by Avery Flynn
She didn’t know where Sam had hidden the map, but she hoped like hell it was filed away in his office just waiting to be liberated.
After he dropped his bomb earlier in the car before dumping her at the cabin, she'd gone shopping. She now owned a heavy coat, gloves and some butt-ugly hiking boots that could withstand the snow while she hunted down Rebecca’s Bounty. Glancing down, she saw the ankle-deep snow surrounding her new boots but her toes were toasty warm inside. Grudgingly, she had to admit the boots felt much better than the shoes she'd brought with her from Vegas.
Enough procrastinating, Winarsky. Just climb in the window already.
Girding herself for her first breaking and entering, she pushed the window the rest of the way up, then grasped the shoulder-high ledge. It took a couple of tries, but she managed to haul her ass through the window, balance precariously for a few seconds with the ledge biting into her hips and then she oh-so-graciously slid face first onto the floor. She remained immobile for a few minutes, her right cheek on the cool hardwood floor, listening to see if her entry had been detected. Getting to catch her breath was icing on the cake.
After examining the world's smallest dust bunny under Sam's desk for a few minutes, Josie figured her career as a cat burglar had begun in earnest. Time to get off the floor.
She targeted the file cabinet first, stepping as softly as possible while wearing heavy hiking boots. Every whispered clomp on the wood floor made her blood pressure shoot higher.
Finally at her destination, she pulled the metal handle on the drawer marked Q—S. Flicking her fingers across the files, she discovered the fat file marked Rebecca's Bounty. She'd say one thing for Sam's intense organizational skills: he sure made B and E easy. Josie plucked the file from its spot and shuffled through the papers inside in search of the map or another clue that would help find the treasure. True, she didn't know exactly what she was looking for, but it had to be there.
“Nice boots.”
Josie jumped at the sound of the all-too-familiar voice that had called out her name the other night as he’d squeezed her ass and pounded his cock deep inside her.
The overhead light snapped on. Sam sat in a chair by the office door, wearing only a pair of navy pinstriped pajama pants and a crooked smile. “Looking for this?”
“Yes.” The man or the piece of paper rolled up in his hands? Fuck if she knew.
Deliciously tousled, he didn't look anything like an uptight history professor. Gone were the starched collars, replaced with rippled abs and an ornery glint in his tawny eyes. Josie had to avert her gaze before she drowned in a testosterone wave. How many times had she challenged him to stop hiding behind the ironed Chinos? What the hell had she been thinking? A shiver ran up her spine.
“And you were just going to take it and then hunt down Rebecca's Bounty on your own, huh?”
“Yes.” The short answer was all she could manage without drooling on herself as the memory of trailing her fingers through the springy hair dusting his pecs hardened her nipples. Her gaze followed his happy trail to where it disappeared beneath his string-tie waistband, the growing bulge a bit lower giving away that he wasn't unaffected, either. The realization sparked the synapses in her brain, pulling her out of the haze of lust.
Leaning forward until his elbows rested on his knees, Sam flashed a predatory smile her way. “That's not going to happen.”
Irked at his overblown confidence, Josie cocked out a hip and curled her lips into a sardonic smile. “Says who?”
“Reality.” He waved the sheet of paper at her. “Without this, you don't know where the starting point is. You're not familiar with the area. And I think I'm putting it mildly when I say you're not exactly the outdoorsy type.”
Right, right and right. She hated that. “I figured Uncle Harlan would probably be willing to help me look.”
Sam grinned. “If he was still in town, I'm sure he'd be more than happy to help. But one visit from Mom while he was in the ER and he hoofed it back to his home in Oklahoma.”
The urge to scream her frustration nearly overwhelmed her. Every nerve in her body pinched and pulled and heat washed over her skin like a tsunami of anger. Her life had gone completely out of her command. For all the shit she gave Sam about being an anal-retentive control freak, she was his Xerox copy in every way except color. Not something she wanted to clue him in on—ever.
