“I’m not ‘lots of people,”’ she interrupted.
“So I noticed,” he agreed, and his hands slowly kneaded the softness of her abdomen. Warm curling sensations grew to life within her. Slowly he stopped his seductive movements. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m pushing you too quickly. Let’s forget the entire suggestion—for the time being. But, please come and spend the weekend with me…”
Pulling herself away from him, she planted a fist firmly against her hip and forced back a smile that flirted with her lips. “I’ll come with you—on one condition!”
Kane crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the dresser. The sweater strained across his shoulders. “Okay. I’m game. What’s the condition?”
“That for once you tell me where you plan on taking me!”
“Spoilsport!”
“Kane!”
“Where’s that girl who loves mystery and old movies?” he inquired, a twinkle coming to his eyes.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“Not unless you think of some wildly erotic torture that will force me into submission.”
“Dreamer,” she shot back at him, before turning to pack.
The small motorboat churned through the cold gray waters of Puget Sound and out toward the Pacific Ocean. When Erin had stepped into the tiny vessel, she had guessed that Kane was taking her to San Juan Island, but he had preferred to keep the destination and his secret to himself. Now, as the frigid salt spray tickled her nose and clung to her hair, she was grateful that she had had the foresight to bring her down jacket with her. She drew the warm collar closer to her neck in an effort to keep the moisture-laden air off her skin.
By the time they reached Orcas Island the sun had set, and only a long orange glow remained along the horizon. Night was closing in, and the lights of Deer Harbor winked like silvery diamonds against the black island as the launch continued on its journey around the small piece of land.
Erin rubbed her hands together, and then pushed them deep into her pockets in an effort to warm herself. At that moment the rhythmic rumble of the small craft’s engine slowed, and Kane maneuvered the boat inland. It was difficult to see clearly in the evening light, but Erin made out a small cove with a relatively private beach and a ramshackle cabin.
Kane cut the engine and jumped out onto the private dock. He secured the craft and helped Erin out of the boat. Her eyes swept the beach until she spotted the cabin. A slow smile spread over her features.
“Well, what do you think?” Kane asked, his arm draped possessively over her slim shoulders.
“I think this all looks suspiciously like a set from one of those 1940s, black-and-white, slice-of-life movies,” she commented as her eyes studied the small cozy cabin and its state of apparent neglect.
“I knew you’d like it,” Kane replied with a self-satisfied smile. “Come on. Let’s take a look inside…”
The cabin was, if nothing else, rustic. A broad, sagging front porch protected the front door. The cabin was constructed of cedar, and to Erin’s discriminating eye, had never been painted. It bore the weathered look of exposed gray wood blanched by the salt of the sea. At one end of the porch a worn rope hammock swung in the breeze coming off the ocean. The front door groaned as it was opened, and the interior of the cabin had a musty, unused odor. There was no electricity, but running water was pumped into the kitchen. A woodstove in the kitchen and a massive stone fireplace at one end of the living area provided the only sources of heat in the building. Erin surveyed the cabin with a skeptical eye. She had never been much of a believer in “roughing it” when modern conveniences were the available alternative.
Kane unpacked the boat and started searching for firewood, while Erin lit the rose-colored kerosene lamps and removed the dustcovers from the furniture. To air out the interior, she opened all the windows, heedless of the chill in the air, and felt the tickle of salt air burn in her lungs.
The cabin was rather barren, and what little furniture there was appeared threadbare. But she had to admit that once she had swept the dust from the floor, and the fire was lit, the warm scent of burning wood mingled with the fresh fragrance of the salt sea air, and the cabin seemed bearable, if not cheerfully inviting. Fortunately Kane had the foresight to stop off at a delicatessen in Seattle before picking up Erin, and he had purchased sandwiches and a bottle of wine. Erin rummaged in the old-fashioned kitchen and was able to find an unopened package of paper cups along with a tarnished but necessary corkscrew for the wine.
Pleased with her discoveries, she retraced her footsteps back into the living area. Brandishing the corkscrew dramatically in the air, she captured Kane’s attention. “Voilà!’ she announced theatrically, and placed the cups on the floor next to the couch.
Because of the chill of the evening sea breeze, Kane was closing the final window in an effort to retain the heat from the fireplace when Erin reentered the room. He snapped the window latch closed and turned to face Erin, who wondered aloud, “How in the world did you ever find this place?”
“It’s not exactly moonlight and roses, is it?” he asked, crossing the room to the fireplace. He squatted near the golden flames and warmed his palms against the heat that the fire offered.
“Who needs moonlight and roses?” she asked rhetorically, and shrugged.
“Don’t you?” Gray eyes searched her face as if she were a puzzle to him.
“I’m a little too much of a realist to think that the world revolves around silver moonlight, cut flowers and soft music,” she admitted drily.
“Are you?” A smile of disbelief tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“Does it matter?” she asked, and unwrapped the sandwiches. “Anyway, you’re avoiding my que
stion—how did you come to find this private little hideaway?”