Читать книгу The Mighty Quinns: Jamie - Kate Hoffmann - Страница 12

2

REGAN FUSSED WITH the folds of the pretty crocheted baby blanket, then stepped back to check the composition of the photo.

A local family had booked her new baby package and she’d spent the afternoon shooting the young couple and their infant daughter. They’d begun outdoors among the bright colors of fall, and now she was finishing up with mother and baby relaxing in a rocking chair in the nursery.

“There,” she whispered. “Now, just turn your head slightly and look out the window.”

Regan focused on the sleeping baby, her gaze taking in the precious details of the little girl’s features—the long lashes, the tiny nose, the Cupid’s bow lips. She swallowed hard as the usual flood of emotion hit her. It always did in moments like these, whenever she was shooting a baby.

After Jake, she’d given up her dreams of a fairy-tale marriage. And she was content with the decision. She couldn’t imagine ever allowing herself to be that vulnerable again. But along with giving up on marriage, she’d also given up on children of her own in the near future. And occasionally that still stung.

Someday, if she still wanted a baby, she’d have one. She didn’t need a husband, though she would have to find someone to donate the genetic material. But how hard could that be?

As she peered through the camera, her mind drifted back to the man she’d met on the road a few weeks ago. Whenever she had a spare moment, she couldn’t help but think about him. He’d been just about the most exciting thing to happen in her life in the past year.

She’d asked around town, a few discreet questions here and there, but no one had heard of any strangers staying in town. She’d thought he might be the new owner of the Hamill cottage, about a quarter mile down the road from her grandmother’s. The place had sold recently and he’d come from that direction. Her grandmother would have known the man if he’d been her new neighbor. She made it a point to acquaint herself with everyone who lived in Pickett Lake.

But it was sometimes best for Regan to keep her personal life to herself. Ceci had a tendency to become too invested in whomever she saw as potential husband material for Regan. The moment Regan showed interest in a man, her grandmother began preparing the guest list for the wedding. No matter how many times she’d explained that she wasn’t planning on ever getting engaged again, Ceci tried to convince her to give love just one more chance.

She snapped off a few more shots of the mother and child, then moved to a new angle, clicking the shutter until she was satisfied she had what she needed. “We’re done,” Regan said. as she placed the lens cap back on her camera.

Amy Farrell slowly stood, taking care not to wake her baby. “Won’t you please give me a peek?”

Regan shook her head, moving around the nursery and searching for items that would make good still-life shots. “No. I never let anyone look. It’s why you hired me. I find the best shots and I’ll make them beautiful. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

Amy smiled. “All right. Well, thank you. And call me when they’re ready. We want to pick one for our Christmas card.”

Amy wandered out of the nursery, her daughter still asleep in her arms, and Regan packed up her things. As she hauled her gear out to her car, she pulled her phone from her jacket pocket.

Her grandmother had called twice over the last few days to invite Regan to dinner. She’d texted her grandmother that she was too busy editing recent wedding shoots, but would come just as soon as she had a free evening.

Though she had a small apartment above her storefront in town, Regan spent about a third of her nights at her grandmother’s. She knew how lonely Ceci got and how much she enjoyed cooking for her, so whenever she had a break from work, she’d make the short drive to the lodge.

Regan usually tried to have dinner with her grandmother at least twice a week, but with her fall wedding schedule and a trip to New York a couple weeks ago for an industry show, it had been nearly three weeks. When she got inside her car, she dialed her grandmother’s number.

She had a few days before she needed to go through the photos from the baby shoot. And the wedding she’d been scheduled to photograph on the weekend had been canceled last month.

Ceci’s voice mail picked up and Regan waited to speak.

“Hi, Nana, it’s Regan. I just wanted to say that I’m finally free for dinner tonight. I just have to make a quick stop at the hardware store to pick up batteries for my camera and then I’ll be right over. Call me back if you need anything from the store and I can grab it. See you soon. Love you.”

Regan turned the car in the direction of the hardware store. She was cutting it close; Walt Murphy closed his doors at exactly 5:00 p.m. and she had three minutes to get the special batteries he carried for her equipment.

She pulled up in front of the store just as he was coming out. “Thank God you’re still open,” she cried.

Walt chuckled and pointed to the door he’d just closed. “We’ll be open at eight tomorrow morning.”

