The timer rang, she checked the thermometer, and her temperature was normal. Funny, she didn't feel normal.
Fingering the second book in line on her shelf, a romance by her favorite author, she sighed. Celeste Harte was first on everyone's sucker list for chairing social and civic events. This put her behind in reading, and she always read bestsellers in the order she bought them. She laid the mystery out, then changed her mind. She needed rest for tomorrow. If she couldn't sleep right away, she'd think about Nick. He was a mystery and one she wanted to solve.
Slipping a modest, batiste gown over her head, she climbed into bed and turned off the light. The air conditioner cooled her warm body but its steady humming drowned out the sounds of night. At scout camp, she'd lie awake at night and listen to bullfrogs on the pond. She loved nighttime smells and breezes. Stars twinkling, crickets chirping. Rising, she turned off the air conditioner and opened the window over her bed.
Ahh. She took a deep breath. The humidity was high, but Nick's spoons, tinkling quietly in the night air, and a gentle breeze, were just reward. Feeling like a foolish schoolgirl, she moved to a side window and peeking out, saw that his lights were still burning. Was he thinking about her? Or sitting up late, watching television ... windows open against the heat, drinking a beer while he laughed at the Late Show. Feet propped up, he'd be wearing very little.
Perspiring, she stepped out of her modest gown and fished the skimpy nightie out of the drawer. Fluffing her pillow once more, Cee lay down to caress the shawl and listen to Nick's spoons dancing in the dark. The creamy lace gown, from the line of lingerie Marianne selected for their boutique, was see-through with fluffy feathers strategically placed. The next thing to being nude ... it was not anal-retentive or predictable. Cee closed her eyes and smiled. If Nick could see her now.
* * * *
AFTER NICK TORE out the page with the model that looked like C.J., he sat at his keyboard, waiting for inspiration to strike. The picture made him think about her, rather than Isadora.
A loud noise outside brought him to his feet. That damned raccoon again. He'd bet money on it. He'd set a slab of rock on his garbage can. That little sucker wasn't getting in there tonight. Nick smirked. He was through cleaning up messes.
The noise sounded again, not quite so loud, and he looked out just as a light came on in C.J.'s bedroom. His foiled raccoon must be after her garbage. Nick, groaning, doused his lights for a better look. Her can lid banged again. Another light popped on in her trailer, and she ran out the door. Naked. In the moonlight. He peered harder. She wasn't entirely bare, but he could see right through the scrappy little thing she wore. Her breasts stood out, small and beautiful. Her waist was narrow, her rounded fanny tucked firmly under. Nick grinned and leaned his head against the screen. He'd have taken her for a pajama-wearer, but he liked that see-through thing.
C.J. waved a flashlight wildly in the air behind her trailer. The raccoon sat up and stared at her. She shrieked and covered her bosom with one arm, her feather-covered mound with the other. Like the animal staring back at her cares what's under the transparent negligee. Nick leaned back his head and roared.
"What the...?” Her high-pitched voice rang out, and lights came on across the road. She turned the flashlight Nick's way, cursed like a sailor at sea, and fled. Her door banged. Her lights went out.
She was one-of-a-kind, alphabetizing her spices like an old maid and running around half-naked like an X-rated showgirl. He smiled at his mop lady. A heroine like C.J. would captivate readers.
Rubbing his hands together, he sat down at his computer keyboard. “Isadora, baby, we're going to make romantic history."
* * * *
CEE WENT TO bed feeling desirable and arose the next morning feeling like a fool. She didn't know if she could face Nick after he'd seen her running around in lingerie that made her look like a prostitute. She picked up the mystery and read a few pages. The smell of garbage seeped through her open window. She slammed down the book, banged the window shut, and snapped on the air conditioner. Damned raccoon. Damned nosy neighbor, awake in the middle of the night. If she didn't know better, she'd figure Nick sent the raccoon to rattle her cage.
