Cabin Fever

by Marilyn Pappano

  “I told you guys you could stay out all night,” Raine said, a note of chastisement soft in her voice. “Though I guess it’s just as well you ignored me. Micahlyn fell asleep while we were talking, and I kept putting off taking her inside and now I think both my legs have gone numb.”

  “I’ll take her,” Nolie said, but Chase tugged her back. “Have a seat. I’ll carry her upstairs.”

  “But—”

  Stepping past her, he scooped up the kid from Raine’s lap, opened the screen door, and carried her inside. She looked unsubstantial as hell, but she was a solid weight in his arms—a weight smelling of sweet soap and baby shampoo, looking innocent and owlish with her eyes closed and her thick glasses still perched on her nose.

  He didn’t bother with a light as he turned into her bedroom. Two night-lights, one a mermaid and the other a dancing hippo, provided enough illumination to lay her on the twin bed. He removed her glasses and set them on the night table, then watched as she immediately huddled into the pillow, her mouth pursed, and settled once again into deep sleep.

  He’d always wanted children—at first because it had seemed the thing to do, later because he’d . . . well, he’d wanted them. Wanted someone to love, teach, and influence. Someone to pass on the best parts of himself to. Someone with his name and his values, who would live long after he was gone.

  Someone to prove that he was a better man than his family believed?

  Bending, he brushed Micahlyn’s hair from her face, then eased the sheet over her. She sighed and squinted up at him. “G’night, Mr. Bogeyman.”

  His smile was unsteady. “Goodnight, Mica.” Turning away, he made it only a few feet before soft voices filtered through the open windows from below.

  “Looks like you had fun.” That was Raine, her born-and-bred-in-Boston voice a far cry from Nolie’s lazy, softer Arkansas equivalent.

  “Wh-why do you say that?” Nolie’s response made him smile. She was the kind of witness lawyers loved—or hated, depending on the testimony offered—to get on the stand. She couldn’t lie, or even avoid the truth, worth a damn, and everyone knew it.

  “Well, your hair was so neatly done up when you left.”

  “Oh, uh, the top was down, and . . . the wind . . . you know . . .”

  Raine sounded greatly amused. “Did the wind also undo the buttons on your dress?”

  “I-I-I—” Nolie gave up, and in the silence that followed, Chase presumed she was refastening the buttons.

  “Besides, you have that look, and so does Chase.”

  “What look is that?” Nolie asked guardedly.

  “That look. You know, the gee-that-felt-good-when-can-we-do-it-again look.”

  “Oh, no. No, no, no—”

  Grinning, Chase turned away from the window and headed downstairs. When he reached the porch, Nolie was still stammering out her denial. He sat down on the bench near her chair and noticed that she had, indeed, buttoned her dress. Feeling a strong twinge of regret at that, he politely interrupted. “She’s teasing you, Nolie. Don’t give her the satisfaction.”

  “Much as it pains me to say this, he’s right, Nolie. I’m just having fun.” With a laugh, Raine stretched her arms above her head. “I’m afraid I’ve got to head to bed, so you’ll have to share the dirty details with me tomorrow. Thanks so much for letting me invite myself to dinner. I can’t remember when I had such a nice evening. Chase, you want to give me the keys, I’ll take the Z home and you can wander along when you’re ready.”

  He handed her the keys, added his goodnight to Nolie’s, then waited until Raine was pulling away to speak. “I’d probably better go, too.”

  “Then you should have gone with her.”

  “And miss the opportunity to kiss you goodnight?”

  The pale light spilling through the window showed her faint blush and roused a long-forgotten tenderness inside him. Though the women he involved himself with inspired a great many emotions, tenderness generally wasn’t one of them. But how many times had he reminded himself that Nolie wasn’t the others?

  A fact he was appreciating more every day.

  “You kissed me goodnight at the lake,” she primly pointed out.

  “That was just a peck. This time I think I’ll kiss your socks off.”

  She extended both legs to show her bare feet. “I’m not wearing socks.”

