Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

By Lori Wilde

Sexy, Single and Searching

Eager, Eligible and Alaskan

A Touch of Silk

A Thrill to Remember

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

Table of Contents

Sexy, Single and Searching

Eager, Eligible and Alaskan

A Touch of Silk

A Thrill to Remember

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

Sexy, Single and Searching

By Lori Wilde

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

Contents

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

Prologue

WILD WOMEN WANTED! Do You Have What It Takes To Become A Wilderness Wife?

Cammie Jo Lockhart sat cross-legged on her bed, her laptop computer pushed to one side, staring down at page 110 of the glossy women’s magazine in her hand.

She should be working on her dissertation, she really should, but the photograph of four very eligible, very shirtless Alaskan bachelors provided a more provocative lure than “The Role of the Personal Computer in the Development of Archive Retrieval.”

She had been fascinated with the June issue of Metropolitan since her copy had arrived in her post office box in mid-May featuring the bachelors’ advertisement and the accompanying essay contest sponsored by the magazine. The winning entry would receive a two-week, all-expenses-paid vacation to Bear Creek, Alaska.

The trip was what interested Cammie Jo. The blue-jean clad, bare-chested hunks were just an added bonus.

Soon, the winner would be announced. Too bad she’d been too chicken to enter. Cammie Jo sighed, her gaze lingering on the picture she’d committed to late-night fantasy. Quinn Scofield, wilderness guide. Caleb Greenleaf, naturalist. Jake Gerard, B&B owner and last but not least, Mack McCaulley, bush pilot. All four were heart-stoppingly gorgeous but time and again, her eyes were drawn to Mack.

What a man, what a man, what a man. The guy was so hot her fingers scorched just turning the page to read about him.

He was everything she had ever wanted but could never have, with his sensual cleft chin, short dark-brown hair, sun-kissed cheeks and deep chocolate eyes. He had a defiant expression on his face as if to say, “I’m not scared of anyone or anything.” Something in his brave countenance called to the squeaky mouse inside her.

A rap at her door had her stuffing the magazine under the covers. She didn’t want her aunts in on the secret that Cammie Jo, serious academician, had a soft spot for a frivolous women’s magazine featuring silly articles on sex and love and romance.

She pushed her thick, black-frame glasses up on her nose, tucked an escaping hank of dishwater blond hair back into the loose bun piled atop her head.

“Come in.”

The door opened and her three great-aunts, whom she shared a home with near the University of Texas in Austin, peeked their heads in.

“Guess what?” Aunt Coco asked in a teasing singsong.

“It’s so exciting.” Aunt Hildegard’s blue eyes, the same color as Cammie Jo’s, twinkled.

“You won!” Aunt Kiki squealed and clapped her hands, unable to stand the suspense any longer.

“Won?” Cammie Jo blinked. “Won what?”

“The contest.”

“What contest?”

“The one in the magazine you love so much. You know, the one with the bachelors. The one giving away the free vacation.”

“But I never entered the contest,” Cammie Jo protested, realizing she was busted.

A sinking sensation plunged into the pit of her stomach at the same time a strange euphoria said hello to her heart. She thought of the brief passage she’d scribbled on a piece of scrap paper and tucked between the folds of the magazine, never meaning to send the thirty-words-or-less essay.

I want to go to Alaska because I’m very timid and more than anything in the world I long to be brave. If Alaska can’t save me, nothing can.

“We found your entry and sent it in for you.”

“No.” Cammie Jo shook her head.

“Yes.” Her aunts nodded in unison.

She would give anything to see the place of her intrepid mother’s birth, but she was terrified of flying, nervous around strangers, fearful of new situations, scared of wild animals, anxious when she got too far from home and apprehensive about making a fool of herself.

“I can’t.”

“We accepted for you. The plane tickets arrived in today’s mail.” Aunt Kiki handed her an envelope. “You leave tomorrow.”

“I can’t leave tomorrow!”

“Yes you can,” Hildegard interjected. “We already packed your bags. And I had your contact lens prescription renewed.”

“But I don’t like wearing contacts.”

“You need to play up your assets, dear. I even ordered a new color for you to try. Emerald green.”

“I didn’t write the entry because I was husband-hunting. I just want to visit Alaska.”

“And now here’s your chance.” Aunt Kiki winked. “You’re out of school for the summer, you have no excuses.”

“I have to finish my dissertation.”

“Which isn’t due until October.”

Cammie Jo shivered and stuffed her hands into the oversize pockets of her gray, shapeless jumper. “You guys know I’m too shy to travel. Fear kept me from mailing the essay myself.”

“But you want to go, don’t you?” Hildegard coaxed.

In the answer to that question lay the central paradox of Cammie Jo’s life. In spite of her inherent timidity, in spite of her natural reserve around people, in spite of the fact she spent her days cocooned in the cozy academic milieu of a graduate assistant, Cammie Jo longed for adventure. She craved to be brave, but deep inside she was nothing but a bashful wimp.

Her aunts exchanged glances.

“It’s time to tell her,” Aunt Coco said.

“Tell me what?”

“About the treasured wish totem,” Hildegard replied.

“The treasured what?”

Aunt Hildegard nodded at Coco. “You’re right. Fetch the amulet.”

Cammie Jo worried her bottom lip with her teeth while Coco disappeared. After a few minutes she returned with a gray metal lockbox and key.

Aunt Hildegard whispered, “When your mother realized she wasn’t beating cancer, she gave us this necklace, but made us promise not to let you have it until you were mature enough to handle the powerful magic.”

“What magic?” Cammie Jo didn’t understand.

“Open the box,” Hildegard urged. “There’s a letter from your mother.”

Her fingers trembled as she flipped open the lid and stared down at the whalebone necklace resting there. Attached to the bone beads was a hideous totem carving.

“Uh, gee,” Cammie Jo said, overcome with an urge to wash her hands. “It’s…”

“Vulgar. We know. But the totem’s crudeness is beside the point.” Aunt Kiki placed a hand on her shoulder. “Read the letter.”

Cammie Jo unfolded the yellowed notepaper. Her mother’s delicate script jumped out at her.

My dearest darling daughter,

By the time you read my letter many years will have passed since I held you in my arms.

I am passing on to you the only thing of value I have to bestow. The treasured wish totem has magical properties beyond the reasoning mind, but the power is very real. I instructed your aunts not to give you the necklace until you were old enough to know your heart’s desire. Whatever you wish for will come true. But there are conditions. You only get one wish for a lifetime, you must keep the necklace on your person and you must not tell anyone about the secret.

The doctors told your father and I that we could never have children. I wished on the totem for a beautiful, healthy baby, and look what I got!

Think about your wish long and hard, then ask for it. Believe, my darling and the world is yours!

Love forever,

Your Mother.

Blinking back tears, Cammie Jo reread the letter three times. “Omigosh.” She turned the necklace over in her hand. “Omigosh.”

Her mother had worn this odd jewelry, had believed in its peculiar magic. Well, if the necklace worked for Mama, maybe it would work for her. Cammie Jo steeled herself, then slipped the ugly thing over her head.

The totem rested between her breasts and a strange warmness, as if it had been lying in the sun instead of stored in a lockbox for fifteen years, heated her skin through the material of her blouse.

“Should I make my wish now?”

“No!” her aunts exclaimed.

“You must wait,” Hildegard cautioned, “until you know for sure what you want most. Once the wish has been made there’s no going back.”

“Remember, you can’t tell anyone else about the totem or it will defuse the magic.” Aunt Coco shook a finger.

“And don’t forget,” Aunt Kiki admonished. “Be careful what you wish for, because you will get it.”

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

1

“FIRST TIME IN ALASKA?” Mack McCaulley asked to make conversation.

It was three twenty-seven on a gorgeous Tuesday afternoon in late June, and they had been in the air for fifteen minutes. His passenger had yet to utter a single word. He was beginning to wonder if she was mute.

The petite young woman wedged beside him in his Beaver floatplane, dubbed Edna Marie after his beloved grandmother, bobbed her head.

An overabundance of clothing—upturned coat collar, turtleneck sweater, wool knit toque—almost swallowed up her round little face. And what the clothing didn’t obscure of her features, the thick glasses did.

When he had picked her up at the Anchorage airport, she’d reminded him of a nearsighted marshmallow, so swaddled was she in goose down. She had dressed for a winter in Antarctica, not a balmy sixty-degree day in Bear Creek.

No telling what kind of figure she possessed beneath the many layers. Not that he was interested.

Actually, she seemed more Caleb’s type. Quiet, studious, introverted. Mack could tell with one glance she was much too timid to make a good Alaskan wife. At least for him. He considered fortitude the number one quality he required in a mate, and this woman was about as brave as bumbling deputy, Barney Fife, from the old Andy Griffith Show.

She had inched into the plane, clutching at whatever handhold she could find as if she believed the metal might collapse beneath her insignificant weight. And when he’d placed a hand on her shoulder to help steady her, she’d gasped out loud at the casual contact.

What? Had she thought he would ravish her on the spot? Maybe he should tell her he always toasted his marshmallows before eating them.

In the ensuing moments since takeoff she had been staring at the floorboard, her hands clenched in white-knuckled terror.

“Uh-huh,” she spoke so quietly, Mack had to tilt his head and lean in her direction to hear. She had taken so long to respond he’d almost forgotten the question.

Thank heavens not all the women who’d shown up in Bear Creek following their advertisement in Metropolitan magazine were this uncommunicative. Mack smiled at the thought of his last fare. A foxy redhead with a killer figure who’d pressed her cell phone number into his hand and whispered, “Call me.”

Now, she’d seemed very adventuresome.

Mack exhaled audibly. Yep, he and his three friends were in for a hot, hot summer.

Er…better make that two friends. Quinn was already spoken for, having courted and caught Kay Freemont, the beautiful reporter Metropolitan magazine had sent to cover their story.

And this particular bachelor’s curiosity was not piqued by the geeky lass beside him. He would be more than happy to dump her at Jake’s B&B and head back to Anchorage for another bunch of bachelorettes. His next passengers were sorority sisters from the University of Las Vegas. Those women had to be livelier than this one.

And he craved liveliness in his mate. He wanted an exciting wife who would embrace Alaska with all her heart and soul. A best friend. A woman who loved long dark winters and relished active sunny summers.

To Mack, fearlessness was the ultimate aphrodisiac.

In his pocket, he kept a “wife” list—an itemization of his future spouse’s ideal qualities. The list reminded him not to get sidetracked by a pretty face or a sexy body that turned out to have a couch potato soul, as he had in the past. As the last surviving McCaulley male he was serious about getting married and having kids. And he was very specific about what he wanted.

“But my mother was born in Alaska,” Miss Marshmallow whispered after a silence so long he jumped when she spoke. “She was a bush pilot like you.”

He almost didn’t catch the last bit. “For real?”

The woman bobbed her head.

“Where’s your mother from?”

“Fairbanks.”

Well, that explained her overdressing. Fairbanks, nearer to the Arctic Circle, was much colder than the southern coastal region.

“So you’re an Alaskan by proxy.” He smiled. Poor thing. He felt kind of sorry for her. He had a sneaking suspicion if he yelled “boo” too loudly she would faint dead away from fright.

“I guess so.”

“Your mom let you come here all alone?” Mack could have sworn she wasn’t any older than sixteen.

“Both my parents passed away when I was a kid.”

Way to go, McCaulley. Open mouth, insert size thirteen-and-a-half boot.

“Oh, wow. I mean, I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

“Did your folks die at the same time?”

“No. A car crash killed my dad when I was six.”

“That must have been terrible.”

She nodded. “My mom was so grief-stricken she didn’t take care of herself. The doctors refused to say losing the love of her life caused her cancer to grow, but I know better. She and my dad were true soul mates. She even gave up Alaska and her life as a bush pilot for him.”

“Your mom sounds like a hell of a woman.” Too bad the daughter hadn’t inherited any of her mother’s moxie.

“She was.”

“So you’re an orphan.”

“My three doting great-aunts raised me. So I never felt like an orphan. But I miss my mom.”

Her voice had gotten stronger as she spoke. She had the cutest little drawl. Mack had flown enough tourists in his day to pinpoint her heritage as Texas. Or maybe Oklahoma.

“It’s nice. That you’re not all alone, I mean.”

Geez, he sounded like an idiot. Good thing Miss Marshmallow wasn’t potential mate material. With these brilliant and insightful comments falling from his silver tongue, she would drop him like a stone and he couldn’t blame her.

“How about you?” she ventured in a whisper. “Are your parents still alive?”

“My father died last year. My mother?” He shrugged, not wanting to talk about his childhood. “She left me and my dad when I was eight. Couldn’t handle the Alaskan winters any longer. She lives in Georgia with husband number five or six, I forget which.”

“Do you ever see her?”

“Not much. She hates Alaska. Says the wilderness scares her.” He rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t have much staying power when it comes to relationships.”

“Maybe you should reach out to her. She could be lonely.”

Mack hooted. “She’s invited to a different party every night. I seriously doubt she’s lonely.”

“She hurt you when she left, didn’t she?”

Mack angled her a look. “Funny,” he snapped. “You seem too shy to be the nosy type.”

“I’m not. I mean…oh drat…how much longer until we reach Bear Creek?” she mumbled.

He’d cut her off short. Not very nice of him. Especially when he recognized that conversation did not come easily to her. But he didn’t want to discuss his erstwhile mother.

“About thirty minutes,” he said more gently.

“Oh.”

“Name’s Mack, by the way.” As a way to apologize for his rudeness, he stuck out a hand. “Mack McCaulley.”

She stared at his palm and hesitated a moment before slipping her slender hand into his, then pulling away as fast as she could.

What? Did he have cooties?

“I know who you are. I recognized your picture from Metropolitan magazine. Page 110. The four of you guys are sitting around without shirts on.”

“Ah, the infamous ad.”

She stared at his chest then, as if recalling how bare he looked in that confounded advertisement and her cheeks darkened to bright crimson.

“You’ve got the advantage because all I know is your last name.” He tapped his log book lying on the seat between them. “What’s your given name?”

“Cammie Jo.”

Had she said Tammie Jo? He couldn’t be sure, she had such a soft tone, but the name suited her. Old-fashioned, sweet, innocent. For no good reason, he had the strangest urge to wrap his arm around her to protect her from the big bad world.

“Pleased to meet you.”

“Pleased to meet you, too.”

She smiled and met his eyes at last, although she immediately glanced away again. But that rapid-fire smile did dazzling things for her—let’s admit the facts folks—rather plain-Jane face.

Mack returned his attention to business as they neared the mountain range that almost surrounded Bear Creek. Like most of the numerous mountains in Alaska, this cluster had no official name, but the locals called them the Tlingit Peaks for the original natives who’d inhabited the area.

He angled the nose of the floatplane upward as the majestic blue hunks of snowcapped jagged rock drew nearer. She sucked in her breath with an audible whoosh. Turning his head to look at her once more, Mack discovered she had her eyes clenched shut.

“Afraid of flying in small planes?”

Cammie Jo nodded and swallowed hard. “Any planes.”

It had taken a strong dose of Aunt Hildegard’s home-brewed chamomile tea and a meditation tape to even allow her to set foot on the dawn flight from Austin to Dallas/Fort Worth and then on to Anchorage. If she hadn’t wanted to see Alaska so badly, nothing would have persuaded her aboard.

And planes weren’t the only things that frightened her. Top on her list of phobias? Making small talk with handsome strangers. And not just any handsome stranger but the very bachelor she’d been fantasizing about.

