Against the Wild (9 page)

Dylan and Lane hadn't yet returned from their trip to Ketchikan, and though Caleb had the job running fairly smoothly, the plumber had run short of the PVC pipe he needed to finish one of the upstairs bathrooms.

With a cell tower in Yeil, he was able to phone Mack's, the plumbing, heating, and electrical supply store in Waterside, and get what he needed. Then he headed out to his pickup for the long drive down the muddy gravel road into town.

He'd bring back the pipe, but the trip was mostly an excuse to see his ex-girlfriend, Holly Kaplan. He'd been thinking about her since Dylan had mentioned her the other day, hadn't been able to get her out of his head.

He had met Holly in Juneau six years ago, when he was twenty-five and she had just turned twenty-one. He'd fallen hard for Holly and planned to ask her to marry him. Instead, she'd taken off with another man.

Caleb hadn't seen her since the breakup, but he knew she had gotten her nursing degree and recently taken a job in Waterside. Several of his friends had hinted that he was the reason she was there.

Caleb paid for the pipe, and while it was being loaded into the bed of his pickup, walked over to the Grizzly Café.

The lunch hour was over. As he shoved through the door, ringing the bell, he saw that only a couple of tables had customers.

He also saw that Holly was busy working, refilling coffee cups, clearing away empty dishes.

She looked good. Beautiful, in fact, with her smooth olive skin and her sleek black hair loose around her shoulders. Though she was petite, she had plenty of curves, and watching her stirred memories he thought he'd forgotten.

Like the exact shape and heavy weight of her breasts, the dark areolas at the crest. He remembered how much he loved the feel of them in his hands, the taste of them in his mouth.

He remembered a lot of things about Holly. Most of all, he remembered that she had told him she loved him, then run off with Eddie McGuiness, the hotshot son of a local car dealer. He remembered that Holly Kaplan had broken his heart.

He sat down in a booth in front of the window, smelled coffee and clam chowder as he waited for her to notice him, saw the color rise in her face when she did.

Coffeepot in hand, she took a deep breath and started toward him, stopped in front of the booth where he sat.

“Caleb. It's good to see you.” She smiled. “The years have certainly been good to you. You're even more handsome than you were before.”

“You look great, Holly. I heard you were in town.”

“I'm a nurse now. I've got a part-time job at the hospital. I start full-time in the fall.”

“Good for you.”

“I hear you're working for the guy who bought the lodge in Eagle Bay. Maggie says you're his foreman.”

“That's right. Dylan Brodie. We met when he was flying out of Juneau. Got to be friends. He needed someone to help him run the place, offered me the job and I took it.”

“I bet you're good at it. You always were good with people.”

“Except for you.”

She glanced away, looked down at the mug still turned upside down in front of him. “You . . . umm . . . want some coffee?”

“I've got to be getting back. I just stopped in to say hello.” He rose from the table.

“I was hoping we might, you know, get together sometime, do a little catching up.”

“What about Eddie?”

She shrugged. “That didn't work out. We broke up a couple of years ago.”

“So now you're looking for a replacement and you're thinking it might be me.”

Holly didn't back off. “I never got over you, Caleb. I was hoping you might still have some . . . you know, feelings for me.”

He used to wonder what it would be like if they had stayed together. But deep down he knew.

“I'm seeing someone, Holly.” He had only been out with Jenny Larsen a couple of times, but they had clicked really well and he wanted to see her again. “She's a first-grade teacher here in Waterside.”

“Is it . . . is it serious?”

Was it? Maybe it could be. “Listen, I've got to go. It was good seeing you, Holly.”

“You too, Caleb.”

Turning, he strode across the café and pulled open the door, stepped out into the cool, fresh air. He'd been crazy about Holly, but seeing her again had cleared his head. Revisiting their disastrous relationship, going down that painful road again, wouldn't be good for either one of them.

Caleb headed for his truck.

Dylan was in a foul mood. It was after midnight. The house was closed up, everyone sound asleep.

Everyone but him. Feeling restless and moody, he pulled on his jeans and wandered barefoot through the house. He went into the kitchen and opened the fridge, but nothing looked appealing. Deciding against a glass of milk, he wandered out into the great hall, stood there staring out the window.

A quarter moon sent a slice of silver across the open water. Towering pines cast long shadows onto the shore. It was beautiful here. Beautiful and peaceful. He'd loved the lodge the moment he had seen it. During the weeks he had investigated the purchase, he'd heard rumors about the old place being haunted, but he had ignored them.

For chrissake, he didn't believe in friggin' ghosts.

He'd figured it was just that the lodge had sat empty for so many years, with just a smattering of owners coming and going through the decades.

Jeff Fenton had owned it since 2008, but had never gotten around to the main remodel and only stayed at Eagle Bay a few months in the summer.

Now that Dylan knew about the murders, he wasn't sure how he felt about the place anymore. Wasn't sure he could go on with the plans he had made.

A faint sound reached him, soft feminine footfalls padding across the wide-plank floor. He turned to see Lane approaching in her fluffy pink fleece robe.

“I couldn't sleep. I heard you leave your room. I thought I'd see if I could find you.”

“I'm surprised you didn't think it was a ghost,” he said darkly.

She just smiled. “I heard you close your door.” She stuck her hands into the front pockets of her robe, stared out over the water. “You're thinking about what happened here. You're thinking about the lodge and the murders.”

He followed her gaze through the massive front windows, out to the silvery sea. “I'm trying to figure out how I feel.”

