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  But he could convince her otherwise. Stan patted the seat beside him. “Come here, woman, and let me kiss you.”

  Rather than refuse him, she glanced at Ryan. “He’s still sleeping.”

  Stan nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

  Her bottom lip got caught in her teeth. Feeling guilty, then determined, she glanced again at Ryan before sliding out of the seat and over next to Stan. He put his arm around her and tugged her into his side. Even with the setting sun, the temperatures still hung in the upper eighties, but a soft breeze stirred the air.

  Eyes searching, Jenna peered up into his face—and Stan was lost.

  He cupped her cheek and gently touched his mouth to hers. Her dewy skin held the fragrance of the wind and the lake—and woman, an aphrodisiac so powerful that Stan had to struggle to keep himself in check. He wanted to absorb her, to nuzzle into all her dark, damp places and fill himself with the luscious scent of her.

  Instead, he contented himself with tasting her mouth, keeping things easy and gentle, when inside, his blood raged and his heart thundered. He wanted her, more than he’d ever wanted any other woman.

  Maybe more than he’d ever wanted anything else in his life.

  He had to start sharing some truths.

  Against her lips, he murmured, “Even two days from a full moon, the moon can be ninety-seven percent illuminated. Did you know that?”

  Confused, laughing a little, Jenna pulled back. “No, I had no idea.” She leaned into him again, trying to deepen the kiss.

  Stan accepted the invitation of her parted lips, dipping his tongue inside, still gentle, exploring with a leisureliness that belied the bulge in his shorts and the tightness of his muscles.

  When her breath grew choppy and her hands clutched at him, Stan ended the kiss and glanced at Ryan. The boy snored, affording him more opportunity to ease her into the idea of his gift.

  With his fingertips exploring the delicate texture of her cheekbone, Stan whispered, “Although Full Moon happens every month at a specific date and time, it seems full for several nights in a row. If the sky’s clear, the effect can be the same.”

  “What effect?”

  He touched his mouth to her bottom lip, licked, sucked carefully. “Any that might occur,” he explained. “Some people feel unsettled, some get heightened emotions. There are suicides and, on the opposite scale, a lot of lovemaking.”

  “I hope you’re thinking more of the latter.”

  Smiling, Stan continued to educate her. The more she knew, the easier it’d be for her to accept when he told her everything. And he would tell her. She had a right to know that he could read her thoughts. It was the worst invasion of privacy, but it was also something he couldn’t always control.

  His ex-wife had hated it, but then, she’d had secrets better left concealed. He already knew Jenna would never cheat. She was as loyal, as moral, as any person he’d ever met. If she took a vow, she’d mean it—till death do us part.

  The thought excited him more, because he wanted her as his own, now and forever. He wanted more days like today, with better nights to follow. He wanted it all.

  “The percentage of the moon’s disk that’s illuminated changes slowly around the time of Full Moon, so most people won’t notice the difference. Even two days from Full Moon, people can still be suffering the Lunar Effect.”

  Her small hand came up to his jaw, her brow drawn in a slight frown. “Stan, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’ve been thinking about me a lot lately. Sexually explicit thoughts.”

  She ducked her face and touched her fingertips to his chest hair. “Yes.”

  “Have you always?”

  One shoulder lifted. “I’ve always been aware of you. I’ve always been attracted to you. And, yes, I’ve thought of you that way plenty of times.”

  He felt her thoughts skittering this way and that, and said, “But?”

  “But lately, I don’t know. It’s been different. Stronger. Even . . . powerful. I thought maybe it was because I’m turning forty soon.” Her smile went crooked, creating that small dimple he adored. “Maybe old age is catching up with me, turning me into a lech.”

  The admission made her uneasy, leaving her embarrassed and uncertain. Stan didn’t want her to ever be ashamed of her sexuality. He slid his hand under her hair, kneading her nape, turning her face up to his. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting me, Jenna.” And with grave sincerity, “For a night, or for more than a night.”