“I just need a few of those cadmium batteries. They don’t carry them at the grocery store and I wanted to get some sunrise shots tomorrow for the fire department calendar.”

“Well, as a volunteer fireman, I suppose I’ll have to make an exception.” Walt reopened the door. “I’m glad you stopped by. I wanted to talk to you about your grandmother.”

“My grandmother?”

“Yes,” Walt said, holding the door open for her. “She was in the store a few weeks ago and she happened to meet this stranger named Quinn. He’d stopped by to see me, looking for a piece of land to build on. Next thing I know, she’s offering him Maple Point.”

Regan gasped. “Our Maple Point?”

“Yep. I figured she can’t go leasing or selling land that’s in a trust, but then I found out that piece of land belongs to her. She bought it herself way back when. I was gonna call you, but then I figured it wasn’t my place to butt into family business.”

Regan grabbed the batteries she’d come for and handed Walt enough money to cover the bill. “Thanks for telling me. I appreciate it.”

“If she wants to sell Maple Point, I know I can get her top dollar if she’ll let me list it.”

“She won’t be selling that land,” she assured him.

Regan cursed beneath her breath. Since her grandfather had died, two years ago, her grandmother had been at loose ends. The family had urged Celia to sell the lodge and buy something smaller, but Celia had insisted on keeping it for the family, hoping to recreate those perfect summers of the past, the house packed full of three generations of the Macintosh family.

Since Regan was the only family member living in the area, it had become her responsibility to sort out any problems that Celia had. She had always been close to her grandmother, so it was never a burden. But Celia Macintosh could be stubborn and she was determined to make her own decisions, however cockeyed they might be.

This was definitely a strange turn of events, Regan mused. And if she’d invited a stranger into her life, then it was dangerous, as well. As Regan hurried back to her car, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket. But once again, there was no answer at the lodge.

This was her fault! She hadn’t been to see Ceci in three weeks, leaving her vulnerable to someone who might take advantage. If her family found out, there would be hell to pay. If Ceci had already signed some of the land away, Regan would have to get the lawyers involved, and that meant a call to her father.

The sun was already down as she navigated the curves on Shore Drive. Soon the first snowflakes would fall, and in another month, winter would be looming. When the weather changed and the holidays were past, Regan and Ceci headed south to her grandmother’s condo in Scottsdale.

Ceci enjoyed the warm weather and her Arizona friends, and Regan had weddings booked beginning on New Year’s Eve and nearly every weekend through the end of April. On the first of May, they packed up the car and headed back to the lake.

Regan watched for the red reflectors on the trees, and when she saw them she knew the lodge was just ahead. The entrance was marked by two stone pillars, and as she steered her Subaru wagon onto the narrow asphalt drive, her headlights created eerie shadows on the surrounding trees. Ahead, the lodge was lit up from top to bottom, a habit that her grandmother had adopted her first night alone in the house.

The adjustment had been hard on Ceci. Her grandmother had been only seventy-five years old when her husband had died. She’d expected to have more time with the man she’d called her husband since age nineteen. But life didn’t always work out as people dreamed, as Regan had learned all too well.

She pulled the car to a stop and turned off the ignition. Grabbing her bag, she hopped out and jogged up to the front door. Regan had her own key to the lodge, but she usually announced her arrival by ringing the bell.

“Nana?” she called as she walked inside. “Nana, it’s Regan.”

A few seconds later, Ceci walked in from the rear of the house. Her appearance was shocking, causing Regan to gasp out loud. Since her husband’s death, her grandmother had gradually lost her flair for fashion, dressing in simple clothes in somber colors, pulling her ash-blond hair back into a tidy knot. But tonight she was wearing a flowing caftan in neon pink and tangerine orange. Her hair was styled in soft curls around her face and Regan was stunned at how young she looked.

“Nana,” she whispered. “You’re...stunning.”

Ceci smiled, then twirled around. “This old thing? I haven’t worn it in years.”

“You did your hair.”

“Is the style all right? I know it’s not fashionable to tease one’s hair anymore, but I couldn’t help myself.”

“You look lovely.” Regan hesitated for a split second before she asked the obvious question. Why had Ceci gone to so much trouble? Regan drew in a slow breath. “What’s the occasion?” she asked.

