The air was heavy and still, blanketing the farm in its heat. Emerald had no idea when this heat wave was going to break, but she hoped it was soon. Jackson hadn’t said anything, but he had to be worried about his crop. There hadn’t been any rain in about ten days and the ground was cracked and dry. What little grass there was around the house was brown with patches of green. The few flowers scattered around the patio were fine because she’d been watering them.
The screen door was pushed open and Jackson ambled out, glass in hand. He was shirtless and shoeless, wearing only a pair of faded jeans. He had a folder stuck under his arm and she could see the wariness in his eyes as he lowered himself into the chair next to her.
She laid her glass on the porch floor beside her chair. On their stroll home from the pond, he’d agreed to show her some of his photos. Emerald had to admit that she was curious to see his work, especially since she knew it wasn’t something he’d shared with anyone else.
She wiped her hands on her tank top, sensing Jackson following her movements with his eyes, staring at her nipples where they pressed against the thin fabric. There was a built-in bra, but it didn’t help. Seemed that whenever she was around him, her body had a mind of its own. She held out her hand.
Almost reluctantly, he handed her the folder. She had to tug slightly to get him to release it, and when he did, he quickly turned away, looking out over the rows of apple trees in the distance.
Emerald turned back the cover of the folder and stared at the first image. It was stark in black and white and showed the orchard in the dead of winter. Or rather, it pictured one particular tree. The branches were gnarled, the bark rough and dark in sharp contrast to the pristine white of the snow. There were no tracks, no dirt, no sign of life in the thick layer of snow.
It was breathtaking.
Taking her time, she flipped over the photo to reveal the one beneath it. This one was in full color. A squirrel was seated on a log, nut clasped tight in his tiny paws. His face was turned inquisitively toward the camera.
The next one was of the same apple tree from the earlier black-and-white shot. This one was full color and showed the tree in bloom. Apple blossoms covered it as the sun shone down upon it. The sky was an impossible shade of blue that could only be caught in that rare split second in nature.
On and on it went. One photo after another revealing sheer artistic talent. It wasn’t just the subject matter, but the way it was presented. It was, she knew, Jackson’s unique vision. It gave her an insight into the man and how he viewed the land he owned and worked. There was a depth of love and respect that was unmistakable.
She knew then that he’d never leave here.
Her heart ached as she came to the last picture. It was sunset from the porch she was sitting on. The vibrant colors of red, yellow, green, aqua and blue were all there as if painted by the hand of God. She’d never seen anything quite like it.
She closed the folder slowly and let it rest in her lap. She could feel the tension from the chair next to her. Turning slowly, she stared at Jackson, shaking her head. His lips firmed and he reached out for the folder. Her hand covered his, stopping him from taking the folder.
“I’ve never seen anything this beautiful in my life.” Her voice was husky with emotion, but she meant what she said. “No, that’s not quite right.” She struggled to find the correct words. “They’re more than merely beautiful. They’re compelling. They evoke emotion. God, Jackson.” She gripped his hand tight, her nails digging into him. “They’re incredible.”
One corner of his mouth quirked up. “All of that,” he teased.
She could tell he was uncomfortable with her praise and trying to make light of it. She wasn’t having that. “Yes.” She stared defiantly at him. “All of that and more. Whatever they’re paying you, it’s not enough.”
Jackson’s gaze softened, his hand slipping out from beneath hers as he cupped her jaw. Leaning forward, he touched his lips to hers. Unlike the tempest of passion at the pond, this was gentle, a kiss complete in and of itself rather than a prelude to sex.
Her bare toes curled into the plank floor beneath her feet. Her whole body seemed to sigh and relax. Being with Jackson felt right in a way that nothing else ever had in her life, except maybe her artwork. It was scary and exhilarating at the same time.
“Thank you,” he said simply and sincerely as he sat back. He stroked the curve of her jaw with his thumb before sitting back in his chair. She noted that he left the folder in her lap.
He sprawled in his chair, extending his long legs in front of him. His hands were resting lightly on his flat, tanned stomach and even at rest his biceps were huge. He was the picture of relaxation, yet she could see the slight tightening in his jaw and the tension in his muscles.
He turned his head and a lock of hair fell onto his forehead. He swiped it away with his hand, raking his fingers through his hair. It wasn’t overly long, but it was sexy. At least she thought it was. His blue eyes seemed even brighter against the dark tan of his skin. “When are you going to show me more of your work?” There was almost a challenge in his tone, as if he felt vulnerable and needed her to reveal a part of herself as well.
Without a word, she got up and handed him the folder before walking inside. In her bedroom, she grabbed her computer and went back outside. Jackson’s head jerked her way as she stepped back out. Ignoring him, she perched on the arm of his chair, turned on her laptop and brought up the files of her last collection. She plunked the machine in his lap so he could look his fill.
Her last work had a Middle Eastern flair to it, the colors and designs inspired by that ancient culture. Sapphire had taken her cue from it and created some lovely and exotic earrings, necklaces, chokers, bracelets, anklets and belly chains. The journals had been crafted with vibrant covers that would have fit quite nicely in some ancient desert palace. The cards and stationery had depicted some of the ancient gods and goddesses of the various cultures. Topaz had commissioned an entire line of specially scented candles and incense to be crafted especially for their store. It had been expensive, but it had been well worth it. The line had been a huge success and it was now a standard that they kept in their store year-round.
Jackson scrolled though the files, examining each and every piece. When he was done, he gave her a questioning look. She nodded, knowing what he wanted without him having to ask. He opened another folder and began to scan.
This was from the original Sisters’ Jewels collection. Each piece focused on the birthstone of the month. “This is all incredible.” She could hear the sincerity in his voice as he opened yet another folder and another. The last five years of her work was on there. She’d loaded it all on before she’d left home on the run. Not knowing how long she’d be gone, she’d wanted to have it all on hand in case she wanted to refer back to something she’d already done.
He opened a new file before she could stop him. They both froze. His hand seemed to tremble as he scrolled though the work. Or maybe it was her who was shaking. Her stomach was in knots and she nibbled nervously on her bottom lip.
“This is new.”
It wasn’t a question, but she answered him anyway. “Yes.” In the past few days the ideas had started flowing again. She put it down to the fact that she felt relaxed for the first time in weeks, if not months. It was only now that she was away, she’d admit that she’d been feeling burnt out and pressured these past few months. The phenomenal success of Sisters’ Jewels had put a strain on all the sisters to create something bigger and better.
The farm had inspired her. As was her habit, she’d sketched her designs on paper first. Since she didn’t have a scanner with her, she’d recreated her drawings on her computer using her art program. Along with the illustration, she’d added notes—colors, design possibilities and more. She was just getting started.