Part 7 (1/2)

She frowned, considered him strangely, and then shook her head as if clearing it. ”Listen, I need you in the kitchen, not doing grounds work. I appreciate your offer-”

”But you'd really rather do it yourself,” he finished. ”You know, with the amount of work that needs to get done around this place, you should be looking for volunteers, not turning them away. You have better things to do with your time than mowing the lawn.”

He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow, challenging her to contradict him. Her mouth opened as if she was going to, but then she closed it slowly. She put her hands on her hips and looked down at her gra.s.s-covered sneakers.

”Don't tell me you're trying to turn over a new leaf or something,” he said, thinking it was very possible he was developing a crush on her. ”I'd rather be berated by you than have to watch you trying to be good.”

She laughed and then cut the sound short. ”I really want to argue with you.”

”Because I'm being insubordinate?” He grinned.

”Worse. Because you're probably right.” She scanned the lawn, the lilac bushes, the boathouse down at the sh.o.r.e. As she looked around, she seemed so solitary, so self-contained. So tired.

”How long ago did you buy this place?” he asked.

”Buy?” She squinted up at him. ”My sixth great-grandfather built it.”

”The last stand,” he murmured. No wonder she was hanging in.

”Something like that.”

She turned her head to the house, running her eyes over it as if she was a mother inspecting a child for cuts and bruises. He watched as she lingered on the gutter, which was listing away from the roof edge. He was willing to bet she was making a mental note to fix it and that she'd do it herself.

The idea of Frankie high up on a ladder made him uneasy.

”So you grew up here?”

”Born, raised, the whole bit.” Her eyes went to the lake.

”Where are your parents-are they retired?”

She looked away from the water abruptly. ”No, they're dead.”

Her tone of voice told him their conversation was going to be over in a matter of seconds so he didn't dawdle in offering his condolences.

”I'm sorry.”

He watched as she shut down in front of him and the change happened so fast, it was like having a door slammed in his face. Her eyes went impa.s.sive and her expression a.s.sumed a deliberate calm that made him wonder about the emotions underneath.

”Thank you, but it was a long time ago,” she said.

”You know, I lost a parent five years ago. We didn't get along, but the death changed everything, anyway.” He didn't want to mention it was an improvement because clearly what had been left for her was not. ”It takes quite a while to get over losing a parent, much less both of them.”

She shrugged and he mined the angles of her face and the color of her eyes for some sign she would let him in.

Eventually, he said, ”So about the lawn.”

She nodded downward, towards his feet. ”I don't know that you should be pus.h.i.+ng a mower around with that ankle of yours.”

”I'll go until I can't go anymore.”

”Funny, that's my motto, too.”

As she smiled and looked back out to the lake, he noticed that her gla.s.ses were smudged. Moving quickly, so she wouldn't have a chance to jerk away, he took them off her face.

”What are you doing?”

He easily stepped out of her reach while she tried to grab them. ”Cleaning your gla.s.ses.”

”Give them back.”

He rubbed one side and then the other with the clean corner of his s.h.i.+rt while moving around as she tried to take them. Lifting the lenses up to the sun and high over her head, he measured his work.

”There. All better.”

Intending to slip them back on the bridge of her nose, he looked down just as she leaped up. Her body collided with his and he gripped her around the waist to keep them from falling over.

As soon as she was in his arms, he felt as if he was out of control and on the way home at the same time. She must have felt it, too. Her lips parted in surprise as she looked up into his face.

Those eyes, he thought. Those miraculous blue eyes should never be hidden. At least not from him.

”Put me down,” she whispered. ”I'm too heavy.”

But she wasn't. He felt as if he could hold her forever.

Nate leaned in, getting his lips close to her ear. ”Do you really want me to?”

He felt her nod into his shoulder and told himself he could still keep her in his arms even if her feet were touching the ground. It would be easier to kiss her that way, too.

He held his breath as he let her slide slowly down his body. When she was standing on her own, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were against his chest and her hips pressed into what was quickly becoming his rigid arousal. He waited for a moment, wondering if she was going to pull back. Her hands were on his shoulders, laying lightly against the material of his s.h.i.+rt. She seemed to be focusing somewhere to his left, but she didn't look as if she were really seeing anything.

He put a fingertip under her chin and tilted her face up. Her eyes came to his reluctantly.

”Hi,” he said. Stupidly.

But what else could he say? My G.o.d, woman, where have you been all my life? Or the ever popular, how'd you like to go upstairs, right now, and get naked with me?

A blush hit her cheeks, spread down her neck and he knew he'd ruined the moment by talking. Breaking free, she s.n.a.t.c.hed the gla.s.ses back and fumbled to put them on. When she got one of the ear pieces stuck in her ear, she had to try it again.

”If you'll excuse me-”

As she turned away, he reached for her, taking her hand.

”Don't go.” He wanted to tell her he wasn't some sc.u.mbag macking on her randomly. He liked her. He wanted to get to know her better. They could go slowly.

Even though it would probably kill him. Light speed seemed like a lazy jog to him at the moment.