The Summer Place

by Pamela Hearon

  Her gaze slid down him boldly as her finger drew a light pattern on his bicep. “You really are quite a hunk, you know that?”

  The flush her words caused didn’t stop at his face. His entire body suffused with warmth. “And you’re very beautiful...and very direct.”

  She grinned. “You’re very diplomatic, too...which is a genteel way of saying ‘a tight ass.’”

  The unexpected twist in the conversation jarred a chuckle loose from Rick. He relaxed and shook his head. “Gotta love Southern women and their gentility.”

  “Yeah, we learn early that we can get by with most any comment if we add a ‘bless your heart.’” She paused, and a gleam lit her eyes. “You can be a real pain in the ass, bless your heart.”

  Rick didn’t try to contain his laughter. Summer had such a cute way about her. “You are a mischievous little imp.”

  Their smiles collided and Rick noticed the way the moonlight glinted from the braid that curved off her back and curled under her arm. He couldn’t resist touching it. Catching the end, he gave it a soft tug. She responded, rising up on an elbow and leaning closer. He wound the braid around his hand, reeling her in like a mermaid out of the depths until their lips locked in a kiss that was anything but genteel.

  Their tongues entwined and he rolled her onto her back, sliding an arm under her neck and the other around her tiny waist. She shifted against him and the kiss deepened, lasting until they were panting so hard they had to come up for air.

  Her hand brushed his cheek. “We have a lot of getting to know each other to catch up on.”

  He nodded. “I agree. Getting to know more about Summer Delaney is high on my list. Especially that wild-child part I keep hearing about.” He grinned and was rewarded with a poke in his ribs.

  Her mouth pursed, and then her bottom lip dropped into a sensuous pout that Rick couldn’t pull his eyes away from. She sighed. “But we’ll have to get back in the water.”

  The woman was a master of the unexpected. “Why?”

  “Because talking is going to be the farthest thing from my mind if we stay here.”

  Rick protested her logic. “Mine, too, but we can’t talk if we’re swimming.”

  She pushed out of his arms, and he groaned at the loss. “But we can talk if we float.” Grabbing her life jacket, she rose to her feet and held her hand for him. “C’mon. I’ve got plenty to tell you. And maybe the water will cool you off.” She cocked her head with a look of feigned sympathy. “Bless your heart.”

  * * *

  “SEVEN.” SUMMER COUNTED the flash that emanated from the lightning bug’s tail as it moseyed its way across her bedroom ceiling. She’d taken to counting them instead of sheep as a means of calming her mind enough to fall asleep. So far it hadn’t helped.

  Every time she closed her eyes, Rick Warren filled her brain. She could still feel the scorching heat of his good-night kiss, although almost an hour had passed since he’d walked her back to her cabin. The vibrant sound of his laughter still danced in her ears, and the breath from his whispers still crept down her spine. Every part of her was filled with him, it seemed—every part except the part that needed to be filled with him.

  The lightning bug flashed. “Eight.” She sighed and punched her pillow to fluff it up a bit from where she’d been wallowing.

  She shouldn’t even be thinking about sleeping with Rick. They’d just scratched the surface of getting to know each other. A few kisses—even extremely hot kisses—a night of dancing, two hours of talking. None of that constituted a romp in the sack anymore.

  A couple of years ago, she wouldn’t have thought twice. But she was beyond that now, and she marveled a bit at her growth in character. The aching need at her core said it sucked, but the bubble of pride in her chest reminded her that the first two letters in idiot were id.

  “We’re within view of twenty kids, my godparents and a night watchman,” she confided to the lightning bug, who flashed his tail in response. “Nine,” she counted, which also reminded her of the number of times she and Rick had kissed. “And he is my boss, technically.” That thought might sting more tomorrow, but tonight his kisses had been a balm that soothed that particular pain.

  He’d listened to the story of her five colleges and eight majors with impeccable diplomacy, barely even cracking a smile as she’d confessed to her worthless degree in philosophy.

