Warm & Willing
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Kate Hoffmann
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1
HE FELT HER WARMTH before he even touched her. The room was dark, so black he couldn’t rely on his sense of sight. She lay beside him in the bed, the warm curve of her backside nestled into his lap. Sam hesitated before he touched her, certain that she was just a figment of his imagination, another dream that would be snatched away before he could find satisfaction.
But when he reached for her, she sighed and whispered his name. It had been such a long time, Sam wondered how he’d be able to take it slow. His body ached with the need for release, yet he didn’t want to rush. He craved the sweet torture that came with losing himself deep inside a woman.
He drew a breath and then smoothed his hand over her naked belly. Her skin was like silk, so warm and soft beneath his callused fingers. He gently turned her in his arms, finding her lips and kissing her softly. She responded immediately, opening to his gentle assault.
The kiss was intoxicating, like a glass of warmed brandy on a cold night. That warmth seeped though his bloodstream, propelled by the slow, even pulse of his heart. He didn’t know who she was or where she’d come from, but he wanted her all the same.
“Touch me,” he murmured, guiding her hand to his body. Her fingers danced over his skin, teasing at the hair on his belly before dropping lower. He held his breath, waiting for the rush of heat when she wrapped her fingers around him and began to stroke his shaft.
A low moan rumbled in his throat as he gave himself over to the intense sensations coursing through his body. He was close, his release just a heartbeat away. Still, he held back. But as red-hot desire swirled within him, he felt himself losing the battle for control.
And then, suddenly, she stopped. “What’s wrong?” he whispered, his question laced with desperation.
“Is there a donut shop on the corner or will I have to go to the airport?”
Slowly, Sam found his way back from the brink and opened his eyes. He still couldn’t see her, but he knew she’d never been there at all. Gulping in a deep breath, he sat up and glanced around the dimly lit interior of the cabin. “Donut shop?” he murmured, raking his fingers through his hair. “What the hell?”
Embers still glowed in the fireplace and as his vision cleared, he realized he’d been dreaming again. He cursed at the bizarre and decidedly unsatisfying end to his dream, then flopped back on the bed, his skin slick with sweat.
“It’s time to get out of here,” he murmured, wincing at the unresolved ache in his groin.
Light filtered through the small windows, telling him it was well past dawn. He’d tidy up the cabin, pack his things, and in a few hours, hike back to the civilized world. And once he’d reached Sutter Gap, he’d find a warm and willing woman, one who wouldn’t evaporate before he had a chance to come.
Sam crawled off the bed and walked to the rough plank door. He threw it open and let the cold air hit his naked body, blasting away the last traces of his dream. The sky above the leafless trees was clear and blue, forecasting good weather for his trip.
Spring had come to his little corner of the Appalachian wilderness two weeks ago, the rising temperatures melting the dense cover of snow in the higher elevations of the Blue Ridge Mountains. He’d thought about making the hike out a few days before, but a driving rain had changed his mind. In good weather, it took a long day’s walk to reach the little town of Sutter Gap, but if he had to slog through swollen streams and ankle-deep mud, the hike could take two.
Sam went back inside the cabin and tossed another log on the fire, poking at the embers. He’d run out of coffee last month and had been existing on the last of the beans and rice for the past week. The thought of a thick, juicy steak and a baked potato made his mouth water.
Strange how a man’s needs could be reduced to just two things—sex and red meat. And a hot shower, maybe. If he could find a way to enjoy all three at the same time, then he wouldn’t have to choose which to pursue first.
He’d lived a monkish life for the past six months, a simple existence in a rough log cabin, perched on a mountainside among the thick forests of western North Carolina. Over the past three years, the cabin had become home.
Sam smiled as he remembered his first winter living in the woods. He’d craved sex and Snickers candy bars. And when he’d returned to civilization, he’d eaten twenty candy bars in two days and spent a week in bed with a pretty bartender from a road-house outside of Asheville.
During his second winter it was sex and the music of Linkin Park. After he’d gotten back, he’d driven around for over a week with their latest CD in his disc player and spent his nights with a sexy nature guide from Smokey Mountains National Park.
Sam wondered just what kind of woman would share his bed this time around. It was always a bit tricky, explaining his situation and his particular needs to a potential bedmate. Most single women were interested in a romantic relationship, one that might result in marriage. Sam’s only interest was in a wildly exciting, no-strings attached sexual encounter lasting approximately one week.
To his surprise, he’d found quite a few women who required nothing more than unbridled passion with a skilled and eager partner. After a week together, there was nothing more to experience and both parties went away well satisfied.
