’t satisfy the need herself. No amount of masturbation would dull this craving. She craved another’s passion. The young woman pushing a room service cart had stared at her appreciatively as she’d exited the elevator, and when Melinda slowed and smiled back, the young woman had been eager to talk. It hadn’t taken long to convince her to take a detour before

• 137 •

RADcLY fFe

returning downstairs to the kitchen. An encounter with such an innocent would likely do little more than blunt her appetite, but she would have to be content with that for now.

“Tell me,” Melinda said, pulling open the buttons on her jacket with trembling fingers. “Tell me this is what you want.”

“Oh yes,” the young woman gasped, dipping her hands inside the black lace cups. “I want it.”

Melinda leaned back against the dark wood paneling and closed her eyes while her nameless lover groped and sucked her breasts in a frenzy. In her mind, the mouth at her breast was Rooke’s and the hot, pulsing sex she fondled Adrian’s. The three undulated together, limbs entwined, mouths ravenous as they kissed and caressed and tormented one another. The cavernous need inside her stretched to infinity, an endless black void demanding to be filled. Her hips writhed beneath the relentless pressure and she tangled her fingers in Rooke’s thick hair, forcing her breast harder into Rooke’s mouth. She stroked Adrian faster, swirling her fingers over velvety skin while arousal ripped at her sanity.

“I’m getting really close,” a desperate voice cried. “Oh, unnh, my clit, it’s—”

Melinda forced her lover to her knees, lost in the swirling depths of Rooke’s dark eyes. “Drink me.”

A hot mouth instantly devoured her and her sex pumped wildly.

The young woman whimpered, climaxing as she sucked Melinda voraciously. Melinda exalted as pleasure at last suffused her. Before her orgasm finished, her clitoris stiffened again, and she rode the tongue that incited her toward another climax.

“More,” she demanded, her world a conflagration. More. Again.

Again. More.

She came and came again, and again, until the red haze and the raging ache receded. She pulled away, and her lover slumped back against the wall, drained—body and soul. After straightening her clothes, Melinda bent and fastened the young woman’s black trousers.

“Rest for a few minutes and then go back to work.” She smiled into the dazed blue eyes and caressed the flushed face. “You were an unexpected delight.”

Then she walked away. Once back in her room, she called the estate auctioneer to emphasize her definite desire to acquire the statue.

• 138 •

SecretS in the Stone

When she intimated to him what she intended to bid, she was assured she would have no competition. She would have it, of course, but now she wanted something else even more. She wanted the fathomless passion of the sculptor.

v

By the time Adrian pulled into the driveway of her grandmother’s house, she’d gotten herself under control. Her physical reaction to Rooke was more than embarrassing, it was inexplicable. She’d had almost-anonymous sex on a few occasions when she’d known little more than a woman’s name and occupation before sharing a few desperate hours in a frantic attempt to obliterate images of death and inhumanity. Those encounters proved she was capable of a purely physical response to an attractive woman, but Rooke was much more than just a stranger in a strange land. She was a tender, sensitive, remarkable woman and Adrian had no intention of falling into bed with her, even if Rooke was interested. She didn’t want her hormones or pheromones or whatever was driving her libido these days to make her do something she’d regret.

Rooke had said there was a woman in her life, and whatever their relationship was, Adrian didn’t intend to get in the middle of it. Besides, she had a life that was already too complicated, and Rooke’s quiet, secluded existence was about to undergo major changes if Melinda had anything to do with it. No, now was not the time for anything more than friendship. She needed to take about ten steps back and a long cold shower, and maybe her good sense would return.

“Do you need me to hold the ladder while you go up on the roof?”

Adrian asked as she parked.

“I should be okay.” Rooke opened her door, but didn’t get out.

“You know, I can just check the tarp and leave. If you’re busy.”

Adrian knew she should take advantage of the opportunity and agree. A little distance would help her regain her perspective. But what would Rooke think if Adrian let her disappear, which was what she sensed Rooke wanted to do? Would she see Adrian as just like all the other people who weren’t really interested in knowing any more about her than what they assumed? Would Rooke believe she was like Ida Hancock, the grandmother who wouldn’t even acknowledge her? Just

• 139 •

RADcLY fFe

thinking about the rejection and disdain Rooke must have endured her whole life enraged her. She wouldn’t be another person who turned away from Rooke’s truth.

“I’m making grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. Comfort food. Tell me you don’t like it,” Adrian said.

Rooke grinned fleetingly. “I’d rather not lie to you.”

“Good. I’d rather you didn’t either.” At the sight of Rooke’s smile, Adrian forgot all the reasons why distance would be a good thing. “Let me help you carry the ladder up to the house, at least.”

“All right. Then you have to let me do the dishes.”

Adrian laughed. “Deal.”

v

“Rooke,” Adrian said as she relaxed at the table with a cup of tea while Rooke washed and rinsed dishes. After Rooke had declared the roof sound, they’d had an enjoyable meal during which the subjects of Melinda and her interest in Rooke’s sculptures had not come up. Adrian told Rooke about some of the articles she’d written and answered Rooke’s many questions about the places she’d visited around the world. While Adrian took notes, Rooke had described the symbols common to cemeteries in the region. Their conversation had been easy and pleasurable. Now she had questions running through her mind she couldn’t silence.

“Hmm,” Rooke asked, stacking plates on a dishtowel.

“How do you think Bea Meriwether came to have your sculpture?”

Rooke paused in the midst of drying a cup, and then finished it and set it aside. She rinsed the last dish and wiped her hands on a blue terrycloth towel. She pulled out a chair next to Adrian and sat down.

“I think Pops gave it to my grandmother and she didn’t want it.

She either gave it away or someone rescued it before she could destroy it.” Adrian stifled her shock at the dispassionate tone of Rooke’s voice, as if she were completely used to being erased by her grandmother. As if that erasure didn’t matter. “Why do you think he gave it to her?”

“I don’t know.” Rooke absently ran her finger around the rim of Adrian’s empty teacup. “Maybe he was trying to mend the rift.”

• 140 •

SecretS in the Stone

“The rift?”

“It’s a long story.”

Adrian smiled into Rooke’s eyes. “I’d like to hear it if you want to tell me.”

Rooke searched Adrian’s face for a long time. “Why?”

“Because I want to know about you,” Adrian said immediately.

“And before you ask me why, it’s because I think you’re interesting and remarkably talented and I’m from this place too. So we have a little bit of history in common.” She didn’t add you’re beautiful and sensual and so tender you break my heart.

“Okay.” Rooke pushed back in the chair and stretched her legs out, hooking her thumbs into her front pockets as she stared at the tops of her boots. “About fifty years ago my grandfather was in love with Ida Hancock, and she apparently let him believe it was mutual. They were high school sweethearts, I guess you would call it, but in secret.

No one knew except some of Ida’s best friends.”

“Like my grandmother and Bea Meriwether,” Adrian said softly.

“And a couple of other daughters of the prominent families.”

“How do you know all this?”

Rooke smiled wryly. “When people think you’re…handicapped, they talk in front of you because they don’t think you’ll understand.

Some of it I got in school, before my grandfather pulled me out. Some I—”

“Wait,” Adrian said, having trouble keeping up. “Your grandfather took you out of school?”

“Yes. When I was seven. They told him I was mentally challenged and couldn’t be in the same class as the other kids.”

Adrian murmured, “Oh my God. How could they not know what was wrong?”

Rooke shrugged. “Maybe they didn’t look too hard. Anyhow, I was homeschooled after that. When I was older, sometimes I’d hear customers talking about my grandfather or me. I pieced most of it together on my own. Dom filled in some blanks.”

“I’m sorry I interrupted. I’m sorry…never mind. Go ahead about your grandfather and Ida.” Adrian knew Rooke wouldn’t want her sympathy, but inside she was weeping for the child Rooke had been, and outraged for the adult.

“When it came time for my grandmother to have her coming-out

• 141 •

RADcLY fFe

ball and take her place in society, she wasn’t interested in a relationship with the son of the local cemetery caretaker any longer.”

“And they both married other people?” Adrian guessed.

“Yes.”

Adrian frowned. “But then…” Her eyes widened. “Their children are your parents?”

“My mother was Ida Hancock’s daughter. She and my father fell in love their last year in high school and she got pregnant. My grandmother disowned her.”

“Was your mother’s name Grace?” Adrian asked quietly.

“Yes. How did you know?”

“I saw her name in the newspaper.”

Rooke looked away, her expression pained. “The accident.”

“Yes.”

“She was on her way back from my grandmother’s. One version I heard is that she brought me there to try to change my grandmother’s mind about the estrangement. I don’t think anyone really knows why she was there that day.” Rooke turned wounded eyes to Adrian. “One thing is clear, though. My grandmother sent her away. Into the storm.”

Adrian couldn’t bear her sadness. She leaned across the table and stroked Rooke’s cheek. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

Rooke covered Adrian’s hand and held it to her face for an instant, then let go. “Do you believe in fate?”

“I think so,” Adrian said, remembering that Melinda had asked the same question. “I know we don’t always understand the reasons why things happen in the moment. I believe there are patterns and forces in the universe we can’t fully comprehend. Maybe that’s fate. Or destiny.

Why?”

“I wonder sometimes if my mother and father weren’t destined to live the life that Pops and Ida should have had.” Rooke grimaced. “But if they were, fate sure wasn’t on their side.”

“Maybe the story isn’t finished yet.”

“My grandfather gave my statue to my grandmother, and she gave it away. Just like she sent my mother away. Now Melinda wants it. Do you think that’s part of the story?”

“I don’t know,” Adrian said quietly. “What do you think?”

“The answers have always been in the stone. And maybe they still are.”

• 142 •

SecretS in the Stone

ChapTER SiXTEEn

Adrian stared at the paragraph that had been staring back at her from her screen for the past forty minutes. Now she knew something was wrong. Wherever she was in the world, whatever was happening in her life, no matter how chaotic or dangerous or painful, she’d always been able to work. She’d chosen her career and the life that came with it over her parents’ expectations and favor. The price she paid for turning her back on her family’s blueprint for success had been the loneliness of always being the outsider, and the knowledge that she disappointed those she loved. She had friends, but no lovers. Her work was her escape and her solace.

When Rooke left, she’d booted up her computer, planning to spend the rest of the day outlining the new project, but within minutes her mind had drifted to the story of Rooke’s grandparents’ ill-fated love affair and the tragedy that played out in the lives of their children. If she hadn’t come from a family that put such great stock in social status and maintaining the family’s image, she would have found it impossible to believe that Ida Hancock had cast out her daughter for falling in love with a poor man. She doubted it was all about money, though. Ida’s anger probably had a lot to do with the fact that her daughter chose a Tyler, when she herself had not been willing to. And Rooke had been the ultimate victim of this twist of fate. Adrian was certain that if Ida Hancock had publicly recognized Rooke as her granddaughter, Rooke never would have been treated so poorly in school and by members of the community. Ida would not have allowed it. But Rooke was not a Hancock. She was every inch a Tyler, having inherited the talent that had been her family’s legacy for generations. Rooke’s skill, her passion,

• 143 •

RADcLY fFe

was to unleash the hidden grandeur in the stone. Adrian wondered if Ida Hancock had any idea how extraordinary her granddaughter was or how much she had missed out on by not acknowledging her. She couldn’t bring herself to feel sorry for Ida’s loss, though. Ida Hancock did not deserve Rooke.

Rooke. She wondered what Rooke would decide about Melinda. As soon as she pictured the seductive way Melinda had leaned into Rooke as they talked in the hotel, touching her constantly, her concentration went all to hell. She knew firsthand how compelling Melinda’s attentions could be, and she knew from her own career achievements the seditious allure of celebrity. Although she was far from famous, she’d won a few awards and been interviewed for several national magazines, and even appeared on a network news show once. For a very short while, she’d enjoyed the media attention. And if she was honest with herself, she’d enjoyed the interest from women who were probably more attracted to her star status, such as it’d been, than anything else. Adrian didn’t need to use any imagination to know that Rooke—amazingly talented, young, gorgeous, sexy Rooke—was going to have women falling at her feet if Melinda put the spotlight on her.

Grumpily, Adrian pushed back from the table. She’d never thought of herself as the jealous type, but okay, maybe she was a little more possessive than she’d thought. Only she was getting way ahead of herself, and a lot ahead of Rooke, who hadn’t exactly made a move on her. She never behaved this way around women. She didn’t pine, she didn’t even lust. She enjoyed a few days, a few weeks. The last time she’d had a relationship last more than three months had been years before. Casual and uncomplicated was her motto. Now in the course of a few crazy intense days she’d met two women who had her acting in ways she didn’t even recognize. Melinda aroused her, completely against her will, and Rooke—Rooke turned her emotions inside out when she wasn’t turning her on with the slightest, most innocent touch.

Hell, she hadn’t even wanted Rooke to leave that afternoon, and had barely stopped herself from making up some excuse to get Rooke to stay a little longer. And then as soon as Rooke had left, she’d missed her. Adrian rubbed her temples. She couldn’t trust anything she was feeling. What she needed was a reality adjustment or a mental cold shower.

Abandoning any hopes of working, she snatched up the phone and

• 144 •

SecretS in the Stone

hoisted herself up onto the counter. She punched a familiar number and listened to it ring, anticipating the answering machine. Her good friend and frequent collaborator Jude Castle was on assignment more than she was home, traveling to wherever critical events were unfolding in the world. They’d met several years before when they’d shared a rickety prop plane flying into the bush in Central Africa. Adrian had been doing a series on the AIDS crisis in third-world countries and Jude had been on her way to film a guerrilla leader in his jungle camp. They’d hit it off immediately. In addition to being women and lesbians in a male-dominated world, they shared the same wild sense of adventure and were similarly driven by the elusive hunt for the next story. Since then, they’d collaborated on several projects, most recently reporting from the front lines in Iraq. Considering they’d both returned to the States just before Christmas, she wouldn’t be surprised if Jude had left again.

