Was that what this was, a physical response to a need she usually subjugated with hard work and exercise?
The sleeves of his casual shirt were rolled back, and dark hair emphasized the clean lines of his forearms and outlined the edges of his plain silver wristwatch. There was nothing dainty about the size or shape of his hands. They were broad, with long, well-shaped fingers, as suited a tall, well-built man.
Just a man, like all the others, Karena, she told herself.
Yet none of the men she knew had hands like that, with clean, short-trimmed nails, no sign of calluses or roughened skin, no scars or deeply ingrained grease marks, not even any telltale nicotine stains on the fingers.
No rings, either, she noted absently, and she heard herself say bluntly, "You go first, Logan Baxter. I don't know a thing about you so far. What do you do for a living, for instance?"
As soon as the words were out, she cringed inwardly at how abrupt, how clumsy she sounded. Why, she agonized silently, had she never mastered the social niceties? She wasn't good at this at all, and for once she wanted to be. She hadn't had any experience at getting to know men outside of work.
But he didn't seem to mind, or notice. He nodded, as if her question was one he ought to have thought of himself.
"I'm a research forester, at the university in St. Paul, and I'm not married," he explained readily. "The twins' parents, my sister, Betsy, and her husband, Cliff, live on a farm here in Bemidji, and I often drive down to visit. I get to missing these kids," he confided earnestly, gesturing with a thumb at the twins, and Karena felt a rush of understanding warmth for a bachelor who felt that way.
He grinned at her. "After a couple of days, though, I get to missing my quiet apartment," he added honestly, making her smile. She felt exactly the same if Danny was away, and she'd had the same reaction when he was noisily home again.
Logan leisurely finished his coffee, frowning a little, as if pondering what else to tell her. "I'm thirty-eight years old, with a well-preserved body—" a wicked twinkle slowly grew behind his glasses "—my teeth are good, but my eyes aren't. I'm nearsighted, but my lineage is excellent. My father was a Welshman who married a girl from Edinburgh, and they emigrated here right after the wedding. They still live on the family farm in War Road, up near the Canadian border. There were five of us kids, and I'm the only one not married with a family, so when the whole gang gets together, it's pretty hairy. I like fifties rock 'n' roll music and good beer." He crumpled the cup, shot it successfully at a trash barrel nearby and said, "There you have my full resume. Now, what about you and that moose?"
Karena had filed away every detail as he related it, watching the play of expression across his rather irregular features and wondering just why he was still single.
There had to be a reason. A man who looked like him, and was established in a good career, would be considered ultra eligible. Was he a—her terminology was probably outdated—a playboy bachelor? She guessed that wasn't a thing you could tell just from looking. He was handsome enough to qualify, for sure.
Or was there a woman in his life he just didn't want to mention? Plenty of the lumberjacks she worked around weren't hung up on telling the whole truth about their relationships. Was that the case with Logan Baxter?
Well, she chided herself, why worry about it? She didn't figure eating a hamburger with him and all these kids would qualify as a meaningful relationship anyhow.
"The moose calf, Karena?" he prodded finally, wondering what prompted that cautious, faraway expression on her face.
"Danny named him Mortimer," she began finally. "We've had him since early May. The men from the logging company I work for were cutting near a river, and they must have scared off the mother. It was just luck one of them spotted this newborn calf hidden in the underbrush. He wasn't cleaned off or anything, and they left him alone at first, thinking the mother would return, but night came and the guys had to go home, and she hadn't shown. Mort was pretty weak and cold, not able to stand up on his own. They finally decided he'd die out there before morning. Danny and I have a cabin just a few miles from there, so they brought Mort to us."
A spark of humor flashed, and she added, "Besides, none of them figured their wives particularly wanted a soaking wet, twenty-five-pound addition to the family who wasn't housebroken."
"You don't live here in Bemidji, then?" Logan was trying to define her life, draw a picture in his mind.
She shook her head. "There's a village about forty miles north of Bemidji called Northome. We live six miles from there, by a lake. It's sort of isolated, but there's a gravel road in from the highway." He noticed the faint defensive note in her tone when she added, "I like the woods, living away from people. I'm a log scaler for Northwoods Timber." With a thousand questions he still needed to ask her, Logan was interrupted by his charges.
"Let's go look at the horses, Uncle Logan," Alex suggested enthusiastically. The festival included a livestock display.
"Daddy said there were those really big horses here this year, and I want to see them," Alex went on eagerly.
"Percherons," Logan supplied absently, his thoughts still on Karena and the unusual life-style she'd been describing. Well, so much for quiet conversation with the kids around. And what now? Would she want to explore those smelly barns with him?
"Care for a romantic stroll through the livestock barns?" he ventured, thinking dismally just how unromantic a proposal that one was. But she nodded eagerly.
"We've been there several times already. I love the horses."
"The barns it is," he said jubilantly.
He held out a restraining hand at the entrance, steering her carefully around a fresh heap of manure, and then he just naturally kept her hand securely inside his own. She glanced up at him, a serious, considering look on her face, but she didn't pull away.
He wanted nothing more at that moment than to draw her into his arms and kiss her, and the ferocity of that need amazed him.
What kind of a caveman was he turning into here?
"Tell me, what do you—" He was about to get her talking again when Liz stomped away from the boys and marched over to stand in front of them with her hands on her nonexistent hips.
"Just look at the mess in here, manure all over," Lizzie said disapprovingly, her red braids swinging like exclamation marks with the force of her displeasure. "It's disgusting. You'd think they'd clean it up once in a while."
Logan sighed with exasperation. "Queen Victoria has spoken," he murmured wearily under his breath.
