Bringing Up Baxter (Forever Friends, Book 3 of 4)

by Webb, Peggy

  “There, there,” Crash whispered, his breath warm on her skin. “Hush now. I’m here. Everything is going to be all right. I’m here.”

  It was so simple: She needed him and Crash was there. Forget the pros and cons. Forget her history and his reputation. Forget that they had absolutely nothing in common. Forget that they wouldn’t look twice at each other in a different place, a different set of circumstances.

  For once she was going to heed Maxie’s advice and take things as they were. She allowed herself the luxury of fear; she allowed herself the luxury of cowering; she allowed herself the luxury of messy emotions.

  “He had huge claws and he was scratching and I thought he was going to come inside and attack.”

  “Nothing is going to attack you.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  Sniffling, she buried her face deeper. His chest was wide and solid, sprinkled with hair that tickled her nose and her lips. He smelled like the great outdoors, fresh and clean and invigorating. She reveled in his unabashed nakedness, his brute strength, his superb masculinity. She’d never known a man so blatantly male.

  She actually wallowed against him. Maxie would have approved.

  “It’s not that I’m a coward,” she said.

  “Not at all.”

  “I’m a city girl. In Philadelphia bears don’t roam the streets and scratch on walls and threaten women who never wanted to come to the woods in the first place.”

  “You didn’t want to come?”

  He caressed her back with slow, sensual movements. The logical part of her brain knew that a man like Crash would seize every opportunity to turn circumstances to his advantage. But at the moment, she didn’t care. He was using her and she was using him. It seemed a fair exchange.

  Besides, she still needed his strong shoulder. She hadn’t let herself need in a long time, and it felt good.

  “My sister said the change would do me good, but what will that matter if I get eaten by a wild animal?”

  “You’re in no danger from wild animals.”

  She wasn’t so sure about that. Crash was the wildest animal she knew, and she could smell danger all over him.

  “Except you,” she said.

  He chuckled. “Not even me, Philadelphia.”

  His remark touched a raw nerve, and she shoved away from his chest. “You think I’m unattractive.”

  “I didn’t say that. You’re a very beautiful woman.”

  “You think I’m not sexy.”

  “On the contrary: You’re extraordinarily sexy.”

  “That I don’t have a heart.”

  “I know nothing about your heart.”

  All the rage she felt at Stephen boiled over, and she let it spill onto Crash.

  “I don’t need to be rejected by a backwoods Romeo. Once was enough.”

  The moonlight turned his hair to a shining halo of silver and his eyes to something that rivaled the stars. But it wasn’t his good looks that caught B. J.’s eye, it was the expression on his face. The shallow man she thought she knew became somebody else, somebody with intelligence and compassion and sensitivity stamped all over him.

  With a tenderness she’d never dreamed possible, he leaned over and brushed her hair back from her forehead, then let his hand slide down her cheek and rest there, warm and reassuring.

  “Whoever rejected you was a fool, Philadelphia.”

  Tears clogged her throat and blurred her vision. She was close to bawling. Wouldn’t that be the last straw? What was he going to think of her? Not that it mattered one way or the other, but she certainly didn’t want to be perceived as a tease. After wallowing all over him, she was in danger of using the ultimate feminine ploy: tears. Worse, she was in danger of spilling her guts.

  She jumped up and thrust out her chin. It was what she always did in the courtroom when she went in for the kill.

  “If you think I’m going to dissolve into tears and melt into your arms, you’re sadly mistaken.”

  “The thought never entered my mind, Philadelphia.”

  “Don’t underestimate me and don’t dare condescend to me.”

  “Never,” he said, sounding as if he meant just the opposite.

  This conversation wasn’t going at all the way she’d planned. But then, nothing had gone the way she’d planned for months. Why should tonight be any different?

  “I don’t need you,” she said. “I don’t need any man.”

  “I can see you don’t.” His grin was the most wicked thing she’d ever seen.

  “By the way, Philadelphia, you look cute in that nightshirt. Are you wearing anything underneath?”

  She whirled around and stormed toward her tent.

  “What about the bear?” he called.

  She stopped in mid-stride. Crash was the kind of man to avoid at all costs, but given her options, he was her best choice. She retraced her steps and sat down in front of his tent in spite of the fact that he was still lolling in his bag like some kind of primitive god.

  “Make yourself right at home,” he said.

  “Don’t mind me. I’m just going to sit here till daylight.”

  “Be my guest.”

  Crash threw aside his sleeping bag and paraded around in front of her without a stitch.

  “I’m not impressed,” she said.

  “I’m not trying to impress you, Philadelphia. I’m trying to help you.”

  For goodness’ sake, how? By showing her exactly what she was missing? Not that Stephen was anything to compare with Crash. No indeedy. Using the Maxie Method of comparing men to animals, Stephen was a mouse, a selfish little rodent who snatched cheese from other people’s plates, while Crash was a prancing, pawing, snorting Brahman bull.

  “I don’t need that kind of help,” she said.

  He exploded with laughter.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You never disappoint me, Philadelphia. Always thinking about sex.”

  “I guess it’s the company I’m forced to keep.”