“I met a lovely young man at the hardware store a few weeks ago,” Ceci said. “He’s working on a very important project. Changing the way we think about housing. He has some papers for me to sign, so I’ve invited him for dinner tonight. Since you’re here, you can join us. Why don’t you go tidy up while I get things ready? It wouldn’t hurt for you to fix your hair and put on a little lipstick.”

“Is this the man you want to lease Maple Point to?”

“Walt Murphy should mind his own business. And so should you. If I choose to lease or sell Maple Point, then that’s my decision—not yours.”

“Do you even know who this guy is, Nana? He could be a con man, a swindler, one of those creeps that preys on elderly women with money. A wolf in sheep’s clothing!”

“I haven’t lost my all my senses,” Ceci said. “I checked with our family attorney and Mr. Quinn seems to be exactly who he says he is. I never would have invited him to stay with me if I thought he was some sort of...ne’er-do-well.”

“You invited him to stay here?” Regan asked.

“I offered to rent him the guest cottage. I could use the extra money.”

“Nana, there’s no reason for you to have to take in boarders. You have plenty of money. And if you’re lonely you can always call me. I’ll come and spend the night.”

“I know, dear,” she said. “But you’re busy with your own life. And I need something to do with mine. Something to look forward to.”

“And that’s serving dinner to some stranger?”

“He’s not a stranger,” Ceci said. “He’s a lovely man and I’m sure you’ll agree when you meet him.”

“Which I plan to do right now,” Regan said. “When will he get here?”

“Oh, he’s here already. He’s upstairs,” Ceci said. “I thought it would be nice if we dressed for dinner. Your grandfather and I used to do that and it always made dinner seem so much more special. He didn’t have a dinner jacket, but I found an old one of your grandfather’s and he said he’d make do.”

Regan groaned inwardly. It was clear her grandmother was already infatuated with this man. Dinner jackets and intimate meals for two? Someone needed to put a stop to this before Ceci got hurt, and it seemed like Regan was the only one capable of doing it. “I’m just going to go upstairs and introduce myself to him,” she said.

“He’ll be down in a few seconds. Surely you can wait.”

“No,” Regan said. “I don’t think this can wait.” With that, she turned on her heel and started for the stairs.

When she glanced back at her grandmother, she saw a worried expression on her soft features. If this man was hoping to take advantage of her grandmother, Regan would find out. There were so many unscrupulous people in the world, people capable of ruining another person’s life, people capable of stealing a person’s identity. She would never allow that to happen to her grandmother. No matter how handsome or charming the man was.

Regan climbed the log stairs to the second floor and one by one searched the six bedrooms. She found his things scattered on the bed in the last room and she stepped inside to take a look.

The sound of running water filtered through the bathroom door and she listened to it with one ear, realizing that her time to do some snooping would be limited. Regan picked up his wallet and began to rifle through it. She found his driver’s license and pulled it out to examine the photo. The breath froze in her throat.

“Oh, my God,” she murmured. “It’s him.”

Though her grandmother had said he was handsome, she’d assumed he would be a little older. The man’s driver’s license revealed him to be only twenty-seven years old, and in the picture he possessed a masculine beauty that any woman would be grateful to have in her bed.

She found herself staring at the photograph, trying to gauge the intent of the person behind the pale blue eyes. There was nothing she could tell from the license, however; nothing could be revealed beyond the fact that his parents had made a genetically perfect male.

He had nearly five hundred dollars in his wallet, along with a stack of credit cards. From the rest of the contents, she discovered he had a reliable dry cleaner, a favorite coffee shop and tickets for a Blizzard’s hockey game against New York in early December.

Regan returned the wallet to where she’d found it and picked up his phone. But to her dismay, he’d turned it off. She pushed the power button and waited for the screen to light up. Certainly she’d be able to learn more from his old texts and his photo library...

* * *

JAMIE GRABBED A towel from the pile beside the shower and wrapped it around his waist. He probably shouldn’t have taken the time for a shower, considering Celia was waiting with dinner downstairs, but he’d spent most of the day in the car, and the marble shower seemed like the perfect place to work out the kinks in his neck and spine.

He opened the bathroom door and stopped short when he found a woman sitting on the end of the bed, holding his phone. She glanced his way and he realized that he knew her. “It’s you,” he murmured, recognizing the woman from the road that morning.

She stared at him with suspicious eyes. “And it’s you. Would you like to tell me what you’re doing here, in my grandmother’s house?”

