He didn’t tell her the rest of it, how he felt as if his entire life had completely spun out of his control.
In a handful of months, his world had turned upside down—one minute he was a relatively happy if boring fisheries biologist, coming home each day to his wife and children and secure about his place in the world; the next he was the custodial parent of two young children and trying to adjust to the idea he would have to give up everything he loved.
And then his children’s mother had been diagnosed with a terminal illness.
“You took her back.”
“Technically, yes, but not really. We were still divorced. But yes. She lived with me and the children as she went through cancer treatment. We were able to let go of some of the bitterness and anger between us and become...friends, of a sort, I suppose you could say. I am sorry she lost her battle with the illness, but for the children’s sake much more than my own.”
“You cared for her at the end?”
The shock in her voice made him wince. “You sound like Gemma. She thinks I was crazy to let Susan come back to live with us during her treatments after she walked away from our marriage.”
“I don’t think you were crazy.” Sam’s voice was soft.
“I don’t, either, for what it’s worth. Susan had nowhere else to go and was frightened and terribly ill. Whatever else she might have done, she was still the children’s mother. Caring for her was the right thing to do.”
“Of course it was. You gave her the chance to be close to her children toward the end of her life. She was lucky to have you,” she murmured.
He wanted to close his eyes and let her words heal the raw places in his heart.
“Thank you for saying so. It was an easy decision but not an effortless one, if that makes sense.”
“It makes perfect sense to me.”
“I couldn’t have lived with myself if I had known I allowed the mother of my children to die alone.”
“Of course you couldn’t. You did exactly the right thing.”
He didn’t know precisely why but her firm approval warmed a cold and hollow corner inside him. So many of his friends and associates had believed him crazy to allow Susan back. Even his own parents questioned the wisdom of opening that door to her again after all the harm she had caused.
He had weighed his options and had ultimately gone with the one that felt right to him. The children had grown much closer to Susan in her remaining months than he would have imagined possible. While that may have magnified their grief at her loss, he wouldn’t have deprived her or the children of the opportunity to share those last weeks.
Beside him, Samantha shifted on the bench. The scent he was coming to associate with her floated on the breeze toward him, strawberries and clotted cream with lemon biscuits.
His mouth watered.
“It sounds to me as if you did everything right.”
“I don’t know about that. I just did my best. There’s no right or wrong in a complicated situation like ours.”
“Other than leaving your husband and children for a Spanish flamenco musician. I would say that definitely falls under the wrong column.”
He had to smile at her tart tone. “I can agree with you on that point. But forgiveness can be powerful, too. I’m not sure we could ever heal all those wounds, even if she hadn’t become so ill, but at least I no longer hated Susan for walking out. I accepted my part in not being the husband she needed. In the end, I mostly felt...sorry for her.”
“I owe you an apology,” she said after a long moment.
“Why is that?” he asked, startled.
“I’ve been gearing up to lecture you on your parenting skills. But I have a feeling perhaps I don’t know the full story.”
“Oh, trust me. You could probably lecture me night and day about my parenting skills. What did I do this time?”
“Probably nothing. The other day, Amelia told me you didn’t want them to talk about their mother, that you told them it was time to move on. I was prepared to think you were an unfeeling jerk, if you want the truth. Children need time and space to grieve. They might seem as if they’re handling things fine, but often there can be far more going on inside than they will ever share.”
He didn’t want her to think poorly of him. He wanted her to keep looking at him with that admiration in her eyes that seemed as genuine as the moonlight.
He also wanted to know why she spoke with such firm knowledge. She said her father had died young. Had she been discouraged from talking about him?
“I make plenty of mistakes where the children are concerned, but I promise, I’ve never told them not to discuss their mother. They went to grief counseling from the time she was put on hospice until only a few months ago. I try to talk to them about their memories of her as often as possible without making the topic oppressive for them.”
“Why would she say they weren’t supposed to talk about her?”
He frowned. “I have no idea. Maybe she misunderstood something I said. Thank you for telling me. I’ll try to make it clear to both of them that it’s healthy to talk about her, that it’s okay to feel sad and miss her.”
She shifted on the bench beside him. “You’re welcome. I was all ready to yell at you the next time I saw you. I feel a little let down now.”
He laughed, which seemed to surprise both of them. “Go ahead. I probably deserve it for something else I’ve done wrong.”
“I would guess you’re an excellent father,” she said after a moment. “Only a loving parent and an honorable man would be concerned enough about his children’s mother that he would be willing to care for her as she was dying, even after they were divorced. It couldn’t have been easy.”
He didn’t know quite how to respond to that. He was only aware of a soft, seductive warmth flickering to life inside him. “Thank you,” he said gruffly. “You’re right. It wasn’t easy. But I don’t regret it, despite what my family and friends might have thought.”
They lapsed into silence again, but it was far more comfortable this time. He could feel some of the tension ease from his shoulders.
