Stolen Kisses

by Sally Falcon

  The camping trip might not be such a bad idea, she rationalized. It was simply a weekend with a group of people, and there was safety in numbers. She could spend the weekend proving to him that she was immune to his charm once and for all. The idea was a challenge to her resolve. Was she brave enough to meet it?

  “All right, Trevor. I’ll be glad to go,” she stated clearly, wanting to be sure that he understood her. Raising her chin slightly, she smiled at the surprise he couldn’t quite hide. Inwardly she let out a sigh of relief that she had made the right decision.

  “No conditions?” He quirked an eyebrow, almost daring her to give him a list.

  “No conditions, no prerequisites,” she answered firmly. She was done with lists, whether they were to find a potential father or to provide conditions for working with him. Trevor and she would meet as equals, with nothing between them.

  A ghost of a smile curved his lips, drawing her gaze inexorably to it. “That sounds good to me, sweetheart. I’ll pick you up at five o’clock tomorrow night.”

  Fleetingly, as he sauntered toward the door, Jessie wondered if she was being a fool again. Silently she chanted, It’s only a camping trip, not a survival test. How bad could it be? There would be other people around. The scenery and camping facilities in Arkansas were acclaimed for their beauty and comfort. A little weekend trip in a camper wouldn’t be so bad, or maybe they would stay at one of the lodges. She would be able to keep plenty of space between her and Trevor.

  The traitorous little voice asked her if she really wanted to keep her distance. Of course, she did. That was why she’d agreed to go on this trip, wasn’t it?

  “We’re here,” Trevor announced, turning the car into a culvert at the side of the dusty road.

  “We’re where?” Jessie looked out the window of the land rover and didn’t see much of anything in the twilight but trees, lots of trees, and the glimmer of water beyond.

  “This is where we’re going to camp.” He didn’t elaborate, but simply pressed the heel of his hand against the horn. Then he was climbing out of the car and waiting. A shout from beyond the rise answered the honk, and a minute later Griff Alexander, a lantern in his hand, came into view.

  “Glad to see you could find it,” he called.

  “No problem. Your directions were great,” Trevor called back, giving Jessie, still sitting in the passenger seat, a curious look. He shrugged and went to work on releasing the struts that secured the bass boat to the top of the rover. “This is really back and beyond.”

  “That’s why we like it. It’s away from all the sissy campers who want a TV and a microwave while they’re out roughing it,” Griff told him, a derisive smile on his face.

  What’s wrong with wanting a few creature comforts? Jessie wanted to ask as she reluctantly scrambled out of the vehicle. Why hadn’t she asked more questions? Because Arkansas was nationally renowned for its state park system and camping facilities. The state was filled with lodges and cabins that had long waiting lists for occupancy. Besides, it was incredible to think the Capshaw twins were in to roughing it. “Where are Winona and Wendy?”

  “They’re helping Nolan get the shelter cleaned out.”

  “Sh—shelter?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer, though she was relieved he hadn’t said tent. Until now she’d been hoping that Griff had a warped sense of humor and that there was a solidly built cabin with all the modern conveniences she had imagined all week.

  “We don’t get that carried away with the back-to-nature stuff,” Griff explained, dashing the last of Jessie’s hopes, while helping Trevor unload their supplies. Winona had finally called on Thursday night to give Jessie a list of foodstuff to bring and what type of clothing to wear. “This was a scout camp years ago and part of it has been condemned, so pay attention to the signs if you’re out wandering around. The rest is rented to campers. We use the shelters that were built for the kids. That allows for a few amenities like flush toilets and running water, even if it is cold.”

  “How nice,” Jessie murmured as her heart plummeted to the soles of her new high-tops. It didn’t help that she thought she saw Trevor’s lips twitch as she took two grocery sacks from him. Could she steal the keys from him and head straight back to the city? Then she realized that she had no idea where they were. After Trevor had turned off Highway 70, there had been too many twists and turns to count in the gathering darkness.

