First Comes Baby...: The Loner's Guarded Heart (26 page)

‘No problem.’

With a nod and a grin he left, and Josie found she couldn’t work Kent Black out at all. ‘The tennis club,’ she said, dragging her attention back to Liz. At least Liz made sense. ‘Bridget needs something else to organise other than you. Does she like tennis?’

* * *

‘Yes!’ The word whistled out between Kent’s teeth as he strode up to the house. He wanted to punch the air in victory. Josie was staying.

Not for good, he reminded himself. Just until the end of next week, but long enough for him to get her well and strong again. He wanted to celebrate. He pulled open the fridge and seized the neck of a bottle of chardonnay then remembered Josie couldn’t drink while taking medication. He pushed it back in and pulled out several cans of lemonade instead. They’d celebrate properly when she was well.

Not him and Josie on their own, though. No. An image of candlelight and champagne and Josie in those cute little PJs of hers and—

He went tight and hard, his thickness straining against the denim of his jeans. He bit back an oath and tried to replace the image with a different one—he, Liz and Clancy holding a little party to send Josie off. That could be fun.

Not as fun as the first image, though.

He pulled his mind back, seized the phone and punched in Marty’s business number. ‘This is Kent Black,’ he barked at the answering machine. ‘Josie will be staying till the end of next week as planned.’ Then he hung up.

He hadn’t told Liz about his conversation with Marty, just that Josie had asked him to contact her brothers to come and collect her. The depth of Liz and Clancy’s horror at the idea had surprised him. They’d done a sterling job at convincing her to stay, at convincing her she was needed. At convincing her she was no trouble at all. He’d never have managed that on his own.

And the way they’d marched into her cabin with its bright splashes of colour and its easy laughter, its comforting cosiness...all at ease and with that lazy kind of energy that spoke of goodwill and friendship, had made him realise everything his own life lacked. It gave him a glimpse of what life with a woman like Josie would be like.

Liz and Clancy would miss her when she left.

There was no denying it: so would he. But a man like him had no right messing with a woman like Josie.

He pushed that thought away and seized the lemonades. It was time to go and enjoy dinner with Josie. And Liz; he hadn’t forgotten Liz.

* * *

When Liz left, Kent tidied up. He thought Josie had dozed off, but when he turned he found her watching him. He rolled his shoulders, shifted his weight from the balls of his feet to his heels and back again. He wondered if she sensed his reluctance to leave the cosiness of her cabin. ‘Not tired?’

‘I feel pleasantly lazy. I’m glad you wouldn’t let me help clean up.’

Her honesty made him grin, put him at ease.

She readjusted a pillow at her back. ‘Tell me about your sister.’

It took a moment for the words to hit him, and when they did they stabbed through him with a ferocity that took his breath. He took a step back and went to shout an unthinking ‘No!’ but clamped down on his lips until he’d brought the impulse under control. The night was cool but that didn’t account for the coldness that rushed through him. ‘Why?’ The word sounded sharp in the silence of the cabin but Josie seemed oblivious to his reaction, to the difficulty he had breathing.

‘Because I always wanted a sister.’

He thought of her brothers, took in her wistful expression, and understood why.

‘What was her name? What things did she like to do?’

For Josie’s sake he tried to think past the pain. ‘Her name was Rebecca. I always called her Beck. Everyone else called her Becky.’ His words came out short and halting as a picture of Beck’s face turning to laugh at him in her sailing boat rose in his mind.

‘I’ve always liked that name.’ She shaded her eyes against the brightness of the overhead light. ‘Would it be OK if we turned on the lamp?’

He switched on the lamp, turned off the overhead light and a warm glow suffused the room. Josie patted the bed beside her, her lips curved in a soft smile he wanted to fall into. He sat in Clancy’s camp chair instead. He couldn’t trust himself any closer to her than that. Not when the dark beat at the windows, not when this room and this woman transported him away from his lonely mountain. If he was fanciful he’d say Josie’s cabin was an Aladdin’s cave where fairy tales came true.

