Could they be a picture-perfect family?

Daredevil photographer Jake Hollister has never stayed in one place. But after an injury, he has no choice. No more photographing polar bears in the Arctic or documenting the wonders of the world—he’s in small-town Washington State for at least a year. A year with his wholesome, beautiful landlady, Hannah Nolan, and her young son.

The longer Jake stays, the more he’s drawn to Hannah. She’s passionate about her community and her family, things Jake has never experienced. And suddenly, because of her, these things are starting to appeal to him. Jake has always been a risk-taker—maybe now it’s time to take a risk on love.

“How much time have you spent in the U.S.?” Hannah asked as she swept.

“Almost none,” Jake admitted. “I have a small work studio in Costa Rica, but I’m hardly ever there, either.”

Lord. Hannah couldn’t imagine living like that, with no real home, just a suitcase.

“Traveling can be fun, but I’m mostly a homebody,” she said, raising her chin and practically daring him to comment.

“Yeah, I figured. The domestic stuff is okay, but home, marriage, kids—those things would end my career.”

Hannah stared. “That isn’t the first time you’ve mentioned that, and it’s starting to sound like a warning. I don’t need to be told to keep my distance. If I get married again, it’s going to be to someone stable and caring who can put me and my son first. It certainly won’t be to a man with one foot out the door and a habit of risking his neck. So save your warnings. I’m not interested.”

Hannah began putting cups in the dishwasher, thinking about the mixed emotions on Jake’s face…emotions too complicated to fathom. One thing was quite clear, however—Jake Hollister didn’t understand people who wanted a home.

Dear Reader,

Please note that the heroine’s home town, and the nearby lake and mountain in Jake’s Biggest Risk are fictional, set around very real locations in the State of Washington.

When I was growing up, my father usually had two or three cameras hanging around his neck. One of our family jokes is “Just a little closer to the edge.” Why? Dad would frequently pose us on places like giant logs or an ocean bluff to get the desired photo. We were never in danger, but I’m certain my mother had a few nervous moments.

Some people will do anything for a great picture, and my hero in Jake’s Biggest Risk is that kind of photographer. Jake Hollister has no intention of giving up his roving, adventure-filled life, even after being injured in a plane crash. Enter Hannah Nolan, a divorced mother, determined not to fall in love with a footloose risk-taker with commitment issues. Jake and Hannah have one problem...hearts don’t always listen to what the brain is telling them.

Instead of a classic movie alert, I recommend The National Parks, America‘s Best Idea, a 2009 documentary by Ken Burns. The six-part series uses new and historical footage to provide terrific views of U.S. national parks. Three cheers for public television!

I hope you enjoy this third book in my Those Hollister Boys series. I love to hear from readers and can be contacted c/o Mills & Boon Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, ON M3B 3K9, Canada.

Wishing you all the best,

Julianna Morris

Jake’s Biggest Risk
Julianna Morris

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

JULIANNA MORRIS has an offbeat sense of humor that frequently gets her in trouble. Her interests range from oceanography and photography to traveling, painting, walking and reading. Julianna also loves cats of all shapes and sizes. Her family’s feline companion is named Merlin, and he’s currently a little grumpy from being on a diet. The family is discussing adding another dog to their menagerie just to make him happy (Merlin is a feline anomaly—he enjoys canine companions).

For my father, who took thousands of pictures over the years, visually preserving our childhood with love and talent. I miss you so much.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EXTRACT

Copyright

PROLOGUE

JAKE HOLLISTER PEERED above a crest of snow, spotted his quarry and began taking pictures of the polar bear and her cubs. He was barely aware of the numbing cold.

“You’re out of your frigging mind,” whispered his assistant, using the sotto voce they’d perfected over the years they had worked together.

“That is entirely a matter of opinion.”

“Fine. It’s my opinion. We’re miles from nowhere. It’s the time of year when nobody is crazy enough be out here except Inupiat and scientists. And that money-grubbing bastard pilot is probably drunk. Oh, and did I mention? We’re thirty feet from the largest bear on the planet, hiding behind a chunk of ice the size of my girlfriend’s ass.”

“Vera has a very nice ass. I’m sure she’d be pissed that you’re comparing it to a piece of ice,” Jake murmured, focusing on the mother bear’s face. She was wary, possibly venturing out for the first time with her cubs since their birth. He’d never come to the Arctic so early in the season, when the polar bears were leaving their winter birthing caves. It was risky, but what was life without a few risks?

This was their twenty-first day of shooting. They had at least another two months planned, though they might be able to wrap up earlier if he got the shots he needed. Maybe. Editors sometimes failed to recognize that wild animals didn’t show up on cue. Jake wouldn’t compromise, so if he wasn’t satisfied, he didn’t turn in a single photo.

Toby handed him another camera, taking the one Jake had been using and tucking it into a case. They’d worked together so long that Toby seemed to instinctively know what equipment Jake would need next.

“These days Vera is pissed whenever I leave,” Toby grumbled. “She’s starting to talk marriage.”

Jake refocused with the second camera, most of his attention on the bear and her cubs. “That is why it’s never a good idea to get into a serious relationship when you’re in this line of work.”

Toby mopped his face, somehow sweaty despite the cold. “Hell, it isn’t a good idea to be in this line of work. Why do you always have to get so goddamned close? You’ve got telephoto lenses that could photograph Cindy Crawford’s mole from the moon.”

Jake didn’t bother explaining.

The camera whirred as he continued taking pictures. He’d never wanted to have an assistant, but when he’d taken an assignment to Indonesia eight years earlier, the magazine had insisted he take Tobias Mahoney with him. Short, wiry and endlessly complaining, the guy had risked his life to save Jake when an uprooted tree had knocked him into a rain-swollen river. They’d been a team ever since. Complaints included.

“I’m running if she starts this way,” Toby announced, settling the camera bag straps around his neck for a quick getaway. “I’ll save the cameras, but she gets the rest of your equipment.”

“She’s too fast—you’d never get away from her on foot. But unless the wind changes, she’ll never know we’re here. Provided you pipe down, of course.”

With a faint smile, Jake continued working. There was an amazing quality to the silence around them. It was both an absence of noise and an extraordinary clarity of the few sounds they could hear. Ice cracking. Wind across the snow. The faint snuffling cries from the bears. None of it could be captured in a photograph, yet he kept trying, because most of the world would never experience the Arctic. He was lucky to have been this far north several times in his career, though usually in the middle of the summer when there was a relative abundance of insect and animal life. Now it was mostly ice and the three bears they’d spotted from the plane.

The cubs were playful; one even lay on its back, grabbing at the mother’s tail. Then suddenly the adult bear whirled their direction, standing on her hind legs and sniffing the air, some instinct telling her that danger might be afoot.

Toby choked and Jake nudged him with an elbow, still shooting. If he could just catch that look in her eyes...the wildness of an animal protecting her young.

When the bear dropped to all fours and took several steps in their direction, even Jake was considering a strategic retreat. Then the bear stopped and bawled to her babies. They headed west with amazing speed and were soon hidden behind a ridge in the landscape.

“Gawd,” Toby gasped, clasping his hand to his forehead. “This is the last time, Jake. The last frigging time I’m doing this for you.”

“You say that every trip.”

“This time I mean it.”

“You always say that, too.”

They hiked back to the plane with Toby still issuing a long stream of grievances. Their pilot was watching for them. Gordon was a seasoned bush pilot—Toby’s comments on his ancestry and drinking notwithstanding—and couldn’t be blamed for charging a fortune to fly a photographer around northern Alaska to look for an animal powerful enough to destroy his plane.

“Ready?” Gordon asked.

“What do you think?” Toby stomped snow from his boots and climbed into the back of the plane. “Let’s get the hell out of here. I want a hot meal, or whatever passes for one in that village.”

“Does he ever shut up?” Gordon muttered to Jake in a low voice.

“Not so you’d notice.”

Takeoff went as smoothly as it could for a plane on skis, and Jake spent the first few minutes of the flight methodically putting the SD cards from his digital cameras into pouches, which he then tucked into a zippered pocket inside his parka. When he finally looked out, they’d climbed high enough that the land below them was mostly a featureless field of white.

“I hate the cold,” Toby griped. He was drinking a cup of coffee from the thermos they had filled that morning.

“You hate everything.”

“Huh. You want some coffee?”

“Not right now.”

Just then a low grunt from the pilot caught Jake’s attention. Gordon’s face was gray and beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead.

“What’s wrong?”

“Chest...tight...hurts like one of your bears is sitting on me.”

Jake leaned over and loosened the other man’s collar. He took the pilot’s pulse; it was fast and thready and his fingernails had a bluish tinge. Jake had a fair amount of experience with first aid from working in remote areas, but this was more than a cut or busted leg.

“Do you have any health conditions—asthma or something?” he asked casually, figuring the mention of a possible heart attack could cause panic.

Gordon groaned. “N-no.”

“Okay. Maybe we should radio ahead to the village.”

“Yeah. And I’ll have to...to bring us down. Won’t have time to find...a good spot.”

“Just get us down. Try to relax and breathe deeply.” Jake shot a glance into the backseat and saw Toby’s alarmed expression, but there was little he could do to reassure him.

The pilot called for help on the radio, giving their position as he angled the plane downward. Jake murmured encouragement, at the same time taking quick looks outside; the featureless field of snow looked more and more irregular the closer they got.

At the last moment the pilot groaned and lurched forward. There wasn’t any time to react. Jake’s side of the plane took the hardest impact and his last thought before losing consciousness was that all that soft-looking snow was damned hard on contact.

CHAPTER ONE

HANNAH NOLAN RACED into the real estate office. She was running late, but she wanted to touch base with the leasing agent for the house she’d inherited from her great-aunt. She would have loved to live in Huckleberry Lodge, but the upkeep and utilities were too expensive. It was more practical to live with her son in Silver Cottage—the guesthouse located over the detached garage—and rent out the main building.

“Hey, Lillian,” she called.

“Hannah, I was just going to phone you. I have a fabulous offer you’re going to flip over.”

“I’m not selling my great-aunt’s property,” Hannah returned.

Lillian routinely tried to convince her to sell rather than rent, and she wasn’t interested. Great-Aunt Elkie had been devoted to the lodge; it was the home her husband had built when they were first married and hoping for a large family. And despite Hannah’s attempts to be practical, deep in her heart, she was desperately sentimental. If she’d had her druthers, she would be living in the lodge with a man she loved as much as Great-Aunt Elkie had loved Great-Uncle Larry.

The real estate agent waved her hand dismissively. “I’m not talking about selling. You have an offer to lease Huckleberry Lodge on a monthly basis, with utilities paid on top of the rent. It will mean ten times the income you’ve been getting with those short-term winter rentals. The first three months are guaranteed, but it’ll probably be for a full year or longer.”

A full year...?

Hannah’s knees wobbled as she mentally added up the amount she’d receive. She grabbed a chair and sat down. It was a fabulous offer, but it also meant the lodge would “belong” to someone else the whole time. There wouldn’t be any going over and using the hot tub when the house was vacant, and she’d have to collect her favorite movies from the large DVD collection in the library, along with other favorite items.

Still, what a break. Her renters were primarily wealthy skiers who came up over the winter from either Portland or Seattle. Summer was beautiful in the Washington Cascade Mountains, and the town was located on a picturesque lake, but the town’s biggest tourist draw remained skiing, both downhill and cross-country.

“What’s the catch?” she asked.

“No catch. It’s a photographer—that guy whose plane crashed in Alaska when the pilot had a heart attack. It was big news because he won a Pulitzer for his war photos a few years ago. Imagine having that kind of recognition at his age. He can’t even be thirty-five.”

Hannah frowned thoughtfully. “Why does he need the lodge for so long? We aren’t in a combat zone, and the nearest polar bear is in a zoo.”

“I’ve only spoken to Mr. Hollister’s agent, Andy Bedard. You know Andy—he rents the lodge two or three times every winter. Tall, lanky and a whiz on skis?”

Hannah nodded, picturing the nerdy guy in her mind. Andy could be socially awkward, but when he strapped on his skis, he was unrivaled. She’d had so many people in and out of Huckleberry Lodge it was hard to recall them all, but he was one of her best tenants. Although he always brought a large group of clients with him, they never caused problems.

“Anyhow,” Lillian continued, “apparently Mr. Hollister’s injuries were more severe than the news reports made it sound. It will take at least a year for him to recover and get back to the kind of photography he’s known for, so he’s doing a book on the Cascade Mountains while he recuperates. Andy calls it The Cascades Across Four Seasons. Kind of dull, but it’s just a working title. Anyhow, I can fax the lease over tonight if you agree. I already told his business manager there’s a large damage and cleaning deposit.”

“Go ahead. It’s too good to turn down.”

