Instant Temptation (Wilder #3)(48)

“Um, yeah. About that—” He broke off suddenly, and it sounded like he covered the receiver before he came back on. “Sorry, Harley. Bad reception, gotta go. See you in a few.”

She hung up, set aside her checkbook, and did some data processing for the internship, frowning when she found that two of her red group coyotes weren’t transmitting. She ran some errands, fielded more TJ questions, and came back to find the folder of employment papers stuck in her door. She set them on her table and went back to the new data she was getting from the field camera.

Those two coyotes were still not transmitting.

It was worrisome, but after a while her mind wandered from coyotes to a certain tough, sexy guide who could rev her body with a single glance.

Hell, she was still revved. She should have just jumped him in that damn sleeping bag.

Only one thing had stopped her—the fact that she wasn’t made for casual sex, and he didn’t tend to do anything but. Not to mention that though he’d played and teased and flirted with her, and made her feel like the only woman on earth, he’d also told her to follow her instincts, even though he knew that those instincts were telling her to keep her distance.

One thing she could count on TJ Wilder for—honesty. He said what he meant and meant what he said. No lies, no subterfuge.

Hot and sexy as he was, he was not good for her. She looked at her coveralls lying over the back of her chair. Nolan was good for her. She was yearning for someone in her life, someone with a penis, and she was quite certain he had one.

But TJ had one, too.

Clearly, she was crazy. She pushed her laptop away and looked at the file of employment papers from Stone. She’d told herself she wasn’t interested in assisting in guiding a trip, or taking vacation pictures. She had plans. Research biologist plans—which unfortunately wasn’t going to earn her a damn penny. She opened the application.

It was a paying job, one that didn’t require coveralls, grease, or dirty fingernails. Just to see how it would look, she put her name on the application. And then her address. But under qualifications, she hesitated. The story of her life, having to prove herself.

But the real truth was, other than her biology degree, she wasn’t sure what her true qualifications were. Somehow she didn’t think “loves the great outdoors” was going to matter. She found herself writing two names, Nolan and TJ. Huh. Guess this wasn’t about her. Nope, juvenile as it was, she was going to make a list of their qualifications.

That should clear things up. Under Nolan’s name she wrote:

Pro—gave me a paying job

Pro—nice smile

Pro—nice body

Pro—well liked

Pro—sweet, steady, stable

Con—haven’t wanted to kiss him since I kissed TJ

Only one con, and to be fair that con was hers, not his. Under TJ’s name she wrote:

Pro—best body in Wishful, maybe the planet

Pro—gave me my first man-made orgasm all year

Pro—offers me his company, his expertise, his friendship, and would also give me the shirt off his back if I needed it Pro—kisses like heaven

Pro—knows me, perhaps more than I’d like

Con—knows me, perhaps more than I’d like

Con—can’t stop thinking about him

Con—he’ll break my heart if I let him

Con—not sure what his intentions are

There. She stared at the list and chewed on her pencil as she studied the data. The knock at the door startled her out of her analysis. It was Nolan. He smiled warmly and held up an envelope.

“What’s that?” she asked, returning his smile. It was easy to smile at him. He was the kind of guy that inspired…comfortability. He’d moved here from San Francisco a year ago, though he still hadn’t lost the air of being “city.” He was slightly under six feet, and his rangy, runner’s body always looked good in his clothes. He wore dark jeans that had been professionally distressed, a pale blue button-down, and cool Vibram-soled shoes.

“Your paycheck,” he said, waiting patiently for her to step aside and let him in, unlike some men she knew who just barged in invited or not. That should probably be a pro for Nolan.

She took the envelope, knowing the number on it would be pathetically low, as she’d only managed to get in twenty hours. “You didn’t have to deliver it. I’m working tomorrow, I could have picked it up then.”

“I didn’t mind.” In her living room, he turned to face her, hesitated, then came close, his hands going to her arms. “Sorry about dinner the other night.”

“Me too.”

“We keep getting postponed.”

She nodded, and his body shifted a little closer, his eyes on hers. She realized he was going to kiss her. And she wanted him to.

Or she had, before Desolation.

No. Stop. Erase that. She still wanted his kiss. She wanted all of it. Passion. Heat. Love.

Nakedness.

Nolan was the perfect candidate, sweet and loving and kind. He was a long-term candidate as well, a safe one. She let her eyes drift shut and quickly darted her lips with her tongue to moisten them, because there was nothing worse than having lips get stuck together, especially during a first kiss. Briefly she tried to remember which underwear she had on, and if it was cute or sexy. Or God forbid, if it was her laundry day underwear, because— “Harley? You okay?”