Animal Prints: Sweet Small Town Contemporary Romance (Michigan Moonlight Book 1) (4 page)

“Right,” he said. “You must have plenty of land to have this collection of animals.”

“It was my grandparent’s farm and orchard.”

“And Petoskey’s right on Lake Michigan, isn’t it?”
 

She nodded. “We have lake frontage, which is why the investment company wants it, I suppose. It is beautiful, but in a different way than here.”

“We?” He picked up on the single word.

“My sister, brother, and I own the property jointly. I live in the old farmhouse and have the barns and outbuildings for my animals. My sister and her husband built a house on part of the land a few years ago.”

“What about your brother?”

“Still in grad school. He’s the baby of the family.”

“They’re not willing to sell either? No one wants to move to a warmer climate?”

“Look around.” She gestured out to where the lake met the shoreline. “We have a place so far north you can see the Northern Lights when it’s dark. We’re cold weather people.” She took a sip of her wine. “Besides, my sister owns a business in Petoskey, and her husband is the high school principal. They aren’t going anywhere.”

“I take it you told the investment company this.”

“Yeah, but they’re persistent. The offer gets a little better each time.”

“But not enough to tempt you?” Ian questioned.
 

She paused, taking another drink. Why was he so interested? “We’re not selling,” she said, “so the amount doesn’t matter.”
 

That seemed to silence him, unfortunately, so they ate for a few minutes before Colette found a way to pass the conversation back to him. “Have I seen your photographs anywhere?”

“Maybe. I’ve freelanced some. In the process, the AP has picked up a couple pictures along with some bigger magazines.”

“Do you photograph people, events, or nature?”

“People and nature. I’m done with events.”
 

“Why?” Journalism would seem the best way to make a living and that meant events. “You must have been good, for the AP to pick up your work.”

He grimaced. “I was a field photographer for the army in Iraq during the early years of the Gulf War, and then a second tour more recently. I’ve photographed enough events to last a lifetime.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah.” He shifted in his chair uncomfortably. “It doesn’t make good dinner conversation.”

She was curious about his experiences, but it would be bad manners to press him. So, she tried a different tactic. “What have you been doing since then?”

“I was in the army until six months ago.” He glanced toward the lake that shimmered in the last light of the day. “I’m still adjusting to the civilian world after ten years in the military. I left most of my stuff in Virginia, my last duty assignment, so I could travel this summer taking pictures of normal things.”

“You got a good start on that today.”
 

“No doubt. I also do some webpage designing. I have a contract to photograph one of the ski resorts in Boyne and build a webpage for them. They’re trying to sell themselves as a year-round resort. Hang on a second.” He leaped to his feet and snagged his camera. Pushing the screen door open, he went onto the open deck, beyond the screened area, and snapped pictures rapidly.
 

The last of the light showed the sharp lines of his profile while he pivoted to photograph the scene up and down the shoreline. When he faced away from her toward the lake, she studied his build. He was long and lean but with broad shoulders. Nothing surprising for a man just out of the army. His physique could keep her occupied for a while, but it was the intensity of his focus she found fascinating. Every movement of his body was aligned, determined to capture the shot. Even when a little muscle twitched, it felt like something momentous as his large, but dexterous hands adjusted the camera. Would he even hear her if she called to him now?

“Sorry. I was waiting for the light to change and it just caught me.” He came through the door as abruptly as he’d left and took his place at the table again.
 

“It’s okay. I like watching you work.” Good thing the light was fading now or he’d see the blush on her burning cheeks at her unintended words. “Think you got what you were looking for?” She asked to re-start the conversation.

“I usually do,” he commented, his gaze resting on her face as several beats of silence passed. He cleared his throat before taking a drink of water. “Boyne isn’t far from Petoskey, is it?”

“About twenty-five miles.” Would he really be that close? But then again, how long before he roamed on with his camera? She shouldn’t get involved or even think about it. Her last relationship had been such a disaster she could hardly remember it without an involuntary shudder, but she found herself asking, “How long will you be there?”

He shrugged, a gesture that seemed a little too casual. “Depends on how long it takes me to do the job.”

Was he trying to push her away? She couldn’t tell with his mannerisms flicking between hot and cold. Either way, she was his hostess for the night.

“Let’s clean up and have coffee and dessert inside. It’s going to be cool enough tonight for a fire.” Colette stood, gathering the dishes from the table.

“There’s more?” He rose to his feet to load the tray with the dirty plates.

“Of course. I take dessert very seriously.” Colette smiled at him over her shoulder as she moved toward the door. “Everyone in my family does. As a matter of fact, we take food very seriously.”

“Wouldn’t know it to look at you,” he said, his eyes sliding down her. It was an obvious flirtation, but what was his game? He must be interested, so why the intentional distance just a moment ago? Doesn’t matter, she decided, and gave him a smile. She flicked her eyes down his body. He stood, taking a step toward her as the tension built. Her heart rate accelerated in anticipation until Romeo let out a long sigh, breaking the moment.

“I’ll get these things soaking. Why don’t you build a fire? All the supplies should be by the fireplace.” She picked up the tray and leaned against the door leading into the house. He stepped toward her then hesitated for a second like he wanted to say something. “You know how, right?” she asked.

