Читать книгу At His Service: Nanny Needed: Hired: Nanny Bride / A Mother in a Million / The Nanny Solution - Cara Colter - Страница 11

THE thing Joshua Cole loved about flying was that it was a world accessed only through absolute control, through a precision of thought and through self-discipline that only other pilots fully understood. Flying gave a sense of absolute freedom, but only after the strictest set of rules had been adhered to.

Business was much the same way. Hard work, discipline, precision of thought, all led to a predictable end result, a tremendous feeling of satisfaction, of accomplishment.

But relationships—that was a different territory altogether. They never seemed to unfold with anything like predictability. There was no hard-and-fast set of rules to follow to keep you out of trouble. No matter what you did, the safety net was simply not there.

Take the nanny, for instance. Not that he was having a relationship with her. But a man could become as enraptured by the blue of her eyes as he was held captive by the call of the sky.

He had seen something in her when they flew that he had glimpsed, too, when she had come out of her bedroom at his apartment, with Jake wrapped in that pure white towel, her blouse sticking to her, the laughter still shining in her eyes. Dannie Springer had a rare ability to experience wonder, to lose herself in the moment.

Something about her contradictions, stern and playful, pragmatic and sensitive, made him feel vulnerable. And off course. And it seemed the harder he tried to exert his control over the situation the more off course he became.

For instance, when he could feel her probing the tragedy of his parents’ deaths, he had done what he always did: erected the wall.

But the fact that he had hurt her, while trying to protect himself, had knocked that wall back down as if it was constructed of paper and Popsicle sticks, not brick and mortar and steel, not any of the impenetrable materials he had always assumed it was constructed of.

In the blink of an eye, in as long as it took to draw a breath, he had gone from trying to push her away to very nearly telling her his deepest truth. He’d almost told her about his son. He had never told anyone about that. Not even his sister. To nearly confide in a woman who was virtually a stranger, despite the light of wonder that had turned her eyes to turquoise jewels while they flew, was humbling. He prided himself on control.

And it had gone from bad to worse, from humbling to humiliating. Because that flash moment of vulnerability had made him desperate to change the subject.

And he had almost done so. With his lips.

And though he had backed away at exactly the right moment, what he felt wasn’t self-congratulatory smugness at his great discipline. No, he felt regret.

That he hadn’t tasted the fullness of those lips, even if his motives had been all wrong.

“Just to get it over with,” he muttered out loud.

He heard her come back into the main room below him and was drawn to the railing that overlooked it.

She had changed into flared, stretchy pants that rode low on the womanly curves of her hips. She was wearing sandals that showed off those adorable toes.

Just to get it over with? Who was he kidding? He suspected a person never got over a woman like Dannie, especially if he made the mistake of tasting her, touching his lips to the cool fullness of hers. If he ever got tired of her lips—fat chance—there would be her delectable little toes to explore. And her ears. And her hair, and her eyes.

Just like a baby, wrapped in a blue blanket, those eyes of hers, turquoise and haunting, would find their way into his mind for a long, long time after she was the merest of memories.

Only, though, if he took it to the next level. Which he wasn’t going to. No more leaning toward her, no more even thinking of sharing his deepest secrets with her.

He barely knew her.

She was his niece and nephew’s nanny. Getting to know her on a different level wouldn’t even be appropriate. There were things that were extremely attractive about her. So what? He’d been around a lot of very attractive women. And he’d successfully avoided entanglement with them all.

Of course, with all those others he had the whole bag of tricks that money could buy to give the illusion of involvement, without ever really investing anything. It had been a happy arrangement in every case, the women delighted with his superficial offerings, he delighted with the emotional distance he maintained.

Dannie Springer would ask more of him, expect more, deserve more. Which was why it was such a good thing he had pulled back from the temptation of her lips at exactly the right moment!

He hauled his bag up to the loft, changed into more-casual clothes and then went back down the stairs and outside without bothering to unpack. He paused for a moment on the porch, drinking it in.

The quiet, the forest smells, the lap of waves on the beach stilled his thoughts. There was an island in the lake, heavily timbered, a tiny cabin visible on the shore. It was a million-dollar view.

Which was about what it was going to take—a million dollars—take or give a few hundred thousand, to bring Moose Lake Lodge up to the Sun standard.

