Secrets & Seductions Page 9

  He pictured her alone in a robe and fuzzy slippers, with a bowl of popcorn on her lap and the cat at her side. “What do you watch?”

  “Anything with a good story,” she said. “I’m not particular as long as it isn’t too gory. How about you? Are you a movie buff?”

  “Like you, as long as the plot makes sense, I’m not particular.” He thought for a moment. “I do lean toward comedies over violence.” For a few more moments they discussed their favorite actors and the movies they liked.

  Using her pack as a pillow, Emma lay on her back and stared up at the sky. “Oh, look,” she exclaimed, pointing upward. “Is that another bald eagle?”

  Morgan rolled over and shaded his eyes with his hand. “I can’t tell for sure, but it looks like one with that wingspan.”

  As she lay next to him, he wished that she was closer, with her head resting on his shoulder. He could almost feel her breasts pressing against his side.

  His body reacted sharply, insistently. He turned his head, afraid she might have noticed, but her eyes were closed.

  Watching her chest rise and fall wasn’t helping, so he studied the few clouds instead.

  After a while she stirred and then sat up. After she had fluffed up her hair, she wrapped her arms around her bent knees.

  He turned to his side so that he could see her. “What are you thinking?” he asked, feeling lazy.

  Usually he came up here alone to spend some time gazing at the lake and the mountains. With Emma along, the experience was totally different. He wanted to call her once they got back to Portland. If it led to anything, he would just have to figure out a way to square his conscience with her connection to the clinic.

  She stretched her arms over her head. “I can’t get my mind off those peanut butter cookies in your pack,” she admitted with a laugh.

  “Got a sweet tooth?” he teased after he’d dug out the plastic bag and unzipped it.

  “Chocolate doesn’t tempt me, but I’m nuts about peanut butter,” she replied, reaching for one. “It’s like an Achilles’ heel for me.”

  After she took the cookie, he held up an apple. “We’ve got two of these. Shall we save them for later?”

  “Aren’t I supposed to offer you the apple?” she teased, her voice a little husky as she looked into his eyes.

  Awareness arced between them. Morgan was torn between his policy of keeping his distance and the desire to take her into his arms and flick the cookie crumbs from her lips with his tongue.

  How badly he wanted to kiss her!

  “Once we get back to Portland, you can offer me whatever you want,” he said, testing her reaction.

  With a noncommittal hum, Emma took another bite of her cookie. Her gaze stayed on his.

  “Everything tastes so good in the open air,” she commented with her mouth partly full. “If the session ran any longer than two weeks, I’d gain a hundred pounds.”

  “You’d still look good.” Morgan tried to be gallant. Perhaps she, too, felt awkward about exploring their attraction right now. Or worse, pressured, which was exactly why he needed to back off.

  “My adoptive mother is chunky,” she said. “She’s tried every diet known to man, so I suppose I should be grateful we aren’t really related.”

  He pulled a few random blades of grass. “Talking to them might start the healing process for you,” he ventured.

  She stared at the mountain range with apparent fascination. “Or it might just make things worse.”

  “I could recommend a counselor who’s got a lot of experience with this kind of situation,” he offered.

  She studied a patch of clover, picking through the leaves with her fingers. “You already know what would help.”

  “Why is it so important to you?” he asked. “Have you figured that out yet?”

  “I have a right to know,” she said stubbornly.

  Morgan didn’t want to argue, not on such a beautiful afternoon, so he changed the subject.

  “How long have you been divorced?” he asked bluntly. And whose idea was it? he wanted to add, but didn’t.

  She went back to studying the patch of clover. “A few months.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve never been married, but I know that kind of breakup can be rough.”

  “Especially when you don’t see it coming,” she replied.

  The bitterness in her voice made him sad for her. “Want to tell me about it?”

  She lifted her head so her gaze met his. “Are we playing shrink?” she asked.

  He couldn’t blame her for being wary, but he really wanted to know what had happened. “I’m trying to play friend.”

  Her gaze flickered. “Sorry. I guess I got a little too used to protecting myself from so-called friends.”

  He waited silently, giving her time to decide whether to trust him. “Don and I decided it was time to start our family,” she said in a low voice. “Unfortunately, as I mentioned before, I had two miscarriages.”

  Morgan resisted the urge to offer comfort. Instead he waited for her to continue.

  “We were both disappointed after the first miscarriage, but we decided to try again. When that didn’t work, we went to the doctor, who performed a laparoscopy. Before we had a chance to discuss the treatment options, Don decided to book.”

  Her eyes were dry when she looked at Morgan, but her face was pale. The freckles scattered across her nose stood out. “Looking back, I realized that perhaps I should have seen it coming. I thought we were solid, you know?”

  Morgan resisted the urge to curve his arm around her shoulders. Instead he settled for a reassuring and yet platonic pat on her hand. Her skin was soft and cool to the touch.

  “Don’t blame yourself,” he said, even though she probably wasn’t expecting a reply. “The signs aren’t always obvious.”

  “No kidding.” She took a drink of water from the bottle beside her. “Looking back, I think splitting up was for the best,” she said firmly. “A child makes a good marriage better, but it can’t hold a weak one together forever.”