  He posed it as a statement—but waited to see how she’d react, where her personal thoughts would take her.

  His chest expanded on a deep breath, and relief filled him. Yeah, Jenna wanted him forever, never mind that she considered that a farfetched fantasy. He could get around that, but he didn’t want to pressure her for things she didn’t want.

  She wanted him, and he’d show her just how possible that could be.

  To better his odds of winning her over, Stan absorbed every nuance of her feelings for him. Her logical mind shied away from the idea of pinning him down, because she didn’t think he could be satisfied with one woman. She’d had fidelity and loyalty and commitment from her first husband, and that’s what she wanted again.

  She would never settle for less—but then, neither would he.

  Stan didn’t like it that she saw him as a playboy, a mature man with too much money, too much recognition, and too many women at his disposal. True, he’d spent a few years wallowing in the celebrity status of his newfound popularity. And women had come easy over the years. But that didn’t mean he wanted to remain a bachelor forever.

  His healthy bank account could be an asset to her, a way to send Rachelle to the college of her choice, enough money to reinstate the missed family vacations, the boat, the comfort of financial security.

  But Jenna wouldn’t care about the benefits he could bring if she thought she couldn’t trust him. Stan cursed softly, making Jenna press back in puzzlement. “What is it?” she asked.

  “Can we talk seriously for a few minutes?”

  She stared at him, looked at her hand on his chest, then at his mouth. She blinked. “Sure, Stan. Talking is just what I had in mind.”

  Laughing, he pulled her closer so that her cheek nestled on his shoulder. It felt good to hold her. Almost as nice as kissing her. “Don’t be a tease, woman. You know damn good and well you weren’t going to do anything with Ryan so close.”

  “Of course I wouldn’t. But a few more kisses would have been nice.”

  His hand opened on her waist, and he squeezed. She was rounded in all the right places, full of curves and soft like a woman should be. He couldn’t wait to feel her under him, all that softness cushioning his harder frame.

  Stan swallowed a growl, knowing he had to keep on track. “I’ll kiss you silly tonight,” he promised in a raw, dark whisper, “after you tuck Ryan into bed.”

  Her thoughts were too naked, too vulnerable and anxious, and Stan felt like a bastard for being privy to them. But he had to make her understand that he wasn’t a cheat, that ten easy women meant nothing compared to a woman he could love.

  Nothing meant more to him than Jenna did.

  She was close, wanting him, confused by her feelings but determined to do what was right for her children and for herself. She didn’t want her kids hurt, and she feared that involving him in their lives, only to say goodbye when he grew bored and left, would leave her kids unhappy.

  Stan listened to the knocking of his heart, but that became a primal beat, urging him on, heightening his awareness of her as a gentle woman, sexy as hell and damp in all the right places. Her thoughts veered, picturing him naked, her hands all over him, her mouth following . . .

  Abruptly, Stan pushed away from her. Bending forward, his elbows on his knees, he tapped his fisted hands against his chin. She tortured him without even knowing it.

  Not looking at Jenna, determined to get her mind off sex so he could think straight, he asked, “
How much do you know about my past?”

  Her confusion warred with her instinctive need to offer comfort. “I know what the press has shared.” Her hand touched his back, resting on his shoulder blade. “I know that you got in trouble a few times when you were younger.”

  Feeling dangerous, Stan twisted to face her. “I’ve been convicted of assault and battery.”

  Her fingers stilled. “You beat someone up?”

  “The creep was going to jump a guy we worked with. He and his girlfriend had broken up, and she’d chosen this other guy . . .” Stan ran a hand through his hair. “He was going to wait for him by his car one night and use a tire iron on him. So I stopped him.”

  Her comforting fingers again drifted over his back. “And they convicted you for that?”

  Stan could understand her astonishment. Under normal circumstances, he’d be considered a hero.

  Only there was nothing normal about the way he got his information.

  “I got a year’s suspended sentence.”

  “But . . .”

