Instant Attraction
Page 4
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“It’s really dark out there.”
“Yes,” he agreed, looking to where the stars littered the black velvet sky like a sea of diamonds. There was no sky on earth like a Sierra night sky. He waited to be moved by it, as a sort of test, a gauge of his emotional depth. He waited for the mystic wonder to hit him like it used to.
Waited.
And waited…
Nothing. Not even a twinge. “Which means it’s also too dark for any ax murderers to find you,” he pointed out.
“That may be, but there’s something else out there, something that always lurks in the bushes and makes this sort of rustling noise. It’s done it all week.”
He met her gaze. Those pale, clear depths could really haunt him, could make him yearn. Except he no longer did things like get haunted or yearn. “Nothing’s stalking you. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Well, there’s been some sightings of Big Foot over the years.”
She looked horrified but spoke bravely, “There’s no such thing.”
“Tell that to the people who reported seeing him. Or to the bushes next time they…rustle?”
She nodded in confirmation. “There must be an explanation.”
“Sure there is. It’s Old Pete. He runs the gas station in town. He grew up on a commune and hasn’t shaved since the seventies.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Is this amusing to you?” Her hands went to her hips. “Making fun of my fears?”
What was amusing was his own reaction to baiting her. Why it was so much fun, he had no idea, but he was enjoying the spark in her eyes, the attitude all over her, and for some stupid reason, loved her crazy bed-head hair. “I’m sorry.”
“You are not.”
Okay, he wasn’t. “Look, I’m tired. It’s like three in the morning. I’m feeling punchy.”
“It’s one. One in the morning.”
“Well, it feels like three. I’ve been up for thirty-six hours straight and I’m dead on my feet.”
“Does that mean you’re not moving?”
“Not a single inch.” He closed his eyes again.
“Maybe Annie-”
“Go for it. But fair warning, she’s cranky when she doesn’t get her sleep.”
A sound of frustration left her, but Cam was already drifting off, dreaming about his knee not aching, dreaming what Annie would be cooking for breakfast in the morning up in the main lodge, dreaming about his feisty Goldilocks sleeping in his bed and whether he could coax her to share the bed tomorrow night…
Huh.
Seemed as if maybe he was feeling plenty of things, after all.
Chapter 2
Cam woke up to the sun slanting through the window into his face.
And something else was right in his face.
The temp, the one with a healthy fear of ax murderers and the dark. The one with the quick wit and shiny hair and the sweet soulful eyes that stared into his as if he were a loaded shotgun. Odd how he found that sexy. “Hey…” He’d already forgotten her given name.
“Katie,” she supplied helpfully, in the tone of “Bite me, ass**le.”
Aw, she thought he was sexy too.
“You fell asleep,” she said tightly. “Dead asleep, as if it was no big deal for us, two perfect strangers, to sleep together.”
She had a point, and in the light of day, which was currently blinding him, he felt just a little bit guilty that he hadn’t gotten up and left her his cabin. “I was really tired-”
Abruptly, she turned and left the bedroom.
Yeah, that charm of his was working wonders.
She’d made his bed. She’d changed her clothes, fixed up her hair, and apparently also built up a pretty big attitude. With a sigh, he got up, his knee giving him a hot, fiery stab of pain just for shits and giggles. Wincing, he thought belovedly of the Vicodin he’d given up because he’d liked it too much, and followed her into his living room, noticing that her hair smelled good, damn good. “I really am sorry.”
“You are forgiven,” she said formally, even politely, as she handed him back his key and picked up her bags, turning toward the door.
In his experience, women weren’t much into forgiving, so her words left him a little confused. “I’m forgiven?”
“Absolutely.” She struggled to hold her stuff and open the front door, so he reached around her to help. Their hands tangled on the knob. Her hair smelled good. And then there was her booty, a very fine booty, which bumped into the front of his thigh, and he abruptly, unexpectedly, noticed her as a woman.
Okay, so he’d noticed her as a woman last night, in her tank top sans bra. He’d have to have been dead not to; but it magnified now, much like those eyes behind her glasses, and if he’d been all the way awake instead of groggy and hurting, it might have shocked him. He wasn’t used to being back among the living, feeling things like hot and bothered.
“I’ve got it, thanks.” She pulled open the door, shivering as the early icy air sliced through them. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to tell Stone you tripled my salary. It’s very generous of you.”
“Hey, wait. What?”
But she was out the door, shutting it in his face. He yanked it open in time to see her swinging her very cute little ass down the front steps to the path. “Goldilocks.”
“Sorry. Can’t stop.” She was peeking beneath each bush that she passed. “I don’t want to wake up Big Foot.”