  “That’s very insightful,” he murmured. “Does it mean you’ve put that relationship behind you?”

  “Absolutely,” she said brightly. “Now tell me all about you.”

  He gave her the thumbnail bio, which he considered to be pretty boring. After he mentioned earning his doctorate in social work, she interrupted with a question.

  “Why are you still single? I haven’t heard you mention a significant other.”

  Morgan couldn’t hold back a smile. “My mother asks the same thing all the time.”

  “And what do you tell her?” Emma persisted.

  He shrugged. “Depends on how clever I’m feeling at the time.”

  “What’s the clever answer?”

  “That she’s spoiled me for any other woman.”

  “Not all that clever,” Emma smirked. “What’s the truth?”

  He figured it was a fair question, given what he knew about her. “I came close a couple of times,” he admitted, holding her gaze with his. “You know the old saying, that everyone’s looking for someone?”

  She bobbed her head.

  “Well, I’m looking for the one.” The sentiment sounded so corny when he put it into words, but that was how he felt.

  Emma nodded again. “I hope you find her.”

  “We’d better start back,” he said reluctantly.

  The sun had dipped lower in the sky and the shadows were beginning to lengthen as they gathered everything up and Morgan helped her to her feet.

  “I hate leaving such a beautiful spot.” Emma slipped on her pack. “It’s been fun.”

  She began retracing their path across the meadow. As they neared the shelter at the edge of the trees, she looked over her shoulder as though she was committing the scene to memory.

  Exchanging a smiling glance with her, Morgan turned around and walked backward. He knew when he came back the next time the view would have changed.

  “Ow! Oh,
damn!” Emma’s startled cry pierced his reverie like an archer’s arrow. She fell to the ground so abruptly that Morgan nearly tripped over her.

  “What is it? What is it?” Dropping his pack, he leaned down to her as she lay sprawled in the grass.

  Her face was contorted with pain, her leg bent nearly double.

  “Oh, my ankle. Damn, damn, damn!” she exclaimed, clutching at her boot as she rolled back and forth on the ground. “I stepped wrong on a rock. I must have twisted it.”

  “Hold still. Let me take a look.” Morgan crouched down and put his hand on her knee in an attempt to calm her. “Come on, sweetie, let me check it out.”

  She took several deep breaths and stopped her thrashing. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, lying back. “How stupid of me.”

  “It’s okay, don’t worry about that.” He unlaced her short boot, relieved that he didn’t see any immediate swelling. While she sat up, he dug a cold pack from his bag and handed it to her. “Hold this on your ankle.”

  She winced, but she did as he instructed.

  “How does it feel?” he asked after a minute.

  “The cold pack is helping.” She shifted restlessly. “I think I overreacted.”

  “Give it a minute and then we’ll check again for swelling,” he said, sitting down beside her. “An ankle sprain can be pretty serious.”

  “It will be fine,” she insisted, handing him back the cold pack and wiggling her foot. “It hardly hurts at all.” She lifted her head and looked around. “We should probably get going.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “I can wrap it in an elastic bandage for extra support. If you want, I can find you a walking stick.”

  “I’m such a baby,” she said in a disgruntled tone as she began lacing up her boot.

  “Not too tight,” he reminded her.

  “Help me up, okay?” she asked when she was done.

  He pulled her to her feet. If things had been different, he would have wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Instead he put one arm around her waist while she found her balance on one foot.

  “Careful,” he cautioned, looking down at her bowed head. “Take your time.”

  Gingerly she put weight on her injured ankle as she gripped his forearm to steady herself. Immediately her leg gave out beneath her.

  “Oh, damn. It hurts,” she said plaintively as he tightened his grip to keep her from falling.

  “Let me help you down and then we’ll figure out what to do next.” Morgan held on to her elbows and lowered her to the grass. “Are you in a lot of pain?” he asked. “I don’t want to remove your boot just yet. If your ankle were to swell, you couldn’t get it back on.”

  “It’s not so bad.” She put on a brave face. “Why couldn’t this have happened when we were back at camp?”

  He ignored the rhetorical question as he dug into his pack and took out his cell phone. “I’ll call down there so they don’t worry.”

  Emma’s stomach clenched. How could she not have figured that he might bring his cell with him? “Will it work from here?” she blurted.

  “It’s not something you should count on because you can’t always get a signal.” After a moment he shook his head. “We’re probably too close to the mountains.”

  As he looked around through narrowed eyes, she slowly let out the breath she’d been holding. “What if you can’t get through?” she asked.

  “I’ll try again over by the lake. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” After he stood up, he gave her a reassuring smile. “We’ll be fine, Emma. I just don’t want them to panic.”

  Alarmed, she watched him walk away. She hadn’t taken into account that a search party from camp would surely set out when the two of them failed to return. What if a rescue helicopter was dispatched? Was the meadow big enough for it to land safely, especially after darkness fell?

  There were so many things she didn’t know. What if someone got hurt trying to rescue her, or the chopper crashed somewhere in the wilderness on its way to save them?

