by Davis, Mary
“I had fun. Thank you for inviting me.”
He put his coat over the chair, as well, then stood in front of her with his arms out from his sides. “Name your price. Not that I could ever repay this debt.”
“You don’t owe me a thing, Garth. You’ve always been so helpful. I was happy to help you for a change. It makes me not feel quite so much the leech.” And she wanted to spend time with him. . .a lot of time.
He rubbed his hands on her upper arms. “You’re the prettiest leech I’ve ever seen.”
Her pulse quickened, and she could scarcely take a breath. “Would you like some cocoa or tea?”
“No, thank you.”
Now what? They stood face-to-face. Words didn’t seem appropriate. Her insides started to swirl under his hypnotic gaze.
He reached out and fingered a loose tendril of hair. “It’s so silky. The color so extraordinary.” His gaze shifted to her face, studying it, as well.
She swallowed.
“May I kiss you?”
It was gallant of him to ask. “You have before.” She touched her cheek where he had given her a parting kiss. But what he asked now was different.
He caressed her cheek where she had touched it. “Not here.” He put his index finger lightly to her lips. “Here.”
A sudden thrill went through her. You have kissed me there before. Don’t you remember, Bandit? She nodded her consent.
He lowered his lips to hers in a gentle, lingering kiss. She didn’t realize how much she had longed for him to kiss her, and she slipped her arms around his neck. He embraced her with his strong, secure arms and kissed her again.
He pulled away. Neither one spoke as they gazed at each other in silence.
Finally Garth took his coat from the back of the chair and swung it on. “I should go.”
Something inside her didn’t want him to go. “What about a good-night kiss?”
A shy smile played at the corners of his lips. “I think I already did that.”
“May I give you a good-night kiss then?” She felt her face flush. Never in her life had she been so bold. When had she had the chance?
His smile spread across his face and his eyes brightened. “I’d like that.” His soft answer made her heart beat faster.
She stepped forward and rested her hands on his strong, broad shoulders, then gave him a tender kiss.
For a moment neither said anything. Then he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Well, good night then,” he said but stayed a moment longer.
When he left, she hurried to the kitchen window and watched him until his vehicle disappeared up the steep drive. She spun around in circles. Love was grand. Not even the knowledge things wouldn’t last could spoil this moment. She wouldn’t let it.
❧
How could he have been so carried away? He had almost told her. Just before he kissed her, the words I love you nearly spilled from his lips. He couldn’t expect her to feel the same way he did. He’d had ten years to nurture his feelings toward her. She’d had only a couple of months.
He supposed it was partially fear that drove him. Fear of losing her. Gretchen had said Lorelei was staying anywhere from a few weeks to two months. Those two months were up. Would she be leaving soon? She hadn’t said anything. The agony of not knowing when she would walk out of his life again had driven his actions all week, trying to squeeze in every minute he could with her. He had to know. He would ask her casually on the way to church tomorrow.
But he didn’t. Church came and went, and he still didn’t know the answer to his burning question. He had convinced her to go to lunch with some friends just to be with her. They didn’t arrive back at the lake until midafternoon. Now he was at her door, trying to find a tactful way to ask her how long she planned to remain at the lake.
“Do you have plans for dinner?” He knew he was stalling.
She hesitated. “Well. . .not really.”
“What does not really mean? Either you do or you don’t.” That sounded a bit curt. He hoped she hadn’t noticed, but he was afraid she would say she had a lot of packing to do for her trip.
“I plan to eat something for dinner, but exactly what I don’t know until I rummage through the leftovers in the fridge.” She cocked her head slightly to one side. “Are you fishing for a home-cooked meal?”
“No.” A brilliant idea popped into his head. “Could I cook for you for a change?”
“You cook?”
“Yes, I cook. I’m a bachelor, living alone. It’s a matter of survival. My other two options were not very appealing.”
“What were they, TV dinners and mac and cheese?”
He grimaced at the thought. “Spending all my money to support the local restaurants or starve.”
She became serious. “Yes.” But he guessed she was feigning the serious part.
“Yes, what? Yes, I should support the restaurants, or, yes, I should starve?”
“Yes, thank you. I would like to sample your cooking this evening,” she said with an impish grin. “But I can’t stay long.”
This was it. She would tell him she was leaving in the morning.
“Two late nights in a row have left me tired. I need to get to bed early.”
“Does Cinderella turn into a pumpkin?” he said with a smile, trying to ease the knot in his stomach with some humor.
“Something like that.”
“Then I promise to have the lady home early.” He made a sweeping bow.
“Thank you, kind sir,” she said with a dip of her head.
“I’ll pick you up at five.”
He left and headed straight for town to buy what he needed for his food creation, all the while chiding himself for being a coward. Tonight. He would ask her tonight how much longer she was staying at the Davenports’ cottage. How much longer would he have to gaze into her emerald green eyes and touch her silken red hair?
