Taken by Storm

by Heather MacAllister

  Zoey wished she knew. This wasn’t the usual meeting and mating dance. The music was playing, but she couldn’t figure out the steps. Maybe Cam couldn’t figure out the steps, either.

  They should make up their own.

  But first, Zoey had to get him onto the dance floor.

  “My skin is so dry and itchy. I need to moisturize it,” she announced.

  She stripped down to her tank top and rolled up her jeans, then she slathered on a lemon sugar-cookie-scented cream. Tests proved men preferred baked-good scents, but it never hurt to verify with a real-world experience.

  As she massaged cream into her calves and arms, she could see Cam’s eyes following her movements, his chest barely rising and falling.

  He seemed to be hearing the music and definitely wanted to dance.

  All he needed was a little encouragement.

  “Is your skin dry?”

  Cam licked his lips. “A little, I guess.”

  “I could really use a guy’s perspective on my avocado-lime cream.” She got it out of her backpack, unscrewed the lid and let him smell it.

  “Nice.”

  “May I?” She indicated his arms.

  Cam had already taken off his pullover and now she watched as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt and set it aside, revealing a T-shirt and surprisingly well-muscled arms.

  He reached for the cream, but she stopped him. “Let me.”

  He held out his arm. “Go for it.”

  Oh, she intended to. Zoey held a generous glob of cream against his skin until it warmed and then smoothed it upward. “Where did you get these muscles?” Seriously, they were like rocks covered by skin.

  “Somebody has to haul around the sacks of hops and cases of beer.”

  “Wow.” She ran both palms up and down his arms. “If guys knew working at a brewery would give them a body like yours, they’d pay you to let them work.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Zoey heard the amusement in his voice and looked up, faltering at the intensity in his gaze.

  “I think that arm is done,” Cam said. “You want to do my other one?”

  “Oh. Yes.” She’d used more than half the jar on one arm. Zoey felt her face heat as she slathered cream on his other arm.

  She rubbed and stroked and smiled and leaned and stayed within kissing distance until his skin absorbed the cream and her fingers no longer slid smoothly.

  Zoey screwed the lid on the nearly empty jar. “So, what do you think?”

  “I like it,” he said.

  Their gazes caught again, but he still didn’t kiss her. If she kissed him, he’d undoubtedly only kiss her back out of politeness, which would be pathetic.

  Fine. Message received. Time to back off. Zoey packed away the creams, pulled on the layers she’d shed and rolled down her jeans.

  “I suppose we should try and sleep.” Unless he had something else in mind.

  “Great idea,” he said.

  But there were much better ideas. Too bad they wouldn’t explore them, Zoey thought as she turned away from him and tried to sleep.

  * * *

  THE BENEFIT OF a cot was that you avoided sleeping on the floor, yet here Cam was, on the floor. Not sleeping. He gingerly shifted his cold, numb hip and listened. From just above him—on a nice, comfy cot—he heard the sounds of soft, rhythmic snoring. At least Casper was comfortable.

  Maybe the middle of the night would be a good time to visit a charging station. The lines should be shorter, and he’d used up half his phone’s battery calling Richard.

  He heard a shuffling on his other side. Warmth seeped into his shoulder and thigh as Zoey’s body pressed against his. And just like that, all thoughts of Richard left his head to be replaced by thoughts of Zoey. Hot thoughts. Lustful thoughts. Caveman thoughts.

  Cam had never had caveman thoughts about a woman before. His previous relationships had been “complicated”—yes, with quotes. They’d required So. Much. Work. And endless discussion. And mental tap dancing. It had been exhausting.

  Caveman thoughts were simple. Want woman, take woman to cave, claim woman as mate, protect and defend woman. Also, occasionally bring her a hunk of meat.

  Cam wanted Zoey. He’d taken her to his cave, was protecting and defending her from strange travelers and snoring Afghan hounds, and he had brought her a breakfast burrito.

  His body kept reminding him he’d skipped the claiming part. Reminded him over and over as her rhythmic breathing gently moved her against him.

  He liked her. He liked her a lot. She was unselfish, tried to help people and took responsibility for her mistakes, even when they weren’t mistakes. That counted for a lot with Cam.

  Cam knew all about packaging and marketing products. He’d seen mediocre beers become successful because of a clever name or label. He’d encountered people like that, too. But with Zoey, the product was even better than the very attractive packaging.

  Cam eased his weight from one numb hip to the other, trying not to wake her, but she shifted away, and the only parts of his body that had been even remotely warm began to cool.

  “Cam? Are you awake?”

  Yes, he was awake. How was he supposed to sleep with Zoey’s thigh and shoulder touching his? And her hair tickling his cheek? And the cold from the hard floor seeping into his bones? And her fruit salad of potions scenting the air? And the memory of her applying those potions in long, smooth strokes onto her arms and legs? And onto his arms when he’d agreed to give her a male point of view.

  This male’s point of view had nothing to do with the creams and everything to do with the woman who’d concocted them. He could still feel her hands on him, still see the unguarded expression on her face when her fingers had first encountered the muscles in his arms. Thanks to his job, he’d developed a set of guns and pecs that looked good in the MacNeil’s brewery T-shirts. She’d noticed, and when she realized he’d noticed her noticing, she’d become adorably flustered.

