Instant Attraction

by Jill Shalvis

  “Good. Don’t. Not to me.”

  “So you don’t want me to think about you.”

  “No.” Slowly, with great care, he tucked the ends of the scarf inside her jacket, his fingers lingering on her throat, skimming over skin, causing all sorts of reactions within her. “Yes,” he corrected, then shook his head. “Katie…”

  Her eyes drifted shut. He had that effect on her, creating an odd state of bliss. And God, the way he said her name. She really hoped his sentence was going to end with “can I strip you naked and taste every square inch of you?”

  “I’m not someone you want to get close to,” he said instead.

  Damn. That wasn’t anywhere close. She opened her eyes. “How do you know what I want?”

  “I’m going off the way you kissed me.”

  “Hey, there were two tongues in that kiss.”

  “I know. And I started it.”

  Well, that wasn’t technically true…. But she didn’t plan on mentioning that. “Good night, Cam.”

  Leaning past her, he opened the lodge door and gestured her out ahead of him. “You just got here,” she said.

  “I’m walking you to your cabin.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “I’m walking you.” When she didn’t move, he took her hand in his.

  The moon wasn’t out yet, so it was a dark night, but she didn’t notice any of that, just the man holding her gloved hand along the path. They didn’t speak, which was fine with her. It wasn’t talking she ached for.

  Halfway there, the bushes rustled. Cam didn’t even flinch, so she sucked it up and pretended not to notice.

  At the front door of her cabin, she turned to face him. In his eyes was the same fierce hunger she was fighting inside of her own body, which was both cheering and sobering because he could fight this much better than she could. “Cam—”

  “I mean it,” he said quietly. “You don’t want me. Trust me, this thing can’t go anywhere. I don’t have anything to give. Nothing. Do you understand?”

  “I do.” She looked pointedly at his hand, still holding hers. “But I’m not the someone touching the someone they don’t want to get close to.”

  He immediately let go of her. “It’s a good thing one of us is strong then, isn’t it?”

  “Me?” She laughed. “You think I’m so strong? I’m trying, believe me, but at this point, it’s still just an illusion.”

  “You’re here, doing something new. Out of your element and handling it. You are strong. You’re one of the strongest women I know.”

  They were standing close, toe-to-toe. She wanted to be closer, she wanted to be touching, like they’d been on the snowmobile, and she let her gaze soak up his face, his mouth…

  With a low moan, he leaned in and opened his mouth over hers, making her sigh in sheer, unadulterated pleasure.

  A rough sound rumbled up from his chest, and he stepped into the kiss, slipping his hand around the back of her neck, gliding his tongue deeper, pulling her in tighter, hard to his body.

  At her tremble, he broke off the kiss, though he took his time to do so, leaving his mouth touching hers for a few breaths before pulling all the way back.

  “Cam—”

  Breathing no steadier than she, he stroked a finger over her temple, then rimmed her ear. “Go inside, Katie.”

  She looked into his eyes. Yeah, he wanted her. It was there in the dark, swirling depths of his gaze, in the tension in his body, in the erection she could feel pressing into her belly.

  He wanted her badly, which did her no good if he didn’t want to want her. So she did as he asked and went inside. Shutting the cabin door, she leaned back against it, heart still racing. He’d been right about one thing.

  She was stronger than she’d thought. But so was he.

  Several days later, on a “good road” day, Katie took a drive into Wishful to make a deposit for the business account. Stone had asked Cam to do it, but he’d come up with some excuse, making her realize that in the two weeks she’d been here, she’d never seen him go into town.

  Because it’d snowed the night before, she drove one of Wilder Adventures trucks and held her breath the whole time. The roads had been declared clear, but that didn’t mean anything to her. They were still white with snow, slippery as hell, and gave her more than one bad moment. She just kept telling herself that the cab was large and roomy, and there were no bridges.

  But pulling into town always made her smile. Wishful was an authentic Old West mining town, filled with nineteenth-century false-front buildings. Back in the day, that being the 1800s, Wishful had been infamous for its wild saloons and lawless residents. Tamer now, it was still alive thanks to its close proximity to Lake Tahoe.

  As she headed down the main street to the bank, she kept her eyes peeled for a source of caffeine. No Starbucks in sight. She got in and out of the bank in three minutes, then a sign caught her eye: WISHFUL DELIGHTS. From within the bakery came a mouthwatering scent that had her stomach quivering hopefully. She practically dove inside, delighted to find the place decorated like an old-time French café, complete with black wrought-iron tables and chairs, and pale-pink-and-white stripes on the walls, which held prints of the French countryside.

  Behind the counter stood a tall brunette who was so beautiful she looked like she might be an actress playing the part of baker instead of the real thing. Perfectly put together in black pants, a white blouse, and a black-and-white checkered apron, she smiled pleasantly at Katie. “Hello.”

