by Gina Wilkins
The rumble that sounded from deep in his chest reminded her for a moment of Ninja. She smiled against his flat, brown nipple, but her momentary amusement evaporated when he took her mouth again.
She was distantly aware of the aches and bruises when she led him to her bed. When she fell with him into the pillows. When she rolled with him on the soft sheets. The discomfort was immaterial, overpowered by the haze of passion he stoked in her with his skilled hands and lips. He was excruciatingly thorough in his exploration, lingering and delaying until they were both on the edge of madness.
He dug in the pocket of his discarded jeans just as she was about to reach for the drawer of her nightstand. Protection dealt with, they concentrated again on pleasure.
It was no surprise to her that Dan was a patient and generous lover. She was, however, astonished by the uninhibitedly passionate side of herself he uncovered. Some time after the echoes of their choked gasps and groans had faded into deep, slowly steadying breathing, she was still dazed by the raw power of the emotions that had exploded inside her.
* * *
Eventually, of course, the haze had to clear. Her besotted smile began to fade as doubt and misgiving crept back into her mind.
Reclining on one elbow beside her, Dan reached out to touch the light crease between her eyebrows. “And she’s back,” he murmured.
She tried to smile, but she wasn’t sure how successful she was with it.
He ran his thumb across her lower lip. He still smiled, but his eyes were serious when he asked, “Regrets?”
“No. No,” she repeated more firmly. “I’m just…tired.”
Scared, a tiny voice whispered inside her, but she ignored it.
She reached up to trace the scratch on his cheek with the tip of her forefinger. Though it wasn’t deep, it was a bit puckered, the edges slightly reddened. “That looks as though it would sting.”
“A bit. Not much.”
“You’re lucky it didn’t get in your eye.”
“Yeah. Just wasn’t paying attention to the branches around me.” He pushed himself upright on the bed, looking over her own scrapes and contusions. “You’re okay? I’m afraid I wasn’t very gentle earlier.”
She smiled faintly. “I didn’t want gentleness then.”
He stretched out beside her again and gathered her into his arms. “Would you take it now?”
She rested her cheek on his shoulder and sighed as he pulled the sheet over them. “Yes. For a while.”
For some reason she’d felt the need to remind him—remind them both—that this was only temporary. That she neither expected nor wanted anything more than this, a few hours of escape with him.
She let her thoughts drift, allowed herself to focus only on the feel of his skin beneath her cheek, the warmth of him surrounding her, the rough length of his leg tangled with her smooth one. She wasn’t asleep but she was in a light doze when Dan spoke again, sounding almost tentative.
“Kinley?”
“Mmm?”
“Are we ever going to talk about it?”
That brought her eyes open, her frown back. “Talk about what?” she asked gruffly, though she was afraid she knew.
“What we saw.”
She kept her head burrowed into his shoulder, her face hidden from his gaze. “We didn’t see anything. A trick of the fog. That’s all.”
“And yet you knew exactly what I was referring to.” There was a grim satisfaction in his voice, as though she had inadvertently confirmed something he’d questioned.
“I saw shadows so deep our flashlights hardly penetrated them. I saw branches swaying in the breeze and tendrils of fog winding through the woods. I saw a few stars when I fell and hit my knee on a rock. And then I heard Ninja barking and saw that Grayson was safe, and that was the only thing that really mattered.”
He’d listened without reaction to her fervent assertion. She recited the words as if she’d memorized them—because she had. She’d silently repeated the spiel to herself all evening, ever since they’d left those dark woods. She had almost convinced herself it was the complete story of her experience tonight.
“Okay, fine,” he said after a moment, his tone gentle, perhaps in response to the sharp edge even she had heard in her own voice. “Rest tonight. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Not about that.”
He hesitated long enough for her to know that he wanted to argue. He released his breath in a hard sigh. “You really can be stubborn.”
She didn’t answer. He certainly wasn’t the first to point it out.
“I should go, I guess.”
Her fingers tightened reflexively on his arm. For some reason, she really didn’t want to be alone just then. Maybe because she wanted to make the most of every minute she had with Dan before he finished his assignment and moved on.
“Stay awhile,” she murmured, looking up at him through her lashes. “If you want.”
He hesitated a moment, then lifted her chin with the edge of his hand. She could almost see the momentary impatience fade from his eyes as his gaze locked with hers.
“I want,” he assured her and pressed his mouth to hers.
Reaching up to him, she sank into the kiss, clearing her mind again of anything but the satisfaction of being with him at that moment.
Chapter Nine
The weather Saturday was as perfect as the TV pundits had promised, with temperatures in the low seventies and blue skies dotted with only a few puffy white clouds. Having awakened alone in her bed, Kinley took another long shower, letting the hot water pulse against muscles that weren’t all sore from the tramp through the woods. Just the memory of the enthusiastically energetic lovemaking that had followed made her shiver despite the warmth of the water.
