“Sherry?”
Her eyes blinked open and she moaned as piercing sunlight momentarily blinded her. She raised her hand to shield her vision and found Roarke bending over her.
“Roarke?” she asked in a hoarse whisper. “What happened?”
“You fainted.”
She surged upright, bracing herself on one elbow. “I did what?”
Roarke’s smile was smug. “You fainted.”
It took a moment for her to clear her head. “I did?”
“That’s what I just said.”
“Sally…”
“Is fine,” he reassured her. “Do you do this type of thing often?”
Sherry rubbed a hand over her face, although she remained slightly disoriented. “No, it feels weird. I’ve never been fond of the sight of blood, but I certainly didn’t pass out because of it.”
“When was the last time you had something to eat?”
Sherry had to think. Her appetite had been nil for days. She wasn’t in the habit of eating breakfast unless it was something like a quick glass of orange juice and a dry piece of toast. This morning, however, she hadn’t bothered with either breakfast or lunch.
“Sherry?” he prompted.
“I don’t know when I last ate. Yesterday at dinnertime, I guess.” She’d been so miserable that food was the last thing she’d wanted.
Roarke’s frown deepened and his arm tightened around her almost painfully. “Of all the stupid—”
“Oh stop!” She jerked herself free from his grip and awkwardly rose to her feet. “Go ahead and call me stupid…but why stop with that? You’ve probably got ten other names you’re dying to use on me.”
Roarke’s mouth thinned, but he didn’t rise to the bait. The last thing he’d expected was for her to fight him. This woman astonished him. She was full of surprises and…full of promise. Even when she was semiconscious, she had shyly responded to his kiss. He was embarrassed by the impulse now. Who did he think he was—some kind of legendary lover?
“You’re coming with me,” he commanded.
“Why? So you can shout at me some more?” She hissed at him like a cat backed into a corner, seeking a means of escape.
“No,” he returned softly. “So I can get you something to eat.”
“I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”
Roarke snickered. “I can tell. Now stop arguing.”
Sherry closed her mouth and realized what a fool she was being. For an entire week she’d wanted to talk to him, spend time alone with him, and now when he’d suggested exactly that, she was making it sound like a capital offense.
Roarke led the way out of the infirmary, and Sherry followed silently behind him. The cooking staff were busy making preparations for the evening meal, and the big kitchen was filled with the hustle and bustle of the day. Roarke approached the cook, who glanced in Sherry’s direction and nodded as Roarke said something to him.
Roarke returned to her. “He’s going to scramble you some eggs. I suggest you eat them.”
“I will,” she promised, then watched helplessly as Roarke turned and walked out of the mess hall, leaving her standing alone.
—
Ellen’s Café in Arrow Flats was filled with the weeknight dinner crowd. Sherry sat at a table by the window and studied the menu, although she’d read it so many times over the past twenty minutes that she could have recounted it from memory.
“Do you want to order, miss?” the young waitress in the pink uniform asked. “It looks like your friend isn’t going to make it.”
“No, I think I’ll hold off for a few more minutes, if you don’t mind.”
“No problem. Just give the signal when you’re ready.”
“I will.” Sherry felt terrible. More depressed than she could remember being in months. She’d really hoped tonight with Roarke would make a difference. She’d put such high hopes in the belief that if they could get away from the camp to meet on neutral ground and talk freely, then maybe they could solve the problems between them.
Just then the café door whirled open. Sherry’s gaze flew in that direction, her heart rocketing to her throat as Roarke stepped inside. His gaze did a sweeping inspection of the café and paused when he found Sherry. He sighed and smiled.
To Sherry it seemed that everyone and everything else in the restaurant faded from view.
“Hi,” he said, a bit breathlessly, when he joined her. He pulled out the chair across the table from her and sat. “I apologize for being late. Something came up at the last minute, and I couldn’t get away.”
“Problems at the camp?”
Forcefully, he expelled his breath and nodded. “I don’t want to talk about camp tonight. I’m just a lonely college professor looking for a quiet evening.”
“I’m just a sweet young thing looking for a college professor seeking a quiet evening.”
“I think we’ve found each other.” Roarke’s grin relaxed the tight muscles in his face. He’d convinced himself that Sherry had probably left when he didn’t show. They both needed this time away from camp. He’d been miserable and so had she.
He was here at last, Sherry mused silently. Roarke was with her, and the dread of the past pain-filled minutes was wiped out with one Jeff Roarke smile.
“Have you ordered?”
Sherry shook her head and lowered her gaze to the memorized menu. “Not yet.”
Roarke’s eyes dropped, too, as he studied his own. Choosing quickly, he set the menu beside his plate. “I highly recommend the special.”
“Liver and onions? Oh Roarke, honestly.” She laughed because she was so pleased he was there, and because liver and onions sounded exactly like a meal he’d enjoy.
“Doubt me if you will, but when liver hasn’t been fried to a crisp, it’s good.”
Sherry closed her menu and set it aside. “Don’t be disappointed, but I think I’ll go with the French dip.”
Roarke grinned and shook his head. “I never would have believed Miss Sherry White could be so boring.”
“Boring!” She nearly choked on a sip of iced tea.
