Staking a Claim

by Devon McKay

  “Yeah,” he said through gritted teeth. “A little cold.” He tossed Sam the flannel he’d grabbed before leaving camp, hoping she would cover up quickly.

  “Thanks.” Sam flashed a smile as she slipped an arm into the shirt. “I think it may be colder out of the water,” she stated with chattering teeth, sliding her other arm through and shakily attempting to button the garment. The effort was taking much longer than Blake could stand. To help himself more than her, he pulled the article of clothing closed and swiftly fastened the remaining buttons.

  Even though she was covered, the woman continued to push him over the brink. The oversized flannel stopped at mid-thigh, leaving more to his overly active imagination than needed as long, shapely legs grabbed his attention. Decadent images of those extremities wrapped around his body enticed him. With a trembling hand, he picked up her jeans and tossed them to her. As he waited for her to finish dressing, Blake considered jumping back into the pool, although he had his doubts the cold water would help at this point.

  After building a fire and sharing a quick meal of jerky, Blake suggested turning in so they could get an early start. Sam agreed with a slight tilt of her head, however, he wasn’t sure she believed the flimsy excuse. He certainly didn’t. But he couldn’t take any more. For Pete’s sake, he couldn’t even think straight since the swim. Unable to blink away the seductive vision of Sam emerging from the creek, skin slick with droplets of water, he could barely manage a conversation. Sleep was the most logical thought he could form.

  Chapter 13

  Sam nearly jumped out of her skin. For the second time in less than five minutes, she’d heard the sound of branches snapping in the not too far distance outside her tent. This time it had been closer.

  Though, it wasn’t as if she could sleep anyway. She’d spent most of the night tossing and turning with her imagination running in crazy directions. When she wasn’t thinking of the animals lurking nearby, her mind raced with thoughts of Blake.

  Another loud noise from the woods jolted her upright. Fear ruled in the tints of twilight, overpowering any sense of what she might have deemed proper etiquette in the daylight hours. Without a second thought, she jumped out of her sleeping bag and made her way to Blake’s tent. At least he had a gun.

  She fumbled with his tent flap for several minutes before her vision adjusted, and she could see in the faint darkness. Without a word, as if he’d been expecting her, he lifted the top cover of his sleeping bag. Sam slipped inside and welcomed the immediate feeling of safety.

  Enveloped in Blake’s warm embrace, she closed her eyes and quickly forgot about the unknown racket outdoors. Snuggled in his grasp, she wiggled her backside against him until molded into the perfect position.

  There was something to be said about being comforted by a strong, handsome man. She sighed, feeling her fears diminish as she melted into his protective hold. Her heart raced, but exhaustion took over, and the calming heat of his breath against her neck lulled her into a deep slumber.

  ****

  Frankly, if this was a dream, Blake didn’t want it to end.

  It took a minute for him to realize he was awake. In fact, he’d been fighting the inevitable moment for hours. But Sam was starting to stir, and he knew the moment was closing in.

  Even in sleep, the sexy siren had challenged his self-discipline, and he wasn’t sure how much more of the sweet torment he could take.

  She stretched and released a loud yawn as the firm tightness of her butt rubbed against him. Holding back a strangled moan, it took every ounce of control he could muster not to explode.

  Sam rolled over and snuggled her head beneath his chin. Automatically, he tightened his grip, pulling her body closer. How nicely she fit, as if she belonged there.

  He could get used to this…waking up next to the beautiful woman, the scorching heat of her skin against his.

  Yeah, this was definitely something he could get used to.

  She released a soft sigh, and the warmth of her breath scalded his neck. The moment she raised her head and sleepily gazed into his eyes, he knew he was lost.

  Boldly, Sam leaned in and kissed him. Cradling her chin, he somehow managed to maintain restraint, returning the kiss with a gentle reserve he didn’t think possible.

  “Good morning,” she said, flooring him with a sincere smile.