  No, but she was wearing a few other garments he would like to rid her of, starting with that plain white bra that had kept his explorations at the lake far less intimate than he would have liked. But he’d been afraid to push her too far too fast, and . . . well, hell, there was something to be said about anticipation.

  When he stood up, so did she, and for every step he took forward, she retreated one. Finally the screen door was behind her, and there was no place left to go but inside. He blocked that easily enough by resting his palm against the door frame above her head and leaning his weight on it. She was trapped between him and the cabin wall, but she didn’t look trapped. In fact, if the satisfied smile curving her mouth was anything to judge by, she was exactly where she wanted to be.

  He smoothed away the smile with one fingertip. “Don’t tempt me. Did I mention that I haven’t been with a woman for more than three years? I’m a strong man, but I have my limits.”

  She bit gently at his finger before brushing it away. “Nolie the temptress. Improbable, but I like it.”

  “Improbable?” Nudging her feet apart, he slid his hands to her bottom and lifted her against his erection. “Does that feel improbable?”

  Her only response was a whimper, which aroused him almost as much as her hips, soft and heated, cradling his. More than anything, he wanted to be inside her, wanted to see her naked, to kiss her all over, to fill her over and over until neither of them could bear anymore. More than anything he wanted . . .

  . . . to do this right. To please her, satisfy her, love her, in ways no one else ever had. To protect her. To protect himself.

  Slowly, with a groan, he let her feet slide to the floor. Eyes closed, jaw clenched tightly, he buried his face in her hair and took long sweet breaths of perfume, shampoo, Nolie, woman. Finally, from somewhere, he found the strength to raise his head, to look down at her, to touch his mouth to hers.

  “Goodnight,” he whispered. “Sleep tight. And don’t forget to wish. . . .”

  He walked away quickly, not looking back until he reached his own porch. There he looked, but it was too dark to tell whether she still stood in the shadows. It wasn’t too dark, though, to find a thousand twinkling stars overhead. He settled on the brightest of them all and silently recited the rhyme. I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight. I wish . . .

  It was so childish, believing in wishes—far too innocent and optimistic a thing for a man like him. But that didn’t stop him from finishing.

  I wish for Nolie.

  For now? For always? Forever?

  For now, he repeated again. For all the reasons she’d pointed out at the lake, all the reasons he’d brought up himself earlier, there was no future for them. For now would have to be enough, because his only choices were that or nothing.

  Just for an instant, he would have sworn that the wishing star, the brightest of them all, twinkled even brighter in response. But it was only his imagination.

  Funny. Most people back in Boston never would have believed he even had an imagination.

  DON’T YOU LOVE WHEN THINGS WORK OUT THE way they’re supposed to?” Gloria said in her pleased-with-the-world voice. “And twinkling the star—that was a nice effect. Sort of like adding an exclamation point.”

  Sophy nodded modestly. She liked effects—shooting stars to carry prayers to heaven, a hint of a soft voice carried on a freshening breeze, though, truthfully, Gloria used that more often than Sophy.

  “There’s still much to be done, though. Chase is no closer to dealing with his family than when he came here, stubborn man.” Gloria planted her feet on the shingles that roofed Chase
’s cabin, then rested her arms on her knees and her chin on her arms. “This is gonna be a tough one.”

  “You always say that.”

  Gloria gave her a long, steady look. “And I’m always right.”

  That was true, too, Sophy admitted, though she didn’t say so out loud. She didn’t need to. Gloria’s preening made that clear.

  “I’m not preening!” the other guardian denied.

  Sophy didn’t bother arguing the point with her. “These two are safe for the night. Come on. We’ve got places to go and other people to watch over.”

  Gloria disappeared first, her voice murmuring after her, “A guardian’s work is never done.” With a grin, Sophy followed, leaving behind nothing but a sprinkling of angel dust where, seconds ago, she’d sat. Just a whisper of glittery gleaming that sparkled in the air before fading away to nothing.

  Did she mention that she liked special effects?