“Hm?” He reached past her to open the door, brushing against her side.
 

“To light a fire,” she whispered.

“Believe me, I’ve got plenty of experience with that.”

In the great room, Ian stacked wood in the huge stone fireplace, opened the flue, and struck a match to a pile of kindling. Heat leaped out at him, but couldn’t ward off the chilly sensation that overtook him while he spoke with Colette on the porch. How was he going to acquire her property when she and her siblings so adamantly planned to hold onto it?
 

Hell. That was the least of his troubles. The smell of pine filled the space around him as he poked at the fire to spread the flames. He hated telling lies. Okay, so the business about Boyne and the ski resort was true, but he hadn’t told her why he was traveling this summer. And he sure wasn’t bringing up his great interest in the Petoskey area tonight.
 

He’d barely stopped himself from telling her why he
happened
into her today. But he couldn’t. She was so open and warm, making him a total ass for his deceptions. And something wasn’t right here. His father insisted the Petersons were willing to sell. That the deal only needed a personal touch, and it was done. This was something else entirely.

Ian prowled around the dimly lit room. Like the exterior of the cottage, the great room was a mix of rough-hewn timbers and stone. The comfortable furnishings and colorful rugs scattered across the wide-planked floor gave the oversized room an intimate feel. The aroma of brewing coffee from the kitchen mixed with the scent of burning wood added to the atmosphere. He could get used to this—a beautiful and sexy woman in a secluded cottage in the woods.
 

But when he thought about the half-truths he’d told her, nerves twisted his gut again. She’d come out in a minute, and he had to get himself under control. He would confess it all to her and beg her to forgive him, if he didn’t want the commission and the opportunity to reconcile with his father so damn much.
 

She bumped the swinging door of the kitchen open with her behind, and Ian got a great view of her butt in the tight, celadon green knit skirt she wore. She whirled around with a tray in her arms and smiled at him. Was she doing that on purpose?

“I hope you like chocolate. I could never trust a man who didn’t like chocolate. I’d prefer to serve you a homemade dessert, but no time to bake today so we have store bought.” She unloaded the tray onto the coffee table. Rich cream floated on the surface of steaming coffee in earthenware mugs. Thick slices of chocolate cake were covered by whipped topping and a dusting of cocoa powder.
 

He moved away from the fire to be closer to her. “Looks delicious.” Maybe it was her, maybe the place, but everything was better here. If only this were the honest accident it seemed.

“If you want delicious, I’ll make you my grandmother’s chocolate mousse or maybe her vanilla crème brûlée sometime.” She tucked the tray under the table and turned to him.

“You can’t promise a man that and not follow through.” He bent his head close to hers, just a few inches more and he could kiss her. Which would be delicious, too.

“I’ll follow through,” she said slowly, but Ian heard the nervous catch in her voice.

“I’d like that.” He waited for her to give him a retreat or advance sign. She seemed to waver for a moment. Then, she plopped down on a pile of pillows next to the table and stretched her legs toward the fire. After cutting off a large piece of cake with her fork, she stuck it in her mouth and licked up a crumb on her lips with her tongue. Ian decided it was a good thing he didn’t know where her bedroom was in the cottage. If he knew, the temptation would be more than he could resist. She had disappeared down a hall on the far side of the great room earlier. But no—a relationship that personal would really make a mess of the business between them.

“So you were in the army, but you didn’t say where you grew up.” She took a sip of coffee. Her eyes flickered to his, catching light.

“Chicago. But I haven’t lived there for a long time.” He sat down next to her and took his coffee cup from the table.

“Do you have family there?”

“My father.” He winced involuntarily but tried to cover the action by taking a drink of his coffee.

“Something wrong?”

“We haven’t always seen eye to eye,” he admitted. “Improving our relationship is another one of my plans for the summer and life after the army.”

“You’ll go to Chicago to visit him?”

“Eventually.” But he’d better not go empty handed. Without the three Peterson signatures on the dotted line of a deed transfer, he doubted his father would be too welcoming. The fire crackled sharply and shot sparks onto the hearth stone. His relationship with his father would go out like those sparks if he didn’t hold a match to what he had started here. He’d better lay some plans to see her again if he had a prayer of getting those signatures. “How long are you staying up here?”
 

“I’ll drive home tomorrow night. I have to be at the clinic on Monday. We have a husky coming in for surgery.”

“Is he hurt?”

“No, it’s elective surgery.”

“Tummy tuck? Nose job?” he teased, more relaxed now as he ate a forkful of cake.

“No.” She laughed, and he thought his heart would stop when she leaned close and punched him in the arm. She was near enough that her long blond hair brushed over his shoulder. Another few inches, and she would be in his lap with his lips locked to hers. And wouldn’t that be sweeter than any cake. “Cataract surgery. Huskies can have severe cataract problems even at a young age. This one is only two.” She swiped her tongue over the back of her fork to get the last of the chocolate. “My dad does the surgery and I assist. There are only five vets in Michigan certified to do the operation, and my father happens to be one.”