“So that leaves you.”
“Yep.” His eyes crinkled at the corners in a way that made her stomach do a flip.
Damn her traitorous body and that supreme look of confidence on his handsome face. He thought he'd won, the little shit. Time to regain the upper hand, though how the hell she lost it still baffled her. “You're not getting rid of me. I'm going with you in the morning.”
“Well, looks like we'll be partnering up after all.” He leaned back in the chair, not even trying to conceal the look of superiority on his face. “Working with me will be a lot easier than clocking me over the head with a blunt object and trying to figure out the starting point on your own.”
She hefted up a thick book about the history of Dry Creek County. Just holding it in her hand made her wrist shake. “I don't know, you bring out the compulsion to chuck things in your direction.”
His deep laugh caressed her skin as he bolted up from the chair. In an instant, he stood beside her. Her skin vibrated at his nearness and yearning filled her like a fast-building summer storm.
One of his long fingers traced down the open V of her black T-shirt, stopping only when he reached the pointed end. There he lingered, not pulling her shirt lower but also not removing the digit. Her pulse raced.
“We already know we work well together in private.” His lips teased along her temple. “Why not see how we function in public?”
“Why the change of heart? I thought you were going all Lone Ranger on me?”
“Because tonight just proves you'll dog my steps no matter where I go.” He pulled a curl straight and let it boing back into place.
“True.” Being within three feet of Sam Layton for longer than five minutes had her squeezing her thighs together in a vain attempt to ease the ache building in her clit. But she couldn't see a way around it. If she wanted to save her parents, she needed the map and a guide. She needed Sam. “So let's do this.”
“Since you asked so nicely.” He unrolled the paper and laid it down in the middle of his desk, securing the edges with a magnifying glass on one end and a cornhusk paperweight on the other.
Josie couldn't hold back her groan. It wasn't the treasure map, but instead another damn map.
“This is a historical map of Dry Creek County.” He pointed to a rectangle in the northwest corner, his thigh pressing from knee to hip against hers. “That is McPherson's Bluff. The marking behind it represent the badlands.”
“What are badlands?” Her voice cracked on badlands as she tried to ignore the sexual havoc his nearness evoked.
“It's a barren area that's suffered serious erosion. It has lots of dry ravines and rock formations. Even back in Rebecca's day, it was an inhospitable place to be.” His finger traced a line a few inches east. “This was Rebecca's homestead, the place she bought after leaving the wagon train. People have been using this as the starting point for a treasure hunt for decades and coming up empty.”
“So we won't go there.”
He shook his head. “Not necessarily. It makes the most sense since that's where Rebecca spent most of her pre-married life in Dry Creek. The others didn't have the map, so we can't discount the homestead right away.”
“Wait, you said most of her pre-married life.”
“That's right. Turn to page forty-eight in the book you were going to toss at me.”
Josie flipped open the tome, flicking the pages until she got to the right one. “Mrs. Joseph McNerny.”
“Bridgette McNerny was a widowed mother of six who had a farm here.” His finger slid a few centimeters southeast. “This is where Rebecca stayed righ
t after giving up on going further west on the Oregon Trail. She was there for only a month.”
“Has anyone searching starting there?”
“A few, but again, they didn't have the map so they were just marching toward McPherson's Bluff, digging at any spot that looked promising.”
“And to think the map was hidden in the diary the whole time.”
Sam pushed away from the desk, his hazel eyes focusing on her with as much intensity as if he touched her. “We miss all kinds of treasures that are right in front of us.”
The invisible line of attraction pulling them toward each other strengthened. God, he undid her. If she didn't watch it, she'd lose focus, and with her parents’ safety on the line, that couldn't happen. Forget the lust and get back to business.
Forcing her attention away from his defined chest, she turned her back to him and stared at the map. “So how do you want to work this?”
“We head out at first light, which is in a couple of hours, so you might as well rest here.”
Now that sounded dangerous. “I don't think that's a good idea.”
