“You dork.” Despite the derogatory name for his sister, Kevin set his fishing pole aside long enough to awkwardly pat her on the shoulder. “Your goldfish bowl isn’t big enough for these guys. And if you kept ’em, they’d just begin to stink.”
These guys were barely eight inches long, hardly big enough to make a meal.
Sitting in a folding chair on the dock, Janice smiled at her children. “I think it would be wonderful if Logan cooked us trout for breakfast. I can remember my daddy catching catfish and my mama fixing it in a batter. It’s really good.”
“Trout’s better rolled in cornmeal and fried in butter.” Fortunately, Logan had planned ahead. He had a couple of fair-size trout he’d bought at the meat market in town he’d fry up with these smaller ones. Lake Almador rarely provided a big enough catch to make a meal, even for one. It was more like pond fishing for the kids.
Maddie seemed mollified, for the moment, Kevin content to be his sister’s hero.
Feeling relaxed, Janice watched the sun sink below the coastal range of mountains, tingeing the clouds pink. The lake had gone from blue to black, lights coming on in the cabins along the northern shoreline. Across the way, campfires flickered among the trees. Closer at hand, miniature waves whispered against the gravel beach, like the gentle stroke of a man’s hand caressing a woman. Arousing her.
Forcefully, she pressed the thought aside.
“So when does the bagpipe concert begin?” she asked.
Logan chuckled. “You must be trying to frighten the rest of the fish away.”
“You did promise me a jig.”
“Hmm, that I did.”
“You play those awful bagpipes?” Kevin asked. “Yuck. They sound worse than fingernails on the blackboard.”
“Now there’s a challenge if I ever heard one. It seems it’s fallen to me to teach you folks the finer nuances of pipe playing.”
Kevin groaned.
Maddie said, “Can I squeeze the bag?”
“We’ll see,” he hedged. Agilely, he rose to his feet and walked back to the house, carrying his empty coffee cup.
He was gone so long, Janice began to wonder if he’d changed his mind about playing the pipes for them. Or if he’d gotten an emergency call to report for duty, perhaps a wildfire had broken out somewhere.
About the time the children had totally lost interest in fishing, he reappeared—wearing his kilt, knee-high socks sporting tassels, and black, shiny shoes.
Yep, she mused. Even in the twilight his legs were solid tens.
He struck a pose in the middle of the dock, slid the bag under his left arm and tucked the blowpipe into the corner of his lips. His foot started to tap and the pads of his fingertips flew over the chanter holes, creating a lively tune.
Maddie was the first one up, dancing in rhythm to the music. Janice couldn’t resist, either, dragging Kevin to his feet. Laughing and holding hands, the three of them circled Logan. All they lacked were white robes to make them look like druids performing an ancient ritual.
Logan segued into another tune. He kept playing until Janice was breathless, unable to take another step. She gasped for air while the children still danced. Eventually even their energy was spent.
Reaching the end of the song, Logan let the remaining air escape from the bag in a low wheeze. From somewhere down the lake, scattered applause broke out.
“Do you suppose they’re clapping because I finally quit playing?” he asked dryly.
“I’m sure it’s because they thought you were wonderful.”
“Play some more,” Maddie urged.
“Yeah, play a march or somethin’,” Kevin suggested.
She hooked her arms over her children’s shoulders. “That’s enough for tonight. Bedtime, guys.”
“Aw, Mom,” they chorused.
Logan volunteered to dismantle the fishing poles and take care of the day’s catch, such as it was, and wished the kids goodnight. Meanwhile, Janice ushered her children inside to oversee their bedtime rituals.
By the time she returned, Logan was playing a haunting melody on the bagpipes. She didn’t recognize the tune but the theme was obvious in the lingering notes, the depth of emotion apparent in the mood he created. Lost love. She felt every lonely beat of the music in her own heart, the discordant minor notes that left her aching.
