She didn’t look away. “Agreed. Let’s talk about something else—anything else. I could use a break and a little distraction right about now.” Anna inclined her head toward the door of the Carlisle farmhouse. “Simone’s finally sleeping, and so is the baby, so we need to be extra quiet.”
“That’s no problem.” He could think of lots of distracting ways to occupy their lips that wouldn’t be noisy. “We’ll just sit out here on the front porch steps and enjoy this beautiful summer night.” He turned her hand over and pressed a little kiss into her palm. “Like the old days. Remember?”
Pulling her hand away, she brushed a hank of hair off her forehead, and the fireflies went nuts again.
“How about a bite of that peach?” he coaxed.
Her nose scrunched up in distaste. “You forget I hate peaches.”
“No,” he countered. “You forget you love peaches.”
Seconds ticked by. Seconds during which a thousand warring emotions flitted across her face too quickly for him to discern.
“It’s true I used to love peaches, but now I don’t,” she said at last.
His heart sped up, and his chest expanded with fresh hope. He could work with an opening like that. In fact, Anna was headed right where he’d wanted to lead. Stopping by the farmer’s market on the way over had been a stroke of pure genius. “It’s because of that worm, isn’t it?”
“Uh huh.”
He pulled out his perfect peach once more and pressed it into her hands.
“No thank you.” She set it back in the crate.
“Just hear me out.” Leaning toward her, he mentally prepared his case. He intended to get her to bite into that peach even if it took all night. “You love peaches. You always have. I’m not making this up on my own. I’ve watched you dance a jig when the season turns, and they first hit the farmers’ stands. I’ve seen you give your dinner plate to the dog, just to get to the peach pie at the end quicker. I’ve seen you lick peach juice off your chin at a church social and not give a damn that the preacher’s wife is watching.”
“Okay, I admit it. I used to love peaches. That’s exactly what I just said. But ever since I bit into that bad one and found half a grody worm hanging out of it, I stopped loving peaches. I haven’t touched them since.”
“Exactly.” He smiled.
And then her mouth twisted into a defiant pink pucker.
She was putty in his hands.
“There’s no worm in these peaches, Anna. I checked every single one in the box. You’re making a decision based on a wrong assumption. You love peaches. You always have. It’s worms you hate.”
That beautiful smile of Anna’s, the one that lit his world like nothing else could, replaced her pucker. “My stars, Charlie, do you have some sort of point to this whole peach de résistance campaign?”
Trailing the edge of his hand down her cheek, he captured her gaze. His heart was pounding against his ribs, and he took her hand and placed it on his chest, so she could feel the truth of his words. “I love you, Anna. I always have, and I want a chance to earn back your trust. I want a chance to prove that no matter how sad and terrible the world around us becomes, I won’t walk away from you again. You love me, Anna. You told me so yourself. All you have to do is remember.”
She pulled her hand away, and her lower lip trembled. Moonlight was glinting off the moisture in her eyes. His throat tightened. He was beginning to lose hope again…but then, thank God, she pulled his hand to her racing heart and tilted her face up invitingly. He brushed his lips over hers, and she opened eagerly for him. The kiss was long and sweet and tender—everything a kiss should be when you’re with the woman you love.
He could’ve kissed her like that forever, and he pulled her back for more when she tried to break away, but in the end she gave him a little shove and had her way. Apparently, she wanted to be heard too.
“I do remember, Charlie,” she said and reached inside the crate. “I love you—so if it’s another chance you want, I’m all for it.”
And then Anna Kincaid, the girl of Charlie Drexler’s dreams, laughed out loud and took a great big fearless bite of a grade-A-perfect Tangleheart peach.
FOR READERS CURIOUS about the title, Solomon’s Wisdom, it has to do with the parable, The Wisdom of Solomon, King James Bible, 1 Kings 3:16-27.
Carey Baldwin is a mild-mannered physician (still practicing full time) who happens to write edgy romantic thrillers. What’s a nice girl like Carey doing writing scare-you-silly thrillers? When you’re a former clinical psychologist, writing about psychopaths comes naturally, and when you’re a hopeless romantic… Well, you do the math!
Follow Carey Baldwin on twitter at @CareyBaldwin, like her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/CareyBaldwinAuthor, or visit her website at http://www.CareyBaldwin.com.
More about Carey’s other works, and an excerpt from her upcoming debut novel, First Do No Evil, can be found at the back of this book. Click here for a shortcut.