by Jill Shalvis
Tipping her head back, she looked up at him.
“I’m not exactly a babe magnet,” he explained, and at her bemused look, he smiled. “Techno-geek, remember?”
“Well,” she said softly, oddly touched, her voice suddenly gruff. “Women can be extremely shortsighted.”
At that, his smile reached his eyes. “It doesn’t help that I used to work 24-7, without time for anything else. I’m trying to fix that.”
“What, being a techno-geek?”
He laughed. “Working 24-7.”
Reaching up, she ran her fingers through his hair. “You know what I think? That any woman who passed you over was an idiot.” Including herself.
“I pretty much fly under most women’s radar.”
It shamed her to know that he’d nearly flown under her radar. That she would have passed him by on the street without a second thought, shrugging him off as not her type, simply because his world was so different from hers. “Women need to be retrained from adolescence,” she decided. “The bad boys? Not where it’s at.”
He laughed. “Yeah. Thanks.” He set her hands back on the tree and resumed his incredible assault on her tense muscles, and pretty soon, she was a puddle at his feet. Another minute, or even less, and she was going to start drooling. “That’s good,” she managed. “Thanks.”
He didn’t take the hint and remove his hands from her. In fact, he kept at it until she could feel the last of her tight muscles loosen, until she could hardly remember her own name.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he said quietly, still massaging. “Better, huh?”
So much better that she had to lock her knees.
“You’re like a rock quarry.”
“I know.” She felt his gaze on her, and kept silent.
He didn’t. “So you fell off a cliff trying to fight an out-of-control forest fire, you nearly died, were told you’d never walk again—which you proved wrong by sheer wil—and…help me out here…you honestly think of it as something to be ashamed of.”
“No.”
“You do,” he said, putting his hands on her hips to turn her to face him, dipping down a bit when she tried to look away. “Seriously, Lily. Life’s too short for that kind of shit. Trust me. I know.”
She was eye level with his throat, which just this morning had been silky smooth, fresh from a shave. Now there was a day’s growth there, and suddenly he didn’t seem quite so neat and tidy. “There’s…something you don’t know about what happened to me.”
“What?”
“Before I slipped off the cliff, there’d been a fire.”
“I figured that, since you were there as a firefighter.”
“I was on mop-up duty. It was my job to make sure there were no flare-ups. And I fell asleep.”
“You were probably exhausted.”
“When I woke up, the fire had started again. That’s my fault. I missed a flare-up. I screwed up big-time, Jared.”
“Everyone makes mistakes, Lily.”
“Yeah.” She looked away. Needed to look away. “Thanks for the massage.”
“But?”
She looked at him, and was caught by his wry smile. “But?”
“I’m pretty sure I heard a big but at the end of that sentence. Thanks for the massage, Jared, but you’re not my type…right?”
“You’re not,” she reminded them both.
“Look, I’m well aware of the fact that you’re totally out of my league.” He let out a rough laugh. “And only six months ago I’d have had to talk myself into trying for you. A year ago I’d never have even considered it.”
“Why not?”
“Because, like I said, I was an ordinary working stiff turned classic workaholic, who put in twenty-hour days, seven days a week. I was addicted to the office, to the work, to the adrenaline and excitement that comes from making money hand over fist. I wouldn’t have had time even to think about going out with you.”
“Why did you stop working like that?”
He looked away, a rare thing with him, and her stomach dipped, insinuating she knew, that whatever it was, it was bad. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
His smile was a tad crooked, and extremely endearing. “Don’t really want to know, huh?”
“I just have a feeling I’m not going to like it.”
“I got sick.”
Her stomach dipped again. “What happened, your boss fire you for missing a few days?”
“I’m my own boss,” he reminded her. “And I missed five months.”
She swallowed hard past the uncomfortable lump in her throat. Yeah. Definitely bad. “That must have been a helluva sickness.”
“It was cancer,” he said. “And I know this sounds clichéd, but I should have died and I didn’t. I cheated the Grim Reaper and because of that, I’m not the same anymore.”
“Cancer?” she whispered, and found her hands clutching his arms. “Are you…did you…”
“I’m recovered, heading toward remission.”
She couldn’t take her hands off him, as if he might vanish if she let go, and he seemed to understand the reaction, because he let out a little smile. “I’m okay, Lily.”
“Of course you are.” She tried to loosen her fingers so at least she wasn’t hurting him, but couldn’t. He felt okay, she assured herself. Beneath her fingers he was warm and strong. “My God, Jared. You must have been through so much.” She managed to let go of him to reach up and run a hand over his short, short hair.
“Yeah.” His smile went a little self-conscious as he ran his fingers over it. “That’s all new growth.”
And just like that, right then and there, she felt her heart catch. Oh, God. That couldn’t be good.
She hadn’t realized that she’d put a hand over her aching heart until he took her fingers in his. “Mostly,” he said. “I learned, along with the newfound humility, and how much being sick sucks, that life is damn precious. I missed too much of it, Lily. No more.”
She couldn’t tear her eyes off him either. More, she found she had to hear him say it again. “You’re…fine though. Right?”
