Harbor Nights (21 page)

“If you have to ask”—Norah raised her head and frowned down at him—“I'm not doing this right.”

In the early morning light with her hair sticking out in every direction, she looked sleepy eyed and incredibly sexy. She even had a crease from using her sweatshirt as a pillow going down one of her cheeks. He thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. “You're doing it right.” His experience with women, while not vast by anyone's stretch of the imagination, told him not to pick a fight the first thing in the morning. Agree to whatever she wanted. “Ah, keep on doing whatever you're doing.”

“I'm being slow and gentle,” Norah's fingers wandered up his thigh. “Just like I promised.”

Ned lay there wondering what he had ever done in life to deserve Norah and how fast they could get down off the mountain and back to his place. He wanted her in his bed, a real bed with a thick mattress and luxurious blankets. Not on the ground with only a sleeping bag between his bare butt and a pointy rock.

Norah's slow just might kill him.

 

 

Ned stood silently in the shadow of a tree and watched Norah. The look of wonder and excitement on her face went straight to his heart. Norah was barely breathing as she watched a mother deer and her fawn drink from the stream. Flipper, off scouting in a different direction, was missing the show. With Flipper galloping nearby, there wouldn't have been a show.

A moment later, both deer startled and ran into the woods. Norah turned to him with an expression of pure delight on her face. “Did you see them?”

“Yes.” He looked to his left as Flipper came loping out of a thick stand of trees. His dog wasn't known for his stealth. “That's who scared them off.”

Norah looked at Flipper, who dashed into the stream, spraying water in every direction. A herd of wildebeests would have kicked up less water. “Crazy mutt.”

He laughed as his purebred, AKC-registered dog plopped himself down in two feet of water. Flipper rested his chin on a rock and lay there, letting the water flow around him. He couldn't argue with Norah's assessment. “He's just hot.”

“If he'd stopped running around like an idiot, he wouldn't be hot.” Norah joined him by the tree and handed him the metal dishes she had just finished washing. “There, the breakfast dishes are done.”

“I told you I would do them.” He had been busy folding up their tent when she and the dirty dishes had disappeared. By the time they had awakened the second time, breakfast had been more like brunch.

“You cooked, so it was only fair that I clean up.” Norah reached up and quickly kissed him.

He couldn't grab her and hold the dishes. The little sneak. Norah knew exactly where her kisses would lead. The same place where her bathing in the stream this morning had led. Here he had thought he was prepared and optimistic by packing two condoms in his backpack. Thankfully, Norah had been a better Girl Scout than he had been a Boy Scout. The little minx.

Norah headed back to camp with Flipper at her heels. Not only had Norah slipped her way into his heart, but she had enslaved his dog as well. There was indeed something enchanting about his rose fairy.

He watched as she disappeared into the woods. For being such a little thing, she sure did pack a wallop. He had been wrong about Norah. It wasn't the physical size, strength, or bearing that mattered in a woman. The only thing that truly mattered was what was in her heart. Norah had given him her trust when they made love. It was the most precious gift he had received.

This morning in the clear, bright light of the shining sun, he had watched her eyes when they had made love down at the stream. He had read many emotions in their brilliant green depths—desire, need, laughter, and satisfaction. Not once did he glimpse the fear that had pulled at his heart. While he was thankful for that, he was still curious as to what had put that fear there in the first place.

While Norah had trusted him with her body, she still held a secret. A secret that he was afraid he had to know the answer to. His love for her demanded an answer, and then he was going to right whatever wrong had been done to her.

He knew he wasn't going to get the answer today. They had a long way to hike to get down the mountain. The good news was that it was all downhill. The bad news was that his truck was a good six hours away, and he already wanted her again. Backpacking off this mountain was going to be damn uncomfortable.

 

 

Karl James stood back and watched Joanna as she slowly walked around his workshop. He was as nervous as a turkey on Thanksgiving morning. Very few people had been allowed in his workshop, and he hadn't worried about any of their opinions. They hadn't mattered to him. Joanna's opinion mattered. It mattered more than he cared to think about.

