This guy, in his pretty-boy clothes and pocket full of toys was cute enough, but her geek alert was beeping an alarm as loud as his Sidekick. “I didn’t need that parking spot,” she said.
“Okay.” He looked at her from hazel eyes that were more whiskey-brown than sea-green.
“You should have kept it for yourself.”
He seemed amused. “Not used to gift parking spots, huh?”
She wasn’t used to gift anythings.
Leaning in, he arched his brow. “A hint? The correct response is ‘thank you.’”
Damn it, he was right. She hated that. “Thank you,” she said, moving through the door he opened for her. “Twice.” She moved past him into the building’s lobby, refusing to notice how good he smelled, or that she could feel him watching her limp.
“You okay?” he asked, right on cue.
Her shoulders stiffened. “I’m good.” To prove it, she moved past the elevators, toward the door to the stairs. “I’m going to take these since you spared me the trouble of having to hike in from Timbuktu.”
He laughed, a sound that seemed to come easily, and for some reason, she turned to look at him. Laugh lines fanned out from those interesting eyes, assuring her that he laughed often. “Glad I could save you the trouble,” he said. “Think of how much gas you’d have used going to Timbuktu and back.” His Sidekick beeped again, and he reached for it. “Excuse me. If I don’t get that, it self-destructs.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Yeah, it’s not pretty.”
Probably he couldn’t make a move without something beeping or requiring his attention, and she wondered how a guy like that ever went to bed with a woman. Did he bring all his toys and leave them on the nightstand when he stripped? Not that she cared, but it was an interesting image, him naked, holding his PDA, saying “excuse me, honey, hold that thought while I get a text message.”
While he worked, she did as she usually did with things that made her uncomfortable, she walked away, letting herself into the stairwell to begin the climb. Halfway up, she thought she was going to die, and had to bend down at the knees and gasp for breath, which really pissed her off.
Damned body.
When she finally made it to the offices, she opened Outdoor Adventure’s door and immediately took a deep breath. Ah, she remembered this place fondly. There were still maps, topos and photographs of places from all over the world on the walls. The maps were dotted with pins signifying where Keith and his guides had taken people. Once upon a time, she’d been the yellow pins, but someone else had taken that color. From all around her came a familiar sense of energy and excitement, and she was assaulted with memories.
The first time she’d set foot in here, she’d been awed and thrilled and…excited. During her interview, Keith had sat on his desk, right in front of her, larger than life, gorgeous and sexy. He’d agreed to teach her to guide that day, a promise he’d kept.
After she’d lost her virginity on that desk.
Now the reception area was filled with a group of people, drinking sodas and nibbling on munchies—the custom pre-trip meeting. She took in the faces, and then one in particular—Keith’s, and just like that, she was no longer quickly approaching her thirtieth birthday without a plan, but was a nervous eighteen-year-old.
“Lily,” he said, and crossed the room toward her. His sun-kissed-wheat hair was still long to his shoulders. His baby blues, always smiling, had a few more laugh lines, but as was typical of a man, they only added character. At five-ten, his body was still whipcord-lean and tough, ready for his next trip or climb or adventure or whatever.
One never knew with Keith.
It’d been part of his appeal. She waited for the onslaught of more emotions, but interestingly enough, they didn’t come, and that disappointed her even as she knew it was silly. What had she expected, to immediately be transported back to “herself”?
Maybe a little, she admitted, no matter how unrealistic that had been.
Keith put his hands on her arms and pulled her in, kissing one cheek, then the other, lingering with both far longer than social decorum called for.
Not that Keith had ever been concerned with social decorum. He’d always done what he wanted, when he wanted, never caring what anyone thought. That had been incredibly appealing to her back then, and she smiled now, leaning into him as if he could infuse her with his strength, his zest.
“You look amazing,” he said for her ears only, handing her a drink from a nearby tray. “Now let me introduce you to your group. Everyone,” he called out, stopping the light conversation and chatter in the room with just the one word, apparently clearly still carrying charisma around in spades. “This is Lily Peterson.” He squeezed her shoulder, smiled down into her face. “I’ve put her bio in your packet, but here’s your chance to meet her in person and ask her any questions you’ve stored up.”
Everyone began chattering at once, and Keith laughed.
Not Lily. She didn’t often get nervous. After all, she’d once been stuck on a mountain in a blizzard with no hopes of survival, and she’d gone down a class-six rapid and had her kayak break apart on the rocks all around her. Hell, she’d fallen off a cliff and broken her back, to be told she’d never walk again.
But this first meeting of people…this got to her. She took a quick sip of her drink and forced a smile. “Hello, everyone.”
“Let’s start with Rose McCall.” Keith gestured to the woman closest to Lily. “Rose is a real estate agent from downtown, and is looking for something new and fun to do with herself. Hence the hike.”
Rose waggled her fingers at Lily. Her nails were long and purple-tipped, encrusted with diamonds. “Looking forward to this, let me tell you.” She wore designer jeans, low on her curvy hips and so tight Lily had no idea how the woman moved. Her black halter top was covered in sparkles that matched her five-inch heels. Her carefully applied makeup masked her age, but Lily would have guessed late thirties.
The Woman on the Prowl, Lily thought as she shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Rose smiled. “Likewise. I have a question. How do you feel about sandals?”
“On the trail?”
“Yes. My feet like to be cool. My toes need to breathe.”
“Probably they’re going to want to breathe before and after the trip,” Lily said as diplomatically as she could. “Boots are definitely best.”
“Agreed,” Keith said, and with his hands on Lily’s shoulders, turned her toward the next group member. “And this here is Roland Rocklin.”
Roland was a twenty-something guy dressed in all in black from head to toe, black fatigues, black form-fitting T-shirt, black combat boots, and he was so gorgeous Lily actually blinked.
“Rock,” Roland corrected, and held out his hand, a movement that set off all kinds of rippling muscles to
