“But, Yeager—”
“Maybe the Grand Canyon or Yosemite. Or there are a few places in Maine that would be closer. Hell, even the parts of the Adirondacks might work.”
“But, Yeager, I—”
“Don’t worry about it, Hannah. I’ll take care of all the arrangements. It’s what I do for a living.”
“It’s not the arrangements I’m worried about,” she told him. “It’s the expenses.”
“Don’t worry about that part, either. I’ll cover those, too. I’ll take care of everything.”
At this, she looked angry. “The hell you will. This is my baby, too.”
Why was she getting so mad? It was ridiculous to argue about this. Yeager had more money than he knew what to do with. He could afford this better than Hannah could, and he was the one who was insisting that the conception be an adventure in its own right.
Even so, he relented. “Fine. You can pay me back after you inherit.”
“But what if I don’t—”
“You will,” he assured her. Because there was no question about that.
She thought about it for a moment and then finally nodded. “Keep an itemized list of what you spend for this,” she said. “Every mile, every meal, every minute. And bill me for my half of everything after I conceive. I intend to pay my fair share.”
Of course she did. Because even with the flashing eyes, the erotic lip nibble and the luscious skin, she was still, at heart, practical, pragmatic Hannah.
“Agreed,” he said. And then, before she could offer any more objections, he told her, “I’ll pick you up here Tuesday morning and return you here Friday afternoon. Pack for being outdoors, for warm and cool weather both. Bring clothes and shoes for walking and climbing. And sunscreen. I’ll take care of everything else.”
Well, except for the second set of chromosomes that would be necessary for conceiving a child. He’d need Hannah for that. Weird. Yeager hadn’t needed anyone for a long time. Since his parents’ deaths, he’d come to rely only on himself and had figured it would be that way for the rest of his life. He’d gotten to a point where he almost resented relying on other people for something. But needing Hannah...and needing her for this... He wasn’t resentful at all. Needing her felt oddly appropriate. Even natural.
Probably, it was some primal instinct making him react that way. Man’s inherent need to carry on the species that dated back to the beginning of time. Yeah, that had to be it. Because, seriously, what else could it be?
Five
When Yeager had told Hannah to pack for walking and hiking, she figured that meant they would be walking and hiking. So what was she doing sitting in a four-seater inflatable raft, wrapped in a life jacket and staring down a river in North Carolina that would eventually become miles and miles of whitewater?
She looked at Yeager, who was still on the dock, double-checking whatever he needed to double-check before they hurtled headlong into self-destruction. Not that he seemed concerned about that. Then again, had it not been for the raging aquatic disaster ahead, she might have been just as Zen-like as he was, because North Carolina was the greenest, the bluest, the most gorgeous and peaceful place she’d ever seen.
The closest Hannah ever came to the Great Outdoors was Central Park, a place she didn’t even have an opportunity to visit as often as she liked. And as beautiful as it was, it was often crowded with people and was still surrounded by towering skyscrapers and bumper-to-bumper buses and cabs, its sky crisscrossed with air traffic. This was her first taste of actual, honest-to-god nature. And it was incredible.
Evergreens sprouted along both sides of the river, a hundred feet high, stretching into a cloudless blue sky that was as clear and bright as a gemstone. And the air. Holy cow, it was amazing. Warm and languid, touched with just a hint of humidity and filled with the scent of pine and earth and something vaguely, but not unpleasantly, fishy. Although the water wasn’t yet rough enough to be called whitewater, it whirled and gurgled past in a hurry, tugging at the raft and vying with the wind for whose rush of sound was most eloquent.
It was hard to believe fewer than six hours had passed since Yeager had picked her up in Queens in a shiny black car, complete with driver. They’d driven to a small airport in New Jersey where they’d boarded a private jet—because, of course, Ends of the Earth had its own private jet—then made the two-hour flight to Asheville, North Carolina. It was Hannah’s first time on a plane and her first time outside New York.
