Far North: Hide Your Heart Part 9

Drew turned back to her, his expression that of a defense lawyer resting his case. "Told ya. Nate's like Superman, he can fight battles and stop Daddy ever hurting you again."

Her core body temperature plummeted, the heat staining her cheeks moments ago draining to icy sludge.

"That's right, kid. No one'll hurt your mum while I'm around." Nate stood, his chair skidding backward.

The men exchanged glances, and then Nate's gaze collided with hers.

"I'm going back to work," he said.

"But your coffee-" She held out the mug, tongue glued to the roof of her mouth, because honestly, what could she say to make herself look less of a coward?

"I'll take it with me."

As she transferred the mug into his hand, Lauren's fingertips brushed his, and the little jolt that zipped along her nerve endings made a liar out of her just-friends plan.

"Invoice me for a week's board, and I'll transfer the funds into your account tonight." His brusque tone doused the tingles running up her arm.

"Daylight's wasting," he said to Todd.

With a nod in her direction and a quick ruffle of Drew's hair, Nate strode out her back door.

Had she been railroaded into having an unwanted houseguest? A sneaked glance at Todd's speculative stare stiffened her spine. Of course not. n.o.body made her do anything she didn't want to do.

At least, not anymore.

The next day, the devil on Nate's shoulder suggested, "Why don't you take a break? Grab your camera."

He and Todd had worked their b.u.t.ts off that morning, nailing down waterproof lining in preparation for the new roofing iron. Lauren arrived to finish clearing the driveway, as Todd drove off to buy more supplies. And after the second time he'd narrowly avoided flattening his thumb while trying to catch a glimpse of her chain-sawing, taking a short break seemed wise.

He jogged to his car, where his battered camera remained hidden under the seat. His fingers itched to slide over its smooth, curved sides. Other than a couple of quick, work-in-progress shots, he hadn't taken any photos since his arrival.

So, he'd take fifteen minutes, twenty, max. He flipped the case open, lifted the camera out and slipped the strap over his head. More familiar, more intimate than a lover's arms, the weight settled around his neck. "Come on baby, let's see what's out here in nowhere land."

The chainsaw's buzz ratcheted down, and Lauren, surrounded by bright yellow blooms of gorse, pulled off her safety goggles. The sight extracted every last molecule of air from his lungs. He instinctively lifted the camera to his eye, framed and shot two close-ups before she'd time to wipe her brow. His body reacted as his gaze dropped from the long line of her neck, to the graceful arc of her back as she stretched.

Quit it, you voyeur.

He shouldn't look or even think about her that way. No matter how attractive she was, he didn't have the time or inclination to unravel all of Lauren's hidden complications.

Nate strode away, concentrating on the abundance of flora and fauna around his property. After ten minutes spent in fascination with the spiral of an unfurled fern and the zigzagging flight of a plump kerer, he circled back to his car, where Lauren still attacked the scrub. The sight of her framed in his viewfinder was an addictive lure he couldn't resist.

Portrait. Lauren's full lips pressed together in concentration, the curve of her cheekbone below the protective goggles. He swiveled the camera. Landscape. Lauren with the chainsaw raised, blade biting into a sapling. Zoom. Lauren's face front on, her gaze hurling daggers through the lens.

s.h.i.t and h.e.l.lfire. Busted.

He lowered the camera as the chainsaw motor died. She stalked over with murder written in every furious pulse of her body. She stopped right in front of him, hauled off her goggles and ear protectors and dropped them.

"Why are you taking photos of me?"

His shoulder tipped forward. "You're beautiful." Especially when you're angry. But he'd enough wisdom to keep that opinion to himself.

She ignored the compliment and bared her teeth. "You've no right to take my picture without permission."

"Once a camera's in my hand, I've every right to capture what's in front of me."

She made a noise low in her throat, which sounded suspiciously like a growl, and jabbed a finger into his chest. "The h.e.l.l you have."

Under the flush of temper, a smattering of freckles stood in stark relief against her skin, and the worry lines on her forehead were more p.r.o.nounced. Curious. Did the scar make her camera shy? Nothing about her face, scar or otherwise, detracted from her natural loveliness. She ought to have a gallery of photographs dedicated to her.

A hummingbird flicker in his memory banks whispered then streaked away as she touched his camera.

"Delete them."

He jerked it out of her grasp. "Hey, expensive equipment here; hands off."

Lauren's glare was keener than the chainsaw's blade. "Delete, those, photos."

Holding out a warning finger, he showed her the small camera screen and pressed play. The last image he'd shot appeared.