Sam grabbed a pair of faded jeans from the hook on the wall and tugged them on. He’d first walked into the mountains a few months after the death of his best friend, Jeff Warren. They’d climbed Mt. McKinley together and on the way down, Jeff had been swept away in an avalanche, gone in an instant, buried deep beneath the snow.
Adventure had become almost an obsession for the two of them. Every extra dime they’d made from their jobs on Wall Street had been spent searching for bigger and better thrills. And when Sam had suggested a climb up McKinley, Jeff had barely been able to contain his enthusiasm. It had all been good, the crazy thrill of standing on top of one of the world’s seven summits. And then it had suddenly turned so bad. In a heartbeat, Jeff was dead and Sam had been left to rue the day he’d ever mentioned Mt. McKinley.
The first book Sam had read after the funeral had been Thoreau’s Walden Pond and he’d gotten from it the idea of living a quieter, simpler life, what he hoped would be a remedy for his chaotic emotions. So he’d quit his job and set out on his most challenging adventure—to spend a winter in the wilderness, completely alone.
Luckily, that first winter had been mild. He’d come with just a tent, a warm sleeping bag, some rudimentary tools and a book about wilderness survival. He’d camped on a piece of privately owned, inheld land, surrounded by national forest and set on top of a small mountain range.
In his determination to live off the land, Sam had nearly starved. He’d decided not to bring a gun for hunting and was left to fashion snares out of vines and saplings. He had quickly exhausted his taste for wild roots and edible plants and the occasional rabbit that wandered into his snare, yet he’d refused to give up.
He’d left his camp that spring knowing he’d become a different man on those long, lonely winter nights—a man he could look at in the mirror again. A man who could face anything life threw at him.
Over the following summer, he’d prepared to go back to his former life, but when autumn had rolled around, Sam had packed more tools and spent the winter working on a rough log cabin. It had been slow progress all alone, but by the time spring had come, he’d had a cozy shelter with a stone fireplace and a roof over his head.
He’d begun recording his experiences and thoughts in a small diary as a way to pass his evenings. And when he’d hiked out after his second winter, Sam had decided to submit a few of his stories to an adventure magazine. The editor had been impressed and scheduled the stories to run in a regular column starting that October. But by October, Sam was back in the wilderness again.
He filled his days with finding food and chopping firewood and making improvements to the cabin. The long winter nights were a time to contemplate the man he’d been and the man he’d become. But there was a limit to his need for solitude and he’d passed it about a month ago.
Sam grabbed the water bucket and walked out the front door of the cabin. He followed the well-worn path to a small stream that carried runoff from high in the mountains. It was nice not to have to melt snow to bathe and shave. He wondered what it would take to dig a well on his mountainside.
As he walked back up to the cabin, Sam was startled to see a lone figure waiting on the front steps. He hadn’t seen another person for months. But when the man turned, Sam chuckled and shook his head. “Carter Wilbury! What are you doing on my mountain?”
The elderly man waved and dropped his pack beside him. “Sam Morgan! If I remember correctly, I own this mountain and pretty much all the land around it.”
“I was just on my way down,” Sam said when he joined the older man. “How was your hike up?”
“Not bad. Took a while for me to work the winter out of my bones. Could have done the whole thing in a day, but I camped down below last night. Just couldn’t work up the energy to climb this last bit. I thought you might see my campfire and walk down to investigate.”
Though Sam considered himself a competent out-doorsman, Carter Wilbury was a real mountain man. Carter had once broken his leg in a twenty-foot tumble off a rock ledge, then crawled for six days to get help. He’d eaten bugs and grubs and worms and drunk the dew off leaves to stay alive. Since then, he’d been a legend around Sutter Gap. But age and a bad bout of frostbite had kept Carter indoors in the winter—that and a pretty widow who had captured his fancy.
Sam picked up the man’s pack and dragged it through the front door. “I’d offer you a cup of coffee, but I ran out a few weeks back.”
“I brought some along,” Carter said, bending down to rummage through his pack. “Just show me where the pot is.”
Sam grabbed the pot from the dry sink and filled it with water from the pitcher. “So what brings you up here so early in the season?”
“Came here to warn ya,” Carter said.
Sam froze. “About what?”
“There’s a woman nosing around Sutter Gap. She found out you like to frequent the Lucky Penny when you’re in town and she’s waiting for you to come back.”
“Who is she?” Sam asked.
Carter shrugged. “Says her name is Sarah Cantrell. She won’t say what she wants, but she’s a persistent little thing. She tried to pay me five hundred dollars to bring her up here, but I told her I didn’t know where you were.”
“What did she look like?”