Only he was too old to believe in fairy tales.

‘Was Becky a girly girl or a tomboy?’

That made him laugh. ‘In company butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. But when nobody was watching she’d try and out-rough and out-tumble me.’

Josie grinned. ‘Did she succeed?’

‘Not a chance.’ He grinned too. ‘She was two years younger and not much bigger than you.’

‘What did she like to do?’

He told her about Beck’s love of sailing, the job she’d had as a pathologist, her addiction to candied ginger, and about the time when she was fifteen and she’d dyed her hair such a deep purple they’d spent an entire Christmas calling her Miss Plum. And the more he talked the easier it became. Finally he stopped and he couldn’t have said why, but he felt lighter.

‘I envy you,’ Josie sighed. ‘Not losing Becky, of course. That’s awful.’

Sadness swept through him, but the weight didn’t press back down.

‘But the relationship the two of you had... It was really lovely.’

He nodded. He’d been in danger of forgetting. He eyed Josie for a moment. ‘It’s not like that with you and your brothers?’

He waited for her to tense up, but she didn’t. ‘They’re over ten years older than me. We didn’t grow up together. They’re the children of my father’s first marriage.’

A wealth of meaning emerged from her words. Kent suddenly saw the picture clearly—along with what he suspected was Marty and Frank’s resentment and jealousy of their younger half-sibling.

‘Their lives have been harder than mine,’ she added as if she read his mind. ‘They grew up with their mother and she was a bitter woman, hard.’

‘That’s not your fault,’ he pointed out gently.

‘No, but I want to build whatever bridges with them that I can. I promised my father I’d try.’ She fixed him with a look. ‘What did Marty say when you spoke to him?’

‘I left a message on his answering machine,’ he hedged.

‘Not tonight, but earlier when you spoke to him.’

He didn’t want her upset, but he didn’t want to lie to her either. He wanted her on her guard around this Marty and Frank. ‘He said he was snowed under with work and would find it difficult to get away before next Tuesday.’

‘Oh.’

At the look on her face he wanted to smash Marty all over again.

‘They’re always so busy,’ she sighed. ‘I think they hide behind their work.’ She pleated the blanket between her fingers. ‘I think they’re afraid to love me.’

‘What kind of nonsense is that?’ he exploded.

She met his gaze head-on. ‘I’d say it was your kind of nonsense, Kent.’

He shot to his feet, rubbed the back of his nape. ‘It’s getting late. It’s time you got some rest.’

‘Scaredy cat,’ she murmured, but she settled back without demur as he pulled the covers up around her shoulders.

‘Goodnight, Josie.’

‘Goodnight, Kent.’

He hovered for a moment, wanting to kiss her forehead, but he pulled back at the last moment. Her taunt followed him all the way back to the house and plagued his sleep like a stray dog that fed on his dreams.

* * *

On Friday afternoon after Clancy left, Josie finally grew sick of staring at four walls. Actually, she’d grown sick of it yesterday, but today her inactivity really started to pall. This morning she’d argued with Kent about exchanging her pyjamas for real clothes, and lost. Pulling her wrap more firmly about her and tying it at her waist, Josie folded the camp chair, took it out to the veranda, unfolded it again and collapsed into it, breathing hard. She hated how the smallest thing wore her out.

She’d hated arguing with Kent too.

She cringed when she remembered the things she’d shouted at him. She’d called him a tyrant. And a voyeur. She still couldn’t believe she’d said that.

He’d laughed at her, and she’d wanted to stamp her feet—a near impossible feat when confined to bed.

She doubted he even saw her as a woman now. She scowled. Oh, yes, he gave her friendly concern, teasingly derided her chess skills and praised the excellence of her crossword-solving skills.

She knew she was sinking low when she clung to praise about crosswords.

Somehow he’d purged his desire for her and she wanted to know how. Though maybe he hadn’t had all that much to begin with. Her scowl deepened. She just wasn’t his kind of woman, was she? That new sense of closeness that had developed between them since they’d talked about their siblings had disappeared too. In some imperceptible way Kent was withdrawing from her. And she didn’t know how to stop him.

