“That Simms attacked you?”
“No. That Mikey has started swearing.” She took the ice pack from her nephew and gingerly touched it to her cheek. “If this is an example of your fatherly influence on him, it’s probably time you went back to New York.”
“It won’t work, Emma.”
She blinked at him.
“The subject is not Mike’s language, nor mine. Where else are you hurt?”
She blinked again.
“Then I guess I’ll just take you to the bedroom, strip off your clothes, and find out for myself.”
Emma darted a look at Mike, who was wholeheartedly nodding approval of Ben’s threat. She brought her right hand up. “I hurt my hand when I punched him back. Are you satisfied now?”
Her knuckles were bright red and swelling.
“Nem? Why did Galen attack you?”
“I told him I wouldn’t marry him. And that I was selling Medicine Creek Camps.”
“What! Why did you say that?”
“Because I am.”
“But you can’t!”
“Sure I can. I may have already found a buyer.”
Ben leaned back in the chair but kept his hands securely on her hips. The surprises just kept coming—from finding out he had a son to finding out he loved that son to discovering he was even willing to marry his son’s aunt.
“When did you decide this?” Ben shot a worried look at Michael. Emma was going to push the boy, all right. Only it was a matter of who got pushed over the edge first—Mike or Ben.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.”
She was positioning the bag of ice over her hand with the attention of a scientist working on a complicated experiment.
Mike gave Ben an uncertain look, silently asking him if this was a good revelation or a major snag in their plans. Ben didn’t know what to tell the boy, so he asked Emma, “And what do you plan to do then?”
She still refused to look up. “I thought I might go to college.”
“What?” Michael asked.
Emma looked at her nephew. “I’ve always wanted to be a marine biologist. I love the ocean. And I want to go live by it.”
“Well, Jeez, Nem. You could have said something a little sooner. You could have sold the camps years ago.”
She tried to get off Ben’s lap, and this time he let her go. She stood up and faced Mike. “You and I weren’t ready years ago.”
Ben rolled his eyes and also stood up. “Well, ready or not, here comes life, people.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at them both. “You two have been spending all your time trying to outmaneuver each other—and me—instead of seeing the obvious. Now both of you are going to sit down on that couch while I tell you how things are going to be from now on.”
“This isn’t your boardroom, Mr. Sinclair. You can’t order us around.”
One small step brought Ben’s face within inches of hers. “Sit.”
Mike pulled her down on the couch beside him. Ben smiled at her glower.
“You, Emma Sands, are not going to sell anything. The three of us are going to stay right here at Medicine Creek Camps until Mike graduates from high school. There’s no sense in uprooting him at this point.”
“Then you’re moving to your own cabin.”
Ben still smiled. “That’s fine. I’m going to have to bring in some office equipment, so a separate cabin would work better for me. Like you, I have a business to run. But I’ll be taking my meals here.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but Ben continued. “And you, Michael, will stop coming straight home after school. You’ll stay and play some basketball. Or hang out with the guys. Flirt with the girls, and get into trouble if you have to. But you’re going to get into teenage trouble—not confrontations with Crazy Larry, the FAA, or the Highway Patrol. Understood?”
Emma jumped up from the couch. “Are you implying that I’ve kept Michael away from his friends?”
Ben took hold of her shoulders and sat her back down, smiling with all the confidence of a man who knew he was finally in control of the situation. “No, I’m not saying any such thing. Michael has kept himself isolated because he’s too old for his own good.”
He straightened and looked at his son. “I don’t care if you’re smarter than Einstein, Mike. You’re going to burn yourself out if you don’t start learning to kick back a little. It’s time you started being fifteen, not fifty.”
Ben could tell that Mike wanted to say something, but his very intelligence kept him silent. And probably a little shock.
“And just what will you be doing while Mikey is getting into trouble and I’m not selling my camps?” Emma asked.
“I’m going to be running my business and dating you.”
“What!” She stood again, her face red, her hands balled into fists.
“I think I’ll start by taking you to the dance next Saturday night,” he continued.
Ben ducked the suddenly airborne ice pack, winking at Mike as he headed for the kitchen. “Go clean yourself up, Em, while I make breakfast. Mike and I are hungry. We’ve been up all night doing your work.”
“Hey, Dad?”
Ben stopped and turned. “What?”
“Is that a piece of moss I see sticking to your shirt?” the boy asked.
Emma gasped so hard, she started coughing.
Ben looked down at his shirt, but didn’t see anything.
“Don’t worry about it, Dad. A little moss never hurt anyone.”
Chapter Eight
For the last four days, Mikey hadn’t come home until after nine at night. God only knew what the
boy was up to. Emma had fretted over Ben’s revelation that her nephew didn’t have friends his own age. But fifteen-year-old boys usually had more hormones than brains, and she was afraid Mikey’s would awaken before she had The Talk with him.
“Something sure smells good in here. You got enough for one more, Nem?”
As if her thoughts had conjured him up, Mikey walked through the kitchen door with—Ohmigod—a girl in tow.
“Ah, sure. There’s plenty.”