“All right, all right, I’ll revise that.” Laugh lines formed deep grooves at the corners of his eyes. “I doubt that you’ll ever be that. I can see you at a hundred and ten in the middle of a floor learning the latest dance step.”
Sherry’s hand circled her water glass. “I’ll accept that as a compliment.” But she didn’t want to be on any dance floor if her partner wasn’t Jeff Roarke, she added silently.
The amusement drained from his eyes. “What you said yesterday hit home.”
Sherry looked up and blinked, uncertain. “About what?”
“That you wanted things to be different between us. I do, too, Sherry. If we’d met any place but at camp things would be a lot easier. I have responsibilities—for that matter, so do you. Camp isn’t the place for a relationship—now isn’t the time.”
Nervously, her fingers toyed with the fork stem. She didn’t know what to say. Roarke seemed to be telling her that the best thing for them to do was ignore the attraction between them, pretend it wasn’t there, and go on about their lives as though what they felt toward each other made no difference.
“I see,” she said slowly, her high spirits sinking to the depths of despair.
“But obviously, that bit of logic isn’t going to work,” Roarke added thoughtfully. “I’ve tried all week, and look what happened. I can’t ignore you, Sherry. It’s too hard on both of us.”
The smile lit up her face. “I can’t ignore you, either. As it turns out, I’m here and you’re here.”
His eyes held hers. “And there’s no place else I’d rather be. For tonight, at least, we’re two people with different tastes and lifestyles who happened to meet in an obscure café in Arrow Flats, California.”
Sherry smiled and nodded eagerly.
The waitress came and took their orders, and Sherry and Roarke talked throughout the meal and long after they’d finishe
d. They lingered over coffee, neither wanting the evening to end.
They left the café when the Ellen herself appeared from the kitchen and flipped the sign in the window to closed. She paused to stare pointedly at them.
“I have the feeling she wants us to leave,” Roarke muttered, looking around and noting for the first time that they were the only two customers left in the café.
Sherry took one last sip of her coffee and placed her paper napkin on the tabletop.
Roarke grinned and scooted back his chair to stand, and Sherry rose and followed him out of the restaurant.
“Where are you parked?” he asked.
“Around the corner.”
He reached for her hand, lacing her fingers with his own. The action produced a soft smile in Sherry. Something as simple as holding her hand would be out of the question at camp. But tonight it was the most natural thing in the world.
“It’s nearly ten,” Roarke stated, surprise lifting his husky voice.
It astonished Sherry to realize that they’d sat and talked for more than three and a half hours. Although they hadn’t touched until just now, she’d never felt closer to Roarke. When they were at camp, it seemed that their differences were magnified a thousandfold by circumstances and duty. Tonight they could be themselves. He’d astonished her. Amused her. Being with Roarke felt amazingly right.
He hesitated in front of the SUV. The camp logo was printed on the side panel.
Roarke opened the driver’s side for her, and Sherry tossed her purse inside. They stood with the car door between them.
“Roarke?” she whispered, curious. “This may sound like a crazy question, but yesterday when I fainted…did you kiss me?”
His grin was slightly off center as he answered her with a quick nod. He’d felt like a fool afterward, chagrined by his own actions. He wasn’t exactly the model for Prince Charming, waking Sleeping Beauty with a secret kiss.
“I thought you must have,” Sherry said softly. She’d felt so warm and secure that she hadn’t wanted to wake up. “I was wondering is all,” she added, a little flustered when he didn’t speak.
Roarke caressed her cheek with his right hand. “Are you worried you’ll have to pass out a second time before I do it again?”
She smiled at that. “The thought had crossed my mind.”
“No,” he said softly, sliding his hand down her face to the gentle slope of her shoulder. “Just move out from behind the car door.”
Smiling, she did, deliberately closing it before walking into his arms. Roarke brought her close, breathed in the heady female scent of her, and sighed his appreciation. His lips brushed against her temple, and he savored the marvelous silken feel of her in his arms and the supreme rightness of holding her close. He kissed her, forehead and her cheek, her chin, then closed her eyes with his lips.
His gentleness made Sherry go weak. She slipped her arms up his chest and around his neck, letting his strength absorb her weakness.
Roarke paused to glance with irritation at the streetlight and suddenly decided he didn’t care who saw him with Sherry or any consequences he might suffer as a result. He had to taste her. He kissed her then, deeply, yearning to reveal all the things he couldn’t say with words. Urgently, his lips moved over hers with a fierce tenderness, until she moaned and responded, opening her mouth to him with passion and need.
Sherry’s husky groan of pleasure throbbed in Roarke’s ears and raced through his blood like quicksilver. He kissed her so many times he lost count, and she was weak and clinging to his arms. His own self-restraint was tested to the limit. With every vestige of control he possessed, he broke off the kiss and buried his face in her shoulder. He drew in a long breath and slowly expelled it in an effort to regain his wits and composure. He couldn’t believe he was kissing her like this, in the middle of the street, with half the town looking on. Holding her, touching her, had been the only matters of importance.
“I’ll follow you back to camp,” he said, after a long moment.
Still too befuddled to speak, Sherry nodded.