He had seen in Dannie’s face that his plans appalled her. But she was clearly ruled by emotion, rather than a good sense of business.

Maybe her emotion was influencing him, because preserving these old structures would be more costly than burning them to the ground and starting again. And yet he wanted to preserve them, refurbish them, keep some of that character and solidness.

The playground would have to go, though. He could picture an outdoor bar there, lounge chairs scattered around it. A heated pool and a hot tub would lengthen the seasons that the resort could be used. A helicopter landing pad would be good, too.

And then the squeal of Susie, floating up from the playground he wanted to destroy, was followed by the laughter of Dannie. He looked toward the playground. He could clearly see the nanny was immersing herself in the moment again, chasing Susie up the ladder into the tree fort, those long legs strong and nimble. Susie burst out the other side of the fort and slid back to the ground, Dannie didn’t even hesitate, sliding behind his niece.

If he knew women with more to offer than her, he suddenly couldn’t think of one. He could not think of one woman he knew who would be so comfortable, so happy, flying down a children’s slide!

A little distance away from Dannie and Susie, Sally was sitting on a bench with Jake at her feet. He had a little shovel in his hand, and was engrossed in filling a pail with fine sand.

Joshua wondered how he was going to tear the playground down now. Without feeling the pang of this memory. That was the problem with emotion. He should have stuck to business. He should never have brought the children here. Of course, without the children he doubted he would have been invited here himself.

For a moment, watching the activity at the playground, Joshua felt acutely the loss of his parents and the kind of moment they would never share with him. He felt his vision blurring as he looked at the scene, listened to the shouts of laughter.

He missed them, maybe more than he had allowed himself to miss them since they had died. He remembered moments like the one below him: days at the beach in particular, endless days of carefree laughter and sunshine, sand and water.

He had a moment of clarity that felt like a punch to his solar plexus.

I wanted to keep my son so I could feel that way again. A sense of family. Of belonging. Of love.

The thought had lived somewhere deep within him, waiting for this exact moment of vulnerability to burst into his consciousness. When he had given up his son, he had given up that dream. Put it behind him. Shut the door on it. Tried to fill that empty place with other things.

And not until this very moment was he aware of how badly he had failed. He snorted with self-derision.

He was one of the world’s most successful men. How could he see himself as a failure?

His sister knew what he really was.

And so did he. A man who had lost something of himself.

He shook off the unwanted moment of introspection. Though he had planned to move away from the group at the playground and go in search of Michael to begin to discuss business, he found himself moving toward them instead.

With something to prove.

Just like kissing Dannie might get it out of his system, might prove the fantasy was much more delightful than the reality could ever be, so was that scene down there.

That happy little scene was just begging to be seen with the filters removed: the baby stinking, Susie cranky and demanding.

Sally looked up and smiled at him as he crossed the lawn toward them. “Glad you arrived,” she said. “I was just going to see about dinner.”

And then she got up and strolled away, leaving him with Jake. After a moment considering his options, Joshua sat down on the ground beside his nephew. Just as he’d suspected: reality was cold and gritty, not comfortable at all.

And then he looked through a plastic tub of toys, found another shovel and helped Jake fill a bucket.

Just as he’d suspected: boring.

And then he tipped the bucket over and saw the beginning of a sand castle. Jake took his little shovel and smashed it, chortling with glee.

Susie arrived, breathless. “Are you making something?”

Dannie’s long length of leg moved into his range of vision. She was hanging back just a bit. Sensing, just as he did, that something dangerous was brewing here.

He looked up at her. He didn’t know why he noticed, but the locket was missing. Just in case he hadn’t already figured out something dangerous was brewing here.

He handed her a bucket, as if he was project manager on a huge construction site. Thatta boy, he congratulated himself. Take charge. “Do you and Susie want to haul up some water from the lake? We’ll make a sand castle.”

Before he knew it, he wasn’t bored, but he was still plenty uncomfortable. Take charge? Working this closely with Dannie, he was finding it hard to even take a breath, he was so aware of her! She kept casting quick glances at him, too. It was so junior high! Building a Popsicle bridge for the science fair with the girl you had a secret crush on!

Not that he had a secret crush on her!

The castle was taking shape, multiturreted, Dannie carefully carving windows in the wet sand, shaping the walls of the turrets.

