Matched by Moonlight

by Gina Wilkins

  “Here’s to Eva Sossaman being at a loss for words,” Logan said gravely, raising his glass.

  Everyone sipped along with him.

  “And you.” Dan nodded toward Kinley. “Were you really prepared to restructure the whole wedding half an hour before it started, right down to the bride’s dress?”

  She shrugged ironically. “If I’d had to. I was taking a bit of a calculated risk, though. I hoped that if she felt as if she had a choice, Serena would leave most everything in place. I know her mother railroaded her into some of the choices, but I was there when quite a few of the decisions were made, and Serena had a little more input than she let on. She’s the one who wanted lavender and white for her colors, and she made a few suggestions to the menu that her mother approved. Once she’d made a few minor changes, she was calm enough to go on with the ceremony.”

  Dan smiled wryly. “So basically she turned a case of bridal jitters into an all-out rebellion against her mother.”

  “Basically.”

  “So, do we really want to keep specializing in weddings?” Logan asked with his dry humor. “Maybe we should switch to hosting fiftieth wedding anniversaries. Catering to nice, sane older couples rather than hysterical brides and meddling mamas.”

  “We love hosting weddings,” Kinley asserted firmly, pointing a finger at Dan. “Be sure you make that clear in the article. Everything you’ve heard us say in private family quarters is off the record.”

  He grinned. “I wouldn’t dare betray your confidences. Your brother would probably sic Ninja on me.”

  “I’d be more worried about Kinley than Ninja,” Logan muttered before setting his empty wineglass aside. “I’m heading home. I’ll be out early in the morning taking down the rest of the wedding stuff.”

  Many of the decorations had been removed during the leisurely wedding dinner. The florist’s crew had hauled away rented accoutrement, the musicians had packed up the keyboard and sound equipment and Logan and Zach had swiftly folded and stacked chairs. Soft background music for the dinner had been piped from speakers discreetly installed on the side lawn. The elaborate cake had been cut, toasts made, bouquet thrown. For guests interested in dancing and drinking, the party had then moved to a nearby club where a live band and an open bar would be provided for their entertainment beginning at eight o’clock and going quite late. Though she hadn’t been involved in the planning for that part of the celebration, Kinley had heard that there would be a two-free-drink limit at the bar. Probably a good idea, considering everything else that had happened that afternoon.

  “Do you have a wedding next weekend?” Dan asked.

  “A very simple one Sunday afternoon,” Bonnie replied. “Only two attendants and thirty guests, a few candles and flowers for decorations and hors d’oeuvres and wedding cake afterward rather than a meal.”

  “That sounds more to my taste,” he remarked.

  “Does it?” Bonnie looked with a smile from Dan to Kinley, who frowned at her playful sister.

  Ignoring her, Bonnie spoke again to Dan. “I’m glad you could stay with us an extra night. Do you have plans for tomorrow?”

  “I was hoping I could talk your sister into showing me some of the local attractions,” he replied, looking at Kinley as he spoke. “Someone told me there’s an observation tower that’s fun to visit. A few historic buildings that might be interesting to tour.”

  Aware that her siblings’ eyes had turned to focus on her, Kinley shifted in her seat. “Well, I do have some paperwork to take care of tomorrow.”

  “For pity’s sake, Kinley, you can take a Sunday afternoon off,” Bonnie said with open exasperation. “You even made Logan stay out for a while Friday evening because you said he’d been working too hard and needed a few hours away from the inn.”

  “You did say that,” Logan agreed placidly, seeming to enjoy her discomfiture.

  “You could think of showing me around as part of your marketing job,” Dan suggested, then grinned. “But I’d actually rather you didn’t.”

  “Fine,” she said with a bit less grace than she would have liked. “You want to climb a tower, we’ll climb a tower. But you’d better wear comfortable shoes. It’s a two hundred step climb and it’s windy at the top.”

  He smiled in satisfaction. “Sounds great.”

