by Amanda Usen
Instead of contacting her, he’d worked harder, asked for more money, gotten it—and still imagined burying himself inside her body. Every time he told himself he couldn’t have her, he thought of another way to get her naked. His status updates and blog post had been torture to write because every word was true. He had to get out of here before he found himself on a plane headed for New York and then standing on her doorstep.
She deserved so much more than he could offer, but that didn’t stop him from wanting her…and feeling homicidal every time he thought about her with the banker.
Finally, he reached his hotel room. He stripped the blue tie from his neck and stuffed it into his suitcase with everything else. His backpack was all set. Carlos was waiting downstairs ready to take them to the airport, where Dave was due to land any minute. Russ would sleep on the plane, and when he woke up, there would be mountains to climb. Big ones.
Frustration tightened around his lungs, sharp claws shredding them to a pulp. He sucked slow breaths through his teeth and grabbed his gear. Carlos could take his suits back to his parents’ house. He wouldn’t need them. He slammed out of the room and strode down the hall to the elevator. When he reached the car, he slung his suitcase into the trunk and climbed into the backseat. Stan was already buckled in. Russ’s heart pounded, but instead of feeling pumped, he felt the spread of black exhaustion in every muscle.
Mountains. He needed mountains. The Eastern Himalayas fit the bill, and when he couldn’t climb anymore, he’d run the river. A friend had recently opened the first expedition on the Drangme Chhu, one of the most isolated river corridors in Bhutan, and the publicity would be good for both of them. Filming in one of the most inaccessible areas of the world would put Russ in his element: on the edge and alone. Relief flowed through him at the thought of a fast descent into wicked Class 5 rapids. That’s all he needed—another challenge.
Chapter Eleven
Susannah’s life had settled back into its routine this month with one exception: Russ had become a part of it. He didn’t want to be. He’d made that clear as day with the text he’d sent a month ago, but it was hard to forget a guy who kept himself front and center in her social media. She pulled out her phone to look at his text, as she had several times over the last few weeks.
Going off the grid for a few weeks, Susie. Status updates scheduled in advance. You do your thing, and I’ll do mine. See you at the end of February.
He sure had done his thing—too well. Those status updates had lit a fire inside her she couldn’t control. She hungered for news of him, but other than the fake flirting, there was none to be found. Well, nothing other than the back episodes of Wild Man she binge-watched every night. Under the pretense of confirming details for the next show, she’d called Bergman and learned Russ was in a remote part of South Asia, climbing mountains and running rapids. She wouldn’t see him until he appeared at her door.
Over the course of the past month, he’d invited her to join him in every corner of the world from the Amazon to Antarctica, from Paris to Pakistan, from Borneo to Bhutan. He’d even sent her a valentine…sort of. He’d posted a picture of himself sitting shirtless in the middle of a pile of rocks. His hair was lighter and longer, and his tan was deeper. He stared straight at the camera, strength and power evident in every forceful line of his body. Her pulse pounded every time she looked at it, and she knew she wasn’t the only one because that picture had been shared all over the Internet. It seemed to follow her everywhere, taunting her with his insincerity and giving her wicked flashbacks of his hard body wrapped around her and his strong hands taking her places she’d never been. She couldn’t escape the hot memories, but that was fine—they were good ones.
But he’d gone too far. The rocks around him were piled into the shape of a heart, the caption read “Thinking of you,” and he’d tagged her, so she couldn’t even pretend he’d sent the valentine to his fans.
The first At Home in the Wild show had aired, and it was a resounding success. Fans were dying to know more, but it was hard to live the lie, especially since it was becoming increasingly difficult to separate fantasy from reality. How dare he schedule bomb after bomb and leave her to deal with the fallout? Her public responses fell on deaf ears, since he was in the middle of no-man’s-land, but it was the way she felt inside that infuriated her. She’d looked at that valentine photo about a thousand times more than she’d ever admit and wished it were real every time.
She’d known the minute she’d laid eyes on him he tripped all her triggers. Big, strong, wild men made her want to please them. It had been that way with Ethan, and Russ affected her even more strongly.
