Secrets & Seductions (6 page)

Fifteen young girls from the bus were ahead of them. A few of them chatted and giggled, one or two squirmed impatiently and the rest stood in silence with arms folded and their heads bowed.

Morgan had warned Emma that most of these kids had never been placed, for one reason or another. The rest were here because of disrupted adoptions, ones that hadn't worked out.

She couldn't imagine how awful it would feel to get sent back, no matter what the reason. After dealing with that kind of rejection, these kids weren't about to risk it again.

“Were you talking about Morgan?” Sarah asked, sticking her head around the open rest room door as she wiped her hands. “For an older guy, he's not bad.”

“Jeez, how old is he?” Emma asked with a lift of her eyebrows. Compared to these girls, she must, at twenty-seven, seem like Methuselah's sister.

Sarah shrugged her narrow shoulders. She was fashionably thin with streaked hair and a silver ring piercing one side of her nose. “He's not
ancient,
but I heard someone say that he's over thirty.”

“Good thing we all know CPR,” Emma quipped.

“That's for sure,” said a familiar masculine voice from behind them. “With some of us approaching senility, you never know when you'll need it.”

How much of their conversation had Morgan heard? As Emma's face began to burn with embarrassment, Sarah and Franny turned around and burst into giggles.

“You're not that old,” Sarah cooed as she made a point to look him up and down. “You've probably got a few miles left on you.”

Emma realized right then that she probably wasn't going to like Sarah very much. And Morgan looked totally different than he had at his office.

After seeing his banker attire of suit and tie, Emma would have guessed his idea of casual to be pleated khakis with a crease and a name-brand polo. Instead he wore old jeans and a faded USC T-shirt. She wondered if that was where he'd gone to school.

Even his expression appeared more relaxed as his sapphire eyes gleamed with humor. A dimple winked in one dark cheek.

Suddenly Emma recalled Ivy's comment.
What if…you end up falling for him?
That hadn't seemed like much of a threat, but now that he'd morphed into Personality Guy, she'd have to watch it.

The line moved forward as two young girls came out of the rest room. When they saw Morgan, they both blushed and started to giggle. One of them, who appeared to be about twelve, puffed out her flat chest, threw back her head and gave Morgan a look that could only be described as flirtatious.

His return smile was nearly paternal.

After the girls had walked back up the path, his gaze slid to Emma's. A muscle jumped in his cheek.

“Some of these kids will do just about anything for attention,” he muttered sadly. “It should make for an interesting session.”

She didn't want to know that he was compassionate and understanding, she thought sourly as she
traipsed after four of the younger girls to the picnic tables a few minutes later. It was far easier to see Morgan as a stuffy and unbending jerk.

Right now the jerk was handing out cups of juice to go with the sack lunches each of their charges was opening. He must have said something funny, because a few of the kids laughed. Heidi was grinning, and her husband slapped Morgan's shoulder.

Silently Emma agreed with him that it was going to be an interesting couple of weeks—but for different reasons than he thought.

“How are you doing so far?” Derrick asked, handing her a sack lunch. He was one of those ordinary-looking guys whose face lit up when he smiled. So far he'd smiled a lot.

“Fine, thanks,” Emma replied. She noticed that instead of claiming their own table, the adults were all sitting with the kids.

“Mind if I sit next to you?” she asked a little girl who seemed to be alone. “I'm Emma.”

The child looked up at her through glasses with thick lenses. A corner of the frame had been mended with tape, and a pink birthmark marred her cheek.

“Sure,” she said with a shy smile as she slid over to make room. “My name is Emily.”

Morgan handed each of them a cup of apple juice. He leaned down and winked at Emily.

“Keep an eye on her,” he whispered, indicating
Emma with his thumb. “She looks like the type who would grab your sandwich when you're not looking.”

Emily giggled as she studied Emma. “I think she's pretty.”

“So do I,” Morgan whispered loudly, eliciting more giggles from Emily and a blush from Emma.

Between bites of the PB&J sandwich, Emma managed to introduce Emily to another girl who was sitting across from them. Petie jabbered like a magpie, but by the time she and Emily had finished their carrot sticks and cookies, a friendship was beginning to form. Emma hoped she wouldn't drop Emily as soon as she found other friends.

“That was nicely done,” Morgan commented as Emma helped to make sure everyone took their trash to the receptacles.

“I do have a little experience with kids,” she reminded him. “Grade school's my specialty.”

Did the man miss nothing? He hadn't even been seated at their table. “Do you have eyes in the back of your head?” she couldn't resist asking him.

