by Jane Toombs
Mikel got up and poured himself another cup of coffee. He’d been about to offer to go with them to help Aino if he needed it, but decided after listening to the two of them he’d best keep his mouth shut. Aino got up and down the porch steps by himself, so he could certainly get from the car into the doctor’s office.
As if divining his thoughts, Aino looked at him and said, “You can give Rachel a hand with the chores while we’re gone. Might have lunch in town, too, Sonia and me. Give the cook a day off.”
Mikel had offered to help Rachel a time or two, only to be turned down flat. He glanced at her and said, “I’ll be happy to, if she’ll have me.”
Aino frowned at Rachel, who said, “He’s a guest, after all.”
“Never turn down any offer of help,” Aino advised. “Not on a farm. As if we don’t have enough work, you know what Sonia wants me to do now? Raise chickens.”
“Well, you do have the coop already,” Sonia pointed out.
They were still arguing when they left for the doctor’s.
Michael helped Rachel with the breakfast dishes. When they finished he said, “Here I am, ready, willing and able.”
She shot him a sly look. “Well, I haven’t milked the cow yet. After that, she needs to be turned out into the field to graze.”
“Piece of cake. Lead me to her.”
“You think so, city boy?” she taunted. “Daisy might just show you otherwise.”
“Metsa likes me, you think Daisy won’t, too?”
“Liking and milking are two very different things, just the way a dog and a cow are. As you’ll see soon enough. Another thing. I wear coveralls over my clothes for milking and general barn cleaning. It tends to keep the smells where they belong. I can lend you a pair of Aino’s.”
“Thanks. By all means let’s keep the smells where they belong.”
Aino, though about as tall as Mikel, was quite a bit heavier. After Mikel donned the coveralls she offered him, he glanced at her and saw her grin.
“Lots of room in here,” he said, pulling out the slack to show her. “Care to join me?”
“In your dreams.”
When they got to the barn she showed him where the milking pails were kept, introduced him to Daisy and pointed out the milking stool, saying, “She’s all yours.”
Mikel eyed the brown Guernsey, who stared right back at him. “Yo, Daisy,” he said to her softly, “I’ve seen you watching me from the field, so you know I’m not a stranger. Did anyone ever tell you what pretty brown eyes you have?”
As he moved to her side with the pail, he kept murmuring to her. One of the field-training booklets had advised letting any animal get used to you before approaching and he’d found it worked fairly well except with guard dogs.
Aware that Rachel, while pretending to be sweeping up barn floor debris, was watching him, he sat on the stool, positioned the pail, flexed his hands like a pianist about to play a concerto and leaned toward Daisy, resting his head against her side. He put his hands in position and squeezed the way he’d been taught in field training. Daisy obliged and milk began to thrum down into the pail.
In his unit, all the special agents were taught this skill. In a stakeout in the country, you never knew when you might need to milk a cow for food to survive on—or so the manual said. He, personally, had never had to do it, but now the technique was coming in handy.
When he finished, after remembering to do the final stripping, Rachel showed him where the refrigerated cooler was and then he led Daisy from her stall. When he opened the barn door to drive her into the field, Metsa was waiting on the other side and greeted him as if he’d been gone a year, following cow and man into the field. Rachel remained in the barn, and when he returned with Metsa at his heels, she said, “Okay, I’m suitably impressed.”
“I hope so,” he told her, grinning.
“I heard you flattering Daisy, telling her what pretty eyes she had. No wonder she took to you.”
“If that’s all I need to do, I’m willing to say any number of things about your beautiful brown eyes.”
“I’m harder to impress than Daisy.”
It was warm in the barn and the sun slanting through the open door turned the dust motes stirred up by her sweeping to gold as they danced in the air. Metsa sat down on Mikel’s feet as though to make sure he wouldn’t go anyplace without notice.
“I really do think she wants to be your dog,” Rachel said.