  “Morning.” His gaze returned to her mouth, and he traced her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

  Her arms entwined around his neck, pressing firm, perfectly shaped breasts against his chest, and he struggled to catch his breath. His heartbeat escalated to an erratic beat and a charged, unadulterated tension sizzled the air between them. If only every morning was this inviting.

  A fever of need spiked through him, and for a minute, he continued to fight against it, even though he was hard as a rock. His gaze roamed over her face, centering on her eyes half-closed in desire.

  He faltered under the intense need, and passion took over as his mouth ravaged hers. The kiss, hard and controlled, at first, deepened swiftly, and he let himself go.

  He allowed his hands to roam free, hungrily devouring every part of her within reach. The smooth silk of her skin incited a riot of unrelenting yearning. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself within the innermost part of her body. To surrender and fall completely, madly in love with her.

  The sudden concept stunned him, and Blake froze.

  Where had that come from?

  Had he actually employed such a thought? Fall in love? With…the enemy?

  An image of her in the pool came to life…

  It took every ounce of strength he could render, but he managed to push away, holding her confused gaze for several moments as a twinge of remorse burned through him like a newly stricken match.

  The bewildered expression gracing her features changed quickly into one of bemusement. “Is this what you planned for breakfast?”

  The light teasing allowed him a second to regain control. A nearly impossible feat considering his blood thundered in his veins, and he ached with need.

  Breakfast indeed. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. And dessert.

  Shaking free the images such thoughts inspired, he answered her before he got too carried away. “No, not exactly.” Silently, he berated his actions. He had let desire get the best of him. The woman was vulnerable. Hadn’t the fact she ran to his bed last night been proof enough? And here he was taking advantage of her. “Actually, we were having scrambled eggs again.”

  Angry at himself, he rolled out from beneath the sleeping bag and slipped into his jeans. No doubt his departure was a little on the cold side, but Sam seemed far from noticing. The woman had all but disappeared and snuggled deeper within the folds of the down sleeping bag.

  Good. Maybe the kiss had been part of a dream after all.

  Yeah right. And so was the fierce attraction raging like an out of control forest fire between them.

  The lingering longing the kiss inspired gnawed at him. And he knew she’d been just as tightly wound as he. He’d felt her desire. The kiss, though short, simmered like coals of a fire in need of a good stoking.

  Blake slipped outside the tent and began to gather small branches, piling the twigs on the fire pit as he began to question his behavior. How could he desire a woman he didn’t even like?

  He stopped in his tracks. When had he started lying to himself? It wasn’t Sam he didn’t like. In fact, he was darn near infatuated with her. Just hated what she did for a living. Would he ever be able to separate the two? Not likely. Her chosen profession was as much a part of her as his was a part of him. No, his best bet was to simply keep their relationship on a professional level. He’d agreed to play tour guide, and that was exactly what he’d do. All he would do.

  Easy, right?

  No.

  He could still feel the fire of her skin…the silkiness of her hair against his cheek.

  Blake lit a match, and held the flame underneath the kindling until the dry w
ood caught fire. Reaching for a pan, he opened a pouch of powdered eggs and poured in some water. Breakfast was cooking, but eggs were the furthest thing from his mind.

  ****

  “I can imagine living here. All the amazing pictures I could take. Not to mention hiking or whatever else is up your sleeve. It’s endless. Even horseback riding is becoming fun.”

  Blake smiled as Sam rambled on, and they continued their hike. The woman was charming. Endearing in fact, despite the torment she’d put him through this morning…torture he was experiencing tenfold today.

  He could still feel her body, hot and desirable, as it pressed against his. The memory invoked his manhood, reminding him with a consistent pressure how much he needed release. Lord knew, he couldn’t deny how much he wanted her. Kissing the woman had been the exact way he’d imagined it would be, uninhibited and leaving him hungry for more. Not to mention out of control. Just one touch and he’d been shamed with a blustering, almost brutal need.

