Then, with the air of an optimist eager to change the subject to something brighter, he suggested, "Why not let that young squirt of yours come fishing with me tomorrow, Karena? Seems to me you and Logan here could use a day all on your own for once, and it would be a treat for me. We'll hike up the river a ways.”
Karena shot Logan a wistful glance, but she shook her head.
"Danny's so excited at having Logan around I don't think anything would pry him away from home tomorrow."
"Well, we'll see," Gabe said noncommittally.
When the three of them and the moose calf were about to leave, Logan turned to Gabe. "We were planning on driving into Northome for dinner tonight, Gabe, and we'd like you to join us. How about it? Could you stand an evening in the bright lights and exotic atmosphere of Northome Cafe?"
Gabe's delight at being asked was evident in his face and voice, and although at first he demurred, he soon gave in to Danny's and Karena's urging.
"I'll get cleaned up and be over at Kari's by five," Gabe promised as Logan and Karena reluctantly emptied their second mugs of beer, and started the walk home.
As they were leaving, Gabe remarked Danny innocently, "Too bad you're busy tomorrow, boy. I'm hiking into Josephine Falls in the morning, going to do my best to catch that old trout we lost so many times before in the pool by the waterfall. Like to have you along, but I understand if you've got the day all planned with your mom and Logan."
"But, hey, I'm not busy, honest Gabe, we weren't gonna do nothing important tomorrow anyway, were we, Mom?" Danny was nearly stuttering in his eagerness to convince the old man just how available he was.
"Well, actually..." Karena began.
And then Danny crowed triumphantly, "There, see, I can come with you, can't I go, Mom?"
Gabe shot Logan a satisfied nod and a wink. The marvelous old rascal was generously giving Karena and Logan the one thing they desperately needed—time alone with each other.
Gabe had obviously become an ally in Logan's courtship of Karena.
There was a festive feeling in the air that afternoon as they took turns in the bathhouse cleaning up for the evening, and Logan whistled appreciatively when Karena emerged in a softly flowered cotton print dress that swirled around her bare brown legs.
Danny glanced at his mother and began informatively, "That's the dress she made, Logan. She always wears that dress to go out. Remember you used to wear it when you went out with that guy—"
"Danny." Karena's voice held ominous warning, and for once her son subsided without further comment. But Logan felt jealousy stab through him with the force of a hammer, and he found himself dourly wondering who she'd last worn it for, and visualized exactly which painful hot hell he hoped the gentleman in question was occupying right now.
Promptly at five, Gabe appeared, freshly scrubbed and wearing clean denims with a slightly crumpled red checked shirt under his wide braces, and they all crammed into Logan's large Jeep for the ride into town.
The rest of the evening was a tremendous success. They laughed and all talked at once, devouring the plain but tasty meat-and-potato-style meal, which the small cafe in Northhome offered, eating huge slabs of apple pie with mounds of ice cream for dessert, and drinking cup after cup of strong coffee as the good natured plump waitress traded quips with Gabe.
They walked up and down the town's single street, pausing to study notices on the billboard and comment on goods displayed in the hardware-store window, and then they loaded themselves back into the Jeep for the ride home. Tonight, Logan started the generator while Gabe and Danny fed the voraciously hungry Mort, and Karena made still another pot of coffee.
Then they all sat companionably on the screened porch and talked as the cool autumn night drifted down.
At nine thirty, Gabe got reluctantly to his feet.
"Time for bed. Kari, do you think Danny could come home with me now? Then there's no need for him to upset the house tomorrow morning getting ready to go fishing."
It was a perfectly reasonable request, and Karena gave her consent, but suddenly she was grateful for the darkness. Her skin felt hot and tight as she realized that if Danny spent the night with Gabe, she would be alone in the house with Logan for the first time.
Instinctively, she knew that he was just as acutely aware of the fact as she was, and while Danny noisily dashed around collecting boots and fishing gear, the three adults talked together just as easily as they had before. The only difference was that Karena couldn't have recounted one word of that conversation afterward.
Danny's chatter receded as he and Gabe, using Danny's flashlight, disappeared down the path. Logan had offered to drive them on the rutted road through the woods, but Gabe firmly refused.
"Need to shake down some of that dinner before bedtime, and besides, I've always had a fondness for the bush at night."
Then there were the familiar chores to be gotten through, but tonight Karena felt as if the motions were part of a stylized ballet as she and Logan moved through the routine of drawing a pail of water before the generator was shut down, bringing in kindling for the morning fire.
"Walk down to the lake?" he suggested when the last armload of spicy smelling logs was tumbled into the wood box beside the range, and hand in hand, they wandered through the bright moonlight down the well marked path, pausing by the log they'd sat on the night before.
Instead of taking seats there, Logan moved behind Karena, enfolding her gently with his arms, her back to his front, holding her there against his body, feeling the texture of her pollen-soft hair whisper against his mouth as he spoke.
"Danny's a great kid, but I'm not missing him right now," he admitted. "Did you have the feeling Gabe planned for us to be alone tonight?"
Karena's smile was evident in her voice, and she relaxed, wondering for a moment why she'd been so tense the past hour.
"Of course he did, the old rascal. Gabe is an incurable romantic. I remember when he and Pop worked together, he used to bring Mom bouquets of wildflowers all the time, pussywillows and wild roses."
"Didn't he ever marry?" Logan asked curiously.
Karena shook her head. "I asked him why once, and he said he'd only ever loved one woman, and she was taken." She paused and added hesitantly, "I had the feeling he might have been talking about my mother."
Logan's arms tightened around her. "Do you think...?"