“Very,” he assured her.
Still staring at him, she let out a long breath. “Okay. Okay, then.” She breathed some more. “Wow. That word sort of just grabs you by the throat. Cancer.”
“Not many people actually use the word in front of me,” he admitted. “I hate that.”
“Cancer.” She fisted both hands in his shirt. “Cancer. It’s just a word, not so scary, right?”
He smiled, and cupped her face. “I’m really okay, Lily.”
She resisted the childish urge to make him promise. “So…it changed you.”
“You saw my list.”
“Yes.” And now the significance of it made so much more sense.
“I wrote it on the day I decided not to die.”
She wanted to flinch from that word, but refused, for him. She imagined him in the hospital, writing that list, not sure if he was going to live to do those things on it. It grabbed her by the throat and held tight. To combat it, she bent for the two pots she’d cleaned in the river.
“Actually,” he said. “I’ve thought of a new addition to the list.”
“What’s that?”
He smiled and nudged her backwards against the tree again. “To be with a fiercely independent, prideful, tough as hell, prickly, oblivious-to-her-own-appeal woman.”
“Jared—”
“You, Lily.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “I want to be with you.”
She felt her insides melt away. She’d been so busy trying to be strong, and had always wanted a guy with that same obvious strength. But here the quiet, easygoing guy had turned out to be the one with the strength—the inner strength.
And it was more arousing than any show of muscles had ever been. “By be with, you mean—”
“Well, this for starters.”
And pressing her up against the
rough bark, he kissed her, long and hard and wet, and ohmigod, like he was never going to let her go, and at the moment, that worked for her, it really worked.
8
KISSING LILY was like…well, Jared didn’t really know because there was nothing like it. Nothing. He experienced the unique, rushing thrill of hearing her drop the two pots at her feet, as if she couldn’t concentrate on both his mouth and a single other thing.
Oh, yeah, he liked that.
And then there was the way her hands came up and sank in his barely-there hair, tight, like maybe she didn’t want him to get away until she was completely finished with him.
Ditto.
God. Her lips had been a little chilled at their first touch but they warmed quickly beneath his.
Another thrill.
As was the feel of her tongue as it slid to his. Definitely he could drown in her, just let himself go right under, and, happily doing just that, he leaned into her, a move that sandwiched her between the tree and his own body, pressing her snugly against him. His hands free, he slid them up her body, groaning at the hot, tight feel of her, and given the sexy little sounds that escaped her throat, she was drowning, too.
Never coming up for air, he thought, never, and frustrated by the layers between them, he slid his hands beneath her shirt to find warm, silky skin. Oh yeah—
A scream shattered the night, and they both jerked free.
“Shit,” Lily gasped, and shoving her shirt back down, went running back into camp, with him right on her heels.
They skidded into the clearing around the campfire, taking in the situation. It looked as if everyone had dropped whatever they were doing to rush over to Jack’s and Michelle’s tent, including Jack, who was now holding a sobbing Michelle.
“What happened?” Lily demanded, after pushing in front of Rose and Rock.
Everyone started talking at once, including Jack, but Lily held up her hand. “Wait. Michelle?”
Michelle hiccupped and kept her face buried in Jack’s T-shirt.
Jack rolled her eyes, and at the movement, Jared sensed Lily relax. If Jack was annoyed, then Michelle wasn’t dying.
Probably.
“Michelle,” Lily said, dropping to her knees besides them. “Talk to me.”
“A spider,” she gulped, tightening the fisted grip she had on Jack’s shirt, making him wince. “A big, fat, hairy, humungous spider!”
“Okay.” Lily glanced back at Jared, but somehow managed to keep a straight face. “There are a lot of spiders out here, we’re in their territory.”
Michelle shook her head. “You’ve got to get it out of there!”
Jack sighed. “Michelle.”
Lily patted the sobbing Michelle on the back. “Listen, don’t make yourself sick. Where’s the spider?”
“On my pillow! I’m never going to sleep on that pillow again!”
“So I carted it seven miles up this mountain for nothing?” Jack asked.
Michelle pushed him away from her. “This is not a time for jokes, Jack.”
“Who was joking?”
Lily ignored both of them to duck into the tent. She reappeared a moment later.
“Your hands are empty,” Michelle said, her voice tight with panic. “Lily, your hands are empty.”
“It’s gone,” Lily said regretfully.
“Probably your screaming scared him off—What?” Jack asked when Michelle stopped crying to smack him. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“I think so,” Lily said, nodding. “A really good thing.”
Jared glanced down at the door of the tent. “Hey. Look.” He grabbed a stick and nudged the indeed big, black, fat, hairy spider onto it. “Got him.”
Michelle screamed again and buried her face against her husband’s chest.
“I’ll take it into the woods,” Jared said quickly, and moved to the far edge of camp. By the time he’d turned back, Michelle had a new horror—the chances that the spider had laid babies in her tent.
“Doubtful,” Lily was saying. “Very doubtful.”
“Doubtful, but possible, right?”