If she was staying longer, that was a good sign. Wasn’t it? At least he wouldn’t have scared her off. But it didn’t mean she would be staying because of him. First he had to know if she was even staying.
❧
“Are you staying?” he blurted out.
She looked at him. Hadn’t he invited her over? “Well, I thought I’d stay until eight, but I can leave now.”
He laid a gentle hand on her arm. “What I meant to say is—will you still need a ride to church next Sunday?”
“I can drive myself, if there’s a problem with that.”
“Then you are going?” He sounded hopeful.
His sudden odd behavior confused her “I was planning on it unless there is a problem with that, too.”
“No, there’s no problem with your going, only in your leaving.” He sounded wistful. “I would be more than happy to take you to church.”
His signals were so erratic she couldn’t tell if he was brushing her off or not. At the very least, confusion dominated her. He had been acting weird all day, but the ginger chicken he cooked was fantastic.
He ran his hand through his thick blond hair. “I’m making a mess of this. I’ve been trying to find out how long you’re staying without coming right out and asking. So”—he drew in a deep breath—“how long will you be staying? And I don’t mean in my living room.” He made a quick look about and took her hands in his. “I mean here at Starvation Lake in the Davenports’ cottage. How much longer do I get to have the pleasure of your company?”
Her heart raced miles ahead of her. “Well, I made indefinite plans with Josie’s parents to use their place, and I have started paying them rent, though they protested. They have been so kind. I don’t want to take advantage of them. Josie and her parents have other plans for Thanksgiving, but they intend to come up Christmas Day. So I suppose I will be staying at least through the Christmas holiday. After that I haven’t a clue. Does that sufficiently answer your question?”
A broad grin dominated his face. “Well, about Thanksgiving, I insist you come over here. And I will not ta
ke no for an answer. Okay?”
“You just said I couldn’t say no.” Not that she wanted to.
“Good,” he said with a nod. “I’m glad you’re paying attention.”
She had listened, but was there more to what he was saying than what was in his words? He made no effort to take her home before eight o’clock, but precisely at eight he drove her back to her cottage.
He took her in his arms and gave her a lingering good-night kiss. He pulled back from her but still held her securely in his arms. “I do believe you are addictive, Miss Lorelei Hayes.” His voice was husky.
She gazed up at him. “Is that good or bad?”
“Very, very good.” He leaned down for another quick kiss before making a hasty departure.
She watched him go. You, too, Mr. Kessel, are very addicting. And I guess I’ll have to quit cold turkey when it comes time to leave.
Twelve
The following Saturday Garth came by to spend the day with Lori, not that he hadn’t spent every evening the past week with her. “You want to play a game?” Garth stood in front of her hearth with the giant bowl of popcorn they had just made.
“Okaaay. There are some in the little room.” Lori headed in that direction. The request seemed a bit odd since he had never suggested a game before.
“I had something different in mind.”
Her feet stopped in midstride, and she swung around to face him.
Garth’s eyes were bright with delight. “Let’s play ‘I’ve got a secret.’ ”
Secret?
Her throat tightened, and her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. Did he know? Of course not, how could he? But maybe he could sense she was holding something back, and this was his way to get her to come clean.
“It’s easy. We take turns telling each other something about ourselves the other person doesn’t know.”
No, she wanted to shout. Let’s play something else—Boggle, Monopoly, Go Fish, anything.
“Come on. It’ll be fun. We’ll learn interesting things about each other.”
Fun?
“Please.”
How could she get out of it without drawing attention to the fact that this honesty game scared her to death? “All right.” How deep was this game supposed to be?
His smile broadened, and he took her hand, leading her over by the fire. Lori never had fires; they scared her. But it was a cold night; it had been cold all day with the first snowflakes of the year falling, and Garth said he would tend to the fire. They sat down on the floor with the popcorn. Lori cradled the bowl on her lap for security or strength or something to hide behind, at least something to hide her shaking hands.
“You go first,” he said.
“Me?” She cleared her throat. “This is your game—you go first.”
“All right. Let’s see.” He put his finger to his chin as if to think. “My favorite color is green.” He looked right into her eyes and smiled.
Lori had expected some sort of deep confession or secret. The knot in her stomach loosened.
“Your turn.” He took a handful of popcorn and tossed some into his mouth.
“My favorite color is—”
Garth held up his hand to stop her. “Not fair. I can guess that one. Pick something I don’t know.”
“So what is it?”
“Purple.”
“Wrong. Yellow.”
“Really?” Disbelief replaced his smug grin.
“Your turn.” Maybe this game would be fun after all.
“Then why do you have a purple car if it’s not your favorite color?”
“Not fair. You didn’t say anything about asking questions. I already told you something about me.”
He grimaced at her then finally said, “I changed my major three times in college.”
The expectant look on his face told her he was still waiting for the answer to his earlier question about her purple car.
“When I was little we had a dog named Butch. Your turn.”
His jaw dropped, as if he didn’t believe she hadn’t answered his question yet. He recovered quickly and told her a trite bit of information.
