Some Kind of Hero. Brenda Harlen
call me back later, Adam?”
Adam? Just how many men was Riane juggling in her life? And why was he willing to stand in line to be yet one more?
She nodded and doodled on the legal pad on her desk as she finished up her call. He took a moment to scan the room—utilitarian furnishings, unadorned walls, a few potted plants. It was safer than looking at Riane, at the loose-flowing tresses that framed her delicate features, at the soft pink lips that curved slightly in response to something he couldn’t hear, at the close-fitting sweater that seemed to mold to her breasts—
He tore his gaze away.
“I’ll talk to you later, then,” she agreed.
She hung up the phone, then tilted her head to look up at him again.
“Mr. Logan.” It was more of a question than a greeting.
Without waiting for an invitation he knew wouldn’t be forthcoming, Joel folded his frame into one of the hard plastic chairs facing her. Riane picked up the mug of coffee on her desk, took a sip and grimaced.
“Do you want to take a break?” he asked. “We could go somewhere to get a hot cup of coffee.”
She set the mug back down. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
When she looked at him again, her deep brown eyes were wary.
“I didn’t plan on coming here today,” he admitted. “But I was lying alone in my bed last night, thinking about you. Then I woke up this morning thinking about you. And here I am.”
“I’m not going to be a distraction for you while you’re in town,” she said.
“I just want to spend some time with you.”
“I agreed to show you around tomorrow.”
“I was bored today.”
Riane sighed, shaking her head as she pushed her chair back from the desk and stood up. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll give you a tour of the camp.”
It wasn’t quite what he wanted from her, but he figured it was a start. So he walked around the grounds with her, listening as she explained the function of the camp, the program, her plans for expansion. She had such passion for the project, such focused enthusiasm. It was obvious the camp meant a lot to her, more than he’d realized during their brief discussion at the charity ball.
“This will be our fourth season,” Riane said proudly.
“And two of the counselors we’ve hired for this summer were campers here our first year.”
“You must be very proud of what you’ve accomplished.”
“For the most part,” she agreed. “But there are still too many kids turned away each year simply because of the limited size of our facility.”
“And that’s why you’re expanding?” he guessed.
“We have the space,” Riane told him. “And, thanks to increased contributions this year, we have the funds. By the start of next season, we’ll have six new cabins, each one designed to sleep five campers and a counselor.”
“How many buildings do you have now?”
“Twelve cabins, a mess hall, an arts and crafts center,” she gestured as she explained, “and the stables.”
“Stables?”
She nodded and set off toward a fenced paddock he’d passed on the drive in. “We have half a dozen horses the children are taught to care for and ride.”
“How many people work here?”
“In addition to the counselors, who are mostly volunteers, there’s a registered nurse and child psychologist on staff. Plus Jared, our horse trainer, year-round groundskeeper, camp supervisor and chef.”
“Chef?”
“Someone has to feed the kids.”
“How many kids?” Joel wondered aloud.
“We have sixty kids for each of four two-week sessions.”
“That’s a lot of macaroni and cheese.”
“Jared does better than that,” Riane assured him.
They stopped at the fence that bordered the paddock, leaning against the rails to watch the horses grazing.
“Have I bored you to death yet with all this stuff?”
Joel shook his head. “I think it’s a wonderful thing you’re doing.”
“Even with the expansion, it won’t be enough. We’re considering weekend programs in the spring and fall in addition to the summer camp. In the not-too-distant future, I’d like to open another site—maybe in Virginia or Pennsylvania. Somewhere close by, so I can stay involved with both.”
She sighed again, a heartfelt expression of frustration and futility. “Let’s talk about something else,” she suggested.
“Like what?”
“You.”
He studied the pair of sleek, chestnut horses grazing contentedly in the paddock. “I’m not very interesting.”
Riane clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in a sound of disapproval. “That’s hardly the kind of statement to impress a woman,” she chided.
Joel couldn’t help but laugh. “What should I say?”
She shook her head. “I would have thought a guy like you would have figured that out by now.”
“And I would think that a woman like you wouldn’t be swayed by mere words.”
She smiled now, and the curve of those soft, tempting lips did strange things to his heart again.
“You’re right,” she admitted.
Unable to resist, he reached out and skimmed the pad of his finger over her bottom lip. He heard her breath catch, watched her lips part slightly in response to his touch. When he looked up at her again, her eyes were wide.
“What would sway you, Riane?”
She swallowed, her scrambled brain desperately searching for coherent words to respond to his question. She had to say something, anything, to get him to back off. Anything but the truth. Because the truth was that all it would take to sway her was his touch. He hadn’t even kissed her; he’d just brushed his finger over the curve of her lip and her insides had melted.
She’d experienced attraction before but never like this. The jolt of desire, so quick and unexpected, completely debilitated her.
He skimmed his knuckles over her cheek, threaded his fingers into her hair and tilted her head back. She forced herself to meet his gaze, then wished she hadn’t done so. Tightly restrained passion simmered in the depths of his blue eyes. A challenge. A promise.
“What would sway you?” he asked again.
She swept her tongue along her bottom lip, unconsciously following the same path as his fingertip.
“Maybe you wouldn’t be swayed at all,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on her mouth again. “Maybe it would have to be your decision.”
“Yes,” she agreed breathlessly. Yes, it would be her decision. And yes, she wanted him.
“You’re a strong woman,” he continued, the low tone of his voice as hypnotic as the desire in his eyes. “Capable. Confident. Passionate.”
Her heart melted just a little. No one had ever called her passionate before. No one had ever made her feel so passionate.
“And complicated,” he finished, almost reluctantly, before combing his fingers through