Lillian watched her go in silence. She’d been abandoned for the second time in one afternoon. Frank had a car, Mindy had camping know-how. All she had was a lousy nylon dome tent.
And Wes.
She watched as he began emptying the other boxes stacked on the table. He was coming to terms with this disastrous turn of events a lot quicker than she was. She could even hear him humming off-tune. Anybody watching would think he’d done this a hundred times before. She hated guys like him, the kind who instinctively did everything well and made people like her feel like idiots.
“Hey, you hungry?” Those few words were enough for her stomach to drag her attention away from her bare feet, her ruined skirt and the certainty she was being swept off by a typhoon of disaster. The word “food” reminded her she’d had nothing all day but the snack mix on the plane and about a zillion cups of coffee.
Visions of steaks grilling on the fire danced through her head, lightening her spirits for the first time since Frank had abandoned them. She forgot she was mad at Wes and walked to where he stood examining the contents of a box on the table.
“Tell me there’s something good in there.” As if to underscore the request, her stomach grumbled.
“Great stuff.” Wes began pulling out cans and packages. “Potted meat. Beef jerky. Peanut butter and crackers. Oh, man, there are little things of butterscotch pudding in here.”
Lillian sagged down onto the table’s attached bench. Potted meat. She was stuck out here with a man who thought the disgusting stuff was an edible food. Her life had hit an all-time low.
Then it got lower.
“Hey, Lil, get a load of this.” Wes dragged something large and red onto the table. “It’s an inflatable bed. All we have to do is blow it up and we’re set for the night.”
He dumped a large dark green mass next to it, a grin sneaking across his face. Lillian eyed the flannel whatever gingerly, sure she wouldn’t be as delighted as Wes was.
“It’s a sleeping bag.” He unfolded it to give her a good look. “A double. Plenty of room for both of us in there.”
He winked, and where she’d seen a friendly grin before she now saw a leer. She’d viewed Wes as an okay guy trapped into a bad situation by her bullheadedness, but now she realized he was a sleazebag out to take advantage of the situation. And her.
“Forget it, buster.” She squared her shoulders and glared at him. “No way am I spending the night in there with you”
Wes shrugged. “Fine. Suit yourself. I’d suggest you sleep on the top of the table. It’ll keep the night dampness off you.” A heartbeat later he added, “I’m sure the bears are further back in the woods. Just be careful if some other wild animal comes up to you in the night. I read somewhere they only do that if they’re rabid.”
The shiver snaking through Lillian had nothing to do with the dropping temperature. Rather it was the sudden realization that if she didn’t share that flimsy tent with Wes, she was offering herself as their next meal to the creatures that roamed this place in the dark of night.
A new sense of dread filled her as she considered the only sane possibility—putting herself into an entirely different kind of jeopardy by sharing that little bitty tent with the only man who’d ever made her insides quiver with just one kiss.
Chapter Three
“You’re really wearing that to bed?”
Wes started at Lillian in half amusement, half amazement. She stared back in full-fledged resentment and moved out of the circle of light at the bathhouse. She didn’t look that bad. Did she?
Not that it mattered. His opinion didn’t mean a thing. Nor did his lack of drive and discipline. He’d done nothing but sit and watch while she’d tried to blow up the air mattress that took up nearly the whole tent. Okay, maybe she should have given the darn thing to Wes when she first unpacked it. The tent fiasco had made her determined to prove she wasn’t as helpless as she seemed. She’d huffed and puffed futilely into the small plastic valve for what must have been hours before Wes handed her a foot pump.
Granted, she could have been a bit more polite when he offered to read the directions on how to use it. But he’d had no business walking off like that when she’d informed she was smart enough to read two paragraphs of instructions.
No, he’d just stood up, said, “Going to go get the lie of the land,” and then left her to the bears and muskrats and rabid creatures he’d warned her about.
During his absence, she’d decided exactly how to greet him on his return. She would point out that for what she was paying him, he better get things organized pronto.