Pulling on her ratty flannel robe, she set out her Rolodex and put on water for her oatmeal. Instead of reading a book, she'd write notes, resigning her civic duties, then browse the college catalog she'd brought. Classes would expand her mind. And horizons, if there were any eligible men enrolled. The phone rang. She snatched it up. “Hell-o."
"My, my. Aren't we testy?"
"Marianne,” Cee acknowledged with a growl.
"I told you the great outdoors wasn't fit for man nor beast. You should have gone to a spa."
"I have met man and beast, both annoying as hell."
"Oh, goody. Tell Auntie Mem."
"One beast was a raccoon.” Cee peeked out the window and saw Nick, in khaki shorts and a camouflage tee shirt, picking up her garbage. A cooler sat outside his trailer, along with an old-fashioned picnic basket. He looked up, saw her, and waved. Her face grew hot. He tapped his wristwatch and made a rolling motion with his hand. “Marianne, the man, who is a thoroughly charming beast, is outside, waiting for me."
"Can't you tell him to wait?"
"Wait? You should see what his muscles and broad chest do to a tee shirt.” She edged the window up slowly. “Is everything okay at the shop?"
"Everything's fine. Cee? Be careful. You haven't had much experience dating. This guy could be some campground Lothario."
Celeste hung up, laughing. Marianne was the last person she'd have expected to act like a mother hen. It was her idea to crawl under the fence at church camp. Of course, she could be right. Cee had very little dating experience, and she'd never been to bed with anyone but Harry.
She leaned her elbows in the window. Nick looked adorable in high-topped work shoes. And he'd cleaned up her garbage. So what if he'd seen her semi-nude? Her heart beat a little faster.
"We're going on a safari and you're going to miss the boat to the deserted island,” he called through the window.
"Give me ten minutes.” She dropped her flannel robe and kicked it under a chair. She came for adventure.
"Make it five. I can't wait."
Was he eager to get going? Or see her body close-up and clothed? She'd have to skip her morning exercise. Praying he'd think last night was a dream, she slipped into a purple thong. Ouch, this underwear would take some getting used to. Maybe she didn't have it on right. She scooted the needlepoint stool in front of the bureau so she could look in the mirror. She heard a shrill whistle. Damn him! She ran to the window. Nick lay on the picnic table, looking up at the sky. The whistle grew shriller.
The teakettle with the water for her oatmeal.
It was hard to put on makeup, laughing.
Cee found a khaki midriff top that tied beneath the breasts and tried it on. She hadn't worn anything like this in years, but the matching shorts were loose enough to make up for its skimpiness, she hoped. And it was the most appropriate clothing for a safari she owned. Nothing else high-topped on hand, she chose tennis shoes from her daring new Reflections wardrobe and had just climbed on the stool for another look in the mirror when the phone rang.
"Celeste,” Susan warbled. “I wanted you to be the first to know. Mark bought me a diamond."
Cee nearly fell off the footstool.
"It's my dream come true.” Some of the joy went out of Susan's voice. “Say something. Aren't you happy for me?"
"Suz, you know how I feel. I want you to go to college. Date more guys. You think Mark's the end-all-be-all but you don't have any comparison."
"Mark is exactly the type of guy I want. I have one high standard, and Mark is Harry through and through. Look how happy you were."
Cee darted a glance at Nick outside the RV window. Susan was in the mountains with Mark Simmons, and Nick was waiting. This wasn't the time for her to tell Susan that her brother was a philanderer and their marriage had
been rocky. “What are you doing?” Suz asked when Cee didn't respond.
Cee's face reddened, realizing how foolish she'd feel if Susan could see her now. Was playing a game of pretend with a gorgeous man totally insane?
"You took a bunch of things with you to catch up on. Are you working on some of your civic stuff? Or are you taking time off for fun? You should, once in a while."
Cee cast a longing look at Nick. “You're right. I should.” She smiled into the receiver. “Suz? I have to go now, but keep your engagement news to yourself until I call back and we talk."
* * * *
"WIPE THAT SMIRK off your face, and don't say a word about last night,” C.J. warned when she stepped outside.