  “It could be worse. It could be an animal without manners.” Crash grabbed a pair of shorts.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Disappointed?” His teeth flashed white in the moonlight as he grinned at her.

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not one of your bimbos who swoon at the sight of your body.”

  “I see.”

  He pulled on his boots without socks. Any other man would have looked ridiculous dressed in boxer shorts and boots, but he looked like a pirate roused from sleep and dashing off to battle.

  “I’m going to see about a bear. Want to come?”

  “Do you think I’m crazy?”

  As he strode toward her tent, she pictured him being attacked. And then what would she do?

  “Wait.” She caught up with him. “Don’t go over there. It’s dangerous.”

  “Where did this sudden concern come from?”

  “I don’t want you to be torn to bits.”

  “You kind of like me, do you?”

  “It has nothing to do with you. I’m selfish. If anything happens to you, I’ll be all alone.”

  “Philadelphia, I have a confession to make.”

  “Save it for your priest. I’m fresh out of mercy.”

  “Would you cut the acerbic comments for a minute and listen?”

  So, the man had a brain. Not only a brain but maybe a conscience.

  “I’m all ears, Crash.”

  He raked her from head to toe with knowing eyes. “Hardly,” he said.

  Thank heavens the darkness covered up the hot flush on her cheeks.

  “What’s this confession of yours?”

  “There are no bears at your tent.”

  “I heard him and saw him.”

  “You saw him?”

  “I saw his claws.”

  “Philadelphia, if a bear had come to your tent, I’d have known.”

  “How? You were asleep.”

  “Dozing
a little, but mostly watching your tent to see if I could catch a glimpse of leg. Besides, bears are rarely seen on this side of the mountain.”

  “You lied to me.”

  “I just made your trip a little more colorful, that’s all.”

  “I can do without color, thank you very much.”

  She huffed ahead of him, stomping the ground as hard as she dared, considering her bare feet. Pain shocked the sole of her foot when she rammed a rock, but she bit her lip and kept going.

  “Wait up, Philadelphia.”

  “There’s nobody here by that name. Go back to your own camp.”

  “I’ve got to see what scared you.”

  “You said it wasn’t a bear. And even if it was, I prefer his company to yours.”

  “You’ve got a stinger a mile long. Did you ever think about pulling it in for a change?”

  “When I need advice from a lying Tarzan on a Harley, I’ll ask.”

  “I’ve been called worse.”

  “I’ll just bet you have.”

  He matched her stride for stride. There was something comforting about having a powerful male beside her in the wilderness in the dark. But she wasn’t about to tell him so.

  Ahead her tent loomed white in the shadows. Something was out there, and she was secretly glad that Crash had come along to identify the intruder. But she wasn’t about to tell him that, either.

  In fact, starting tomorrow she was going to stay in her camp and let him stay in his. It would be safer that way. She was starting to enjoy their sparring matches, and enjoyment was entirely too mild to describe what she’d felt lolling around with him in his sleeping bag. Freedom was a more apt term. And wildness. And hunger.

  She might as well admit it. Crash brought out the animal in her, an animal she’d never known existed, an erotic, sensual, passionate she-beast who wanted nothing more than to cavort naked with her mate.

  A woman could get used to feeling that way.

  “I think I see your intruder,” Crash said.

  Coming out of her trance, B. J. clutched his arm.

  “Where?”

  “Over there.”

  He pointed toward the back of her tent, but she couldn’t see a thing.

  “Wait here. It’s a small animal, probably a coon or a skunk. I know how to creep up on him without scaring him.”

  “Scaring him? What about me?”

  “Just think about Kansas, Dorothy, and you’ll be all right.”

  He left her standing by herself in the dark. She guessed there were people in the world who appreciated nature enough to find beauty in situations such as this. She was sleepy and grumpy and her foot was beginning to hurt where she’d stomped on a sharp object, and she hated nature besides. In addition, the moon ducked behind a dark cloud and it started to rain. Not hard, but hard enough to plaster her hair to her head and her nightshirt to her body.

  What she should have told Maxie was, “If you’re so all-fired set on somebody going to the wilderness, you go”

  But no, she had to be the good sister, the one who always did what everybody expected of her.

  Maybe that’s why Stephen had dumped her. Maybe he wanted a woman who would surprise him every now and then. Maybe he wanted a woman who would spit fire every once in a while. Maybe he wanted a woman with an acerbic wit who liked wallowing naked on a sleeping bag.

  She’d ask Maxie when she got home. If she ever got home. At the moment it looked doubtful. First a small animal invaded her camp. Next a bear. Or maybe Crash.

  Now there was a thought to take to bed and dream on.

  “Look who your visitor turned out to be.”

  Crash was heading toward her with a small animal cradled in his arms.

  “Stay back. I don’t care to view wild animals up close.”

  “This is not a wild animal. It’s just a little old stray puppy somebody tossed out on the road.”

  “A puppy?”

  “Smart little fellow. Finding us this deep in the woods.”

  The puppy in Crash’s arms whimpered, and B. J. melted.

  “How could anybody do such a thing?”