  He inhaled. He now smelled like guacamole and had a craving for nachos.

  “Cam?”

  “Mmm,” he replied, which everyone knew was code for, “I’m conscious, but would prefer not to be, so don’t talk and maybe I can fall asleep.”

  “Yeah, I can’t sleep, either,” Zoey said. She apparently didn’t know the code. Also, her statement wasn’t true; Cam was sure she’d been asleep at least some of the time her head had used his shoulder as a pillow.

  He smiled. He’d like to try that again in an actual bed.

  “I’ve been thinking,” she continued, “and I’ve figured out what your problem is.”

  Unrequited lust. “Lack of sleep?”

  “You’re too good to be true.” That didn’t sound like a compliment.

  “Wait till morning,” he mumbled.

  Zoey shifted onto her elbow and her voice came from above him. “In fact, you’re so good, it’s disgusting.”

  “What?” Cam shifted to face her, trying to make out her expression in the dim corridor lighting.

  “It’s what’s causing all your problems at the brewery.”

  “How?”

  “You’re disgustingly responsible and hardworking to the point of saintliness and people don’t like that,” she explained. “Being around somebody who’s too good makes them feel bad about themselves. So they either avoid that good person or try to sabotage him.”

  Gus came to mind.

  “Then they feel guilty and resent the good person for making them feel that way,” she continued. “That’s what’s happening with your family. You work so hard, you make your relatives feel guilty and they avoid coming to the brewery.”

  “Interesting theory, except their guilt doesn’t keep them from stopping by anytime they want free beer.”


  “And you’re such an unselfishly good person, you let them.”

  “Being unselfish has nothing to do with it. They’re entitled. They’ve invested.” Although most had drunk back their investment.

  “You also rescue damsels in distress, mothers and babies and old ladies,” Zoey pointed out.

  “Well, yeah.” Cam punched his jacket into a more comfortable pillow. “But it’s not as if that happens all the time. We’re in an unusual situation. Most people are going to step up.”

  “Says the white knight. You’re even kind to animals—maybe too kind,” she added as Casper made little doggy dreaming movements, his nails scratching against the cot.

  “Casper didn’t give me a choice,” Cam said. “I kept telling him he was in the wrong bed, but he’s no dummy.”

  “Even he knows you’re completely selfless, Cam.” He detected disappointment and regret in her voice.

  He gave a crack of laughter and rubbed his eyes. “You are way off base. Seriously.”

  She studied him. “Then if you’re acting all goody-goody to impress me, you can stop now. It’s not working.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Not acting?”

  He shook his head. “Not trying to impress you, either.”

  “You aren’t?”

  A corner of his mouth tilted upward and he drawled, “Don’t usually have to work to impress women.”

  She blinked and then collapsed onto her back. “Oh, no. That’s terrible.”

  “I can try to impress you now.”

  “Too late. I’ve seen your halo.”

  He laughed. “What do you have against good people?”

  “Being around them is stressful because there’s always this pressure to be just like them. But every time I try, it’s a disaster.”

  Judging from the stories she’d told him, he had to admit, disaster was the right word. “At least you try.”

  “I shouldn’t,” she said darkly. “I suck at being good.”

  “You’re great at being good. You suck at doing favors. Totally different.”

  “See? That’s exactly the thing a good person would say.”

  Cam propped himself on his elbow and gazed down at her. She was staring up at the ceiling and her hair waved around her head. The ends lapped over the jacket he was using as a pillow. He idly took some between his fingers and ran his thumb over the silky smoothness, imagining the way it would feel against his naked chest. “I’m not as saintly as you think.”

  “The dog on the cot says otherwise.”

  “You’re not sleeping on the cot, either,” he pointed out. “Even if I hadn’t given the other cot to that lady, I’ll bet you would have let Casper sleep on yours.”

  She waved away his words. “That’s being logical. All this travel has been hard enough on him.”

  “And you.” Zoey had told him about her all-important task of crisscrossing the country so Casper could breed with a champion. So it had come to this: he envied a dog.

  “I don’t count,” she said. “Casper has to feel well enough to make puppies, or this whole trip is for nothing.”

  He let the strands of her hair sift through his fingers. “He’ll be fine. It takes more than a few sore muscles for an interested male to ignore a willing female.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Absolutely.” He looked at her. “Trust me.” All the frustrated desire he felt for her was in those two words.

  In the silence that followed, the atmosphere changed. He should say something to cut the tension, but he didn’t. Couldn’t.

  Slowly, Zoey propped herself on her elbow again, her hair curtained behind her, her mouth mere inches away. “Does that apply to any male?”

  Her voice was low and husky and Cam was pretty sure he heard willingness in it. That was all it took for hot desire to pulse through his body again. The cold ache in his hip disappeared—although it could have become numb—and he was definitely interested. Very interested. “Yeah.”

  She regarded him without blinking. Her lips were dark, stained by the Cherry Eruption. He hoped his weren’t the sickening yellow green of the Lemon Lime Lightning. He ran his tongue over them.