"That they might have had an affair? Heavens, no. You'd have to have known my mother, she was pretty straitlaced. But I often wonder if maybe that was why Pop got so angry at Gabe, and stayed mad all these years. He won't have anything to do with Gabe, you know, Pop won't."
"Your father makes life awfully hard on himself. I thought tonight how nice it would have been for all of us to be having supper together," Logan remarked thoughtfully.
Karena had thought exactly that herself.
The autumn moon was hanging from the star studded clearness of the dark sky, and their voices seemed to cut through the chilly air incisively, as if the words they spoke had substance and texture.
"Logan?"
He felt the sudden tremor in her slender body, and wondered at her nervousness.
"I'm here, Karena."
On a deeply indrawn breath, she blurted all in one line, in a throaty whisper, "Will you sleep with me tonight?"
For just an instant, he thought to tease her, saying something silly like, well, if you insist... but the hammering of her heart ricocheted through the heavy sweater she wore, and the shape molded against his own was tense and stiff, waiting for his answer.
As if there could be more than one satisfactory way to answer a query like that.
He turned her in his arms, slid his glasses to the top of his head, and kissed her until both their hearts hammered in unison.
"Just try and stop me," he declared. He led the way back up the path, and Mort gave them a sleepy greeting as they passed.
Inside the house, he automatically turned the old fashioned key in the kitchen door, locking it, a city habit, which she never did.
Tonight, however, she liked the snug feeling of being shut inside her house alone with Logan, while outside the animals and birds slept.
She lit a candle and led the way to her bedroom.
Setting the pewter candlestick carefully on top of her dresser, she turned to face him, and the reality of having him here, in this private place of hers, sent a wave of awful uncertainty rolling up her body.
There'd never been a man in this bedroom, or in this bed. It was over two years since she'd been with Johnny, and she'd never even considered inviting him here, to her bedroom. The few furtive stolen hours Karena had spent with Johnny were nothing wonderful.
Would this be the same?
Logan stood on the round braided rug, and in the candle's flickering gleam, he watched Karena turn to face him and he remembered the doe they'd surprised on their walk in Itasca Park.
Karena had the same wide-eyed, listening look right now, as if the slightest sound would send her bolting into the woods. His eyes narrowed, watching her, and fear shot through him, a premonition of what loving her could mean in the even pattern of his life.
She had the soul of a wild thing. That was how she captured so well the feral expression in the eyes of the animals she drew. She knew, because she shared the same untamed heart.
Then he took a slow step toward her, and the look was gone. Now she was only a shy, loving woman, waiting in the candlelight to be loved, and with renewed confidence and barely sheathed impatience, he closed the distance between them.
Abetted by the shadowy light, he bent to brush his lips across hers in a feather light reassuring kiss.
Deliberately, setting each word apart from the next in slow emphasis, he murmured, "I am in love with you, Karena. I love your face, your hair—" he punctuated each area with a kiss "—your ears, your chin—" letting his tongue glide over her skin, nuzzling along her neck and down to the thrumming pulse point at its base.
"Your throat."
Her breath came faster as his clever hands skimmed over her breasts, ever so slowly down the gentle curve of waist and hips, leisurely learning the pattern of her body's shape. He found the zipper at the back of her flowered dress and she felt the air, chilly on her spine. Then the dress was slipping down, to land in a puddle at her bare feet, and his hands were making her shiver as they glided and lingered over her skimpy bra and lacy panties.
She shook her head as he reached for the bra clasp between her breasts.
"You now," she whispered, "I want us to be naked together."
She felt laughter bubble up as he spent one and a half seconds swiftly and efficiently doffing shirt, pants, socks and glasses.
"If I'd blinked, I'd have missed that," she teased shakily. "You'll have to learn how to do it slower."
"I'll give you lessons later, and then you can do it as slow as you please," he promised hoarsely. "Next time."
Then her laughter became a low throaty sound of surprise as he pulled her nearly naked body against his
.
Chapter Eight
Soft curves and male hardness came roughly together, skin meeting skin, and the contact made a hard throbbing need spring to life within Karena, a demanding urgency that made her rock instinctively against his pelvis in a wordless, sinuous rhythm she was helpless to control.
The tautness in Logan's body was dangerously intense. He needed to love her. Now.
With easy strength, he slid one arm behind her back, the other under her knees, and carried her to the bed, laying her gently on the white crocheted spread, bracing himself over her so he could look into her face.
Her expression was full of naked longing, and free of artifice or pretense of any sort. He stared down at her mouth, swollen and slightly open, full lips delicately bowed and velvety, inviting. He sipped at them, torturing them both with his delay, and then abruptly sat beside her to strip away her wisps of bra and panties, lithely sliding off his own constricting briefs with impatient haste, and groaning with delicious torture when her fingers touched lightly, then closed around him.
"Careful, moon lady." The exquisite sensations were building dangerously fast. Too fast.
Control, Baxter. But she shimmered beneath him, beautiful, vulnerable, open. He was losing control.
Her body felt as if she had a fever, burning and pulsing, every pore alive and demanding. His head dipped and tasted her lips, her eyes, lingering at her breasts until she could hardly stand it. His fingers at last found the pulsing spot at her thighs and led her onward as each new crest of sensation seemed an ultimate pinnacle, faded, drew her higher, and higher again. When she opened her drugged eyes his face shimmered and quivered in a dusky crimson haze of passion, too acute to bear and yet not enough. Never enough.
"Karena." His voice separated her name into syllables, and then she was full of him, full of the burning, spiraling wonder of him, the relentless surge and withdrawal of his body inside of hers filling her with glory.