The grin on his face when he came strolling back had ticked her off. Before she could open her mouth, though, he’d told her about the small block building. She could have danced for joy when he told her they wouldn’t have to use an outhouse as she’d feared.
“You’ll have to do without gold-plated faucets,” he said as he led the way. “Try not to scream when you see it, okay?”
****
She’d died and gone to heaven, she decided on her first inspection of the place. The building had hot and cold running water, electricity, flush toilets and, best of all, private shower stalls that were blessedly mold-free and curtained off. She’d just gotten done with a long, hot shower and come out to meet Wes, who’d been doing the same thing on the men’s side.
He had on a different T-shirt and different jeans. Otherwise he looked the same as when he’d gone in. Not so her.
She hadn’t exactly come prepared for roughing it. Being a woman who enjoyed her creature comforts, she had packed the things that reassured her like the silk nightgown that felt so good against her skin. And the doggie slippers her mother had given her as a joke last Christmas. But she wasn’t about to share a tent with Wes or other man wearing just a slip of a nightgown and some fuzzy footwear. Rummaging through her suitcase and her woefully inadequate wardrobe, she managed something a little more discouraging.
Wes’s reaction wasn’t what she’d expected. He was grinning at her. She glanced down at the somber navy turtleneck she had slipped on beneath that silk gown, and the burgundy, tailored blazer she was using for a makeshift robe. She suspected that he could tell she’d left her bra on, too, and that for some reason it amused him.
She hit him with the practiced glare that made her competitors back off before buttoning the jacket and stomping off ahead of him. He trailed as she started down the narrow road, which afforded her a small measure of satisfaction. Wes didn’t need to know everything. It was all she could do to force her feet back toward the distant campsite where their flimsy tent awaited. She didn’t want to spend the night wondering what might rip the tent to shreds and her too. She longed for a warm and cozy hotel room, where the only noise she heard was the television from the room next door.
A hotel room with two beds, where she’d have one and he’d have another. She so did not want to share a sleeping bag with a stranger, no matter how sexy.
****
A loud and mournful sound rolled from the woods to her right. She shivered. Much as she’d like to hold someone else accountable, she was stuck in the middle of nowhere with no one to blame but herself. And no choice, if she had any hope at all of landing that contract, but to let this thing play itself out.
“Hey, don’t be mad,” Wes called out.
A few quick strides of his long legs brought him beside her. His scent drifted to her on the night air as he moved closer. Even soap smelled good when it was on Wes.
“I’m…not…mad.” She snapped out the words as she hastened her steps, trying to put distance back between them. He picked up his pace ever so slightly to stay right next to her.
“I say you are.” Wes reached out and stopped her, his hands moving to her shoulders to keep her there. “You’ve chomped my head off every time I’ve opened my mouth, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why. If someone has a right to be ticked off, it’s me.”
His eyes narrowed and his fingers tightened.<
br />
“First you misrepresent the job, and then you can’t find the backbone to stand up to Lovejoy when he screws you over. Now you’re acting like I’m an axe murderer with a whetstone in his hand. Remember, lady, I’m the one doing you a favor, not the other way around.”
“You’re not doing me a favor.” Lillian ground the words out between clenched teeth. “I am paying you. You are my employee, albeit temporarily. As your employer, I give the orders and you jump to.”
Wes laughed. “Look, honey, no woman’s ever made me jump on command. You’re not about to be the first.”
“What is it with you?” Lillian struggled against his large, confining hands but only found herself being held tighter. “For a man who doesn’t want to be here, you’re sticking close. Why don’t you go take a hike or something?”
“Because for all we know, Lovejoy has spies here.” Wes lowered his voice. “See those nice old people roasting marshmallows? How do you know Frankie boy isn’t paying them to report back to him?”
“Frank would never do that.”
“How do you know what Frank would do? From what you’ve said, there’s big money involved in this contract. A guy like him would want to make sure he wasn’t making a mistake.”