In the short time they’d been together, she’d gotten to know the wounded man beneath the tough exterior. The world knew he was driven; she knew what was driving him. His guilt and grief made her heart ache. She wanted to take care of him, to soothe the lines from his brow and ease the tension in his soul, but if she’d learned nothing else from her marriage, she knew you couldn’t give a man what he didn’t want. She’d missed the signs with Ethan, but she wasn’t going to make that mistake again. Russ was wild from skin to bone. Like the tattoo on his back, he’d never stop pushing for the top of the mountain, even if the world burned around him.
So it would really help if he stopped pretending he wanted her.
No matter what picture he painted in the media, she wasn’t his Wild Woman, and she would prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt tonight. The cameras would record every awkward moment as she called his bluff and put an end to the status updates that made her sound like his perfect match. Everyone watching the show would instantly see their incompatibility, and Russ would be able to politely back off—or run screaming, which would make for excellent television. Her life would return to normal, and she’d stop wishing for things she couldn’t have.
A wave of nausea rose into her throat and then fell into the pit of her stomach, leaving her dizzy. Russ would arrive any minute. Holly was in charge of Billy, and Adam had the food under control, leaving Susannah free to obsess over the show. Cameras were set up all over the house, and everything was planned down to the last detail. She had no reason to be nervous, but her queasy stomach disagreed.
She heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and peeked out the window. The Media Life camera and sound crew took their places on the porch as Russ got out of his Jeep. She hurried to the door, waiting for the bell to ring, nerves cranked so tightly, she jumped when it chimed.
Heart pounding, she opened it. Tingles spread over her skin and her hand trembled as she fumbled with the storm door. He pulled from the other side. Their eyes met for one charged second while she tried to recall her plan. With profound relief, she remembered—and threw herself into his arms.
…
Russ hauled Susannah into the air, pressing every inch of her body against him. The mountains had done nothing to dull his desire. The river hadn’t, either. He felt ten times more desperate for her than he had last month, and as her body touched his, breath rushed from his lungs, and tension filled him. For a long moment, he simply held her. Slowly, he became aware of the scent of apples in her hair, the soft press of her breasts against his ribs, and the chill in the air. A cameraman shifted to a better position on the porch. Without looking, he knew there were more cameras set up in the house, and he could sense people filming. It returned a bare measure of his sanity. As soon as he’d had Internet, he caught up on what he’d missed this month. Online, she was playing hard-to-get like a pro, so what was with the enthusiastic welcome?
He lifted his head. “Hi, honey. I’m home.” He let her slide down his body until her feet touched the porch. When she kept her arms wrapped around his neck, he knew he was right. She was up to something.
“You look terrible.” Her dark eyes asked a question he wasn’t going to answer.
“You look amazing.” Her hair was up in a loose twist, and she was wearing makeup. Like him, she wore jeans and a casual top. What did sh
e have planned for tonight? Clearly not black tie, but the smug dare in her gaze told him he was in trouble. So was she if she didn’t back off. When she looked at him like that, his single driving desire was to get her against a flat surface, wall, floor—hell, the stairs behind her would work. He hardened, and since she was plastered against him, she noticed. Her cheeks turned a delicious shade of pink, and he nearly swept her off her feet and carried her up the damn stairs.
Could he do that? Nope. Bergman had read him the riot act about disappearing, and it was the thought of Susannah’s ratings that had pulled him out of the wilderness. It was time to finish this. “What’s on the menu for tonight?”
She took his hand and tugged him out of the doorway, leaving it open so the crew could follow him inside. “I thought a quiet evening at home would be just what you needed after your month in the mountains.” Her voice was simpering sweet, and she smiled as she pulled him into the middle of her kitchen. The scene in front of him made his heart stall and his thoughts slam to a dead stop.
Pots simmered on the stove. A baby sat in a high chair, spoon in hand, orange goo smeared in his brown hair and all over his grinning face. His brown eyes sparkled with mischief. From the picture she’d texted last month, Russ had known he was the spitting image of Susannah, but he hadn’t anticipated meeting her son would make him want to pinch his round cheeks, swing him up in the air, and hear him laugh. The unexpected desire was so strong Russ moved toward him.