“Wanting and achieving are two separate things.” He bent down to ruffle the dog’s ears. “You’re a good girl,” he told her, “and my friend. But when I leave the farm for good, you can’t come with me.”
“I’ll show you where to stow the coverall here in the barn,” Rachel said.
“Just in case I plan to make milking a daily chore?”
“Twice-a-day chore,” she corrected him.
After he hung up the coverall in what must have once been a tack room, he washed his hands in the utility sink, realizing he hadn’t had so much fun in a long, long time. Not that he ever meant to let it leak out that he found farm chores fun.
“Since I’ve been officially delegated to you this morning, I await my next assignment,” he said to Rachel.
She shook her head. “You keep amazing me. Right now I’m standing here wondering if there’s anything you can’t do or haven’t done.”
“Before I came here I’d never planted a tree,” he pointed out.
“But now you have. Doesn’t count.”
He nodded. “Let’s see. Brain surgery—wouldn’t tackle that.”
“Yes, but you’re not a doctor, so it doesn’t count, either.”
“You’re including only everyday things?”
“Right.”
He thought for a moment and then rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. Gazing into her eyes, he murmured, “This isn’t an everyday thing by any means, but I haven’t yet managed to find the chance to make love to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
Rachel, transfixed by the intensity she saw in his eyes, whispered, “Maybe you ought to try again.” She knew she shouldn’t say it, knew safety lay in retreating, but if she didn’t take what she wanted now, she might never have another chance. Once he found out the truth about her past, and she feared he would eventually because, as a hunter, Mikel was relentless, that would be the end of anything between them.
“Where?” he asked, the word hanging between them like the dust motes.
She glanced upward and his gaze followed hers. “The hayloft?” At her nod, he took her hand and led her toward the ladder leading upward.
As they climbed, Metsa, left behind, whined and tried to scramble after them but couldn’t manage the steep ladder.
“I feel like a kid up here,” he told her when they both reached the top. “In the old days, somewhere in the libido of every boy there used to lurk the fantasy of making love to a girl in a hayloft. Today, haylofts are an exotic location, beyond the realm of most kids. In fact, I’ve never been in one before. And certainly not one in a black barn.”
Rachel knew her laugh was nervous. She was nervous. Haylofts were familiar enough, but not making love in one. “When Aino makes up his mind to do something, he can’t be swerved off course.” Staring at Mikel, she added, “A lot like you, really.”
“You think so?” Tugging at her hand, he pulled her down until she sat next to him in the hay.
“You are like that and you know it,” she said, pausing. “I’ll tell you a secret about your eyes. They fascinate me. Sometimes, when you look at me….” Her words trailed off. There was no way to explain how he made her feel.
He took one of her hands in his and ran his forefinger along her little finger, down into the web and up the next finger, his touch a caress. When he finished at the thumb, he brought her palm to his lips. The feel of his warm tongue on her palm sent tingles along her spine. No one had ever before done such a thing—she would never have imagined it could be so erotic.
“You have such lovely fair skin,” he said, letting go of her hand to brush her cheek with his fingers, holding her gaze. “If we were alone on Kaug Isle, naked, lying in the sun, I’d be rubbing your bare back with sun block lotion from your neck to your sexy bottom, then down each leg to your feet.”
She swallowed, mesmerized, the image of him stroking lotion onto her bare skin pooling heat inside her.
“And then you’d turn over,” he murmured. As he spoke, he lifted her T-shirt up over her head and off. “I’d begin with your shoulders.” He reached down to the fastenings on her front-closure bra and unhooked it. As he cast the bra aside, she heard him draw in a ragged breath. “Shoulders,” he repeated, his voice noticeably huskier. He raised his hands to her shoulders, then slid them down to caress her breasts.
She moaned, swaying toward him. He let her go long enough to yank off his own shirt and then pulled her to him, her bare breasts against his naked chest firing her need, making her regret they were both still half dressed. He found her lips with his in a kiss that told of his own need. He tasted of himself, unique and tantalizing. He tasted of danger and of passion.