  Ignoring the rain and the darkness and Crash’s bemused scrutiny, she rubbed the puppy’s damp fur. She almost cried when he licked her hand.

  “He likes me,” she said.

  “Of course he does, Philadelphia. What’s not to like?”

  Crash placed the puppy in her arms, and she fell in love on the spot. With the small animal, of course, though the large one was more tempting by the minute.

  The wonderful thing about loving a puppy was the certainty that he would never leave her for a younger woman.

  Chapter Four

  “Poor little thing,” she said. “Poor baby.”

  Oblivious to the rain, she cuddled the wet, whimpering puppy to her chest, stroking and crooning. Crash was caught completely off guard. He hadn’t expected that from her; he’d thought she’d be the squeamish type, repulsed by a wet, muddy animal. Instead she was acting like a mother with a frightened child.

  Her hair was wet, her nightshirt was damp and wilted looking, and her bare feet were muddy. He’d never seen a woman as appealing. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to have to revise his opinion of her.

  Even worse, he might have to revise his opinion of himself. In this wilderness retreat with Philadelphia he was acting more like his brother Joseph than himself. Next thing he knew he’d be wanting to know Philadelphia’s name, where she came from, her phone number, whether she liked sailing in the summer and skiing in the winter, whether she preferred sun or snow, what kind of cake she liked on her birthday. Things like that. Things that bound a man to a woman.

  He wasn’t planning to be bound to any woman, particularly not the likes of Philadelphia. Though standing there with that wet nightshirt hugging her lush body, she made keeping his distance hard. Practically impossible.

  The puppy was now rooting around her chest, looking for something delicious to latch onto. Crash envied him. He had no doubt that the rest of her would be every bit as delicious as her mouth.

  “I think he’s hungry,” she said.

  So was he, hungry for more than he cared to admit. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been satisfied by a relationship with a woman. No matter how good the sex was he always went away vaguely disappointed and wondering what he was missing.

  “There’s no telling how long he’d been wandering around in the woods before he came upon your tent,” he said.

  He and the puppy had a lot in common. He’d done quite a bit of wandering around himself. The only difference was, he wasn’t lost. Unless you believed Joseph.

  “When are you going to find yourself?” he was fond of saying. “When are you going to settle down?”

  Settling down had all the appeal of having teeth pulled without benefit of novocaine.

  Altogether it was best to concentrate on the puppy instead of the woman holding it.

  “Let’s find the little fellow something to eat,” he said.

  “Where are you going?” There was real alarm in her voice.

  “To my camp to get a hot dog.”

  “I have food here.”

  “I don’t think he’ll go for carrot sticks.” He chucked her under the chin, partly to get a rise out of her, but mostly because he couldn’t resist touching her. “Relax, Philadelphia. I’ll be back so quick, you won’t even miss me.”

  She swatted his hand away. “The first thing I’m going to teach Baxter is how to bite.”

  “Baxter?”

  “That’s his name.”

  “That sounds like somebody’s butler. I was thinking of naming him Butch or Hank or Jaws.”

  “You would. Those are the most ridiculous names I’ve ever heard of. Thank goodness he came to my tent instead of yours.”

  “I’m the one who found him.”

  “Are you claiming custody?”

  “This is not a courtroom, Philadelphia. This is the wilderness. Out here it’s
survival of the fittest; the strong take what they want.”

  “I was beginning to think of you as less than a brute. Thank you for that reminder, Tarzan.”

  “Does that crack mean you don’t want my hot dog?”

  It was still raining and he was ready to go to bed.

  Not that it wasn’t fun standing around in his underwear ruffling Philadelphia’s feathers, but he was beginning to get chilled.

  She gave him a look that would wilt rubber trees, then suddenly she burst out laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” he said.

  “You know what I was thinking? That you looked absurd standing in the rain in your underwear, and then I realized I was doing the same thing. Not my underwear, exactly, but my nightshirt.”

  Absurd? Sexy would have been more to his liking, but the least she could have said was silly.

  “We’re quite a pair, Philadelphia.”

  “We’re not a pair. I’m an attorney on a forced holiday, and you’re a playboy on God knows what kind of mission. The only thing we have in common is the puppy.”

  “At least you admit that he’s half mine.”

  “Go on and get your hot dog, Crash, but please put some clothes on before you come back.”

  “Tempted, Philadelphia?”

  “No matter what you or anybody else thinks, I’m not made of iron.”

  With that parting shot, she stalked off and went inside her tent, carrying their dog. He would have to demand equal time, or at the very least, visitation rights.

  Back at his camp Crash stripped out of his wet shorts and into a pair of dry ones, muttering to himself the whole time.

  He jerked a denim shirt out of his canvas bag. “Why didn’t I tell her to bring the dog over here if she wants him to eat. I’m the one with the decent food.”

  He was so flustered that he tried to get his jeans on over his boots. The legs were too tight, and he knew the boots wouldn’t go through in a million years, but he kept up the struggle anyhow, just on general principle.

  “Son of a gun.” He flopped onto the ground and jerked off his boots, then threw them in the corner of his tent. “Caesar on a mountain.”