Confessions of a Girl-Next-Door (11 page)

Instead, he said, “The island is a great place to think.”

Then, without another word, he started the truck. Slowly this time, he drove down
the two-track, careful to avoid the worst of the ruts.

It took another twenty minutes before the truck emerged from the dappled green canopy of the woods to a small clearing just up from the lake. There was no sandy beach here, but plenty of reeds and water lilies in the bay’s rocky shallows. Before that, the landscape was dotted with wildflowers and the occasional poison ivy plant.

“This is pretty,” she remarked. The line between her brows softened as she scanned the scene before her. “It would make a lovely painting.”

“A watercolor?” That had been her favorite medium.

She nodded, her gaze riveted on the lake. “The way the colors meld together, teals and blues. It’s breathtaking.”

It
was
breathtaking. This, Nate knew, was exactly why he’d given up skyscrapers and the madness of city living. As much as he’d thought he’d wanted an urban lifestyle after growing up on a speck of land in the middle of one of the Great Lakes, the truth was he was small-town at heart. He wouldn’t make any apologies for that. He glanced over at
Holly, noting the rapturous expression on her face, and he knew she wasn’t expecting one.

She started toward the lake.

“Just watch where you walk.” Once he had her attention, he pointed out the three-leafed plant that could cause a couple weeks of grief to those who came into contact with it. They both knew that from personal experience.

Once they were almost to the shore, he turned Holly to the right. The chalet was a couple hundred feet down the shore from them. A man and a woman sat on the lower deck. The current occupants were making good use of the gas grill. The scent of sizzling steaks wafted on the breeze along with their laughter.

“That’s where you’ll be staying.”

“Oh, it is lovely.”

“And a good hiding place.”

His assessment made her frown. “I’m not running away,” she insisted.

“Getting away.”

She nodded and murmured what sounded like, “Thinking.”

“I’m there.” He pointed across the bay to
where the green tin roof of his lakefront cottage glinted in the sunlight.

Holly turned to him. On a smile, she said, “We’ll be next-door neighbors, of a fashion.”

“I guess so.” He reached out to scratch at a patch of dried mud on her nose.

“I’m a mess.”

“A pretty mess,” he clarified, resisting the urge to drop a kiss on the very nose he’d just tried to rid of dirt.

“I need to get cleaned up.”

Nate nodded. She was right, of course. He should take her back to his cottage where she could shower while he swung by the marina. He’d been gone several hours. In the meantime, a couple of yachts were due in today, one of them making the Saint Lawrence loop that took the big crafts from the open waters of the Atlantic Ocean all the way inland to the Great Lakes system. This one was out of Fort Myers, Florida, and was destined for Chicago.

Despite his responsibilities back at the marina, Nate said, “Lake’s right there.”

“Excuse me?”

“The lake.” He nodded in its direction a second time. “It’s still a bit chilly this time of year.” In fact, this far north, it rarely became
anything other than what the polite termed
refreshing
. With a grin, he added, “But I never knew you to mind a cool dip.”

“Are you daring me, Nathaniel Matthews?”

How was it he found her arched eyebrows and use of his full name so damned sexy?

His first genuine smile in days unfurled. “Yes, ma’am. I believe I am.”

Her chin rose. “I don’t like to swim alone. In fact, that was my grandmother’s rule.”

“Swim with a buddy,” he finished for her before his throat closed.

“So …” Holly blinked guilelessly at him as she backed toward the water, shedding her shoes as she went. “Will you be my buddy, Nate?”

I’ll be anything you damn well want me to be
, he nearly replied.

But that would be foolish, not to mention presumptuous. Holly wasn’t asking him to be anything but a friend. She had someone waiting for her back in her country. Someone she might not love, but who was far more suitable to her station in life.

He reminded himself of that fact again and again as he watched her wade backward into the water, her smile as tempting as a
siren’s song. He found it didn’t matter. He loved seeing her like this: smiling, having fun and acting very much like the girl she’d once been.

Except she was all woman now.