“Hello?”

Adrian was so startled it took her a second to respond. “Jude? Hey, it’s Adrian.”

“Hey yourself, Ade. You in the city?”

“Nope. Upstate at my grandmother’s place. What are you doing in the city?” Adrian teased.

“The team is editing the footage we brought back. In fact, I’m glad you called. Time is interested in us putting together a book on today’s soldier. When I get the stills sorted, I’ll send you the lot so you can work up the copy.”

“That’s great! Can’t wait to get at it.” Adrian liked being in the final phases of one project while she researched the beginnings of the next so there was no downtime. If she was working, she didn’t have time to wonder what might be missing from her life. “So you’re staying put for a while?”

“I am,” Jude said, sounding pensive. “Maybe for a little longer than usual.”

“Something wrong?”

“No. I think I’m just tired of sleeping on the ground and eating out of foil packages.” She laughed softly. “And I miss Sax.”

“I’m sure she won’t complain about having you around more.”

“She better not. Hopefully she’ll work a little less, eat better, and maybe even sleep once in a while,” Jude said, referring to her surgeon lover. “So what’s going on with you?”

• 145 •

RADcLY fFe

Adrian had called Jude because Jude was always so grounded, so rational, and Adrian trusted her. She hadn’t actually thought out what she was going to say, so the words just came out before she had a chance to censor them—before she had a chance to put her feelings into a neat little package that made sense to her. “I met this woman—two women, really—and I kind of feel like I fell down the rabbit hole.”

“Oho. Let me grab a beer and get comfortable.”

Adrian smiled as she heard the sound of a refrigerator opening and the clatter of a metal bottle top dancing across a counter.

“Okay,” Jude said, “I’m back. Two, hmmm. I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be. I’m not having a lot of fun.”

“How come?”

“Because half the time I don’t feel like myself.”

“Meaning?” Jude asked.

“On my way up here I met a woman, an art dealer from the city.

Melinda Singer. She owns Osare—know her?”

“No. I’ve heard of the gallery, but we’ve never met. What’s she like?”

“Beautiful. Sexy. Relentless.”

Jude laughed. “Sounds interesting.”

“She’s very hard to resist, and she’s been coming on to me since the minute we met.”

“Really?” Jude made a little humming sound. “How do you feel about her?”

“Have you ever been turned on, I mean like full-tilt burning-up-your-skin turned on, by someone who you didn’t really want to be turned on by?”

“Yes,” Jude said, surprising Adrian. “Saxon, the first time I met her.”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound good,” Adrian moaned. “Because I don’t want to go there with Melinda Singer.”

“I also fell in love with Sax the first time I met her, although I didn’t realize it for quite a long time. I was too busy being pissed off at her.” Jude paused. “But I don’t gather that’s what you’re talking about.”

“No. With Melinda it’s a case of my mind screaming no while my body goes a million miles an hour in the other direction.”

“Good thing you’re so stubborn, then. Your head will win.”

• 146 •

SecretS in the Stone

“I used to think so,” Adrian muttered. “Lately I’m not so sure.”

“Tell me about woman number two.”

“She’s doing some work on my grandmother’s house,” Adrian said, and filled Jude in on what had happened since she’d arrived in the midst of the blizzard and discovered the damage to the house.

“So, what’s special about this one?”

“Um, everything?”

Jude made a choking sound followed by laughter. “Well, I guess that tells me everything I need to know. Really, though, does that mean smart, sexy, exciting, intriguing, dangerous…what?”

“All of the above.”

“Have you been secretly meeting with my lover?” Jude teased.

Adrian laughed, grateful all over again for Jude’s easy friendship.

“Well, Rooke—her name is Rooke—does have the dark and brooding thing going on a little bit.”

“What exactly does she do?”

“She’s a stonemason. She carves gravestones.” Adrian hesitated.

“And she sculpts.”

“Wow. Wow,” Jude repeated. “She sounds really interesting.”

“She is. Fascinating. I haven’t even seen her sculptures, but the things she does with the gravestone carvings is…it’s hard to describe how beautiful some of it is.”

“That all sounds pretty intense, but something tells me there’s more going on.”

“For starters, Melinda came up here to find Rooke. She wants to get Rooke’s sculptures into her gallery.” Adrian sighed. “There’s something else, too. Can you ask Sax a medical question for me, when she’s got a spare moment?”

“Sure. But she’ll be up in a few minutes and you can ask her yourself. She was on call last night and didn’t get home until almost ten this morning. I forced her to go to bed. Is something wrong?”

“No, not really,” Adrian said quickly. “Rooke has a medical condition that I’ve never heard of before and I thought Sax might be able to explain it to me.”

“So how does Rooke feel about Melinda’s offer?”

“I don’t know. She never intended to sell her work, but Melinda can be very convincing.” Adrian picked at a chip on the edge of the kitchen counter, wondering if she was making any sense at all. “She was

• 147 •

RADcLY fFe

coming on to Rooke pretty hard this morning, and yesterday she kind of suggested she wouldn’t mind a threesome. Not Rooke specifically, just on general principle.”

“God, I really have to get out more. So, would you?”

“A threesome? It’s not anything I’ve given any thought to.”

Adrian let herself imagine Melinda and Rooke together and her head started to hurt. “If Rooke accepts Melinda’s offer to sell her sculptures, she’s going to be directly in Melinda’s sights. Who knows what will happen.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I really like Rooke,” Adrian said softly, “so I’m going to work on being friends. Rooke has some important decisions to make, and until she does, I think that’s about all that can happen.” She didn’t add that Rooke wasn’t the kind of woman to do anything casually, and casual was what Adrian was accustomed to. She was already uneasy about her inability to maintain any barriers where Rooke was concerned.

“Besides, I’m way out of my comfort zone here already.”

“Uh-huh. Well, friendship isn’t a bad idea.” Jude was momentarily silent. “I hear Sax. You want to talk to her now?”

“Yes. Thanks. And thanks for listening.”

“I expect you to call me again soon and let me know what’s happening.”

“I will. Promise.” Adrian heard the phone passed and then Saxon Sinclair, her deep voice still rough with sleep, greeted her.

“Adrian. How are you doing?”

“I’m great, Sax. Sorry to bother you with medical stuff on your day off.”

“No problem. What’s the situation?”

“What can you tell me about someone who’s had head trauma and isn’t able to read at all?”

“Posttraumatic alexia,” Sax said. “Give me the details.”

“I know she was very young at the time of the accident.” Adrian explained about the accident and that Rooke had told her she couldn’t recognize words or numbers. She also told Sax about the seizures.

“Well, it’s rare but not unheard of,” Sax said. “The nervous system in very young children is not mature—so a significant injury could disrupt development in unpredictable ways. If she hasn’t had any

• 148 •

SecretS in the Stone

improvement by adulthood, she’s not going to. As far as the seizures are concerned, it sounds as if she’s fairly well controlled on medication.”

“So she’s okay climbing around on my roof by herself and driving, things like that?”

“There are no guarantees that she won’t seize again. Her seizure threshold could be lowered by any number of things—change in medication or failure to take her medication, severe stress, physical illness, alcohol, or certain drugs. But it’s a good sign that it’s been a number of years since she had a problem.”

Adrian leaned her head against the cabinet behind her and closed her eyes. She’d secretly hoped that Rooke’s condition just hadn’t been investigated thoroughly enough and perhaps some kind of treatment might offer improvement. Apparently not. “Thanks, Sax. That helps a lot.”

“Her disorder presents a considerable challenge,” Sax said, “but not an insurmountable one.”

“Oh, I know. Believe me, Rooke is a perfectly competent, wholly functional human being. She’s also a remarkable artist.”

“Sounds pretty special.”

“She is.”

v

Rooke stood in the doorway of her shop, her gaze wandering over the shelves from one sculpture to another. She’d uncovered the unfinished work in the center of the room. The torso and chest, the breasts, and the arch of neck were all visible, but the face remained featureless. That would come, she knew, as she worked. She tried to imagine her sculptures in a gallery, isolated on stark, white pedestals under bright lights. This room, her sanctuary, would be bereft without them. She wondered if her dreams would be emptier too.

She switched off the light, locked the door, and walked over to the house. Pops was sitting in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in front of him.

She helped herself to a beer from the refrigerator, popped the top, and drank some while leaning against the refrigerator.

“I saw you out on the grounds today,” Pops said. “Pretty cold for a walk.”

• 149 •

RADcLY fFe

“Adrian wanted to see some of the markers. She’s going to write an article about them.”

Pops raised his eyebrows. “She’s a reporter?”

“Kind of. A freelance journalist. She writes about whatever she wants.” Rooke described some of the articles Adrian had written.

“She told you all that while you were fixing the roof?”

“In between.” Rooke studied her beer can, turning it in her hands.

“I told her about the reading thing.”

“Did you.” Pops sipped his coffee. “Is that what’s chewing on your insides?”

Rooke looked up, startled. “What do you mean?”

“You came home this afternoon and went straight into your shop.

Usually when you do that, you don’t surface until breakfast the next day. But here you are, looking like you don’t know what to do with yourself.”

“It’s not Adrian.” Rooke drank some more beer. “She didn’t think it was such a big deal. About the reading.”

“She looked like a smart woman.”

Rooke smiled, thinking that Adrian wasn’t just smart. She was smart for sure, but she never made Rooke feel as if she wasn’t, even though Rooke had never been anywhere or done anything special in her life. When she was with Adrian, she felt as if what she thought or said mattered. Rooke set the beer aside and looked at her grandfather.

“Did you give one of my sculptures to Ida?”

Pops’s mouth turned down at the corners and he nodded. “About two years ago. I thought she ought to see what you were. Past time, maybe. I’m sorry for taking so long to get to that.”

Rooke waved a hand. “I don’t care what Ida Hancock thinks about me. It ended up with Bea Meriwether, and now an art dealer wants it.

She wants all my sculptures.”

“To do what with them?” Pops asked in surprise.

“Show them. Sell them.” Rooke shrugged. “In New York City.”

“Well, what do you know.” Pops walked to the back door and looked out. He spoke without looking back at Rooke. “Snow is supposed to start up again around midnight.”

“Another foot, they say.”

“What are you going to do about the art dealer?”

“What do you think?”

• 150 •

SecretS in the Stone

Pops was quiet a long time before turning back. “I don’t usually tell you what I think you ought to do.” He scratched the back of his head. “In fact, I don’t think I have in the last twenty years.” He blew out a breath. “But I think you should let her do it. You’ve got a talent, Rooke. Anyone can see that. Maybe her coming means it’s time for you to own that.”

“I’m afraid,” Rooke said quietly, “it might change everything.”

“Most everything changes.” Pops opened the refrigerator, pulled out a pound of hamburger, and handed it to Rooke. “Get started making these.” When Rooke reached for the package, he squeezed her shoulder.

“Being scared of the next step in life is okay. Just make sure you don’t let fear keep you from taking a step you should take.”

“How will I know what’s right?”

“How is it you know what to do with stone?” Pops asked.

“I feel it. Then I know.”

“Well then. There’s your answer.”

For some reason, Rooke thought of Adrian, but she didn’t know why. She wanted to call her, to ask her what she thought. She wanted to call just to talk to her. To hear her voice. She’d never called anyone just to talk before. She wondered how close Adrian and Melinda were. They both lived in New York City, they were both artists, they probably had a lot in common. A lot more in common than Adrian had with her. Maybe if she let Melinda have her sculptures, that would change.

• 151 •

• 152 •

SecretS in the Stone

ChapTER SEvEnTEEn

Melinda was pulled from sated slumber to the pinnacle of orgasm, where she teetered on the edge of a volcanic crater, dangerously close to plummeting into the fiery streams of molten rock below. She gasped, simultaneously registering hot, wet mouths on her breast and between her legs. A rush of pleasure engulfed her as she gripped the dark hair of the woman sucking her. Becky’s friend. Nina.

Her tongue was exquisite, teasing ever so lightly over the sweet spot that made Melinda swell and ache.

“Nina,” Melinda whispered, lifting her hips to slide her clitoris deeper between Nina’s lips, “Nina, take Becky while you suck me.

Inside her. Hurry, darling, you have me very close.”

Since Becky had arrived just after midnight with an eager playmate in tow, Becky and Nina had climaxed multiple times in multiple ways, leaving them drained and Melinda replete. They’d all drifted into a somnolent haze of sexual satisfaction moments before, but apparently her two resilient young lovers were still hungry.

“Oh God,” Becky moaned, jerking as Nina entered her. She rolled Melinda’s nipple feverishly between her fingers and pumped her sex on Nina’s hand. “Feels so good.”

“You’re going to come soon,” Melinda told Becky. “She’s going to make you come.”

“Oh yes. Oh God, yes. Fuck me, fuck me please. I’m coming.”

Nina set her teeth around Melinda’s clitoris and sucked. The tendrils of Melinda’s orgasm unraveled in a burst of heat and light, sparks igniting behind her nearly closed lids. Becky wailed and Melinda groaned, her control annihilated.

• 153 •

RADcLY fFe

“Becky, kiss me.” Abdomen rigid, Melinda thrust her hips to meet Nina’s eager tongue. “Kiss me. Come with me.”

Writhing in the throes of her climax, Becky sealed her lips to Melinda’s and poured her passion into Melinda’s waiting mouth.

Melinda drank, filling herself with Becky’s abandon as she emptied herself over and over into Nina. When Becky fell away, spent, Melinda reached for Nina.