She had the cutest way of catching her tongue between her teeth as she concentrated. Her hair kept falling forward, and she kept shoving it impatiently back. It made him wonder what his fingers would feel like in her hair, a thought he quickly dismissed in favor of helping Susie build the moat and defending the castle from Jake’s happy efforts to smash it with his shovel.

Before he knew it, his discomfort had disappeared, and happiness, that sneakiest of human emotions, had slipped around them, obscuring all else. It was as if fog, turned golden by morning sun, had wrapped them in a world of their own. Before he knew it, he was laughing.

And Dannie was laughing with him, and then Susie was in his arms with her thumb in her mouth, all wet and dirty and sandy, and the baby smelled bad, and reality was strangely and wonderfully better than any fantasy he had ever harbored.

Something in him let go, he put business on the back burner. For some reason, though he was undeserving of it, he had been given this gift. A few days to spend with his niece and nephew in one of the most beautiful places he had ever seen or been.

A few days to spend with a woman who intrigued him.

By the next day, he and Dannie settled into a routine that felt decidedly domestic. It should have felt awkward playing that role with her, but it didn’t. It felt just like walking into the cottage Angel’s Rest had felt, like coming home.

Sally prepared the most wonderful food he had ever eaten: old-fashioned food, stew and buns for supper the evening before, biscuits and jam for breakfast, thick sandwiches on homemade bread for lunch.

The lodge, magnificently constructed, always smelled of bread rising and baking and of fresh-brewed coffee. In the chill of the evening last night, there had been a fire going, children’s board games and toys spread out on the floor in front of it.

The second day unfolded in endless spring sunshine. They played in the sand, they went on a nature walk, he rowed the kids around in the rowboat. When the kids settled in for their afternoon naps, he and Dannie sat on the front porch of Angel’s Rest.

“Kids are exhausting,” he told her, settling back in his chair, glad to be still, looking at the view of the little cabin on the island. “I need a nap more than them.”

“You are doing a great job of being an uncle. World’s Best Builder of Sand Castles.”

Somehow that meant more to him than being bestowed with the title of World’s Sexiest Bachelor.

“Thanks. You’re doing a great job of … being yourself.” That made her blush. He liked it. He decided to make her blush more. “World’s Best Set of Toes.”

“You’re being silly,” she said, and tried to hide her naked toes behind her shapely calves.

Today she was wearing sawed-off pants he thought were called capris. They hugged her delicious curves in the most delightful way.

“I know. Imagine that. Come on. Be a sport. Give me a peek of those toes.”

She hesitated, took her foot out from behind her leg, and wiggled her toes at him.

He laughed at her daring, and then so did she. He thought it would be easy to make it a mission to make her laugh … and blush.

“I love the view from here,” Dannie told him, hugging herself, tucking her toes back under her chair. “Especially that cabin. If I ever had a honeymoon, that’s where.” She broke off, blushing wildly.

If there was one thing a guy as devoted to being single as he was did not ever discuss it was weddings. Or honeymoons. But his love of seeing her blush got the better of him.

“What do you mean if?” he teased her. “If ever toes were made to fit a glass slipper, it’s those ones. Some guy is going to fall for your feet, and at your feet, and marry you. You’ll spend your whole honeymoon getting chased around with him trying to get a nibble of them. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened already.”

Even though the teasing worked, her cheeks staining to the color of crushed raspberries, the thought of some lucky guy chasing her around made him feel miserable.

“Oh,” she said, her voice strangled, even as she tried to act casual, “I’ve given up Cinderella dreams. Men are mostly cads in sheep’s clothing.”

Her attempt at being casual missed, and then she touched her neck, where the locket used to be.

“How right you are,” he said, but he felt very sorry about it, and he knew he was exactly the wrong guy to correct her misconceptions. Who had lured her and the kids here veiling another motive, after all?

Who looked at her lips and her toes and her hair and fought an increasingly hard battle not to steal a little taste, no matter what the consequences?

He knew he shouldn’t ask. But he did, anyway. “Did he hurt you badly?”

“Who?” she croaked, wide-eyed.

He sighed. “The professor.”

Her hand dropped away from her neck. “I’m embarrassed to be so transparent.”

“Good. I hope it makes you blush again. Did he?”

She contemplated that for a moment and then said quietly, “No, I hurt myself.”

