His lips were as smooth and lush as she remembered. She was glad he’d picked egg salad over tuna. She wasn’t sure when she decided that kissing him was okay, but she was grateful she’d given herself permission to enjoy this small decadence.
What she hadn’t agreed to was what followed. The feel of his hand moving slowly down her back to the waistband of her hiking shorts. The way he drew her closer so she could feel his body responding to the rush of hormones, pheromones or whatever mones a man responded to.
The thought stopped her. What was he responding to? Surely not her sex appeal. They both knew that didn’t exist.
He drew back and let out a sigh. “Another question.”
“Are you oversexed?”
He let out a harsh laugh. “Just the opposite, if my recent history is being judged. The question you should be asking is why can’t I quit kissing you?”
“Okay. Answer that one.”
“I like kissing you. In fact, I think I want to make love with you.”
“That’s not part of our agreement.”
“I know, but you made the rules. You can change them if you want. They’re not written in blood, are they?”
Her heart beat painfully fast. She couldn’t remember why that rule had seemed so important when she wrote it, but she was sure the rationale was intended to protect her unborn child. Or was it to protect her heart?
She started to walk away, but he stopped her. “Libby, I’m serious. I came here planning to play by the rules, but something’s going on between us that seems worth exploring. What would it hurt?”
Who would it hurt, he should have asked.
She knew the answer to that question. Me.
“Coop, every woman under the age of eighty finds you attractive. Me, included. You came here for one reason and one reason only. It’s better if we stick to the plan.”
“Another word for script,” he corrected. The word sounded austere and bitter. “’Follow the script, Cooper,’ my mother always said. ‘Don’t think. Don’t extemporize.’”
He stormed off. Into the forest. In the wrong direction.
---
“Damn,” Libby swore. Coming to an abrupt stop, she pulled out her map.
They’d been walking for hours, it seemed, and still hadn’t reached the trail Libby thought would lead back to where they were supposed to meet Jenna.
Coop drew on a reserve he usually didn’t have to rely on to walk the extra ten feet to reach her. His Cole Haan boots felt three sizes too small, and he was certain he had a blister the size of Connecticut on his left heel. “What now?”
“See that stream? It must be Crooked Creek. That definitely means we're on the wrong trail. Probably the Deerfield.”
He regretted that their camaraderie had been lost when he stormed off. He thought he'd been on headed back to the trail they'd been on, but his sense of direction had probably been thrown off by the low, purplish clouds that had swept in while he'd been lusting after Libby.
His actions had been that of a spoiled child-–or an egocentric TV personality--but at the time his only thought had been to put some distance between them. He did want to kiss her and make love to her, but if that had happened, he would have felt obligated to tell her about his plan to turn her life story into a television series.
He wasn’t ready to do that. He didn’t have a clear vision of the story’s take-away. Was this going to be about a woman who was prepared to do anything to get pregnant? Or did the focus need to be on the self-involved hero who was willing to use her for his purposes? He just didn’t know yet.
“Can I soak my feet in the water before we go any further?”
She glanced at her watch. “Jenna’s probably starting to worry.”
Her friend had dropped them off that morning with the promise to pick them up at the trailhead at three. They were definitely behind schedule.
“What’s her number?” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. No bars. “Why the hell don’t I have cell reception? We’re several thousand feet closer to the damn satellites here than on the flats.”
She refolded the map. “Look around. Do you see any towers?”
He hated her complacent tone. “If I’d lived here, I’d lobby the cellular companies until they built one.”
He didn’t check to see if she was rolling her eyes. Instead, he sat on a giant boulder that looked as though it had been placed in that spot for that exact purpose and started pick at the reddish dirt that had filtered into his laces.
“Don’t do it,” she cautioned. “You’ll never get that boot back on if you take it off.”
“My feet are killing me. I’ve got blisters on my blisters.”
“And your extra shoes are where?”