She made an impatient noise in the back of her throat. She hadn’t come on this holiday to obsess about a man. If he wanted to withdraw that was his business. She’d come to formulate a plan for the rest of her life, remember? She was no closer to doing that than when she’d arrived.

And she only had a week left. Marty and Frank would be expecting an answer to that particular question at the end of all this. She could practically see their serious half-frowns, hear their foot-tapping impatience.

Oh, for heaven’s sake! What business was it of theirs? It was not as if they had to financially support her or...

They were her brothers. She chided herself for her lack of charity. Of course they worried about her. And now that her father was gone she hoped they might forge closer ties.

She scowled again. She was all for promoting closer ties, but they needn’t think they could bully her.

‘Heck! Whose blood are you after?’

Josie started then drooled. Kent. She swiped a hand across her chin.

‘Still imagining skinning me alive after our spat this morning?’

His grin told her he didn’t harbour any hard feelings and she found herself smiling back at him. ‘No, though I find myself cringing every time I remember calling you a voyeur.’

He eased himself down onto the single step, his grin widening. ‘Nah, don’t feel bad about that. You’ve got me pegged. I’m waiting with bated breath for those cute little shortie pyjamas to make a comeback. Those fluffy sheep did strange things to me.’

His teasing fired the blood through her veins, although she knew he didn’t mean it. ‘Funny things?’ She tried to ignore the burn of desire. ‘Like falling all over the place laughing, right?’

‘More like getting me hot and bothered when I imagine peeling them off your body.’

Josie gulped and the blood pumped through her so hard and hot she thought her fever had returned. Kent jerked back as if he couldn’t believe he’d uttered the words. And just like that the tension coiled around them.

With a muttered curse, he leapt up and strode several feet away. Josie expected him to plunge straight into the cover of the trees and keep walking. Without a backward glance. When he didn’t, her eyes, greedy for the sight of him, memorised every hard, lean angle of his body.

He always wore jeans and either a T-shirt or a long-sleeved chambray shirt, and she couldn’t decide which did him the greater justice. The jeans, whether low-slung, stretch or bootleg, did strange things to her pulse. They also left her in little doubt of his, uh, assets.

And she literally drooled at the sight of thin cotton stretched across his shoulders and arms in those fitted T-shirts. But the faded blue chambray intensified the blue of his eyes and caught her up in fantasies of making love with him on long, lazy summer afternoons.

Oh, who was she kidding? It didn’t matter what he wore for her to get caught up in those kinds of fantasies.

He swung back to face her and she could see him trying to fight a scowl. ‘Sorry.’ The word snapped out of him. ‘You’d better forget I said that.’

She didn’t want to forget. She wanted—

‘We already decided that wouldn’t be sensible.’

Had they? When? ‘I’m tired of sensible,’ she muttered.

His eyes darkened, then he grinned. ‘Either way, Josephine Peterson, you’re not physically up for an athletic bout of lovemaking. Besides, it’s against doctor’s orders.’

She knew he was right. If a shower wore her out, then how on earth...?

Pictures rose in her mind. Pictures that didn’t help. She tried to push them away, far far away where they couldn’t torment her.

‘So, in the meantime,’ he took his seat on the step again, ‘why don’t you tell me why you were glaring at this glorious view as if you meant to do it physical harm?’

CHAPTER NINE

J
OSIE
’
S
LIPS
TURNED
down
and her shoulders sagged. Kent wanted to haul her into his lap, tuck her head under his chin and wrap his arms around her slight body until she stopped looking so glum.

Not a good idea.

He didn’t do hugs. And he had no doubt that if he hugged Josie she’d get the wrong idea. He couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t let her rely on him in the long term.

A scowl shrugged through him. He shouldn’t let her rely on him in the short term either.

If it wasn’t for her darn brothers he wouldn’t, but she needed someone to look out for her. She’d drawn the short straw in him, though maybe Clancy and Liz made up for it.