But he doubted if that was completely true, and he felt a sudden murderous desire to meet the jerk that had hurt her. And another desire to see if he could chase the sudden sadness from her eyes. With his lips.

But something kept him from giving in to the little devil that sat on his shoulder, prodding him with the proverbial pitchfork and saying with increasing force and frequency, Kiss her. No one will get hurt.

The thought was in such contrast to the innocence of playing tag in the trees until they were breathless with laughter, in such contrast to the wholesome fun of wading and splashing along the shorelines of a lake too cold yet to swim in.

He was not looking forward to another night in the cabin with her, once the children were in bed, but the angel that sat on her shoulder must have been stronger than the devil on his.

Because after another incredible supper, fresh lake trout cooked by Sally, Dannie announced she and Susie would be sleeping in the tree fort. Ridiculously, he heard himself saying he would join them.

He had the worst sleep of his life in the tree fort, with Susie between his and Dannie’s sleeping bags, the baby in a huge wicker basket at their heads, cooing happily from his nest of warm blankets.

Dannie was so close, he could touch that incredible hair, but he didn’t. She was so close he could smell the Hawaiian flower scent of her. He lay awake looking at the incredible array of stars overhead, and listening to her breathing, and in the morning, he felt cold and cramped and more alive than he had felt in a long, long time.

He woke up looking into Dannie’s sleep-dazed turquoise eyes, and wondered how on earth he was ever going to go back to life as he had known it.

The carefree stay here at Moose Lake Lodge was about as far from his high-powered life as he could have gotten. He didn’t check his Blackberry, there was no TV to watch. No Internet.

He had a new reality and so much of it was about Dannie: her eyes and her lips and the way she tossed her hair. How she looked with her slacks rolled up and smudged with dirt, hugging the womanliness of her curves, her bare toes curling in warm sand.

He saw the way she was with those kids: patient, loving, genuine. He came to look forward to her intelligence, the playful sting of exchanged insults.

He was acutely aware Dannie was the kind of woman that men, superficial creatures that they were, overlooked. But if a man was looking for a life partner—which he thankfully was not—could he do any better than her?

That morning, after the exquisite pleasure of a hot shower after a cold night, over pancakes and syrup, Sally told them she and Michael would mind the kids for the day.

“The only one who hasn’t had any kind of a holiday, a break from responsibility, is Dannie. This is your last full day here. Go have some fun, you two.”

His niece had been so right about him, Joshua thought. He was just plain dumb.

He turned to Dannie, humbled by Sally’s consideration of her. This morning Dannie was wearing a red sweatshirt that hid some of the features that made his mouth go dry, but the jeans made up for it.

The dark denim hugged her. It occurred to him that skinny butts were highly overrated. It occurred to him that was a naughty thought for a man who was going to try his hand at being considerate.

“The whole time I’ve been thinking how enjoyable this experience is,” Joshua admitted, “you’ve been doing your job, minding children.”

“Oh, no,” Dannie protested, “I don’t feel like that at all. I once heard if you do a job you love, you’ll never work a day in your life, and that’s how I feel about being with Susie and Jake.”

Again, Joshua was taken with what a prize she was going to make for someone. And again he was taken aback by his own reaction to that thought. Misery.

Before someone else snapped her up, could he put his own priorities on hold long enough to show her a good time? Could he trust himself, not forever, but for one day? To put her needs ahead of his own? To be considerate, instead of a self-centered jerk?

“Sally’s right,” he decided firmly. “It’s time for your holiday.”

Dannie was looking wildly uncomfortable, as if she didn’t really want to spend time with him without the buffer zone of two lively and demanding children.

Which was only sensible. He was tired of her sensible side. He was annoyed at being bucked when he’d made the decision to be a better man, to be considerate and a gentleman.

“I have had a holiday, really,” she insisted. “How can I eat food like Sally’s, and stay in a place as beautiful as Angel’s Rest and not feel as if I’ve had a holiday? I loved it better than a stay at a five-star resort. No offense to five-star resort owners in the vicinity.”

“No,” Sally said, firmly. “Today it’s your turn. You have some grown-up time. Why don’t you and Josh take a canoe over to the island? I’ll pack you a picnic. Josh should look at it anyway, since it’s part of the Moose Lake Lodge property. Many a honeymoon has taken place at that cabin!”