“Pretty. Real pretty. City girl. Nice fingernails, fancy makeup and she wears the damnedest boots with these funny little heels. And she’s always messing with her cell phone. Most of the boys at the bar have been drooling over her but all she’s interested in is you.” Carter paused. “I saw that Fatal Attraction movie on HBO a few months back. You don’t think she’s…”
“A bunny boiler?”
“No, got a Sam Jr. she wants to show you. You are quite the ladies’ man when you’re off this mountain.”
“Did she have a baby with her?”
“No, but do the math. You came off the mountain in April of last year. It’s late March now. She could have photos of a two-month-old to show you.”
“Listen, I may enjoy the company of women, but I do it responsibly.”
Carter nodded. “Well, then, I guess we can rule out the social diseases as well. Maybe a relative died and she’s here to tell you you’ve inherited a fortune. Or maybe she’s one of those reporters looking to do a story on a modern-day Daniel Boone.”
Sam considered the possibilities for a moment, then shrugged. “I suppose I’ll know soon enough. Thanks for watching my back.”
“No problem,” Carter said.
Sam considered the ramifications of Carter’s news. “Can you do it again? Watch my back, I mean. When we get back to Sutter Gap, I want you to tell this woman you know someone who can take her to see Sam Morgan.”
“Who? Besides you and me, no one else knows how to get up here. And you know how the folks are in Sutter Gap. They don’t talk to strangers.”
“Just introduce her to me, your cousin. Call me…Charlie Wilbury, your friendly, neighborhood wilderness guide. And give everyone at the Lucky Penny the heads-up. I’ll just tell her I’m going to take her to Sam Morgan and in turn, she’ll tell me what she wants.”
“So you think she’s trouble?”
“I don’t know,” Sam said. “But it won’t take me more than a few minutes to find out.”
“I CAN’T BELIEVE I’ve spent ten whole days in this backwater town with nothing to show for it,” Sarah Cantrell muttered. She glanced over her shoulder at the patrons of the Lucky Penny tavern then turned back to the old pay phone, feeling their eyes boring into her back.
The town of Sutter Gap, population two hundred, sat nestled in the mountain country of North Carolina, just a few miles from the Tennessee border. The main street boasted just two businesses—a tiny grocery store which also served as the town gas station, the post office and the bait shop; and the Lucky Penny Tavern. The rest of the town was made up of a hodge-podge of houses, cobbled together without regard for architectural style. Sarah had taken a room at the Gap View Motor Lodge just out of town, a place that usually housed visiting hunters.
“I’m a nice southern girl, but this is not the south,” she continued. “If I’m not careful, one of these good old boys is going to toss me in the back of his pickup, take me to his cabin in the woods and chain me to the bed.”
“You’re a beautiful woman and men are bound to look,” Libby Marbury said, her voice crackling back over the phone line. “They’re probably just lonesome.”
Libby Parrish Marbury had been Sarah’s best friend since they were in seventh grade. Over the years, they’d given each other endless advice on men and romance. But there was no way even Libby could put a positive spin on the social prospects in Sutter Gap, North Carolina.
“They don’t just look,” Sarah complained. “They grunt and leer and a few of them drool. I know I’ve complained about the dating scene in Belfort, but I feel like I’ve landed on another planet here. A planet where ragged flannel and faded denim is the height of fashion and a good catch is a man who can bring down a ten-point buck with his bare hands. The odds are pretty good here, but the goods are definitely odd.”
“You’re not there to find a man,” Libby insisted. “At least, not in the romantic sense, so why let it bother you?”
“It doesn’t bother me,” Sarah said. “I’m just a little frustrated with the waiting.”
For such a long time, she and Libby had been in the same boat—single and searching for love. But since Libby’s wedding, Sarah had become acutely aware of the differences between them. Libby had always taken a very cautious approach to love, waiting patiently for her Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet, knowing that some day he’d come.
Sarah had always preferred a more adventurous attitude toward men, juggling several different boyfriends at once and then discarding them when they became too demanding or too troublesome. In truth, she didn’t want love at all, just fire and heat and passion. Libby had once quipped that Sarah took a “catch and release” approach to the men in her life. Men were like fish, once she’d caught them, it was only a matter of time before she tossed them back.
“I’ve turned down three invitations since I got to town,” Sarah continued. “One guy wanted me to go coon hunting, and one offered an evening of bowling in Asheville. The other cut right to the chase. He wanted to take me home to meet his mama.”
“Do you really expect Sam Morgan to be any different?” Libby asked.
“I sure hope he is. It would take me a whole lot more than I’ve got budgeted to turn any of these guys into a television personality.”
“How long are you going to wait for this guy?” Libby asked.
