on a peg before he sniffed the air.
„Ahh,“ he rumbled, „my favorite dinner. Roast haunch of tennis shoes with a side order of baked jeans.“
Laughter bubbled from Janna as though she were freshly opened champagne. Raven’s whimsical sense of humor had been as unexpected and endearing to her as his gentleness. She held out her hand for the bucket, only to notice that it held a bottle of wine as well as oysters.
„You have, er, unusual oyster beds in the Charlottes,“ Janna observed, pulling out the wine bottle.
Raven grinned. „Old Haida secret.“
„Someone must have let the French in on it, too,“ she retorted, reading the label. „How did you know I love Chardonnay?“
„Like I said,“ Raven answered, his voice muffled as he bent down to pull off his soaking shoes, „you look like a woman who enjoys her senses.“
„What did you do to your hand?“ Janna asked suddenly, setting aside the wine.
He looked at the back of his left hand. There were several thin lines of blood welling. „Barnacles,“ he said, shrugging. What he didn’t say was that he had been thinking about Janna when he should have been thinking about what he was doing. „No big deal,“ he added, cleaning off the skin with a quick swipe of his tongue and then examining the shallow cuts.
„It could be a big deal if you don’t take care of it,“ she said crisply. „Barnacle cuts are notorious for getting infected.“
She went back to the galley and returned in a few moments with hot water and an antibiotic salve. Before Raven could object she took his hand and bathed it carefully. She bent over his hand and turned it toward the light. The cuts were shallow, clean and should heal quickly. There was really no reason to worry about them. She should let go of his hand and get back to the cabin.
But Janna could not let go. The temptation to raise Raven’s broad hand to her lips and kiss away the minor hurt was almost overwhelming. All that prevented her was the knowledge that the intent of her kiss would be more sensual than healing, more hungry than comforting. Silently calling herself a hundred kinds of fool, she prolonged the contact by bathing his hand again, touching him in the only way that she could.
Raven sat motionlessly in the stern seat, savoring the gentle warmth of Janna’s hands. Her hair had come loose from the clip she wore at the nape of her neck. Tendrils of rich cinnamon curled softly across her cheeks like darkly shimmering flames. In the subdued light her hair glowed with life. He wondered what it would feel like to have that cool, silky hair falling freely over his bare arm, his chest, his thighs. Then he wondered why he was tormenting himself over a woman he would not let himself touch.
Janna dried Raven’s hand with the same gentle thoroughness with which she had bathed it. She smoothed antibiotic salve over the tiny wounds, taking her time about it, doing it twice. When there was no further excuse to touch Raven, she reluctantly released his hand.
„There you are. Nearly as good as new.“ She heard her own voice and knew that it was too husky, almost breathless.
„Thanks.“
Raven flexed his hand to keep from reaching out and burying his fingers in Janna’s beautiful hair and pulling her mouth down to his. He wanted to tell her how much he had enjoyed having her concerned over his minor scrapes and having his big, work-roughened hand touched as though she cared if he were hurt even by such a small thing as barnacle cuts. Normally he disliked women who fussed over him, oohing and cooing over every tiny scrape. Janna was different. She had cared for him so quietly and deftly that she had left him feeling cherished rather than smothered.
„You should have children. You’d be a fine mother. Gentle hands and…“ Raven’s deep voice died into silence as he saw the sudden stiffening of Janna’s body. She straightened and turned away from him so quickly that she almost stumbled. „ Janna?“
„I forgot your tea,“ she said tightly. „It will be strong enough to dissolve steel by now.“
„Sounds perfect to me,“ he rumbled, smiling.
There was no answer. Raven frowned, wondering what was wrong. Normally Janna enjoyed teasing him about the strength of the tea he drank, just as he enjoyed ribbing her about the „hot sugar water“ that she preferred. He got up to follow her and demand to know what was wrong. In three longs steps he was in the cabin.
„Janna, what – “
„As your mother surrogate,“ she interrupted in clipped tones, „I feel compelled to point out that you’re dripping all over the floor.“
„Deck,“ he corrected her automatically, frowning.
Raven’s eyes narrowed as he took in the barely restrained anger radiating from Janna. He watched as she reached blindly into a drawer and brought out a punch for the can of condensed milk. She opened the can with a single savage stroke, spilling some of the thick, creamy fluid in the process. Carefully he reached past her, took the milk and metal punch, and set them beyond her reach.
„What’s wrong?“ he asked.
„Nothing.“ Janna heard her own cold word echo in the silence, watched a thread of milk spread thickly on the counter and hung on to the shreds of her self-control with every bit of willpower she possessed. „Sorry,“ she said finally. „Guess I’m like you.“
„How so?“
„Wondering how much longer we’ll be ‘shut up in this damned inlet.’“
Hearing his own words repeated like that made Raven flinch. „I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I’ve enjoyed the time here. I can’t remember ever laughing so much.“
„Yeah, a regular dream come true for you,“ Janna said with a bright, empty smile. „You never had a mother and I’m great motherhood material. Pity you’re too old for me to adopt. We could have a lifetime of laughs.“
„Janna-“
„Here,“ she said, interrupting, setting Raven’s tea within his reach. „Drink this before it eats through the mug. I’ll open the oysters. You change out of those wet clothes before you get cold.“
„Yes, Mother,“ Raven said dryly, reaching for the top button of his shirt.
Janna flinched as though she had been slapped. Raven’s black eyes narrowed as he saw her reaction.
„I didn’t mean that as an insult,“ he said evenly.
„What woman could be insulted by being told she was great mother material?“ Janna asked in a flat tone.
Raven started to say something, hesitated and settled for unbuttoning his shirt. After he pulled on dry clothes and draped the wet ones over anything handy, he went out to the stern. The canopy kept out wind and rain, but did little to preserve the warmth that made the cabin cosy.
„Aren’t you cold?“ he asked, eyeing Janna’s long, bare legs gleaming beneath the tails of one of his flannel shirts.
She shrugged and continued wrestling with an oyster. The knife she used was very short, triangular and deadly. There was no guard on the hilt. So far she had managed to avoid stabbing anything but the oysters.
„I’ll do that,“ Raven said. „Get back in the cabin where it’s warm.“
„Yes, Daddy,“ she muttered, but she didn’t give up the oyster that she was struggling with.
The idea of feeling fatherly toward Janna was so preposterous that Raven couldn’t