Her friend Holly sat in front of the high chair. “Hey, Russ.”
He nodded, unable to tear his gaze off the boy. “Holly, good to see you.” Disbelief gripped him, shook him. He suddenly wanted to go to the zoo, the aquarium, the Museum of Play, and a dozen other places he’d never been. “What’s his name?”
“Billy,” Holly said.
He pointed at the open wine bottle on the counter. “I think I need some of that.”
“Of course, darling.” Susannah poured and put a glass in his hand.
He took a drink, but it didn’t steady him. It spun him even more wildly off-center. She’d obviously designed a scenario intended to make him as uncomfortable as humanly possible, just as he’d done for her in the woods. She’d certainly succeeded. She’d just given him the shock of his life.
He felt right at home.
He wanted to stir those pots and see what was cooking. He wanted to get to know the baby who had Susannah’s warm brown eyes and a shock of chestnut hair. He was thrilled to be in her kitchen. Alarm bells rang so loud, he had to shake his head to clear it.
He focused on Susannah, who was grinning at him like she’d just won the lottery. Think, damn it. This was her show, her career on the line. Bergman had come through for him with flying colors, and he needed to hold up his part of the deal. As much as he wanted to enjoy the dynamic going on in the kitchen, it wouldn’t make for exciting television. Clearly, she expected him to be uncomfortable, and he had to play his part. “Can’t we please just go find some river monsters or jump out of airplanes? Something normal? We aren’t just going to cook dinner and hang out with your kid, are we?”
“We sure are, Wild Man. Prepare for domesticity.”
He shuddered dramatically while his mind filled with nearly forgotten images from his childhood involving Br’er Rabbit and a briar patch. Oh, no, please don’t wine me, dine me, and don’t you dare…
Billy dived to the side as Holly held out a towel to wipe his face, and Russ jumped to catch him, afraid he’d tumble right out of the chair. As he got close, the kid grabbed his arm and pulled. The chair rocked. Russ realized Billy was strapped in at the exact moment the kid registered he was a stranger and shrieked, letting go of him.
“Those are some mighty lungs, kid.” He felt the hairs on his arm stand on end as they stared at each other. He’d never been subject to closer scrutiny in his life, not even during army inspections. He felt exposed, transparent, like the kid could see straight down to his soul. His pulse pounded. If her kid didn’t like him, it was all over, whatever it was between them. What was it? He had no idea.
Instinct took over, and he grinned, man-to-man. “You’re a badass like your mom, aren’t you? I can respect that, but can I give you some friendly advice? Don’t jump without a parachute. And if you’re going to try to climb, get rid of the chair strapped to your butt. It’s dead weight.”
The boy giggled, and the joyful sound wrapped itself around Russ’s lungs and squeezed, paralyzing him with something deep and warm, like he was drowning in honey. The boy leaned to smear more orange goo on his arm, snapping him out of it. “Oh, is that how it is? I see how you are.”
Russ picked up the container of baby food sitting on the counter. It looked homemade. He sniffed. “Mmmm…sweet potatoes? Carrots?” Then he grabbed a finger full and smeared it on the kid’s tiny hand.
“Hey!” Susannah snatched the container out of his hand. “Not helpful.”
Russ shrugged. “He started it.”
“We model appropriate behavior in this house.” Her tone was prim, and it made him want to model a dozen inappropriate behaviors with her right now. When she returned to the stove, he noticed a man standing there, stirring a pot as if he owned it. The back of Russ’s neck rippled. It wasn’t hard to identify the emotion that made twenty-five ways to kill a man with his bare hands roll through his mind, one by one, in slow motion.
“Russ, this is Adam Lowell. He’s going to help me teach you and Holly how to cook a simple date-night meal tonight.”
Russ crossed the kitchen and held out his hand. “Russ Donovan, nice to meet you.”
“A pleasure.”
