Was it really possible that his brother might be able to eventually say more than no? The implications boggled his mind.
“You’ll figure it out,” she answered after a moment. “I’m sure the autism specialist you’ve hired will be amazing with him.”
“She does come highly recommended. But she’s not you. You’ve got him saying words. That’s amazing!”
“I’m not some kind of miracle worker, Bowie. The words are in there. He just needs a little extra help getting them out. Every child should be able to communicate his or her wants and needs.”
He thought of what she had told him, about the seizures that had been part of her early childhood. Had she struggled to communicate? He wanted to ask, but it seemed presumptuous, so he tried to keep focused on his brother.
“Not many people have cared enough to see past all his behavioral problems.”
“I’m starting to wonder how many of those problems stem from frustration at his inability to communicate effectively.”
Again, did she know that from experience? “You could be right. Whatever the reason, you at least have given me hope. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you for everything you’re doing to help him. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”
“You are paying me an outrageous amount, which is making it possible for me to adopt Gabi. That’s more than enough.”
“You won’t persuade me the only reason you’re working with Milo is because I’m paying you. It’s much more than that. Helping children is in your nature or you wouldn’t have become a teacher—and a wonderful one, judging by what I’ve seen and the reaction of that girl in the store the other day. It’s part of you, as much as your blue eyes and that dimple that occasionally peeks out when you smile a certain way.”
She gaped at him for a long, rather awkward moment while he asked himself what the hell had come over him, why he was waxing almost poetic about her dimple.
Bowie was shocked by the fierce urge to pull her from her chair into his lap so he could point out which dimple he was talking about by pressing his mouth to the exact spot.
Memories of that heated kiss the night before had been playing through his head on an endless loop all day. He wanted to taste her again, the heady sweetness of her mouth, those delicious little breathy sighs.
“That’s a very nice thing to say,” she finally said, her voice a little strangled.
He shrugged. “It’s the truth. I’m only pointing out what I’ve seen.”
She didn’t seem to know how to answer him, and they sat quietly for a few moments in a silence that wasn’t at all uncomfortable—until she suddenly slapped her leg, making him jump. “There’s one of those mosquitoes we were talking about earlier.”
Even as she spoke, he felt a similar sting. “One just got me, too. I guess it’s time to go inside. That’s a shame. It’s a lovely evening. You’re right. I need to take advantage of it more often.”
“Next time I’ll bring the bug spray.”
She grabbed the video monitor where they could both see Milo sleeping soundly and they headed into the house.
It was one thing to be alone with Katrina outside in the dark with the vast lake beside them. Their conversation had been easy and comfortable, for the most part. So why did walking inside to his kitchen heighten the intimacy between them?
Without warning, he felt awkward suddenly, tongue-tied and unsure, and could feel his shoulders tighten with tension.
The attraction that simmered between them didn’t help matters.
What should he say to her? Should he bid her good-night? Ask her if she would like a glass of wine? He was suddenly aware, as he hadn’t been before, that she would be sleeping here in his house, just a few steps away from him.
She spoke before he had a chance to find the right words. “It’s been a long day and tomorrow will likely be more of the same. I should turn in, if I hope to have any chance of keeping up with Milo.”
He tried not to let his regret show on his features. “I know you’ve only been staying here less than twenty-four hours, but are you comfortable here? Do you have everything you need?”
“I can’t imagine what that might be. The house is lovely and my bedroom is bigger than most multifamily houses in the village where I’ve been living the last few months.”
“If you don’t like the sheets or the towels are too scratchy or whatever, just say the word and I can have Mrs. Nielson take care of it.”
“Everything seems fine. Don’t worry.”
“You’ll have to forgive me, but I’m a little new at this. Until the last few weeks when I had to hire a nanny for Milo, I had never lived with a woman who wasn’t related to me.”
As an adult, anyway. His childhood was another story. Stella was always picking up a roommate here or there, when she wasn’t moving them into another “family.”
“Never? You’ve never had a live-in relationship?” She looked shocked, making him wish he hadn’t said anything. “And according to the generally reliable Haven Point grapevine, you haven’t dated in the two months you’ve been in town.”
He could feel his face heat and wasn’t sure how to feel at the idea of somebody gossiping to Katrina about him. The women in this town were a formidable lot, with more influence than Caine Tech—contrary to what Aidan and Ben might think.
The first few weeks after he came to Haven Point, he had tried to get a feel for his new town by hitting up the local watering hole, going to a couple of outdoor summer concerts at the park, eating with Aidan and Ben and their wives at the favorite local restaurant, Serrano’s.
That had all ended abruptly the moment he found out about Milo. Since then, his life had completely shifted, and his brother and work had filled up all his free time.
“Yeah. I’ve been a little busy.”
“You should make time. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”
“I’m not quite ancient yet,” he protested.