“I think the more important question is what are you doing with my phone?”

She jumped up and dropped his phone on the bed as if it were made of fire. Her gaze slowly drifted from his damp hair to his naked chest and finally to the towel that hung low on his hips.

He chuckled softly. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”

She turned toward the door, obviously torn between her desire to escape and her curiosity about the stranger standing half-naked in front of her. At the last moment, she decided to stay.

“Regan,” she finally said. “I’m Regan Macintosh. I’m Celia’s granddaughter. My father is Celia’s middle son.” She held out her hand, then realized his right hand was holding up his towel.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Regan,” he said. He made sure the towel was knotted and shook her hand. “I’m James Quinn, but everyone calls me Jamie.”

She glanced down at where their fingers had become entwined, her brow furrowing as if she was confused how they’d gotten that way.

She forced a smile and Jamie waited for her to explain herself. Then, suddenly, she straightened her spine and looked him directly in the eyes.

“I think we’ve had enough of this,” she said, waving her hand in the direction of his bare chest. “I’m sure you find it quite useful to wander about half-naked. I’m sure it makes all the ladies a little breathless and dizzy. But to me it all seems a bit desperate.”

“Desperate?” Jamie chuckled softly. “How so?”

“Men like you need to use their best assets to their advantage,” she explained. “It’s quite apparent that you have an incredibly hot body. But I’m sure that my grandmother will be immune to such a blatant ploy.”

“A blatant ploy?” he murmured. “What exactly do you think I’m doing here?”

“I assume you’re here to hustle my grandmother out of her life savings. Isn’t that what men like you use your bodies to do?”

A laugh burst from Jamie’s throat as he realized the conclusion she’d jumped to. “You think I’m a gigolo?”

“I suppose you prefer the term con artist?” She cursed softly. “I can assure you, if you appear downstairs in just that towel, you may give her a heart attack.”

Jamie shook his head, then walked to the end of the bed to pick through the clothes he’d brought along. He grabbed a pair of boxers and stepped into them, sliding them up to his waist beneath the towel. Then he pulled the towel off and draped it around his neck. “I’m here because I needed a place to stay and I didn’t want to go to a motel. Your grandmother kindly offered to rent me her guest house and I accepted. Then she invited me to dinner. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Right. Don’t forget about the land you’re trying to swindle. You probably think that she’s an easy mark, living all alone out here, with no one to watch after her. But I’m watching out for her,” Regan said. “And you’re not going to get a finger on one single dollar of her money or one single acre of her land. Do I make myself clear?”

Jamie strolled to the closet and grabbed one of the shirts he found there. Yanking it over his arms, he cursed softly. “The only thing that’s clear is that you are certifiably crazy.”

“I am not!” she cried.

“If you weren’t crazy, you would politely excuse yourself, and let me get dressed on my own.”

Regan opened her mouth to utter a quick reply, but her answer died on her tongue. “We’re not done with this. Not by a long mile.”

“I look forward to discussing this further at a mutually convenient time,” Jamie said.

“There will be plenty of those,” she said, “since I plan to check up on you for as long as you’re here.”

“Fine!” he said.

“Fine!” she shot back. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

Jamie watched her storm out of the room, his gaze taking in a delicious view of her backside. This was an interesting development, he mused. In truth, he was glad to have Regan around. If any of the other family members objected, Regan could provide proof that he was dealing fairly with Celia and that he had no intentions of cheating her out of anything.

Though Regan was dead wrong about his intentions, she was right about one thing. Her grandmother did seem to be excited at the prospect of company. And maybe he did use that to his advantage to get a perfect room in a perfect house on a perfect piece of property. But it was an innocent friendship, and he was expert enough at short-term relationships to make sure no one got hurt.

He finished buttoning the shirt, which luckily fit fairly well, then walked over to the mirror and raked his fingers through his still-damp hair.

Now his interest in Regan Macintosh, on the other hand... He couldn’t say his intentions would remain innocent where she was concerned.

He picked up the dinner jacket Celia had given him and shrugged into it, then headed downstairs, preparing himself for a lively evening with two beautiful women.

When he entered the kitchen, Celia turned and clapped her hands. “Don’t you look debonair,” she said, her eyes bright. She reached up and adjusted the collar of his shirt. “I guessed right that you’d be about the same size as Kenneth.”