“Nem, this is Jasmine. Jass, this is my aunt, Nemmy.”
“Hello, Jasmine.”
“Hi.”
“Come on, Jass. I’ll show you my computer,” Mikey said, leading the girl through the kitchen.
Her spoon suspended over the stew, Emma stared at the retreating kids. Should she be letting Mikey take a girl to his bedroom?
This was Ben’s fault! He should be here supervising the problem he’d created. Emma marched out of the house and up onto the porch of cabin six. She used the wooden spoon to knock on the door, then used it to point at Ben. “Your son brought something home that he wants to show you. He’s in his room.”
Ben plucked the spoon out of her hand and sniffed it. “That’s not moose you’re cooking, is it?”
“Hurry up. You’ve got to go see Mikey before … well, just get going.”
“I’m right in the middle of a conference call to Singapore, Em. Can’t it wait?”
Emma pushed past him and found the phone on a desk that took up the entire main room of the small cabin. She pushed the red button that was flashing.
“Hey!”
“Being a father takes priority, Ben. Go see Mikey. Now.”
“That was an important client you just hung up on, Emma. What’s Mike got that won’t keep a few more minutes?”
“A girl. And the blouse she has on is probably outlawed in all fifty states. Enough said?”
With a muttered curse, Ben was out the door and halfway to the house before she’d finished.
Since she was here and he was gone, and dinner was probably going to be postponed a bit, Emma decided to snoop. Her quaint little cabin now looked like the command center for the United Nations. A map of the world was tacked up on the back wall, over a table of office machines that could be on a spaceship headed to Mars. One of them was whirring and spitting out papers fa
ster than Emma could read them. She looked more closely at the map.
There were little pins stuck in it all over the world, mostly in the water. Some were at coastal cities, some far out to sea. Some were red, some were green, and all of them were on little black lines running back and forth across both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. Purple pins were stuck inland, at what Emma realized were major airports.
Tidewater International was huge.
And Ben was trying to run it from Medicine Creek Camps?
Emma sat down in the big executive chair and stared at the map. Why hadn’t Ben taken his son home already? Trying to work here couldn’t be easy.
She wrapped her arms around herself. She’d made a mess of this whole thing—for everyone but Mikey, it seemed. For the last four days the boy had been walking on clouds—whenever he was home—and whistling his way through his chores. Whistling!
Well, she was glad for him. The poor kid had been so confused when his mother left, and Emma worried that he’d blamed himself. So she had spent the last ten years trying to make up for Kelly’s treachery.
She had no idea how any mother could simply walk away from her child and not even bother to contact him again. A letter would have been nice, or a birthday card or even a postcard, from wherever she was.
But then, a postcard would give them a way to track her down, and Kelly obviously wasn’t ready to be found. More than once, Emma had been tempted to hire a detective, just so she could walk up to her sister and slap her face. She hated Kelly for what she’d done, and she was never, ever going to forgive her.
Emma jumped when the phone suddenly rang. She stared at its blinking lights and many buttons, and finally picked up the receiver. “Tidewater International. No, Mr. Sinclair is not available at this time. What? A check? For how much! No, I don’t think that’s correct. You’re way too high … I don’t care if you’ve already delivered it; you can just come take it back. I see. Well, then you’ll have to accept a check for two thousand less. No … No … One thousand, then, and not a penny more. Thank you, Mr. Coffin.”
“Me? Oh, I’m the … vice president in charge of acquisitions. Yes, Tidewater International will be sure to do business with you in the future. Good-bye.”
Emma’s smug grin suddenly disappeared when a tall, ominous shadow fell across the desk.
“Well, Miss Vice President. Make any good deals lately?”
“The phone rang, and you weren’t here, so I answered it.”
“Thank you. I think.”
Emma started straightening the papers on the desk. “Money must grow on a tree in your backyard, Ben. You paid way too much for that sissified truck parked outside.”
Two hands, palms flat, settled on the papers she was straightening. “Did I?”
“Well, not now. I got you a thousand dollars off. Remember that when you write out the check.”
“I surely will, Miss Vice President. Take any other calls?”
Emma finally looked up into Ben’s laughing eyes. “Singapore called back, but I told them your girlfriend had just gone into labor with twins, and that her father was coming through the door with a shotgun. They said they’d call back.”
He was around the desk before she could scramble out from behind it. And before she could finish gasping, Emma was being lifted up and plopped down on the mahogany surface, scattering the papers—right along with her emotions. Muscular thighs spread her knees, and long arms wrapped around her as those laughing eyes suddenly changed.
It was a look Emma had seen before.
She tried to push him away. She knew it was impossible, but she didn’t want to ever let this man realize the power he was gaining over her.
“That was a very nasty thing to do, Emma Sands.”
“Will you have to turn all your big boats around in midocean now, Mr. Sinclair? Have you lost face with your Singapore clients?”
“Probably.”
“Will that bankrupt Tidewater International?”
“Probably.”
“So Michael won’t have a company to inherit?”
“There’s always Medicine Creek Camps.”
Emma nodded. “That’s true. It’s a good thing I haven’t sold it yet.”