Being here with him was too cool and too cruel. Out of all the bush pilots in Alaska, how had she ended up with the object of her affections?

Of course she hadn’t the faintest notion of competing with other women to become this man’s wife. Because of her shyness, she feared she would never find her true love the way her mother and father had found each other.

How she wished she was gutsy enough to flirt with him.

Ha! That would be the day.

She knew Mack wasn’t impressed with her. Men never were. He’d barely even glanced at her when she’d sidled up to where he’d stood in the airport, holding a placard with her last name written in a bold masculine hand.

But what about the treasured wish totem nestled in the bottom of her handbag, waiting for her to come to a decision? What if the necklace worked? She could wish for anything.

Bravery.

A husband.

True love.

Wishing doesn’t make it so, Cammie Jo. There’s no proof the necklace is anything more than suggestive jewelry.

No proof at all, except for the letter her mother had penned to her on her deathbed.

How she wanted to believe in the mystical power.

Mack’s gaze on her was disconcerting. Frankly, everything about him disconcerted her.

His outdoorsy, masculine scent when she was accustomed to delicate, feminine aromas like lilac and lavender and rose. His husky masculine voice when the dulcet, ladylike murmurs of her three aunts most often graced her ears. His stubble-darkened jawline when she was used to…well, okay, so Aunt Kiki did have a bit of a five o’clock shadow, but not when she regularly used her depilatory cream.

Anyway, he represented an alien creature, from the corded muscles of his wrists and forearms to his disheveled brown hair to his proud aquiline nose.

And in his presence Cammie Jo was as tremulous as a bunny rabbit at a hoot owl jamboree.

She turned her head to look out the window, but the closeness of the mountains in conjunction with the smallness of the plane unnerved her almost as much as the man beside her. She shifted in her seat and tried to cross her legs, not an easy feat in the many layers of puffy clothing she wore.

Accidentally, she kicked the handset mounted on the dash. The two-way radio slipped from its mooring and crashed to the floor of the plane.

Shy klutz, thy name is Cammie Jo.

“Omigosh. I’m so sorry.” She reached for the handset at the same time Mack leaned over and their heads cracked together.

“Ow!”

“Ouch, ouch, ouch.” She rubbed the bump on her noggin. Mack was wincing and doing the same.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized again. Without thinking, she reached out to touch the red angry welt forming on his forehead but he drew back.

“I’m okay.” His voice was gruff; his gaze fixed on a spot outside the windshield.

Mortified, she shrank into her seat.

Remember why you came here, she scolded herself. Not for love, not for romance, not to snag yourself a handsome bachelor but to face your fears, visit the land of your mother’s birth and to have a grand adventure.

And if she couldn’t face her darkest dreads?

Cammie Jo gulped. She would no doubt end up single for the rest of her life, living in the same old house in Austin, teaching college and pining for what might have been.

No. She refused to hide from life any longer. So what if she had embarrassed herself in front of Mr. I’m-Too-Sexy-For-My-Shirt Bush Pilot. Big deal. She would live. No point putting the guy on a pedestal.

She might not be sexy and brave and graceful and totally feminine from her head to her toes, but she was whip-smart. She had maintained a perfect 4.0 GPA all through undergraduate school and a 3.9 during her graduate studies in information science.

So there. Pffttt.

She warmed to the subject. Who was he anyway? Sitting there looking so accomplished, so tough. Her own mother had been a bush pilot. How hard could flying a plane be? The guy wasn’t a brain surgeon or nuclear scientist. In fact, if she wasn’t so scared of flying, she could become a pilot if she wanted.

Oh yeah, dead easy to be courageous inside her own head.

On the outside was another story.

Do something brave, stare out the window, study the landscape. Imagine you’re piloting the plane.

Cammie Jo forced herself to look out the side window and wished she hadn’t.

The mountains were so very close and it looked as if Mack flew straight at them.

Her breath took its sweet time strolling from her lungs. Her pulse crescendoed in her ears.

I won’t look away, I won’t, I won’t. I’m brave. I’m strong, I’m invincible. I’m intrepid Camryn Josephine.

The nose of the plane dipped. The wing wavered. Startled, Cammie Jo’s eyes widened.

Was this normal?

She peeked over at Mack. He looked calm and controlled, but of course he would. He was the pilot. He wasn’t supposed to let on if things were bad.

The plane dove down, down, down in a rapid descent, falling into a small valley hidden between the massive mountains. She stared at the control panel, some gizmo spinning wildly as if they were in deep trouble.

Calm down.

But she couldn’t. Her stomach scraped the roof of her mouth. The sheer face of a mountain lay mere yards away. She spied trees and other vegetation and hey, was that a mountain goat?

Down, down, down. Almost at a ninety-degree angle. It couldn’t be normal to slip in so steep. Something had to be malfunctioning. She fisted her hands, fought for self-control and failed.

Aiyeeh! We’re gonna crash! Mayday! Mayday! Oh, shoot, I didn’t want to die a virgin.

Freaked out of her wits, Cammie Jo spun in her seat, unbuckled the belt, dove sideways and plowed her head into Mack’s lap.

Seconds later, when the plane leveled out and it became clear they weren’t crashing, Cammie Jo realized she had her face buried snugly in a strange man’s crotch.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

2

“CAN I HELP YOU with something, Sugar Plum?”

Mack struggled hard not to laugh. His restraint was evident in the tightening of his thigh muscles, the wheezy quality of his voice rumbling from his chest. Chagrined, Cammie Jo’s head bobbed up as quickly as it had gone down.

She gulped. You could have fried an egg on her cheeks, they were that hot.

She wanted to explain, but just ended up mumbling incoherently, “I…bub…er…mum…ah…I…” Desperately, she swiveled around in her seat, snapped her seat belt back in place and forced her gaze on the toe of her boot.

“Bear Creek usually makes a strong impression on people as we fly down in through the mountain pass. Some folks sigh. Others giggle with delight. I’ll have to admit no one’s had quite the same reaction as you.”

She was horrified at what she’d done. She could never face this man again. She would wait out the rest of her vacation in the B&B, then find herself another bush pilot to fly her back to Anchorage. She buried her face in her hands.

“We do go in at a steep angle,” he said, all traces of humor disappearing from his tone. “I should have warned you. I can see where your first up-close-and-personal view of the mountain might be scary.”

Oh great! Now he was feeling sorry for her. She didn’t know which was worse—being seen as a joke or a tragic figure.

“We’re landing on the water.” He leaned over to point out her window, bringing with him the scent of his soap and the foreign—at least to her unsophisticated nose—aroma of delectable man. “Just to forewarn you.”

Well, duh. She could have figured that out from the pontoons attached to the landing gear. Where was Mr. Reassuring Tour Guide when the plane was aiming straight for the mountain. Hmmm?

Cammie Jo spread her fingers and peeked out at the little town circling the bay. A couple of docked cruise ships and a plethora of other floatplanes were parked next to planked piers. She spotted salmon boats and kayaks paddling up smaller tributaries, while sailboats sluiced gracefully through the cove.

She forgot to be scared as Mack circled the inlet and curiosity vanquished her shame. She dropped her hands for a better look and studied the neat row of rustic houses and storefronts bordering the main avenue.

Bear Creek was gorgeous.

A rush of emotion swept over her. An odd sense of belonging. Even though she hadn’t been born here, even though she’d yet to set foot in this place, the bedtime stories her mother had told her about the magnificent state of Alaska bubbled up in her consciousness.

She felt as if she’d come home.

I’m having my first adventure, she thought, amazed. My first real honest to gosh adventure.

Now, if only she could work up the courage to try kayaking herself or salmon fishing, or maybe even join a group of hikers headed into the mountains.

She wanted so much and frankly, the intensity of these new desires alarmed her.

Mack set the floatplane down in the bay. A teenage boy waited on the dock to tie it up when they coasted to a stop. The teen helped her out of the plane, then took her bags from the cargo hold.

“This way, miss,” he said.

Cammie Jo looked at Mack. “Aren’t you coming?”

His eyes when they met hers were gentle. “I’ve got more passengers to pick up in Anchorage. Jimmy Jones will drive you to the B&B.”

“Oh, well then. I guess this is goodbye.”

Should she offer to shake his hand? Should she tip him? Cammie Jo juggled her carry-on bags and her purse, but by the time she got her hand free, Mack had already turned back to the plane.

Her heart told her stomach to scoot over because it was coming right on down. Her earlier euphoria at seeing Bear Creek dissipated.

He had already dismissed her. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Miss?”

Cammie Jo gave her attention to the smiling young man carrying her heavier luggage up the pier toward a vintage yellow touring car with Taxi printed on the door in bold black lettering. Already a few other passengers were seated inside.

“This way,” the teen prodded.

Okay, well, fine. She didn’t need Mack McCaulley to guide her through town. She would survive just dandy on her own. That’s what grand adventures were all about.

Right?

She struggled up the walkway. Her bags were too darned bulky and she tripped over a raised plank. Falling down didn’t hurt much—she was wearing lots of padding—but the giggles from inside the taxi skinned her pride.

And when she glanced back over her shoulder she saw that not only had Mack witnessed her third humiliation of the day but he was shaking his head to himself. Tears sprang to her eyes. Blinking them away, she pushed her glasses up on her nose.

I’m tough. I’m tough. I’m tough, she mentally chanted but she knew she was seriously deluding herself.

Jimmy, seeing for the first time she had taken a spill, rushed over to help her, but it was too late. What little courage she’d managed to drum up evaporated. Then, when she found herself settled into the taxi with four women so beautiful they could have stepped from the pages of Metropolitan magazine, Cammie Jo’s spirits joined her heart and her stomach in the bottom of her boots.

The women didn’t bother to introduce themselves. Since she certainly wasn’t comfortable initiating conversation with sleek-haired cover model types, she just leaned back against the seat, closed her eyes and pretended to nap on the quarter-mile journey to Jake Gerard’s bed-and-breakfast establishment positioned smack in the middle of town.

The lobby of the B&B was packed with additional attractive women and tons of ruggedly handsome men chatting them up. No one noticed her. She felt like a holey old gym sock stuffed in a drawer full of sexy lingerie. Now Cammie Jo remembered why she rarely ventured away from the world of academia.

Cammie Jo inched over to the front desk. She recognized the guy behind the counter as another one of the bachelors. He smiled at her.

“Hi, I’m Jake.”

Too shy to speak directly to such a handsome man, she rummaged through her purse for the reservation confirmation slip the magazine had mailed to her.

At first she couldn’t find it. Jake’s scrutiny made her sweat. Perspiration pooled in the hollow of her neck, then slid slowly down her breasts.

Ack! She had too much junk. She moved aside her hairbrush and her wallet. And there was that ugly amulet taking up so much room.

“What’s that?” Jake pointed to the totem.

Highly flustered, she pretended not know what he was talking about. “Oh, that’s a roll of peppermint candy.”

“Not that.” He pointed blatantly at the necklace, but she chose to pretend she didn’t understand.

“That’s my lip balm.”

“No, no, the other thing.”

“What other thing?” When all else fails, play dumb.

Jake’s eyes were glued to the totem. Why wouldn’t he stop staring at it? For goodness’ sake, it was embarrassing enough just having the item in her purse.

“Looks like an Aleut fertility totem to me. Very powerful stuff.”

“It’s not.” She snatched the necklace from her purse and jammed the unsightly thing into her pocket, safely out of Jake’s line of vision.

“Better be careful with it,” Jake warned and then winked. “Fertility totems possess potent magic.”

When she realized he was flirting with her, Cammie Jo’s face heated. She ducked her head and kept digging through her purse. Her hands shook. Finally she found the piece of paper and passed it across the desk to him.

He read it and said, “Welcome to Bear Creek, Camryn Josephine. We’re so glad to have you. Congratulations on winning the contest.”

Cammie Jo nodded. Her aunts had entered her under her full given name and that’s how the magazine had made her reservations. Except it seemed they’d forgotten the Lockhart part. Never mind. Josephine was her mother’s maiden name, and she liked using it. Besides, she wanted to get away from this desk as quickly as possible.

Jake handed her a key. “You’ve got the best room in the house. Number 12. Your luggage will be delivered shortly.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

“Oh, and if you want to sign up for any excursions, just let me know. Metropolitan is picking up the tab.”

“Excursions?”

“You know, salmon fishing, mountain-biking tours, that sort of thing.” He eyed Cammie Jo. “Although you might prefer something a little less strenuous. There’s a guided hike of the Tongass National Forest scheduled for tomorrow morning at seven.” He handed her a brochure. “Are you interested?”

Cammie Jo nodded, anxious to get up to her room where she could regroup. “Sounds fine.”

“Good. I’ll book you.”

Keeping her gaze on the floor, Cammie Jo scurried through the mob of people gathered around the staircase. She was wandering down the corridor, searching for room 12, when she saw the dog.

A Siberian husky.

Cammie Jo stopped, caught her breath.

She loved dogs but because of Aunt Coco’s allergies, she’d never been able to have one. She put her bags down and sank to a crouch.

“Come here,” she cooed.

In an instant the dog was at her side. Cammie Jo rubbed the pooch’s belly.

“I see you’ve met Jake’s dog, Lulu.”

She hadn’t heard him approach. She whipped her head up to see Mack grinning down at her.

Her heart did this crazy gymnastic thing.

Say something, stupid.

But her tongue lay cemented to the floor of her mouth. She couldn’t think of one intelligent thing to say. So much for being a Mensa member. Nervously, she stuffed her hand in her pocket and her fingers glided over the totem.

I wish I was brave enough to have a real conversation with this man.

Mack squatted beside Cammie Jo and scratched Lulu’s ears.

Lulu moaned in ecstasy.

He rocked forward. His knee bumped into Cammie Jo’s. If he didn’t move away soon, she would be doing a bit of moaning herself.

Pant, pant, pant.

Her right hand rubbed the dog’s belly. Mack’s left hand scratched under Lulu’s chin. He tilted his head and grinned at her in the muted hallway lighting.

“She’s adorable,” Cammie Jo ventured, keeping her gaze firmly focused on the husky.

“She’s a big old thief is what she is,” Mack said, with obvious affection.

“Not her,” Cammie Jo protested. “She’s too sweet.”

“Don’t let her looks deceive you and don’t leave anything you prize laying out. Lulu’s a kleptomaniac.”

“Surely you exaggerate?”

He shook his head. “Nope. She steals whatever she can get her teeth on. Jewelry, candy, socks, pens, car keys.”

Lulu whined and gave them an I-was-framed expression, as if she knew her thieving habits were the topic of conversation.

“Yeah, we’re talking about you,” Mack assured the dog. He stood and leaned nonchalantly with one shoulder against the wall.

Cammie Jo glanced up and realized she was eye level with the zipper of his blue jeans. Unnerved, she shot to her feet.

Mack’s eyes met hers.

She gulped then blurted, “Uh…what are you doing here? I thought you had to pick up more passengers in Anchorage.”

“I do,” he said.

Her hurly-burly heart lub-dubbed. Had he come looking for her? But why would he do that? His presence seemed so intimate, so cozy, so wrong. And yet her blood was singing through her veins like a chorus of Christmas carolers.

“Why are you here?”

“I found something under the passenger seat of my plane. Thought this might have fallen out of your luggage.”

“Oh?” She arched an eyebrow. No telling what she might have dropped in her haste to get away from him. “What is it?”

From his pocket he withdrew a thin scrap of scarlet silk and stretched it over his palm.

Cammie Jo pushed her glasses up on her nose and stared at what he held in his hand.

A pair of thong undies.