  “Be sure and have some of the fudge in the country store,” Logan said as he carried his wineglass to the sink then headed for the door. “My favorite is the maple.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

  Kinley pushed a hand through her hair. “I should go, too. It’s been a long day.” Especially considering how little sleep she’d had the night before, though of course she kept that thought to herself.

  Dan set his glass beside hers. “I’ll walk you to your car. We’ll make our plans for tomorrow.”

  She nodded, bade good-night to her sister, then grabbed her bulging tote bag and walked outside with Dan.

  It seemed as if a very long time had passed since she’d parked at the side of the inn that morning. So much had happened that day. Muscles already sore from her fall in the woods ached a bit with weariness now. She considered herself to be in good physical condition, but the events of the past thirty-six hours had been enough to exhaust anyone, she assured herself.

  It was fully dark out now, of course. Soft lighting illuminated the walkway to her car. With most of the guests away at the wedding dance, it was quiet in the gardens, the sounds of the big fountain drifting through the cool air. Their footsteps crunched on the gravel path. An owl hooted somewhere in the woods, but Kinley didn’t look in that direction. Not that she expected to see anything, of course. She was simply focused on her destination, her keys already in hand.

  Pressing the remote button to unlock her door, she looked up at Dan when they reached her car. “So…sightseeing tomorrow.”

  He chuckled and ran a hand slowly up her arm. “I sort of put you on the spot in there, didn’t I? I’d apologize— but since it worked, I can’t really say I’m sorry.”

  She laughed. “At least you’re honest.”

  “Always,” he assured her with a smile that gleamed in the shadows.

  She focused on those smiling lips, vividly remembering the taste of them, the feel of them against her most sensitive skin. Muscles tightened low in her abdomen, and her fingers clenched reflexively around her key fob.

  Dan’s smile faded as he read the expressions crossing her face. He shifted closer to her, lowering his head to speak close to her lips. “I can honestly say that last night was spectacular,” he murmured. “Incredible. And I’m sorely tempted to ask you now if I could follow you home. The only reason I’m resisting that urge is because I think you need some time to yourself tonight.”

  “If you asked, I’d be sorely tempted to say yes,” she whispered, resting her free hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating rapidly beneath his shirt. “But you’re right, I think. I could use a little time to recuperate from today.”

  Not to mention space to clear her head, to reinforce the barricades around her wary heart. For the past few days, she’d been bombarded by emotions from all directions, all framed within the trappings of romance and fantasy. Maybe that affected the intense feelings she’d developed toward Dan. Maybe a good night’s sleep—alone—would help her enjoy her time with him tomorrow without reading too much into every touch, every smile. Without leaving her bereft when it inevitably ended.

  His faint sigh expressed his regret with their decision. He took her lips in a thorough kiss that might have been intended to hold them over until tomorrow. She wasn’t sure she would ever get her fill of Dan’s kisses, but she’d enjoy what she could get, she assured herself, taking her time kissing him back.

  When at last he raised his head, he had her face cupped in both his hands. “Really tempted,” he muttered.

  She bit her lip to hold back the invitation that hovered on her tongue. Dan stepped back before it could escape despite her.


  “Good night, Kinley. Drive carefully. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She nodded. “I’ll be here in the morning for Sunday brunch. I’ll see you then.”

  “I’ll count the minutes,” he assured her. His tone was teasing, but she thought the words were true, anyway—at least as far as she was concerned. Which didn’t bode well for her common sense returning any time soon when it came to Dan Phelan.

  * * *

  “You were right about the wind.” Dan braced himself against the railing at the top of the slightly swaying metal observation tower as he smiled down at Kinley, his hair whipping around his face. “It’s pretty strong up here. But the view is spectacular.”

