He was going to kiss her

She could see the longing in his eyes.

His lips touched hers softly. They opened. She followed suit, and his tongue pushed through.

His hands caressed her smooth back and she pressed her fingers into his taut shoulder muscles, desperate to get closer. He lifted her, holding her naked body flush against his own in the flowing river.

She placed her arms around his neck and let her legs encircle his hips. The roar of the river pounded in her ears.

He left her mouth and she whimpered in disappointment. But then he kissed her neck, slipped his hands lower to cup her bottom, and she tightened her knees against him.

“Robin?” His strangled voice was filled with need.

“Yes, Jake?”

“You don’t want this.”

“What?” She wanted this more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. She was his for the taking.

When he spoke again his harsh whisper was precise. “You’re Robin Medford. I’m Jacob Bronson. And you do not want this to happen.”

Dear Reader,

People accuse me of being too decisive. Okay, I’ll be honest, they accuse me of being too impulsive. I plan as little as possible, because there’s nothing more frustrating than strategizing and formulating for days, weeks, or years on end when you could spend that time actually doing something. In Forever Jake, I wanted to feature an impulsive heroine, someone who has an idea and immediately springs into action.

When Robin Medford decides she wants to have a baby, she doesn’t waste time wandering willy-nilly around the notion. And when she decides Jacob Bronson is the perfect candidate to father her baby, she immediately springs into action, all right—with unexpected results!

I hope you enjoy Forever Jake. Temptation has long been my favorite of the Harlequin lines, and I am absolutely thrilled to be in such talented company.

Best wishes,

Barbara Dunlop

Books by Barbara Dunlop

HARLEQUIN DUETS

54B—THE MOUNTIE STEALS A WIFE

Forever Jake

Barbara Dunlop

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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For Marcelle Dubé.

With admiration, respect and gratitude.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

1

A WOMAN simply couldn’t trust sperm banks these days.

Robin Medford stuffed the latest copy of The New England Journal of Medicine into the leather backpack tucked beneath the airplane seat in front of her. The Beaver floatplane shuddered as it banked left, bringing the town of Forever into view through the tiny oblong window.

Following a long-standing custom in the remote Yukon Territory, the pilot buzzed the small town nestled between a steep, sparsely treed mountainside and the lazy winding blue-green river that was its namesake. Then he swooped over the town hall to determine wind direction by the Canadian and Yukon flags flapping out front in the sunny afternoon breeze.

Taking a deep breath, Robin turned away from the window and let her head fall back against the high-backed seat. It amazed her to read how many mistakes were made by well-meaning fertility doctors and laboratory technicians. Some of the results were downright frightening.

It had taken less than three days’ research to convince her that sperm banks were not a reliable source for her future child’s genetic start in life. Which narrowed her options somewhat, but didn’t necessarily cancel her plan.

She’d simply have to get pregnant the old-fashioned way. Find a promising specimen, pick a fertile day, and send in the troops. Piece of cake, really.

After all, she reasoned, she’d had sex with Juan Carlos at the base camp below Mount Edelrich in Switzerland two years ago. It certainly wasn’t rocket science. In fact, her final paramedic qualification exam had been a whole lot more complicated than Juan—and a whole lot more exciting as she recalled.

She could do it again to get a baby. Not with Juan, of course. Aside from being half a world away, he was far too narcissistic and self-indulgent to be a candidate for fatherhood.

The pilot banked the plane more steeply, coming about above a poplar grove and into the wind as he lined up with the river on his final approach. Robin imagined the stick under her fingertips and automatically checked out the window for debris in the high-running, late August river.

As the water rushed up to meet them, she pictured adjustments to the flaps and watched the altimeter in her mind’s eye. It had been a long time since she’d piloted a Beaver—longer still since she’d visited the small town where she’d grown up.

Fifteen years to be exact.

Fifteen years since she’d graduated from high school and set off to find adventure. She’d been determined to build a life beyond the isolated community that lay three hundred miles north of the Alaska Highway, up against the border of the Northwest Territories.

She’d succeeded.

The Beaver’s floats sliced through the river current. The force of deceleration pinned her against her seat belt as the craft succumbed to the resistance of the water. The pilot backed off the prop speed, and she settled back into her seat.

She’d succeeded, both in building herself a career and in seeing a good portion of the world. And now she’d come full circle. For the first time, she was back home. She removed the hard plastic ear muffs that protected her hearing against the loud radial engine. Then she ran spread fingers through her long, wavy hair as they chugged toward the gray dock.

Forever. A town founded by miners, then kept alive by wilderness tourism and the manufacture of fine furniture from the rare russet birch trees that graced the nearby mountains. The streets were still dusty, the buildings still weathered, and the surrounding wilderness still dwarfed the efforts of nine hundred and fifty townspeople.

The floats groaned against the tire bumpers on the dock as the plane came to a halt. Robin flipped her seat belt catch. When the door swung open, she automatically steeled herself against the impending onslaught of mosquitoes and blackflies.

Biting insects notwithstanding, she was surprisingly glad to be back. She could hardly wait to see the expression on her grandmother’s face when she realized that every single one of her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren was here to celebrate her seventy-fifth birthday.

Robin had five days to spend with her family before she had to report to her new job at Wild Ones Tours in Toronto. It was good to arrive, but she was certain she’d be more than ready to get back to civilization by the time her five days were up.

Even now, Forever was extremely isolated. There was no road access to the town and no airport. People came and went by boat and floatplane or they didn’t come and go at all.

Besides, she was a woman with an all new fertility plan. She needed to get back to where there were men. Real men. Intelligent, genetically sound men who liked sex.

She sized up the pilot as he helped her across the airplane float and onto the swaying dock. He was a bit too short. She smiled her thanks and swung the backpack onto her shoulders.

