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  Both of them went to the waterfall and washed their hands and faces, then drank mouthfuls of the cool water. Slowly, Jake started to ache a little less, and his self-consciousness faded. They put on their tennis shoes silently. Harper sat cross-legged on the blankets when she was done. Her nose wrinkled.

  “What’s wrong?” Jake asked her warily.

  “I smell,” she said.

  “Like peaches,” he mumbled under his breath, tying his shoe off extra hard. He froze. His eyes widened at the recognition of his misstep.

  “Huh?”

  “Nothing,” he muttered.

  “I wish I could take a bath,” she said longingly, staring at the opening to the cave in the distance. Pale morning light was starting to shine through the small hole in the rocks.

  “I brought some soap. I could give you some privacy and you could wash in the waterfall. Water’s ice cold, though.”

  “I don’t care,” she said, sniffing in the direction of her armpit and scowling.

  “I have another idea,” he said, standing. “It should be safe. One thing I know for sure, Emmitt don’t get up until way after dawn, even when he’s tracking. It’s like his brain doesn’t function in the early morning. We probably have an hour or more to do it, and then to get back here under cover.”

  “Do what?”

  He nodded toward the back of the cave. “If Emmitt ever did track us here, we’d have to make a fast escape. There’s a small opening onto a river cliff, back there in the second cave.”

  “There’s a second cave?”

  “Yeah. The entrance to the second cave is even smaller than that one.” He nodded toward the sunlit hole. “Emmitt couldn’t get through it, but we could.”

  Harper smiled. “There are advantages to being small.”

  He turned his head, afraid she’d notice his cheeks color. She was grinning gamely, and clearly hadn’t realized how her offhand comment about his size pained him.

  “Are you afraid of heights?” he asked her.

  Her smile faded. “A little. Why?”

  “Because the only way off the cliff is through the cave, or over the edge. But the New River is nice and deep below. It’s safe. I’ve jumped the cliff six, maybe seven times,” he assured when he saw her eyes widen with anxiety.

  “How far is the jump?”

  “Thirty, thirty-five feet at most.” Was it his imagination, or did she go pale? “See, the thing is, if we practice it early this morning, we’ll know we can do it,” he explained in a rush, feeling like he was losing her cooperation by the second. “That way, our escape plan will be in place. We’ll know that even if Emmitt walked right up to this cave, we could get away from him. Plus . . . you’d get your bath. We could bring some soap.” He added the last lamely.

  “I don’t know. It sounds scary. Besides, you said that you don’t think your uncle could ever find us here.”

  “I don’t think he will. But we have to be ready for the small chance that he does.”

  She bit at her lower lip anxiously. Her lips reminded him of the color of ripe strawberries. They looked so pretty next to her copper-colored hair.

  “Can’t I just jump if Emmitt ever comes?” she asked, her voice sounding squeaky.

  “How’s this? We’ll just go out onto the cliff, and you can see what it’s like,” he said. He was worried—now more so, seeing her nervousness about heights—that she’d freeze if Emmitt actually did show up. Her anxiety could cost them precious seconds, and those seconds, their lives. If she practiced and was confident she could do the cliff jump, it’d make a big difference.

  When she didn’t respond immediately, he planted a confident, it’ll be all right, you’re making it into a bigger deal than it is expression on his face.

  “Okay, but I’ve got to pee first.” He nodded as if it were no big deal for a pretty girl to talk to him about peeing. With Harper, he realized it actually wasn’t.

  • • •

  After they’d both relieved themselves in different parts of the cave, Jake led her farther back to what he called the “second” cave. He kept a flashlight stashed behind a rock at the entrance. He used it now, so as not to waste any of the batteries from the two flashlights he’d put in their backpacks.

  “Oh, look!” Harper exclaimed in a hushed tone of admiration when the beam of light lit up the cavern surprisingly well. “Stalactites and stalagmites.”

  Jake smiled at her excitement, remembering the first time he’d discovered the inner portion of the cave. Compared to the boring and bare outer cave, it’d been like entering a beautiful, alien world. “You know the difference between them?” he challenged her.

