by Jill Shalvis
“She didn’t have to do that, I can catch a cab to the hospital.”
He chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that did funny things to her belly, even though that laughter was clearly directed at her.
“They don’t have cabs in Wyoming?” she asked, a little defensively.
“Sure.” He lifted a broad shoulder. “But even if you managed to get one, it’d cost you about a hundred bucks to go that far.”
A hundred dollars. More than she had. Her shoulders slumped. “A bus then?”
“No such luck. But don’t worry. I’m not as bad as they say.” A wicked gleam came into his eyes. “Not quite.”
Who was he kidding? He looked bad to the bone, a fact that was both oddly thrilling and disturbing at the same time.
She wanted to be bad to the bone, just once. “Look, Mr. Chance—”
“Just Chance.”
“Chance,” she corrected cautiously. “It’s nothing personal, really, it’s just—” That she’d sworn off men, especially men like him, men who could make her every nerve sizzle by just standing there. “I don’t take rides from strangers.”
“Ah. Spoken like a true city girl.”
“Well, I am a city girl.”
“I’d never have noticed,” he said wryly, taking in her wispy sandals, her lightweight khakis, her even more lightweight blouse. “And we’re not strangers. Lucy is more like my family than…” Something flickered in his deep, unreadable gaze. “Well, my family.” He stepped close, so close he blocked out the bright sunshine with his big, rugged body.
Ally barely came up to his chin and she backed away, because learning to be tough didn’t mean she had to be stupid.
“Hey, relax.” He lifted his hands in innocence, but somehow she doubted he’d ever been innocent. “You’re turning blue is all.”
“That’s because I’m freezing.”
“Should have brought a jacket.” He looked very nice and toasty in his. He slipped his hands in the pockets. The leather crinkled enticingly, looking luxuriously warm, and in envy, her entire body leaned toward it.
Chance’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t ask you to share.” But then she shivered again, and with a disgusted look, he yanked the leather off, leaving him in a soft-looking, black T-shirt.
“Here, dammit.” His arms were as tanned and rugged as his face, and roped with strength. When he held out the jacket, she caught a glimpse of a small tattoo where his sleeve was stretched taut over his biceps.
Bad to the bone, she thought again. “I couldn’t.”
“Now you’re being stubborn.” He set the jacket on her shoulders, enveloping her in his lingering body heat and outdoorsy, very male scent. For a second, his hands skimmed over her shoulders, then he slipped them into the pockets of his jeans, legs spread wide on the ground, sure and confident in a way Ally reluctantly had to admire. He was everything she wanted to be, here in Wildland, U.S.A.
“A thin blouse isn’t the smartest thing to be wearing in the mountains,” he noted. “It could still snow. You’ll need to be more prepared.”
She wondered how prepared he’d be in her world. But the truth was, T. J. Chance looked pretty darn capable. Without a doubt, he’d fit in anywhere, he’d make sure of it.
And suddenly her newfound and not quite secure baby-new strength deserted her. For a terrible moment, it all seemed so completely overwhelming. The loss of her job, her apartment, her quiet, happy life…and now this too rugged, too masculine, too everything man was looking at her as if she was an idiot.
Well she was an idiot. She’d lost her job, her apartment. She’d lost her dignity and all self-confidence.
“Ah hell,” he said, going very still as he looked at her. “You’re not over there crying, are you?”
Ally got busy trying to suck it all up, trying to be the tough girl she wanted to be, but he looked so fierce with all that bad attitude blazing from his eyes, that the harder she tried, the more her eyes stung from the effort.
“Perfect.” He sounded so annoyed, that a laugh shot out of her, which had a tear escaping down her frozen cheek.
He pointed at her. “Stop it.”
Of course she couldn’t, and he slapped at his pockets, muttering beneath his breath as he thrust a napkin under her nose, reminding her of the incident with the professor.
His handkerchief had been soft cotton, laundered and pressed.