How did he find her presence so relaxing, especially with this attraction he couldn’t seem to fight?
“Tell me more about your research project. What led you to salmon, of all things?”
He seized on the topic, grateful to have another reason to stay with her for a few more moments. “I’ve always found them fascinating. The word salmon is believed to derive from the Latin word salmo or to leap. They fight against rapids and strong currents, work their way past snags in the water, all so they can return to the place of their birth. It’s unbelievable, really. The salmon in Lake Haven fight their way two miles up the fast-moving Chalk Creek waters, with six separate small waterfalls and a hundred obstacles, until they reach the place where the females create their nests, called redds. Each female will lay around a thousand eggs. Many of them die in the effort but enough survive to spawn so that a new generation can repeat the process.”
He caught himself again. “I’m sorry. I’ve been told I tend toward pedagogy when I talk about my favorite subject.”
“I don’t know what that word means,” she admitted without a trace of embarrassment. “But it sounds terrible, whatever it is.”
He laughed, finding her honesty refreshing. Okay, the truth was, he found her refreshing. Full stop.
“When I talk about my research, I tend to come off like a lecturer reading from a textbook.”
“I disagree. If you’re a lecturer, you’re a very good one. You make even salmon sound interesting.”
“They are interesting.”
She smiled. “No doubt. Of course, it might be your accent. You could be talking about plumbing fixtures and I would still find it fascinating. You know how we American girls are about you sexy Brits.”
He bli
nked. No one in her right mind would ever call him sexy. Good grief. He was staid and boring, focusing only on his work and his children.
“You don’t have to mock me,” he said stiffly.
She shifted to stare at him. “I wasn’t mocking you, Ian. I assure you, I was wholly sincere.”
This bright, vibrant, beautiful woman couldn’t possibly find him sexy. The idea was laughable.
“At heart, I’ll always be a boring biologist who knows more about the mating habits of salmon than I do about what makes a woman tick.”
She cuddled her dog closer. “Oh, somehow I think you do all right in that department.”
He almost laughed. What would she say if he told her he hadn’t been with a woman in longer than he cared to remember?
He wasn’t a saint by any means. He had dated here and there after the separation and had been in the early stages of a relationship with a very nice woman when Susan had been diagnosed with cancer.
Joann had been the one to gently break things off between them, telling him it was clear he wasn’t in a good space for a relationship with his attention fragmented between his children, his students and Susan’s worsening condition.
Dating had, of course, been impossible after Susan came back to live with them. Even if he had the energy or desire, which he hadn’t, how did he explain to a woman that he wanted to take her to dinner—oh, and by the way, she needn’t worry because he had caregivers at home with his dying ex-wife?
The past year had been a blur of helping the children grieve, wrapping things up at his college and frequent trips back to Summerhill to begin assuming some of his new responsibilities.
“I appreciate the confidence,” he said, his voice gruff. “Misplaced as it might be.”
“I don’t think it is. And believe me, I should know.”
“Why is that?”
She was quiet for a long moment, gazing out at the water. Finally she faced him with a determined set to her jaw. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard the rumors, considering you live next door to me.”
“Rumors?”
“I have something of a reputation around town as a man-hungry flirt.”
She said the words in a lighthearted tone as if she were making a joke, but somehow he sensed she was serious.
“Is that supposed to be some kind of a warning?”
She gave a little laugh that almost sounded sincere. “You’re perfectly safe with me. You could say I’m a reformed flirt. I used to be one, a lifetime ago. But then my mother died and I ended up with a pregnant dog, a lemon of a car and more wedding dress orders than I have hours in the day to finish. I’m not the same person I was six months ago.”
He had the feeling they were both at a crossroads in their lives, both trying to find their way amid earthshaking changes.
He shouldn’t be so drawn to her but he couldn’t seem to help it. He wanted to set her dog gently on the ground and pull Samantha into his arms, both to take that bleak tone out of her voice and to ease the aching hunger he realized had been curling through him since she walked out through the darkness to join him.
“Give it time,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll rediscover your inner flirt.”
“Maybe I don’t want to. If you want the truth, the woman I used to be was silly and shallow and focused on all the completely wrong things.”
He again had that sense of unexpected intimacy in sitting here in the darkness beside the lake with her, sharing truths neither might not feel comfortable revealing in bright sunlight.
He wanted to know more about her. He wanted to know everything.
“What used to be important to that old Samantha?”
“I cared about the kind of clothes a man wore or the type of car he drove or how much was in his bank account.”
He understood that mind-set. How could he not when Susan had only dated him in the first place because of his family’s prominence and because of the Honorable that had preceded his name in those days as a younger son, before David died and Ian became the viscount?
He wasn’t the kind of man likely to interest a woman like Samantha. He dressed comfortably but didn’t follow trends and in England he drove an eight-year-old car he had picked more because of its safety record than style.