  “’Course,” she sniffed. She pointed up. “Those are stalactites and those”—she pointed down—“are stalagmites.” She glanced over at him. He just arched his brows. “Wait. At least I think so. Isn’t that right?” she trailed off uncertainly when she saw his doubtful expression.

  “Do you want me to tell you the right answer?”

  “Yeah. I mean no,” she corrected when he grinned broadly. She shoved him in the shoulder. “I knew I was right,” she accused.

  “Then what were you so worried about?”

  He started to turn off the flashlight—the small opening to the cliff was twenty feet above them now, and light streamed into the darkness. Something caught his eye next to the rock fall of stones and dirt leading to the cliff. He moved away from Harper, shining the flashlight into a dim corner.

  “What’s wrong?” Harper whispered behind him.

  “Nothing,” Jake said, hiding his concern at the sight of a large animal’s scat. He didn’t want Harper worrying about yet another thing. The cliff jump was going to be challenge enough for now. That, and getting her up there to begin with.

  He turned off the flashlight and moved next to her. The small opening was twenty feet above them. He climbed up several feet onto the rock pile, extending his hand to Harper.

  “You made me doubt myself about the stalactites and stalagmites,” she accused, taking his hand and following him up the craggy limestone rock and dirt spill without hesitation. “All that talk yesterday about me being a city girl and everything. Lead feet,” she grumbled under her breath as they climbed.

  “If the lead shoe fits . . . ,” he said, hauling on her weight with his hand. She came to a halt, three-quarters up the rock pile. She looked stunned.

  “You’ve got a sense of humor.” Her smile made his stomach do a little flip-flop. He frowned to hide that fact.

  “What, you think a hillbilly can’t make a joke?” he grumbled, climbing up the remaining rocks.

  “That’s got nothing to do with it,” she defended, following him, clearly determined to make her point. “You’re so smart about being on your own, and surviving in the woods. My dad would say you’re right-brained. That means you know how to work things mechanically.”

  “And that I don’t get jokes?” He hauled her up on the long, narrow rock next to where he crouched. The small opening was just a few feet above them.

  “No. Stop twisting my words around.”

  “Do you want to go first?”

  “What?” she asked, blinking. She glanced around them, blanching when she noticed how far they’d climbed up the jagged rock spill. “Oh, crap.” She reached, clutching desperately at the edge of the opening above them for balance.

  “If it bothers you, stop looking,” Jake said firmly. “Look where you’re going, not where you’ve been.” He pointed up at the sunny opening and put his hand on her back. “Go on.”

  “But . . .”

  “Just do it,” he said, pushing on her back. “It’s not hard to pull yourself out. I’m coming right after you.” When she wavered in the hole, he firmed his resolve. He pushed on her butt hard. She disappeared with a surprised squawk.

  He followed her fleetly thr
ough the opening. She was on her hands and knees on the sunny cliff, her head turned, her aquamarine eyes flashing fire.

  “It got you up here,” he stated simply, coming to his feet. He reached for her hand as a form of apology. Her expression of outrage melted to one tinged with wonder. Slowly, she fell back onto her haunches and took his hand. He hauled her up.

  “You were messing with me so that I wouldn’t notice how high we were on those rocks, weren’t you? You really do know more than just how to take care of yourself and math. I think my dad would want to meet you,” she said once they stood facing each other, their hands remaining clasped.

  He rolled his eyes to diminish the warmth that rushed through him at her compliment. She smiled at his flash of embarrassment, all her fury forgotten. She glanced to the side.

  “Oh, shit.”

  She lurched toward the cliff, jerking him with her. She’d seen the drop-off to the gorge. Her face had gone pale as paper, making the light freckles on her nose appear even more pronounced. She pressed her back to the cliff wall.

  “Harper—”

  “I’m not jumping off that ledge,” she declared hotly. “That’s not thirty feet!”