  “It smells like heaven in here.” Her nose was twitching. “I’ll take one of everything you’ve got in low fat.”

  The woman laughed softly. “Sorry. No low fat in the house.”

  Katie sighed. “Yeah, I was afraid of that.”

  “You’re new. Small town,” she explained at Katie’s look of surprise. “Everyone knows everyone here, and I don’t know you.” She held out a tray with an assortment of the most spectacular-looking cookies Katie had ever seen. “Sample?”

  “Oh, most definitely yes.” Katie took a bite of something warm and soft and chocolaty, and it melted in her mouth. “My God. Some of those. Lots of those.”

  The woman nodded and began to fill a pretty black-and-white paper bag with the cookies, her gaze coming back to Katie, and the red bank bag she held that had WILDER AD-VENTURES blazed across the front. “You’re the temp at the lodge?”

  “Yes. You know the Wilders?”

  The woman wrapped a ribbon around the top of the bag to close it. “Everyone does.”

  “I guess they do,” Katie said, still eyeing the samples, wondering if it would be rude to take another. “Cam told me the Wilders are somewhat of a legend around here.”

  The woman went still, her previously friendly expression switching to surprise. “Cam’s back?”

  “Yes.” Katie pulled out her money and set it on the counter, reaching for the bag of cookies. “Thank you for the—”

  But the woman didn’t release the bag, her eyes registering shock, hurt, and—Oh, damn. Love.

  “He’s really back?”

  Uh-oh. Had she just stumbled on to the reason Cam was avoiding town? “Yes, he’s back.” Again, she tried to pull her cookies free, but the woman had strong fingers. Must be all that kneading.

  “I haven’t seen him since just before his accident,” the pastry chef murmured. “Nearly a year ago now.” She paused. “Could you tell him something for me?”

  “Uh—”

  “Tell him to come see Serena?”

  Katie nodded, thinking she could tell him all she wanted, but Cam didn’t seem the type to do anything except what he felt like doing.

  Serena finally released the cookies, and free to go, Katie mindlessly ate half of them on the drive back to the lodge. The snow was piled high in berms on either side of the road, which wasn’t a problem except she felt a little claustrophobic. Or maybe that was the sugar rush. The temp had dropped, which made the roads more than a little icy and s
lippery. The rough going was jerking the truck around pretty good.

  But she could handle it.

  To ease the pre-panic attack feeling, she spoke out loud. “You’re good. Town was nice. The cookies are great and…and I wish I knew what was between Serena and Cam…”

  Whatever it was, it appeared to be over. But forgotten? Not for Serena, in any case. As for Cam, she couldn’t say. She didn’t know him well enough. Well, other than he made her yearn, made her laugh, and that he looked fantastic on a snowmobile.

  And that he was a hell of a kisser.

  But she had to admit he was more than that, much more. She’d seen him help run Wilder Adventures, deal with clients, seen him reveal a sharp, quick wit that was as attractive as his rare smile. He’d been hurt, so damn hurt, and yet he still managed to love and trust the small, tight circle he’d surrounded himself with.

  Okay, so maybe she knew him better than she’d thought—

  Her front tire caught a deep, icy groove in the road, and the truck lurched violently to the left. “Oh shit, oh shit.” She fought the wheel, her entire life flashing before her eyes as the truck swerved, then slid toward a snow bank.

  Okay, not her entire life, just the longest minute of her life, the one on the Santa Monica bridge. She’d slid then, too, slid right off the bridge—

  Oh God. Her vision filled with black spots, not exactly conducive to driving; but just before she totally gave herself over to the panic, the truck’s tire caught some traction. In a blink, she was back on the road, heading straight. Heart pounding nearly out of her chest, glasses crooked, she stopped the truck right there in the middle of the road and dropped her head to the steering wheel while she gulped in some air. And then some more, her hand to her chest to hold in her jumping heart.

  She took another moment to breathe, but she couldn’t just stay in the center of the road all day, even if she wanted to. So after a minute, she cautiously took off again. Going five miles per hour, she was grateful when no other car came up behind her so she didn’t have to speed up. When she finally pulled up in front of the lodge, she got out on shaky legs and just barely managed not to be sick.

  Cam was outside with a group of teenagers, handing out and signing gear: boards, boots, T-shirts, microfleeces, etc. They were all firing questions at him, laughing and nudging each other, having a great time.

  Cam was smiling too. He glanced over at her, already lifting a hand in greeting when he got a closer look at her. He instantly handed over the Sharpie to the closest kid and headed straight for her.

  Telling her heart to slow down, that she was fine, fine, fine, she pasted on a smile that he didn’t buy.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Not quite trusting her voice, she shook her head. Nothing. I’m great. Just freaking great.

