Promise of a New Beginning (Sweet with Heat: Weston Bradens Book 5)

by Addison Cole

  “What?” she snapped. She looked at the water, expecting to see a snake or some other danger lurking beneath the surface. Instead, she saw fresh running water. She shot a look at Jack, whose massive hand was still wrapped around her forearm.

  “Whoa, city girl. This isn’t a faucet. We don’t fill our canteens from the stream,” he said in a harsh tone. “What was rule number one that I said back at the plane?” He paused, waiting for an answer.

  Aiden’s hand shot up in the air.

  “You don’t need to raise your hand, buddy,” he said.

  He spoke to her angrily, then softened every time he spoke to Aiden. How do you do that?

  “Don’t put anything in your mouth without clearing it with me first,” Aiden repeated verbatim.

  Savannah tried to wrench her arm free, but Jack held firm.

  “Right, and why is that?” Jack asked.

  “Bacteria,” Josie answered.

  He turned and glared at Savannah. She wasn’t sure if it was the intensity of his stare or the fact that she now knew his sad history, but instead of seeing anger or determination in his eyes, she saw agony, raw and exposed.

  “Aiden, tell Miss Braden what we need to do next.”

  Jack held her stare, and heck if she didn’t feel a familiar stirring in her belly. She looked at his hand, wrapped so tightly around her arm, then back at his eyes, which weren’t black at all, but midnight blue. A sexy shade of midnight blue.

  “Boil it in the pot, then put it in our canteen,” Aiden said.

  “Good job, Aiden,” Lou said.

  Jack continued staring at Savannah for a beat too long, and this time she didn’t try to yank her arm from his grasp. She gently freed it, then rubbed the red skin. The feel of his grip was still fresh, the skin still warm.

  “That’s right,” Jack said, his eyes still locked on Savannah. “We boil it.” He walked downstream and crouched while he filled the pot with water, leaving Savannah to stare at him and wonder if she’d imagined the heat that had filled the space between them.

  Chapter Three

  THE FIRE CRACKLED and sparked as they purified the water by the stream. Jack leaned against a large pine tree, his arms folded over his chest, feet crossed at the ankles. This was his favorite time of the Day of Impact, when the students began to feel the pain of the walk settling in to their normally coddled bodies. The fire heated their already warm cheeks, and they began to relax. He knew they weren’t thinking about the fact that they still had to climb back up the hill they’d come down, and they were so euphoric over learning to boil water in order to purify it that they weren’t aware of their mounting hunger. He kept food to a minimum on the Day of Impact so they would begin to see the world around them for what it was rather than as a disposable environment where they could toss trash and take things for granted.

  He caught sight of Savannah and Josie sitting by the water with their pants rolled up and their shoes off. Savannah dipped her toes in the water, then wet the washcloths she’d brought with her and rose to her feet. She moved the washcloth in slow circular motions over her wrist, then up to her elbow before rinsing it again and continuing up her lean and tanned arms. Josie said something, and Savannah laughed. Her laugh was feminine, and her entire face lit up with her smile. She washed around her tank top, gently running the cloth over her shoulder and armpit. Jack could almost feel his hand around the wet cloth as it swam over her soft skin and lithe muscles. Savannah flipped her hair over her shoulder with a quick snap of her chin, and their eyes caught. He felt the edge of his mouth lift into a smile and quickly clenched his jaw into a tight line. Her smile disappeared. Jack swallowed hard, feeling his Adam’s apple drag along his throat.

  Darn it.

  He stalked off, silently cursing himself for losing sight of what he was doing. Now he looked like a lech, and that was the last thing he was. But she was so freaking beautiful. If he were to admit the truth to himself, she was more beautiful than any woman he’d ever seen. He’d always been attracted to blondes like Linda—petite and quiet. Savannah had fiery auburn hair, she was mouthy, and even as he walked away, he could see her long, sexy legs.

  Her laughter carried through the air, and as he listened to the unique melody of it, his gut twisted. What am I doing, and why is Savannah Braden invading my thoughts?

