dinner, the closest thing he’d had to a real social engagement in almost three years.
“What the hell am I doing?” he muttered.
It had been a simple plan—hide his identity, find out what she wanted and then get the hell out of town. But now that he knew exactly what she wanted, why was he still hanging around? He had no intention of agreeing to her proposal.
Obviously he was staying because Sarah Cantrell made his pulse race and his blood warm. From the moment he’d met her, he’d thought about nothing but getting her into bed. For a man who’d done without sex for months, that wasn’t unexpected. But his fantasies were strangely detailed, imagining the feel of her breast in his hand or the warmth of her mouth on his skin or the—
Sam cursed softly. Nothing good could come of his deception. If he had any intention of inviting her into his bed, then he needed to tell her the truth as soon as possible. Sam tipped his head back and groaned. Why couldn’t he have stumbled across a less complicated woman? Usually when he came down from the cabin, he found himself a woman with exactly the same wants and needs that he had—great sex and lots of it. So why was he even considering seducing Sarah Cantrell?
“She’s beautiful, for one,” he murmured. With a body any man would want to put his hands on. But there was more to it than just a physical attraction. Sarah Cantrell was smart and funny and stubborn and resourceful, the kind of woman who’d probably make seduction a challenge.
And women like Sarah didn’t just drop out of the sky every day, especially in Sutter Gap. If his instincts were right, and they usually were when it came to the opposite sex, she wanted him as much as he wanted her. So what was stopping him?
Carter had called her a pretty little thing. The old guy always did have a knack for understatement. There was something about the auburn hair and the perfect skin and the lush mouth that made him believe Sarah Cantrell might just be the most gorgeous, intriguing woman he’d ever met.
The thought of slowly undressing her, of running his hands over her naked body and touching her in her most intimate spots, made his pulse pound. “Right now, any woman would look good,” he reminded himself.
Sam turned off the ignition and hopped out of the SUV. “Just tell her who you are,” he said as he strode up to room number nine, “turn down her proposal and go from there.”
He rapped on the door, then stood back. Though this wasn’t a date, it sure felt like one. He was already cataloguing topics he might call upon if the conversation dwindled and she seemed bored.
A few seconds later, Sarah pulled open the door. Sam’s breath caught in his throat as the light from the room lit her from behind. Her hair tumbled in soft waves around her face. She wore a pale green sweater that clung to her body like a second skin, molding to the curves of her breasts. The neckline scooped low in the front, revealing just a tiny bit of cleavage.
Sam swallowed hard. Why did there have to be cleavage? Now he’d spend the rest of the night thinking about pressing his lips to that very spot on her body. “Hi,” he murmured.
“I’ll just be a second,” Sarah said, gracing him with a warm smile.
Sam watched her from the doorway as she gathered her jacket and purse from the bed. She wore a wool skirt that hugged her backside and revealed the tantalizing length of her legs. Black leather boots hugged her calves and an image of those legs wrapped around his waist flashed in his head. He’d forgotten just how arousing a woman’s body could be when fully clothed.
When she turned around, he was caught staring. He cleared his throat. Now was the time to come clean and tell her the truth. But then again, he didn’t want to spend the entire evening talking business. He’d wait until after dinner. “Ready?”
Sam stepped aside as she walked out, then he hurried to open the door to his SUV. When she was settled in her seat, he closed the door and circled around the front of the truck. After three years of living in the wild, he was almost surprised he remembered basic etiquette.
As he steered the truck out of town, Sam turned his attention to the sharply winding road. The lights from the SUV illuminated the trees and they headed deeper into the woods. He stole a quick glace at Sarah and saw a worried frown wrinkling her brow.
“You’re going to love this place,” Sam assured her. “The view is incredible. And the food is great.”
“How does a restaurant survive so far out in the sticks?” Sarah asked in an uneasy tone.
“It has a very exclusive clientele,” he explained.
“I—I think I’d prefer to eat a little bit closer to town.”
He pulled off the county road and carefully maneuvered the truck down a narrow dirt drive, the path marked by two ruts cut through the woods. As they bumped along, Sarah clutched the dashboard, her eyes wide. “Where are you taking me?”
Sam heard the concern in her voice and figured her mind was beginning to form images of serial killers and axe murderers. Just how far was she willing to go to find Sam Morgan? She’d already driven into the woods with a virtual stranger. Would she sleep with a wilderness guide who promised to take her to Morgan? “We’re almost there,” he said.
Sam slowly pulled the truck to a stop in a small clearing, then turned off the ignition. He jumped out of the truck and circled around to her side to open the door. But she quickly locked all the doors. “I’m not getting out,” she shouted through the window, fear lacing her words. “I don’t like it here.”
Sam held up the keyless remote and pushed the button to unlock the doors. But Sarah quickly locked them all again from the inside. Sam chuckled. “You’re willing to let me take you to Sam Morgan but you’re not willing to eat dinner with me?”
“How do know that you’re not some—some—”
“Look in the bag on the back seat,” Sam said. “You’ll find two steaks, a couple of potatoes, and a bottle of wine. We’re going to be dining al fresco tonight. There’s a nice spot just down the trail.”
She crawled over the seat and rummaged through the grocery bag. A few moments later, she opened the door, an apologetic expression on her face. Holding out his hand, he helped her down. But he didn’t let go of her fingers, determined to touch her for as long as he wanted. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, bending so close that his lips nearly brushed her cheek. “You’ll be perfectly safe with me.”
“I don’t know many psychos who know what al fresco means,” she muttered. “So I guess I’m safe. But where are we?”
Sam opened the rear door and grabbed a flashlight then handed it to her. “The best spot in Sutter Gap.” After finding a flashlight for himself, he grabbed the grocery bag. Then he took her hand and pulled her along with him on a narrow trail. When she stumbled slightly, he stopped and slipped his arm around her waist. “Are you all right?”
“These boots really weren’t made for wandering around in the woods,” Sarah explained.
“Then you’re going to need a new pair of boots,” he replied.
“Does that mean you’re going to take me to see Sam Morgan?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” Sam said. Hell, he didn’t know what he was doing. Right now, this whole
