Not Just Friends

Praise for Kate Hoffmann from RT Book Reviews

“Hoffmann’s deeply felt, emotional story is riveting. It’s impossible to put down.”

—on The Charmer

“Fully developed characters and perfect pacing make this story feel completely right.”

—on Your Bed or Mine?

“Sexy and wildly romantic.”

—on Doing Ireland!

“A very hot story mixes with great characters to make every page a delight.”

—on The Mighty Quinns: Ian

“Romantic, sexy and heartwarming.”

—on Who Needs Mistletoe?

“Sexy, heartwarming and romantic … a story to settle down with and enjoy—and then re-read.”

—on The Mighty Quinns: Teague

Dear Reader,

When my editor asked me to write a book for the WRONG BED series, I wanted to find a new and unique setting. I needed a bed and a way to get my hero and heroine into it, but beyond that I knew I wanted to set it in the north woods of Wisconsin. But where? A resort? A luxurious vacation home? A rustic cabin in the woods? Been there, done that!

A comment from my editor brought back a memory of a summer camp I attended when I was in third grade. Even now, I recall the excitement of getting on the bus and traveling to this wonderful place where we had the whole day set aside for fun. I was all about weaving and leatherwork, but it wasn’t hard to see what the older girls liked about camp—boys.

Sometimes ideas for a romance novel can come from the tiniest sliver of a memory. I enjoyed going back to summer camp while writing this book and I hope it brings back some memories for you too.

All the best,

Kate Hoffmann

About the Author

KATE HOFFMANN began writing in 1993. Since then she’s published sixty-five books. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys music, theatre and musical theatre. She is active working with school students in the performing arts. She lives in southeastern Wisconsin with her cat, Chloe.

Not Just Friends

Kate Hoffmann

To Brenda, my editor, who is always patient and insightful and

the best person I could ever have in

my corner. I couldn’t do it without you!

1

This is page one in my camp jernal. I am ten years old and this is my first summer at camp. I got this book from Gina, my camp consiler, who is really cool and says we should write down what we think. I think there are lots of kids at camp and I hope I make new friends. My cabin is Woodchuck. I sleep in the top bunk. But what if I don’t make any friends?

THE WARM BREEZE filled the car with the scent of pine woods and inland lakes. Julia McKee drew a deep breath through her nose and smiled as a familiar excitement began to grow inside her. Even after all these years, it was still there, that mix of nervousness and elation that came in the last miles to Camp Winnehawkee.

She remembered the exact moment her mother had handed her the camp brochure. It had been the summer after her parents’ divorce and Lorraine McKee had been unable to cope with the stress of raising her five children. So she’d decided to spend the summer with friends in California.

Julia’s four older brothers had been shipped off to sports camps and Julia was put on a charter bus bound for the northwoods of Wisconsin, the brochure clutched in her sweaty hand. She’d read the cover so many times she could recite it by heart. She’d been just ten years old and terrified of what the summer would hold. Friendships for a lifetime? What did that mean?

She really didn’t have many friends at home. Julia spent most of her time hiding out in her room, avoiding the incessant bullying of her rowdy brothers. And at school, she preferred reading to socializing, earning her the nickname “Bookworm.”

Julia squinted against the oncoming headlights of a car, then glanced over at the clock on the dashboard of her Subaru wagon. A late start and a traffic jam in Chicago had left her two hours behind schedule. At this rate, she would arrive at Winnehawkee just before midnight.

She reached over and picked up her cell phone from the passenger seat, then dialed the number for Kate Carmichael Gray, her very best friend from all her years at camp. They’d been cabin mates that first year, along with Frannie Dillon. Over the following eleven summers, they’d formed a lifelong friendship that had survived another seven years apart.

Kate had married another counselor, Mason Gray, and they’d both lived in Madison before moving to northern Wisconsin when they bought the camp. Mason was a high school history teacher and Kate, a social worker.