Lily shook her head. “They don’t lay babies at night.” She said this with an utterly straight face.
Jack nodded his agreement. “That’s right. I read that somewhere.”
“Yeah?” Michelle rounded on him. “Where did you read it?”
Rock stepped forward. “Look, you guys can switch tents with me.”
Jack shook his head. “That’s not necessary—”
“Thank you,” Michelle said gratefully, and with a scathing look at her husband, stalked off toward Rock’s tent.
Jack sighed. “Sorry,” he said to Rock, who shrugged.
“No sweat.”
“We should all get to bed,” Lily said into the silence. “We have an early start tomorrow morning, so we all need to sleep tight—”
“And not let the bedbugs bite,” Jack joked, only to have Michelle whirl back in horror from Rock’s tent.
“Just kidding,” he said. “Just kidding!” And he headed to his new tent for the night.
When it was just Lily and Jared, she looked at him. “It’s getting to be that maybe I should get you on the payroll for this expedition.”
“It was just a spider removal.”
“A timely one.”
“No big deal.” He shrugged, and watched a lizard dart beneath a manzanita bush at the edge of the fire. “Hope she doesn’t see that little guy.”
“She’s bound to see plenty of things she doesn’t like.” She didn’t come any closer, he noted. Because she didn’t trust herself? He sort of liked the thought of that.
“Thanks,” she said. “For tonight.”
“No thanks required. But if you want to be grateful…”
Her smile went just a little guarded when he stepped around the fire to get closer.
“Jared.”
“Don’t say it was a mistake,” he said quietly, and they both knew they were no longer talking about the spider.
“Not a mistake,” she said. “Just not wise.”
“Then why did it feel so good?”
“Good doesn’t always equal right. Look…” She turned in a slow circle, clearly searching for words. “I’ve always tried to be in charge of my destiny, you know?”
“So?”
“So, right now my destiny is kicking me in the ass.”
“Because you can’t be a firefighter?”
“Because I don’t know what I want to be.” She tossed up her hands. “Or who I am. I came here to try to start over, back at the beginning, to try to figure it all out.” At that, she shook her head. “And I have no idea why I tell you such things.”
“Because it’s a natural fit between us.”
“A natural fit?” She frowned. “That makes it sound like we’re a thing.”
He smiled.
“Oh, no.” With a little laugh, she shook her head. “No thing.”
“We kissed,” he reminded her. “That felt like a thing, a big one.”
She shook her head again. “I don’t know why I kissed you.”
“I know.” He cupped her jaw for the sheer pleasure of touching her again. “I don’t know what exactly what it is about you either. But I’m willing to find out.” He looked into her beautiful eyes. “And as for you not knowing who you are, you’ll figure it out.”
She stared up at him. “Have you always been so self-assured, always known exactly who you are?”
At that, he laughed. Had he always known? Try never—until recently.
“I take that as a no.”
“A hell no,” he corrected. “I grew up a small, skinny, sickly, self-conscious nerd.”
“Nerd made good,” she said softly.
“It took a while. Years. And then, when it all came right down to it, none of it meant a damn. Not the success, the huge corporation, the money in the bank accounts, nothing. I couldn’t have taken a thing with me.”
“Except this.” S
urprising him, she put her hand over his heart, and he covered it with one of his own.
“You know what?” she whispered.
“What?” he whispered back, unbearably moved, wanting her to keep her hand on him all night long.
Her smile shimmered. “Every minute you spend in these mountains, you seem to lose a little bit of that city boy.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. I don’t know how you’re doing it…” She ran her hand up his chest, his throat, to his jaw, the pads of her fingers making a rasping sound over his day-old growth. “But you sure are tougher than I imagined when I first saw you.”
Bringing her hand up to his mouth, he pressed his lips to her palm. “Know what I thought when I first saw you?”
“That I was going to steal your parking spot?” she whispered.
“Well, that, and also…” His gaze met hers. “That you were the sexiest woman I’d ever laid my eyes on.”
“I was frowning at you,” she reminded him.
“Ah, yes. The frown. I think that clinched it for me.”
She tried to tug free. “Stop it.”
He held on and smiled. “Serious. Sexiest woman ever.”
“Wow.” Her voice sounded a little shaken. “I think it’s bedtime. ’Night, Jared.” Turning away, she went still, then glanced back. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
He knew a dismissal when he heard one. “Maybe it will make better sense in the morning.”
“The bedbugs?”
“No.”
Her gaze dropped to his mouth. “The kiss?”
“All of it.”
“Including the reasons why we shouldn’t do any of it again?”
He wanted to say the hell with that, but she’d turned away to deal with putting the fire out.
He went into his tent and lay down, surrounded by night noises that he was extremely unused to. Crickets chirped their odd song. From the hills came a lonely, edgy howl.
He knew the feeling.
Then came an answering howl, a pause, and then both of them together.
As one.
With a sigh, Jared turned over and wished it was that simple, that he could simply toss back his head and let loose with a howl and have Lily appear right here next to him. But he wasn’t an animal, he was a human, and supposedly they’d evolved way past such a thing.