Have Honeymoon, Need Husband

by Robin Wells

  He felt the pressure of her fingers inside his hand. “You didn’t do it deliberately. And I’m sure your dad didn’t deliberately withdraw from you, either. Grief can make people do funny things.”

  So can moonlight, Luke thought. What was the matter with him, running his jaw like an outboard motor? “Hey, I didn’t mean to burden you with all this. This is your vacation, for Pete’s sake. Let’s talk about something more pleasant.”

  “I don’t feel burdened. I feel—” Josie stopped abruptly. Oh, mercy, what she was going to say? Connected? Close to you? Those would never do. Moved? Touched? He’d probably think she was touched in the head.

  “Like I’m getting to know you,” she finished lamely.

  He looked at her, his eyes as warm and dark as black coffee, and something in his gaze sent a hot shiver racing through her. Another apt word flashed in her mind: attracted.

  Judging from the smoldering light in his eyes, she didn’t need to say it aloud. He was reading it, loud and clear…and sending the same message back.

  Her cheeks flooded with heat. She grew acutely aware that he was still holding her hand, and her breath caught in her throat as he began tracing a finger across her wrist.

  “I feel like I’m getting to know you, too,” he said in a low, husky voice, leaning close enough that she could feel his breath on her face.

  The air between them grew electrified. The rush of the river, the crackle of the fire, the rustle of the leaves in the wind, the bite of autumn chill in the air intensified almost unbearably. Then he lifted her hand to his mouth, and her awareness of all other sensations receded.

  His lips gently grazed the back of her hand. Her joints went limp, and her thoughts grew fuzzy and her heart thrummed as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Slowly he rotated her wrist and planted a soft kiss on her pulse point, then brushed her palm with his lips. Her fingertips curled against his face, rasping against the late-day stubble of his cheek.

  Never had she dreamed her hand was such an erogenous zone. The sensation of his lips against it was so devastatingly restrained, so exquisitely tender that it made her shiver.

  He felt her fingers tremble against his face, and an answering tremor reverberated through him. Never had he wanted a woman as he wanted Josie now. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to trace the features of her face with his lips, to stroke her hair, to bury his nose in her neck and inhale her scent, to kiss her into oblivion, then come up for air and start all over again. He wanted to undress her, to caress every inch of her body, to give her slow, excruciating pleasure, to love her in all the ways that a man could love a woman—

  Love her? Where the heck had that thought come from?

  And what the hell was he doing, anyway? He’d promised her that nothing would happen. She was a guest at the lodge, for Pete’s sake—a guest who’d shelled out good money for this camp out, who had every right to expect he wouldn’t use it as an opportunity to seduce her. Even if she were more than willing, he couldn’t in good conscience take advantage of a woman in her emotionally vulnerable circumstances.

  He abruptly dropped her hand. “It’s getting late. We should probably try to get some shut-eye.” He pushed himself to his feet, strode into the shadows and returned with two sleeping bags. “You take the tent, and I’ll sleep on the other side of the campfire near the river.”

  He had no idea if she intended to sleep in her clothes or change into nightclothes, but the thought of her getting ready for bed made his mouth dry. He thrust a sleeping bag at her. “Here. I’ll go for a walk and give you some privacy. Good night.”

  He turned on his heel and stalked off into the night before he had a chance to think any further. Every thought he formed was more disturbing that the preceding one, and if he didn’t hightail it away from her now, he might just invent a few reasons to stay.

  It was cold. Teeth-chattering, bone-freezing, toe-aching cold.

  I’ve never felt so cold in my life, Josie thought as she shivered inside the sleeping bag. She was almost too cold to move. She haltingly raised an arm and checked the green luminescent dial of her watch for the fifth time in the past hour. Not quite three. Oh, mercy, at least three more hours until dawn, and they were sure to be the coldest hours yet.

  She couldn’t just lie here and freeze to death. She had to do something. Maybe she could get warm beside the campfire.

  Shaking like a shorn lamb in a snowstorm, she wrapped the sleeping bag around her and crawled out of the small dome-shaped tent.