  But getting him to talk about his years as a marine was like pulling teeth. That haunted look when she asked about his tattoo? She shuddered again thinking about it. His best friend’s dog tags. What kind of person carried around a constant reminder like that?

  Of course, he’d been just as reticent to say much about his ex-girlfriend. He wasn’t one who would kiss and tell. But, wow! Could he kiss!

  Rick was an enigma. “Ten.” A deliciously, intriguing enigma. The quintessential Southern gentleman. The heroic marine. The oh-so-politically-correct diplomat. So many layers of shellac—such a polished exterior.

  She’d seen the flame in his eyes, however. Experienced the heat in his kiss. Felt the pounding beat of his heart when he held her close. She recognized the rhythm...the same wild beat her heart danced to.

  If they ever slept together, which she shouldn’t even be thinking about, but since she was, she might as well let her brain complete the thought... “Eleven, or was that twelve?” She gave up on the lightning bug and closed her eyes.

  If Rick ever ended up in her bed, she would break his wild side out of his shell to come play with hers, and they would dance to the pounding rhythm of their hearts.

  Sort of like they’d square danced tonight except that this kind of dancing would be far, far from square. And it would happen so naturally, Rick wouldn’t know his guard was down until it was too late...bless his heart.

  * * *

  “ONE TWENTY-THREE, one twenty-four, one twenty-five.” Rick eased his weight off his arms, enjoying the feel of the cool wood floor against his stomach. The push-ups exhausted his body, but still his mind wouldn’t let go.

  Kissing Summer was a mistake.

  After dropping her off at her place, he’d come straight to his cabin and taken a cold shower. That had helped ease his physical discomfort some, but as soon as he’d lain on his bed, she was there with him in his imagination.

  He’d gone for a two-mile run, which required a second cold shower. Hell, he’d never been so clean. After an hour or so of reading, he realized he was merely scanning words and had no idea what had occurred in those chapters.

  A hundred and twenty-five push-ups and all he could think about was how it would feel to be performing a different kind of push-up with Summer beneath him.

  He rolled over and sat up. Hmm. Sit-ups, maybe? He shook his head, disgusted with his lack of self-control, and finally surrendered to the call of his bed.

  Three weeks. He could do this. He’d gone without sex for two years when he was on tours of duty. He could certainly survive three weeks. And if this budding relationship with Summer continued to thrive, it would be good for them to wait. It would be a character-building exercise.

  He wouldn’t entertain the possibility of making love to Summer here at camp. It wouldn’t be prudent and certainly wouldn’t be proper. He needed to remain focused on the kids. They were the reason he was here...they were the reason for this tour of duty.

  But how was he going to keep his upper brain focused on the kids when his lower brain stayed focused on Summer? The feel of her body pressed against him had imprinted on both of his brains, it seemed.

  Would it be better to go ahead and make love to her? Maybe that would get it out of his system for a little while.

  Hell, who was he kidding? If just kissing her was doing this to him, what would sleeping with her do? Her kisses were so hot. Holding her was like pulling the pin on a live grenade. Only he was the one who was about to explode.

  A lightning bug landed on his ceiling, flashing its tail to call a mate...or maybe prey.

  Poor bastar
d. I know exactly how you feel. “Two,” he counted aloud as the soft green light blinked again.

  The obvious solution to this dilemma was to stop kissing Summer and avoid being alone with her.

  So do I want to avoid being alone with her?

  “Nope.”

  Then am I going to keep kissing her, knowing the state it’s going to put me in?

  “Absolutely...every chance I get.”

  The lightning bug’s beacon glowed.

  “Three. So I have your approval, then?”

  It flashed again in affirmation.

  “Four.” Rick smiled. “That’s good to know.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “BY USING APPLESAUCE INSTEAD of vegetable oil, we still have moist and tender zucchini bread but without all the icky fats.” Summer cut the slices into fourths and offered each of the girls a piece to taste. “Tell me what you think.”

  She watched closely for the reactions. Lucy scrunched her nose up, but eventually nibbled a bite. M&M gobbled hers down like she did everything. Greta took a bite and contemplated her answer.