“That’s what I thought. There’s just one other thing...Mr. Hollister wants someone to do a bit of light housekeeping twice a week, for a couple of hours. But only when he isn’t off working, and he’ll pay extra for the service. You could hire somebody else, but I’d hate to see you lose the income. He shouldn’t be around that often with the book to photograph.”

Hannah hesitated. She was accustomed to cleaning the lodge after weekend skiers, but the prospect of having a regular tenant had given her a brief, appealing vision of spending more time with her son over the winter.

“Do it,” Lillian urged. “He’s offering an obscene amount of money per hour. If nothing else, you can put it toward Danny’s college fund.”

It was an argument that could convince Hannah to do a lot of things. Her ex-husband never sent child support—she wasn’t even sure where he was most of the time—and her salary as an elementary schoolteacher didn’t allow her to save much.

“All right.” At least this way she could keep an eye on the house and make sure Mr. Hollister wasn’t doing any damage. Not that being a daredevil photographer meant he’d be a bad tenant, but he took chances with his life that no sane person would consider.

“Excellent. When the lease comes back, I’ll call and you can sign, as well. Mr. Hollister wants to move in next week, so I’m sure he’ll return the paperwork quickly. It’s going to be fun having someone famous staying in Mahalaton Lake, even if he has a reputation for being a loner. You’ll have to convince him to come to some of the town events so we can all get to know him.”

Hannah wasn’t sure about fun, but it would be a relief not having people constantly in and out of the lodge. Just cleaning up after each group had taken two or three evenings following a long day of teaching, so it wouldn’t be bad getting paid for light housekeeping on top of the rent. She’d probably still have more time with Danny.

“It’s great news, Lillian. Just let me know when the lease is ready. Talk to you later.”

Hannah headed to her mother’s house to pick up her son. The school year had ended earlier in June than usual, and she’d needed to clear out her classroom. Normally they had more snow days to make up for missed classroom hours, but the weather had cooperated this winter, so they’d had fewer than usual. Unfortunately Mahalaton Lake wasn’t offering a summer session because the budget was too tight; having Huckleberry Lodge leased full-time was an unexpected boon to her finances.

“Mommy, Mommy!” Daniel yelled, running down the porch steps when he saw her.

She returned his hug. “Have a good time with Grandma?”

“Yup. Can we eat our pizza at Luigi’s instead of at home? Grandma gave me quarters to play the games.”

“Okay. Say goodbye and get in the car.”

Danny dashed up the porch steps to give his grandmother a kiss, and just as precipitously, ran to their car and climbed inside.

“Thanks for watching him, Mom.”

“I enjoy it, though I admit he tires me out,” Carrie Nolan said with a laugh. “He hardly ever stops moving, and I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“None of us are,” Hannah replied drily. “What’s this business about giving him money for video games?” When she was a kid her mother had claimed the same games would rot her brain.

“I’m a grandmother now. I don’t have to be sensible.”

“Ha.” Yet Hannah smiled. “By the way, I have good news from Lillian. A photographer is doing a book on the area and wants to rent Huckleberry Lodge. It’s month to month, but he’ll probably stay for a year or longer.”

“That’s wonderful, dear, though if you ever need help...well, you know we’re here, and...” Carrie’s voice trailed off.

“I’m fine,” Hannah said firmly. She was determined not to ask her parents for anything more than babysitting. She’d married the wrong man and it was up to her to deal with the fallout; the hardest part was knowing that Danny didn’t have the father he deserved. But at least his grandfather was his male role model instead of a chronically unemployed dad with restless feet and a wandering eye.

On the other hand, her parents were all the family she had left, and it bothered her that Danny didn’t have a larger support structure. Maybe if she knew her ex-husband’s parents... Hannah shook her head as soon as the thought formed. Steven had refused to talk about his family whenever she’d asked. Apparently the relationship was so bad, he hadn’t even wanted them at the wedding. As far as she knew, they were unaware their son had even gotten married. Just because Steven had turned out to be a jerk it didn’t mean his folks were the same, but she’d rather not open that can of worms.

She said goodbye and they headed to Luigi’s. Aside from the supermarket freezer case, it was the only place to get pizza in Mahalaton Lake, since large restaurant chains hadn’t discovered their small corner of Washington. Aside from Luigi’s, they had Elizabeth’s Tea Parlor, the Lakeside Bar and Grill, McKenzie’s BBQ, Pat’s Burger Hut, three cafés, a bakery, a deli and the Full Moon Bistro for natural-food fans. If you were looking for anything exotic, you were out of luck. Of course, in winter there was both a coffee cart and restaurant at the ski resort, but few people in town went up there to eat.

“Hello, Danny,” called Barbi Paulson, Luigi’s delivery driver, as they came through the restaurant’s double doors. It was before five and the place was still empty. “Didn’t you want me coming out to the house with your Friday-night pizza?”

“I was at Grandma’s,” he explained, “so we’re having pizza on the way home.”

“Glad to hear it.” Barbi gave him a wink. “I don’t want to lose my best boyfriend.”

“Nuh-uh.”

Danny skipped to the arcade tucked into a side room of the restaurant. It was a bright, cheerful place that was scrupulously clean and maintained. Hannah had played those same games as a girl, her mother’s objections notwithstanding. Luigi hadn’t bought anything new for the arcade in years, saying a classic was a classic.

“You sure got a great kid,” Barbi said.

“I’m pretty fond of him.”

“And he’s real smart.” The other woman grinned, but her smile faded and she leaned on the counter, the bangles on her arms clattering on the polished wood. “I’ve been thinking about you being a teacher and all. You know I never finished high school.”

Hannah nodded, recalling that Barbi had dropped out of school to get a job. Though only thirty-two, she’d already had a rough life between a hard-drinking father and a mother who’d died when she was nine. People in Mahalaton Lake weren’t always comfortable with the way Barbi dressed, but they admired her honesty and how diligently she worked.

“Anyhow, Luigi keeps bugging me,” Barbi continued. “He says I got to get a high school diploma because you can’t get anywhere without one. Luigi treats me great, but it sure would be nice to have one job, instead of these part-time gigs all over town.”

“You might earn more with a general equivalency diploma,” Hannah agreed diplomatically. It was hard to say what would make a difference in Mahalaton Lake, but statistically, graduates did better financially than dropouts. “I can check when the next exam will be.”

“I already got the schedule.” Barbi fidgeted with the bangles on her arms, looking embarrassed. “But right now there aren’t any night classes to help study for the damned thing—that is, the test. And I wondered...I know you do tutoring and stuff. I’d pay, of course,” she added hastily.

“I’d be happy to help you study,” Hannah assured her. “But as a friend. I wouldn’t want to be paid.”

“That isn’t right,” Barbi protested. “You got a kid to support.”

“What isn’t right is the school board failing to offer enough adult courses.” It was something that deeply irritated Hannah. “But I have access to the study materials and we can go from there.”

Barbi chewed her lower lip so hard that most of her bright red lipstick disappeared. “I don’t know.”

“I do,” Hannah said. She’d been lucky to have parents who’d encouraged her to get an education and were there to help if she needed it. Offering the same support to a friend was the least she could do. “I’ll call when I have everything together. We’ll have fun.”

“Barbara,” Luigi hollered as he came out of the kitchen. “That pizza is ready for delivery.”

“Gotcha.”

Barbi left with the insulated pizza bag and Luigi came to the counter with a broad smile. “Ciao. I’ll take care of you, Hannah. Your usual pizza?”

“You bet.” Hannah thought about the lucrative lease she’d been offered and decided to splurge. “But add a garden salad and an order of garlic chicken wings.”

“Excellent. I heard Barbara speak to you about tutoring,” Luigi said as he took the money. “I’m glad she’s finally doing this.”

“She mentioned you’ve been urging her to get a GED.”

“I was sixteen when we came to America from Sicily. My mama told me to study hard, not just to get ahead, but because learning is how to stay young.” He thumped his chest. “My heart is not sixty-eight years old—it is strong like I’m still a boy.”

Hannah’s lips curved into a smile. “How is your mother, Luigi?”

“Ah, she goes to the church every day. She tells the priest when he makes a mistake in Mass and then works in the kitchen, making gnocchi to raise money for another stained glass window. She will not be happy until every window in the sanctuary is done. And she is reading War and Peace. So far, she likes Tolstoy better than Hemingway.”

“War and Peace is a good book. Say hello to her for me.”

She paid the bill and went into the arcade to watch Danny play as she waited for the food. He was an exceptionally bright kid, a year ahead of children his own age and curious about everything, including his deadbeat dad.

But whenever she started to feel bad for Danny or got upset with her poor judgment, she should remember Barbi Paulson. An absentee father was surely better than one who was drunk all the time. God knew what Barbi’s childhood had been like, and Hannah suspected Vic Paulson still came around now and then to make life difficult for her.

* * *

DRIVING HIS NEW Jeep Wrangler, Jake followed his agent’s car to Mahalaton Lake, Washington, grateful to be away from doctors and the hospital.

Andy Bedard, his agent, had offered to stay and help for a few days, but Jake would have none of it. That was why he’d insisted they bring two vehicles; if Andy had his own transportation, he’d have less excuse to become an unwanted houseguest.

It would have been worse if Jake had let his half brother drive him. Matt had been the one who’d arranged for Jake’s transfer to a hospital in Seattle and gotten top specialists to treat him...including Matt’s own father-in-law, Walter McGraw. Matt wasn’t a bad sort, and he’d chartered a flight and flown to Alaska as soon as news had come of the accident. Still, Matt had become depressingly domestic since giving up his carefree party days and getting married. At least he’d traveled extensively before; now he wore a suit every day and handed out money for a charitable organization.

His wife was nice, though, full of energy. And while Layne worked as a researcher for a weekly regional news magazine, she hadn’t asked him to do an interview.

Jake shifted his aching leg as they drove through the little town and out onto a road lined with tall evergreens, before turning right onto an even smaller road. It opened to a clearing where a two-story structure sat overlooking the lake.

Not bad.

It was a large mountain lodge, built solidly of natural beams, with a hint of the Arts and Crafts architectural style. In fact, it was reminiscent of some of the work done by Julia Morgan, an early twentieth-century California architect. Andy was right—if he had to be trapped in one place, Huckleberry Lodge was more palatable than most locations.

Small-town America made Jake shudder, and the cities were worse. Not that he’d spent much time in either, but even that was enough to know he preferred the solitude of locations like Nepal or the Australian outback. There were too many cars and people in most places.

Andy honked his horn and a young woman came out of the lodge, followed by a small boy. The dog lying on the doorstep got to its feet, tail wagging furiously. Jake frowned; he knew the landlady lived in a guesthouse over the garage, but neither Andy nor his business manager had mentioned her having a kid.

He opened the SUV door, stepping out in time to hear the woman call, “Hi, Andy.”

“Hey, Hannah. Sorry we’re early—we made better time on the road than I thought we would. Jake, this is Hannah Nolan,” Andrew said. “She owns Huckleberry Lodge and teaches at the elementary school in town.”

“Good afternoon,” Jake muttered.

He couldn’t tell much about Ms. Nolan from her appearance. She was dressed in faded jeans and an oversize man’s shirt. She had a long, rumpled braid of chestnut-colored hair and her face was pretty in a wholesome way. Apparently she’d been cleaning, because the faint odor of bleach permeated the air.

“You aren’t ready for me to move in?” he asked coolly, gesturing to the bucket she carried.

“I spoke to Hannah late last night and asked her to do extra sanitizing as a precaution,” Andy explained hastily. “It seemed a good idea because you just got out of the hospital.”

Jake’s jaw tightened. He was damned tired of hospitals and disinfectants and people trying to protect him without understanding the first thing about what he wanted. His body was damaged, not his brain. His mother had actually trekked out of the Andes to urge him to take it slow. Josie wasn’t a sentimental mom—he’d rarely seen her since becoming an adult—but she had her moments.

Hell, his father had even breezed through shortly after the accident. Since Sullivan Spencer “S. S.” Hollister was a true hedonist and had been in the middle of yet another romance at the time, he must have been really worried. Nevertheless, Jake was done with doctors and everything associated with them. His only concession would be physical therapy—anything to get him back to his peak.

“Sanitizing won’t be necessary in the future,” he growled. “I only asked for light cleaning. And you won’t need to come until Tuesday. I’ll be fine until then.”

“I always do extra polishing before someone arrives, Mr. Hollister, and you are earlier than expected,” the landlady said, the chill in her voice equaling his own. She put a hand on the youngster’s shoulder. “By the way, this is my son, Danny. Danny, this is our new tenant, Mr. Hollister.”

“Hi, mister.”

“Uh...yeah. Hi.” Jake didn’t know anything about kids and didn’t want to.

“Let me give you a tour of the lodge,” Hannah offered after an awkward silence.

“I’ll show myself around.” He turned and limped to the Wrangler to begin unloading his luggage and equipment. “I don’t need that thing—take it with you,” he snapped as Andy took out the cane recommended by the doctor.