“If I promise to finally kiss you, will you stop kneading my chest?”
“Oh! I’m so—” His lips stopped her from flirting any further.
Flirting! Was she flirting with Ben Sinclair? Had that voice really been hers?
She would love to analyze this side of herself, but she was being kissed senseless by a man who knew exactly what he was doing.
He was beginning to smell like the woods he was spending so much time in, Emma discovered as Ben’s tongue invaded her mouth. Thank God she was sitting on the desk; she could feel herself already turning into a blob of jelly. Her head spun. Her heart began to pound. And she had to move her hands away from his delightful chest and grab his shoulders so she could kiss him back.
He should come with a warning label.
“I want to make love to you.”
Emma blinked up at Ben. Had she said those words or had he?
“But I can wait. A little while.”
Emma sighed in relief. Of course he’d said them. If she had, Ben would have had her naked before she’d finished the sentence.
Now there was a thought. Why not just rip off her clothes and … and do it?
What was stopping her?
Maybe the bone-chilling fear that she would find herself in Kelly’s position two months from now? The terrible fear that she was no better than her sister?
Another abandonment would kill her.
Michael would be graduating in two months, then he would be leaving to start his own life. And Tidewater International was run by a man who would need a special woman by his side—one who was intelligent, cultured, and worldly. Knowing how to skin fish and track a deer were not skills Ben’s girlfriend would need to know.
A mighty sigh blew over her head and Emma realized she had wrapped her arms around Ben’s waist and was hugging him, her face buried in his chest. With the gentleness of a concerned man, he was hugging her back, his chin resting on her head.
“I’m either making you mad or sad every time I touch you, Emma Sands.”
“Dinner’s going to burn.”
He simply held her tighter. “It’s okay. Mike and Jasmine are seeing to dinner.”
“I still have to go.”
“In a minute. Let me just hold you.”
Said the spider to the fly. He was holding her close enough that Emma could still feel his desire.
She was so confused. Ben’s lust for her certainly seemed real, but how could a man feel concern for the woman who had kept his son a secret from him?
He wasn’t after her camps, or her skills as a guide. He had truly been angry that she’d placed herself in danger with the tree spikers. And he’d been determined she not go back out that night to retrieve the moose. And he would have killed Galen Simms had the jerk stayed around long enough.
Benjamin Sinclair wasn’t acting like he hated her.
Emma snuggled closer against him. This was nice. Never in her life had she leaned on anyone else for support, but she was so damn tired of trying to figure things out.
She sighed. “If Mike’s anything like you when there’s a female around, dinner will be burnt to a crisp. I’ve got to go.”
Ben finally stepped back and Emma regretted the sudden lack of contact. But she had to stop feeding her dream of happily ever after. She could enjoy what time she had left with Mikey and Ben; she only had to remember the joy was temporary. Two more months and it would end.
“Look at me, Em.”
She finally looked up.
“Try as I might, I can’t read your mind. But I do know mine. You belong to me, Emma Sands, just as much as Mike does.” He cupped her face in his large hands and gave her a swift, forceful kiss. “Try to get used to the idea.”
With that promise echoing in her ears
, Emma ran out of the cabin with all the dignity of Pitiful.
“I hope to come to one of your camp sessions next summer. Mom does, too.”
“That’s great, Jasmine. You’ll enjoy it immensely.” Emma smiled at the girl sitting across the table. The poor darling seemed completely intimidated by Ben. Those were the first words the girl had spoken since they’d sat down to dinner.
“But you live right in town, Jasmine. Why would you want to come stay at one of Emma’s cabins?” Ben asked, looking directly at the girl.
Mikey came to her rescue, for Jasmine was too busy choking on her dinner to answer. “Nem runs weeklong camps in the summer for women only,” he explained.
Ben looked at Emma. “Really? How innovative.”
Emma suddenly felt as self-conscious as Jasmine, only for different reasons. Lord, the man was handsome, with his hair nearly as long as Mikey’s and his beard bristling with his smile.
“That’s been the success of Medicine Creek Camps,” Mikey said. “There are a lot of women who want to hunt and fish, but are put off by the whole macho image. Nem runs ads in all the national magazines, inviting women to come and explore the wilderness. She won’t guide men at all.”
“And the women come?”
“They sure do. Especially to the summer camps. We advertise them as a week’s escape from the real world. One ad asks that if kids can be sent to summer camps, why not moms? We offer fishing and hiking and kayaking, wildlife safaris, and floatplane rides. We ran three weeklong camps last summer and four weekend camps. Some of the women are coming back for deer hunting this November.”
“Interesting. And you don’t guide men at all?” he asked, looking at Emma.
“Not if I can help it.”
“Why not?”
“When some men book a guide for a week, they leave their manners at home. They shed all pretense of civilization and come here to play Rambo. Finding out their guide is a female kind of destroys the fantasy.”
“They become jerks,” Mikey added, drawing his father’s attention again.
Ben’s face suddenly lost its humor. “What kind of jerks?”
The boy shrugged. “Nem usually hires local guides to take them out.”
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