Chapter Two

He who willingly gives you one finger will also give you the whole hand.

Rann followed Season's back until she disappeared amid the trees. Despite the heat of summer, a cool breeze washed over him. He untied the shirt from his waist, slipped his arms through the sleeves, and followed Rook's shrill yelps. The mountain lion had found safety on the thick branch of an oak. Fifteen feet from the ground, his cream and gold coat camouflaged by leafy foliage, he looked down on him and the black lab with nonchalant interest.

He pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans. "Nada, no service here." But that didn't stop him from snatching several shots of the cat for the DNR. Once he reached the open meadow, he'd contact them. "Come boy, we're done here."

On the short walk back to his equipment, he relived the incident in the forest. It wasn't unusual for him to meet up with creatures while surveying in densely treed areas, but he never anticipated crossing paths with a stunning creature like Season.

Her face swam before him, the pearlescent skin kissed by the sun, the fine features and delicate jaw line. Her shoulder-length hair was the color of wheat, sprinkled with strands of burnished copper and spun gold. Her eyes, oh man, her eyes—malachite green, like the moss-covered trunks in an Amazon rainforest and fringed with thick, long lashes.

When at last she took his offered hand and came to her feet, three words came to mind, lithe, graceful (despite her recent tumble) and young, at least six years younger than his twenty-eight.

God, would he ever dispel that sensual voice or her laughter? No, he didn't think he would. He pictured himself an old man, perched in a rocker on the porch. Would he think back on this day—an inexplicable moment in time—as a remarkable summer? No, he'd think of the exquisite girl he met in the woods as the unforgettable Season.

When they reached the meadow, Rook sped by him, circled the equipment and raced back to repeat his playful antics. Rann had already Googled the Minnesota DNR, connected with an officer from the Wildlife Resource Center and promised to email him the photos of the wild cat. The moment he closed his phone and returned it to his pocket, it vibrated against his leg. He didn't have to pluck it out and look at the number to know who was calling. Nor, could he ignore a call from his mother.

"Hey, Charlotte, what's up?"

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me Charlotte? Really, Rann, is there something wrong with Mother?"

"No, Mother has a great ring to it."

"I can see you're in one of your moods. Apparently, this is a bad time for a mother to call her son?"

"No, this isn't a bad time, and I'm not in a bad mood." He blew a long breath and closed his eyes. "Sorry, I've been calling you Charlotte for so long, I keep forgetting."

"It was cute when you were a child, but now, well, it annoys me."

"I promise to do better." He shook his head. "I'm sure you didn't call to discuss names."

"My, aren't we touchy?"

"Mom…."

"Actually, I did call for a reason. I need an update on the Pine Bay project. Have you finished the survey?"

"Wrapping up now as we speak."

"Good. When can you begin the preliminary plans on that fancy COD program hooked up to your computer?"

"CAD, Mother, Computer Aided Drafting."

"Whatever," she said with an exasperated huff. "Have you met with the City yet? What's the status on the rezoning, and how about the residents…any luck there?"

"Yes, I met with Planning and Zoning yesterday. Shouldn't be a problem to rezone from lakefront to commercial, providing all parties are agreeable to selling their land."

"That's a relief."

"I wouldn't be celebrating quite yet if I were you."

"What do you mean? Is there a problem?"

He pictured her tapping a pencil against her shiny, mahogany desk, her scarlet lips pursed, her brow creased. "Mom, why is it so hard for you to understand that people are often attached to their land, their homes? Some might not want to sell."

"Nonsense, Rann, everything in the world can be bought for the right price."

Wrong. Real friendship can't be bought; true love doesn't have a price tag.

"Rann?"

"I'm here."

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Five of the parties are willing; I'm not sure about the sixth."

"That's your job too, son. I'm counting on you to find out what it takes, a penthouse in Manhattan, a log cabin in the Sierras? Oh hell, how about a castle with a moat?"

A dull ache in his forehead took flight. He pinched the skin between his eyebrows, willing it away. "I haven't asked them."

"But you know who they are?"

Season's panic-stricken face flooded his vision. "Yes, I met them today."

"Well, meet with them again. Find out how much money it will take, but don't offer them the moon. Look, we need to keep moving on this. Martin says he has half the town homes rented and commitments on seventy percent of the office leases."

"Concentrate on some of the other projects. It isn't the end of the world if this one falls through."

Her acerbic tone cut through the line. "What! Are you out of your mind? Have you any idea how much time and effort, not to mention money, I've poured into the Pine Bay project? You expect me to let it slip through our hands now, after all this? Why…why, it is beyond comprehension. Do you hear me? I don't care what it takes, what you have to do, but you will convince these supposed hold-outs to sell their land to Terra-Care Development."

Jesus, she could be a bitch. He stifled a sardonic laugh. When had he thrown away everything that once mattered to him? What had he become? Christ, who was he anymore?