Kate’s voicemail picked up and Julia sighed. “Hey, Kate. Hey, Mason. I’m still about an hour away. I know it’s late and you guys have probably been working hard all day long s go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll find a bunk in one of the cabins. I think I remember how to rough it. Talk to you soon.”

She hung up the phone, then wondered if she ought to try calling Frannie. She was supposed to arrive earlier that day with another old camp friend, Ben Cassidy. They both lived in Minneapolis now and had jumped at the chance to help out Kate and Mason.

“We’re for you, Camp Winnehawkee, friends forever more,” she sang softly. “Every summer we’re together, makes us love you more.”

She’d graduated from camper to counselor the summer after her senior year in high school, and throughout college she’d returned to the camp each summer as the arts and crafts teacher and advisor for the Woodchuck cabin of twelve- and thirteen-year-old girls.

The camp had been the closest thing she’d had to a stable family. Her brothers had never wanted anything to do with her and she’d rarely seen her father after the divorce, except when he was required to take her for her birthday weekend. And her mother had lost all interest in raising a daughter once she’d begun to date again.

Over the last few years, she’d often thought about the camp. She’d kept in touch with both Kate and Frannie. They’d called on birthdays and holidays and got together once a year for a girls’ weekend. But now they were reuniting to bring the camp back to life.

Winnehawkee had closed six years ago. The previous owners had retired to Florida and left the camp abandoned. Rather than sell to developers, they’d insisted that the new buyers reopen the camp. In fact, they’d even written it into the sales agreement. But there were no takers, until Mason and Kate had decided to use the money they’d saved for a house to make a down payment on a little corner of their childhood.

“Though the miles may come between us, we’ll never be afraid. For in our hearts, dear Winnehawkee, the friendships never fade.”

The camp was reserved in late July for a youth church retreat, but before Mason and Kate could open the gates, they needed to secure another bank loan or find some investors who’d be willing to pay for some of the major improvements. So they’d called on old camp friends to make the trip north, hoping that friendship, nostalgia and a little bit of curiosity would provide them with a workforce ready to make the camp habitable again.

Her cell phone rang and she picked it up.

“Win—ne—who?” Kate’s voice called from the other end of the line.

“Win—ne—hawkee!” Julia replied, remembering the little cheer they did after morning meetings.

“Who are you?” they chanted together. “Winnehawkee Winne-who? Winnehawkee. Are you true? Winnehawkee. We’re true blue. Winnehawkee, Winnehawkee, whoo!”

“I’m sorry I missed your call. I was just getting Derek and Steven set up in a cabin.”

“Derek and Steven are there?” Julia asked.

“Yes.” Kate lowered her voice. “And they’re now a couple.”

“Derek and Steven?”

“Umm-hmm. They own a construction firm in Green Bay and they brought a lot of tools, a trailer full of building supplies and two cases of very expensive wine.”

“Who else is there?” Julia held her breath. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear his name. Adam Sutherland. There, she’d said it—or thought it. Adam Sutherland. The memories came flooding back and she felt like her heart was about to burst into a million pieces. She knew he and Mason were still friends. There was always a chance.

“Just them,” Kate said. “There’ll be more coming tomorrow. And I think Frannie and Ben might arrive in the morning. I made up Woodchuck for you and Frannie. I knew you’d want to be close to the bathrooms.”

“Old Woodchuck,” she said. “I wonder if—” Julia cleared her throat, brushing the memory aside. “Well, I’ll see you in the morning then. Go to bed and get a good night’s sleep. I hope you have your tennis racquet, because we have to play this week.”

“I haven’t played in years, and we haven’t put up the new nets yet, but I’m ready,” Kate said. “By the way, I’m counting on you to do some baking for us. I can’t be responsible for feeding eight people all week long.”

“I have pies in the back of my car. And pastries and croissants for breakfast tomorrow morning. I even made a little Winnehawkee cake for dinner tomorrow night. It looks just like the lodge.”