This whole sperm bank risk factor could end up working in her favor. Upon reflection, it definitely made sense to meet and get to know the biological father of her planned child. A woman could learn a whole lot more about a person through conversation and observation than through a sterile file in a clinic waiting room.

She placed her palm against her abdomen and smiled as the soles of her leather boots crunched on the gravel of River Front Road. According to her fertility books, at thirty-two she was still within an age group highly ranked for safe conception and delivery. She had secured an excellent promotion that would keep her in a beautiful city. And she had her name on the waiting list of the best nanny agencies and preschools available.

Everything was in place. All she needed was the right man for about twenty minutes.

JAKE BRONSON HEARD the Beaver’s engine slow to a stop from his narrow hiding place between the Fireweed Café and the Forever Hardware Store. He pulled his battered Stetson hat low on his forehead and leaned back, trying to fade into the raw wood siding of the café wall.

He wasn’t normally a coward, but ever since his former friend Derek Sullivan had placed that ridiculous personal ad in newspapers all across the county, the women of Forever had declared open season on Jake. Oh, not that they really wanted to marry him. At least, he didn’t think they really wanted to marry him.

He was pretty sure all three of the very public marriage proposals last week were jokes. But Annie Miller was heading down Main Street right now, and she looked frighteningly purposeful to a jaded Jake. She wore a sundress far too pretty for an ordinary Saturday afternoon.

Jake had no intention of being the butt of yet another public prank.

He stood stock-still, watching Annie from the corner of his eye, breathing carefully. A long, low growl sounded beside him. He cringed, knowing exactly what was coming next.

A series of deep-chested barks echoed through the narrow passageway, nearly deafening him and seriously compromising his attempt at secrecy. His heart sank as he turned to face the huge husky-wolf cross who had ferreted him out and was standing, hackles raised, about three feet away.

Dweedle-Dumb was a darn sight more impressive than his name suggested. He ruled the streets of Forever with an iron paw, sending lesser animals scurrying out of his way with a sidelong glance and a curled lip. Jake briefly considered trying to shush the animal, but knew from experience that Dweedle-Dumb’s owner, the town farrier, was the only person who had any influence.

“Dweedle, hi-yup.” The harsh command was music to Jake’s ears.

“What the hell are you doing hanging out in the shadows, Jake?” Patrick Moore ambled to the spot where Dweedle-Dumb now sat obediently in the center of the dirt path, all traces of cunning in his yellow eyes replaced by adoration for his master.

Jake placed a finger across his lips in a silent signal, jerking his head sideways toward Annie. She was fifty yards away and closing.

Patrick squinted out into the street. Then his ruddy face broke into a grin and his body shook with suppressed mirth. To his credit, he didn’t make a sound. Although Jake was having a hard time being grateful for that tender mercy.

“Looks a bit dressed up there, doesn’t she?” Patrick whispered.

“That’s what worries me,” said Jake.

“Heard she made moss-berry squares this morning. Do you suppose she’ll try to impress you with her culinary expertise?”

“She doesn’t want to impress me. She wants to embarrass me.” Jake ducked his head, hoping the hat brim would hide any telltale flash of his face.

“She’s turning,” Patrick announced.

“Toward us?” Jake didn’t dare look up.

“No. To the dock. Whoa, mama.”

“What?”

“Now that’s a sweet sight.”

“What is it?” Jake hissed, braving a brief glance out onto the street.

“Wouldn’t mind having her answer my personal ad.” Patrick straightened his shoulders and tucked his plaid shirt into the waistband of his jeans.

“You don’t have a personal ad.” The lucky man.

As Jake’s vision adjusted to the bright sunshine, he felt a jolt course directly through his nervous system. A tall, willowy blonde greeted Annie with an exuberant hug right there in front of the northern pike fountain. She was wearing formfitting jeans and a brightly colored cardigan sweater. The sweater was open, revealing a white knit shirt.

Even from thirty yards away Jake was struck by the beauty of her profile. Her sandy hair glinted in the sunshine and her tinkling laughter seemed to brighten the dusty street. For a second he actually hoped she had answered the ad.

That was ridiculous, of course. Because Derek’s ad didn’t say where Jake lived. The chances of some big-city bombshell figuring out that “Yukon Jake” lived in Forever were somewhere well south of nil.

Patrick raked his hair back off his forehead. “Didn’t know Annie had friends that looked like that.”

“Going over to meet her?” asked Jake. He slouched against the wall, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops and crossing one dusty cowboy boot over the other. He let his gaze slide appreciatively over her shapely thighs and cute derriere.

“Reckon I might just do that.” Patrick squared his shoulders. “You coming?”

“She’s all yours, Patrick.” Jake feigned indifference to the most interesting female that had entered this town in the last decade. He’d just have to wait to hear all the mystery woman details tonight at the Fireweed Café.

Annie still might have her sights set on him. And no way in the world was he voluntarily setting himself up for ridicule. Nor was he showing the slightest interest in a beautiful stranger. Following on the heels of Derek’s embarrassing ad, Jake could just imagine the townsfolk’s reaction to that.

He shuddered. Nope. For now he’d just head right on back to the ranch and finish off the new stallion pen, exactly as he’d planned.

THE SOUND OF HAMMERING reached Robin on her mother’s back porch. She’d made herself scarce while her brother-in-law read a story to her nephews and Grandma settled down for a nap.

She was amazed by how much her three nephews had grown since last Christmas. She normally saw them twice a year when family gathered at her sister’s cottage near Prince George for an old-fashioned Christmas then a lazy summer vacation. But this year they seemed to be on some kind of accelerated growth plan.

She smiled as she lowered herself into a wood slat chair. Grandma, however, hadn’t aged a bit. Hugging her earlier in the familiar living room, Robin had felt eighteen years old again.

The house was the same. The yard was the same. Her gaze drifted across the acreage that was dominated by her mother’s market garden, pausing on the shiny new barn on the property next door. The barn was a very big change.