She glowered. "Delete."

He pressed a b.u.t.ton and the image disappeared, then he did the same with the second and third photo. He scrolled through another dozen photos of birds and plants, careful to stop before the first picture he'd taken of her. No logical explanation for it, he just couldn't destroy them all.

The deadly gleam faded from her eyes and she dismissed him with a wave. "Fine. Carry on, but don't take any more photos of me."

He unhooked the camera from around his neck and placed it on the Range Rover's roof. "Why not?"

"A lot of women don't like being photographed if they're sweaty and disheveled." Her arms crossed snug under her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"I don't believe it's that, and, at the risk of repeating myself"-he closed the gap, stepping way into her personal s.p.a.ce-"you're beautiful, sweaty or not."

Her upturned eyes widened, darting sideways as if she sought an escape route. Her tongue peeped out between sealed lips, and the afternoon sun highlighted the tremor of a pale blue vein in her neck. His gaze dropped. If she inhaled any more deeply, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s would meet his chest. The puff of her warm breath misted on his collarbone, and his hands flexed, burning with the desire to drag her flush against him.

"Step back, Nate. You're crowding me."

b.a.l.l.sy and beautiful. The male predator in him fought for control, aware of what the woman in front of him may've endured but equally aware of the magnetic s.e.xual pull of her body swaying toward his. "Not this time."

A breeze, warm and fragrant with the scent of her, flared into his nose, wrapped around his resistance and suffocated it. "I want to kiss you."

"No." A soft gasp, her hands unfolding quickly to brace against his chest. "No, you can't."

His palms trailed up her bare arms in a caress that sent shivers down his back. Lauren's eyes blazed hazel fire, but she didn't step away, though he did nothing to restrain her. Instead, her nails sc.r.a.ped across his shirt as her fingers curled into fists.

"Then you decide." He wrapped his hands lightly around her upper arms. "Either hit me or kiss me. Those are your options."

Could her body be any more traitorous?

Gooey mush. That's what Lauren's mind dissolved into. All logical thoughts vanished when Nate brushed those work-roughened hands along her skin, and her body-her traitorous body-arched toward his without consent.

Kiss him or hit him?

Her fingers flexed tighter on the sun-hot expanse of cotton across his chest. The rapid thunder of his heartbeat thrummed against her knuckles.

Yeah, she wanted to hit him, but dammit-she wanted to kiss him more.

"Can I do both?" The unfamiliar shot of l.u.s.t-tinged huskiness in her voice p.r.i.c.kled her scalp.

A glimmer of straight, white teeth. "Be my guest."

She tilted forward, rose on tiptoes to counteract the height difference. Angled her chin and contemplated, with a sucked in breath, his full, firm lips shadowed by short whiskers. His intoxicating scent of sunshine, freshly laundered cotton and male musk fuddled her reasons for resistance.

One simple kiss. What could it hurt?

Her eyelids slid shut as her mouth found the small hollow between his lips and chin, the warmth of his skin and the sc.r.a.pe of stubble sending a tingle down to her boot-clad toes. Coa.r.s.e hair changed to the smooth texture of his mouth. He inhaled with a hiss, his fingers contracting on her arms. That she had any power to affect him caused a smile to quiver on her lips.

But when she pressed her mouth to his with a breathy sigh, everything known and controllable in her world spun off its axis, sucking her into a vortex she'd no hope of escaping. One simple kiss? Something must've shorted in her brain, because this kiss tap-danced all over simple.

His hand skimmed up her shoulder, spread across her nape into a possessive hold. A tug on her hip sent her lower body colliding into his obvious arousal. Demanding a response, his tongue darted into her mouth, retreated, returned and lingered. Her fingers slid around his neck and tangled in his silky hair, and she clung, even as her mind rebelled against total surrender.

She pulled back with a gasp for air and a plea. "Nate."

He lightened his grip, and the hand on her hip clenched once in denial then sprang open, allowing her to step out of his arms.

Lauren bent to pick up her gear, her blood hammering. A car engine grew louder in the still air, severing the silence. Java appeared from the shade of the house and trotted over.

"That sounds like Kathy's car."

She turned toward him, but he'd already moved away to stand on the other side of his Range Rover.

By the time her sister-in-law's car came into view, Nate's gaze refused to settle anywhere near her face. His expression betrayed nothing, as if they'd shared a casual conversation about the weather, instead of locking lips. Had she really done that? Twined around him like ivy? She'd fraternized with the enemy when she should've been thinking about ways to derail Nate's plans.