She’d put that on his prehike checklist, but he hadn’t wanted to carry the extra weight. “If I had the energy, I’d push you into the creek.”
He could tell by the bright shimmer in her eyes that she was trying hard not to laugh at him. “I’ve been thinking about what your Lakota name should be. Pouts With Shoes On comes to mind, but now I think I like Dances No More.”
Her lips quivered from the effort it took to remain serious. God, he wanted to make love with her. Right here. Right now. On the hard ground. Boots on or off, he didn’t care. He’d followed her shapely ass for too many miles to quell the lust he’d felt building.
She stepped back as if reading his mind--and almost fell into the marshy edge of the bubbling stream. He lunged to grab her hand and pull her to safety.
“If I hadn’t caught you, would that make you Dances In Water?”
She yanked her hand free. “Better than Freezes In Snowmelt. Come on. If we keep heading downstream, we’ll get to the road eventually. There's a trailhead where you can wait while I backtrack to find Jenna.”
Even taking another step sounded brutal. “How ‘bout you leave me here, and send a rescue helicopter?”
“How ‘bout you suck it up and follow me?”
She turned and started away, paralleling the sparkling water that tumbled musically over fat boulders. She didn’t look back to see if he was capable of following, which meant he had no choice but to overcome his pain and go after her.
For what felt like hours.
His right foot was on fire by the time they stumbled into the graveled lot of the trailhead. A smart little shelter had been erected with a bench that Cooper sank onto with a loud, gusty sigh.
The empty lot proved Libby's theory. He'd gotten them off course and they now had to walk farther to find Jenna. Luckily, they'd reached a wide, well-maintained gravel road.
"Maybe we could hail a passing car," he suggested after Libby returned from using the rest room.
"The Daugherty Gulch trail is only half a mile or so in that direction. You can wait here. I'll go find Jenna. She's probably worried sick."
He felt badly about that. And Libby was probably smart to leave him behind since she could cover the ground faster alone. But the second she turned to leave, he heaved himself up to follow. She started to say something but didn't. They walked the whole way in silence.
And not a single car passed going in either direction. Maybe they were the last people on the planet.
They found their driver asleep behind the wheel.
“Jenna,” Libby called, tapping lightly on the windshield.
Jenna jerked awake, eyes wide with terror, hands lifted defensively. She took a frantic glance around, then appeared to come to her senses. Whatever her dream, it hadn’t been pleasant.
“Hi,” she said, rolling down her window. Her voice was shaky. “You’re late. What happened?”
“We...umm...turned left when we should have turned right. Sorry.”
Jenna used a master switch to unlock the rest of the doors of her Subaru Outback, then got out. Libby opened the rear hatch and motioned for Coop to come over. He limped to the car. “Thank God. I couldn’t have gone another step.”
“You never know what you’re capable of unt
il you’re tested,” Libby said cryptically. “Give me your foot.”
He sat, but he barely managed to lift his left boot three inches off the ground before his thigh muscles started quivering. It plopped back to the gravel. Libby didn’t laugh. Instead she bent over and picked up his heel, settling it on her bent knee.
“I can do that,” he protested when she started unlacing the boot. Jenna’s scrutiny made him feel like a wimp.
“I can do it faster.” She was right. Flick, pull, flick and the laces sprang apart. “Brace yourself,” she told him. “This might hurt.”
“Why would it hurt? I can’t wait to get the damn things off…off, off, ouch. Oh, God, my toes are on fire. Put it back on.”
“Can’t. Sorry.” She tossed the boot into the car beside him. “Jen, do you have any ointment or lanolin?”
“Umm…maybe. Let me look in the first-aid kit. You know Mom.”
Coop heard her poking through a box that she’d pulled from under the seat. Curious about what Jenna meant, Coop looked at Libby with his unasked question.
“Bess is a bit of a hypochondriac.”