He drew a line of fire across the small of her back. “Why's that?”
“We need to stay focused.”
Sam glanced out the darkened window. Not even a tweet filtered in through the opening. “Dawn isn't for a few more hours.”
“Just enough time to form a decent plan. Come on, you're Mr. OCD, don't tell me you're willing to just fly by the seat of your pants.”
A heavy quiet filled the room. Sam strolled over to the filing cabinet and slid shut the drawer she'd left open. He flicked away an imaginary piece of dust from the metal surface. “Maybe I'm obsessed by something other than order these days and am willing to shake things up a bit.”
That woke up the butterflies in her stomach. The truth of it was she didn't want to leave. Hadn't wanted to since that first night in Vegas. If it had been anyone other than Sam, would she have spent so much time trying to get him to partner up in the hunt for Rebecca's Bounty? No. She would have taken what she needed and pushed forward blindly into the unknown. All by herself.
But being on her own had never felt lonely—not until she'd met Sam.
She glanced down at the tattoo on the inside of her wrist. Adventure is worthwhile in itself. How long had it been since she'd lived up to that motto? Not since L.A. For too long she'd let cynical bravado take the place of an open mind and free spirit. The one-night stands had been fun, but she'd never spent a second night out of fear of misplacing her trust again. Nothing had been stopping her from seriously painting in Vegas except for her own doubts and insecurities. So she'd dabbled and played instead of creating something that stirred her soul.
What a liar she'd become. Worst of all, she'd been lying to herself.
All this time, Josie had been pretending to be this brassy, ballsy chick when in reality she'd been hiding in plain sight, becoming just as emotionally closed off and controlling as the man in front of her. If he could break loose a little, so could she.
“Forget it. Just be back here in two hours.” He'd pulled back from her, his flirting demeanor replaced by a tension that stiffened his muscles and put a bit of a snarl to his mouth.
Suddenly jittery, Josie swallowed past her nerves. “If it's okay, I'd like to stay.”
Chapter Fourteen
Sam flipped the switch above the kitchen sink and the small florescent bulb blinked twice and then buzzed to life. Obsessed with her. Whatever possessed him to say that? Intrigued, a bit confused maybe, but he wasn't obsessed. Old man Freud laughed at him from the grave.
“Here, let me get the mugs.” Josie's shoulder brushed his as she opened a cabinet.
Caught off guard by her nearness, he fumbled the bag of coffee. It hit the floor with a thump and dark beans rolled across the beige tiles. They crouched down to grab the beans. Sam's head cracked against Josie's, knocking them both back.
He rubbed his cheekbone, now intimately aware of what he'd be in for if he ever switched places with a gong. Impressive, Layton. Way to wow her with your amazing skills.
“Are you okay?”
She snorted and massaged the top of her head. “I'll live. Man, and I thought I had a hard head.”
“You do.” Sitting back on his heels to put some distance between them, he fought the urge to push her hands aside so he could check her for injury. Oh fuck it. “Here, let me look.”
His fingers slid through her smooth curls. Right away he realized she wasn't hurt, but he kept parting her hair and pretending to examine her head while he inhaled her amber perfume. The woman sent his blood flowing south and turned him into a bumbling idiot without even trying. The smart move would be to stay the hell away from her, but his brain had lost the fight the moment she’d walked into his lecture hall.
“What do you think would have happened if we'd met here in Dry Creek instead of Vegas? If no one had ever found that map?”
Sam's gaze locked on the tile beneath his knees. Bland. Colorless. Beige. That's what his life would be like without Josie. He'd flirted his way out of his comfort zone in Vegas, drawn in at first by her bombshell looks but held tight by the intelligence and courage behind the pretty face. He never would have had the balls to even approach her in Dry Creek.
“I don't know.”
Her gray eyes didn't betray any reaction to his words. “Well, we'll never know anyway. I'll live, so let’s get that coffee made.” She brushed his hand from her head and stood up, cupping a handful of coffee beans in her palm.