“My brother chose the car for me,” she said.
“Why would your—?” He stopped when she raised her eyebrows. He gritted his teeth. “This is supposed to be fun.”
“I’m having fun.” She smiled. “Your turn.”
“I don’t like being toyed with. Your turn.”
“I don’t like being pressured into talking about things. Your turn.”
He paused. “I’m sorry. I let my curiosity get the better of me.”
She nodded once. “Forgiven.”
“Thank you,” he said then continued the game. “We had a dog, too—a golden retriever named Pumpkin.”
“Pumpkin?”
“Don’t ask.”
He was getting her back, making her curious. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to tell him; she didn’t want to be forced into it. If she allowed this question, then he would feel free to ask others. It was a bad precedent. “My brother chose purple because it was better than pink.”
He opened his mouth but closed it again, giving her a playful glare. “It was the fall, and the puppy lay down under a bush. All curled up she looked like a pumpkin.”
“I couldn’t drive, and my brother was tired of ferrying me around. I told him there was no point in learning to drive when there was no car for me to drive.” She paused, caught off guard by his intense look of interest as he listened. “Knowing my justifiable fear of cars, he chose one with a reputation for safety and asked what color I wanted. I didn’t want to have a car at all or even to drive. I preferred to depend on him. He knew it wasn’t good for me, and I knew he wouldn’t drop the car thing, so I told him I wanted purple. I told him pink would do just as well, knowing my brother would never subject any automobile to either one of those colors.”
“But he called your bluff.”
“He refused to drive it, calling it a giant grape on wheels. I think it looks more like a plum.” She paused with a shiver of vivid recollection, another round of painful memories, and took a deep breath. “I miss him.”
Garth squeezed her hand. “My turn.” He paused and looked away. When he looked back at her, mischief danced in his eyes. “Do you remember that one summer you spent up here with Josie?”
“Vividly. It was the best summer of my life.”
“It was the end of the summer, late in August. You went for a swim by yourself and rested out on the floating dock.”
She struggled not to smile at the memory he was replaying. She remembered. How could she forget? The intensity of his eyes had always mesmerized her, not just their blue depths, but their look that was fathoms deep.
“It wasn’t the lake’s famous kissing bandit who kissed you. I was the boy who snuck up on the dock.”
Though he had been serious, the smile she was trying to contain broke across her face. “I know.”
His eyes widened. “How? I’m not that scrawny boy anymore.”
“One thing that will never change is your eyes. At times I can still see you as that boy when you look at me. It’s almost as if you are contemplating, trying to figure out some great mystery.” Her voice dropped to a notch above a whisper. “Like now. They can be very hypnotic.” She smiled.
A slow smile spread across his face. “I spent the whole two weeks we were up here trying to gather my nerve to talk to the pretty redheaded girl.”
Lori felt her cheeks grow warm at his compliment.
“I felt a little like Charlie Brown.” He ducked his head shyly but went on. “We, like most of the summer folks, would be returning to the real world. It was then or never. I was afraid you would disappear like a mermaid in the ocean never to be seen again. You were always with Josie. Your little swim seemed like my last and only chance to meet you alone. So I took a dive. Literally.” He lifted his head. “I was only going to talk to you, but my mind went blank when I got up close to you
. I didn’t know what to say. I figured the bandit didn’t have a half-bad idea.” He took a handful of popcorn. “I looked for you all the next summer, but you never came back.”
I would have if. . . She let the thought drift away like the bad dream it was.
“I guess it’s your turn then,” he said.
“That one didn’t count. I already knew it was you,” she said again.
“All right. Here’s one you don’t know.”
She waited, uncomfortable with the silence, but he said nothing more. “Is it that bad? What did you do, put a snake in your sister’s bed?”
He chuckled. “That was funny. You should have heard her scream. The humor died quickly, though, when my mom came in. That’s when I knew I was in serious trouble.”
“You didn’t really?”
He nodded. “Afraid so. But it wasn’t my fault. I was only seven, and my brother paid me to do it. I should have asked for double with the licking I got.”
“Boys.” She shook her head. “So what is this secret you are reluctant to tell me? It can’t be as bad as the snake—”
He pierced her with his gaze, and all logical thought floated away. He reached out and touched her cheek. She had a feeling this was heading somewhere she did not want to go.
“I love you.”
Caught off guard, she jumped to her feet, forgetting about the bowl of popcorn on her lap. Popcorn scattered everywhere.
“What?” It was more an accusation than a question.
He stood, too, the popcorn crunching under his feet as he stepped toward her. “That wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“This isn’t happening.” She stared up at him, grief stricken. “You can’t be in—I mean, you’re not supposed to fall—”
He put his hands gently on her upper arms. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to or not. All I know is I am in love with you. If I’m not mistaken, your feelings are headed in that direction, too.”
Heading in that direction? Her feelings had long since been there, camped out, and put down roots. “But—but—”