“I don’t know. This is the biggest get of my career. Sam Morgan has been living in the wilderness for three years, all alone. He survives on nuts and berries. He built a log cabin with his own two hands. He’s PBS gold. Imagine the potential. The program would be part reality television, part adventure and travel and part educational. Plus, we’ve got the whole pioneer history thing going. If he’s halfway presentable, the show could be a huge hit.”
“And if he isn’t?”
“At least his name sounds rugged. I’m hoping he looks like a cross between Robert Redford and the Marlboro man. We need to attract female viewers as well as male. If he’s missing all his teeth I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“What if Mr. Morgan doesn’t want you nosing around his life?”
“Well, he obviously wants some sort of recognition or he wouldn’t have written those articles for Outdoor Adventure. I just hope I can get to him before the network guys do. Those reality show producers are always on the prowl for the next big idea and they can offer him a lot more money than I can. But all they’re interested in is ratings and drama. I’d do this right.”
“You’re a very persuasive woman when you want to be,” Libby said. “I’m sure you’ll be able to get this guy to agree to your idea.”
“I hope so.”
It had been sheer luck that she’d stumbled across Sam Morgan. Two months ago, she’d been in the dentist’s office and had picked up an issue of Outdoor Adventure. After reading Sam Morgan’s article, she’d cancelled her appointment, gone back to the station and had immediately begun preparing a pitch for a new PBS series called Wilderness.
It was the perfect next step in her career. She’d begun work at the PBS affiliate in Charleston eight years earlier, as a twenty-two-year-old production assistant. She’d worked her way up to producer at WCLC, but when she’d first proposed the idea for Libby’s cooking show, of Southern Comforts, it was with the idea of striking out on her own. She’d quit her job and formed her own production company and before long, she and Libby had put together the funding to produce Southern Comforts.
They’d never expected the show to be such a resounding hit. Southern Comforts was now the jewel in WCLC’s programming crown, seen in nearly one hundred PBS markets nationwide. And from the moment she’d finished production on the second season, the station had begun clamoring for another new show.
Wilderness would be that show. And once it was a success, the production company she’d founded three years ago would finally be on firm footing. She could pay back the business loan she’d taken and maybe even give herself a small salary raise as well.
“If I can just find him, I’m sure I can convince him,” Sarah said.
“So what else do you know about Sam Morgan?” Libby asked.
“Nothing. No one in town is talking. This old guy named Carter Wilbury is supposed to be his friend, but he won’t—” Sarah felt a tap on her shoulder. She held up her hand. “I’ll be through in a sec.”
“What?” Libby asked.
“Someone wants to use the phone,” Sarah replied, annoyed with the interruption. “So, tell me, how are you feeling? Has the morning sickness gotten any better?”
“I’m much better. Trey brings me crackers in bed and I’ve found that regular servings of Rocky Road ice cream seem to settle my stomach. And my clothes are starting to get really tight, though I’m not sure if that’s from the baby or all the ice cream.”
Sarah pulled her BlackBerry PDA out of her purse and scanned her calendar. “I’ll be back home next week at the latest. We can go shopping at that cute little maternity shop on—” Sarah felt another tap on her shoulder. She spun around, angry at the second rude interruption. “I said I’d be done in—”
The words froze in her throat as she came face-to-face with the most beautiful man in all of Sutter Gap—and probably in the entire state of North Carolina as well. Sarah coughed to hide her surprise. “I—I’m sorry. I’ll just get off now.” She reached back to hang up the phone, but missed the hook twice.
“I understand you’re looking for Sam Morgan,” he said.
Sarah stared into his eyes, deep blue and ringed with impossibly long, dark lashes. “I—um, I’ll be—”
Libby’s voice came over the phone. “Sarah? Are you still there?”
Shaken from her stupor, Sarah turned back to face the wall and whispered into the phone. “Lib, I have to go.”
“Is everything all right?”
She cupped her hand over the receiver. “I might have been completely wrong about the men in Sutter Gap.”
“What?”
“I’ll call you later with the details.” With that, she quickly hung up the phone and spun back around, smoothing her hair and gracing him with a bright smile. She held out her hand. “Hello there, I’m Sarah Cantrell.”
The man stared down at her outstretched fingers, examining her manicure for a long moment before taking her hand in his callused palm. “Charlie Wilbury,” he muttered, his thumb brushing across the back of her wrist.
“Wilbury?” she asked. “Are you related to Carter Wilbury? Or Hattie Wilbury who runs the Gap View Motor Lodge?”
“Probably,” he replied.