Sensing her presence, he ended the song. The music lingered in the air like a sweet perfume, yet somehow melancholy.
“The kids down for the count?”
“Yes.” She stopped on the dock near him. The moon had risen, a golden half circle that cast a shimmering path of light on the still water of the lake. “That was a beautiful song. The whole day was beautiful. Just perfect.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” His voice was low. Husky. Intimate.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her throat tight with emotion.
Standing on tiptoe, she meant to give him a quick kiss on his cheek. Instead, he turned and captured her lips with his own. His hand cupped the back of her head, drawing her closer.
She melted into him, into his kiss. Her lips parted. With a swift penetration, he expertly took advantage of the opportunity. She tasted the coffee he’d been sipping and a special flavor that seemed uniquely his own.
In the absence of the bagpipes playing, crickets had taken up his song, lonely and searching for a mate.
Janice felt herself surrendering to all that longing—his and hers. Her hands rested on his broad chest, her right elbow brushing the velvet-covered bag tucked beneath his arm, her fingers digging into the fine woolen sash that angled from shoulder to waist, wanting to get closer. Wanting the intimacy that had been denied her so long, wanting what she hadn’t realized she’d been missing.
He deepened the kiss as if he understood.
Lost in a sensual haze, she made a soft, aching sound at the back of her throat.
That’s when he broke the kiss and backed away.
The loss of contact made her want to weep.
Chapter Eight
“I shouldn’t have done that.” In the moonlight, Janice’s eyes were luminous, and Logan cursed himself for coming so close to losing control. For forgetting he was responsible for her husband’s death.
The tip of her tongue swept out to lick her lips. To taste him again? he wondered. Or to wipe away the evidence of his kiss? Either way he felt the gesture right behind the black leather sporran slung between his hips, an official part of his highland costume.
“Please don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He wanted to do something very wrong. He wanted to kiss her until they were both senseless with need. Wanted to take her inside, lie her down on his bed and kiss every inch of her. Make slow, lingering love with her while her kids slept only a room away.
He couldn’t do that. He had no right. It had taken all of his willpower—it was still taking every ounce of his strength—not to act on the ache that filled his loins.
“You tempt me, Janice.” His voice was thick in his throat. “You tempt me with the way your lips curl into a smile, with your quiet forbearance, your gentle way with your children. I have no right to give into that temptation. No right at all.”
“And if I gave you that right?” Her barely audible voice trembled in the same way a pebble ripples the surface of a lake on a windless day.
Unable to help himself, he touched her cheek with his fingertips. Creamy skin flushed with the heat of wanting. Her whole body would feel that way, warm and wanting, pliable beneath his hands. “That would be a gift I couldn’t accept no matter how much I might want to. Not now.”
“You mean because Ray hasn’t been dead long?”
“You’re vulnerable. I don’t want to take advantage of you.” And Logan’s own feelings of guilt—justified or not—were too great a burden for her delicate shoulders to bear.
She exhaled a tiny sigh. “You and my neighbor seem to think I’ll do something rash, as if being widowed is to be sudde
nly let out of a bottle, sure to do something foolish.”
“Would you?”
“With you?” Covering his hand with hers, she leaned her cheek into his palm and smiled. “Very possibly. You have a way about you, Logan Strong. You could make a woman forget she’s past her prime and has stretch marks to prove it.”
“You’re a beautiful woman, Janice. Very desirable.”
Her eyes fluttered closed. “The combination of moonlight and bagpipes must be going to your head just as they are to mine.”
“No.” Leaning forward, the wooden drones of his bagpipes clicking together as he moved, he brushed his lips to her closed eyelids, risking temptation again like an arsonist sparking one match after another, knowing eventually the tinder will burst into flame. “Don’t ever think that.”
“Then you don’t mind that I’m practically throwing myself at your feet?”
“I can handle it.” Barely, and only at great cost to his self-control.