Despite Dannie claiming to be cynical about relationships, he did not miss the wistful look in her eyes when she heard that she had been so right about the island being an idyllic setting for a honeymoon! Joshua, good intentions aside, wasn’t sure he was up to grown-up time with Dannie on an island where people had their honeymoons!

Still, he didn’t miss the fact that Sally and Michael, though no business had been discussed, must be opening just a little bit to the idea of him acquiring the Lodge for Sun since they were encouraging him to see all that comprised it.

In search of perfect adventures for the clients of Sun, and in keeping with his fast-paced single lifestyle, Joshua had tried many activities, including some that might be considered hair-raising like bungee jumping and parasailing.

None of those activities had ever really fazed him, but an hour later, out in the canoe with Michael, brushing up on his canoeing skills, Joshua felt the weight of responsibility. He had canoed before, but never in waters that could kill you with cold if you capsized and had to stay in them for any length of time.

Michael assured him the island was only a twenty-minute paddle across quiet waters.

“I’ll keep an eye on you,” he promised. “If something goes wrong, I’ll rescue you in the powerboat.”

Joshua was not sure he could imagine anything that would be more humiliating than that, especially with Dannie sharing the boat with him. He was also aware Dannie’s presence, besides making him aware of not wanting a rescue, made him feel responsible for another human being, something that was also new in his freewheeling bachelor existence.

In a way it was ironic, because he shouldered tremendous responsibility. The business decisions he made literally affected the lives and livelihoods of hundreds of people.

That kind of responsibility didn’t even seem real compared to having a life in his hands. Naturally he’d had his own life in his hands many times before, but if he got himself in trouble, he was the only one who suffered the consequences. Maybe the truth was he didn’t really even care.

Strangely, both feelings—of not wanting to make a fool of himself in front of her and of feeling responsible for her safety—made him feel not weakened, but strengthened. Like he was manning up, assuming the ancient role of the protector, the warrior. He would never have guessed that role could feel so satisfying.

Trust Dannie not to let him relish the role for too long! He got her settled in the front of the boat—the non-control position in a canoe—and gave her a paddle for decorative purposes. He issued dire warnings about the tipiness of the contraption they were setting out in, and then he settled into his own position of navigator, course setter, and head paddler.

He was so intent on his duties, he noticed only peripherally that her red sweatshirt matched the red of the canoe, and that her rear in those jeans was something worth manning up for!

But before they were even out of the protected bay that sheltered the lodge, she turned to him in annoyance. Her cheeks were flushed with exertion, which she was bringing on herself by trying to pull the boat single-handedly through the water with her paddle!

“Look, I think this is a team activity. I’m not really the kind of girl who wants to sit in the front of the boat and look pretty, but I think we’re paddling out of sync.”

In other words she wasn’t the kind of girl he’d gotten accustomed to.

In other words, maybe he’d been going it alone a little too much. He wasn’t even sure he could play on a team anymore.

But to his surprise, as soon as he relaxed control, as soon as he began to work with her instead of trying to do it all himself, the canoe began to cut through the water with silent speed and grace, an arrow headed straight for that island.

“That’s better,” she said, looking over her shoulder and grinning at him.

He wasn’t quite sure when she had transformed, but somewhere in the last few days she had gone from plain to beautiful. The sun had kissed pale skin to golden, she had given up all effort to tame her luscious hair, and it curled wildly around her face, her expression seemed to become more relaxed each second that they left the children behind them.

“You are pretty,” he stammered, and was amazed how he sounded. He, who had escorted some of the world’s most beautiful and accomplished women, sounded like a schoolboy on his first date.

In answer, she scraped her paddle across the surface of the water, and deliberately splashed him with the icy cold lake water.

Now he could see the gypsy he had glimpsed in her before, dancing to life, especially when she laughed at his chagrin. Dannie said, with patent insincerity, “Oops.”

Now, in this moment, he could see the truth of who she was, shining around her. This is what he had glimpsed when he had touched her lip with this thumb, a very long time ago, it seemed. This is what he had known about her that she had not known about herself. That she was made to dance with life, to shine with laughter, to blossom.

And in that he recognized another truth.

It was not her who was becoming transformed. It was him.