“Satisfy yourself, darling,” Melinda urged. “Let me feel you come.”

Nina crawled up to curl against Melinda’s other side, plunging her hand between her legs. Melinda stroked her face and skimmed the tip of her tongue over Nina’s lips, tasting herself in the shadows of Nina’s pleasure. Beside her, Becky stirred and reached down to languidly fondle Melinda’s clitoris. Melinda’s lids fluttered as her sex tightened beneath Becky’s fingertips.

Nina, her mouth twisted in a grimace, undulated in the tangled sheets, her legs spread wide and her fingers strumming her clitoris. She whimpered. “Hurts.”

“You need to come so very badly, I can tell.” Melinda caressed Nina’s breast, plucking her taut nipple. “You want to come now, don’t you.”

“Yes, oh please, yes,” Nina gasped, open-mouthed against Melinda’s throat. “Want to come…for you.”

“Faster, darling. Let me have you. Come for me.” Melinda drew Nina’s tongue into her mouth and sucked. Nina’s arm blurred. Becky stroked Melinda harder. Nina arched, unleashing a string of broken cries. Melinda closed her eyes and rode the river of molten pleasure.

v

Rooke was cold, so cold her bones were about to shatter. The hands coursing over her were ice, the limbs entwined with hers slick and frigid as the marble that jutted from the snow-covered ground inches from her face. Twisting away from one writhing body, she slipped into another’s fervent embrace. Lips trailed fiery kisses down her throat, burning through the bitter frost to singe her blood. Two hands, four, caressed her breasts, her abdomen, between her legs. A tongue coated her sex with liquid flame and she convulsed under another mouth, biting at her

• 154 •

SecretS in the Stone

neck. Teeth tugged at her nipple, clamped down on her clitoris. The earth heaved and broken stone rained down on her, bruising her flesh and bone. A terrible madness churned inside, and she fixed on the pale surface of the grave marker. Help me, she pleaded, but got no answer.

Clawing her way free of the chaos that raged inside her, tearing her apart, she made one last desperate attempt to reach the sanctuary of the stone. Her grasp fell short.

At the moment darkness claimed her, Rooke’s eyes flew open. She was still in darkness, but she was no longer cold, and no stranger’s body hovered over her. Her skin was coated with sweat. Her heart hammered in her ears, in her chest, in her sex. Ignoring the aching throb of blood pulsing in her center, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and turned on the bedside lamp. She padded into the living room in the sleeveless gray T-shirt and loose sweatpants she’d worn to bed. She found a pencil and pulled a pad of paper from a haphazard pile on the low table in front of the couch. Bending forward, she rapidly sketched the gravestone from her dream, including as many of the symbols as she could remember. When she was done, she stared at the name she couldn’t read.

v

The wall phone in Rooke’s shop rang just as she was putting away her tools. She’d been working since four, too disturbed by the distorted dream-collage of figures twisting on a snow-covered grave to sleep again. She’d put the women and their icy touch out of her mind as she drew warmth and strength from the figure emerging from the stone. She could almost see her clearly now—a woman standing with legs spread wide, one arm raised, her head thrown back in victory. A warrior, perhaps, or a savior.

Rooke gave the figure one last look, wishing she could see her face, and answered the phone. “Hello.”

“There’s someone here to see you,” Pops said. “We’re in the kitchen. Come on over.”

Rooke didn’t have time for questions before the call was disconnected. She hurried upstairs to wash her hands and change into clothes that weren’t covered with stone dust. Tucking the tails of a black button-down-collar shirt into her jeans, she hustled downstairs

• 155 •

RADcLY fFe

and headed for the house, not even bothering with a sweatshirt. She never had visitors. A familiar ache stirred in her chest, but this time she felt only fire. Maybe Adrian had come.

She didn’t see the Jeep or any other car in the driveway, but she was in too much of a hurry to consider what that meant. She barged into the kitchen and then stopped abruptly. Melinda sat at the table with her grandfather. Unlike Adrian, who had fit as naturally into the comfortable kitchen as Rooke and her grandfather, Melinda looked completely out of place, as if she had taken a wrong turn on her way to a cocktail party.

She wore wide-legged, black silk slacks, black heels, and a royal blue sweater that caressed more than covered her full breasts. Her blond hair was loose and artfully mussed, as if she’d just gotten out of bed.

When she turned toward Rooke, her eyes slowly traversed every inch of Rooke’s body. Her mouth lifted into a pleased smile.

“Please tell me I didn’t drag you away from your work,” Melinda said, her voice intimately low.

Rooke resisted the urge to push her fists into her pockets, as if hiding her hands could somehow safeguard what she created with them.

Instead, she crossed to the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot her grandfather had already made. The clock over the stove showed it was almost nine. She’d missed breakfast. After taking a sip, she turned back and met Melinda’s mildly amused gaze.

“You aren’t interrupting. I was just finishing up.”

“Good, because I would hate to disturb an artist while in the midst of creative passion.”

Rooke averted her gaze, but she knew it was already too late to hide what Melinda must have seen in her eyes. Her work was her passion, the most intense experience of her life, touching her in ways no human being ever had. Liberating the figures from the stone both aroused and satisfied her, physically and emotionally. She’d managed to live without the same kind of intimacy with anyone, without seeking a connection even when her need was so sharp she bled from it, because she was waiting. Waiting for the moment when she would experience with a woman the perfect union, the total harmony, she shared with stone.

“Is it always enough?” Melinda asked softly.

“I don’t know.” Rooke glanced at her grandfather, who was leaning back in his aluminum-legged kitchen chair, observing them with casual

• 156 •

SecretS in the Stone

curiosity. “I guess Melinda explained about her gallery in New York City.”

“A little.”

“I told Mr. Tyler that you are an exceptional artist, but obviously, he doesn’t need my opinion to know that.” Melinda opened a briefcase and extracted a folder that she laid in the center of the kitchen table.

“I brought a contract for you to review. I’ve already purchased the sculpture that was part of the estate auction. Mr. Barnes delivered it last night. It’s even more beautiful than I expected. As it happens, I had a solo showing scheduled later this month and the artist is unfortunately unable to appear due to a sudden illness. I want your work to fill that slot.”

“You haven’t even seen the rest of my sculptures.” Rooke was having trouble grasping Melinda’s offer. She’d never really thought about what she was eventually going to do with her sculptures. It had been enough to create them. While she was absorbed with the work, her mind was clear and her body at peace. When she was finished, she could gaze upon the embodiment of her dreams and desires. That had been enough.

“I was hoping we could rectify that this morning. Why don’t you show me?” Melinda stood, placing her hand on Rooke’s arm. “I’ll leave the paperwork for you to review later. You’ll want your attorney to look at it, of course.”

Rooke shot a glance at her grandfather, who lifted his shoulder, telegraphing that it was her call. She could say no and he would never bring it up again. Melinda regarded her expectantly and when she looked into her eyes, she caught fleeting glimpses of tall buildings, bright lights, and intimate, shadowed recesses with women pressed close around her. For just an instant she saw herself in the center of a crimson-draped bed, naked, a woman beneath her whose face, like the woman in the stone, was hidden from her. Startled, Rooke blinked and then there was only the swirling green-gold of Melinda’s eyes.

“How many?” Rooke’s throat was dry and her voice came out husky. “How many would you want?”

Melinda’s expression became avid, intense. She curled her fingers around Rooke’s arm and leaned into her. “Why, all of them.”

“I can’t.” Rooke braced herself, feeling as if she were suddenly under attack. She had the almost overwhelming urge to lash out, to

• 157 •

RADcLY fFe

defend herself against some danger she couldn’t fully perceive. A wave of sorrow and loss threatened to choke her. “I…not all at once.”

“All right,” Melinda said quickly, stroking Rooke’s arm. “Six, then. Take me to them. You can choose.” She glanced over her shoulder at Rooke’s grandfather. “You won’t mind, will you?”

“It’s up to Rooke.” Pops regarded Rooke steadily. “I’ll be happy if you stay right here, the way things are, for as long as you want. But I always thought…” He paused and cleared his throat. “I always thought there was more out there for you.”

“I’m not leaving,” Rooke said to Melinda. “This is where I live.

Where I work. I need to be here.”

“Of course. We can talk about all that later.” Melinda slipped into her long leather coat and took Rooke’s hand. “Come on, now. No more teasing.”

Rooke led Melinda along the icy path to the garage, still uncertain as to what she should do. Melinda had a way of making her want things she’d never thought she wanted. The idea of bringing her sculptures out of hiding so that others could see them, own them, was both frightening and exciting. All her life she’d been dismissed. Laughed at. Pitied.

What would it be like to be respected, to have what she did, who she was, mean something?

“You have nothing to be afraid of,” Melinda said, as if divining Rooke’s indecision. “I know who you are, what you are. When people see your work, they’ll know it too. They’ll want more. They’ll want you.”

“That’s not why I sculpt. I’m not interested in being wanted that way.”

Melinda laughed. “All right, then. I promise to keep you safe from the clamoring crowds. I’d rather prefer to keep you all to myself anyhow.”

“In here.” Rooke slipped her arm from Melinda’s grasp and opened the side door, reaching inside to flip on the light. When Melinda followed her inside, she said, “Wait here. I’ll get them.”

“No.” Melinda stopped her by tugging on her arm.

Rooke turned and was taken aback to find Melinda very close to her. So close that Melinda’s breasts brushed her chest. “What?”

“I want to see,” Melinda murmured, resting her palm flat against Rooke’s chest, just above her heart. “I want to see them. I want to see

• 158 •

SecretS in the Stone

where you work. I want to see you touch them.” As she spoke, she leaned closer until her pelvis almost rested against Rooke’s.

Melinda’s hand was hot, hot enough to kindle the fire simmering in Rooke’s belly. Sweat trickled down her throat and onto her chest, her barriers melting, her defenses crumbling. A pulse beat madly in her throat and Melinda brought her fingers up to trace it.

“You have so much power, so much life.” She brought her mouth close to Rooke’s. “I saw it in the sculpture. I felt it last night when I held it. I felt you. ”

Rooke saw Melinda’s lips part, felt a rush of heat flash from beneath Melinda’s fingers and settle deep inside her. She instantly tightened, stiffened, engorged. In another second, she would taste Melinda’s desire and Melinda would know hers. Rooke backed up until Melinda’s hand fell away. Her stomach was tight and she recognized it for what it was. She’d walked away from arousal before. Many times.

But never had it been this difficult.

Melinda’s breasts rose and fell rapidly as her breath came in short, hard gasps. “Nothing makes business more satisfying than when it’s mixed with pleasure.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Not yet.” Melinda folded her arms beneath her breasts. “There’ll be time for that later. Let me see what you’ve been hiding.”

Rooke paused a moment longer, knowing without quite understanding how, that she was about to take a step that would change her life forever. Melinda waited, her gaze burning hot on Rooke’s face.

Rooke unlocked the door to her sanctuary, but she did not bid Melinda to enter. She would not give her everything.

She chose a series of four female nudes, each almost three feet square and weighing close to seventy-five pounds. One figure reclined on her back, the other on her side, one sat with a leg drawn up, and the last knelt, neck arched. With each there was a sense of another woman close by, perhaps having just touched her. A kiss, an intimate caress, lingered in their smiles, in the thrust of their breasts, in the languid pose of their limbs. These were women who had loved and been loved well.

Melinda’s expression went from excitement to supreme satisfaction as Rooke carried them out and placed them one by one on the rough wood surface of her workbench. Melinda extended her hand.

• 159 •

RADcLY fFe

“May I touch them?” Melinda’s eyes seemed almost feverish.

Rooke said gruffly, “Go ahead.”

Melinda skimmed her fingertips along the curve of a breast, down the long plane of an abdomen, over a gently rounded thigh. Her breath escaped in a long, sensuous sigh. “Oh yes. These are exquisite. So powerful. You have such power.”

“I’ve only uncovered what was already there.”

“You know there’s more,” Melinda whispered. “The pleasure, the passion, you carved from this stone is just waiting to be called in the flesh. Waiting for you.”

“I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet.” Rooke fought down the excitement that shot through her while watching Melinda caress the figures only she had ever touched.

“I know. I’m leaving this afternoon. I’ll wait.” Melinda lifted her hand, warm from the stone, and stroked the edge of Rooke’s jaw. “I’ve waited a long time already.”

• 160 •

SecretS in the Stone

ChapTER EighTEEn

Adrian stopped in the midst of sweeping the newly fallen snow from the front porch to watch the red truck pull up her driveway. Rooke. She hadn’t expected to see her until later in the week when Rooke was scheduled to start work on the roof, and a warm buzz of anticipation fluttered in her depths. Damn, and here she was in ratty old sweatpants and a shapeless flannel shirt. As soon as she caught herself having that uncharacteristic concern, she laughed to herself. What was she, fifteen with her first crush on the center of the basketball team? Rooke climbed out of the truck, and Adrian forgot all about Marcie Fitzgerald and high school basketball. The real thing was so much better.

Rooke looked tight and tough in her black jeans, black hooded sweatshirt, and work boots, and the flutter turned to something hotter and more urgent, deep down inside. Adrian didn’t want to think about the whys or the wherefores of her reaction. She’d spent enough time doing that the day before and hadn’t found any answers. Leaning her broom against the wall, she started to wave and then halted, frowning as Rooke circled around the front of the truck to open the passenger-side door.

Adrian’s euphoria shattered like thin ice over black water as Melinda gingerly stepped out onto the snow-covered drive. When Rooke reached out to steady her, Melinda casually looped her arm through Rooke’s as if she’d done it a thousand times before. Even from a distance, Melinda looked hot, her every movement a study in seduction.