Zsa Zsa, who was following in Joanna's footsteps, sniffed at a pile of wood chips and sneezed. At least, he thought it was a sneeze. With Zsa Zsa's high-pitched yelping, it was hard to tell. Maybe it was a hiccup. Sawdust was clinging to the Pomeranian's brown hair as she made her way in and out of some of the bigger pieces of wood.

Joanna seemed more interested in her surroundings than in her dog. It was a first. Usually Joanna babied Zsa Zsa. A sneeze would have at least prompted a phone call to the vet. He didn't know if he should take Joanna's intense curiosity as a good sign or a bad. He was fascinated by the expressions on her face as she studied some of the finished pieces and the two he was working on.

The way she worried her lower lip between her teeth drove him crazy. The way she kissed drove him crazier. He'd be fifty years old in September, and he'd never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Joanna. And that is what scared him.

He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that Joanna's secrets concerned her ex-husband and abuse. He'd seen the signs before. Joanna was just better at concealing them than most women. He was treading so carefully around her because he was afraid that he'd startle or scare her. It was like walking on eggshells and being constantly worried about what he might be cracking underneath his size ten sandals.

With all his contacts still in the FBI, he could pull in a favor or two and, within a matter of days, find out what had put the fear in Joanna's eyes. He couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't invade her privacy like that. Besides, something primitive down deep inside him needed her to be the one to tell him.

So he'd bide his time and pray he didn't smash too many eggshells.

This afternoon had been the perfect time to invite Joanna to see his workshop. Her daughter, Norah, was hiking with Ned Porter, and Joanna had the day off. Last night's late date had been short and frustrating. At least on his part. Joanna had seemed to enjoy the late night snack on her back porch after she had gotten home from work. He had supplied the food, while she'd supplied the good china and ice for the wine bucket.

They had had the house to themselves, yet he had left before the witching hour. Joanna hadn't been ready to take the next step in their growing relationship. He honestly didn't know if she ever would be. Time would tell, but if her kisses got any hotter, he didn't think he would be able to wait her out.

He glanced across the room to where Joanna was studying a piece he had just started this week. To the untrained eye, it wouldn't look like anything besides a six-foot tree trunk that someone had taken an ax to in a fit of rage. To the trained eye, it would look like a six-foot hunk of wood someone had taken an ax to. To him, he knew exactly what the tree was meant to be. What it was going to be. He couldn't resist asking, “Will you tell me what you see?”

Joanna gave him a fleeting smile before turning back to the marked up tree trunk. “I see that you've been busy and that Ethan is going to be very happy.” Joanna glanced around the barn before walking around the trunk, inspecting it from all sides. “Do you want an opinion on everything or just this one piece?”

“Whatever you want to comment on.” He loved to listen to her opinions. Joanna Stevens hadn't bored him yet, and that was saying something. He tended to get bored very easily with people. Twenty-five years in the agency did that to people.

He stood there and watched her study the piece of wood while nibbling on her lower lip. He liked how the sun was slanting in through the skylights, bathing Joanna in a crisp golden light. When he had refurbished the barn and made it into his studio four years ago, the skylights were the first thing he added. A top of the line heating system and lots of insulation were the second. Maine's winters were notoriously cold, and he wasn't fond of freezing.

If he hadn't met Norah, he would never have guessed Joanna was in her mid forties like she had claimed. He would have placed her in her late thirties, tops, and that was taking into consideration the few gray hairs he'd noticed. She was slim, beautiful, and classy. Today, she wore a khaki-colored skirt that almost reached her knees and a sleeveless black silk top. There were tan and black beads around her wrist and her throat. Her shoulder-length hair was twisted and pinned up, leaving her neck enticingly bare.

He had to wonder if Joanna was baiting him. She knew exactly how much he loved kissing that neck.

“It's a little cruder than your normal stuff.” Joanna circled the rough sculpture again.

