Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
N ow, if that wasn’t a slap in the face, Troy didn’t know what was. Especially after Michaela’s stern declaration that this was not a date, even though he’d already told her the only woman he would date was her. Or maybe because of it.
He had to set her straight. “Didn’t we already discuss that I’m not going on any more dates with any of the women you pick for me?” She huffed. Which made him smile. “But since you so politely and sweetly asked about the talks I give, I’ll tell you.”
The trail began heading down again, and she stopped so abruptly he almost ran into her. “Look at that view,” she said with a gasp of awe.
The mountains were spectacular, the morning sun bathing the branches of the redwoods and firs in a golden glow. The massive trees seemed to go on, ridge after ridge, obscuring any view of the ocean they might have had.
He stood beside her, breathing in a hint of her perfume or body lotion and the sexy, sensual scent of perspiration she’d worked up on their climb.
She seemed to gather herself—or maybe she sensed what he was up to—and strode away.
As they walked, he told her about the youth talks he was committed to.
“All my brothers and sisters were so freaking supportive of what I wanted to do—the diving, the challenges, the Olympics.” It wasn’t just the scholarships that Ava and Dane made sure he got.
It was the way they believed in him and his dreams. “I had a family who supported what I wanted to do. But so many kids out there don’t get that.
They’re from foster homes, broken homes, poverty, or maybe just from parents who are so busy they can’t see what their kids need. ”
Her voice whispered back to him, “My mom always believed in me.”
Troy had seen that. So had Susan. Susan seemed to sense the love and care in another person, and that’s why she’d wrapped her friendship around Flo Killian.
Birds of a feather, loving, kind, and wise.
“You and I were both lucky to have families who supported us.” He didn’t dwell on his parents or their lack of parenting.
He’d had his siblings. “Kids need to hear that it doesn’t matter where they come from, they can do anything if they put their minds to it. ”
She turned slightly to say, “That’s very admirable. I’m glad you want to give back.”
The terrain changed yet again, and now they were scrabbling over steep rocks.
On the difficult scramble, he stopped talking in order to concentrate.
But he couldn’t stop watching her, enjoying every move of her body.
The woman was a sight to behold, her beautiful muscles flexing and straining as she climbed, her hiking shorts hugging her rump, her sporty top tight, her midriff bare.
She’d pulled her hair through the back of her ballcap, and her lush ponytail swayed back and forth across her back.
The path evened out again, and breathing only slightly hard, she said, “These boots are incredible. Sometimes, when I’m scrambling like that or walking along a rocky path, I feel myself almost slipping. But they hold tight to the rocks.”
A slight sheen of perspiration made her seem to glow. She was so damned beautiful. So damned perfect. But he kept his words light. “Good to know.”
They took a water break. He shouldered off his pack, then stripped off his shirt. Rummaging in the pack, he pulled out a tube of sunscreen and began slathering it on his chest and shoulders.
When she looked at him, wide-eyed, he said, “It’s getting hot.” Then he held out the sunscreen. “Can you put some on my back?”
She hesitated. But finally, she took the tube and squeezed a dab onto her palm. After handing the tube back to him, she rubbed her hands together, and he turned his back, the anticipation of her touch damn near making him breathless.
Her hands were deliciously warm and slippery on his skin. She smoothed in the sunblock, swiping both hands along his sides to get the lotion there, too, then up over his shoulders and along his nape into his hairline.
He reached behind and patted the top of his shorts. “Could you make sure to get some along the line of my shorts? I always miss that and end up with a line of sunburn.” He wished to God he could see her face.
But she did as he asked, making sure she didn’t leave any skin untouched, smoothing the lotion a hair’s breadth inside his shorts. Her fingers trembled against him.
And he trembled with need.
When she was done and took a step back, he turned. He was damned sure her quickened breath wasn’t left over from their scramble over the rocks.
“It’s not going to work,” she said, the slightest quaver in her voice.
He said oh-so-innocently, “What’s not?”
She thinned her lips and narrowed her eyes, and he wanted to kiss her so badly his guts ached. But she didn’t specify what wouldn’t work. Because that would mean admitting what the sight of his naked chest—and the touch of her fingers on his body—did to her.
“Do you want me to put some sunscreen on your shoulders and nape?” He waggled the tube.
