Free Follow A Wild Heart (romance,) by Bobby Hutchinson Page B

waited impatiently.
    "What'd they want you for, Mom?" Danny queried. "I thought you were never coming. We're all starving to death."
    If she told Danny she'd been offered a job in Brainerd, he'd start packing the moment they got home. Danny yearned to live in a city, but he'd settle for a town. And there was no chance of her taking the job. It was too farfetched to even contemplate.
    "They wanted to talk to me about logging sports," she said vaguely, and got away with it because her son was distracted.
    Logan took them to a family restaurant, an uncrowded, relaxed place with a menu that both children and adults could enjoy.
    As she drove through the summer night on her way home hours later, Danny snoring lightly beside her, Karena remembered vividly the lines of Logan's face across the table, the way in which his eyes rested on her like a caress all during dinner. They'd talked and joked and laughed a lot, and while the kids were at the dessert table, she told him of the job offer, making a halfhearted joke of it.
    "Nobody's ever offered me a job before," she said lightly. "This must be my lucky day."
    "Is it something you might like to do sometime in the future?" he asked.
    "No," she said shortly. "I like my life exactly the way it is. I'd have to move to Brainerd, for one thing. I've no intention of ever living in a city again if I can avoid it."
    Logan had looked somber for a moment after that, she remembered now.
    She remembered his kiss, too. The memory of that kiss stirred a heated response inside her, and she shifted restlessly on the hard seat of the truck.
    They'd left the restaurant reluctantly, far later than she'd planned. The three children, fast friends by then, raced off to a nearby newsstand for comic books and candy bars with the coins Logan lavishly distributed. She'd guessed at his reasons for suggesting the treat, and selfishly welcomed the few moments it would give them to be alone together. Now that the time had come, she dreaded to say goodbye.
    They were in a parking lot beside the restaurant. Karena went over every detail that followed as she drove through the night.
    He'd turned to her as soon as the kids disappeared and drew her forcefully into his arms, first slipping his glasses off and tucking them into his pants pocket in a way she was becoming familiar with.
    She imagined she could still feel his strong fingers first on her shoulders, then slipping caressingly down her arms and back, holding her fiercely against him. There was no reticence in the way those arms enfolded her, or the way his lips met hers in a deep and burning kiss that made her head spin, her insides tug and contract with hopeless longing.
    "I hate to let you go, now that I've found you," he'd whispered urgently, his face buried in her hair. "Danny drew me a map showing exactly how to get to your cabin. If it's all right with you, I'll be seeing you soon, Karena."
    She'd nodded forcefully against his shoulder. It was very all right with her. But would he come?
    Maybe his words were just a gentle way of saying goodbye, she brooded. Probably he'd go back to St. Paul and wonder what he'd ever seen in her.
    Doubts nagged at her, vying with memories of pleasure all the way home through the star studded darkness. She fell into bed at last in the cool dark cabin, only to toss through restless, confusing dreams for the few hours before her alarm woke her for work at four.
    She made coffee on the propane stove, filling her thermos and hastily making a sandwich to take for her lunch. Danny would sleep for several hours more and then spend most of his day with Gabe, the way he'd done during school holidays ever since Karena's old friend had moved into the cabin.
    Gabe had spent the weekend visiting his sister in Oregon and Karena knew he'd be eager to swap stories with Danny.
    Warm affection for the old man who'd been so important to her own childhood and who now was so much a part of her son's life made her smile as she went quietly