by Devon McKay
Blake didn’t respond, ignoring her comment.
She studied his profile as he took in the mountain with an obvious respect. Not even the weight of his own backpack appeared to affect him. In fact, the man seemed to be in his element.
Sam reached for her camera and clicked a picture. She couldn’t have staged a better pose if she tried. Blake, adorned with a machete strapped to his leg and that damn cowboy hat, nearly took her breath away.
Aiming steadily, she snapped a few more pictures. “You ever thought of modeling? You could be the perfect addition to my brochure,” she jabbed, knowing he would find the comment insulting. She simply couldn’t help herself.
He responded with a dry chuckle. “I didn’t realize you were so funny this early in the morning. But in case you aren’t making a bad joke, I signed up for tour guide. That’s it,” he remarked causally, however, the words hung in the air, sounding as if they were dripping venom.
Sam rubbed her tired eyes and glanced away. She refused to let his menacing tone affect her. Nor would she allow the striking vision of Blake Langford to take control of her senses. Besides, it had been a joke. Modeling would never be his forte. More likely he’d prefer Alaskan hit man, or a title like Sole Protector of the State.
His goal, no doubt, was to lead her to a quick demise. Perhaps he’d push her off some cliff somewhere. She should have said no when she heard him share his plans with Maggie. Especially after the conversation yesterday afternoon…the moment her blood froze and then caught on fire. No, not hit man after all. More like Don Juan of the Yukon.
A smirk pulled at the corners of her mouth as his words repeated themselves in her head. Had he really admitted to having trouble keeping his hands off her? Heat warmed Sam’s face, flushing her skin.
If only he knew what kind of thoughts such an admission inspired. Last night, she’d spent the evening tossing and turning, envisioning his hands…everywhere. Which also happened to be a source of her irritation. Not that she had anything to be ashamed about, even if he was able to read her harlot thoughts.
But…
He’d been so easy to talk to at the creek.
Sam shook her head. She didn’t want to think about that side of him. Especially since their easy going conversation had been so short-lived. How could one, tiny remark about advertising set him off?
Following Blake up the trail, she glanced at the steep incline then down the sharp slope and back to him, certain she’d break her neck without his assistance. As if to reinforce her fears, the gravel slipped beneath her tennis shoe, and she lost her footing. Cradling the camera with her right hand, Sam used her left one to brace herself for the fall. Sharp slivers of rock bit into her palm, and she cried out in pain.
A hard clamp of steel fingers squeezed her upper arm and stabled her balance. She brushed off the dirt and then examined her hand. Seeing it was only a scrape, she mumbled a quiet thanks and silently cursed her clumsiness. This was becoming an embarrassing pattern. It seemed as if the man was always saving her.
“You need proper footgear,” he advised.
“I know. You mentioned that before. I need boots, or maybe I shouldn’t be climbing a sheer cliff,” she snapped.
“Yeah. I was planning on borrowing a pair for you, but I didn’t know your size.” Taking her hand in his, he checked the injury.
“Seven,” she mumbled as his fingers traced her palm, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. “I wear a size seven.”
He acknowledged the information with a slight nod of his head. Without a word, he skimmed the delicate area with a light brush of his lips and then abruptly released his hold, continuing the trek again.
Stunned, she stared at his back as the center of her hand throbbed from where his lips had just grazed the skin. Scurrying to catch up, she wondered why he had done such a thing…and slipped on the path again. Reaching out to balance herself, she grasped onto the back of his flannel shirt.
He spun around and reached for her hand, sending a spark of electricity up her arm.
“I promise this is worth the climb. Once we get there, you’ll be amazed,” he coaxed with words of encouragement and a gentle squeeze.
Sam gave him a tentative nod.
Blake dropped her hand and silently lifted the camera from around her neck. At first, she refused his assistance, but relinquished under his quiet demand, not willing to risk fracturing the camera lens. He slipped the strap over his head and began the steep ascent again.