“That’s perfect! We have a wonderful dinner planned for tomorrow night,” Kate said. “Not the usual hot dogs and baked beans.”

“Good,” Julia said. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“Night, Jules. And thanks so much for helping out with this. Mason and I really appreciate it.”

Julia hung up the phone and stared out at the road ahead of her. Eight people. Kate and Mason, Frannie and Ben, Steve and Derek and her. Who was the eighth? Could it be him?

She’d met Adam Sutherland her third summer at camp. Even as a twelve-year-old, he’d been every tween’s dream. With his dark hair and pale blue eyes and his devastating smile, every girl at camp had fallen in love with him at first sight. But for Julia, it had been just the start of a decade-long romance, entirely unrequited and yet as real as any she’d ever experienced.

She’d seen him once since leaving camp eight years ago. He’d been strolling down Michigan Avenue right before Christmas with a beautiful woman on his arm. She knew he worked in finance at his father’s venture capital company in downtown Chicago. She’d looked him up on Google a number of times over the years, piecing together a fairly comprehensive biography. She’d even found a few photos that had been taken at charity events around town.

Though the infatuation had faded long ago, the curiosity was still there. And when her dating life seemed to be at its lowest point, she’d wonder what it might have been like if she’d been able to attract the attention of a guy like Adam.

As a teenager, she’d put all her thoughts about him in her camp journal which she’d hidden beneath a loose floorboard in Woodchuck cabin. She remembered the day she began the journal at age ten and then the day she left camp for the last time, the journal still in its hiding place. She’d walked away from Winnehawkee determined to forget the journal and Adam Sutherland. She thought by leaving the record of her adolescent angst behind, she’d finally have the closure she so desperately needed.

But even now, after all these years, she thought of Adam whenever she thought of Winnehawkee. Julia giggled softly. Gosh, she’d been a fool for that boy. She’d tried so hard to avoid him, pretending that he meant nothing to her. And whenever she did attempt to attract his attention, she managed to make a complete idiot of herself.

There was the time she stuffed the top of her swim-suit with toilet paper, only to get pushed in the water and watch her newfound bust line float away. And then there was the time she made him a lopsided birthday cake in the camp kitchen—she’d tripped on a tree root carrying it to his cabin, splattering the purple frosting over the front of her T-shirt.

But the worst experience, the one that ranked number one in the pantheon of embarrassing moments was when she’d finally poured out all her feelings in a letter. She’d screwed up her courage and left it beneath the pillow of his bunk. Then she learned that he’d switched bunks with a cabin-mate just that week. Dougie O’Neill spent the rest of the summer following her around, trying to kiss her, certain that the letter had been meant for him.

As counselors, she and Adam had worked together regularly, but she’d always kept her distance, treating him like a friend. Hiding her feelings for him, especially when he’d managed to charm nearly every other female counselor, had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done in her life, but it kept her from further humiliation.

Julia moaned softly. Thankfully, her luck with men had gotten a bit better over time, but the results had stayed the same. She enjoyed the fantasy of love, the possibilities and the anticipation, much more than she every enjoyed a real relationship. Men just never lived up to her expectations, at least not the men she met.

Julia suspected her insecurities and disappointments were probably rooted in her parents’ divorce, but she told herself that she just hadn’t met the man of her dreams yet. When he came along, she’d know and then everything would make sense. Love would finally become a reality.

Over the next thirty miles, her thoughts remained mired in memories of her years at camp. So much of it was good, and even in the worst of times, there had always been dreams of Adam Sutherland to keep her going. Would the journal still be there? Perhaps if she read it again, it might give her more insight into why her love life was so messed up now.

After graduating with a degree in art, she’d fallen into a job as a cake decorator at one of Chicago’s most popular patisseries. A few years ago, she’d struck out on her own, building a successful boutique bakery and wedding cake business. But in two months, she was going to begin the adventure of her life, moving to Paris to study pastry making with one of her mentors.

