by Thea Devine
“All right. Around this next bend—” The words were barely out when the water started its mad rush.
She gasped and jerked, and that’s the last he heard from her as he concentrated on keeping them afloat and away from the rocks, the gushing white water sweeping them through twists and turns that were more exciting than any man-made thrill ride.
WATER SPLASHED in Jordan’s face and she blinked feverishly, not daring to loosen her white-knuckled grip of her paddle. They bounced and swirled and more water splashed her shoulders. She wasn’t one bit scared. Far from it. The last time she’d experienced this kind of exhilaration was when she’d been a kid during one of those rare occasions when her father had taken the weekend off from work.
The whole family had gone to a theme park near the beach and she’d been introduced to her first roller coaster. Her mom and brother had chickened out but her dad had ridden the beast with her six times in a row. She’d begged for yet another ride, but to her horror, she’d puked cotton candy all over her father’s crisp, clean khakis and that had ended their outing. And lest she forgot that humiliating episode, her brother had made it an annual holiday reminder. Good thing the family was too busy to get together more than twice a year.
The interval seemed amazingly brief, and in minutes they were traveling relatively calm waters again. Her heartbeat started to slow, the earlier adrenaline rush subsiding. She wanted to do it again.
“You okay?” Zach asked.
“Are you kidding? That was awesome. Are there any more rapids? Are we going to do it again?”
Zach laughed. “Nope. That was your white-water highlight. You want more of that, you have to take one of our other excursions or go to Hell’s Canyon up north.”
“What a name.”
“A lot of rafting trips up there. Popular tourist spot. So is Jackson Hole. There are a number of outfitters down there.”
“So why are you located out in the boonies?”
“Remote is good. You get a true outdoor experience, and you’re not running into a bunch of people.”
“You have a point,” she said thoughtfully, bringing up her paddle and looking up at the clear blue sky. A bald eagle soared over a granite outcropping, stealing what remained of her breath. That made three sightings since yesterday. Pretty amazing.
“Beats the heck out of rush-hour traffic.”
She heard the smile in his voice and grinned, too, before returning her paddle to the water and paddling her heart out. She wanted to get to shore and pull out the small notebook she’d brought. Jot down a few thoughts before they got away. “I’m thinking there’s an ad slogan here somewhere.”
“Don’t ruin this by thinking about work.”
“Can’t be helped. It’s what I do. How long before we go ashore?”
“Another hour and then we stop for lunch. After that we hike until we set up camp for the night.”
“Good.”
“You need to stop now?”
“No emergency. I just wanted to make some notes.”
“Still thinking about work,” he said, sighing. “Okay, I’ll bite. Would I know your work? Any jingles or slogans I’d recognize?”
She hummed a few bars of her most popular, the one that had catapulted her to early success. The slogan that had set the benchmark she could never again achieve. Shoot, why did she have to go there?
He let out a low whistle. “Impressive. You were responsible for the entire campaign, I take it.”
“Yep, the commercials, the contest, the print ads, the whole thing.”
“You are good.”
“Was.” She briefly closed her eyes. Too much information. Besides, she didn’t want to talk about it.
He let blessed silence lapse, and then ruined it with, “Creative block?”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t be talking about work.”
He let the subject drop, but she had a feeling he’d have questions later. God, she really, really wanted one of those candy bars.
7
THE PAIR of skewered trout sizzling over the open campfire was starting to look better and better. Zach tested one of them by forking a piece of the crisp skin and taking a bite. He made an appreciative sound and then transferred both fish onto his plate without so much as a glance at her sitting across the campfire from him.
After a five-mile hike, Jordan had decided that she’d rather paddle. Not that she’d been given an option. She’d been ready to sack out by the time they found a level place to camp, shaded by a gorgeous old spruce and an army of lodgepole pines. At least the area was near enough to a small lake that water didn’t have to be lugged too far, which was pretty much her job. Not easy when her arms and legs still ached.
Aroma from the roasted fish drifted through the air around her and her stomach rumbled. He’d tried to show her how to catch her own fish but she’d refused. Screw him. The first chance she got she was sneaking off to scarf down her chocolate bars.
“Hungry?” he asked.
She didn’t answer at first. Her pride still smarted. After gathering kindling and dry wood, she’d blithely agreed to start the fire. Big mistake. Three stubborn tries later she’d given up and stood back to watch Zach do it with disgusting ease. Granted that wasn’t his fault, and it probably wouldn’t hurt to be nice. He might reconsider and share. “A little.”
“There are rabbits around here. You might get lucky and—”
“Stop.” She put up a hand. “Don’t even say it.”
He shrugged, and after cutting open his fish, he neatly removed the bones in one piece, leaving nothing but aromatic meat. Naturally he made it look easy. But admittedly, removing the bones after it was cooked did seem more doable.
She cleared her throat and used the toe of her hiking boot to push a branch toward the fire. “You don’t really need both those fish, do you?”
He nodded. “I’m starved. Besides, it’s really good.”
Jordan sighed. “I can’t clean one of those things. I’m serious. It’ll make me sick.”