“Don’t rock the boat,” he said grumpily. And somehow it sounded like a metaphor for his life. Joshua Cole, entrepreneur who performed feats of daring and innovation in business, and who embraced adventure in the scant amount of time he allowed for play, did not rock the boat in that one all-important area.

Relationships. He did not even risk real involvement. He saw women a few times, and at the first hint they wanted more he made an exit. At the first sign of true intimacy of the emotional variety he was out of there. He was willing to play the game with his wallet, but he did not take chances with his heart.

Because his heart had been battered and bruised. When his parents had died, people had told him time would heal all wounds. When he had agreed with Sarah that the best thing for that baby would be to allow him to go to a loving family who were emotionally and financially mature, who were prepared for a child in every way, he had thought time would eventually lessen the ache he felt over that decision.

Maybe he had even believed that time had eased the pain. But he had only been kidding himself.

Outrunning something was not the same as healing. Not even close.

“Land ho,” Dannie called, as they drew close to the island.

He looked at her face, shining with enthusiasm for the day, and he felt his guard slip away. He made a decision, just for today, he would engage as completely as he was able.

For her. So she could enjoy one day of being irresponsible, of having fun without the kids.

They landed the canoe, gracelessly, coming as close to tipping it as they had come yet, though thankfully the waters off the island were shallow enough that he didn’t have to worry about her dying of hypothermia in them if they did capsize. Still, even with her jeans rolled up, she was wet to her knees.

He lifted the picnic basket Sally had packed for them and followed Dannie up the shoreline and left the basket there.

“I can’t wait to see it,” she said, and started up the path that led to the cabin. She stumbled on a root, and he reached out his hand to steady her. Somehow he never took his hand away. Hers folded into his as if it was absolutely meant to be there.

There was a well-worn path to the cabin, which was as quaint up close as it had been from far away. Like Angel’s Rest, it had a name plaque hanging at the entrance to the covered, vine-twined porch.

“Love’s Rhapsody,” she read out loud. “Isn’t that lovely?”

“Corny,” he said, deciding then and there the sign was coming down the minute he owned the place

“Should we go in?” she asked. There was something about her wide-eyed wonder in the little cabin that was making him feel edgy.

“Well, yeah, it’s not a church. Besides, I might own it one day. I might as well see how much money I’d have to throw at it to keep it.”

She reacted as he had hoped, by glaring at him as if he had desecrated a sacred site. It was important that she know that distinction existed between them. He cynical and pragmatic, she soft and dreamy. It was important she know that that distinction existed between them, so the wall was up.

And a man needed a wall up in a place like this! He needed a wall up when he was beginning to feel all enthused about playing the protector and warrior. When he felt strangely uncertain if they should enter that sanctuary. What if whatever was in there—the spirit of romance—overcame them? What if he was helpless against it?

Annoyed with himself for so quickly breaking his vow to make the day about her instead of about him, Joshua pushed past her and shoved open the door.

His first reaction to the interior was one of relief, because the cabin was dark and musty smelling. There was absolutely nothing in it to speak of. An old antique bed, with the mattress rolled up, and the linens stored, a little table, a threadbare couch and a stone fireplace just like the one at Angel’s Rest.

And yet, the fact there was so little in here, seemed to highlight that there was something in here, unseen.

“Look,” she whispered, wandering over to one of the walls. “Oh, Joshua, look.”

Carved lovingly into the walls, were names. Mildred and Manny, April 3, 1947, Penelope and Alfred, June 9, 1932. Sometimes it was just the couple’s name, other times a heart and arrow surrounded it, sometimes a poem had been painstakingly cut out in the wall. It seemed each couple who had ever honeymooned here had left their mark on those walls.

It was hard not to be moved by the testament to love, to commitment. There really was nothing at all of material value in this cabin.

And yet there was something here so valuable it evaded being named: a history of people saying yes to the adventure of beginning a life together.

In this funny little cabin, it felt as if it was the only adventure that counted.

Cynicism would protect him from the light shining in her eyes. But what of his vow to let her have the day she wanted?

So, when they left the cabin he took her hand again, despite the fact he wanted to shove his into his pockets, defending against what had been in there. Strangely, holding her hand seemed to still the uncertainty in him.

The island was small. They walked around the whole thing in an hour. He soon forgot his discomfort in the cabin, and found himself making it about her with amazing ease. But then, that’s what being with her was like: easy and comfortable.