Melinda’s proprietary claim on Rooke drifted on the air with the feral scent of ownership. If Adrian had hackles, they’d be standing up like

• 161 •

RADcLY fFe

a ridge of razor blades down her back. Folding her arms beneath her breasts and planting her legs at the top of the stairs, she watched them approach. Rooke’s gaze was fixed somewhere to the left of Adrian’s face, but Melinda’s eyes were on hers, alight with amused laughter and sultry challenge. Adrian’s mood wasn’t helped by the fact that they looked stunning together—Rooke’s dark good looks were the perfect contrast to Melinda’s shimmering gold hair and glinting emerald gaze.

Pheromones twisted through the bitter cold air and Adrian’s temper lashed when an unwelcome heat blazed between her thighs.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Melinda said, smiling up at her from the path.

“We’ve taken you by surprise. We should have called.”

We. Since when was there a we attached to Melinda and Rooke?

And what were they doing together at nine in the morning? For one mind-burning moment, Adrian envisioned Melinda arched in ecstasy, Rooke’s sensuous mouth at her breast and Rooke’s wide, strong hand buried inside her. Fury like none she’d ever known surged through her, and she screamed in silent protest. No, you won’t have her. She’s mine!

Just as quickly, the image shattered and Adrian jerked, nearly gasping in shock. She was aware of Rooke regarding her with a worried expression, and she could only imagine how she must look, because she’d felt as if she were about to launch herself off the porch and tear Melinda in two.

Desperately, she took a shuddering breath and struggled for calm. This wasn’t her. She didn’t crave this way, she didn’t hunger this irrationally.

And she never, ever wanted so completely.

“No need to call,” Adrian said, inwardly ecstatic that her voice sounded cool and composed. “I was just trying to get ahead of the storm while there’s a break in the action. Come inside.”

As she led them back to the kitchen, she noted Rooke easing her arm free of Melinda’s grasp and a tiny bit of the tension gathered in the center of her chest relented. A small victory, but she enjoyed it.

“Please, have a seat. I’m afraid the parlor isn’t habitable right now.” Adrian gestured to the coffeemaker. “Coffee? Tea? Muffins?

Fresh baked.”

“No, but thank you,” Melinda purred as she removed her coat and settled next to Rooke at the table. She crossed her legs and draped one arm along the back of Rooke’s chair. “I have to catch the train shortly, but before I do, I needed to ask you a favor.”

• 162 •

SecretS in the Stone

“Really?” Adrian hoped her pleasure at Melinda’s imminent departure wasn’t obvious. “What do you need?”

Melinda’s gaze flicked from Rooke to Adrian and she laughed softly. “Nothing very complicated, not right now. I need you to help me convince Rooke to let me have her wonderful sculptures for a show at the end of the month.” She fanned her crimson nails over the back of Rooke’s neck. “They’re every bit as brilliant as I anticipated.”

“You’ve seen them.” A cold hard weight settled in the pit of Adrian’s stomach. Foolish as it might be, the idea of Rooke having shared something so personal with Melinda was almost as devastating as the thought of them sleeping together. Adrian turned away, knowing she couldn’t mask the hurt in her eyes, and bought herself time to regain her composure by stacking blueberry muffins on a plate. She set them on the table along with plates.

“Not all of them.” Rooke answered before Melinda could respond, unsettled by the distance she’d sensed from Adrian the moment she’d started up the snow-covered driveway from the truck. Now Adrian’s hands were trembling. She’d done something to upset her, and she wasn’t sure what. “Just the four that go with the one she already purchased. They’re a series.”

“A magnificent one,” Melinda interjected. “And it so happens I’ve got an opening for a new artist launch in several weeks. I want Rooke for it. The event is part of our regular calendar, so it’s already had significant promotion, and I’m sure it will have an excellent turnout.”

She leaned closer to Rooke, one hand on Rooke’s thigh. “Believe me, love, you won’t be sorry.”

“How do you feel about it?” Adrian said quietly, watching Rooke and ruthlessly blocking the sound of Melinda’s murmured love. She wouldn’t let her uncharacteristic jealousy get in the way of something Rooke wanted. Melinda was aggressive, professionally and personally, but her reputation was well deserved. This kind of opportunity might never come along again for Rooke.

“I…” Rooke struggled for clarity, reminded of the twisting chaos of the dream the night before and momentarily swamped by conflicting emotions and foreign sensations. Adrian’s unhappiness, Melinda’s persistent desire, a lifetime of being discounted washed over her, drowning her in uncertainty. She shuddered.

• 163 •

RADcLY fFe

“It’s all right, no matter what you want,” Adrian whispered, torn by the misery she read in Rooke’s eyes. Rooke needed her friendship right now, and wasn’t friendship about putting personal needs second?

Had she just been lying to herself when she’d told Jude that’s what she wanted between them? Since when was she afraid to face reality? If Rooke wanted Melinda and what Melinda could offer her, then better to know that now. Better that all of them know. “You can always change your mind later. Either way.”

Are you stupid? Are you stupid, or just crazy? As a child Rooke had been wounded by the taunts, as an adult she’d learned to ignore them. She wondered if she kept her work a secret because she was afraid of hearing the same words again. What would it matter even if she did? She knew the truth, didn’t she? She thought about Melinda and Adrian, two women who made their way in the world in a way she had never been able to, choosing their own paths, fearless and brave. What had she ever done except hide? What did she have to offer…anyone?

“I want to do it,” Rooke said firmly.

“You won’t be sorry.” Melinda kissed her cheek. “Trust me.”

Rooke tensed as warm, moist lips moved over her skin and Melinda’s fingers played along the muscles in her thigh. Emma had kissed her on the cheek, now and then, but as if by unspoken agreement, Emma had never touched her intimately anywhere on her body. No one had ever touched her that way. Even as Melinda’s soft kiss and faint caress stirred unfamiliar responses, she searched Adrian’s face for a reaction. But Adrian’s eyes were shadowed, her expression closed. The distance she’d felt earlier yawned even greater between them now.

“You must come down to the city early next week,” Melinda pronounced, rising and collecting her coat. “We’ll need a photo shoot and I’ll arrange some interviews and launch parties.” She skimmed her fingers through Rooke’s hair. “Believe me, love, you’re going to enjoy this.”

“I can’t come so soon,” Rooke protested. She wasn’t ready, but she couldn’t admit to these women why. She’d never been to New York City. She’d never been on the train by herself. She’d never stayed in a hotel. “I have work to finish here—” She pointed upward. “Adrian’s roof and her chimney. Plus, I’ve got markers to carve.”

Melinda laughed. “Oh, if I hadn’t met you in person, I’d never believe you were for real. I’m going to have a hard time keeping people

• 164 •

SecretS in the Stone

from fighting over you.” She glanced at Adrian. “Tell her those things will keep for a while. She listens to you.”

Rooke frowned, feeling as if there was a conversation going on that she couldn’t hear. “I can decide for myself.”

“You can,” Adrian said, refusing to play Melinda’s game. Even though she was hurt that Rooke trusted Melinda enough to share her sculptures and a little bit crazy with Melinda fawning over Rooke, she wouldn’t deliver Rooke to Melinda as if she were simply a piece on a chessboard. She’d spent enough time with Rooke to recognize an undercurrent of unease in her voice. Guessing what bothered Rooke about this seismic change in her world landscape wasn’t much of a leap, and she doubted that Melinda knew of Rooke’s reading challenge.

Trying to put herself in Rooke’s place, she pictured what it would be like being transported from a small village of a few thousand people, where everything was familiar and safe—at least on the surface—to a teeming city of millions where simply negotiating the streets to find her hotel would be a challenge. Rooke would need help, and she doubted Rooke would ask for it. She respected Rooke’s need for independence—she certainly guarded her own, but she couldn’t let concern for Rooke’s pride place Rooke in danger. And she had a feeling if she didn’t offer her assistance, Melinda would be all too eager to help. As it was, Rooke would be spending most of her time in Manhattan in Melinda’s world, under the full force of Melinda’s seductive influence.

Thinking fast, Adrian said, “You told me there’s no huge rush on the roof, so you can spend the rest of this week taking care of the jobs you have lined up at the cemetery.” Hurrying on before Melinda could jump in, she added, “I’ve got to go back to the city soon to take care of some business. Why don’t we go down together next Monday?”

“Perfect,” Melinda said. “You can bring Rooke by the gallery. She can stay with me while she’s in the city.”

Rooke stood up, shaking her head. “I don’t think so. I’ll go to a hotel.”

“How about staying with me,” Adrian said quietly. “I have a condo within walking distance of Melinda’s gallery. I’ll be doing research on my new project while I’m there, and you can help with the background work. It looks like you’re going to be too busy the rest of this week for us to spend time on that.”

Melinda’s eyebrows rose and she studied Adrian pensively. All of

• 165 •

RADcLY fFe

Melinda’s attention had been focused on Rooke since they’d arrived, but now Adrian felt the force of her gaze. Melinda’s full lips lifted in a knowing smile and a whisper of heat fluttered along the pulse bounding in Adrian’s throat, as if a warm mouth had deposited a trail of kisses.

Adrian fought back, determined not to be aroused against her will, and although the room remained silent, soft laughter echoed through her mind. Deliberately, Adrian turned her body away from Melinda and concentrated on Rooke. She immediately felt more centered, more balanced, despite the fact that any time she looked at Rooke she experienced a frisson of pleasure. This was pleasure she welcomed.

Pleasure she chose.

“What do you say?” Adrian asked, not wanting to push Rooke but knowing Melinda would if she didn’t.

“I need to think about it,” Rooke said. If she talked to her grandfather, she could figure out how to manage traveling by herself.

She didn’t need someone to help her. But when she thought about the possibility of being in Manhattan with Adrian, her head swam with excitement. She was going to let Melinda display some of her sculptures because she didn’t ever want to wonder if she’d resisted out of fear.

Fear of being exposed, fear of failing, fear of discovering once again that she didn’t fit anywhere. Her head said she should try, but even the slim possibility of the success Melinda kept promising didn’t excite her as much as the idea of spending time with Adrian. Ever since she’d met Adrian, when they were apart she thought about her. When they were together, she didn’t want to leave. When Adrian smiled at her, she felt braver, stronger, and less alone. She’d do anything for Adrian’s smile.

Almost as if she had been reading her mind, Adrian smiled. “Just say yes, Rooke.”

“How could you possibly resist,” Melinda murmured, regarding Adrian through heavy-lidded eyes as she brushed her hand over Rooke’s shoulder.

Rooke inched away. Adrian’s face was flushed, her eyes the blistering blue of the sky after a hard summer rain. Her lips were slightly parted, that same smile flickering there, teasing her. If Melinda hadn’t been so close, so close Rooke sensed tendrils of heat stretching out from her, wrapping around her like an embrace, she would have closed the distance between her and Adrian and…and what? Held her?

Kissed her? She didn’t know what she was doing. She’d never been

• 166 •

SecretS in the Stone

so out of her depth before in her life—not even when she’d sat in a classroom full of children her age and understood for the first time they could do things she couldn’t. They could see things, interpret things, understand things, that she could not. All her life, she’d not understood the simplest signals that existed everywhere in the world around her.

All her life she’d been apart, unable to read any messages except those in the stone.

Now she could run. Or she could risk being wrong. Disappointment versus loneliness.

“Yes,” Rooke said. “I say yes. Monday. We’ll go Monday.”

Adrian’s heart leapt even though it was just a simple trip on a train. She wanted to show Rooke the city. Her condo. Some of the photojournalism articles she’d done with Jude. She wanted…she caught herself. Oh God, she wanted things she’d never wanted with another woman before. With superhuman effort, she clamped down on her excitement. Keep it simple.

“I’ll make the train reservations today,” Adrian said. “I’ll call you with the details.”

“Okay.” Rooke jumped when Melinda grasped her hand.

“Time to take me to the station, love.” Melinda winked at Adrian.

“I can’t wait to see you both next week.”

Adrian walked them out and stood in the doorway, watching until Rooke’s truck disappeared. She refused to contemplate if Melinda would kiss Rooke good-bye at the station. She refused to voice the question she had not asked, but ached to have answered. Did you sleep with her?

• 167 •

• 168 •

SecretS in the Stone

ChapTER ninETEEn

Rooke set the final few nails into the top of the packing crate, loaded the box onto the hand truck, and delivered the item to the waiting FedEx driver. Together, they lifted the last of her four sculptures into the truck. She signed for the pickup and, watching him drive away, hunched her shoulders inside her denim jacket against a sudden blast of frigid air and shoved her hands in her pockets. The storm had finally ended two days before, and the blue sky overhead blazed with sunlight and not a whisper of clouds. The grounds at Stillwater sparkled under a blanket of diamond-bright snow. Rooke scarcely noticed the perfect morning. She was asking herself for the hundredth time that week if she might’ve made a mistake. She felt the loss of her work keenly, and the empty spaces in her shop where the sculptures had stood echoed in the hollow place in the center of her chest.

“You get everything sent off okay?” Pops asked as he walked up behind her. Hatless in a red sweatshirt and his neat khakis, he seemed oblivious to the sharp, subzero temperatures.