  It was interesting how well Summer had gotten to know these kids. She knew exactly what the reactions were going to be before they indicated them. They’d become predictable, although she still couldn’t figure out who the winner of tonight’s wand was going to be.

  Shannon had the twins’ backing, but Amanda had a following of her own. Summer was anxious to see who carried the most clout because determining who held the most respect or perhaps power would tell her a lot about the values and personality of the group as a whole. She would gain insights on where to go from here in their fairy princess training.

  “Do you like it?” Tara asked.

  Most nodded, a couple gave thumbs-ups, some remained more guarded, but none openly objected.

  Summer took that to mean it was a hit. “I’ll take some out to the boys. If they like it, too, Ms. Ginny said she’ll use it to make a special French toast for breakfast tomorrow.”

  “Who’s ready for a swim?” Tara asked, and was met by an exuberant cheer. “Let’s go get changed, then.” She herded the girls out of the dining hall just as Rick finished up the tae kwon do with the boys.

  Summer made quick work of cutting more zucchini bread and getting it on the tray. Rick was almost to his cabin by the time she got outside, but she called to Neil, “I want the boys to try this, then I’ll send them on in.”

  Neil nodded and went ahead into the dorm. The boys gathered around as Summer offered the pieces. “Zucchini bread. What do you think?”

  The pieces disappeared quickly until Howie spoke up. “Who made this?”

  “The girls,” Summer answered.

  “Ewww.” Howie made a retching sound and pulled his hand away from the piece he was about to pick up. “Girls touched it means it’s got cooties.”

  “Oh, Howie, don’t be silly.” Summer rolled her eyes. “You touched a girl when you danced last night.”

  Howie stuck out his tongue and exaggerated a shiver. “And I had to take a shower as soon as I got back to the bunkhouse to wash all the cooties off.”

  “That’s not very nice, Howie.” Summer didn’t want to make too big a deal of this, but she also didn’t want him to think this behavior was okay.

  “I’ll take his piece if he ain’t gonna eat it,” Austin volunteered.

  “Isn’t going to eat it,” Summer corrected.

  Howie leaned toward Jimbo, making his voice high and girlish. “Isn’t going to eat it,” he mocked.

  “Howie.” Summer used a warning tone.

  The boy whispered something too low for her to hear it.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  Howie pointed at her and cackled. “Ms. Summer used the W-H-A-T word. That’s the nerd word.”

  The boys fell into a fit of laughter.

  “Oo-rah!” Howie yelled, and pumped his fist, which made the boys laugh louder.

  “Howie, stop with the disrespect.” Summer’s face heated. She was about to demand an apology when Neil let loose with a whistle and the boys scattered in his direction.

  She watched them leave, her mind whirring. The other day Tara had mentioned Howie’s escalating disrespect, and that it always seemed to happen when the men weren’t around.

  Well, the boy’s father had probably given him permission to act this way, but it was time he learned some new lessons. He needed fairy princess training in the worst way.

  She would bring it up at tonight’s staff meeting, and she’d be watching very closely to Rick’s reaction. That would be the perfect way of judging whether he really got her, or if he just wanted her.

  * * *

  “SHE SOUNDS BRAND-NEW, Charlie.” Summer gave a thumbs-up to the steady purr of the old bus’s motor.

  Charlie nodded. “Told ya. Ginny’s nephew might not be the sharpest tack in the box, but he’s a top-notch mechanic. We’ll get her painted before next year. He says he can do that, too.”

  When her parents told her they’d purchased an old school bus for the camp, Summer thought it was a frivolous expense. But now she had to admit, it was a great idea. The area around Kentucky Lake was teeming with educational experiences for the kids, and the field trips they’d planned would be nice breaks from the same old surroundings.

  Rick had arranged this first one. Some friends of his who lived not too far away—the same people Sheriff Blaine had referred to yesterday morning—owned a piece of land that contained a cave inhabited by some rare kind of bat. The Brennans agreed to host the camp kids for the evening on a bat-sighting adventure.

  Summer swung the door open as the boys approached the bus.

