Kate had fantasized about all that and more. In fact, it was the only reason she’d bothered to come anywhere near the lake property every summer. Shelby had always been around, and he’d been just enough of a creep even then that she’d done almost anything to steer clear of him. But the lure of seeing Donovan, dark shaggy hair, rippling belly muscles, piercing gray eyes, working around camp, even if just for a weekend, had been too strong to ignore.
Now, at thirty-four, and thinking herself quite past the age of feverish sexual fantasies, it was a shock to discover just how wrong she actually was.
“You—you read about my camp? Where?” she stuttered, feeling like a complete fool for being so off balance. If he knew the direction of her thoughts, he’d likely laugh himself sick. Though why it mattered what he thought, she had no idea. Old habits, indeed.
“There was a mention in the Times.”
“Oh.” Probably another snide little column about the idiotic heiress who’d given up her fortune, she thought with an inward sigh. What did people think, that when someone died, they just gave their inheriting family member a check for their bulk net worth? “So, uh, what made you come all the way up here? You’re still in the city, right? A…detective or something?”
She knew exactly what he was because she’d been the one who’d forced her mother into tracking him down when Donny Mac had his heart attack. It was one of the last times Kate had had contact with her mother, until right before her death. But he didn’t have to know any of that. “And I’m sorry, too. About your father. I know it’s been a very long time since…since it happened. But, still, I regret my mother didn’t get word to you in time, back then. It was—”
“Water under a very old bridge.” He appeared relaxed on the surface, but when he’d stepped closer, she could feel the tension emanating from him. It was costing him, the casual nonchalance.
“Some would say the same about you being here,” she said, feeling the same tension coiling inside of her. “Why did you come back, Donovan?”
“Mac,” he said, sounding irritated all of a sudden. “Just—it’s Mac.”
“Okay. Mac. Were you in the area on some other business? Why are you camped out on my porch?”
“I read about the problems you were having. In the article.”
That caught her badly off guard. No way could he have known about what happened earlier today. Unless—but no, how on earth could he be part of that? That was all Shelby being typical Shelby.
“With the vandalism, the developers leaning on you,” he went on when she didn’t immediately respond. “I thought I might be able to help.”
She frowned. “You came back here, after all these years, because you read in some article that someone was vandalizing the old camp property? Isn’t that taking your oath to protect and defend a little far? We’re a bit out of your jurisdiction, Detective.”
“I’m no longer with the department. I’m in the private sector now.” He rocked back a little on his heels. It was only then she noticed Bagel, sitting quietly by his feet.
Traitor, she thought. So much for dependable males of any species.
Donovan—Mac—followed her gaze downward. “Quite the watchdog you got for yourself.”
Kate had to fight to keep from reflexively calling the dog to her side, only half sure he’d listen. She didn’t need to look more the fool in front of Donov—Mac—than she already did. “That’s Bagel.”
He cocked one eyebrow. “You named your dog after breakfast food?”
“He’s part basset, part beagle. It’s just a combination of—never mind.” Her cheeks flushed a little, but she’d be damned if she’d apologize for her choice in canine companionship, much less the name she’d christened him with. “And he’s not a watchdog, he’s—”
“No kidding.” He leaned down and scratched Bagel behind his ears, earning an enthusiastic thumping of tail and a near orgasmic whimper of pleasure. This didn’t come as a surprise to Kate, who would have likely whimpered in near orgasmic pleasure if he’d touched her, too.
She struggled to rally her wayward thoughts and blatant physical reaction. Like you ever could before. “I still don’t understand why you drove all the way up here. Surely not because of some silly article. Were you here on other business?” And did it have anything to do with her camp?
He straightened and looked at her intently again, in that way he had of making her feel as though she was the only one in the universe. His universe. It was both disconcerting…and quite a turn-on.
She really needed to find a way to turn it back off again.
“I’ve done a little research,” he said, not directly answering her question. “You might want to reconsider the guard dog option. You’re being looked at pretty closely. Or your property is.”
Kate couldn’t keep up with the barrage of information her tired brain was being asked to process. First him showing up, now him standing there telling her he knew all about her business. It was all simply too much. Eighteen years had passed, yet here Donovan MacLeod stood, in the still rippling flesh, still making her heart pound. Her camp was under siege. She was under siege. By too many memories and too much responsibility. And, to be perfectly honest, more than a passing ripple of fear. She hadn’t really let herself think about it too much, focusing on Shelby as the source of her problems. Once she had him dealt with, then she’d force Sheriff Gilby to stop brushing off her concerns and figure out who was playing stupid games on her property.
“I appreciate the concern, but that still doesn’t explain why you just popped up out of nowhere to stick your nose in my business.” She wanted—no, needed—him to go away. She desperately needed to sort out her thoughts, and she couldn’t do that with him standing less than five feet away, pinning her with that intent gaze of his. Maybe it was better not to confront him so directly. After all, she really didn’t know him or what he was capable of, then or now. “Listen,” she went on, trying to sound conciliatory, “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, really, I don’t. It’s just…it’s been a very long day, and I’m not really prepared to deal with this”—or you—“at the moment.”
