Can't Fight The Moonlight (Whisper Lake Book 3)

by Barbara Freethy

"Very close. There was six years between us, but he was my big brother from the first second he held me. At least that's what my parents told me. And I certainly don't remember a time when he wasn't there for me." He paused. "Actually, that's not true. There did come a time, but it was years later. Do you mind if we don't talk about Sean?"

  "Of course not. Sorry if I was prying."

  He shrugged. "It's fine. You said you used to vacation here with your grandparents. Are they still here?"

  "Sadly, no. They both passed on—my grandfather about ten years ago, and my grandmother five years ago. I wish she could have seen me buy the inn. We used to walk by it when I'd visit, and I'd tell her one day it was going to be mine. Sometimes, I can hardly believe it is mine." Lizzie cleared her throat. "I think my nana would be happy that I ended up here. She loved Whisper Lake, and so do I."

  "How did the lake get its name? Is there a story?"

  "Of course there's a story," she said with a smile, as they reached the shore of the lake. She took a seat on a nearby bench and he sat down next to her, somewhat amazed by the vast body of water in front of him.

  "I didn't realize the lake was so big," he commented.

  "It takes almost an hour to drive all the way around it. It's very clean and very cold. It doesn't really warm up for swimming until July. But you asked about the story…"

  "I did," he said, seeing the gleam in her gaze.

  "Have you ever heard of the orphan trains?"

  He shook his head. "No."

  "The trains took homeless children from New York City to points across the Midwest and rural America, dropping them off to work on farms. This was in the late eighteen-hundreds until 1929. One of the trains broke down on the northern shore of the lake on its way to Denver. There wasn't much of a town then, just a bunch of farms."

  He smiled at the passion in her voice. Clearly, this was a story she liked to tell.

  "But that night," she continued, "the farmers heard the cries of the children on the broken-down train, and they went to rescue them. There were about thirty of them plus a few adults to run the train and chaperone. It was a long winter, and no one could get in or out of town. When spring came, and they were able to fix the train, the families at the lake wouldn't let the kids go. They were part of their families. And a town was born."

  "That's a cool story."

  "Yes. There's a little more."

  "Go on."

  "The kids said during their journey across the country that every night they would whisper prayers for a new family, and that's where they came up with the name Whisper Lake. It was the place where they'd found their families. Ever since then, the lake has been known to be a refuge to all who are needy, who are lost, who are looking for something new. There's a summer camp on the eastern shore that my cousin remodeled and reopened, and it embodies the spirit of those kids. They bring in underprivileged children from all over the country for at least several months a year."

  "Interesting. I thought you were going to say something about hearing whispers in the wind."

  "Oh, sure, that is part of the lore. A couple of the kids didn't make it through that first winter, that's the sad part of the story, and sometimes at night, people swear they can hear their cries. When I was a teenager, I went to the lake one night to drink tequila sunrises, and I don't know if it was the tequila, or the ghost stories we were telling each other, but I definitely heard something on the wind."

  "It was probably the tequila."

  "You don't believe in ghosts?"

  He hesitated. "No, but sometimes I wish I did. Unfortunately, my logical brain doesn't take me there."

  "There's supposed to be a ghost at the inn."

  "Really?"

  "Yes, in room ten. Guests have reported odd things: the stirring of a curtain, a ticking clock, a rocking chair, footsteps in the night. I forced myself to sleep in there twice, and my imagination was working overtime. I didn't really hear anything, or I didn't want to admit I did."

  "Then you did hear something?"

  "Maybe. Or it could have been in my head."

  He smiled, thinking that was the more likely scenario. Clearly, Lizzie had a big imagination. "Where is room ten? Is someone in it now?"

  "No, it's in the attic. It's our least popular room, and I leave it open for emergencies, just in case I get a late booking, or someone can't get out of the area because of a snowstorm. It has low ceilings, so it's not comfortable for very tall people." She paused. "The previous owners of the inn told me that the ghost is alleged to be the daughter of the first couple who lived there. She died as a teenager. She was thrown from a horse, apparently. That was back in the nineteen-forties. That was her room."

  "I'm surprised you don't have people who want to stay there just because there might be a ghost."

  "We have had a few ghost hunters come by," she admitted. "The ghost was mentioned in an article about ghostly inns in a travel magazine about five years ago, and I've had two people stop in specifically to stay in that room, but they never heard anything."

  "You can still use the story as a drawing card. It's legend, and who doesn't like a good legend?"

  "Some people specifically ask not to stay in any room that might be haunted."

  "People really ask you that?"

  "Yes, all the time."

  "I can't even imagine that question coming to my mind."

  "I doubt you stay very often in small inns."

  "That's true. I'm usually in very busy, populated cities."

  "Well, hopefully your experience here will make you appreciate being in an inn that makes you feel like family and not just a business traveler."

  He didn't know what being part of a family felt like. If he had known at one time, he'd forgotten, but he didn't want to get into that with her. "Tell me how you came to be the owner of an inn."

  "Are you sure you want to know? I'm thinking it's probably time for me to stop talking."

