Summer at Lake Haven Read online

  “Great. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Samantha said with a general smile for all of them. “If you’ll excuse me, I have errands to run this afternoon. Thank you for a lovely day.”

  “Our pleasure,” Ian said, meaning every word.

  She looked at the children, still watching the puppies as they talked to their grandfather. “Please don’t worry if your children are too busy visiting your grandparents to check in on the puppies for me this week. I easily can make other arrangements.”

  “They’ll do it,” Ian said firmly. “They made a commitment to you and will be happy to fill it.”

  “If that changes, please let me know. They’re on holiday and should feel free to visit with their grandparents all they would like without having to worry about my puppies.”

  A few raindrops suddenly splattered on the grass from one of those quicksilver showers he was discovering hit the lake on many summer afternoons.

  “Everyone inside,” Ian said to his parents and children, ushering them toward his door.

  “What about the puppies?” Thomas asked. “They’ll be soaked.”

  “I can take care of them,” Samantha assured his son with a warm smile.

  “I’ll help her,” Ian said as more drops began to pour. “You all go into our house where it’s dry.”

  His mother gave one more pleased look at him and Samantha before she grabbed a child with each hand and hurried toward the house.

  * * *

  SHE HAD TO ADMIT, the man looked utterly adorable carrying Oscar and Calvin as they hurried into the house with Betsey trotting after just as a rumble of thunder shook the trees.

  “That came up out of nowhere,” Ian exclaimed.

  “That seems to be how our summer storms go around here. You’ve probably noticed that already. One moment it’s lovely and feels like the perfect summer day, the next everyone is ducking for cover. It’s worse in August but we have a few in June and July, too.”

  She was able to keep Coco dry by tucking the puppy under her shirt. Inside her house, she set the puppy back down on the pad inside her mother’s sewing room, then stepped away so Ian could do the same with Oscar and Calvin.

  “Thank you,” she said, suddenly nervous to find herself alone with him again, which she told herself was ridiculous.

  “Glad to help.”

  “I like your parents very much. They seem to adore the children. Do you live close to each other in England?”

  “Not really. The children and I live in Oxford, which is northwest of London while Summerhill House, the family home, is in Dorset, closer to the south coast. It takes about two hours to travel between our homes. We do meet up in London where possible as they live there part of the year, and usually we spend a week or two at Summerhill House. We talk often on the phone and video chat where we can.”

  He gestured to the puppies. “You’ve made a cozy little room for them here.”

  “My mother is probably rolling in her grave to know I’ve transformed her sewing room to a puppy playroom. I didn’t know what else to do with them.”

  They were side by side, both looking in on the puppies as Coco and Oscar wrestled and Calvin chased after a ball.

  He smelled delicious, rugged and masculine with that undertone of some kind of expensive soap. Exactly as she might expect of someone who spoke casually of his family home with a grand-sounding name like Summerhill House. She again couldn’t help picturing something out of Pride and Prejudice, the Keira Knightley movie version, something with statues and Doric columns and vast, ornate gardens.

  His home in reality was probably nothing like that, but that didn’t keep her from imagining it that way.

  “You called this your mother’s sewing room, not yours,” Ian said. “Do you have a sewing room of your own?”

  “I’ve always kept my sewing machine in my bedroom. Since my mother died, I’ve moved the machine into the sunroom, where I have a view of the lake and can watch television.”

  She gestured behind them to the comfortable space she had carved out by taking several ugly pieces of furniture to a charity thrift store in Shelter Springs. Rain still pattered against the glass, creating a warm, intimate bubble.

  He took in the fabric swatches, the table covered with scissors and thread, the sewing machine set up in front of the windows.

  “It seems like a good workspace. Very calming.”

  “I like it.”

  She thought he would leave then but he seemed reluctant to rejoin his parents. Was he drawn to her or was he simply trying to avoid his family?

  “What programs do you like to watch?” Ian asked, gesturing to the television.

  When was the last time any man had seemed genuinely interested in what she liked? She couldn’t remember, which probably said a great deal about her choices in men.

  “A little of everything. From Hallmark movies to true crime to travel shows and everything in between. I’m an equal-opportunity viewer and change channels a lot. What kind of shows do you watch?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t watch much telly, if you want the truth. Give me a good book and maybe a little Glenlivet and I’m sorted for the night.”

  He winced a little. “That makes me sound like my father, doesn’t it? Sorry. At least I didn’t say a cup of tea instead of the Scotch, which is probably closer to the truth most of the time.”

  She smiled at his honesty. “Either way, it sounds nice. You don’t need to apologize for what makes you happy, Ian. Some people like haute couture while others are most comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt. I learned early on working at Fremont Fashions that neither choice is bad, simply individual preference.”

  “I’m obviously the jeans and T-shirt type. For now, anyway,” he added under his breath.

  She wanted to ask what he meant but he didn’t give her the chance.

