And in maybe the most surprising thing of all, yet another thrill went through her, because suddenly, strangely, she hoped so.
THAT NIGHT, Jared Skye lay in his bed staring at his ceiling, thinking about what he’d done. A confirmed city rat, he’d taken a week off work, a rarity, to go on a trip. Not just any trip, but a camping trip, with rocks and bugs and no running water.
Definitely not the norm for him. In fact, he’d never slept outdoors, not once in his thirty-two years.
But if life had taught him anything lately, it was to go with the flow, and try the path less traveled. To seize whatever the day brought, especially if the day brought a slightly irritating, self-protective, sexy-as-hell guide leader into it.
This year he’d been given a second chance, a hell of a second chance, when he hadn’t died as he should have. As a result, he no longer waited for things to happen. He made them happen. And that meant when he saw something of interest, he did what it took to get it.
Lily Peterson interested him.
It wasn’t just a gotta-have-you naked interest either, though that had definitely been there, too. But a gotta-know-you-deeper interest.
With a woman his polar opposite.
It might seem completely illogical, this attraction, not to mention out of character, but since he no longer depended on logic to get him through the day, he didn’t care.
Nope, it was all about living to the fullest, logic not withstanding …
When he finally fell asleep, he dreamed—no surprise— of his trekking guide, with her vulnerable eyes, with the polite smile she wore to hide her thoughts, with her tough little body that he wanted arching and writhing beneath his…
No surprise then that he woke up hot and bothered, and he had to laugh at himself, even as he wished he could dive back into the dream…
Instead he got up. His first camping trip was going to be even more interesting than he’d thought.
LILY SAT straight up in bed, panting for breath and just a little bit sweaty.
She’d dreamed of being in a kayak, fighting another kayak for the best spot on the river. The best kayaker she knew was Keith, but it turned out not to be Keith out there with her, but a guy with impeccable dressing habits, and neat, short hair and designer glasses, a guy with a rather goofy, contagious grin and a rangy body that wasn’t sure or coordinated.
Jared Skye, still disturbing her.
She got up, showered away the aches and pains and lingering stiffness she’d never had before her forty-foot fall, telling herself better to feel pain than to be six feet under, feeling nothing at all.
She dressed and went to physical therapy, where she was laid flat as always by Eric, who’d missed his calling and should instead have been working for the government torturing war prisoners for information. She showered again, dressed again, and then shopped and packed for the trip, telling herself the butterflies in her stomach were hunger pains, not nerves.
But the nerves were there, quietly eating her alive.
After going over the topo maps, marking everywhere on the trail she wanted to hit, with alternate plans for unforeseen events such as one of the hikers not being able to get as far as she’d planned—or God forbid, herself—she drove to Outdoor Adventures to coordinate for the supply and canoe drops along the loop they’d be walking.
But instead of an assistant she got Keith himself, with his mischievous smile and teasing voice that brought her back. When they were done, he hugged her good-bye, letting his hands linger and his body press against her for just a beat longer than necessary.
And because it was what she thought she wanted, she let him.
“Maybe we should get a drink tonight,” he said against her hair. “And toast tomorrow’s trip.”
She wanted to want what he was offering, but suddenly she realized she’d spent her energy on second-and third-guessing herself and her ability to handle this trip, to lead an expedition into the wilderness…not to mention the doubts over her long-term goals, oh, and her ability to support herself.
Or to have a relationship…
She had nothing left.
“I’m leaving tonight,” she said, a decision she knew Keith wouldn’t question because most of the guides, and probably many of their guests, left the night before as well, staying at inns or hotels closer to the trailhead, three and a half hours away.
He looked disappointed, but let her go, and by late afternoon, she was making the drive from the bay area to the Sierras. Highway 80 was wide open, the July foliage and growth in full bloom on the hills. As soon as she hit the grade, she flicked off the air conditioner and opened the windows, inhaling deeply to get the scent of the mountains: sage and pine and everything else that felt so much more like home than any city.
She was doing the right thing. It felt like the right thing. Already, smiles were coming faster and easier than they had in too long. She took another deep breath and felt some of the terrible tension that had been with her begin to dissipate.
Feeling like the little engine that could, she kept repeating to herself I can do this, I can do this…
She arrived at the B&B just after dark, and got a surprise in the form of a tall, lean and lanky man sitting sprawled in a recliner in the reception area, sipping a drink.
Short, almost buzzed hair. Casual but elegant clothes. Easy I’m-comfortable-in-my-own-skin stance.
Jared Skye.
At the sight of her, he rose, tugging out his perpetual earpieces. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out an iPod and thumbed a switch, slipping it back into his pocket.
So much for leaving the electronics at home.
“Hey,” he said warmly, and the most peculiar thing happened.
She found herself smiling at him.
He smiled back, his eyes heating. “You staying here tonight, too?”
“Yes.” Okay, this was bad. She’d wanted to be alone, the last time she would be for four days. “But…”
Looking into her face, Jared laughed softly. “Look at you, ever so thrilled to see me.”
“I’m sorry,” she managed to find enough grace to say. “It’s…nothing personal.”
For some reason, that had his grin spreading. “Oh yeah, it is. But that’s okay.” He flashed that smile again, the one that was slightly crooked, the one that made her feel inexplicably feminine, and for some reason, also made her want to take off her clothes.
“Why don’t you join me,” he said. “I’ll get you a drink.”
“Uh…”
“Come on,” he said. “I promise not to ask you if I can wear open-toed sandals on the trip.” He laughed