Not mine. The guy was an inch taller than he was, built like a swimmer on steroids, and too goddamn good-looking. He also had a grip like a vise. Russ wanted to hurt him, but he forced himself to let go of his hand. Casually, he drew Susannah to his side. “This is a date? It’s about time. I’ve been trying to get you to go out with me for a month, after all.”
She reached up and patted his cheek. “Well, here’s your shot, Wild Man. On my turf. On my terms. You suggested a weekend on an island—not going to happen without my son. Then you asked me to meet you in Paris. Again, not happening. I’m not spending sixteen hours on a plane with a one-year-old, not even for amazing baguettes.”
“I also asked you to have dinner with me in the incredibly close city of New York.”
“Do they have high chairs in fine dining restaurants? I wouldn’t know. That isn’t my world. Welcome to my world.” She gestured around the kitchen.
“I thought you had enough of my cooking the last time.”
“Exactly.” Her eyes flashed. “Every man and woman should know how to cook at least one decent meal.”
Holly set the kid on his feet and shook her head. “I still don’t know how I got roped into this. Aren’t there enough people who can cook in the world? Some of us are happy to eat out. Frozen dinners are my friends, and I like salads.”
“I’m with her,” Russ said just to watch Susannah’s eyes throw sparks again.
“Of course you are, Mr. Fire-Roasted Soup From a Can and Spam Crackers.” Susannah snorted and handed him an apron. “Suit up.”
“And you”—she tossed one to Holly— “you haunt my kitchen every night, and I’ve never seen you eat anything green that I didn’t put on your plate. It’s time, Hol.”
As Holly rolled her eyes and donned the apron, Billy edged out of the room. Russ waited, but no one moved to follow him.
“Would you mind keeping an eye on Billy for a second?” Susannah asked him. She shot the cameraman closest to the door a smile, and he realized this must be one of the domestic tortures she had planned. Russ heaved a long-suffering sigh, slung the apron over his shoulder, and followed the kid out of the kitchen.
“Number one rule of child raising: keep him alive,” she called after him.
Considering Billy was headed for stairs that led down somewhere, that might be a challenge. Russ raced after him, catching up jus
t as the kid thudded onto his ass and scooted over the edge. “You’re faster than you look.”
Billy headed straight for the couch and tugged on a cushion. Did he want to get up there or tear it apart? Russ tossed a pillow onto the floor, and the Billy squealed and grabbed the next one.
“Pillow fort, it is.” Russ grinned at the cameraman, who’d followed him into the room. This probably wasn’t appropriate behavior, either, but the boxy cushions made an excellent frame. The apron was a good makeshift roof, but every time he got it balanced, Billy barreled into it, knocking it down with glee. Russ finally decided to lean all the cushions up against the couch like a long lean-to. Billy got the idea immediately and crawled through. Russ followed him.
“What are you doing?” Susannah’s voice was muffled, but close by.
He couldn’t resist. He found her crouched at the entrance and grabbed her hand, then dragged her under the pillows. He was supposed to play his part, right? Tucking her beneath him, he kept one eye on Billy coming toward them through the tunnel. “Is this a tent? It feels like a tent. This is what we do in tents, right?”
He slid his legs between hers and fit their bodies together. Instant driving lust slammed through him. His gaze shot to hers and found her wide-eyed, pupils so big her eyes looked black. He shifted, bringing their hips into perfect alignment, and he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting. He wanted inside. He’d driven himself to exhaustion to stop thinking about making love to her, but as soon as he’d seen her, touched her, smelled her, the urge had come back tenfold. Her mouth was a whisper from his, and the touch of her warm breath on his lips made him forget everything but the need to taste her.
He lowered his mouth just as Billy reached them, buried both hands in Susannah’s hair, and slobbered on her cheek. She twisted to the side and sat up, knocking the pillows away from the couch. She stood and wiped her cheek. Without looking at him, she tugged the band out of her hair and put it back up into a smooth ponytail. “Second rule of child raising: clean up the mess. I’ll meet you back in the kitchen, Wild Man.”