After one quick assessment in the mirror, she shook her head and dived into the closet to find clothes to hide the bruises. She settled on loose buff-colored pants with a thin, very pale yellow blazer and a matching lace-trimmed camisole. Pushing the jacket sleeves up on her forearms, she added a couple of bangle bracelets and earrings. She had applied her makeup carefully and brushed her hair to the usual sleek, shiny bob. Finally satisfied that she looked put together and professional, dressed appropriately for an afternoon spring wedding, she hooked the strap of her leather tote bag over her shoulder and headed to her car.
She wasn’t quite sure when Dan had slipped out last night. She’d roused only long enough to lock up behind him, as he’d insisted, and had then collapsed back into the bed without looking at the clock. She figured it would be a little awkward seeing him again today, but she could handle it. They were both adults, both experienced, had gone into this with eyes open and emotions guarded. It had been quite a week, and maybe it would take her a few days to recover—but that didn’t mean she had let herself fall for Dan. Not seriously, anyway. Or, if she had, she’d get over it. Eventually.
Truth be told, she was more nervous about his insistence on discussing what they’d seen—what they thought they’d seen, she corrected herself immediately—in the woods last night. Though she was confident that she’d explained that momentary aberration to her own satisfaction since, she still couldn’t help casting a quick, sideways glance toward the woods when she parked in her usual spot behind the inn, next to Bonnie’s car. Fortunately, all she saw on the grounds was a hive of activity getting ready for the wedding later that day.
She’d deliberately come in a bit later than usual, after breakfast service. She hadn’t been needed for that, and she had a busy day ahead as it was, especially since Eva had drafted her as the last-minute wedding director. She headed straight for the coffeemaker when she went inside, filled a cup, took a bracing sip and only then greeted her sister and the various others milling around the dining room.
“Logan put a lock on the gate last night,” Bonnie told her when they had a chance to speak in private in the kitchen. “Now that we know Ninja is capable of opening the latch himself, we didn’t want to risk him crashing the weddin
g later.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Kinley said in relief. “I was going to insist on a lock, anyway. I’m happy Logan took care of it already.”
“Have you had anything to eat this morning?”
Taking another swig of strong coffee, she shook her head. “I’m not really hungry.”
Bonnie frowned. “You should eat something. You have a long day ahead.”
“I’ll eat later. How did breakfast go?”
“No problems. Rhoda got here early to help. She and Sandy will clean the rooms while everyone is busy with wedding festivities. Everything else seems to be on track.”
Kinley had her phone in her hand, scrolling through her checklist for the day. “Eva’s already called me twice with nitpicky instructions, but she’s staying busy most of the day supervising Serena and all the bridesmaids at the salon. They’re all getting mani-pedis and facials and having their hair and makeup done, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Eva has to approve each one individually.”
She’d spoken quietly but still Bonnie glanced quickly toward the doorway even as she smiled. “You’re probably right,” she murmured. “I just hope someone’s keeping a close eye on Grayson today. You’d think he’d have been frightened enough to learn a lesson last night, but he didn’t seem perturbed. Maybe his parents were scared enough to learn their lesson, instead.”
“He said he was chasing a deer.” Kinley shook her head grimly. “That kid would give me a heart attack before he turns five if I were responsible for him.”
“I heard him telling his parents about the deer as they were leaving, when you were getting your bag and keys. He said it was a big deer with horns, but it ran away and he got lost. He said he waited with the doggie and the nice lady and he wasn’t scared.”
“He wouldn’t have thought I was so nice if I’d chewed him out the way I really wanted to,” Kinley muttered.
“That’s the odd thing,” Bonnie mused, studying Kinley with a slight frown. “When Connor asked Grayson if he was talking about you, Grayson said, no, the other lady. He started talking about Ninja again then, and they took him home, but I wasn’t sure what he meant. Do you know?”
Her hand suddenly unsteady, Kinley set her coffee mug carefully by the sink. “I don’t even try to understand Grayson. I should probably go make some calls now, unless you need me for anything.”
“No, everything’s under control. Um—unless you want to talk to me? About anything?”
Kinley didn’t quite meet her sister’s eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Bonnie sighed loudly. “You really think I don’t know when something is going on with you? Something that’s troubling you? Do you want to tell me about it?”
What, exactly, would she tell Bonnie if she tried to share what was on her mind? About the incredible night she’d spent in her bed with the footloose writer she had known less than a week? About her hollow suspicion that her feelings for him had grown too serious despite her best efforts to keep it casual? Her fear that it would be much harder than she hoped to get over him? That she would spend a very long time remembering him, wondering about him, wishing she could experience those amazing hours with him again?
Or…she swallowed hard…should she whisper to her sister that she’d seen something in the woods she couldn’t explain? Something that even now she was reluctant to examine too closely in her memories, something that discomfited her even though she was 99 percent certain she and Dan had simply allowed fear, disorientation and fog to get tangled up with an improbable old tale. Sure, it was odd that they’d thought they saw the same thing at the same time—but wasn’t that how old tales got started and perpetrated? The fog did look alive at times, moving and drifting and changing shapes. As simple as that.
It was just that nothing else about her feelings for Dan was simple, or easily waved off as illusion. And she didn’t know how to process that reality herself, much less discuss it with her sister. Especially now, she reminded herself with another glance at her phone screen, with so much to do today.
