Free Judgement By Fire by Glenys O'Connell

old-fashioned milk jug that held them
together near the easel.
    Everything was
ready now for her dive right in to work once she got home from visiting Lucy at
the hospital. No excuses for procrastination—to the easel the minute she
walked in the door, she promised herself.
    That left
enough time for a little treat. Feeling light-hearted in a way she refused to
try to explain to herself, she pulled on her parka, slid her feet into boots,
and poured two huge cups of coffee. Stuffing two cereal bars into her pocket,
she made her way out through her back door, across the small porch, and into
the woods.
    She wasn’t
disappointed. Jon Rush was just packing the last of his gear into the back of
the Jeep when she came into the clearing, and her heart raced as she saw his
face glow with pleasure at the sight of her.
    “Thought the
least I could do was bring over a hot coffee to a neighbor,” Lauren smiled,
offering him one of the mugs. “And voila! Breakfast!” she added dramatically,
producing one of the cereal bars with a flourish.
    He took both
gratefully, and his dark eyes held a deep look which made her pulses pound
fiercely in a way which had nothing at all to do with the impromptu breakfast.
She found she had to look away for fear of betraying her own desires.
    He was wearing
a flannel shirt beneath a thick Aran style sweater in a natural color, which
accentuated his own blondness and highlighted the dark blue of his eyes. Old
jeans, soft with age and wear, stretched tight over a neat butt and strong
thighs as he reached down to lift a sports bag and stow it in the back of the
vehicle along with his camping equipment.
    Lauren stood
watching, her artist’s eye taking in form and color as though she wished to
store it away forever. His voice startled her as, coffee in hand; he closed the
rear door and turned to her.
    “So, the truce
still holds?” His voice was deep and mellow, flowing over the snow-scattered
landscape like maple syrup.
    Lauren had
many times watched maple toffee made at festivals, the hot syrup dripped over
snow, cooling almost instantly to a thick, sweet toffee consistency snatched up
and devoured by gleeful children. She’d snatched up her own fair share, too, and
now she found herself wondering if that warm, sexy voice would leave the same
sweet taste on her lips. She fought down a wicked desire to stand on tiptoe and
raise her mouth to his to find out.
    Then he was
smiling at her and she felt a slow flush rise to her cheeks from her neck as
she saw in his look that he’d read something of her thoughts and shared them.
Momentarily they stood, frozen in ice-fire in the forest, their faces inches
away from each other, lips parted, eyes locked. With a great effort, Lauren broke
away, reaching out to take his now empty cup and berating herself for her
treacherous thoughts.
    But as their
fingers touched, the feeling caught again and Jon, looking bemused, bent his
head to capture her lips with a heat so brief like the touch of sunlight
through dappled clouds, caught and lost again like quicksilver.
    “No, the truce
is over,” she heard herself saying, trying to match his light-hearted mood, but
struggling with a heartbeat gone into overdrive. “I really think it’s time for
us all to get back to our real lives. There’s really nothing more to be said.”
    Lauren tried
for a note of finality. Coming out here like this had been a mistake, fuelled
by an overwhelming desire to see him once more in this rarefied space before
the reality of their individual lives came crashing in again on them both. As
she turned to go, she heard him speak softly and her knees felt suddenly weak.
    “No, Lauren,
you’re wrong. We have lots to say—when the time is right.”
    She turned
back towards him, wanting to tell him that they were too different and that any
further interaction was pointless. Before she could speak, Jon slipped lithely
into the driver’s seat and, with a brief salute of his hand towards her,