by May Williams
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah.” He shifted in his chair uncomfortably. “It doesn’t make good dinner conversation.”
She was curious about his experiences, but it would be bad manners to press him. So, she tried a different tactic. “What have you been doing since then?”
“I was in the army until six months ago.” He glanced toward the lake that shimmered in the last light of the day. “I’m still adjusting to the civilian world after ten years in the military. I left most of my stuff in Virginia, my last duty assignment, so I could travel this summer taking pictures of normal things.”
“You got a good start on that today.”
“No doubt. I also do some webpage designing. I have a contract to photograph one of the ski resorts in Boyne and build a webpage for them. They’re trying to sell themselves as a year-round resort. Hang on a second.” He leaped to his feet and snagged his camera. Pushing the screen door open, he went onto the open deck, beyond the screened area, and snapped pictures rapidly.
The last of the light showed the sharp lines of his profile while he pivoted to photograph the scene up and down the shoreline. When he faced away from her toward the lake, she studied his build. He was long and lean but with broad shoulders. Nothing surprising for a man just out of the army. His physique could keep her occupied for a while, but it was the intensity of his focus she found fascinating. Every movement of his body was aligned, determined to capture the shot. Even when a little muscle twitched, it felt like something momentous as his large, but dexterous hands adjusted the camera. Would he even hear her if she called to him now?
“Sorry. I was waiting for the light to change and it just caught me.” He came through the door as abruptly as he’d left and took his place at the table again.
“It’s okay. I like watching you work.” Good thing the light was fading now or he’d see the blush on her burning cheeks at her unintended words. “Think you got what you were looking for?” She asked to re-start the conversation.
“I usually do,” he commented, his gaze resting on her face as several beats of silence passed. He cleared his throat before taking a drink of water. “Boyne isn’t far from Petoskey, is it?”
“About twenty-five miles.” Would he really be that close? But then again, how long before he roamed on with his camera? She shouldn’t get involved or even think about it. Her last relationship had been such a disaster she could hardly remember it without an involuntary shudder, but she found herself asking, “How long will you be there?”
He shrugged, a gesture that seemed a little too casual. “Depends on how long it takes me to do the job.”
Was he trying to push her away? She couldn’t tell with his mannerisms flicking between hot and cold. Either way, she was his hostess for the night.
“Let’s clean up and have coffee and dessert inside. It’s going to be cool enough tonight for a fire.” Colette stood, gathering the dishes from the table.
“There’s more?” He rose to his feet to load the tray with the dirty plates.
“Of course. I take dessert very seriously.” Colette smiled at him over her shoulder as she moved toward the door. “Everyone in my family does. As a matter of fact, we take food very seriously.”
“Wouldn’t know it to look at you,” he said, his eyes sliding down her. It was an obvious flirtation, but what was his game? He must be interested, so why the intentional distance just a moment ago? Doesn’t matter, she decided, and gave him a smile. She flicked her eyes down his body. He stood, taking a step toward her as the tension built. Her heart rate accelerated in anticipation until Romeo let out a long sigh, breaking the moment.
“I’ll get these things soaking. Why don’t you build a fire? All the supplies should be by the fireplace.” She picked up the tray and leaned against the door leading into the house. He stepped toward her then hesitated for a second like he wanted to say something. “You know how, right?” she asked.
“Hm?” He reached past her to open the door, brushing against her side.
“To light a fire,” she whispered.
“Believe me, I’ve got plenty of experience with that.”
In the great room, Ian stacked wood in the huge stone fireplace, opened the flue, and struck a match to a pile of kindling. Heat leaped out at him, but couldn’t ward off the chilly sensation that overtook him while he spoke with Colette on the porch. How was he going to acquire her property when she and her siblings so adamantly planned to hold onto it?
Hell. That was the least of his troubles. The smell of pine filled the space around him as he poked at the fire to spread the flames. He hated telling lies. Okay, so the business about Boyne and the ski resort was true, but he hadn’t told her why he was traveling this summer. And he sure wasn’t bringing up his great interest in the Petoskey area tonight.
He’d barely stopped himself from telling her why he happened into her today. But he couldn’t. She was so open and warm, making him a total ass for his deceptions. And something wasn’t right here. His father insisted the Petersons were willing to sell. That the deal only needed a personal touch, and it was done. This was something else entirely.
Ian prowled around the dimly lit room. Like the exterior of the cottage, the great room was a mix of rough-hewn timbers and stone. The comfortable furnishings and colorful rugs scattered across the wide-planked floor gave the oversized room an intimate feel. The aroma of brewing coffee from the kitchen mixed with the scent of burning wood added to the atmosphere. He could get used to this—a beautiful and sexy woman in a secluded cottage in the woods.
But when he thought about the half-truths he’d told her, nerves twisted his gut again. She’d come out in a minute, and he had to get himself under control. He would confess it all to her and beg her to forgive him, if he didn’t want the commission and the opportunity to reconcile with his father so damn much.
She bumped the swinging door of the kitchen open with her behind, and Ian got a great view of her butt in the tight, celadon green knit skirt she wore. She whirled around with a tray in her arms and smiled at him. Was she doing that on purpose?
