Problem was, as much as wanted to make love to this woman who was rubbing him back to life, he didn’t want her to think it was all about the sex. There was something stronger, deeper here. The kind of connection that could go the distance.
Alastair let out a groan as pain shot up his leg and into his groin. He’d worry about his dick after he got all of his feeling back.
* * *
“Here, drink this.” Halle handed Alastair a tin mug of hot tea. “Take little sips.”
“L-l-l-like I c-c-c-can m-m-m-manage more.” He was still visibly shaking, his body in all-out warm-up mode.
“If you hadn’t refused to strip down and get wrapped in the blanket for so long, you wouldn’t be so miserable now.” She’d pulled him out of the water almost an hour ago. He’d all but made her wrestle him to get him to take the wet clothes off and get in the blanket. She knew he was hurting when he made no quips about her seeing him naked or about her getting undressed with him. It had been awkward for a millisecond when her skin came into contact with his, but since his was alarmingly cold, she’d switched into first aid mode. They’d lain together on top of the bedrolls, and she’d wished she could will Alastair’s body back to normal temperature.
“I can’t believe it. You could have died out there.” She allowed the heat of her tea to warm her, ignoring the urge to return to the cocoon of heat she and Alastair had enjoyed until she sensed he was out of danger. More like his erection had clued her in. It would have been too easy to make a joke about it, to ease his obvious discomfort. But she didn’t know him well enough yet. At least not chronologically. Her soul felt as though she’d known him her whole life.
“I’m better.” His eyes were half-hooded, his expression predatory. Pretty fast recovery for a man she’d thought was going to freeze to death a half hour earlier.
As he sat and sipped his tea, she set up camp. Her tent popped up and she cast a look at Alastair, next to the fire. The sun was a distant memory and the navy sky began to sparkle with countless stars. Hypothermia was a real risk. His shivering was a good sign, but he’d been in those wet clothes for too long. She’d gotten out of their embrace and put on sweatpants and socks while he’d procrastinated at putting on dry clothing.
“I think you’d better let me help you.” She sat next to him and started to rub his arms through the crinkly metallic blanket. As she worked over him, praying his blood would start warming up and that he’d be more of the Alastair she’d spent the last three days with, a terrifying thought occurred to her.
You care about him.
Impossible. She barely knew the man. And while their physical chemistry had been often palpable over their trail ride, it wasn’t enough to ensure a promise of deeper feelings. Was it?
“Thanks. That feels good.” His teeth weren’t chattering anymore; a very good sign.
“Are you getting warmer?”
“A bit, but I’m afraid you’re right. I may have waited too long to get naked.” His expression was unreadable as she stood between the fire and him, massaging his legs. Very muscular legs that no longer felt clammy. Before her hands betrayed her and moved up under the blanket to the tops of his legs, or more accurately, between them, Halle leaned back on her heels, her hands on her thighs.
“Now’s not the time to flirt, Alastair. You could have died in the river. And all for what? Your stupid cell phone?”
“While it’s my brain trust, most of the time, I wasn’t as worried about it as I let you think. I was trying to push your buttons. It was poor flirting style on my part.” His voice had lowered, returning to its usual pitch. Halle grasped his left foot and rubbed briskly at it, then massaged his arch, his toes. He groaned with relief once the initial stiffness melted away.
“It wasn’t the flirting that was off, it was your timing.” She didn’t want to reveal too much, but after seeing him so close to hypothermia it seemed silly to play coy. “Are your muscles cramping up at all?” She was on her knees, looking up at him. If the blanket moved one inch she was going to be treated to a lot more of Alastair than she’d bargained for. She’d seen his backside as she’d stripped him, had felt his erection as he’d warmed up, but had successfully kept her gaze off any private parts. The parts that she’d see if he wore a kilt.
The vision of Alastair in a kilt was a bad idea. Now all she wanted was to touch him, everywhere. More like taste him everywhere.
“Halle.” His hands were on her wrists and he pulled her off balance, forcing her up against him. They were chest to chest, the blanket the only barrier to his bare skin. Her shirt and sweatpants felt too bulky, in the way.
“You’re feeling better, I take it.” Her voice was breathy, and she didn’t care about his risk of hypothermia any longer. Not with his eyes sparking in the firelight, her insides quaking not with cold but insane desire. Shock. She had to be going into shock over the ordeal. It wasn’t every day she came close to losing a client.
“Warm me up, Halle.” His words tugged at her resolve and she swallowed, refusing to make any move.
“No. Listen, Alastair—you, me, we’re in shock. That was a close call out there. I know you think you feel better, but believe me, you need a good night’s rest and a chance to recover from your body’s temperature drop.”
“You’ll warm me up better than anything. As a matter of fact, that’s the best way to make sure I stay warm. You get naked again, and we lie next to one another. Skin on skin.”
Her desire was at a fever pitch but she was reminded of her place. And the kind of business she did not operate. She walked a few steps away and stirred the soup she’d heated over the fire. Her hands were shaking with want. Want for him.
“Drink some more of the hot tea, Alastair. It’ll raise your internal temperature.” Her voice was as shaky as her insides. Damn it. There was no way she was going to touch him, no way she could justify—
His lips touched her throat, his blanket-wrapped front up against her back as she stirred.
“Alastair, I—”
“It’s okay to have needs other than running Bluewood, Halle.” Why couldn’t he sound like he was sick, or still chilled, or unable to think straight? Why did he have to sound so sane, so steady, so sure of what would be best for her?
* * *
Alastair knew he was coming off a bit too heavy-handed, especially for a man who’d been totally at Halle’s mercy only an hour earlier. He took a step backward, gave Halle room as he stepped to her side, in front of the small fire.
“I’m sorry—that was presumptive. I wish I could blame it on the cold water but I have a bad habit of telling others what’s best for them.”
Halle stirred the dirt with a stick she’d picked up off the ground. “I get that. When you have to rely on your instincts for so long, it’s easy to think your way is the right way.”
“I don’t know you well, Halle, not as well as I’d like to. But is it fair to say that you’ve done little, probably nothing, for yourself since your father died?”
Her lids lifted and revealed the depths of pain she’d walked through.
