French Kissing
Page 17
She could almost hear his grin. “No. Five nights in a tent. The days we’ll go out.” He dropped his voice. “Unless we decide to stay in bed.”
Beneath the horror of what she’d committed to, Kimi experienced the excitement of knowing she was going to have him all to herself for five days and nights.
THE MINUTE SHE SAW him again, all her anxieties, second thoughts and exasperated this is not me visions of herself disappeared. Holden was there, at the airport, to meet her, folding her into his arms so tightly she thought she might spend the next five days in a hospital instead of a tent.
Eventually, he drew back and she saw the man she’d first seen. A little rumpled, rough and outdoorsy. And he looked better to her than the whole fall Armani collection put together.
His eyes crinkled as he took a good look at her. “You’re wearing hiking boots.”
“Don’t gloat.”
“I’m not. You look fantastic.”
She leaned in close. “Under all this outdoors gear I am wearing silk lingerie from Paris.”
In the middle of the airport he threw back his head and laughed. “You are definitely my ideal woman.”
He grabbed her yellow backpack and hoisted it over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
It didn’t rain. Even though she brought the all-weather jacket, the weather was gorgeous for June. Warm and sunny. Her hiking boots were comfortable—of course she’d made a fool of herself breaking them in tramping through Central Park, but it was worth the trouble she’d taken. They were comfortable and sturdy and of course five days alone in a tent with Holden was an entirely different experience than a month in tents packed with teenage girls—apart from the three terrifying days and nights she’d been completely alone in the wilderness.
“You have to admit the great outdoors has some advantages over a crowded city,” Holden murmured in her ear on their fourth day. They were both naked. Sunlight dappled their skin and only the trees and the odd chipmunk were around to witness their passion.
“You think this view is better than the Eiffel Tower?”
He nuzzled her breast. “Definitely.”
Tomorrow they’d drive back to his place and then she’d fly out the next day, back home. Saying goodbye again.
Was this just another quick intense visit? Could they keep this up? A Steller’s jay hopped to a nearby rock and perched there, its head to one side, blue wings ready for flight, observing them greedily, hoping for handouts. To her amusement, she was starting to know the local flora and fauna, thanks to her mountain-man tour guide.
She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. “You know,” she said, “I’ve been thinking.”
“Mmm. Me too.”
“Really? What about?”
“How well you fit in with my life. Once you quit whining about missing macchiatos and your eyelash curler, you did okay.”
She smacked him. “The only thing I whined about was my cell phone. I’ve never been this far from a phone since the cell phone was commercially available.”
“There’s no service up here. No point in lugging a cell around. Only a global phone works out here.” He brushed his palm over her breast and she shivered. “You did good.”
“I’m having fun. You have possibly cured me of the outdoor-experience phobia I developed in wilderness-survival camp.”
“Was it watching the pod of orcas that convinced you?”
“No. Spectacular as that was, I think it was all the great sex that sold me.”
He chuckled, then suddenly grew serious, and with an expression in his eyes that made her pulse quicken, he kissed her, the kind of kiss that says more than words can. But then he said the words anyway. “I love you.”
A weird noise, almost like a ringing phone interrupted him. She raised her head. “What is that noise?”
“My global phone.”
Her jaw dropped. “You have a global phone and you never told me?”
He didn’t bother to answer the obvious, just jogged over to his pack—and she hoped he hurt his bare feet on the rocks—and hauled out the phone. “MacGreggor.”
While she watched him on the phone he’d snuck in under her nose, he nodded. “Yeah, sure I’ll hold.”
He put his hand over the phone and said to her, “It’s for emergencies only.”
“What’s the emergency?”
“I don’t know yet.” Then he held up a hand. “Hi. Uh, huh. Maybe.” He shot her a look. “I might be interested.” Then his lips quirked as though at a private joke. “Actually, yeah, I do know where Kimberley Renton is.”
What? She mouthed. He waved her silent.
“I’ll get her a message. Right. No, I understand. Absolutely. We’ll get back to you.”
She sat up. “What’s going on? Who were you on the phone to? Why did my name come up?”
She made room for him on the blanket as he sat beside her. Their bare arms brushed and she was almost shocked by the warmth of his skin.
“I’ll tell you in a minute, but first I want to finish what I was trying to say.” He glared at where the phone was safely tucked away out of sight. “That’s why I hate bringing a phone out here. I didn’t want to be interrupted. The thing is, I thought we were going back to our completely different lives. But I can’t do that. I can’t let you go.”
“I know. Oh, Holden, I love you so much.”
He opened his arms to her and folded her in tight.
“I did better than I thought I would here, but the thing is I’ll always be Manhattan.”
“I know. And I’ll always be the outdoors guy.”
“So?”
“So, we compromise. Spend time in each other’s worlds. Maybe someday we’ll find a place we both love.”
“But what about our work. What about—”
The jay, obviously realizing that the two naked people weren’t doing anything that involved food, flew off with an annoyed squawk.
“That call? It was ApplePie’s PR firm.”
“Why would they call you?”
He was grinning down at her. “Because Nicola Pietra and Mark Apple have decided to let two hand-selected members of the media in to photograph their wedding. It’s a secret location, top-secret everything to keep out the paparazzi. They were so grateful to us for saving the dress and, they said that since they were going to put us on the invitation list anyway, we should be the ones to do the pictures and write the article.”
She jumped to her feet and whooped, feeling the breeze soft against her skin and the bumpiness of the ground beneath the blanket.
“Do you know what this means? It’s huge.”
“I know. We can work together. I can get used to Manhattan. You can get used to Oregon. We’ll work it out.”
“We’ll work it out,” she agreed, so full of happiness she wanted to do something crazy. Skydive. Climb a mountain. Spend another five days in a tent. “And if we ever can’t agree?”
He took her hand and kissed it. “We’ll meet in Paris.”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-1486-0
FRENCH KISSING
Copyright © 2008 by Nancy Warren.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the
United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.eHarlequin.com