  Of course, he was paying for it. Spending the day with Sam had been pure torture. For starters, there was the damn floral fragrance with a hint of vanilla she left in her wake. A lethal combination of romance and mystery; the enticing scent was all her own. And all over his clothes…still on his skin.

  Yet, she acted as if he never tasted her sweet lips. As if he didn’t still feel the undercurrent of passion in her kiss. Instead, they had spent their day as if what they had shared never even happened.

  And it was killing him.

  A spike of irritation prickled underneath his skin, and he couldn’t help but wonder how it was so easy for her to dismiss the strong stirring of passion they’d embraced earlier.

  Blake spared a sideways glance in Sam’s direction. Even now, the woman was driving him to distraction, and she was doing nothing more than bending down and scooping more water from the creek into her gold pan. He doubted she was aware of the way her jeans clung to her shapely backside. Of course, he had another memory of her backside—the sight of her nearly bare buttocks.

  No, Sam didn’t have a clue. For the past hour, she had been determined to learn the art of gold panning. Instructing the little lady had been quite a task. After an hour of trying to explain and having to stop for her to take notes, it was easier to teach her with a more hands on method. And that required wrapping his arms around her. But there was only so much a man could take.

  “Oh, my stars, I can’t believe it. I actually struck gold,” Sam exclaimed, garnishing Blake’s full attention.

  A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and his irritation started to wane as a wide grin spread across her face. Her green eyes twinkled with excitement. She appeared as carefree as a child. Twirling in a circle like an off-balanced ballerina, she held up the gold pan victoriously.

  Was it any wonder he couldn’t keep his hands off of her?

  “See? I’ve struck gold,” she exclaimed again, shoving the pan under his nose.

  She was right, he noted, as tiny flakes glimmered in the sunlight. It had taken several hours, but she did indeed strike gold. He didn’t have the heart to tell her it wouldn’t add up to more than a handful of change in the metal pan.

  “Whoa, easy girl, you’re going to end up losing your millions,” he said, reaching out to steady her hand. Such jubilance was infectious.

  Taking the pan, he used his index finger and carefully scooped up the golden flakes, placing them in a small glass jar he’d retrieved earlier from the backpack. He handed the container over to her, and she held it up to the sky, using the sun to highlight her treasure.

  “I like it when you let your hair down. You have to admit, we’ve had a pretty great weekend. It doesn’t always have to be about your work. You can relax and have a little fun, too.”

  Instantly, the smile froze on her face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said rigidly, before turning away.

  Blake shook his head, noting the drastic change in her demeanor. In a matter of seconds, she’d gone from carefree and playful back to all business.

  “Sam, I just meant I like this side of you,” he admitted, placing a firm grip on her shoulders and swinging her back around. “It makes you normal, like you don’t have a stick stuck up your as—”

  She gasped, sucking in a loud intake of air.

  Blake stumbled on his words, trying to take back the statement. “What I meant was…it’s just…who cares if you aren’t professional all the time? I don’t. I prefer it when you let this side of you come out to play. It’s adorable.”

  He caressed her cheek gingerly and noted her tense under his touch. Just a slight bit, but enough to sour the moment with guilt. The sudden move reminded him of what they’d shared this morning, and how he had pulled back without an explanation.

  “You mean like this morning?” Sam inquired with a steely gaze.

  “About that,” he began, not sure how to justify his actions.

  “I guess I let my hair down a little too much for you,” she interjected sarcastically, cutting him off. “What is this creek called anyway?”

  Relieved, he accepted the quick change of topic. “This creek? You mean the creek where Samantha Held just struck her first million?” The joke fell flat, but he continued with a more detailed description. “Quartz Creek. It’s a runoff from the river.” Blake swung his arm and pointed off to the right. “I was planning on taking you there tomorrow.”

  “How did you know about this place?”

  He could see her mind reeling and her inquisitive nature jotting down mental notes.

  Yep. Definitely back to business.

