Spitfire (Puffin Cove) (8 page)

Laura
's eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head. Oh, his voice, his accent. Could he be any sexier? She closed her eyes, and let it rumble through her. Then she smiled.

"
My car's not ridiculous."

"
Aye, it is."

"
It's not!"

"
Baby, it is."

Jesus
. Her eyelids drifted closed again and she struggled to synapse the neurons that had gone stupid in her brain.

You
're playing with fire, here, Laura. Your good friend is in love with him. No poaching!

She gave herself a mental shake and shif
ted slightly away from him. "The song has changed, Kane. Wouldn't you like to dance with your girlfriend?" She said it casually, but knew she was being blunt and maybe a bit catty. She might as well nip any burgeonings here in the bud.

"
Girlfriend? Wha?"

Behind his back, s
he waved to Jill, trying to communicate with casual body language that she wasn't feeling exactly what she was feeling. Unadulterated attraction for her friend's special friend.

She followed
Kane's eyes and they both saw Jill waving merrily back. Laura slanted a glance to Kane under her lashes, and saw that his jaw was clenched tight.

"
Why is it that everyone in this town has this crazy feckin' notion that Jill and I are an item? Even the newcomer's in on it. She's yer friend, and mine. Have ye ever seen me with her in any way other than that?"

He put his thumbs on her jaw and moved her face so that her embarrassed gaze locked with his perturbed one.

"W..well, no. But even if you're not in love with her, are you sure she's not in love with you? She speaks very highly of you."

And always gets that soft light of love in her eyes when she does,
Laura thought. This was spiralling way out of control. She hadn't imagined that she would get involved in anything like this when she had set out to enjoy the evening. For pity's sake, she felt like a fifteen year old at a high school dance.

"
Think maybe ye should have a chat with yer friend, Spitfire. Maybe she can straighten ye out."

Kane
snagged her hand, and dragged her over to where Jill was sitting, and plopped her unceremoniously onto the couch. "Yer new friend here needs a bit of an education, Jilly. See that she gets it."

Both girls watched with confusion, and not a little dismay on
Laura's part, as he skirted musicians and dancers while crossing the room, and clapped a hand on Landon's dad's back. Kane and Alex Blood exchanged a few words and a smile. And after bussing Mrs. Blood's cheek, he blew through the door once again.

Chapter Seven

Laura
drove up the laneway, the burden of apology heavy on her mind. It was a beautiful little farm. Coming around the side of the barn to park her
not
ridiculous vehicle, she took in the old stone foundation giving way to the neatly mended barn board, the smells of fresh, warm earth, sweet hay and pungent manure mingling pleasantly, recalling a sharp reminder of a time long gone by at her grandparents' farm. The hay mow was open, mostly empty in anticipation of the new crop to be added come July.

Barn or house, where would he be?

There were chickens clucking and pecking in the barnyard, and cattle lowing in the paddock. The top of the barn door was open but the bottom closed. Would he be done his chores by now? She headed for the house, and heard a deep male voice belting out,
"How high's the water Momma? Three feet high and risin."

She chewed on her tongue.
Oh, dear God. The man can't carry a tune with a bucket.

She knocked on the painted black door
. No response. He kept on singing.

She looked up at the house, a cedar shake salt box with white trim and sky blue shutters
. She would never tire of the variety of colours and mediums the houses in Newfoundland were fashioned from. If she had to pick, she didn't think she could. She would probably repaint every year in a different colour of the rainbow, just for fun. Back home if you painted your house Pepto Bismol pink you'd be run out of town on a rail. But here it was completely acceptable. Celebrated.

'
Johnny' was coming to the end of his song, so she tried knocking again, pasting a smile on her face.

The door opened and her stomach dropped, her breath stilled
. He stood on the threshold in nothing but an ipod and a pair of faded, worn jeans. An artist's brush was in his hand and a paint-smeared rag hung from his loose waistband. Her mouth went dry and she stammered a shaky, "Hi."

He stood there like a stone, flummoxed
. She was here. He had thought of her almost incessantly since he left the ceilidh. Finally, after a fitful night, he had grumbled uncharacteristically through his chores, then pulled out his paints and stuffed his earbuds into his ears. Anything to occupy his mind and push out the memory of her in his arms. He had wondered if Jill had set her straight about their relationship. He had wondered if she knew about Fiona and Claire. He had wondered if she had felt his traitorous reaction to her body last night, packed up and taken off for a new locale, and if he would ever see her again.

And now here she was
. On his doorstep.