  Chapter Four

  SAVANNAH HAD BEEN lying in her tent for at least an hour, trying to warm up. She never could sleep with clothes on, but it was too cold not to. Even with two pairs of socks and her sweatshirt over her long-sleeved shirt, she was still freezing, and the stupid ground was so hard that she knew she’d never fall asleep. She stuck her head out of her tent and listened to see if anyone else was awake. Jack had said that he was going to be awake until the fire went out, but she hoped he’d be in his tent. The moon hung high in the dark sky, casting an eerie shadow over the campsite and reminding her of haunted tales she’d heard as a child. She wasn’t afraid of the dark or of being alone. Savannah had spent hours alone in the barn at night when she was growing up, and as she crept from her tent and went to sit by the dwindling fire, she felt a burst of energy driven by the freedom that came from the crisp night air. It was a different type of freedom than riding her father’s horses as they galloped along the fields, or when she won a big case. Each deep breath of this mountain’s air felt as if it were cleansing her soul.

  Savannah rubbed her hands together above the hot embers, took a deep breath, then blew it out slowly. This is why I’m here. She could barely see past the orange circle of the fire. Real life seemed very far away. She loved living in Manhattan, but being in the mountains reminded her of how much she missed fresh, clean air and the smell of evergreens. Other than when she’d visited her father a few months earlier, she hadn’t seen a real forest bursting with brush and prickly bushes in ages. She even missed the feel of a lush green lawn beneath her feet. She looked down at the dirt beneath her feet and realized it had also been forever since her bare feet had touched the ground. Not a sandy beach or cold pavement, but real dirt and dried fallen leaves. Listening to the noises of woodsy creatures as they scurried beneath the leaves of the forest floor and crickets chirping out their songs, she slipped off her socks and pressed her bare feet into the cold dirt. A moan of appreciation slipped from her lips as the sweetness of the forgotten feeling came tiptoeing back. It had been too long since Savannah left work—and men—behind. This was what she needed to clear her mind and heal her heart. A little serenity could go a long way.

  Twenty minutes later, the embers had burned to quarter-sized sparks of red, and Savannah had to pee. She wiped her feet and slipped them back into her socks before retrieving her boots. She fished around for her flashlight, but in the silence of the night, every sound seemed amplified. The last thing she needed was to wake Jack and be growled at—and how could he go to sleep and leave the fire burning? She grabbed a package of wet wipes and the cell phone she wasn’t supposed to have with her and stuck it in her pocket. The flashlight app would be perfect to light her way.

  Jack had been adamant about not bringing electronic instruments on the trip. The registration email had specified no cell phones, no iPods, and no radios. It’s not like I’m going to use the phone, but the flashlight? Everyone needs a flashlight in the middle of the woods, and I packed a battery powered one, but…Why am I explaining myself to…myself? She touched each tree as she passed, and when she was far enough from the camp that she was sure no one would wake up and see her squatting behind the bushes, she reached into her pocket for her phone. She heard a noise to her left and froze. She held her breath, listening intently for another sound. Her pulse raced and she remembered what Jack had said when Josie had screamed. A bear? Oh no! She contemplated her options: Run back to the campsite? Scream? Turn on her flashlight app and look around?

  A low growl tangled her thoughts into a tight web of fear. Oh no, no, no! She took a step backward and smacked into what felt like a brick wall. Her scream was stifled by a p
owerful hand, and when she swung her elbow backward, her captor caught that, too.

  “Do. Not. Make. A. Sound.” Jack’s voice was a deep whisper, but it was his hot breath on her ear and his hard body pressed against hers that made her pulse ratchet up another notch.

  She turned toward his voice, breathing in the earthy smell of his hand. Her eyes were open so wide, they stung.

  “Stay still,” he whispered in such a strong voice that it vibrated against her ear. “There’s a bobcat to your left.”

  She stifled a whimper. Bobcat?

  “No matter what I do, you cannot make a sound. I’m taking my hand away. Don’t make noise.”

  He lowered his hand, and without it pushing against her face, her trembling turned to full-on shaking. Jack held tight to her right arm as he shifted his body between Savannah and the bobcat. Savannah grabbed hold of the back of his shirt. Her eyes finally adjusted to the dark enough to see what looked like an enormous powerful cat on the side of the hill, its shoulders pushed up below its ears, perched to attack.

