the century. He’d caught her hormones off guard, too. Every tingling, over-sensitized, and apparently vastly sensory-deprived one of them. “And unfortunately I’m not prepared to discuss any of this tonight.”
If he’d been anyone else, she’d have extended her hand for a polite shake, but she was half afraid she didn’t have polite in her where he was concerned. And touching him, letting him have any direct contact with her flesh…even all these years later…no. As badly as she’d wanted him to, she’d never let him touch her then. It would be the height of stupidity to think she could handle it any better now.
“I couldn’t find any contact information for the camp, and I didn’t have any direct information on contacting you,” he said by way of explanation. “Your mother’s attorney wouldn’t give that out.”
Her eyes widened. “You spoke to Donald?”
He nodded. “I didn’t know where else to start. You’re in trouble here, Kate. Trust me, no one wanted it to be otherwise more than me. I didn’t want to come back here. I never wanted to come back here. But…helping people is what I do. And I thought I could help you. I know I can.”
It just wasn’t adding up. No one just dropped everything to race off and play Good Samaritan for someone they hadn’t seen in eighteen years. There was only one explanation she could think of that made any sense, though she didn’t pretend to understand it. Yet. “Shelby put you up to this, didn’t he? Well, I don’t know what his game is, or yours, but you can tell him his ploy won’t work. We had a deal and, one way or the other, I’m holding him to it. Good night, Mr. MacLeod.” She slapped her thigh. “Come, Bagel.”
Not waiting to see if her fickle dog complied, she went to storm past Mac into the cabin, but he shifted slightly, causing her to stop short and almost lose her balance rather than allow herself to come into even the most incidental contact with him.
“What on God’s green earth would make you think I’d ever so much as lift a finger for Shelby Sutherland?”
Even if she hadn’t heard the banked fury in his tone, she was close enough now that there was no mistaking the same emotion in his eyes. “A lot of years have passed,” she managed, suddenly feeling a whole lot more than indignation. He was far too close. “People change.”
“Not that much.”
She realized she was shaking, but there was nothing she could do about it. “Then why help me? You wouldn’t give me the time of day eighteen years ago. Why go to all this trouble now? Have you changed?”
“I thought maybe you had. I guess I was wrong.”
“Donovan—Mac,” she corrected quickly, automatically, when his eyes flared, “I don’t know what’s going on here, or why you’re really standing on my porch.” She broke off, was forced to swallow, her throat suddenly gone dry and tight. He really was standing far too close. “But I’m going to have to ask you to leave now. We—we’ll talk later, sort this out. No more accusations, I’m just—it’s been a long day.”
He said nothing, simply held her gaze. Only there was nothing really simple about it. She had no idea if he was even affected by her now, so many years later. Maybe she’d just dreamed that all those smoldering looks he’d sent her way all those summers ago had meant something. Had meant he was as intrigued by her as she’d been by him. For all the opposite reasons. She’d wanted, badly, to walk on the wrong side of the tracks. For a while anyway. With him. She’d thought maybe he’d wanted to get a taste of her life, too. Get a taste of her. But she’d been young and most definitely foolish where he was concerned.
It appeared that with age didn’t necessarily come sensibility.
Then he was lifting his hand, and she knew, with absolute clarity, that the one thing she’d ached for, yearned for, fantasized about, all those hot summers ago, was finally about to happen…eighteen years too late. Donovan MacLeod was finally going to put his hands on her. And she wasn’t going to be able to let him.
“Good night, Mac.” She stared steadily back at him, or as steadily as she could manage, willing him to step back and allow her entrance to her own damn cabin.
He didn’t so much as budge. “It’s good seeing you again, Kate. I didn’t think it would be.” For the first time, amusement filtered into those eyes of his, and his mouth curved ever so slightly into a ghost of the cocky smile of his youth.
Her legs felt a little loose and wobbly. And her pulse jack-rabbited ahead with an abandon she couldn’t control. Dammit, but she wanted him to touch her. Foolish and stupid. He was right. She hadn’t changed at all. “Thanks.” She fought a sudden urge to smile. “I think.” It would be dangerous to let her guard down with him. Even for a split second. While she couldn’t really imagine him working with Shelby—there had never been any love lost between the two—his sudden appearance on the same day Shelby had pulled a no-show was too much of a coincidence to dismiss it out of hand.
“I’m sorry I startled you,” he said. “I didn’t know how else to get in touch.”
“You could have left a note.”
There was that little quirk again, at the corners of his mouth. Better not to look at his mouth. God, she was looking at his mouth.
“I could have done a lot of things.”
Was it her imagination still running wild, or had there been something suggestive in that? She dragged her gaze from his firmly chiseled lips—age had only improved every rugged inch of him—to his eyes. Eyes that had seen too much, more than she’d ever likely know. All that mattered was they probably saw way too much in hers.
“You, uh—” She had to clear her throat. “You staying in town? Maybe we’ll grab a bite at Deenie’s, talk all this out.”
“Deenie’s place is still there, huh?”
She frowned a little. “I thought you said you’d done some research.”
“On you,” he answered directly, apparently having no idea how badly he was unsettling her. Or maybe he did, and just enjoyed it. Lord knew he always had in the past. “I could give a damn about the town.”
“Well, the town has a lot to do with things. Or might. I don’t know.” She sucked in a breath and tried a tight smile. “Tomorrow, then?”
“Tomorrow.”
She glanced at the cabin door, wanting badly to be on the other side of it, with something, anything, between them. She needed to regroup. She needed wine. A lot of wine. “Good night.”
Still, he didn’t shift away, didn’t let her past. But he made no move closer. For the longest moment, he simply held her gaze, trapped it in his own, and kept it there while he studied and probed. He never dropped his gaze below her own, and yet she felt thoroughly…frisked. She wanted to fold her arms over her chest, hide her reaction to him. She didn’t dare move a muscle.
“I can help you,” he said quietly. “You’d be wise to let me.”
“Tomorrow,” she said firmly, if somewhat breathlessly. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
“Good night, Kate.”
It wasn’t until he shifted back, putting some semblance