Holding him to her, her hands spread across his back, the awareness of the solid muscles under his smooth skin made her remember just what a strong and beautiful man he was. He wanted her, she knew, but no more than she wanted him. There was no one like Mikel. There never would be.
Before easing her down into the hay, he reached for their shirts and slid them under her back. He kissed her again, long and deep, before trailing kisses along her throat and down to her breasts, then lower, lower, rendering her helpless with pleasure. He unzipped her jeans, pushing them down, along with her panties, until his tongue reached her center, sending her into a frenzy of desire.
“Mikel,” she moaned.
Then her jeans were off, taking her sandals with them. Mikel murmured, “Open your eyes.” When she did, she saw he was as naked as she.
His green gaze held hers as he rose above her. She opened to him, wanting everything, any vestige of fear burned away in the heat of passion. At this moment, he was hers.
His eyes darkened and closed as he slid inside her, murmuring words she didn’t understand. Russian? She shut her own eyes, overwhelmed by the surge of indescribable sensations drowning her, carrying her on a wave of wonder to an unknown destination. As in a dream, she heard Mikel groan and knew the wave had caught him, too. They were together.
Some time later, held in his arms, she felt the prickle of the hay under her bare bottom and remembered where they were. “It tickles,” she murmured.
Obviously understanding exactly what she meant, he said, “We’ll bring a blanket next time.”
Next time. The words might have warmed her if she could have made herself believe there’d be a next time for them.
Evidently hearing their voices, Metsa started barking below. Rachel sat up and began gathering her scattered clothes.
Mikel sighed. “I can’t say I’m sorry we rescued her, but this is one time we don’t need her everlasting devotion.” He reached for her, stopping her from dressing, and kissed her. Holding her close, he whispered in her ear, “I don’t have any words.”
Neither did she, even though I love you floated in her mind. Was it the truth? How could she, who had never before really been in love, be sure? In any case, it made no difference, since however he felt about her would soon change, she was certain.
When at last he let her go she felt chilled, even though the loft, with the sun beating down on the barn roof, was very warm. She dressed as quickly as she could. If only she dare tell him the truth, straight out. She was a grown woman now, not a child, why should she be so terrified of a threat from the past? Somewhere inside her, though, that fearful child, hidden for all these years, still lived, as afraid as she’d been on that dreadful night.
With every garment she put on, Mikel felt Rachel draw farther away from him. Still shaken by his own emotions, he couldn’t think how to bring back their closeness. What had happened between them left him confused. In making love with her, another dimension had somehow been added so that the very real passion of their coming together was somehow enhanced by—what? He couldn’t put a name to it, but it scared the hell out of him.
Picking straw from strategic places, he donned his clothes. The only thing he was completely sure of was that he was going to have the devil of a time forgetting this day.
When they’d both climbed down the ladder to be greeted by an enthusiastic Metsa, Mikel decided he needed to be by himself for a while. Because he knew if he took a walk around the farm the dog would limp after him and she needed to rest that sore paw, he said, “I’m going into town.”
Rachel nodded, leaving the barn without a word.
He drove to the park along the beach and stopped there. After taking off his shoes and socks in the car, he walked across the sand to the water’s edge, standing there and gazing toward the horizon. Though the day was still fair, the wind had picked up, ruffling the lake into white-capped waves. He began to stroll along the wet sand, annoying long-legged birds into fast-paced running to avoid him. Sandpipers, he thought they were called. Other than the birds, he was alone on the beach.
What the hell have you done now, Starzov? he asked himself.
Exactly what he’d promised himself he’d never do again. Never mind that this wasn’t an agency case, the rules were the same. Don’t get involved with any of the people directly concerned or any on the periphery, either. You never know.
Because he felt safe in this small town and because he was intent on his own thoughts, he broke another rule—always know what’s going on around you. He paid little heed to his surroundings.