Jean-Paul had been a teacher first, a friend second, and after she’d finished pastry school, a lover. Though they’d shared a passion for baking, that passion had never really taken off in the bedroom.

In truth, her expectations between the sheets had always been more than the men in her life were able to deliver. Where was the frantic need, the overwhelming attraction, the sense that sex was a release instead of merely an enjoyable activity? She’d always wanted to be swept away by lust and then love. But it had never happened.

Maybe she’d meet a handsome Frenchman in Paris and have a torrid affair. She certainly hadn’t met many eligible men working in the wedding industry. She was so ready to just throw caution to the wind and indulge, to forget about all of her past mistakes. For once, she wouldn’t think about love. She’d think about pleasure first. After all, when in Paris …

But before all that could happen, she needed to say good-bye to the old Julia McKee, the girl who pined after the boy of her dreams for ten long summers. Then, she’d pack her things, leave Chicago and say hello to a new and improved Julia McKee.

Julia focused on the road, following the familiar route to the camp, surprised that she was able to remember it after so many years. But as she got farther from the small towns, the landmarks were less familiar. She watched the GPS on the dash and slowed as the car approached the road that led to the camp.

And then it was there, the familiar yellow and brown sign. It had recently been painted and reflected the headlights from the Subaru. Julia found herself smiling, remembering how happy she’d always been on that first day.

When she reached the main lodge, she noticed that the lights on the wide porch were still on, but the windows were dark. She looked up the hill toward Woodchuck cabin and noticed that Kate had kept a light burning for her there, too.

The cabin slept eleven, ten campers in bunks and the counselor in a comfortable double bed in a separate alcove. It was the only luxury that being a counselor provided. Living 24/7 with ten teenage girls was exhausting. A soft bed and a bit of privacy was an absolute necessity.

Julia grabbed her bags from the back of the car and climbed the rise to the cabin. The woods were so peaceful, the wind rustling in the trees overhead, the sounds of crickets filling the air with a kind of summer concert. She could smell the lake on the breeze.

Julia hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this place. It was easy to get caught up in the chaos of big city living, accepting the stress and the confusion that came with it. But here, all of that fell away and her life became simple again, like it had been when she was younger.

The inside of the cabin was exactly as she’d remembered it, lit by a globe on the ceiling fan. There were brand-new mattresses on the bunks and the counselor’s bed and the place smelled like it had just been scrubbed clean. Kate had thrown open the plank shutters to allow the breeze to pass through and a june bug buzzed against the screen.

It was nearly midnight and Julia was exhausted from the drive. She quickly stripped out of her clothes and pulled on a faded camp T-shirt, leaving her legs bare. If Frannie arrived later, she’d have to settle for one of the bunks. They could flip for the bed tomorrow.

Julia walked over to the first set of bunks, then bent down to peer beneath it. Was her journal still there after all these years? Or had someone found it? Julia sat back on her heels, suddenly bone tired. She’d leave it for tomorrow. After all, it was just a silly account about a boy she didn’t even know anymore.

She pulled the chain on the light. A soft golden glow from the yellow porch bulb still filtered inside, just enough to avoid a stubbed toe. Julia crawled between the cheap cotton sheets and pulled the faded comforter up around her chin with a sigh of contentment. Then she remembered her camp encounters with bats. At least once a summer, a nighttime intruder had driven them from their cabin. She grabbed her tennis racquet and set it on the bed beside her.

As she closed her eyes, Julia let the stress from the ride north fade into sleep. But an image of Adam Sutherland drifted through her head. With a low groan, she rolled over and punched the pillow. She was twenty-nine years old, yet there were times when she still felt like a kid.

BY THE TIME Adam pulled into the narrow driveway for Camp Winnehawkee, it was almost 3:00 a.m. He’d thought about stopping along the way and grabbing a motel room, but he’d been anxious to put the miles behind him and see the camp again.