She wondered how long it had been since the Bronsons had left town. When Old Man Bronson owned the property it had been an eyesore of tilting, rotting clapboard, rusted cars and weed-choked lawns. By contrast, the new owners had bulldozed the old junk, built a magnificent two-story log house, and planted oats and hay to feed the dozens of horses grazing in white-fenced paddocks.

Whoever bought the place certainly seemed to have money. Which made Robin wonder why they’d chosen a town like Forever.

As she mulled the question, a shirtless man strode around the corner of the barn. He wore a leather tool belt low on his faded jeans and held a hammer in his right hand. Sweat glistened on his chest and upper arms, emphasizing bulging muscles. A cowboy hat shaded his face.

“Magnificent” was the word that popped immediately into Robin’s mind. If she ever decided on recreational sex, instead of serious procreation, this was exactly the kind of guy she’d go for.

She watched unblinking as he bent over one of the fence rails at the property line and drove a nail into it with three sure strokes. Then he straightened, holstered the hammer and stepped back to survey the section of fence. The sun caught his face as he tipped his chin up.

Jacob Bronson.

Robin froze.

It felt as if her heart had splatted against her backbone then ricocheted against her ribs before taking up a jerky rhythm that left her gasping for breath. She’d never expected to see him again.

He suddenly stilled, as if he’d caught her scent. Eyes narrowing, he looked straight at the covered porch.

He couldn’t see her. Surely to goodness he couldn’t see her in the shadow of the awning. And even if he could, he wouldn’t recognize her, not from a hundred yards away after fifteen years.

So why did his blue-eyed stare seem to penetrate to her very soul? Her eyes fluttered closed against the unnerving sensation.

She wouldn’t remember.

She refused to allow the humiliating memories to crowd her mind.

She’d successfully kept them at bay since the day she boarded the floatplane out of town fifteen years ago, and there was no reason for them to surface now. No reason at all—unless you counted a mere glimpse of the man who had witnessed her greatest folly. She groaned as recollections burst forth in crisp color and vivid detail.

It had happened more than fifteen years ago. The night before graduation when the twenty-one seniors of Forever Public School carried on the town tradition of skinny-dipping at Make-Out Beach. It was a rite of passage on the summer solstice when the midnight sun dipped briefly below the horizon and the water darkened just enough to preserve modesty.

Make-Out Beach was private and secluded. Ten miles out of town, it was accessible only by a dirt road that wound along the riverbank, giving swimmers and anyone else ample notice of approaching visitors.

Robin had banished her fears that night and trooped down to the girls’ beach with her friends to enter the water in privacy.

Modest and hesitant compared to many of her classmates, she’d deliberated for long minutes before she’d decided the voracious mosquitoes on shore were a greater evil than stripping naked and slipping into the icy water.

One by one the other girls had drifted over to join the boys. She could still hear shrieks and laughter above the crackling fire. It reflected orange off the slow-moving water just beyond the shrub-covered point that separated the two beaches. Even her friend, Annie, had inched her way around to the main beach.

Robin waded along the soft, sandy bottom and hugged her cool shoulders. She was being ridiculous. She couldn’t just cower here all night long.

Everyone else seemed to be having fun. It didn’t sound as though the boys were taking advantage. The shrieks and screams mostly coincided with a huge, brightly colored beach ball soaring high above the treetops.

She took a couple of strokes toward the point. She was all alone, and the chilled water rushed over her sensitive skin as she glided across the surface. She intended to peek around the corner, just to see what they were all doing. Maybe she could unobtrusively join in at the edge of the group.

Leafy wild cranberry bushes clung to the point of land that separated the two coves. She drifted toward the voices. As she neared the end of the point, she could see Rose out in the deep water. Seth and Alex were treading water in attendance, playfully splashing her from several feet away. Annie and three other girls clustered together, crouched in the shallows.

A mosquito bit Robin’s neck. She slapped at it. Another stung her ear and she shook her head so her hair flung out in all directions. As if a signal had passed from bug to bug, she was suddenly surrounded by the whining insects. In danger of inhaling the pests, she ducked her head under the water and pushed away from the shore.

When she surfaced, the swarm quickly zeroed in on her again. Another deep breath and she was back under, swimming further away from the point, away from the voices and laughter, through the silent dark water. She didn’t surface again until her lungs insisted.

Then she burst up out of the water, gasping. The bugs were gone, but the current had caught her and pulled her to the far side of the girls’ beach. Robin sighed in exasperation, wishing she had just stayed home.

She stretched into a front crawl. She was a strong swimmer, but she made frustratingly slow progress through the cold water. It would be easier close to shore where the current was weak, but the memory of the hungry mosquitoes kept her twenty feet away from the bushes that harbored the swarms.

Her foot brushed a tree branch hidden under the water. It scraped and stung, and she gasped out loud. She put her feet down. Her toes squished through soft, sucking mud. She shuddered and jerked her feet back up, trying to not wonder about leeches.

She began rhythmically stroking through the water, thinking longingly of her big beach towel and Annie’s truck with the rolled-up windows. She kicked out a little further from shore. Her foot hit another deadfall tree. As she jerked away, her ankle was suddenly wedged tight in a tangle of branches, pulling her briefly under the water.

Great. She quickly surfaced and maneuvered around to pull her foot out from the opposite direction. Her ankle wrenched with the movement and she gasped.

A mosquito buzzed next to her ear. She batted at it, then gingerly felt along the slimy log with her other foot. She found a solid purchase and sighed in relief, balancing herself with small arm movements.

Her trapped foot throbbed a bit, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t seriously hurt. In any event, it was as good as packed in ice down there in the river water. She twisted it to the left. Nothing. Then she tried twisting it to the right. Still nothing.

She reached down along her bare leg until her hand found the branches. It was impossible to get a good grip without ducking her head under the water. So she ducked and pulled at the offending branch with all her strength.

It wouldn’t bend. It wouldn’t break. She surfaced again, wiping the water out of her eyes.