They’d ventured into Asheville long enough to eat breakfast, and although the town was small by New York standards, it was still kind of urban and cosmopolitan, so it hadn’t felt too different from Queens. Well, except for the great green bumps of mountain surrounding it. But as they’d driven away from the city in the Land Rover that had been waiting for them on arrival, everything—everything—had changed.
So much green. So much sky. So little traffic. So few people. The farther they’d traveled, the more isolated they’d become, even on the highway. And once they’d exited the interstate, they might as well have been the only two people on the planet. Instinctively, Hannah had rolled down her window and turned her face to the breeze, closing her eyes to feel the warmth of the sun on her face and inhaling great gulps of air that was unlike anything she’d ever drawn into her body.
Yeager had driven up, up, up into the mountains, until they arrived at a secluded dock on the Chattanooga River, where they’d found the very raft in which she now sat. It had been conjured, presumably, by magic, along with its contents of life jackets, cooler and oars, because there wasn’t another soul in sight. Just Hannah and Yeager and the primordial earth spirits she was sure still lived here.
She eyed the river again, battling a gnarl of fear curling up in her belly. He’d told her he would go easy on her this trip and make the outing low-risk, since she was still new to the adventure thing. He’d promised the danger to her would be nonexistent. She wasn’t sure she believed him. There was a bend in the river not far ahead, and she was worried about what lay around it. Where her idea of staying safe was not climbing into a tiny inflatable raft on a raging river—or, you know, any river—Yeager’s idea of safety probably meant there was enough oxygen to last ten minutes or fewer scorpions than usual.
Potato, potahto.
“Are you sure this is safe?” she asked him.
He was shrugging his dun-colored life jacket over a skintight black T-shirt and khaki cargo shorts. Well-worn hiking boots, a gimme cap emblazoned with the Ends of the Earth logo and aviator sunglasses completed the ensemble. He looked every inch the wealthy epic adventurer. She could almost smell the testosterone oozing from every pore. She gazed down at her attire—cut-offs and a T-shirt she’d received for making a donation to public radio. Coupled with her sneakers and retro cat-eye sunglasses, and with her unruly hair stuffed into an even more unruly ponytail, she was going to go out on a limb and say she did not look like a wealthy epic adventurer. Especially in a life jacket that was two sizes too big for her.
“Of course it’s safe,” he assured her. “The rapids here are only Class Two. They have camps for middle-schoolers along this stretch.”
Hannah eyed the river again. Yeah, right, she thought. Feral middle schoolers, maybe. Who’d been raised by wolves. She couldn’t imagine any halfway responsible parent allowing their child anywhere near a river like this. Maybe she’d been too hasty in agreeing to Yeager’s condition that they leave New York. She’d rather their adventure involve eating sushi from a food truck or crossing Queens Boulevard against the light. Now that was living dangerously.
She tried to object again. “But—”
“It’s fine, Hannah,” Yeager interrupted before she had the chance, cinching the belt of his life jacket. Then he threw her one of those smiles that always kindled something inside her. “You’ll have fun. I promise. C’mon. D
o you really think I’d endanger the mother of my child?”
The warmth inside her sparked hotter at that. The mother of Yeager Novak’s child. That was what she would be for the rest of her life if everything went the way it was supposed to. What a weird concept. What they were planning would bond the two of them together forever. She’d realized that when she’d accepted his last condition, of course, but she was only now beginning to understand exactly what that meant. The man standing above her looking like some omnipotent earth god would be moving in and out of her life forever. Was she really, truly, sure she wanted that?
He hopped down into the raft with her, making it rock back and forth enough for her to seize the ropes on its sides nearest her. Her stomach pitched. If she had ever doubted that she wasn’t the risk-taking type—and, actually, she had never doubted that at all—she was now certain. They hadn’t even left the dock yet and she was already bracing for a spectacular death.