“The doctor said—”

“I don’t care what he said.”

Over Andy’s protests, Jake carried one load after another into the lodge, despite the pain that was becoming intense. Danny Nolan wanted to help, but Jake sharply told him not to touch anything. The last thing he needed was to have his equipment damaged by a snot-nosed kid.

Hannah Nolan promptly sent her son to their home over the garage, her expression turning less friendly by the minute.

Andy began to look alarmed. Much to Jake’s displeasure, he pulled Hannah aside and started whispering in her ear. Jake ignored them both and carried two of his tripods up the lodge steps. He didn’t need his agent being a diplomat and making excuses.

Perhaps he had been rude, but the sooner everyone left him alone, the better.

* * *

HANNAH WAS SEETHING.

She’d seen the excitement on Danny’s face disappear at a single sharp word from Jake Hollister and she wanted to strangle the man. For some reason her son had been drawn to the tall photographer, only to be rebuffed. She didn’t expect her tenant to be buddies with a seven-year-old boy, but was common courtesy too much to expect?

“Honestly, he’s a nice person,” Andy repeated urgently. “Don’t be misled by first impressions.”

Hannah fixed her gaze on Andy. How could he be associated with such a bad-mannered, pompous ass as Jake Hollister?

“You mean he’s rich and talented, so he gets away with murder.”

Andy made a helpless gesture. “No. I’m the first to admit that Jake is focused and intense when working on a project, but that’s the perfectionist in him. He has his faults, but you have to understand how much pain he’s in right now—it’s a miracle he survived that plane crash and being hauled by dogsled for fourteen miles. Then there was the delay in flying him out for medical care. He’ll recover, but it’s hard for him to accept limitations, however temporary.”

Hannah shifted her feet.

In the five days since she’d first talked to Lillian about leasing Huckleberry Lodge to Jake Hollister, she’d learned plenty about him. Some had come from a telephone conversation with Andy and the rest from Lillian, who was dazzled at the thought of meeting someone famous. Yet Hannah wondered if she would stay impressed with Mr. Hollister once she got a dose of his bad manners.

“It’s all right, isn’t it, Hannah?” Andy asked anxiously. No doubt he was accustomed to working with temperamental artists who flew off the handle at the slightest thing. Hannah had a healthy temper as well, but she couldn’t afford to try breaking the lease agreement.

“Don’t worry, I’ll deal with it,” she assured him, though she already regretted agreeing to clean house for her new tenant.

Andy smiled his awkward smile. “Good. I’d hate it if I wasn’t welcome in Mahalaton Lake.”

“No chance of that. But since I’m not needed here, I’m going to check on Danny.”

“I... Oh, sure. I’ll probably leave as soon as Jake is unpacked, so take care.”

“You, too.”

She hurried away with her bucket of cleaning supplies. Silver Cottage—the living area over the four-car garage—was a very nice home, with a third-floor family room, two bedrooms, lots of closets and a splendid kitchen. Best of all, it had a spacious living room and a deck with a view of the lake. When Great-Aunt Elkie was alive, she’d rented out Silver Cottage to skiers instead of Huckleberry Lodge. It wasn’t that she’d needed the income; she had just liked having people around.

Danny was lying on his stomach on the living room floor, drawing a picture, their golden retriever next to him.

“That’s a great dragon,” Hannah said.

He shrugged, a small pout on his mouth.

“Don’t be upset about Mr. Hollister,” she murmured. “He got hurt awfully bad a while ago. You saw him limping, didn’t you?”

Danny didn’t look up. “Uh-huh.”

“Well, sometimes people in pain don’t feel very friendly.”

“But if he doesn’t feel good, why couldn’t I help?”

She sighed. How did you explain adult pride to a child? “Maybe he wants to prove he can do it himself. Remember when you were mad at Grandpa because he wouldn’t take the training wheels off your bike as soon as you wanted? It’s kind of like that.”

Understanding dawned in his eyes. “Oh, I get it.”

“Good. We should both be understanding of Mr. Hollister and remember he doesn’t want people bugging him. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Her son stuck out his hand and they solemnly shook.

Danny returned to his drawing and Hannah was relieved that he seemed happier. Badger got up and followed her around as she took care of various chores. She’d gotten the retriever as a puppy when they moved from town to live on Great-Aunt Elkie’s property, and he’d grown into a magnificent dog with reddish-gold fur and a calm, protective nature.

She was fixing dinner when a knock sounded on the door. Badger let out a sharp yip, his ears perked forward; it was his someone-I-don’t-know bark.

“I’ll get it,” she called.

But Badger and Danny both beat her to the door and she heard her son give a friendly greeting to their visitor.

“Uh...yeah. I need to talk to your mother,” said a deep male voice.

Hannah wrinkled her nose. Jake Hollister.

“Is there a problem?” she asked as she turned the corner into the entry area.

“Not at all. I just wanted to ask if there are any restaurants that deliver out here from town.”

She thought about the sacks of groceries she’d seen in the trunk of Andy’s car. On top of which, she had put one of Luigi’s menus by the kitchen phone.

“Luigi’s delivers pizza on the weekends, but when things are slow he’s willing to send someone out on other days. If nothing else, he’ll usually come himself at closing time. I’ll get their number for you.” She brought another copy of the menu to the door and gave it to him. If Hollister had let her show him around Huckleberry Lodge, she would have pointed out both the phone book and the menu, along with other things he might need. Still, the guy was in pain, she could see it in his face.

Jake left with a low, almost grudging “Thanks.”

When they were alone, Danny looked up at her. “Maybe he’s just hungry, Mommy. It makes me grumpy, too.”

Hannah ruffled her son’s hair. “I know, but don’t forget we aren’t going to bother Mr. Hollister. We’re going to let him have peace and quiet so he can rest and get better.”

Danny crossed a finger over his heart. “I’ll be good.”

* * *

YOU’RE A DAMNED FOOL, Jake thought as he walked back to Huckleberry Lodge with the menu Hannah Nolan had given him. The doctor had warned him not to overexert himself, so naturally he’d insisted on driving alone to Mahalaton Lake from Seattle and had sent Andy packing.

And now he’d offended his landlady to the point she probably wanted to drown him in the lake.

He collapsed on the couch and glanced at the menu without much interest. Ironically, the doctors had urged him to eat nutritious, high-protein meals, but the crap he’d been served at the hospital was barely edible—even the limited diet he’d shared with the Inupiat had been better.

Or maybe it was just the environment. He’d grown up in the far corners of the world with his mother and they’d always eaten native when feasible; Josie believed you couldn’t learn about a culture if you didn’t eat their food and sleep in their beds.

With pain throbbing in every inch of his body, Jake let the menu drift to the ground.

Maybe he’d try ordering something later.

Much later.

CHAPTER TWO

THE NEXT MORNING, Jake woke as the sun was rising and realized he had fallen asleep on the couch.

He was stiff, but some of the pain had subsided and a fine view greeted him through the windows overlooking the lake. The snowcapped peaks beyond were reflected on the water’s surface and he stared out for a while. Where was his impulse to capture the view in a unique way? Taking pictures had been his driving force since childhood, yet he had zero desire to start working.

God.

Maybe it was too pretty. That must be the problem. Why he’d ever agreed to doing a damned book on the northern Cascade Mountains was beyond him. The Cascades had been photographed to death; there was nothing new or unusual about them. He was going to be bored out of his skull.

But even more important...how was he going to put his trademark adventurous stamp on the book? The thought of people rolling their eyes and saying he’d lost his touch because of the accident was unacceptable. And he’d already faced that scenario once before.

Jake gritted his teeth.

He had never intended to be a traditional photojournalist. He’d gone to the Middle East to help out an acquaintance whose wife was having a difficult pregnancy, but after receiving the Pulitzer, at least a dozen interviewers had asked, “How will you top this?” Hell, “topping” pictures of people killing each other was the last thing he was interested in doing.

His stomach rumbled and he got up.

Andy had insisted they stop and buy groceries in Mahalaton Lake, so Jake made his standby in all climates and altitudes—a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. It wasn’t inspiring, but cooking was not one of his skills. He always kept peanut butter in his backpack while traveling, and it wasn’t bad on most local breads.

Munching on the sandwich, he wandered around the lodge. The spacious sunroom off the kitchen had tall windows on three sides, providing a view of the lake, the guesthouse and the wooded drive leading in from the road. A huge master bedroom suite was on the opposite side of the house. Other main floor rooms included a well-equipped utility room, two powder rooms, a library and formal dining area. Upstairs there were additional bedrooms and baths, with a family room in the center, and beneath the house was a half basement that provided storage.

It was far more space than Jake needed, but had the benefit of being outside a town, and the natural wood beams and high ceilings gave it a relaxed, faintly rustic feel. And there were artifacts scattered here and there from around the world, such as jade carvings, masks from various tribes and pottery. In a curious way it was soothing to be surrounded by some of the things he’d seen in his travels. Perhaps that was why Andy had urged him to lease the lodge.

Slowly he began sorting out his equipment and other supplies. The cameras he’d taken to Alaska had been destroyed in the crash, but Toby had personally brought Jake’s backup gear from the studio he kept in Costa Rica.

Toby...

A reluctant grin creased Jake’s mouth. Toby had bitched his usual stream of complaints, saying the magazine was willing to wait for its photos since they didn’t have any “goddamned choice,” and if Jake planned to go back to that frigging place, he was going alone.

This time it actually sounded as if he meant it.

Even so, Jake had expected he’d come along to Mahalaton Lake until Toby had sheepishly confessed that he and Vera were getting married in a few weeks and he was starting another job. Marriage was a career ender as far as Jake was concerned, at least for any career that involved extensive travel. Vera was a terrific woman, but she’d made it clear often enough that she wanted Toby at home.

Jake rubbed his face, rough with beard stubble, and stepped to the bank of windows. The day was lighter now, though the sky was still pink from the sunrise. The dog he’d seen the previous day was racing along the shore below, his fur flying in silky waves. It stopped, grabbed a stick in its mouth and ran back to its human companion—presumably Hannah Nolan.

He grimaced. An apology was in order; he’d behaved with the grace of an ill-tempered water buffalo. He let himself out a side door and walked down the grassy slope toward his landlady. The dog noticed him first, dropping his stick and hurrying to his mistress’s side.

“Did you have a good night, Mr. Hollister?” Hannah asked politely when he got within earshot.

“Good enough.”

He’d slept for eleven straight hours on the wide leather couch—much longer than he would have in the hospital with their constant health checks. Getting chilled and stiff from his position on the sofa was his own fault.

Jake gestured to the golden retriever who was regarding him suspiciously. “Who is this?”

Hannah put her hand on the animal’s head and stroked it. “His name is Badger. But don’t worry—I won’t let him come into Huckleberry Lodge.”

“He’s welcome. I like dogs. Where is your son?”

“Still in bed. Danny isn’t a morning person.”

“Neither am I,” Jake said absently.

Her lips pressed together in a flat line and he wondered what she wanted to say—it was amusing the way she was obviously trying to guard her tongue.

“Anyway,” he continued, “let me apologize for yesterday. I didn’t behave well.”

“Okay. You’ve apologized.”

“Uh...how far do you have to go from here to see any wildlife?” Jake asked, despite her flat response. It wouldn’t hurt to be on decent terms with his landlady.

Hannah’s face became less guarded. “Actually, you can sit on the deck and see a whole range of birds and mammals. I’ve spotted almost everything except bears and mountain lions.”

“That’s promising. I also noticed a couple of trails leading away from the lodge. Where do they go?”

The retriever yipped and she patted him again. “The one to the south leads into town, winding back and forth between the water and woods. The north trail is similar, but it’s rougher, with far more ups and downs. It extends around the lake to Mount Mahala.”

Jake looked at the snowcapped peak behind the water. “I’m guessing it would take a while to reach the mountain.”

A grin tugged at her mouth and he suddenly became aware of her as a woman. He still didn’t have any hint of Hannah’s figure, but if it matched her smile, he could be in trouble. Making a move on a woman with a child was a bad idea—in his experience, they were usually looking for commitment, and that wasn’t something he would ever be willing to offer.

“You’re right—it’s much farther than it appears. You can’t see it from here, but there’s a spur of the lake that goes way north beyond that point.” Hannah gestured to an outcropping of land covered by tall evergreens.

“What made you smile just now?” he asked curiously.

“A memory. When I was a kid I decided I could hike to the mountain all on my own. My parents didn’t argue, but Dad followed a few hundred feet behind me. We spent the night out there, not even a quarter of the way, with my feet hurting like mad. Not that I admitted it.”

And Jake would bet she was just as stubborn now. That kind of obstinacy wasn’t something people typically outgrew.

“I take it you grew up in the area,” he commented.

“Except for four years at college, I’ve always lived here.”

