by Jill Shalvis
“I believe that’s worked to your benefit.”
She blushed. “You like lots of women.”
“Yeah.” His smile faded. “I suppose that’s the rumor mill you’re referring to. You know, a lot of that is exaggerated.”
“How much of it?”
“What?”
“What percentage of all the women I’ve seen drooling over you is exaggerated?”
He paused. Considered carefully. Ran his tongue over his teeth.
“Thought so.” She searched her purse for her keys.
He reached for her hands to still them. “Should I judge you for your past?”
“No, but I haven’t slept with every single man in the free world.”
“Neither have I,” he said, and tried a grin. When she didn’t return it, he sighed. Rubbed his jaw. “Okay, listen. I’ve had a good time with life so far. I’ll admit that much. But I’m not afraid of commitment. Can you say the same?”
“Yes.” Maybe.
Probably.
Fine. Commitment made her nervous, a fact that was undoubtedly tied to her need to control every little issue. But she’d like to think she wouldn’t let that stand in the way of a real relationship.
“I really don’t see the problem here,” he said softly.
He wouldn’t. “We’re so fundamentally different.”
“You mean you being uptight, anal, and overly organized?”
She crossed her arms. “I would think people would love that about me.”
“Maybe I’ll love you in spite of it.”
She went utterly still. “What?”
“Not here,” he decided. “We’re not doing this here. Come on.”
He led her back through the lodge, across the icy parking lot, to the far side of the property where a couple of cabins faced the mountain vista. There was a driveway between them, and in it sat a truck and Matt’s Blazer.
“My brother’s,” he said, pointing to one cabin. “And mine,” he added, pointing to the other, opening the door, revealing a small but lovely living room accented all in wood. One wall was all windows, overlooking a white-capped peak, and another was filled with a stone fireplace. He had a Christmas tree in the corner, tall and beautifully simple, with white lights and red bows, but somehow it held more holiday spirit than anything she’d seen.
His couch looked like an old favorite, overstuffed and well used. A football lay on the floor, along with a pair of battered running shoes, a stack of newspapers toppled over, and a very neglected fern. Leaning against the far wall were several pairs of skis, two snowboards, and two pairs of boots. Warm and homey but definitely lived-in. Her fingers still itched to at least straighten the newspapers.
Or jump Matt.
“I’ll start a fire,” he said, putting an arm around her and pulling her in close to his big, warm body. “Come get comfortable.”
She couldn’t. Shouldn’t.
“I promise not to bite.” He rubbed his jaw to hers. “Unless you want me to.”
“You’ve lost your mind.” But she looked into his eyes and melted a little.
A lot.
It was official. He hadn’t lost his mind—she’d lost hers.
7
“I shouldn’t come in,” Cami said in a last-ditch effort to save herself. “You don’t want casual company tonight. It’s Christmas Eve.” She stood in his foyer, uncertain, and desperately trying to hide it from him. “I’m sure you have better things to do.”
He just looked at her with amusement and something more, seeming tall and sure and so damn sexy. “Tomorrow my brother and I are going to watch college football and exchange fond insults, but until then, I’m all yours.”
Until then? She swallowed hard. She was attracted to him, so so so attracted, but deep inside she knew she might not be able to control that attraction if she let him touch her again.
“You’re thinking waaaaay too hard,” he said lightly, taking her hand as if to make sure she couldn’t run off.
“Bad habit, thinking too hard.” She took a deep breath and stepped into the living room. “I still want to go back to work and search the rest of the computers . . .”
“I know.” He moved to the fireplace and lit the already laid-out fire. “Come closer to the heat.”
She did so slowly, hugging herself tightly, throwing him a smile that she hoped seemed confident, not shaky.
He went into the kitchen. She heard him moving around, and her heart went into her throat. He was planning her seduction. Probably lighting candles, finding music, hunting up condoms.
Her thighs tightened.
Bad body. No more sex. She’d had her fling. She’d had her fun. Time to hunker down now—
He came back into the living room with cheese and salami and cut-up apples on a plate. She stared first at the food, and then at his face. “You’re . . . feeding me?”
“It’s dinnertime. I figured if I took the time to make something, you’d vanish on me. But we’re going to need fuel if we’re going back to the offices—”
“It’s just that I—” She cleared her throat. “I thought you were going to try to seduce me.”
“Oh, I plan to,” he said easily. “Just not until after we work, or you won’t relax. And I want you relaxed, Cami. Really relaxed.”
She stared at him. “You actually understand me. I mean really understand me.”
“I’m trying.”
“Matt?”
“Yeah?”
The hell with it. She tugged him close and kissed him.
“Mmm,” he said in surprised pleasure, but after a minute, he pulled back and pushed the food in front of her. “Eat. Then the office. And then, Cami, then this. I’m going to take you to bed. Mine.”
His. God. How bad off was she that she thrilled to that idea?
The offices were dark and chilled, but Cami turned determinedly toward the department they hadn’t yet gone through—her own.
The first three computers were clean, including hers. One office left. She stood in the doorway and looked at Ned’s desk.
