Harlequin Special Edition July 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2: The Widow of Conard CountyA Match for the Single DadThe Medic's Homecoming

by Rachel Lee

  She’d left a lamp burning, and she didn’t bother to turn on any more lights. Garrett put a hand to the back of his neck and squeezed, looking a little uncertain. It really had been a while since he’d done anything like this, she thought with a slight smile. For some reason, she found herself gaining confidence in response to his hesitance.

  “You look like a man who could use a good rubdown,” she said gravely, moving toward him. “I bet those poor neck and shoulder muscles are tied in knots.”

  He dropped his hand, looking suddenly self-conscious. “Payton tends to do that to me,” he admitted, his tone wry. “It’s her special talent.”

  She didn’t want to talk about his kids just now. Didn’t want him to think about anything or anyone outside these walls. Even if only for this one time.

  Standing close in front of him, she slid a hand up his arm to his shoulder. “Just for tonight, let me be the one to undo it. I give a mean massage.”

  “I’ll just bet you do.”

  She tugged lightly at the sleeve of his T-shirt. “I could get to those knots more easily if this was out of the way.”

  In one smooth move, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged upward, then tossed the shirt over the arm of a chair. The lamplight gleamed on his tanned skin, revealing the ridges of muscle and ribs and a scattering of dark hair that narrowed intriguingly down to the waistband of his shorts. A few interesting scars were visible, but didn’t detract from his appeal—just the opposite, in fact, as they added to the overall impression of virile masculinity. She would love to hear the story behind each one—but not now, she decided, pressing her palms to his chest to savor the heat and strength of him.

  He rested his hands on her hips, and the hint of a tremor gave her a clue to the willpower it took for him to keep the contact light. “Where would you like to perform this miracle massage?” he asked, his voice a little huskier than usual.

  Trailing one fingertip down the center of his torso to his waistband, she smiled when his stomach contracted sharply beneath her touch. “Well, it would be difficult for me to reach all the spots with you towering over me like this. You should probably sit down. Or better yet, lie down.”

  “Wherever you want me.”

  She liked the sound of that. “This way,” she said, and turned toward her bedroom.

  A few minutes later, he lay facedown on her bed, his face turned to one side, hands laced beneath his cheek. She straddled him, legs gripping his slender hips as she took her time working out the kinks. Again, she’d turned on only one lamp, and that on low, so that deep shadows surrounded the bed, leaving them cocooned in a soft pool of light. Just the two of them.

  His skin was warm and supple beneath her hands. She loved the feel of it, admiring the solid foundation of muscle beneath. All that running he’d mentioned certainly paid off for him.

  Garrett gave a low groan, part pain, mostly pleasure, when she attacked one particularly stubborn knot at the base of his neck. “Another knot to attribute to Payton?” she asked with a faint chuckle.

  “Actually, I think that one has your name on it.”

  Her hands stilled in surprise. “Mine?”

  Suddenly shifting his weight, he rolled to his back, reaching up to hold her in place on top of him. She steadied herself by flattening her palms against his chest, her gaze locking with his glittering blue-gray eyes. The hard ridge beneath his shorts clued her in that he wasn’t nearly as relaxed as he’d seemed only moments earlier.

  He wasn’t the only one tied in knots now. She felt the tension building low in her abdomen, spreading through her limbs. The atmosphere in the room changed from soothing and comfortable to almost sparking with heightened awareness.

  Garrett reached up to cup her face in his hands. “Definitely yours,” he said and brought her mouth down to his own.

  “Then I should probably do something about that,” she murmured against his lips.

  Moving again, he twisted to flip her beneath him. She landed on her back against the pillows, breathless, laughing, tingling with anticipation. “Or maybe we can both work on that one,” she said.

  He nibbled at her jaw, his hand sliding down her body. “I’m thinking I should return the favor. Got any places that need my personal attention?”

  He had already found one such place. His hand had slipped between them to find her breast, cupping and kneading until her breathing quickened. She arched instinctively into his touch, her voice shaky when she murmured, “I’m sure I’ll think of a few.”

  His grin slashed white in the dim lighting. “Happy to be of service.”

  Chuckling softly, she tugged his head downward, bringing his mouth to hers even as his hands began a thorough search for all those spots that craved his attention.

  * * *

  Propped on one arm, Garrett used his free hand to brush a damp strand of hair from Maggie’s cheek, tucking it behind her ear. She lay on her back beside him, a sheet draped over her to the tops of her bare breasts, her breathing still slightly accelerated but gradually slowing. Her arms and legs felt heavy, but deliciously so. She didn’t know about him, but she didn’t have a tense knot left in her body. Judging by the relaxed lines of his face and mouth, he felt much the same way.

  He sighed, as much with reluctance as satisfaction. “I should go. It’s getting late.”

  Her sigh echoed his. “I suppose you should.”

  “Thanks for the, um, massage. I’m feeling a lot better now.”

  She laughed softly. “You’re welcome. Maybe we’ll do it again sometime.”

  Gazing down at her, he murmured, “I’d like that.”