Yeager leaned across the raft, reaching past her to grab a strap she hadn’t even noticed was there. He tugged it across her lap and latched it to another one on her other side, effectively securing her in place. She should have been grateful there were seat belts in the raft. Instead, all she could do was panic that now she would drown if the damned thing tipped over.
“What do I do if—”
“The raft won’t invert,” he interrupted, reading her mind. Again. “The way it’s designed, that’s impossible. Not to mention—in case I haven’t already—this part of the river is in no way dangerous.”
Ever the optimist—kind of—Hannah countered, “Nothing is impossible.”
Yeager grinned again. “You getting hurt on this trip is.”
“Then why do I have to wear a seat belt?” she asked. “If this is as safe as you say it is, then how come even you put on a life jacket?”
“I’m an adventurer, Hannah. I’m not stupid.”
Before she could say anything more, he threw off the last line and the raft was moving away from the dock. Hannah opened her mouth to scream—it might be her last chance to draw breath, after all—then realized they were only going about five miles an hour. If that. The raft floated along the water serenely, hitting the occasional gentle bump before turning a bit and gliding forward again.
Yeager held one oar deftly in both hands, maneuvering it first on one side of the raft then the other, steering it simultaneously forward and toward the center of the river. As they gradually picked up speed, so did the wind, until it was buffeting her hair around her face in a way that was actually kind of pleasant. She shoved it aside and gripped the ropes on the sides of the raft, but more out of reflex than because she was actually frightened. They really weren’t going very fast and their surroundings really were beautiful.
For long moments they simply glided along the river, the raft rising and falling gently with the swells, turning left, then right, as Yeager guided it forward. Eventually, though, the water did grow rough and the raft’s movements became more irregular and jarring. But he handled it expertly, switching the oar from right to left to keep the raft on track. Water splashed up over the sides, wetting Hannah’s feet and face, but instead of being alarmed, she thrilled at the sensation. Every new jolt of the raft or pull of the current sent a wave of adrenaline shooting through her, making her pulse dance and her heart race. By the time the water began to cascade over the side of the raft, soaking her legs and arms, her entire body was buzzing with sensations unlike any she had ever experienced before. She held on tighter, but instead of panic it was elation that bubbled up inside her.
And then the water grew very rough and the raft was pitching over rocks and shoals, spinning and leaping and crashing down again. Water splashed fully over both sides of the craft, dowsing both of them. But instead of fearful, Hannah felt joyful. Especially when she saw how Yeager reacted to what must have been a minor feat of derring-do for him. He was grinning in a way she’d never seen him grin before, with a mix of ecstasy and exhilaration and exuberance, as if being right here, in this moment, was the absolute pinnacle of experience—and she was a part of it. Such pure, unadulterated happiness was contagious, and she was swept up into it as fiercely as he was, until she was whooping with laughter.
The journey continued for miles; the river, by turns, as turbulent as a whirlpool and as smooth as glass. During the smooth times, Hannah marveled at the scenery and the wildlife—She saw her first deer! Three of them! Right there on the riverbank!—and asked Yeager what kind of bird that was flying above them and how big pine trees could grow, and did it snow here in the winter. During the turbulent times, he schooled her in how to use her oar and laughed with her whenever she turned the raft backward—which was often.
By the time they reached the end of the course two hours after starting it, Hannah felt more alive than she’d ever felt in her life. As Yeager steered them toward a dock much like the one from which they’d departed, she was keenly disappointed that the ride was coming to an end. So when he slung a rope over a wooden post to secure the raft and turned to look at her to gauge her reaction, she responded in the only way she knew how.
“Can we do it again?” she asked eagerly.
* * *
Yeager could hardly believe that the Hannah at the end of their ride was the same one who’d climbed so carefully into the raft upriver. He’d never seen her smile like she was now, with such spirit and wonderment and...something else, something he wasn’t sure he could identify, something there probably wasn’t even a word for because it was so uniquely Hannah. She just looked more animated than he’d ever seen her, more carefree, more full of life.