  It couldn’t get any worse, she decided as she trudged up the barely visible trail behind the men. Deep in a conversation about bait and lures, the two men didn’t see the irony of the formation as Jessie did. Was there some truth in the new theory about men secretly wanting to go back to their primitive forebears? She certainly felt like she had stepped back in time as she walked a good four paces behind. Or had she been reading too many pseudo-psychology books lately?

  “There you are. We were beginning to wonder if you got lost,” Winona called from the opening of the shelter. It was a concrete structure with three sides. The building was one large room partitioned into four areas. A stone fireplace, giving off a welcoming glow, stood to the right under the wooden overhang of the structure.

  “Hello,” Wendy sang out from next to Nolan. They were standing toward the back of the shelter near a wooden frame that Jessie couldn’t quite make out. Like her sister, Wendy was dressed in a faded cotton shirt and jeans as well as sturdy ankle boots, a far cry from the sophisticated fashions they normally wore. Was it any wonder Jessie hadn’t anticipated playing Wilderness Family over the weekend?

  She was very conscious of her newly purchased jeans, even though she’d washed them several times to get the stiffness out. Everyone else looked like they’d owned their outdoor gear for years. Trevor’s jeans were soft, almost white from countless washings, and hugged his hips and legs like a second skin. His chamois shirt had once been deep green but now was faded as well. The scuffs on his leather boots told the same story.

  “Okay, now that we’re all here, we can get our jobs assigned.” Winona stood in the middle of the shelter like a general calling the troops to order on the eve of a battle. “Jessie, do you mind cooking breakfast? Wendy and I will take care of lunch and dinner. I know it sounds so damn reactionary, but I’d rather cook than chop wood and gut fish, wouldn’t you?”

  “Definitely,” she answered, dropping the shopping bags on the countertop along the wall near the fireplace. As her eyes adjusted to the dark interior, she began to notice some disquieting details while Winona continued to reel off instructions. The wooden frames that occupied most of the space in each partitioned area were bed frames—double bed frames. Wendy and Nolan had just finished pumping air into two air mattresses and had placed them side by side on a frame. The couple was unrolling a double sleeping bag over the mattresses.

  Calculating quickly, she counted only three sleeping areas. The fourth section at the front of the shelter was a makeshift kitchen with cupboards and a countertop. Griff had mentioned a bathroom, which was probably in the back near the interior fireplace, she decided. She didn’t need any prodding from her traitorous little voice for her next revelation. The sight of her overnight bag sitting snugly next to Trevor’s canvas bag at the foot of the nearest bed frame was all she needed to know. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out she was supposed to share sleeping quarters with him.

  At precisely that moment Trevor looked up from untying one of the sleeping bags. Even in the dim light she could tell he knew exactly what she was thinking. He was probably waiting to see her reaction. Two could play this game, she decided with an unnatural calm, but almost changed her mind at Griff’s next words.

  “Hey, Trev, you might as well zip those sleeping bags together now. You’ll need the extra warmth of shared body heat in the middle of the night when the fires burn low. It gets damn chilly.”

  Jessie looked down at her shoes and wondered for an irrational moment if she could run screaming into the night without losing her self-respect. Taking a d
eep breath and biting on her lower lip, she went to help Winona unpack the food supplies, knowing that Griff’s words made perfect sense. She might not like what he said, but she was a rational, mature adult who had been brought up to rise above adversity in a calm and controlled manner. A lady never raised her voice or created a scene, no matter what the provocation.

  With a sidelong glance at Trevor’s head bent over the two sleeping bags, she wondered if her mother had considered a situation like this when she had counseled her children on proper, polite behavior. Concentrating on stacking canned goods on the shelf, Jessie determined that she would survive this weekend, no matter what, and with dignity. The bed frame was nice and wide with plenty of room for two people to sleep comfortably without getting in each other’s way.

  Three hours later she was having second thoughts. Just once in her life maybe she could forget her dignity and throw a screaming, raucous fit. Or else, she silently told her reflection in the cracked mirror, she could calmly go out and get in bed with Trevor Planchet.