  “This is Langford land. I own it. I’ve got over fifty acres. My cabin’s just over the hill.” He thrust his thumb over his shoulder. “About a fifteen minute walk.”

  “So close? How? Yesterday, we hiked for hours, and today, we couldn’t have walked more than an hour or two.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “We were always on my land. We went up the backside and hiked down a trail used as a short cut.”

  “But the homesteader’s cabin…” Sam questioned.

  “Came with the land. I never sought out to buy it,” he answered honestly. “Other than that, I don’t have much more information. I’m not even sure who the original homesteader was, but I do know a few families tried to work the land. All were unsuccessful.”

  His family being one of them.

  “If you own the land, do you own the Hilton, too?”

  He shook his head. “The rental cabins aren’t actually on my land. I’ve been trying to buy them for years. I thought it would be a great addition to the ranch. Kind of a bed and breakfast thing, but the seller won’t budge.”

  “If he ever sells, I could help you in that department,” Sam offered. “Or not,” she responded quickly, adding a shrug when he failed to answer. “It’s up to you. For now, I’d settle on seeing your cabin again.”

  Blake swallowed hard. The proposal was subtle, not forced down his throat like it had seemed before. No glitz or glam. No bells or whistles. Just a simple offer to help his business grow. Something a friend would suggest. Holding onto his convictions was becoming a near impossible feat. In fact, he was starting to question his sanity. Perhaps he never gave her a fair shake?

  But that would mean letting his guard down even further. Honestly, he just wasn’t sure he could completely trust her.

  Or himself.

  He breathed a heavy sigh as Sam turned and made her way to their backpacks. Waiting patiently while she grabbed her things, he helped with the hefty pack, and led her toward his home.

  After a brisk walk, he could see the peaked roof of his cabin looming ahead. The sight of the structure shifted his thoughts. It had been a tremendous amount of work, taking years to complete. Blake had thrown his heart and soul into building the home.

  They walked in silence for several minutes before reaching the cabin.

  “I know you saw the outside a few days ago, but it’s not nearly as impressive as the view
from inside,” he admitted vainly, failing to add the view he was bragging about was from his bedroom balcony.

  Stepping onto the wraparound porch, Sam stopped to admire the hand-stripped, wooden beams. She ran a finger along the smooth plank, and he could tell by the slight smile she was impressed.

  “I’m good with my hands,” he confessed, opening the door. The statement pricked the air, stoking and stirring the tight wire of sexual tension between them.

  Sam’s chin rose, and their gazes locked. She bit her bottom lip as if she was holding back a smart retort. After a moment, she simply nodded and entered the cabin.

  The living room was large and spacious, and the kitchen, straight ahead, was easily accessed and separated, but still a part of the living room. Off to the side was a spare bedroom and guest bathroom. Sam placed her things down by the door and walked to the window.

  “Is this the view?” she asked, drawing back an espresso curtain.

  Blake shook his head. “No. The view is…well, the best view is upstairs from my bedroom balcony.”

  Self-consciously, he grinned, hoping she didn’t think the only reason he brought her to the cabin was to finish what they’d started. He winced internally from the guilty truth rearing its ugly head. To be honest, he wanted nothing more.

  “I’d like to see it.” Her face flushed a becoming shade of pink. “Upstairs?” she asked with a curious expression before making her way to the stairs.

  He watched her climb the steep staircase. Halfway up, she paused, flooring him with a coy glance over her shoulder. After a moment, she nodded her head toward the bedroom and then continued. Blake, unable to ignore the subtle invitation, followed her up the stairs.

  Reaching the landing, he heard her quick intake of breath. A sense of fulfillment swelled in his chest. He knew the top floor was impressive. The master suite filled the entire upper level, utilizing every inch of the expansive space.

  Without a word, she walked through the room, past the bed, and out the set of French doors leading to the enclosed balcony, which overlooked the wilderness below. He stood back and observed. She cast another quick glance over her shoulder before patting the wooden rail in an unspoken invitation to join her.