  “So would I,” she said, assuring herself that they were keeping the tone light and casual, just the way it should be. No promises, no commitments. No reason at all to fear that she had just made a huge mistake that had the power to hurt not only her but too many innocent bystanders, as well.

  She swallowed hard.

  Unaware of the uncomfortable direction her thoughts had taken, Garrett gave her a lingering kiss, then rolled to reach for his clothes. Shaking her head to clear her conflicted thoughts, Maggie slipped into the soft terry robe she kept near her bed to walk him out. Garrett dressed quickly, running a hand through his short hair to straighten it. By the time they stood by her door, the only evidence of their recent activity was his notably relaxed smile.

  “Don’t forget about the open-air concert tomorrow night at the pavilion,” she reminded him. “The girls will probably enjoy it.”

  The mention of his daughters just then was deliberate. A reminder to both of them that real life waited just outside her door, and that everything was different out there.

  He groaned. “Payton will probably want to slow-dance with the Ferguson brothers.”

  “We’re not setting up a dance floor,” she assured him with a chuckle. “Just bring your blanket to sit on again. Maybe a picnic dinner would be fun for the girls.”

  “I’ll ask them.”

  “And, Garrett?” Since they’d brought up the topic of his kids, she might as well make the suggestion she’d been meaning to share with him. “Maybe it would help if you let Payton spend a little time with the Ferguson brothers? With you in the nearby vicinity, of course—maybe at the pool or the swim beach or the basketball court.”

  He started to frown, and she hastened to explain her reasoning. “I’m thinking right now the boys seem like intriguing forbidden fruit to her. They’ve probably been on their best behavior with her, flirting and flattering and feigning maturity. But maybe if she spends a little more time with them, they’ll start acting like themselves—in other words, normal, goofy adolescent boys—and some of the illusion will wear thin.”

  “Or she could be more influenced by them and become even more rebellious than she already has been.”

  Maggie shrugged ruefully, thinking of her cousin Lori, who’d fallen hard for a young man with a troubled past of whom her family had vehemently disapproved. They had all but forbidden her
to see him—which she had resented to the point that she’d eloped with him, to her parents’ shock and dismay. But Payton was thirteen, not twenty, and neither of the young Ferguson brothers was a brooding aspiring rock star like Lori had fallen for. “That’s always a possibility, I suppose. But more likely, she’ll see Trevor and Drake acting like clowns or squabbling like regular siblings and some of their appeal will wear off. Whereas you, on the other hand, will look a bit more like a cool dad.”

  His frown had been replaced by a very faint, wry smile. “And less like an unreasonable tyrant?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. I’m no expert in raising kids, of course, but I’m trying to remember what it was like to be thirteen.”

  “You were at that stage a lot more recently than I was,” he conceded with a slight wince.

  Did the age difference between them bother him? She hadn’t given it that much thought. “You’re hardly a senior citizen,” she teased him.

  “Still closer than you are.”

  She crossed her hands behind his neck to grin up at him. “I like my men like my wine—aged enough to make them interesting.”

  Chuckling, he bent his head to brush a kiss across her lips. “Is that right?”

  “Absolutely. Much more intoxicating that way,” she assured him with a laugh that was cut off when he kissed her more thoroughly.

  He left after a few more heated minutes, stepping away from her with a show of unenthusiastic determination. “Okay, I’m leaving. Good night, Maggie. I’ll see you around tomorrow.”

  She locked the door behind him, then turned back toward the bedroom. As much as she told herself that this was all very easy and casual and string-free, she still suspected that it would be a while before she got to sleep that night. She feared she was going to overthink this no matter how much she resisted doing so—not her usual style, but then, nothing about her feelings for Garrett was quite like anything she’d felt before.

  * * *

  Garrett was rather relieved that he didn’t encounter any of Maggie’s family on his way back to the cabin. The lights were on in most of the family homes, but no one was outside and if anyone peeked out a window to spot him walking past, they did so without him seeing. He supposed he shouldn’t be particularly concerned. Maggie had made no effort to conceal his visit from her family. Living as closely as they all did, it must be an unwritten rule that personal privacy had to be respected. And she was, after all, an adult with every right to entertain whomever she wanted in her home.

  She’d kept protection in her nightstand, and had matter-of-factly produced it at the proper moment. Still, he would bet his life savings that she was quite discriminating about whom she invited into her bed. Which made it even more gratifying that she’d chosen to be with him tonight, though she continued to make it clear that she wasn’t looking for anything serious to develop with him. Exactly the way he wanted it, right?

  Most of the tent campers seemed to have bedded down for the night. Red embers gleamed in fire pits, and folding chairs sat abandoned until morning. He heard a baby fussing somewhere and a small dog yapped a time or two, but other than that, the grounds were fairly quiet, a notable contrast to the noisy celebration earlier. He glanced upward, seeing the blinking lights of high-flying jets among the scattering of stars. It wasn’t hard for him to mentally place himself in the cockpit, a complex instrument panel in front of him, black sky all around him, stars above and city lights below.