“Yeah. It was just the four.” Rooke was glad she’d decided to hold back the others, at least for a while. Melinda had urged her on the phone just the day before to send them all. Rooke had compromised, promising photographs of the others for Melinda’s catalog instead. She hadn’t told Melinda about her current work, the largest piece she’d ever done. She wasn’t sure why, but she knew instinctively Melinda would want it if she knew about it. And the way things had been going for the last week, she wasn’t likely to finish it anytime soon. She’d spent hours in her shop, hammer and chisel in hand, but the figure in the stone remained unchanged. She hadn’t heard the call, hadn’t felt the

• 169 •

RADcLY fFe

pull, hadn’t sensed the life brimming just below the surface—waiting for her to cut it free. The last two nights, when she hadn’t slept, she’d searched her memory for a time when she hadn’t been able to hear the voices, sense the beings in the stone, and she couldn’t. She’d never known a time when the stone didn’t speak to her. She’d never known a time when she felt quite so lonely.

“Haven’t seen much of you this week,” Pops said.

“Had a lot of stuff to finish if I’m gonna be away for a while,”

Rooke said, following him back to the house. He’d been cooking something, chicken, it smelled like, and the windows were so steamed up that once inside, she couldn’t see through them. She pulled off her jacket and dropped it over the back of a chair.

“Early for lunch, isn’t it?” Rooke asked.

“Your stomach’s probably on dinner time since you missed it last night.”

Rooke wasn’t hungry, but arguing wouldn’t get her anywhere.

“All set to leave, come Monday?” Pops handed her a glass of iced tea, and she drank it without tasting it.

“I think so. Adrian said nine o’clock.” And that’s all Adrian had said during a brief conversation three days before that left Rooke feeling as if she’d been talking to a stranger. Adrian had been pleasant, her tone casual, without a single hint of banter or tease. None of the temper she’d displayed the first time they’d met, either. Rooke much preferred Adrian with her edges, because the softness that surfaced on the wings of her smile always felt like a gift. Rooke swiped her palm across the window and stared out through the blur at the driven snow.

“Worried about the trip?” Pops asked.

Rooke shrugged. “Not really. If I get into trouble, I’ll call you. I know how to use a phone.”

“You know how to do plenty.” Pops sighed. “I should have taken you down there before this.”

“Why?” Rooke turned and braced her back against the window frame.

“Because the world’s a lot bigger than Ford’s Crossing, and you ought to say for yourself how much of it you want to see.”

Rooke laughed. “You think you would’ve stopped me if I wanted to go?”

• 170 •

SecretS in the Stone

Pops grinned. “No, but maybe you should have had that chance before now.”

“I never thought I wanted anything bad enough to go somewhere else looking for it.”

“Do you now?” Pops slid the chicken out of the oven and set the tray on top of the stove.

Rooke’s first instinct was to say she wasn’t looking for anything, but she didn’t think that was exactly true. She’d always known something was missing by the quiet ache that followed her around all the time, as if there were an empty place inside her where something belonged, but she couldn’t say what. Most of the time she filled that space with the solid comfort of the figures she carved, and sometimes when she needed more, with the sounds of Emma’s pleasure. She hadn’t been able to find solace in the stone all week, and even if Emma had come to her, she would not have been able to lose herself in the simple comfort they’d once shared. She feared if she touched Emma now she would not be able to bear the loneliness of remaining untouched.

“I don’t know what I want,” Rooke said hoarsely, wondering if she would find the answers in New York City. Melinda seemed to believe she would. She’d called every day, checking on the plans to ship the sculptures, explaining to Rooke some of the events she had lined up to promote the launch, and teasing Rooke about becoming a star. Melinda kept telling her she was special. Sometimes the way she said it, her voice husky and slow, made Rooke tighten inside.

“Sit down and eat,” Pops said. “You haven’t been out of your shop more than a few hours in the last four days.”

“I had those markers to finish,” Rooke said, doing what she was told. She hadn’t realized she was hungry until she started to eat.

“Things at the Winchester place going to be okay until you get back?”

“I need to clear that tree before I leave and check the roof.”

Pops gave her an inquisitive look. “Getting kind of late in the day, isn’t it?”

“I’ll take care of it.” Rooke was afraid to see Adrian, afraid to feel the distance that had been there the last time she’d seen her. It hurt, and she didn’t know how to change it.

v

• 171 •

RADcLY fFe

Adrian paused, trying to place the sound that had intruded on her silence. In the city she was surrounded by the noise of millions of people, and she automatically relegated it to the periphery of her consciousness. On assignment she was completely different, always hyperalert to any change in the resonance of wildlife and humans that might signal danger. Today she’d been pulled from her work as if an unseen presence whispered her name. Setting aside the copy she’d been reviewing, she went to the kitchen window and scanned the yard.

Rooke’s truck was parked at the foot of the drive, and Adrian now recognized the rumble of the chainsaw Dominic used to dismember the fallen oak. She braced her arms on the counter and watched them work. She hadn’t expected to see Rooke until Monday, and she hadn’t let herself think about how much she missed her. She didn’t want to examine the meaning behind her restless nights and fractured days, or why she’d never felt this way before. But with Rooke just outside, she couldn’t resist the pure pleasure of looking at her. So, safe inside the house, she indulged herself.

Rooke was hatless and her hair blew around her angular face like a dark halo as she lifted a thick branch Dominic had cut free from the tangle of fallen limbs and dragged it out of the driveway. After a few minutes, Rooke removed her jacket and worked in nothing but a close-fitting flannel shirt and jeans. She looked even more slender than Adrian remembered, but the strength in her shoulders and back was obvious as she bent, and lifted, and tossed the fresh-cut logs aside with ease. Muscles bunched inside her jeans, and Adrian couldn’t help but remember the way the hard curves of Rooke’s ass had fit so naturally to her pelvis when they’d stood close together on top of the dresser in the attic that first night. The whispered memory of Rooke’s thumb brushing over the top of her hand triggered a kaleidoscope of images and sensations, ambushing her. Her vision flared red with the crimson of Rooke’s blood running over her hands, the scarlet flames from the hearth in the Great Hall, the claret drops of rain on a window. Ruby tears streaking her face in the shadows on a midnight train. Adrian shuddered, aching to be touched, to be filled, for the fires of passion to purify her.

“God,” Adrian gasped. Her breasts were tight, her sex wet and hollow with urgency. She kept her hands anchored on the cool tile counter. The wild filaments of her need and desire coalesced into

• 172 •

SecretS in the Stone

a single hard, hot fist in the center of her being. And then, Say yes, Melinda whispered. Adrian jerked, her knees buckling with the keening pressure, and orgasm threatened to flow on the river of sharp, swift pain. She fought the swell of release, staring through dry, unblinking eyes at Rooke, who had stopped work and was fixed on her, framed in the window.

“Please,” Adrian implored, her words barely audible. Rooke’s face swam in her hazy consciousness as she fought to expel other voices, other hands. The shadow of the warrior flickered in the firelight on the towering stone walls. A great sword, shimmering with power, cleaved her in two and the chaos that had almost consumed her faded.

“Thank you,” Adrian sighed, pressing her palm to the glass. She started to smile, started to say, Come inside, I’ve missed you, but every thought, every intention, died on a tide of horror as a spear, glinting golden in the sunlight, struck Rooke in the temple, and she fell.

• 173 •

• 174 •

SecretS in the Stone

ChapTER TwEnTy

Fuck!” Dominic dropped to his knees next to Rooke’s supine form. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! ”

“Don’t touch her!” Adrian shouted, flying down the icy drive. She threw herself between Rooke’s body and Dominic, striking him on both shoulders with her outstretched arms, knocking him backward into the snow. “Don’t you touch her!”

Terrified at what she might find, Adrian bent over Rooke, shielding her from dangers she felt but couldn’t see. Garnet jewels lay scattered on the snow around Rooke’s head, glinting brilliantly. Rooke’s blood.

Shiny maroon trails snaked down Rooke’s still face from a gash just above her right eyebrow. Something white gleamed in the depth of the wound. Bone. A scream lodged in Adrian’s throat.

“Rooke. Rooke, sweetheart.” She hovered over Rooke’s body, afraid to touch her. What would she find? Oh God, let her not be gone.

“Rooke, please.”

“She okay?” Dominic yelled frantically.

“She’s not moving!” Adrian’s voice came out a broken whisper.

Oh God. Oh God, baby, who did this to you?

“Adrian?” Dominic yelled in a panic.

“Call nine-one-one,” Adrian called more forcefully, pulling herself together. When she had needed Rooke, Rooke was there. Now Rooke needed her. She’d seen plenty of emergencies, and she concentrated on doing what she could. She stretched for Rooke’s jacket hanging from a nearby branch of the downed tree, pulled it free, and covered her.

“You’re going to be all right. Do you hear me? You’re going to be all right.”

• 175 •

RADcLY fFe

Rooke’s lids flickered open and she jerked, as if surprised to be awake. “Adrian?”

“Yes, yes—I’m right here.” Adrian’s fingers shook as she caressed Rooke’s cheek. She was wonderfully warm, magnificently alive, perfectly beautiful. “Do you know where you are?”

“Your front yard. Why is Dom sitting in a snowbank?”

“I knocked him on his ass.” Adrian’s laugh came out on a sob of relief. She found Rooke’s hand and clutched it between both of hers.

Rooke’s fingers were ice cold. For a heartbeat Adrian saw the ruins of a great castle, crumbling stones lying half buried under grassy mounds of earth, the huge hearth empty and barren. Nowhere could she sense the sword bearer, no guardian stood on the parapets. She swallowed around the choking loss and smiled at Rooke. “You have to start wearing gloves.”

“Never liked them.” Rooke shuddered. “What hit me?”

“A tree branch masquerading as a spear.”

“Are you all right?”

“Just a little scared.” Adrian held Rooke’s hand against her heart.

“How are you?”

“Okay, I think.” Rooke squeezed Adrian’s hand. “Shouldn’t have left my shield at home, I guess.”

“Next time you forget, I’ll lend you mine,” Adrian tried to joke.

Rooke was as white as the snow that pillowed her head, and Adrian couldn’t help but think about the scar on her forehead. She’d suffered a terrible head injury once already, and another blow like this one could seriously damage her.

Rooke must have read her fears, because she started to sit up. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, stay still.” Adrian quickly pressed a hand to Rooke’s shoulder.

“We should wait for the ambulance.”

“I’ll freeze to death by then.” Rooke smiled as Dominic scrambled over and crouched down on Rooke’s opposite side. “Hey, Dom? How about helping me up here.”

Dominic regarded Adrian warily. “Fuck me, Rooke. I don’t how that happened. I cut through a limb and the damn thing took off like a missile. Jesus. You okay?”

“Of course she’s not okay,” Adrian snapped. “Look at her forehead.”

• 176 •

SecretS in the Stone

“I called the EMTs,” Dominic muttered.

“Give me a hand getting to the truck,” Rooke said.

Adrian kept her hold on Rooke’s shoulder, preventing her from rising. The bleeding had stopped, but Rooke’s pain was so clear to her, Adrian felt dizzy. “I don’t think you should move. You were unconscious.”

“I think I was mostly shocked,” Rooke said, her eyes on Adrian’s.

“I remember getting hit. I heard you yelling at Dom. I heard you say my name. I heard you the whole time.”

“You were hit hard enough to knock you down, and when I got here, you weren’t moving.” Adrian’s voice caught on the edge of remembered fear. Rooke must have heard her call her sweetheart, but Adrian couldn’t worry about her slip now. Rooke might easily have been killed. The mere thought of Rooke being ripped from her life was soul shattering.

“Hey,” Rooke murmured, loosening her hand from Adrian’s grasp to caress Adrian’s cheek. “I’m right here. Safe and sound and all in one piece.”

“I know,” Adrian said, trying to appear strong while terror still clawed at her insides.

“There’s only one problem.”

“What?” Adrian said urgently.

“My butt is frozen.”

Adrian tugged her lower lip between her teeth, poised between tears and laughter. Rooke’s eyes were clear, her hand on Adrian’s face steady. “You need stitches.”

“Maybe, but not in my ass.” Rooke extended her free arm to Dominic. “Give me a lift?”

“Sure thing,” Dominic said.

“Be careful,” Adrian said, slipping her arm around Rooke’s waist as Dominic helped her upright.

“Don’t worry,” Dominic muttered. “Like a baby.”

Rooke grimaced at the sound of fast approaching sirens. “Damn. I don’t need them. Hell, half the town will hear about it if—”

“They’re going to look at you. Don’t argue.” Adrian pointed toward the truck. “Dominic, put the tailgate down so she can sit.”

“Yes ma’am. You got her?”

Adrian tightened her hold on Rooke. “I have her.”

• 177 •

RADcLY fFe

“Someone needs to call Pops,” Rooke said. “News travels fast around here.”

“Dominic,” Adrian said, “after the EMTs check Rooke out, you can take her truck back to the cemetery and tell Pops what happened.

I’m going with her to the emergency room.” When she saw the frown forming between Rooke’s eyebrows, she pointed a finger at her. “No.

You need that laceration taken care of.”

“I hear you,” Rooke sighed.

“Call me when you’re finished in the ER, and I’ll come and get you.” Dominic hurried toward the front of Rooke’s truck as the fire rescue vehicle pulled up the drive. When two EMTs climbed out, he pointed toward Rooke perched on the tailgate and then climbed into the cab, closing the door behind him.

“It wasn’t his fault,” Rooke said, easing into her jacket.

“I know it wasn’t.” Adrian rubbed Rooke’s back. Accidents happened, especially in Rooke’s line of work. But she’d seen the gleaming shaft fly with deadly accuracy right at Rooke’s head, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that some unseen hand had flung it.

Some angry force bent on breaking the connection between them. She shivered.

“You have to stop running after me with no jacket or boots,” Rooke chided. “Go back to the house and get some warmer clothes.”

“Not until the EMTs look at you. I don’t want them taking you anywhere while I’m gone.”

“I won’t go anywhere without you.” Rooke linked her fingers through Adrian’s. “Promise.”

Wishing that were as simple as it sounded, Adrian shook her head.