She backed up another couple of steps. “I put some on before I left the house.”
He couldn’t help teasing her. “But you’re perspiring. You probably need more.”
Backing up another step, she shook her head, her ponytail swishing. “Nope, I’m totally fine.” She put up her hands as though she was warding him off.
Triumph trickled down his spine. He’d affected her, he knew it. She’d felt the heat between them as she’d touched him.
She turned quickly and walked on. After shoving his shirt and sunscreen into the pack, he shouldered it and followed her lovely figure as she raced along the path as if she was running from him.
For now, he’d let her.
They stopped for an early lunch in a grove with picnic tables and an amazing view of the Santa Cruz Mountains.
She’d brought a picnic, and as she unpacked each item, Troy could barely contain his glee. While she sat facing the table, legs primly together, he straddled the picnic bench right beside her, his knees almost touching her thigh. And his mouth watered. Not for the food, but for her.
Everything in her pack was his favorite—turkey sandwiches with cranberry, two bottles of a dark, reddish-brown Belgian ale he loved. “Thanks for bringing lunch. This is great.”
“You’re welcome.” She lowered her gaze as if she was embarrassed, then concentrated on taking half a sandwich out of the plastic bag.
Twisting off the beer cap, he took a long swallow. Moderately strong, it had flavors of dried fruit and a hint of clove, giving it a rich spiciness. The ale’s fruity flavor lingering on his tongue enhanced the first bite of turkey and cranberry.
He’d finished half the sandwich before he said, “Turkey with cranberry sauce is perfect with Belgian ale. My favorite things.” Like a kid on the playground, he couldn’t help teasing her, “Is this your way of saying you like me?”
She gave him that stern look he knew so well.
“This is my way of saying that I appreciated the meal you put together for me with the help of those matchmaking interlopers.” Her jaw tensed for a moment.
Ah, so she called Susan and Flo matchmakers too.
“I thought it would be a nice thing to do.” And after a long stare, she said emphatically, “For a friend.”
Before taking out the other half of his sandwich, he said mildly, “I’m pretty sure friends don’t kiss like we did on that boat.”
She set down her sandwich, almost as if it was a gauntlet she’d thrown.
A militant look in her eyes, she said, “I’m not saying you’re a bad kisser.
” She stopped his breath in his chest. He hadn’t thought she’d acknowledge it.
Then she shrugged as if she knew what he was thinking and couldn’t resist another smackdown.
“But I’m sure there are plenty of equally amazing kisses in my future. ”
So, she thought the kiss was amazing. Michaela might think it was a slam, that any old kiss would be amazing, but he saw it as a challenge to make their next kiss stupendous.
Was stupendous better than amazing ? Whatever, it would be better—so much better that she’d never think about kissing anyone else.
And he did what he’d been dying to do from the moment he’d seen her this morning. Correct that—from the moment he’d seen her in her office that very first day. “Well, then, let’s get you started right now.”
Wrapping an arm across her shoulders, he pulled her to him and lip-locked her.
Oh my God!
She’d walked right into it. Practically begged for it. And it was the sweetest, hottest damned kiss ever. Her lips parted almost immediately, taking his tongue into her mouth. Tasting him. The sweet tang of cranberry, the yeasty taste of beer. And him.
He cupped her face, devoured her, then put his hand on her rump and slid her across the bench straight into the vee of his thighs.
As he pulled her legs over his thighs, she twisted slightly, curling her arms around his neck and holding him tight. She wasn’t wearing more than her little sports bra and minuscule hiking shorts. And she felt everything .
She’d been dying from the moment he’d peeled off his shirt, wanting to feel all that hot, bronzed skin beneath her fingertips—beyond just smoothing on sunscreen. She couldn’t help running her hands all over him, and backing off a little, she trailed her fingers down his washboard abs.
He paused long enough to whisper, “I think it’s working now.”
She’d challenged him when he’d taken off his shirt, when she’d told him it wouldn’t work, when she’d said there would be plenty more amazing kisses in her future. She’d meant to imply they wouldn’t be from him.
But, oh, this kiss was more than amazing. His taste in her mouth, his scent in her head, his skin beneath her fingertips.
She hadn’t been on a date in ages, and she’d kissed way too many frogs. Her taste in men and frogs had been lousy.
Until this kiss. Until this man.