Awareness pummeled Nate as the waves lapped gently at Holly’s body, first wetting her calves and then her thighs. Soon enough, the capri pants she had on were soaked. They stuck to her body like a second skin, tugging a groan from deep in his chest. Need built inside him, even more fierce than the likes of which he’d experienced the evening before when he’d kissed her. Nate decided it was just as well that when the water reached her waist, Holly turned and dove under.

She bobbed to the surface a few feet away. Then she stood. It was all Nate could do to remain on his feet—his knees felt that weak.

The water was just below her breasts now. And the blouse she wore had turned all but translucent, molding to her curves. The water was
very
cold indeed.

He held his breath as she leaned over and used her cupped hand to splash some of it on her face and hair, removing the last traces of mud.

“Aren’t you coming in?” she called to him as she straightened.

Any other woman and he would have been galloping through the surf at that invitation. But this was Holly. If Nate waded in to where she stood, he would want to touch her. He would
need
to touch her, he amended silently. Just as he had the other night. And if he touched her …

Well, it wouldn’t be a good idea. For either of them. He decided to leave it at that, even though his imagination was, at that very moment, busy filling in all of the blanks.

“Nah. I’ll sit this one out. I can be your buddy from here.”

He lowered himself onto a stump, watching enviously as she played in the surf.

Lucky water. Lucky waves.

A moment later, she waded ashore, wringing out her hair and the ends of her blouse as she came.

“All better,” she announced, gingerly picking her way through the rocks and vegetation.

Nate begged to differ, but he merely nodded.

When she reached him, her brows drew
together. “Nate, didn’t you warn me to watch out for poison ivy around here?”

“Sure did.” He repeated the old saw: “Leaves of three, leave ‘em be.”

She pressed a finger to her lower lip. “I fear you may be surrounded by it.”

He glanced about only a second before launching himself off the log. Damn, if she wasn’t right. How could he have missed it, trained outdoorsman as he was? But, of course, he knew. He’d been distracted.

Very, very distracted.

To her credit, Holly didn’t tease him for the faux pas he hadn’t made in a dozen years. Nor did she laugh. She didn’t even crack a smile. Though, from her expression, he could tell it was costing her. Nate did the only thing that he could under the circumstances. He forgot all about dignity and decorum. With a whoop suitable to the Native American warriors who had long ago occupied the island, he made a beeline for the water, stripping off his shirt and shedding his shoes as he ran. He could only hope that any of the plant’s oil on his body would be washed away before an allergic reaction had time to get started.

He blasted through the shallows, despite
the rocky bottom, and headed for the drop-off he remembered to the far right of where they’d come in. Just at the threshold of where the water changed from aquamarine to deep blue, he tucked himself into a ball, launched himself in the air and hollered, “Geronimo!”

Unfortunately, his launch turned out to be a bit premature. In his defense, it had been a long time since Nate had done a cannonball at this actual site. Years, in fact. He landed on his bottom end with a thud just shy of the deep water. Thank God he was still wearing his shorts or his butt would have endured a sandpapering the likes of which the old cabinets in some of the resort’s cabins had endured prior to being refinished.

“I give you a six,” Holly hollered from the shore. She was holding up the corresponding number of fingers and grinning madly.

She looked adorable and desirable, two adjectives Nate normally wouldn’t put together. But this
was
Holly. Just that quickly, he was sucked back in time. Foolish though he knew it to be, he called, “Come on out, sunshine, and show me what a ten looks like.”

She planted her hands on her hips, her smile just this side of jaunty. “Do you really
think you can handle the embarrassment, Matthews?”

Though he could reach the bottom, he flipped onto his back and floated as if he hadn’t a care in the world. And, damn, if he didn’t feel that way at the moment.

“Bring it on,” he challenged.

She dashed through the surf, grinning like a kid the entire time. No one would mistake her for a princess just then, Nate thought. Idly, he wondered what old Phil would think. When she reached the drop-off, she executed a perfect tuck-and-launch before disappearing under the water.

Oh, yeah. A definite ten.

Then she rose up from the water like some damned mermaid, flipping back the honeyed locks of her long hair, and he doubled the score.

“So?” she asked.

