He grinned. “Yes. I remembered your sweet tooth.”
“Well, don’t keep me waiting. Where is it?”
“It’s in that big box you kicked.”
Amanda leaned down and ripped off the foil wrapping. “If I’ve destroyed one precious bite of chocolate, I’m going to be devastated.” She pulled out a Hershey bar with almonds, tore into the wrapper, and took a big bite. “Ummmm. Delicious.” She took another bite and rolled her eyes heavenward. “I’d die for candy.”
“You’d live on it if somebody didn’t remind you to eat right. Who does that now, Mandy?”
“Maxine. She plays mother hen to me all the time.”
“I’ll have to remember to thank her.” Tanner chuckled as he watched her reach into the box and attack another candy bar. He loved the way she nibbled the almonds, bit by tiny bit, savoring every piece. He never knew he’d be jealous of a chocolate bar. “What about me? Don’t I get one little bite?”
She leaned over and pressed a half-eaten bar into his mouth. He took his time, savoring the feel of her hand on his shoulder, the look of sunlight in her eyes, and the touch of her fragrant hair brushing against his cheek. He knew the sweetness he tasted was from her lips and not the candy.
“Enough?” she asked.
“I’ll never get enough.”
“Nor will I.”
Their breathing became harsh as his eyes asked, hers said yes, and they were caught up in the spell. Quicksilver and sun-kissed blue—searching, hungry, passionate, yielding. It was so like old times that the years of emptiness might never have been between them.
Amanda was the first to pull away. She scooted back to her side of the surrey. They were both trembling.
“I was talking about chocolate.”
“So was I.”
She figured one more lie wouldn’t hurt, and he figured Santa was going to leave a lump of coal in his stocking, anyway.
Tanner decided his sanity hinged on getting to the river. He’d always felt right in the presence of the Mississippi, at peace, somehow in tune with the elements of nature.
“Look. There it is, Amanda. The river.” He pointed as they rounded a bend in the road. “It takes your breath away, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. I’m glad we decided not to fight. It would have spoiled everything.”
“I’ve always like that about you, Mandy. You’re a woman with a healthy appreciation of nature and the good sense to recognize a beautiful moment.”
Tanner guided the surrey off the road and stopped underneath a cypress tree. He helped her down, his hands spanning her small waist. She felt soft and feminine and right. A sense of déjà vu swept over him. Still holding her, he closed his eyes and absorbed the fragrance of her—jasminy, sweet, sultry, and seductive, blending with the fertile smells of the sleeping winter earth and the pulsing river.
He opened his eyes and saw a lovely vulnerability in her face. Lord, she would be so easy to love again. It was something he wouldn’t think about right now. Today he would enjoy the moment.
“May I have this dance?”
She put her hands on his shoulders. “Delighted, Tanner.”
They danced beside the river, Tanner humming their favorite Gershwin tune, sunlight warming their skin, contentment warming their hearts.
“Someone to Watch Over Me. I haven’t thought of that song for years, Tanner.”
He loved the huskiness of her voice, the way the sunlight gilded her skin, the way she fit perfectly against him, as if she and she alone were designed to be there.
“Sing with me, Mandy, love.”
Their voices lifted in beautiful harmony. It was a perfect beginning for a perfect day beside the river. They danced until they had exhausted their repertoire of Gershwin songs. Then Tanner spread a quilt under the cypress tree and they stretched out in the sunshine to watch the river traffic. Their talk was lazy and contented, two old friends catching up on the small details of their separate lives. They skirted the painful issues, careful not to mar the tranquility by any mention of Claude. They talked about Amanda’s antique shop and Tanner’s latest venture, a chain of restaurants. She asked about the Donovan Home for Children he’d founded, and he asked about the Legacy for Learning she’d helped organize in Fulton.
As the sun climbed higher, they shed their lightweight sweaters and rolled up their sleeves.
“Feel that sunshine, Amanda.”
“Umm. Delicious.”
“Almost like summer.”
“Yes, but with a little nip in the air.”
“God’s endorsing this picnic.”
“It’s a pity He didn’t remind you to bring real food.” She laughed as she reached for another Hershey bar.