One more character trait to file away. He’d been considering making someone like Bess the heroine’s mother. Lots of good conflict to work into the stor—
“Yow,” he cried out, lifting his butt off the tailgate using his arm strength alone. He tried to wrench his foot free of Libby’s hold, but she had a firm grip on his ankle and was determined to spread some stinky, stinging alcohol-based goop on his open sores.
“Stop. That hurts worse than the blisters. Ouch. You’re killing me.” He squeezed his eyes tight against the pain. A few seconds later, he started to relax. He sank back down and opened his eyes. “Oh. Better.”
The two women exchanged a look. Jenna’s expression seemed to say For heaven’s sake, what a baby. But Libby’s knitted worry lines on her brow remained constant. She fixed things. She’d led them out of danger when he got them lost. She'd nursed his poor feet without saying "I told you so." His mother would have rubbed in the fact that he lacked an internal compass, pointing out yet again how dependent he was on her.
Without knowing it, Libby had passed a test it hadn’t even occurred to him to require. She was going to be a terrific mother.
Chapter 12
“He’s asleep,” Jenna hissed, glancing over her shoulder, then back to the road.
They’d only traveled about five miles before a muffled snoring sound started to emanate from the backseat. Libby used the makeup mirror in her visor to check on Cooper. Twilight had descended swiftly, as it usually did in the mountains, so she couldn’t clearly see his face. “He could be faking it. He’s an actor, you know.”
The orange dash lights cast a mellow glow that made Libby wish she could nod off, too. She was drained. Although she’d tried not to let Cooper see her distress, there had been a couple to times when she’d felt completely lost and out of her element. They could have been hiking on Mars, for all the good her natural sense of direction was doing her.
Reaching the stream had helped her get her bearings, but that had reinforced just how lost they’d become, and she’d known they were going to be late getting to the car. She hated to make anyone wait for her, which was probably why she was neurotically punctual when it came to opening the lobby window every morning.
“You know, Lib, I like him. How come you act so uptight around him?”
Libby didn’t answer right away. She shifted in the seat, adjusting her lap belt so it didn’t cut off her breathing, then she leaned across the middle console and said softly, “Because I like him, too. Probably too much.”
“Oh. Oh.” The second one told her Jenna understood.
“Are you going to do what Kat and Char suggested?”
“No. I don’t dare. It might screw up everything. No pun intended.”
“But, Lib, the actual screwing could be worth it.”
Libby glanced in the back. Cooper looked out cold, and she didn’t blame him. They’d pushed far beyond his flatlander limitations today. She actually felt sorry for him. “Don’t be crude.”
“I’m just saying—”
“Don’t. Don’t say it. I’m this close to making the mistake of a lifetime,” she admitted, using her thumb and index finger to show the tiniest of spaces. “Knowing you approve might push me over the edge. It would be more helpful if you’d strongly disapprove. Or better yet, remind me of my role in the community and how people look up to me and that I still want to be able to look them in the eye after he leaves. I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me. I had enough of that growing up.”
The car swerved sharply to avoid a pothole. “What are you talking about?”
“Pity.” She sat back and slumped down in the seat so her knees touched the dashboard. “It’s inescapable when you’re an orphan in a small town. You know that.”
“Lib, nobody feels sorry for you. Maybe when you were a kid, but you’re an adult now. Responsible. Stable. No one could fault you for wanting a baby.”
Libby wished that were true. “Not if I were doing this the normal way. But I’m not, Jen. My plan isn’t the least bit normal – not by Sentinel Pass standards, anyway. But by keeping the donor aspect a business transaction, I can at least maintain a certain degree of dignity. I’m not going to blow that on a quick thrill.”
“Who said it would be quick? Given his party-boy reputation, he should be pretty experienced. You might be passing up a chance of a lifetime.”
“You’re not helping.”
“Libby, it's time to stop worrying about what the town thinks. Nobody is going to judge— Wait, that’s not true. Everybody is going to judge you, but they’re going to do that whether you have sex with Coop or just get pregnant by him. Either way, they’ll talk, so why not grab a little gusto in the process?”