Should she call for help?

Wouldn’t that just be the most entertaining moment of the entire senior year? Eight boys all pawing around her naked body, trying to be the hero. Robin shuddered.

How long was it until a person became hypothermic in glacial water? She couldn’t remember what the first-aid manual said. Since she normally had total recall, was that a sign her brain was freezing?

She was overreacting. Goose bumps were forming on her skin and she was starting to shiver, but she was pretty sure she wasn’t in any immediate danger.

She ducked under the water once again, using both hands to try to free her foot. When she burst back through the surface she was no better off. Robin swore under her breath.

“Need some help?”

She nearly screamed at the deep voice directly behind her. She twisted around.

Jacob Bronson. The class geek. A rangy, slouch-shouldered, slow-talkin’ boy from the poorest family in town. His jeans were always too short, and he missed more school than he attended, working the pathetic piece of ground his father liked to call a farm.

“Uh.” She chewed her lip. It was pretty obvious she needed help here. And she didn’t think Jacob was dangerous. He might try to cop a feel, but then, so would Seth or Alex given the opportunity.

She was known as the Ice Princess because of her standoffish airs and habit of keeping all the boys at arm’s length. Though, in truth, it was more fear than superiority that kept her virtuous. Not that her reasons mattered. She could well imagine the prestigious bragging rights a guy would have for sliding his hands over a buck-naked Robin Medford in a rescue attempt.

Better one boy without an audience, she decided. One quiet boy at that. Though she strongly suspected even Jacob would break his silence to talk about this one.

It was settled then. Jacob was going to run his big rough hands along her naked legs.

She looked nervously up into his charcoal-blue eyes. He wasn’t laughing at her or leering at her. In fact, he looked genuinely concerned. She swallowed.

Her voice quavered as she answered his question. “Yes. Please.”

JACOB’S HANDS were gentle as they encircled her ankle. Of necessity, his cheek was in close proximity to her navel under the water.

She gazed up at the pale blue sky where a faint quarter moon bravely attempted to shine despite the midnight sun hovering just below the distant mountains. She tried valiantly to pretend this wasn’t happening.

Jacob’s cheek brushed her abdomen. She sucked in a frantic breath as a strange humming sensation worked its way along her limbs. The pressure of the tree branch lessened for a second, then snapped back. Robin jerked from the brief flash of pain.

Jacob surfaced. “Sorry.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay.” He was trying to be gentle, she could tell. She stared straight at his naked chest, wondering if succumbing to hypothermia might not be a better way to go. She was never going to live this down.

He clamped his jaw. “I’m, uh, going to have to…”

“What?” Please, oh, please, don’t let him go for help.

“Well…you see…” He raked a hand through his short-cropped hair. “I’ll have to wrap my arms around your leg…”

“So?” She was just relieved that he wasn’t going for an audience. She was beginning to worry that Annie would come looking for her.

“Just hurry,” she implored.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” He ducked under the water again.

The freshening breeze tangled her wet hair, chilling her face and scalp. She could feel his strong arms working their way around, no, between her legs. Her eyes widened.

His shoulder brushed her upper thighs. Her body hummed again. It felt… It felt…

She closed her eyes as her entire body seemed to convulse with longing. His fingers surrounded her ankle and his shoulder flexed enticingly. Then suddenly his body was rushing along the length of her, coming up for air.

He stood completely still, looking intently past her right ear at the black-green bushes on shore as he sucked in long breaths. Robin stared up at the droplets of water clinging to his dark, thick lashes. She felt flushed, warm, itchy. Her lips parted.

Suddenly she was in no hurry to get free. She wanted him to rub against her legs again. She liked the feel of his skin, the friction of the water.

He glanced hotly into her eyes for a split second before he dove. Abandoning any pretense of keeping their body contact to a minimum, his strong, sure hands explored her ankle and the branches surrounding it. His shoulders, neck and hair alternately rubbed and brushed her inner thighs and higher.

Her knees felt weak, and she reached down tentatively to steady herself. She touched his square shoulders, the shifting steel of his muscles, and suddenly felt safe. Here, trapped and naked in the Forever River, rubbing up against Jacob Bronson, and she’d never felt so secure in her life.

His ragged clothes and perpetual slouch had hidden a magnificent sinewy physique. Unable to stop herself, she let her hands slide down his upper arms. Bulging biceps flexed under her touch. His cheek rested against the top of her thigh, chin just barely brushing the downy curls.

Robin’s entire world focused on that insubstantial touch.

She felt her ankle slip free.

As he slowly surfaced she let her hands move with him, keeping her grip on his arms, telling herself it was so she wouldn’t fall.

She gazed into his eyes, then noted for the first time his coarse beard stubble. It was a marked contrast to the sparse facial hair of the other boys in the class. He was really quite handsome, in a rugged, dangerous sort of way. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed before.

His big hands gently closed around her rib cage and she realized her breasts were out of the water, puckered and exposed to his avid gaze. She shuddered, but made no move to conceal herself. A coyote howled on the mountainside. Its pups answered in short yips.

He was going to kiss her. She could see the longing in his eyes.

The longing transformed to determination, then resolve.

He slowly bent forward.

She tipped her head to accommodate him. His cold lips touched her softly. They warmed against her own. They opened. She followed suit, and his tongue pushed through. He tasted of mint and smelled faintly of spiced aftershave long diluted by the river water.

His arms wound slowly, inexorably, around her, and she pressed her long fingernails into his taut shoulder muscles, desperate to get closer. She felt him brace himself on the bottom against the rushing current. He was strong and sure and invincible.

He lifted her, holding her naked body flush against his own. She wound her arms around his neck, and felt her legs begin to encircle his hips. Steadying herself, she rationalized.

The roar of the river pounded in her ears. If there were any mosquitoes lingering, she sure didn’t feel them. All sensation was centered inside; hot pulsating waves of hormones propelling her toward the unknown.