Again his dimple flashed when he grinned. “That's what some of the kids think,” he drawled, “but I'll never tell.”

“Morgan!” shouted the man driving the bus, jabbing a finger at his watch. “Time to head out.”

 

Upon arrival at Camp Baxter, Emma helped out wherever she was needed, which seemed to be every
where at once. Despite the obvious organization, there was a lot to accomplish before dark.

Assignment sheets and daily schedules were passed out to the staff. After the kids were divided among five cabins according to age and sex, the names of secret pals were distributed. The salad, chili and pans of cornbread prepared by Cookie were consumed down to the last crumb and kidney bean. As darkness fell, everyone sat around the fire pit for a sing-along and marshmallow roast.

Emma sat next to Petie and Emily, directly across from Morgan. After his welcoming speech, he surprised her with a string of corny jokes that destroyed the last bits of the image she'd had of him. They cracked some of the remaining ice in the group, too.

In the firelight he was so attractive when he grinned at Emma that she had to look away. After that, she was careful to watch everyone else except him.

Heidi and Derrick led the group in singing a couple of the silly songs, which provided a good diversion for Emma. The campfire songs reminded Emma of her Girl Scout troop. When the leader quit, Sally Wright had stepped in, despite having no experience, so the girls could stay together. Had Emma ever thanked her for that?

By the time she crawled into the sleeping bag on her cot that night, she was exhausted. The main lodge was a rather primitive log structure with plumbing facilities and a phone line, but no electricity. In Emma's eyes,
her tiny private room was still infinitely better than bunking with a cabin full of hyperexcited young campers.

Franny and Sarah each slept with a group of girls. Jeff, along with the bus driver, whose name was Frank, and Mohammed, who had ridden up with the cook, were in charge of the boys. Morgan and Cookie each had rooms at the lodge. Heidi and Derrick shared, of course.

Although Emma had been warned about early reveille in the morning, she had trouble falling asleep. She tried thinking about her duties the next day, conducting craft projects, helping in the kitchen and making herself available in case anyone wanted to talk. Despite her best efforts, her mind, like a boomerang, kept returning to Morgan and his transformation.

She could see him as he acted out the words to “The Wheels on the Bus” at the campfire. His clowning had caught her by surprise.

Which was the real Morgan Davis—the stuffy director in the gray suit or the unselfconscious camp leader whose goal was to bring smiles to a circle of children? Emma's last thought before she finally drifted off to sleep was that getting to know him might be more interesting than she'd originally thought.

 

Everett felt as though everyone in the hospital cafeteria was staring at him as he stood in front of the vending machine looking for an empty table. His
hands were damp with perspiration and he worried about dropping his tray.

He had done that once. It made a huge noise when it hit the floor, splattering his soup across the vinyl. For two weeks afterward, Everett had brought a sack lunch to work and eaten alone at his desk. Now he was careful to hold his tray tightly and not bump into anyone.

He'd thought the pretty nurse, Nancy Allen, might be here. He'd been working so hard that he had lost track of the time and now it was late enough for the lunch rush to be over.

A cafeteria worker was wiping off the empty tables. Employees were supposed to bus their own dishes, but not everyone did. Everett found that annoying. Rules were made for a reason. If no one followed them, there would be chaos.

Disappointed that he had missed seeing Nancy, he ignored the view from tall windows that opened onto the meditation garden. Instead he set his tray down on a clean table facing the doorway. He probably should have e-mailed her, but he didn't want to come across as pushy in case she was only being polite. She seemed to like him, but maybe she didn't want to hurt his feelings.

He stared down at the food in front of him. Lasagna was served every Thursday and he always selected it, just as he always had chicken on Mondays. Routine made him comfortable. He didn't
like surprises. A person couldn't prepare for things if he didn't know what was going to happen.

Feeling a little anxious, Everett arranged the plates of food in front of him. Once they were the way he liked, he opened the book he'd brought with him and began to eat. He was halfway through his lasagna when the sound of voices distracted him from the mystery he was reading.

He lifted his head, immediately recognizing the tall woman who came in with a small group of people. She looked elegant in a slim black suit that turned her red-gold hair to fire. For a moment, pride filled Everett, but it was quickly replaced by mingled sadness and regret.

Glancing down at the food he no longer wanted, he wished he could escape. To do so in the nearly empty room would draw unwanted attention to him, so he stayed where he was.

“Coffees all around?” asked a young man with the group. He wore a navy-blue suit and a tie, but Everett didn't recognize him.

