by Bella Andre
Was it too much to hope that they’d cleared away the worst of the tension that had been crackling between them? All she wanted was some breathing room to push forward together to find April.
At the same time, as she watched the muscles of his arms and legs flex next to her on the raft and rivulets of water ran down his chiseled jaw, she had to face facts: Yes, they’d overcome their anger, but the sexual tension hadn’t disappeared.
If anything, the new understanding she had for what he’d done only made her want him more, damn it.
Turning her focus back to the river, working hard to stay upright on the edge of the raft, her thighs immediately started to burn from the strain, and her shoulders and neck stiffened until they were rigid.
She wished she’d gotten more sleep the night before, but her dreams had been so dark and intense, it had almost been a relief when Sam woke her up. She’d had similar dreams in the first few weeks after losing the baby where she felt as if she were trying to reach the light at the end of the tunnel against the force of the quicksand pulling her deeper.
Sam’s warm voice broke into her thoughts. “Try to keep your limbs loose and your grip on the paddle relaxed.”
He was a good teacher, knew exactly how to tell her she was doing it all wrong without getting her back up. How could she have forgotten that about him, that he was so strong and yet so gentle at the same time? Instead of making her feel like a fish out of water, rather than highlighting the fact that she was the queen of TV instead of outdoor wonder girl, he saw how hard she was trying and was being incredibly supportive.
So even though her brain was telling her not to loosen her grip on the paddle or she’d die, she followed his directions to relax and quickly found that he was right on the money. As soon as she stopped trying to control the water, she expended a great deal less energy.
“You’ve got it,” he said encouragingly.
His patience meant a great deal to her. Not only did she want to prove to herself that she had what it took to ride the rapids, but foolishly she wanted to impress Sam, too.
Unfortunately, just as she was starting to feel at ease, the water turned white and frothy. They bumped and banged over the water and it splashed into her face again and again, quickly soaking her from head to toe.
She guessed she looked like a drowned rat, with freezing cold water streaming off her nose and chin. And it bothered her, even though only Sam could see her—and he’d seen her look much worse.
“Our first drop is coming, about a hundred yards ahead. You ready for it?”
“You bet,” she fibbed, wondering what the heck a “drop” was, but knowing that saying no wasn’t an option.
The water started churning faster, harder, and it took every ounce of her concentration just to stay seated on the raft.
“You’re doing good, Dianna. Keep paddling, just like that.”
And then, suddenly, they hit a wall of white water and she felt like they were in an elevator whose lines had been cut, falling down, then hitting bottom so hard, she choked on her own saliva and nearly bit her tongue.
Dianna did everything she could to stay on the raft, but the water was tougher than she was, and the next thing she knew she was flipping over the edge of the raft. Holding her breath, she tried not to panic as she bobbed up toward the surface, the strong rapids continuing to push her downstream, over the rocks that were scratching up her legs and arms something fierce.
When she was finally able to come up for air, she saw Sam leaning over the edge of the raft, reaching for her hands.
“You okay?” he asked, his expression clearly concerned as he gripped her upper arms with both hands and pulled her into the middle of the raft.
Concentrating on getting back into the raft, she kept her gaze averted so he couldn’t see how clumsy and stupid she felt.
Trying to make light of the situation, she said, “You didn’t say anything about a drop being a waterfall.” Her upper arms tingled from where he’d wrapped his big hands around them.
“I didn’t think you knowing that’s what a drop actually meant would help any,” he said, his light words softening all the places she’d been trying to keep cold and hard.
“Besides,” he continued, “it’s always good to get your first flip of the day over right off the bat. Makes it easier to stay on board for the really big ones.”
There were bigger drops ahead?
She pushed the hair dangling in her eyes back up under her helmet. No amount of hair spray could save her now. If her staff could see her now they’d die.
But ultimately, she knew her looks didn’t matter. Neither did the fact that Sam was an even bigger puzzle than he had been ten years ago. All that mattered was finding April and bringing her home.
The sun rose higher in the sky as they paddled downriver, worries about April closing in on her again, heavy and bleak like her dreams from the night before.
Where was she? Was anyone hurting her? And would her baby sister even be okay when they finally found her?
It struck her, yet again, how lost she’d be without Sam’s support. And it scared her to know how much she was depending on him.
Just like she had so many years before.
Sam wasn’t sure he liked what was happening. It was too easy to admire how well Dianna was doing on the river, especially given that she was instinctively better at rafting than most of the guys he went rafting with during his off months.
And it was too damn difficult not to notice how beautiful she was.
Even with a life jacket covering her curves and a helmet over her plastered-down hair, he was mesmerized by the slight bounce of her breasts, and her tongue coming out to lick a drop of water off her lips.
Forcing his gaze back up to her face, it was unsettling to read a whole host of worries in her expression.
