Detour Ahead. Cindi Myers

walked out farther, and struck a ballerina’s pose, balanced on one leg. His heart pounded as she teetered back and forth. He checked the water—it looked deep under where she stood. Did she know how to swim? Would he have time to save her in the swift current? “Come back before you fall,” he said, his voice gruff.

      She laughed, a musical sound in harmony with the cadence of the tumbling water. Sunlight spotlighted her hair and touched her skin with gold. “Come and get me!” she called.

      He told himself he wouldn’t let her bait him. He would turn around and go back to the car and wait for her to follow. They didn’t have time for silly games like this.

      But the next thing he knew, he was taking one tentative step out onto the log, and then another. The moss was cool and slick beneath his feet, but he could feel the rougher bark beneath it. He kept his eyes on her, telling himself not to look down. She beckoned, like some wild water sprite. “We’d better go,” he said, even as he continued feeling his way toward her. “We have a lot of miles to cover.”

      “We needed a break.” She turned her back on him and walked even farther out on the log.

      He decided he really would turn around now. What did he think he was going to do when he reached her anyway? He’d already decided giving in to the desire she stirred in him was a bad idea.

      He started to pivot to face the other direction, but as he did so, he felt the log shudder, and out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of windmilling arms.

      In an instant, he lunged forward and caught her, steadying her against him even as he fought to stay upright himself. Heart pounding, breath coming in gasps, he clung to her until they were both still. The only sounds were the rasp of his own breathing and the gurgle of the creek as it slid beneath their makeshift bridge.

      She smiled up at him, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. “Thanks,” she said. “I guess my sense of balance isn’t much better than my sense of direction.”

      “You’re crazy, you know that?” he asked.

      She nodded. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

      She had movie-star eyes, dark and impossibly luminous. Looking into them, he forgot all about the miles they had to cover or the disaster they’d narrowly avoided. All his senses were focused on the feel of her in his arms. She was the stuff of bedroom fantasies and early-morning dreams.

      “Are you going to stand there staring, or are you going to kiss me?”

      Her voice was breathy, as beckoning as her gestures had been moments before.

      His lips were on hers before she’d finished speaking. She tasted like fresh fruit and peppery watercress. She rose on tiptoe, angling her lips more fully against his, opening to him, her tongue teasing across his teeth. He slipped both hands behind her neck, his fingers sliding up into her hair as he deepened the kiss, losing himself in the sheer pleasure of the moment.

      The sound of a car door slamming shattered the spell she’d cast over him. He flinched, and braced one foot behind him on the log to keep from falling. Marlee opened her eyes and blinked. Voices were approaching. “Looks like we have company,” he said.

      She nodded, and slipped out of his arms, avoiding his gaze. A blush stained her cheeks the color of ripe strawberries. Still clutching her hand, he led the way off the log, but she broke away from him as soon as they were on land again, and headed for the picnic table, where she began gathering the remains of their lunch.

      He stopped to collect their shoes from the bank, then followed more slowly, letting himself cool down a little. What exactly had happened back there, other than the closest thing he’d ever known to spontaneous combustion?