  “No one knew what he intended, Jenna, and I couldn’t prove it.” Stan turned completely to face her until their knees touched. He clasped her wrist. “My wife cheated on me. That’s why I divorced her.”

  His jump in topic left her floundering, but her concern and caring remained a live thing, drowning out her puzzlement at his current mood. “Stan, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that.”

  “I wanted what you had, Jenna. Trust, love, fidelity. That’s not what I got. Within a month, she’d gone bed hopping.”

  Her heart was soft and open to him, and that left her exposed. But she was the type of woman who always cared deeply about others, too much to protect herself. “How did you find out?”

  She thought he’d walked in on the sordid scene and she hurt for him. The truth was worse. Stan pulled away from her and looked up at the sky. This was harder than he’d ever imagined. “The moon will be out soon.”

  More confusion, then impatience. “I don’t understand this fixation you have about the moon. It’s like you’re trying to tell me something—or maybe several things—but you’re not being clear.”

  “I know.” He felt like a damn coward but decided to take her home before telling her. Ryan could awaken any minute, interrupting them. But once she had him tucked into bed, Stan would be in a better position.

  If his truths shocked her too much, he could always take advantage of her sexual attraction to bring her back to him. No, he wouldn’t make love to her with her kids in range, but he could kiss her silly, heat her up with a touch, make whispered, sensual promises that would leave her desperate to accept him, on any level.

  “It’s getting late. We should be heading back.”

  Her pride kept her from pushing him. Back going straight, chin lifting, Jenna said, “All right. Fine. If that’s what you want.”

  He’d hurt her, when that was the last thing he wanted to do. But he’d make it up to her. After he talked her around her disbelief, he’d prove to her that he could be everything she wanted in a man, and more.

  Turning on the boat lights both stern and aft lent a mellow glow to the cabin. The sun had long since sunk behind the hills, leaving the sky dark with shades of deep lavender and gray. A few stars appeared, surrounding the moon that hung like a fat crystal ball, taunting him.

  Jenna remained oblivious to it all as she struggled to understand what had happened. Stan finished lifting the anchor, then glanced at her and cursed softly. She thought he’d led her on. She thought he’d changed his mind about wanting her.

  He pulled her resisting body close, until her breasts were against his chest and their heartbeats mingled.

  “Jenna,” he said, and pressed a kiss to her forehead, to her chin, and finally on her pursed mouth. “It’s a lot to ask, but do you think you could trust me just a little longer?”

  “What does trust have to do with it?”

  He kneaded her shoulders and put his forehead to hers. “Everything. It has everything to do with it. We’ll talk when you’ve got Ryan in bed. Okay?”

  “I won’t sleep with you at my house.”

  She sounded so prudish, Stan smiled. “I already know that, but for the record, I wouldn’t ask you to.” He smoothed his thumb over her chin. “I have scruples, too, you know. And I like your kids. I wouldn’t do anything to upset them.”

  She only half believed him. “Well . . . all right, then.”

  “Good.” Half was better than not at all. “Let’s get home.” The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could have her in his bed. He glanced at Ryan. “Want me to move him back here?”

  Curled on the padded bow seats, Ryan looked comfortable and down for the count. He didn’t awaken even when the engine roared to life.

  “I’ll keep an eye on him.” Jenna pulled on her over-tunic, settled in the passenger seat beside Stan, and looked over the calm surface of the lake. “Rachelle was always a light sleeper, like me. But Ryan is like his dad. A herd of stampeding buffalo wouldn’t wake him. He’ll probably sleep straight through the night.”

  And with a little luck, Stan thought, Jenna would accept his odd relationship with the moon. Because one way or another, she’d have to accept him. Now that he knew so much about her, he knew she was meant to be his.

  Convincing her would be the trick.

  Five

  Rachelle pulled up about the same time that Stan parked his SUV in the drive. Dividing her attention between Stan’s strange behavior, her sleeping son, and the fact that her daughter just left Terrance’s car with the slamming of his car door and without a farewell kiss, Jenna automatically prioritized.