Zach grinned. “You catch it, I’ll clean it. Come on.” He took a quick bite and then licked his fingers while he rose.
“I can wait until after you eat.”
“Let’s do it before it gets dark. It won’t take long.”
“Right,” she muttered, scrambling to her feet, and then following him to the lake.
“You’re lucky. There’s a lot of fish this time of the year.” The words were no sooner out of his mouth when one jumped out of the deeper water.
The little sucker was quick, and more than the actual fish, she saw the ripple it made. She moved closer to Zach, standing at the water’s edge, gentle waves lapping the toes of his boots. Now she wished she’d paid more attention to how he’d caught his fish because she didn’t have a clue as to where to begin.
“I’m not sure what I should be doing,” she finally admitted.
“You’re going to have to wade in.”
“And take off my boots?” She peered into the shallow water. There were a few rocks and plants on the sandy bottom but nothing too scary.
“Depends how far in you have to go. But they’re quick drying.”
“Okay,” she said, deciding to leave them on because she really didn’t see the point in getting too far into the icy-cold water. She took another step, suddenly realizing they had no pole or fishing line. “Then what?”
“You watch.” His intense gaze stayed on the shallow water as he took a red bandana out of his pocket. “There. Look at that. They’re coming right to you.”
“And I’m supposed to—what am I supposed to do?” She watched him move forward at a predatory pace, while slowly hunkering down.
Suddenly he reached into the water at dizzying speed, and with minimal splashing, promptly produced a medium-size fish. He held the wiggling trout up by the tail. “Easy, huh?”
“Wow. That was amazing.” Although she did feel a tad sorry for the poor thing.
He grinned and released t
he fish into the lake. Seizing its reprieve, the trout swam off, disappearing into the black depths of the water.
“What are you doing?” She glared at him as he retreated to the sandy bank. “That was my dinner. You can’t do that.”
“And deprive you of the fun of catching your own?”
“You’re sick. You know that? You need some serious help.”
Zach laughed. “Come on. You gotta learn. We have five more nights out here.”
She hadn’t realized that in her excitement she’d backed in until the water hit her mid calf. Her soaked socks and boots felt as if they weighed a ton.
“There you go,” he whispered. “One’s headed straight for you.”
She turned sharply to him. “I’m not going to—” Stumbling backward, she lost her footing, with no place to go but down. She ended up on her backside in the awful, cold water. It only came to her waist, but she did enough splashing and flailing to get her face and hair wet, too.
“You okay?”
“Don’t you dare laugh,” she said, wiping at her eyes and refusing to look at him. The hell with dinner. The hell with him.
“Ah, you needed a bath, anyway.” He laughed then, and it was enough to get her to push herself to her feet.
“You think this is funny?” She spun toward him, and as his gaze lowered to her breasts, the smirk left his face. She did a quick check and saw that her wet tank top clung to her hardened nipples. It didn’t seem to matter that she had a sports bra on beneath the top. Everything showed.
His attention was so fixed on her chest that she caught him off guard when she grabbed hold of his arm. He backed away. “What are you doing?”
Jordan tugged hard but she couldn’t budge him. “You’re getting wet, too, buddy. One way or another.” She used all her might but he was too strong and only laughed at her efforts to drag him into the lake.
There was no other way. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him against her soggy wet shirt. He let out a yelp of surprise, and she rubbed herself against his clean dry T-shirt until she’d left her mark.
“How’s that?” She moved back to survey her handiwork. The front of him was wet, all right, but her gaze went straight to the bulge building beneath his fly. She swallowed hard as her gaze traveled to his face.
“Happy?” he whispered.
“Almost.” She went up on tiptoe and leaned in for a kiss.
He hesitated, and then took her by the elbow and brushed his lips across hers. Despite their wet clothes, heat emanated from his body. Warmth spread through her chest and arrowed down her belly to the juncture of her thighs.
All too quickly, he moved his head and the contact was broken. “You win,” he said hoarsely and backed away. “Go eat the damn fish.”
MORNING CAME too quickly. The stupid birds wouldn’t quit chirping. The sun had barely made it over the horizon and still it managed to shine directly into Jordan’s sleepy eyes. She squeezed them shut but since she heard Zach messing with the campfire it was no use trying to go back to sleep. He’d just make her get up in a few minutes.
She rolled over and sat up, surprised to see him making sure the fire was out. He was dressed for the day, and his sleeping bag was rolled up and stuffed in his pack. Coffee hadn’t even been made.
“What’s going on?” she asked around a yawn.
“Overslept.”
“I didn’t think that was possible on a vacation,” she muttered and stretched her arms above her head. She was still tired and he looked as if he was, too.
Maybe they’d shared the same problem that had kept sleep from rescuing her last night. That one lousy kiss had hung in the air like a storm cloud threatening to explode. Then nothing happened. He’d gone to his corner, and she’d gone to hers.
The real shame was that it wasn’t even a good kiss. It had happened so fast that if the tension hadn’t lingered she might have thought she’d imagined the whole thing.
“We’re leaving in five minutes.”
