Secrets & Seductions (8 page)

Maybe Everett would invite them over to the new
place he was going to have one day soon, but only if they were nice to him. Like Bob and Nancy.

 

As hard as he tried, Morgan wasn't able to concentrate on the packet of office mail spread before him on his desk. Jeff had brought it back with him from the post office in Sisters this morning, along with the fresh produce for the rest of the week.

Morgan's thoughts kept straying back to Emma and their conversation down by the lake the night before. He didn't consider himself to be especially vain, but he could usually tell when a woman was interested.

While they were here, she was off-limits, he reminded himself with a sigh of disappointment. His father had taught him about ethical conduct. There were some things a person just didn't do. Getting involved with a co-worker, especially a subordinate, was one of them. Having a personal relationship with a client was another. The camp session might be temporary, but Emma's connection to the agency where Morgan worked was not.

He was relieved that she seemed to have given up on her quest for information about her birth parents. There was no reason for her to ever know that she was the product of a brief affair between a married senator and his intern. The man would never jeopardize his political career or his marriage by acknowledging the baby he'd fathered out of wedlock. Nor would the
intern, who had been handsomely paid for her silence, and who still worked in D.C.

Morgan wished he could ask his father's advice about taking Emma with him tomorrow, but he knew what the doctor would say.
The appearance of impropriety is no less damaging to one's reputation than the act of impropriety itself.

Morgan would never do anything to jeopardize the agency's reputation, but neither would he want to discourage someone's budding interest in nature and the outdoors. Propping both elbows on his desk, he rested his chin in his hands and stared out the window. For a man used to making decisions, he was certainly waffling on this one!

 

During her free period, Emma sat at a table on the back porch of the lodge and finished writing her comments about the girl she had originally thought might have an eating disorder. To Emma's relief, Heather's appetite appeared to be fine, nor had Emma seen her sneak off by herself after meals.

Heather had made a couple of friends in her cabin, called Hip Hop, and she participated in the activities. Maybe she was just naturally thin, but Emma didn't have the training to evaluate her further.

Heather's file was the last one that needed updating. When Emma was finished, she closed the folder with a sigh of relief. She missed her computer, but she had a little while to enjoy the solitude before
it was time to assist Sarah's girls with a jewelry-making project.

Emma stared at the line of raw mountain peaks jutting above the trees. They reminded her of boulders that had been set in place by giant hands. There were still a couple of patches of dirty snow at the highest elevations.

The days were flying by. Before she knew it, the session would be over and with it her last opportunity to influence Morgan. She had to persuade him to take her with him tomorrow.

At breakfast this morning he had seemed distant. She'd overheard him saying that he and Derrick, who was a certified lifeguard, were going to take the little boys out in the boats for a picnic lunch on the far shore. They would be gone until late in the afternoon.

During her free period, Emma welcomed the break from keeping a constant smile plastered on her face. Was twenty-seven too old to be homesick? She missed Posy, and she missed her friends. What few she had left.

In truth, Emma also missed the Wrights, although she would never admit it. She wondered whether they were still leaving messages on her machine or if they had finally given up.

Had they said anything to Emma's aunt and uncle in Spokane? Her cousins in Boise and Medford? What did any of them think, or had everyone on both sides
of the family always known about Emma's adoption? Had no one felt that she had a right to be told?

She was sitting with her feet propped on the porch rail and her eyes closed when she heard footsteps behind her. Perhaps one of the other women had a break, too.

“So this is where you hide when you want to goof off.”

Morgan walked around in front of her as she put her feet down. His cheeks were flushed below the brim of his Mariner's cap, and a rivulet of perspiration trickled down the side of his neck. Since their arrival over a week before, his tanned arms and legs had deepened to bronze.

“Warm out?” she asked. Her chair was in the shade.

Removing his cap, he wiped his forehead with one muscular forearm.

“The lake's nice, but rowing back was hot work.”