He left her mouth and she whimpered in disappointment. But then he kissed her neck, slipped his hands lower to cup her bottom, and she tightened her knees against his hips.

“Robin?” His voice sounded strangled.

“Yes?” she hissed. A knot of tension coiled tighter and tighter inside her until all she wanted…all she needed…

He stroked one hand over the back of her head, pulling her tight against his shoulder. “You don’t want this.”

“What?” What was he talking about? She wanted this more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. She was his for the taking. He was beautiful and bold. He was the boy—no, the man—she’d waited for.

“Robin,” he rasped. “We have to stop.”

“No.” She burrowed her face into the crook of his neck, using her tongue to test the tiny droplets of water clinging there. He was delicious.

He pulled back with a gasp, thwarting her efforts. He looked her straight in the eye. There was intelligence, clarity and determination in that gaze. “You do not want this to happen.”

He was sending her away.

She slowly shook her head in an effort to stop him.

When he spoke again his harsh whisper was precise and implacable. “You’re Robin Medford. I’m Jacob Bronson. You do not want this to happen.”

She felt tears well up behind her eyes and she banged her clenched fist against his shoulder.

Because he was so right.

And because he was also so very wrong….

“Robin?”

It took her a split second to realize his voice was in the present, not the past.

She lifted her lashes to stare into the same pair of charcoal-blue eyes.

He hadn’t told a soul.

2

JAKE MET the confused vulnerability in Robin’s expression and had to steel himself against a wash of memories. The last time she’d looked at him that way she’d been naked in his arms, forcing him to use every single scrap of strength and valor he possessed to keep from making love to her.

In an instant he was transported back in time, to the beach, to the night before graduation. He swore he could hear the rush of the river, smell her lemon perfume, and feel her wet, silken skin heating under his fingertips.

The screen door opened with a bang.

“Robin?” Connie, Robin’s older sister and a frequent visitor to Forever, stepped onto the porch. “Oh, hi, Jake. Finished work for the day?”

Jake forced his gaze away from Robin and cleared his mind of the bewitching memories. He’d never been back to that beach. Not once.

He took a sharp, bracing breath of the evening air. Personal ads, marriage proposals—just when he thought life couldn’t get more surreal, Forever’s mystery woman turned out to be Robin Medford.

“I’m all done.” He answered Connie’s question.

“Jacob Bronson?” Robin seemed to come back to life. She laughed lightly, tucking her sandy-blond hair behind one ear with a trembling hand. “I didn’t recognize you at first.”

Well, wasn’t that just a boost to a guy’s ego? He’d been fantasizing about the woman for fifteen years, and she didn’t even remember him. Perfect.

“Grandma wants you to stay for dinner, Jake,” said Connie.

He supposed he should be gratified that at least one sister knew who he was. Connie pushed the sleeves of her multicoloured sweatshirt to her elbows and crossed her arms. Though she was only four years his senior, she had a habit of treating him as if he were one of her children.

“I don’t want to intrude.” He seized on a perfectly legitimate excuse to make himself scarce. Robin’s presence meant the entire Medford clan was together for the first time in several years. They probably wanted to be alone. Jake sure wanted them to be alone.

He’d have to be a very masochistic man to voluntarily sit across the dinner table from her. The woman didn’t even remember the kisses that had rocked his adolescent world and resonated for a decade and a half.

“Don’t be silly,” Connie said breezily, opening the door wider and gesturing for them to enter. “You’re practically family.”

With a small smile, Robin gracefully rose from the chair. She didn’t echo her sister’s invitation—probably because she didn’t care whether he stayed or not.

As she strolled toward the kitchen door, her wavy hair bounced and the worn denim jeans molded to her sexy thighs. His fingertips tingled with a tactile memory of those curves. He wrapped his hands into fists. From what he could see, her body hadn’t changed a bit.

He forced himself to curb the hormonal reaction. She hadn’t changed since graduation, not in looks and not in character. To her, he was still Jacob Bronson, class geek. And the Ice Princess was just as remote now as she’d ever been.

It was time to take a serious look at that stack of letters from the personal ad. Derek was right. Jake should hurry up and find a suitable wife. Then he could exorcise Robin from his psyche once and for all.

It was the logical thing to do—the safe thing to do. But as the woman of his dreams disappeared around the corner, all thoughts of logic and safety evaporated. And he knew if he didn’t get the heck out of Dodge this minute, he was in big, big trouble.

He glanced swiftly at Connie, hoping she hadn’t noticed the way his gaze lingered on Robin’s rear end. He raked a hand through his hair. “Sorry, Connie, but I can’t—”

“Grandma is not going to take no for an answer, Jake. You work too hard. Now get over there and find yourself a decent shirt. If you’re not back in five minutes I’m sending the boys after you.”

He shook his head. “Really, I—”

“I’ll send them over,” she threatened with a resolute lift of her chin. “And Grandma will be upset with you.”

He yielded to the inevitable with an inward sigh. “Yes, ma’am.” He definitely didn’t want to upset Alma May so close to her big birthday. And Connie’s boys, at eight, six and four, were capable of doing serious damage to the inside of his house.

The thought of pacifying his housekeeper after another round of the three musketeers was more than a little daunting. Sexy Robin versus an upset housekeeper. Definitely a no-win situation.

Connie’s indomitable stare tipped the balance to Robin’s side. Fine. He’d stay for dinner and make the best of it. Maybe if he worked her out of his system up front, he could cope with the rest of her visit. Then maybe he could get on with the rest of his life.

IT WASN’T HAPPENING. With Robin directly across the dinner table, he was definitely not working her out of his system. In fact, as her moist lips parted in another affectionate smile, she was rapidly working her way right back in. Sure, all that charm was directed toward her nephews, but Jake’s psyche didn’t seem to care.

He thought he’d had it bad in high school, but right now his lust meter was about to blow off the charts.