  If she stopped talking, he'd probably have to answer her questions, and he'd rather not get into his personal history. "I'm always interested in origin stories for business owners."

  "Well, all right. I wanted to run an inn since I was a little girl. Every pretend game in my childhood involved a hotel, and I was in charge. My friends would be the guests, or the other workers, but I was always running the place."

  "How did you get from the dream to here?"

  "I started working in hotels when I was fifteen as a maid. And since then, I've done every job. In addition to housekeeping, I've been a desk clerk, room service operator, laundry worker, concierge, banquet server. I've even parked cars for valet. I did eventually get a degree in hotel management, but in some ways, I think my practical experience has served me better."

  "I'm impressed. A lot of managers don't want to start at the bottom and work their way up. They prefer to jump into the top spot right away."

  "Because I started young, the bottom was the only place available to me. But working hard is something that has also been ingrained in me since I was a kid. Anyway, when the opportunity to buy the inn came up, I was lucky enough to have some family members willing to jump in. They knew how hard I had worked to get ready, and they wanted to invest in me."

  "That's great, but it also adds pressure."

  She nodded in agreement. "Unbelievable pressure. I can't let them down. It's not just my parents. All my siblings bought in, as well as some of my cousins. I can't fail."

  "Do you think you will?"

  Her lips tightened, and she clearly didn't like his question. "No. Why would you say that?"

  "Because there's something in your voice, an edge of desperation."

  She ran a hand through her hair, tucking it behind her ears as she looked out at the lake. "It's been a rough few weeks, but I'm not giving up. I'm too stubborn for that."

  "You need stubbornness to build a company. I have plenty of that as well."

  She turned her gaze back to him. "I noticed."

  "And I have invest
ors, too, not family, but people I don't want to let down."

  "You know how I feel then."

  "Yes. That's why I was so needy to get a computer today. I have a big presentation happening in London that I should have been going to, but I couldn't say no to my grandmother, so here I am."

  "I heard you talking about that on the phone earlier. But don't you run a big company? Surely there are other people who can make the deal."

  "I had a good person lined up, but she had a family emergency, so I'm going with someone smart but green. Hopefully, he'll come through. I tried to tell him everything he needs to know, but I'd rather be doing it myself."

  "It's hard to let go of the reins when you have a lot on the line."

  "And even when you don't, if you like to be in control."

  "True," she said with a nod. "I like to excuse my need for control as a result of my dedication to my investors, but it's been around longer than I've had investors." She blew out a breath as her gaze returned to the lake. "But when I come down to the water, when I take a minute to just enjoy the moment, I'm reminded that I'm exactly where I want to be, problems and all."

  "Do you take many minutes?" he asked doubtfully.

  "Not many, but some. What about you?"

  "Hardly any."

  "How do you keep up the pace?" she asked, gazing back at him.

  "I just never stop, so there's never a difference. I'm always on the run. It's my normal."

  "You're not running now, Justin."

  "I should be. I don't usually waste time like this."

  "You're not wasting time. You're here by the water. Look around, breathe deep. The lake can be healing."

  "I don't need healing."

  She gave him a thoughtful look. "Are you sure about that?"

  He frowned. "Why would you ask me that?" He couldn't help but repeat her earlier question to him.

  "Because you're wound very tight, and when people are constantly on the run, I can't help wondering what they're running from."

  "I'm not running from anything; I'm running toward my future."

  "Okay, have it your way."

  "It's the truth." He didn't know why he felt the need to convince her, especially since maybe it wasn't really the truth. He lifted his gaze to the sky. "I have to admit I haven't seen so many stars in a long time. I feel like I'm in one of those shows at the observatory where you sit back in your chair, they turn out the lights, and there are a multitude of stars and planets overhead."

  "It does feel that way. But this is better, because it's real."

  Was it real?

  He felt like he was having an out-of-body experience, as if the bump on his head earlier had changed him into someone else—someone who wanted to walk with no real destination in mind, someone who wanted to share about his family and kiss the pretty woman next to him, when he knew better than to start something he couldn't finish.

  On the other hand, he'd always been a man who went after what he wanted. And if he wanted her, and she wanted him… Why should anyone say no?

  As he moved his gaze away from the sky to her face, she looked back at him, and something in her expression shifted. The gleam in her eyes grew wary.

  "It would be a bad idea," she warned.

  "Probably," he agreed.

  "Unless we're not talking about the same thing?"

  "I think we are."

  "There's something…" she began.

  "Between us," he finished.

  "It's unexpected. And crazy. We don't know each other at all," she said.

  "Sometimes it's better that way. It becomes very simple. Desire, want, need."

  She swallowed hard. "It's never as simple as that. At least, not for me."

  "Nothing has to happen."

  "I know that."

  Despite their agreement, neither one of them seemed able to look away, to break the connection. The air between them grew tense and filled with electricity. He felt an irresistible pull to Lizzie, and he didn't feel like fighting it, especially not when he could see the same hunger in her gaze. Just a kiss. What was the harm?

