Animal Prints: Sweet Small Town Contemporary Romance (Michigan Moonlight Book 1) (11 page)

Jack held the gate to the pasture open and stood steady, his eyes unflinchingly trained on his daughter and the little horse. When Colette got through the gate into the pasture, she unsnapped the lead from the animal’s halter and sank to the ground near him.
 

“Can I take pictures now?” Ian stood in the doorway of the barn. His fingers itched to start clicking the camera he held at his side like a gunslinger might a pistol. He could imagine these shots spinning on a slide show on her website or gracing the wall with a matte finish.
 

“Yes, but no sudden moves.” Colette spoke in a calm tone from where she sat in the tall grass of the pasture. “His legs are still too weak to carry him if he runs. I don’t want him to hurt himself.”
 

Orsino nuzzled the sleeve of her gauzy, white blouse when Ian took the first shot. Slowly, he approached the rail of the fence encircling the pasture where he could better see the pair who sat a few feet away. “Colette, take the clip out of your hair.”

“Why?” She turned her head ever so slightly in his direction, but not far enough to catch his eye.
 

“Trust me.” When his words came out as a command, Jack’s gaze trained on him in a hard stare. At the moment, he didn’t care. Pleasing Colette’s father wasn’t his job. Colette removed the clip and her blond hair fell in a heavy mass down her back while little wisps were caught by the breeze and blew out past the recovering animal.
 

Ian smiled while he worked as Colette continued to talk to Orsino and encourage him to walk around her until the animal grew tired. Exhausted, he lay down in the grass near her with his head resting on her folded leg and his eyes focused on her face. Ian took several more pictures at the fence before moving further along to capture the barn as the backdrop.

Jack started to back into the barn to get out of the frame. “Stay where you are, if you don’t mind,” Ian said. He had the perfect shot lined up with Orsino and Colette in the foreground and Jack framed by the open doorway of the barn.
 

“I don’t like having my picture taken,” Jack grumped. “Collie, we should get him back inside before he’s too weak.”

“It’ll only take a minute more.” Something in Ian’s voice froze Jack where he was.
 

In one last shot, Orsino lifted his head from Colette’s leg as she lowered her face to meet his. Her long hair fell behind them to provide a shiny, golden curtain that would be slightly out of focus with a dream-like glow. The perfect image. Most photographers waited their whole careers to take it, and when they did, they knew it.
 

Ian knew it. That was
the
photograph of his life. “I’m done,” he said, with a breathless smile. Jack sauntered to where his daughter and Orsino waited. “I better carry him in.” Wrapping his arms around the animal, he lifted the horse to his chest while Colette kept petting Orsino’s face and talking to him. Together, they got him back in the barn and settled in his stall. Ian circled the barn to the front entrance and waited for them to emerge.
 

“You were right. I should know to listen to you when it comes to the rescue animals,” Jack said, striding out of the barn after Colette.
 

For the first time this afternoon, Colette turned fully to Ian and smiled just for him. The glow the camera had captured remained on her face. Something inside him broke open and, like a lost man scrambling to get hold of the last life raft, when she walked toward him, he mentally gave up his seat on the boat and plunged into the warm, soothing waters. He never thought of himself as a troubled man despite some of the things he’d seen, but her presence sent a wave of peace into his soul.
 

“Thanks for coming,” she said just loud enough for him to hear.

“I’ve been looking forward to it.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting his thumb fan over her cheek. The terrier slipped between them and jumped on Ian’s leg. “What’s this guy’s story?”

“We call him Prospero.” Colette bent to run a finger under the dog’s chin. “He was found after a tornado came through just south of here last spring. We figure he survived a tempest, so he’s Prospero.”

“No one claimed him? He’s pretty cute.”
 

“Nope, we advertised, but no takers.” She lifted the little dog into her arms. “Let’s go to the house so I can get cleaned up. Then, I’ll give you the tour.” She turned to her father who was scrubbing his hands at the sink just inside the barn door. “Dad, you coming?”

“I’m going on home. Your mother’s on a quest for the perfect end tables.” Jack’s sharp glance examined Ian. He returned the look, trying to gauge its meaning.

“Still? I thought she found ones she liked last weekend.”

“She returned them on Tuesday.” He sighed, and father and daughter exchanged an amused look.

“Mom returns everything at least once,” Colette explained to Ian. “It’s part of her charm.”

“Charm, hell, the woman returned a refrigerator. Twice.” Jack wiped his hands on a paper towel, tossing it over his shoulder into a trashcan and coming toward them. “Kroft, is it? From Chicago originally, Collie tells me.” The older man put out his hand this time.

“That’s right.” Ian shook the man’s hand, but had the suspicion that he was being assessed, every feature scrutinized.

“Something familiar about that name. You look familiar, too. Any chance we’ve met?”
 

“I don’t see how,” Ian answered, keeping an even, pleasant expression on his face while hoping that Jack’s memory wasn’t that good.

“It’ll come to me eventually,” Jack said, then focused on his daughter. “We’ll see you tomorrow for dinner at Lexy’s, right Collie?”

“I’ll be there. Thanks for your help this afternoon.” Colette gave her father a peck on the cheek before he walked over to his truck. As he drove past them, he lifted his hand to wave, but his expression remained thoughtful, like a man who was trying to remember something important.