How in the world did women wear these silly things without getting a permanent wedgie? Just the idea of putting them on made her squirm with discomfort.

“Although,” he continued, “this type of undergarment doesn’t really seem your style. I thought it might belong to one of my previous passengers. I feel like Prince Charming going door to door trying to find the Cinderella that fits these panties.”

Normally, she would have been embarrassed witnessing a handsome man handle dainty undies, but the smug look on his face irritated her to the point where she just snapped. He was so certain she was a boring fuddy-duddy, that she would never wear something as brazen as this—which of course she wouldn’t, but he had no right to make such an assumption about her—that Cammie Jo fibbed.

“Yes, they are mine.” She snatched the panties from his grasp and thrust out her jaw, daring him to contradict her.

The expression of surprise on his face made her feel something she’d never felt before. Boldness? She prodded the emotion. No, not quite boldness, something saucier than mere audacity.

She rested her hands on her hips. His eyes tracked her movements. He gazed at her as if trying to picture her in that thong. He shook his head as if he couldn’t even visualize it.

Cammie Jo notched her chin upward and looked just above the top of his head. A trick she’d learned in graduate school when she had to give lectures to undergrads. Don’t make eye contact and you’ll be okay.

“What did you think? That I wear white cotton, high-waisted granny panties?”

Which was indeed exactly what she had on beneath her clothes. Aunt Hildegard did everyone’s underwear shopping during the twice-a-year white sales, and Cammie Jo had never cared enough about the issue to buy her own panties. But she would roll over and die before she would admit such a thing to Mack, who thought he had her pegged right down to her choice of lingerie.

“I never said that.” A speculative note crept into his voice and in that moment Cammie Jo was able to label the amazing new sensation churning inside her.

By gum, she was feeling cocky. Puffed up with pride and ready to take whatever he dished out.

“I’m much more than I appear on the surface, Mr. McCaulley. Still waters run deep.”

“Apparently so.” He seemed a bit taken aback.

“Thong undies are just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes it is.”

“Okay, then. I believe you. They’re your panties. Mystery solved.”

“Anything else?” she sassed. She was astonished, pleased and giddy with the thrill of her newfound bravado.

“Nooo. Guess that’s it.”

It was only later, after he’d sauntered away, that Cammie Jo realized from whence her unexpected bravery had sprung.

The treasured wish totem resting in her pocket.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

3

ONCE SHE WAS safely ensconced in her room, Cammie Jo took off some of her layers of clothing and moved to stare out the window overlooking Main Street.

People crowded the road, wandering in and out of the shops and restaurants. Honestly, she hadn’t expected so much activity. Crowds made her nervous.

Everything makes you nervous. Like good-looking bush pilots.

A sudden rap at the door startled her so much she almost fell off the window seat.

Was it Mack?

Holding her breath, Cammie Jo crept to the door. Rats! No peephole. And no chain.

Timidly, she cracked the door open and peeked out. A gorgeous woman who looked like the actress Charlize Theron stood there smiling at her, a pen and notebook in her hand.

“Hi,” she said.

“Uh, hi,” Cammie Jo responded, impressed with the woman’s smartly tailored clothes and flawless skin.

“I’m Kay Freemont with Metropolitan magazine, and I’m the one who picked your entry to win the free vacation. I’d like to interview you if I may.”

“Oh.” Cammie Jo opened the door wider. “Come on in.”

Kay stepped into the room and Cammie Jo closed the door behind her.

“Did you come all the way from New York just to interview me?”

“No.” Kay’s smile crinkled the corners of her brown eyes. Cammie Jo realized that even though Kay looked very worldly and sophisticated, she was only a couple of years older than her own twenty-five years. “I live in Bear Creek now.”

Cammie Jo gestured at the window seat, not all that comfortable with playing hostess. She glanced over at the totem, which she’d placed on the dresser after that scary-but-thrilling encounter with Mack in the hallway. She wasn’t quite sure if she was ready to handle the consequences of wearing the necklace.

“Thank you.” Kay sat by the window while Cammie Jo perched on the end of the bed.

She ran her palms over the tops of her thighs, a habit of hers when she was nervous or uncertain.

“Relax.” Kay’s smile deepened. “This won’t hurt a bit, I promise.”

“I’ve never been away from home before,” Cammie Jo confessed.

“Alaska can be overwhelming, even for a world traveler,” Kay assured her. “I first came here in February. Talk about overpowering.” She shook her head. “So tell me, Cammie Jo, why are you interested in becoming a wilderness wife?”

“What?”

“You did enter the contest hoping to meet the bachelor of your dreams, didn’t you?” Kay sat, pen poised over notebook waiting for Cammie Jo’s response. “Although I’ve got to tell you, Quinn’s no longer on the market.” Laughing, Kay held up her left hand to show off a diamond engagement ring. “We’re getting married next month.”

“Hey, that’s great.”

“So.” Kay lowered her voice. “Which bachelor are you interested in?”

“Can I be honest with you?” Cammie Jo shifted on the thick comforter.

“By all means.”

They talked for a long while. Cammie Jo told her about her great-aunts, and how their attempts to shelter her had resulted in Cammie Jo being afraid of her own shadow.

“So getting married is really the last thing on my mind,” Cammie Jo said. “I need to stretch my wings and fly. I need to discover who I am before I’ll ever be ready for marriage. I hope that doesn’t disqualify me from the free vacation.”

Kay shook her head. “Your reasons are your own. You won the contest fair and square. If you’re not interested in any of the bachelors, that’s fine. I don’t think they will suffer. Ever since the article ran women have been arriving in Bear Creek by the hundreds. It’s a modern-day gold rush but instead of gold, the hunt is on for eligible men.”

No kidding. Cammie Jo had seen the hordes of women strolling the streets of Bear Creek.

Kay smiled. “The bachelors, in conjunction with the magazine, are throwing a party tonight at the community center across the road. Seven o’clock and you’re the guest of honor.”

Cammie Jo ducked her head. “I’m really not much on parties.”

“Now, now, didn’t you come here to overcome shyness? A party is a great way to start.”

“But I don’t have anything appropriate to wear.”

Kay looked her up and down. “You’re a few inches shorter than I am, but I’m betting we’re the same size. What about shoes? What size do you wear?”

“Six and a half.”

“Hey, me too. Imagine that. I’ll bring over a selection of dresses and shoes. Then I’ll help you do your hair and makeup.”

Two hours later, after Kay had returned to create Cammie Jo’s metamorphosis, she stepped back from the mirror so Cammie Jo could see the results.

“Ta-da!”

Cammie Jo stared owl-eyed. No. It couldn’t be. This wasn’t her. Her pulse thundered. Her head spun. Kay was a wizard with a makeup brush.

“I can teach you how to do this for yourself if you want.”

“Oh, yes,” Cammie Jo breathed.

The woman staring back at her was a complete stranger.

This woman was beautiful.

Her eyes were not Cammie Jo’s normal blah blue but a deep shade of emerald-green, converted into something mesmerizing by the colored contacts. Her round chipmunk cheeks had disappeared. Instead it seemed as if she possessed high, sculpted cheekbones. Her lips were full and pouty; her skin as luminous as dew-kissed blades of grass.

And her hair.

Oh, her once plain brownish-blond hair! Now, it hung down her back in a myriad of loose, shiny curls. She sucked in her breath, totally stunned by the transformation.

“Wow,” she whispered. “Wow.”

“That’s what every bachelor in Bear Creek will be saying. I’ll leave you to get dressed. Gotta go change myself and meet Quinn at the community center. Come on over when you get ready.”

“Okay.” Cammie Jo nodded. “Thanks for everything.”

“You’re welcome.”

Once Kay had gone, Cammie Jo hugged herself, feeling simultaneously excited and scared. First a total makeover and now a party? Her? There would be lots of handsome men in attendance. Shivers pushed down her back. And a lot of beautiful women to compete against.

She thought about having to make conversation with strangers—it had been hard enough talking to Kay, but the woman had a journalist’s flair for drawing people out. The very idea of chit-chatting with people she didn’t know made her want to flee screaming into the wilderness.

And yet, she wanted to go so much.

Make a wish and you can have your heart’s desire.

She moved toward the dresser, picked up the necklace and wrapped one hand around the totem, tentatively rubbed it with a thumb and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

“Please,” she whispered. “Grant me my most treasured wish. Make me strong and brave. Take away my fears, vanquish my shyness, free me from my own insecurities.”

She slipped the necklace over her head, gave a sharp “eek” of surprise at the unexpected warmth. The totem had certainly seemed to work when she’d sassed Mack in the hallway. Plus, Jake said it was an Aleut fertility totem and it possessed potent magic.

Truth be told she had the sudden urge to stand up straight, throw back her shoulders and yodel from the rooftop, “Look out Bear Creek, here comes Camryn Josephine.”

MACK COULDN’T GET enough of staring at the fine-looking women packing the streets of Bear Creek. When he and his three friends had taken out that ad, he had no idea women would appear like snowflakes in winter.

He was loving the attention. As he’d hoped, the sorority sisters from UNLV had been a lot more fun than Tammie Jo Lockhart, although he suspected they’d had one too many cocktails on the plane.

One of the daring lasses had even pinched him on the butt when he’d unloaded their luggage. Mack wasn’t sure whether he liked that or not. He preferred daring women, sure, but there was something to be said about respecting a man’s private parts until you got to know him a little better.

He thought of tremulous Tammie Jo plunging her face into his lap when she believed the plane was crashing and Mack had to laugh. Okay, she had violated his private parts too, but not intentionally. She’d just been scared.

It was almost seven o’clock, and he was heading to the party Quinn and Kay had organized to celebrate the arrival of the contest winner. He wore a tuxedo at Kay’s insistence and he tugged at the stiff, choke-a-man collar. She’d had the four bachelors outfitted from some place in Anchorage, and he hated wearing the monkey suit. Kay had told him to get used to it since undoubtedly his bride-to-be, whoever she was, would expect him to stand at the altar in one.

Mack almost said he wasn’t marrying that kind of woman but quickly shut his mouth because that’s exactly the kind of woman Kay was. And the last thing he wanted was to hurt her feelings.

But Mack’s dream wedding would consist of something adventuresome. Like getting hitched in hiking gear atop a glacier. That’s the kind of woman he wanted for a wife. Gutsy, courageous, up for anything. The exact opposite of what his weak-willed mother had been like.

His mind was wandering down this familiar but unpleasant train of thought when from his peripheral vision he caught a glimpse of a woman strutting down the sidewalk.

She moved like a regal queen. Confident, self-assured, poised. Her hair, a tantalizing caramel color, floated down her back in a spiral of curls that made Mack think of pecan taffy, and his imagination triggered his mouth to fill with the sweet, buttery taste of nutty candy.

An incredible black dress made of some soft clingy material hugged her curves snugger than a label on a wine bottle. The skirt had this amazing little tattered hem that fluttered like a handkerchief around the most sensational calves he’d ever seen.

She was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

His mouth went dry. His eyes bugged. His palms grew sweaty on the steering wheel.

Who in the thunder was she? He hadn’t flown in any woman who looked like that over the last couple of days. He would have remembered. It must have been one of the other bush pilots. The lucky devil.

Her shoulders were thrown back, her head held high, her eyes fixed straight ahead. She stalked forward on four-inch heels like she owned the world. Instant admiration sprung in his chest. His kind of gal.

Wait a minute, what was that she was wearing around her neck?

Stunned, he stared at the lewd totem bouncing off her perky breasts and he was completely mesmerized.

So mesmerized, in fact, that when she stepped off the curb in front of him, Mack’s foot accidentally hit the accelerator instead of the brake.

Good Lord, he was about to kill a dream walking!

He slammed on the brakes while simultaneously jamming on the horn. His tires squealed in protest at the sudden pressure and his stomach vaulted into his throat.

The woman turned to look at him, an expression of shocked surprise in her wide green eyes. Mack sprang from the front seat, rounded the hood and was devastated to see that he had stopped mere inches from her gorgeous body. His heart pounded so hard he feared it would jackhammer a hole through the bottom of his foot.

At first, she leveled him an insouciant stare, as if it were all his fault. Then she blinked and said in a voice that sounded vaguely familiar. “Goodness, did I step right out in front of you?”

“Yes,” he said, feeling bashful as a boy for absolutely no good reason at all. “You did.”

“Aren’t I lucky that you have lightning-fast reflexes.”

He couldn’t stop staring at her. Couldn’t reconcile her calmness with his own flustered state of agitation. Didn’t she recognize that he had almost killed her? Or at the least given her a whoop knot bad enough to land her in the emergency ward.

“I’m sorry. I was so busy looking for the community center, I simply didn’t see you.”

His mouth hung open. He had a sudden desperate desire to touch her and it was all he could do to keep his hands to himself. “You’re going to the Metropolitan party?”

She nodded.

“Me too. Come on.” He reached out and took her by the hand. A shudder of yearning passed through him. How could one woman knock his world so completely out-of-kilter? He inhaled deeply. He couldn’t let her see how much she affected him. Not now. Not yet. “Let’s get you out of the road.”

“What?” She blinked her big green eyes at him, and he was a goner.

“Let’s get out of the road.”

“Oh. Okay.”

All right, so she wasn’t a brainiac. Big deal. She possessed a figure to make angels cry hallelujah.

Um, McCaulley, what’s number seven on your list? His conscience nudged.

Mentally Mack rolled his eyes at that nagging voice. Intelligence was number seven on his “wife” list.

He’d written down that trait for a reason. He had a tendency to get involved with beautiful but flighty airheads who thought putting down roots meant bleaching your hair.

Give this one a chance, he argued with himself. Just because she stepped out in front of his truck didn’t mean she was dumb. Everyone made mistakes. Hadn’t he hit the accelerator instead of the brake?

He settled her in the passenger seat beside him, then drove the short distance to the community center parking lot. Heads turned to stare at them when they walked up the pathway.

Where on earth had she come from? This exotic fantasy dropped into his tiny corner of Alaska.

You’re not looking for a fantasy, pal. You’re looking for a wife.

Shut up, already. I’m just walking her into the party, not getting down on one knee.

That was good because he didn’t even know if this woman was interested in getting married. Or if she was even interested in him.

And then there was that…thing she had on around her neck. What in the hell was that all about?

“Name’s Mack, by the way, Mack McCaulley.” He stuck out his hand.

She studied him a moment. “Haven’t we already met?” she asked finally in a breathy whisper.

“Oh no, ma’am. I would never forget a lady like you.”

For some reason his statement caused her to frown in displeasure when he figured she should have been flattered. What had he done wrong? Could they have met before? He paused a moment to think. Nah. He would have remembered her.

“I’m Camryn,” she said after a moment. “Camryn Josephine.”

He grinned. “Like Cameron Diaz?”

“Pronounced the same but spelled differently.”

“Still.” He wriggled his eyebrows and hoped he was forgiven for whatever he had done to make her frown. “It’s a very sexy name.”

“Thank you.”

He pushed open the door and escorted her into the community center. Kay and Quinn came over to greet them. Camryn leaned over and said something to Kay.

“You’re kidding.” Kay laughed at whatever it was Camryn had told her, then Kay looked at Mack with a disapproving gleam in her eyes.

What? Now it was Mack’s turn to frown.

What on earth had he done, dammit? He hated being talked about behind his back. It brought back bad childhood memories from the time his mother had run off with another man. And from the time his first serious girlfriend had dumped him for a software program designer who pulled down a high six-figure salary.

“Am I missing out on a joke?” he asked Kay.

“You could say that,” Kay demurred. “Do you have any idea who she is?”

“No.” Mack snorted in exasperation.