“Tea for me, please,” the woman, Leslie Logan, replied as another man held out her chair.

Everett was pleased that she sat where he could see her face. When she talked, she gestured gracefully with her hands. Once, she touched the pearls around her neck, making him wonder if they were a gift from her husband, Terrence. Everett liked the idea that he would give her presents to show his love.

The young man returned to the table with a tray of mugs. When he set down Leslie's tea, she smiled and thanked him. She always knew what to say and how to act. If things had been different, Everett, too, would have been raised to know exactly how to behave in every situation.

As if Leslie sensed his gaze on her, she looked right at him. When she smiled and waved, he thought his heart would stop. Did she somehow recognize him? He would have remembered her coming into his department.

He was halfway to his feet when he realized what he was doing. She was just being nice because she'd seen him gawking at her. Quickly he crouched down as though he had dropped something on the floor. When he straightened again, she had turned away, forgetting all about him.

Tears stung Everett's eyes as he stabbed his fork into the lukewarm lasagna and took a bite. It nearly made him gag, but he forced himself to chew and swallow. After he had blotted his mouth with a napkin, he pushed his tray to one side and picked up his book. He pretended to read it so that no one would think he sat alone because he had no friends.

The group of people talked and drank their coffee while he sat there turning pages. Other people came and went. An old man with glasses and thinning hair mopped the floor in the far corner with big slow circles.

After a few minutes Leslie laughed and the sound was like music. Everett closed his eyes and pretended she was laughing because he had said something to her that was really, really clever. When he opened his eyes again, her group was walking out the door. The man holding it open smiled down at her when she went past him.

Everett wished he could talk to Nancy about her, but he knew that wasn't possible. Nancy would never understand. The only one who might understand how he felt was Charlie, because he was Everett's friend.

M
organ sat in the camp office, absently listening to the hoot of an owl. The first week of camp was nearly over and it had gone as smoothly as anything did involving nearly thirty children, many of whom were troubled.

The different groups came together to salute the flag each morning before breakfast. They took nature walks geared to their particular age group, made handprints out of clay, went rafting on the lake and performed original skits at the nightly campfire. They played tag, softball and soccer.

Jeff and Derrick had dealt with skinned knees, blisters, insect bites, scratches and a sprained wrist.
Morgan had mediated a couple of quarrels and meted out extra chores for minor rule infractions.

His temporary office consisted of borrowed space in the lodge. It contained a scarred wood desk, two chairs, one of which wobbled on unsteady legs, and a file cabinet. Brief histories on each camper were kept in its one locking drawer.

Morgan did paperwork by lantern light. Someday, he thought, he'd probably go blind from the strain, but watching the changes taking place in his charges was easily worth the sacrifice. The smiles and sounds of laughter kept him coming back every year.

He sealed an envelope, stuck a stamp on the front and thought about calling his parents. After their recent visit to Portland, they'd gone home via Highway 101 down the Oregon coast.

He glanced at his watch, surprised at the time. His parents turned in early and rose with the dawn for an early walk, so maybe he'd call tomorrow instead.

Pushing back his chair, he stretched his arms overhead to ease the kinks. In the morning he was taking the older boys on a hike. If he was lucky, none of them would try sneaking a smoke. Summer forest fires were always a danger. Camp rules about contraband were strictly enforced, bags searched upon arrival and violators sent home early. Despite every precaution, the stuff still found its way in. Kids thought they could outwit the grown-ups.

Morgan got to his feet and bent from the waist,
letting his arms hang limp. As the blood rushed to his head, he peered between his bare legs and saw two feet in sturdy shoes appear in the doorway.

“You busy?” asked a familiar female voice.

“Just hanging around,” he quipped before straightening back up and turning around. His face felt hot.

“Ha ha,” Emma said dryly, but at least she smiled.

“Come on in,” he invited, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

He was pleased with the job she'd been doing. Not only did she appear to fit in easily with the other adults, but her warm manner seemed to endear her to many of the children, as well. She had brought up a few of her concerns during staff meetings, but this was the first time she had sought Morgan out alone.

“Am I interrupting?” She held up two mugs. “I brought you some decaf, black with one sugar.”

She handed it to him as he pulled out a chair.

“I've just finished,” he replied, flattered that she had noticed his preference. “Have a seat.”

For a moment they studied each other silently as they blew on their steaming mugs. There was a line he didn't cross when it came to female co-workers, either here or at the agency, but the tug of attraction he felt toward Emma was persistent despite his attempts to ignore it.

He couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking.

“Have you gotten anywhere with Heather?” he asked. The young teen's file indicated that a temporary placement had recently gone sour and she'd been sent back into foster care. Emma was concerned that she might be anorexic.

“She doesn't eat much,” Emma replied. “I know it's the style to be thin, but she seems so withdrawn. Franny's keeping an eye on her, but I'm thinking about sending a report to Heather's caseworker when we get back. I'm not an expert, though. What do you think?”

“That would be appropriate,” Morgan replied.

Despite her obvious concern, Emma's eyes glowed with enthusiasm when she talked about a couple of the other campers. “Emily and Petie seem to have bonded. Petie makes friends easily and she draws shy Emily along with her.”

“I'm glad you came with us this year,” Morgan blurted, trying not to stare at her soft lips. Realizing that she might take his remark personally, he quickly added, “You're great with the kids and you work hard.”

“Thanks, boss,” she replied, smiling widely as though they were sharing a joke. “Sounds like I can count on you for a good recommendation.”

“Is that why you're here?” he asked, sipping his decaf. “It can't be merely for the generous salary and the employee benefits.”

She set down her coffee with a considering expression. “It pays better than the video store where
I was working and I thought it would be a terrific addition to my résumé,” she reminded him after a moment.

Morgan ignored the whisper of disappointment. What had he expected her to say? And what would she do if he leaned forward and kissed that satiny mouth? If she didn't pull away, would it be because she liked him or because he was the boss and she had no choice?

“Any job leads?” he asked.

She shook her head with a rueful expression. “All the school districts seem to be facing budget constraints, but something will come up.” Sitting back, she pushed at her hair with both hands. The motion emphasized the shape of her breasts in the gray Husky T-shirt.

He wanted to ask if she'd gone to the University of Washington, but figured it would make her aware of the direction of his gaze. Instead he dragged it back to her face.

He noticed a smile playing at the corners of her full mouth. Was she flirting? He would have to be more careful to hide his own attraction. After everything she had been through, she must feel vulnerable. He would never take advantage.

“I think it's really wonderful what you're doing here,” she said. “It's nice to see someone taking the time to make a difference.”

The part of him struggling to overcome his desire
to pull Emma into his arms ached for her to see him as a dynamic and desirable male rather than a kindly scout leader. “It's a group effort,” he reminded her. “The Logans have been especially supportive.”

“Well, it's great.” Emma glanced at her watch and shot to her feet. “I'd better let you finish up,” she said, her cheeks pink. “I didn't mean to keep you so long.”

“I appreciate the decaf,” he said, holding up his empty cup as he, too, stood up. “Was there something else you wanted to discuss?”

The play of the lantern light against her face cast a soft glow on her exquisite bone structure while the shadows turned her eyes to mysterious pools. He felt a jolt of regret that he must not act on his attraction, but he quickly brushed it aside. As long as they were here at the camp, his hands were tied. But afterward he might see whether she returned his interest.

“I'll see you in the morning,” Emma replied, her warm smile restored as she reached out for his mug. “I'll wash these out.”

“Thanks again,” he replied as she turned away.

He listened as her footsteps grew fainter. Without her presence in the office, the light seemed to have dimmed and the air felt chillier.

Morgan scrubbed a hand over his face. He was getting fanciful, but tomorrow he would need his wits for the hike. The older boys were always a challenge, one that would surely take his mind off Emma.

 

As Emma supervised some of the younger boys who were seated at an outdoor table doing leather crafts, she kept thinking about Morgan. For the last few days she had made every excuse to seek him out. Franny and Sarah had begun to tease her, and she'd noticed Jeff elbow him last night as the campfire broke up and she approached Morgan with a question.

The other staff members were protective of their leader, but none of them suspected the real motive behind Emma's pursuit. The better she got to know Morgan, the more difficult it became to stick to her plan. Not only was he physically attractive, but he seemed to be a genuinely terrific guy. Too nice for what she had in mind, she thought with a sigh. Giving up wasn't an option, so what choice did she have but to proceed?

“Emma, am I doing this right?” asked a little boy named Carl, distracting her.

She looked down at the wallet he was making as a gift for his secret buddy at the end of the session. The two pieces of leather were laced up incorrectly. She should have been paying closer attention, but the mistake could be corrected.

“I think we need to undo this part,” she said after she'd studied the wallet for a minute.

“I've ruined it!” he cried dramatically. “I knew I couldn't do it right.”

The other boys looked on with interest as Carl
stamped his foot. His eyes filled with tears and his face flushed dark red.