At first, her face had been a picture of concentration and he’d been glad that the river was giving her a reason to think about something other than April for at least a few minutes. But now, it wasn’t hard to guess that she was running through worst-case scenarios.
He sympathized. If they were looking for Connor, he would have been a wreck, too. But doing search and rescue had taught him that once you gave up hope, you were screwed. He couldn’t allow fear to paralyze her, especially not when paddling through the white water should be taking every ounce of her attention.
It was time for a break and some food. Maybe even a pep talk, if he could figure out how to pull that off when he was still wading through a thick, unending bog of desire and deteriorating self-control.
He steered them over to a small beach in the curve of the cliffs.
“Why are we stopping?” Dianna asked.
“Food. We’re quickly burning through our reserves and we need to keep our energy high.”
She opened her mouth, probably to argue with him, and he cut her off at the pass with, “And you need to give your body a rest. Rafting is hard enough, but doing it after an accident like yours is borderline crazy.”
He’d noticed that she was favoring her left shoulder. Paddling was tough work. Just one day after her crash she had to be stiff and sore all over.
Given their wet clothes and the brisk breeze whipping down the shady river, Sam decided to pull out a camp stove and some bags of dehydrated food to help warm them up before they got back on, and likely flipped back into, the ice-cold river.
“When did you learn to cook?” she asked him as he put their meal together.
“I wish I had,” he lamented. “I promise you, this is going to taste terrible.”
It was good to see a small smile on her face as she teased him, “I don’t know. A part of me can see you throwing knives around in a kitchen. It’d be kind of hot, actually.”
Her cheeks flamed as she realized what she’d said. For Sam, instead of the blood rushing to his face, it went straight to his groin.
He gripped the metal spoon he was stirring so hard it nearly snapped in two. “It’s w
indy out and I don’t want you to end up with hypothermia. Go change into dry clothes.”
His gruff tone did nothing to hide his desire.
So much for giving her a pep talk. More like he was going to throw her down on the sand and take her like an animal if he didn’t get a grip.
Dianna moved away quickly, clearly more than happy to get away from him. A few minutes later, after changing behind a couple of trees and laying her wet pants and shirt out over some flat rocks on the sand, he handed her a steaming stainless steel bowl.
“It’s rice and chicken.”
She looked at the gray clumps in the bowl. “Really?”
“That’s what it says on the packet.”
She took a bite and grimaced. “Um, wow. I’m not sure it’s legal for them to make a claim like rice and chicken.”
He bit back laughter. After the fancy white-tablecloth lunches she was probably used to, he was impressed when she continued spooning the nasty mess into her mouth.
“Most people get about halfway through camp food and turn green.”
After swallowing another gritty, lumpy bite, she softly said, “I’ll eat whatever I have to eat if it means finding April.”
Just as he’d suspected, her fears for April were consuming her. Okay, then, he’d try another tack.
“You’re doing good on the river. Really good.”
“How can you say that when I almost got us both killed back there?”
“The river almost killed us. Big difference.”
Their eyes met and he felt like he’d stepped on a downed electric line. His fingers ached to wrap themselves around her curves. His lips burned with the need to taste her mouth. And he was huge and throbbing beneath his zipper.
Trying one last time to keep her mind off of April—while hopefully staying on safer ground—he said, “Tell me about your job. Do you like it?”
At her bemused expression, he suddenly felt like he was thirteen and trying to talk to a pretty girl for the first time. But he couldn’t tell her that he was trying to divert her attention from her worries. He’d never succeed if she knew his goal.
“Sure,” she said. “It’s great.”
Clearly, she was the one used to asking questions, rather than answering them. Trying to draw her out, he asked, “How’d you get started?’
Looking even more confused, she said, “Seriously, you want to know?”
He shrugged, tried to act like it was perfectly natural for him to be asking her these questions. Truthfully, now that he’d started down this road, he wanted to know her reasons for picking TV.
“A lot can change in ten years,” he replied.
Everything except how much he wanted her … and how fucking pointless those feelings were given the way things had turned out the first time around.
“I really want to know.”
Specifically, was she dating—or sleeping with—anyone, even though it was none of his damn business.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “I got a job working behind the scenes on another show that Ellen was producing and eventually they offered me my own show.”
She made it sound so simple, but he guessed she’d worked her butt off to get where she was. People didn’t come by the kind of rocks she had in her ears and those soft fancy sweaters she’d been wearing in the hospital without putting in the sweat equity.
Besides, he’d always known how smart she was. She’d been the only one who hadn’t seemed totally convinced, probably because her crap mother hadn’t done a single thing to encourage her daughter in eighteen years.
He wasn’t going to let her act like her accomplishments were no big deal. They were.
“Seems like it’s a good fit for you,” he said. “You know, talking to people, asking them questions. You were always curious about things.”
“You’re right. My show is a good fit. I really do love it.” She shifted on the sand. “Actually, April is part of the reason I chose TV. I felt like I needed a really high-profile job for the state to entrust me with her care.”