Roarke dropped his arms and watched reluctantly as she stepped away. It was all he could do not to haul her into his arms and kiss her senseless. From the first moment that he’d watched her interact with the children, Roarke had known that she was a natural. What he hadn’t guessed was that this marvelous woman would hold his heart in the palm of her hand. He couldn’t tell Sherry what he felt for her now; to do so would create the very problem he strove to avoid between staff members. Romance and camp were like oil and water, not meant to mix. To leave her doubting was regrettable, but necessary until the time was right. Never, in all the years that he’d been camp director, had Roarke more looked forward to August.
—
Roarke was busy all the following day. Even if he’d wanted to, he wouldn’t have been able to talk to Sherry. They passed each other a couple times but weren’t able to exchange anything more than a casual greeting. Now, at the end of another exhausting day, he felt the need to sit with her for a time and talk. For as long as he could, he resisted the temptation. At nine-thirty, Roarke decided no one would question it if they saw him sitting on her porch, talking.
As he neared her cabin, he heard the girls clamoring inside.
“I saw Buttercup,” one of the girls cried, the alarm in her voice obvious.
Roarke glanced around, and sure enough, there was his calico, snooping around the cabin, peeking through the window. Naturally, Sherry’s girls would be concerned over the feline, since they continued to house the rodent mascot. Every other cabin had welcomed Buttercup, but the cat had made her choice obvious and lingered around Sherry’s, spending far more time there than at all the others combined. Roarke wasn’t completely convinced it was solely the allure of Ralph, the hamster, either. Like almost everyone else in camp, the feline wanted to be around Sherry. Roarke watched with interest whenever Fred Spencer voiced his objections. It was obvious to Roarke that the man was jealous of Sherry’s popularity, and his resentment shone through at each staff meeting.
“I saw him, too!” The commotion inside the cabin continued.
Roarke climbed the three steps that led to the front door and crouched down to pick up his cat.
“Now,” Sherry’s excited voice came at him from inside the cabin.
Just as he’d squatted down, the front door flew open, and he looked up to find Sherry standing directly in front of him, pointing a Thompson submachine gun directly at him.
Before he could shout a warning, a piercing blast of water hit him square in the chest.
Chapter 10
The blast of water was powerful enough to knock Roarke off balance. Crouched as he was, the force, coupled with the shock of Sherry aiming a submachine gun at him, hurled him backward.
“Roarke,” Sherry screamed and slapped her hand over her mouth, smothering her horror, which soon developed into an out-and-out laugh.
Buttercup meowed loudly and scrambled from Roarke’s grip, darting off into the night.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Roarke yelled. “Rambo?” With as much dignity as he could muster, he stood and brushed the grit from his buttocks and hands.
Righteously, Gretchen turned and whispered to the others. “Mr. Roarke said the h-word.”
Six small heads bobbed up and down in unison. Unlike Sherry, they recognized that this wasn’t the time to show their amusement. Mr. Roarke didn’t seem to find the incident the least bit humorous.
“I’m going to say a whole lot more than the h-word if you don’t put that gun away,” he shouted, his features tight and impatient.
Doing her utmost to keep from smiling, Sherry lowered her weapon, pointing the extended barrel toward the hardwood floor. “I apologize, Roarke, I wasn’t aiming for you. I thought Buttercup was alone.”
“Buttercup happens to be the camp cat,” he yelled. He paused and inhaled a steadying breath before continuing. “Perhaps it would be best if we spoke privately, Miss
White. Girls, if you’d kindly excuse us for a moment.”
“Oh sure, go ahead,” Gretchen answered for the group, and the others nodded in agreement.
“Sure,” Jill and Jan added.
“Feel free,” Sally inserted.
“Why not?” Diane wanted to know.
The amusement drained from Sherry’s eyes. So much for the new wonderful understanding between them and the evening they’d spent together in town. Roarke knew how much she hated it when he sarcastically called her Miss White. No one did it quite the way he did, saying her name with all the coldness of arctic snow. Snow White. That’s what the girls liked to call her when she wasn’t around, although they didn’t think she knew it.
Sherry stepped onto the porch and Roarke closed the door. “I do apologize, Roarke.” Maybe if she said it enough times he’d believe her.
“I sincerely doubt that,” he grumbled, swatting the moisture from his shirt. “Good grief, woman, don’t you ever do anything like anyone else?”
“I was protecting Ralph,” she cried, growing agitated. “What was I supposed to do? Invite Buttercup in for lunch and break seven little girls’ hearts?”
“I certainly don’t expect you to drown her.”
“Fiddlesticks!” she returned, staring him down. “You’re just mad because I got you wet. Believe me, it was unintentional. If I’d known you were going to be on the other side of the door, do you honestly think I would have pulled the trigger?”
“You’ll do anything for a laugh,” he countered.
Sherry was so angry she could barely speak. “I might as well have, you’re a wet blanket anyway.” Following that announcement, she marched into the cabin and slammed the door.
Regret came instantly. What was she doing? Sherry wailed. She’d behaved like a child when she so much wanted to be a woman. But Roarke always assumed the worst of her, and his lack of trust was what hurt most.
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