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Chapter One
Catherine Miller stood at the cabin's kitchen window and watched a squirrel stretch from one branch of a fir tree to the next in an effort to reach the bird feeder she'd put up less than an hour ago. On the dock, a Steller's jay sat on a pillar, its head cocked to one side, intently eyeing the unfolding scene.
Abruptly, as if everything had been choreographed and timed, the feeder tipped, the jay took off to capture the spilled prize, and Tom Adams came up behind her to slip his arms around her waist. He pulled her against his chest, fitting her back and buttocks into his long torso. His breath hot and moist against her ear, he whispered the plans he'd made for later when they were alone. Catherine caught her breath at her body's immediate, powerful response.
Tom Adams could do more to arouse her with words than Jack had managed with his peculiar brand of foreplay during their entire marriage. Feeling a familiar guilt at their intimate display, Catherine sent a furtive glance in her daughter's direction. Thankfully, as usual, Lynda was caught up in her compulsive need to be in touch with the members of her own fifteen-year-old world, and was as oblivious to them as she was to the suitcase she'd promised to take to her room and unpack an hour ago.
"We really need to be more careful when Lynda is around," she reminded him. Tom could be led, but balked at being pushed. She maneuvered out of his arms, took his hand, and moved to the far side of the kitchen.
Tom followed, caught Catherine, and pulled her into his arms again. "Stop worrying. I made sure she wasn't looking. I always do." He kissed the base of her throat, thenher mouth, touching and tasting her lips with his tongue before leaning back and grinning seductively. "Besides, what we're doing isn't anything she hasn't seen already or doesn't imagine. She's a lot more savvy about what goes on between us than you want to think she is."
"Even if that's true, I'd rather leave it to, her imagination than lay it out for her."
At that he held up his arms in surrender. "Whatever you say."
"Please don't do that." She put a conciliatory hand on his chest. "Let's not spoil the day by fighting."
He took another step backward, leaving her hand suspended in air. "Who's fighting? I'm simply giving you what you want."
She knew if she didn't do something to smooth things over they really would get into an argument.
She'd put too much work into arranging this vacation for the three of them to let that happen. She wanted this to be a time to look back on and reminisce about, a memory that would get better and better with each telling. She had her camera and five rolls of film, and the determination to see that every shot was a memorable one. She even had the album ready—one she'd found at a card shop that had FAMILY PHOTOS stamped in gold on the green leather cover.
Before Catherine could find the words to appease Tom, Lynda hung up and came into the kitchen. She took a bottle of water out of the refrigerator, studied her mother as she opened it, and asked, "Are you mad at me about something?"
Lynda had uncanny perceptions; but in typical teenage fashion, she invariably believed herself to be the source of any conflict. "What makes you think that?"
"You look like you're upset." She started to take a drink and paused. "You're not thinking of changing your mind about letting me go to the party, are you?"
"No. But I don't want you making any more plans this week without checking with me first."
"By 'making plans,' would that mean inviting Patty to go bicycling with us tomorrow?"
"Oh, Lynda, you didn't." Lynda's friends were the veins she needed to supply her with social oxygen. She collected them wherever she went, like seashells and pinecones, with a natural, uncomplicated ease.
"I thought you liked Patty."
"I do, but this vacation was supposed to be just the three of us doing things together."
"We've got the rest of our lives to do things together," Tom said as he put his arm around Lynda's shoulders and gave her a quick hug. Lynda only has one summer to be fifteen. She should be with her friends."
Catherine was stunned. And angry Tom knew how much this vacation meant to her. Now, with the two of them lined up against her, she didn't stand a chance. "We'll talk about this later."
"Does that mean it's okay about Patty?" Lynda asked.
"Do I have a choice?"
"No . . ." Lynda grinned, breaking the tension between them. "But I'd like you to think you do."
They were Catherine's own words, ones she'd used in a half dozen disagreements they'd had that past month. "I'm going to give you this one, but no more commitments without checking with me first, okay?"
"Okay."
"Promise?"
"Cross my heart."
"What time is Brian going to pick you up?"
"Twelve thirty."
Catherine glanced at the dock on the microwave. They'd been there less than an hour and Lynda had already made two dates to be with friends. "How did he even know you were here?"
"He saw us drive in."