  “Hey, Jessie, did you go to sleep in there?” Winona yelled through the wooden door to the bathroom.

  “I’m on my way out,” she returned, knowing that it was now or never. Tightening the sash on her terry-cloth robe, she took a deep breath and opened the door.

  “I’m so glad y’all came along,” the other woman exclaimed as she slipped through the door. “We really should do this more often.” Thankfully she closed the door before Jessie could give her an honest answer.

  “Not on your life,” she mouthed, just in case anyone else was close at hand. Walking slowly toward the partition, as if she was about to face the Spanish Inquisition, Jessie was relieved to see the three men were still sitting on camp stools near the fireplace outside. The sight of the fire made her aware of how chilly the shelter had become since the sun had set. It made perfect sense to have a sleeping partner to ward off the cold night air.

  As she walked to the side of the double bed frame, Jessie wondered for the hundredth time how she’d managed to get herself into this predicament. Was Gina sitting at home sticking pins in some kind of magic doll? Right now it seemed entirely possible as she looked at the two sleeping bags that were zipped together and lying over the air mattresses. There wasn’t anything she could do but go to bed.

  Hastily she shucked her robe and climbed under the down covering. Even in her flannel nightshirt she shivered. Whoever decided that camping was fun? She wiggled and tugged until she was sure she was covered from her neck to her toes.

  “It will be warmer in a few minutes,” Trevor said from above her, long minutes later, “once the sleeping bag distributes your body heat.”

  She rolled over onto her side to block out the disturbing sight of Trevor stripping off his nylon jacket to reveal his form-hugging sweatsuit. But it was worse listening to the rustling sounds and letting her imagination go into overdrive. A cool blast of air hit her back, telling her what she already knew—Trevor was lying down beside her. She willed herself to relax, not to give a hint that her blood pressure had gone sky high or that her nerves were stretched to their limit.

  “Jessie, I’m sorry about this. I really didn’t know.” His mellow whisper didn’t help her equilibrium. He was turned toward her, his breath tickling the back of her neck. She didn’t want to admit that this wasn’t his fault, but sometimes she was too honest for her own good. “I know.”

  “At least I can prove to you for once and for all that I can be a gentleman.”

  A giggle from either Wendy or Winona saved her from answering. It didn’t matter to her what the night would prove, because she knew that she would probably be a certified lunatic by morning. Just as he had promised, she was feeling warmer. In fact her entire back felt like it was on fire, ignited by the heat of Trevor’s body. She could clearly remember the imprint of his long, lean frame along her back that day outside his bedroom.

  An owl sounded in the distance, and she could hear the sounds of other nocturnal animals scurrying past the shelter. She didn’t dare close her eyes. If she did, she would begin to imagine what was outside the shelter, or what could happen inside the sleeping bag if she rolled over just a few inches. Another giggle sounded in the darkness, and Jessie bit back a groan. Would she be branded a coward for life if she went and slept in Trevor’s land rover with the doors locked?

  Trevor rolled onto his back and, as the wooden frame creaked, wondered if he was getting too old for this sort of thing. Or was that his body that creaked? Stretching to get the kinks out, he suddenly froze in place. He was alone. Jessie’s soft, warm body wasn’t beside him. Then a sound from the front of the shelter caught his attention.

  He propped himself up on his elbow. Jessie was standing in front of the fireplace preparing breakfast. Fleetingly he wondered if she had slept any better than he had. Every hour he had found himself staring at the ceiling. Usually a sound sleeper, he seemed to need reassurance that Jessie was still beside him. Or was it a punishment for asking her to come on this trip?

  He always considered Winona Capshaw a ditz, but he couldn’t blame this insanity on his silly neighbor. What had he expected by going camping with two engaged couples—a boys’ and girls’ dormitory? Though he’d apologized to Jessie for his mistake, was he really all that sorry?