  The campfire was extinguished. Her heart sank as the wind howled around her, slicing right through her.

  “Are you all right?”

  She turned and saw Luke propped against a tree, huddled inside his sleeping bag. Clutching her own bag as tightly about her as she could, she walked toward him. “I’m fr-freezing. I thought I could g-g-get warm by the fire, but it’s g-g-gone out.”

  “It’s too windy for a campfire. Can’t risk burning down the forest.” Luke glanced up at the sky, and Josie followed his gaze. Clouds scudding across the moon, obliterating most of the stars. “This must be that cold front that the weather forecaster swore would miss us.”

  “D-do you happen to have any extra blankets? I’m wearing every p-piece of c-c-clothing I brought, but I’m so c-c-cold my feet hurt.”

  Luke unzipped his sleeping bag and climbed out. “Here,” he said, extending the bag to her. “Take mine.”

  “Oh, n-no. You’ll freeze!”

  He gave a shrug. “I’ll be okay.”

  Josie gazed at him in the moonlight. His flannel shirt, jeans and denim jacket were no match for the wintry blasts of wind stripping the oaks of their autumn glory. He was trying to act nonchalant, but she could tell his teeth were chattering. She shook her head and handed back the sleeping bag. “This is no time for g-gallantry.”

  “Then we’ve only got one option. We’ll have to zip the bags together and share our body heat.”

  Josie’s stomach fluttered at the thought. Given the undeniable attraction between them, they were playing with fire to crawl into a sleeping bag together.

  But right now she was so miserably cold she’d welcome any kind of fire she could get. A shiver seized her, shaking her so hard she almost lost her grip on the sleeping bag she was clutching. She managed an awkward nod.

  “Let’s go to the tent. It’ll at least shield us from the wind,” he said.

  Josie hurried toward it and ducked through the flap. The muffled whine of the wind through the nylon fabric seemed almost quiet after the noisy bluster outside.

  The tent was small, and when Luke stepped inside, it seemed even smaller. Just his presence in the intimate space seemed to warm it a degree or two.

  He flipped on a flashlight and placed it on the tent floor, beam directed at the ceiling. By the dim, eery light, he stretched his sleeping bag on the ground and unzipped it, then looked at her expectantly. Reluctantly she surrendered her bag. Arms wrapped around herself, she watched him connect the two separate sleeping bags into one, trying not to think of the inherent symbolism. She was racked by another round of shivers and wondered if the temperature alone accounted for her tremors.

  He looked up at her from his position beside the doublesize bedroll. “This will work best if we take off some clothes.”

  Josie’s jaw dropped. “B-beg your pardon?”

  “Take off your shoes and your jacket. We’ll warm up faster if we can feel each other’s body heat.”

  She was beginning to think she could feel his body heat clear across the tent. “I h-hope you know wh-what y-you’re doing,” she said. She knelt and untied her sneakers with blue fingers, then peeled off her lightweight wool jacket. “Taking off anything wh-when I f-feel this c-c-cold seems downright unnatural.”

  He gave a grin and sat on the edge of the bedroll, flipped back the top of the sleeping bag and motioned for her to crawl in. Josie awkwardly slid between the covers and lay stiffly on the cold fabric, watching him pull off his cowboy boots. He
stripped off his jacket, and her mouth went dry at the sight of his biceps bulging through his flannel shirt.

  It was all too unnerving to watch. Swallowing hard, she pressed her eyes closed. Moments later she jerked them open when she felt him leaning over her, arranging something on top of her under the covers. “What are you doing?”

  “Placing your jacket over your feet.” He fitted himself beside her, then reached down and pulled the zipper, sealing them up together.

  Oh, mercy! Her heart pounded as he snuggled against her, smelling like cold air and clean skin, feeling large-boned and hard-muscled and deliciously warm.

  He slid one arm under her neck, wrapped the other around her waist and gathered her against his chest. Her fingers landed on crisp hair and naked skin. “Your shirt’s open,” she gasped.

  “I thought it might help you get warmer.”