A nervous sweat broke out along the inside collar of Ian’s shirt. If her father figured out who he was, he was a dead man. Although the offers to the Petersons had been made under the corporation name, it wouldn’t take much for someone half-decent with an internet search engine to connect the name Kroft with Northfield Real Estate. Why he looked familiar to Jack was a whole other issue. He looked like the photos of his father when young, but his father was far from young now. And, to his knowledge, his father hadn’t even been here personally.
 

“What’s the matter?” Colette started for the backdoor of the house and waved for him to follow.

“Nothing.”
 

Colette looked after her father’s truck. “Don’t worry about my dad. He can be a little gruff at times, but it doesn’t mean anything.” As they approached the house, she put Prospero down and he ran off after Romeo.

“Not worried,” Ian said more abruptly than he meant to, reaching around her to open the door.
 

They stepped into a mudroom where coats of all varieties hung on hooks and shoes and boots were neatly stored in bins. A huge wash tub with a faucet sat along one wall under a shelf of fluffy, white towels. Colette bumped the sink on with the back of her hand and carefully scrubbed her hands and arms up to her shirt sleeves, like a surgeon preparing for an operation.

She blew back the strands of hair falling forward over her face. As she did so, Ian reached for the hair clip she’d attached to the edge of her blouse, gently twisted her hair behind her head, and clipped it up.
 

“Thanks,” she said and giggled when his fingers stroked the warm, tanned skin of her neck.

“Ticklish?” He leaned against her back and molded around her, letting the heat of his body combine with hers.
 

“A little,” she admitted, arching her neck and encouraging him to press a kiss to her nape

“I can’t decide if I like your hair down or up.” He whispered near her ear. “Both have their advantages. For example, when it’s up, I can do this.” He kissed her neck again, slowly working his lips up the slim length. Her giggles turned to shivers as she pressed her body closer to his.

Chapter Seven

She trembled as Ian’s lips skimmed over her sensitive skin and his body clung tight to hers. She gripped the sink’s edge, fingers still dripping with water until he spun her around and pinned her to the sink. His eyes met hers, posing an unspoken question. In answer, she wrapped her arms around his neck, yanking him to her and initiating a kiss, deep and rich, unlike anything she’d ever done before.
 

Groaning, he pulled her closer and slid his hands to her hips. The hard surge of his erection pressed against her stomach as his tongue swept through her mouth. It was a tease, a dance, as they ground together, taking pleasure from each other. But through her closed eyelids and clouded senses, she caught a flash of light brighten the room. When Romeo thrust his head between them, she realized how intense the moment had become and broke from the kiss, dropping her head against Ian’s shoulder
 

“It’s just Romeo,” she whispered, slowly catching her breath and calming her wild desires. His hands made long strokes up and down her back, soothing her, but his heart still raced under her ear. “Too fast?” He said into her hair.

“A little, but I like it.” She kissed him gently on the neck, making him moan. “I’m going to go change.” She disentangled herself from him, but took his hand to lead him through a door into her kitchen. “I’ll only be a minute.” She kicked off her shoes and dashed up the back stairs to her bedroom on the second floor.
 

Hastily, she tossed off her soiled clothes. As much as she loved the animals, she didn’t want to smell like the barn with Ian around. Not that he seemed to mind, she mused, while yanking on fresh jeans and a pink tank top. She removed the clip from her hair, letting it fall down her back. The feel of his kisses lingered on her skin. Should she put her hair back up and tempt him to more kisses? She played with her hair, studying her reflection in the mirror for a moment. Hers was the face of a woman who had been recently and seriously kissed. Her lips were a little puffy and her skin flushed.
 

She found a bright green fabric headband in the basket on her dresser and put it on her head as a compromise. It brought her hair relatively under control, but left it long in back. For the first time in her life, Colette hoped the man in her life would like it.
 

The thought made her draw up short. She sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the plain, but pretty room. Since when did she care whether he liked it or not? Possibly since he chased a runaway dog on Grand Island, but certainly since dinner the other night.
 

Part of her wanted to hug a pillow to her stomach and roll back on the bed. The other part wanted to race downstairs to be with him. And that meant she was starting to like him. Really like him. And she didn’t want that…did she? The memory of her disastrous relationships told her the first option was the most sensible, but Ian was different. She could trust him. Right? She certainly wanted to.
 

She wanted a relationship filled with love and trust. She wanted to build a life with someone special here on her farm. Was he the one? The thought that he could be made her dig through her makeup bag for lip gloss and mascara. She left the safety of her room, half-excited and half-fearful to join Ian in the kitchen.
 

He was gazing through the window over the sink, which looked out toward the barns. When she came down the stairs, he turned to her with a slightly dreamy look, as though the light from the window had mesmerized him.

“Bright colors. Nice. They’ll photograph well,” he commented.
 

“Huh?” She blinked at him.

“Your blouse.” He eyed her up and down. “Pictures for your website. Remember?” He was smiling now, a teasing glimmer in his eyes.
 

“Right.” She took a breath and made herself walk across the kitchen toward him to grab two glasses from a cupboard. “Should I put on something more professional?”

“Nope. I like this.” He hooked a finger in the neckline of her tank top to pull her toward him and plant a quick kiss on her lips.

“Will it look all right, though?” Feeling suddenly nervous, she skirted away from him and reached in the refrigerator for a pitcher of iced tea.

“It’s fine. You’re not going for a high profile business image.” He took the glass of tea she handed him. “I think you want to look warm, friendly, and smart,” he took a sip, “which you are.”