Though he was dressed like all the others at the Lucky Penny, this man managed to make scruffy look incredibly sexy. His features were close to perfection, the sculpted mouth and the chiseled jaw, the blue eyes that seemed to see right into her soul. Even the dark stubble of beard that shadowed his strong jaw was attractive on him, while the same unshaven look came across as untidy on the rest of the patrons of the bar.
Millions of questions raced through her mind. What was a man like him doing in a place like this? Was this all some altitude-induced hallucination, or was he real? And why was he wearing so damn many clothes? Why was she wearing so many clothes? Suddenly, the room seemed very warm.
Sarah gulped back her silly questions and forced a smile. “Do you know Sam Morgan?”
“I do,” Charlie said, his gaze now fixed on her face.
Sarah groaned inwardly as a tiny grin twitched at the corners of his mouth. Maybe he could read her mind. She quickly tried to dispel the image of a naked mountain man from her head.
“And what do you need with Sam?”
Sarah shifted as his eyes now focused on her lips. Good grief, the way he was smiling at her was quite unnerving, as if he were seriously contemplating ravishing her right there in the bar. “I need to talk to him.”
“About what?”
His blunt question took her by surprise and she tried to regain control of her senses. “Well, that’s really none of your business.”
Charlie chuckled and let go of her hand. “No, I suppose it isn’t. But you’re the one looking for him, lady, not me.”
He turned, sauntered over to the bar and sat down on a bar stool.
She studied him from a distance. He wore faded jeans that hugged his long legs and a canvas jacket that looked like he’d recently used it for a doormat. The soft flannel shirt beneath his jacket was open just enough to reveal a smooth chest. His hiking boots were scuffed and his dark hair was just a little too long, curling over the collar of his jacket.
He was not prone to gaping at her, which set him apart from the rabble nursing their beers, munching on peanuts and debating the nutritional value of beef jerky.
A shiver skittered down her spine as she imagined what it might be like to unbutton his shirt, to run her hands over his chest and to press her lips to his skin. There was something about all that rugged masculinity wrapped up in denim and flannel that left her just a little dizzy. She moaned softly. This was neither the time nor the place for erotic musings!
Sarah drew a deep breath and started toward him. Right now, Charlie Wilbury was her only way to Sam Morgan. And Sam Morgan was her only way to another successful show. If she had to use every last ounce of her sex appeal to get what she wanted from Mr. Wilbury, then she would. But it would be strictly a business tactic. Sarah slipped onto the bar stool next to him. “Can I buy you a drink, Mr. Wilbury?”
“Depends on what you expect in return,” he said. “If you expect me to get all sloppy drunk so you can take advantage of me, then yes, you can buy me several drinks.”
Sarah smiled. She hadn’t expected to encounter both unique wit and simmering masculinity here in Sutter Gap. It was highly enjoyable. And given the choice, she could think of whole list of things she would also enjoy, beginning with a slow striptease and ending with a night of passion in her motel room…if she were living in Sarah Cantrell’s Sexual Fantasyland where every handsome man was interested in pleasuring her. But she wasn’t.
“You said you know Sam Morgan. Do you know where he is right now?”
Charlie nodded. “I do.”
Sarah opened her purse and withdrew a twenty, placing it on the bar. The bartender poured Charlie a whiskey straight up and left the bottle. Sarah ordered a diet cola, deciding it would be better to keep her head together than impress him with her drinking abilities. “Could you take me to him?”
“Sam’s a real private person. He doesn’t like strangers, even if they do look like you.”
There was a compliment in there somewhere. “Surprise, surprise,” she murmured. “No one in this town likes strangers. And no one knows anything about Sam Morgan either.”
“Or maybe they just don’t want to talk to you.”
“This is very important,” Sarah said, reaching out to touch his hand. The moment she did, she had cause to regret her action. A strange tingle numbed her fingers and began to climb up her arm. “I—I have a business proposal for him that could be financially beneficial. I think it’s only fair that he make his own decision about this.”
Charlie set down his whiskey glass and ran his thumb back and forth over the back of her hand. “And what makes you think Sam is interested in money?”
“Everyone is interested in money,” Sarah said. Although, right now, all she was interested in was the strange effect Charlie Wilbury’s touch was having on her body.
He downed the rest of his whiskey and set the glass on the bar, then slowly stood. “Not everyone, Ms. Cantrell. Hell, I’m interested in lots of other things besides money.” He let his gaze skim lazily up and down her body. “You probably are, too, right?” With that, he started toward the door.
Sarah gasped. Just what was he intimating? Yes, she was attracted to him. And the thought of tearing his clothes off and having her way with him had crossed her mind—once, twice at the most. But she certainly could set aside basic lust in order to focus on the real reason she’d come to Sutter Gap.