  Certainly not about an hour ago when he had waked. At first he had thought he was dreaming, but the feel of Jessie in his arms had been too real, too intoxicating. During the hour before dawn, she had turned to him, her head fitting perfectly into the curve of his shoulder. Her palm had been spread over his heart, and for a moment, he had wondered if the rapid beat of his pulse would wake her. She had stayed curled up in his arms like a trusting child while he had gritted his teeth and tried to go back to sleep.

  Knowing it was insane to remain in the sleeping bag with the lingering scent of Jessie pulling at his senses, Trevor roughly tossed back the covers. Grabbing up his extra set of clothing, he padded to the bathroom. If he was smart, he’d go take a polar dip in the lake to calm down his body.

  “You look like you’re used to cooking for an army,” he remarked ten minutes later as Jessie deftly measured oatmeal in her hand. She dumped the raw oats into the boiling caldron of water and dusted off her hands.

  “I’m the oldest in a large family, so I guess you can say I am used to cooking for an army, though I’m a little out of practice,” she answered easily, revealing to him that she didn’t remember those precious minutes before dawn. She looked about ten years old with her hair in a ponytail and very little makeup. “I also used to sub in the kitchen when I was waitressing my way through college.”

  “I remember now, the picture on the table. How many kids were there?” He joined her at the worktable as she began slicing melons. Faintly he could hear the others stirring behind them, and it disappointed him. This was probably the only time he would have alone with Jessie for the rest of the day.

  “The final count was ten,” she answered shortly, seeming much more interested in the melon.

  He was intrigued. For some reason he’d pictured her as an only child, a pampered little girl carefully taught the very precise manners that made her seem so regal. He wanted to know more. “Wasn’t your father a farmer?”

  She looked up then, her blue eyes dark and troubled. For a moment she hesitated, then apparently came to a decision. “He was a bigamist.”

  The word hung between them. He didn’t know what to say. What did anyone say in response to such a statement? Words of sympathy would sound hollow, since he had no way of knowing the turmoil she had gone through.

  “How old were you when you found out?” he found himself asking, and knew he surprised her by the way her eyes widened before she bent over the melons again.

  “I was twelve. My mother had an emergency appendectomy.” Her voice was so low that he had to bend his head to catch the words. “Daddy was a traveling salesman with a company that was headquartered in Chattanooga. I called the main office and a man th
ere gave me a phone number to call in Knoxville. The woman who answered the phone said she was Mrs. DeLord, and she would be glad to take a message for her husband.”

  “Damn.”

  “That’s sort of how I felt at the time,” Jessie murmured. “It really can’t be much worse than when your mother died. How old were you, Trevor?”

  “I was eight.” He remembered his sense of betrayal and loss when the woman he thought of as a smiling angel was taken away from him. At least he had good memories to sustain him over the years. All Jessie had was the betrayal. Now he understood her list for a prospective husband. She was trying to avoid a second disaster in her life.

  “What happened?” He couldn’t let it drop. He knew that talking about it was important to both of them.

  “When Mother recovered she contacted the other wife in Knoxville. We were living outside Jackson in a house that belonged to my grandparents.” Jessie moved back to the fireplace, working automatically as she told the story. “Mama and Aunt Lena, as we came to call her, pooled their small reserves of money and hired a lawyer. After Daddy went to jail, we all moved in together. My family with four kids and the other with six. It’s probably the best thing my father had ever done for us. He died six months after he was paroled.” Jessie stirred the oatmeal methodically then took a deep breath and continued. “It was nice to have two adults around, and more sisters. I’d been outnumbered three to one before, and it evened out the odds.”

  “Hey, is breakfast about ready? All this fresh air makes me ravenous.”

  At that moment Trevor wanted to dump the entire pot of oatmeal on Winona’s tousled curls. Then he saw Jessie’s slight smile and relaxed. This new harmony between them hadn’t been shattered. He had to learn to curb his impatience. Which, he acknowledged ruefully, is what had caused all his trouble in the first place. They had the rest of the weekend, and beyond. Didn’t they?