She took the binoculars and brought the bustling campsite across the lake into focus. "That's what the flyer the boys brought home said. Must've changed the location."

She lowered the binoculars. Trevor was close to tears, and Jaycee, a little older and more mature, just looked disappointed. She couldn't blame them. They'd wanted to camp with their friends. It hadn't seemed like such a blow when she told them Uncle Mitch was taking them on a family campout. But with the troop right under their noses, in full view, the boys were probably feeling left out.

"Only one person could make that decision." Mitchell hooked both thumbs in the pockets of his jeans and kept staring, his expression darkening.

Right. The troop leader. But Bart wouldn't have done something so callous on purpose. It wasn't his style.

"Funny he moved the location here. Where probably everybody in Red River knew we'd be camping," Mitchell said. "Gossip moves too fast in this town for him not to have known."

Trevor's pout deepened, and Lorenda gave his shoulder a squeeze. She lifted the binoculars again and zeroed in on Bart. She slung the binoculars over one shoulder. "I'm sure it wasn't intentional. He's not that much of a foxtrotter."

Mitchell's brow crinkled, but a corner of his mouth lifted.

"It's code cussing," she whispered.

His handsome face cracked wide open with a full-on smile. He shook his head. "You're one hell of a woman, Sparky."

She widened her eyes at him. "That's one hotel of a woman in front of the kids."

He nodded, but his smile didn't dim. "Has anyone seen my dog tags? I left them in my duffle bag when we went swimming. I can't find them."

She shook her head. So did Jaycee.

"Can I wear them? Please?" Trevor begged.

"Sure thing, buddy. But we have to find them first. Boys, stay close to the camp unless I'm with you."

Lorenda frowned at Mitchell. "Hey, guys, can you feed Malarkey and get him fresh water? His bowls and food are around the back of the tent." When they were out of earshot, she said, "I'm pissed at Bart's thoughtlessness too. It's a crummy situation for my kids, but they aren't in danger. What gives?"

"I don't know, Sparky, but I can't shake the strange feeling I've had since you were mugged in the park. Something's off, and I'd rather be safe than sorry."

He shifted his weight and closed the small space between them. His shoulder grazed hers, and a shiver lanced over her. A response she'd had a lot since Mitchell had showed up in Red River and so quickly become an important part of her life.

"Sparky, I have a sixth sense when it comes to dangerous situations." Lines of sadness tightened around his mouth. "It's why I'm still alive."

She knew Mitchell was looking out for her and the boys, even if his suspicion toward Bart was overkill.

"There's an estuary a few miles in that direction." He pointed to the woods behind them. "If we take the boys there to hike and fish, they won't have to look at the scouts all day and feel excluded."

She curved a hand around his arm, and he went still at her touch. "Most people wouldn't have thought of the boys' feelings."

His mocha eyes caressed her face. "I know what it's like to be ostracized. It's not fun, and I don't want them to feel like that."

So rejection really did bother Mitchell more than he let on.

"You're a good man," she whispered.

His expression turned smoky with lust, and that sent the rest of her meager restraint crumbling to her feet. That look of raw desire pushed out every reason why taking her connection with Mitchell beyond friendship had been foolish and would likely leave her and the kids with aching hearts. The pull he'd had on her since they'd locked gazes at the park overrode any sound reasoning.

Maybe lack of sex did that to a woman. Because that look of his was the only thing that had made her feel like an attractive woman in far too long. Getting compliments from her father didn't count. Neither did attention from Clifford the maintenance man.

She leaned in and kissed Mitchell. Pressed her lips to his and hoped he'd respond instead of turning his back to her again.

He did respond. Took control of the kiss without hesitation and caressed her lips with his, his breath going heavy. His warm mouth made her sigh, and his tongue traced her lips until they parted. When she took his lower lip between her teeth and nipped, he let out a growl. He eased her to him with a strong arm around her waist and the other hand at the back of her head. Gentle but completely in charge.

And holy thigh-clenching moly, she melted into the kiss as his tongue found hers and explored. She let out the breath she'd been holding and ran both hands up his toned back, over the contours and angles and planes of his exquisite male form.

