He gave an exaggerated sigh. "I guess I am a pretty nice guy at that."
A tingle skittered up her arm when he gently squeezed her hand. His grasp was friendly and warm and it felt good.
"Michael," she said quietly, "I meant what I said. I'll try not to bother you again while we're here."
"Oh, come on now. That's nonsense. I could show you around. I live here, you know."
Laurel smiled and wondered why the thought of spending time with him pleased her so much. Stepping out of the truck, they walked to the cabin together.
"In fact," he said, "we can start tomorrow. Would you like to go on a picnic? I know a beautiful place."
"I'd love that! Thank you." The screen door creaked when he pulled it open and Laurel bent to unlock the door. "Oh," she said, straightening. "I forgot about Ginny."
"She's welcome to come along with us."
"That'd be great! I'll pack a lunch." Seeing him about to argue with her, she added, "I insist!" He grinned and acquiesced with a nod. She pushed the door open and stepped inside.
"Until tomorrow, then," he said. "I'll pick you up around noon."
She watched him turn and start toward his truck. Closing the door, she leaned against it and sighed.
"He is a nice man," she whispered.
~ ~ ~
"But he invited us both! You've got to come."
"Laurel, he only invited me to be polite," Ginny insisted. "Anyway, I have a lunch date."
"Oh?"
"With Eric." The younger girl grinned. "Don't worry, Sharon and Nancy will be with us. We're meeting some other kids and then going to the football game at the high school." Ginny walked over to the picnic basket Laurel had found in a closet and peered at the sandwiches and fruit inside. "You wouldn't want me around, anyway. What if he decided he wanted to make out?" She pulled a grape off the bunch Laurel had packed and popped it into her mouth. "I'd only be in the way."
"Cut it out. I'm too old to make out."
"You're never too old to make out." Ginny giggled. "He kissed you last night, didn't he?"
"That was nothing." Laurel hoped she placed the right amount of flippancy on the words. However, if she were forced to admit the truth, she'd have to confess that she'd tossed and turned well into the night wondering about that kiss. Why had Michael kissed her out on the dance floor? It was the answer to that question that had kept her awake. He'd kissed her because she'd practically thrown herself at him, cuddling up to him out on that dance floor, and now she was more than a little embarrassed about her behavior.
Hearing the roar of an approaching engine, Ginny went to the front window. "It's Eric! Gotta run!"
"But that sounds like a motorcycle!" Laurel had followed her into the room, wiping her hands on a towel. Ginny stopped at the door and swung around to face her sister.
"Give me a break!" Ginny rolled her eyes heavenward. "Don't worry! I'll wear a helmet. It's perfectly safe." She ran over and kissed Laurel on the cheek. "And I'll be back for dinner, honest. Have a good time with Michael."
Laurel watched through the window as Ginny strapped on a shiny red helmet that matched the one Eric wore. After Ginny hitched her leg up over the back of the bike, they tore off down the lane, throwing dirt and gravel behind them.
A worried frown creased Laurel's brow. When she had awakened to see the sun streaming through her window and hear birds chirping in the trees, she had been sure, a good night's sleep or not, that it would be a terrific day for a picnic. But now she knew she'd be fretting all day over Ginny on that motorbike.
When Laurel heard Michael's pickup outside she was closing the wicker basket's lid. His knock sounded on the door a moment later.
"Come in!" she called.
"I hope I'm not late."
She was surprised to see him dressed in his uniform: light green shirt, olive twill trousers and shiny black boots. "Believe it or not, I was hunting all morning."
"Another raccoon?"
He laughed at her distressed expression. "No, no. Little boys this time. There are two young boys that live at the edge of the park. Their parents can't keep them out of the woods. Buck Brady even fenced his yard trying to keep his boys corralled. Buck and I hunted for them for over two hours before we found them buried in leaves. They said they ran out of ammo and were hiding from the enemy." He chuckled. "Those camouflage clothes the boys were wearing just about did us in." He shrugged, throwing his hands up. "But what can you do when a boy's hero is Rambo?"