  The Big Walker Lookout Tower soared a hundred feet high at an elevation of just over thirty-four hundred feet, so the air was thin but the view really was worth the strenuous climb. On a clear day like this one, mountain peaks in five different states were visible from their vantage point. Spreading below them to the north was a patchwork network of farmland. To the south, the dense Jefferson National Forest spread like a thick green blanket almost as far as they could see. A big hawk circled lazily nearby, riding the currents and keeping an eye out below for lunch. Kinley enjoyed watching birds, but she hadn’t yet taken time to learn to identify different types, so she had no idea what kind of hawk it was. Someday she was going to spend more free time birding and learning, she promised herself.

  “You should visit in the fall,” she said, the stiff breeze whipping the words from her mouth. “The colors in the forest are breathtaking when viewed from here.”

  “I’ll bet.” Like the few other tourists at the top with them, Dan lifted his camera to try to capture the magic in pixels. Having taken photos from there quite a few times herself, Kinley knew there was no way to really reduce the majesty of the scene to a snapshot. She’d seen some beautiful shots, but nothing compared to being up there surrounded by the beauty that was Virginia.

  “I can see why you wanted to make your home here,” Dan said as if he’d read her thoughts. “It’s really beautiful countryside. Nice people. Lots of nature to enjoy.”

  She nodded. “I love hiking the mountain trails when I have a few hours off work. There’s a whole network of excellent trails around this area.”

  “And when’s the last time you made use of one of those trails?”

  She cleared her throat, trying to remember the last time she’d taken a few hours just to enjoy a trail. She’d hardly even broken in the new hiking boots she’d bought on sale last fall. Perhaps she had needed this outing today. Though a list of work-related things she needed to attend to whispered at the back of her mind, she ignored them and allowed herself to savor the lovely view—not to mention the very nice companionship.

  “It’s, um, been a while,” she admitted.

  Dan shook his head and stroked a wind-whipped strand of hair from her face. “Life’s too short to spend it all working, Kinley. There are so many more interesting things to do.”

  Feeling the sting of old wounds, she shrugged and replied with a somewhat brittle tone, “Not if I want to make a lasting success of an inn that was out of business for eighteen years.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Just you? I thought your brother and sister were equally invested in that goal.”

  She didn’t really have a response to that comment. “Are you ready to head back down? You said you wanted to spend some time wandering through the general store.”

  The look he gave her let her know he was aware of her prevarication, but he didn’t push it. “First, I’ll steal a kiss here at the top of the world,” he murmured with a smile.

  She let him steal more than one, despite the few other people up there with them, none of whom seemed to be interested in her and Dan.

  Releasing her before they embarrassed themselves, Dan took one final look around the perimeter of the tower, snapped a few more photos and then started down the winding stairs with her.

  The original general store building had burned more than a decade earlier and had been rebuilt close to the old site. A long swinging bridge over the parking lot had once connected the tower to the old store. The bridge was still accessible for adventurous visitors, and Dan of course insisted on crossing it with her, laughing as the structure swayed in the wind.

  A bluegrass trio played on the porch of the store, which was designed to look old and weathered. Inside, the shelves were lined with jams, jellies, relishes and other vintage food items, in addition to homemade candies, local craft items and a big assortment of souvenirs. Dan made a beeline for the ice cream parlor where he ordered a double scoop of mint-chocolate chip in a waffle cone. Kinley requested one scoop of peach ice cream in a paper cup.

  “You can indulge more than that,” Dan teased her. “Especially after climbing the steps to the top of the tower.”

  “No, this is plenty,” she assured him primly. Then added with a grin, “Besides, I’m buying half a pound of fudge on my way out.”

  She would share the candy with her siblings. Maybe. But she wasn’t leaving this place without fudge.

  They sat outside at a picnic table for a while to enjoy the music and watch tourists crossing the swinging bridge and climbing the tower. Having made short work of the ice cream, Dan sneaked bites of the fudge he’d bought for himself. “What can I say?” he asked when she teased him about it. “Climbing steps makes me hungry.”

  Judging by how fit he was, he climbed enough steps to offset the calories, she thought with a wistful sigh.

  He’d hardly touched her today other than those kisses at the top of the tower—and yet the physical awareness had sizzled between them all day, just beneath the surface of their smiles and conversation. She suspected it would always be this way for her when Dan was around. Which, she reminded herself firmly, would not be much longer.