“I’m not leaving you. Don’t ask me to.”

v

The ER in the small local hospital wasn’t busy on a Saturday afternoon, and they didn’t have to wait long to be seen. Almost as soon as the receptionist made a copy of Rooke’s medical card, an ER

technician called her name and led her and Adrian to a tiny examining room.

“The doctor will be right in,” the tech said. He raised the back on a narrow stretcher and helped Rooke climb up. When Rooke settled onto

• 178 •

SecretS in the Stone

it, he handed her a clipboard and a pen. “This is a medical history form.

You can fill it out while you’re waiting.”

“Okay, thanks,” Rooke replied, staring at the clipboard.

Adrian waited until the technician left before speaking. “Why don’t you lean back and close your eyes. I’ll read this out loud and you can tell me the answers. If that’s okay.”

A muscle in Rooke’s jaw bunched, but she nodded and silently held out the clipboard.

“Close your eyes.” Adrian softly brushed a thick shock of hair away from the stark white bandage an EMT had taped over the gash in Rooke’s forehead. A crimson circle marred the snowy surface.

“Thanks.” Rooke closed her eyes, but her fists were clenched tightly at her sides.

Adrian pulled over a stool and read out the items on the medical form, filling in blanks and checking boxes as needed. When she got to the family history section, she hesitated. “They want to know if anyone in your family has a serious medical problem, like high blood pressure or cancer or heart disease.”

“Not that I know of.” Rooke opened her eyes. “Pops is really healthy. My parents died young.”

“I know your mother was only nineteen,” Adrian said gently. “You never mentioned your dad.”

“He was killed in the first Iraq war when I was six. He was twenty-five.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I only remember him a little. He was away a lot.” Rooke grimaced. “I guess you know I don’t have any information about my grandmother.”

“What about your other grandmother. Pops’s wife?”

“I never knew her. She had some kind of brain thing when my father was just a baby.” Rooke smiled wryly. “I think that’s why Pops is so good at raising kids. He’s had a lot of practice.”

“He’s wonderful.”

“Yeah. He hasn’t had it easy, I guess.”

Adrian regarded Rooke steadily. “I didn’t see any sign of him complaining. In fact, it was pretty clear to me he’s crazy about you.”

Adrian took a breath and let it out. “You’re lucky.”

“Why do you sound sad?”

• 179 •

RADcLY fFe

“Do I?” Adrian forced a bright note into her voice. “I suppose I’m a little jealous. My parents don’t approve of a lot of my choices.”

“Why?” Rooke started to sit up and Adrian quickly grasped her arm, stopping her.

“You’re supposed to be quiet,” Adrian said sternly. “That means lie still.”

“What about your parents?”

“They’re disappointed I didn’t go into business and upset that I haven’t settled down the way they think I should.”

“Settle down,” Rooke repeated. “Like married?”

Adrian balanced the clipboard on her knee. “They’ve never spelled it out, but I’m pretty sure they’d like me to meet a rising business tycoon, preferably male, and move into a condo on the Upper East Side and have 2.7 kids. Writing is not a career as far as they’re concerned.”

“They don’t get that what you’re doing is really important?”

Rooke’s voice held a note of incredulity that blunted the edges of Adrian’s pain. Smiling with genuine amusement, she shook her head.

“They haven’t gotten that message yet.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Adrian said, realizing that it really was. She’d made the choices her heart had dictated, and her path had brought her here.

She had no regrets. “I’m where I want to be.”

“I’m gla—”

“Hello!” A rotund, sandy-haired man in his forties bounced into the room, beaming as if he’d been invited to a party. “I’m Dr.

Ackerman. I understand you went a few rounds with a tree limb this afternoon.”

He removed the gauze pad, shined a light on the laceration, and made a series of indecipherable doctor sounds. Finally nodding, he stepped back and rolled a metal stand holding a wrapped instrument tray next to the stretcher. “Nice clean laceration. You’re probably going to have a black eye and a headache, but it doesn’t look too serious. You will need some stitches.”

“What about x-rays?” Adrian didn’t want to intrude, but every time she thought of Rooke lying so still in the snow her stomach got jittery and she had to fight back a wave of panic.

“Don’t see any real need for them,” he said cheerfully. “Simple blunt force trauma, and I can see that the bone isn’t fractured.” He

• 180 •

SecretS in the Stone

inserted the needle end of a syringe into a clear vial of liquid. “Any allergies or medication I need to know about?”

Adrian kept quiet, although it took effort. Safeguarding Rooke’s privacy was important, especially when Rooke’s personal business had been the object of scrutiny and discussion her entire life. Nevertheless, Adrian had to clamp her teeth together not to blurt out what she knew of Rooke’s medical history. She held her breath, waiting.

“Dilantin and phenobarbital,” Rooke said at last.

“Hmm,” the doctor said as he wiped antiseptic around the edges of the laceration and injected it. “What’s the origin of—”

Rooke’s cell phone rang and she yanked it off her belt. She held it out to Adrian as the doctor placed sterile towels around her head.

“Would you mind, Adrian? It’s probably Pops. Tell him it’s nothing.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Adrian grabbed the phone and flipped it open.

“Hello. This is Adrian Oakes.”

“Well this is a pleasant surprise, darling,” Melinda’s honey-warm voice announced. “How nice to have you both. Where is our gorgeous Rooke, then?”

Our Rooke? Icicles crystallized in Adrian’s veins, and she gripped the phone so hard she was surprised the case didn’t crack. “Rooke is busy right now. I’ll tell her—”

“Busy. Should I guess doing what?” Melinda’s laugh suggested she was contemplating a lascivious secret.

Adrian turned her back to the bed and lowered her voice. “She can tell you herself when she’s free.”

“Really, darling, there’s no need to be defensive. You know very well I’d like nothing better than to see you two together. Not exactly see, of course. I was thinking of something a little more intimate.”

“There’s nothing going on between us,” Adrian said through gritted teeth. “But if there were, I can promise you, there wouldn’t be room for anyone else.”

“You might change your mind, especially if Rooke asked. Just think about it when you’re going to sleep tonight,” Melinda cajoled.

“Imagine being between us, Rooke’s hands and my mouth—”

Adrian slammed the phone shut, her face flushing hot. She did not want Melinda Singer to touch her. She didn’t. But her sex pulsed with want and she knew she was wet. Because of the idea of Rooke touching her. Rooke. Not Melinda.

• 181 •

RADcLY fFe

“Was that Pops?” Rooke’s muffled voice inquired.

“No,” Adrian said breathlessly, pushing damp tendrils of hair away from her face. She turned, glad that the doctor was in the way and Rooke couldn’t see her. “Melinda. I told her you’d call her back.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Adrian said, noting that Rooke didn’t seem at all surprised that Melinda had called. Melinda didn’t waste any time.

The doctor stripped off his gloves and dropped them on the instrument tray. “There. That should take care of it.” He picked up a chart and began to scribble on it. “Continue to take your regular medication. I don’t think this should cause any problems, but no alcohol and avoid operating heavy machinery for forty-eight hours. Can you have someone stay with you tonight?”

“Um…” Rooke hesitated. “My grandfather lives right next door.”

“I mean with you—otherwise I should keep you here.”

“You can stay with me, Rooke,” Adrian said quickly, picking up on Rooke’s discomfort. She knew she wouldn’t want to spend the night with her grandfather in her bedroom. “Or I’ll stay with you, if you’d rather go home.”

“Great, thanks,” Rooke said, although she looked unhappy.

“I’ll leave instructions for you at the desk,” the doctor said. “Be sure to check the list of warnings—call the emergency room if there’s any problem. You can get the Steri-strips wet, so it’s fine to shower.” He shook Rooke’s hand and hurried out.

“I’ll be fine, Adrian.” Rooke got to her feet and grabbed her jacket off the chair. “I don’t need you to stay with me, but thanks for volunteering.”

“I’m not in the habit of saying I’ll do something and then not doing it. Especially under these circumstances.” Adrian knew she sounded harsh, but she couldn’t get the sound of Melinda’s voice out of her head. Melinda had sounded far too certain of Rooke and what Rooke wanted.

“I don’t have room,” Rooke said grouchily.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” Adrian glared at Rooke. “You do have one of those, don’t you?”

• 182 •

SecretS in the Stone

ChapTER TwEnTy-OnE

The trip back to Stillwater in the front seat of Rooke’s truck was cramped and silent. Adrian rode squeezed between Dominic and Rooke. The entire side of her body, pressed tightly to Rooke’s, tingled. Rooke’s hand, covered with a faint latticework of scars resembling some ancient tribal tattoo, rested on her own thigh, only inches from Adrian’s, and Adrian had to summon every bit of her willpower not to grab it and pull it into her lap. The adrenaline spike of fear had abated, only to be replaced by an unrelenting compulsion to touch Rooke, to connect to her, to be assured she had not lost her.

Irrational, but so nearly uncontrollable she felt sick from holding in the tangled miasma of anxiety and longing.

“You sure about this?” Rooke asked quietly. “Dominic could take you home.”

“I’m sure,” Adrian said just as quietly. She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her, but God, she needed some distance before she said or did something she would regret. She could barely comprehend that they’d just left the hospital and now all she could think about was being naked with Rooke on top of her, inside her. She didn’t understand, couldn’t accept, this kind of need. Wanting anything , anyone, this much scared her to death.

“Thanks,” Rooke murmured.

Dominic turned into the cemetery and parked Rooke’s truck in front of the garage. A black Ford F150 was parked farther up the drive.

Dominic’s truck, Adrian presumed.

“So I’ll get going,” Dominic said, opening the driver’s door and jumping down. “Really sorry, Rooke.”

• 183 •

RADcLY fFe

“Hey.” Rooke braced her arm on the seat and leaned across Adrian to speak to him. “Thanks for the ride, and stop worrying about what happened. It was an accident. It’s no big deal.”

“Yeah, right.” Dominic, looking unhappy, sketched a wave in the air and strode quickly to his truck.

“He’ll be okay in a few days,” Adrian said tightly, scarcely daring to breathe with Rooke half lying on top of her. Her body was so sensitive, her nerve endings so raw, she feared her skin was going to peel off and leave her screaming for relief. She had all she could do to keep from twisting her hips and pressing her center against Rooke’s lean, hard thigh. She’d never wanted to come so badly in her life.

“Yeah,” Rooke muttered, settling back in her seat and jamming her hands between her knees. “I hate all the fuss.”

Adrian laughed weakly. “I know. But he cares about you.” She dared a quick caress over the top of Rooke’s blue jean–clad thigh. “We all do.”

“I guess I’d feel the same way if it was him.” Rooke took in the pallor beneath Adrian’s fading desert tan and the wide, black pupils that nearly eclipsed her ocean blue irises. She looked—not frightened, but almost hurt. Rooke’s blood surged with the fierce need to protect her.

Instinctively, she cupped Adrian’s face, rubbing her thumb along the edge of Adrian’s jaw. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Rooke, I…” Adrian’s vision tunneled and the silver glow of moonlight enveloped her, soft fur beneath her naked skin, the heat of Rooke’s hard, hot body shielding her from the icy winter air. She arched beneath Rooke’s hands, her breath catching in her throat. Oh, how she needed her inside, driving out the cold.

“Adrian,” Rooke whispered, slipping into the dark depths of Adrian’s eyes. “You can tell me.”

“I can’t…” Adrian nearly sobbed. She couldn’t confess that all her barriers had fallen and she couldn’t tell fantasy from reality, that she didn’t recognize her body, she didn’t recognize herself. She couldn’t tell her she was afraid of losing herself in the vast wasteland of her desire.

Rooke drew her hand back. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

No, it isn’t, Adrian wanted to scream, but she was too busy forcing herself to breathe. Breathe and think and take control of her furious urges.

• 184 •

SecretS in the Stone

“I’m sorry,” Adrian gasped.

Rooke frowned. “Why? You haven’t—”

A sharp rap sounded on the window and Pops peered in. Adrian jerked away.

“We should get out,” Adrian said. “He must be worried.”

With a sigh, Rooke slid out and Adrian followed. She stood on the far side of Rooke, not wanting Pops to see her face. She wasn’t sure what showed there, but her legs shook so hard she sagged against the truck for support. She ached so badly she wanted to wrap her arms around her middle and double over. God, God. What was this? What was happening to her?

“Well? What’s the damage?” Pops said.

“Just a little cut,” Rooke said. “The doctor said it blended right into the old scar so in a little while you won’t even know there was a new cut.”

“Uh-huh.” Pops leaned around Rooke to glance at Adrian, his expression questioning.

Adrian worked up a smile. “Just a couple of days of taking it easy, and she should be fine. Hard head.”

Pops laughed and Rooke grinned, but Adrian noticed that Rooke was ashen and her eyes were shadowed. She’d been too busy caught up in her own maelstrom to remember that Rooke was hurt, and she flushed guiltily.

“You should probably lie down,” Adrian said quietly.

“You want me to bring you over something to eat later?” Pops asked. “It’s about dinnertime.”

“No. We can order pizza or something…” Rooke raised questioning eyebrows at Adrian.

“Pizza will be great.”

“Okay then. I’ll order a delivery for later.” Pops met Adrian’s eyes again. “You two need anything else, you call me.”

“We will,” Adrian said.

Adrian followed Rooke to the side door of the garage and up the stairs that led to Rooke’s apartment. She didn’t know what she expected, but like Rooke, the space was neat and orderly, if a little spartan. A comfortable couch and chair on a big braided area rug occupied the center of the main room, with a tidy kitchen off to one side. A door led to what must be the bedroom. She took off her sweatshirt and hung it on

• 185 •

RADcLY fFe

a coat tree just inside the door and held out a hand for Rooke’s jacket.

