by Ruth Langan
She tightened the screws, and wiped her hands on a rag. “I think that does it for the boats. They’ll be in good shape come spring.”
Lem nodded. “You still want me to pick up a couple gallons of gas?”
“If you don’t mind driving into town.”
“Don’t mind at all. I got a couple of errands to run for Marge anyhow.” He glanced skyward, instead of glancing at his watch. “If I leave now, I can be home in time for supper.”
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, Lem.”
“Yep.” He sauntered toward the truck.
Alex carried her tools to the shed, then made her way inside the lodge. As she filled the tub it occurred to her that having Grant Malone around wasn’t so bad after all. They rarely spoke. He made no demands on her time.
She peeled off her filthy sweats and climbed into the scented water, sighing with the pure pleasure of it. She was already planning dinner. She would grill a steak and eat in her room. And get started on the new thriller she’d been dying to read.
Grant stood under the shower and let the hot spray beat on his chest. The hike today had been a challenge. Plenty of hills to climb, and rocks and fallen logs to maneuver across or around. Not quite as tough as a workout in the gym, but at least his muscles were protesting a bit. That was a good sign. He intended to push himself a little more each day, until he was back in peak shape.
He needed something more demanding. He thought about the chores that Alex and Lem shared. He wouldn’t mind helping, but he didn’t think he could be included in the work without also being invited to share their conversation. And he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.
As he toweled himself dry and slipped into fresh denims, it occurred to him that he was hungry. This was the first time in weeks that he actually craved food. He finished dressing and headed down the hall.
In the kitchen Alex looked up when the door opened.
“I was just going to grill a steak. Want one?”
If he’d been caught unaware, he didn’t show it. “Yeah. What can I do to help?”
She shrugged, too surprised for a moment to answer. Did this mean the mystery man actually ate food like humans?
“The salad fixings are in there.” She pointed toward the refrigerator and smiled. “Do you know how to fix a salad?”
“I think I can manage.” There was no answering smile.
“Okay. Salad bowls are up there.” She nodded toward the cupboards.
He rolled up his sleeves, washed his hands, then began hauling out fresh greens. There were three kinds of lettuce. A dozen different vegetables, including sweet red and Vidalia onions, cucumbers, garden-ripened tomatoes. All washed and packaged in neatly-marked plastic containers.
He looked over at Alex, who had just retrieved two steaks from the cooler and was placing them on the grill. “I thought you said this was your off-season.”
“It is.”
“You mean you stocked all this for the two of us?”
“That’s right.” She shot him an impish grin. “Isn’t it a comfort to know that you’ll never go hungry?”
“I guess I figured here at the lodge you ate only what you were able to shoot or hook on a line.”
“Are you kidding? If we lived by that rule, we’d starve. Even during the hunting and fishing season, when most of our guests try to outdo each other with the most exotic trophy or the biggest fish, it’s not about dinner. Even though they’re dedicated outdoorsmen, it’s all about bragging rights. And these days, more of them hunt with a camera than with a rifle anyway.” She gave him a sideways look. “I don’t know if you’ve had a chance to taste photos of deer, but they don’t make for a great dinner.”
That brought a quick smile to his lips.
So the man could actually smile. That was a beginning.
She turned toward the bar. “Do you want wine? Or would you prefer beer?”
“I’ll have a beer.”
She opened two cans and poured them into frosted mugs, then handed him one.
“Thanks.” He took a long pull, then watched as she returned to the grill to tend the steaks. It occurred to him that she had just about the best-looking backside he’d ever seen. He couldn’t remember when he’d noticed a woman who looked better in a pair of faded denims.
She looked up. “Salads done yet?”
He turned away, reluctant to be caught staring. As an afterthought he added hearts-of-palm and beefsteak tomatoes to the salads. Then he studied the variety of dressings. “Looks like you bought out the store. Do you have a favorite salad dressing?”
“Something simple. Maybe a little oil and balsamic vinegar.”
“That works for me, too.” Satisfied, he leaned against the counter and drained his beer as Alex set a tray of cheese rolls under the broiler. He bit back a smile. Definitely a great view from where he was standing.
She glanced over. “How do you want your steak?”
“Medium-rare.”
“Then it’s just about ready.” She placed the rolls in a linen-lined basket and set it on a serving tray before turning to him. “Would you rather eat in the dining room, or in the great room in front of the fire?”
“The great room, if you have no objections.”
“None at all.” She speared the two steaks and placed them on a platter, then crossed to the counter and set their salads on the tray.
Before she could lift it he surprised her by taking the tray from her hands. She indicated a wheeled serving cart loaded with china, napkins and silver. “We can take everything on this.”
He pushed the cart from the kitchen to the great room. The fireplace was open on all four sides, with comfortable sofas pulled close for warmth. While Alex set two places on a low coffee table, Grant tossed another log on the fire.
“Funny.” He settled himself beside her on the sofa. “When my grandfather talked about the Snug Harbor Lodge, I had a mental picture of this really rustic old cabin in the woods, with a couple of bunk beds and a scarred wooden table.”