Emma immediately squatted down so she was at eye level with the little boy. Carl and his younger brother had been split up a few months before when a couple opted to adopt only one of them. Even though Carl insisted that he understood why he had been left behind, he'd been acting out ever since. His foster parents were at their wits' end, hoping this break would be good for all three of them.

“The wallet's not ruined,” Emma said softly as she pulled out the vinyl laces. “I'll show you what to do, okay? The stitches were nice and even. You're doing a good job, see?”

It was hard to keep herself from scooping him into a hug, but she didn't want to embarrass him further in front of the other boys. She contented herself with a grin and a wink.

In a few moments she had undone the stitching and shown him where he went wrong. As soon as he sat down with a gusty sigh and went back to work, she checked on the progress of the other wallets and key cases.

The sunny weather had been perfect all week, more comfortable than the muggy heat wave back in Portland. Ivy had complained about it when Emma had called last night to make sure her cat wasn't pining away. After lecturing Emma about not doing anything foolish, Ivy reassured her that Posy was fine.

As Emma sat at the table with the boys in her craft class, she tipped back her head and looked at the intensely blue sky through the tops of trees. The straight trunks of the Douglas firs seemed to go up for miles.

“Look,” she said to Carl as she pointed. “I'll bet that's a hawk perched on that dead spar tree.”

“Yesterday we saw a pair of bald eagles,” he told her excitedly. “Jeff took us on a nature walk around the lake. He said eagles were endangered, but they're coming back and that you can always recognize them by their white heads.”

“We saw some deer tracks, too,” added one of the other boys.

“And rabbit poop!” shouted a third, which of course sent them all into paroxysms of laughter and made Emma smile.

“Did you see any wildflowers?” she asked with an innocent expression.

“Flowers! No way!” two of them exclaimed in unison.

For a few minutes Emma asked them more about the various birds, animals and plants they had seen. The sun warmed her bare arms as an intermittent breeze blew through the dry trees.

The sound of Morgan's voice in the distance alerted Emma that he was back from town. She ignored the flutter of anticipation she felt.

A little while later, he appeared on the path from the lodge wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap.

“How's Mohammed?” Emma called out.

At the sound of her voice, Morgan changed direction. Perhaps it was her imagination, but his expression behind the tinted lenses seemed to brighten as he came over to the table.

“Mo needed a few stitches, but he'll be fine,” Morgan said, removing his shades as he glanced at the boys with her. “I suppose everyone heard what happened.”

“It was the hot topic at breakfast,” Emma replied. “Derrick said he sliced open his hand while he was helping Cookie. Derrick bandaged the cut, but he thought it needed stitches.”

“Did he bleed in the food?” Carl asked.

“Only yours,” Emma told him, laughing.

“We wanted to make sure that Mo hadn't damaged any tendons,” Morgan explained. “I drove him to the walk-in clinic in Sisters. It's about fifteen miles from here.”

Some of the others had talked about the town one night at the campfire. Emma remembered someone saying that it had a quaint western ambience.

“Did they use regular thread to sew him up?” asked one of the boys she was helping.

“That's gross!” exclaimed another. “Do you think he'll let us see it?”

“I guess you'll have to ask Mo about all that later,” Morgan replied, folding his arms across his wide chest. “He came back with me, but right now he's resting.”

Morgan wore baggy gray shorts and a royal-blue polo shirt that matched his eyes. His muscular legs had the same golden tan as his face and arms.

After seeing him dressed this way for more than a week, it was getting more difficult for Emma to conjure up the image from her first meeting with his alter ego in the suit and tie.

Her frustration at that meeting was much easier for her to recall. When she thought about him, which seemed to be most of the time, that frustration was what she needed to remember—not how great he looked.

While the boys continued to hash over the idea of getting their skin pierced with a sewing needle, Morgan switched his attention to Emma.

“There's something I need to discuss with you,” he said, flashing his white teeth. “Think you could leave these ruffians alone for a minute?”

Her heart began to thump as she got up from the table. “Sure, I g-guess so,” she stammered.

Her physical attraction to him was as unwanted as it was unexpected. She had to stay focused. With a slight feeling of trepidation, she followed him as he put several feet between them and the table.

“Is there a problem?” she asked, glancing down at the ground, covered with dry needles. “Something I've done wrong?”

“What? Oh, no, not at all. You've been doing a terrific job.” Morgan must have seen the concern on her
face, because he gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. “Especially for a city slicker,” he added teasingly.