He felt Karena's giggle more than heard it, a bubble of spontaneous mirth that made tiny crinkles appear beside her nose and a dimple flash high on her right cheek where no dimple had any right to be.
She met his gaze and joy filled him. Suddenly Logan knew with absolute certainly that bringing the twins to the festival today was probably the smartest thing he'd ever done, and he confounded his redheaded niece by bending down and smacking a huge kiss on her flushed cheek.
"You give 'em hell, Lizzie," he instructed her.
"Uncle Logan," she exclaimed in horror. "For heaven's sake, control yourself."
Out of the mouths of babes.
Alexander came rushing over, his eyes shining.
"Come and look at all the baby pigs."
Soon even Liz was enthralled, hanging over the sides of the low fenced pen. "We have a baby calf at home. Daddy says he can belong to Alex and me, but we have to take care of him, and we have a pony called Minnie."
Kissing Lizzie must have done some good, Logan mused, because for the next ten minutes, she chattered away without complaining once. Then she turned to Karena and demanded, "Mrs. Carlson, can Danny come and see our place? Alex and I asked him before, and he wants to, but he said he'd have to ask you first."
Karena hesitated. She liked these two nice children, but Liz's invitation posed lots of problems.
"Don't you think you ought to ask your mother first?" she temporized, terribly aware of Logan standing close beside her. Since they'd entered the livestock barns, he'd never been more than a few feet away, always reclaiming her hand if he released it for one reason or another. She was ridiculously conscious of his male bulk, the way he casually touched her arm, the humorous comments he made about the animals. He obviously liked animals, the same way he liked kids, and it pleased her.
"My mom likes us to bring friends home," Liz said positively. "But I'll phone and ask her if you want. MayI please borrow your cell, Uncle Logan?”
Logan pulled it out of a pocket, and Lizzie used her thumbs to quickly dial. She moved away, talking into the phone and roaring at the boys at the same time. “Hey, you guys, Mom says she’d like it if Danny came over tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? Karena had been thinking of some nebulous time in the future, but the three raced off before she could stop them, Lizzie with the cell phone clamped to her ear.
Karena frowned, staring after them.
"It really will be fine with Betsy," Logan assured her. "My sister is the type who thinks three kids are great and four or five are even better, and fortunately so does her husband, Cliff. Besides, they'll love Danny because he doesn't let Lizzie run roughshod all over him like she does over Alex. And me. I hope she doesn’t use my phone to call fifty of her friends."
It was obvious he wasn’t too concerned about the possibility. She smiled at him, amused that an uncle would be so knowledgeable about the personalities of his sister's children.
Her wonderful smile made him bold. "If Danny spends tomorrow with the twins at the farm, how about you and I doing something together," he ventured. "For instance, I could show you around this big town of Bemidji, places I'll bet you've never explored."
She was already tentatively shaking her head. "I'm not much on cities, Logan. And I have to be here for the finals tomorrow evening, and then Danny and I are driving back home as soon as they're over." Her excuses sounded lame, even to her. But she hadn't been out on a real date in— what? Two years now? She'd never been good at dating, either.
Did he hear the reluctance in her voice, she wondered? It shocked her, how keenly she wanted to spend the day with him. The past hour had been wonderful.
But what was the point of prolonging it, she asked herself practically. He was a college professor, worlds removed from the wooded isolation, the quiet-paced and predictable rural life she chose to lead. To say nothing of the fact that she hadn't even finished high school.
Today had been fun, with him. But there wasn't much use in extending it. She'd be back home at the cabin tomorrow night, two hundred miles away from the university in St. Paul where he worked and lived, light years away from what she guessed to be his way of life.
Better to leave it this way, just a casual encounter, a pleasant few hours spent with kids. She pulled her hand out of his and hurried over to the next pen, staring blindly down into it.
Then his hands were heavy on her shoulders, and he was turning her firmly toward him, forcing her to look up into his face. They were standing beside a roped off area where a weary cow was nuzzling a newborn calf, and there weren't any other people nearby.
Karena's heart banged hard against her ribs and her breath caught in her throat. It had been a long time since a man had held her tenderly, firmly, his face only inches above her own, and it reawakened sleeping fantasies, dreams and longings she'd done her level best to subdue. It made her angry, that he could affect her deeply simply by placing his hands on her shoulders.
Logan could feel her trembling slightly, a deep wariness evident in the way she held her body, like a wild creature ready to bolt for its life. As he watched, her gray eyes grew cool and remote, warning him off, and he restrained the overwhelming impulse to draw her into his arms.
"What is it, Karena? Don't you find me attractive?"
Irritation wrestled with budding desire inside of her.
"That's an absolutely dumb question," she said, using the scathing tone she'd perfected on Danny. "Physical attraction has nothing to do with it. I don't think we have much in common, that's all, and anyway, I don't go out on dates."
Good going, Karena. You sound as prissy as a maiden aunt. You sound like Lizzie. Why did he just stand there, with his hands still on her shoulders and that whimsical smile pasted on his face?
"So you do find me attractive." Warm brown eyes twinkled teasingly down at her.
She could feel her face growing warmer under her tan. Who would suspect that such a quiet man would be so single minded, so persistent? Humor wrestled with all the other
emotions he stirred. "Well, I do think you have nice glasses," she finally said weakly.
Amusement creased lines beside his mouth and eyes. "There, you see? We have a lot in common, Karena. We both have the greatest admiration for my optometrist. We ought to discuss the whole thing further, so how about coming on a picnic tomorrow? Somewhere quiet, by a lake," he improvised, and through the cover of his nonsense, he watched her hesitate. He wanted her to agree, wanted it so strongly he could feel his jaw tensing with the suspense. He concentrated all his will on having her say yes.