  Jack slid his knife from its holder on his hip and whispered, “Don’t move a muscle.”

  Another low, rumbly growl replaced the silence.

  Savannah was too scared to breathe, much less move. He reached behind him and pried her fingers from his back. His eyes never left the cat.

  Her hands flew to her mouth. She hoped he wasn’t going to hurt it, and at the same time, she prayed he would kill it before it killed them. How the heck was he so calm when she could barely remain erect?

  In one swift move, Jack lunged toward the cat with the knife leading the way. He made a loud, deep growling sound followed by a hiss. Savannah gasped a breath. She covered her ears and huddled behind him. The bobcat turned and ran up the hill, leaving another scary growl in its wake.

  Savannah breathed so hard, she thought she might pass out. Jack turned and slid his knife into its sheath.

  “It was a small one. You okay?” His eyebrows drew together. And as he stepped closer and reached an arm out, Savannah practically fell against him.

  Tears fell instantly, and she hated herself for being such a wimp. This was not who she wanted to be in front of the guy who already thought she was too much of a city girl. Or a guy who made her stomach flip and her heart ache. She felt his body grow rigid against her, but she was too scared to break away. She couldn’t stop trembling. Or freaking crying. Darn it. She never cried, and here she was falling apart like an idiot.

  SOMETIMES JACK REMINGTON forgot what it was like not to live in the wild. And, he realized as Savannah’s body shook and hiccupped with sobs against his chest, he’d also forgotten that sometimes women got scared. Even the tough ones. He put his arms around Savannah even though he knew he shouldn’t, and he told himself not to think about how soft and warm her body felt against him or how long it had been since he’d held a woman. When she nuzzled against his neck, he couldn’t help but smell the coconut aroma of her shampoo, and when his hand naturally moved up her back, pressing her against his chest, the feel of her thundering heart loosened the leash on the sexual urges he’d so masterfully repressed. He grit his teeth and closed his eyes, trying to keep himself from touching her thick hair, but the urge was too powerful not to reach beneath those heavy, soft locks and place his hand on the back of her neck, feeling the gentle ridge of the top of her spine against his palm.

  Savannah lifted her head from his shoulder, and when she looked up at him with those gorgeous damp eyes and he saw the fear that filled them, he didn’t think, could barely breathe. He simply lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her, wanting to take that fear from her body and breathe new, safe air into her lungs. She kissed him tentatively at first, and then as passionately as he kissed her. His tongue swept the roof of her mouth, along her teeth, learning every groove and reveling in every stroke of her delicious tongue. His body hungered for more, and as her hands slipped beneath his shirt and her fingers crawled along his waist to the center of his back, then moved slowly over the scars that peppered his skin, Jack flinched. He’d spent years hiding behind the cause of them, and now, as much as he didn’t want to hide anymore, he was nervous as could be. She pressed her hips into his, and it was all he could do to stifle a groan like a teenager.

  When they finally drew apart, reality came rushing at him like a barrage of fractured thoughts. Savannah didn’t need a broken man like him, and he sure as heck didn’t need to try to fill the hole in his heart the size of Mount Everest—a hole he’d just gotten used to ignoring.

  “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.” He hated how cold he sounded, but he knew it was for the best. Jack took a step backward, trying to rationalize the ache in his gut to doing the right thing—even if it felt so wrong that he wanted to punch a tree.

  Savannah stepped backward, shaking her head. “Why?”

  “This isn’t what you’re here for, and it’s sure as heck not what I’m here for,” he snapped.

  “But maybe it’s what we both needed,” she said.

  How many times had Linda said something similar to him? Stop working and come to bed. You need me tonight. Jack clenched his jaw against the anger that mounted within him. He’d messed up, and the hope in Savannah’s eyes nearly sent his lips right back to hers. He had to shut her down or he’d never forgive himself.

  “Savannah, stop,” he said. “It was a kiss. You were scared, and I got carried away. Chalk it up to the heat of the moment. Aftershock.” He reached for her arm in spite of himself and she pulled away.

