Montana Darling(17)

Seeing the shiny gleam of residual shampoo streaks on his neck, she snatched the towel out of his hand and used it to dry his back in big, vigorous motions. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll catch pneumonia?”

“Naw. I haven’t been sick in years.” He hunched his shoulders to give her better access. His tan was starting to fade but the warm honey color was one of her favorite shades. It took all of her willpower not to lean over and lick him.

“I’m surprised to see you. What’s up?”

He glanced over his shoulder in a way that felt much too intimate and connected. She handed him the towel and took a step back. “I had a long talk with my ex this morning. Edward swears on his mother’s grave he knew nothing about anything remotely suspect about the purchase of this property.”

Ryker pulled on a sloppy gray sweatshirt he’d left hanging from one of the uprights of the tent then bent over to dry his legs. She was so focused on the masculine hair being pushed every which way on his beautifully carved calves he had to prompt a second time to get through. “But…”

She stuck her hands in the flannel pockets of her lined denim jacket and curled her fingers tight. The attraction she felt when she was around this man was not natural. She’d always been in control of every relationship she’d ever started. Not that she was starting anything with him.

She turned her focus toward the river. “But the more Ed protested the more convinced I became that he colluded with your stepfather…at some level.”

“Can you prove that?”

She shook her head. “No. Call it a gut feeling from living with the man for nearly fifteen years.”

As she looked around, she noticed signs of change. Four or five empty grocery boxes were stacked near the tent. He’s leaving. She’s gotten what she wanted. So, why did the thought make her sad?

Against advice of counsel—herself, she admitted, “I remember hesitating before signing my name to the purchase agreement. But my parents had been encouraging us to buy land in Montana because everyone was predicting a big property boom. Unfortunately, I couldn’t give it my full focus because the case I was trying at the time was about two seconds away from blowing up in my face and my new boss was breathing down my neck pushing for a conviction. I was operating on two or three hours of sleep a night.” She shrugged. “I know that’s no excuse but—”

Ryker made a sound similar to the cry Emilee gave when she was upset with Mia. “Jeesh,” he said, giving her shoulder a supportive squeeze. “You’re not psychic. Are you?”

His rueful grin made her heart do a back flip. She shook her head.

“Then don’t beat yourself up about this. If someone offers to sell you something you want, who goes looking for trouble? And where was the title company in all this? I’m more inclined to say somebody didn’t do his or her job.”

“Or got bought off,” Mia murmured—his touch loosening her control over her tongue. Even through the thick layers of material she felt his warmth…along with a tingle she had no business feeling.

“I talked to Austen, my brother in Helena, this morning. He recommended a really capable forensic accountant who might be able to help you recover your trust funds.” She pulled Sheri Fast’s card out of her pocket and placed it on the table. According to Paul, who gave her the card when she stopped by Big Z’s, the woman was a miracle worker. “But she’s not cheap,” Paul had warned.

“Have you heard from your brother?”

“Yes. Apparently the Yosemite fires are the worst he’s ever been involved with. They lost a pilot yesterday and had to take a break while the investigators made their assessment.”

“I saw that on national news. What a sad thing. Did your brother know the pilot?”

“Sorta. They’d met once or twice. I guess the guy was a former combat veteran with twenty years experience. But Flynn said the winds in the river canyons are tricky. One second the guy was making a drop, the next there was an explosion and a big ball of fire.” His expression made her reach out to touch his shoulder. A little pat. A friendly gesture of comfort. Nothing more.

“Flynn’s phone doesn’t get reception on site, but they’re getting some R and R at a nearby town. He said he’d start making calls. He’s as pissed as I am, and he swears he never signed any agreement to sell the property. Ren will be happy to know Flynn agreed to underwrite all of our legal expenses for now.” He picked up the business card. “I don’t expect him to cover the cost of recouping my trust funds, though. That may take weeks…months…to straighten out.”

Mia gestured toward the boxes. “I take it you’ve found a place to live?”