She grabbed her purse and ran, catching up to him on the sidewalk outside the bar. “Wait!” He stopped and she circled around him, preventing him from taking another step. “I’ll pay you five hundred dollars if you get me a meeting with Sam Morgan.”
“You still haven’t told me what you want.”
Sarah stared up at him, losing herself in his gaze for a long moment. He had the most mesmerizing blue eyes. Suddenly all thoughts of business fled from her head. If she told him what she really wanted from him, what would he do? What a silly question! From the way he was looking at her, he wasn’t the kind of man who waited for an engraved invitation.
“One thousand dollars,” she said in a shaky voice, knowing that she’d wipe out the last of her checking account to get what she wanted. “You take me to Sam Morgan, no questions asked.” But after she made the offer, Sarah wondered if she could trust the man behind those eyes. Could she trust any man who made her heart flutter and her pulse pound, a man who looked as if he were ready to toss her against the nearest car and have his way with her?
“Nope,” he said. He started off again, but she grabbed his arm.
“All right. Here’s the deal. I want to make a television show about Sam Morgan’s experiences in the wilderness. I own a small production company and we work with the PBS station in Charleston, South Carolina. It would be a multimedia deal. There’d be a companion book, speaking engagements, special appearances. I’ve read Mr. Morgan’s articles in Outdoor Adventure and he’s a wonderful writer. I can make him famous.”
Charlie laughed out loud. “Famous?”
“As famous as…Bob Vila. Or Julia Child.”
“So you like his writing?” Charlie asked. “I always thought his prose was a little flowery.”
“Not at all,” Sarah protested. “It’s descriptive and evocative. He has such a wonderful way with detail, yet there’s an innate simplicity to his words. Do you know if he’s an educated man?”
Charlie hesitated, as if contemplating how much he was willing to reveal. “I’d say he’s just about the smartest guy I’ve ever met. I’d even call him brilliant. But he’s also very humble.”
“And what about his dental situation,” she asked. “Does he have all his teeth?”
Sam’s eyebrow shot up. “Yes, I believe he does.”
Sarah sighed in relief. She was finally getting somewhere. But she still had to convince Charlie Wilbury to take her to Sam. “I could really use your help. Maybe we could have dinner tonight and I could explain all the details.”
She swallowed hard, wondering if the invitation sounded too desperate. But she was desperate—to find Sam Morgan. And maybe a tiny bit interested in his friend Charlie Wilbury. “I’m sure Mr. Morgan will want to listen to my proposal, but I’ll let you be the judge.”
“Where are you staying?”
“At the Gap View Motor Lodge out on Route 18. Room nine.”
He studied her for a long moment, then shrugged. “All right. I’ll pick you up at seven. Dress warmly,” he said. With that, Charlie Wilbury walked down the street, whistling softly, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket.
Sarah watched him go, staring at his backside and admiring the view. She shivered again, then rubbed her arms through her wool jacket. It had been a long time since she’d found a man so devastatingly attractive. And had he been just an ordinary man, she might have considered seducing him.
But it had always been her policy never to mix business with pleasure. She sighed. “A guy like Charlie Wilbury would be a good reason to revise that policy,” she murmured.
SAM STARED at his reflection in the rearview mirror, then raked his hands through his hair. Maybe he should have taken more care with his appearance. After all, this was a date of sorts. He was taking a beautiful woman to dinner, the closest thing he’d had to a real social engagement in almost three years.
“What the hell am I doing?” he muttered.
It had been a simple plan—hide his identity, find out what she wanted and then get the hell out of town. But now that he knew exactly what she wanted, why was he still hanging around? He had no intention of agreeing to her proposal.
Obviously he was staying because Sarah Cantrell made his pulse race and his blood warm. From the moment he’d met her, he’d thought about nothing but getting her into bed. For a man who’d done without sex for months, that wasn’t unexpected. But his fantasies were strangely detailed, imagining the feel of her breast in his hand or the warmth of her mouth on his skin or the—
Sam cursed softly. Nothing good could come of his deception. If he had any intention of inviting her into his bed, then he needed to tell her the truth as soon as possible. Sam tipped his head back and groaned. Why couldn’t he have stumbled across a less complicated woman? Usually when he came down from the cabin, he found himself a woman with exactly the same wants and needs that he had—great sex and lots of it. So why was he even considering seducing Sarah Cantrell?
“She’s beautiful, for one,” he murmured. With a body any man would want to put his hands on. But there was more to it than just a physical attraction. Sarah Cantrell was smart and funny and stubborn and resourceful, the kind of woman who’d probably make seduction a challenge.