“What you need, Mr. Callahan, is a wife.”
Okay. That was random. He blinked away his shock and gave her a long look. “Do tell.”
“I’m just saying. That might seem old-fashioned in this day and age, but your situation has changed. Now you have Milo to think about.”
“As I’m well aware.”
“Hired help like me is fine, but Milo will need a solid, steady mother figure in his life. Yang to your yin. There are some fantastic prospects right under your nose here in Haven Point. If you want, I could make you a list.”
“A list,” he said faintly. “Of possible wives. So I can provide a mother figure to my younger brother.”
“Possible women to date,” she corrected. “From there, who knows?”
She wanted to offer him a list of other women, when all he could think about right now was pressing her against those kitchen cabinets and tasting that mouth that had been tantalizing him since they met.
“At the top of that list,” she went on, “I would put my friend Sam. Samantha Fremont. She’s funny and smart and kindhearted, not to mention absolutely lovely.”
“She is,” he agreed.
“And she runs a moderately successful boutique in Haven Point, which is good. You’re going to want a potential wife who has her own interests, especially if you plan to continue the kind of crazy schedule you’ve worked this week.”
“This week is an anomaly. But I see what you’re saying.”
He pictured Samantha Fremont, the pretty redhead he had met at Snow Angel Cove and then seen a few times around town—including that first day with Katrina, he remembered. She seemed nice enough...but she didn’t make his heart race like he’d just run full tilt up a mountain trail and now stood on the precipice of something he couldn’t name.
“Another possibility you could consider asking out is
my friend Julia Winston, who works at the library. She’s a bit older than Sam and me and also kind of on the quiet side—I know, cliché, right? A quiet librarian—but she’s absolutely lovely.”
“We’ve met. Long brown hair, right?”
“That’s her. She is one of the most caring people you will ever meet, and she’s fantastic with children. Milo really warmed up to her when we stopped in for story hour a few days ago.”
“That’s nice, but—”
She cut him off. “Oh, and I can’t forget Megan Hamilton. She’s the owner of the newly remodeled Haven Point Inn, and she’s an incredibly gifted artist as well, not to mention beautiful enough to be a model. Make sure you add her to your list.”
“Okay, while I appreciate the thought, I’m not making a list. Don’t you think I have enough on my plate without adding a girlfriend into the mix? A new house, a new job, Milo? When am I supposed to find time to date?”
“If it’s a priority, you make time.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What about you? You’re trying to adopt a kid. Don’t you think Gabi deserves to have a father? Maybe you should make a list of your own.”
“That’s different.”
“How is it different? Because I have a Y chromosome?”
“Among other things,” she answered tartly, surprising a laugh out of him.
“You don’t think Gabi needs a father?”
Her light smile seemed to slip a bit. “I don’t have a good track record when it comes to men,” she admitted. “I’ve wasted entirely too much time on losers and deadbeats, simply because they were cute and available and interested in me.”
“Like the guy who took you to South America with him.”
“Carter is the perfect example. Immature and self-absorbed and also not the brightest tool in the shed, as Wyn said to me once. I knew exactly what he was, but I still gave him three months of my life.”
Immature and self-absorbed or not, the guy had hurt her, Bowie could tell. He didn’t consider himself a violent man—he had absorbed a few things during his unconventional childhood being raised by a hippie pacifist, after all—but he suddenly wanted to find this Carter Ross dude and toss him into the nearest crevasse.
“Considering I don’t make the best choices with men, I’ve decided it’s best if I stay single. I have Gabi to think about now. I’m planning to raise Gabi on my own, without the distraction of guys coming in and out of our lives.”
“That’s a big sacrifice. Choosing to spend the rest of your life alone.”
A shadow drifted across her eyes, a momentary sadness, but she seemed to shake it off. “I know what I’m giving up. I think I’ll survive. Think of all the energy I’ll have to be Gabi’s mom when I don’t have to constantly cater to a man’s ego.”
“Wow. Surprisingly jaded attitude from one so young.”
“I’m not that young. I’m twenty-seven years old. And I’ve spent at least half of those years chasing one male after another. I’m done.”
“That mountain climber really did a number on you.”
“No. He only forced me to see that I had spent so many years trying to mold myself into whatever the guy I was dating wanted me to be, trying to impress guy after guy, that I never bothered to take the time to impress myself. I had no respect for myself. What sort of woman leaves a good job doing something with meaning that she loves so she can chase after a guy she’s only known a few weeks, simply because he crooks his little finger and it sounds like fun? I didn’t really care that Carter abandoned me in a foreign country. I did, however, care that I’d put myself in a position where he could.”
Yeah. The guy had hurt her. A crevasse wasn’t good enough for him. How about a crevasse with a polar bear in it?
“You made a mistake. That doesn’t mean you have to slam the door on finding something better.”
