leaned forward and licked her ear. Another yes.
She pulled up next to Justin’s battered pickup and cut the engine. She hadn’t been out here since last fall when Gage had shown the family around his newly purchased land. Her older brother had wanted this old camp ever since he’d bought the ten acres on the other side of the lake where he’d built the log home he and Racy now lived in.
With the help of the full moon and clear skies, she could make out a few of the eight cabins that dotted the shore on this side of the lake, one of the largest right in front of her.
Justin’s cabin.
She waited, but when no one stepped outside, she shoved the list into her pocket, grabbed the laundry basket from the backseat and headed for the front porch. Jack led the way.
The smell of freshly cut wood mixed with the pungent scent from the pine trees that surrounded the house. A light shone on newly built porch planks that stretched the length of the cabin.
Even as her breath puffed before her face in chilled air, she could easily picture a pillow-laden swing hanging from overhead chains at the far end of the porch, facing the water. A perfect spot to enjoy a cool glass of lemonade on a hot summer evening while listening to the lake and the woods.
“Oh, stop daydreaming,” she muttered and turned back, giving the screen door a quick knock while managing to hold on to the heavy basket.
Nothing.
She leaned closer and peered inside through the mesh. There, in the kitchen. Justin sat on a crate with his back to her while the little boy, barely visible beyond Justin’s wide shoulders, stood directly in front of him.
Should she interrupt? Maybe she should leave the basket—
No. She’d decided it was important enough to pull these things together and get them here. Tonight. Add the touch of guilt she’d felt because she’d actually thought Justin was going to let that sweet little boy go off with strangers.
Okay, deep breath.
She knocked harder and this time Jack added a deep woof.
Justin spun around, his dark piercing eyes fixed on her. A ripple moved across her lower stomach, momentarily taking her breath away. It was a familiar visceral response to this man she still hadn’t gotten used to. It’d happened the first time she’d ever laid eyes on him, that afternoon in Racy’s office back in January, and every time he’d looked at her since.
Because he didn’t just look at her. No, his gaze locked with hers, like a radar beam on a target. And she was always the one who looked away first.
Except for the night he’d been battered and hurt. That night it’d been Justin who couldn’t hold her gaze as he sat on the opposite side of the room while she crawled beneath his sheets—
She scrubbed the memory from her mind, but noted that same intuitive feeling had taken root low in her belly earlier today when he’d held her in his arms in the storeroom. She hadn’t fallen on purpose, no matter what he thought. And once she was in his arms, her femme fatale plan to get him to pay attention to her had gone up in smoke the moment his dark eyes latched on to her.
Why was it she could use her newly acquired flirting skills on Ric with no problems? Because he flirted back? Not Justin.
He didn’t flirt.
He smoldered.
Gina pasted a smile on her face, and decided to forgo the flirting and settled for friendly. “Hi, am I interrupting?”
That was stupid. Of course, she was interrupting.
The boy leaned around Justin. “Jack!”
The dog barked in response, and Gina angled one leg to keep the animal from jumping against the screen. “Hope you don’t mind us stopping by. When I heard about—When I found out you…”
Her voice trailed off as Justin gave a deep sigh, rose and headed for the door.
He didn’t want her here. And if a little boy hadn’t been standing in the middle of the room waiting to see Jack, he probably would’ve slammed the inside door in her face.
Instead he put his hand against the frame and paused, but then pushed open the screen door. Jack crossed the threshold and headed straight for the boy, but Gina waited to be invited.
“I’m not really in the mood for company.”
She turned her gaze up at him. Way up. She stood only five and a half feet tall, even in her favorite Tony Lama boots, and Justin easily towered over her. “I’ve got plans. I won’t be here long.”
Silence stretched between them. He filled the doorway with his broad shoulders, his hands braced on the frame and the mussed tufts of his dark hair skimming the top of the doorway.
He pushed the door open wide. “Well?”
She didn’t move forward, but she didn’t back away either. It was a small victory. “Well what?”
He cocked his head to one side, his gaze burning a path from her face to her boots as he took his leisurely time studying her. “Are you going to stand out there like Little Red Riding Hood with her basket,” he asked, “or are you coming in?”
She swallowed hard and glanced down. Beneath her jean jacket, her long-sleeve jersey top was a deep wine color and the lace-edged tank top that peeked from beneath the scooped neckline was black, but she guessed it was close enough.
“Coming in.”
She hefted the basket and took a step, bumping it into Justin’s midsection when he didn’t move back fast enough.
“I’ll take that.”
He let go of the door and reached for the basket’s handles. The heat of his calloused hands scorched her skin, taking her back again to when he’d caught her midtumble from the ladder. It was the closest they’d been in each other’s personal space in months.
Even when they happened to be working the same shifts at the bar, they’d managed to keep a respectable distance from each other, especially after he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in being friends, or anything else.
Not after that cold January night when he’d laughed at her attempts at playing pool and then demonstrated, his strong arms wrapped around her, how to hold a pool cue. He’d taught her to aim, shoot and celebrated with her when she’d finally managed to get the ball into the pocket. A celebration that she was sure was going to include his mouth on hers until—
With a mental shake, she dispelled the memory, pulled her hands from the basket and scooted into the cabin. An oversize toolbox and a variety of power tools littered the floor. The only furniture was a couple of camping chairs. Rolled sleeping bags sat atop a group of rumpled blankets.
Cardboard boxes, some open, others still taped up, lined one wall of the large room. Nothing covered the many windows, allowing the dark night to creep in. The only bright spot was a cheery fire blazing in a beautiful stone fireplace.
“Hey, Jacoby.”
He