  “We really did have a lovely day on our adventure. The children will remember it always. Thank you for showing us the falls.”

  “I’m the one who should be thanking you for inviting me and pulling me away from my sewing machine. I loved it. Your children are a delight.”

  “Most of the time. They do have their moments. But on the whole, yes. I would have to say I’ve been extraordinarily lucky in the offspring department.”

  Oh, she liked him. Entirely too much. With a sigh, she decided she might as well confess all.

  “I enjoyed their company and yours,” she admitted softly. “And that’s not flirting, I promise. It’s truth.”

  “I enjoyed yours, as well.” His voice was so low it seemed to whisper through the room, giving her goose bumps she hoped he didn’t see.

  Her gaze met his as the moment seemed to swirl around them. She saw that hunger in his eyes again and knew he wanted to kiss her.

  She should walk away now. She only had to shift slightly and put a little more space between them. She knew it would be the smartest thing to do, the best choice for self-preservation, but she couldn’t seem to get her muscles to cooperate. Instead, she leaned forward slightly, her mouth slightly parted, unable to help herself.

  That hunger flared brighter and then he kissed her, as she wanted him to with a fierce ache that astonished her.

  At first, the kiss was soft, gentle, his mouth barely touching hers. She caught her breath, swept away by sensation. If his mouth had been hard, aggressive, she might have been able to resist him, but this gentleness completely enchanted her and left her wanting more.

  She twisted her hands around his neck and returned the kiss, her fingers playing in his thick, dark hair as she had longed to do all day.

  She could fall in love with Ian Summerhill so easily, she thought as his mouth demolished all her good intentions. It would only take the merest push.

  Oh. She was such an idiot. She couldn’t do this again, set herself up for heartbreak with a man who couldn’
t be hers. She had to break the pattern.

  Ian Summerhill wasn’t the man for her. He had a life away from here, a family, a complicated past.

  Even as the thoughts passed through her mind, Ian deepened the kiss and she shivered, letting him push her against the wall, his body hard and muscled against hers.

  She gave in for a few more moments, caught up in the magic and the wonder and the sheer delight of the kiss.

  Why did it have to be so blasted hard to make the smart decision here? She didn’t want to. She wanted to keep kissing him for the rest of the afternoon while the rain clicked against the windows.

  Each moment she spent in his arms made it harder and harder to do the right thing. Finally, though everything inside her urged her to stay right here, she managed to find the strength necessary to slide her mouth away from his. They stared at each other, both breathing hard, for a long moment as a suddenly awkward silence spread between them.

  He sighed finally, a wistful, hungry sound that left her restless, needy.

  “I did it again, didn’t I? I completely lost my head.”

  “We both did,” she murmured.

  “And after we talked about why we’re both not looking for a relationship right now. I’m sorry, Samantha. I should never have kissed you. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “Maybe the rainstorm,” she suggested, though she knew that wasn’t the reason. This particular storm between them had been building all day. Every moment she had spent with him that day had left her wanting to kiss him again.

  “That might be. Whatever the reason, I promise it won’t happen again.”

  She knew she shouldn’t feel this twinge of sorrow. She didn’t want to think about never kissing him again. “It’s fine. It happened. Let’s move on.”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I’m not that sort of man, in case you were wondering. The kind who looks for dalliances everywhere he goes.”

  She was quite sure she had never heard anyone outside of an actor on a film or television show use the word dalliance.

  “I never thought you were,” she assured him.

  He made a rueful sort of sound. “You seem to bring out a side of me I don’t quite recognize.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, not sure what else she could say. He made her sound like some femme fatale with unlimited power.

  “I certainly don’t blame you. It’s not your fault, it’s entirely my own.”

  He was silent, his features tense. “You must know I’m becoming quite ridiculously infatuated with you.”

  She had to catch her breath. In all her life, no man had ever told her such a thing.

  “Are...are you?”

  His cheeks turned slightly pink. “I know. It’s quite juvenile. You don’t have to say anything. I’m embarrassed enough as it is.”

  “You shouldn’t be embarrassed,” she assured him. “If you want the truth, I’m touched that you trusted me enough to tell me. I find it rather sweet.”

  She didn’t want to tell him that she had plowed past infatuation the first or second time she met him.

  “I suppose sweet is better than pitiable.”

  She frowned at his word choice. “I would certainly never pity you. Why would I?”

  “Lonely widower goes on vacation with his children where he meets a beautiful woman next door who compels him to promptly make a fool of himself.”

  “Are you lonely?” She focused on that word rather than the heat glowing inside her that he would call her beautiful.

  “I probably wouldn’t use that word to describe my day-to-day life. I’m too busy to register that I might be lonely. I focus on the children, my family, my work. But yes. At the heart of it, I suppose I am.”

  Something inside him called to her, an echo of her own loneliness.

  She had been lonely for a long time, long before her mother died and left her alone. She had tried to mask it, to be the life of the party everyone seemed to expect while inside she had yearned most of all for someone to cherish her, to treat her as if what she wanted mattered more than anything else in the world.