This napkin was rough and rumpled paper.
“Take it,” he demanded roughly. “Take it and knock off the waterworks. They don’t work on me.” Before she could take the proffered napkin, he grabbed her arm and led her through the terminal, stopping inside to once again shove the napkin at her. “Your nose is running.”
Perfect. She swiped at it and gave Mr. Rough and Tumble a sideways look. He seemed unraveled, and she found it…amusing. He was insensitive. In a hurry. He was edgy and quite likely to be horrible to work with. And tears scared him. It made her want to smile for some silly reason. She sniffed loudly, relieved to be on the edge of good humor again instead of the mortifying tears.
“I’ll go get the Jeep,” he told her. “You stay here and just…stay here.” He backed away as if she had the plague.
Odd how much better that made her feel, scaring the scariest of them all.
“I’ll be gone only a minute.” He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Don’t worry.” She blew her nose again. “I’ve filled my stupid quota for the next few moments at least.”
He looked at her as if he thought maybe she’d lost her mind. And she most definitely had, because suddenly, she couldn’t wait to get started with the rest of her life. She zipped up his big, soft jacket and snuggled deep into the warmth. It smelled like citrus soap and one-hundred-percent man, and because it was so delicious, she inhaled deeply.
Then, because she felt good and ready, she also took his ride.
CITY GIRL GOT herself together quickly, a fact that made Chance most grateful. God, he really hated the feeling that came over him when a woman cried. Frustrated. Stupid. Guilty, though it couldn’t have possibly been his fault, not this time.
No way.
But there was no denying that Ally Wheeler reminded him of Tina. Though she’d been dead ten years now, just looking at Ally’s slender frame, at her obvious naiveté, was a sharp, very unwelcome reminder of his past.
What had Lucy been thinking, bringing this woman here? It had to be some sort of misguided family loyalty. He wondered if either of his own two older brothers would feel that same family loyalty if he needed something.
Yeah, he had to admit, they would. No matter that the three of them rarely saw eye to eye on anything, that they didn’t understand each other, they’d come through.
“Th-think we can have the heat on?”
He glanced at his temporary boss. She was huddled on the seat of his Jeep, her arms wrapped tight around her middle, her lips still a most interesting shade of blue, even as her chin was jutted up in the air. Hey maybe she’d get so cold she’d want to go home. He cheered up at the thought. “It’s warm enough in here,” he told her.
She leaned forward and turned on the heater herself, sighing with pleasure when the hot air hit her legs.
He shook his head and concentrated on the road. “You’ll hate winter.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t be here that long.” Her teeth were chattering. “N—not that it’s your concern.”
Only a woman could go from vulnerable to annoying so quickly. “Everything you do while you’re here is my concern.” Which rankled. The last thing he wanted was to be responsible for a lightweight who got cold in sixty-degree weather.
She looked at him with wide eyes the amazing color of a stormy gray sky, and it made him narrow his own, realizing he’d only given her a cursory glance before. Her hair, a wild honey-colored mess from the wind, lay in tangles around her face. Her curvy body was an asset, in spite of her habit of hunching her shou
lders, as if she was trying to disappear.
She wasn’t his type. Nope, he liked a woman fast, earthy and as wild as the Wyoming landscape around him. Oh, and let’s not forget overtly sexual. Yeah, someone who enjoyed her body and knew how to use it. Antsy Ally was none of that.
“Why is that?” she asked.
Chance had lost track of the conversation. He leisurely ran his gaze back up to her eyes. “Why what?”
Irritation flickered, and she crossed her arms tightly over her breasts, which only amused him, because now they plumped up nicely, giving him an even better view.
“Why am I your concern?” she repeated.
What was it Lucy had demanded of him? Take good care of my Ally. Her safety and welfare are on your shoulders. Dammit. He promptly forgot about Ally’s breasts and remembered his irritation. “Everything and everyone at Sierra Peak is my concern,” he said curtly.
