rugged and considerably less vulnerable in his khaki trousers and cotton shirt. He waited politely for the applause to die down, and then he spoke. ‘As most of you know, I grew up not far from here.’ The resonant voice and the American accent were a slap-in-the-face reminder that this was most definitely Vincent Evanston. How could Tino possibly be an American? She listened as he continued.
‘My best memories are of a pair of barn owls who took up residence on our farm the year I turned 12. All that summer, my best friend and I watched those owls – even rigged up a camera and got some pretty decent photos. In fact, we were so obsessed with those birds that we started a secret club in their honour. We called ourselves the Night Owls. Those owls successfully raised five chicks that year, and I fell in love.’
He looked over his shoulder and nodded at the lake behind him. ‘Places like this are important, not just because of the sanctuary they give wildlife, but because they offer all of us an opportunity to fall in love. With nature.’ His gaze moved over the crowd, came to rest on her then moved on. She felt as though she had been gut punched, and yet what had she expected him to do? Forget everything and come running to her? He hadn’t been all that happy to see her in the wood, and he wasn’t likely to be any more happy now that she had practically stalked him here. Maybe he hoped if he ignored her, she’d go away. Surely this man couldn’t be her Tino.
He continued. ‘I have a reputation for being a recluse, but I’m not really.’ He offered a mischievous chuckle. ‘I just prefer the company of the residents of a place like this over you lot.’
To the sound of laughter and applause, he cut the red ribbon stretched across the viewing platform and stood smiling, shaking hands while cameras snapped and reporters asked questions. People adorned in binoculars and birding scopes now lined the rail of the viewing platform. The chill in the air as the damp summer sun fell below the wooded foothills made Stella’s nipples ache through the ridiculously thin dress.
She was halfway back to her car, feeling stupid and self conscious, when a strong arm slipped around her waist, and a familiar scent filled her nostrils. She looked up into Tino’s dark eyes.
‘What are you doing here?’ It still came as a shock to hear Tino speaking.
‘I saw your picture in the Oregonian .’
‘So you thought you’d just drop in.’
‘You are Tino, aren’t you?’
He picked up the pace. ‘Tino’s not here.’ With his arm around her waist, he guided her away from her car to a waiting limo.
She didn’t protest as he opened the door and helped her inside, sliding in next to her. Then he knocked on the privacy window and the driver took off.
‘Seems a strange vehicle to bring to a nature reserve,’ she said.
‘You really think so? My dad made the big bucks in shipping, you know, and the Port of Portland has a reputation for murder and all kinds of intrigue so rich men can have what they want. So of course I have a limo.’ He leant close and nipped her ear. ‘And you just hopped right in with me, didn’t you? You know what they say about accepting rides from strangers. Are you scared?’
She held his gaze. ‘You’re not a stranger.’
He chuckled softly and returned her gaze as though he were the king of stare-downs, then he released his breath slowly. ‘Anyway, I didn’t bring the limo, but you can’t go back in what I came in dressed like that.’
‘Then you have to be Tino, or you wouldn’t have–’
He covered her mouth in an insistent kiss. ‘What?’ He spoke against her lips ‘You think I wouldn’t notice the sexy English bird distracting me from all the other birds.’ He teased her lips apart, sparring with her tongue, making her insides feel like warm toffee. She was relieved to hear no anger in his voice.
She came up for breath. ‘But how else would you–’
He nipped and tugged on
‘My best memories are of a pair of barn owls who took up residence on our farm the year I turned 12. All that summer, my best friend and I watched those owls – even rigged up a camera and got some pretty decent photos. In fact, we were so obsessed with those birds that we started a secret club in their honour. We called ourselves the Night Owls. Those owls successfully raised five chicks that year, and I fell in love.’
He looked over his shoulder and nodded at the lake behind him. ‘Places like this are important, not just because of the sanctuary they give wildlife, but because they offer all of us an opportunity to fall in love. With nature.’ His gaze moved over the crowd, came to rest on her then moved on. She felt as though she had been gut punched, and yet what had she expected him to do? Forget everything and come running to her? He hadn’t been all that happy to see her in the wood, and he wasn’t likely to be any more happy now that she had practically stalked him here. Maybe he hoped if he ignored her, she’d go away. Surely this man couldn’t be her Tino.
He continued. ‘I have a reputation for being a recluse, but I’m not really.’ He offered a mischievous chuckle. ‘I just prefer the company of the residents of a place like this over you lot.’
To the sound of laughter and applause, he cut the red ribbon stretched across the viewing platform and stood smiling, shaking hands while cameras snapped and reporters asked questions. People adorned in binoculars and birding scopes now lined the rail of the viewing platform. The chill in the air as the damp summer sun fell below the wooded foothills made Stella’s nipples ache through the ridiculously thin dress.
She was halfway back to her car, feeling stupid and self conscious, when a strong arm slipped around her waist, and a familiar scent filled her nostrils. She looked up into Tino’s dark eyes.
‘What are you doing here?’ It still came as a shock to hear Tino speaking.
‘I saw your picture in the Oregonian .’
‘So you thought you’d just drop in.’
‘You are Tino, aren’t you?’
He picked up the pace. ‘Tino’s not here.’ With his arm around her waist, he guided her away from her car to a waiting limo.
She didn’t protest as he opened the door and helped her inside, sliding in next to her. Then he knocked on the privacy window and the driver took off.
‘Seems a strange vehicle to bring to a nature reserve,’ she said.
‘You really think so? My dad made the big bucks in shipping, you know, and the Port of Portland has a reputation for murder and all kinds of intrigue so rich men can have what they want. So of course I have a limo.’ He leant close and nipped her ear. ‘And you just hopped right in with me, didn’t you? You know what they say about accepting rides from strangers. Are you scared?’
She held his gaze. ‘You’re not a stranger.’
He chuckled softly and returned her gaze as though he were the king of stare-downs, then he released his breath slowly. ‘Anyway, I didn’t bring the limo, but you can’t go back in what I came in dressed like that.’
‘Then you have to be Tino, or you wouldn’t have–’
He covered her mouth in an insistent kiss. ‘What?’ He spoke against her lips ‘You think I wouldn’t notice the sexy English bird distracting me from all the other birds.’ He teased her lips apart, sparring with her tongue, making her insides feel like warm toffee. She was relieved to hear no anger in his voice.
She came up for breath. ‘But how else would you–’
He nipped and tugged on
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