  Starry-eyed Samantha.

  She could almost hear her mother’s strident voice ringing through the house with the familiar words.

  “I like you very much, Ian,” she said. “You and your children. I wish I were the sort of woman who wouldn’t mind a bit of, er, dalliance.”

  “I understand. Good to know where we both stand.”

  “There’s no reason we can’t remain friends. You live next door and we are bound to run into each other here and there.”

  She would do her best to make sure she avoided her dock at night. Or finding herself alone with him in a quiet hallway during a thunderstorm.

  “I won’t hold you to your invitation from earlier, to be your plus-one at Gemma’s wedding. I would never want to make things awkward for you.”

  “You wouldn’t,” he protested.

  “You don’t have to worry about me, truly. I’ll be there anyway, fussing over Gemma’s dress. And I suppose your mother’s now, if we can find her a dress design she likes that I can pull off in less than two weeks.”

  She tried not to panic at the reminder.

  “I would still like to go with you and I know that would make the children happy, too.”

  She should tell him no. Spending more time with him was a terrible idea. She had no willpower around him, as the past few moments had amply demonstrated. Despite their conversation, she still wanted to fall right back into his arms.

  Didn’t he understand how weak she was, how she should be spending all her time shoring up her defenses around him so she didn’t wind up with a broken heart when he took his adorable children and returned to England?

  Maybe it was that weakness that made her unable to back out of going with him to the wedding. “All right,” she said.

  His serious expression lifted and she saw relief in his gaze. “So that’s that. It’s a date.”

  “Yes.”

  She would have to be so careful to keep things in perspective for the next couple of weeks before Gemma’s wedding, she thought after he left her house to return next door to his children and his parents.

  She was making a new start here, figuring out life on her own. That life didn’t include a long-distance relationship with a man whose world was thousands of miles away.

  She and Ian couldn’t be together, no matter how she might feel herself falling for him.

  She remembered his words with a little thrill.

  You must know I’m becoming quite ridiculously infatuated with you.

  Wouldn’t it be wonderful if circumstances were different and they could both act on these feelings growing between them? But they weren’t and they couldn’t. They might share a mutual infatuation but it could never move beyond that.

  Something told her that if she gave her heart to Ian Summerhill, it would be damaged forever.

  * * *

  IAN WALKED BACK to his rented house, his thoughts whirling and his face hot with mortification.

  Good Lord. He really was an idiot. Had he really blurted out that he was infatuated with her?

  What had he been thinking?

  The answer to that was quite simple. He hadn’t been thinking at all. The words had slipped out without a moment’s thought behind them.

  He was hopeless. Utterly hopeless. Put a beautiful woman in his arms and he completely lost his head.

  He should never have kissed her. He still didn’t know what had come over him. That was twice now that he had acted without thinking and had simply taken what he wanted like some kind of Neanderthal. And that was probably being unfair to Neanderthals.

  He had to be far more careful around her. He meant what he had told her earlier. He wasn’t looking for a relationship, even if one between hi
m and a woman who lived five thousand miles away was even possible. The children needed him right now. It would be hard enough for them to pack up their lives and move at the end of the summer. They had already endured far too many life changes for children so young. He had vowed he wouldn’t date anyone until Thomas was at least through grade school, which right now seemed eons away.

  The thunderstorm had blown over as quickly as it had arisen, leaving the air cool and the lake churning and restless—much as he felt inside.

  He hurried through the wet grass, managing to wrestle most of his emotions under control by the time he entered the house. Inside, he found his father reading the newspaper. Amelia and Thomas were showing Margaret their assortment of stones collected in the short time they had been in Idaho.

  “Puppies all managed?” Henry asked.

  Ian could feel his cheeks heat and hoped like Hades that his father wouldn’t notice his reaction.

  “Yes,” he answered. “All tucked in, safe and dry.”

  “Nice of you to help out your neighbor,” Margaret said, looking up from a heart-shaped stone Thomas had found along the lakeshore.

  “More like she’s helping me. Samantha has been very kind to us.”

  “She’s letting Dad park his boat at her house,” Amelia informed her grandparents.

  “Is that right?” Henry asked.

  “When we rented this house, I thought the dock out there belonged to our rental,” he explained. “I must have misunderstood something the estate agent said. It turned out the dock belongs to Samantha’s property. She’s been kind enough to let me moor my research boat there and use it whenever I need it.”

  “She’s very pretty,” Margaret observed.

  “Isn’t she?” he replied as blandly as he could.

  “Gemma says she’s nice, too. I just spoke with your sister to tell her Samantha had agreed to help me find a new dress for the wedding.”

  He could only imagine how that conversation had gone. He had a feeling the topic of mother-of-the-bride dresses had only filled a portion of it. The idea of his mother and sister in cahoots, working together to push him and Samantha Fremont together, filled him with apprehension.