“I’d better call the florist,” she said. “She should be at the shop by now. Eva wanted me to have her send over two ‘perfect’ red roses tied with trailing lavender ribbons. She’s had the brainstorm that she and poor Nancy should carry those down the aisle as they’re escorted to their seats.”
Bonnie was obviously dissatisfied by the abrupt change of subject, but she had to agree this was the wrong time for a heart-to-heart conversation. She gave a light squeeze to Kinley’s arm, a gesture of support and affection, then moved toward the doorway. “I have a lot to do myself. Good luck dealing with Eva today. It would probably be better for our future business if you refrain yourself from strangling her prior to the wedding.”
Kinley forced a laugh. “I’ll do my best.”
* * *
Dan made an effort to stay in the background and out of the way Saturday. He found it interesting how much work went on behind-the-scenes in preparation for an outdoor wedding. A simple justice-of-the-peace courthouse wedding sounded better to him all the time—if he should ever find himself in a position of wanting to be married, of course.
Perhaps coincidentally—or maybe not—he searched out Kinley in the controlled chaos. She’d been bustling around all day, usually with her phone to her ear or at her fingertips as she scrolled and texted. When she wasn’t on the phone, she was deep in consultation with one of the wedding subcontractors, or mingling with her warm hostess smile among guests of the inn. All six of the other suites were currently occupied but he’d gleaned that four of the suites would be empty after the wedding tonight. While he was sure the Carmichaels preferred a full inn, he’d bet they would appreciate a slow day or two to recuperate from this particular event.
He had confirmed with Bonnie that his own suite was available for an extra night or two. Though he’d planned originally to leave immediately after the wedding, he couldn’t say now exactly when he would move on. Bonnie had made no comment in response to his request other than to say he was welcome to stay as long as he liked, but he wondered if she was aware that her sister was the reason he was in no hurry to check out.
Kinley had greeted him pleasantly enough when she’d first seen him earlier, her expression so well schooled that he doubted any observer would have suspected there were any simmering undertones between them. She looked far more composed and controlled than the passionate woman who’d burned in his arms only hours earlier. The contrast between those two sides of her fascinated him, but then, so did just about everything else about her. Even the things that—as she’d phrased it—pushed his buttons.
Eva had decided that no guests should be out in the garden between two and four that afternoon, which was when she had instructed all final touches should be added to the decorations. Any guests who arrived for the five o’clock ceremony before four should mingle inside the inn, she’d proclaimed. That way everything would be in place to perfection when the ushers started the seating.
Dan exempted himself from those instructions because he didn’t consider himself a guest of the wedding. He wandered outside at three, idly watching as the garden became a hive of eleventh-hour activity. He’d thought the place was fully decorated the night before, but he saw now that there’d been plenty of touches held in reserve for the wedding itself. Baskets of flowers that perhaps wouldn’t have held up all night, fresh white candles in the fancy wrought iron holders, straightening of bows and garlands ruffled by overnight breezes. He smiled when he saw Logan raking the pebbled aisle path, smoothing the small white rocks and removing any leaves and twigs.
“Quite a production, isn’t it?” he asked as he approached Kinley’s brother.
Logan leaned on the handle of the rake and nodded, his politely affable expression doing little to soften the hard lines of his face. “Some more so than others,” he said. “This is one of the more-sos.”
“Need any help?”
“No, we’ve got it. There’s not really anythin
g left to do, but we’re trying to look busy to keep Mrs. Sossaman from thinking up some new instructions for us.”
Dan chuckled. “Understandable.”
Logan glanced toward Dan’s cheek. “That looks sore.”
“Looks worse than it is. Just a scratch.”
“Get it last night? Looking for the kid?”
“Yeah. Slapped in the face by a branch.”
Logan nodded. “The kid’s a holy terror. Being around him makes me doubly glad I never had any.”
Dan remembered Bonnie’s carefully worded comment that her brother had been betrayed in love. He was curious, of course, but aware that the details were none of his business. He directed the conversation into a less sensitive direction. “That’s quite a dog you’ve got. Smart.”
“Sneaky,” Logan corrected with a shake of his head and a crooked smile. “I had no idea he’d learned to open the gate until Kinley told me last night. I took care of it, of course, but he’ll probably figure out the combination to the lock soon enough.”
Laughing, Dan nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised. I like him.”
“Yeah, me, too. Kinley’s been hinting that I should find another home for him, but I’m not giving him up. You could say we’ve bonded.”
Dan couldn’t imagine Kinley would really insist that her brother give up the pet he’d grown attached to, though he didn’t blame her for wanting the deceptively intimidating-looking dog kept away from unsuspecting guests. “Last night was the first time I’d heard him bark.”
Logan shrugged. “I’ve never heard him, myself. Guess he just hasn’t had a reason to bark until then.”
Pushing his hands into his pockets, Dan cleared his throat. “So…you’ve lived in the caretaker’s cottage for a couple years now, right?”
Logan looked automatically in that direction. “Yeah. I like it. Being down in the woods gives me plenty of privacy, considering I’m right on the grounds of the inn.”
“I, uh, guess you know these woods pretty well by now.”
“Well enough.” Logan eyed him as if wondering where this line of questioning was leading.