  The thought sent a chill through her that pooled in her abdomen and then turned into a ball of ice as she watched him walk away. She’d assumed their absence wouldn’t be noticed until morning, just like in the city, and she had figured they would spend the night here together. By morning, her ankle would be fine.

  She leaned back and braced herself on her arms, relieved that he appeared to be talking to someone. Her plan was falling apart, but she had no experience at manipulating people on such a grand scale. If she had, she might have managed to stop her ex-husband from deserting her just when she needed him the most.

  After a couple more minutes Morgan put the phone into his pocket and came back to where she waited anxiously.

  “I got hold of Derrick and told him about your ankle,” he said, looking relieved. “If we aren’t back before dawn, he and Jeff will start out after us.”

  “Dawn?” she echoed.

  “There wouldn’t be enough time for them to come all the way up here and help you back to camp before dark,” he explained as he dropped to the ground beside her. “If you can’t walk, we’re better off staying in the shelter until daylight than spending the night in the woods.”

  The image of being lost in a dark forest sent a shiver of panic through Emma. What if he decided to set out without her?

  “You won’t leave me alone, will you?” she asked, clutching his arm. “I’d be terrified.”

  Solemnly he patted her hand. “I wouldn’t desert you. We’re in this together.”

  Beneath her palm, his forearm was warm to the touch and the light dusting of hair made her want to stroke his skin. She struggled to keep her elation from showing as she looked into his face. Spending the night together in the shelter was a much better idea than trying to hike back to camp.

  “I guess we don’t have any choice,” she agreed softly, slipping her hand into his. “I’m glad you’re with me.”

  Something sparked in his eyes as his fingers squeezed hers, but then he pulled away and got to his feet. “How does your ankle feel now?”

  Disappointed by his withdrawal, she shifted the cold pack and extended her bare leg. Cautiously she moved her foot. “It’s not sore right now.”

  Already the sun was heading toward the line of trees to the west. Once it set, the temperature would no doubt drop quickly.

  “We need to check out the shelter,” he said. “It’s not that far. Once you’re settled, you can take a couple of anti-inflammatory pills and elevate your foot. That may help to keep it from swelling.”

  “Okay.” She was content to let him take charge. The way he stood over her with his hands parked on his hips and a confident expression on his face while he made the decisions might not be politically correct, but it was certainly sexy.

  “I’ll come back for the packs,” he said as he helped her up.

  It was far too late for Emma to turn back now. Carefully she balanced on one foot while she steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder. The feel of his muscles under her palm was such a distraction that she nearly forgot to keep her weight off her injured ankle.

  “I must look like a stork,” she muttered as she wobbled on one leg.

  “Okay, put your arms around my neck.” There was a sudden edge to his tone as he ducked his head.

  She realized that he planned to carry her. If she had been standing on her own, the thought of being held in his arms might have made her legs go weak. “Maybe I could hobble that far.”

  “The ground’s too uneven,” he replied. “Also, we need to get the basics done on our way. Don’t be embarrassed. After putting on this camp session for the last five years, there isn’t much I haven’t had to deal with.”

  As Emma realized his intention, her cheeks flamed and she gaped up at him in sheer horror. “I can manage on my own,” she stammered.

  “Oh, really?” He cocked one dark brow. “How?”

  It was one more thing she hadn’t thought out. “Well, maybe not,” she muttered.


  “If it will help, think of me as a male nurse,” he urged, straight-faced.

  She really had no other choice, so she slipped her arms around his neck. When he scooped her up, the world seemed to spin, making her feel suddenly dizzy. She forgot to breathe. Her head was tucked under his chin, her cheek pressed so close against the warm skin of his throat that she could feel him swallow.

  “Okay?” he asked as he settled her into his arms.

  She loosened her hold around his neck so she wouldn’t choke him. “I’m fine,” she croaked.

  His scent was a mixture of outdoors, sunshine and the faintest hint of cologne. Her fingers seemed to have minds of their own, wanting to delve into the black hair at his nape as he headed for the trees.

  A few minutes later, with her once again settled into his arms, they emerged from the descending gloom.

  “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s check out the accommodations,” he suggested, as if they were indeed staying at the Hilton, as he had called the shelter when they first passed it.

  Already the temperature was dropping. Emma hadn’t thought out the details of spending the night with nothing heavier than their thin jackets, and this deep into the summer the forest was far too dry to risk a campfire.

  Morgan shouldered open the door to the small rectangular structure. Fading light came through the single window. Emma was pleasantly surprised to see that the glass was intact.

  Morgan crossed the wood floor and set her down on a built-in bench. Next to her was a pile of folded blankets. In one corner sat a small stove.

  “There’s wood outside next to the building, but we’ll leave it for someone to use in the colder weather,” he said. “I’ll shake out the bedding when I get back so we don’t have to lie directly on the floor.”

  Emma glanced at the worn blankets, wishing she had her sleeping bag instead.

  He pulled out his flashlight and shone it into the corners while she listened hard for any sounds of escaping critters. She didn’t hear anything.

  “For a mountain retreat, it looks reasonably clean,” he said, switching off the light. “Someone must have stayed here recently. Even the floor’s been swept.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Emma agreed as she looked around. She’d prefer candles, music and goose down, but this would just have to do.