  Zoey’s gaze dropped to his mouth and her hair rippled as she swayed a fraction of an inch closer.

  Cam’s interest grew. Caveman thoughts shoved common sense out of the way. Want woman, check. Take woman to cave, check. Claim woman as mate, still on the to-do list. Time to check that one off.

  “What are you thinking?” she murmured.

  “Oh...you don’t wanna know.”

  “Oh...I kinda do.”

  Cam reached out and twisted a piece of her shiny hair around his finger. “I’m wondering what a disgustingly good person would do right now so I can do the opposite.”

  6

  “THANK GOODNESS,” ZOEY said without irony.

  Her heart pounded with heavy, syrupy thuds. He was going to kiss her again. Finally.

  Eyes on hers, Cam twirled his finger in her hair, drawing her inevitably closer. Even in the poor light, she could see the intensity in his eyes. Just before their lips locked together, Zoey wondered if he’d remember that they were in an airport terminal. Then his lips brushed hers before settling in, and Zoey wondered if she’d remember they were in an airport terminal.

  Sensation fizzed from her lips through her body, and Zoey didn’t care that they were in an airport terminal. Her stomach felt as though she’d swallowed a sparkler. Wow. Just wow.

  And they were only kissing. Not touching any place but their lips. He released her hair and Zoey swore it tingled, although she knew that was impossible.

  This was better than their previous kiss. She feathered her fingers against the roughness of his jaw, just in case he was thinking of going anywhere, and because she was balanced on her elbow—if she leaned closer, she was going to fall into him.

  Cam must have been on her wavelength because his hand moved around to her shoulder and he fell back, pulling her with him.

  Zoey gasped, breaking the kiss when she found herself splayed over his body. Automatically, she braced her arms on the floor to take some of the weight off him and her hair fell forward, covering his face.

  Oh, no, not a sexy one-shouldered slide for her, just a clump of hair covering his eyes, nose and mouth.

  She tried to shake it off him but only succeeded in whipping it against his face.

  He chuckled and used both hands to brush it away. Still smiling, he slowly combed his fingers through the strands, spreading them out. Reaching around, he drew the rest of her hair forward.

  His fingers brushed the back of her neck and her arms quivered in response. He must have noticed but kept slowly combing his fingers through her hair until it curtained their faces.

  Inhaling, he murmured, “I’ve been dreaming about this, about you lying on top of me with your hair surrounding us, keeping out the world. Keeping out everything and everyone.”

  Something uncoiled deep within Zoey. A drugging warmth spread through her and her arms stopped trembling. “So it’s not just me then,” she breathed.

  Cam splayed his hands over her shoulder blades and gently pressed until her elbows gave and she lay fully against him. “It’s not just you then.”

  Even though her hair blocked out most of the light, she could see a faint reflection in his eyes as he studied her face, really looking at her in a way no one had in years. Zoey felt oddly exposed. What if he didn’t like what he saw?

  “Now what?” she whispered.

  He grinned. “Now you kiss me.”

  “Oh.” Zoey had been thinking more long term, more what-do-we-do-about-this-thing-between-us, but kissing him worked. “I can do that.”

  As she lowered her head, Zoey wondered if
this was his fantasy or hers. Her eyes drifted shut only to blink open when she realized she’d never allowed herself to have this particular fantasy—not the whole fooling-around-in-public-while-stranded-in-an-airport thing, but the fantasy where she acted solely to please herself without deferring to her boyfriends’ preferences. She’d pretended their preferences were her preferences. She’d faked it.

  And that hadn’t been fair to them or to her.

  She couldn’t fake it with Cam even if she wanted to because she didn’t know what he liked, but she did know he wanted to learn what she liked. And so did she.

  Not one, not a single one of her J boyfriends had ever...she swallowed against a sudden knot of tears in her throat.

  Really? She was going to get all emotional now, when a hot guy was waiting for her to kiss him?

  She was a mess.

  “Zoey?” His fingers rubbed slow circles over her spine. “You okay?”

  She nodded, her hair rippling. It was kind of cool having her hair around them. “I’m having a moment.”

  She brushed her fingers along his jaw to assure him it wasn’t a bad moment.

  He smiled slightly and kept gently caressing her back. He didn’t pull her head toward his or talk to her in a get-over-yourself voice.

  He waited. For her. It was her kiss and she could do whatever she wanted. And what she wanted was soft and slow with plenty of time to explore and learn.

  With her J boyfriends, she’d had to steal those moments. They were always impatient with her—why had she tolerated it? Why had she allowed them to always decide what was sexy? Sure, fast could be hot and fun, but slow could be sensual and sweet. Hadn’t she been worth the extra minutes?

  She and Cam had all kinds of time and for once, Zoey was going to indulge herself.

  “I like you, Cam.”

  “I like you, too, Zoey.” His mouth moved as though he wanted to smile and tried to stop, then gave up and grinned. “Was that your moment?”

  “Mmm.” She leaned down and murmured next to his ear, “Because you gave me my moment, you’ll be amply rewarded with a few moments of your own.”

  She pulled his earlobe into her mouth and gently ran her teeth over it.