“Hell, I could never stay in one place for so long.” It wasn’t until Jake saw the look on Hannah’s face that he realized how rude he must have sounded...again. “Sorry. I’m a born wanderer.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Then you must be dreading the next twelve months.”

“That’s an understatement. I just want to get past this damned accident and have my life back.”

Nobody understood how he felt except Josie, and she was back in the Andes—or maybe she’d gone somewhere else by now. The doctors had preached patience, Matt’s attitude was that it was only a year and Andy was just pleased that his client had finally agreed to do a book based in the United States.

But Jake didn’t want a conventional existence; he wanted what he’d had before the plane crash—international travel, seeing new places, his photography...and as few complications as possible.

“It isn’t because of your house,” Jake added hastily. “The lodge is great. Why aren’t you living there, instead of in the guesthouse?”

“It’s too expensive on a teacher’s salary. It makes more sense to rent it out and live in Silver Cottage.”

“But surely you get child support,” he said. Before leaving the day before, Andy had explained she was divorced. Jake had gotten the impression that his friend was attracted to Hannah. Not that it would go anywhere. Andy was an excellent agent, skilled at professional negotiations, but he was notoriously inept in his personal life.

Hannah’s green eyes narrowed. “My son’s father and his financial contributions are a private matter.”

“Well, yeah. That is, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Whatever.” She turned and hurried away. Badger followed with a glance over his shoulder, clearly warning Jake to watch his step.

Jake groaned.

He hadn’t meant to be inquisitive, but even his father had never skipped out on financial responsibility for his kids. And S. S. Hollister was generally considered one of the most irresponsible men on the planet, with children and ex-wives all around the world.

Of course, Jake’s mother wasn’t one of S. S. Hollister’s ex-wives. Josie had refused to marry “Sully” as she called him...probably the only woman to turn down one of his marriage proposals, though she’d agreed to give their son the Hollister name and let Sully set up a trust fund. The trust fund had been a huge concession for Josie, who considered money a necessary evil.

Evil or not, Jake found his trust fund useful. From the very start of his career he’d been able to choose his assignments based on interest rather than just the need to pay bills. The money had also meant he could purchase the finest photographic gear that money could buy.

Unfortunately, no amount of money could repair his injuries. Only time would do that. The doctors were optimistic, yet nobody could guarantee he would recover enough to go back to the life he loved, and it scared the hell out of him.

* * *

AS HANNAH MARCHED back to Silver Cottage, she realized she’d overreacted. Admittedly, she was still annoyed by Jake’s behavior toward Danny, but she didn’t have to be so sensitive. She needed to remember the monthly rent check she was getting. The amount Jake was paying should make his abrasive qualities easier to handle.

She went inside and checked on Danny; he was still asleep, sprawled across his bed with childish abandon.

A faint whine came from Badger, and she rubbed him behind the ears. “Patience, boy. He’ll be awake later.”

The golden retriever was a tireless, protective playmate for Danny. Hannah kept a close watch on her son, but it was reassuring to have the golden retriever as a second pair of eyes; he wouldn’t even let Danny get near the water except when an adult was nearby.

Badger padded into the room and jumped on the bed. Danny rolled over in his sleep, flung his arm across the retriever’s neck and buried his face in his pillow.

Hannah drifted into the living room, annoyed with herself for mentioning her finances to Jake Hollister. It was none of his concern how she met her expenses, and neither was the question of child support from her ex. Steven wasn’t a pleasant subject at the best of times—they’d gotten married during her senior year of college and were already divorced by the following Christmas.

The part that continued to puzzle her was how she hadn’t recognized what kind of a person he was earlier. Somehow she’d convinced herself they were the next great love story only to discover how quickly it fell apart in the face of infidelity and other problems. Thinking she’d been blinded by romance wasn’t any comfort; lots of people fell in love but didn’t marry someone utterly wrong for them.

The phone rang and Hannah hurried to answer. The caller ID showed it was Brendan Townsend, and she smiled as she picked up. “Hi, Brendan.”

“Good morning, Hannah. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“I just got back from walking Badger. You know me—I’m up with the sun, same as you.”

It was one of the ways they were alike—she’d finally agreed to go out with Brendan because of what they had in common. She didn’t have a list of dating requirements, but it was important not to start caring for someone who didn’t share her belief in commitment.

She still hoped to find the passionate love she’d wanted her entire life but couldn’t afford to break her heart over the wrong man again. She wasn’t sure how many more times it could heal.

Brendan chuckled. “I drove my college roommate crazy getting up so early. He was the party-hearty type and never went to bed before 3:00 a.m.”

“Did he flunk out?”

“Amazingly, no. He’s the multimillionaire owner of a computer software company. They create fantasy games.”

“Impressive. Maybe you shouldn’t have settled for law school,” she said with a laugh.

“Not at all. I wouldn’t have met you if I wasn’t a lawyer.” The tone in Brendan’s voice was warm and she squirmed. He wanted their relationship to move much faster than she did. But even if her marriage hadn’t taught her caution, she needed to be careful because of Danny.

“That’s a nice thing to say. What’s up?” she asked briskly.

“It’s short notice, but would you like to go out tonight? We haven’t been able to see much of each other lately.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I have plans,” Hannah said regretfully. It had been several weeks since they’d gotten together and she would have enjoyed talking to a sane adult male. “Barbi Paulson is coming over.”

“Barbi Paulson?” Brendan repeated with obvious surprise. “The pizza-delivery woman?”

“She’s a friend. We’re going to...uh, watch a movie or something.” Hannah couldn’t explain that she was tutoring Barbi for her GED exam—Barbi might prefer to keep that information private.

“Maybe we can go another day. What’s on tonight’s menu? You’re such a wonderful cook, I’m envious.”

“No call for envy. I’ll probably do macaroni and cheese. It’s easy, Danny likes it and Barbi isn’t coming until after dinner.”

After they said goodbye, Hannah sat at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee. The sun was fully up now and she gazed out, loving the changing view. Honestly, she didn’t think there was anything more beautiful than the Cascade Mountains.

Finally she opened one of the adult-study manuals she’d gotten from the school district office. She taught elementary-age children, and it had been years since she’d looked at the high school curriculum. It wouldn’t bolster Barbi’s confidence about taking the GED test if her tutor wasn’t familiar with the material.

* * *

BRENDAN WENT BACK to work at his desk, disappointed that his great plan to sweep Hannah off for the evening had failed. He would have thought that in a quiet place like Mahalaton Lake, with only a few thousand people and her parents available for babysitting, they wouldn’t have trouble getting together, but she was so busy it was a challenge.

Yet as he dealt with his email, he formulated a plan—if Hannah didn’t have enough time to go to dinner, he would take dinner to her. He’d surprise her by bringing something from Luigi’s, and leave when Barbi arrived.

Hmm.

He frowned thoughtfully.

Barbi Paulson and Hannah?

The two women couldn’t be more different. Luigi’s was the only restaurant in town that delivered, and he ordered regularly from them on weekends. While Barbi didn’t mouth off when she brought his pizza, she wore garish, low-cut outfits that were always a little too tight and a little too short. She even managed to be eye-popping in the winter when she wore things like hot pink ski pants and equally colorful parkas.

With a shake of his head, Brendan reviewed his appointment schedule. It was far less full than when he’d practiced law in Seattle. Relocating to Mahalaton Lake the previous year might be the only impulsive decision he’d made in his entire life, but it had seemed right at the time.

Yet even as he thought about it, he felt a pang of sorrow, remembering the woman he’d once hoped to marry.

Maria had been an associate in his high-pressure Seattle law firm, but she’d died suddenly of a brain aneurism. The other partners hadn’t appeared troubled by the loss; they’d simply divvied up Maria’s client list between them. Yet Brendan had been devastated. For the first time he’d questioned the sanity of working more than a hundred hours a week. Maria had been having headaches and dizzy spells, but she wouldn’t even take time off to see a doctor—success came before marriage, before kids, before everything.

What sort of life was that? Hell, it wasn’t a life. She was gone at thirty-one.

At first he’d tried to cut back his hours—much to the displeasure of the head of the firm, who’d “suggested” resuming his original schedule or finding other options for practicing law. About the same time Maria’s father had told him he was trying to sell his law firm in Mahalaton Lake. Brendan had visited the town a couple of times with Maria, and the idea of completely changing his scenery had caught his imagination. He’d quickly purchased David Walther’s shabby practice and moved.

Of course, in Seattle, he’d also dreamed about Maria every night, hearing her voice urging him over and over to go to Mahalaton Lake. Moving to a small town might seem unusual, but moving because of dreams? He’d never dared tell anyone about that.

Brendan glanced around the office, no longer shabby now that he’d had it redone. The only thing left from David Walther’s days was a carved wood plaque saying, “Work to live, don’t live to work.” He’d kept it as a reminder of the reasons he’d made such a huge change in his life. Maria hadn’t learned the lesson from her father, but maybe he could.

A career here wasn’t going to make Brendan rich, but it wasn’t a bad life, at least for a while. No matter what the reasons, moving to Mahalaton Lake had been a good decision. It was in his professional capacity that he’d met Hannah—she’d asked him to review her rental paperwork for the lodge.

All at once Brendan straightened his tie and checked his cuff links. Life was more casual in Mahalaton Lake than in the city, but he came from a long line of attorneys and had been raised to do things in a certain way. He’d rebelled to a certain extent, but there were some things he couldn’t abandon.

* * *

THE DAY PASSED slowly for Jake. Part of the time he slept, and part of the time he did the exercises the physical therapist in Seattle had taught him. He was starting to understand why the specialists had recommended a couple of weeks in a rehab center, but inactivity wasn’t something he handled well. Freedom had beckoned, even the freedom of a small American town.

Anyway, he had arranged for a therapist from a nearby community to come to Huckleberry Lodge twice a week. It was well worth the expense of having them come to him rather than dragging himself to the clinic.

Jake finally loaded up his computer and began looking through the shots from northern Alaska. It was time to confront his memories of the crash. The photos taken on days before the accident didn’t bother him...a lone male polar bear hunting for seals, one climbing from the frigid sea with water streaming from its fur, another moving with long, purposeful strides. And still more of daily life in the Inupiat village where they’d stayed part of the time.

Then a shot of Gordon popped up and took Jake off guard.

The pilot’s weathered features were creased in a smile and he was lifting a cup of coffee to his mouth. Jake stared for several minutes before clicking on the next image. Several dozen photos later there were more of Gordon, playing with Inupiat children, and others of him talking with the elder members of the community.

Jake had almost forgotten that he’d taken these pictures. He didn’t often take photos of people, but the magazine had suggested it would be nice if his Arctic photographic study could include some of the tools used by the Inupiat for hunting. As a kind of lazy exercise, he’d wandered around, interested by the juxtaposition of modern and age-old technology in use. Pictures of people had inevitably crept in.

His nerves tightened further as he pulled up the images from the day of the crash. The doctors had asked about the accident and he’d refused to answer. Assuming it was because he couldn’t remember, they’d said not to worry, that it was common to block everything out after a trauma. Yet it wasn’t that at all.

Jake’s memories of that day were crystal clear—he sometimes wished he couldn’t remember. He still could feel the purity of the air and hear the sound of ice cracking, along with the noises from the bears and the crunch of their boots as they returned to the plane. And he could see Gordon’s gray face, his bluish fingernails, the snow getting closer, the painful impact...and the realization that the old bush pilot hadn’t survived.

It wasn’t the first time Jake had seen death. When he was a boy, half of his mother’s climbing party had died when they’d tried to climb Sagarmatha—Mount Everest to most people outside Nepal, except the Tibetans, who called it Chomolungma. At eight, he’d been too young to do anything except stay in base camp, but he would never forget the blanket-draped stretchers waiting for transport and Josie’s silence as she sat with a cup of coffee and gazed into the distance.

Two of the bodies hadn’t been recovered. The climbers had died on the upper slopes where the air was so thin that anyone making the attempt would be risking their own lives.

Pushing darker thoughts away, Jake mentally evaluated the collection of photos. Since the magazine still wanted him to complete his assignment, returning to Alaska would be his first real effort once he was back to full strength. He didn’t count the picture book on the northern Cascades as genuine work—it was mostly to keep himself from going crazy until things were normal again.

Late in the afternoon Jake was working in the bright, airy room off the kitchen when a car pulling into the driveway caught his attention. The expensive, late-model sedan was out of place in the natural setting, and the same was also true of the man who climbed out with a bouquet of red roses in one hand and two white sacks in the other.

Uptight, Jake decided. Obviously conventional, wearing a suit and tie and sporting a short, conservative haircut.

Hannah Nolan came down the stairs, her long chestnut hair shining with red glints in the afternoon sun, and Jake leaned forward to get a better look.

Nice.

While he hadn’t been able to distinguish much about her figure in their previous encounters, right now she was wearing snug jeans and a T-shirt that nicely displayed her feminine curves.