“Maybe you should have jumped in,” she suggested teasingly.

The memory of seeing him in swim trunks during the inner-tube races, his body surprisingly athletic, made her mouth go dry.

He didn't return her smile. “We'll leave after breakfast tomorrow for Johnson Lake,” he said. “Plan on being gone most of the day.”

As soon as the meaning behind his words sank in, Emma leaped to her feet. “Oh, thank you!”

He took a step back, his expression wary and his arm extended, palm out, as though to ward her off. “No problem.”

She would have liked to ask why he'd changed his mind, but he didn't give her the chance. After she watched him walk away, she made a list of the few things she needed in her day pack.

The rest of the day seemed to drag, despite her kitchen duties and craft classes. That evening after the campfire with its usual skits and songs, she left Morgan alone. She was afraid of saying something that might change his mind.

“How did you talk our fearless leader into taking you with him tomorrow?” Sarah demanded when she caught up with Emma on the path back to the cabins. “That's like a pilgrimage for him or something. He always goes alone.”

“Not always,” Emma replied. “I told him I've never seen an Alpine meadow before, so he wanted to show me one.”

Emma suspected Franny of having a secret crush on Morgan, but Sarah had a boyfriend back in Woodburn. She talked about him all the time, making no secret of how much she missed him. He was supposed to have come to camp with Sarah, but apparently he couldn't get the time off from his job at the outlet mall. He worked there during summer break from OSU, where the two of them were students.

“I think Morgan likes you,” Sarah whispered. “As
far as I know, he's never taken anyone else with him. The wildflowers are probably an excuse, like showing you his etchings or something.”

Emma ignored the sudden jump in her pulse. “I think you're wrong. We're just friends. Once the camp session is over, we'll go our separate ways.”

Sarah laughed knowingly. “I understand perfectly,” she said with a wink.

Emma didn't bother to argue, but it took her a long time to fall asleep that night. It seemed that as soon as she finally drifted off, reveille sounded.

She didn't see Morgan at breakfast. From across the table, Derrick handed her a note with her name scrawled across the outside.

“From the boss,” he said, and her heart plunged down to her toes.

The staffers who weren't assigned to meals with the children all stared as Emma unfolded the piece of paper and silently read the bold handwriting.

Figuring the news would get around soon enough, she recited the contents aloud.

“That must be the owner of the fancy SUV in the parking lot,” Heidi exclaimed. “Whoever they are, I hope they write a big fat check.”

Everyone laughed and then they resumed eating.
Emma moved her scrambled eggs around on her plate while she willed her stomach to calm down. Waiting several more hours wasn't going to be easy, but at least he hadn't canceled on her altogether.

 

Morgan set a steady pace that Emma had no trouble maintaining as she followed him through the trees that afternoon. The silence around them was calming; even their footsteps were muffled by the bed of needles that cushioned the path.

“You could be a professional guide,” she said after he had pointed out a maidenhair fern with a thin black stem that looked like wire and frothy green leaves. “Is there anything you don't know about this area?”

“I'm far from an expert,” he replied, stopping to take a swig from his water bottle. He tipped back his head, his throat muscles rippling as he swallowed.

Emma could have watched him all day, but instead she tore her gaze away before he noticed her gawking like a groupie.

“What's that?” she asked, spotting a small white flower sticking up from the needles. Its nearly translucent petals looked as though they had been carved from wax. “Is it real?”

“That's Indian pipe.” He squatted down by the odd little specimen that grew next to a fallen log. His thigh muscles bulged. “Also called ice plant, ghost plant. Its official name is
Monotropa uniflora.
”

“See what I mean?” she said with a laugh as she, too, bent down for a closer look. “I'm impressed, Mr. Davis. You're a walking encyclopedia.”

The odd little plant was pure white, but a few nearby stalks had shriveled and turned black.