“Hi there, Mikel.”
The sound of his name jerked him to attention. Seated on a bench near the sidewalk, with a toddler playing in the sand at her feet, was a woman he recognized. He searched for her identity, found it along with her name. Dottie, the waitress from Sylvia’s.
“Come and sit a minute,” she invited.
With no reason to refuse, he did as she asked. He might pick up some fragment of information.
“Yours?” he said, glancing at the little girl.
“Granddaughter.”
He nodded, noticing her eyes, a pale blue, were badly bloodshot. Was his memory failing? It seemed to him he recalled Dottie’s eyes being a rather spectacular aquamarine, not this faded blue.
She smiled wryly. “I know I look like Hangover Hannah and then some. All my life I had to wear glasses and I hated them, so I finally got me a pair of contacts, a real pretty color, too. Only I did something wrong and now I’ve got an eye infection.” Reaching in her bag, she pulled out a pair of dark glasses and donned them. “Trouble is, these ain’t prescription and I see better without ’em.”
“Contacts can take some getting used to.” Rachel, he remembered, wore them.
“Yeah, that’s what everyone tells me. I hear your grandma’s staying out at Aino’s with you. Seen her around town in her red car.”
“She’s his physical therapist.” Which was true enough and avoided any other explanation.
“So I guess you’ll both be staying for a while, then.”
Before he came up with a reply, her granddaughter poured a pail of sand onto his feet. He glanced down and found her smiling at him. “Hi, man,” she said.
Dottie shook her head. “Only two and already a flirt.”
“What’s your name?” he asked the child.
“Mimi.”
“Hi, Mimi,” he said. She giggled, got to her feet and leaned against his knee, staring up at him.
A horn tooted.
“Oh, there’s my daughter,” Dottie said. “Pick up your pail and shovel, Mimi, your mama’s waiting for us.”
Mimi scowled. “No.”
Dottie rose and picked up the toys, then reached for the child’s hand. Mimi pulled away from her, saying, “No.”
“I give piggyback rides,” Mikel told her.
Mimi regarded him for a moment, then reached her arms to be picked up. He lifted her onto the bench, then stooped so she could climb onto his back. Gripping her legs securely, he jogged with her over to the stopped car where Dottie lifted her off and into a car seat.
“You must have a kid of your own, the way you handled that,” Mimi’s mother said from the driver’s seat.
Mikel shook his head. “Friends of mine have a two-year-old.”
“Well, you’ll sure make a great father some day,” Dottie told him as she got in the car. “Nice talking to you.”
As he walked back to the water’s edge, Mikel shook his head. For a guy who’d never had much to do with them, ever since he arrived in the U.P. he seemed to be knee-deep in kids. Just because he’d rather enjoyed it didn’t mean he planned to have any of his own. Kids meant marriage and that was definitely not on his agenda.
What was? Finding red-haired, tawny-eyed Renee Reynaud and getting back to reality. His reality. This area was something outside his experience, which must be why it sometimes felt he was living in a dream world. Or was it because of Rachel?
Beautiful Rachel, with her dark hair and her soft brown eyes. Rachel, who fit in his arms like no other woman ever had. Or ever would? Damn, where had that thought come from?
He couldn’t deny he’d never felt so attracted to a woman—which was probably why he’d come close to attacking that jerk at the mine. The thought of any other man touching her… Mikel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He really did need to get away from this place.
Soon, he told himself. Eva Saari was due home anytime now. With luck she’d provide some closure. Either he was right about his hunch that Leo Saari was connected in some way to Renee, or he was wrong. He still intended to ask Aino a few questions about his son, but he had more hope that Eva was the key. Once he talked to her, he’d know, one way or the other.
About Renee, anyway. But there was nobody he could talk to about Rachel. Definitely not Grandma Sonia, who, misled into thinking Rachel was his girl, had been prejudiced in Rachel’s favor before she’d even met her.
