Free Lake Magic by Kimberly Fisk

down and her suit jacket in the car. She probably should have gone back to the house and changed out of her black suit, but she’d been too impatient. Normally she wasn’t the confrontational type, but right now she couldn’t wait to see the expression on his face when she told him to leave.
    The thought made her smile.
    The lake was deserted. She glanced around, hoping to spot him. Except for the motorcycle, there was no sign of him. With a sigh of resignation, she made her way down the short path to the beach. Her black high heels sank into the sand, and she slipped them off. The ground was warm beneath her bare feet, and she dug her toes deep into the sand, luxuriating in the feel. She glanced right and then left. Empty beach greeted her in both directions. For a moment she contemplated which way to go. To the right the beach narrowed against a stand of tall evergreens that abutted the water, allowing only a narrow path along the lake. Few people traveled that way. To the left the sand stretched wide as it flared and then curved back against the shore. There weren’t any trees barring that path, and the sand was less rocky. Without examining her reasoning too closely, Jenny headed to the right, certain it was the path he’d taken.
    She tripped and stumbled over the rocks and logs, silently cursing him all the way. She hadn’t gone more than fifty yards when she stopped short and drew in a quick breath.
    He stood near the water’s edge, one foot braced on a fallen tree. His gaze was focused out across the water, and he seemed lost in thought. He’d ditched the leather jacket she’d seen him wearing yesterday, and his white T-shirt stretched taut across an impossibly wide set of shoulders before tapering down into the waistband of his Levi’s. He seemed relaxed, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, but somehow she knew his posture was deceiving. He tossed a small rock in his hand. The picture was so perfect he looked like a model for an elite outdoorsman magazine.
    On second thought, there was too much unleashed power in his stance, too much command to be a model—
    Oh, for crying out loud!
    “Mr. Worth,” she said louder and sharper than she’d intended, angry with herself over those outrageous thoughts.
    “Miss Beckinsale,” he said without turning, and she got the distinct impression he’d known she’d been standing there, staring at him, all along, even though he’d never glanced her way.
    “We need to talk.” She strove for a steady tone and feared she’d failed miserably.
    Slowly, he took his leg off the log and faced her. “Do you have my money?”
    “No.” She began to fidget under his sharp gaze. “Th-that’s why I’m here. I read over the contract”— as you obviously didn’t —“and the loan isn’t due for four months.” She waited, expecting . . . secretly hoping . . . to see some flicker of emotion cross his face. Surprise—disappointment—anger. But his closed features gave nothing away. “Did you hear me? I—”
    “I heard you.” He tossed the rock into the lake, not bothering to see where it landed.
    “I have four months.”
    “I’m aware of that.”
    “Then why—”
    “Why what? Why not wait? You’re a sinking ship, lady, and I want to find dry land while I still have the chance.”
    She took a step toward him. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    “I saw the business myself, remember?”
    “You don’t understand. Everything is going to be different this summer. I’m going to do what Steven and I set out to do. I’m going to turn Blue Sky Air into the Pacific Northwest’s premiere seaplane service.”
    “You?” He laughed; it wasn’t a nice sound. “Sweetheart, you couldn’t turn that business around if you had four years.”
    “I am not your sweetheart, and I don’t need four years. I have four months. Come back then . . . or don’t. I don’t really care.”
    “You’d like that.”
    “Immensely,” she said with one