Alex broke open a roll. “Your grandfather stayed here?”
He nodded, and sipped his beer. “Every year for the past thirty years, I’d say.”
She searched her mind, then shook her head. “I don’t remember a Malone being here.”
“He’s not a Malone. He’s my mother’s father. Michael Finn.”
“Mickey?” She gave him a long measuring look. “Mickey Finn is your grandfather?”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you say so?”
He looked over. “I just did.”
She started laughing. “I’ve known Mickey since I was just a kid. He and my grandfather, Grandpa Sully, have been friends since their college days.”
“I know. That’s all I heard about when I was little. How he and Sully bagged their first eight-point buck together. How Sully held the record for the biggest bass ever caught in this lake, until one of the other regulars here at the lodge beat him.”
“Simon Taylor. Four years ago.” Alex leaned back, laughing. “And the two of them have been trying ever since to beat Simon’s record.”
Grant speared a bite of steak. “I’ve been hearing about the amazing Alex Sullivan for a couple of years now. How Alex led their party to the biggest herd of deer. Alex knew the perfect spot to toss a line and catch enough fish to feed an army. Alex once backpacked into the wilderness and returned a month later looking as relaxed as if it had been a walk in the park.”
“Obviously Mickey exaggerated a bit.”
He looked over. “I don’t think so.” He set down his fork and picked up his beer. “So why did you?”
“Why did I what?”
“Backpack into the wilderness and stay a month?”
She shrugged. “Just to see if I could survive alone.”
“You weren’t afraid?”
“Afraid?” She shook her head and leaned back. “These woods are home to me. When I was little, this place was my grandfather’s refuge from the pre
ssures of running a hotel. The first time I saw it, I was a nine-year-old tomboy, who fell head over heels in love. My sisters would never come here with Grandpa Sully after that first time. They preferred life in the city. But I think I always knew that this was where I wanted to live my life.”
“You don’t feel isolated in the winter, when the lodge is closed?”
She laughed. “Isolated? Look around. I have everything I need here.”
He did look around. And he had to admit there was a feeling of comfort here. There was something solid and sturdy about this place. But there was no denying it was miles from its nearest neighbor.
He turned back to study her. “You don’t feel lonely when everyone goes home for the winter?”
She shook her head and stared into the flames of the fire. “It’s funny. Most of the men who come here have been coming to the lodge for years. Many are avid hunters, or just good friends of Grandpa Sully’s. And now they’re friends of mine, as well. While they’re here, we’re like one big family. I enjoy the teasing, the jokes, the good-natured competition among friends. But when everyone leaves, and I’m left on my own, I never feel lonely. There’s so much to do. Not just the maintenance of the lodge and the grounds, but the books I’ve been waiting to read, the movies I’ve been waiting to see. Not to mention the trails I’ve been meaning to hike.”
“So you take a busman’s holiday, and hike just for the fun of it?”
“Yeah.” Her eyes took on a dreamy look. “That’s when it’s the most fun. There’s something so satisfying about knowing that I can sleep under the stars if I want to. And if I decide to take an extra day or two along the trail, nobody’s plans will be spoiled. There’s just me and nature.” She stood. “Want another beer?”
“Sure. Are you having one?”
She nodded and strolled away.
Grant found himself thinking about his own life. It couldn’t be any more different. Alarm clocks and shifts and schedules. Mean streets. Tires screeching. Sirens. Throngs of people, all of them in a hurry. Some of them plotting death and destruction. But which of them? It was his job to figure that out. It was a life that had kept him living on the edge too long, until he’d cracked and lost a part of himself. And now he wasn’t certain he’d ever be whole again.
“Here you go.” Alex handed him a beer, and watched the way he struggled to pull himself back from whatever place he’d gone in his mind. “I put on some coffee. It’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
“Thanks.”
“Did your grandfather tell you how he and Grandpa Sully happened to become friends back in college?”
Grant shook his head.
Alex settled on the sofa and nudged off her shoes, extending her feet toward the warmth of the fire. “They were both after the same girl. Colleen O’Brien. They went to extravagant lengths to trip each other up, and nearly went broke buying expensive gifts to impress her. Then, after promising each of them that they could escort her to a New Year’s Eve ball, Colleen ended up dumping them to go with a stodgy, pipe-smoking professor. Grandpa Sully said he and Mickey consoled each other over a bottle of gin, and became fast friends.”
“I wonder what ever happened to good old Colleen?” Grant mused.
“According to Grandpa Sully she was all set to marry her professor until he met her mother and fell head over heels in love. The two ran off together and no one ever heard from them again.”
Grant smiled, and it occurred to Alex that he looked completely different when he was relaxed and smiling. “Sounds like poetic justice.”
“That’s exactly what Grandpa Sully and Mickey concluded.” She stood and headed for the kitchen. “How would you like your coffee?”
“Black.”
“I’ll be right back.”
“Wait. I’ll give you a hand.” Grant drained his beer and began loading dishes onto the cart.
As he wheeled it toward the kitchen it occurred to him that he hadn’t felt this relaxed in months. Maybe the experts were right. A change of pace. A fresh face. A new environment. This was just what the doctor ordered.