He wiped his hands on the rag and shouldered the door open the rest of the way
. "Won't ye come in, Laura?"

He looked like a
prince, and she had stopped believing in fairy tales a long, long time ago. But there he was. And Lord God in heaven, he was dazzling. His body was neither lean nor fleshy, his muscles toned by honest work. The springy black curls on his chest tapered down his flat belly and disappeared in a teasing invitation below his waistband. His narrow hips gave way to muscular thighs, skin peeping tantalizingly through the rips and wears of his jeans. Even his bare feet were sexy, a sprinkling of dark hair and neatly trimmed nails framed by frayed edges of denim.

She dragged her gaze back up to his face and met his twinkling blue eyes
. His lips were pursed in a teasing moue. He was laughing at her! The conceited oaf thought she was checking him out! Ooo, men! Her narrowed eyes spit fire at him.

"
Uh, I'm sorry. I seem to have interrupted you. I'll come back another time." She turned on a heel to high-tail it out of there, and he laid a hand on her arm, wrapping long, strong fingers around it.

"
Laura, if ye stop by a body's house unannounced yer bound to interrupt somethin'. I asked ye t' come in. Would ye, please?"

The shepherd bounded up to the house from behind the barn,
tongue lolling, tail wagging.

"
Oh, fine. Great guard dog ye are, ye bleedin' coward. Bet ye waited to see if I kept her or sent her away before ye showed yer ugly mug." Stanley nudged Laura's hand and she leaned down to greet the dog. And try to pull together some composure.

"
Well, hello to you, too, beautiful. You are a handsome one, aren't you?" She held out her hand for a sniff, and was accepted with a nose nudge to pet him. She straightened and caught Kane watching her with soft features and hot eyes.

"
Come," he drew her in. "I've tea brewin'. Would ye care for a cup?" He moved to the kitchen without waiting to see if she followed, plucking a black T-shirt from the back of a kitchen chair and slithering it on.

"
That would be nice."

Lame
.

"
I like your farm."

Lame
r!
She rolled her eyes at herself.

He poured out two cups and brought them to the table
, and her tongue engaged before her brain. "Look, I came to apologize. And bring you a gift…uh…of apology."

Lord
Jesus. Was she twelve? She thrust the brown paper bag toward him. "I know that they're out of season, but they're really warm and durable. Hopefully you'll like them come fall."

His lips turned up in a quirky grin as he
took the bag she offered. Digging his hand in he pulled out first one marled grey wool sock, then its mate. She knew that it was an odd gift. Giving a man she hardly knew a pair of socks.

He quirked a quizzical brow at her.
Apparently he thought it was an odd gift too.
Jesus.

"
Look good and warm. Are they locally made?"

"
You could say that. I bought the wool from the hobby shop in town and knit the socks while I've been here. So yes, I would definitely say they're locally made."

Both
eyebrows raised, and joined his surprised smile. "Ye made these…fer me. And what is it that ye feel the need t' apologize fer?"

She sunk
rather jerkily into a chair at the table, her legs finally giving up the ability to keep her vertical. "You were right. I assumed that you and Jill were…involved, and I was rude. And I'm sorry." She took a sip of her tea, trying to moisten her dry mouth without sloshing it over in her trembling hand.

"
Well, I thank ye, Laura. They're marvellous." He sat and pulled on the socks, wiggling his toes. "Soft. And a perfect fit. Good guessing." A pensive look crossed his face. "Laura? How long does it take to knit a pair of socks?"

Busted
!
She pulled the side of her lower lip between her teeth. "Okay, I made them last week. I just thought that sometime, maybe for some reason…God!" She scrubbed her hands over her face, and her voice grew testy. "I wanted you to have them, okay?" Her eyes focused on the wall, the chair, the floor, hoping that any or all of the inanimate objects would be so kind as to open up and swallow her.

His lips twitched, and he
couldn't seem to help the grin that curled them. "Aye, it's okay." He reached out and tilted her chin up to catch her eyes. Her chagrin was palpable. And her skin tingled at his touch.

"
Thank ye, Laura. I appreciate them."

She tore her gaz
e away from his. "Well, I'll let you get back to whatever it was you were doing." She pushed her chair back and rose to leave, and he stood and positioned himself between her and the door. She was poised for flight, and he looked like he had no intention of letting her get away.

"
Have ye plans fer your day?"

"
Um...no. Not that I can think of."

God
. She had to leave. She had to leave. Right. Now. But her wooden legs wouldn't move.

