Happy Campers

by Vanessa Hart

  "Your editor knew best. After I read Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Knife, I had to find this one and read it." He held up the book. "No hints about Jack Be Nimble, Jack Be Dead?"

  "It'll be out in late August."

  "Just a hint?"

  "A blurb." She grinned, then recited, "When single father Jack Bledsoe fails to pick up his child at day care, soft-hearted Sunny Madison takes the little girl home with her. She reports Jack missing, and is told he's dead. The cops think the little girl knows something about the killer. Unfortunately, the killer seems to think the same thing."

  "Okay, I'm hooked." He rubbed his hands together. "So now you're working on the fourth?"

  "Just plotting at this point." She sprang from the sofa. "That reminds me, I need to make a few notes tonight before I lose an idea."

  "When the muse strikes, and all that." He followed her to the door. "Let me walk you over. It's pitch black out there."

  "No need."

  He shoved a flashlight at her. "Then take this."

  "Thanks." She pushed open the door.

  His efforts to relieve the charged atmosphere had failed. Leslie's body language--the averted gazes, the protective gestures, the way she avoided touching him, even when taking the flashlight--spoke volumes. Tension buzzed between them, thick and potent.

  "Leslie?" He jammed his fists into his pocket to keep from reaching for her. "Thanks for the birthday party tonight. I had fun."

  "Me, too." She flicked on the flashlight and stepped into the darkness.

  Gray closed the door, picked up the book, then flipped to the title page to read what Leslie had inscribed:

  Gray

  Always enjoy your time between the sheets of a Sunny

  Madison mystery!

  P.G. Turner

  Ooh, boy. Talk about provocative word choice. Now fantasies of fun between the sheets with Sunny Madison's creator dominated his mind.

  * * * *

  Leslie tucked her feet beneath her as she sat on the sofa, clutching her notebook and pen. Across from her, Kat slumped into the dinette seat, her long legs stretched to rest in the opposite bench.

  "Peter was engaged when he met Sunny?"

  "Yes, unknown to Sunny."

  "Gee, Les, I wonder what inspired this plot. Sure you don't want to title this The Killer Cake?"

  Leslie ignored that. "The bullet is intended for Sunny. After Peter dies, the unbalanced ex-fiancée blames Sunny and makes other attempts on her life."

  "The reader won't know about the killer, though."

  "Of course not. See, as Sunny investigates the murder, she learns more and more about Peter. There'll be a whole list of suspects."

  "Lots of red herrings?"

  "One or two." Leslie grinned, jotting notes.

  Kat yawned and stretched. "Trade places so I can sack out."

  Guilt nagged at Leslie when she remembered Kat's pregnancy. She sprang from the sofa. "Sorry, Kat. Guess we both should turn in."

  Her mind churning with characters and clues, Leslie knew she'd be awake for hours, thinking and planning. And she wouldn't mind the loss of sleep one bit. She had her plot. The looming monster known as "writer's block" had been vanquished.

  The next morning Leslie crept outside with pen and notebook, making as little noise as possible. She made a second trip for Gray's flashlight and coffee when the latter finished brewing. Working on her plot had distracted her from thoughts of Gray Webster.

  Well, almost.

  She'd decided to wait until she saw him outside to return the flashlight. Although her conscience wanted no part of him, her body had its own agenda. Inside the close confines of his motorhome her common sense took a hike, leaving her hormones in charge. Her brain could stay in control if she met him outside from now on.

  Of all the men in the state of Georgia, why did he have to be the one to tempt her? Did she have a fixation for setting herself up with fickle guys? When she got home, maybe she'd check out the cost of therapy. Surely a psychologist could get to the root of her problem.

  She ignored her writing materials, content to sip her coffee and admire the peaceful morning. Still overcast, the sky threatened rain. She inhaled a lungful of the clean, damp air, then slowly exhaled. She had to admit the north Georgia mountains beat the noise and pollution of the city.

  "'morning."

  Leslie jumped, nearly spilling her coffee over the notebook resting in her lap.

  "I didn't mean to startle you." Gray's bedroom voice rolled over her.

