Chapter One
The children began shouting and shrieking as one discordant voice when the kite dipped and spun crazily before it started to nose dive.
“Look out!”
“Kathy, don’t!”
“Pull up!”
“No, Kathy, no!”
Kathleen, her eyes never leaving the erratic kite, clamped her teeth over her bottom lip and pulled the string taut. She took several running steps backward, raising the kite string high over her head and dodging the sneakered feet of a dozen excited children.
“Let out on it a little, sweetheart.”
The voice was deep, masculine and totally unexpected. Kathleen didn’t have time to fully register it before she barreled into the man who’d materialized behind her.
Startled, she dropped her arm, and the kite went into a steep nose dive.
It smashed into an oak tree and was hopelessly impaled on a limb, its tail enmeshed in the leafy branches. The children scrambled through the branches of the tree, issuing orders to each other and suggesting possible solutions that were met with guffaws and aspersions.
The man directed his gaze to the scene, then turned his head and fixed his blue eyes upon Kathleen. “I apologize,” he said humbly, placing his hand over his heart. The gleam in his eyes made Kathleen doubt his sincerity. “I thought I was helping.”
“I could have handled it.”
“I’m sure you could have, but I mistook you for one of the kids and it looked to me as though you needed some help.”
“You thought I was one of the children!” With her hair tied back into pigtails, her heart-shaped face bereft of makeup and her navy shorts and white T-shirt with the summer camp’s logo on the front, she could see where he might make that mistake.
“I’m Kathleen Haley, one of the camp directors.” He gave her a once-over that said she wasn’t dressed for the part. “I double as a counselor,” she added, extending her right hand.
The blond giant with the thick mustache shook hands with her.
“My name is Erik Gudjonsen, spelled G-u-d-j-o-n-s-e-n, but pronounced Good-johnson.”
“Am I supposed to recognize your name, Mr. Gudjonsen?”
“I’m the videographer who’ll be shooting the documentary for UBC. Didn’t the Harrisons tell you that I’d be coming?”
If they had it had slipped her mind. “They didn’t say it would be today.”
The Mountain View Summer Encampment for Orphans was to be featured on the nationally televised magazine show People. In an attempt to generate public awareness of the camp, and thereby contributions, Kathleen had approached a network producer with her story idea. After several letters and lengthy telephone calls to New York, she had sold the producer on it. She’d been told that a photographer would be assigned to videotape the activities of the children sometime during one of the summer sessions.
She hadn’t given any thought to the videographer, nor what he would be like. Weren’t all photographers a bit myopic? Didn’t most wear baggy trousers and have light meters like identification badges dangling from cords around their necks? Her ideas on the profession in general had certainly never conjured up a picture that in any way resembled Erik Gudjonsen.
His appearance was as Nordic as his name. He had inherited a body from his fiercest ancestors. Viking blood must surely course through that tall, muscular body that radiated strength and vitality. Even standing still in a deceptively casual pose, he seemed capable of great power.
Erik Gudjonsen’s hair shone like a golden helmet in the sun. It was thick, luxurious, falling around his aristocratic head in casual disarray. His darker mustache added to the sensuality of his wide mouth. Strong white teeth glistened from beneath the brush of the thick mustache and contrasted handsomely with the tan, weather-roughened face.
His jeans were well worn and tight. They rode low on his slender hips and hugged the muscles of his thighs like a glove. The chambray shirt fit almost as snugly. The sleeves had been rolled back to reveal sinewy arms. The blue fabric was stretched tightly over a broad chest that was matted with tawny hair. It was difficult not to stare at the deep V that his unbuttoned shirt revealed. His hands were long, with tapering fingers that denoted strength and yet the sensitivity required to operate a complex videotape camera.
For some inexplicable reason, Kathleen felt a strange constriction in her chest when her eyes traced the corded column of his neck, the proud, somewhat stubborn chin, sensual mouth and slender nose, up to the blue eyes.
And when her green eyes clashed with the full impact of his, she had a sinking feeling in the lower part of her body that was both delightful and disturbing.
“You look better suited to hard news stories.”
He shrugged noncommittally. “I go where I’m assigned.”
“Well, I hope you’re not looking for an angle on us because you’ll be disappointed. We’re strictly on the up and up.”
“I never said otherwise. Why the third degree? Do you mistrust newsmen?” Leaning down, his mustache only partially concealing a smile, he whispered, “Or is it men in general?”
In a voice as cool as her expression, she said, “Go up the hill and take the left fork. Follow it until you drive through the main gate. The building immediately inside and to your right is the office. You’ll find either Edna or B. J. there.”
“Thank you.” Still smirking, he sauntered in the direction of his parked Blazer.
* * *
Kathleen couldn’t determine a logical reason for her irritability the rest of the afternoon, though she handled the energetic children with her usual aplomb. Of all the counselors, they adored Kathy, as they called her, the most. It was a reciprocal affection.
Today, for some reason, ever since meeting Erik Gudjonsen, she was irascible and anxious for the sun to move closer to the horizon. Then, at five o’clock, everyone would migrate toward cabins for a rest hour before dinner in the large, noisy dining hall.
Now, as the children cavorted in the roped-off section of the Kings River that threaded its way through the Ozark Mountains of northwestern Arkansas, Kathleen basked in the sunshine as she sat on the shore. She was ever watchful of the campers, but for a few moments she could revel in relative peace while they were occupied with their own antics in the clear water.
She sighed deeply and closed her eyes for a moment against the glare of the sunlight on the water. She loved this place. Each summer, it was as much a sabbatical for her as it was helpful to her friends, the Harrisons, for her to serve as a counselor at the camp.
For sixty days, Kathleen Haley, fashion buyer for Mason’s Department Store in Atlanta, ceased to exist. She retreated from the frantic pace she lived the other ten months of the year and renewed herself with the mountain air, regular meals, early hours and exhausting exercise. Yet despite the rigorous schedule, the camp work was restful, for her mind as much as her body.
Few career girls would give up their valuable time to serve as a camp counselor, but to Kathleen it was a labor of love. She knew firsthand the desperation of these children as they sought love and attention. If she coul
d give back only a particle of the affection she had found here years ago, her time and efforts were more than worth it.
“Hey, Kathy, Robby is going past the rope.”
She opened her eyes to see a self-righteous tattler pointing an accusing finger at the boy breaking the stringent rule.
“Robby!” Kathleen called. When the offender’s head broke the surface, she gave him a threatening stare. It was enough to make him dive back under the boundary and poke up to a standing position in the shoulder-high water. To show him she meant business, she warned, “Once more outside the rope and your swimming days are over. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Kathy,” he mumbled, and hung his head.
She smiled secretly, knowing that her disapproval was usually enough punishment to keep even the most contrary of the children in line. “Why don’t you practice that handstand you were trying to do the other day? See how long you can stay under.”
His eyes brightened immediately, knowing he was back in favor. “Okay! Watch me!”
“I will.” She waved at him from the bank and he set about to show her his trick.
“Jaimie, thank you for calling my attention to Robby, but it’s really not polite to tattle. Okay?”
The thin boy with dark hair and eyes looked slightly crestfallen, but he smiled timidly and said, “Yes, ma’am.”
Each summer, there was one child who touched her deeper than any other. This summer, it was Jaimie. He was smaller than the others, awkward, introverted. Sports didn’t come easily to him and he was usually the last one chosen when they divided into teams. He was quiet, serious and shy. But he was the most avid reader and the most talented artist of the group. His dark liquid eyes had melted Kathleen’s heart the first day of camp, and though she tried not to show partiality, she had an undeniable soft spot for Jaimie.