Lillian inhaled sharply. Wes had a point. She’d be wise not to trust anyone too much. Not with her entire future at stake.
“What say we act like newlyweds?” Wes’s arm moved from her shoulders to her waist, pulling her close. “I want to make sure I earn my pay.”
He kissed her before she realized what he was doing, his hands pulling her against him as their lips met. She resisted, but only until that fluttering feeling began again, just as it had on the plane. Only until she began to feel the heat where their bodies touched, and then she forgot they were standing in the center of the road in a state park campground, surrounded by camping trailers and mosquitoes.
“Breeeeep!” She jumped at the deep sound of a foghorn, her body going on full alert until she realized what she’d heard. Stopped dead in front of them was a giant RV, with a white-haired man at the wheel, staring intently at them as he hit the vehicle’s horn again. Laughing, Wes waved and mouthed, “I’m sorry,” and pulled Lillian off to the side of the road.
He kept his arm around her because he liked the feel of her body against his. She was incredibly tiny and soft. The top of her head hit him right at chest-level, and she curved into him as if she’d been made to fit.
He pushed that dangerous thought from his mind and stepped away. His always-reliable internal alarm started dinging at full volume in his brain. He might have been wrong about Lil. Dead wrong. Could be she wasn’t married to her job and used men only to scratch the itch. He’d kissed enough women in his time to tell when he was being offered an invitation. Lillian wasn’t.
She’s been too tentative at first. Didn’t matter that she melted in his arms and made his heart rate go up about a billion points before that jackass in the overpriced house on wheels brought it to a screeching halt. When she’d let herself go, there had been a passion and a promise that scared him half to death.
No way was he getting mixed up with a chick like this. She was the settling-down kind. The kind who’d not only want that house in the suburbs and a four-wheel drive something or the other, but would have him joining the PTA and going to chili suppers at the church. Long enough with her, and Happy Hour at Smokey’s would be nothing but a distant memory. A few months and he’d be sitting in a chintz-covered easy chair across from some stiff in a suit, reading every line of a life insurance policy. Just like his old man.
He held back as Lillian forged ahead toward the distant spot where their tent sprouted from the uneven ground. His eyes never left her. To make sure she got back all right, he reassured himself. Yet his gaze stuck right to her slim figure and the roll of her hips even under that ridiculous get-up she had on.
A smile played on his lips. Those layers weren’t for protection from the night air. They were there to keep him from getting a look at her in nothing but a thin film of silk that couldn’t hide the curve of her waist or the fullness of the breasts he’d admired earlier on the plane. He’d met women like her before, hot as firecrackers underneath those Little Miss Professional costumes they wore.
Funny how life turned out sometimes. He’d spent his whole life avoiding women like Lil, yet here he was about to climb into a sleeping bag with her. Spend the night with her. Five or six nights with her, the way Frank talked.
His smile widened into a grin. Just because she was the settling down type didn’t mean she’d pick out china with the likes of him. Nah, she’d be looking for somebody more like her. The kind of guy who owned a tuxedo and talked about his stock portfolio.
He’d be a fool not to take advantage of the opportunity fate had afforded him. Lillian was a big girl. She didn’t act like someone who was getting it regular; it was obvious she was in need of some serious relaxation. Once she got a good night’s sleep and softened up, she might be in the mood for a nice, hormone-calming fling.
And he’d be happy to be the one to provide it.
****
The mosquito coil glowed red on the picnic table, not as effective as Wes expected it to be. He slapped the biters landing on his arms while he struggled to make the pile of smoky wood in front of him turn into a flaming campfire. He was doing something wrong. That was obvious. Everyone else had a fire going so it couldn’t be that hard to do. A few dry leaves, some twigs and a chunk of wood. Every bit of it was flammable, yet all he’d done was create a smoke screen.