“She’s the winner of the Metropolitan magazine contest.”

“No kidding.”

Hmm, that meant she probably was interested in snagging a husband. The plot thickened. Mack looked at her with new possibilities but Camryn still seemed miffed with him for some reason. He wanted to make amends and quick.

Kay locked arms with Camryn and whisked her away before Mack could protest. “I’ll bring your date back in a minute.”

“I’m not Mack’s date,” Cammie Jo murmured to Kay once they were out of the men’s earshot.

“He thinks you are.” Kay guided her up a staircase to the second floor and pushed open the door to the powder room. She stopped in front of the mirror, pulled a comb from her purse and ran it through her sleek blond hair.

“No he doesn’t. He doesn’t even recognize that I’m the same person he flew in from Anchorage this afternoon. He thinks I’m some gorgeous creature.”

Kay gave her an appraising glance. “Well, sweetie, in Mack’s defense, you do look like an entirely different woman.”

“It’s irritating. When I was Cammie Jo he didn’t give me the time of day. But as Camryn Josephine, he can’t be solicitous enough.” Cammie Jo folded her arms across her chest, felt the smooth sleekness of the totem against her forearm.

“That’s men for you.”

“And that’s precisely why I’m not interested in them. It doesn’t matter that I have an IQ of 145. All that matters is that I look good in a dress.” Camryn snorted.

“Don’t judge them too harshly,” Kay said. “You’ve got to remember in Bear Creek the men outnumber the women ten to one. That’s why the bachelors advertised for wives. And the women that do live here are practical, rural women who don’t have much use for makeup and designer clothes. This publicity-generated infusion of femininity has gone straight to their heads.” Kay giggled conspiratorially. “Quinn’s ape crazy over my collection of provocative stockings.”

“Promise me you won’t tell Mack what I’m really like.”

“What do you mean?” Kay applied a fresh layer of lipstick to her full lips, then passed the tube to Cammie Jo.

Cammie Jo swept her hand at her sexy outfit. “I’m not really beautiful and sophisticated and self-confident.”

“Don’t be silly, of course you are. You just needed a little makeover.”

Kay didn’t understand. This transformation wasn’t the result of a little blush, a push-up bra and a new color of contact lens. Only the totem could have wrought such a change, and she couldn’t explain that to her new friend. For one, she didn’t want to sound like a nutcase and for two, she certainly didn’t want to chance defusing the magic by talking about it.

“Please, just don’t tell Mack I’m Cammie Jo. Okay?”

“Sure, honey. Whatever you want.” Kay squeezed her hand.

“Thanks.”

“Now let’s get back out there. We’ve kept the men waiting long enough.”

They returned to find the party gearing up. More guests had filtered in. The band was playing some current, chart-topping country-and-western tune. Mack was standing near the front door, his eyes on her. He was resplendent in that tuxedo. Every little girl’s dream date. In fact, he looked as if he could grace the top of a wedding cake.

Cammie Jo hadn’t taken five steps toward him when she found herself surrounded by men. For a second, panic set in. Then she took a deep breath and reminded herself there was no reason to be afraid. She had the treasured wish totem, which she had decided looked less suggestive in plain view than tucked into her dress. She tugged on the totem and told herself not to get embarrassed. If they wanted to gawk, by George, let ’em gawk.

That ought to give Mack something to think about.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

4

MACK STOOD BY the punch bowl glowering at Jake, who’d scooped Camryn out from under him. He glared while his best friend waltzed his dream woman around the dance floor.

No fair! He had seen her first. Had almost ran her down in fact, because he’d been studying her so hard.

He admired Camryn’s graceful movements. Enjoyed the way her dress swirled and flared around her legs. A bullet of jealousy shot through him when she cocked her head upward and smiled at something Jake said. He shouldn’t be jealous. He wasn’t much of a dancer himself. Let her have fun with someone who didn’t possess two left feet.

So why the burning sensation in his gut?

Camryn’s hair fanned out, swirled behind her as she danced. Mack found himself enchanted by that twirling mane and he wasn’t the only one. He spied many covetous glances angling her way from the numerous single men lined against the wall.

She might be pretty but it really wasn’t enough. Not anymore. Secretly, he was terrified of making a grave mistake, of picking a woman too beautiful and delicate to survive in his homeland. That’s why he had the “wife” list.

Mack patted his breast pocket, then remembered he was wearing a tuxedo and had left his list at home. No matter. He knew the requirements by heart. His ideal woman would be brave, feisty, loyal, trustworthy, adventuresome, honest and intelligent. Just like his grandmother.

When Jake had seen his list, he’d retorted that what Mack wanted was a Boy Scout, not a wife. Mack had pondered on Jake’s comment for a few days, then added: a sense of humor, likes to snuggle and doesn’t mind being spoiled. He hadn’t shown that part of the list to Jake. A man could only take so much razzing from his friends.

He didn’t know if Camryn possessed all the qualities he needed or not. They’d shared a connection, a moment. Only getting to know her better would tell if their initial attraction was anything more than superficial sexual awareness. He didn’t have time to waste on meaningless affairs. Been there, done that.

He’d just turned thirty-one and while he’d never heard of men having biological clocks, damned if he didn’t hear this strange ticking in the back of his head.

He didn’t want to be an older single parent like his father. Pop had been forty-two when Mack was born and in a wheelchair with rheumatoid arthritis by the time Mack was thirteen. He wanted to have his kids while he was still young enough to pitch a baseball and hike a mountain and shoot a hockey puck. Mack had learned that experiencing life to the fullest was the only way to live. Because you just never knew what the future held.

Well, buddy, you won’t find out anything about Camryn standing here on the sidelines. Get out and get into the game.

The band switched tunes, going from a jazzy rock beat to a slow, dreamy waltz at the same moment Mack tapped his buddy on the shoulder.

“Do you mind?” he said to Jake, then to Camryn, “May I have this dance?”

Jake shrugged, nodded. Camryn smiled and held out her arms to him.

That’s what he liked most about her, the way she met his gaze head-on. Clear and straight, with nothing to hide. She didn’t act coy, nor did she present an overly aggressive demeanor like that grabby UNLV sorority sister. She was honest, open, flexible.

On the surface she seemed to be everything he’d been dreaming of when he placed that advertisement with his friends.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hello.” Simple, direct, no game-playing.

Camryn pushed a tendril of hair from her face and tried her best not to drop her gaze. Mack looked unbelievably handsome in a tux.

Don’t be scared, she coached herself. You’ve got the treasured wish totem around your neck and you’re having the adventure of a lifetime.

She was no longer meek little Cammie Jo, but fearless Camryn Josephine, up for whatever life might throw her way. And she was loving her new self.

Mack took her in his arms. Oh yes! He was all brawn and muscle and sinewy male.

Being held like this was an eye-popping experience for her, startling and novel. His body heat, so incredibly thermal, slipped into her skin roasting her from the inside out. His smell clobbered her senses, left her addled with yearning. Oh, she was falling too fast, stumbling too quickly out of her element and her normal comfort zone.

Dazed, Cammie Jo just stared at him. Her brain had turned to banana pudding.

“I’m not a very good dancer,” he apologized.

Oh baby, I don’t care.

Lucky for them both Aunt Kiki had once been a professional dance instructor, otherwise Cammie Jo wouldn’t have known a fox trot from a fox hole.

Then she realized Mack thought she was staring at him because he’d just crunched her toe, but honestly, she’d barely noticed. She was concentrating on those sultry eyes that smoldered with a banked sexuality.

“I might not be much of a hoofer,” Mack continued, and here his gaze roved downward to peruse her lower extremities with obvious appreciation. “But you’ve got legs just built for dancing.”

In the past, she would have blushed at his compliment but tonight she accepted his appraisal as a matter of course. By gum, she did have rather nice legs. It was about time someone noticed.

Don’t hide your light under a bushel.

One of her mother’s favorite sayings sprang to mind. Even when she was little she recalled her mother worrying that she was too shy, too modest, too introverted by half, and she’d struggled hard to draw Cammie Jo from her shell.

“So,” he said. “What do you do for a living, Camryn?”

Should she tell him the truth? Would he be impressed or turned off by an academic? But she couldn’t lie even if she wanted to. She couldn’t think fast on her feet.

“I’m working on my Ph.D. in information science. And I teach undergraduate classes at the University of Texas.”

“Really? That surprises me.”

“Why? Do I look dumb?”

“No, no. Of course not. It’s just that information science seems like a profession that would attract an introvert, not a gregarious lady like yourself.”

“You think I’m gregarious?”

Oh lovely, Cammie Jo. Tip your hand on the first day.

“Sure. You’re so at ease in a crowd.”

She almost laughed out loud. No one had ever paid her that particular compliment.

Mack was studying her, his eyes hot. So hot her clothes stuck to her body. Everywhere his gaze landed she seemed to burst into flames as if he possessed a kind of libidinous pyrokinesis.

His gaze slid from her eyes to the bridge of her nose.

Ka-pow!

Her nose burned.

Hungrily, he examined her lips.

Ka-bang!

Her mouth became an inferno.

Visually he caressed her jaw.

Ka-blewy!

Her chin was toast.

Wait a minute, where was he going with that naughty stare?

Ka-bam!

Her breasts erupted in sparks.

No, no, don’t go any lower. Please.

Ka-sizzle!

Her abdomen caught ablaze.

He raised his eyes to hers briefly, then with a devilish grin he dropped his gaze to the lowest point yet.

Her pelvis. Oh her pelvis!

Whoosh!

Backdraft.

The Yellowstone forest fires had nothing on what was raging down there. Help! Call 9-1-1. Get the fire department over here pronto. Camryn Josephine was in nuclear meltdown.

They were moving around the dance floor, albeit not in time to the music. They could have been handcuffed together in solitary confinement, so oblivious was Cammie Jo to any stimuli other than Mack’s dangerous eyes. The Occupational Safety and Health Administration should look into labeling those incandescent orbs with a high octane warning.

“Thirsty?” he asked when the band took a break.

She nodded, her insides nothing but vapor. No, not thirsty. Parched, scorched, desiccated.

“Let’s grab some punch, get some fresh air.”

“Sounds good,” she murmured and was shocked to hear her own voice come out as seductive and husky as a whiskey-voiced blues singer.

He wrangled them a couple of glasses of punch and a few cookies and steered Cammie Jo to the back door of the community center. When the heavy metal fire door clanged closed behind them, she took a deep breath and looked up at the sky, surprised to find it was still bright daylight despite being past nine o’clock at night.

Summer in Alaska.

Cammie Jo gazed at the mountains in the distance and nibbled on an almond cookie to collect herself. The breeze blew cool against her skin and that helped soothe her feverish thoughts, until Mack came to stand directly behind her.

She could feel his manly presence.

Felt his gaze drop onto her body, her hair, every darned where.

Talk about sensory overload. If she didn’t have the totem, Cammie Jo would have run for the safety of the B&B long ago. Heck, let’s be honest. She would never have left her room in the first place. She would be curled up on the bed sipping hot cocoa and watching old movies.

Bor-ing.

“Your punch,” he said and held out a cup.

She took it from him and their fingers brushed. She concentrated on sipping to keep from meeting his gaze once more. Her core body temperature had to be a hundred and ten. She didn’t think she could stand any more heat.

I’m brave. I’m strong. I’m courageous. Nothing but nothing scares me. Not even a man with Fourth of July rockets for eyes.

“You’re very beautiful,” Mack said, taking a step closer.

“Thank you.”

I simply will not blush and I won’t back up. I won’t! Camryn would be accustomed to receiving and deflecting advances from amorous admirers, but Cammie Jo was not.

“I suppose you hear that all the time.”

She affected a ho-hum expression. “Not as much as you’d think.”

He took another step forward.

Her heart clattered like an aging engine on low-octane fuel.

“I’d like to get to know you better.”

Cammie Jo couldn’t help noticing the dimple carved in his cheek and the provocative twinkle in his eyes. Was he asking her out?

“Really,” she murmured.

“Yeah. I’ll admit it. Out of all the women who’ve shown up in Bear Creek over the last couple of weeks, you’re the only one who’s really raised my interest.”

“And why is that?”

He cocked his head and a sheaf of dark-brown hair shifted over his side part. “You’re something of a mystery, and I love solving puzzles.”

“Oh you do?” She couldn’t believe how easily she was flirting, how she was matching his stare without blinking or turning red as a boiled lobster. She took a bite of cookie, ran her tongue along her lips for effect.

“I do.” His eyes tracked the movement of her tongue.

“Well good for you.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not.”

“Where did you come from, Camryn Josephine?”

He raised a hand and for one jumpy moment she thought he might touch her, but instead he reached out to brace his palm against the side of the building and lean in toward her. His scent was pure heaven. He was close enough so that she could see just how long and lush his lashes were. They looked supple as sable and softened his direct, inquisitive eyes.

“Out of the blue.”

“I believe you,” he murmured. “You’re that unique.”

She’d never been in such an intimate position and she found she loved being close to this glorious representative of the male species.

“How are you when it comes to adventure?”

“How do you mean?”

“Do you like the outdoors? Are you game for mountain biking and kayaking and salmon fishing?” He waited, and it seemed, held his breath.

Goodness, what was the correct answer?

She thought of the ad, visualized the caption underneath the picture.

Wild Women Wanted.

Could she be wild enough for this man? She moistened her lips with her tongue, tasted the too-sweet flavor of strawberry-banana punch mingling with the almond of the cookie she’d just finished.

“I’ll take any adventure you can throw my way and eat it up with both hands.”

He hissed in his breath as if his mind had conjured some very wicked adventures indeed. “Anything?”

“Anything,” she declared, happy she had wondrous magic to help her keep that vow.

“Wait a minute.” Mack was suddenly looking at her real funny, staring at her mouth.

Uh-oh. Had he finally figured out she wasn’t really brazen Camryn, but shy Cammie Jo? A moment of fear licked through her before she remembered her wish.

Reaching out, he smoothed his thumb over the corner of her mouth.

Cammie Jo shivered. What was he doing?

“Cookie crumb,” he said.

“Oh.”

But the crumb was gone and he was still here, his face so very close to hers.

“Not so fast.” His arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her flush against the length of his body.

Good thing there wasn’t a maximum speed limit for pulses. She’d be liable for the highest fine imaginable.

Then he lowered his head and took her mouth with his own.

She was in heaven. But when he pressed his tongue to her closed teeth, she jumped back startled.

Mack blinked. His initial thought was one of complete surprise. Camryn Josephine knew next to nothing about kissing. But how could that be? Surely this hot, sassy babe had kissed dozens of men, if not hundreds.

Maybe she’d given him the weird, platonic-but-not-quite kiss because she was uncertain of her feelings. Mack scratched his head and looked down at her.

She was such a cute little thing. All curves and dips, so different from his own hard, angular body.

The woman might not be clear on her feelings, but he was clear on his. He wanted to taste more of her, go deeper, explore. See if she could indeed be the woman he was searching for.

He hooked his index finger under her chin, lifted her face up to meet his again. He watched the pulse in her neck jump with anticipation. Slowly, he lowered his lips to that throbbing beat and kissed her exposed throat with the lightest touch he could manage, heightening the anticipation.

Her skin was hot and getting hotter by the minute. The more his tongue laved over her rapidly pounding pulse, the faster it beat.

Mack felt her tremble. Her escalating excitement matched his own. Did her quest for adventure include those of the flesh?

He wanted her with a sharp spike of desire that stabbed straight through his groin. But letting lust rule his head was not the way to go.