  Before he could let an answer come to mind, he leaned forward, putting one hand behind her head as he pressed his mouth against hers. Her lips were sweet and hot, and they parted eagerly for his kiss. With her hunger matching his own, he angled his head and took the kiss deeper. It felt so easy, so familiar, so perfect… Which almost made him pull back, because perfect scared him. But she tasted too good, and he felt like he'd been needing this kind of a kiss for a long time.

  Finally, Lizzie pulled away, stopping the madness. She gave him a breathless smile, her eyes lit up in the moonlight. "So…that happened."

  "It turns out it was a good idea after all," he said.

  "For now."

  "Do we have to worry about any other time but now? You just said I should take a minute once in a while. I was just following your advice."

  "That wasn't what I had in mind. But it was…nice."

  He didn't particularly care for the lukewarm adjective, but she was already on her feet.

  "Are we leaving?" he asked, as he stood up.

  "I need to get back to the inn. My minute is over."

  "All right."

  He followed her down the path, feeling awash in a swirling silence of emotions, unspoken words, and a conflicting desire to turn back time or just stop and kiss her again.

  Maybe giving in to his desire hadn't been a good idea after all, because now he wanted more.

  Chapter Six

  She should say something, but she didn't know what to say. Lizzie dug her hands into the pockets of her jacket as she walked back to the inn with Justin. He didn't seem to know what to say, either, and quiet surrounded them as they made their way through the park. It was getting colder, too, or maybe it just felt that way with the new tension between them.

  She'd never expected their walk to the lake to end in a fairly spectacular series of kisses. One minute they'd been chatting about family and work stuff, and the next minute they were tangled up in each other's arms.

  Justin had kissed like he did everything else, with a confident, hungry impatience, and that hunger for her had ratcheted up her own desire. She hadn't felt so caught up in a man in a very long time, and the attraction had swept her away in a tidal wave of feeling.

  Passion had not been part of her life this past year. The few dates she'd had, the couple of men she'd kissed, now seemed rather pale in comparison to Justin. Those kisses had been nice but not heart-stopping, and while she'd told Justin his kiss was nice, too, it was only because she hadn't been able to come up with a better word or a way to describe just how he'd made her feel.

  Justin had woken something up inside her, and she really, really hoped she could get that something to go back to sleep, because this was the wrong man, the wrong time, the wrong place, the wrong everything…

  At least she'd had the willpower to stop things from going any further. When they got back to the inn, Justin would go his way, and she would go hers. Their kiss would just be a memory of an impulsive, moonlight moment that would never be repeated. Maybe Justin was a world-class kisser, but he would never be part of her world. While a fling could be fun, she didn't have time for that, and deep in her heart she knew that she wasn't really a fling kind of girl. Although, maybe she should be. She worked hard. She deserved some fun, too.

  Not that kind of fun, she told herself, wishing her brain and her body weren't suddenly at war. That wouldn't be helpful. She needed to focus on her work, on her dream. Getting distracted now could be a disaster.

  As they walked up the steps to the inn, Justin suddenly broke the silence.

  "Do you want me to apologize, Lizzie?"

  She paused in front of the door, looking him straight in the eye for the first time. "No. It was just a kiss, a really good kiss," she found herself admitting.

  "I thought so, too. And I like really good better than nice, which is what you said before."

  "I might h
ave been trying to downplay it," she admitted. "The thing is, Justin, I'm not interested in a one-night stand, and that's all this could be."

  "I am here for five nights," he said lightly. "We could have a lot of fun in five nights. And I think you challenged me to fun earlier."

  "That was for karaoke, and while you did rise to my challenge, I can't take it any further. I have so much work on my plate right now. I'm juggling a lot of balls in the air. You, of all people, should be able to understand that."

  "I do understand. I've actually said the very same thing."

  "You're on vacation, but I'm not. I have a lot at stake, and this is a big week for the inn."

  "Then I'll try not to distract you."

  She had a feeling just his presence at the inn would be enough to distract her, but she wasn't going to tell him that.

  "Before I say good night…" he began.

  A shiver ran down her spine as she thought he might steal another kiss. While she should push him away, would she?

  "Do you know where I can get a computer and phone tomorrow?"

  His very practical question brought her down to earth, but she couldn't stop the unexpected shiver of disappointment that ran through her. "Yes. You can find just about every mobile phone retailer on Adams Street, as well as a computer store. It's six blocks away. You just head back toward Micky's but turn right on Valmont and left on Adams. Do you want me to write it down?"

  "I've got it. Thanks."

  He opened the door for her, and she stepped into the lobby. Shay wasn't at the desk, but she could see her manager talking to one of the guests in the living room.

  "Do you need anything else tonight?" It was a question she often asked her guests, but now it seemed to take on a lot more meaning, and she could feel her cheeks growing warm.

  He gave her an amused smile. Apparently, she was a little too easy to read.

  "I better say no," he told her. "Because I don't want to distract you."

  "I was talking about bottled water or a mint, maybe a newspaper?"

  "I'm fine. I might try that book by my bed."

  "I hope you enjoy it." She drew in a breath, wondering why it was so difficult to turn away. But that's what she needed to do. "Have a good night, Justin."