Mutely, she trudged alongside him. After a good hour, they reached an even plateau on the mountain, and he guided her to a tree hollowed out into a bench.
Blake lifted the backpack off her and placed it on the ground beside his. He kneeled and withdrew two sandwiches out of the front zippered pocket, placing them on the seat.
“You were right. The view is spectacular,” Sam admitted, sitting down with a loud sigh.
“Go figure. I’m right again.” He showcased a wide grin. “Worth the climb?” he questioned, handing over her camera.
“Yeah.” She accepted the prized possession and set it down gingerly on the wooden bench. “I swear that pack must weigh a hundred pounds.” She rolled her arms and stretched, easing the tension.
Suddenly, the pressure of his hands weighed on her shoulders. Heat melted through the thin material of her jacket and an odd awareness overwhelmed Sam’s senses as he kneaded her tight muscles, massaging her neck with strong, nimble fingers. Within minutes, his touch alleviated the tightness and transformed her muscles to the consistency of limp noodles.
She closed her eyes, surrendering to the pleasure of his magical caress as the earthiness of his rugged scent caused a different kind of ache to spread through her limbs. She couldn’t help her imagination running wild, toying with fleeting images of removing his clothes with her teeth.
The desire caught her off guard. Had she gone so long without a man that a harmless massage could render her into some kind of sex-depraved savage? She opened her eyes with a start, uncomfortable with the realization such thoughts provoked.
Blake stopped the unnerving rubdown and took a seat beside her. Missing the warmth of his hands, she focused on the breathtaking beauty of the Alaskan wilderness. The view, overlooking a picturesque valley, was spectacular.
“This truly is amazing,” she whispered. Lifting the camera, she dialed in on the sight below. The sun cast a shimmering glow along the mountainside, highlighting the trees in various shades of yellow.
“I hate to admit it, but this really was worth the trip,” she confessed, snapping pictures while he spoke about points of interest.
“I know. It’s one of my favorite spots. There’s your cabin. See?” He pointed at a tiny speck of red coloring then handed her one of the sandwiches and a bottle of water.
Sam placed the sandwich on her lap and twisted the cap off the water. “Is that one yours?” she asked, noting a larger cabin near hers. Gulping down half the bottle, she spared a glance in his direction.
He nodded, silencing her with a keen gaze that pierced her insides. The man had a way of looking at her which simply undid her. How could he unnerve her with just a look? She placed the water bottle at her feet, then pulled her sandwich out of its baggie and picked at the crust.
“The river is the Kenai. Kind of looks like a snake, huh?”
“Yeah,” she agreed, prodding him to continue, yet avoided glancing his way. She’d be safe as long as she didn’t make eye contact again.
“Behind us sits the Kenai Mountain Range. We’ve barely made a dent. We could walk for days before we hit the summit. Lucky for you, we only need to hike for another hour or so before we make camp.”
Sam twisted her body, taking in the majestic mountain behind her. Inhaling a surprised gulp of air, she dropped the sandwich into her lap and aimed her camera. She took three pictures before his words filtered in.
She spun back around, facing him. “Did you say make camp?”
Blake answered with a lopsi
ded grin.
“Outside?”
He responded with a slight bob of his head and popped the last bite of sandwich into his mouth.
“But what about bears?” Sam gasped as a spike of fear shot through her. She shuddered, replaying her first night in Alaska. “And Lord knows what else.”
Blake pulled his shirt to the side, exposing a hint of the tight six pack of his abs along with a large gun hanging from his belt loop.
“Got it covered.” He smiled, showcasing a perfect set of straight, white teeth. If she weren’t so alarmed, the sight would’ve melted her insides to butter.
“I also have a can of bear spray in my pack, just in case.”
Just in case? Suddenly, she’d lost any appetite for food.
“You going to finish that?” He pointed to the discarded meal on her lap.
She shook her head and handed over what was left of her sandwich. “That’s ridiculous. We can’t camp. We don’t even have a tent or anything.”
“It’s all in your backpack. A pup tent…sleeping bag. Hell, you’re even carrying pans to cook breakfast.”