No. As much as he might want to, he wouldn’t drag her home to his bed. But he would sample another taste of those lips. Just to give himself something to think about.

He took her mouth in a heated rush. She gasped into him. She tasted so exquisite he almost groaned.

The feminine scent of her filled his nostrils. He felt her chest raising raggedly against his own. He threaded his fingers through that mane of golden brown hair, cupped the back of her head in his palm.

Camryn wriggled in his arms, every nerve ending in her body on full alert.

It was too much, too soon. She was in sensory overload and she couldn’t absorb everything that was happening.

Yes you can, silly, you’ve got the totem.

She reached up to caress the necklace, to draw strength from its power. But when her fingers crept to her throat she felt nothing but her own skin.

Panic-stricken, she jerked away, leaving him looking dazed.

“What…?” he asked.

Cammie Jo stared down at her chest. The totem was gone!

Without it, she was not brave enough to kiss a virtual stranger. On her own, she was not the type to flirt and bat her eyelashes and volley innuendoes.

She was her old self. Vulnerable, scared and way out of her league.

In desperation, she cast her gaze to the ground, looking among the flowering lupine at their feet for her missing necklace. Her breath came out in frantic wheezes, as if she was an asthmatic in a room full of ragweed pollen.

“Camryn? What’s wrong?” Mack reached out to put a hand on her shoulder.

His touch sent her over the edge. She had to get away. Had to leave before she ruined everything. Had to hide from him so he wouldn’t see her for the timid spinster-in-the-making that she really was.

Later, after the party was over, she would come back and try to find the necklace. But for now every phobia she’d ever experienced was gelling into one major fear. That of being found out a fraud before she’d ever had a chance to really live her great adventure.

Get out. Get away!

“I…I can’t do this.” She spun on her heels and took off at a dead run.

“Camryn,” Mack cried. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

She never hesitated.

“Wait!” His footsteps thundered behind her.

Clippety, clippety, clippety—stumble. Her ankle turned sideways in the impossible heels but she ignored the bite of pain and kept going.

Hurry, hurry. You’ve got to give him the slip.

Except she could hardly see where she was going with this darned hair bouncing free and unfettered about her face and she didn’t know the area. She rounded the building at a dead-on sprint, hoping he’d give up the pursuit. For heaven’s sake, if a man was running away from her she’d take the hint and not chase after him.

But Mack stayed right on her tail.

Was the man part bloodhound? Jeez Louise. Talk about relentless.

Where could she go to get away from him? She leaped over some shrubbery at the edge of the sidewalk. A well-dressed crowd was just walking into the entrance of the community center. Cammie Jo barreled past them, using human bodies as a shield between Mack and herself.

“Excuse me. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to step on your toe.” She heard Mack apologizing but she never slowed, not for a second.

Lungs bursting. Stitch in her side. Throbbing ankle. She could endure all that but not a totemless face-to-face encounter with Mack.

Rabbit quick, she darted through the front door, spun past a startled Kay and clattered upstairs to the relative safety of the ladies’ room.

Okay, don’t panic, don’t panic.

Lovely advice. About as useful as telling a hostess not to panic when she’s got ninety-nine guests coming for Thanksgiving dinner in fifteen minutes and a hundred pounds of Turkey a` la Froufrou just exploded in her brand new rotisserie oven.

Cammie Jo paced the tiled bathroom, arms folded across her chest. What to do? She couldn’t stay in here all night.

Or could she?

Tempting thought, but considering the way he’d chased after her, Mack didn’t seem the kind of guy to let things go without a fight. He would probably send someone in after her.

Rats, rats, rats.

And then her gaze landed on the window.

Hmmm. Small opening, but she was petite.

Cammie Jo climbed up on the sink and leaned over to raise the window. She stuck her head out and peered down.

Yipes!

The ground was farther away than she expected. Never mind that directly underneath the ladies’ washroom window sat a row of sturdy, metal, bear-proof garbage cans that looked as if they could skin a girl something nasty.

Cammie Jo pulled back, and mulled over her choices. She could take a header, or more precisely, a footer out the window, or she could face Mack again.

Which was easier to do?

She closed her eyes briefly and wished for the totem.

If wishes were nuts and cherries we’d all have a Merry Christmas, Aunt Kiki was fond of saying, although Cammie Jo had never quite understood the adage. Herself, she’d always wanted clothes and toys for Christmas, not nuts and cherries.

“Camryn?” Kay’s voice called to her from the outer room. “Are you in there? Mack’s looking for you.”

Ulp. It was now or never.

Cammie Jo dangled her legs over the window ledge, took a deep breath and jumped, stiletto heels and all.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

5

WHAT ON EARTH had happened to her? Mack wondered as he paced the corridor, hands clasped behind his back.

Damn his tendency to jump in with both feet when he wanted something, never mind that he could be barreling off a cliff.

He needed to amend his “wife” list. Under “likes to be spoiled,” he was adding, “not a flight risk.”

Kay reappeared a few minutes after she had gone inside the ladies’ room to look for Camryn. Mack raised his head, and gazed at her expectantly.

“She’s not in there.”

“What do you mean she’s not in there? I saw her go in with my own eyes.”

“I checked all the stalls. No one is in there.”

“You’re covering for her,” Mack accused.

“Why Mack McCaulley, are you calling me a liar?” Kay settled her hands on her hips and gave him a mischievous grin.

Contrite, he said, “No, Kay, of course not.”

“I will tell you that the bathroom window was hanging open.”

“You think she climbed out the window?”

Kay shrugged. “Looks like it. What did you do to her?”

“Me? I didn’t do anything.”

“Camryn’s missing after slipping off alone with you. You Alaskans have the tendency to go after what you want pell-mell. Maybe you were moving too quickly for her.”

“Then why didn’t she just say so?” Exasperated, Mack jammed his hands in his pocket.

“You’ll have to ask Camryn that question.”

“Right. And how can I do that when I don’t know where she is?”

“She’s staying at Jake’s.”

Just forget her, McCaulley. There’s millions more fish in the sea. Look around you.

But part of him could not so easily dismiss Camryn without a valid explanation for her behavior. And he really wanted to apologize if he’d upset her in any way.

He left the community center and walked across the street to Jake’s B&B. He pushed through the door into the lobby, then went over to the front desk where he found the desk clerk, crotchety old Gus, sitting on a stool reading some true-crime paperback with a lurid cover.

“Hey, Gus.”

Gus grunted and barely looked up from his book.

“You have a guest by the name of Camryn Josephine staying here. Would you tell me her room number?”

“We don’t give out that kinda information.”

“Come on, Gus, you know me.”

“Yeah, and you’re a rascal, McCaulley. I don’t trust ya.”

“That was twenty-five years ago, Gus.” The elderly man gave him grief about his long-ago transgression whenever he could.

“I gotta long memory.”

“Obviously. I apologize profusely. I was a terrible kid. Now would you at least ring her room for me?”

“You ain’t got a chance with that one. She’s too smart for the likes of you.”

“That’s what you said about Quinn and Kay and you were wrong on that score, too.”

Gus snorted, put down his paperback and dialed Camryn’s room. He waited a few minutes then hung up the receiver. “She ain’t answering.”

Gus went back to his book and Mack turned away.

Where could Camryn be? The woman had disappeared like smoke up a flue.

Sighing, he walked through the lobby and plunked down on a chair in Jake’s great room where the guests and locals often congregated. Tonight, the room was empty save for that mousy woman with the Coke-bottle glasses.

What was her name again? Tammie Jo? Maybe she’d seen Camryn come through here.

He got up and stepped over to where she sat curled up on the sofa by the low-level fire. She was reading a copy of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Her hair was pinned to her head in that unflattering bun and she wore a fluffy pink chenille bathrobe and outlandish Bugs Bunny house slippers. Somehow he wasn’t surprised at her silly get-up. There was a half-empty glass of milk in front of her and a plate of cookie crumbs.

Party on, Tammie Jo.

He perched on the edge of the heavy cedar coffee table in front of her. “Hello, there.”

She kept her head tucked down, her eyes glued to her book. She was as bad as Gus. What was this? Blow off McCaulley night?

“Remember me?”

She nodded, still not glancing at him.

“You been sitting here long?”

She shrugged.

Was she so shy she couldn’t even look at him? He recalled their encounter in the upstairs hallway. She’d acted pretty spirited then. Maybe it took sexy underwear and provocative talk to bring out the vixen in her.

“Would you happen to have seen a woman come through here? Tall. No wait, she had on really high heels.” He looked Tammie Jo over for a moment. “Actually, she might have been about your size. She had on this really amazing black dress. She’s got hair the color of pecan taffy and killer gams.”

“Sorry,” Tammie Jo snapped. “Didn’t see her.”

Okay. He’d handled that wrong. Apparently Miss Plain Jane didn’t care to hear him rhapsodize about some other woman and how could he blame her?

Mack got to his feet without a second glance at Tammie Jo. “Thanks for your help.”

She didn’t reply, just kept her nose buried firmly in her book. Hy-ca-rumba. She’d come all the way to Alaska to sit on a couch and read?

Shaking his head, Mack left the B&B. Time to go home. He was done with chasing after his fantasy woman. At least for tonight.

HE STILL hadn’t recognized her, Cammie Jo fumed as she combed through the lupines on her hands and knees outside the back door of the community center. It was after midnight, the sun had finally gone down and she had a pocket penlight clutched between her teeth.

Was the man as dumb as a post? Or was he so blinded by Camryn’s supposed beauty he couldn’t see that the blah woman right in front of him was the same one he’d been drooling over all night?

Or was the truth plainer than that? Had he instantly labeled Cammie Jo a nonsexual entity and dismissed her the same way men had been dismissing her for years? She knew the conclusion he had drawn about her. Baggy clothes + thick glasses + no makeup + books + a boring spinster woman.

The thought made her blood boil.

Men, the simple beasts. They were so swayed by appearances.

Take one push-up bra, a pair of colored contact lenses, high-heeled shoes, professional grade makeup and voila`—the cinder girl becomes a princess.

She was put out, disgusted, annoyed and still very attracted to that bothersome Mr. McCaulley.

And for some vexatious reason she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Or the way his lips had tasted on hers.

Why hadn’t she simply come out and said, “Look, I’m Camryn. That’s my real name but everyone’s called me Cammie Jo since I was knee-high to a grasshopper.”

Why? Because without the totem she was too damned shy to speak such things to him. And because she would hate to see the disappointment on his face when he realized she wasn’t the hot, sexy babe he thought she was.

Well phooey on him anyway. She hadn’t come to Alaska to snag a husband. Marriage was the furthest thing from her mind. She wanted adventure and plenty of it. She wanted to sample new foods, drink in novel sights, inhale fresh smells. She wanted to see moose and bald eagles and grizzly bears.

But she wasn’t getting her wish unless she found the missing totem.

Just when she was about to give up, her hand hit something solid in the grass and she yelped with glee. Yes! The hiking trip to the Tongass National Forest was back on for the morning. Cammie Jo shone her penlight over the necklace, found where the string had broken, tied it into a secure knot and slipped it over her head.

Instantly, she felt stronger.

There. To heck with Mack. She was brave Camryn again and as long as she had the totem, nothing or no one was stopping her from having the time of her life.

CAMMIE JO woke at the crack of dawn ready for the hiking tour. She opened her window and breathed in the fresh, clean mountain air. She dressed, laced up her hiking books, double knotted the totem and slipped the necklace over her bulky azure sweater. She wasn’t losing it a second time.

After several attempts, she finally got the contact lenses in her eyes. She tried her best to recreate Kay’s makeup job, and she managed a serviceable replication. She brushed out her hair and let the curls trail down her shoulders as she’d worn it the night before. She checked herself in the mirror.

All right! Camryn Josephine was back.

She scurried through the lobby, apparently the only one awake in the whole place save for the elderly desk clerk who never looked up from the morning paper. Once outside, she found the street filled with passengers leaving the cruise ships for shore excursions. The restaurants were hopping, and the air was permeated with the tantalizing aroma of omelettes, bacon and strong coffee. She purchased orange juice and a blueberry muffin from a street vendor, then headed for the tour bus.

The bus that was to take them to the Tongass National Forest for their four-mile hike idled at a wooden park bench just a few feet from the B&B. Cammie Jo hurried over to find more than a dozen attractive young women and a few middle-aged couples already aboard.

She plunked down in the seat behind the driver. He looked familiar and after a few minutes of studying him she recognized him, not only from the party the night before, but from the Metropolitan magazine ad as well.

He was, quite frankly, the most handsome man she had ever seen, with coal-black hair and eyes the piercing blue of a glacier. He was probably the reason the bus was packed with so many single gals at this time of the morning.

Where as Mack was handsome in a rugged way, this man was handsome in the way of perfect Greek statues and paintings of heavenly beings. She found his beauty incredibly intimidating. On the dashboard in front of him lay a well-worn copy of a book by John Muir.

Caleb, she remembered. Caleb Greenleaf, the naturalist and apparently bus driver as well.

A few more women boarded—they giggled and flirted up a storm with Caleb before finding seats. Then Caleb rose to his feet and began to count heads. He consulted a clipboard. “Looks like everyone’s here except my assistant. He must be running late. We’ll give him a few minutes because it’s hard for me to lead a group of this size by myself.”

Everyone must have been pretty happy just to sit and eyeball Caleb because no one protested too much, although Cammie Jo heard someone behind her whisper, “We’ve got to be back on the cruise ship by noon.”

At that moment, a man in a brown bomber jacket sprang onto the bus.

“Morning, folks,” greeted Mack McCaulley. “Sorry I’m late.”

A wave of forgiving female twitters sounded around the bus.

He held on to the grab bar and remained standing while Caleb closed the door and put the bus in gear. Mack picked up the microphone and held it to his mouth as if to start into the regular tourist spiel when his eyes lit on Cammie Jo.

They both inhaled in unison and their gazes welded.

Mack’s sharp intake of breath crackled over the microphone.

Cammie Jo’s heart slipped sideways in her chest. What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he out flying his plane?

He recovered quickly, introduced himself and began telling everyone about the trip ahead. But Cammie Jo didn’t hear a single word he said. Her mind was a frayed ball of twine unraveling at an alarming rate.

She wrapped a fist around the totem and began to breathe easier. It was okay. She was all right.

They arrived at the edge of the forest in under ten minutes and Caleb parked the bus. He gave instructions for the people to divide into two groups of twelve. One group was to go with him, the other group to follow Mack.

Caleb climbed off the bus and the tourists followed. Mack stayed rooted to the spot, his eyes never leaving her face. Cammie Jo hesitated, not knowing what to do.

Her pulse jumped like water droplets on a red-hot griddle and her tummy tugged to and fro with this swishy-swashy sensation like a washing machine set to agitate.

She shouldn’t be scared. But then she realized the emotion wreaking havoc on her insides was not fear at all. But rather excitement tinged with something else. A feeling she’d never experienced with such intensity.

Sexual arousal.

The air between them was charged with more voltage than any high line wire. Every hair on her arm stood at erect attention.

Cammie Jo gulped. Hard. She was hot and wet and achy down there.

And then the bus was completely empty, save for her and Mack.

He trod slowly toward her, his boots echoing with a solid thud, thud, thud, that matched the crazy rhythm of her heart.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you,” he said.

Cammie Jo jerked her head around, looking for a way out. Not because she was afraid of this bundle of walking testosterone but exactly because she wasn’t. She should have been scared to death because he was so close, so manly, so gosh darn p.o.’d at her. Instead she was turned on like a faucet twisted to full blast.