His hand did some exploring too. Under her shirt, his fingers traced up her spine. His rough fingertips sent a storm of need spiraling through her until her toes curled into her suede hiking shoes.

"Damn, Sparky," he whispered against her mouth. It sounded sweet and a little desperate and made Lorenda's pulse sing, because it was as though he'd lost the last shred of his self-control and was asking her to step up with some resistance for the both of them.

Wasn't happening.

She dropped one hand to the most spectacular male ass she'd ever seen and cupped it.

He groaned and trailed sweet, hot kisses across her temple and down to her neck. He made out the same way he lived the rest of his life-like a rebel who broke all the rules. He was as passionate as he was protective, and right now his touch and his kiss communicated how much he wanted her.

"Mitchell, I can't help wanting you," she murmured against his mouth all breathy and just as desperate as him.

He didn't answer. Just dropped a hand to the small of her back and pressed her hips into his. And, oh baby, he obviously wanted her too, because that wasn't a piece of firewood pressing into her belly.

She let out a little gasp, which seemed to urge him on. He took her from desperate to crazy with a gentle grind of his hips. Amazing that she was about to orgasm right then and there, and they were still completely clothed. And he hadn't done much except kiss her because the kids were just on the other side of the tent.

The kids . . .

She let out a sigh of disappointment against his lips and then deepened the kiss to get one last taste of him before forcing herself back to the reality that she was a mother of two young boys who didn't need to see their mother making out.

"Ewww!" Jaycee said, and Lorenda nearly jumped out of her skin.

The boys disappeared behind the tent giggling.

Mitchell leaned his forehead against hers and blew out a small laugh. "You ready to go?"

Oh yeah. She was ready to go. Could go off with just another touch and maybe another kiss. She tried to pull out of his embrace, but he tugged her back.

"We'll finish this another time." His words sent a thrill of anticipation rocketing through her, and the tingle that had her nipples tightening turned to a full-on burn of unfulfilled desire.

Mitchell released her, her girl parts sighing with disappointment, and he called the boys over to gather up the fishing gear. Before Lorenda joined them, she held the binoculars to her eyes one more time, and the hair on the back of her neck prickled.

Staring back at her from across the lake was Bart Wilkinson.

Chapter Seventeen.

Lorenda wrapped the boys up like sausages in their sleeping bags, and Malarkey curled at their side between them and her. She snuggled into her bag and tried to zip it, but the zipper wouldn't move. Mitchell opened the flap on the ceiling and climbed in next to her for a good night's sleep.

No way was that happening.

The grazes of his hand against hers when he offered to steady her during their climb up a rocky hill, his hand pressed to the small of her back when he helped her cast a fishing line into the river, and his sultry looks had her body humming by lunchtime. By dinner, he could've grown a third eye and she'd still be utterly fascinated by his mouthwatering body and the natural way he handled the boys.

Just like the father they'd always wanted. Just like the father she'd always wanted for them.

No way could she actually float off to sleepyland with his muscled hotness sizzling so close to her that she might spontaneously combust before the night was over.

Especially since he seemed so content. So at peace. Not the war junkie who was too restless to come home that she'd always thought him to be.

"I'll close it later to keep some of the cold out." Mitchell turned onto his side to face her but stared up at the sky.

They'd had a full day of more fun than Lorenda could remember in . . .

She stared through the opening in the ceiling and tried to count the years. Actually, Lorenda couldn't ever remember having so much fun as a family. Sure, she and the boys had had lots of good times. Had made lots of great memories. But on top of raising them, laundry, cooking, cleaning, working, and worrying, she'd often turned them over to her brother or her parents or their Grandma and Grandpa Lawson for this kind of fun.

They'd roasted weenies and made s'mores over the campfire after the sun disappeared behind the mountains. Now they were tucked into sleeping bags made for subzero temperatures to fend off the cold that settled over the Rockies every night.

"See the three stars lined up and angling down?" Mitchell pointed up at the millions of sparkling dots blanketing the velvety sky like diamonds. "That's Orion's Belt."

"I see it!" Jaycee said from his side of the tent.

"I don't see a belt," Trevor said.