In the kitchen Alex filled two cups with coffee and retrieved a bottle of brandy.
When she turned, Grant was already loading dishes into the dishwasher. “Hey, that’s supposed to be my job. You’re the guest here.”
“It’s your off-season. Remember?” He continued working until the cart was empty. “Besides, all you seem to do is work. Every time I look up, I see you and Lem finishing another chore.”
“I didn’t think you noticed.”
His voice roughened slightly. “Yeah, I noticed.” And he was noticing a whole lot more. The way a strand of her hair had drifted over her eye. The way her lips curved in a most appealing smile. And the way she smelled up close. As fresh and clean as a meadow in springtime.
She didn’t know why, but his words, and the way he spoke them, caused a tiny flutter in the pit of her stomach. And the way he was watching her had her heart stuttering.
She handed him a cup. Their fingers brushed, and she felt the hair at the back of her neck begin to prickle. Some of the coffee sloshed over the rim of her cup and he reached out to grab it. That only made things worse. She drew back quickly, but his hand was there, steadying hers, taking the cup from her hand before she could burn herself.
“Thanks.” She gave a shaky laugh. What in the world was wrong with her?
He lay a hand over hers and she felt a sudden wave of heat. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
Grant kept his hand where it was, his eyes hot and steady on hers as he leaned close. Close enough that their mouths were almost touching.
In that instant Alex knew he was going to kiss her. And though she ought to be afraid, she felt strangely exhilarated as she waited for his lips to brush hers.
It was the merest touch of mouths. As soft, as tentative as a snowflake. But the moment their lips met, everything changed.
His hands closed over the tops of her arms, dragging her close. His mouth was no longer gentle but rough, almost savage as he kissed her with a hunger, a thoroughness that had her gasping.
All she could do was hang on as his mouth plundered hers. Their lips mated, and took from each other until they were both trembling with need.
In that instant she could feel her blood heating and her bones slowly melting as he took the kiss deeper. But never once did it occur to her to push away. She merely clung, returning his kiss with a passion that caught them both by surprise.
This was what he’d wanted. From the time he’d walked into the kitchen tonight, he’d thought about nothing but this. The way she would taste. As clean and fresh as a mountain stream. And the way she would feel in his arms. Soft and pliant, that lean body bending like a willow.
There was danger here he knew. The alarm bells were already sounding in his mind. His feelings were still too raw. And the beast inside him too savage to trust. Unless he ended this now, he might easily cross a line.
Still, he allowed himself one more taste as he dug his fingers into the tangles of her hair and drew her head back. One more taste of heaven before he returned to his own private hell.
He lifted his head.
It ended as quickly as it began. One minute he was devouring her; the next he had abruptly released her.
With stilted movements he stepped back. “I’d say you’re more than fine, Alex Sullivan.”
He picked up his coffee and turned toward the door. “I think I’ll take this to my room. I have…some reading to do.”
Without a word she watched as he strode away.
When he was gone she could do nothing more than stare at the closed door. How had that happened? When had a simple touch turned into a heart-stopping kiss?
She took a deep breath and prayed her pulse rate would soon return to its natural rhythm. When she could trust her trembling hands she picked up her cup and took a sip, then set it aside with a clatter.
Why in the world was she
standing here feeling like she’d just been kissed for the first time in her life?
There had been plenty of men and plenty of kisses. But at the moment, she couldn’t recall a single experience. Except this one. There had been such hunger in it. Such need. And for some strange reason she couldn’t quite fathom, it had spoken to a similar hunger in her.
Dangerous ground, she cautioned herself. She was allowing herself to get too close to the wounded animal. And from the way he’d kissed her, there was definitely more animal in Grant Malone that she’d first expected.
Now if she could just keep in mind how a wounded animal reacted to anyone foolish enough to try to help.
Chapter 4
“What’s this?” Lem was just pounding the last nail into the roof of the shed when he heard the lodge door slam and caught sight of Grant standing on the porch. “Looks like we made too much noise. Woke our night owl.”
Alex looked over and felt the little thrill that inched along her spine. She’d spent a long night recalling that heart-shattering kiss.
Keeping her tone light she said, “He actually ate dinner last night, and went to bed at a sensible hour. At least I think he did. I didn’t hear any footsteps during the night.”
“That’s comforting. Now you know he’s probably not one of those vampires.”
They both laughed.
Alex lowered her voice. “He surprised me. We exchanged a few stories about our grandfathers.” She looked over at Lem. “His grandfather is Mickey Finn.”
“You don’t say?” The old man paused, hooked his hammer in his tool belt. “I’ve always liked Mickey. Tells great stories about his misspent youth.”
Alex grinned. “I’ve heard a few. I still haven’t figured out if they’re true or a product of an over-active imagination.”
“I figure he adds a bit of color to them. That’s what makes them so much fun to hear.” At the crunch of leaves, Lem lowered his voice. “Don’t look now, but your guest is heading this way. Looks like he might even be planning to speak.”
Grant paused beneath their ladders and tipped his head back to call, “Could you use some help?”