Lane turned to look at the great hall, tilting her head to survey the huge pine logs above their heads, taking in the massive stone fireplace, the wood plank floors, then turned back to the windows and the spectacular view of the bay in the moonlight.

“It's a beautiful place,” she said, “the mountains and the forest. The lodge itself is beautiful. It took a tremendous amount of hard work to build it. It deserves a second chance to be what it was meant to be.”

“What do you think that was?”

“A place for people like me to come and experience the uniqueness of a wild place like this.”

It was the reason he had bought the lodge. He'd wanted to share the beauty of the wilderness. And he'd wanted to make a home for himself and Emily here.

He looked into Lane's green eyes, saw that she understood, and something tightened in his chest. Framing her face in his hands, he bent his head and kissed her. It was meant to be tender, just a thank-you for her thoughtful words. But the moment their mouths met, the instant her pretty lips softened under his, heat arced between them. His body tightened and desire exploded in his blood.

“Lane . . .”

Her arms went around his neck and she leaned into him, parted her lips, inviting him to take more. Dylan didn't hesitate, swept his tongue in to taste her, breathed in the soft feminine scent of her that wrapped around him.

He parted the robe and slid his hands inside to cup her breasts, tested the size, the way they tipped faintly upward, felt her nipples harden beneath his palms.

Lane whimpered, and the kiss went deeper, hotter. He kissed the side of her neck, trailed kisses over her shoulders, claimed her mouth again. His blood was pounding, his groin pulsing, the blood flowing thick and hot through his veins. He slid his hands from her breasts to the curve of her waist, moved lower, reached around to cup her sweet little ass.

Lifting her into the V between his legs, he let her feel the heavy erection throbbing beneath the fly of his jeans. Jesus, he was on fire for her.

Lane moaned.

Dylan slid the robe off her shoulders, let it fall to the floor. Bending his head, he tasted those pretty breasts, first one and then the other, rolled his tongue over the pebbled tip, felt her trembling. He palmed her sex, stroked her, felt how wet she was, and knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

Lifting her into his arms, he carried her to the worn sofa in front of the empty fireplace. He wished he had a big fire roaring, wished he could make love to her on a thick bearskin rug in front of the flames.

“We've waited long enough, Lane,” he said, as he rested her on the sofa.

“Yes . . . I think we have.”

He kissed her again, left her only long enough to strip off his jeans. Careful to keep his weight off her, he settled himself between her legs and kissed her, long and deep. He loved the taste of her, the softness of her lips, the way they melded with his. He loved her feminine, floral scent.

He felt her fingers sliding into his hair, the press of her breasts against his chest. Moving restlessly beneath him, she arched upward against his arousal, encouraging him to give her what she needed. What both of them needed.

He parted her legs with his knee and eased his erection into the slick, hot, softness of her passage, clamped down hard to stay in control.

She was tight and wet, and as her body grew accustomed to his size and length, gloved him perfectly. He tried to go slowly, meant to, but Lane would have none of it. She arched upward, driving him deeper, and her breath slid out on a sigh.

“Lane . . .” She felt so good and he had waited so long. Hanging on to his control by a thread, he started to move, clenched his jaw against the powerful sensations and his overwhelming desire for her.

Out and then in, out and then in, the rhythm increasing, Lane moving with him, their bodies in perfect unison. She came swiftly, unexpectedly, and the hot spasms pouring through her body drove him over the edge.

He pounded into her, driving hard, taking, taking, and Lane came again, her whole body shaking with the force of her release. Dylan's muscles contracted, clenched so hard they vibrated as he followed her over the edge.

Long seconds passed and neither of them moved. He could hear the creak of the aging timbers, the lap of the water against the shore.

Keeping his weight on his elbows, he bent and kissed her softly one last time, then lifted away and settled himself beside her. For several moments, neither of them spoke.

Lane traced a finger over his chest. “That was . . . amazing.”

“We were good together. I had a feeling we would be.”

“It's been three years. There's been no one since Jason.”

Dylan leaned over and kissed her. “I'm glad it was me.”

She nestled against him. “We . . . umm . . . didn't use protection,” she said into the darkness.

He should have. He had a box of condoms in his bedroom, but his seduction hadn't been planned. “I didn't mean for this to happen, not tonight. If there are consequences—”

“I started on the pill before I came up here. I wanted this to happen. I wanted you, Dylan.”

He'd wanted her, too. Since the moment he had first seen her. There was something about her, something that called to him as no woman had for as long as he could remember.

He traced a finger along her cheek. “I didn't plan this, but I'm glad it happened. It's been awhile for me, too. I've been tested. We're safe.”

She nodded, snuggled against his bare chest, yawned. “I could sleep right here.”

Dylan chuckled. “Mrs. Henry might be in for a shock when she walked in on us in the morning.”

She sighed, yawned again. “I guess we ought to go upstairs.”

“Yeah.” But neither of them moved. Not until the pipes started their violent clanking, jolting both of them up off the sofa. “Son of a bitch!”

“There's our ghost. The pipe ghost, at least.”

Dylan grabbed his jeans. Lane hurried over and grabbed her robe as Dylan headed for the stairs in the hallway leading down to the basement. He flipped on the light at the top of the stairs but only made it as far as the bottom tread when the obnoxious clatter ceased.

He gritted his teeth. At least his ears had stopped ringing. Heading down the stairs, he took a walk around the cold stone floor, checking for anything that might have caused the commotion. The old basement was huge and the lighting wasn't good, leaving much of it in shadows. It smelled of mold and dampness.

Seeing nothing that would account for the racket, he returned upstairs to find Winnie standing in the hallway next to Lane.