“What matters to you now?” He found he desperately wanted to know the answer.
She gazed out at the lake. “I’m not looking for a relationship. If I were, I hope I would choose a man who is kind to his family, who respects and supports me and who makes choices based not on what the world might think but about what his conscience tells him is right.”
“Sounds like a boring prat.”
She laughed. “Apparently that’s what I need these days.”
He liked her, more than he’d liked another woman in a long, long time. Maybe ever. “Well, when you’re ready, I hope you find him,” he said, and was astonished that his voice came out gruff.
“Thank you.”
Her gaze met his and he was fiercely drawn to the laughter in her eyes, the smile that tipped the corners of her mouth. The intimacy of the night seemed to swirl around them, soft and sweet.
She swallowed, her smile trickling away, and he saw something flicker in her eyes, something that sent a hot ache coursing through him.
She folded her hands tightly on her lap but he thought he saw her fingers tremble.
He should get up from this bench, right now. A smart man would simply say good night, walk away and return to his house, where he was safe.
He couldn’t seem to make himself move, either unable or unwilling to do that. He wasn’t sure which.
Her gaze flickered to his mouth and then back to his eyes and that was it. He knew he had to kiss her.
He tried to talk himself out of it, even as he angled his body toward hers and set her dog down onto the ground. Nothing good could possibly come from kissing his next-door neighbor when he would be leaving in only a few weeks.
He couldn’t offer her anything but this, ever. When this summer idyll ended, he had to return to Summerhill and immerse himself in family concerns that seemed far removed from this little Idaho lake town.
Beyond that, she was his sister’s good friend. Gemma would kill him if he indulged in a summer fling that could end up hurting this sweet, perfectly nice woman.
This wasn’t a fling, he argued. It was only a kiss.
He knew it was a justification, but in that moment he didn’t care. As he lowered his mouth, all the reasons why this was a bad idea flashed through his head in rapid succession, but none compared to the urgent hunger inside him to kiss this soft, enticing woman.
When his mouth brushed against hers once, then twice, Samantha gave a sexy little intake of breath. He started to ease away but didn’t make it far before she wrapped her arms around him, returning the embrace with a heat and passion that sent all thoughts of salmon and Susan and the children completely out of his head.
The kiss was every bit as delicious as he might have expected. Her mouth was sweet, warm, and tasted like fresh-picked berries. He wanted to explore every inch of it.
She gave that delicious sigh again, her hands tight around his neck.
Bad idea, that warning voice said as he tightened his embrace. This was more than a simple kiss.
He ignored it. Right now, with a soft, enticing woman kissing him back like she couldn’t get enough, this felt like the absolutely best idea he had ever had.
* * *
THIS HAD TO STOP.
Right now.
The thought pushed through her consciousness but Samantha shoved it right back out. She couldn’t seem to think straight, lost in the magic of kissing a fascinating man in the pale moonlight.
He was warm, strong, his hair silky under her fingers, and he smelled so good, like some kind of masculine soap and a laundry detergent that s
melled like a mountain meadow.
His mouth tasted like chocolate cake and she couldn’t seem to get enough. She wanted to close her eyes and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist, that only this moment mattered.
She gave in for several moments, telling herself it was only a casual kiss and didn’t mean anything. The man was only here for a few weeks. She could indulge in a few kisses in the moonlight with him, couldn’t she?
No.
This was a mistake. She was not the kind of woman who kissed a man she barely knew. Or at least she wasn’t that kind of woman anymore.
She had to be stronger than this. As tempting as Ian Summerhill might be with those stunning blue eyes and that accent and the casually messed hair she wanted to smooth down, she could no longer afford to make decisions she knew deep in her heart were bound to turn out disastrously for her in the end.
Only a moment more, she told herself as he deepened the kiss, his tongue licking at the seam of her mouth, his body strong and hard against her. What was the harm in two unattached adults sharing a kiss on a cool summer’s night?
It’s not like she was going to fall in love with the man. She knew he was leaving in a few weeks. She might have been stupid about men once upon a time but surely she had a little more common sense now.
She wrapped her arms more tightly around him, feeling hard muscles against her that told her he might be a scientist but he was also athletic. He made a low sound in his throat that seemed to slide down her spine, making her shiver.
Oh my.
They kissed for a long time, tasting, discovering, savoring. She didn’t want it to ever end. How had she forgotten how intimate a kiss could feel, as if he could learn everything about her by a simple brush of his mouth against hers?
This felt anything but casual. It felt...profoundly moving somehow, as if something significant had just shifted in her world, something she didn’t quite understand.
The night murmured around them. The water, the chirp of crickets, an owl in the treetops. She vaguely registered all of those sounds on some level but they couldn’t pierce the soft, dreamy haze surrounding her and Ian until Betsey suddenly gave a sharp bark.
Summer at Lake Haven Page 9