He nodded. The still damp curls dropped across his brow in a sexy, beguiling way. “Louise offered to rent me a room at Jenkins’s Fish and Game and Bedazzled Bling.” His laugh made little bubbles of happiness percolate in her veins. How could a guy with so little seem so content?

“Doesn’t OC have running water in that house?” she asked, pointing toward the river.

“Yes, of course, but Bailey’s jewelry ladies are all working today getting ready for some big craft fair. I didn’t want to be underfoot. Besides, the river looked so inviting I decided to go for one more quick dip.” He lifted his arms and filled his chest with air. “It was exhilarating.”

A memory flashed into her mind. One she hadn’t thought of in years. “Austen and I used to dare each other to see who would jump in first each spring.”

“Who did?”

“Me. Usually. One year, we raced each other in, and neither of us was wearing water shoes. I sliced open the bottom of my foot on a hunk of broken glass. Took eight stitches and half the summer to heal.”

“Oh.” His bottom lip popped out in an adorable pout.

Her grown-up good intentions flew out the window.

He draped his wet towel across the handlebars of his bike then pointed to the camp chair she’d seen before. “Have a seat while I get dressed. These shorts are freezing my…um…valuables.”

With a wink, he ducked under the tent flap. The nylon fabric didn’t close all the way and the vents at the top of the tent provided enough light for her to see him moving around. His back was to the door for modesty sake when he wriggled free of the wet trunks, which he kicked toward one corner. His tan line dipped low on his hips. His bare, white ass looked rock hard and perfectly shaped. All that bicycling, she thought, her mouth going dry.

He got rid of the damp sweatshirt before bending over his duffle to dig for dry clothes. The buzz of desire zigzagging through her body short-circuited the thinking part of her brain, which let her horny, inner girl take over. She wasn’t going to have sex with him, but she couldn’t look and not touch. That was asking too much. Mia wasn’t a saint, after all.

She took a deep breath and walked to the door of the tent before she could change her mind.

*

Down boy, he silently willed his junk. Not the place or time, dude.

But, damned, if Mia Zabrinski’s innocent touch hadn’t turned him rock hard and panting. He didn’t dare think about how turned on he’d be if she actually wanted to have sex with him. Now, she was waiting for him to find his underwear, which he didn’t normally wear, and come back with clothes on—not wearing one big, freakin’ woody bouncing around like a divining rod.

When he heard the tent flap crinkle, he gulped hard. “Um, just a minute.”

When he heard the zipper hum closed, he wheeled about—grabbing the first thing handy to press to his groin with some attempt at modesty. “Sorry. Having a wardrobe malfunction here. Are you…what? Did I miss something?”

She stood after closing the zipper and looked him up and down. “I know this is out-of-the-blue and wrong on any number of levels, but if I’m not mistaken your body is telling you the same thing my body is.” She looked down. “Was that a subliminal pick?”

He looked down. Instead of a shirt, he’d grabbed his fire engine red long johns.

If the heat burning in his cheeks was any indication, his blush was a matching shade of red. “I bought these to wear in the mountains last week. On a cattle drive.”

“A man of many talents.” She licked her lips and continued to stare at his nakedness. “May I touch you?”

“Uh…seriously? Is this some kind of lawyer trick?”

Her laugh came out short and brittle. Something in her expression made him realize how conflicted she was about being with him. She wanted something from him, but did she even know what? He guessed not. “We’re over the age of consent. You’re not a client. Nobody’s forcing anybody to do anything, right?”

Maybe a more virtuous man would have shooed her away, but Ryker didn’t have enough red blood cells in his brain to adequately make that call. “Good points. But I gotta tell you, it’s been almost a year for me. And, yes, you’re right. I feel this thing between us. I feel it bad.” Like a horny boy his first time out. “But I’m not sure this is a good idea. We still have this whole land thing to figure out.”

“No land. No talk. You and me. Here. Now. Just this. Okay?” She closed the distance between them and kissed him. Not the closed-mouth, impulse kiss from yesterday. God, no, this was the real deal.