She had so much love inside her, as he had already seen with Milo. He didn’t like thinking of her tucking away her heart in a drawer somewhere because of some jerk.
“Once I worked through the anger, I decided it was past time for me to stop acting like I’m a silly fourteen-year-old girl. I’m making progress to become someone I can like and respect again, but I still have a long way to go.”
“I don’t think you have as far as you think,” he murmured.
“That’s nice of you to say,” she said. “But you barely know me.”
“I know enough. I’ve seen your compassion with my brother and heard nothing but strength and determination in your voice when you talk about Gabi. You’re someone I like and respect. Maybe you should cut yourself a break.”
“Oh.”
She gazed at him, awareness blooming in her blue eyes. He might have been able to ignore it, to shove down his own awareness back to the little corner of his psyche he’d been trying to wrestle it into all day, but then her gaze flickered to his mouth, and he knew she was remembering their kiss, too.
Instantly, that awareness flared hot and fast into something more. Bowie drew in a breath. He was about to do something monumentally stupid, but he couldn’t stop himself from taking a step forward.
He hesitated, trying to hold on to a little bit of sanity, but she snatched that right out of his grasp when she breathed his name.
With a sigh, he did what he’d been thinking about nonstop for the last twenty-four hours and lowered his mouth to hers again.
He knew the taste of her now, but it still jolted through him, the shock of skin against skin, mouth against mouth. Her hands trembled between them, but then, as she had the night before, she wrapped them around his neck and held on tight.
He wanted to devour her, to lick and taste and explore until he knew exactly what would leave her as breathless and achy as he was. Instead, he purposely held back, deliberately keeping the kiss slow and sensual.
He pressed her back against the kitchen counter, exulting in her soft curves and the sexy little sounds she made as his hands explored her back.
She sighed and pressed those curves against him, her hands playing in his hair and her tongue sliding across his.
He wanted to stay here all night, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough. Something told him he would never get enough of Katrina Bailey. Closer. He needed to be closer. Where was the nearest flat surface? The table? The sofa in the family room? Her bed was just down the hall...
The moment the thought flashed across his brain, reality followed right behind, smacking him hard.
He had no business thinking about taking her to bed, slipping her out of those shorts and exploring all that luscious tawny skin.
Hell, he shouldn’t even be kissing her. Twenty-four hours ago, he had promised her he wouldn’t do this again.
Bowie liked to think he was a man of his word, one who could be trusted not to take advantage of a seductive moment of weakness when she had specifically asked him not to the night before.
Though every base, hungry instinct howled in protest, he eased his mouth away.
“I’m sorry. This is the part where you slap me.”
She stared at him, eyes wide and her breathing uneven.
“Where I...what?”
“I obviously don’t have very much self-control around you. I’m sorry,” he said again. “You asked me not to kiss you again, and I completely disregarded the request. You haven’t even been staying here twenty-four hours. I wouldn’t blame you for quitting.”
“You wouldn’t?”
“I would beg you to reconsider, if that’s the direction you’re leaning. You’re reaching Milo in a way I suspect no one else has. Please don’t make him suffer because of my mistake.”
She stared at him for a long moment, several emotions he couldn’t identify passing in quick succession across her expression.
“Let’s just consider this a mista
ke on both our parts,” she finally said, avoiding his gaze. “I already told you I’m weak when it comes to great-looking guys. I guess I just made that abundantly clear.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
She didn’t look as if she believed him. “If we’re going to make this work for the next few weeks, we should probably avoid these late-night rendezvous, when we’re both tired and our judgment is questionable.”
“Agreed.”
“I’m going to bed,” she said, still avoiding his gaze. “Good night.”
She hurried from the room before he could say good-night in return, leaving him alone with his aching regret.
* * *
WHEN SHE WAS safely in her bedroom next to Milo’s, she closed to the door with great care, then sank onto the wide bed.
Holy freaking cow.
With fingers that trembled, she touched her lips, where she could still taste him there. With a single kiss, he had completely smashed all her good intentions.
She wanted so much to open that door, wander through the house until she found him and jump back into his arms. It would be so easy. He had wanted her, too, which made her light-headed, stunned.
But not so distracted that she would forget her responsibilities. Needing to strengthen her resolve, she pulled out her tablet and flipped to the photo album, scrolling through her many pictures of Gabi.
The girl’s adorable smile beamed out at her, and Katrina’s racing heartbeat began to calm.
This.
She refused to let anything derail her from her goal of adopting this child, helping her obtain the medical care she needed for a long and meaningful life.
For once in her life, she had to focus on something bigger than what she wanted right now. She had to think about her daughter.
Needing a shower to clear her head—a cool one—she hurried into her en suite bathroom and turned on the water. As she shrugged out of her shorts and T-shirt, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, the full breasts that had developed around the time her seizures stopped.
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