Midnight Sun (Sinclair Sisters) by Kat Martin Page A

idea actually worked, it would revolutionize the industry. It was a notion Call had been working on four years ago. He had let the project slide after Susan died. Nothing seemed important back then.
    Then his partner in the venture, Frank McGuire, had passed away of a heart attack one month later, and Call had canned the idea completely. Until six months ago, he hadn’t given it another thought. But resurrecting himself seemed to resurrect some of his old endeavors.
    He e-mailed Peter, gave him an atta-boy for the extra hours he’d been putting in, dealt with the rest of his e-mail, which was nothing compared to the stacks he had received in the old days, and turned off the computer.
    “Breakfast is ready, Call. Pancakes and eggs.” Toby stood in the doorway, his shirttail out, red hair mussed, eyes red and groggy. It looked like the kid had had a far more productive Saturday night than Call had.
    “Thanks, I’ll be right there.” He started toward the kitchen but couldn’t resist stopping in front of the window. His binoculars sat on the antique claw foot table right where he’d left them. He was beginning to feel like a real Peeping Tom, but that didn’t keep him from picking up the glasses for a quick scan of the cabin next door.
    He wondered what Charity would say if she knew that was how he’d been keeping track of her, and couldn’t help thinking how sexy she would look with her temper shooting sparks and her pretty green eyes flashing. She was already dressed and out in the back, he saw, chopping some split logs into kindling.
    He almost smiled. If he got lucky, maybe she would provide him with a little more entertainment.
    He watched her working a moment more, surprised to discover she was doing a pretty good job, started to set the glasses back down, but something moved at the edge of the lens and he focused the binoculars in that direction.
    The muscles at the back of his neck went tight. The big, slow-moving brown object outlined in the circle of the lens really was a bear this time.
    Call grabbed his .45-70 rifle off the gun rack on the wall and hit the door running.
     
    Charity lifted the small hand axe and brought it down on the piece of split wood she was chopping into kindling. Doing a pretty fair job of it, she thought. It was easier to light a fire with smaller pieces, she’d discovered, and this being Sunday, her last day off before the workweek began, she was looking forward to building a roaring blaze.
    She whacked off another chunk and raised the axe, but a sound off to her right drew her attention. She turned just in time to see the bushes rustle, then part as if they weren’t there, and a huge brown bear saunter out from between two pine trees. For a moment, she blinked, unable to believe her eyes. Horrified, she watched the animal walking toward her in a slow, ambling gait that sent shivers down her spine, its furry head ranging from side to side.
    This is no weasel, she thought with a shot of fear, her fingers tightening around the grip of the little hand axe whose sharp blade was her only weapon. She held the axe up for a moment, thought about how ridiculously useless it would be against a creature that size, took a deep breath, and prepared to run.
    “Whatever you do, for God’s sake don’t run.”
    Call’s voice washed over her, stopping her headlong flight before it started.
    “Stay exactly where you are and keep your attention on the bear.”
    From the corner of her eye, she saw him on the path connecting their two properties, a rifle gripped in his hands. The bear saw him, too, and the animal stopped, his big, fuzzy head going up. Call shouldered the rifle and fired into the air above the creature’s head. Another shot ricocheted through the air, then a third.
    The bear growled once, spun on its heavy back legs, and raced off up the hill, flinging dirt as it disappeared into the forest.
    Charity stood there shaking, watching Call stalk toward her, his face as dark as the