During the day, they’d remain hidden in the bureau under his clothes. At night, he’d put them on the bedside stand, the tiny green light of the recharging stand marking its location, the automatic at the ready beside it.

The bathroom, while large, seemed comfortable. Sunlight from windows on either side of the medicine chest and heavy white pedestal sink let in lots of light. Toilet and a big cast-iron, blue and white claw-foot bathtub and shower, ringed by a Thirties style shower curtain. He didn’t need to be an expert to know it was genuine.

Downstairs, all the blinds had been pulled up and the windows opened, washing away the stale, closed-up smell, the air replacing it crisp and clean as freshly washed sheets. As he moved across the room, he noted that the boxes had been emptied, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound.

Harm stopped at the French door, his hand on the knob, the tempo of his heart speeding up a little.

She’d changed out of her jeans and turtleneck into a skinny little white tank top and a pair of bright red cut-off shorts. With the emphasis definitely on short. Lying back slightly on a redwood chaise, the fat emerald and white striped cushion making a perfect backdrop.

No denying it, he heard that voice in his head again, that’s one good-looking woman.

Shaking his head a little, he turned the knob and stepped onto the sunny deck, deliberately moving past her to the railing and scanning the scene before him. With her sunglasses on, he couldn’t tell if she was awake or not, but he didn’t want to risk her noticing that she’d had a definite, if unnerving effect on him.

Trying to ignore the discomfort behind his fly, he concentrated on the view in front of him, not in back.

From the flat parking area, a worn dirt path followed the gentle slope of the land to a small sandy patch of beach where aquamarine water, clear as glass, lapped quietly, spreading itself outward to a blue topaz and finally the mysterious, rich sapphire of deep water. Thick pine forest hugged the lakeshore as far as he could see except right here. And there didn’t seem to be any other houses on this side of the barbed wire and gate.

An ideal spot. The view would give him an excuse to carry his binoculars and with them, he could sweep the entire lake for ten miles around. Later, he’d go hiking in the woods around the cabin to locate hiding places for motion activated cameras and microphones.

“‘Come into my parlor,’ said the spider to the fly.”

“What?”

Her voice startled him and the remnants of his erection caught between his body and the railing.

Shit!

“What?” he repeated, turning his head but not his body.

“Did you say something?”

“No. Why?”

“I thought I heard you say you’d seen a spider or something.”

“Just mumbling to myself.”

“Oh.”

“This is a great view,” he commented, forcing his eyes away from her. She didn’t have a bra under that tank top. Almost in spite of himself, he wondered if she had on panties under those shorts. “How much of it is yours?”

A blur of movement made him turn his head just in time to see Elgin swing her legs off the chaise and answer his unspoken question about her underwear. Another flash of heat surged up from his re-awakened cock and its growing size made his jeans more and more uncomfortable.

She came up beside him, casually brushing her arm against his as she leaned her forearms on the railing and bent forward, pulling the neck of her tank top out just enough to give him a quick peek of round, white breast before he managed to jerk his wayward eyeballs back to the water.

“My lawyer tells me I have about two hundred acres, give or take, but that doesn’t really mean much to me.” Elgin tilted her chin up a little and the simple beauty of her smooth, freshly washed skin, plain except for a natural pink glow on those lovely cheekbones struck him, as if he’d never really seen her before.

“Actually though,” she continued, “it’s easier for me to remember that I own everything from the gate down to the water’s edge and from ‘Eagle’s Rock,’ that sharp, pointy little spit of land out there with the gnarled old pine tree at the end, all the way down to ‘Robber’s Roost.’” Her outstretched hand made a line from left to right, her bare arm resting for a fleeting moment against his shirt as she pointed.

He took a deep breath and felt his body filling up with her sweet, warm, sensual musk, wrapped in the tangy, crisp air and the faint scent of wild flowers.

“Oh look,” she cried excitedly, pointing out toward the water, “it’s ‘The Belle.’”

Squinting, he could make out a small white box with moving sides and two tall black chimney’s puffing out a billow of white smoke behind it.

“What’s a bell?”

“The Belle of the Lake,” she responded merrily. “It’s a wonderful old paddle-wheel steamer. Nowadays of course, it just takes people out on the lake for sightseeing cruises but originally, it was the workhorse of the whole area. Built in the eighteen hundreds in St. Louis as a small river trader but when they discovered gold out here, an enterprising gentleman named Crockett saw the potential profits in a steamer for the lake. So he went back east, bought her,’ had her disassembled, crated up and shipped overland by wagon and reassembled here. The only place for a landing on this side of the lake was at what’s now Spirit Cove and on the western side, Crockett’s Landing. From there, he managed to carve a little spur railroad to hook up with the mainline to points west. Mostly carried miners and timber and supplies to the camps and gold and silver back. For ten years, virtually anything that moved on the lake, moved on ‘The Belle.’

“After the mines played out and the timber all got cut down, she fell on hard times, mostly just eking out a hand-to-mouth existence for her owners. Then people re-discovered the place in the Twenties and the Thirties. Started building summer homes and coming up here to camp and fish. Crockett’s Landing changed its name to West Shore and legalized gambling and the rest, as they say, is history. Water sports in the summer, skiing in the winter and casino hotels the year around.

“And just like Crockett before him, some enterprising young man bought ‘Belle,’ put a new coat of paint on her, polished her brass and sent her back on the lake to haul tourists. In fact, you and I will have to go out on her. You really can’t appreciate the lake unless you’re on it.”

“Sounds like fun,” he agreed, trying to ignore the growing problem in his jeans. The feel of her ass through her thin cotton shorts as they rubbed against his thigh wasn’t helping.

“Okay,” she began, turning back to him. Abruptly she stopped, seeming to search his face.

“You better go up and take a shower and change into something else,” she told him. “You’re sweating like a pig.”

She could feel his heat through his shirt as she pretended to brush her arm accidentally against his chest and while he’d pushed himself against the wooden railing, she’d glimpsed the bulge pressing firmly on his fly. Not satisfied, she’d turned slightly so that her ass touched the hard muscle of his thigh.

After the long car ride, the quick shower had refreshed her and as she’d stood toweling herself in front of the bathroom mirror, she’d suddenly imagined his naked body tight against her own. She wanted that strong, handsome, arrogant man but not until she’d played with him. Made him suffer for his bullying, overbearing behavior. On his knees, begging for her favor, kissing her pussy and making her come.

Her own heat had risen then, coursing through her with a fiery demand that she take him as quickly as possible. That he fill her and quench the longing that she had only so suddenly become aware of.

Quickly, she finished drying herself, lingering perhaps a moment longer than necessary as she moved the towel between her legs. And then into the bedroom where her bags still sat on the bed. Without thought to bra and panties, she slipped on a pair of red shorts, the legs flared and cuffed just enough to give a glimpse of dark curls and white skin if she moved just so. A thin white tank top with a scooped neck completed the outfit. Revealing only what she wanted him to see, leaving his imagination to finish the torture for her.