  “Where do you go next?” she asked somewhat abruptly. “Your next assignment, I mean?”

  “I have a couple of options. A series of profiles of Southern beach resorts along the Atlantic and Gulf Coasts. Another about the best places that serve Southern fried pies. I have a fondness for chocolate fried pies, myself.”

  “So, you have a choice of lolling on beaches or stuffing yourself with fried pies. Tough call.”

  He chuckled. “Maybe I should do a series on the best fried pies to be found in beach resorts.”

  Kinley rubbed her thumb over the case of her cell phone. She’d silenced the ringer and had only glanced at the screen when a vibration signaled an incoming call or text, just to make sure she wasn’t missing anything important by putting off her responses until later. Fortunately there hadn’t been many calls, since it was a Sunday. “What about your story idea? Your friend the producer who wants to see a treatment? Are you going to send him anything?”

  “Maybe. Eventually.”

  She bit her lip.

  Dan sighed and closed his bag of fudge with a noisy crinkle. “It’s all you can do not to give me a lecture about wasting my potential, isn’t it? Trust me, I’ve heard it. My cousin pulls it out every so often. My parents have given up trying. They don’t say much of anything to me anymore—not that Dad remembers who I am half the time, anyway.”

  Kinley grimaced. “I’m sorry. Alzheimer’s?”

  Keeping his gaze on the bluegrass trio, Dan shrugged. “Yeah. My folks were classic overachievers. You’d have identified with them, I think. Mom taught pharmacology at the University of Alabama School of Medicine, Dad was a law professor at Cumberland School of Law.”

  “I see.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say, though she wondered if that had been a dig about her identifying with his parents. She was pretty sure it had been.

  “Anyway, they wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer. They would have settled for a pharmacist or a dentist, though they wouldn’t have been particularly happy about either. A journalism degree was one of the last options they’d have picked for me. The military wasn’t even on their list of acceptable possibilities.”


  Kinley remembered that he’d mentioned his parents had usually left him in the care of nannies rather than taking care of him, themselves. Had he bucked their wishes when it came to career choices as a form of rebellion? Or maybe in an attempt to get their attention? Whichever, it was sad.

  “Is that why you moved back to Alabama to work with your cousin?” she asked tentatively. “Because of your father’s condition?”

  After a momentary hesitation, he nodded. “I had the idea that maybe my mother would need me. I was wrong, of course. She hired sitters for him and went on with her life. Pretty much the same way she approached motherhood. Which is why I feel no real obligation to stay in Hoover much longer. I’m sure my cousin will be able to replace me at the magazine.”

  “Do you ever see your parents?”

  “Oh, sure. We have dinner occasionally. Very civil. Mom assures me that there’s still time for me to go back to law school, though she reminds me occasionally that I’m not getting any younger. Dad tells me stories about his glory days as a distinguished professor and about some of the renowned politicians who passed through his classes. He remembers those people. It’s his son he’s forgotten.”

  “I’m sorry, Dan,” she said quietly.

  He grunted and pushed a hand through his hair. “No, I’m sorry. Talking about my folks makes me grumpy. Let’s just leave it that they aren’t particularly happy with the way I’m living.”

  “Are you?” she couldn’t resist asking. “Or are you still trying to prove to them that you can do what you want?”

  He stood, tossed a crumpled paper napkin into a trash bin and turned toward the car. “Ready to move on?”

  “Yes.” She rose, too, wondering if a metaphor was buried in his question or if she was simply overthinking his words. “I suppose we should.”

  By unspoken agreement, they headed straight back to the inn after leaving the general store. They were in Kinley’s car, and she drove the scenic route back. She mentioned specific hiking trails they passed along the way, some that led to waterfalls or picnic areas or awe-inspiring overlooks, but they didn’t stop again. Dan was rather quiet during the drive, admiring the views she pointed out, responding courteously when she spoke, but distant in a way that he had not been before.