“Blame it on five years of dealing with kids and their inquisitive minds,” Morgan drawled as he straightened back up and adjusted his pack. “Ready to move on?”

As they walked, their footsteps were nearly silent. The bright sunlight was filtered by the canopy of treetops far overhead, making the temperature pleasantly cool. The trunks of the fir trees were remarkably straight, the bark gray and rough.

Green moss, some of it as shaggy as a feather boa, covered the northern sides of the trees and scattered boulders. Growing through the moss was a type of fungus that looked like shelves, some gray and a smaller kind in a vibrant shade of orange.

Several varieties of ferns were scattered around in clumps, as were Oregon grape bushes with their inedible berries. Various sizes and shapes of toadstools sprouted around the fallen, rotting logs.

Eventually the trees began to thin out and the light was brighter. Sparse patches of grass appeared and the air became warmer.

Taking several breaks, they walked at an easy pace for nearly three hours. Most of it was up a
gradual but steady incline. Ahead of them, the path curved around the base of a huge cedar tree and then disappeared over the next rise.

“Are you doing okay?” Morgan asked after he'd stopped to drink some water.

“I'm fine.” Emma wouldn't have complained if her feet were falling off, but she hoped their destination was near. Her pack was getting heavy and she had been too excited to eat much lunch. Her stomach was starting to growl.

The trail widened, allowing them to walk side by side as they approached a small structure. Its sharply slanted roof was covered with moss and fir needles, its wood siding weathered to a pewter color.

“Here's the Hilton,” Morgan quipped as they walked by. “Not that we'll be spending the night.”

Emma hardly glanced at the building.

“Oh,” she gasped softly as she cleared the top of the hill. Spread out before them was the meadow he had told her about. It was carpeted with grass and wildflowers. At the center of the clearing was a small sapphire-blue body of water.

“That's Johnson Lake,” Morgan said as he stood beside her. “Pretty, isn't it?”

The lake and meadow were surrounded by tree-covered mountains. Towering in the distance was a row of bare, jagged peaks that appeared to be hewn from solid granite.

“I had no idea what it would feel like to be so
close to the Cascade Range.” Emma was totally sincere. “It takes my breath away.”

 

Her reaction to the wild beauty was everything Morgan had hoped it might be. The sight moved him every time he came here.

“You aren't disappointed?” he probed.

She looked up at him with an expression of amazement. “Are you kidding? I was bowled over by the scenery on the drive up to camp, but this is truly incredible.” She surprised him by grabbing his hand. “Thank you so much for bringing me with you.”

As he studied her upturned face, glowing with enthusiasm, sparkling with life, he couldn't remember when he had ever seen anything so lovely. He swayed closer, but the instant he realized what he was about to do, he jerked back, his cheeks flaming.

“Let's eat.” He wondered if she had noticed his impulsive movement. “I'm starving.”

When he had the nerve to glance her way again, he could see that her face had turned pink as she gazed at their surroundings. He had probably embarrassed her.

“Where's the best place to sit?” she asked brightly without meeting his gaze.

He didn't want her experience to be tainted by concern over what he might have in mind by bringing her here. He had to clear the air.

“Emma,” he said softly as she turned in a wide cir
cle with her arms flung out like Julie Andrews in
The Sound of Music.
“I'm sorry.”

Emma whipped her head around as the sunlight shimmered in the waves of her hair. “Don't be.” She came right up to him, so their bodies were nearly touching.

“Aren't you attracted to me?” she asked.

Morgan didn't consider himself a green kid who got easily tongue-tied when a woman hit on him. Despite a fair amount of experience in the singles scene, he was still surprised by Emma's bold question.

“My feelings don't matter,” he finally croaked. “Acting on them would be inappropriate.”

His answer must have pleased her, because her full lips curved into a smile. In response, his own awareness ratcheted up a couple hundred notches. Just what he needed while they were alone in the wilderness.

“I'll take that as a yes,” she drawled, giving him a wink.