Regan cleared her throat and Celia glanced over her shoulder at her granddaughter. “Didn’t you two introduce yourselves?” she asked, glancing between him and Regan.

Jamie smiled and shrugged, and he watched Regan bristle at the thought of repeating what had happened upstairs.

“I know who he is, Nana. You told me his name.”

“But there are common courtesies that we observe in this house. Regan, darling, this is Mr. James Quinn. He’d like us to call him Jamie. Jamie, this is my favorite granddaughter, Regan Macintosh.”

Jamie reached out and took her fingertips into the palm of his hand. He ignored the rush of heat that raced through his body. It was a natural reaction, he mused. It had been a while since he had been with a woman, and Regan had just seen him half-naked. He drew her hand to his lips and placed a kiss just below her wrist. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he murmured.

She watched him intently, her expression one of barely concealed indifference. God, she was a challenge. He felt like a schoolboy, teasing the prettiest girl in class just to get a rise from her.

“Look how good he is at that, Nana,” Regan said. “So smooth. No one does that anymore.” She snatched her hand away. “No one.”

“Regan! Don’t be rude.” Ceci held out her own hand and Jamie dutifully kissed it.

“I’m not being rude. Is it rude to ask Mr. Quinn what his true intentions are here? He seems to have waltzed in and taken over a spot at the table, wearing my grandfather’s dinner jacket. And you seem...bewitched!”

Jamie cleared his throat, more as a warning than an intention to talk. Regan glanced over at her grandmother and noticed the two bright spots of embarrassment on her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“Of course you did, darling. I can’t blame you. And I won’t lie. I have been lonely, and it’s been nice for an attractive man to wander into my life and provide a bit of excitement.”

“Nana, you don’t have to—”

“Having Mr. Quinn here has been a refreshing change of pace. But he is my guest and I will decide if and when he leaves.” She clapped her hands together and forced a smile. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, I do believe dinner is ready.”

* * *

DINNER WAS A lively affair, reminding Regan of the time before her grandfather had died. She hadn’t seen her grandmother smile so much in years, and it made Regan happy that sparkling conversation with a handsome man was all it took to bring the light back into Ceci’s eyes.

Of course, Jamie did his part, with clever compliments, silly stories and endless charm. And it wasn’t just her grandmother who suffered the effects. He turned his considerable charm in Regan’s direction, as well.

But she could sense that his intentions weren’t so innocent with her. He seemed to take delight in irritating her, and she seemed to be unable to control her temper around him. They were waging a silent battle, jockeying for position, trying to read the other’s next move. And though he’d provided a reasonable character reference for himself, she still found herself wary and on edge.

Maybe it was the fact that he could kiss her wrist and her whole body seemed to go weak. Or he could smile at her and her heart felt as if it were about to leap out of her chest. She couldn’t seem to control her reactions to him, and though fascinating, it was also dangerous.

If she couldn’t control herself, how could she possibly control him? Control was an absolute requirement when it came to her relationships with men. It was the only way to protect herself, the only way to maintain a safe distance.

Regan listened distractedly as he talked about his job and explained the project he was working on and the cottage he planned to build. Habikit. She remembered reading something about his company in a recent issue of the newspaper, but she didn’t remember seeing a picture of him. She would’ve remembered that.

By the time dinner was over and dessert had been served, they’d managed to finish off two bottles of expensive red wine. Her grandmother had nursed the same glass throughout the entire evening, so Regan realized that she and Jamie must have drunk the rest.

She didn’t feel intoxicated, but she did feel pleasantly relaxed. And though her tongue occasionally got tangled, Regan wrote that off to being in the company of a handsome man.

“Would anybody like coffee?” Celia asked.

Jamie pushed back from the table and stood up. “Why don’t you ladies relax and I’ll make the coffee and clean up the dishes.”

“No, no, no,” Celia said. “You’re my guest and I won’t have you doing chores.”

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind helping out around the house,” Jamie said. “I’m sure there are plenty of things that might appreciate a man’s touch.”

Regan was in the middle of taking a sip of wine when he made his last statement, and she began to cough at his blatant offer of sexual favors.

“Are you all right, darling?” Celia asked. Regan waved her hand in front of her face, slowly realizing that the meaning she took from his words wasn’t what he’d intended.

“I’m sorry. I just drank that a little too fast. Let me help with the coffee.”