“I hope you like chocolate. I could never trust a man who didn’t like chocolate. I’d prefer to serve you a homemade dessert, but no time to bake today so we have store bought.” She unloaded the tray onto the coffee table. Rich cream floated on the surface of steaming coffee in earthenware mugs. Thick slices of chocolate cake were covered by whipped topping and a dusting of cocoa powder.
He moved away from the fire to be closer to her. “Looks delicious.” Maybe it was her, maybe the place, but everything was better here. If only this were the honest accident it seemed.
“If you want delicious, I’ll make you my grandmother’s chocolate mousse or maybe her vanilla crème brûlée sometime.” She tucked the tray under the table and turned to him.
“You can’t promise a man that and not follow through.” He bent his head close to hers, just a few inches more and he could kiss her. Which would be delicious, too.
“I’ll follow through,” she said slowly, but Ian heard the nervous catch in her voice.
“I’d like that.” He waited for her to give him a retreat or advance sign. She seemed to waver for a moment. Then, she plopped down on a pile of pillows next to the table and stretched her legs toward the fire. After cutting off a large piece of cake with her fork, she stuck it in her mouth and licked up a crumb on her lips with her tongue. Ian decided it was a good thing he didn’t know where her bedroom was in the cottage. If he knew, the temptation would be more than he could resist. She had disappeared down a hall on the far side of the great room earlier. But no—a relationship that personal would really make a mess of the business between them.
“So you were in the army, but you didn’t say where you grew up.” She took a sip of coffee. Her eyes flickered to his, catching light.
“Chicago. But I haven’t lived there for a long time.” He sat down next to her and took his coffee cup from the table
.
“Do you have family there?”
“My father.” He winced involuntarily but tried to cover the action by taking a drink of his coffee.
“Something wrong?”
“We haven’t always seen eye to eye,” he admitted. “Improving our relationship is another one of my plans for the summer and life after the army.”
“You’ll go to Chicago to visit him?”
“Eventually.” But he’d better not go empty handed. Without the three Peterson signatures on the dotted line of a deed transfer, he doubted his father would be too welcoming. The fire crackled sharply and shot sparks onto the hearth stone. His relationship with his father would go out like those sparks if he didn’t hold a match to what he had started here. He’d better lay some plans to see her again if he had a prayer of getting those signatures. “How long are you staying up here?”
“I’ll drive home tomorrow night. I have to be at the clinic on Monday. We have a husky coming in for surgery.”
“Is he hurt?”
“No, it’s elective surgery.”
“Tummy tuck? Nose job?” he teased, more relaxed now as he ate a forkful of cake.
“No.” She laughed, and he thought his heart would stop when she leaned close and punched him in the arm. She was near enough that her long blond hair brushed over his shoulder. Another few inches, and she would be in his lap with his lips locked to hers. And wouldn’t that be sweeter than any cake. “Cataract surgery. Huskies can have severe cataract problems even at a young age. This one is only two.” She swiped her tongue over the back of her fork to get the last of the chocolate. “My dad does the surgery and I assist. There are only five vets in Michigan certified to do the operation, and my father happens to be one.”
“Will you get certified someday?”
“Soon. I have to assist at three more surgeries before I can add it to my license.” She caught his appraising look and added, “Eye surgery for dogs is a big deal in the vet world.”
He looked over her physical features again, his eye trained to detect detail. “How old are you?” He asked abruptly.
“Twenty-eight.” She flicked her eyes to his quickly and gave him a saucy look. “You?”
“Thirty-two. You seem young to be so advanced in your career.”
“I fast-tracked college a bit. I knew what I wanted and went after it.” She put her bowl back on the table.
“So now you want a successful animal rescue center and what else?”
She gave him an enigmatic smile. “Well, you’re nearly my age, and you’ve already finished one career! So what do you want, Ian?”
“Several things.” He paused, edging a little closer to her. “Like I want to see you again after tonight.”
“Yeah?” She leaned away from him to study his face. What was she looking for there? He kept his gaze steady on hers and waited. She seemed to hesitate like she was making a decision. “You’ll certainly see me tomorrow. I assume you’re coming to breakfast,” she said at last and stood, breaking the tension.
“Right.” His eyes traveled up the length of her bare leg, not quite ready to let the moment go. “I’ll catch the first ferry back to the mainland in the morning. When is that?” He forced himself to focus on her face and pretended to ignore the sexy body right in front of him.
“Nine, but I’m not leaving until the five-thirty.” She walked over to lock the door to the screened porch. “You’re welcome to stay and look around the island. I’ll probably take a kayak out early before the waves come up. Do you kayak?”
“I canoed in summer camp about twenty years ago. Does that count?” An invitation to stay longer would certainly work in his favor, but maybe it was best not to push.
“Not exactly, but it’s not hard.” She put the last of the dishes on the tray.
At least something’s not hard, he thought, looking at her bend over like that. The situation was so not smart, considering his objective. “I don’t know. I should probably get out of your way.” He scrambled to his feet to stand beside her and put his hand on her arm. “Colette, I want to thank you for giving me a place to stay tonight. Not many women would trust a strange man.” He couldn’t resist sliding his hand over the muscles of her upper arm.