The lines around Michael's eyes crinkled and his face lit with a dazzling smile that caused Laurel's heart to race. She forced herself to breathe slowly to control its pulsing flutter.
"I can't blame the boys, though," he admitted. "I was the same way." He glanced up toward the loft and then back at her before asking, "Is Ginny coming?"
As she explained to him about her sister's date, she couldn't keep the uneasiness out of her voice when she spoke of their mode of transportation.
"Don't worry. Eric's a responsible kid. I wouldn't have suggested Ginny go with him last night if I didn't think he was trustworthy."
His understanding look melted her apprehension, and her chest filled with a tender warmth. She watched him pick up the basket by its handles.
"You ready?" he asked.
"One second." Laurel darted into the bedroom, where she had laid out a sweater and a small blanket. Standing by the bed, she inhaled deeply, willing herself to relax. More excitement churned in her stomach than she'd felt in a long time. A very long time.
You better be careful, girl, she thought. He's almost too good to be true.
The fingers brushing through her hair stopped in midair as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Frowning, she leaned closer and whispered, "Don't let things go too far."
Her eyes widened and she straightened as she realized what she'd said. Well, why not? Why shouldn't she enjoy herself for once? Forget about family responsibilities and just have a good time? She moistened her lips and grinned before turning toward the bedroom door.
"Lead the way!" she chimed, and followed Michael out into the bright sunshine.
"We can take the path out back," he told her. "The meadow I want to show you is at the top of this mountain."
"Top of the mountain?"
He chuckled. "It's not that far. Come on!"
Laurel breathed in the crisp mountain air, marveling at the kaleidoscope of color in the trees. Stretched out before her was a wild display of foliage, hues ranging from calm patches of soft violet and indigo to bright bursts of lime green, orange and red.
"Autumn is my favorite season. No matter how often I come out here, I find everything's changed," Michael said. Reaching out, he took her hand and helped her up a particularly steep incline.
"It may sound silly—" she was so reluctant to take her eyes off the vibrant autumnal scene, she wasn't paying close attention to where she was walking "—but I can almost feel the beauty radiating off of everything."
Although she realized they had stopped, she wasn't the least bothered. In fact, she took full advantage of the moment to feast on the lush and vivid landscape. Finally, she felt the gentle pressure of his fingers under her chin, guiding her gaze to his.
"It doesn't sound silly," he said quietly. "Beauty is radiating off of everything."
It was as though there was a complete and utter cessation of the world around her. The breeze stopped blowing, the birds went silent, the rustling tree branches seemed to go still—so lost was she in his dark, searching gaze.
For a long moment they were motionless, facing each other, the only two people in the universe.
Reluctantly, Michael tore his gaze away, tugged at her hand, and they resumed their trek along the mountain path.
He didn't know what it was about this hot-tempered redhead, but he hadn't been able to get her out of his mind. Even in his sleep he'd been haunted by erotic images of her—of the two of them. Together.
The kiss they had shared last night had blown his mind. Just
thinking about it now made the blood run hot through his veins, made him want to stop right there and kiss her again. His breathing became labored, and he knew it wasn't just the hike up the mountain that was causing it.
She was everything a man could want in a woman. Full of fire and ice, she had demonstrated both to him last night; fire in her passionate kiss and ice in her frosty anger. A life spent with her would never be dull. Dropping her hand, he stopped to wipe his damp brow.
"You want to stop and rest?" He could tell she wasn't tired, but he needed a diversion, something to change the direction of his thoughts.
"No, I'm fine."
"It's not much farther. If you turn down that way—" he pointed off to the right "—in a few hundred yards you'll be at my place."
He pulled her up the last rocky rise, and when she smiled, the sun glinted in her green eyes. They walked another hundred feet and the trees opened up to a large meadow. A lone oak stood in the middle of the expanse of wispy grasses and weeds. The tree's huge gnarled branches dripped with thousands of yellow leaves tinted golden by the sun. They fluttered in endless movement in the light breeze.