‘Did Marty say anything else when you spoke to him? Has Frank called at all?’

Was she upset because of her brothers?

‘Nope and nope.’ He kept the snarl out of his voice. Just.

Her lips turned down more. ‘I mean,’ he added quickly, ‘he was concerned about your health, of course. Relieved when I told him you’d be OK.’ Because then he wouldn’t be dragged away from his oh-so-important work.

Not that he’d rung in the last couple of days to check on how she was doing. That knowledge hung in the silence between them. ‘Why?’

She lifted one shoulder. ‘No reason.’

‘Are they why you looked fit to kill someone?’ He understood that. In fact, he’d help her if she wanted.

‘Oh, no.’ She quickly shook her head and all the browns and russets and maples of her hair swished about her face before settling back around her shoulders. He wanted to reach out and touch it. He wanted to bury his face in it.

‘But, you see, I haven’t worked out what I’m going to do with the rest of my life yet and that’s the reason for this holiday in the first place.’

The note of panic in her words hauled him back. He skewed around on the step to face her more fully. ‘Let’s back up a bit. Why can’t you keep doing whatever it was you did before you came to Eagle Reach?’ Had she been sacked or something?

She smiled, a sad smile that speared right through the centre of him. ‘For the last two years I looked after my father. That job doesn’t exist any more.’

Bile rose in his throat. ‘I’m sorry I—’

‘It’s not your fault.’ She waved his apology away. ‘My father had dementia and I didn’t want to place him in a nursing home so I completed an Assistant in Nursing course. I don’t regret it. I cherish the time I spent with him.’

‘But you don’t want to do that any more?’

‘No, I don’t want to do that any more.’ A shadow passed across her face. ‘No. No more.’

He understood. Watching someone die was the hardest thing in the world. Especially when it was someone you loved.

‘What did you do, Kent? Before your sea change and you came out here?’

The question caught him off guard. He’d known she hadn’t believed him when he’d said it before. He hadn’t bothered trying to set her straight and now it reeked of deceit. He rubbed the back of his neck.

‘Kent?’

‘I was a doctor.’ Dedicated to saving people’s lives. He’d removed himself from society pretty quick-smart once he realised he had a greater talent for destruction, though.

If he had an ounce of decency in him he’d leave Josie alone too.

* * *

‘You’re a doctor?’ Josie shot forward so quickly she’d have fallen out of her chair if Kent hadn’t reached out and steadied her. His fingers wrapped around her arm, warm and vibrant. More than anything, she wanted to fall into him. He removed his hand before she could do anything so stupid.

His close-lipped silence spoke volumes. ‘I was a GP.’

It shouldn’t have made sense, but in a strange way it did. She wanted to cry. ‘And why—?’

She gulped back her words at his glare.

‘I found I was unsuited to the profession.’

She didn’t believe that for a moment. She refused to risk another soul-crushing glare by saying so, though. ‘So, the doctor’s orders I’ve been following have been yours?’

‘Yes.’

It explained his professional detachment.

A wave of dizziness shook her. He hadn’t stopped practising because of his mother and sister, had he?

‘You’re free to consult a second opinion, of course. Dr Jenkins does house calls. If you want I’ll ring him and—’

‘No.’ She stared at him, horrified. ‘I trust your judgement.’ The scowl left his face but not his eyes. ‘You made Molly well again, didn’t you?’

At her name, Molly lifted her head and thumped her tail. She’d hardly left Josie’s side since she’d been let back in after the worst of her illness had passed.

‘And she was in way worse shape than me.’

His lips twisted into the wryest of smiles. ‘I hate to point this out to you, Josie, but Molly is just a dog.’

‘Molly isn’t just anything. She’s lovely and you made her well again, like you’re making me well again. I don’t think you’re unsuited to the profession at all.’ But she didn’t want him to start scowling again so she didn’t pursue that line further. She collapsed against the back of her chair. ‘Not that it’s doing me much good.’