She seemed to find some inner strength, lifted her chin at a determined angle and backed away. “I suppose this means I may never find out what men really wear under those kilts.”
His lips twitched. “Watch it, sweetheart. Once I reveal that, there’s no turning back.”
“Then I’ll make sure I know where I’m going before I begin exploring that topic on my own.”
A primal tremor of anticipation shuddered through Logan. The temptation to take Janice now, despite his qualms, was almost overwhelming. In recent weeks he’d spent too many hours thinking of her, too many nights dreaming of her in his arms. Even in the face of her apparent willingness, she wasn’t available to him. Not really. And if she knew the truth—about his failure to stop Ray when he’d had the chance—she wouldn’t want him at all.
“It’s late,” he said softly. “Maybe we ought to call it a night.”
Janice almost flinched at his dismissal, however gentle his tone. What must Logan think of her? A desperate woman so anxious for a man’s attention she’d practically begged him to make love to her. Only a modicum of pride had stopped her from doing just that.
Debbie had been right. She’d come close to making a fool of herself when all Logan had ever intended was friendship for the widow of a fellow firefighter.
But oh, that kiss had felt like so much more!
To her horror, tears sprang to her eyes. He’d given her a charity kiss, born of pity, not based on the sexual sizzle that had been hers alone. She’d misunderstood his generosity for something quite different, something that was a figment of her vivid imagination.
The lights on the north side of the lake blurred through her tears, dancing like fireflies on a hot summer evening in the midwest. That was something California lacked. Fireflies.
Apparently she lacked something more basic. Sex appeal. In recent years, Ray had certainly made it clear she didn’t measure up in the bedroom.
Swallowing a sense of failure, she cleared her throat. “I imagine the kids will be up early and raring to go again.”
“I’ll have breakfast ready. Trout, hash browns and fruit.”
“The children usually just have cereal and—”
“I’ve got some of that in reserve if the fish doesn’t go over so well.”
“You’ve already been so kind. I feel like I should be making breakfast for you.”
“Maybe another time.”
Janice would like to think she’d have that chance, an intimate morning, coffee and croissants in bed. But it wasn’t very likely. Not in the foreseeable future.
Suddenly chilled, she shivered and finger-combed her hair back from her face. “You sure you’ll be all right sleeping on the couch?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Then, uh, goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He didn’t speak as she walked away, and she didn’t look back, but she knew he was standing alone on the dock, the perfect image of a heroic Scottish Highlander with his pipes.
THE COUCH was a full six inches too short. It wouldn’t have mattered if it had been two feet longer. Logan had known he wouldn’t get any sleep with Janice in the adjacent room. And he’d been right. He’d heard every move she’d made in his bed, heard every squeak of the springs. His unruly libido had sounded the call to action all night.
Ignoring the demands of his body had been pure torture.
When the first rays of morning sunlight gleamed off the lake, he gave up all pretense of trying to sleep. His muscles ached and his eyes were gluey with fatigue as he stood and stretched.
“I’m certainly glad you don’t sleep in the altogether.”
He whirled to find Janice standing at the hallway to the bedrooms, looking bright and chipper in shorts and a copper-colored blouse. The natural curls of her sable hair were combed into order, her makeup fresh. She created a vision he wished he’d wake up to every morning, and one that would be there every night as well.
How had he not heard her? Not sensed her presence or caught the sweet scent of her perfume?
Grateful he’d had the foresight to wear shorts to sleep in instead of being caught in the buff, he grabbed for the T-shirt he’d draped over the back of the couch. He pulled it on over his head. “I didn’t hear you get up.”
“It’s such a beautiful day, it seemed like a waste to sleep late.”
“Morning’s my favorite time of day.” He felt rooted to the spot, unable to move. Unable to take his eyes off her or to stop wishing he’d had a chance to kiss her awake.
Crossing the room, she paused in front of the window. “The lake’s so still, it looks like glass.”