“Were they real lions, Auntie Robin?” Connie’s youngest son’s eyes widened.

Robin’s straight white teeth flashed in the candlelight. “They were real, Bobby,” she answered. Her finger absently traced the gold rim of her saucer as she recounted a recent trip to Kenya. “A mommy lion, a daddy and two cubs.”

“Were you scared?” Next to Jake, Bobby put down his dessert spoon and leaned forward.

“A little bit,” said Robin. Her blue-green eyes danced in a way that made Jake’s skin tingle. Their depth and clarity reminded him of the Forever River.

“But we were inside the truck. So we were safe.”

Connie cleared her throat. “Any other adventures you can tell us about before bed, Robin?” she asked pointedly. “I don’t suppose you’ve been to an amusement park lately.”

Robin picked up on her sister’s warning tone and smoothly switched gears to a less nightmare-inciting subject. “As a matter of fact.” She flipped her long hair back out of the way and started to remove her sweater in the warm room. “I haven’t been to any amusement parks. But I’ve always wanted to go down a water slide.”

Her confession brought an instant high-cut bikini visual to Jake’s mind and he shifted in his chair.

“We went on water slides last summer,” said Bobby on a near squeal.

“You did?” She did a credible imitation of surprise. “Why don’t you tell me about them?”

As Bobbie and his brothers chatted on, Robin finished removing her sweater and hung it on the back of her chair. Jake’s vision narrowed to a tunnel, and the boys’ voices faded to a faraway roar.

Her smoothly tanned shoulders and long graceful neck were revealed by a sleeveless white tank top. A gold locket danced against the scooped neckline as she moved. And the clingy fabric of the shirt delineated her breasts.

Jake’s memory kicked in, and he couldn’t help visualizing her breasts in excruciating detail. Sure it had been pretty dark, but he’d seem them once. Pale, full, coral-tipped, tight from the chilly water droplets that clung to her supple skin.

Oh, yeah. He’d seen them once. And that was more than any other man in Forever could lay claim to.

Not that Jake would ever lay that claim. He’d never even contemplated laying that claim. Well, except the one time. And he figured he could be forgiven for that particular impulse.

It was the day after they’d gone skinny-dipping. At the dinner following the convocation ceremony in the school gymnasium. Robin had sat there on a folding chair, as cool and composed as the Ice Princess she was reputed to be.

She’d swept her hair up, and wispy curls framed her face. Her makeup was subtle and flattering, and her snug black, spaghetti-strapped dress showed off high, pert breasts and softly rounded hips. She was the stuff teenage dreams were made of. At least she was the stuff Jake’s dreams were made of.

As he’d watched her from across the room, he’d willed her to glance his way, to make some small gesture to say he was no longer persona non grata in her eyes. He just wanted a small sign that she’d appreciated his chivalrous behavior.

He’d sat there alone in the ill-fitting worn suit he’d pilfered from his father’s closet. He entertained wild fantasies that she’d approach him, speak to him, privately thank him for calling a halt the night before, and let it be known they were friends.

But she hadn’t. And for one crazy second he’d been tempted to swagger over to Seth and Alex and the rest of the boys to recount it all.

She wouldn’t have denied it, couldn’t have denied it. Everyone in town knew that Robin’s neck turned bright red whenever she told less than the truth. He could have elevated his social status to the stratosphere with a few well-chosen sentences.

It was a big temptation for a misfit eighteen-year-old boy. But the thirty-two-year-old man was inordinately proud of his silence.

Across the dinner table, she laughed at something the children said. It had been the most noble moment of his life. Too bad she didn’t even remember.

“YOU MUST REMEMBER what that overpowering maternal urge feels like.” Robin pegged one of her nephew’s T-shirts on the clothesline behind her mother’s house. She ran her hand lovingly across the damp fabric of the tiny garment. Soon, she told herself. Soon she’d have tiny clothes of her own to wash.

“But I was already married,” said Connie. “I had somebody to support me and help me.”

“I don’t need anybody to support me.” Money was not an issue. “My promotion at Wild Ones will keep me in one city, and the salary is enough for anything we might need.” Including teeny, tiny clothes.

“I don’t just mean financial support.” Connie draped a voluminous bedsheet over the line. “I mean emotional support.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a very independent person.” Her job as a location scout for Wild Ones Tours took her all over the globe. She traveled alone, checking out potential adventure tours for the company to promote. She enjoyed the freedom.

“Well, you’ve never independently paced the floor at 2:00 a.m. with a crying baby in your arms.”

“I once stayed up for forty-eight hours straight, pacing nervously while I listened to lions roar.” She could handle sleep deprivation and emotional fatigue.

“It’s not the same thing.” Then Connie grinned. “Though it might be good training.”

“See?” Robin added a peg to an end of the bed-sheet, smoothing out the wrinkles with the palm of her hand. “I’m completely ready.”

“But the lions went away after forty-eight hours. Babies stay for years.”

“I know that.” Robin had considered her plan from all angles. She loved babies. She loved children. She was not going to end up a decrepit old maiden aunt to Connie’s boys just because she hadn’t met the right man during her child-bearing years.

“I’m only suggesting you wait a bit. You never know what’s right around the corner in life.”

“I’m thirty-two years old. The window of opportunity is closing. Have you read the statistics for child-bearing past thirty-five?”

“Women have babies as late as forty now.”

“It’s a much higher risk.”

“You read too much.”

“How old were you when you had Sammy?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“See.”

“But I was married.”

“This isn’t 1950. Women do not have to define their lives by their marital status.” Robin believed that. She really did. Sure, she’d like a father for her children. But she’d worked in more than thirty countries around the world, she’d met men of all shapes, sizes, ideologies and personalities. She’d never once found one she wanted to spend her life with.

She wasn’t getting married simply to be married.