  He’d thought about flying commercially after retiring from the service. He’d probably have enjoyed it, and still would have had plenty of time for his girls. Of course, that was before Breanne died. Now he couldn’t imagine being away from his kids as much as he’d been before, seeing them only on weekends and holidays, or saying goodbye after his court-scheduled visitations. He deeply regretted, of course, that they’d lost their mother, that Breanne had died so young, with so much of her and their daughters’ lives ahead of her, but he did not regret making the decision to put them first in his life now, to rearrange all his plans and goals on their behalf. Even when Payton acted out—and he suspected that was going to get worse before he attended her high school graduation—he still wouldn’t make any other choice.

  He’d given little thought to remarrying, though others had asked him on occasion if he’d considered the possibility. But if he ever did contemplate doing so, it could only be with a woman who loved his girls, who understood his total commitment to them, who wasn’t averse to the vast responsibility that came with them. Which meant, all in all, that he’d probably stay single for a while yet. He was good with that.

  The light was out in the upstairs window when he approached cabin six, so he figured the girls were asleep. Except for a light in the living room window, the rest of the cabin was also dark. His mom had probably left a lamp burning for him when she and her mother had turned in. At almost midnight, he didn’t expect to find anyone awake.

  Entering the front door, he paused when he saw his grandmother sitting in her chair, knitting needles clicking rhythmically in the quiet, deeply shadowed living room. The lamp on the table at her side was the only light burning, so she sat in a pool of illumination. Her gleaming white hair gave her an almost angelic appearance—deceptively angelic, Garrett thought with wry amusement.

  “Couldn’t sleep, Meemaw?”

  She shook her head. “Wasn’t sleepy yet. You been with that Bell girl?”

  His shrug was as close as she was going to get to an answer.

  His grandmother studied him over the tops of her glasses. “Wonder what her family thinks about you being over at her place at this hour?”

  “I would imagine they think she’s an adult who can make her own decisions.”

  “Hmm. We’ll see if you think that way about Payton when she’s that age.”

  Garrett had a fleeting image of Bryan Bell glaring at him the way he’d been eyeing the Ferguson boys. What would Bryan think of his daughter having a no-strings fling with a decade-older divorcé with two kids?

  He cleared his throat. “You should get some sleep, Meemaw. Another long day tomorrow.”

  “I will shortly. So, you see anything long-term developing between you and that girl? Think she’s the right one to bring home to your daughters?”

  “Neither Maggie nor I is interested in long-term, Meemaw. We just enjoy spending time together occasionally. Don’t try to make it into more than that.”

  His grandmother harrumphed. “Fine with me. It’s not like I want Dixie Bell having claim to my great-granddaughters. You just mind that you don’t get in over your head with this one. I’d hate to see your heart get broken again. Not to mention the girls’ hearts if they get attached to her and then it doesn’t work out.”

  “Breanne didn’t break my heart,” he protested automatically—and mostly honestly. “Our breakup was mutual.”

  “It wasn’t the woman you grieved for. It was the future you’d envisioned with her. Wouldn’t want you to get caught up in that sort of unrealistic fantasy again with the wrong woman.”

  Because she was eerily echoing his own earlier thoughts, Garrett didn’t quite know how to respond. He knew his grandmother meant well in offering advice, but she wasn’t exactly a fan of anyone in the Bell family. Nor did she understand that Maggie wasn’t angling for him—or anyone else, as far as he could determine. “I’m turning in, Meemaw. You need anything?”

  She turned her attention back to her knitting. “I’ll be going to bed myself shortly. I’ll get the light. See you tomorrow, Garrett.”

  He nodded and headed for his room, his steps suddenly weary.

  * * *

  Maggie was out early Friday morning. She’d slept only fitfully, though she assured herself she was not obsessing about her deepening feelings for Garrett. She lied, of course, but that made it somewhat easier to get through the night. She was up before dawn, out of her house less than half an hour later. She’d taken a quick shower, left her hair damp and loose, applied a minimum of m
akeup and dressed in a loose peasant-style top and khaki capris with her favored wedge sandals. Casual, easy and it didn’t look as though she’d overthought her appearance for any reason. Just the statement she was trying to make.

  Too restless to take a golf cart, she walked briskly toward the main building, intending to get a head start on her workday. There were plenty of early risers among the campers, as evidenced by the faint aromas of coffee and bacon wafting through the crisp early morning air. Boat motors droned on the lake as fishermen headed out to battle the sunrise-feeding fish. It was going to be a blistering hot day, but for now it was just comfortably warm.

  The smell of coffee was strong in the main building, too. Her aunt was already bustling around the diner and she knew her uncle had the big pot brewing in the marina. Workdays started early in the resort, especially during peak season. She thought of going into the diner, but she wasn’t quite hungry yet. She decided instead to run upstairs to do a little paperwork first. She’d come down for coffee and a bagel with the family afterward. She could usually find two or three of them gathered in the diner for breakfast before the days turned too hectic.

  She wasn’t expecting to find her grandfather rustling around in Shelby’s big desk upstairs. He rarely came up to the office floor these days, and never bothered Shelby’s files and ledgers. “Pop? Can I help you find something?”