“Yes,” he agreed, looking to where the stars littered the black velvet sky like a sea of diamonds. There was no sky on earth like a Sierra night sky. He waited to be moved by it, as a sort of test, a gauge of his emotional depth. He waited for the mystic wonder to hit him like it used to.
Waited.
And waited…
Nothing. Not even a twinge. “Which means it’s also too dark for any ax murderers to find you,” he pointed out.
“That may be, but there’s something else out there, something that always lurks in the bushes and makes this sort of rustling noise. It’s done it all week.”
He met her gaze. Those pale, clear depths could really haunt him, could make him yearn. Except he no longer did things like get haunted or yearn. “Nothing’s stalking you. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Well, there’s been some sightings of Big Foot over the years.”
She looked horrified but spoke bravely, “There’s no such thing.”
“Tell that to the people who reported seeing him. Or to the bushes next time they…rustle?”
She nodded in confirmation. “There must be an explanation.”
“Sure there is. It’s Old Pete. He runs the gas station in town. He grew up on a commune and hasn’t shaved since the seventies.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Is this amusing to you?” Her hands went to her hips. “Making fun of my fears?”
What was amusing was his own reaction to baiting her. Why it was so much fun, he had no idea, but he was enjoying the spark in her eyes, the attitude all over her, and for some stupid reason, loved her crazy bed-head hair. “I’m sorry.”
“You are not.”
Okay, he wasn’t. “Look, I’m tired. It’s like three in the morning. I’m feeling punchy.”
“It’s one. One in the morning.”
“Well, it feels like three. I’ve been up for thirty-six hours straight and I’m dead on my feet.”
“Does that mean you’re not moving?”
“Not a single inch.” He closed his eyes again.
“Maybe Annie-”
“Go for it. But fair warning, she’s cranky when she doesn’t get her sleep.”
A sound of frustration left her, but Cam was already drifting off, dreaming about his knee not aching, dreaming what Annie would be cooking for breakfast in the morning up in the main lodge, dreaming about his feisty Goldilocks sleeping in his bed and whether he could coax her to share the bed tomorrow night…
Huh.
Seemed as if maybe he was feeling plenty of things, after all.
Chapter 2
Cam woke up to the sun slanting through the window into his face.
And something else was right in his face.
The temp, the one with a healthy fear of ax murderers and the dark. The one with the quick wit and shiny hair and the sweet soulful eyes that stared into his as if he were a loaded shotgun. Odd how he found that sexy. “Hey…” He’d already forgotten her given name.
“Katie,” she supplied helpfully, in the tone of “Bite me, ass**le.”
Aw, she thought he was sexy too.
“You fell asleep,” she said tightly. “Dead asleep, as if it was no big deal for us, two perfect strangers, to sleep together.”
She had a point, and in the light of day, which was currently blinding him, he felt just a little bit guilty that he hadn’t gotten up and left her his cabin. “I was really tired-”
Abruptly, she turned and left the bedroom.
Yeah, that charm of his was working wonders.
She’d made his bed. She’d changed her clothes, fixed up her hair, and apparently also built up a pretty big attitude. With a sigh, he got up, his knee giving him a hot, fiery stab of pain just for shits and giggles. Wincing, he thought belovedly of the Vicodin he’d given up because he’d liked it too much, and followed her into his living room, noticing that her hair smelled good, damn good. “I really am sorry.”
“You are forgiven,” she said formally, even politely, as she handed him back his key and picked up her bags, turning toward the door.
In his experience, women weren’t much into forgiving, so her words left him a little confused. “I’m forgiven?”
“Absolutely.” She struggled to hold her stuff and open the front door, so he reached around her to help. Their hands tangled on the knob. Her hair smelled good. And then there was her booty, a very fine booty, which bumped into the front of his thigh, and he abruptly, unexpectedly, noticed her as a woman.
Okay, so he’d noticed her as a woman last night, in her tank top sans bra. He’d have to have been dead not to; but it magnified now, much like those eyes behind her glasses, and if he’d been all the way awake instead of groggy and hurting, it might have shocked him. He wasn’t used to being back among the living, feeling things like hot and bothered.
“I’ve got it, thanks.” She pulled open the door, shivering as the early icy air sliced through them. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to tell Stone you tripled my salary. It’s very generous of you.”
“Hey, wait. What?”
But she was out the door, shutting it in his face. He yanked it open in time to see her swinging her very cute little ass down the front steps to the path. “Goldilocks.”
“Sorry. Can’t stop.” She was peeking beneath each bush that she passed. “I don’t want to wake up Big Foot.”