“What are you going to tell Grandma?” Connie pegged up the last pillowcase and lifted the empty laundry basket, settling it at her waist.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Robin bit her lower lip, fixing a small wrinkle in the pillowcase. “I’ll probably make up a temporary boyfriend.”

“So she won’t know you had casual sex?” Connie quirked her eyebrows.

Robin hesitated. She wasn’t at all comfortable lying to her grandmother, but she was even less comfortable telling her the truth. “There’ll be nothing casual about it. It will be deliberate and effective.”

“Let me guess.” Connie turned and started for the short staircase. “You’ve read a book on this, too.”

“Of course.” Robin followed. “I’ve researched fertility and conception.” She had a basal body thermometer in her suitcase. She’d done her first temperature test run last month, and was doing another this month. She could identify her fertile time to within twenty-four hours.

Connie laughed. “I just hope you make sure your baby reads the same books you did. They tend to ignore the experts and do whatever the heck they want.”

“I read that, too.”

“Of course you did.”

“I’m ready for this,” Robin assured her sister. “I’m probably more ready for this than most married women.”

Connie sighed. Then she turned and lowered herself to sit on the stairs, setting the basket on the dry grass beside her.

“You know, you don’t always have to grab life by the throat and shake it until it gives you what you want.”

“That was a ridiculously obscure statement.” Intrigued, Robin sat next to her big sister.

“You’ve always been like that.”

“Like what?”

“Once you set your sights on the goal line, you don’t look to the right or to the left. You just blast along like a steamroller.”

“I’m efficient. I get things done.” There was nothing worse than wandering willy-nilly around an idea for months on end. Once you made a decision, you implemented it. Simple as that.

Connie leaned over and picked a blade of grass, twisting it in her fingertips. “Take Wild Ones, for instance. You decided working as a location scout for an adventure travel company was a great way to see the world.”

“It was.” Robin wasn’t getting her sister’s point. Her career with Wild Ones was an ongoing success. As an example of mistakes in life, it was rather pathetic.

“They needed pilots. You became a pilot.”

“So?”

“They needed translators. You learned Portuguese.”

“I don’t understand what you’re getting at. What’s wrong with learning Portuguese? These are all good things.”

“Everything you did, for years and years, was focused toward the goal of becoming a perfect Wild Ones employee.”

“I still don’t see this as a problem. So I’m focused? So I’m determined? It’s taken me a long way in life.” A gust of wind blew Robin’s hair across her face, and she swept the strands behind her ear.

“But you never give life a chance.”

“A chance to do what?”

“You never trust that there are people around you who might make good things happen. Good things that you never even knew you wanted. All I’m suggesting is that you slow down for a while and give fate a chance.”

Fate? Robin had tried fate once. Fifteen years ago in the Forever River. But Jacob Bronson had stopped her, thank goodness.

She still shuddered at the possible consequences of making love with Jake. She might have become pregnant at eighteen. Or worse, she might have imagined she was in love with him and stayed in Forever. She would have missed out on her education, her career, her life.

No. Fate couldn’t be trusted in the driver’s seat.

She blinked at Connie. “You want me to wander willy-nilly through life and let fate blow me around like a dried leaf?”

“It’s worked for me. I never would have met Robert if I hadn’t missed that plane to Seattle.”

“That was luck.”

“Call it what you want.”

“I don’t know, Connie. I can’t imagine myself hanging around international airports hoping to meet the man of my dreams.”

Connie chuckled. “All I’m suggesting is that you go with the flow once in a while. Let the wind take you.”

“Like a dried leaf?”

“You’re not a dried leaf.” Connie sighed and put an arm around Robin. “Just don’t get so focused that you miss an opportunity right under your nose.”

“I’ll try.” Robin’s gaze relaxed on the honey-warm logs of Jake’s new house. She and fate did not have a good track record.

“But whatever you decide,” said Connie. “You know you’ll have my full support.”

Robin’s chest constricted. She blinked quickly. “Thanks.”

“Mom!” Bobby shrieked from inside. “Sammy broke my truck.”

“Did not.”

“Did, too.”

“Did not.”

“In the meantime, think long and hard about having those kids.” Connie shook her head as she trotted up the stairs.

THE BOYS’ ARGUMENT subsided, and distant laughter drifted over from Jake’s property. Robin brought his house back into focus. Jake and three other people, two men and a woman, strolled past a neat row of square, quarter-acre horse pens.

She watched his confident, long-legged stride, and thought about fate. Had fate brought him to her that night in the river? Was it fate that had made her want him or fate that had made him stop?

Would she have become pregnant? Would she have fallen in love?

She shook herself. It was irrelevant, really. Since they couldn’t go back to find out.

Jake and his friends stopped beside a central corral. The chestnut stallion penned up inside circled, snorted and kicked exuberantly in the cool morning air.

Robin knew she should follow her sister and help make lunch for the kids, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Jake. He’d more than fulfilled the physical promise she glimpsed back then. Hard-muscled, he moved his big body with athletic grace and ease. If he ever wanted to leave Forever, she could probably get him a job at Wild Ones. Maybe he could model for their adventure brochures.

He swung up to the top fence rail, then tipped back his Stetson hat and raised his fingers to his mouth, emitting a shrill whistle. Horses from all over the ranch perked up their ears. There was a general shift of horseflesh in his direction. Robin stepped forward for a better view.

Good grief, she was just as bad as the horses.

The stallion in the corral cantered over, switching back and forth in front of Jake. Jake slowly lowered himself to the ground inside the corral. The people around him closed in and he was lost to view.

Then he was back. He was up on the horse. Hat settled firmly on his head, biceps bulging beneath his white T-shirt, he touched its flanks with his boot heels and the animal sprang off the ground.

Robin gasped, fighting an urge to rush forward.

The horse’s body arced. It came down hard, front hooves sending up a cloud of dust that gusted sideways across the pen. Then it immediately kicked its back legs toward the sky, haunch and shoulder muscles bunched and shifting with its rage.