"It's right there." Jaycee's tone held a thread of impatience. Lorenda smiled into the dark, because Langston had used that tone with her more times than she could count when they were little. Still did when she tried to boss him around.

"And there's the Big Dipper!" Jaycee said.

"Good job." Mitchell's warmth penetrated both sleeping bags and wrapped around Lorenda. She snuggled closer to him.

"I don't see that one either!" Trevor was obviously getting disgusted at his inferior stargazing skills.

Lorenda leaned over Malarkey so that Trevor could follow her finger, and she pointed up. "See, the handle angles down, and the cup is square."

Trevor went quiet until he finally yelled with delight. "I see it!"

Malarkey let out a whine at Trevor's high-pitched squeal, which, surprisingly, humans could also hear.

"Bet you guys can't guess which constellation is my favorite," Mitchell said. "There's a prize for whoever guesses the right one."

The tent went quiet.

"Gemini." Lorenda's tone was hushed, because she knew without a doubt she'd guessed right. She rolled her head to one side. His face was shadowed, the moonlight outlined his form.

"Good guess, Sparky."

It wasn't a guess. Red River was a small town with a small school. And since she, Cameron, and Mitchell had grown up together, they'd taken field trips together too. She remembered an overnight school trip to Albuquerque when they were little kids. Their group had visited the planetarium, and she'd never forgotten Cameron and Mitchell's reaction when the constellation of the twins, Castor and Pollux, had been pointed out by the teacher.

"Was that our dad's favorite too?" Jaycee asked.

"It was." His voice held the slightest tremor. "When we went on campouts with your grandpa, we'd find as many of the constellations as we could. Your dad was better at it than me. When we were overseas, we weren't always on the same base." He hesitated. "We had a deal that we'd find each other in the stars every night, like when we were kids."

Lorenda's heart thumped. She'd spent so many years focusing on her own pain from Cameron's rejection, she hadn't considered how lost he must've been. How lonely he must've felt. And she hadn't known how to reach that part of him to help make it better.

"You look just like our dad's pictures," said Jaycee.

Mitchell exhaled, slow and steady. "Your dad was a good guy." The pain in his words sliced through Lorenda's heart.

She found his hand and squeezed. Whether Cameron was good or bad had somehow stopped mattering to Lorenda in the past few weeks. Why, she wasn't completely sure. Maybe because he'd been flawed but so had she. Maybe because he was still Mitchell's brother and the kids' father, and that counted for something. That was what mattered to Lorenda now. Not how Cameron had disappointed her.

She laced her fingers with Mitchell's. He brought them to his mouth to lay a tender-sweet kiss on the tips.

A thrum reverberated in her chest.

A band of locusts cranked up a tune. As if on cue, crickets joined in.

Mitchell rubbed the back of her hand against his cheek, the day's stubble causing her skin to pebble.

"Want to know a trick from the military?"

"Yes," Trevor said on a yawn.

"Sparky, you'll like this. Listen." He stared up at the sky and went quiet. "Really listen."

More insects joined in until an entire orchestra played a concerto. A gentle breeze stirred the trees into a dance, and they swayed in rhythm with the insects.

"It's almost like they're in tune with each other, like a band. It's so loud," Lorenda said. "But still peaceful."

"Exactly. When we were on a mission, sometimes we'd have to sleep outdoors."

"Like a campout?" Jaycee's voice was fading.

"Yep. Just like a campout. We learned to savor the sounds of nature because they were much more peaceful than the alternative."

Lorenda bet they were. The sounds of war probably messed with a person's head as much as the death and destruction that came with it. The thought caused another ripple of sadness to crash through her heart.

Mitchell scooted closer until the full length of his body pressed to her side. "The company on this campout is infinitely more pleasant." Laughter mingled with his words.

"Okay." Lorenda's voice was hushed. "Let's get some sleep."

Obviously the boys were either asleep or almost there, because neither protested.

Mitchell closed the ceiling flap and crawled in next to her again. "You better zip the bag, Sparky, or you'll get cold. The temperature will drop pretty low during the night, especially since summer is almost over."

"It won't zip. I tried." She snuggled in deeper.

"Come here." He opened his sleeping bag wide, so she could get in with him. "My bag is oversized."