She paused, made a circle in the sand with her finger, and he sensed she was about to say something more.
“And I guess after feeling like I didn’t have a voice for so long, living with my mother in the trailer park, I wanted to feel like I was somebody, if that makes any sense.”
“It makes perfect sense,” he found himself saying. “I feel the same way about my job. Knowing I’m making a difference in people’s lives. It’s a good thing.”
She bit her lip and he wondered why she suddenly looked so unsure of herself.
“You do such amazing things every day, Sam. What I do isn’t nearly as important.”
Hating to hear her belittle herself, he said, “You don’t need to put out fires to make a difference.”
But hadn’t he done the same thing she was doing now, immediately assuming that she had to be looking down on him and his salary?
How much of the blue-collar, white-collar dichotomy was in his own head? Was it simply that he was threatened by her going and changing on him?
After trying to tell himself that her new glossy look was nothing but a fake mask, he could finally admit that the changes she’d made weren’t necessarily bad.
Besides, how could he fault her for pulling herself out of the trailer park and making something of herself?
“What about you?” she said, shifting on the sand to get a better look at him.
Oh shit, he’d accidentally opened up a can of worms by asking her about her job. Hoping to head her off at the pass, he said, “My life’s pretty much the same as it always was.”
Except for the blip after she left and he nearly lost everything.
Undeterred by his terse answer, she said, “Do you still live in the same part of town?”
Hell no, he couldn’t stand to drive through the same neighborhoods where they’d often go walking late at night when there was a full moon.
“I’m closer to the beach.”
Leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, she was one hundred percent focused on him. “What about the guitar? Are you still playing?”
Only a handful of people knew he played. How could he have forgotten that Dianna was one of them? Or that the only songs he’d ever written had been three-chord love songs dedicated to her?
He shrugged. “I haven’t played in a long time.”
He had no intention of admitting that he hadn’t touched his guitar since the day she left. How could he, when every note he played reminded him of her?
Clearly getting frustrated with his reticence, she asked, “You must be one of the more established guys on the Tahoe Pines crew, right?”
“I am. As you can imagine,” he said, dropping his guard for a moment, “I’m not opposed to kicking the rookies’ asses around the block when they need it.”
She grinned at him. “Who else do I know on the current crew?”
“Only me and Logan.”
Shit, how could she have forgotten his brother?
“And Connor, of course.”
Talking about his brother felt like venturing back into a minefield, so he quickly said, “In the off-season I’ve been helping lead some adventure tours for a friend’s company.”
“Ah, so that’s why you know how to do all of this.” She gestured to their gear and the river. “Any chance you’d consider doing a segment on your friend’s company for my show sometime? It’s just the sort of thing my viewers love.”
Oh shit, he couldn’t let himself think about the future. About seeing her again.
Or, worse, not seeing her again.
“It’s getting late. We should get back on the river.”
Hurt flashed on her face before she wiped it away.
“I’ll clean our plates,” she said, grabbing everything and heading toward the water.
The thin fabric of her pants outlined the swell of her hips, her taut thigh muscles. When she knelt down on the sand to wash out the tin cups they’d eaten out o
f, even though he knew he shouldn’t be watching her, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
From the first moment he’d met her, he’d desired her. Intensely. If anything, the years between that first meeting and the present had only made his yearning grow stronger.
The water had washed off her makeup, and without the fancy clothes and hairdo, she looked more and more like the eighteen-year-old girl he’d fallen in love with.
Finished shaking out the cups, she turned away from the river and caught him staring. Her eyes opened wide, her nipples peaked with awareness. Sam knew it would be the easiest thing in the world to lower her onto the sand and release their pent-up cravings for each other’s bodies.
Hell, no. He couldn’t go there again.
He quickly packed up the food and stove and they got back on the river, an uneasy silence hovering between them again. Damn it, was there anything they could talk about that wasn’t a minefield?
Guiding the raft around a tight curve after several tense minutes of easy rafting, he suddenly squinted into the distance, unable to believe what he saw.
They were coming up on a strainer.
Formed by trees on the banks, with piles of large rocks in between, a strainer was incredibly technical and dangerous. Water could flow through it, but a boat couldn’t.
Especially not one moving this fast.
If he’d been in the raft by himself, or with Connor, they’d have had a better chance to get through the strainer without too many broken bones or a concussion. But with a total novice beside him, Sam had to think fast.
“Get ready to jump out.”
Dianna whipped her head around to face him. “Are you kidding?”
As they moved closer to the strainer, he barely had time to say, “We’re going to jump together,” before he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her onto his lap.
She was stiff in his arms and he knew he had to make a move before she tried to pull away.
“Take a breath and hold it,” he said, and then they were falling over the swirling, rushing water.
Using his body to cushion her from the fall, he felt her start to panic a moment too late. She slipped out of his grasp and her head went under.