The sight reminded him that he hadn’t died in the airplane crash. Sex was fundamental to the survival instinct, and Hannah Nolan was a very sexy woman.

Jake grinned. His apology and attempt at small talk had gone badly that morning, but he’d enjoyed his landlady’s response. She hadn’t humored him the way everyone else had been doing since the accident, saying what they thought he wanted to hear. She’d gotten mad and let him know she was pissed.

Was she as frankly honest with her visitor? She appeared surprised to see the newcomer, but it obviously wasn’t her ex-husband, who Jake suspected fell into the deadbeat-father category.

The stuffed shirt handed Hannah the flowers and bent down for a kiss that landed awkwardly when she turned her head at the last moment. Courting customs varied around the world, but it was a good guess they hadn’t arrived at the lover stage. After another few words, they went up the steps into the guesthouse.

Though he was getting hungry again, Jake decided to stay in the sunroom to see if anything else happened. Aside from Hannah’s undeniable visual appeal, the whole exchange hadn’t been particularly interesting, but after spending so much time confined to a hospital, his standards for entertainment weren’t high these days.

CHAPTER THREE

IN THE GUESTHOUSE kitchen Hannah tried not to react as she took out the three entrées Brendan had brought with him. Eggplant parmigiana. Her favorite dish, but not the sort of thing Danny liked. Okay, so Brendan didn’t understand kids; that wasn’t the end of the world. He could learn. The baby greens in the salad were even worse for a little boy than the eggplant, but the cheesy breadsticks would be popular—when Luigi called something “cheesy” it was an understatement.

“This place is really nice,” Brendan said with approval as he gazed around the kitchen. “I never asked, did you do a remodel when you moved in here?”

“Uh, no,” Hannah murmured, thinking of the fortune it would have taken for her to update the property. Her father was both an architect and contractor and had insisted on doing the work for Great-Aunt Elkie at cost when she’d renovated a few years before, but the materials alone had been hideously expensive. “My great-aunt kept things fixed up. She was quite particular.”

“I’m impressed. A lot of older people seem to want their homes to stay the same, out of sentiment I suppose.”

“Not Elkie, at least not about Huckleberry Lodge. Before he died, Great-Uncle Larry made her promise she wouldn’t be maudlin and leave everything the same.”

“You must have been very close.”

“I was crazy about them both.” Hannah smiled at the memories. “I used to spend weekends here. We’d make banana splits and watch old films like Key Largo and The Big Sleep. My great-aunt was a big Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall fan. There was a line she loved from an old pop song...‘we had it all, just like Bogie and Bacall.’ I think that’s how she saw her marriage to Great-Uncle Larry, but instead of Key Largo, they had Mahalaton Lake.”

“Oh...right.”

It was just a guess, but Hannah had the feeling he wasn’t entirely sure who Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall actually were.

She checked the clock as she arranged the flowers he’d given her in a vase. Barbi wasn’t due for a couple of hours, so there was time to eat and visit. Nevertheless, it was exasperating that Brendan had come, even though she’d told him that she had plans. Between taking care of Danny and work and community activities, she didn’t have as much time to socialize as he wanted. Of course, maybe he’d never dated a single mother before and didn’t realize how much a child changed things.

Still, if she ever wanted to fall in love and get married again, she needed to remember how it felt to be a woman, not just a mother.

She set the table and called Danny from his room. He greeted their guest politely, only to scrunch up his face when he saw his plate; he loved Italian food...as long as it was cheese pizza or spaghetti.

“Wasn’t it nice of Brendan to bring us dinner?” Hannah said before he could complain.

“Uh-huh.” He sighed heavily and picked up his fork.

Hannah ate a bite of salad, savoring the garlic-balsamic dressing. It was just right to set off the eggplant parmigiana, and her frustration with Brendan faded—this was much better than macaroni and cheese.

“Isn’t Danny eating salad?” Brendan asked.

“Not tonight.”

She hadn’t given Danny a serving, knowing he’d balk at eating the mildly bitter baby greens in addition to eggplant. And she couldn’t blame him—children experienced flavors differently from adults, so foods that she loved didn’t necessarily taste good to Danny. Normally she wanted him to try a bite of everything, but it was easier to keep things lower key in front of company.

Badger came trotting into the kitchen and stood at Danny’s elbow. Hannah didn’t allow Badger to be fed table scraps, but he remained hopeful...making her suspect that Danny was sneaking him bits when she wasn’t watching.

“Badger, sit,” she ordered.

The dog lay down, crossing one paw over the other, a picture of meek innocence.

“How is your new tenant working out so far?” Brendan asked.

“It’s too early to say. He was irritable when he arrived, but that was probably from being in pain.”

Brendan frowned. “I’ve read about the Hollister family—they’re notorious. Let me know if you have any problems. If worse comes to worst, I’ll look for a way to cancel the lease.”

“I’m sure it won’t get that bad.”

“All right, but you may change your mind if his party-loving father shows up.”

She couldn’t change her mind. Having Jake Hollister as a tenant was going to ease some of her financial pressures, and it would be painful to give up the income now that she’d gotten the first check. She’d just have to deal with him as well as possible.

* * *

BARBI DROVE OUT of town, both excited and nervous about her first tutoring session. She hadn’t taken a test since she was sixteen, and even when she was a kid she hadn’t done so good on them—she froze when she saw a list of questions and her head wouldn’t work. As for all that proper English and math, those things scared the crap out of her.

She got to Huckleberry Lodge and groaned when she saw a silver Lexus parked in front of the guesthouse. There weren’t that many fancy cars in Mahalaton Lake. It had to be Brendan Townsend.

God, what a prig.

He was conventional about everything—even his pizzas always had the same three toppings. She’d bet that in bed it was missionary position all the way—some action on the breasts, a quick swipe on the thigh and wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. Sex was probably too earthy for him to do it right.

The first time she’d delivered a pizza to Brendan was on a hot day the previous summer, and she would never forget his expression when she’d arrived. She had been wearing skimpy shorts with a tube top and his eyes had narrowed with cool scorn. After that she’d started chewing gum whenever she brought food to his condo, making sure she snapped it loudly and blew at least two bubbles before he managed to pay her.

Not that she’d actually get mouthy while delivering a meal to him, but it was the sort of thing Brendan expected and she had to have a little fun. Besides, she’d grown up as the girl whose drunken father was in and out of jail for disorderly behavior, so there was no point in trying to fit in now. She might as well wear the clothes she liked and let the biddies gossip. And it wasn’t as if she was staying in Mahalaton Lake, as much as she liked it here. She wanted to get away from any reminders of her father, and having her GED would make getting a good job easier.

Of course, Brendan didn’t try to fit in, either. He wore a suit to everything, including the Founder’s Day picnic and the fire department’s monthly fund-raising dinners. Jeez, he’d been living in Mahalaton Lake for over a year; he should have loosened up by now. But there was one thing she could say for him—he tipped well.

Barbi debated for a minute before turning off the engine. She’d rather leave, but Hannah was expecting her and it would be rude. Besides, it was a chance to yank Brendan’s chain—she wasn’t delivering a pizza to him now, any more than when she saw him at one of the town’s events.

Grinning, Barbi got out of her battered Chevy; she undid the buttons on her shirt and snugly tied the tails beneath her breasts for a nice display of cleavage. Let Mr. Big Shot Attorney get a load of this.

Glancing up, she spotted a man standing at a window of Huckleberry Lodge. She waved to him. He must have gotten an eyeful when her shirt was open, but it wasn’t as if she had anything to be ashamed of—she’d stack her breasts up against any woman in Mahalaton Lake.

She trotted up the broad steps to Hannah’s porch and knocked. It seemed strange not to be carrying a pizza box; she delivered one to Hannah and Danny practically every week. And when a crowd of weekend skiers were staying at the lodge, she sometimes delivered a stack of giant pies to them three nights in a row—skiing worked up an appetite.

“Hi,” she said brightly when Brendan opened the door. “Whatcha doing here?”

“I brought dinner out for Hannah and Danny.”

“Really? I didn’t know I had competition—things must be slow at the office if you had to go into the delivery business. But I doubt you’ll get my tips—you don’t have my equipment.” She wiggled her shoulders provocatively.

It was satisfying to see Brendan focus directly on her chest. He might not approve of her showing some skin, but he wasn’t above getting his jollies at the sight. Men were predictable that way.

“For your information, I just...that is, Hannah and I...we had a meal together,” he spluttered.

“Maybe I should come back another night.”

“Nonsense.” It was Hannah and she elbowed Brendan to one side. “Brendan is just leaving. I told him we were planning to watch a movie or something.”

It was nice of Hannah to make up an explanation like that. Barbi didn’t exactly mind people knowing she was studying for her GED, but she also didn’t want to look idiotic being taught kid’s stuff in front of Brendan that she should have learned fifteen years ago in high school. He was such a snot, he’d probably think it was hilarious.

Uneven footsteps sounded on the stairs below them and Hannah’s face got tense. “Is there something you need, Mr. Hollister?” she asked.

“I just need to know where the spare lightbulbs are. The lamp in the living room blew.”

Barbi turned around. It was the hunk she’d caught watching her earlier. Yum. Tall and trim, with hair so dark it was almost black, and intense brown eyes. Brendan might be sexy if he got serious help; this guy was pure heat without even trying.

“They’re in the utility room,” Hannah said in a tight voice. “I wanted to show you where everything is, but you refused a tour of the house. Remember?”

The hunk just shrugged.

“Hi, Mr. Hollister,” Danny chirped, jumping down to the first step. “How’re ya doing? Mommy said you didn’t feel so good.”

“I’m better today.”

Danny smiled. “Super.”

“Go on inside, Barbi. You, too, Danny,” Hannah urged. She gave Brendan a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for dinner. Maybe we can get together next week. Call me in a few days.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

He fixed his tie and checked the buttons on his coat before hurrying to his Lexus. Honestly, the guy was so stuffy and correct, Barbi didn’t know how he could get by without a book of etiquette in his back pocket and a yardstick up his ass. Hannah was way too nice for him, but there weren’t that many single men in Mahalaton Lake and she’d already been married to a louse. Brendan wasn’t a louse, just dull.

Barbi winked at the hunk, and as she went into the house, she could hear a low conversation between him and Hannah.

A minute later Hannah came in and closed the door. “Let’s get started,” she said. Her tone was light, but she sure looked flustered.

* * *

ON THE TUESDAY after Jake Hollister’s arrival, Hannah knocked on the door of Huckleberry Lodge. She’d agreed to do the cleaning every Tuesday and Friday at one o’clock during the summer. Once the school year started, the time would shift to late afternoon.

“You don’t have to knock,” Jake said by way of greeting as he opened the door.

“In polite society, knocking is considered appropriate.”

“I didn’t grow up in polite society. That is, I should say traditional ‘Western’ polite society. They haven’t always had doors in the places I’ve lived. Every culture has its customs about proper behavior—the trick is learning those customs.”

“Have you made any effort to learn them here?”

Jake seemed genuinely startled. “I don’t need to. I was born in Iceland, but I’m a U.S. citizen.”

“Citizenship doesn’t guarantee you know American customs. You don’t get that kind of knowledge through an umbilical cord.”

“I’m getting by just fine.”

“Whatever.”

Hannah bent over and picked up a stack of books piled haphazardly on the floor near the native stone fireplace in the living room. Her great-aunt and uncle had loved books, and they were in abundance around the lodge, especially the classics and nonfiction.

She put the books on the built-in shelves flanking the fireplace and went into the kitchen. Phew. There was a pizza box on the sandstone counter by the stove, one on the floor, another on the window seat behind the breakfast nook and a fourth was on the table. The sink and nearby surfaces were covered with dirty dishes and cups and wadded-up napkins. A jar of raspberry jam was tipped over on its side and red syrup dripped from it onto the floor. An empty jar of peanut butter sat nearby.

Jake limped past her. He dug a slice of pizza from the box on the table, liberally sprinkled it with crushed red pepper flakes and chomped down on the crust end.

“Uh, have you eaten anything except pizza and peanut butter since you got here?” She set the jam jar upright and wiped up the mess with a wet cloth.

“I don’t cook and Luigi’s only delivers pizza. And that’s only Friday through Sunday, as you’ve pointed out.”

“Ask for Luigi when you phone and sweet-talk him into sending one of his other dishes at the same time you sweet-talk him into delivering Monday through Thursday.”

“I don’t sweet-talk well.”

She widened her eyes in mock astonishment. “Really? That’s hard to imagine when you’re so charming and tactful.”

Jake snorted and ignored her sarcasm.

Wrinkling her nose, Hannah got a plastic garbage bag from under the sink and began collecting trash. Huckleberry Lodge was equipped with the latest in kitchen appliances, yet her tenant was eating delivery pizza and peanut butter. She was appalled at his diet, but it was his concern; he was an adult, capable of choosing his own food.