“I’ll take that. Why don’t you go lie down.”

“I’m not tired.” Rooke glanced around uncomfortably, wondering what Adrian saw when she took in her space. There were no books, no magazines, no computer. Her life was barren of the things that filled Adrian’s world. “I’ve never had anyone up here before. You’re going to be bored just sitting around. I can get Pops’s laptop for you, so you can work if you’re going to stay for a while.”

“I’m going to stay all night and I don’t need a computer.” Adrian hid her pleasure at hearing she was the first woman in Rooke’s private space. Melinda had seen some of Rooke’s sculptures, but she had not been here. Adrian didn’t care that her almost giddy delight might be a little petty. Melinda wanted Rooke, she made no secret of that. Melinda seemed to want them both, singly or together, and when Adrian wasn’t being ambushed by her involuntary response to Melinda’s uncanny seductiveness, she was incensed by the thought of Melinda anywhere near Rooke. Right now, she didn’t want to think of Melinda or imagine if Rooke responded to Melinda the way she herself did. She was here for Rooke. She braced her hands on her hips and frowned. “Now are you going to go to bed or are we going to argue about it?”

“We’re going to argue.”

Adrian sighed and chewed the inside of her lip, searching for a compromise that wouldn’t rob Rooke of her need to be independent.

She understood that need, at least the need to be seen as a complete and capable person. “How about you lie down on the couch and we’ll talk about my project. If you get tired, you have to promise to close your eyes.”

Rooke regarded the couch speculatively. It was an old-fashioned, plaid fabric couch with rounded arms that would fit three small people, maybe, if they were squished together. She barely fit on it when she slept there.

“Not much room.”

“Come here.” Adrian settled into one corner of the couch and patted her lap. “Put your head here.”

“Just a minute.” Rooke pulled a pad of paper and pencil from among the order forms and drawings on the coffee table and handed the items to Adrian. Then she gingerly settled down and put her head in

• 186 •

SecretS in the Stone

Adrian’s lap. She propped her feet up on the opposite arm of the sofa.

“In case you want to take notes.”

“Thank you.” Adrian shifted so Rooke’s cheek rested against her lower abdomen. “Comfortable?”

Rooke looked up at her, her eyes wide and dark. “Yes. I’m not too heavy or anything?”

No, baby, you’re perfect. Adrian shook her head and contented herself with gently stroking Rooke’s hair. “Not at all. How is your head?”

“A little achy. Not bad.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Not right now.” Rooke didn’t want to admit she was feeling a little queasy, because she figured it would pass and she didn’t want Adrian to worry. She could see the worry lines between her eyebrows and she hated knowing she was the cause. She hated hospitals and doctors and the way Pops always tried to pretend he wasn’t upset when the doctors would talk to him about the tests they’d done on her. Even when she was five she could tell whatever was wrong with her was something they couldn’t fix. She didn’t want Adrian to worry or feel like she had to take care of her. But all the same, she liked the way Adrian’s fingers felt sifting through her hair. She liked the way Adrian’s stomach fluttered against her cheek as she breathed, and the distant reverberation of her heart. She wrapped her arm around Adrian’s waist and turned her face a little more into Adrian’s middle to absorb her scent, a subtle blend of loam and sweet nectar and spring breezes.

“You smell so good,” Rooke mumbled.

Adrian’s hand shook as she continued to caress Rooke’s neck and shoulders. She’d never met anyone so open and untarnished, so beautiful in every way. Adrian’s heart beat so fast, her stomach spasmed with such need, she was sure Rooke must be able to tell what was happening to her. And she didn’t want her to know, not now. This was all wrong. Rooke was so vulnerable. And so trusting. Desperately, Adrian searched for something to distract her from the exquisite torment of Rooke’s breath wafting through her blouse and setting her skin on fire. Her research. She’d talk about her research.

“I’m fascinated by the gargoyles you’ve done,” Adrian said, setting the pad of paper on the arm of the couch and flipping through pages with one hand to find a clean one. “I’ve read a lot—oh my God.”

• 187 •

RADcLY fFe

“What?” Rooke said, jerking back from the haze of pleasure she’d drifted into.

“Did you do all the drawings in here?” Adrian placed her hand in the center of Rooke’s chest to keep her lying down when she realized she was about to sit up.

“Yes,” Rooke said, perplexed by the ominous note in Adrian’s voice. “That’s how I make sure I get the carvings right. I have to have Pops check the spelling.”

“No. No—this isn’t a gravestone you would be carving.” Adrian waved the pad vigorously above Rooke’s head so she could see it, her recent desire turning to acid fear in the back of her throat.

“Oh, that one. I dreamed it.”

“You dreamed it. What do you mean you dreamed it?”

Rooke flushed, embarrassed. “It was just something I saw in a dream last week and when I woke up, I drew it.”

“Do you always have such vivid dreams?”

“On and off. More lately, it seems.”

“What else was in the dream?” Adrian probed. Ordinarily, she didn’t think much about dreams. She had them. Sometimes she awoke feeling as if the dreams had been memories, and sometimes things would happen in real life that she would swear she had dreamed. Lately, her dreams had been different than anything she’d ever experienced, but then everything about her body and mind was different.

“It was just a dream,” Rooke said evasively. “Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know that it does. It’s just that—Rooke, the name on this gravestone is yours.” Adrian didn’t add that that scared the hell out of her.

Rooke frowned. “Mine.”

“Yes,” Adrian said gently. “You don’t recognize it?”

“No. I can’t…” She sighed in exasperation. It was so hard to explain. “I can copy something that’s right in front of me. I can write my name if I have a copy of it to look at. But I won’t recognize it later and I can’t remember how to do it. The way they explained it is there’s some connection missing between what I see and my brain deciphering it. I can see it, but it doesn’t form a word in my mind—even if I know what it’s supposed to say.”

“It’s kind of like short-term memory loss, only visual,” Adrian

• 188 •

SecretS in the Stone

murmured. “You can see this right now and know it’s your name, but the next time you see it, you won’t recognize it. Right?”

“That’s right.”

“That must be so frustrating.” Adrian stroked her face. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not so bad because I’ve always been that way. I think it would be worse if it was something I used to be able to do and now I can’t.”

Adrian nodded. “Tell me about the dream.”

Rooke averted her face, looking out into the rapidly darkening room. The sun had set. “I dreamed I was lying on a grave and there were people—women—there. They were…touching me. It was cold.

So cold. And I…” She suddenly found it hard to swallow.

“It’s okay.” Adrian wrapped her arms around Rooke’s shoulders, leaning over her, holding her in the curve of her body. “Baby, it’s okay.”

“I asked for help but there wasn’t any. And then I woke up.”

Rooke turned back quickly and Adrian’s face was very close to hers.

She could still feel the ice splintering her bones and Adrian looked so upset. Without thinking, Rooke raised up on her elbow and kissed her.

• 189 •

• 190 •

SecretS in the Stone

ChapTER TwEnTy-TwO

Adrian registered the electric glide of Rooke’s hand over her neck a heartbeat before the satin weight of Rooke’s mouth descended, catapulting her body into overdrive. Rooke’s lips skimmed hers, gentle but firmly inquisitive, and Adrian hungered to open for her, to pull her inside her mouth just as frantically as she longed to have her inside her body. Her skin flushed hot, her limbs quivered like cables snapping in a hurricane, and her insides churned with molten fire. Holding on to her control by a thread, Adrian gripped Rooke’s shoulders, digging her fingers into steel bands of muscle as much to anchor herself as to satisfy the craving to touch her. Never had she felt so much from a kiss, never had every atom of her being been so stirred by such a simple caress, and oh God, how she wanted to let go. How she burned to melt into her and let the mindless blaze of passion take her. But she held on, held back the tide of release, though she ached for it with every cell. She wanted, needed, this moment with Rooke to be more than a means to satisfy her body. She lashed herself to the here and now, focusing every bit of her awareness on Rooke’s diamond-rough fingertips stroking her throat, on the soft whisper of Rooke’s breath against her cheek, on her scent of fresh cut wood and the sharp tang of earth and stone.

Rooke reached behind her and grasped the back of the couch, pulling herself up and pressing Adrian back into the cushions at the same time.

The weight of Rooke’s body against her tense, hypersensitive breasts made Adrian moan, and she felt herself unraveling at her core. Flames licked along her inner thighs and she shuddered, straining against the

• 191 •

RADcLY fFe

flare of pleasure scorching through her center. She whimpered, on the brink of succumbing to her body’s demand to orgasm.

“What is it?” Rooke whispered, her words choppy and her breathing uneven. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“Oh my God, no. No.” Adrian leaned her forehead against Rooke’s and pressed trembling fingers to Rooke’s mouth. Her chest heaved and every brush of her breasts against Rooke’s was exquisite torture.

“Rooke, you couldn’t be doing anything more perfectly.”

“I want to do everything perfectly for you.” Rooke teased her tongue over Adrian’s lips, dipping in and out of her mouth.

Adrian shot right to the edge again. Quivering, she retreated as far as the sofa at her back would allow. Seeing Rooke’s instant frown of uncertainty, she smiled weakly. “I’m sorry, you just feel so good. God, I need a second here.”

Rooke turned on the couch until she was sitting, facing Adrian.

Adrian’s eyes looked hazy, her full lips swollen and moist. Rooke hungered for her, a pulse pounding between her thighs that beat harder and faster with each passing second. She slid her arm behind Adrian’s back, around her waist, and pulled her close. When their chests and stomachs and legs met, a heaviness pulled at her groin and the muscles in her thighs seized. “You taste even better than you smell. Can I please kiss you again?”

Adrian wondered if it was possible for a heart to truly burst. She framed Rooke’s face with her hands, tracing the frown lines in her forehead with her fingertips. The row of sutures was just visible as a thin dark line under the Steri-strips the surgeon had applied. She brushed her thumbs over Rooke’s wide, strong mouth. The tip of Rooke’s tongue swirled around the pad of her thumb and her clitoris shivered.

“I’m going to come apart if you keep kissing me like that,” Adrian moaned, “but God, I want you to…”

Rooke took her with another kiss, savoring the crush of Adrian’s breasts against her chest. She skimmed her fingertips up Adrian’s tight middle until the backs of her fingers brushed the underside of Adrian’s breasts. Adrian moaned and arched into her. Slipping her tongue deeper into Adrian’s mouth, Rooke cupped her breast. Lost in the slide of silk over satin and the small hard peak of Adrian’s nipple rubbing against the center of her palm, she traced the firm prominence with one finger.

Adrian groaned into her mouth.

• 192 •

SecretS in the Stone

“No?” Rooke murmured, stilling her motion.

Adrian covered Rooke’s hand and pressed Rooke’s fingers closed around her breast. She would come if Rooke kept stimulating her nipples. She’d never done that, never even been close, but she was seconds from it now. “You can’t know what you’re doing to me.”

“Does it feel good?” Rooke kissed the underside of Adrian’s jaw, then down her neck. She buried her face in the hollow of Adrian’s throat and licked her soft skin, tasting salt and the sweet mist of arousal.

“Wonderful.” Adrian moaned when Rooke returned to her mouth, her kisses hot and bruising. Rooke didn’t seem curious now. She was possessive and demanding, and Adrian thrilled to the power of Rooke’s desire. She raked her nails over Rooke’s shoulders, and Rooke pushed her back until she was lying with Rooke’s hard thigh locked between her legs. Rooke tugged at her lip with teeth and squeezed her nipple again and again.

“Rooke,” Adrian gasped, her sex clenching.

“Taste so good,” Rooke muttered, rocking her pelvis into Adrian’s with short, hard thrusts.

Every thrust forced Adrian’s swollen clitoris against the hard bone beneath. She was close. Too close now. Twisting her head away from Rooke’s, she grabbed Rooke’s hips and pushed her back.

“Baby, stop, you’re going to make me come.”

“I’m sorry.” Rooke shuddered, her mouth pressed to Adrian’s ear.

“I couldn’t help myself.”

“I know, baby, God, I know.” Adrian shook beneath Rooke’s hot, heavy weight, squeezing her eyes tightly shut and battling back the first faint ripples of release. “Not your fault. I just can’t…it’s me, not you. I just need to go slower.”

Rooke shoved herself up on shaking arms, her thighs still intertwined with Adrian’s. Adrian was so beautiful, her face and neck painted a dusky rose with desire. She wanted to keep kissing her, tasting her, touching her, but she’d wait. She’d waited so many times, empty and aching. Now she could wait, even with the hard fist of need pounding in her belly. The ache was all the sweeter because Adrian was everywhere inside her.

“I only meant to kiss you,” Rooke whispered.

Adrian nodded weakly and stroked Rooke’s face. Rooke’s skin was damp with sweat, her intense dark eyes heavy-lidded and savagely

• 193 •

RADcLY fFe

seductive. Some primal, primitive place deep inside her longed to surrender to that fierce demand, and the part of her that wasn’t terrified at the thought thrilled to the passion pounding through her blood. “Well, you did a mighty fine job of it.”

Rooke grinned crookedly. “Beginner’s luck.”

“Beginner’s…” Adrian stared as Rooke averted her gaze, almost as if she were embarrassed. That couldn’t be. “You can’t mean…” Shocked, Adrian raised herself up on her elbows and Rooke automatically shifted back, her knees on either side of Adrian’s hips, their bodies no longer in intimate contact. “Are you telling me that’s the first time you’ve kissed a woman?”

“Anyone.” Rooke grimaced. “You don’t think I’ve been kissing Dominic, do you?”