  “Yeah, it is,” he reasoned, sensing he was losing her. “The hills and the canyon make a kind of . . . of . . . an optical illusion.” Yeah, that’s it. “It fools the brain into thinking the river is farther down than it is.”

  “Really?” She cast a wary glance over his shoulder in the direction of the gorge. He’d guessed she’d be convinced by anything that had to do with the brain and psychology, given the way she seemed to hold her dad up on such a tall pedestal. Jake wasn’t above using that knowledge to convince her.

  “Yeah,” he insisted, tugging on her hand. She straightened, leaving the wall but refusing to move her feet and get closer to the ledge. Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending upon Jake’s frantic, bewildering feelings about her—that meant that she stood very close to him.

  “I can’t jump off that cliff, Jake,” she said solemnly, holding his stare.

  “You don’t have to. We’re going to do it together.” He put his hands on her hips. They felt round beneath his hands . . . such an incredible, mesmerizing swell of flesh. How could a girl be so different than a boy?

  “Like this?” she asked shakily, putting her hands below his waist, mirroring his hold on her. She stepped closer.

  He nodded, unable to speak for a few seconds.

  “Except tighter. I won’t let go of you, Harper.”

  She glanced soberly to the right. The ledge of the cliff was three feet away.

  “I promise,” he added.

  He felt her fear bubbling just beneath the surface.

  “Okay,” she finally said reluctantly.

  He let out a sigh of relief.

  “Wait,” he said when she started to shuffle cautiously over the ledge, her face pale.

  “What?”

  “We . . . we have to . . . we have to take our clothes off first—or at least some of them,” he said in a desperate burst. “I only had room in the packs to bring us one extra shirt, some socks, and some extra underwear for me, but I didn’t have any for—”

  “For me. I know,” she said, her cheeks coloring. She looked down at his chest. “It’s weird, wearing jeans without underwear. Your jeans,” she mumbled under her breath.

  “Sorry.”

  She looked up at him. “It’s not your fault. I know you just want to do this because you don’t want me to freak out if—” She blew deliberately out of her mouth. “Right. So we’ll take off our jeans, since they’re the only bottoms we’ve got.”

  “And our socks and shoes,” he said. “They pop off in the water. Trust me.”

  “We’ll go in with everything else on. The clothes will get a wash that way, just like us,” she said, attempting to sound firm and practical, but still coming off shaky. Jake got the impression it helped her, to make some of the decisions on her own.

  “Yeah, okay,” he agreed. For a few seconds, they both hesitated self-consciously, still embracing each other. Then they stepped back at once. Jake kicked off his tennis shoes and pulled off his socks, keeping his head lowered. After he’d removed his jeans, he dared to look up cautiously. She was standing there looking as serious as a judge, clutching the edge of his Mountaineers T-shirt against pale thighs. His gaze dropped over her naked legs without him telling it to. He’d never thought about legs being pretty until Harper.

  “Ready?” he asked gruffly, stepping toward her. He’d never been more self-conscious in his life, but he knew he couldn’t come off that way. He knew that jumping off the cliff was a relatively easy maneuver. At all costs, he needed to make Harper feel some of his confidence.

  She just nodded and stepped toward him. He’d heard the phrase heart in your throat before. He saw Harper’s neck convulse thickly, and thought that’s what she must be experiencing. He determinedly put his hands on her waist, again feeling that amazing swell of her hips.

  “We have to get next to the ledge,” he said, holding her stare.

  She nodded, but looked unwilling.

  He edged them over carefully. Her head turned. She whimpered softly as they neared the drop-off.

  “Don’t look at that. Look at me,” he said sharply.

  Her gaze darted to his face. He saw her wild anxiety.

  “It’s gonna be fine. I’ve told you how many times I’ve done this before. You know how to swim, don’t you?” Why didn’t you ask her that before, idiot?

  “Yes. I’m a good swimmer. I’m on swim team.”

  “Okay. Then there’s no problem. Keep looking at me. Over just a few more inches . . .” He scooted them closer to the cliff. Her stare on him now was focused, like it was a lifeline she was clinging onto. Her face looked pale and rigid with fear.