Her heart rate sped up as her gaze settled on the backpack. The bag had been rather heavy. She spared a quick glance in Blake’s direction. The man was serious. No wonder he had requested she bring the two sets of clothes. Up until now, she had thought the extra clothing was needed in case they got muddy or wet while crossing a river or some other kind of unforeseen adventure he’d had planned. Now, she knew for sure. They were going to spend a couple nights in the wilderness.
In a tent no less.
A spike of panic flushed through her insides. What was going to protect her from a bear? She stared at the weapon on his hip again. Yes, the shiny piece of steel appeared menacing, but would it be able to stop a ferocious, charging beast?
She had her doubts. Although, the thought of a bear wasn’t what inspired the sudden anxiety. A flash of Blake’s tight, toned stomach muscles stirred her memory. Would she be able to control herself?
“What about your horses? Who will feed and exercise them?” She attempted one last excuse.
“Denali.” Blake shrugged. “Plus, I hired two kids home from college for the summer. They worked the ranch last year, so they already know the ropes. Besides, this weekend is about your Alaskan adventure. You have to live Alaska before you can sell Alaska.”
Blake smirked as her words came back to haunt her.
“Yep, you are right.” Sam forced a smile. Weekend? Hell, she didn’t know if she could last a night. She wanted more than anything to head back down the trail and make camp in her makeshift cabin, but stubbornness won out, and she refused to let him win this battle. “Got to live it.” The remark came out with a little too much oomph, but she carried on the façade. How hard could it be to keep her hands off of her hunky guide? After all, it was just two days.
Ignoring the surprised quirk of his eyebrow, she stood and tackled trying to slip on the backpack without his aid. Blake stepped behind her, commandeering the awkward bag and placed it on her shoulders with an easy swoop. The weight immediately caused Sam to lose her balance, and his sturdy grip tightened over her bicep. Steadied, she murmured a quick thanks and started toward the trail.
Blake soon strode ahead, leading the way. After two grueling hours, he veered off the path. Swinging the machete, he cut through the thick brush, making a new route. Sam trailed behind without complaints, her mind bombarded with anxious thoughts of charging bears and exposed abs.
A clearing opened up, and she followed his gaze as it swept over the area. Once satisfied, Blake dropped his pack. Sam followed suit and wiggled free of hers. The heavy bag landed with a hard thump on the ground.
“We’ll set up camp here.”
“You sure this is safe?” she asked, unsure of the surroundings. A buzzing at her ear garnished her attention, and she swatted at a flying insect.
“Yeah, it’s perfect. A flat spot to set our tents up. In fact, your tent can go there.” Blake pointed to the clearest area. “Mine on the other side of yours, and the fire in between. There’s even a creek close by. Hear the sound of running water?”
Sam shook her head and cast a weary glance into the dense woods behind her. How on earth could this possibly be safe for Pete’s sake? They were in the middle of nowhere. And the only sound she heard was the constant buzzing of mosquitos.
“Believe me, you’re safer out here than in the city,” he remarked, as if reading her frantic thoughts.
Nervously, she bit her bottom lip and held back the argument brewing inside. Instead, she bent down and rifled through her backpack. A neatly folded, metallic, square package caught her eye. Confused, she held it up.
“Space blanket,” Blake explained, continuing before she had time to question the odd parcel. “It actually folds out into the size of a full sheet. Don’t underestimate the silly looking thing. Could be a life saver. Believe me, if you get chilled, you’ll appreciate the darn thing. I doubt you’ll need it though. Shouldn’t get colder than low fifties tonight. Besides, your sleeping bag is made of down and is guaranteed to keep you toasty, even in temps of thirty below.”
Sam shook her head again. How a piece of aluminum foil could keep her warm was beyond rational thought. No matter how large it became. She dumped the rest of her pack onto the ground. Two pans, a sleeping bag, a battery operated lantern, several bottles of water, and four bags of what she thought may be food spread out onto the dirt.