Given her continued, rather visceral reaction to him, even after all these years, perhaps she’d never be ready to deal with him. She’d been so focused on launching her mission here, it had been quite a while since she’d enjoyed the company of…well, anyone, much less a member of the opposite sex. Bagel had pretty much been it in terms of companionship. But even she knew that excuse didn’t cover the extent of her reaction. It was as if all the intervening years meant nothing. Everything had changed…and yet nothing had changed. The last time she’d felt this pull toward him, she’d been a girl. Almost two full decades had passed, and she was a woman now…and yet the pull was only that much stronger. The kind of pull only an adult truly understood and appreciated.
“Why don’t you leave me the number where you’re staying, and maybe we can work something out to talk at a later time, if that’s okay.” She was still staring at him, drinking in all she could, while she could. Pathetic, perhaps, but it only cemented her decision to get him out of there as quickly as possible. “I appreciate the offer of help. I just…You caught me off guard.” Understatement of the century. He’d caught her hormones off guard, too. Every tingling, over-sensitized, and apparently vastly sensory-deprived one of them. “And unfortunately I’m not prepared to discuss any of this tonight.”
If he’d been anyone else, she’d have extended her hand for a polite shake, but she was half afraid she didn’t have polite in her where he was concerned. And touching him, letting him have any direct contact with her flesh…even all these years later…no. As badly as she’d wanted him to, she’d never let him touch her then. It would be the height of stupidity to think she could handle it any better now.
“I couldn’t find any contact information for the camp, and I didn’t have any direct information on contacting you,” he said by way of explanation. “Your mother’s attorney wouldn’t give t
hat out.”
Her eyes widened. “You spoke to Donald?”
He nodded. “I didn’t know where else to start. You’re in trouble here, Kate. Trust me, no one wanted it to be otherwise more than me. I didn’t want to come back here. I never wanted to come back here. But…helping people is what I do. And I thought I could help you. I know I can.”
It just wasn’t adding up. No one just dropped everything to race off and play Good Samaritan for someone they hadn’t seen in eighteen years. There was only one explanation she could think of that made any sense, though she didn’t pretend to understand it. Yet. “Shelby put you up to this, didn’t he? Well, I don’t know what his game is, or yours, but you can tell him his ploy won’t work. We had a deal and, one way or the other, I’m holding him to it. Good night, Mr. MacLeod.” She slapped her thigh. “Come, Bagel.”
Not waiting to see if her fickle dog complied, she went to storm past Mac into the cabin, but he shifted slightly, causing her to stop short and almost lose her balance rather than allow herself to come into even the most incidental contact with him.
“What on God’s green earth would make you think I’d ever so much as lift a finger for Shelby Sutherland?”
Even if she hadn’t heard the banked fury in his tone, she was close enough now that there was no mistaking the same emotion in his eyes. “A lot of years have passed,” she managed, suddenly feeling a whole lot more than indignation. He was far too close. “People change.”
“Not that much.”
She realized she was shaking, but there was nothing she could do about it. “Then why help me? You wouldn’t give me the time of day eighteen years ago. Why go to all this trouble now? Have you changed?”
“I thought maybe you had. I guess I was wrong.”
“Donovan—Mac,” she corrected quickly, automatically, when his eyes flared, “I don’t know what’s going on here, or why you’re really standing on my porch.” She broke off, was forced to swallow, her throat suddenly gone dry and tight. He really was standing far too close. “But I’m going to have to ask you to leave now. We—we’ll talk later, sort this out. No more accusations, I’m just—it’s been a long day.”
He said nothing, simply held her gaze. Only there was nothing really simple about it. She had no idea if he was even affected by her now, so many years later. Maybe she’d just dreamed that all those smoldering looks he’d sent her way all those summers ago had meant something. Had meant he was as intrigued by her as she’d been by him. For all the opposite reasons. She’d wanted, badly, to walk on the wrong side of the tracks. For a while anyway. With him. She’d thought maybe he’d wanted to get a taste of her life, too. Get a taste of her. But she’d been young and most definitely foolish where he was concerned.
It appeared that with age didn’t necessarily come sensibility.
Then he was lifting his hand, and she knew, with absolute clarity, that the one thing she’d ached for, yearned for, fantasized about, all those hot summers ago, was finally about to happen…eighteen years too late. Donovan MacLeod was finally going to put his hands on her. And she wasn’t going to be able to let him.
“Good night, Mac.” She stared steadily back at him, or as steadily as she could manage, willing him to step back and allow her entrance to her own damn cabin.
He didn’t so much as budge. “It’s good seeing you again, Kate. I didn’t think it would be.” For the first time, amusement filtered into those eyes of his, and his mouth curved ever so slightly into a ghost of the cocky smile of his youth.
Her legs felt a little loose and wobbly. And her pulse jack-rabbited ahead with an abandon she couldn’t control. Dammit, but she wanted him to touch her. Foolish and stupid. He was right. She hadn’t changed at all. “Thanks.” She fought a sudden urge to smile. “I think.” It would be dangerous to let her guard down with him. Even for a split second. While she couldn’t really imagine him working with Shelby—there had never been any love lost between the two—his sudden appearance on the same day Shelby had pulled a no-show was too much of a coincidence to dismiss it out of hand.