  She opened her car door and stepped out. The full moon filled the yard with light, making the porch lamp unnecessary. “Rachelle? Is everything okay?”

  Already on her way toward them, Rachelle ignored how Terrance sped away. “I’m great,” she said, with the false brightness Jenna recognized as anger. “Fine, perfect, peachy-keen.”

  Jenna had a very bad feeling about this. “What happened?”

  Suddenly Stan was beside her. His hands landed on her shoulders and he pulled her back into his chest. “Nothing that Rachelle couldn’t handle, isn’t that right, Rachelle?”

  Jenna saw her daughter’s mouth twist in a wry smile. “If you call bashing the little weasel over the head handling it, then yeah, I handled it.” Rachelle lifted her wrist and checked out the illuminated face of her watch. “Hey, it’s only ten-thirty. I thought you guys would hang out longer.”

  An obvious attempt to change the subject, but Jenna wasn’t ready to let it go. “Rachelle . . .”

  Again, Stan squeezed her shoulders, almost as if to convince her to put off her questions. She didn’t want to, but perhaps Stan felt uncomfortable being privy to their family business.

  He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “She’ll talk when she’s ready, honey. Give her a little time.”

  Indeed, Rachelle seemed determined to change the subject. She peered at the SUV and grinned. “The squirt’s asleep?”

  Stan said, “He snores like a trucker.”

  Laughing, Rachelle hefted her purse strap up to her shoulder and headed for the vehicle. “I’ll take him in so you two can . . . visit more.” After a wink to Stan that had Jenna blushing, Rachelle got Ryan on his feet, but his eyes remained closed.

  “Want me to carry him in?” Stan offered.

  “Thanks, but I’ve got it covered.” Ryan was more a sleepwalker than a willing participant as Rachelle guided him up the porch and inside.

  After one more quick smile and a suspiciously scheming look, she closed the door and the porch light went out. A little embarrassed, Jenna shook her head. Her daughter could use an ounce or so of subtlety.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Stan said. “She’s just showing that she likes me.”

  Of course she did, Jenna thought. Everything about Stan was likable, from his easy nature to his charming smile. But she sensed it wa
s more than that for Rachelle, almost as if she felt something had been missing from their lives, and Stan could fix that.

  It made her feel like a bad mother, as if she hadn’t done the best she could for her kids.

  In her own grief, had she neglected a portion of her children’s needs? The last three years hadn’t been easy for any of them, but she’d thought her kids were now happy and well adjusted. As a single parent, there were too many times when she couldn’t be somewhere, couldn’t do something . . .

  “You’re tense,” Stan said. “Let’s sit on the porch swing and talk.”

  Jenna nodded agreement, but at the same time, she worried over how quickly her kids had accepted Stan. What would they do when Stan stopped coming over? They’d be hurt for sure. Maybe she’d be smarter to end things now, before she slept with him . . .

  “Come on.” His tone grim, Stan slid his arm around her waist and urged her along the walkway.

  Absently, her thoughts still jumbled, Jenna told him, “Today was wonderful, Stan. I haven’t seen Ryan so excited in a very long time. Thank you.”

  “No thanks necessary. I enjoyed myself.”

  They reached the porch swing, and Jenna shook off her odd distraction. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should go in.” If she sat down, he’d kiss her, and she’d forget everything else.

  “Why?” He didn’t look disappointed by her suggestion, so much as patient.

  “I know my daughter,” Jenna explained, “and something happened tonight. She might need to talk with me.”

  “Not yet.” Stan pressed her into the swing and then crowded in close beside her. With one big foot, he gave the swing a push.

  Under the porch roof, the moon’s illumination couldn’t quite penetrate, leaving them in heavy shadows. A sense of intimacy enveloped them, crowding out other, more restless thoughts.

  Then Stan said, “Rachelle fancied herself in love with Terrance. Earlier, before she left, she considered sleeping with him.”