“No place to run, Sugar Plum.” He was standing directly in front of her in the middle of the aisle, his big hands planted on the backs of either seat. “If you want off this bus, you’ll have to come through me.”

Was she even breathing? All she knew was that his smoldering dark eyes had pierced her clean through and pinned her in place.

Normally, she hated conflict. Avoided it at all costs. But now she possessed a newfound bravado.

“And what kind of bone do you have that needs picking?” she asked coolly, amazing herself with her impudence. “Chicken? Beef? Pork perhaps?”

Ha! He almost smiled. She saw it flit at the edges of his mouth before he gained control by frowning deeply.

“Why did you run out on me last night?”

“Mack!”

They both jumped.

Caleb rapped on the outside of the bus window and tapped at the face of his watch. “We’re burning daylight, bud.”

“Duty calls.” Cammie Jo said with enough sugar in her voice to choke a honeybee.

“Don’t think this lets you off the hook. Sooner or later you and I are having a long talk.”

“Fine with me.”

“Fine.”

They stared at each other.

“You coming on the hike, then?” He inclined his head.

“Why, of course.”

He stepped aside, gestured with a hand. “Ladies first.”

Haughtily Cammie Jo rose, nose in the air, and started forward. She sailed past him, but then promptly tripped over her boot laces as she descended the bus steps, and sprawled face forward in the dirt.

IT WAS AN HOUR and a half into their three-hour hike through the spongy forest undergrowth and Mack couldn’t stop looking at Camryn. He smiled whenever he recalled how she’d leaped to her feet after falling from the bus and dusted herself off before he could get to her. He’d made a move to help, but she’d glared at him so hard he’d stepped backward, palms up in a gesture of surrender. She was a feisty thing; an odd combination of half regal cutie, half fierce tomcat.

Proving beyond a shadow of a doubt she possessed quality number two on his “wife” list.

He halted the group from time to time to give minilectures on the flora and fauna. During these little breaks, Camryn assiduously avoided looking at him, pretending instead to be wildly enraptured with a skunk cabbage or chipmunks or wild blueberry bushes.

Apparently she didn’t think he noticed when she cut her eyes surreptitiously at him. For his part, he stared at her boldly. He had nothing to be ashamed of.

Except she was a distraction to beat all distractions. Some nerdy middle-aged guy outfitted in the wrong kind of footwear kept asking him silly questions. Like, “Why are the Sitka spruce and the western hemlock the only variety of trees in the Tongass?”

“Because that’s the way it is,” Mack had finally snapped and he heard Camryn snicker. Was she laughing at him or the nerdy guy?

Caleb and his twelve adoring disciples were a quarter mile ahead of them in the forest. Mack brought up the rear in his group to prevent stragglers while Camryn had positioned herself far ahead of the pack, as if to put as much distance between them as possible by infiltrating Caleb’s group.

Mack admired the way Camryn’s trim little butt swayed from side to side in those snug-fitting jeans. He loved watching her hair bounce about her shoulders as she walked and the way her sweater adhered to her breasts.

He recalled the moment when they were alone on the bus together and he’d been trying to intimidate her with his maleness, hoping to wring a confession out of her concerning her strange behavior the night before. Instead of being unnerved as he expected, he could have sworn he saw sparks of unmitigated mischief in her fabulous green eyes.

“Which kind of bone needs picking?” she’d drawled, all spunk and sass.

My bone, he’d thought but hadn’t had the guts to say.

An unwitting image of that cute little butt of hers curving above his cupped palm jettisoned itself into his head and just like that, boom!, he got hard.

Taking a deep breath, Mack paused, put one hand on a tree and struggled to rein himself in.

“Oh!” someone up the trail cried and it sounded an awful lot like Camryn.

Mack’s head came up just in time to see a flash of color as she tumbled down the embankment.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

6

JUST CALL ME GRACE, Cammie Jo thought as she somersaulted head over heels down a steep slope into a mossy creek bed where she ended up sprawled on her butt. The totem might cure shyness, but it didn’t seem to do a darn thing to exorcise a chronic case of klutz.

At the thought of the totem, her fingers flew to her neck.

Whew! It was still there.

Chagrined at her clumsiness, Cammie Jo shook her head.

“Camryn,” Mack shouted, “are you okay?”

She squinted up at the top of the hill and saw Mack in silhouette, the morning sun at his back. She waved perkily. “Fine.”

Cammie Jo heard him coming, crashing down through the mossy undergrowth like a bull elephant on the rampage. She was short-winded by the anticipation the sounds of those rescuing feet wrought inside her.

Mack was coming after her.

In a second, he was there, his arms going around her, lifting her out of the damp mud.

Her back was against his chest, she raised her head. His chin was at her mouth so unnervingly close, Cammie Jo forgot everything but the smell of his woodsy skin and how good his solid body felt. Rampant lust raged through her, startling her with the sheer magnitude of erotic sensations.

She wanted him. Hotly, desperately, madly. Here. Now. On the forest floor, in the woods, in the creek. With the squirrels and birds and rabbits watching. He was magnificent. He was sexy. He was…

Laughing at her.

“What’s so funny?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes at him.

“You are, Sugar Plum.”

“I’m not your sugar plum.”

“No,” he said, “I dare say you’re not.”

“Good. So stop laughing.”

“I can’t. You should see yourself. Miss Priss is a mess. Twigs in your hair, mud on your cheek, moss stains on your jacket.”

“Who are you calling Miss Priss?”

“As if you didn’t know.”

“Where is everyone?” She plucked leaves from her curls and looked up at the embankment for signs of the other hikers.

“I sent them on ahead to catch up with Caleb.”

“So it’s just you and me?”

“Yeah.” His voice was husky. “Alone.”

Uh-oh, what was that dangerous look in his eyes?

“Why are you on this hiking trip? Shouldn’t you be out ferrying tourists back and forth from the airport or something?”

“You don’t want me here?”

“I didn’t say that.”

He cocked his head. “Ever since we ran the ad, Caleb’s been swamped with unexpected business. Tuesday mornings are usually slow for me so I’m pitching in for the summer. Helping out a buddy.”

“And getting a eyeful of the backsides of sexy young women.”

“That too.” His grin turned lopsided and he tightened his grip on her waist. “And your backside is the best I’ve ever seen.”

“Liar.”

He held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“You were a Boy Scout?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I find that hard to believe.” She also found it hard to believe that she was standing here in a dark forest alone with the sexiest man on the face of the earth.

“It’s true.”

“Guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“If I kiss you again, will you run away like you did last night?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Why did you run away?”

“Er…because I had something in my eye?” That was no lie, she’d had contacts in her eyes.

“Then why did you climb out the bathroom window and leave me with a broken heart?” Dramatically he clutched a hand to the left side of his chest.

Cammie Jo snorted. “Your heart wasn’t broken.”

“But it was.” His tone was light but the expression in his eyes told her she had wounded his pride.

“A girl’s entitled to cold feet, isn’t she?”

“Oh, so that’s what happened.”

Somehow he’d shifted her around in his arms and they were no longer back to chest but chest to breasts and his face was right there, just waiting to be kissed.

“Are your feet cold now?” he murmured.

“Well, they’re pretty wet. I forgot to wear wool socks like they tell you to do in the guide books.”

He made a clucking noise with his tongue. Tsk. Tsk. She wondered what it would feel like to have him make that same sound inside her mouth.

“You’ll never be a good wilderness woman with that kind of memory.”

“Nor by the way I skim helter-skelter down embankments.”

“True enough.” He languidly plucked a twig from her hair, his rough fingers skimming through the silkiness of the loose strands. How many times had she dreamed of moments like these, of being held by a man like this? “But I’m imagining you must have other skills that’d compensate for your lack of memory and balance.”

“You’d think.”

They peered deeply into each other’s eyes. Neither of them blinked or looked away.

“I’m only guessing,” he said. “But yeah, I bet you’ve got a lot of hidden talents. Can you cook?”

“Nope.”

“Sew?”

“’Fraid not.”

“Good with numbers?”

“Sorry.”

“Hmm, so you’re completely without talents?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Ah.” His pupils widened.

“Keep your mind out of the gutter, McCaulley.”

“How do you know where my mind’s at?”

“That wicked twinkle in your eye.”

With the cool air and the dimness of the forest floor contrasting with the heat and brightness of Mack’s eyes, Cammie Jo’s body came alive like a blossoming flower.

“I would like to kiss you,” he said. “But I’m nervous about making the first move. Considering your cold feet and all.”

“That’s thoughtful of you.”

“That’s me, Mr. Thoughtful.”

“Mr. Full-of-himself is more like it.” She grinned.

“So what’s it gonna be? Do we get up, climb out of here and go find the others or…”

“Or what?”

“You tell me.”

She couldn’t stand any more of this cat-and-mouse stuff. She wanted to kiss him and that’s all there was to it.

Have an adventure. Live a little.

Cammie Jo wrapped her arms around his neck, sank to the ground and pulled him down on top of her.

CAMRYN WAS HUNGRY for him, oh yeah, but it was as clear now as it had been last night that she was no expert at kissing. And if she was a novice at kissing did that also mean she was a novice at lovemaking? Mack had trouble reconciling this—since Camryn was old enough and certainly sexy enough to have her pick of lovers—but he couldn’t deny her inexperience.

When he moved his lips from her mouth to the tender flesh at the nape of her neck and then sucked lightly on her skin she just about came undone.

“What? What’s that? What are you doing?” Her body tensed beneath his.

“Love bite.”

“You mean like a hickey?” She sounded horrified.

“Sort of. If I sucked harder it would be a hickey. But giving hickeys in places people can see is immature. I wouldn’t give you one without your permission.”

“Oh, well, that’s good to know.”

“No one’s ever nibbled on you like this?” He shook his head in disbelief.

“Nooo. Not quite like that.”

“How ’bout this?” He nipped a trail up her neck to her ear, breathing in the intoxicating scent of spruce and moss and sexy woman, then slowly rimmed her ear with the tip of his tongue.

She shivered all over and goose bumps sprung up on her exposed skin. “Is that what they call a Wet Willie?”

“Uh-huh, do you like?”

“Er…actually no.”

“I’m not driving you wild with anticipation?” No one had ever complained about his technique before.

“Personally, I prefer a Dry Herman.”

“What’s that?”

“No tongue in my ear!”

He chuckled. “You’re a hoot. And I like your honesty. No more Wet Willies.”

“Hey, down there. You two need any help?” Caleb’s voice rang out in the forest, ruining everything.

Mack rolled off Camryn and got to his feet. “Nope.” He shielded his eyes with his hands and looked up the embankment at the twenty-four people grinning down at them. “I think we’ve got everything under control.”

“Is that what you call it? Are you two joining us for the trek home?”

“We’ll be right there.” Mack sighed. Just when things were getting really interesting between them, well, except for the Wet Willie misstep. How far might things have gone if Caleb and company hadn’t shown up?

Not too far. You don’t have any condoms on you and it’s a sure bet she doesn’t, either.

They made their way up the hill back to the others, then finished the hike. Mack sat next to her on the bus ride back.

“How ’bout dinner tonight?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I’m thinking not.”

That surprised him. He’d expected her to say yes. “Those iceberg feet of yours again?”

“Something like that.” She smiled, Cheshire Cat-like.

Mack said nothing. He was confused. Did she like him or not? Her kisses had said yes, yes, yes, but now her mouth was saying no, no, no.

“Okay, fine.” He leaned back in his seat, folded his arms over his chest.”

“Oh, why not,” she said. “All right. I’ll go out with you.”

OH GOSH, what would she wear? Cammie Jo perused the dresses Kay had loaned her. They were all so beautiful, it was difficult to choose.

Lulu sat on the floor, thumping her tail and watching her try on first this one and then that one.

The totem kept getting in the way as she tugged the dresses over her head and finally, in exasperation, Cammie Jo pulled it off and laid the necklace on the bed.

She decided at last on a pale lavender silk skirt and blouse set. Humming to herself, she grabbed clean underwear from the dresser drawer and hurried to the bathroom for a long soak in the tub before getting ready.

An hour later, after she’d finished her bath and done her hair and makeup, she padded back to the bedroom in her bathrobe. She glanced at the clock. Seven-twenty.

She’d left the door open so Lulu could depart at will, and it appeared the dog had gone. Cammie Jo shut the door and turned to get dressed. She slipped on the skirt and blouse, wriggled into panty hose and heels, then reached for the totem.

It was gone.

Odd. She could have sworn she left it on the bedspread. Maybe she’d placed it on the dresser and had forgotten about it.

No. Not on the dresser.

A bit of panic began to rise inside her. She dropped to her hands and knees, searched under the bed.

No totem.

She fluffed the bedspread, lifted the pillows.

Nada.

She flung open the dresser drawers, ransacked the closet.

Zippo.

Oh jeez. Oh no.

Dread squeezed her heart as she remembered what Mack had told her about Lulu. The dog was a kleptomaniac.

And then she knew exactly what had happened. That Siberian husky had stolen her necklace!

She looked at the clock. Seven-forty. Officially time to freak out. She couldn’t let Mack see her like this.

A quick glance in the mirror told her the truth. Her shoulders were slumped. Gone was Camryn’s straight, confident posture. Her hair, which only minutes before looked perfect, was now a disheveled mop, rife with static cling. Her mascara had smeared, giving her raccoon eyes and in her worry, she’d chewed off her lipstick. She was a hopeless mess.

She had only one option. Cancel the date.

She searched in the bottom of her purse for Mack’s business card with his telephone number on it. She punched in the number with trembling fingers and left a message on his answering machine, telling him she wasn’t feeling well.

WHAT? SHE WAS breaking their date, blowing him off? Mack, wrapped in a bath towel and dripping water onto the kitchen rug, poked the answering machine button with an outraged finger and played her message a third time.

He called the B&B and asked for her room.

The phone rang. And rang. And rang.

She better damn well be in the bathroom tossing her cookies or she had a lot of explaining to do.

Forget her, McCaulley. A fickle woman isn’t worth the aggravation.

Good advice, but his ego wouldn’t let it lie. What had he done wrong? Mack fumed.

Women! He raked his fingers through his hair, stomped to the bedroom and got dressed. Maybe he would wander the streets of Bear Creek and find her cozied up with some other guy. Mack ground his teeth. And what would he do then?

No, better plan, go see if Jake wanted to grab a beer or two over at the Happy Puffin. It wasn’t as if there weren’t dozens of women in town eager to entertain the Metropolitan magazine bachelors.

Yeah okay, some of those women had numerous pierced body parts and tattoos and green hair but what the hey? Right now that’s exactly what he needed. A night out with his vivacious buddy, flirting with any and every female in sight. That would cure his infatuation with Camryn.

Except drowning his sorrows in beer and female companionship wasn’t really Mack’s style. Deep in his heart Mack was a one-woman man. He wanted that happily ever after and he was scared it didn’t exist. He was worried that he wasn’t any better at picking a wife than his father had been.

Why did it seem he was attracted to gadabout types like Camryn?

Except she wasn’t as fast and loose as she liked to pretend. Her naive kisses gave her away. He took a deep breath, held it a moment then blew it out in one long whoosh.

The fact remained—her tendency to play mind games aside—she was the epitome of his perfect mate.

Just stop thinking about her, will you?

Easy to say, not so easy to do.

He drove over to Jake’s and forced himself not to search the streets for Camryn’s graceful strut. He parked behind the B&B and went in through the back entrance. He heard voices coming from the kitchen, but at this time of day, that wouldn’t be unusual. The door banged closed behind him, and he rounded the corner of the anteroom into the kitchen.

What he saw stopped him in his tracks.