He waded toward her and took the plunge. Literally. The lake bottom fell away and Nate found himself treading water, his arms reaching for and then reeling in the one woman who filled his fantasies, but who could never fulfill the dreams he’d almost forgotten existed.

“You’re a ten,” he said truthfully, as they treaded water together.

“Really? I haven’t lost my touch?”

“Not in the least.” Then, even though Nate called himself a dozen kinds of fool, he kissed her.

Holly forgot to kick her legs. Come to that, she forgot to breathe. They wound up submerged, mouths locked together. Desire like she’d only allowed herself to imagine washed over her, as insistent as the waves.

Nate kicked upward, taking them to the surface, where they both gasped for air. Even so, they remained locked in an embrace—an embrace suited to lovers, given the way their bodies were pressed tightly together. His warmth helped take away the lake water’s chill.

The first word Holly managed was not
thanks
or even
sorry
. Rather, it was “Please.”

It was a foolish plea. Please what? She wasn’t sure she had an answer for herself, let alone one for Nate. Thus it came as a relief when he didn’t ask her for clarification. Instead, he kicked sideways, one arm jutting out in powerful sidestrokes that moved them inland. Before she knew it, her feet were
once again planted on the seabed. They rose together. She felt oddly vulnerable, naked in a way that went beyond her soaked clothes. And one glance down had her cringing. Good heavens, her shirt was nearly see-through and the bra she was wearing wasn’t much better.

Embarrassment made sense right now. But another emotion lingered with it, oddly reminiscent of the feeling she’d gotten when she’d secretly chartered a jet to America and then asked Henry to drive her to the airport.

On the shore, they picked up their discarded shoes and headed for the truck in silence. All the while awareness taunted her. The man looked good in wet cargo shorts, better, in fact, than most men of her acquaintance managed to look outfitted in designer attire.

Nate pulled a folded blanket from the truck bed, shaking leaves and debris from it before handing it to Holly.

“You’re probably cold.” He cleared his throat.

Holly felt her cheeks grow warm. Yes, that much
was
obvious. Gratefully, she pulled it around her body and slipped into the truck’s cab. In addition to her breasts’ embarrassing
reaction to the chilly water, her teeth were chattering and her skin was prickled with gooseflesh, which was why she found it amazing that she still felt on fire.

The drive back to the main road was quiet. Nate drove slowly this time, glancing sideways with each rut they hit. Holly never said a word. She didn’t complain. She didn’t tease. She simply remained silent, her hands gripping the edges of the blanket around her. He could only imagine what she was thinking. God, he’d screwed up royally. No pun intended.

He hadn’t meant to kiss her. Again. He knew better after that kiss the night before. But once she’d been in his arms, her body pressed against his … He swallowed thickly now.

I’m not a saint.

But it was more than his lack of restraint that was the issue here. It was the woman. Holly was his first love, and even though Nate had long tried to deny it, she was his
only
love. Which was why he would both treasure and regret kissing her today. This was a memory that would haunt him long after the woman was gone.

He had barely pulled the truck to a stop outside his cottage and she had already unbuckled her seat belt and was reaching for the door handle.

“If you could telephone Hank while I change my clothes, I would appreciate it,” she called over her shoulder as she headed into the house.

The screen door squawked open before slamming closed behind her. Nate sighed heavily. So, she really did plan to return to the mainland for the time between now and when she could check in at the chalet. It made sense. Perfect sense. What didn’t make sense was the fact that Nate sat on his deck, sipping a beer, rather than making the requested phone call.

Holly was only in America for a short time, he rationalized as he waited for her. That was long enough to disturb his peace, but not nearly long enough to satisfy his curiosity or his interest. He was being selfish perhaps, and definitely foolish, but he wanted as much of her as he could have, even if afterward her memory made him ache.

Besides, for a little while this afternoon, she’d looked so carefree and happy. Her
laughter had echoed across the bay, every bit as enchanting as the loon’s call first thing on quiet mornings. He liked knowing that he had a hand in that. Taking another sip of beer, he decided that perhaps his reasons weren’t so selfish after all.