“We’re committing equal opportunity privacy invasion,” Matt said quietly. “We have to look.”
“Despite the Belinda fiasco, he wouldn’t hurt anyone, not this way.”
“Let’s just be absolutely positive.”
“Okay.”
To Cami’s utter shock, they found several e-mails addressed to the newspaper, in Ned’s sent file, one of which suggested the fire chief of Blue Eagle might be an arsonist. “Oh, my God,” she whispered, looking up into Matt’s grim face. “It’s him, too.” She couldn’t believe it, didn’t know what to think.
“You all right?”
It just made no sense. But she was all right. What Ned did didn’t reflect on her, didn’t mean anything except that Ned was an ass. She was okay. She was really okay, and it’d all started with that New Year’s resolution to go for it, to deviate from the plan once in a while. To live life to its fullest . . .
And Matt was it. He was her “go for it,” her “step off the path.”
He was the way to live life to its fullest. And not just a one-time deal. “Matt?”
At her soft, extremely serious tone, he stroked a strand of hair from her face. “What is it?”
“Maybe you should sit down,” she said a little shakily. “This is going to be a doozy—”
The office door creaked open behind them, and someone stopped in surprise at the sight of them.
“Hey,” Matt said, but the figure standing there whirled to run.
“Shit.” Matt surged up, just barely snagging the person by the back of the jacket.
Cami leaped for the light switch, then gasped in shock when the fluorescent bulbs sputtered to life and she found a gun in her face.
“Belinda,” Cami gasped.
Belinda tore free of Matt’s grip. Tall and willowy, with her long blond hair piled on top of her head, she was wearing black, studious-looking glasses and a tight red suit, none of which hid her beach-babe
figure. “You two scared me to death,” she said. “What are you doing in here?”
“How about we talk about the gun first?” Matt asked, gesturing carefully to the weapon still in Belinda’s hand.
Belinda looked at it, flushed, but didn’t lower it. “You scared me. I thought you were a burglar. I was just protecting myself.”
“Well, it’s just us,” Matt said. “So you can put it down.”
The gun wavered slightly, but remained cocked and aimed, now at Matt’s face. “Why are you snooping in Ned’s computer?”
Matt didn’t so much as look at Cami as he slowly turned toward the computer in question. Belinda’s aim followed.
“We were looking through everyone’s e-mail files,” Matt said.
Belinda didn’t look happy as she followed him to the computer. “Why?”
“We were looking for the person leaking those vicious rumors.”
“They aren’t rumors if they’re true,” Belinda said, leaning in to read the screen. “And it was all true, no matter what anyone says.”
“Really?” Matt’s fingers flew over the keyboard as he turned his body completely away from Cami now.
So did Belinda.
He was turning Belinda away from Cami. Trying to keep her safe. Oh, my God.
“How do you know it was all true?” Matt asked Belinda.
Belinda stared at him.
He stared right back, calm and cool, despite the gun only inches from his face.
“You already know,” Belinda guessed softly. “Don’t you?”
“What, that you were the one who did the e-mailing from all those different computers?” Matt nodded. “Yeah. Just figured that out. So now what, Belinda? Because up until right now, you haven’t committed a crime that would land you some serious jail time. The gun changes that.”
Belinda looked at the gun.
“Don’t be stupid,” Matt said softly.
Cami felt frantic. The foolish man was baiting her! Heart in her throat, she took a step toward the wall, where Ned had plans of his latest pet project, a bike trail along the river. They were rolled up in a canister and weighed a good ten pounds. Hoisting them up, she took a slow step toward Belinda’s back.
“What were you trying to do?” Matt asked Belinda. “You got your own father kicked out of here.”
“He deserved it! He was cheating on my mom. With a guy.” Belinda shuddered. “And everyone here acted so self-righteous about it.”
“So you hurt them, too?”
“Yes! And maybe you were next.”
Matt shook his head. “You couldn’t have gotten me, Belinda.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m smarter than you are.”
Cami couldn’t believe it! Didn’t he see the gun right in his face? She could scarcely breathe for fear it’d go off by accident.
Belinda’s hand wavered, probably with rage. Jesus. Cami took another step and raised the tube of plans. Matt looked up, and so did Belinda, at the same time lifting the gun, just as Cami closed her eyes and brought the plans down on Belinda’s forearm, hard.
The gun flew into the air, then hit the floor, and with a frustrated, rage-filled howl, Belinda whipped around to face Cami.
“I figure I just saved you a long prison visit,” Cami said. “You can thank me later.”
Belinda let out an enraged scream and took a step toward her, but instead of strangling her, as Cami half-braced for, Belinda ran out of the office.
Matt strode to Cami and hauled her against him. Tense with fear and fury, he ran his searing eyes over her. “Are you all right?”
He was looking at her as if she was his entire world. She loved that. She loved him. “Of course I’m all right. You were the one with the gun in your face, you stupid, stupid man!” She tugged his face down and kissed him. “Hell of a time to realize I love you. We have to go after her.”
He gripped her arms, lifted her up to her toes. “What?”