  “Aftershock?” she spat. “I saw the way you looked at me down by the water and again right before you kissed me, and what I saw wasn’t a man who was carried away.”

  Damn. What the heck did she want from him? He wasn’t a fling kind of guy, and a woman like Savannah probably had men lined up around the corner. He wasn’t ready to deal with the surge of emotion that scared the tar out of him when they’d kissed, and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready again.

  “I’m sorry,” was all he could muster.

  Savannah narrowed her eyes like the angry bobcat that had just run off. “What were you doing out here anyway?” she asked. “Spying on me?” She cocked her head and looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

  Jack wasn’t about to tell her that he spent most nights lying awake, too anxious to sleep, swimming in and out of fitful sleep, or that he often spent several hours sitting beneath the stars, replaying that fateful night of the accident in his mind like a bad rerun.

  He dropped his eyes, thinking about how tonight he’d been on the verge of tears out of sheer frustration when he’d spotted Savannah walking into the woods, her eyes wide, her slim fingers trailing from tree to tree, and how seeing her had quelled his tears. Just as meeting her had given life to stirrings he hadn’t felt in years. He’d almost been glad to spot the bobcat because it gave him a reason to be closer to her.

  “Jack?” she said just above a whisper. “Is this about your wife?”

  How the heck do you know? Anger twisted in his gut. “No, this is not about my wife.” He pushed past her. “It was a stupid mistake, okay?”

  She grabbed his arm. “Hey, wait a second, please.”

  He spun around. He felt his chest heaving, his nostrils flaring. He looked down at Savannah. The eight inches between them seemed like a foot. She looked fragile and scared, but not half as scared as he felt at that moment as his anger shifted and swirled through his stomach to his chest and burned a path to his heart.

  “Sorry. I didn’t…”

  He closed the distance between them and put his hands on her arms. She was so soft and so sexy, even now, scared and trembling. Every nerve in his body cried out for her touch, and his heart—his blasted heart—wanted to kiss that fear away, and so did he. He was so turned on, it took all his focus not to lean forward and taste her lips again.

  “Jack,” she whispered. She reached up to touch his cheek, and he held tightly to her arms, forcing them back down. “It’s okay
,” she said.

  “No, it’s not okay.” He needed to ease the guilt of wanting Savannah.

  “We all have hurt in our lives, Jack,” she said.

  He felt her muscles flex beneath his palms as she reached her fingertips up and touched his arm, so tender and loving, even while he had her arms confined against her will.

  “You don’t know about hurt like I do,” he said.

  “Maybe not like you do, but I do know how much it hurts to lose someone you love and how, no matter what you do, you can’t let that love go. I know that it eats you up inside, and you feel like the person’s right there with you but you just can’t reach them,” she said.

  He pushed away. “How? Wha—”

  Savannah shrugged. “I’ve watched my father grieve for my mother my whole life, and I’ve grieved for her, too,” she admitted.

  Jack let out an angry breath and growled, “You know what you saw, not what he felt.”

  THE HURT AND anger in Jack’s voice sliced through Savannah’s heart like a knife. Her father was an expert at masking the pain of missing her mother, but the longing was evident in everything he did and said. Jack’s pain was raw, visceral, as if his wife’s death left a gaping wound and every breath carried a painful reminder that she was gone. She’d felt how his body had gone rigid when they’d kissed, as if he were scared of the kiss itself, and how his rock-hard body had competing impulses. There was no denying his instant arousal when their hips had come together.

  “Your version of hurt is stubbing your toe on the streets of Manhattan,” he said.

  Savannah narrowed her eyes. “You can be a real jerk, you know that? Watching my father grieve—and never knowing my mother—sucked. And pain comes in all forms”—like finding your boyfriend in bed with another woman or having to prove yourself every day in a chauvinistic industry—“none of which are fun.” She took a step forward and looked up at him. The bottom of his chin was peppered with stubble except for an area about an inch long and a quarter inch wide, where a thin white scar had laid claim. Even though she wanted to call him out again for acting like a jerk, her heart wondered if it was his pain speaking. She wanted to touch that scar, heal the pain, and reveal the real Jack Remington. Instead, she said, “Thank you for saving me from the bobcat.”