  THE RELENTLESS BEEP-BEEP-BEEP OF AN ALARM slowly penetrated Cole’s sleep and forced him to fling out one arm to fumble for the clock so he could throw it across the room. The night table was in the wrong place, though, so he encountered wood where there should have been air, bruising a knuckle, and for his effort, all the table held was a lamp.

  The beeping, coming from the other side of the bed, abruptly stopped, then a warm body rolled close against him. Just the feel of all that soft, bare skin brought back a flood of memories, including how he’d wound up sleeping on the wrong side of the bed. Dinner Saturday night, followed by incredible and endless sex with Leanne. Except for work Monday, they’d hardly come up for air since Saturday’s dessert. No wonder he felt so good—and so tired.

  “Tell me it’s not really time to get up,” she mumbled.

  “You set the alarm, darlin’, not me.” He turned to face her, wrapping his arms around her, drawing her near. “It’s barely dawn. Stay another half hour.”

  “It’s nearly seven o’clock. In another half hour, there are going to be a lot of people out and about.”

  People she would rather not have seeing her leave his house and, so obviously, his bed. It was a logical precaution, one he usually took whenever he spent the night at a woman’s house. There were times when talk was good, and times when it wasn’t. When it involved sex, he’d learned, the less said, the better.

  So why did it bother him that she was being cautious?

  “Are you ashamed to let people know you’ve been staying over here?”

  That opened her eyes wide. “Of course not. I’m thirty-two years old. I’ve had enough serious relationships that it won’t surprise anyone I have a sex life. It’s just . . .” She flashed a wicked grin as she slid out of bed. “I don’t want to share you yet.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that.” Cole leaned against the headboard, pulled the sheet to his waist, and watched her. She worked quickly—maneuvering into her panties and bra, then her dress; smoothing out the wrinkles; combing back her hair; scooping up her earrings from the nightstand; stepping into her shoes. Even just awakened after too little sleep, she looked incredible.

  He would miss her when he was gone.

  The thought disturbed him—not because he was already thinking about when he would leave. He always left; it was what he did. And he always missed the various women who had brightened his life and shared his bed. He just didn’t make a habit of missing them in advance. That was all that bothered him. He wasn’t getting attached to her. Hell, he didn’t even have the emotional capacity to do that.

  Decent enough for the stroll across the street to her apartment, she came to sit on the bed beside him. “I had a good time,” she said, all prim and proper.

  He grinned, though he didn’t really feel like it. “Your mother raised you right, huh?”

  “No, but I turned out well anyway.” She brushed a kiss to his jaw. “I’ll grab Danny and be on my way.”

  “We can bring him over when he wakes up, hopefully at a decent hour.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  When he shook his head, she started toward the door, then came back and planted a kiss on him. “Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes dark with emotion. “See you later.” Without waiting for a response, she left.

  He listened until he heard the front door close, then with a groan, he slid down in the bed. He’d seen that look in her eyes before—not in hers, specifically, but the same look. In other women’s eyes. The getting-serious look. The damn-near-adoring look.

  The she’s-gonna-be-trouble look.

  All he wanted from a woman was good sex and companionship. Talking could be interesting. Having someone to eat dinner with was a nice change. Not going to sleep in an empty bed every night was worth a lot. But that was all he wanted, and only on a short-term basis. He had no intention of settling down. Who needed the complications?

  If he had half a brain, the next kiss he gave Leanne would be good-bye. He wouldn’t even have to tell her it was over. He was an expert at breaking things off without saying anything at all. Become unavailable, put some emotional distance between them, let her see him with other women . . . She was a smart woman. She would get the hint.

  All he had to do was give it.

  After a while, he eased out of bed, feeling every one of his thirty years, showered, dressed, then checked on the boys. Ryan’s room was at the other end of the hall from Cole’s. Had all that distance been his choice or Ryan’s? Cole couldn’t remember.

  Fifty years ago it had been the Miller boys’ room. The walls were still papered with a faded baseball theme, and the twin beds were still covered with decades-old spreads in Yankee colors. Ryan had griped that it was a kid’s room, then moved in without further complaint.