With just the faintest hint of sexual awareness, tingling, that added to rather than detracted from the experience of being together.

Finally they returned to the beach and opened Sally’s picnic basket. She had sent them hot dogs and buns, matches and fire starter.

They gathered wood, and he lit the fire, feeling that thing again, the shouldering of the ancient role: I will start the fire that will warm you.

Obviously, the corniness from the cabin was catching!

With hot dogs blackening on sticks over an open fire, and the magic of the cabin behind him, he found himself taking a tentative step forward, wanting to be more but also to know more. Soon she would go her own way, and he would go his. It made the exchange seem risk-free.

“Tell me why you’re content to raise other people’s children,” he said, touching the mustard at the edge of her mouth with his finger, putting that finger to his own lips, watching her eyes go as wide as if he had kissed her.

“I told you, it’s a job I love. I never feel as if I’m working.”

“But doesn’t that make you think you are ideally suited to be a mother yourself, of your own children?”

Maybe that was too personal, because Dannie blushed wildly, as if he had asked her to be the mother of his children!

He loved that blush! Before her, when was the last time he had even met a woman who still blushed?

“It’s because of the heartbreak,” he guessed softly, looking at the way she was focusing on her hot dog with sudden intensity. “Will you tell me about it?”

This was exactly the kind of question he never asked. But suddenly he really wanted to know. He knew about things you kept inside. You thought they’d gone away, when in fact they were eating you from the inside out.

“No,” she said. “You’re burning your hot dog.”

“That’s how I like them. What was his name?”

She glared at him. Her expression said, leave it. But her voice said, reluctantly, “Brent.”

“Just for the record, I’ve always hated that name. Let me guess. A college professor?”

“It’s not even an interesting story.”

“All stories are interesting.”

“Okay. You asked for it. Here is the full pathetic truth. Brent was a college professor. I was a student. He waited until I wasn’t in any of his classes to ask me out. We dated for a few months. I fell in love and thought he did, too. He had a trip planned to Europe, a year’s sabbatical from teaching, and he went.”

“He didn’t ask you to go?”

“He asked me to wait. He made me a promise.”

Joshua groaned.

“What are you making noises for?”

“If he loved you he would never, ever have gone to Europe without you.”

“Thank you. Where were you when I needed you? He promised he would come back, and we’d get married. I took the nanny position temporarily.”

“No ring, though,” Joshua guessed cynically.

“He gave me a locket!”

“With his own picture inside? Thought pretty highly of himself, did he?” It was the locket she’d worn when he first met her. That she’d put away. What did it mean that she had taken it off?

That it was a good time for her to have this conversation? He knew himself to be a very superficial man, the wrong person to be navigating the terrifying waters of a woman’s heartbreak. What moment of insanity had gripped him, encouraged her confidences? But now that she’d got started, it was like a dam bursting.

“At first he e-mailed every day, and I got a flood of postcards. It made me do really dumb things. I … I used all my savings and bought a wedding gown.”

Her face was screwing up. She blinked hard. Maybe wheedling this confession out of her hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

“It’s like something out of a fantasy,” she whispered. “Lace and silk.” She was choking now. “It was all a fantasy. Such a safe way to love somebody, from a distance, anticipating the next contact, but never having to deal with reality.

“Can I tell you something truly awful? Something I don’t even think I knew until just now? The longer he stayed away, the more elaborate and satisfying my fantasy love for him became.”

She was crying now. No mascara, thank God. He patted her awkwardly on the shoulder, and when that didn’t seem to give her any comfort, or him either, he threw caution to the wind, and his hot dog into the fire. He pulled her into his chest.

Felt her hair, finally.

It felt as he had known it would feel, like the most expensive and exquisite of silks.

It smelled of Hawaii, exotic and floral. This was why he was so undeserving of her trust: she was baring her soul, he was being intoxicated by the scent of her hair.

“Actually,” she sniffed, “Brent was the final crack in my romantic illusions. My parents had a terrible relationship, constant tension that spilled over into fighting. When I met Brent, I hoped there was something else, and there was, but it turned out to be even more painful. Oh, I hope I don’t sound pathetic. The I-had-a-bad-childhood kind of person.”