“You should probably drink one of these.” Blake kneeled beside her and handed her one of the bottles. “You need to stay hydrated.”
Sam drank eagerly and finished the bottle in practically one gulp, not realizing how thirsty she’d been.
Blake picked up several metal tent stakes. “Ever set up a tent before?” he asked, not waiting for her answer. “Probably not. Well, it’s fairly easy. These stakes interlock together.” He stood and extended his hand, helping her to her feet.
The heat of his arms encircled her, and she was surrounded by the solidness of his strapping, able body. No doubt his intention was to show her how to build a pole out of the rods, but all she could think about was the taut, sinewy muscles enveloping her.
“These go through the flaps, like this.” He guided her hands with the skill of an experienced outdoorsman. The tent began to take form as he slid the pole through the holes on the fabric.
A hot flush warmed her cheeks, and her mind roamed to explicit sexual images. The heat of his hand brushed against hers, and she squirmed out of his grip. Turning to face him, she faltered under his intense stare.
What was that? Approval? She returned her attention to the items on the ground as a nervous flutter swam in the pool of her stomach.
There was something else, too, but she refused to dwell on the seductive undercurrent, or the hunger beneath his calm surface. However, the heat they shared was becoming harder to ignore, sweltering like a pressure cooker threatening to erupt.
Sam retreated, busying herself with collecting small kindling for a fire. The distraction did little to control her rampant thoughts about sharing the weekend with the man. She spared a fleeting glance in his direction, noting with a relieved sigh he’d finished her tent and had moved onto his own. Good. At least there would be something to separate them. Even if it was just a thin piece of fabric.
“Is this also fun to you?” she questioned, gathering the armful of branches and placing them neatly within the center of their camp.
“Camping? Yeah. I love it. When I finish here, I’ll hunt for a decent meal. If not, we have to eat those MRE’s.” Blake pointed to the four bags on the ground.
“What are they?” she questioned, picking up one of the packages and reading the ingredients. “Oh…like a prepackaged meal of sorts. Just add water. Sounds delicious,” she said sarcastically before darting another fleeting glance in his direction.
“Don’t knock it. You’d be surprised what you’ll eat if hungry enough.” He snapped together more stakes
for his frame, then slipped the pole through one of the tent flaps.
A grin threatened the corner of her lips, and she fought against the sudden urge to help him finish. She could start by tearing off his clothes.
What on earth had come over her? Once again, heat returned to her cheeks, and she redirected her gaze to the sky. The sun hadn’t set and didn’t appear as if it was going to anytime soon. An odd concept considering they’d been hiking most of the day, and she knew it had to be close to dinner time.
“What time is it anyway?”
He stopped what he was doing and followed her stare. “I’d say it’s close to six or seven. With the sun still up, it’s kind of deceiving. Summer in Alaska.” He shrugged. “It won’t start to get dark until about eleven, and even then the sky will be more like a twilight color. Not exactly daylight, but it won’t be dark as night either.” He bent down, grabbed a rock, and began hammering a tent stake into the ground. The movement showcased a sculptured set of biceps and his muscles flexed invitingly. Once finished, he moved onto another stake. Pausing, he glanced up and held her gaze. “You hungry?”
Mindlessly, Sam swatted at another mosquito as she repeated his tempting words in her head. “Yeah,” she mumbled. She was famished, starving in fact.
But her appetite had little to do with food.
Chapter 10
Blake stepped away from camp. Truth was, he needed distance. His excuse of hunting down a hot meal seemed to placate Sam. Of course, leaving her with a can of bear spray helped, too. He released a loud sigh of relief.
Snaring a rabbit within minutes, he branched off the path and headed toward the sound of running water to clean the fresh kill. Besides, he needed just a little more time to himself. The recollection of her curvaceous body in his arms was still more than just a memory…and he only had himself to blame. What had possessed him to put his arms around the woman anyway?
Not to mention the massage earlier.
He inhaled a ragged breath then dropped the rabbit on a large rock and took his time cleaning and skinning the animal.