Not Even for Love(40)

“But this doesn’t bother you,” she pointed out.

“No. This isn’t like hanging by ropes and finding footholds and…God, I get goose bumps just thinking about it.”

“You may be getting goose bumps because it’s getting colder,” she observed. “I think I’ll put my jacket on.” She set his camera case down on a level rock and eased off her backpack. Taking her jacket out of it, she shrugged into it. “Aren’t you going to put on your windbreaker?”

“No. This sweater is like a furnace. I’m still warm.”

They went on, going higher and talking less to save their breath, which was becoming more labored the higher they got.

“I… think… I’m going to have…to… rest,” she said between rapid pants.

“Good idea,” he concurred, and virtually collapsed on the ground under a pine tree. “Actually, I was ready to stop about twenty minutes ago, but my macho image would have been irreparably damaged had I cried uncle before you.”

“It would take more than that to jeopardize your machismo.”

The minute the words left her lips she wished she could recall them. They were all but an admission as to how much he attracted her. She blushed furiously when he cocked an eyebrow at her. “Oh, yeah?” he taunted. “Tell me all about it.”

“Not on your life,” she said sourly. “You’re too conceited as it is.”

Still grinning and not in the least affected by her acerbic tone, he got up and took the blanket out of the basket and spread it under the tree. “Let’s rest before starting back.”

She sat down and leaned against the tree trunk, sighing tiredly but contentedly. He didn’t ask her permission before lying down on his back and settling his head on her lap. “Good night,” he said, shutting his eyes.

She cleared her throat loudly. “Mr. Grant.” He opened one eye and looked up at her through the forest of lashes. “Who thought up the sleeping arrangements?” she asked.

“I’m entitled to the most comfortable position. I had to carry the heaviest load,” he reasoned.

“But you’re stronger. You’re a man and I’m a woman.”

“I noticed that,” he said lazily as his eyes dropped significantly to her breasts.

Hurriedly getting back on the subject, she said, “I have to take two steps to your one. Your legs are longer.”

“Yours are smoother. And shapelier.” He reached behind his head, slid his hand under the denim, and captured her relaxed calf in his hand. Immediately the delicate muscles beneath his fingers contracted. “As a matter of fact,” he continued soothingly, “you’re smooth and shapely all over.”

Her head began pounding with her accelerated pulse. She looked away quickly, then, unable to resist the temptation, back down at him as he grinned up at her.

“My anatomy is not a proper subject for discussion,” she said primly.

“I think it is. Since you opened the door to me the other night and invited me in out of the rain, your anatomy has been the only subject my mind has been capable of dwelling on.”

“That’s unhealthy.”

“Uh-huh. You make me feel very healthy. Very strong. Sometimes embarrassingly so.”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and looked away again. Don’t let him talk to you like this, she commissioned herself. Get up. Move away. Run. But then he laughed and captured her hand, kissing the palm quickly, then with more leisure. Thoughts of resistance or escape dissolved under the soft, moist persuasions of his mouth.

Looking down at him as he nibbled the frail bones of her wrist, she was again suffused with love. “Reeves?” she whispered.

The soft tone of her voice was more attention-getting than if she had shouted at him. “Yes?” he asked, looking up at her.

“I couldn’t let you tell Helmut that I was in your room with you. You understand that, don’t you?”

He sighed and muttered an expletive. “Yes. At the time I was furious, but …” He stared off in the distance for a long moment, then looked back up at her. “The guy just called me his friend a while ago.” It was a small concession. He was telling her that he understood the loyalty she felt. He shifted his weight and rose up on one elbow to face her. “Jordan, just for today, let’s not talk about Helmut. All right?”

“Reeves—”

“Please? Just for today. Tomorrow will take care of itself.”

That was so easy for him to say. He was able to pack his bags and leave. No guilt, no remorse, no regrets. While she…

It was the mute appeal in his eyes she couldn’t resist. “All right,” she heard herself say aloud while answers to the contrary paraded through her mind.