Page 31 of Save the Dance

He looked down the corridor toward his office. An afternoon of sunshine and fresh air held a definite appeal over the paperwork that awaited him. “I suppose.”

“Oh, good! Look, here.” The cook thrust the picnic basket in his direction. “I packed a lunch for you. All your favorites.” Connie’s eyes filled with a conspiratorial glint. “There’s more than enough for two.”

Jason blinked. His eyes widening, he studied the woman who’d run the kitchen of the Captain’s Cottage his entire life. Connie had given his hand a good-natured tap whenever he’d tried to grab a second fistful of cookies from the counter after school. When he’d been sick with a cold or the flu, she’d brought him chicken soup and milky tea with lots of sugar. She was more than an employee. She was family. But in all the time they’d known each other, she’d never once tried to play the matchmaker. Until now.

“You think I should ask Tara to come along?” he asked, bemused.

“I wouldn’t presume to choose your company for you, Mr. Jason.” Connie dried her hands on her apron. “You just make sure you come back with that basket full of strawberries.”

He slanted a smile at her retreating figure. “Yes, ma’am.”

It took less cajoling than he’d expected to convince Tara to join him. “Thanks for coming with me,” he said as he pulled off the highway at the sign to The Right Berry Farm a short while later. “I hated to take you away from your research.”

“Oh, I didn’t mind. I probably shouldn’t admit this, but the captain’s logs make me sleepy.” Tara crossed one slim leg over the other. “Besides, Manhattan’s not known for its berry patches. I’m looking forward to spending some time in a garden. My folks grow a lot of their own vegetables for the restaurant. I miss that.”

“Spent a few hours picking beans, did you?” He shot her a quick grin while he parked the car between two mini-vans.

“Planting, watering, weeding, picking—my sisters and I did it all. We grew everything from beans and tomatoes to strawberries and melons. And herbs, of course.” She examined her fingertips. “I’d like to have a garden of my own one day. Not a huge one like theirs, but enough to have something fresh-picked for dinner once in a while.” Slowly, she lowered one hand to the door handle. “That’s probably not going to happen in New York, though.”

“I hear you. When I lived in Boston, I was constantly on the go and couldn’t keep a houseplant alive. Rhode Island is so green in the summer. I love that about living here. You ever think of moving out of the city?”

For a long minute, Tara stared out the car window at the orchards, corn fields, and gardens that covered the gently rolling hills. She gave her head an emphatic shake. “Weddings Today has their headquarters in New York. Almost all the magazine’s staff lives there. If I get this next promotion, I’ll be able to move to a slightly bigger apartment, but that’s about as good as it’s going to get for the foreseeable future.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed. Tara had paused a bit too long before insisting that her ties to the city were permanent. Wondering what that was all about, he set the brake. He’d circle back to the topic later. “We’d better get started. Connie will have my head if I come back empty-handed.”

Car doors thumped shut, and they stepped out into the warm summer air. In front of them, pavers formed a path that led to a low-slung farmhouse. Vines climbed the support columns and clung to the eaves above the porch. Nestled among the leaves, bronze hedgehogs perched on cement stands. The sun felt good on his shoulders as he guided Tara up the walkway to a shady spot where rocking chairs beckoned guests to sit and enjoy the view. The rustic building housed products by local artisans. He skirted it, instead steering them around to the back. He and Tara took wicker baskets from conveniently placed stacks and followed signs for the strawberry patch. They didn’t stop until they were a dozen rows past the nearest clump of children, who ate as much as they picked under the watchful eyes of young mothers.

“Now, this reminds me of home.” Tara flung her arms wide, her T-shirt stretching across her chest.

“You miss it? Savannah?” It had been tough enough for him to move away from all that was familiar, but at least he’d known his stay in Boston was temporary. It must have taken a lot of courage and determination to move to a strange city on her own, but he wasn’t surprised that she’d succeeded. He’d already decided that Tara was an amazing woman. Especially right now when she stood in the sunshine wearing shorts and a T-shirt above a well-broken-in pair of running shoes. He busied himself with their baskets, refusing to give in to an urge to wrap his arms around her in a move that wasn’t nearly as platonic as he told himself it should be.

“I do, but …” Her hands dropped to her sides.

“But?”

“My folks weren’t exactly thrilled when I chose a career in journalism over the family business. Though they’d never admit it, I’ve always felt like they’re waiting for me to get this ‘writing thing’ out of my system and come back to work for them.”

“Doing what? You said one of your sisters is a chef, and the other runs the front of the house.” He searched for names and gave himself a pat on the back when he recalled them. “Lulu and Gloria, right? Where would you fit in?”

Tara held up empty palms. “I keep asking the same question. I guess they’d put me to work waiting tables. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s not exactly my dream job.” Her shoulders slumped. “Plus, I’d always be the little sister who couldn’t make a go of it in the big city. That’s one of the reasons this promotion is so important. It’s my chance to finally prove I was right to follow my dreams.”

“Well, I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

“You’ve done so much already.” Tara’s hand brushed his forearm. “I’m not sure how I’ll ever repay you.”

Her touch sent warmth coursing up his arm and across his chest. Deliberately, he studied the field. “You can start by picking some berries.” To give his hands something to do besides reach for Tara, he twirled his empty basket by the handle. “We’re looking for the biggest, ripest ones we can find.”

“Of course. Only the best for Heart’s Landing’s newlyweds.” Tara slanted a grin up at him. “I saw a sign for hand-churned ice cream. Last one to finish pays?”

Oh, so she was competitive, was she? Deciding that was another trait he liked about her, he raised the stakes. “Double dips. The Rights use an old family recipe. It’s the best ever.”

“You’re on. Let’s find a good spot.”

Hand on one hip, Tara cast a critical eye at the low green plants that stretched a hundred yards or more into the distance. A few ripe berries poked out from beneath the closest leaves. Declaring their immediate area picked over, she started moving at a good clip. Layers of straw mulch crackled under their feet until they reached the middle of the field. At last, Tara hunched down beside a plant laden with large, luscious berries. Deftly, she plucked one and held it up for him to examine. “These are nice.”

Seeing her kneeling on the ground, her long legs tucked gracefully beneath her, her ponytail curling softly over one shoulder, the sun gently kissing the top of her head, Jason felt his heart lurch. Steady now. Tara might be smart and kind and make him smile more than he had in a long time, but Heart’s Landing was only a temporary stop on her road to success. Falling for her wasn’t just a bad idea, it was a terrible one. Still …

“Jason? What do you think? Ready to pick?”

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