His eyebrows shot up and she laughed, realising what she’d just said. ‘I meant inspiration-wise. It won’t help me sort out what to do with the rest of my life.’ Marty and Frank’s faces rose in front of her and her quick surge of humour evaporated in a puff that berated her for her frivolity.

One week. She glanced out at the view spread before her and couldn’t hold back a sigh. Her eyes drifted to the man seated on the step.

‘What did you do before you took on the care of your father?’

‘I was halfway through a teaching degree.’ He raised an eyebrow but she shook her head. ‘The thought of study doesn’t fill me with a great deal of enthusiasm. Besides, I don’t want to leave Buchanan’s Point and there aren’t many opportunities for teachers in the local area.’ It’d take years before she was posted there.

‘Why don’t you want to leave?’

‘It’s home.’ It was that simple. ‘It’s where I belong. And then there’s the house. It’s been in the family for generations. I couldn’t just leave it.’

‘Couldn’t your brothers look after it?’

Marty and Frank again. The sky became a little greyer, although there wasn’t a cloud in it. ‘The house belonged to my mother. Her family have lived in it since it was built over a hundred years ago.’ And she wasn’t selling it.

Kent stared at her for a moment then grinned as if eminently satisfied with something. ‘If you’ve a house, Josie, then at least you’ve a roof over your head.’

‘I have a home,’ she corrected, which was more than Kent could boast out here at Eagle Reach, for all his cows and cabins.

His eyes gentled. ‘Tell me about it.’

She shrugged. Where to start? But as she imagined her home her lips curved into a smile. ‘It’s beautiful. It’s called Geraldine’s Gardens and it’s the only house on the bluff and it looks out over the town and beach. A little path winds down to a private beach. It’s only tiny, but it is lovely.’

He sat up straighter. ‘And the house?’

‘It’s beautiful too. Federation style, return verandas, fancy fretwork.’ All of which took an enormous amount of upkeep. ‘It is a little large for one person,’ she admitted, ‘but...but who knows what’ll happen down the track?’ She hoped to fill it with a family of her own one day.

‘Too big?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘How many bedrooms?’

She hesitated. ‘Eight.’

‘Eight!’ Kent shot to his feet. ‘I...’

‘Yeah, it’s big.’ And it took a lot of cleaning, but it was worth it. And she wasn’t selling.

‘Josie?’

She pulled her thoughts back. ‘Hmm?’

‘Marty and Frank are OK about the house?’

‘Oh, no, they want me to sell it. They think it’s too much for me.’

Kent’s eyebrows knitted together.

‘But the house is like a family heirloom.’ She smiled up at him. Instinctively, she knew he’d understand. ‘I need to preserve it to pass on to the next generation.’

He brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek. ‘I envy you your home, Josephine Peterson.’

Her heart thumped like a mad thing. ‘Then you should come and visit some time. It’s not like I don’t have the room or anything. Next time you’re passing through...’ A pipedream, she knew. She also knew she was babbling.

He pulled his fingers back abruptly. ‘Time you were back in bed.’

‘But I’m not doing anything. I’m just sitting.’

Her argument died in her throat when he leaned down and picked her up. Her heart pounded so hard she swore there’d be bruises. ‘I, umm...’ Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She tried to unglue it. ‘I can walk, you know?’

Not that she wanted to. She wanted to stay right here. She looped an arm around his shoulders, his broad, beautiful shoulders, and bit back a purr of pure pleasure.

His gaze met hers then flicked to her lips. She gulped. An insistent throb started up low, deep down in her abdomen. His lips opened and her breath stilled. Then he waggled those wicked eyebrows. ‘I want you to conserve your energy. Doctor’s orders.’

He made no move towards the door of the cabin, though. His hot male scent filled her nostrils, his hard body imprinted itself on hers and her heart continued to beat itself to a pulp.

‘I, umm...’ She wished she could speak properly. She gave a shaky laugh. ‘I think I’d conserve a whole lot more energy if you put me down again.’

He grinned. ‘Yeah?’