Her eyes went even wider. “You work at the resort?”
“I am the resort. I’m the mountain manager.”
A sound that was little more than a squeak escaped her before she cleared her throat and tried again. “What exactly does a mountain manager do?”
“Besides report to the GM?” He downshifted to take a tight mountain curve and shrugged. “Anything and everything. I lead treks, plan expeditions. Petition land trusts for more property. Blaze new trails to lure world-class athletes from all over the world.”
“All that?”
“I also set up all the competitive events.”
“Oh.”
“And both the ski patrol and our new biking patrol are under my command, as well as the rest of the staff.”
“So…you do it all.”
“Yup.”
“And what do I do as GM?”
He grinned. “Manage me.”
She stared at him with such horror he would have cracked up if she wasn’t to be his boss, for all intents and purposes, until Lucy returned. To say he didn’t appreciate authority was an understatement.
“So…you probably know how to ski and bike and do all that outdoor stuff really well, right?” she asked.
“Everyone on the staff is an accomplished athlete. It’s a requirement for employment.” He took his gaze off the road and settled it on her. “Unless, of course, there’s some sort of family deal.”
She blushed and nibbled on her lower lip. “Lucy asked me to come.”
He knew that, and had no idea why it bothered him so. Why she bothered him. “And now I’m a baby-sitter.”
Her eyes flashed at that. “I don’t need a baby-sitter.”
“Good. I don’t want to be one.”
“Well then, don’t even think about it.” What looked like years of frustration poured from her as she spoke. “For once I’m going to do what I want, when I want, without worrying about which sister has tuition or which other sister needs me to straighten out one of her messes.” She used her hands when she talked, and he wondered if she used her hands like that during sex.
“I’m going to stop thinking about everyone else and think about myself for a change.” She nodded sharply, as if reinforcing the decision. Her eyes glowed with passion. “I want to do as I please, when I please. If I want to go dancing barefoot in the grass, I will. If I want to go howl at the moon, I will. I’ll go hog wild if I feel like it. Whatever comes my way, I’ll do it.” Then she lifted that stubborn chin and flashed pride out of her stormy gaze. “On my own.”
All that fierceness, mixed in with her obvious naiveté, both terrified and aroused him. Which in turn annoyed the hell out of him. “Fine.”
“Fine,” she repeated, then fell silent through the next set of winding curves, which he liked. Silence was good.
And apparently she’d finally warmed up because she’d stopped hugging herself. Not that he cared that she’d been cold, but now all her nice curves were right there for his perusal, only inches away.
How did a prudish librarian end up with such a lush body anyway?
“Lucy probably finds herself bogged down with paperwork most of the time,” she said eventually. “You know, from behind a desk, right?”
Lucy behind a desk? Not unless she was chained there. In their mutual running of the resort, he and Lucy had meshed perfectly. “Did she happen to mention why she’s in the hospital?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah.” She fell silent again, but for a shorter time, dammit. “You do a lot of dangerous stuff, then?”
He sighed, loud and long. “Are you going to talk all the way back?”
She blinked, and shut her mouth.
For one blessed moment.
“I guess I am going to talk all the way there,” she said.
“Terrific,” he muttered.
“So…do you find yourself living on the edge a lot out here?”
She thought bike riding was living on the edge? This was going to be one hell of a long haul. “Yep, we like our edge out here.”
“Oh.” She bit her lower lip. “Well, I’ve read about it.”
Great. She’d read about it. He laughed.
She didn’t. She looked resolutely ahead at the beautiful landscape. “Things are going to change here though,” she said softly. “I can feel it.”
“Is this about the going hog wild thing?”
“None of your business.”
Oh, now she wanted to be private. “You’re not under some misguided impression that you’re going to change your lack of living on the edge while you’re here, right?”
“Yep.”
“Oh, no you don’t.”
“Oh no I don’t what?”
He only groaned. “Just what I need. A walking, talking, irritating accident waiting to happen.”