“There’s still half a pizza in here,” she said, picking up the box from the floor and putting in her bag.

“It’s old. Got it on Friday and wasn’t that hungry.”

“Then this one must be from Saturday,” she said, peering into the box from the window seat. There were several pieces in that one, as well. “There’s a refrigerator, you know. It’s that large, rectangular thing over there.” She pointed to the stainless steel commercial-grade refrigerator. “Amazingly, it keeps food at a safe temperature for future consumption.”

“Very amusing. But I have an iron stomach after the way I’ve lived. Besides, I don’t cook.”

“There’s also a stove, microwave and toaster oven—reheating doesn’t require any culinary ability.”

“Neither does ordering another pizza. Got two on Sunday and figured they’d last awhile. So don’t throw those away.” He gestured to the boxes on the table and countertop.

“Well, I guess it’s a break from PB&Js.”

“PB&Js?”

“Peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches. Seriously, how much time have you spent in the U.S. if you don’t know that?” Hannah swept dried crusts of bread and wadded-up paper towels into her sack of trash.

“Almost none,” Jake admitted. “I’m normally on assignment fifty weeks out of the year. And usually in remote areas. I have a small work studio in Costa Rica, but I’m hardly ever there, either.”

Lord. Hannah couldn’t imagine living like that, with no real home, just a suitcase, or whatever passed for a suitcase in his line of work. She glanced out the window at Mahala Lake, the water so blue it almost hurt her eyes. Except for the years she’d been at college, it was a sight she’d seen every day of her life, yet she never tired of it.

“Traveling can be fun, but I’m mostly a homebody,” she said, raising her chin and practically daring him to say something else that was rude. Jake had made his opinion about staying in one place quite well-known.

“Yeah, I figured that out. The domestic stuff is okay if that’s what you like, but home, marriage, kids—those things end my kind of career.”

Hannah stared. “That isn’t the first time you’ve mentioned something along those lines, and it’s starting to sound like a warning. I don’t need to be told to keep my distance. My ex-husband was a thrill seeker and I have no intention of making that mistake again. If I get married again, it’s going to be to someone stable and caring who can put me and my son first. It certainly won’t be to a man with one foot out the door and a habit of risking his neck.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Jake protested. “It’s on my mind, that’s all. I talked to my former photography assistant this morning. We won’t be working together any longer because he’s getting married, and all he could talk about was the house they’re buying and his great new job. He may be better off on his own, but he already had a great job. With me.”

“You fired him because he’s getting married? Is being single a rule in the photography business?”

Jake sank down on one of the chairs, rubbing his left leg. “I didn’t fire him, but most spouses don’t appreciate being left alone for months at a time, and Toby’s fiancée is no exception. Vera must have given him an ultimatum after the accident and he caved under the pressure.”

Hannah began putting cups in the top rack of the dishwasher, thinking about the mixed emotions on Jake’s face when he’d mentioned Toby’s enthusiasm for his new job...emotions too complicated to fathom. One thing was quite clear, however—Jake Hollister didn’t understand people who wanted a home.

“Maybe your assistant didn’t ‘cave.’ Maybe he made a choice,” she offered finally.

Jake shook his head. “Toby liked the travel. He complains about stuff, but that’s just his way—he’s the one who suggested going to the Gobi Desert three years ago. For Pete’s sake, it’s not as if he was cheating on Vera, and they talked on the satellite phone almost every day.”

“A phone call is hardly the same as having someone with you. And if Toby loved the travel that much, he didn’t have to quit.”

“But he is quitting.”

She rolled her eyes at Jake’s sulky, little-boy tone.

“Well, your feelings about domesticity are hardly a secret,” she informed him. “Whenever a reporter or an interviewer asks about marriage, you declare you’re a confirmed bachelor.”

“You’ve read about me?”

“Don’t read anything into it. The rental agent for Huckleberry Lodge was excited about the idea of a celebrity living in the area. Lillian gave me copies of various articles and talked about you incessantly.”

“I’m not a celebrity.”

“You’re the closest thing to it in Mahalaton Lake.”

Hannah put detergent in the dishwasher and started it, uncomfortably aware of Jake watching her.

“Don’t you have work to do?” she asked finally.

“Nothing important. I’m on a forced hiatus except for the fluff book I’m doing on the Cascades.”

“Excuse me?” She turned and raised her eyebrows. “Fluff?”

“The Cascade Range has been done by half the nature photographers on the planet. It’s boring.”

Hannah’s temper began to simmer again. This was her home he was insulting.

“The Cascade Mountains are among the most beautiful places in the world,” she said crisply. “We have active volcanoes, varied animal life, gorgeous wildflowers...it’s a scenic wonderland.”

“But it’s also commonplace.” Jake made a dismissive gesture. “Nothing can compare to the sight of a polar bear in its natural habitat or the power of an Amur leopard climbing up a rock face with its prey.”

“Oh? Have you ever heard the cry of a loon across the water? It’s haunting. And how about the way dogwood blossoms seem to hang in midair, glowing in the low light of a forest? A place doesn’t have to be remote to be breathtaking.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s nice.”

Hannah could tell he wasn’t convinced, but she hadn’t expected to get through to him—he’d made up his mind and that was that. She took the bag of trash out to the cans behind the garage and headed back to find Jake sitting at the farmhouse table with a laptop computer in front of him.

Pressing her lips together, she continued putting the kitchen to rights. Removing the trash was a big improvement. It was even possible that the mess was more the result of him feeling lousy than of his truly being a slob; she’d find out over the next few months as his condition improved.

“By the way, where’s your son?” Jake asked after a few minutes.

“With my parents. They went down to Portland for the day and I didn’t think you wanted him here.”

* * *

SHE’D SENT DANNY to spend the day with her parents?

A twinge of guilt went through Jake. He wasn’t a kid person, but he usually got along okay with them. It was just that first day he’d instantly envisioned having Danny underfoot all the time and hadn’t wanted to encourage that. On the other hand, he hadn’t expected to be so bored.

“You can bring him next time,” he offered, surprising himself. “I don’t mind.”

“Can I get that in writing?” Hannah asked drily.

He grinned. Hannah Nolan wasn’t what he’d expected as a landlady, but that was a good thing. He didn’t need a comfortable motherly type, fussing over him and treating him like an invalid. Hannah would be more likely to kick him in the ass than fuss.

“Whatever you like. I’ll have my lawyer contact your lawyer, and we’ll do it right. If I had to guess, that guy who visited last week is a member of the bar. Conservative suit, no sense of humor, luxury car...what else could he be?”

She pressed her lips together and began wiping the sandstone countertops. Jake hadn’t intended to let the place get so messy, but it was easy to let things go when just getting from one side of the house to the other was a pain. Literally. Yet even as the thought formed, he grimaced. He didn’t like excuses; they stank worse than week-old fish.

“So is the guy you’re dating the sensitive, vulnerable man you’re looking for?” he asked.

“Brendan is a friend. And not that it’s any of your business, but I didn’t say I was looking for sensitive or vulnerable.”

“My mistake.”

Hannah tidied the sunroom before returning to the living room. He followed, to her obvious displeasure.

“I thought you were doing something on your computer.”

“I’ve never had a housekeeper before. I should see how you do things.”

She returned another stack of books to the bookcases by the fireplace. “I’m not your housekeeper. Our agreement specifies light cleaning twice a week, not to exceed two hours. You reminded me about the ‘light’ part when you arrived.”

“Sure. But don’t you think it’s mostly a question of semantics?”

“You don’t want to know what I think,” Hannah muttered.

Jake tried not to smile. It wasn’t nice of him to ruffle her feathers, but they were awfully fun to ruffle. He’d already stuck his foot into his mouth to the point she’d probably boot him out if she could get away with it. At least his lease gave him some protection.

Taking a dust mop from a closet, Hannah ran it over the hardwood floor and then dusted the flat surfaces. A citrus scent filled the air and he sniffed.

“What’s that?”

“Lemon oil. It’s good for the wood, but if you don’t like it, I’ll try to find something else.”

“It’s fine. Beats the smell of seal fat.”

“Seal fat?” Hannah shuddered. “Where is that used on floors?”

“I’m not sure about floors, but the Inupiat have uses for it, including burning it in lamps. The village where I stayed this spring is quite traditional, and still consumes seal and caribou meat as its major food sources.”

“I’m afraid seal is too exotic for me.”

“It is for most people.” He wrinkled his nose. “And to be honest, I prefer caribou. But seal isn’t bad, and I could name several other more unappetizing dishes I’ve eaten. I won’t go into the details.”

The corner of Hannah’s mouth twitched.

“On the other hand,” he said reflectively, “when you’re in an amazing place like Nepal or the Amazon basin, who cares what you’re eating?”

“Actually, a lot of people do.”

“They don’t know what they’re missing.”

“You obviously don’t know what you’re missing about the Cascade Mountain Range, either,” she returned promptly.

So that was still bothering her. Diplomacy wasn’t one of his strengths, but he was usually more tactful.

Hannah set to work again, stripping the bed and putting on fresh sheets. The bathroom and guest powder room were scrubbed with a ruthless efficiency, and Jake could tell that her primary goal was to get out of Huckleberry Lodge as quickly as possible. After dusting and straightening the library, she finished by mopping the kitchen and bundling up the linens.

“That’s all. I’ll do these over at my place.”

“Is there any way I could interest you in doing my personal laundry, as well?”

She smiled sweetly. “I’m afraid not. You have a top-of-the-line washing machine and dryer in the laundry room for that—I realize it probably doesn’t measure up to pounding clothes on rocks and rinsing them in a cold river, but it will have to do. I’ll see you on Friday.”

As the door closed behind her, Jake began to laugh.

* * *

HANNAH DUMPED JAKE Hollister’s sheets and towels on the floor of her laundry room and gave them a kick. Jackass. He’d baited her, but that wasn’t the problem. It was his attitude about the Cascades she found truly infuriating.

If he acted that way in other parts of the world, he’d probably start a war one day. Actually, she was surprised he hadn’t started one already.

Hadn’t anyone ever told him he shouldn’t insult someone’s home? It was akin to telling somebody their baby was ugly, or that they were an idiot for choosing to live in a certain place.

She loved Mahalaton Lake and having her parents a few miles away. It was great to know people on the street and be a part of their lives. She felt connected here. As a teenager she’d thought about leaving, but not any longer. Yet apparently Jake Hollister was always thinking about the next place he was going.

Hannah loaded the towels into the washer. It was a good thing she was getting so much for renting the lodge. When Lillian had told her what Jake had offered, it had seemed absurdly high, but it made more sense now. With his appalling manners, greasing the wheels with money was probably the only way he could survive.

At least she wouldn’t have to send Danny to her parents the next time she cleaned. It had hurt seeing the crushed expression on his face when he’d learned he wouldn’t be “helping” in the big house. In the way children could instantly form a liking for someone, he had decided Jake Hollister was a kindred spirit. Even Jake’s rudeness hadn’t changed how he felt.

Hannah put detergent in the washing machine and started it. Her parents would soon be back with Danny and she wanted to fix them a meal.

Determinedly putting obnoxious photographers out of her mind, she began chopping vegetables.

Two hours later the scent of garlic and other spices filled the air and she was in better sprits. The front door opened and she heard Danny call, “Hi, Mommy!”

“Hi. Did you have a good time?”

“The best! We went to the zoo and saw the polar bears, just like the ones Mr. Hollister takes pictures of.”

Her dad kissed her forehead. “Smells wonderful, sweetheart.”

“It’s Thai chicken. You and I will have to spice it up with chili garlic sauce since I made it mild for the wimps.”

“I heard that,” her mom called from the other room.

Hannah grinned.

“How was Mr. Hollister?” her father asked.

Her grin faded. “Fine, as far as I could tell. But he’s a slob. No wonder he wanted someone to clean house. What a mess—jam dripping onto the kitchen floor, things thrown about, Great-Aunt Elkie’s books all over the living room.”

Hannah’s mother hurried in, frowning. “Has he done any damage to the lodge or furnishings?”

“Not as far as I could tell. Honestly, though, I think the only things he’s eaten since getting here are Luigi’s pizza and peanut butter. Cold pizza, most of the time.”

“Pizza is yummy,” Danny said.

“I know, darling. But once a week is enough. That way it stays a treat. And we like it nice and hot, not cold and stale.”

“Uh-huh. Poor Mr. Hollister.”

Hannah nearly choked.

She did not feel sorry for Jake Hollister. He seemed to delight in annoying her and she’d be lucky to get through a month without him finding out how loudly she could shriek.

* * *

JAKE WAS FIXING a peanut-butter sandwich when an ambrosial smell invaded Huckleberry Lodge. He went into the sunroom and looked out the windows he’d left open. A blue SUV was parked in the driveway and he wondered if another boring suitor had arrived to court Hannah.