Was the man out of his mind?

Jake’s sinewy muscles kept perfect pace with the angry animal. As he leaned back and elongated his body, Robin unconsciously tightened her muscles with him. His free arm trailed out to one side, rocking against the empty air in time to the movements of the horse. The horse’s hind legs barely touched the earth before they rebounded again. Each leap was higher than the last.

She willed him to stick to the animal’s back.

It changed tactics, crow-hopping sideways toward the fence as if it intended to scrape Jake off. She inched closer, pressing her legs together, as if the force of her concentration would help him stay put.

He held his seat. His rear end alternately connected with the horse’s bare back and defied physics by hovering above the shifting target as if they were cosmically connected.

The horse took a sudden twist. Several of its cohorts whinnied in apparent excitement and approval as Jake’s hat hit the dirt. Robin’s legs moved under her, quickening into a jog, stopping only when she came to the fence that separated the two properties. She gripped the smooth, painted rails, gaze riveted to the spectacle, prepared to leap over and use her first-aid skills if need be.

She cringed as the horse twisted again. Just when she thought Jake would win, the animal jerked to one side. Jake’s butt came down a split second too late. He clutched the air, then sprawled, facedown, sending up a dense cloud of brown dust.

Had he hit his head? It looked as if he’d hit his head.

Robin vaulted over the fence. The riderless horse bucked away, its mouth frothing and sweat glistening on its flanks. Sprinting across the field, she focused on Jake’s crumpled body.

Before she made it halfway, Jake leaped to his feet. He limped toward the agitated horse, stopping part way to lean down and retrieve his battered hat. He whacked it against his leg before settling it back on his head.

Robin kept running as he moved closer and closer to the wild animal. He held up his hands, speaking in a hollow, soothing baritone. The man was truly insane. The horse didn’t look soothed, it looked menacing and angry as it snorted and pawed the ground.

Still, Jake moved closer. Her mind raced. When was the last time she’d set a broken bone? Did the small Forever hospital have a doctor on site at all times?

When he came within arm’s reach of the wide-eyed beast, it stilled, twitching its ears and shaking its head. Robin cringed, preparing for a sudden flash of sharp hooves or snapping teeth.

On the opposite side of the corral, the three strangers noted her approach and smiled happily at her. They behaved as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Gasping for breath, she stopped at the raw wood fence of the corral.

To her surprise, the horse didn’t attack. Quite the contrary, it nuzzled Jake’s shirt pocket until he produced something that the horse promptly ate.

Robin rocked back on her heels. She had obviously missed something here. She was the only one who seemed even remotely upset. And that included the horse.

The audience burst into spontaneous applause. Jake turned toward them, removed his hat, and gave a deep bow. That sure didn’t seem like the action of a man who’d just defied death. He pushed his dark, wavy hair back off his forehead before replacing the hat.

Robin glanced from side to side, wishing she could slink back over the property line. Rodeo Jake had just been entertaining the crowd.

The youngest and tallest of the three spectators made his way around the corral toward Robin. He stopped in front of her and offered his hand. “Derek Sullivan. I’m a friend of Jake’s.”

“Robin Medford.” She accepted the neatly dressed man’s handshake. Nothing to do but brazen it out. Maybe they’d all assume she’d come over to watch the show.

He looked to be about her own age, but he definitely hadn’t grown up in Forever.

“Nice horse,” she said, nodding toward the animal, pretending she had a clue what she was talking about. Jake started across the corral toward them, his worn cowboy boots sinking in the soft dirt with each step.

“Dynamo’s as good as they come.”

If that was the case, Robin sure didn’t want to see a bad horse. “Is this what he does for entertainment?”

“Dynamo?”

“Jake.”

Derek grinned. “Only as a favor to me.”

Derek wanted Jake to get tossed off a wild bucking horse? Some friend. She glanced at the older couple. They had wandered over to admire a mare and foal.

“Hey, Robin.” Jake nodded, eyes narrowing quizzically as he came to a stop and placed one booted foot on the bottom rail. He probably wondered what she was doing here, since she’d made such a point of not engaging him in conversation last night. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

She wondered what the heck she was doing here, too. Her memories of their teenage encounter were so fresh and vivid, she actually felt embarrassed looking him in the eye. And she felt attracted. As attracted as she’d been fifteen years ago.

“Hi,” she returned, swallowing to combat the breathy sound of her voice. Dust didn’t usually turn her on. Neither did sweat, faded jeans or well-worn cowboy boots.

Jake cocked his head sideways, his expression becoming almost hesitant. “So, what did you think of the ride?”

Frightening. Insane. Gorgeous. Sexy. “The horse seemed a bit…frisky.”

Both men chuckled.

“We like ’em that way,” Derek offered.

“To each his own.” Robin wished her pulse rate would return to normal.

“You do know what I do for a living, right?” asked Jake.

“Not exactly.” She forced herself to concentrate on the lone cloud developing above the mountain peak. She knew he raised horses, but hadn’t given much thought to what he did with them in Forever. Tourist trail riding, she supposed. With really healthy tourists.

“I raise rodeo horses.”

“Rodeo horses? In Forever?” Her gaze zipped from the cloud to his face.

“Right here in Forever,” he said.

“Thanks for the demo, buddy.” Derek clapped Jake on the shoulder, releasing a small cloud of dust. Tiny particles clung to Jake’s face, accenting his beard stubble and highlighting the interesting lines crinkling the corners of his charcoal-blue eyes.

“See you later tonight. Nice to meet you, Robin.” Derek headed over to collect the older couple.

Jake waved his friend off with a nod.

He ducked between the fence rails, then straightened and leaned back, crossing his boots at the ankles. His familiar eyes caressed her, sending the pulse in her throat into overdrive. “So, Robin, what can I do for you?”

Several answers immediately blossomed in her mind. None of which she could voice.

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