of those rescuing feet wrought inside her.
Mack was coming after her.
In a second, he was there, his arms going around her, lifting her out of the damp mud.
Her back was against his chest, she raised her head. His chin was at her mouth so unnervingly close, Cammie Jo forgot everything but the smell of his woodsy skin and how good his solid body felt. Rampant lust raged through her, startling her with the sheer magnitude of erotic sensations.
She wanted him. Hotly, desperately, madly. Here. Now. On the forest floor, in the woods, in the creek. With the squirrels and birds and rabbits watching. He was magnificent. He was sexy. He was…
Laughing at her.
“What’s so funny?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes at him.
“You are, Sugar Plum.”
“I’m not your sugar plum.”
“No,” he said, “I dare say you’re not.”
“Good. So stop laughing.”
“I can’t. You should see yourself. Miss Priss is a mess. Twigs in your hair, mud on your cheek, moss stains on your jacket.”
“Who are you calling Miss Priss?”
“As if you didn’t know.”
“Where is everyone?” She plucked leaves from her curls and looked up at the embankment for signs of the other hikers.
“I sent them on ahead to catch up with Caleb.”
“So it’s just you and me?”
“Yeah.” His voice was husky. “Alone.”
Uh-oh, what was that dangerous look in his eyes?
“Why are you on this hiking trip? Shouldn’t you be out ferrying tourists back and forth from the airport or something?”
“You don’t want me here?”
“I didn’t say that.”
He cocked his head. “Ever since we ran the ad, Caleb’s been swamped with unexpected business. Tuesday mornings are usually slow for me so I’m pitching in for the summer. Helping out a buddy.”
“And getting a eyeful of the backsides of sexy young women.”
“That too.” His grin turned lopsided and he tightened his grip on her waist. “And your backside is the best I’ve ever seen.”
“Liar.”
He held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
“You were a Boy Scout?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I find that hard to believe.” She also found it hard to believe that she was standing here in a dark forest alone with the sexiest man on the face of the earth.
“It’s true.”
“Guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“If I kiss you again, will you run away like you did last night?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Why did you run away?”
“Er…because I had something in my eye?” That was no lie, she’d had contacts in her eyes.
“Then why did you climb out the bathroom window and leave me with a broken heart?” Dramatically he clutched a hand to the left side of his chest.
Cammie Jo snorted. “Your heart wasn’t broken.”
“But it was.” His tone was light but the expression in his eyes told her she had wounded his pride.
“A girl’s entitled to cold feet, isn’t she?”
“Oh, so that’s what happened.”
Somehow he’d shifted her around in his arms and they were no longer back to chest but chest to breasts and his face was right there, just waiting to be kissed.
“Are your feet cold now?” he murmured.
“Well, they’re pretty wet. I forgot to wear wool socks like they tell you to do in the guide books.”
He made a clucking noise with his tongue. Tsk. Tsk. She wondered what it would feel like to have him make that same sound inside her mouth.
“You’ll never be a good wilderness woman with that kind of memory.”
“Nor by the way I skim helter-skelter down embankments.”
“True enough.” He languidly plucked a twig from her hair, his rough fingers skimming through the silkiness of the loose strands. How many times had she dreamed of moments like these, of being held by a man like this? “But I’m imagining you must have other skills that’d compensate for your lack of memory and balance.”
“You’d think.”
They peered deeply into each other’s eyes. Neither of them blinked or looked away.
“I’m only guessing,” he said. “But yeah, I bet you’ve got a lot of hidden talents. Can you cook?”
“Nope.”
“Sew?”
“’Fraid not.”
“Good with numbers?”
“Sorry.”
“Hmm, so you’re completely without talents?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Ah.” His pupils widened.
“Keep your mind out of the gutter, McCaulley.”
“How do you know where my mind’s at?”
“That wicked twinkle in your eye.”
With the cool air and the dimness of the forest floor contrasting with the heat and brightness of Mack’s eyes, Cammie Jo’s body came alive like a blossoming flower.
“I would like to kiss you,” he said. “But I’m nervous about making the first move. Considering your cold feet and all.”
“That’s thoughtful of you.”
“That’s me, Mr. Thoughtful.”
“Mr. Full-of-himself is more like it.” She grinned.
“So what’s it gonna be? Do we get up, climb out of here and go find the others or…”
“Or
