The Newcomer (Thunder Point #2)(37)

“Don’t worry,” he said, reaching for her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Carrie promises to keep your phone close all night in case anyone calls about Ashley and she has my cell number. I had a break today—I was talking to Joe, telling him how ripped up our families are, how much you and I needed a little break, but neither of us felt like we dared get away. And he said he had this little one room fishing cabin on Lawrence Lake—close by but not too close. When I told him I’d love to borrow it but didn’t want to leave the family with Cee Jay lurking, he offered to spend the night at my house. If Lou needs anything or anyone, he’s right there. He’s savvy—he wouldn’t let Cee Jay get by him.”

“Wow,” she said. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I did just tell you,” he said, smiling at her. His cell phone chirped and he glanced at the caller ID. “It’s Carrie,” he said, passing it to her.

She grabbed it. “Hello?” she answered urgently. Then she visibly relaxed, listening. “Really?” she said. “Oh, God, Mom, that’s such good news.” She thanked Carrie for calling her and ended the call. She looked at Mac. “Ashley called my phone—she had a nice talk with my mom. She’s feeling good, looking forward to coming home in a couple of days and asked my mom to call Eve, tell Eve she’ll talk to her as soon as she gets home. Just that little thing makes me feel so much better. Now maybe I can feel a little less guilty about escaping for a night.”

“I’m going to heat up a casserole and some of your mom’s fresh bread I found in our freezer, we’re going to build a fire and drink a couple of glasses of wine, get na**d if you want to or we can talk—unload some of that worry you’ve had the past few weeks....”

“What about your worry?” she asked.

“What I really want to do is just hold you. God, Gina, there have been times I’ve wondered if we’d ever catch a break.”

Gina seemed to sink into the passenger seat of his truck. She leaned her head back and sighed. Then she slowly lifted his hand to her lips, kissing his palm, then each of his fingertips. “How far?” she asked.

He smiled. “I might have to pull over,” he said, his voice husky.

The late-April sun was going down later each day so they had some daylight left by the time the reached the cabin. The afternoon sun was casting long shadows from the pines surrounding the lake. It wasn’t quite four when Mac pulled up to the cabin. There was a long lawn down to a dock, a bass boat lying facedown on the grass. “Here we are,” he said.

He pulled a cooler and a canvas bag out of the truck bed, carrying it to the cabin. He unlocked the door and let Gina step inside. He followed her and they both just stood inside the door, taking it in.

Mac wished he had asked Joe how long he’d had this place because it wasn’t what he expected at all. It was much too nice to be a bachelor’s fishing cabin. On one wall there was an efficiency kitchen with a small stovetop and oven, a few cupboards but a full-size refrigerator/freezer. A small table for four sat in the corner. Along another wall were a sofa and recliner along with a couple of accent tables. On the third wall, a bed and small chest of drawers and on the fourth, a fireplace and set of double French–style doors on one side of the hearth and a single door on the other. The single door stood ajar and inside appeared to be a very upscale and large bathroom. Now that had to be a woman’s touch; bathrooms are very important to women. For men, not so much. He briefly wondered what history Lou had with this place, then put that thought from his mind.

Mac put down the cooler and bag and opened the doors to a small covered porch that looked out onto the lake. There were two chairs facing the lake and a small table—a nice summer retreat, but not exactly for a solitary man. The chairs and table were covered with weather-proof drapes.

While he was checking out the deck and lake, Gina had taken the cooler and canvas bag to the kitchen. He wondered if this place would be available to borrow in summer; he wouldn’t mind getting her out there in that bass boat, rocking with the waves.

“Hey,” she called. “Look what I found.”

“Let me start this fire first,” he said, closing the doors and checking out the fireplace. He should’ve known—there was a switch. It was gas. Up here in the forest, logs and floating ash were a risk. Wildfire wasn’t out of the question. Joe was a practical man. And as the shadows lengthened, the late afternoon grew cool and the night would be wonderfully cold, just right for holding someone close.

When he joined her in the small galley kitchen, she was holding a container of vanilla ice cream, spoon in hand. She scooped some out and held it toward his lips.

“This isn’t old, is it?”

“I’m the daughter of a cook, Mac. I know how to read the expiration date.” She spooned it into his mouth and he took it in.

And his eyes, locked on hers, heated. Bright blue turned to hot, dark blue. He leaned toward her and touched her lips with his. His hand found her waist and he leaned into her, parting her lips with an icy tongue, kissing her, sharing the ice cream, causing her to moan and lick his mouth. The moan turned into a groan and she tipped back her head, letting him take her mouth. His hand was in her soft golden hair, cradling the back of her head, keeping her mouth under his. He pulled her against him and he was instantly hard. It was a long moment before the ice cream matched the temperature of their mouths. Their lips were sticky and she stood on her toes to lick them.