  "I didn't hear you walk over." Her gaze traveled up his snug jeans, riding low on his hips, then to his tab-collared jersey, finally locking onto his brilliant blue eyes.

  "You seemed to be studying the sky. Looks like rain, doesn't it?"

  "Yes." She recovered her manners. "Coffee?"

  "I just had some. Thanks, anyway."

  She picked up the Mag-lite. "Here. Thanks for the loan."

  He nodded, accepting the flashlight. "I'd like your advice, Leslie. But you may find it a touchy subject."

  "How's that?"

  "If you don't want to discuss this with me, I'll understand."

  "Okay." She shrugged, wondering if there was a woman on the planet who could refuse this man anything. "Try me."

  He settled on the picnic table bench across from her lawn chair. "I meant what I said about canceling the wedding. Since, as you put it, you've been on the receiving end of that kind of news, I'd like your input on the best way to handle telling Myra."

  "You're right. This is a sensitive topic." If he hadn't been clenching his hands and holding his breath, she might have clobbered him. But the guy seemed to be suffering enough on his own. "What can I tell you that will help?"

  Gray hesitated. "Knowing that Josh was going to break it off with you, what could he have done better?"

  Suppressing her favorite vile phrase, Leslie silently counted to ten. "First, he should have told me sooner."

  "I agree. That's why I can't let this wait. But I need to do it in person, not over an iffy cell phone connection."

  "Definitely in person. And alone." She closed her eyes against the image of Lisa Irvin's pitying eyes when Josh had introduced her to Leslie as his wife.

  "Leslie? Are you okay?"

  She blinked. "Yeah. Great. Just having another flashback."

  "I'm sorry. I won't ask anything else."

  Sighing, she shook her head. "It's okay, Gray. I need to move on. Maybe it's time I talked about it."

  "Really? I'd like to help." He unfolded his fists. "What else should Josh have done, or done differently? Did he offer to have announcements printed and mailed out to all the invited guests?"

  "He had already called all of his guests. I just had to call mine." She tamped down the anger that Josh's family and friends had known about Lisa before she had.

  "What about expenses? Shouldn't I pay for any non-refundable deposits?"

  "You can offer. Josh did. But I was too proud to contact him with the receipts." She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "I guess I should have, but I was hurt. I didn't want to see the two of them together, ever again."

  "Did you lose a lot of money?"

  She laughed. "No. I was frugal from the start. And you'd be surprised how sorry people feel for a jilted bride." And she had used pity to her advantage, she didn't add.

  "Thanks. You've helped me a lot."

  "Gray? One more thing. How you break it off is important. Whatever you do, don't let her think there's someone else."

  "I'm not sure she'll buy that after yesterday." He stood, brushing off his jeans.

  "When are you going to talk to her?"

  "I'd love to get it over with today, but she has to work a long shift. I'll drive in right after rush hour tomorrow morning." He paced beside the picnic table.

  "No, you can't very well talk to her at work."

  "Well, I'm going to spend today fishing and try to relax."

  "Good luck. With the fishing, I mean."

  Gr
ay turned to leave, then hesitated. "Want to go with me?"

  "I - I don't have a rod and reel."

  Gray turned on his bone-melting smile, the one that robbed her of breath, of her ability to speak coherently. "I have a spare."

  Leslie loved to fish. How could she resist his offer? How could she resist the man? "I really need to work on my book."

  He lifted one brow. "Are you making excuses?"

  "You caught me."

  Hook, line, and sinker.

  * * * *

  Gray couldn't stay away from Leslie, which was why he grinned like the village idiot when she agreed to go fishing with him. He couldn't shake the sensation that time was running out, that he needed to make the most out of the time left before he drove in to the city to confront Myra.

  Where Leslie was concerned, Gray abandoned reason. He'd never hungered for a woman as he did her. Maybe if he took her to bed and got his fill of her, he'd free himself of his obsession. The thought only made him hard and horny.

  His back to Leslie, he rummaged through the cooler for a couple of bottles of water until his ardor cooled. Leslie squealed. Dropping the bottles back into the melting ice, he spun toward her.

