She wrapped her arms around him, wanting to hold tightly to this man, this moment. The wedding was only a few weeks away and she knew he would be gone shortly after that, out of her life forever.
She couldn’t let herself fall in love with him, as she had done before with alarming regularity, but was it wrong to want to hold on to every moment she could while she had the chance?
* * *
SHE HAD TOLD him to take what he wanted and her words had triggered something deep within him.
She was what he wanted.
All evening, he had been fighting against the hunger prowling through him like a caged beast. Every time he looked at her while she laughed at something his father said or smiled at a joke Amelia made or listened, deep in conversation, to his mother and Gemma, he had wanted to grab her by the hand, tug her into the darkness and kiss her just like this.
He wanted to kiss her until she was making those soft, sexy sounds in her throat, until her heart beat as rapidly as his, until neither of them could remember all the reasons why they shouldn’t be doing this.
What was it about her that turned him from a staid, rather boring professor to a man consumed by hunger?
The salmon he studied had a biological imperative to return to the waters of their birth to spawn. They could cross hundreds of miles to do it, swimming upstream against fierce currents, leaping up vast waterfalls.
For the first time in his life, after more than a decade of research, Ian began to understand the wild need that drove them.
When she pressed her soft curves against him, he lost all sense of reason. She kissed him with a hunger that seemed to match his own, her mouth tasting of strawberry tarts and the wine Gemma had served at dinner. It was an intoxicating combination that kept him returning to her mouth again and again.
Over her summer dress, she had put on the little jumper she’d brought along against the evening chill and he slid his hands beneath it to the warm, silky skin of her back. She shivered and made another of those sexy sounds that seemed to cut away all his restraints like a rigging knife on a bowline.
He wanted to make love to her. Right here on the dock, if he had to, or on his research boat, which bobbed softly on the waves. He wanted to be inside her, to feel that soft body arch against him, to lick and taste and savor all her hidden, delicious spots...
Some sort of lake creature splashed offshore, a small sound in the night but enough to jolt him back to his senses.
What was he doing?
Ian wrenched his mouth away from Samantha’s, his breathing harsh.
He couldn’t remember wanting anything as badly as he wanted Samantha Fremont in that moment.
She had shared with him deep pain from her childhood, and five minutes later he was kissing her like a prat who could only think about one thing.
Usually he prided himself on his control, his unfailing ability always to say and do the right thing in the right circumstances. Yet here he was, a heartbeat away from breaking all his rules and seducing this lovely, sweet, vulnerable American girl.
Good Lord. He had been willing to make love to her on a wooden dock, without any thought to privacy or dignity or, at the very least, comfort. Think of the splinters.
All right, yes, she had kissed him back. That didn’t excuse his actions. He was mortified with himself at the lack of control, even while a large part of him was more than a little regretful that he had somehow found the strength of will to stop.
She gazed at him, eyes wide in the moonlight while she tried to catch her breath. He wanted to kiss her all over again, that charming cleft in her chin, the dimple that appeared only on the left side of her mouth when she smiled, those perfectly arched brows.
He wanted to kiss her everywhere.
He released a heavy sigh. “We are apparently a dangerous combination, Ms. Fremont.”
“I fear you are correct, Mr. Summerhill.”
He should probably correct her. Tell her the truth. Everything would be so much easier if he truly was still merely Mr. Summerhill.
He couldn’t do it. Not yet. He had promised Gemma, for one thing. For another, he wanted to forget the rest of it for a few more weeks at least.
Instead, he rested his forehead on hers. “This is madness between us. I’ve never known anything like this heat we seem to generate.”
“Neither have I,” she said, her voice small.
“I’m leaving in only two weeks’ time.” Was he reminding her or himself? He wasn’t sure.
Her smile seemed a little sad but it slid away as she reached on tiptoe to kiss him softy. He closed his eyes, pushing away the heat to focus only on the sweet, seductive whisper of her mouth on his.
“I know,” she murmured. “And neither one of us is in the market for a summer fling. We’ve both made that clear.”
He had moved far beyond the idea of a fling with Samantha. This seemed like so very much more. Somehow, when he wasn’t paying attention, this woman had become vitally important to his world.
How on earth would he be able to say goodbye to her when this summer idyll ended?
“Neither of us needs a broken heart right now,” she was saying.
“No. True enough.”
“I’ve just told you that I have a very bad tendency to think I’m in love after just one or two dates. I can’t lose my head over you, Ian.”
“We wouldn’t want that,” he murmured, though he wanted that very much right now.
“So why don’t we agree that we will just spend the rest of the time you’re living next door as friends?” she suggested. “The children are still welcome to come over and help me with the puppies. We can still go together to Gemma’s wedding. But it would be better for both of us if we refrain from any more of...this kind of thing.”
This kind of thing was rapidly becoming an obsession for him. Only now in the intimacy of the night could he admit it to himself. This desire for her had been simmering inside him for a long time. He dreamed about holding her; he ached for it. He thought about it every time he looked out the window and saw her house next door.