“Because…how do I put this?” I’m a lousy lay. “The few guys I’ve been to bed with haven’t been impressed. John said I was too uptight. Tobin suggested I see a sex therapist.” After she refused to give him a blow job in the kitchen while Megan was in the adjoining room watching a video. John, her first serious boyfriend, had taken her virginity after an evening of too much drinking and had been put off when she complained that it hurt.
“If--” she stressed the word in a low whisper-- “I gave into this weird attraction between us, the experience might be so bad he’d leave without honoring our agreement.”
Jenna shook her head slowly from side to side. They were approaching the outskirts of town, so she eased her foot off the gas and let the car coast down the long hill. “We both know I’m no expert on men, but I think most of them would take bad sex over no sex in a heartbeat. And if the scandal sheets are to be believed, Cooper’s a bit of a hound dog. As long as you have a good supply of condoms handy, I think you should go for it.”
The funny buzzing sensation in her abdomen returned. “He has a bad foot.”
Jenna reached out and touched Libby’s arm. “Honey, that’s not the part of his body you need to worry about being impaired.”
Libby slugged her on the shoulder. The car swerved but only in jest. Jenna was a safe driver, even if she was an X-rated sounding board.
Coop decided he deserved an Oscar. The women bought his sleeping act one hundred percent, which meant they’d been utterly candid the whole drive home. He’d missed a couple of things when they'd talked in whispers, but he’d managed to get the important stuff. Libby didn’t dare to make love with him because she was afraid the town would find out and she’d be embarrassed when he left.
He wasn’t sure how to use that for his heroine or how to get around it where Libby was concerned, but he understood her better now. Not only was Sentinel Pass a security blanket of sorts, she felt she owed the town something for helping to raise her. The proverbial village everyone was always talking about. His mother had been the only citizen in his village. She’d made sure of that.
And Libby gives back by assuming the role her grandmother o
nce filled, he thought. Damn, this is good. Heroic, even.
Which, he realized, made him look like an opportunistic scoundrel by comparison. He let out a soft groan and shifted on the seat.
“Coop?” Libby called tentatively. “Are you awake?”
He knew he’d blown his cover, so he stretched and tried to sit up. A crick in his neck made him choke on a stabbing jolt of pain. Muscles he hadn’t known existed suddenly cried out in protest.
“I’m going to fire Evan,” he snapped through clenched teeth. “My personal trainer. My God, I’m falling apart.”
When he rolled his shoulders, every tendon and synapse shrieked. Even if he’d wanted to show Libby he was more than a hound dog as Jenna had put it, there was no way he could perform. Thank God they weren’t on a set; the director would have called for a body double and Coop would have missed all the fun.
And he honestly didn’t see why he couldn’t have his cake and eat it, too, as they say. There was legitimate sizzle between him and Libby. She’d admitted she was interested in him. And Lord knew he was hot for her. So a couple of guys didn’t get her. Big deal. Reviews meant nothing to him unless they pertained to his performance. Maybe he could offer to sign an addendum to the paternity agreement promising to honor his side of the bargain even if they did have sex.
---
Libby filled the quilted tote bag she’d bought at the last Founder’s Day festival with everything she thought she’d need: Gran’s electric foot bath, a jar of Epsom salts, her manicure kit, the organic pedicure cream Megan had given her for Christmas and a three-pack of condoms.
Her cheeks heated up as she hid the strip--which she’d purchased six months earlier when she’d been dating Tobin--under the plastic foot bath. Tobin Arness was a postal clerk from Hot Springs she’d met at a union meeting. They’d only gone out half a dozen times. Five times too many. His scathing assessment of her ability to please a man in bed had been one of the motivations behind her decision to try IVF. The doctor doing the in vitro fertilization wasn’t going to give a damn how well she spread her legs as long as her insurance covered the cost of the procedure.
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