“I would say.” He hadn't done anything more than chisel away at some of the bigger areas to give it more form in his mind. “Think Ethan could sell it?”

“If not, Christine's World of Art could probably get a fortune for it.”

“That's not even funny.” He shuddered at the thought of having a piece of his work surrounded by gaping pornographic mannequins wearing black leather and chains. “Have any idea what it might become?” He was curious about whether Joanna could see what he saw.

“It's a person.” Joanna picked up Zsa Zsa who was nuzzling her ankle. “First impression, female.”

“Why female?” He moved closer and tried to see the carving through Joanna's eyes. He couldn't. He was surprised she knew it was a person but honestly shocked she had guessed the correct gender. When he looked at the bare wood, he saw a magical creature he had named Elainna, Queen of the Meadows.

“The form.” Joanna hugged Zsa Zsa. “I get the impression of a lot of flowing. Flowing long dress. Flowing long hair.” She gave him a shy smile. “So, how far off am I?”

“Right on the money.” He moved closer and frowned at the splintered, barkless trunk. “Amazing.” He didn't know if he should be impressed by her imagination or afraid of it. “Are you sure you've never had any formal training?”

“None. The closest I ever got to the art world before moving to Maine was hanging Norah's pictures on the refrigerator and making colored Play-Doh one time at a Brownie meeting.”

“You were a Girl Scout leader?”

“No, I helped out at one Brownie meeting. Coordinating snack time I could do; it was the rest of the meeting I couldn't cope with. Someone had the bright idea to bring in live bugs and reptiles to use as models. Little Patty's lizard got loose and ate half the models before being corralled back into his cage.” Joanna shook her head at the memory. “It's a good thing Norah hated the outdoors and refused to join Girl Scouts the following year.”

“Norah hates the outdoors?” He led the way out of the studio and toward the house. “I thought she went camping and hiking with Ned Porter this weekend?”

“She did.” Joanna beamed. “Maybe she had a change of heart.”

“Or maybe Ned didn't know what he was getting into.” He chuckled at the thought. Ned Porter was the type of man who could survive in the woods for a month with nothing more than a pocketknife and the clothes on his back.

Joanna's soft laugh joined his.

They stepped out into the sunlight, and Joanna put Zsa Zsa down. He had invited Joanna for lunch, as well as a tour. While he didn't consider himself a gourmet cook, he did know how to make a mean turkey and cheese sandwich, if he did say so himself. “Are you ready for lunch?”

“Zsa Zsa's got to do her business.” Joanna looked at his house on the other side of the gravel driveway. “Why don't you go get things ready? We'll be in in a minute.”

He knew the neurotic Pomeranian didn't like to do her business when anyone but Joanna was around. “No problem; just walk right in.” He'd humor Zsa Zsa for Joanna's sake.

He gave her a quick kiss and headed for the house.

Joanna watched Karl walk away as Zsa Zsa sniffed around some trees. She couldn't believe she was here with Karl. Last night, after their romantic dinner on her back porch, he had helped her dry the dishes. She had never noticed how tiny the kitchen was until Karl had shared it. The third time they had bumped into each other, Karl had declared he couldn't stand it a minute longer and kissed her senseless.

Senseless had never been so wonderful. She could have kept on kissing Karl throughout the night. One small hesitation on her part, however, and Karl had politely called it an evening and left. The hesitation hadn't stemmed from uncertainty on her part. She was more than willing to allow Karl to spend the night. She just didn't know how to bring up the subject of protection. Pregnancy wasn't her concern, but there was a whole host of other things that had to be thought about and worried about before starting a sexual relationship with a man.

She might have had only one sexual partner in her life, but she hadn't been living under a rock. She watched the news. So how did a woman bring up such a delicate subject without sounding like a twenty dollar whore?

Joanna was frowning at Zsa Zsa, who still hadn't made up her mind if she needed to go or not, when a beat-up old pickup truck pulled into Karl's driveway.