"Rann, are you still there?"

"Yep."

"How soon can I get those preliminary building plans and the names of the six property owners? Oh, and flag the troublemaker when you send me the information."

"What are you going to do, burn them out?"

"I'll do whatever it takes, is that clear enough for you?"

"Yeah, crystal."

"About the plans—"

"Give me a couple of days."

"Two days, Rann. I expect to see you back in Chicago by Friday."

He punched the End button on his cell without saying goodbye.

And then he kicked over his tripod.

* * *

In a stomp and fume, Season trekked back to the cottage and then paused by the garage, a time-worn structure with green shingles that had seen better days and faded white siding in dire need of fresh paint. She couldn't think about the long list of repairs and maintenance her parents' quaint abode required, not now. One day, she'd be a famous photographer and Duna could while away his golden years in quietude and comfort. Not that the man would ever accept idleness, much less charity, but one could hope.

Her gaze wandered to the orchard and her beloved grandfather. If her camera wasn't broken, she'd snap a photo of the scene. Squatting, with his knees bent, his hips almost parallel with those aged knobs, his right hand—inked with intricate swirls of dragonflies and stars—moved like a well-oiled machine as he plucked the fallen crabapples and dumped them into the gunnysack at his shoulder. A staunch believer in Waste Not, Want Not, he'd turn those bruised apples into delicious jam before the week ended.

With an innate sense of another's presence, he glanced over his shoulder and smiled in her direction. "Hello, ghel! Come tell me about your outing."

Taking a deep breath, she walked toward him, intent on relaying what happened in the woods in a sequential, calm manner. She knew how he fretted and stewed over her, didn't want to alarm him.

With a wordless gasp, he came to a standing position with remarkable speed and agility for a man of sixty-four. "In all my days…what happened, ghel, you meet up with a bear?"

So much for not scaring ten years off his life, ten years he couldn't afford to surrender.

She brushed a hand through her hair. "That bad, huh?"

His peppered hair, sticking to his forehead, he looked her over. "I'd have to be blind not to notice your knees poking through the fabric of your trousers and the torn sleeve of your once white shirt. What about those dark smudge marks on your right hip and…." his gaze wandered upward, "that nest of leaves in your hair?" A frown creased his brow. "Oh, no, not your camera."

"Kaput, destroyed, and no, it wasn't a bear but a mountain lion."

"A mountain lion? Are you certain, ghel? Did he harm you?"

"No, no, I'm fine, Duna, nothing broken, just a bit shaken up."

"Spit it out, child. What happened?"

"On my way to the swamp grass, and halfway through the woods, the cat suddenly appeared on the trail in front of me. At first, I couldn't believe it but when he lowered his shoulders and fangs flashed, I knew he was real all right."

"You ran, which is the worst thing you could have done." He clasped a hand to his furrowed brow. "And then you fell. Del save us, what happened next?"

"I didn't run." With a shake of her head, she huffed an indignant breath. "I mean, where could I go? He'd beat me in a sprint hands down, and if I scrambled up a tree, he'd reach me before my foot hit the first branch." She shivered. "In my panic, I backed up and forgot about the birch branch I'd crossed moments before. My heel hit the slippery bark and down I went. I must have removed the camera from my neck first. We found it smashed against a nearby trunk."

"We?"

Her savior's face loomed in her cloudy thoughts and next a view of his wide shoulders and well-ripped back. "Yes, a man…a stranger. He came from behind, jumped over my head and faced the mountain lion."

Duna groaned. "Did he have a gun, a rifle?"

"No." She felt her brows crinkle. "He had a stick, a long, thick branch, and held it like…."

"Like?"

"A Hanbo."

"Season, I don't understand. What is the meaning of this word?"

"A staff Ninja fighters use, a fighting stick. Or," she paused. "People into martial arts."

"The cat ran off then?"

"Not until his dog, Rook, leaped onto the scene. He must have treed that mountain lion because I heard him barking in the distance and the cat didn't return."

"We must find this stranger and thank him."

"If I ever see him again, I won't be thanking him, you can count on that."

"Why would you say such a thing?" The corners of his lips turned down. "He saved your life."

"Because he was on our land with foul intent. He's deceitful, two-faced and…." Drop-dead gorgeous.

"How do you know this, ghel?"

"Because when I crossed the meadow, I saw a tripod, land markers and other surveying equipment. It had to belong to him, and he never mentioned it. Why would he be inspecting, appraising, or whatever it is they do, our land?" A knowing expression crossed his blue eyes. She'd seen that look a million times, the look that said he knew something she didn't. "Duna, what is it? Did he stop by here?"

"No, no one came by except the mailman. He left a letter for you."

She craned her neck toward the house, her mind racing. "Who's it from?"

He shrugged. "Some land development company."

Forgetting about her broken camera, her disheveled appearance, she stormed toward the porch, cursing the name Rann Brogan under her breath.