“Did you?” he asked, against his better judgment. Of course the smell of her hair and her soft curves pressed into his body made him feel as if he had no judgment at all, wiped out by sensory overload. And yet even for that, he registered her saying she’d had a bad childhood and he ached for her. There were things even a warrior could not hope to make right.

“Terrible,” she said with a defeated sigh. “Filled with fighting and uncertainty, making up that always filled us kids with such hope and never lasted. It was terrible.”

“Maybe that’s why you’re so invested in children. Giving them the gift of happiness that you didn’t have. You do have that gift, you know. So engaged with them, so genuinely interested in them.”

“Did you have a good childhood?” she asked, and her wistfulness tore through the barriers around his heart that usually kept him from sharing too deeply with anyone.

“Camelot,” he said. “I can’t remember one bad thing. I often wonder if every family is only allotted so much luck, and we used ours up.”

“Oh, Joshua,” she said softly.

“My parents were crazy about each other. And about us. We were the fun family on the block—my dad coaching the Little League team, my mom filling the rubber swimming pool for all the neighborhood kids. And it was all so genuine. I see parents sometimes who I think are following a rule book, thinking about how it all looks to other people, but my folks weren’t like that. They did these things with us because they loved to do it, not because they wanted to look like great parents.”

“And because of that they were great parents.”

“The best,” he remembered softly. “Every year for three weeks they rented a cottage on the seashore. We had these long days of swimming and playing in the sand, we had bonfires out front on the beach every night. There wasn’t even a TV set. If it rained, we played Monopoly or Sorry or cards.”

He realized he had never felt that way again. Ever. Not until he had come here.

And to feel that way was to leave yourself open to a terrible hurt.

Was he ready?

A sudden sound made him jerk up from her. Without his noticing, so engrossed in protecting her and comforting her, and sharing his own secret memories with her, the wind had come up on the lake.

Some warrior. Some protector! He had not tied the canoe properly. It had yanked free of its mooring, the sound he had heard was it crashing into a rock as it bounced away from the small island.

He ran for the water, plunged in, could not believe the cold and stopped.

“Leave it,” Dannie cried.

Good advice. He should let the canoe go, but everything about Moose Lake Lodge said the Bakers were operating on a shoestring. He’d been entrusted with their canoe.

“I can’t,” he shouted at her, moving deeper into the water. “Can you imagine how the Bakers will react if the canoe drifts back there, empty? What about Susie?”

He took a deep breath and moved deeper into the water, felt her movement on the beach behind him.

“Stay there,” he called. “I’ve got it under control.”

He was used to speaking, and people listened. Naturally, Dannie did not. He heard her splash into the water, her shocked gasp as the icy water filled her shoes.

It made him desperate to get that canoe before they were both in deep trouble. He was up to his waist, he lunged forward, and just managed to get the rope that trailed off the bow of the boat.

He pulled it back toward shore, grabbed her elbow as he moved by, steering her in the right direction.

“I told you not to come in,” he said.

“I was trying to help!” she said, unrepentant.

“Now we’re both wet.” But what he was thinking was it had been a long time since he had been with the kind of woman who would plunge into that water with him. He knew a lot of women who would have stood on shore, unhelpfully hysterical or more worried about her haute couture than him!

Still, they both could have got in trouble and it would have been his fault. He was aware of freezing water squeezing out of his shoes and that, wet up to his chest, his teeth were chattering wildly and in a most unmanly way.

Except for the fact it might save the Bakers some distress, his rescue was wasted. When he inspected the canoe it had a hole the size of his fist in the bottom of it from where it had smashed into a rock.

He inspected her, too. She was wet past her waist, had her arms wrapped around herself. She was reacting to the cold in a very womanly way, and he did his best not to whistle with low appreciation.

Think, Joshua snapped at himself.

He was stranded on an island. With a beautiful woman. Who was shivering, and who had hair that smelled of Hawaii.

They were both going to have to get these wet clothes off quickly. And not in the way any red-blooded man wanted to have the first disrobing happen.

But because the May wind was like ice as the spring day lengthened and chilled, if they didn’t get out of these wet clothes, there was a real chance of hypothermia.

There was only one option.

They were going to have to seek shelter in the honeymoon cabin.

Just his luck that he was going to end up half-naked in the honeymoon cabin with Dannie Springer. Maybe it was because he was shaking with cold that he couldn’t quite figure out if he had landed in the middle of a dream or a nightmare.