She and Jamie gathered the dirty plates and silver and headed back to the kitchen.

Jamie stood at the sink and began to rinse the dishes while Regan finished clearing, then she took her place on the other side of him and loaded the dishes into the dishwasher.

“I should probably apologize,” Jamie said. “You probably assumed that offer to help around the house had sexual overtones.”

“Really?” Regan said. “No, I didn’t notice.”

Jamie chuckled. “Oh, yes you did. You nearly choked on your wine.”

Regan surrendered a smile. “All right, maybe I did. But you have to admit, your words could be taken both ways.”

“You, my dear, have a dirty mind. And the sooner you realize I’m a respectable man, the easier it will be for us to get along with each other.”

“Why would I want to get along with you?” Regan asked.

“Because I’m endlessly fascinating and I tell a good story.”

“And not because you have an overinflated ego and narcissistic personality disorder?”

“I think if you gave me a chance,” Jamie said, “you’d like me.”

“I’m sure you’ve had a lot of women who have liked you,” she said, “only to get their hearts broken.”

He chuckled softly. “Yeah, you’d think. But that’s not the way it’s worked out. I’m the one who usually gets his heart broken.”

The coffee was finished and Regan set it on a tray along with a trio of cups and saucers, as well as cream and sugar. The moment her grandmother saw the tray, Celia shook her head. “I can’t have any coffee now,” she said. “I’ll never fall asleep if I do.” She slowly got to her feet. “You’ll stay here tonight,” she said to Jamie. “Take the bedroom you got dressed in.” She turned to Regan. “And you’ll be nice. I’ll see you both in the morning. Good night.”

Jamie joined her at the table and they both watched as Celia walked out of the room, leaving the two of them alone together.

Regan reached out and poured herself a cup of coffee. She added a good measure of sugar, then took a long sip. Though it tasted good, coffee did little to counteract the wine she’d drunk.

He stared at her from the other side of the table. Regan knew if she looked at him, just simply met his gaze, she’d want him to crawl over the table and kiss her. And she wasn’t ready for that.

“I—I could use some fresh air,” she murmured. “I’ll just be a moment.”

Regan walked through the great room to the tall wall of windows that overlooked the water. She grabbed a red knit shawl from a hook near the door and wrapped it around her head, then walked out into the chilly night air.

A shiver skittered down her spine, but she wasn’t sure it was because of the cold or due to being in such close proximity to Jamie. Her footsteps echoed softly on the wood deck and when she reached the railing, Regan spread her hands out on the rough wood and drew a deep breath. The fresh air immediately cleared her head.

Regan heard the door open behind her and she held her breath, counting his steps as he approached. She shivered again, this time her teeth chattering with the cold.

“What is this thing you’re wearing?” he asked, fingering the fabric of the cape. “You look like Little Red Riding Hood.”

“It’s vintage,” she said.

“And that makes it stylish?”

“Of course,” Regan teased. “And I like the color. Red is one of my favorites.” Her teeth chattered again and she moved away from him. A moment later she felt the warmth of his jacket surrounding her. He’d pulled his jacket open and he stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her chest, her back pressed against his warm body.

“Better?”

It was better. But it was also more frightening. And more exhilarating. And more confusing. And yet it seemed perfectly natural. “I should probably get to bed, too,” Regan said. “It’s been a while since I’ve had so much wine and I can’t afford to fall asleep at work tomorrow.”

He slowly turned her around in his arms until she faced him. His lips were dangerously close to hers, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek.

“I know you still don’t trust me, but you’re attracted to me. I’m attracted to you, too. I want to kiss you,” he whispered. “Why don’t we just see where this goes?”

“I think that might be a mistake,” she replied.

Her answer seemed to take him by surprise. “Then I guess we’ll leave it for another time,” he said. “Good night, Regan.” With that he turned and walked off the deck.

Regan released a tightly held breath and it clouded in the cold air in front of her face. Her heart slammed in her chest and she realized how close she’d come to surrender. He was right; she was attracted to him. She had wanted to kiss him. She’d been thinking about it all night. But in the end common sense won out.

Regan slowly smiled. She was strong enough. She could control her emotions when he touched her. Though he still was dangerous, he wasn’t a Superman. He was just an ordinary guy. And if she could call the shots, maybe she could let something happen between them.

Maybe he’d ask again tomorrow. Maybe then she’d say yes.