He wasn’t sure why he was bothering. Lillian was supposed to be providing help, but the flashlight had rolled out of her hand fifteen minutes earlier when she fell asleep in the lawn chair. Wes could make out her sprawled figure in the moon’s dim light and envied her exhaustion that let her zonk out in such a narrow, uncomfortable place.
He wasn’t tired, but he figured he might as well head to bed. With no fire, no radio and no Lillian to talk to, staying up was pointless. Of course, so was this whole camping thing, as far as he was concerned. Life in the wild was seriously overrated, no question about that.
“Hey, babe, time for bed.” He squatted down by the drowsing Lillian and shook her shoulder.
“Hmmph.” She smacked her lips and flopped her head the other way.
Sighing, Wes stood and slipped his hands underneath her with care, transferring her from the chair to his arms. He carried her into the tent and slipped her inside the sleeping bag. He gave a sigh of relief when she started to snore. The last thing he wanted was for her to wake up and start screaming bloody murder.
Moving quietly, he slipped off his jeans and shirt. In deference to his sleeping companion, he left on his boxers. He’d slept in the nude for years, but he was pretty sure Lil wouldn’t be too happy waking up next to a naked man.
He eased himself into the sleeping bag beside her. Sliding down until the top edge was just below his chin, he relaxed and appraised the situation. The bed itself was surprisingly comfortable and the pillow beneath his head was pretty nice, too, considering it was air-filled plastic. He took a deep breath and blew it out. He needed to relax and concentrate on going to sleep.
It wasn’t easy. He missed the sounds of his Detroit neighborhood. The roaring mufflers as cars rolled past his house. The sirens of police cars and ambulances. The shouting of the couple two houses down when they were on a bender.
A lot of people had hit the road to greener pastures, or at least the suburbs, when the economy bottomed out. His family had tried to get him to move, too. His uncle had offered him a piece of land on the mini-farm he’d bought after retiring so Wes could put a mobile home on it.
Yeah, a sensible man would have taken up that offer. But he was definitely a city guy. There he knew every noise. Here they all sounded vaguely dangerous. The chirping, now that was crickets. But the bassooning noise coming from somewhere behind them was completely new, and not something he cared much for.
“Mmmp.” Lillian flipped on the mattress, tucking against Wes. The silk of her nightgown brushed against his chest as she breathed; he forced himself to keep his hands off her. That ridiculous get-up didn’t diminish an overwhelming desire to run his hands up and down her body. The intriguing scent of her perfume, mixed now with wood smoke and mosquito repellent, tantalized him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this close to a woman in a bed and planned to do nothing but sleep.
Lillian mumbled and made another tiny little move that snuggled her up against him. Giving in to impulse, Wes put his arm around her and held her close, her hair tickling his nose and her body firm and warm against his. He began to relax, his breathing slowing to match hers. His eyes drooped shut and he slipped off into sleep, the scent of wood smoke drifting into the tent as the night closed in.
Her soft laugh woke him. That and the stream of cold air separating them. Sometime during the night, they’d each claimed s side of the bed, leaving a place between them for the chill air to tunnel through them. A smile curved his lips as she giggled and said, “Stop that, it tickles.”
Now was the time to ease over next to her again while she was caught between dreams and reality. He’d make a tiny move, just enough to get things going. Sliding over, he stretched his arm toward her.
And froze. Something small and furry had run across his leg. He took a deep breath and lay still, hoping he’d been wrong. Maybe it was an illusion caused by air movement and the plush-topped mattress.
The furry something ran back across him and onto Lillian. She woke with a scream, beating the sleeping bag and Wes.
“There’s something in here!” She thrashed wildly, her legs caught in a twist of the flannel bag. “Something wild! Somebody help me!”
Just as Wes reached for her, the furry thing barreled between them and began dashing around the tent. His nerves screamed as the creature chose his face as part of its escape route; it was all Wes could do to keep from panicking like Lillian.
Unforgettable Heroes Boxed Set Page 40