  It was definitely doing that, she thought wildly. She had to admit that his chest was deliciously toasty—and so were his arms wrapped around her, his legs next to hers, his soft breath on her face. Every inch of him, in fact, seemed wonderfully, wickedly warm.

  “You can put your hands inside my shirt to help thaw your fingers,” he said.

  “I hope you’re not expecting me to return the favor,” she said dryly.

  She could feel the chuckle vibrate in his throat. His hand moved up her back. “No, I’m not expecting it. But a man can dream, can’t he?”

  Oh, dear. Her pulse roared in her ears as he cradled her against him. She snuggled in, savoring the heat of his body.

  “Why don’t you put your feet between my legs?” he suggested.

  “Right,” she replied dryly. “And you can put your elbow in my ear. If you prefer, maybe you could put your knee in my nose.”

  His white teeth flashed in the indirect glow of the flashlight, his chest rumbling with laughter. She didn’t know how he could possibly draw her any closer than she already was, but he somehow managed. “I’m glad your sense of humor isn’t as frozen as your toes, Josephine.”

  Something about hearing her full name on his lips made her stomach quiver. “Well, if we can’t laugh about this situation, what else can we do?”

  “Do you really want me to answer that?”

  The low, sexy sound of his voice by her ear sent a shiver chasing through her. Mistaking her reaction as cold, his arms moved around her. “Are you starting to get warmer?”

  “Yes.” He was so deliciously, wondrously warm that she was starting to relax in spite of herself. “How about you?”

  “Oh, I’m getting warm, all right,” he growled. Too warm, in fact. Torturously warm.

  Torture—that’s what this was, all right, Luke thought grimly. No form of punishment could be more excruciating than lying with this woman in such an intimate fashion, while being restrained from acting on the impulses raging through every fiber of his being. Holding her, inhaling her scent, feeling her hair on his face was sheer, unadulterated torture.

  He could feel her heart beating through her sweater, and it set his to racing. He was on fire. In pain. In agony.

  And she was…

  Asleep. Luke listened to her soft, regular breathing and tentatively lifted her hand from his chest. It was limp and heavy and lifeless.

  She was asleep, all right. Out cold. Completely zonked.

  Heck, it was no wonder. She’d been up since dawn helping Consuela in the kitchen, she’d spent the whole day outside, and she probably hadn’t slept a lick before she’d ventured outside the tent. She must have been flat-out exhausted.

  Still, it rattled his masculine pride that she was able to so thoroughly relax under the circumstances. Did she find him so completely unexciting?

  He pulled away just enough to angle a glance down at her, and his breath caught in his throat. The sight of her long, sweeping lashes, her sleep-softened lips, the delicate curve of her chin made his heart turn over.

  Without thinking why, he planted a kiss on her silky hair and gathered her close against him. A strong, unexplained tenderness welled up inside of him as he chastely held her in the dark—a tenderness that in its own way was every bit as powerful as the other emotions surging through him.

  He buried his nose against her neck and inhaled her soft, flowery scent. His body hard with blazing desire, his heart soft as a toasted marshmallow, he lay wide awake till dawn.

  Chapter Eight

  Josie slid the sliced fruit off the cutting board and into the serving bowl, then glanced across the lodge kitchen to the table where Consuela sat with her leg propped on a chair, supervising the two kitchen helpers at the stove. “Can I get you anything, Consuela? Another cup of coffee, maybe?”

  “Gracias, no. I’m fine.” The housekeeper’s face creased into a smile. “I’m just sorry the weather turned bad, and the rest of your trip was canceled.”

  “I was so worried about your ankle, I would have wanted to come back anyway. What a relief it’s just sprained!”

  “Si,” Consuela agreed. “But you weren’t the only one who was worried. When I woke up this morning and saw how cold it had become, I was inside myself.”

  Josie smiled. “I think you mean ‘beside yourself.’”

  The woman nodded. “Si. Manuel, he dashed out of the house in a panic to go get you. How did you and Luke manage not to freeze?”