  “Put your hands on me,” he said when they’d come to a halt.

  She grasped onto his waist tightly.

  “Come closer,” he said.

  She hugged him. Their fronts sealed tight. Her breath tickled his nose and lips. Her small, round breasts pressed against his chest, the tips pointed and hard. He opened his mouth to instruct her—

  “Your eyes are so pretty.”

  “What?” he asked hoarsely, startled.

  “Your eyes.”

  He grimaced in disbelief. “They’re like that river down there. Muddy brown-green.”

  “Maybe your mirror at home is dirty. There’s gold in them, and flecks of green and brown. And they’re as clear as a clean stream.”

  He felt his body hardening, which horrified him. If they didn’t do this now, she was going to notice.

  “We’re going to jump out from the cliff as far as we can and fall with our feet straight down. Do you understand? Harper?” he asked when she didn’t respond for a moment, still staring fixedly at him. She blinked. “Don’t hesitate on your jump, or we might fall too close to the cliff. That’s dangerous. You gotta jump, all or nothing. Fall feetfirst, straight into the water. Got it?”

  “Jump as far as out from the cliff as I can. Feet straight in the water,” she repeated.

  “Okay. On the count of three,” he said loudly.

  She pressed even closer to him, so that he swore he could feel her heart frantically beating into his chest. His own started to hammer in tandem with it.

  “One, two—

  “Don’t let me go.”

  “I won’t let go,” he vowed, clutching her to him for all he was worth. “Three.”

  They leapt in together. The earth fell away. His stomach dropped seemingly faster than his body. Harper gave a muted squeal. He kept his eyes open as they free-fell, gauging how far they were from the cliff face. He had a fleeting impression of her copper-colored, streaming hair, clamped eyelids, and pale face. Just before they hit the surface of the water,
she opened her eyes.

  The image seemed to burn into his brain. He saw it even as they plunged into the New River and his eyelids sealed shut as water jetted around them.

  He saw it still, twenty years later: Harper’s gaze glued to him with a fierce, desperate trust.

  twenty-two

  Present Day

  Being more familiar with San Francisco in comparison to Tahoe, she thought she knew what to expect as far as a Sea Cliff mansion. She’d dated a ridiculously narcissistic hedge fund investor for a short period—a very short time—whom had lived in Sea Cliff. Over the years, she’d also attended a handful of cocktail and dinner parties in the affluent San Francisco neighborhood.

  Of course, none of that actually prepared her for Jacob’s home. It was located on the farthest point of a promontory where it sat in solitary grandeur, commanding a breathtaking view of the Pacific Ocean. It was entirely made of white limestone, its stark silhouette creating a striking contrast to the dark cliffs and the periwinkle blue of the Pacific Ocean. While his Tahoe compound was warm, rustic sophistication, the Sea Cliff home was cool, sleek grandeur. They were greeted at the front door by a short, stocky woman in her forties who seemed to brim over with a sense of enthusiastic purpose, and an older, attractive woman who struck Harper as elegant, cautious, and sedate.

  “Harper McFadden, I’d like you to meet Jenny Caravallo, my admin here in San Francisco, and Marianne Holstein, my house manager,” Jacob introduced briskly as they entered a white dome-ceilinged entry hall and the chauffer bustled around them with their luggage.

  Both women greeted them warmly. Jenny’s energy couldn’t be contained in polite greetings for long, though. She almost immediately launched into the latest happenings with the ResourceSoft acquisition difficulties. Jacob put up a hand, and she halted midsentence.

  “Excuse me. Marianne? Would you show Harper to my suite? We have a dinner reservation in . . .” He looked at his watch and scowled. “A little over an hour.”

  “Of course. Follow me,” Marianne said to Harper with a smile.

  Harper glanced back at Jacob. He was listening to Jenny, but he looked up and met her stare, a trace of annoyance and apology in his eyes. Harper smiled her assurance. She’d been expecting him to be bombarded with work once he crossed the threshold. He’d asked her to San Francisco because of a work complication, after all.