Nick laughed and drew her close. “Okay, but I can't forget about it. You're even more beautiful than I thought."
"I looked like—"
"An ethereal beauty in moonlight."
She touched his cheek. “You should become a writer."
"Yeah, well. I have other talents.” He smiled, tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and led her over to his trailer. “Can you carry the basket? I need both hands for the cooler."
"This basket is so light, it must be full of potato chips,” she said, swinging it by her side. “And let me guess, the Coleman is loaded with beer."
He wrinkled his nose at her, and she laughed lightly. “I hope you thought to throw in some lunch meat and bread. With no time for breakfast, I'm famished already."
"You shouldn't have run around half the night."
She swatted him, and he laughed.
"Behave, or I'll leave you behind,” Nick said.
At the lake's edge, he eased a rowboat from its slip and set their things inside, then helped her in. “You smell like chocolate and shaving lotion,” she said, sniffing his neck as she stepped over the side.
She wore black leather tennis shoes with pink glittered shoestrings, and he did a double take. He'd already learned she wasn't predictable, but seeing her smile, he resisted the remark she was expecting. “Donut icing and bay rum. Know how to paddle?"
She took an oar in hand and soon they were gliding along with a smooth rhythm. She was better at rowing than he was. “I won merit badges in rowing at scout camp."
Another surprise. He'd have taken her for a hothouse flower. “I can see why. You're good."
When they'd neared the other side of the lake, he pointed out a secluded alcove. “We'll pull in and walk from there. I know this spot where the trees and foliage are so dense it feels like a jungle. You have to cross a creek to reach it, so it's almost an island."
"Look.” She jumped up and pointed toward the woods. “Deer."
"Sit—” The boat rocked. Cee spread her arms wide to catch her balance. Nick jumped to his feet to grab her. The boat tipped, and he yelled. They both toppled into the lake. He felt the water closing over his head and fear coursing through his veins. Spluttering, he kicked and rose to the surface, gasped and went down again. He fought the water long enough to hear C.J. yelling his name.
"Help,” he called before going down for the third time.
* * * *
NICK SAT BY the campfire C.J. helped build, the Indian blanket he'd brought for them to lie on wrapped around his body. She wore their picnic tablecloth like a sarong. All his clothes were hung to dry on a nearby bush. Insisting she was going to cling to a shred of modesty, she'd draped her shorts and top on a sapling and kept her bra and panties on.
C.J. had managed their disaster quite ably. After she brought him in, she'd waded out after the rowboat that had drifted close to shore while he coughed up a gallon of lake water. The boat hadn't capsized, so all their picnic paraphernalia was safe and dry. The log he sat on was rough against his bare backside. The blanket didn't quite cover everything, but the situation could have been worse.
"Feeling okay now?” C.J. asked from her place beside him.
She looked damned proud of herself, and she should be. He nodded and hugged her to him. “You're one helluva woman."
"You said I owed you for freeing the RV. Debt paid?"
"In spades."
"You said you might have to call on me for help.” She grinned. “You know, you really shouldn't take a boat out if you can't swim."
"There were lifejackets but no time to grab one."
"You should have worn a jacket from the get-go."
"You shouldn't stand up in a boat."
"You stood, too.” She nudged him in the ribs. “Some men couldn't handle having their lives saved by a woman."
"Other men like being hauled to shore with their head nestled close to a woman's breasts.” He bent his head suggestively.
"You'd almost drown for that?"
"That, and...” He tipped her chin to look into her eyes. “If you save someone's life, it makes you responsible for that person afterward."
Her mouth fell open. Nick pushed it shut and stole a kiss. Hard and fast. He liked teasing her. She planted a hand against his chest. “Let me get this straight. I save your life, and now ... I owe you again?"
He fished two beers out of the cooler while she moved off, muttering, to feel their clothes. If she hadn't carried matches in a waterproof container in her fanny pack, they wouldn't have a fire, and with the humidity so high, their clothes would never dry without one. But he'd invited her on this outing, and she should have depended on him. He'd like to see her control, and her tablecloth, slip. Just once. “In a pinch, yes."