Yes. She was absolutely correct. They had to refrain from these moonlight encounters beside the lake.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, not sure what else to say and wishing fiercely that things could be different.
“No. Don’t apologize, Ian. We did nothing wrong. But you have to see that this is a mistake for both of us right now.”
He might know that intellectually but the knowledge didn’t make it any easier to drag himself away from her.
“I do see that. And you’re absolutely right.”
Her sigh echoed through the night, soft and filled with regret. The sound almost made him want to grab her, press her against a tree and kiss her until they both lost their senses and gave in to the heat between them.
Sometimes being a man of honor sincerely sucked. As much as he might want to take advantage of her regret, he couldn’t do that, for her sake or for his own.
She turned toward her house, a clear signal he couldn’t miss. He caught up with her after a few steps and walked her to the door, waiting as she unlocked it and slipped through the doorway.
“Good night,” he said, mostly because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
She looked inside her house, then back at him. He could see she was going through the same internal struggle he was, torn between wisdom and desire.
“One more kiss probably wouldn’t hurt,” she said, not quite meeting his gaze.
She didn’t need to say another word before he lowered his mouth, drinking her in. The door slammed shut behind her but neither of them noticed, lost in each other.
That single kiss turned into another and then another. Finally, more aroused than he remembered being in his life, he stepped away, knowing distance was his only saving grace.
; “Walking away from you right now might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” he admitted.
“I wish you didn’t have to, but it’s...it’s probably for the best.”
He wasn’t entirely convinced of that.
“I need to say one more thing before you go. It...feels important somehow. I don’t know if that’s only because I need to say it or because you need to hear it.”
“Go ahead,” he said warily.
She shocked him by returning to their conversation of earlier. “Your father isn’t unreasonable, Ian. I only had one evening’s worth of conversation with him, but on initial impression, I liked him very much. I’m sure he’ll be disappointed if you don’t follow in his footsteps but he loves you and I can’t believe he wants you to work with him at the expense of your own dreams. He wouldn’t want you to be unhappy.”
If only the situation were that simple. Ian knew how deeply Henry still grieved for David, not only because he understood a father’s love for his son but because Henry knew what his death meant for Ian. Neither of them had a choice and they both knew it.
Those out of the system didn’t always understand primogeniture, the complicated, mostly archaic inheritance laws of the British nobility.
Henry couldn’t live forever. He needed an heir and Thomas, next in line, was simply too young for the attendant responsibilities that went along with it.
Ian was prepared to do his duty. After a few years, he knew he would probably even begin to enjoy it. His father was a good, responsible land steward who treated everyone fairly and with kindness. Ian would try to follow in his footsteps.
He would do his best to learn all he needed to know before becoming the Earl of Amherst. The earldom and its attendant responsibilities might never be his passion as they had been David’s, but Ian intended to fulfill his responsibilities to the best of his ability.
He loved his family far more than he loved a few salmon.
“Talk to your father,” she urged. “Tell him what’s in your heart.”
The things in his heart right now concerned Samantha and his growing feelings for her, things his father didn’t need to know anything about.
“Thank you for the advice,” he said. Despite the impossibility of it, he was touched she was concerned about his future. “Good night, Samantha. Sweet dreams.”
She gave a raw-sounding laugh that somehow matched everything he was feeling inside, then slipped into her house.
He watched her go, knowing his own dreams that night would be filled with the scent and taste and wonder of Samantha Fremont.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SHE DIDN’T SEE Ian for several days after the dinner with his family and the revelations and heated kisses that followed.
It was for the best, she told herself. She was too busy right now to worry about her growing feelings for him.
The puppies had unfortunately discovered they could chew things other than their toys and each other’s tails. The wooden knobs on her mother’s dresser had been catastrophes, as had the edging of one of the old blankets she had put into their playroom.
She was trying to finish Margaret’s dress. In addition, two more brides—one from Shelter Springs and one from clear over in Meridian—had come to the shop requesting custom wedding dresses. This brought her current orders for the next six months to eleven, a number that filled her with panic whenever she thought of it.
By Thursday, she wanted to climb into her bed, pull the covers over her head and block out the world. Instead, she came home from work and hurried to finish the vegetable tray she was taking to Eliza Caine’s house.
Eliza was hosting a party at Snow Angel Cove that night, a shower for Gemma Summerhill.
She considered two social events in one week about two too many with her plate so overflowing, but since she loved Gemma, she would make it work.
As she walked to the back terrace of Snow Angel Cove a short time later with her gift in one hand and the vegetable tray in the other, she looked around at all the friends gathered and decided the effort in this case was more than worth it.
A chorus of hellos greeted her arrival, each one buoying her more. Katrina immediately came over to take the vegetable tray from her and hand her a glass of wine.
“I need you to drink this,” she said under her breath. “I’m not ready to tell everyone about the baby yet, but I couldn’t figure out how to refuse when McKenzie handed it to me.”