  "Yikes! I'm going to run out of line."

  "No you're not." Standing behind her, Gray covered her arms with his and secured the fishing pole. He took full advantage of her predicament, crowding her warmth with his body, inhaling her subtle fragrance. "Now, reel it in."

  Her cheeks flushed, Leslie cranked the reel. Soon the thrashing body of a large bass broke the water's surface. "Look!"

  "Hold on. I'll get him." Gray scurried to the dock's edge to secure Leslie's catch. "I'll bet he's at least fourteen inches."

  She swiped at her perspiring forehead, grinning in triumph. "Told you I could fish."

  He lowered the line into the water. "I never doubted it."

  With every minute he spent with Leslie, his conviction grew that she was the woman for him. She loved the outdoors, craved activity, viewed life with a freshness and zest unlike any woman he'd known. She'd also responded to him with more passion than any woman he'd ever kissed. He'd cheerfully spend the rest of his life with her.

  It frightened him how close he'd come to marrying the wrong woman. Marriage wasn't to be approached lightly. No sir-ee. When it came to a wedding, Gray wanted only one. He intended to mate for life. Leslie seem to share this attitude. But Kat had warned him Leslie was gun shy. He couldn't afford to rush her, and possibly scare her away.

  He'd feel a whole lot better after talking with Myra tomorrow. Although he dreaded facing her, he had to get the wedding canceled and move on with his life, a life he hoped would include Leslie Turner. Guilt from hurting Myra ate at the lining of his stomach. He'd been brought up to spare the other person's feelings, but what choice did he have? He had only one life to live, hopefully one marriage.

  "Let's clean the fish here so the ducks will come over." Leslie dismantled and cleaned the rod and reel she'd been using.

  "Fine. I'll pull in the fish."

  "Do you have a knife?"

  Gray pulled a large knife from his tackle box. "I have this wicked dagger."

  "Now this is a knife," she said, imitating Crocodile Dundee.

  "A decent catch for a day's fishing." Gray pulled out the stringer of bass and blue gill. "We have enough for dinner, even if Rob shows up."

  Laying aside the fishing gear, she plopped beside him on the dock.. "Are you volunteering to grill fish for dinner?"

  "Of course. I have a full bottle of LP and paper plates. What more could we need?"

  "I brought one of those frozen pasta salads with garlicky Italian dressing. Is that all right?" Leslie scooted to the edge and unhooked her largest bass.

  Gray grinned. "Only if it's thawed."

  Her distinctive dimple on stage, Leslie laughed with delight as mallards crowded the dock, looking for handouts. She threw fish heads, tails and entrails, all neatly caught by the scavengers.

  Gray laughed, too, but not at the ducks. What man could resist a lovely woman who could catch and clean fish? Unlike Myra, Leslie would be at home in a camper, in the woods, on hiking trails. He understood the term soul mate for the first time in his life.

  "Wasn't this more fun than working on your book?"

  Leslie grinned. "As they say, a bad day of fishing beats a good day of work. And this was a good day of fishing."

  After the fish were cleaned, they carried tackle, fish and the remains of their picnic lunch to Gray's motorhome. Leslie hiked ahead of him up the trail, toting the fishing rods.

  His gaze fixed on the provocative sway of her perfect little ass, he stumbled more than once. His jeans tightened at his groin. Soul mate, bed mate, whatever, he couldn't deny he wanted her.

  Worse than ever.

  * * * *

  Leslie unlocked the motorhome door. Where was Kat? The answer waited for her in a note on the dinette table.

  Les,

  Rob picked me up. I'll be back in the A.M. after I'm feeling better. Lock up.

  Love, Kat

  Knowing Kat, she must've felt puny to leave camp overnight. Leslie couldn't suppress a smile. Knowing Rob, stereotypical new dad, he'd worry himself silly over Kat. Dote on her. It must be nice to have a guy love you so much, Leslie thought, not for the first time.

  Camping in the woods wasn't such a hot idea with Kat's bouts of morning sickness. They should probably cut the week short. Leave early.

  Leave Gray.