Her disbelief was clear. “Excuse me?”
“Not on my watch,” he said firmly. “No way.”
“Well I’m not on your ‘watch,’ so relax.” She turned from him and once again looked out the window.
Oh yeah. Right. Relax. She didn’t have a clue. He was short-staffed and exhausted from working around the clock since the fire. The fire that was now going to set back their summer season God only knew how long, and cost a ton of money that Sierra Peak Resort couldn’t afford to lose.
And she wanted him to relax. Good luck. He loved his life here, he really did. His job fulfilled his serious sweet spot for thrill and excitement. His whole life had, ever since his father had first taken him to Tibet at the age of five, where they’d climbed mountains for three straight seasons.
In his own unorthodox way, his father had tried to instill a deep sense of wanderlust within each of his three sons, and the need to constantly push for bigger and better. Chance’s two older brothers, Brandon and Kell, hadn’t exactly embraced the family lifestyle. Like most others, they’d never understood the wanderlust, the inexplicable need to explore and seek adventure. As a result, they’d also never understood their father, or Chance. Both had rebelled against their unstructured and atypical childhoods, and gone in the opposite direction—straight into the military.
Not Chance. Blindly follow authority? Never. He relished his freedom and independence too much for that. As his father before him, Chance craved…well, adventure. Freedom. Not many understood the need. Certainly not a woman, though Tina had been the only one to come close to making him believe she had.
She’d been a kindergarten aide in Colorado when he’d come through on a skiing binge. They’d both been nineteen. Chance had skied his brains out by day and seduced Tina’s brains out by night. She’d been so sweet, so fragile. Compassionate. Ridiculous as it had seemed, he’d been inexplicably drawn to her, and try as he might, he couldn’t get her out of his system. When it had come time for Chance to move on, she’d wanted to come with him, but he couldn’t see her living his wanderlust lifestyle. She’d insisted, tried to prove to him she could by going on a month long trek with her girlfriends. Within five days, just enough time for her to get good and deep into the wilderness in Canada, she’d fallen ill. By th
e time she’d gotten to a hospital, she’d had pneumonia.
She’d died there.
And though he’d told himself he hadn’t loved her, his chest had felt as though it had caved in. Most of it had been guilt, but he had a terrible feeling it’d been more, much more.
Never again had he fallen for a sweet, little thing with huge, expressive eyes. Never again had he let a woman convince him he needed her for anything but a hot, lusty sexual release.
It’d been awhile since any sort of sexual release at all, thanks to his insane work schedule. Which had to explain why he was driving this annoying-as-hell woman—who just happened to have big, expressive eyes, damn her—and all he could think about was the way that her blouse had continued to cling her to her like a second skin.
Suddenly hot, he leaned forward and flicked off the heater, at the exact moment she leaned forward to crank it up. Their hands brushed, and when he looked at her, his mouth was only a fraction of an inch from hers.
Skittish, she jerked back, and he had to smile grimly. No hot, lusty sexual release coming from that corner.
Now she had her nose pressed to the window, watching the magnificent landscape go by, and he had to shake his head. “I’m guessing you’ve never been in the wilds before.”
“Not unless you count the downtown bus station at about five o’clock in the afternoon.”
“That’s a zoo, not the wilds,” he said, disgusted, and unable to help his curiosity, he asked, “You’ve never even camped?”
“Once.” Her lips curved, and her eyes unfocused a little as she remembered. “In my backyard. I ate marshmallows, drank sodas and sang songs. It was wonderful. Then I was bit by a spider and it got infected, and I threw up the marshmallows. And then on the way to the bathroom, I slipped on the garden hose and broke my ankle.” Her mouth twisted wryly. “Haven’t camped since.” She sighed. “Or eaten marshmallows.” Then she bit her lip and slid him a glance. “And you should know, the last time I was on a bike I broke my arm. I was twelve. But I can swim, just not really well.”