“I said we have to go after her—”
“The other thing.”
“Later.” She was shaking. “We have to—”
“Say it,” he demanded.
“I love you.”
He leaned in and kissed her, one hard, warm connection. “I love you, too. So damn much.”
The words filled her, warmed her. She was in shock. And she was in love. Heady combination.
“I wanted to be your hero,” he said. “But you saved yourself.”
She ran her hands up his chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath her fingers. It steadied her. He steadied her. “It’s okay. It’s all part of that New Year’s resolution. I’m going for it, remember? At all times.”
“But you always go for it.”
“At work, yes. But I’m expanding to other areas. Like my personal life.”
His eyes shined with emotion. “You going for me, Cami?”
“Yeah, I guess I am. How does that feel, Mr. Mayor?”
He glanced at his watch. Two minutes past midnight. “Like the best Christmas present I’ve ever had.” And he pulled her close.
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A rustle sounded from behind Noah, startling the shit out of him, but before he could react, something jammed into his shoulder, something that unbelievably felt an awful lot like a—
Gun?
“Keep flying,” said a ragged voice. “Just keep flying.”
Holy shit. Noah craned his neck. The soft, fuzzy blanket he kept on the backseat was on the floor now. She’d been hiding beneath it, and yeah, the person behind him was most definitely a she. Once upon a time, he’d been considered an expert on the species, and despite her gruff, uneven tones, her voice shimmered with nerves.
Female nerves.
Unbelievably, he’d just been hijacked by a nervous woman with a gun. He tried to get a good look at her, but the gun shifted to his jaw, shoving his head forward before he could take in more than a big, bulky sweater with a hood down low over her face—
“Don’t turn around,” she demanded. “Just keep us in the air.”
He could. He’d been a pilot ever since the day he’d been old enough, flying on a daily basis, either for a job or on a whim, into a storm or with one on his ass, without much thought.
He was giving it plenty of thought now. “Hell, no.” His fingers tightened on the yoke. Goddamnit. “What the fuck is this?”
“You’re flying me to Mammoth Mountain.”
“Hell, no, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You have no choice.” Then she let out a disparaging, desperate sound and softened her voice. “Look, just get us there, okay? Get us there and everything will be all right.”
Yeah, except that she didn’t sound as if she believed that line of crap, and he sure as hell didn’t believe it either. Worse, he suddenly had a nasty flashback to another of his flights that had gone bad, six months ago. Only in that one, there’d been no gun, just a hell of a storm in Baja, California, where he’d hit a surprise thunderstorm, one with a vicious kick. That time he’d ended up on a side of a mountain in a fiery crash, holding his passenger as she died in his arms....
So really, in comparison, this flight, with a measly gun at his back, should be a piece of cake. Just a day in the life.
Knowing it, he swiped a forearm over his forehead and concentrated on breathing. Maybe she was all talk, no show. Maybe she didn’t really know how to use the weapon. Maybe he could talk her out of the insanity that had become his life today. “How did you get in here?”
The gun remained against his shoulder, but not as hard, as if maybe she didn’t want to hurt him. “No questions, or I’ll—”
“What? Shoot?”
She didn’t answer.
Yeah, all talk, no show, he decided, and reached over to switch his radio on, then went very still at the feel of the muzzle just beneath his jaw now.
“Don’t,” she said, sounding more desperate
, if that was even possible. “Don’t tell anyone I’m here.”
Hell if he’d suffer this quietly, and he braced himself for action, but then she added a low, softly uttered, “Please.”
Jesus, he felt like such a fool. Who the hell was she? She’d been careful to stay just behind him, just out of range of his peripheral. He could smell her, though, some complicated mixture of exotic flowers and woman, which under very different circumstances he’d find sexy as hell.
But not today, the day that was quickly turning into a living nightmare. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Not when he was getting back on the horse. Wasn’t that what Shayne and Brody had told him to do, get back on the horse.
And he had.
Was.
Hence the ski/fuck-his-brains-out weekend.
What the hell was in Mammoth that was worth hijacking someone? And why was she so desperate to get there? Instinct had him checking the gauges, looking for a place to land.
“No.” The gun was an emphasis, back to pressing hard between his shoulder blades. “We’re going to Mammoth. Just like you planned.”
“I didn’t plan for this.”
“You have a passenger now, that’s all. Everything else is the same.”
Yeah, he had a passenger. A shaking, unnerved, freaked-out desperate one.
Give him a thunderstorm in Cabo any day over this....
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She’d promised herself she’d do this. No running, no avoiding, just face it head-on and get it done. But as Dani Peterson bent for her broken-off heel, she felt her resolve slip.
Running like hell would have been so much easier.
Damn it.
All she’d asked of herself was to get through this with a shred of dignity, but that would be a little tough now, wouldn’t it, while minus a heel.
Ah, well. Her family already believed her a little off, why not just go ahead and prove it by looking the part.
But then came the voice.
The low, husky male voice asking, “Are you okay?”
She sighed as she eyed her offending heel. “That depends.”