  No matter how often she lectured herself about guarding her heart, Gray chipped away at her resolve. Fishing with him all day had been so much fun. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed and played like a kid, especially with a man. A handsome, virile man.

  A mixed-up man rebounding from a relationship, she reminded herself. The guy her body ached for while her brained said keep your distance.

  The guy she'd be all alone with tonight.

  Chapter Nine

  Leslie placed the bag of frozen pasta salad in the tiny microwave oven, set DEFROST, then hit START. The air conditioner stopped, the light went out, and the microwave died. Uh oh. She'd overloaded a circuit.

  Her own circuits had been overloaded since Gray had suggested they eat in his motorhome. Alone. His smoldering gaze, at odds with the casualness of his suggestion, had triggered an answering curl of heat low in her belly--and other spots.

  Ignoring her building anxiety, she located the motorhome's circuit panel. Smaller than the circuit breakers in her condo, she flipped each one. All were on. Now what?

  Dare she ask Gray's help? She and Kat had already proven themselves inept campers. What was one more rescue? Her idea of roughing it meant doing without her car for the week, not giving up electricity. She'd managed a hot shower earlier, remembering to light the water heater and open the gray water valve. In spite of the learning curve, Leslie was determined to master RVing.

  The drizzle brought darkness earlier than normal for late spring. She stepped outside and surveyed the night, inhaling the fragrance of pines and drenched soil. From site twelve, Gray's lights beckoned her. Obviously, he hadn't lost electrical power. She picked her way through the damp leaves and bushes to his motorhome.

  At her knock, Gray opened his door with a smile. "Leslie! That was quick."

  "Um, something's wrong with my electricity." She explained her predicament.

  "Come on." He brushed past her as he stepped outside, favoring her with his just-showered scent. "It's probably the main breaker on your power pole."

  She followed, mindless of the wet vines and tree limbs whipping against her clean sweat suit, focusing instead on Gray's damp skin and dark wet hair. "I didn't know about a main breaker."

  "I'll show you."

  "Thanks," she murmured. "Again."

  After he'd reset the circuit breaker at her site hookup, he led her inside the smaller motorhome. "Let me show you how to avoid this. Where's your volt meter?"

  "Oh. You mean that thing
we're supposed to monitor to gauge our electrical usage?" She ducked her head. "I forgot to do that."

  "No problem." He touched his finger to her chin, forcing her gaze to his face. "Experienced RVers forget, too."

  She backed away. His bone-melting smile rendered her brainless. "It's, uh, plugged into an outlet in the bathroom. Should I move it?"

  "No need. Just check it before turning on an appliance that draws a lot of juice."

  Something about the way he said "juice" triggered another curl of heat between her thighs.

  "Sure. I'll be right over soon as I finish the pasta." Needing to put distance between them, she shooed him away.

  But Gray closed in, trapping her against the counter. Her heart accelerated. Blood rushed to the surface of her skin. She needed more space. How could she concentrate with his body radiating pure male heat?

  "Am I making you nervous, Leslie?"

  She swallowed. His sizzling gaze bore into her, but she couldn't look away. "Yes." Another swallow. "A little."

  He grazed her jaw with his knuckles. "Relax. We're just doing dinner. Much as I'd love to taste you all night, I'll settle for the pasta salad. I can wait until you're sure you want me, too."

  He left her standing at the counter, her mouth paralyzed. He could wait? She doubted she could. Not with the memory of his heated gaze and the fantasy of his tasting her all night. Trembling with need, shaky with desire, she switched off the air conditioner long enough to thaw the frozen salad. She didn't trigger any more power outages. But her body buzzed with enough current to power Lake Helen Campground.

  Thirty minutes later Gray sat across from her in his motorhome. Show tunes from a Gershwin CD played softly in the background from Gray's boom box. They shared a bottle of Rhine wine as they finished off the steamed bass. Because of the rain, Gray had cooked indoors.

  "This is delicious, Gray. How'd you steam it?"

  "In a covered skillet over low heat. Mom does ... did it that way." He cleared his throat. "I guess I sometimes forget she's gone."