She loved his teasing. ‘You do seriously wicked things to my pulse rate, Kent Black.’

He shook his head, mock serious. ‘That’s not good for conserving energy. You’ll need to do something about that.’

Like what? All the images, ideas, suggestions flooding through her involved her expending a whole lot more energy, not conserving it. ‘Doctor’s orders, huh?’

‘You bet.’

She trailed her fingers into the V of his shirt. Heat came off him in thick, drugging waves and she tugged gently at the hair there, revelling in its springiness, before tracing her hand back up his neck to his jaw. His breath caught when she ran her palm across the roughness of his half-day growth and hers quickened. The scrape of desire sparked from her palm to curl her toes.

His eyes turned a deep, dark navy. ‘Josie.’

The single word growled out of his throat, but he made no move to set her down and a reckless triumph seized her. ‘You know what?’ She traced his lips with her fingers. ‘I’m afraid of stray dogs and goannas and of the kind of solitude that means you don’t clap eyes on another human being for three days straight, but I’m not afraid of this.’

She reached up and replaced her fingers with her lips. Kent’s arms tightened around her and her whole body sang, but he held himself rigid, his lips refusing to respond as hers moved tentatively over his.

She’d never taken the initiative before. It part-appalled, part-thrilled her.

No, it wholly thrilled her. But Kent’s lack of involvement sent a shock wave of frustration through her. Determination welled up, determination to draw out that response.

She traced the length of his bottom lip with her tongue, from left to right, slowly, savouring his taste and texture. ‘Yum,’ she murmured against the corner of his mouth when she reached it. Then she slipped her tongue inside to trace his inner lips, from right to left, and Kent jerked as if electrified.

Then he crushed her against him and his mouth devoured hers and she’d never known that so much feeling could go into a single kiss. She flung both her arms around his neck and kissed him back with everything inside her, a fury of need pulsing through her veins as his tongue teased and tangled with hers.

Both his arms went around her waist and the lower half of her body slid down his until the tips of her toes touched the ground. Pulled flush against him, the most sensitive part of her pressed against the hard length straining through the denim of his jeans, teasing her until nothing made sense except her overwhelming need for him. With an inarticulate moan, her head dropped back and Josie lost herself in sensation.

Kent branded her neck with kisses. One hand curved around her bottom to keep her planted hard up against him, the other tangled in the hair at her nape to draw her mouth back to his. He claimed drugging kiss after drugging kiss until she was a trembling, sobbing mass of need.

Then a fit of coughing claimed her.

She leaned against him after it finished, trying to get her breath back, trying to draw strength into limbs that shook. His hands curved around her shoulders, steadying her, supporting her, but she sensed his withdrawal. Still...

What a kiss! She couldn’t curb the exhilaration coursing through her body.

She wondered how soon they could do that again.

One look at Kent’s face told her there’d be no repeat performances today. And from the look of that scowl, probably not tomorrow either.

Oh, well. It’d give her a chance to get her strength back. With a sigh of regret she pushed away from him. ‘Well,’ she started brightly, ‘that was...’

The words died in her throat for the second time when he swept her up in his arms and strode inside with her. Being held by Kent felt like coming home.

And she was homesick. Big time.

His face might be grim, but he laid her on the bed with a gentleness normally reserved for priceless artworks. She blinked furiously when he took a hasty step away, bit back a moan of loss.

He glared as she nestled down against the pillows. ‘That was—’

‘Heavenly,’ she announced. ‘When can we do it again?’

His jaw dropped then he swung away and stalked straight back out of the cabin.

‘Kent Black,’ she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed. ‘You are one sexy man.’

She wondered if he’d ever stop running.

* * *

‘Checkmate.’

Josie pushed the chessboard away with a sigh. ‘I’m not improving.’

‘You don’t concentrate,’ Kent chided.

How on earth was a girl supposed to concentrate when Kent’s lips hovered just there across the chessboard and created all kinds of tempting fantasies inside her, huh?

Fantasies that were way more exciting than beating him at chess.