“Sure. I’ll take one for Team Callahan.”
“You’re definitely the godmother,” Katrina said, grinning as Sam took the wineglass from her.
The Helping Hands had outdone themselves on the decorations. A huge balloon arch greeted those coming to the shower and six round tables all held more balloons and luxurious-looking flowers.
“I can take your present to the pile,” Katrina offered, and Sam handed over the machine-embroidered pillowcases she had made for Gemma and Josh, then made her way to the circle of women who were chatting about their summer plans.
She found an empty chair next to Charlene Bailey, who beamed with pleasure when she spotted her.
“Oh, Samantha. I’ve been thinking of you this week. How are you doing, honey?”
It took her a moment to register why Charlene would be looking at her with concern. Her mother’s birthday would have been the week before. Of course Charlene would remember that. She was always the first to keep birthdays and anniversaries in mind.
“Better,” she said, which was mostly the truth, even as she suddenly had to blink away tears.
Katrina’s mother had always been the warm and loving mom Sam had dreamed of when she was a girl. Charlene was kind, supportive, fun. Sam had been drawn to the Bailey home through much of her childhood, probably because of that.
Oh, Charlene wasn’t the perfect mom. Far from it. She had actually been a little suffocating of Katrina because of the epileptic seizures her friend had suffered from when she was younger. Still, Charlene had always opened their home to Sam and treated her like another of her children.
The family had not been untouched by tragedy. First Katrina’s older brother, Wyatt, had died in a winter storm after being hit by a car while working as a state highway patrolman. Then the family patriarch, John Bailey, the longtime police chief of Haven Point, had been gravely injured in a shootout, leaving him with severe disabilities for the short remainder of his life.
The two surviving brothers, Marshall and Elliot, and Katrina and her sister, Wynona, had become closer than ever through those hardships. She deeply admired the strength they had demonstrated and wished she could emulate it. Look at her. It had been nearly six months since her mother’s death and she still felt like a mess inside, going all emotional over a birthday.
“I’m doing fine,” she said now in answer to Charlene. “I’ve finally started to get used to not seeing her working the cash register at the store.”
Charlene hugged her. For a moment, Sam was tempted to rest her head on the woman’s shoulder and absorb the love and caring.
“I miss her, too,” Charlene said.
“The town doesn’t seem the same without Linda,” added Barbara Serrano.
She could feel tears burn at her friends’ compassion but blinked them away and sat down, taking a healthy sip of her secondhand wine.
“Since your mother isn’t here, it’s up to us to give you the third degree in her absence,” Charlene said sternly.
“You don’t have to, really. I’m good.”
They ignored her, as she fully expected. “What’s this we hear about you spending time with Gemma’s brother?” Barbara teased.
“You have to watch out for those handsome men from over the pond,” Lindy-Grace Keegan said with a laugh.
To her relief, Gemma and Margaret were busy talking with Julia Caine, Megan Bailey and Elizabeth Hamilton on the other side of the t
errace, out of earshot of this embarrassing conversation.
“That one can cross my pond any time he wants,” Eppie’s sister, Hazel, piped up.
Sam caught Katrina’s gaze and felt a giggle rise up. Hazel was over eighty, after all, and long a widow.
“Must you be so crass all the time?” her sister, Eppie, chided quietly. “It’s quite unbecoming at our age.”
She rarely heard such sharpness between the two of them. Usually they spoke in tandem.
“I’m so sorry to offend you,” Hazel said, sounding not at all contrite. “I guess you’ve become a prude in your old age. I’d still like to know if there’s something going on with our Samantha and Gemma’s hunky brother.”
“No,” Samantha said quickly, her cheeks heating as Gemma and their mother approached their group.
It was clear immediately that Gemma, at least, had overheard the last part of the conversation. “That’s not precisely true, is it, Samantha? She is going to the wedding as his plus-one,” Gemma told the older ladies.
“Really?” Julia Caine asked, looking pleased.
Oh, Gemma had done it now. Her friends would hound Sam all night about Ian if she didn’t figure out how to divert the conversation.
“Gemma, have you decided where you’re going on your honeymoon?” she asked with steady determination.
Katrina gave her a sympathetic look and lent a helping hand to the effort. “Yes. Last I heard it was a big secret. But we need details. All the details.”
“Josh has kept everything a big secret and I only found out myself a few days ago. I suppose I can tell you all now that the wedding is only a week away. Also, how can it be only a week away?”
For an instant, Gemma looked slightly panicked until her mother squeezed her arm, which seemed to steady her.
“Right. Well, he has a friend with a luxe cabin in Alaska. We’re being flown in by a bush pilot, who will leave us for an entire week with a fully stocked refrigerator.”
“Oh, wow. You had me at fully stocked refrigerator,” Andie Bailey said with a laugh. “I’m so tired of cooking dinner.”
Summer at Lake Haven Page 19