And women like Sarah didn’t just drop out of the sky every day, especially in Sutter Gap. If his instincts were right, and they usually were when it came to the opposite sex, she wanted him as much as he wanted her. So what was stopping him?
Carter had called her a pretty little thing. The old guy always did have a knack for understatement. There was something about the auburn hair and the perfect skin and the lush mouth that made him believe Sarah Cantrell might just be the most gorgeous, intriguing woman he’d ever met.
The thought of slowly undressing her, of running his hands over her naked body and touching her in her most intimate spots, made his pulse pound. “Right now, any woman would look good,” he reminded himself.
Sam turned off the ignition and hopped out of the SUV. “Just tell her who you are,” he said as he strode up to room number nine, “turn down her proposal and go from there.”
He rapped on the door, then stood back. Though this wasn’t a date, it sure felt like one. He was already cataloguing topics he might call upon if the conversation dwindled and she seemed bored.
A few seconds later, Sarah pulled open the door. Sam’s breath caught in his throat as the light from the room lit her from behind. Her hair tumbled in soft waves around her face. She wore a pale green sweater that clung to her body like a second skin, molding to the curves of her breasts. The neckline scooped low in the front, revealing just a tiny bit of cleavage.
Sam swallowed hard. Why did there have to be cleavage? Now he’d spend the rest of the night thinking about pressing his lips to that very spot on her body. “Hi,” he murmured.
“I’ll just be a second,” Sarah said, gracing him with a warm smile.
Sam watched her from the doorway as she gathered her jacket and purse from the bed. She wore a wool skirt that hugged her backside and revealed the tantalizing length of her legs. Black leather boots hugged her calves and an image of those legs wrapped around his waist flashed in his head. He’d forgotten just how arousing a woman’s body could be when fully clothed.
When she turned around, he was caught staring. He cleared his throat. Now was the time to come clean and tell her the truth. But then again, he didn’t want to spend the entire evening talking business. He’d wait until after dinner. “Ready?”
Sam stepped aside as she walked out, then he hurried to open the door to his SUV. When she was settled in her seat, he closed the door and circled around the front of the truck. After three years of living in the wild, he was almost surprised he remembered basic etiquette.
As he steered the truck out of town, Sam turned his attention to the sharply winding road. The lights from the SUV illuminated the trees and they headed deeper into the woods. He stole a quick glace at Sarah and saw a worried frown wrinkling her brow.
“You’re going to love this place,” Sam assured her. “The view is incredible. And the food is great.”
“How does a restaurant survive so far out in the sticks?” Sarah asked in an uneasy tone.
“It has a very exclusive clientele,” he explained.
“I—I think I’d prefer to eat a little bit closer to town.”
He pulled off the county road and carefully maneuvered the truck down a narrow dirt drive, the path marked by two ruts cut through the woods. As they bumped along, Sarah clutched the dashboard, her eyes wide. “Where are you taking me?”
Sam heard the concern in her voice and figured her mind was beginning to form images of serial killers and axe murderers. Just how far was she willing to go to find Sam Morgan? She’d already driven into the woods with a virtual stranger. Would she sleep with a wilderness guide who promised to take her to Morgan? “We’re almost there,” he said.
Sam slowly pulled the truck to a stop in a small clearing, then turned off the ignition. He jumped out of the truck and circled around to her side to open the door. But she quickly locked all the doors. “I’m not getting out,” she shouted through the window, fear lacing her words. “I don’t like it here.”
Sam held up the keyless remote and pushed the button to unlock the doors. But Sarah quickly locked them all again from the inside. Sam chuckled. “You’re willing to let me take you to Sam Morgan but you’re not willing to eat dinner with me?”
“How do know that you’re not some—some—”
“Look in the bag on the back seat,” Sam said. “You’ll find two steaks, a couple of potatoes, and a bottle of wine. We’re going to be dining al fresco tonight. There’s a nice spot just down the trail.”
She crawled over the seat and rummaged through the grocery bag. A few moments later, she opened the door, an apologetic expression on her face. Holding out his hand, he helped her down. But he didn’t let go of her fingers, determined to touch her for as long as he wanted. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, bending so close that his lips nearly brushed her cheek. “You’ll be perfectly safe with me.”
“I don’t know many psychos who know what al fresco means,” she muttered. “So I guess I’m safe. But where are we?”
Sam opened the rear door and grabbed a flashlight then handed it to her. “The best spot in Sutter Gap.” After finding a flashlight for himself, he grabbed the grocery bag. Then he took her hand and pulled her along with him on a narrow trail. When she stumbled slightly, he stopped and slipped his arm around her waist. “Are you all right?”
“These boots really weren’t made for wandering around in the woods,” Sarah explained.