She shook her head, popped open her beer, and sat down again. “I wish our things would hurry and dry so we could get on with our safari."
"We could go as we are."
C.J. cocked her head, as if she was considering it.
She was tougher than he'd given her credit for. He hadn't expected her to know how to row, let alone how to save a drowning victim. And now she was ready to let him—a man wearing a boldly printed blanket—lead her to a deserted spot of land. She was adventurous. Maybe Isadora wasn't daring enough. Even with C.J.'s face, she hadn't cooperated last night. No matter what words John spoke, she refused to make love.
"I worked on a ship for two years without anyone knowing I couldn't swim.” Nick stood abruptly, and his blanket slid down to rest on his hips. C.J. gasped, her eyes widened, and he had to fight to keep a straight face. She was adventurous, to a point, but he'd bet he could reach her limits. “Of course, no one rocked the boat."
"I'm sure it was a much sturdier boat."
He grinned. “I'm hungry already. Maybe we ought to eat a sandwich while our clothes finish drying."
Her eyes on the flat of his stomach below his navel, C.J. nodded.
Hiding a smile, he bent over to open the basket, letting the blanket ease a little lower. Looking under his arm, he saw her shoot a glance at his jockey shorts hanging on the bush. He was buck naked under the blanket, and she was quite aware of it. He wiggled a little, so his cover slid an inch lower, to expose his tan line. “Do you want your ham and cheese on white or rye bread or bun?"
Her eyes glued to his back end, she croaked, “White. Er, buns."
The laughter he'd tried to contain broke loose.
C.J. fled into the woods and was gone so long, Nick thought he'd apologize for making her dress hastily. But when she returned with a wet thong mark tracing an intriguing path under her shorts, he couldn't honestly say he was sorry.
* * * *
CEE DIDN'T REMEMBER afterward whether she ate her sandwich on bread or bun. When Nick's blanket slipped, so did her composure. He'd baited her, and on the way to his chosen spot, she was silent until he pointed out a doe with her fawn in a clearing.
Their footsteps fell so quietly on the pine needles, they were able to walk within a few yards, and seeing the doe nuzzle her baby's face, Cee went soft and mushy inside. Nick slipped his arm around her waist, and she leaned her head on his shoulder, forgiving him his dirty trick. The wood was cool and peaceful, and she'd met a tantalizing devil-may-care man who would teach her to live fre
ely.
Nick stood so still, she looked up, and saw a melancholy expression on his face. She found the mother and baby touching, but he looked as if there was something more on his mind.
The doe looked at them with velvety eyes, as if she'd known they were there all along, and led her fawn away. Nick took Cee's hand in his and held it tightly as they continued onward. “It would take a heartless person to shoot one,” he said.
"I agree. They're so beautiful. Hunters say someone has to, or the woods would become overpopulated and many of them would starve."
"Survival of the fittest would be more humane than robbing a fawn of its mother, or father, with the blast of a gun."
He was a man of many emotions. He tried to come across as light and breezy, but he had a tender side. She squeezed his hand. Choked up by the intensity in his words and tone, she couldn't voice a response. He must feel very strongly about parent and child relations.
They walked in silence for a while, and she wondered if he was embarrassed at having spoken his thoughts. She didn't want him to be, but couldn't tell him so without making him more aware of his openness.
She liked walking beside him. He took long masculine strides, shortening them now and then when he realized she had trouble matching them. His concern and the firm grip of his hand made her feel secure. She tripped over a tree root, and he steadied her. A vine hanging from a tree branch became entangled in her hair, and he worked it loose with gentle fingers. He made her feel like a woman, and yet equal. He made her feel cared for. But was she reading too much into Nick's personality because she wanted it to be there?
His trailer was borrowed. He'd given her no reason to believe he had a job. Was he unemployed, unable to find a better to live? If they developed a relationship, would he be dependable? Or was he the free-spirited man he professed to be and incapable of relationships?
Finding Mr. Romantic Page 5