  Neil got on first. “Huhh!” He grabbed his chest in feigned terror when he saw Summer at the wheel.

  “Don’t.” She gave him a no-nonsense look. The male counselors needed to be careful of the messages they were sending, too.

  Carlos and Jimbo got on after Neil, and then Howie came up the steps. “Ick! A girl bus driver?”

  “Girls can do anything boys can, Howie, and I’m not a girl. I’m a woman.” Summer flipped her thumb over her shoulder. “You’re holding up the line. Keep moving. All the way to the back.”

  The rest of the boys found seats quickly. Rick was the last one to get on.

  His shocked look wasn’t faked. His eyes went big, and jumped from Summer to Charlie and back. “You’re driving us?” His tone echoed disbelief.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Summer raised an indignant eyebrow and nodded. “Y’all could all use some serious fairy princess training.”

  “Here, Rick.” Charlie vacated the seat behind the driver and moved across the aisle to sit with Ginny. “You sit there, so you can give Summer directions.”

  Rick leaned forward, keeping his voice low. “You really know how to drive one of these?”

  Summer rolled her eyes and slipped the gearshift to Reverse. “I drove an old school bus for a tour company on Cape Cod for two summers. This one’s a Cadillac compared to those.”

  As the girls started a loud rendition of the Sunny Daze camp song, she made eye contact with Rick in the rearview mirror and watched his mouth rise at one end. He leaned closer. “Something you left out last night?”

  “Oh, I left out a lot last night.” She backed up enough to get out of the parking space, shifted into First and eased the bus down the drive. “Now, which way do I turn?”

  The girls continued to sing, but the boys didn’t join in. She couldn’t lay all the blame on the men. It was probably as much her fault as it was theirs since she and Rick had gotten off to such a bad start. But this group needed more cohesion. The boy-versus-girl mentality had gone too far.

  Rick’s friends’ house was only a few miles away, and the trip took much less time than Summer had expected. Before she knew it, Rick directed her up a gravel lane that wound through a stand of ancient trees and eventually opened in front of a beautiful old farmhouse.

  When the bus appeared, a man and woman
stood and waved from the shady porch. The man lunged to grab up a little boy who was about to make a dash toward the bus. The little boy wiggled in protest, but a chocolate Lab came running from behind the house, wagging her tail and barking an enthusiastic greeting.

  “That’s Chesney,” Rick told the excited kids. “She’ll stay out of the way, Summer. Just pull the bus on around the drive.”

  “Amanda’s allergic to dogs,” Summer reminded him.

  “So is Jimbo. I called Chance yesterday and told him. He’s putting Ches in the garage.”

  Even as Rick spoke, Summer could see the dark-haired man pulling the reluctant dog by the collar toward a large garage.

  She brought the bus to a stop, and Rick led the kids off in single file. Summer brought up the rear. By the time she got out, the man named Chance had successfully sequestered the dog and was headed toward the group. The little boy, who looked to be about three, wiggled around in his father’s arms and held his own arms out toward Rick. “Rick! I want Rick!” he cried. When his father put him down, he headed straight for Rick’s waiting arms.

  Rick scooped him up and gave him a hug that was so sweet to watch a lump of emotion clogged Summer’s throat. This was a side of him she hadn’t seen. Gone was the soldier, replaced by a man capable of showing affection in front of a large crowd without any qualms.

  “Everybody, this is Hank,” Rick said. The little boy gave the group a wave.

  The man had made it to Rick’s side by then, and they shook hands warmly. “And this is Hank’s dad, Chance Brennan. You can call him Mr. Chance.”

  By Summer’s standards, Chance Brennan was handsome—devastatingly so. Dark hair. Black eyes. About the same height as Rick, but a bit leaner. A physique to match Rick’s...almost. Looking at them standing side by side was like being at a fantasy smorgasbord. Something for everybody.

  Chance welcomed the group and told the kids they could mill around for a few minutes until his wife returned. “Our nine-month-old twin girls just went down for a nap. Kyndal’s checking on them,” he explained.