There were Jake and Camryn sitting at the kitchen table, their backs to him, heads intimately close together, voices lowered in confidential tones. Camryn’s hair was caught up with a barrette and pinned to the top of her head in a rather unflattering style, but that didn’t seem to stop Jake. In fact, he reached out, patted Camryn’s hand and muttered Mack’s name.

They were whispering about him. Whispering just like people used to whisper when his mama left.

Mack’s blood froze. Those old memories weren’t what haunted him. Oh no. What gnawed his belly with a fire angrier than rotgut moonshine was the domestic picture in front of him. His best friend in the whole world snuggling up with the woman he was interested in.

They looked too cozy. Too damned cozy by half.

Spurred by a jealousy that took his breath, Mack trod across the kitchen floor and clamped a hand on Camryn’s shoulder.

“Too sick to go out with me, but not too sick to flirt with Jake,” he said in a hard voice that didn’t even sound like his own.

Then she turned her head and Mack realized his mistake.

The woman wasn’t Camryn.

She had the same caramelized sugar-colored hair but there the resemblance ended. Her eyes were lupine-blue whereas Camryn’s were emerald-green, and those eyes in question were almost obscured by her thick glasses.

They both had similar features, yes, but Camryn had a sassy tilt to her head, a confident air about her. This woman’s shoulders slumped. To top it off she was wearing an outfit that stylish Camryn wouldn’t be caught dead in. A high-necked gray sweater and dull brown baggy corduroy trousers. She couldn’t meet his gaze to save his life.

Miss Marshmallow.

Tammie Jo? Was that her name?

He frowned. Surely party-loving wild man Jake wasn’t interested in this shy little thing. Not smooth-talking Jake who could bring the most beautiful of women to their knees with a mere crook of his finger.

“I’m sorry,” Mack said and took a step backward. “My mistake. I was looking for another woman.”

Cammie Jo glanced at Mack then quickly looked away again. A lump of dread and disappointment settled inside her.

Yes. He wanted Camryn Josephine. Not her, Cammie Jo.

But he must want Camryn an awful lot to come storming over here to find her. Cammie Jo’s tummy fluttered.

“Well,” Jake said, “I don’t see any other women here, do you?”

“No.” Mack snorted.

“Sounds like she’s got your hackles up, whomever she might be,” Jake continued.

Cammie Jo studied the table, afraid to look at Mack. Please don’t let him recognize me. Please don’t let him recognize me. Why doesn’t he recognize me?

Was she so inconsequential as her dowdy, timid self that he didn’t even notice her uncanny resemblance to Camryn? She knew with despair the answer to that question.

“You’re right about that.” Mack sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Is she worth the aggravation?” Jake drummed his fingers against the table. “I’ve rarely ever seen you this steamed.”

Cammie Jo held her breath, waited for his answer. She tried her best to remain invisible, falling back on her favored technique of imagining herself part of the woodwork.

“She’s gorgeous, Jake.”

“There are five hundred new women in town who fit that description.”

“She’s got a body that won’t quit.”

Cammie Jo arched an eyebrow, peered down at her form cloaked in her trusty shapeless clothes. He thought she had a great body? She couldn’t stop a smile from creeping across her face.

“So what’s the problem?” Jake asked.

“She’s smart and funny and brave as all get-out. I think she’s double-booking dates behind my back.”

Cammie Jo’s heart wrenched, and she bit down on her bottom lip. She hated knowing she was causing Mack pain.

“What’s wrong with that?” Jake asked glibly. “I do it all the time. In fact, I’ve got four…count ’em, four dates lined up for the weekend.”

“I’m not like you,” Mack said. “I’m a one-woman man, and I want a one-man woman.”

Yes, Cammie Jo thought. You only want one woman and she doesn’t really exist.

“Whoa, buddy, you just met this girl.”

“She’s special.”

“Don’t let your urge to get married cause you to do something rash. I know Quinn made falling in love at first sight look easy, but he and Kay went through their tough times. Don’t, I repeat, don’t leap into anything.”

“How can I? I can’t even find her.”

Cammie Jo couldn’t stand hearing Mack agonize over Camryn.

Pushing back her chair, she pointed to the door. “I gotta…I was…I’m just gonna…go.”

Mack turned to look at her and the expression in his eyes told the awful reality, he had forgotten she was even in the room.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

7

“YOU’RE LATE,” Jimmy greeted Mack the next morning when he arrived at the pier.

“No kidding.”

“You’re never late.”

“I’m late today.” Thanks to Camryn, he’d had trouble sleeping.

“Rough night out chasing women?”

Mack snorted. “Not hardly.”

“Why not?” Jimmy grinned. “I was.”

“You’re only seventeen.”

“Prime chasing age.” Jimmy wriggled his brow. “Got to thank you guys for running that ad. I sure am enjoying the fallout.”

“Maybe you should be enjoying doing your job. You fuel Edna Marie?”

“But of course.”

Mack pulled a pencil from his pocket, consulted the clipboard Jimmy gave him and began running down his preflight check list.

“Got an add-on for the Juneau flight,” Jimmy said. “You’ll have a full house.”

On Wednesdays Mack had a standing route ferrying tourists to the weekly Mendenhall river rafting excursion just outside of Juneau.

“Oh yeah?” Mack knew the UNLV sorority sisters were already on the docket. “What’s the name of the other passenger?”

“Camryn Josephine.”

He almost dropped his pencil. Dammit! He wasn’t ready to face Camryn again. He needed time to get his defenses in place. She didn’t owe him an explanation, and the fact that he even felt like she did, meant he was investing too much in her too soon.

Slow down. Chill out. Act nonchalant.

At that moment a vintage taxi pulled up to the dock and three women got out. The sorority sisters and Camryn.

His gut did this weird loop-de-loop thing.

The sorority sisters wore dark sunglasses and looked as if they’d partied too hearty the night before. They half supported each other in their stagger up the dock and managed weak giggles at Mack.

“Oooh.” One of the sorority sisters—he thought it might have been the one who pinched his butt—moaned. “I think I’m gonna hurl.”

“No, Deanne,” cried her plump friend. “Not here. Not in front of Mack.” Deanne’s friend looked apologetically at him. “She had too many Jell-O shooters last night.”

“Don’t even say the word Jell-O,” Deanne cried.

“You wanna go back to the room?” her friend Pam asked.

No! Don’t leave me alone with Camryn.

“I’ve got airsick bags,” Mack offered.

Deanne raised her sunglasses briefly and squinted at Mack. “I’ll try to make it,” she said.

Mack gave Deanne the front seat. He positioned Camryn directly behind him, thinking this would keep her out of his range of vision and therefore out of his mind during the short flight to Juneau.

Wrong!

He’d clearly forgotten about the sense of smell. Her succulent scent overtook the interior of the airplane and addled his brain.

In desperation, he began giving the tourist spiel, telling the women about the countryside, the glaciers, the weather. He chattered about everything and anything in order to keep from dwelling on Camryn.

Was he pathetic or what?

When they finally reached Juneau and Mack got out to escort them over to the bus that would take them to the rapids, Camryn motioned him to one side.

“May I speak with you a moment?” she asked.

It would be sweet revenge to say no, hop back into his plane and fly away but the truth of the matter was, he didn’t want to do that. Plus, he was flying them back in four hours. No point in returning to Bear Creek. He’d planned to kill time buying supplies in Juneau.

He nodded, took her by the elbow and moved them to a secluded spot.

She seemed nervous, constantly worrying that totem necklace with her fingers. “I’m sorry I canceled our date last night.”

“No big deal,” he said, trying hard to keep his voice on an even keel. “I missed seeing you but if you were sick, then you were sick.”

“That’s the thing.” She looked down at her hands, shifted her weight.

Ah, why did she have to be so pretty? Why did she have to suddenly look so vulnerable? Why did he have trouble convincing himself that this sweet-looking woman was nothing but a capricious heartbreaker? His heart gave a strange hop at the thought.

“I wasn’t sick.”

“Oh no?”

“No.”

He waited.

She lifted her head, met his gaze with a brave stare. He had to give her credit, facing him like this.

“I canceled our date because I was scared.”

“Scared?” He raised a skeptical eyebrow. He’d been expecting her to confess to a tête-à-tête with another man.

“You intimidate me, Mack.”

“Me?” This surprised him. “How’s that?”

Had she been in a bad relationship before? Was that why she was nervous about getting involved? But if that were the case, why come to Alaska looking for a husband?

“It’s not that I don’t like you,” she continued. “It’s that I like you too much.”

“That’s a new one.”

“I’m afraid of getting in too deep, too soon.”

“Well, Sugar Plum, so am I. But the only way we’ll know if this chemistry between us will lead anywhere is to explore it. You gotta take a few risks in this life if you want to get anywhere.”

“I’m not sure I’m prepared for that.”

“And having dinner with me would have been too much for you to handle?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.”

“McCaulley!” A man from the river rafting tour bus called to him.

“They’re probably ready to leave.” Mack nodded.

“Probably.”

He walked Camryn to the bus, feeling hopeful again about their budding relationship. It was up to him to convince her to stop guarding her heart so closely and take a chance. This thing between them might not work out, but oh, the potential if it did.

“We’re short a river guide,” the man at the tour bus said. “You used to be a guide.”

“Yeah.”

“What you doing for the next four hours?”

“Stocking up on supplies in town.”

“Take a raft down the Mendenhall with us. We’ll make it worth your while.”

Mack hesitated.

“Come on,” Camryn said. “Go with us.”

He pretended to consider the offer but he already knew he was going. “All right,” he agreed.

Thirty minutes later they were at the head of a glacier-fed river suited up in rafting gear and life jackets and bobbing down the river in a large rubber raft. There had been fifty people from other tour groups gathered there, and they were seated six to a raft.

Mack sat in the back, guiding the craft along with larger oars as the six passengers rowed with smaller paddles. It had been a long time since he’d done something like this and he found he missed it, even though his arms were already aching from rowing. He was out of practice, not the same strapping college student he had once been when he’d done this for tuition money.

He had to admit he was impressed with Camryn. He suspected she might be too much of a girly-girl to row but no, she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. She plunged right in, laughing at her own beginner’s attempts then smiling brilliantly when she got it right.

“Look at me, Mack! Look at me!” she cried and turned in her seat to face him. “I’m doing it.”

Her exclamation of pure joy dug a hole straight through his chest and sent a languid sensation like heated honey oozing through his veins. The warmth seeped into his body and buried deep in his groin, nearly disorienting him with runaway lust.

“Keep your eye on the river, Camryn,” he said, his measured tone belying the emotional turmoil raging inside him. “We can overturn without warning.”

Camryn turned back around and gave her attention to the water. The totem—which Jake had found in Lulu’s doghouse and returned to her without ever learning how important the necklace was to her—lay flush against her skin under her woolen clothes, rubber rain gear and bulky life jacket. The necklace wasn’t going anywhere this time, even if the raft tipped over in the rapids and they all got soaked.

And speaking of rapids, she could hear them in the distance, water rushing over rocks. Her pulse sped up. Yes! Another adventure.

“The water temperature is forty degrees, folks, so even though it’s a warm day, I’m sure most of you aren’t interested in taking a swim. Do as I ask and hopefully we’ll get down the rapids without going in the drink,” Mack announced when they reached the roaring, white-capped water.

Cammie Jo stared at the churning river. She wasn’t the least bit scared. “Bring it on!” she cried.

“Here we go.”

And then they were in the thick of it. Mack shouted out instructions, telling them when to row, when to hold off. Shouting first “go left” then “go right” as he needed weight to shift in the raft.

Rocks battered the rubber boat. They banged off the slick surfaces, bounced from one jagged outcropping to the next. Then they got caught in the swifter, deeper part of the river and they shot forward, disengaged like a car in a flume ride.

Except this wasn’t some mild amusement park water adventure, this was the real thing. Honest to Pete white-water rafting.

Okay, so it wasn’t the roughest white water around, but she was doing it! True enthusiasts of the sport would no doubt laugh their hineys off at the mildness of the Mendenhall. But dang it, until now the most daring thing she’d ever done in the water was to wade in the kiddie pool at the city park.

Some in their group were gasping with fear. Pam was actually crying. The man in front of her had a death grip on his oar, and his face had gone white as chalk.

Whoosh. Splash. Gurgle.

Cold water pelted her face. Cammie Jo threw back her head and hollered in her best Texas twang, “Yee-ha!”

And from the back of the boat came an answering, “Yee-ha!”

Grinning, she turned to see Mack looking at her. Impishly, Cammie Jo stuck out her tongue.

And in that flash of a second, with Mack’s attention diverted, the raft plowed straight for a huge black rock jutting three feet above the river’s surface.

“Look out!” someone shouted.

But it was too late.

Foom!

The front of the raft hit the rock and was airborne. It seemed as if a dozen things happened at once.

“We’re all gonna die!” Miss Jell-O Shooter shrieked.

“Hang on, folks.” Mack commanded, struggling to regain control of the boat.

Cammie Jo felt the weight of the totem against her chest and she laughed right out loud. “Wheeee!”

“You’re crazy!” Miss Jell-O Shooter snapped at her. “You realize that, don’t you?”

“Crazy about adventure that doesn’t include slurping alcohol from gelatin desserts.” Cammie Jo smiled.

The raft twisted in midair. The passengers were bucked from their seats. The next thing Cammie Jo knew, she was underwater.

But with her life jacket tied securely around her torso, she immediately bobbed to the surface, her hair plastered to her head, her clothes soaking wet.

The water was thrashing her against the rocks but it wasn’t very deep here. Probably three or four feet at most. Except the current was so strong she couldn’t stand up.

She glanced around, saw the raft was beached against a group of rocks a few yards away. Mack was busy trying to snag people from the water and shove them ashore.

Cammie Jo grabbed on to a rock and sat watching him. She simply couldn’t help herself.

Damn, but the man was spectacular.

He was like a battlefield general, ordering the stragglers to obey his commands. He lifted Pam from the water and carried her to dry land. His big forearm muscles bunched beneath the woman’s weight, but he hardly looked affected by the effort. It was hypnotizing, the way he took charge.

He fascinated her.

She wondered what he was like in bed. Would he be so imperious there? She shivered at the image that thought aroused.

After lowering the plump woman to solid ground, Mack lifted his head. Cammie Jo realized she was the lone passenger still in the water and at the same time recognized he probably couldn’t see her from her position behind the rock.

He stood on the shore and scanned the water, feet wide apart, hands on his hips, the cool Alaskan breeze ruffling his dark-brown hair. A worried frown cleaved his brow and he began to prowl the riverbank.

“Camryn,” he called and she could tell he was having trouble keeping the worry out of his voice.

She raised up in the water so he could see her, hands still clutching the rock. His eyes met hers.

Cammie Jo couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to look away.

Then he was coming toward her, splashing waist-deep in the icy water, impervious to the cold and the swift currents. In that moment it dawned on Cammie Jo that her teeth were chattering and her nipples had turned to hard pebbles beneath her clothing.

The expression on his face was an odd combination of disapproval and concern. Cammie Jo felt the tiniest spurt of fear. Was he mad at her?

Then she realized it couldn’t be fear. The totem was still attached around her neck. This alien feeling was something else.

Sexual arousal? Lust? Plain old-fashioned horniness?

She gulped.

He was upon her.

And without a word, he bent down, picked her up and lifted her over his broad shoulder as if she weighed no more than a sack of twigs.

Oh, my stars and meteors!