“Jeez, I’ve got to brush my teeth,” she grumbled as she untangled herself from her sleeping bag. “I’m not happy about the no-coffee thing, either.”
“Next time get up earlier.”
Jordan grinned. That he was cranky was the only bright spot. He’d apparently had a rough night, too. Good. She hadn’t been the one who’d acted like they’d done this big bad thing by kissing. They were consenting adults, after all.
She grabbed her small toiletry bag and towel, and then headed for the lake in her oversize T-shirt and red bikini panties, smug with the knowledge that he watched her the entire way.
ZACH KNEW better. Yet last night he’d made an ass out of himself. Thirty-seven going on twelve. Yes. He’d kissed her. No matter that it was a wholly unsatisfying kiss, in fact, that made matters worse. If he was going to cross the line he might as well have gotten something out of it. Something more than regret.
“Could you slow down? This is supposed to be a hike, not a marathon,” Jordan said from behind him, and then muttered something else he couldn’t hear.
He did as she asked, waiting in front of a ponderosa pine that must’ve been there for a hundred years. They’d been hiking for four hours on empty stomachs and she had every right to be irritable. He hadn’t meant to punish her for his own poor judgment.
“Why don’t we stop for lunch?” he said when he saw her face flushed from the exertion of hiking uphill.
She eyed him with suspicion. “Define lunch.”
He shrugged off his pack. “Will a power bar do?”
Her mouth opened in indignation, but she said nothing as she dropped to the ground and rid herself of her pack.
Guilt had him digging for an extra bar even though he liked to maintain a modest supply well into the week. “That’ll hold us until I fire up the stove and make some pasta and vegetables.”
“One is fine,” she said when he tried to hand her both bars. “Instead of starting a fire and all that, how about we keep going and then stop early for the night?”
“Sure.” He’d already planned on making it a short day for good reason. Apparently she hadn’t noticed yet, but it was going to rain, which meant they had to find shelter or build one. Couldn’t help but wonder why she was anxious to make camp for the night. Their kiss came to mind. Better he didn’t go there. “Tell you what, you say when and we stop.”
“When.” She smiled cheekily and tore off the wrapper. “I think I’m good for another three hours. Does that work?”
“You’re the boss.”
“I do like the sound of that.”
He settled down on a grassy mound with his bar and a canteen of pure, cold, stream water. His gaze went over her shoulder toward the distant summit. They were in for more than rain. It looked as if it was going to storm.
8
“TELL ME about your job.”
Jordan snorted. “Gee, I get to talk about work.”
“Stewing over it and describing it are two separate issues.”
She bit into her bar and chewed. “The job is crazy and demanding and I love it. Except—” She shook her head and looked away.
“What?”
Hesitantly, she brought her gaze back to his. This wasn’t something she normally talked about. Not with anyone. “Sometimes the pressure is a bit much.”
“Especially after coming up with the Breezy slogan.”
“Exactly.”
He thoughtfully ate some of his bar, and she’d bet her two prized candy bars he was trying to recall how long it had been since the Breezy ad campaign had hit TV and radio.
She finished her lunch, and, closing her eyes, she crumpled the wrapper and leaned back against the trunk of a Douglas fir that had lost its bottom branches.
“Tell me,” he said.
“You’ve got it right, you know? No setting an alarm, no deadlines, no pressure.”
Zach smiled. “My life isn’t always this easy.”
“Yeah?” She opened her eyes. “Try having a clie
nt call you three times a day while you beat your head against a wall because the ideas just won’t come.” She groaned. “I was twenty-six, only two years out of grad school when I started with the company and came up with that slogan. I got lucky.”
Now she prayed lightning would strike twice.
“I think talent might’ve had something to do with it, too.” He gave her a sympathetic smile. “Maybe this trip will relax you and help free up some of that creativity.”
“I don’t need to relax. I need to be working. Damn it.”
“Seems to me that hasn’t produced any results.”
“Thank you. Thank you very much.”
“That wasn’t a jab.”
“Yeah? Well, the bruise is still there.” She straightened. “If you tell anyone what I said I’ll hunt you down like a dog.”
“I believe you.”
“Good. You should.” She pushed away from the tree, got up, and dusted off the seat of her jeans. “Let’s get going.”
“Jordan?”
She stopped, although something in his tone made her want to run the other way.
“Don’t follow in your father’s footsteps.”
“Don’t you have a trail to hike?”
He smiled and put out his hand. She thought about ignoring it and then pulled him to his feet. Their eyes met, and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her.
Instead, he chucked her on the chin and said, “You don’t always have to be tough.” And then he slid on his pack and resumed the lead.
THEY’D STOPPED later than expected, and Zach decided they each needed to build a shelter. She’d gathered saplings the way he’d shown her, bending them until she saw the stress point and cutting them for poles. While he stripped them halfway up, leaving the top branches intact, she gathered large spruce swags, ostensibly for the roof, which she couldn’t see.
He found a spot for each of them and stuck the poles several feet apart in the ground. “We’ll finish getting more spruce branches later. Let me show you how to do this,” he said and intertwined the branch tops. “We need to make a canopy and then start layering the spruce.”