Happy. She just looked happy. And he thought it odd that, as many times as he’d seen her and had conversations with her, and she’d seemed contented enough, she’d never really looked happy until now.
Then her question finally registered and he shook the other thoughts out of his brain. Or, at least, tried to. There was something about Hannah’s newly found happiness that wouldn’t quite leave him.
“We can’t go again,” he told her. “At least, not from here. We have to hike back upriver first.”
She looked a little dejected at that.
“But we can go again tomorrow, if you want to.”
“I want to,” she immediately replied. Her smile brightened again and something inside Yeager grew brighter, too.
He stood, extending a hand to her. “Come on,” he said. “We can do a little exploring before lunch.”
She unhooked her safety belt and settled her hand in his, and he pulled her to standing, too. When he did, the raft rolled toward the dock a bit, pitching Hannah forward, into him. Instinctively he settled his hands on her hips as hers splayed open over his chest. Her touch was gentle, but he felt it to the depths of his soul. His hands tightened on her hips and, not sure why he did it, he dipped his head to kiss her. She gasped when he did, and he took advantage of her reaction to deepen the kiss, tasting her leisurely, taking his time to enjoy it. And he did enjoy it. A lot.
Hannah seemed to enjoy it, too, because, without missing a beat, she kissed him back, curling her fingers into the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer. He felt her heart beating hard against his torso, heard the catch of her breath, inhaled the earthy scent of her, becoming more intoxicated by her with each passing second.
He would have taken her right there, right then, shedding their clothes in the raft and settling her naked in his lap astride him. He was already envisioning just how erotic the union would be, but she ended the kiss—with clear reluctance—and pushed herself away from him as far as she could in the small raft. Her face was flushed and her breathing came in rough, irregular gasps. What was weird was that Yeager’s breathing was ragged and uneven, too. It was just a kiss, he reminded himself. No big deal. He’d kissed dozens of women. Kisses were nothing but a prelude. There was no reason for him to feel so breathle
ss. So weightless. So senseless.
“We, um, we should probably wait until tonight,” she said softly. “Just to keep things as close to Wednesday as possible.”
Right. They were on a schedule here. Yeager understood schedules. His entire life was scheduled. Of course they should wait until tonight to ensure optimum results. Even if he suddenly didn’t want to wait. His body didn’t want to wait, he hastily corrected himself. What had just happened between him and Hannah was just a chemical reaction to a physical stimulus. He himself could wait just fine. It was only sex. No problem waiting until tonight.
Even if tonight seemed way too far away.
“You, uh, said something about exploring?” she asked tentatively, her breathing still a little frayed.
Yeager nodded. “Right. Then we can hike farther downstream to where we’ll be camping.”
“Which is how far?”
“About three miles.”
Her mouth dropped open at that. “We’re going to hike three miles?”
“Piece a cake,” he told her. “It’ll be a walk in the park.”
She shook her head. “I’ve walked in the park lots of times. That’s a walk in the park. Three miles over rugged terrain is—”
“A great way to build up an appetite,” he finished for her. He’d let her decide for herself what kind of appetite he was talking about.
Evidently she knew exactly what kind he meant, because color suffused her face again. He’d never seen a woman with such a propensity for blushing. It should have been a turnoff. Yeager liked women who were as audacious and intrepid as he was. But something about Hannah’s seeming innocence tugged at a part of him where he wasn’t used to feeling things.
Before she could object again, he cinched her waist tighter and lifted her easily up onto the dock, setting her down on her ass as she sputtered in surprise. Then he unfastened the cooler from its mooring in the raft and raised it to the dock, too, placing it beside her. After hoisting himself up effortlessly, he stood and extended a hand to her as he had before. This time, though, he was more careful when he pulled her up alongside him.
Baby in the Making Page 7