“Then you’re going to need a new pair of boots,” he replied.
“Does that mean you’re going to take me to see Sam Morgan?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” Sam said. Hell, he didn’t know what he was doing. Right now, this whole evening was a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants affair.
They continued to walk, Sarah stumbling around beside him and cursing softly. When they reached the end of the path, Sam set the grocery bag on a rough plank table set next to a fire ring. “Come on, I want to show you something.”
He took her hand again, the mere contact sending a current through his fingers. He helped her navigate around the huge slabs of stone to the edge of the gap. As they stepped from the cover of the woods, the entire valley spread out in front of them, lights twinkling from distant towns and small cabins scattered throughout the mountains.
He waited, curious as to how she’d react. For some reason, Sam wanted her to understand what had brought him to the wilderness—this perfect isolation and breathtaking beauty. Maybe then she’d understand why he couldn’t accept her proposal.
“Oh,” she murmured, her voice filled with awe. “Look at this. You can see forever.”
The full moon hung low on the horizon, casting a soft light over the valley below. It was perfect, he thought. It had never looked more scenic. He’d never shared this view with anyone, but it seemed right to show it to her.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“My place,” Sam said. “Or it will be someday. Right now, it’s just my little piece of land. My trees, my rocks, my view. I stay out here sometimes when I’m in town.”
“Where do you sleep?” Sarah said, glancing around.
“I pitch a tent. It’s a perfect spot.”
She nodded, looking back out at the valley. “The world seems so much bigger from this vantage point. It makes me feel very small…and insignificant.” She laughed softly. “I have to admit, I was a little frightened coming out here with you. I was wondering if I’d made a mistake. But now I see I haven’t.”
He looked over at her, the urge to kiss her overwhelming. After slipping his arm around her waist, he slowly urged her closer. The beams from their flashlights wavered in the trees. He couldn’t see her reaction, but she didn’t try to pull away.
“I think I understand why you brought me here,” she murmured.
Sam let his flashlight fall to the ground, then reached out and touched her face, spreading his fingers across her cheeks. His mind went back to the dream he’d had that last night in his cabin, to the woman who’d seduced him in his sleep.
“I have my reasons,” Sam whispered.
At first, he fought the impulse to kiss Sarah. But then his curiosity got the better of him. Could Sarah Cantrell be that woman for him? He pulled her into a kiss, his mouth finding hers in the dark. A tiny sigh of surprise slipped from her lips and she dropped her flashlight next to his.
The instant she did, she opened herself to the kiss, her tongue teasing at his, inviting him to take more. She tasted sweet, and like a man parched with thirst, he was desperate to drink his fill. When he finally drew back, he could almost see the profile of her face in the moonlight.
“That wasn’t the reason I expected,” Sarah whispered. “But I guess it will do.”
He nuzzled her neck. “What?”
“Why you brought me here,” she said, tilting her head.
Sam brushed another kiss across her lips, satisfied that the first step in his seduction had gone well. “I brought you here for dinner. I just skipped ahead to dessert.”
She bent down and picked up her flashlight, then shined it in his eyes. “And what about the main course? Are you going to cook for me?”
He turned the flashlight on her face. “Nope. I thought you could cook for me,” Sam said.
He waited for her to protest but she just shook her head. “I sense this is a test. If I don’t do well, then you’re not going to take me to meet Sam Morgan.”
Maybe now was the time to come clean, Sam thought. He’d kissed her, she’d enjoyed it and she’d be more amenable to his apology. But then, once she had a few glasses of wine, she’d be much more understanding. “If I have to haul your pretty little ass up the mountain to meet Sam Morgan, I want to know you can carry some of the load.”
“I can haul my own ass, thank you very much. So are you going to take me?”
“I haven’t decided yet. But maybe it would be a good idea for you to walk a few miles in Sam Morgan’s boots.”
“As long as those boots have a fashionable heel and don’t make my calves look fat, I’ll give it a try.”
Sam chuckled softly then took her hand and walked her back to the campsite. As they built a fire, he considered kissing her again…then tugging her sweater over her head…then sliding her skirt up over her hips. He stopped at an idle contemplation of her underwear. Bikini or thong?
“You won’t regret this,” Sarah said. “Not that you’ve decided to take me. But if you do, you won’t regret it.”
Sam smiled. Hell, how could he possibly regret keeping Sarah Cantrell within arm’s reach for a few days longer? Though he knew it was mostly about desire, there was something inside him that wanted to show her his view of the world.
Maybe then, she’d understand why he’d lied to protect his privacy. And why he’d always choose the solitude of his life on the mountain over fame and fortune.