“Josie…” Sam rose to his feet, bringing his body in line with hers from toes to lips.
He had so much to say to her, to explain that in Dry Creek he'd been playing the same role for so long it was nearly impossible to change. Meeting her in Vegas had been like getting struck by lightning, a one in a million chance to find a part of himself that he thought had died along with Michael. The part willing to take a risk, that wasn't afraid to stand out in the crowd.
But despite his PhD and Scrabble-worthy vocabulary, his mouth couldn't form the words.
Instead, he lowered his lips to hers, trying to tell her everything he couldn't utter out loud. His hands found her hips and he drew her closer, eliminating any space between them until her T-shirt-covered breasts caressed his bare chest.
The coffee beans spilled from her hand, pinging across the tile floor, and she wound her arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. She moaned against him and Sam took full advantage, slipping his tongue between her lips to curl around hers.
He couldn't feel enough of her, taste enough of her, have enough of her. God, would he ever be able to?
He smoothed his hands down her hips, the denim of her jeans barring him from feeling the soft flesh of her curves. The thick material frustrated him while at the same time the can't-touch-me factor heightened his need. Curling his fingers around her inner thighs, he spread her legs as he lifted her higher until her long limbs wrapped around his waist. Her hot pussy pressed against the hard cock still shrouded by the thin cotton of his pajama bottoms.
Needing to taste more of her, Sam broke the kiss and trailed his lips across her jaw, stopping only once he reached her earlobe, eliciting another moan.
She arched her neck to provide him with better access and undulated against his dick, precum already moistening the tip. The things this woman did to him. Not just with her body, but she seemed to know him almost better than he knew himself. He loved seeing the challenge in her gray eyes whenever she called him on his bullshit. Josie pushed him, made him want to be more, be better.
Her short fingernails scraped against his chest, bringing him back to the matter at hand: showing her what he couldn't put into words. She flicked his flat nipple, circling it with her thumb. Impatience vibrated off her heated skin. Wanting to stoke the flames, he abandoned her earlobe for the creamy flesh of her long neck, nibbling his way down the long column as he lowered her feet back to the ground.
Electricity sparked ac
ross his skin when her pink tongue lapped at his nipple, the normally sedate nub coming to life under her wicked mouth. He grasped the soft material at the bottom of her thin T-shirt, holding on to it as she slithered down to her knees until his hands were left holding an empty black shirt. Her mouth closed over his prick where it tented the material of his pajama pants and the world lost focus. He arched against her even as his brain tried to resist her siren's lure.
It took every last bit of sanity still in his grasp to step back and recall his purpose.
Staring up at him with her big gray eyes that had darkened to steel, Josie licked her lips. Her hard nipples fought against the sheer red of her bra. Unable to stop himself, he reached inside one cup and freed one a full breast. The porcelain of her skin contrasted starkly with the scarlet lace. Without prompting, she rolled one pink nipple between her thumb and finger while her free hand squeezed her still-covered tit. Fuck, she looked delicious.
His hands itched to reach inside his pants and stroke himself until he came all over her milky skin. His cock bobbed with excitement at the idea. Instead, he reached out and captured her chin, his thumb raking across her bottom lip and dipping inside. Never losing eye contact, she sucked and curled her tongue around the thick digit.
“You want my cock in that sweet mouth of yours, Josie?”
She nodded and increased the power of her suction.
“Good. But I need to taste you first, every inch of you.”
He reached down and picked her up and strode over to the table, where he laid her down. With hands shaking from the intensity of his wanting, he made quick work of the button on her pants, peeling them off her, revealing her long legs. He lifted her left leg into the air, putting her ankle at his mouth's level. A perfect place to begin. His lips traveled the miles from her ankle to the apex of her thighs, reveling in the smooth skin and strong muscle that twitched under his attentions. When his tongue slid along her wet nether lips, she arched her back and called out his name.