"It's beautiful!" Laurel exclaimed.
"I spent a lot of time up in that tree as a boy."
"Looks like a kid-friendly oak."
While Michael spread the blanket and unloaded the wicker basket, she walked over to the edge of the field where she could see the valley below. Hundreds of swirling colors danced before her. A winding river peeked intermittently from between the foliage of the trees and bushes, the rippling water a deep blue ribbon woven through colorful fabric.
She was aware of Michael's presence behind her before she felt his hand on her shoulder. Turning her head toward him, she smiled, knowing in her heart she was glad Ginny had made other plans for the day.
"It's so peaceful."
"I think so, too," he said. "I come up here whenever I need a little peace and quiet." Looking out over the valley, he added, "I never get bored with this place. Never."
His gaze returned to her face, his eyes soft, and for a brief instant Laurel was sure he was going to kiss her. But instead, he took her hand and pulled her toward the blanket under the oak.
"Let's have lunch," he said. He watched her sit cross-legged before he settled himself against the tree trunk. Handing her a glass of white wine, his fingers brushed against her chilled hand.
"Here, this will warm you up a little."
"Thanks. Where'd this come from? I didn't pack wine." Her eyebrows knit together as she looked at the clear liquid. Alcohol was something she stayed away from. It always went straight to her head. The only time she had ever argued with her father had been after she'd had a couple of after-dinner drinks.
"No, I did." He grinned. "I slipped it in the basket when you went to get your sweater."
Bringing wine for their picnic was sweet of him, and romantic too. And she was chilly. One glass wouldn't kill her. She sipped, the wine warming a path down her throat as she swallowed.
Over chicken sandwiches and potato salad, she told him a little about herself and her family. Noticing how easy it was to talk to him, she told him how her mother had cut herself off from life, something Laurel rarely spoke about to anyone.
"So, that's it," he said.
"That's what?"
"That's why you treat your sister more like she's your daughter. It's a perfectly natural feeling," he remarked. "Especially if you helped raise her."
"We have a strange relationship. Since Mom's too sick to act as a parent, I've always tried to guide Ginny. But, believe me, if I get too domineering, she's quick to point out that I'm not the boss of her. Especially now."
"What do you mean, 'especially now'?"
She paused a moment. "I'm not really sure. But there are times when Ginny seems angry with all of us. Mom, Dad and particularly me. I've racked my brain trying to figure it out. She's been going out of her way to do things to upset us—running around with a bad crowd, staying out late, drinking. She plays her stereo in the middle of the night so loud that my mattress springs vibrate to the beat of the music."
Wiping her hands on a napkin, she continued, "It's the drinking that worries me most." Her voice had dropped to a whisper, and a frown creased her forehead as she looked at Michael with troubled eyes. "I don't think my mother could stand it if anything happened to Ginny."
"What does your father have to say about all of this?" Michael asked.
"Dad's not home much. He does a lot of traveling, buying merchandise for the shop. That's why Jim's been such a godsend to us. I really needed the help." She brushed her hair back with a swish of her hand. "It was Dad's suggestion that I take Ginny on vacation, to try to find out what's bothering her."
"It sounds like a good idea to me," he said. "Getting your sister away from her friends would give you a much better chance of talking to her."
Hearing his frank opinion, Laurel knew he understood. And for some reason she was filled with a warm happiness knowing he agreed with what she was doing.
"I've tried talking to her," she said dryly. "But now she's got things all twisted around."
"How so?"
"Well, when I brought up the subject of her future, Ginny immediately blew a fuse, accusing me of trying to force her into being just like me." Laurel tipped her wineglass back, sipping the last drop. "Apparently I'm as boring as American cheese."
Michael laughed heartily. "Listen to me," he said, his gaze steady. "I've known you less than forty-eight hours, and believe me, you're anything but boring!"
Feeling color rush to her face, Laurel hoped her grin hid her embarrassment. "Yes, but you met me under extenuating circumstances."
The wine, combined with Michael's intense stare, made her overly warm.