Yellow lights lined the wide porch of the main lodge and he could see some of the camper cabins deep in the woods. Though most alumni might not appreciate the quiet of the camp at 3:00 a.m., Adam had spent a lot of early morning hours sneaking in and out and avoiding the demerits that came with breaking curfew. By the time he’d made counselor, he knew all the tricks and handed out a large share of the demerits himself.

A lot of Adam’s big life events had happened here at Winnehawkee—his first kiss, his first cigarette, his first sexual experience. He’d lost his virginity on a blanket in the middle of the woods to an older girl from a nearby town. Winnehawkee boasted a wholesome experience, but Adam knew better. He’d used the summers to escape from his parents’ stifling expectations and experience a few of life’s pleasures.

Like many of the kids at camp, he came from a privileged background—his father was the CEO of a venture capital firm and his mother, a North Shore socialite. He’d attended an exclusive prep school in a wealthy Chicago suburb and had been groomed from birth to take over the family business.

After college, Adam had wanted to go his own way, but family pressure had forced him into working for his father. Though it could have brought them closer together, it had only driven them further apart. As he’d grown more and more frustrated with the company’s blind pursuit of profit, his relationship with his father had deteriorated.

Mason and Kate had it right. They wanted to turn Winnehawkee into a place that would help disadvantaged children, not provide summer babysitting services for rich kids from the Chicago suburbs. There was a time when Adam had imagined he might do work that really mattered, but that dream had dissolved under the burden of family obligations and expectations.

But he’d begun to formulate a plan, a plan to simplify his own life. After he helped Mason get the camp on solid financial ground, he’d find a new future for himself, something that didn’t revolve around money and the acquisition of expensive toys. He wasn’t sure what that future would be yet, but he was ready for a big change.

He had enough money in his investment account to live a comfortable life for a number of years. Hell, he could just dump the entire portfolio and donate it to Mason and Kate, and still find a way to make a living. Life just wasn’t about profit and loss … return on investment … acceptable risk. There had to be more to it.

Winnehawkee had been a refuge for him. A place where he could become his own man. Now it was time to pay that forward. What had happened to that idealistic guy he’d once been? He’d bowed to family obligation and then grown used to all the benefits of a big paycheck. He was on the way to becoming his father.

Adam pulled up next to a Subaru wagon with Illinois plates and wondered who else would be spending the week. Though the cabins weren’t the most luxurious accommodations, Adam was looking forward to reliving his younger days. There were beautiful hiking trails to explore around the lake as well as canoeing and swimming. And big campfires at night.

Not knowing what to expect, he’d brought along a sleeping bag and tent, but then noticed a light over the door of one of the cabins. Mason had mentioned inviting a few other guys to help out. Sharing a cabin with them would be much easier than setting up his tent in the dark. He grabbed his overnight bag and headed up the hill. If he could catch a few hours of sleep, he’d be ready to start work first thing in the morning.

The screen door creaked as he pulled it open and he squinted to see inside with only the wash of light from the bulb over the door as illumination. He set his bag down, then sat on the edge of one of the bunks. He hadn’t realized how small they were until now.

Adam glanced over to the small alcove that held the bed for the counselor. Though the bedding looked rumpled, he could lay his sleeping bag down and at least stretch out. He walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. Shrugging out of his jacket, he tossed it behind him. A moment later, he heard a scream. Something hit him on the side of his head and Adam jumped up and spun around.

“Bat. Oh, God, bat.” In the dim light he made out the figure of a woman, flailing a tennis racquet around her head. She made contact again, this time with his forehead.

“Ouch!” he cried. “Stop that. There’s no bat.”

She went still for a moment, then screamed again, tumbling off the far side of the bed and landing with a thump on the floor. Adam searched the cabin for a light switch then finally found the string hanging from the ceiling fan. He pulled it and walked back to the alcove.

She was still there, sitting on the floor, the tennis racquet pulled up against her chest and her hair covering half her face. As their eyes met, he heard her gasp softly. “I’m not a bat,” he said, rubbing his head.