He set his bag down, then sat on the edge of one of the bunks. He hadn’t realized how small they were until now.
Adam glanced over to the small alcove that held the bed for the counselor. Though the bedding looked rumpled, he could lay his sleeping bag down and at least stretch out. He walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. Shrugging out of his jacket, he tossed it behind him. A moment later, he heard a scream. Something hit him on the side of his head and Adam jumped up and spun around.
“Bat. Oh, God, bat.” In the dim light he made out the figure of a woman, flailing a tennis racquet around her head. She made contact again, this time with his forehead.
“Ouch!” he cried. “Stop that. There’s no bat.”
She went still for a moment, then screamed again, tumbling off the far side of the bed and landing with a thump on the floor. Adam searched the cabin for a light switch then finally found the string hanging from the ceiling fan. He pulled it and walked back to the alcove.
She was still there, sitting on the floor, the tennis racquet pulled up against her chest and her hair covering half her face. As their eyes met, he heard her gasp softly. “I’m not a bat,” he said, rubbing his head.
“I—I can see that,” she replied in a feeble attempt to appear unfazed. She slowly got to her feet, tugging at the hem of her T-shirt to cover her bare thighs. When she brushed the hair from her face, he felt a hint of recognition.
The lush mouth was the same as he remembered. And those beautiful dark-lashed eyes that always seemed to be regarding him with disdain. But the mousy brown ponytail was gone, replaced by shoulder-length waves and a caramel blond color. “Jules?” He laughed. “It’s me, Adam Sutherland.”
“Adam,” she said, a nervous smile twitching at her lips. “Right. I—I didn’t know you’d be coming.”
“Mason didn’t mention you’d be here either,” he said. His gaze took in her features. In the past eight years, she’d changed, and all for the better. He’d always liked Julia McKee, but the feeling had never been mutual. Adam had found her smart and funny and guileless. Too bad she’d never given him the time of day.
In truth, he suspected that Julia disapproved of his reputation with the ladies. She was the one girl in camp that he’d never been able to charm—and here she was, all grown up, incredibly sexy and sleeping in his bed.
“So, how have you been, Jules?”
She blinked, as if startled by his inquiry. Hell, it wasn’t his best attempt at an opening line. But what else was he supposed to say to the girl he used to fantasize about? Adam stretched across the bed and held out his hand to help her up.
Ignoring his hand, she scrambled to her feet, then sat down on the edge of the mattress and pulled the sheet up around her, her gaze still fixed on him. “I’m fine,” she said.
He nodded. Well, this was awkward. He felt compelled to smooth things over before he excused himself to find another place to sleep. “I just assumed that they’d left the light on for me. I didn’t realize you were in the bed or I wouldn’t have …”
Her expression finally relaxed and she smiled again, this time with much more warmth. “I’m sorry I hit you. I felt something on my face and I thought it was a bat. I remember them being very partial to this cabin in the past.”
“You have quite a forehand.”
“Actually, it was a backhand. Did I hurt you?” She reached out to touch his temple and the moment she made contact, Adam felt a current race through him. He swallowed hard, then reached up to take her hand, twisting his fingers through hers. “I—I’m sure I’ll recover. I’m sorry I woke you. What time did you get here?”
She stared down at their fingers, still tangled together. “Just after midnight.” She yanked her hand away. “What time is it?”
“Three in the morning.” He frowned. Why had that felt so good? He hadn’t expected such a strong reaction to such an innocent touch. “I was exhausted—until you hit me. Now, I’m wide awake.” Wide awake and looking for any excuse to keep her talking. “And hungry. Are you hungry?”
She tipped her head to the side, regarding him with a mix of confusion and amusement. “I guess I could eat,” she said.
“Breakfast would be good. Are there any all-night diners around here? I could run out and get us something.”
“You’re not in Chicago. I don’t think we’d find an Ashland Grill up here.”
“You know the Ashland Grill? I love that place,” Adam said, grinning.
“It’s not far from my flat.”
“You live in Chicago?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I do.”
“I guess I remember Mason mentioning that,” Adam said. “Where?”
“Wicker Park.”
“Lincoln Park,” he said. “Right near the river.” He couldn’t believe they’d been living so close and he hadn’t even known. It made sense. Her family was from the Chicago area. But it was odd that their worlds probably intersected at least a few times a week and yet he’d never thought of her. Why hadn’t he thought of her? What had Julia McKee been doing with her life?
“I have something,” Julia said. She jumped out of bed and ran to the door, her bare feet soft against the rough floor. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
“To my car,” she said.
The screen door slammed and Adam walked over to it, watching her scamper down the hill. Her T-shirt flew up as she ran and he caught sight of bikini panties and the sweet curve of her backside. He imagined the body beneath the shirt, soft and naked, made for his touch.
She stubbed her toe on a tree root and stumbled, cursing loudly in the quiet night. He stepped out of the door, ready to go to her aid, but she continued on, limping the rest of the way.
Adam chuckled to himself. It had been a long time since he’d been so intrigued by a woman. Imagine running into Julia after all these years. Though she’d grown even more beautiful, she was still the nervous, clumsy girl he remembered. And yet, in a single instant, all the old curiosity came back. Julia McKee was a challenge, the kind that he usually found irresistible.
This was going to be a very interesting week.
JULIA’S EYES WATERED as she limped to the car. “Please don’t let him be watching,” she murmured over and over. She was afraid to look back, worried he’d be standing there on the front steps of the cabin, observing her clumsy stumble down the path.
When she reached the car, she realized she’d forgotten her keys. To her relief, she’d left the back door open after removing her bags. Julia crawled over the backseat and reached for the bakery box. If he was hungry, then she’d feed him. “Cinnamon buns,” she murmured, drawing in the scent.
She found the canvas bag that had her coffee supplies in it—her French press, the gourmet coffee they served in the bakery and an electric pot to heat water. She grabbed a few