She had always thought things through, weighed the pros and cons, then made a decision
. About pretty much everything. This whole new venture in her life was supposed to be all about letting things unfold without her calculating each move.

But she hadn
't counted on the dark, sexual pull that she was experiencing for this wildly attractive man. She thought she would be able to drop by, give him the socks, and maybe smooth over the strange, unexplainable animosity between them, to put them on the path to being friends. She wasn't entirely sure that she liked the feelings that were shivering around in her head and her belly. Exhilarating? Oh, hell yeah. But the sensations were so foreign to her, so foreign that it was safe to say that she had never, ever felt this nervous quickening. And she sure as hell didn't know what to do about it.

"
Have ye been iceberg watchin' yet?"

"
Icebergs!" Instantly, she felt like a kid on Christmas morning. "No! I really want to see them. There haven't been any come by George and Moira's. I've been watching. I wasn't sure where to go. There have been so many sightings on the internet. I was hoping to…what?" She stopped her babbling, dazzled by his quick grin, and the tiny creases at the corners of his eyes, mesmerized by the dimple in his right cheek, and his slightly crooked eye tooth. Her tongue unconsciously slid over her own.

"
Yer moods're quick to change, Spitfire. You went from runnin' away t' dancin' a jig in the blink of an eye."

"
I don't know why, but icebergs excite me. I can't wait to see them." Her eyes twinkled, imagining seeing in person the phenomena she had only ever seen in pictures.

"
Come on, then. Let's be at it."

Be at it
? Be at it??
Holy.

He made for the door, and snagged a
beaten leather jacket from a hook, pulling her along with him by the hand all the way. He slid feet into boots, snugging the laces around newly gifted wool, then guided her with a long, firm hand on the small of her back out the door.

"What...
? Where...?" she stammered, and he only grinned at her.

Stanley
wagged his tail hopefully. "Not today, sport. Off to the field with ye. Watch the cows." He flipped out his phone and tapped in some numbers.

"
Arthur. Kane. Would ye have an eye fer me cows? I'm off fer a bit….Yes…No…Not sure. Aye, to be sure. Thanks, Art," and dropped the phone back into his pocket.

"
Laura, would ye be needin' t' check in with anyone t' let them know ye'd be away fer a bit?"

Shannon
had begged Laura, then her mother, for a sleepover with Lola, and Laura had dropped the dog off with Jill on her way to Kane's. So her one small responsibility, her convenient excuse if she had needed it, was looked after.

Question
ing the sanity of the certainty of her response, she stated, "Nope. Footloose and fancy free."

Kane flashed her a dazzling smile, opened the passenger door of the shiny convertible and ushered her in
. Sliding into his own seat he set the machine to purring and pulled around to drive down the lane.

Holy crap
. What on earth was she doing? Allowing herself to be kidnapped by a man she barely knew, being taken to a location she wasn't privy to? She palmed the phone in the side pocket of her bag. She wondered if Newfoundland had 911. Idiot, she chided herself. Jill had known Kane for years. If Laura were honest with herself she would admit that the only fear she had of being with Kane was her own foreign reaction.

As they drove along the country road she glanced sideways
. He lounged, relaxed in his seat, deftly shifting and steering. Well, if he could be relaxed, she would be too. She called upon her mantra, and coached herself.
Just enjoy the moment, girl. Don't go analyzing and weighing. Let it be.

The radio quietly surrounded them with the music of the land, many songs she knew, some she didn
't. Her feet kept time, and occasionally she would forget herself, her body would sneak into sways and wiggles with the music, and she would sing along. Then she would catch herself, embarrassed, and stop. He asked her not to, to keep singing. "Ye've a fine voice. I like it."

She asked him about his car, the f
arm, Stanley. He answered easily. Asked questions of his own. They drifted easily in and out of casual conversation. She was sure that sitting in the luxurious confines of the sports car with him would be filled with uncomfortable silences. But it wasn't. The man was so at ease with himself, it turned out that it was easy to relax with him. As long as she didn't think about last night, or him practically naked on the front step this morning, or look sideways at him. Or think about him. Practically naked.

The coast road they merged onto dipped and rose, giving her frequent glimpses of charming homes, rocky shorelines, steeply dropping cliffs and crashing waves
. She became mesmerized by the majesty of it, impatient when the road stole away the view, then grateful as it rewarded her again with more rugged beauty. She bound her wildly whipping curls in a clip, stray tendrils breaking free to tease her cheeks, and unknowingly, his peripheral vision.