“I have a habit of taking in homeless creatures.” She glanced down to where he touched her, then back at his face. “Although most of them aren’t as…” His light kiss on her lips stopped the rest of her words. He wanted more from the kiss, a lot more, and was considering taking it when a warm, furry pressure on his leg forced him to take a step back. Romeo had worked his way between them. Colette’s hand dropped to stroke the dog’s head. “Sorry. He’s a little jealous.”
“Can’t blame him for that.”
“I think I better say goodnight.” Colette picked up the tray and headed for the kitchen, quickly putting distance between them.
“Can I help you finish cleaning up?” He asked to hold her in the room for a little longer so he could gauge her emotions. She was nervous now, skittish, a bit like a frightened animal.
“No, I’ve got it.” She reached the kitchen door and backed against it. “Just bank the fire, would you?”
“Sure. Good night.”
“Good night, Ian.”
Chapter Three
Colette woke early when a slight glow tinged the eastern sky, but the birds were still silent. She pulled a light sweatshirt over her tank top. Her legs were cold in the thin flannel pants as she opened the door to the small porch off her room and slipped out to wait for the sun. She dropped into a simple yoga pose to wake her muscles.
In a moment, her blood flowed, warming her limbs in the chilly morning air while she looked toward the lake. She loved the island. It was beautiful, but it was the absolute peace that always amazed her. No sounds of traffic, no hum of tires on pavement, no voices—nothing. Just quiet. The rest of the world might as well not exist. She’d felt that way here since she was a little girl. She assumed warrior pose as the tip of the sun came up over the edge of the lake.
Holding the pose, Colette spotted Ian crouched below her near the tree line of the beach with his camera slung around his neck. He, too, waited for the sun. When a quarter of the sun cleared the lake, he raised the Canon to his face and began snapping pictures. Some toward the ball of pink fire, others up and down the shoreline.
As the light increased, he made adjustments on his camera, but continued to shoot. He moved along the shoreline taking pictures of the glistening rocks and the tips of the pine trees as the sun brightened their branches. He worked quickly and methodically with the ease of a professional. After taking his time on a shot of a birch branch, he turned to walk along the shore.
The sharp snap of the dog door made him look up toward the cottage. Romeo charged at him. For a second, Colette couldn’t tell if Romeo was playing or being defensive. Ian grabbed a stick from the beach and hurled it toward the water. Romeo diverted his attention to the stick, chased it down, and returned it to Ian. In a move that shocked her, Romeo nuzzled Ian’s hand. The greyhound rarely warmed up to anyone, but here he was, seeking attention from a near stranger despite his interference in their kiss last night.
She couldn’t blame the dog; getting attention from Ian seemed like a fine idea. Last night, it wouldn’t have taken much to get more, but common sense and self-preservation had stopped her. She’d quickly backed away when she thought she couldn’t trust herself to keep a safe distance anymore.
“Good morning,” he called when he spotted her watching him, his deep voice cutting through the still air. “I didn’t know you were up.”
“Hi.” She pushed open one of the hinged screens and leaned over where he stood on the beach below her porch. “Did you get some nice pictures?”
“I think so.” He switched the camera off and then met her eyes, flashing her a genuine smile. “Did you sleep well?”
“Fantastic. I always do up here.” There was something about the intimate way he asked that made her squirm
inside.
“I can see why. It’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. I’ve never known such quiet.”
She controlled the gasp threatening to escape her when his words echoed her thoughts from earlier. Clearing her throat, she asked, “What can I get you for breakfast?”
“Whatever you’re having. I’ll come help. I was going to make some coffee earlier, but I couldn’t figure out the….” He gestured with his hands to show the shape of the machine.
“Percolator,” she said.
“Yeah, I’m only familiar with the Mr. Coffee variety.”
“Meet me in the kitchen. I’ll teach you the fine art of the percolator.” She pulled the screen shut and slipped back into her room. After dressing, she ran a brush through her hair, braided it rapidly, and secured the end with a red band to keep it back for kayaking later.
Maybe she could convince Ian to go with her; he hadn’t seemed totally averse to the idea last night. He could take more photographs while they paddled the circumference of the island. That might be a way to sell the idea to him without just saying she wanted his company.
When she entered the kitchen a few minutes later, the percolator lay in pieces on the kitchen table. Ian had the coffee in his hands, but stood there mystified by the machine.
“I don’t get it. Does the coffee go in here?” He pointed to the perforated lid of the coffee chamber.
“Uh-huh.” Colette filled the urn with water at the sink and returned to the table.
“How does the water go through the coffee?”
“The water boils in the pot, rises through this tube,” she held out part of the machine toward him, “goes over the ground coffee, and filters back into the pot. It’s very simple.”
“Right.” He nodded slowly as she assembled the percolator and set it over a burner on the large stove. “Oh! There’s a stove involved!”
“Yes,” she laughed at his surprise, “you just have to make sure the water doesn’t circulate through the grounds more than once. It can get bitter then.”