The phone call to her lawyer last week confirmed her worst suspicions. Nate Fraser could pretty much do whatever he liked with his land. He could build a theme park on it, if the idea fired his rockets. A dark notion flitted across her brain-could she stoop to seduction to change his mind?

He leaned against the Rover, thumbs hooked nonchalantly in his belt loops, and she dismissed the thought. Who was she kidding? She had no leverage to use when a kiss that'd curled her toes left him cool and unruffled. He held all the cards and kept them close to his chest. No bold seductress-she didn't have the s.e.xual ruthlessness to twist his will around her little finger. And if Nate knew she'd once allowed her husband to twist her will around his finger...

Well, he wouldn't have challenged her to kiss him in the first place.

"Mummy, I wanna show you my picture before we go back to Aunty Kathy's," Drew shouted from the open window the moment Kathy's car came to a stop.

Lauren scooped her son out of his car seat and settled him on her hip, hiding the heat of her face in his paint-smeared hair. "You had fun with paints at preschool today?"

"He's talked of nothing else since I picked him up." Kathy chuckled as she and Sophie exited the car.

"Look!" Drew shoved a rumpled sheet of art paper under her nose to recapture her attention. "It's Superman."

Bold, primary blue and red splashed across the paper. A wobbly gold "S" was smeared on the figure's chest, and a brushstroke of brown paint jutted from Superman's forehead. A cowlick. Nate's cowlick.

"Such bright colors, sweetie." She forced enthusiasm into her tone. "You put a lot of work into this picture."

"Now I wanna show Nate." He wriggled down, s.n.a.t.c.hed his artwork from her limp hand and skipped away.

Oh, G.o.d. Her gaze flew to Nate, but he watched her son's approach with studied neutrality. Don't let him hurt Drew's feelings and don't let him read anything into a four-year-old's hero worship. She took a step after Drew, but her leg muscles trembled like she'd run a marathon.

Kathy laid a hand on her arm and whispered, "It'll be okay."

Nate accepted the picture, Drew hopping from foot to foot beside him. Nate crouched at the same level as her son and touched a finger to the page. "You've got an eye for detail, kid. I like how you've made Superman's arms big and strong." His gaze flicked to hers. "Strong enough to sweep Lois Lane off her feet."

Drew fisted his hands on his hips and wrinkled his nose. "Strong enough to beat the bad guys, you mean."

"That too." Nate stood and handed back the picture. "He's the Man of Steel."

Sophie ran to Drew's side and pointed to the Range Rover's roof. "Is that your camera?"

"Yep."

Drew yanked on the pocket of Nate's jeans. "Can I see?"

Lauren's breath caught. "Drew, Sophie, I don't think you sh-"

"Sure you can." Nate shot her a simmering look. "You could take a photo of your mum if you promise to be careful. How about we give Superman to your aunty to keep safe?"

After handing the picture over, Drew clapped his hands and bounced on his toes. Nate lifted his camera down and draped the strap around her son's neck. He squatted behind Drew, tucked her boy against his big body and supported the camera with one hand, while Drew wrapped his tiny fists on either side.

Lauren's chest constricted. The less cynical part of her wanted to believe his actions were plain kindness, rather than a calculated move to weasel into her good graces. But then, why would he bother?

"This is the camera's eye. It's called the viewfinder, and what you see in there is what you'll take a photo of." Nate kept the camera steady and pointed it at her.

Drew beamed. "There's Mummy!"

"She's frowning." Sophie rested an arm on Nate's shoulder. Anyone would think he had his own brood of kids; he was so good with them. "Come on Aunty Lauren, say 'hanky-panky.'"

Lauren's face flamed, imagining hanky-panky-ing with Nate, even as Sophie explained, "My dad says that to get her to smile in photos."

"She's still not smiling." Indignation rang in Drew's tone. "She's just going red."

Lauren peeled back her lips in a parody of a smile, while Nate guided Drew's finger to the shutter release.

"I took a picture all by myself," Drew crowed. "Mummy, come look."

Nate tilted his head as she approached, his eyes crinkling in the corners. Bet he knew exactly what she'd imagined. She glanced at the image of her flushed face and made encouraging noises at Drew, all the time clenching her jaw to prevent herself from demanding he delete the photo of her. Drew would be devastated.

Nate repeated the process with Sophie and captured a shot of Kathy mugging for the camera.

"We'd better get back to work," Lauren interjected as the kids tried to coax Java into posing as their next model, "and you two will want afternoon tea at Aunty Kathy's before it's too close to dinner time."