"Anyway, my sister ended up forcing me to accept a nice little wager. My end of the deal didn't sound too difficult at first, so I took her up on it."
"A wager, huh?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Sounds interesting." He sat up and rested an elbow on his bent knee, bringing himself closer to her.
The resonance of his deep voice made Laurel's pulse pound furiously. She found his nearness distracting. He was utterly perfect, she thought. Everything about this man was ideal: he was kind and understanding, easy to talk to, and funny. Add to that his dark good looks, his muscular body, his rich, sensuous voice, and you came up with absolute perfection. Her chest rose and fell at an abnormal rate, then she started as if waking from a trance, realizing she had stopped talking and had been brazenly staring at him. The empty wineglass in her hand caught her attention and she frowned.
Picking up the pitcher of iced tea she had packed, she sloshed some into her glass. She clutched it with both hands and gulped down a swallow. The icy bitterness of the tea calmed her a little. She took another sip, trying frantically to remember what they had been discussing.
The bet! she remembered. He had said Ginny's bet sounded interesting. She cleared her throat with a little cough before speaking.
"Not very interesting, really," she told him. "I want Ginny to be a responsible person. And, Lord knows, she equates responsibility with stagnation. So I have to show her that it's possible that a person can be responsible and also have a good time. She says if I go out on some dates, with men, of course..."
"Of course," Michael interjected.
Hot color mantled her cheeks when she realized what she'd said. The man doesn't need to know that going out on dates "with men" wasn't something she often did!
"Anyway, if I go out...then she'll go to college." Laurel lifted a finger and tilted her head. "No, wait. She said she'll think about going to college."
"Sounds kind of one-sided to me." Michael stretched out on his side, resting his head on his hand.
As he moved, Laurel couldn't stop her eyes from traveling down his long, muscular frame. She held her breath and quickly looked up, riveting her gaze to his face.
"Well, if I can change her attitude even a little bit, it'll be wort
h it." She picked up an apple, offering it to Michael before crunching into its juicy flesh.
A dribble of apple juice trickled down her chin. Michael could almost taste the tangy sweetness of the Macintosh on her soft lips. But he was too bothered by the sound of this wager business to act on the urge. It bothered him to think of her out on the town having a good time with a different man every night. What did "having a good time" mean, anyway? Maybe he should suggest one or two of his friends as able dates. At least he'd know whom she was out with. But that idea nettled him even more.
"But," he heard her say after she swiped her fingers across her mouth, "I'm a little worried about exactly how far she expects me to take this."
"Listen," he said. Not wanting her to sense the irritation he himself couldn't understand, he lounged back against the tree trunk, hoping he looked cool and collected. "I don't know if this little wager you have with Ginny is such a good idea."
Frowning, Laurel swallowed a bite of apple and waited for him to elaborate.
"You don't seem like you're the kind of person who can handle a casual affair." The words hadn't come out quite as he'd intended, and watching her take a tiny bite of apple and chew it slowly, he was unable to read her expression.
"Your sister can't expect you to compromise your morals for her sake." Another rash statement, he thought. This one made Laurel stop chewing and lower her gaze. Good Lord, now he'd embarrassed her.
"What I mean is, Ginny has to learn to appreciate you for what you are."
She raised her head. Her green eyes connected with his, making him wonder what she was thinking.
"Besides, you can't give in to her every whim." Seeing a storm brewing in her the sudden tenseness around her eyes and mouth, he thought he should have quit while he was ahead.
"And you think that's what I'm doing?" She gestured toward him with the half-eaten apple.
The sharpness in her question sparked his irritation to an explosive level.
"Well, you can't teach the girl responsibility if you're off Lord knows where with Lord knows who doing Lord knows what!" He returned her glare until she turned her gaze toward the horizon.
Was he right? Laurel asked herself. Was she compromising her morals for her sister? Was she giving Ginny's every frivolous impulse top priority? Laurel felt entangled as the maze of questions twisted around in her head.
Mountain Laurel Page 6