But it was the fragrance coming from the guesthouse that commanded most of his attention. He sniffed—lemongrass, coconut, garlic...it was as if he’d died and gone to heaven. Whatever Hannah was preparing reminded him of dishes he’d eaten in Southeast Asia and beat the hell out of another peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.

PB&J, he reminded himself.

And he could well imagine what his stubborn landlady would say if he tried to wrangle an invitation to dinner. Something sharp and pithy, no doubt. Perhaps he shouldn’t have teased her so much—if her cooking tasted as good as it smelled, it would have been worth holding his tongue for a taste.

Paying for additional services—cooking and laundry and grocery shopping—was another possibility. If he’d thought of it earlier, he might be eating something more interesting than a sandwich for dinner.

Danny, the little boy, came out on the large deck of the guesthouse. He saw Jake and began waving.

Jake waved back halfheartedly, expecting the child to take it as an invitation and come barreling over to chatter his head off. Instead Danny settled down on a chair, head bent, looking at something, with his dog next to him.

Making a face, Jake closed the windows and returned to his sandwich. The bread was getting stale and he’d used the same knife to spread the peanut butter as he’d used on the pizza earlier, so everything tasted vaguely of pepperoni. As he’d told Hannah, he’d eaten much worse in the far-flung corners of the world, but then it had been spiced with exotic scenery and anticipation of the next great photo.

A year, he thought dismally.

That was how long the doctors had said it would take for him to recover and be able to work and travel the way he’d always worked and traveled. If he pushed himself too soon, he risked permanent disability.

Not that he had to stay in Mahalaton Lake the whole time, but it was the best way to photographically capture all four seasons for the book he’d agreed to do. So that meant a year of peanut butter and pizza and a feisty landlady with a small child. Hannah might be fun to tease and a treat to look at, but he’d rarely slept two months in the same bed, much less a year.

And since lovely Hannah was off-limits—obviously not being interested in brief liaisons—he had little to look forward to in that area, either...other than frustration and cold showers.

CHAPTER FOUR

“THAT SOUNDS GOOD,” Hannah said to Gwen Westfield as she scribbled notes on a pad.

They were planning the upcoming ice cream social fund-raiser for the Mahalaton Rescue Squad, one of several fund-raisers held annually for the squad. The local community enjoyed the events, but they were also geared to bring in tourist dollars. It seemed only appropriate, since a good number of the squad’s rescue calls were for visitors. Though not always.

Hannah shivered at the reminder of her high school boyfriend who’d pushed a climb too far—Collin had loved testing the limit in everything, and that time was his last. For months she’d woken up, unable to escape the horror of that day, hearing her own voice begging him not to go up that rock face alone, followed by her screams as he fell. Sometimes her heart still ached when she thought about how things might have turned out if Collin had lived.

He’d survived the fall, but only for a few hours, and all she could do was listen to him moaning and talking half-deliriously. Someone in the group had been carrying a satellite phone so they could call for help, but it had still taken too long for anyone to come. Back then they didn’t have a local team trained in mountain rescues, which was why supporting the rescue squad was so important to her. After all...Collin might still be alive if help had arrived sooner.

Hannah sighed. It was painfully obvious that she had a weakness for restless risk takers. Steven had been a lot like Collin, with the same devil-may-care attitude and hidden demons. And she found Jake Hollister dangerously attractive as well, a response she was determined to squelch. Not that it mattered; he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in the things that mattered to her. Insultingly clear. And she was reasonably sure she hadn’t revealed any sign of her attraction to him to justify a warning.

“I think we should try avocado ice cream,” Gwen said eagerly. “I saw a recipe in a women’s magazine while I was at the dentist’s office.”

Hannah resisted making a face. She liked trying new foods, but the people who lived in Mahalaton Lake were conservative in their tastes, and their summer visitors seemed to feel the same way. “I don’t know if anyone is ready for something that different. Remember the garlic ice cream last year?”

“Oh. Right.” Gwen looked crestfallen. She’d gone to California on vacation with her family and tasted garlic ice cream at the Gilroy Garlic Festival. Inspired, she’d made a gallon for the social, only to throw most of it out. It was one thing to sample garlic ice cream at a garlic festival, another to see it miles from the nearest garlic field. “Maybe I’ll bring something else. Are you making your usual?”

“Yup. Two gallons of wild huckleberry.” Every summer Hannah picked huckleberries in August and September, making jam with some and stowing the rest in the freezer to use throughout the next year, including for the June ice cream social.

“Everybody loves huckleberry.”

“Make strawberry ice cream. Everybody loves that, too,” Hannah suggested.

“But it’s so ordinary.” Gwen had moved to Mahalaton Lake five years ago when her husband, Randy, had been hired as their head of emergency services. Though a born New Yorker, she loved the town; she just got frustrated with the limited culinary tastes of most of the residents.

“Strawberry isn’t ordinary, it’s traditional,” Hannah said firmly, writing strawberry next to Gwen’s name on the ice cream sign-up sheet.

“I don’t know. What if I try anise and—”

“How about pineapple sorbet?” Hannah suggested hastily.

“That sounds good,” Gwen said, brightening.

“Besides, I just remembered that Luigi is donating a gallon of his homemade strawberry gelato.”

“Okay. I can’t compete with his gelato anyway.”

Hannah crossed out strawberry under Gwen’s name and wrote in pineapple sorbet.

She got up and refilled their coffee cups. They were meeting at her place, partly because there wasn’t a single unoccupied surface in Gwen’s home. Her husband always said that his wife had many fine qualities, but housekeeping wasn’t one of them. The planning committee would meet again the next morning, so Hannah and Gwen were putting the final proposal together to save time.

“Thanks.” Gwen poured cream in her coffee.

Hannah glanced out the window and saw Danny talking to Jake Hollister. Her mouth tightened. Before Jake had even arrived in Mahalaton Lake, Danny had heard a lot about the adventuring photographer—not from her, but from his friends and even her own parents. She didn’t want her son developing hero worship for someone with his itchy feet.

“Is that the guy?” Gwen asked, leaning forward and peering out, as well.

They were sitting in the living room of the guesthouse, and the picture windows on both outside walls gave a sweeping view of Huckleberry Lodge and the lake beyond. Danny was chattering away with his usual exuberance, arms flying as he gestured wildly, while Jake leaned on the stair railing, holding a paper bag in his hand and occasionally nodding. Unless you were close enough to see the lines of pain carved around his eyes, you’d never guess he’d recently been in the hospital.

“Yup, Jake Hollister in the flesh.”

“Mmm. Nice flesh, too. I wouldn’t throw him out of bed for getting crumbs on the sheets.”

“Does Randy do that?”

Gwen laughed. “Not since I nagged him out of the habit. Honestly, why do men feel the need to eat popcorn in bed?”

“Got me.” Hannah hadn’t been married long enough to have come to many conclusions about men, other than she didn’t want to be married to the wrong one again. Her son was the only positive thing to come out of her marriage.

“Well, you’re lucky to have such a cute guy living next door.” All at once Gwen got a speculative expression on her face. “I wonder if he’d be interested in working on one of the fund-raisers for the rescue squad. He’s so famous, it might attract more people than usual.”

Hannah cringed, thinking how Jake might react to the idea. “He’s got a reputation for being a loner, so I doubt he’s a small-town, community-service-project sort of guy.”

“Have you gotten to know him yet?”

She hesitated. “Not exactly. We’ve only spoken a few times. I’ll be cleaning house over there twice a week.”

“I hope he pays well. Not to be a hypocrite considering my own limitations as a housekeeper, but my sister claims some artists can be slobs.”

Hannah mentally agreed, recalling the scattered pizza boxes and red jam dripping from Great-Aunt Elkie’s sandstone countertop. Her second cleaning session was that afternoon, and she dreaded thinking about what else he’d done to the place.

“Uh, the pay is okay.”

But the company isn’t, she added mutely. Luckily, she and Danny were probably the only ones in Mahalaton Lake who’d had to face his questionable manners. Barbi had obviously delivered pizza several times, but Jake’s shiny new SUV hadn’t moved since the day he’d arrived, so he hadn’t gone into town and offended anyone there.

“I’ve been thinking,” Gwen said. “If Mr. Hollister did agree to be involved, we could have a photo booth at the Christmas in August festival, or at one of the other fund-raisers. I bet people would pay a lot to have their portrait done by a famous photographer. It would be easy to do with computers and printers being so portable.”

Hannah nearly choked on a mouthful of coffee. “He’s not that kind of photographer, Gwen. His time in the Middle East was an anomaly. From everything I’ve read, he does extreme nature and wild-animal stuff, not people.”

Gwen grinned. “What do you call my twins? Spending time with them is definitely taking a walk on the wild side.”

“They’re not so bad.”

“Ha. Mrs. Gardiner refuses to have them both in her preschool class this fall. She claims they get into eight times as much trouble when they’re together. It’s true, of course, but apparently it’s the first time she’s ever refused a student.”

“She isn’t as young as she used to be. As for the portraits, you’re welcome to ask Jake to participate if you want to, but I prefer being left out of it. I...uh, don’t want things to be awkward if he says no. You know, since he’s living in the lodge.”

Dealing with Jake would be tough enough without offending his artistic pride, and Hannah already had reason to think he was a snob when it came to his work. He’d called taking photos of the Cascades “fluff.” Not to mention describing them as commonplace and boring—it was like saying anyone who lived here was commonplace and boring.

She couldn’t imagine he’d explored the Cascade Mountains enough to know much about them. He’d just assumed that because they’d been well photographed, they weren’t worth his precious time. Yet in her opinion, nobody had ever captured their unique spirit. However much she disliked Jake, he was a great photographer—if he wanted, he could do something amazing.

“I might approach him with the idea,” Gwen said thoughtfully. “If only to make Randy jealous.”

“I didn’t think he got jealous.”

“He doesn’t. And it’s kind of annoying.”

Hannah shook her head. Gwen and Randy Westfield were the most mismatched couple she could imagine—and absolutely devoted to each other. Gwen was a willowy brunette beauty, while her husband was four inches shorter, stocky, sandy-haired and pleasant looking, rather than handsome. They had a wonderful marriage, with Randy gently amused at his wife’s flights of fancy and Gwen gamely accepting the uncertainties of life with a husband in a high-risk job.

Hannah didn’t think she could do it herself, but Gwen was proud of Randy and did everything possible to support his work. Of course, there was a big difference between someone who risked his life helping others, and someone who was just looking for an adrenaline rush like Collin and Jake Hollister.

“You wouldn’t change a hair on Randy’s balding head, and you know it,” she said, pushing the thought away. She didn’t actually know Jake was an adrenaline junkie, though the articles she’d read about him had suggested he had a near-death wish.

Gwen gave her a happy smile. “Nope, but it’s fun to tease.”

They went on making plans for the social, but Hannah’s mind was only partly on the discussion. Jake had gone back into Huckleberry Lodge and Danny was throwing a stick for Badger to retrieve. He looked up and she motioned for him to come inside.

A minute later the door opened and Badger came bounding in ahead of Danny.

“Danny, what did I tell you about leaving Mr. Hollister alone?” Hannah asked him.

“It’s okay, Mommy, he talked to me first. I brought him a loaf of bread and he gave me five dollars to thank us.” He handed her a bill. “Um, Badger and me are real hungry. Can we have a cheese sandwich? Please?”

Hannah put the money in her pocket. “It’ll have to be cheese and apples since you gave Mr. Hollister our bread. Please talk to me before selling any more food to him. I’ll fix lunch later.” She gave Danny a plate of apple quarters and sliced cheese and returned to the dining room. “Can I get you anything, Gwen?”

“I’m fine. Randy asked if your mother is bringing her peach cobbler to the social. It’s his favorite.”

“Yes, and she’s making vanilla ice cream.”

“He’ll be thrilled. He says it’s even better than his mom makes.” She looked at her watch. “Oops, better go. The babysitter can only take the boys in limited doses.”

When Gwen had gone, Hannah sat down and looked at her list. She needed to go shopping, but it would have to wait. Being out of bread wasn’t a big deal, and at least she now knew what had happened to the loaf in the garage freezer.

She was pretty sure the leftover Thai chicken she’d cooked on Tuesday had also traveled over to Huckleberry Lodge, thanks to Danny’s generous heart. The plastic container was nowhere to be found, and her son was still at the age where he asked for food instead of trolling through the refrigerator like a hungry vacuum cleaner. However, he was capable of deciding to bring leftovers to their neighbor.

She’d considered speaking to Danny about it, but she liked that he was concerned for other people’s well-being—even obnoxious photographers.

* * *

JAKE DROPPED TWO slices of the bread Danny Nolan had brought him into the toaster. Maybe he should have talked to Hannah before accepting it, but Danny had said it was okay. Besides, he’d given the youngster money, making him promise to get the cash to his mother.

When Hannah came over later he’d have to ask if she would take care of grocery shopping for him. Though considering her reaction when he’d teased her about doing his laundry, the answer would probably be no.