Finally able to move, to breathe evenly, he said, “I’ll fix us some coffee. We can take it out on the deck.”
She glanced back over her shoulder. “After the way I acted last night, you must think I’m the most promiscuous woman in the county. I apologize.”
“You? Promiscuous? That’s not what I think.”
“I practically begged you to make love to me right out there on the dock.”
He cocked a brow. “Funny, I thought I was the one trying to seduce you.”
“But you had the good sense to stop before things got out of hand. I promise I won’t force myself on you again.” Her shoulders were very straight, her expression grim.
He marveled that she had taken the blame for their kiss, for him wanting her so badly he still ached with his need for her.
“Tell you what.” He walked into the kitchen, plucked up a coffee filter and began to fill the pot with a special vanilla-flavored blend he liked. “Let’s both make a promise not to apologize again for what happened last night.”
“You’re not upset with me? For being too forward?”
“Not a chance, sweetheart.” He only regretted he didn’t dare act on the urges they both were experiencing.
The tension eased from her shoulders. “Thank goodness for that. When I had a chance to think about it, I was so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be.” He got down a couple of mugs from the cupboard. “Now then, why don’t you grab those folding chairs in the corner, take them outside and find a nice place to sit while the coffee brews. I’ll join you in a minute.” Just as soon as his body simmered down from all the conversation about seduction.
“Good idea. The children will wake up soon. We might as well enjoy the quiet while we can.”
A few minutes later, he carried the mugs out onto the deck where she’d picked a shady spot for the chairs.
Their eyes met as he handed her the coffee, and he felt another punch in the gut when the smile of welcome sparked in her ginger-brown eyes.
“I love a man who’s domestic,” she teased.
“Self-preservation. My mother’s a wonderful person but she can turn a hamburger patty into a hockey puck without even trying. I came to the realization early that if I wanted to eat a decent meal I’d have to learn to cook. Turned out I like doing it, and not just hamburgers and tacos, but the real gourmet stuff, too, like French cuisine.
” He settled into the chair beside Janice and stretched out his legs, crossing his bare feet at the ankles.
They sipped their coffee in comfortable silence. Across the lake, smoke drifted up from a couple of campfires, spreading lightly along the tops of the pine trees. Nearer at hand, a squirrel chattered his good morning and was answered by an ill-tempered Stellar’s jay.
Logan smiled to himself. This is how mornings should always be—nature awakening from its slumber and a good woman beside him.
“Did you used to go camping when you were young?” Janice asked.
“Some. My dad was a pretty good fisherman, though Mom wasn’t all that thrilled about cooking his catch.” Idly, he ran his palm across his whiskers, his thoughts on earlier times. “My brother and I still go backpacking in the Sierras a couple of times a year. Sometimes I think his wife is glad to get rid of him for a day or two.”
Janice chuckled. “I admit there were days when I was relieved Ray was working a twenty-four-hour shift. Sometimes a woman needs to be alone.”
She turned, her gaze snaring his with sweet heat, and she gave him a wry smile. “This isn’t one of those times, if you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t—”
A subtle vibration of the deck halted his thought.
“Logan!” Maddie cried, racing toward him, barefooted and still in her nightgown with little pink bows. “Do we gets to go fishing some more?”
He lifted his mug out of the way before she could topple the contents, and she took possession of his lap as if she owned it. Truth was, she owned that and a piece of his heart, too.
“I don’t know, sprite. We’ll have to ask your mom.”
Kevin, already dressed, arrived at a more sedate pace. “Can I take the boat out by myself first? Just me without dork, here.”
“Kevin,” his mother admonished. “I don’t like you calling your sister names. Besides, maybe Logan doesn’t want you to take his boat.”
“It’s all right with me. He can row around till I get breakfast ready.”
“Cool! Can I Mom?”
“I don’t know.” Janice hesitated. “You’d have to promise to stay close to the dock and wear your life jacket.”
Between Honor and Duty Page 11