“I thought you had a girlfriend?” Adrian blushed, embarrassed now herself. She hadn’t given a single thought to the woman Rooke was involved with. What had she been thinking? That was the problem, she hadn’t been thinking like herself for days. She felt as if someone else had taken over her mind as well as her body, and her good judgment and restraint had gone right out the window.

“It’s not like that with her,” Rooke said. Not like it is with you.

Adrian wriggled out from under Rooke and sat up in the corner of the couch again, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. She had to keep some space between herself and Rooke while she was still so flammable. She was absolutely certain that the slightest touch from Rooke anywhere on her body would send her into orbit again. And Rooke deserved a lot more from her than a twitch reflex she couldn’t control—an orgasm that would be about as intimate as a nervous tic. Especially if what she was coming to understand was true—that Rooke was completely inexperienced. As it was, Rooke looked worried and a little confused. Who could blame her? Two minutes ago she’d been letting Rooke crawl all over her, and God knew her body had been sending “take me” signals loud and clear. Hell, she’d practically been telegraphing fuck me all afternoon, and she needed Rooke to know her pulling away wasn’t Rooke’s fault.

“Okay,” Adrian said as she let out a long slow breath, forcing her heartbeat to slow down. “For the record, you’re a phenomenal kisser.”

She shook her head, injecting as much levity as she could manage into

• 194 •

SecretS in the Stone

her voice while a good part of her nervous system was still screaming at her to let Rooke finish what she’d started. She still wanted to come so badly she was nauseous. “And if this is your first time, I can only imagine what you’ll be like with a little more practice. You’ll need a warning sign.”

“I got pretty excited,” Rooke admitted. “I can go slower.”

“Oh God, baby,” Adrian groaned. “I’m the one who needs to slow down. I just…” She suddenly thought of Melinda and the mindless lust Melinda inspired in her, completely against her will. She thought of the women she’d slept with to assuage her loneliness and despair. She tried to remember the last time she’d truly given herself to a woman physically, and she couldn’t. She couldn’t remember a single time when she’d ever wanted a woman to take her, to possess her, with the fevered craving that still ate at her core. She didn’t want to be that vulnerable, that needy, especially not when her body didn’t seem to be her own. “I just need to take things a little bit slower.”

“I understand.” Rooke eased back until their bodies were no longer touching at all.

“I’m sorry.”

Rooke shook her head. “I wish you wouldn’t say that. Why would you be sorry about something you need?”

Tears flooded Adrian’s eyes and she had to bite her lip to hold them back. “I…” Her voice shook and tears spilled over. She brushed at them impatiently, her hand shaking. “I feel like I’m disappointing you.

Like I’m always disappointing people.” She scrubbed her face with her palms, disgusted with the whine she heard in her voice. “God, just ignore me. My hormones or something are completely haywire.”

“You don’t disappoint me,” Rooke said incredulously. “I didn’t want anything when I started kissing you except to be close to you.

Then it was so good, and I kind of got lost in you.”

“I love the way you kiss me,” Adrian whispered.

“That’s good then, right?”

“That’s good.” Adrian held out her hand and Rooke took it. At the touch of Rooke’s warm, strong fingers, some of Adrian’s turmoil receded, and she felt unexpectedly peaceful. “Thank you.”

“Do you still want me to stay with you in New York?”

“Of course,” Adrian said quickly, and then realized with a sinking

• 195 •

RADcLY fFe

sensation that Rooke might not be all that anxious to spend time with her after what had just happened. After all, she was sending the worst kind of mixed signals. “Would you rather not?”

“I was just thinking that maybe you’d be more comfortable if I stayed in a hotel or with Melinda.”

“No, I wouldn’t be.” Adrian tried not to shout that if Rooke stayed with Melinda she would very likely lose her mind. “I have two bedrooms. I think we’ll be safe.”

“Okay.”

“You know,” Adrian said, “you were supposed to be resting this evening, not getting a physical workout on top of dealing with my issues. How do you feel?”

Rooke laughed. “You think I’d rather be taking a nap than what we just did?”

“So maybe that was a dumb question.” Adrian smiled, her heart feeling lighter just seeing the way Rooke’s gaze played over her face, her eyes glinting as if she were seeing something that pleased her. “You really should be in bed, though.”

“I guess there’s no question about you sharing it with me.”

“Oh, no question at all. I’ll be right out here on the sofa.”

• 196 •

SecretS in the Stone

ChapTER TwEnTy-ThREE

Once in the bedroom, Rooke stripped down to her T-shirt and briefs and stretched out on top of her bed. She closed her eyes, but sleep was nowhere on the horizon. She hadn’t wanted to leave Adrian, fearing Adrian would be gone when she woke up. She’d missed Adrian all week, and then when she was finally so close, she couldn’t help but kiss her. And keep kissing her. She kept hearing Adrian’s broken whisper, Baby, stop, you’re going to make me come. She had never heard anything as amazing as those words. She got hard and wet and weak just remembering. Adrian had been excited too, but she’d said she needed to slow down. Rooke would, just as soon as she found the brakes. She sure hadn’t had any a few minutes ago. All she’d had was a craving so deep it felt bottomless and a mind-boggling sense of wonder at how magnificent Adrian tasted, how she smelled, how she moved, how her hands traveled urgently over Rooke’s body. She was pretty sure if she stayed in the living room with Adrian right now, she’d touch her again. And it wasn’t the right time—not for Adrian and maybe not for her. Adrian wasn’t Emma, and she already wanted more than she’d ever let herself want before. She’d learned not to want intimate connections—first when her mother left, before she could even remember her, then her father, then all the friends she might have had—had she been different. She kept apart, while secretly believing one day love would find her. So she turned on her side and soothed her rampaging senses by memorizing every scent, every indrawn breath, every whimper of pleasure and tremble of desire. Just in case this time was the only time.

Rooke opened her eyes to silence. She found a pair of sweatpants

• 197 •

RADcLY fFe

draped over a chair by her bed and pulled them on. Holding her breath, she crossed quickly and quietly to the bedroom doorway. The lamp by the sofa was on and Adrian sat propped up in one corner, the notepad open on her knees, frowning as she wrote something. She looked rumpled and tired and absolutely gorgeous. A golden tendril of hair teased around the corner of her mouth and Rooke thought about skating her tongue over Adrian’s, of dipping into the furnace of her mouth and coming away stripped to the bone. Her hands tingled at the remembered touch of smooth skin and taut nipples, and her stomach tensed with the memory of Adrian’s thighs clasping hers. Adrian’s body was steel beneath satin and her strength called to Rooke.

Rooke smelled pizza and was glad for the diversion. Her imaginings were stirring her up fast and hard. “I hope you didn’t wait for me to eat.”

Adrian’s heart gave a little jump at the sound of Rooke’s voice, and when she swiveled on the couch and got a look at her, her stomach took a nosedive. Rooke leaned leisurely in the doorway, one arm stretched out along the frame. Her gray sweatpants hung low on her hips, exposing the curving arches of her hipbones and a palm’s breadth of tight skin and etched abdominal muscles beneath the lower edge of her T-shirt. Adrian had a second to imagine the similar sharply carved muscles in her chest before she remembered the demanding thrust of those lean hips between her thighs. And then the three hours she’d had to settle her body and regain some semblance of control over her runaway libido might just as well have never passed. She was immediately, excruciatingly aroused. Her response not only annoyed and embarrassed her, it frightened her more than a little.

All her life she’d shielded herself from the unwanted sensations and emotions that assaulted her at the slightest touch. Sometimes those feelings were just errant glimpses of other people’s lives, brushed off on her in passing, accidental intimacies neither sought nor embraced.

Sometimes the emotions she blocked out were her own—the pain of being the disappointing daughter, the horror of human tragedies she’d witnessed, the loneliness of guarding the only thing she could call her own. Her independence. Now and then people slipped through those barriers—Jude had, with her easy friendship and uncanny perceptiveness. Adrian loved Jude the way she had never been able to love her own sister, but she’d never once felt a spark of attraction.

• 198 •

SecretS in the Stone

She’d convinced herself that casual relationships with women were all she needed or had time for, and hadn’t bothered to ask herself why even her fleeting encounters had become more and more unusual in the last few years. Now, in the space of a few weeks, two women had stepped inside her most defended circle and unleashed chaos in her mind and body.

She gazed at Rooke and grew breathless at the memory of Rooke’s seeking mouth, the weight of her hard, hot body, the demanding tug of her fingers on her breasts. What had truly changed, she realized, was that she wanted Rooke to breach the barriers. She welcomed the fury and fire of Rooke’s touch, even knowing she might never be able to put those walls back up again. And that realization shook her to her very foundation.

“Pops just brought the pizza,” Adrian said, her throat dry. The pen quivered between her fingers and she closed it in her fist so that Rooke wouldn’t see. “Did you sleep?”

“Some. I guess you didn’t.” Rooke pushed away from the door and walked into the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator. “Beer? Soda?”

“Soda’s fine. No beer for you, remember.” Adrian wasn’t sure she would ever sleep again, not the way her body was behaving. When Rooke had gone into the bedroom earlier, she’d curled up on the sofa and waited for her body to calm down. Ordinarily if she’d been that agitated and aroused, she would’ve gone for a run or to the gym or taken a long shower. None of those options had been available to her and although she’d desperately wanted to come, she knew if she masturbated and managed to climax at all, she would only need to do it again, because it wouldn’t be enough. She wanted Rooke’s hand, Rooke’s mouth, Rooke’s fingers to deliver her from her agony. Reality check, reality check! her logical mind screamed. That line of thinking was dangerous and she needed to get some perspective. Like yesterday.

“Can I ask you something personal?” Adrian said as Rooke stacked plates and napkins on top of the pizza box and carried those along with two cans of soda into the living room. She hastily moved papers aside to make room on the coffee table.

“Yes.” Rooke placed the food in the space Adrian had cleared and settled onto the couch, leaving space between her body and Adrian’s.

“Are you… Hell, this is awkward.” Adrian leaned back and stared at the ceiling, which she now realized was an intricate pattern of stamped

• 199 •

RADcLY fFe

tin. She could make out interconnected designs reminiscent of Rooke’s carvings on the gravestones—and also near replicas of the scars on the surface of her hands. Beautiful. Rooke’s world was the physical, metal and stone, and now Adrian’s body seemed to have become a part of Rooke’s domain.

“Just ask, Adrian.”

Adrian straightened. Rooke’s voice was carefully neutral, her expression resigned, as if she were used to people not understanding her. As if she were used to being someone others couldn’t comprehend.

And that wasn’t the case at all—Adrian was the one at sea here. “Have you ever been with a woman? I mean, all the way with a woman.

Jesus—that sounds so adolescent.”

“I understand what you’re asking,” Rooke said quietly. She stared at her loosely clasped hands resting on her thighs. “I’ve pleasured a woman, but we didn’t share ourselves completely.” She met Adrian’s inquisitive stare. “I’ve never been naked with anyone. I’ve never had an orgasm with anyone.”

Adrian’s breath escaped on a short gasp of shock. “Oh God.”

Rooke stood abruptly and strode to the kitchen. She gripped the edge of the counter and stared out the window over the sink. The crystal-clear day had been followed by an equally brilliant night, and moonlight flooded the cemetery. Gravestones jutted from the icy surface like darkened doors hanging ajar in deserted houses. So many souls, so many stories, so many secrets. She knew exactly where her parents’ graves were. When she’d been younger, she would stare at the indecipherable markings on their gravestones, hoping to find some place inside herself to preserve their names, but she couldn’t. She worried that the relentless assault of the elements would erase their names, like it had on so many of the other stones. When she’d asked her grandfather about it, he’d assured her it was the nature of things to ultimately be absorbed by the world that created them, but that the stones would hold their memories for many lifetimes. It was then she realized that if life returned to the stone, it could emerge from it as well, and she had begun to seek her satisfaction in setting that life free.

All the while, she’d clung to the belief that one day there would be a woman to set her free.

“Are you worried I won’t know what to do?” Rooke asked, her back to Adrian.

• 200 •

SecretS in the Stone

“You’re kidding, right?” Adrian hurried to her, and against her better judgment, wrapped her arms around Rooke’s waist from behind.

She rested her chin lightly between Rooke’s shoulder blades, breathing in her tangy, tantalizing scent. “If you’ll recall, I was two seconds away from coming just from kissing you. Believe me, I’m not worried about your technique.”

“Why didn’t you let yourself come?” Rooke asked, running her fingertips over Adrian’s arms. “I would have liked that. I would have liked to feel you tighten when you got close, and then feel you shudder when you let go. I would have liked to hear you while the pleasure took you.”

A fresh jolt of excitement struck directly between Adrian’s legs, making her tremble. She whimpered softly and shut her eyes tightly.

“Be careful or you’ll talk me into coming.”

Rooke loosened Adrian’s grip and turned, putting her back to the counter and tugging Adrian against her. She wanted to touch her, wanted to please her. She wanted to be the one to give her that. “You’re still so excited, I can feel you shaking. Could you do that—come from me telling you how much I want you?”

“I never have before,” Adrian murmured, sinking into Rooke’s arms, wondering how much more she could stand before she just lost it. “But you aren’t like anyone I’ve ever met before. You do things to me…”

“Bad things?”

Adrian kissed Rooke’s throat, then rubbed her cheek against Rooke’s shoulder. “No. Wonderful things.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Rooke rested her chin on top of Adrian’s head and stroked up and down Adrian’s back, imprinting the contours of her muscles and bone. Adrian burrowed into her, giving a small mewl of pleasure, and hunger rose up in Rooke’s belly like a great beast scenting its prey. She pressed one thigh between Adrian’s legs and Adrian immediately opened for her. Reaching down, she cupped Adrian’s rear and worked her leg more tightly into Adrian’s center.