Instant Temptation (Wilder #3)(36)

“Is that an apology?”

“For what?”

“For molesting me in my sleep.”

“I was kind of hoping we could forget about that.”

Normally that would be fine with him. After all, he never begged a woman to want him, and he didn’t plan to start now. If she hadn’t been interested, he would have let it go.

But she was interested. Interested enough to come all over him, panting his name as she did. It’d been erotic as hell.

Which left him confused. He glanced back at her. She was small and curvy, and walking with an attitude that was making him hot.

Oh, wait.

He was already hot.

Their little wake-up call might have cooled her jets, but his were still on and ready to go.

Halfway up to the impaired camera, they came to a natural gorge. Just on the other side, up about fifty more feet, was the ledge where the camera was placed. Between there and where they stood was what was normally just a lowlying creek. But the rain had it swollen and rushing like a raging river. It was a good twenty feet wide, knee-deep in the middle, and roaring over slippery rocks. Worse, on either side, the banks were muddy and unstable.

Harley was standing at the edge with a funny look on her face.

“What?” he asked.

“There are frogs.”

“There are always frogs. Especially after a rain.”

“Doing it.”

He looked down at the rocks she was staring at. Yep, she was right. There were frogs doing it.

“Don’t stare,” she said, and made him laugh.

“Maybe there’s something in the air,” he said hopefully, and then it was her to turn to laugh.

She moved a little bit downstream and then closer to the edge of the water just as a fish leapt straight up into the air and then dove back under. With a startled gasp, Harley took a step back and caught her heel on a rock. She would have gone down, but TJ caught her.

Instead of pulling immediately free of him, she turned within the circle of his arms to face him, further surprising him when her fingers fisted in his shirt.

“You okay?” he asked, holding onto her. “Your ankle?”

“I’m good.” And yet she didn’t let go. Instead she stared up into his eyes.

TJ wondered what she saw when she looked at him like that, all soft and unguarded, as if maybe she saw things in him that he didn’t, couldn’t. And suddenly he felt unguarded, and before he could stop himself, he dipped his head and ran the tip of his nose along her jaw.

“Time to cross,” she said shakily, and turned to stare at the water. Then, without another word, she started to step into it.

“What are you doing?”

“I need to get to the other side.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “You can wait here if you want. Or—”

“Yeah, yeah, or head back. Just hold up a minute.” He took her hand, and waited until she met his gaze.

“Trust me?”

“With my life or my body?”

He shook his head and guided her farther up the mountain, out of their way. About a quarter of a mile later, the water slowed and narrowed, but more important they weren’t near a sharp turn, with an unsteady and precarious hillside that looked as if it might go at any moment.

She looked at the new spot, then at him, conceding. “Your knife, your Fritos, your expertise. You’re a handy guy, TJ.”

“Handy,” he repeated, and watched her expression change as she remembered just how “handy” he’d been in the sleeping bag.

“I didn’t expect the water to be this high this late in the season,” she admitted.

“Fall can be risky.” He looked around and found a wrist-thick, chest-high stick with a natural fork at one end for wedging between rocks, which he handed to Harley. “Use this as a staff.”

He searched the thick growth for another one for him, then grabbed her arm when Harley would have headed across. “Wait. Lose your shoes and socks first.”

He kicked his boots off and attached them to his backpack by their laces, then rolled up his pants.

“We’ll have better traction in bare feet. Plus, having dry shoes on the other side will be a bonus.”

She bent and untied her boots and pulled off her socks, stuffing them into her pack.

He smiled at her bright pink toenails, and knew it was yet another peek into the complicated psyche of Harley Stephens. She worked as a mechanic, a woman in a man’s world. If she wasn’t covered from head to toe in coveralls and grease, then she was behind a desk analyzing data by herself. The toenails seemed to be her concession to being a woman beneath it al . “Pretty. Come on.” He went first, sucking in a breath as the icy water washed over his feet and halfway up his calves.

“Holy shit!” she squeaked, following him.

Grinning, he reached back for her hand and led the way.





CHAPTER 12


On the other side of the creek, Harley shivered as they climbed to dry ground. “Nothing like a refreshing stream to wake a girl up.”

“Really,” he said dryly. “Is that what woke you up, or was it when I—”

“Stop,” she said with a low laugh, and shivered—and not from the cold.

TJ smiled at her, his eyes warm with approval as he handed her a chamois from his backpack to dry off her feet. “I’ve taken groups out here for fly-fishing in the streams, biking up nonexistent trails, rock climbing off the cliff. Tough, experienced clients in much warmer temps than this, and every one of them would have been whining at what we just did. Hell, even Cam would be complaining.”