  “The, uh, sleeping bags are pretty well insulated,” Josie said evasively. She picked up another apple and began assaulting it with a knife. Even if Consuela didn’t guess the truth from the blush scorching her cheeks, Manuel was sure to tell her he’d discovered the two of them together in the tent this morning.

  Just the thought of it made the temperature of Josie’s face escalate a few more degrees. She’d awakened in Luke’s arms this morning to the sound of the Jeep outside the tent. Luke had immediately jumped out of the sleeping bag and into his boots, then headed outside. Still, Manuel had to know they’d spent the night in the tent together. And when he’d helped pack up the tent, he’d seen one large, double sleeping bag and had no doubt drawn his own conclusions.

  Not that there was anything to conclude. Nothing had happened. In large part because she’d no sooner found herself in Luke’s arms than she’d fallen sound asleep.

  Well, it was a darn good thing she had, Josie thought, peeling an orange to add to the fruit salad. It was probably her subconscious’s way of protecting her. After their conversation last night, her feelings for Luke had shifted to a new, heightened level—a level that made keeping an emotional distance from him harder than ever.

  The thought had even crossed her mind that he was the kind of man she could fall in love with. She’d rapidly banished the thought, of course. She wasn’t in the market for love. She needed to get her career jump-started and her self-confidence solidified. She needed to get her life in order before she even thought about sharing it with someone else.

  Yes, it was a good thing she’d fallen asleep when she had. Because besides the fact that he was dangerous emotionally, he was definitely a physical temptation. Just thinking about his hard, powerful body, his dark, piercing eyes, his delicious, seductive lips was enough to make her joints turn to jelly. Spending the night in his arms had felt far, far too good—even better than she’d imagined, and she’d done quite a bit of imagining along those lines.

  Josie gave a dreamy sigh, then realized with embarrassment that Consuela was watching her curiously, a faint smile etched on her mouth. Josie abruptly pulled her thoughts back to the present and busily finished slicing the orange. It was a good thing the two kitchen helpers were working beside her, she thought, or else Consuela would be grilling her like a hamburger.

  The two workers headed to the dining room to set up the breakfast buffet just as Luke burst through the kitchen door, pulling his cowboy hat from his head. Josie’s heart pounded as his gaze slammed into hers.

  Luke felt like he’d just been hit in the stomach. The air whooshed out of his lungs and his belly tightened as his eyes met hers. It had b
een less than an hour since he’d dropped her at her cabin, yet he couldn’t seem to stop looking at her, as if he hadn’t seen her in years.

  Thank goodness today was her last full day at the ranch. Last night had nearly done him in. She was getting under his skin in a way he had no intention of ever letting a woman do again.

  Well, he wouldn’t have to worry about that after tomorrow, he told himself. Checkout time was twelve noon. By 12:01 she’d be out of his life for good, and things could finally get back to normal.

  The thought left him feeling like a hollowed-out log. The very fact that it did was proof of just how badly he needed to get away from this woman, he told himself.

  He gave her a curt nod, then forced his eyes to Consuela. He planted a kiss on the housekeeper’s cheek. “I was sure glad to hear you weren’t seriously injured, Consuela. But why aren’t you home? Manuel said you’re supposed to stay off that foot.”

  The housekeeper’s eyebrows rode high on her forehead as she craned her neck to look up at him. “And who would have seen to breakfast for your guests if I’d stayed home?”

  “I would have handled it”

  Consuela rolled her eyes in a way that spoke volumes about her opinion of Luke’s cooking abilities. From the corner of the room, he heard Josie laugh.

  The sound rankled his already wounded male pride. Not that he gave a rat’s tail what Josie thought, he thought obstinately. Not in the least. He just wanted to set the record straight, that was all. “I admit I’m no great shakes in the kitchen, but no one would have starved. I could have rustled up some scrambled eggs and toast.”

  “And what would you have done for lunch?”

  She had him there. “I guess I’d have gotten one of the boys to barbecue something.” He shifted a booted foot and jammed a hand in his jeans. “But that’s beside the point, Consuela. The point is you need to take it easy.”