  He was asleep now, the bedside lamp scooted closest to his bed, its light too dim to compete with the morning sun filtering through the sheer curtains. For as long as Cole had known him, he’d insisted on sleeping with a light on. He wasn’t afraid of the dark, he’d sworn in his blustery, grown-up way. He just liked to see where he was the instant he woke up. One night, though, probably two years ago, the bulb had burned out and Cole had been shocked out of a sound sleep by a spine-chilling scream. It had taken two hours to get Ryan settled down, and for months after that, Cole had left two lights burning. He’d never known what caused the nightmare—no doubt, something the boy’s worthless mother had done. Truth was, he hadn’t wanted to know. It was easier for him.

  And he did have a tendency to do what was easiest for him, he thought sardonically.

  In the other bed, Danny was lying on his back, his eyes open, his mouth turned up in a friendly grin. He wiggled his fingers, then said in a loud whisper, “Ryan’s still asleep.”

  “You want some breakfast?” When Danny nodded, Cole lifted him up in one arm and carried him into the hall. When he would have lowered the kid to the floor, though, Danny held on, so, because it was no big deal, Cole gave him a ride downstairs to the kitchen.

  After settling Danny at the table, Cole nuked a half-dozen frozen sausage links and toasted the same number of frozen waffles. He turned his into sandwiches, which he ate standing up. Danny turned his into boats, floating on an ocean of syrup dotted with islands of melted butter.

  “I have to go to day care,” Danny announced, syrup dripping from his chin.

  “Yeah?” Cole handed him a napkin, then watched him swab his whole face and still miss the syrup.

  “Does Ryan go to day care?”

  “Nope.” That was one thing Cole had never had to mess with. The kid had been taking care of himself since he was out of diapers, and was better at it than Cole would ever be.

  “ ’Cause he’s a big boy.” Danny nodded knowingly, then said in a solemnly disappointed voice, “And I’m just a kid.”

  “The older you get, the tougher life gets. Stay a kid as long as you can, son.” Son? Jeez, where the hell had that come from? He’d never even called Ryan that . . . though it was true his own father had rarely called Cole or his brothers anything e
lse. It was easier than keeping six boys and their names straight.

  Once Danny finished eating, Cole wiped his face and hands—and pajamas—with a washcloth, then settled him in the living room with cartoons on TV while he went upstairs to dress in a pale gray suit, white shirt, and burgundy tie. He added cuff links and a diamond-studded tie clip, slid his Italian leather wallet into his pocket and his Italian leather loafers onto his feet, then checked the mirror. His taste in clothes was conservative at best, downright boring at worst. Truth was, he didn’t trust himself to experiment. Besides, conservative wasn’t a bad thing for an investment broker.

  Switching his briefcase to his other hand, he knocked loudly at Ryan’s open door. “Hey, lazy bones, you plannin’ to show your smiling face in school today?”

  “Go away,” the kid groaned from under his pillow.

  “Come on, or you’re gonna be late.”

  “It’s a holiday.”

  “Uh-huh. Right.”

  “It’s a teacher workday.” Ryan slid the pillow aside, leaving his hair standing on end. “I’m sick. The school burned down. The principal gave me summer vacation early because I’m so smart. I’m under house arrest. If I leave the house, aliens will beam me up.”

  “Are those the best excuses you can come up with?” Cole grinned. “Come on, get your butt in gear. I’m gonna run Danny across the street. Soon as I get back, we’ve gotta get going.”

  Scowling, Ryan got out of bed. “Just for the record”— he paused in front of Cole on the way to the bathroom— “enrolling me in school was a really dumb idea.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who showed up here and left me without a choice. Besides, it keeps you out of trouble.”

  Ryan snorted. “You ’n’ me both know better ’n that.”

  “Ten minutes,” Cole called an instant before the bathroom door slammed. He took the stairs three at a time, dropped the briefcase, and picked up Danny, then headed for Leanne’s. This would be a good time to start putting some distance between them, he reminded himself as he rang the bell next to her apartment door. Easily said, easier done.