“I’m sorry I startled you,” he said. “I didn’t know how else to get in touch.”
“You could have left a note.”
There was that little quirk again, at the corners of his mouth. Better not to look at his mouth. God, she was looking at his mouth.
“I could have done a lot of things.”
Was it her imagination still running wild, or had there been something suggestive in that? She dragged her gaze from his firmly chiseled lips—age had only improved every rugged inch of him—to his eyes. Eyes that had seen too much, more than she’d ever likely know. All that mattered was they probably saw way too much in hers.
“You, uh—” She had to clear her throat. “You staying in town? Maybe we’ll grab a bite at Deenie’s, talk all this out.”
“Deenie’s place is still there, huh?”
She frowned a little. “I thought you said you’d done some research.”
“On you,” he answered directly, apparently having no idea how badly he was unsettling her. Or maybe he did, and just enjoyed it. Lord knew he always had in the past. “I could give a damn about the town.”
“Well, the town has a lot to do with things. Or might. I don’t know.” She sucked in a breath and tried a tight smile. “Tomorrow, then?”
“Tomorrow.”
She glanced at the cabin door, wanting badly to be on the other side of it, with something, anything, between them. She needed to regroup. She needed wine. A lot of wine. “Good night.”
Still, he didn’t shift away, didn’t let her past. But he made no move closer. For the longest moment, he simply held her gaze, trapped it in his own, and kept it there while he studied and probed. He never dropped his gaze below her own, and yet she felt thoroughly…frisked. She wanted to fold her arms over her chest, hide her reaction to him. She didn’t dare move a muscle.
“I can help you,” he said quietly. “You’d be wise to let me.”
“Tomorrow,” she said firmly, if somewhat breathlessly. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
“Good night, Kate.”
It wasn’t until he shifted back, putting some semblance of space between them, that she let out the breath she’d been holding. She reached past him for the door, determined to end this little tête-à-tête right now. Before she did something even more reckless than letting him get that close to her. Like inviting him in for a glass of wine.
“Good night.” She opened the door, forcing herself to do it calmly, naturally, when what she wanted to do was dart inside, slam the door shut, and bolt it into place. Like that would keep him out if he really wanted in. She shivered in renewed awareness. She didn’t want Donovan MacLeod back in her life, much less her cabin.
She held the door open for Bagel and flushed when Donovan had to shoo the dog in after her. She could feel him standing behind her, staring at her from the shadows. She made the mistake of glancing back. “Tomorrow.”
He surprised her by grinning. Broadly. With every ounce of black sheep bad boy he still had in him. Which, as it turned out, was quite substantial. “Tomorrow it is. See you then, Kate.”
“Yeah,” she said faintly as she watched him step off the porch and disappear into the darkness. “See you then.”
It wasn’t until much later, when she was wrapped in more layers than the night chill warranted, third glass of wine in hand, that it occurred to her that he’d never told her where he was staying.
And that she’d never heard a car engine start up after he’d disappeared into the night. Nor had there been one parked anywhere around her cabin or on the road in.
She shivered a little, imagining him still out there, somewhere on the camp property. Watching her, maybe?
The shiver wasn’t one of fear…It was one of anticipation.
Donovan MacLeod was back in town.
And Kate Sutherland still wanted him.
Chapter 3
Mac paus
ed next to the stand of pine trees and studied the brush of needles scattered around the base of the trunks. Someone had been through here, and recently judging by the way the needles had been disturbed. There were no clear footprints, unless you knew what to look for. He knew.
He stepped behind the trees and positioned himself in the same place, facing the same direction that the intruder had—the other intruder, he amended. He hadn’t exactly been invited here, either. At least Kate knew he was on the premises. Perhaps not at that very second, but he doubted she knew anything about the other one. Question was, what did the other intruder know about Kate? Anyone who would go to this much trouble, this far out in the middle of nowhere, had one of two motives. They were either after Kate, or something Kate owned.
Or maybe both.
He looked through the trees, along the same sight line as the person who’d stood there before him. From this spot, he could see her cabin, including both sides of the wraparound screened-in porch. He also had a clear line into the cab of her pickup truck. Someone was definitely spying on her.
He crouched down slightly, but the bows of the tree were closer together there, and his sight line was immediately obstructed. He straightened. A man, then. Or an inordinately tall woman. But his gut told him it was a man. In his experience, women ambushed, and they generally preferred trapping their quarry in as public a place as they could manage. Men hunted. And the fewer people around to contest the hunt, the better.
He looked over his shoulder and noted the direct path of cover from where he stood, straight through a short stand of woods, to where several yet-to-be remodeled camp cabins still stood. Beyond them, he knew it was only a short hike through another dense stand of trees, then a quick scramble up a rocky slide to where the main road wrapped around the top of the mountain before dipping down the other side toward town.
He could track it, and would, but he’d seen enough for now. He’d checked the property boundaries on this side of the lake yesterday before parking himself on Kate’s porch with her trusty sidekick. Bagel. Honestly, it was no wonder the dog had defected to his side.
The Black Sheep and the Princess Page 3