  He just kept looking at her in that deep, calm way he had, and she knew she could pretend all she wanted, that she wasn’t really okay, not yet.

  “Katie.” He reached for her hand, which was clammy. It was twenty-five degrees and she was sweating.

  “I’m fine,” she managed, nodding now, doing her best impression of a bobblehead doll. But then he stepped a little closer, big and strong and capable, cupping the back of her neck in a warm hand. God. She wanted to be fine, she wanted that very badly, but it was hard to keep pretending with him looking at her like that, and she went from nodding to shaking it.

  With a low sound of empathy, he pulled her in and stroked his hand down her back. “The truck? The roads? A flashback?”

  “All of the above.” Not going to cry, not going to cry…Angrily, she swiped the one tear that escaped and sniffed.

  Above her, he set his chin on her head. “It’s okay if you want to use my shirt as a tissue.”

  She choked out a laugh as he’d meant her to. “I’m fine.”

  “Yeah you are.” He pulled back to look into her face. “And green to boot.”

  “I look good in green.” Her voice was shaking. Dammit. She cleared her throat, pretending that she had a frog in it. “Okay, well, I’m going upstairs now.”

  “Give yourself a second—”

  “I don’t need any more seconds.”

  “Next time ask someone else to drive you—”

  “No,” she said far sharper than she’d intended. “I’m not quitting my life, Cam.”

  A quick flash of hurt crossed his features, but he was good, very good at masking his feelings, and it was gone when he stepped back from her. “Okay.”

  She sighed. “That was rude of me. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s the truth, so don’t be sorry.” When he turned from her without another word, she let out a breath and headed up the stairs to the lodge.

  Chapter 9

  Annie stood in the foyer waiting for Katie. “Kitchen. Now.” Okay. Kitchen worked. There were chairs in the kitchen and she needed to sit down. She followed Annie, noting the chef’s very baggy sweat bottoms and oversized T-shirt. Today’s apron read: WARNING—COMPLAINTS TO THE CHEF MAY BE HAZARDOUS TO YOUR HEALTH.

  In the kitchen, Annie handed over a plate loaded with lasagna, bread, and salad. “Sit. Eat.”

  Katie’s hands were still trembling, but unfortunately no panic attack had ever stifled her appetite. She managed to stuff a bite into her mouth, then moaned in sheer pleasure.

  “Yeah?” Annie asked, staring at her.

  “Oh, yeah. Seriously, it’s great. It’s—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I cook like an angel. Listen, I have a question.”

  “Okay.”

  “Did you see any of the guys today?”

  Okay, so Annie had seen Cam hug her. “It’s not what you think.” Even if Katie wanted it to be exactly what Annie thought. “He was just…comforting me.”

  “You mean Cam. You and Cam?”

  “Well…yeah. What did you mean?”

  Annie was frowning. “He’s not your type.”

  “No,” she admitted. Her type was the laid-back LA guy who couldn’t be bothered to tell her he already had a wife, or the guy who didn’t call for a second date when he said he would. “He’s more alpha than I’m used to. And a bit dark and broody. And—”

  Annie arched a brow. “And?”

  “And nothing.” Shut your mouth, Katie. “Nothing. Subject dropped, sorry.”

  Annie stared at her for another beat, then visibly shook it off. “Okay, when I asked about seeing any of the guys today, I meant Nick.”

  Hey, good going. “I haven’t seen Nick today at all. About that Cam thing, I—”

  “Forget it.” Annie looked like she was going to do her best to do the same. “Nick flew Stone and a group for a heli-ski, but they came back an hour ago. He usually comes into the kitchen to see me.”

  “But didn’t you tell him not to talk to you ever again?”

  “Well, I didn’t mean it, did I?” Turning away, Annie started rinsing dishes. Her hair, in a loose knot on top of her head, vibrated with tension. “This is so…asinine!” She poured enough soap into the sink to wash all the dishes in California. “He stopped seeing me, you know. He stopped looking at me.”

  “Because you’re divorcing him?”

  “No, it’s why I’m divorcing him—if he ever signs the damn papers. I told him to either look at me or find someone else. And he said he saw me just fine. He saw me standing between him and the damn TV. So I said get the hell out.” Her face went from anger to hurt bewilderment. “And he did. He moved into his own cabin.”

  “Oh, Annie. I’m sorry.”

  “Asinine,” she repeated.

  “Maybe you could fix it.”

  “How?” Annie waved her sponge and bubbles rose in the air between them. “The man didn’t see me! I’ve had a thing for him since second grade. I love him more than…more than cooking.”

  Katie tread carefully, knowing how proud Annie was, which actually seemed to be a universal Wilder trait. “Maybe he needs your help to see you.”