It was nice that Danny wasn’t proving to be the problem Jake had expected. He’d encountered kids in his travels, of course. They were fascinated that a captured image could be seen instantly with the digital equipment he favored. Josie, on the other hand, despised the new technology, saying the old cameras and film were the true art. Jake didn’t agree; it was simply a different kind of art. Still, he had to admit it was a pain having to recharge his camera batteries, especially in the remote parts of the world where he preferred working. He had a solar-powered charger, modified for his particular needs, but it wasn’t as convenient as plugging into an electric outlet.

Well...Toby had taken care of charging batteries and shuffling equipment the past eight years. Working without him was going to mean changes; the question was whether to replace Toby or go solo again. Solo was probably best; he could never replace Toby, with all his cursing and complaining and unquestioned loyalty.

The toaster popped, and Jake smeared butter on both slices of bread. He sprinkled sugar and cinnamon over the top, only to hear the front doorbell ring before he could take a bite.

Frowning, he limped toward the front door. He’d told Hannah she could come in without knocking or ringing, though he didn’t really expect her to do it. Jake opened the door, but instead of his landlady, he saw a broad-shouldered man holding an athletic bag with Lower Mahalaton Rehab Center emblazoned on the side.

“Mr. Hollister? I’m Owen Kershaw, your physical therapist, here for our eleven o’clock appointment.”

Crap.

Jake belatedly remembered his first rehab session was that morning. He was tempted to say he didn’t feel like company, but he’d never get better if he didn’t work his ass off.

“Uh, hello. Please call me Jake.”

Owen didn’t try shaking hands, he marched in with his bag and a folding table and motioned toward the kitchen. “I noticed a room with lots of windows on that side of the house. Is there enough space to work in there?”

“Probably.”

“Excellent. We’ll have to be prompt about starting and ending our sessions. I scheduled extra time today because it’s your first appointment, but from now on I’ll need to leave shortly after twelve so I can be back at the clinic by one.”

He walked toward the sunroom as Jake snorted. Why was the guy so uptight about coming to the lodge? He was getting paid well for the extra travel time.

Owen disappeared into the kitchen. “What is this?” he demanded a moment later.

Jake limped through the swinging door and saw the therapist pointing to the cinnamon toast with an accusing finger. “Breakfast.”

“It’s eleven o’clock. You haven’t eaten yet?”

“What’s the big deal?”

“Nutrition. The bread is fine—that particular brand is made from whole grain without a bunch of crap added to it. But sugar and butter won’t help your body heal and rebuild muscle. You need protein and fruits and vegetables, as well as whole grains.”

“Whatever.” Jake grabbed the bread bag and the plate of toast and shoved them into the refrigerator. Okay, he’d known cinnamon toast wasn’t the best meal in the world, but he could order a vegetarian pizza later in the day to make up for it. “Let’s get busy.”

Owen pulled something from his bag and handed it to him. “Eat this first. It’s a protein bar.”

Two hours later Jake was soaked with sweat and feeling as if he’d gone mountain climbing. He was also grateful for the protein bar, however hideous it had tasted. Not that the exercises had been as strenuous as hiking across an ice field loaded down with photographic equipment, but they were proof that he had a long way to go in his recovery.

“Excellent,” Owen said, smiling for the first time. “Some of my patients find it difficult doing what I ask, but the real proof will be whether you do the exercises between our sessions.”

“I’ll do them.” Jake wiped his face, perspiring as much from pain as from the workout. But he didn’t want to take a pill; the damned painkillers messed with his head. The hot tub, on the other hand...

While he wasn’t wild about many parts of the industrial world, the hot tub was a guilty pleasure. Sliding into the warm, swirling water when his body ached was one of the things he actually enjoyed here at Huckleberry Lodge. Sheltered from wind by Plexiglas on the railings, the private deck off the master bedroom still had a view of the lake, and at night, with the lights off, he could almost imagine he was in a natural hot spring, somewhere far away.

Through the window he saw Hannah come down her steps and cross to the lodge with Danny alongside. She was carrying a large bag, probably containing the sheets and towels she’d taken on Tuesday. Jake locked gazes with her as they came up the back steps to the sunroom.

“Come in,” he called.

Hannah opened the door and smiled when she saw Owen Kershaw. “Hi, Owen, remember me?”

The therapist grinned. “Hannah Nolan. Of course I remember. Your great-aunt was one of my favorite patients. What are you doing here?”

“This was Great-Aunt Elkie’s house. She passed away after I graduated from college and left Huckleberry Lodge to me. I’ve leased it to Jake. Owen, this is my son, Danny.”

“Hi, Danny.” Owen shook hands with the youngster. “I have something for you,” he said, and pulled something out of his athletic bag that looked like a tropical clown fish.

“That’s just like Nemo,” Danny declared.

“It’s made from a special kind of sponge rubber. My patients squeeze them to build strength in their hands and arms,” Owen explained, and Danny promptly began squeezing the toy with all his might.

“Does everybody know each other in Mahalaton Lake and Lower Mahalaton?” Jake asked.

Hannah shrugged. “No, but Owen works at the only rehab center in fifty miles—anybody who’s ever needed physical therapy has gone there. My great-aunt broke her hip when I was sixteen and stayed at the center for several weeks, then we drove down for her physical therapy sessions. That was when she put in the hot tub.”

“Hot tub?” Owen looked concerned. “I have questions about the chemicals they require, so just be sure to shower after using it.”

Jake was glad the therapist hadn’t tried to stop him. No way would he give up the hot tub. It might feel strange to enjoy something so far out of his chosen lifestyle, but it was better than the alternative.

“It doesn’t use chemicals—it has one of those reverse osmosis cleaning systems. And it’s serviced regularly,” Hannah assured. “I see you’re wearing a wedding ring. Do you have kids?”

The therapist’s face lit up. “We’ve got two boys who run us ragged. They’re four and five. And Cheryl is pregnant again. If you’re interested, I’ll bring pictures the next time I’m here.”

“I’d love to see them.”

Owen looked at his watch and picked up his bag and the folding table. “I’m late. It was a pleasure meeting you, Danny. Take care, Hannah.”

“You, too.”

“I’ll be back at eleven on Tuesday,” Owen said to Jake.

“Nemo?” Jake asked Hannah when the other man was gone.

“He’s a character in an animated movie, about a little clown fish and its father. One of Danny’s favorites.”

“Nemo gets kidnapped and his dad goes looking for him through the whole ocean,” Danny said. “Mommy, do you think my daddy is looking for me? Maybe he got lost and doesn’t remember where we live.”

Hannah’s face froze. “Your father isn’t... That is, he knows we’re here in Mahalaton Lake. He just travels a lot. Now we need to start cleaning the house.”

Danny stuck the toy in his pocket. “I’ll get the trash. That’s my job.”

When he was gone, Hannah put her chin up with an air of defiance as she turned to Jake. “You said it was all right to bring him, and he likes to feel he’s helping me.”

Exhausted, Jake sank down on a chair. “It’s fine. Does Danny ask about his father much?”

“He’s starting to more and more. But how do you explain to a seven-year-old boy that his dad is a womanizing ba...” She stopped and visibly drew a breath. “Never mind.”

“Sure. Oh, did Danny give you the money for the loaf of bread?”

A flicker of emotion crossed her face, though he couldn’t guess the reason. “Yes.”

“I appreciate him bringing it over. I started thinking about it afterward and realized I should have asked first. He also brought me some chicken. Thank you.”

“Thank Danny. It was entirely his idea. Now, please excuse me, I have work to do.”

Jake decided this wasn’t the right time to ask about the grocery shopping. He slumped deeper in his chair and closed his eyes, his body throbbing with the effort he’d put into the therapy. But he refused to lie down. Given their testy relationship, he didn’t want to appear weak in front of Hannah. Or maybe it was the age-old vanity of men in most societies, hating to appear less than virile in front of a woman. Especially such a beautiful woman.

There were noises around the house now. Domestic noises. Very different from what he’d hear in the highland villages of Nepal above Kathmandu, or deep in the Amazon. Yet it seemed as if there was a common rhythm to housework. Sweeping. Washing. Tidying. Even Danny’s voice, asking his mother what else he could do, wasn’t unlike the chatter of children in the dozens of cultures Jake had experienced from the day he was born.

It was better than the silence of the past few days, he thought, and far better than the echoes of the plane crash that still roared in his ears at the oddest moments.

* * *

THE TWO PIZZA boxes Jake had said to leave on Tuesday were on the kitchen floor, and Hannah stuffed them in a bag. Danny cheerfully took the bag out to the garbage cans.

Sugar was spilled across the counter and onto the floor as well, and she swept it up, thinking of what Gwen had said about some artists being slobs.

Maybe, maybe not.

However, it appeared that if something fell on the floor, Jake simply left it there, and she found it hard to believe that was a common custom in other parts of the world. Of course, it could be because of his injuries—it might be hard to bend over and pick something up. But when she went into the bathroom and saw the mess on the countertops and sinks, Hannah decided to go with slob.

She scrubbed everything, keeping Andy Bedard’s comments in mind about the need to keep everything sanitized. Andy was nice, a regular mother hen. And unlike some of the skiers who’d rented the lodge in the past, he and his guests always left things in good order.

After two hours, Hannah tied the dirty linens into a bundle, belatedly realizing she hadn’t seen Danny in a while. She found him sitting cross-legged on the couch in the sunroom, listening to her tenant recount a story about trekking into the Australian outback. Danny’s eyes were round with excitement as Jake described hanging over the water from a tree branch, taking photos of prowling crocodiles who’d like nothing better than to have him for lunch.

“Were you scared?” he asked.

Jake shrugged carelessly. “Not really.”

“I bet they could bite me in half.”

“Maybe not in half, but they’ve got really powerful jaws and can drag a grown man under—”

“Danny, I’m done. Can you take the laundry over to our house?” Hannah interrupted hastily.

“Okay,” Danny agreed, though he looked torn.

When he’d clattered down the steps from the sunroom, Hannah turned to Jake. “Look, I appreciate your being friendly to my son, but he’s prone to nightmares. Besides, a child his age doesn’t need to know the details of how a crocodile could kill him.”

“Hey, I saw my first wild croc when I was four,” Jake said defensively, though he also seemed to be embarrassed. “It never gave me nightmares. And after that we spent several months on an African savannah while Josie photographed a lion pride.”

“Josie?”

“My mother.”

“Okay, fine. That was her decision. But I’m worried about Danny waking up at two in the morning, screaming bloody murder because he thinks a crocodile has climbed into his bed.”

Jake winced. “Sorry. I don’t know anything about kids.”

“I understand that, but please keep in mind that certain things shouldn’t be talked about in front of an impressionable child. Besides, I bet you did have nightmares—you just don’t remember.”

“If I did, they obviously didn’t scar me for life.”

Hannah clamped her mouth shut. Being scarred for life was a matter of opinion. Jake seemed to lead a solitary existence where taking high-risk photographs was more important than human contact. Perhaps she was biased, but even the greatest photograph in the world wasn’t worth dying to get.

CHAPTER FIVE

IT WAS A QUIET Friday afternoon at Luigi’s, and Barbi opened one of the books Hannah had given her to study. She chewed her lip, knowing she should give as much attention to math and proper English as other subjects, but history was a lot more interesting than adverbs and dangling participles.

“Good, you’re studying,” Luigi said with approval. He was a nice boss. If she could make enough money working for him to live on, it wouldn’t be so important to get her GED.

Wrong, whispered a voice inside her head. She couldn’t keep working for Luigi; she had to get out of Mahalaton Lake. When her father wasn’t in jail for drunk and disorderly behavior or boozing it up at the bar, he was coming over to her place, demanding money or getting maudlin over her mother’s death.

She tried not to carry more than twenty bucks in her wallet, but it helped to have a little cash because Vic got ugly if she didn’t have any...especially when she’d been delivering pizza. Her father knew she ought to have tips on delivery nights, though he didn’t know she’d started leaving most of them at the restaurant until she could get to the bank the next morning.

She tried to say no when he wanted money, but he’d just knock her down and go through her purse. She might be able to press charges against him, only how could she do that to her father?

And to be honest, she was scared to death of him.

Barbi looked at the bruises where Vic had grabbed her wrist the night before—he was a mean drunk. She shoved her bangles over the marks, her heart aching more than her sore wrist. It hadn’t always been like this. Before her mom died, Vic had laughed a lot, worked steadily and only drank an occasional beer. But it was as if something inside him had broken when they’d buried her mother. Hell, he wasn’t the only one who’d been hurt when Rachael Paulson died; he didn’t have to dive into a vodka bottle and stop being a dad because of it.

Sighing, she turned a page of the history book. It was the section on the American Revolution and she needed to memorize the dates. Learning the information wasn’t the problem, it was having her mind go blank when she took the test.

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