She almost quit breathing. She had known he possessed muscles to make a gym devotee jealous, but she was unprepared for the feel of his honed shoulder blades against her soft belly. The stupid life jacket got in the way, preventing her from experiencing the full effect of his spectacular body. But hey, she’d take what she could get.

“This is all your fault,” he growled under his breath. “Just remember that if you happen to catch pneumonia.”

“H-h-how is…this…m-my f-fault?” she asked around teeth slamming into each other the way a screen door bangs in a hurricane.

“Standing me up last night. Making me lose my concentration. Giving me that damned ‘come hither’ look when I was supposed to be focusing on my job.”

“So it’s my fault you have the attention span of a gnat?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

She heard the humor in his tone, realized he wasn’t really mad at her. Relieved, she said, “I should be blaming you for causing me to give you a come-hither look.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Sitting back there barking orders like some military man. Sending goose bumps down my spine. You should know women are suckers for powerful men.”

“I send goose bumps down your spine?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know.” Her head was bobbing pleasantly against his rib cage as he slogged through the water.

“You think I’m powerful?”

“Ah, now you’re angling for a compliment. Ain’t gonna happen.”

“Too late, you already said I was like a military man.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

He dumped her unceremoniously on the shore with the others, winked at her and without another word, walked back out to the overturned raft. He easily righted the craft and towed it to the bank.

“Everyone back in.”

“Oh, no,” the hysterical sorority sister cried. “I’m not going back out there.”

“It’s either this or a three-mile hike through the woods. Besides, we’re through the worst of it. Just a little ways downriver there’s an encampment with a nice fire and plenty of refreshments. Now, all aboard.”

Miss Jell-O Shooter and her chubby friend were gazing at him with such longing admiration that Cammie Jo began to think uncharitable thoughts.

Get your eyeballs off my man and put them back in your heads where they belong, ladies.

My man? Where had that come from? Cammie Jo couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Mack but he’d assiduously avoided looking at her again.

What was up with that?

Everyone boarded and they rowed downriver. The rapids quickly petered out. In twenty minutes’ time, they pulled up to the encampment where the other rafters were already gathered.

Cammie Jo was still shivering to beat the band. She huddled near the bonfire, alternating between warming her hands and hugging herself. Someone gave her a cup of hot apple cider, and she drank it gratefully.

A table was set up with snacks—tidbits of smoked salmon, cheese, wheat crackers, caribou sausage, fried apple fritters—but Cammie Jo was still too cold to nibble. An enterprising T-shirt salesman had set up a booth near the food and was selling sweatshirts that read: I Shot The Mendenhall And Survived.

Mack walked over to purchase something from the vendor. Odd, she wouldn’t have figured him buying souvenirs of a river he knew like the back of his hand.

He turned, saw that she was watching him. He crooked a finger. She touched her chest with an open palm and mouthed, “Me?”

He nodded.

Uh-oh. What now?

She left the fire, dropped her paper cup in the trash receptacle provided for that purpose and went to join Mack where he’d moved to the edge of the forest surrounding the little encampment.

He took her by the hand and led her into the trees away from the others.

Hey, wasn’t this how Little Red Riding Hood got into trouble with the Big Bad Wolf?

“What is it?” she whispered without knowing why she was whispering. It wasn’t as if she had anything to hide. Nothing wrong with lurking in the woods with a wolfishly sexy man.

Right?

“Dry clothes.” He handed her the sack he’d gotten from the T-shirt concessionaire. She peered inside. Saw two sweatshirts, one extra-large, the other a small and sweatpants, also size small and a pair of woolen socks.

“You bought me dry clothes.” The clutch in her voice matched the clutch in her tummy. “That was sweet of you.”

He shrugged. “Couldn’t have you getting my plane all wet.”

She grinned.

Then while she watched, Mack casually stripped off his saturated jacket and T-shirt.

Her jaw unhinged and her eyes bugged, she forgot all about being cold and sopping wet.

Glory, glory hallelujah!

She’d seen his bare torso of course. In the pages of Metropolitan magazine. But that glossy, one-dimensional shot simply did not do him justice. No siree, Bob.

Nothing could have prepared her for this luscious sight. Although the hair on his head was the same shade as milk chocolate, the hair on his chest was almost coal-black, curly but not overly thick.

In fact, he had just the right amount of chest hair. He possessed a full-fledged six pack rippling beneath his skin, which was divided right down the middle by a slender line of that mesmerizing body hair. The hair circled his navel and disappeared into the waistband of his trousers.

Her fingers literally ached to stroke that male pelt, and she gulped at the raw intensity of her feelings. It had to be the cool mountain air. High altitude was making her daffy with desire.

Yeah, that’s the ticket.

High altitude.

Not masculine magnitude making her knees weak.

Cammie Jo’s stomach picked that moment to say howdy-do to her throat.

He was watching her from his peripheral vision, perfectly aware of what he was doing to her. He seemed in no particular hurry to clothe himself.

The heathen.

She fished in the sack, found the extra-large sweatshirt and tossed it at him. “For heaven’s sake, cover up.”

“What for?”

“In case someone sees you.”

“Someone’s already seen me.” He took a step closer.

Her heart tap-danced across her chest.

“Do you have any idea how gorgeous you look all mussed and rumpled?”

“I don’t,” she denied, pushing wet hair from her face.

“Ah, but you do. You look like a wilderness girl.”

“And that turns you on?”

“Oh baby, you have no idea.”

He leaned in and she had no doubt he would have kissed her if she’d stayed put, but she was worried that in her disheveled state she might look too much like Cammie Jo and he would finally put two and two together.

“Is there a place where I could change?” she asked, desperate to get away from the incredible pull of his bare body.

He pointed into the trees.

“I can’t get naked in the bushes.”

“Go on. I’ll stand guard.”

Cammie Jo glanced around. The rest of the group were several yards away in the clearing, and no one seemed to be paying them any attention. “Okay, but no peeking.”

“Aw, you’re ruining all my fun.”

“Promise.” She shook a finger in his face.

“I promise.” Mack grinned as if he had no intention of keeping his word.

She pushed her way through the trees, trying to find a more secluded spot. She heard a rustling noise and jumped.

“Mack,” she called out. “I mean it. No peeking.”

“I’m not,” he called back. “Stop being paranoid.”

Hmph. She trusted him about as far as she could throw him.

She walked a few steps farther. Okay. This looked good. She could barely see Mack from here. That meant he couldn’t really see her either.

Perching on a rock, she tugged off her boots and socks, then shimmied out of her wet pants and hung them over a nearby bush. Next came her shirt. She turned and reached for the sack she’d set on the ground.

And found herself nose to snout with a plump black bear.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

8

“ER…MACK.”

“I swear on the Edna Marie I’m not peeking!” Exasperated, Mack shoved his fingers through his hair. You’d think the woman was housing Fort Knox beneath her clothes the way she worried about him seeing her naked body.

“Mack, this isn’t about that.”

“What then?” He refused to turn around. A promise was a promise and he was not sneaking a peek no matter what the little horned, pitchforked devil on his shoulder was telling him.

“I need your help.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Well, there’s this bear sitting on the sack with my sweats in it.”

“What!”

In a flash, Mack was tearing through the bushes to get to her, cursing himself for leaving his pack with the bear spray in it on the plane. He reached her within seconds, his blood muscling through his veins and his heart practically ripping a hole in his chest.

He burst through the undergrowth and found her standing behind a tree, her wet pants held up in front of her nearly naked body, her bare feet curling into the dirt, that ugly totem necklace dangling around her neck. She didn’t look the least bit scared, rather just embarrassed to have been caught in a compromising position.

That surprised him. Most women when faced with a bear would have very understandably screamed or ran. Camryn simply stood her ground and called calmly for him to come help her.

He felt an odd stirring below the belt. Damn if her courage—and of course her near-nakedness—wasn’t firing him up like a piston. Mack swallowed hard, fought off his erection and cut his eyes over to view the source of her discomfort.

The black bear rose up on his hind legs, his nose sniffing the air. He pulled back his lips and made a noise of curiosity.

Relief pushed the air from Mack’s body and he laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Camryn frowned. “There’s a bear trying to wear the sweats you bought me.”

Mack walked toward the bear, flapping his hands at him. “Go on. Shoo. Get out of here, Leroy.”

“Leroy? Don’t tell me you’re naming him.”

“He’s already named.”

“What?”

The bear dropped down on all fours, pawed the sack. Mack stalked forward and retrieved the bag. “There’s no food in there, you dufus. And even if there was, how could you eat it with no teeth? Go on. Get.”

Leroy wagged his head and waddled off into the forest.

“He doesn’t have any teeth?” Camryn tentatively stepped away from the tree.

“Not a one. Everyone around here knows Leroy and they feed him even though they’re not supposed to. How’s the poor guy to fend for himself with no teeth? He probably was under the impression that you’d brought him a treat.”

Camryn laughed and shook her head.

“I can’t believe you weren’t a bit scared.”

“Well, I can’t say I was totally at peace. But he seemed nonthreatening.”

Despite his best intentions not to ogle her, Mack found his gaze drawn like an arrow to a target. Okay, it was more than ogling. He visually ravished her. It was wrong. He knew it. She was vulnerable and exposed, but heaven help him, he couldn’t stop wanting her.

His eyes explored her bare skin, her throat, the soft swell of her full breasts above the plain white bra she wore. He had never seen such a sexy undergarment. His gaze skipped lower, past the narrow tuck of her waist to the gentle curve of her hips. He zeroed in on the vee between her thighs, barely camouflaged by her damp panties.

“Ahem.” She cleared her throat.

“Oh.” Damn if his cheeks didn’t feel hot. He whirled around. What was going on here? Last night he had scratched her off his list, deciding she wasn’t the kind of woman he wanted in his life. But today her behavior had left Mack more confused than ever.

It had been a very long time since a woman stirred him the way she did. Her bravery turned him on more surely than oysters and caviar. But…

Was his desire to get married coloring his perception? Was she really as perfect for him as he thought? Or was he bestowing upon her qualities she didn’t really possess? Qualities that eerily happened to match his mate list.

“Okay. You can turn back around,” she said breathlessly.

He pivoted to find Camryn appropriately clothed. Thank heavens for that.

“We better get back. The bus will be leaving soon.” He jerked his head in the direction of the encampment.

“Before we rejoin the others, may I ask you something?”

“Sugar Plum, you can ask me anything.”

She grinned at him. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night. My treat.”

“No cold feet like last night?” he asked lightly, but inside he felt hot and weighted and anxious.

“I’ll wear three pairs of wool socks,” she assured him.

CAMMIE JO was a woman transformed. She was on a date with Mack, and the totem was around her neck. She felt free and sexy and oh, so courageous. She wore a bright red dress with a flirty skirt she’d bought yesterday in a tourist shop in Juneau. And she had borrowed a pair of strappy, red heels from Kay.

She was embarking on her most dangerous adventure of all. Yesterday morning, she had made up her mind. She was seducing Mack McCaulley come hell or high water. She was going to take a risk, roll the dice, spin the wheel.

Unearthing her latent sexuality was one of the ways she planned on discovering herself and she couldn’t imagine a better first lover than Mack. He had a droll sense of humor that tickled her funny bone. He was passionate—evidenced by how upset he’d gotten when she’d stood him up. He was loyal and kind and considerate. He was strong and brave and adventuresome. Not to mention that he was one sexy hunk of man.

So here they were, back at his place. They’d had a sumptuous dinner of grilled salmon and Alaskan king crab legs and they’d split a slice of cheesecake for dessert. They’d talked about everything under the sun. From Cammie Jo’s job to the spunky grandmother who’d raised Mack and by whom he seemed to measure all women.

They strolled along the shoreline in front of his cabin. She should have been nervous, but she wasn’t. Instead she simply marveled over the fact she was with a handsome man on a real date. If her aunts could only see her now. This treasured wish totem stuff was pretty darned awesome.

“It’s so beautiful here,” she breathed.

Ten o’clock at night and the sun still burned brightly. Clouds hovered around the mountains and the water was a calm icy blue. A pair of bald eagles flitted through the high-topped spruce trees, calling back and forth to each other. She wondered if they were mates.

“I stand in awe on a daily basis.”

“Have you lived in Bear Creek all your life?” she asked, and tried not to audibly suck in her breath when he took her hand.

“All my life.”

“What’s it like, growing up here?”

“It’s pretty great. Although everyone knows your business. Sometimes you can just feel the gossip zipping around behind your back. But nobody means any harm.”

“Have you ever wanted to live anywhere else?”

“Never.” He shook his head. “This has got to be a lot different than where you’re from.”

She nodded, worrying that if she said too much she would reveal some secret about Cammie Jo’s introverted life and give herself away. “It’s a million times more beautiful here.”

“Do you think you could ever live in Alaska?” he asked.

An invisible hand squeezed her lungs. She would like nothing better than to move here for good and the only thing holding her back was her three dear aunts.

“I don’t know,” she finally answered.

He nodded and stopped walking. She stopped too, their fingers intertwined. Mack gently drew her into the circle of his arms. The sound of the lapping water filled her ears along with the noise of her own heartbeat.

He lowered his head. She stood on tiptoes.

Their lips came together.

Okay, so their lips smashed together like a car crash. They were that hot for each other and tired of holding out.

She flung her arms around his neck. He buried his fingers in her hair. For a lifetime she’d wanted this and never even realized the magnitude of her need.

They kissed with movie screen frenzy, all lips and tongues and heat. The scent of him mixed with the scent of Alaska. Ocean breeze and soap filled her nose. Sitka spruce and minty toothpaste. It all mingled in her senses, and she knew she could never separate the man from the state. Mack was Alaska. Alaska was Mack.

And then Alaska itself rudely intruded.

At first it was a low-level humming noise, steady and insistent. For a moment Cammie Jo thought the intensity of Mack’s kisses was causing her ears to ring.

Then she felt the first stinging bite.

Followed by another.

And another.

And another.

What was happening? Her eyes flew open. Omigosh, what were those huge things surrounding them in a thick black cloud? Insects the size of hummingbirds.

Mack grunted, grabbed her hand at the same time realization dawned. Mosquitoes. Whoever claimed they grew things bigger in Texas had obviously never seen an Alaskan mosquito!

“Run,” he said. “The damn things can drain you of a quart of blood in five minutes flat.”

“You’re exaggerating,” she gasped, Mack pulling her headlong toward his cabin. “Right?”

“Only partially.”

Ouch! Cammie Jo slapped at her neck.

He wrenched open his front door and they tumbled inside. Mack slammed it closed behind them. Cammie Jo felt like a prairie wife circling the wagon against the Indians.

“That’s like something out of a horror movie,” she gasped.

“Alaskan mosquitoes are nasty creatures.” Mack turned toward her. “Are you all right?”

“Sure. Who’s scared of Dracula’s second cousins?”

He chuckled. “Let’s attend to the those bites. If we get rubbing alcohol and Caladryl lotion on them quick enough they won’t swell and itch.”

“Really?”

“Come with me.”

He led her to a bathroom off the hallway. She was surprised at the whimsical fish decor. A brightly colored shower curtain featuring several local catches of the day. Sand in a jar. Seashell soaps. Dried starfish and sea horses caught in netting draped from the ceiling.

Mack lowered the toilet lid. “Sit.”

Cammie Jo plunked down while he rummaged through the medicine cabinet.

“Here we go.” He produced cotton balls, rubbing alcohol and a bottle of pink Caladryl lotion. He crouched in front of her, his knees touching her shins. “They didn’t do too much damage,” he said, surveying her face. She noticed he had a few welts of his own. “Ten or twelve bites at most.”

“Ten or twelve!” Cammie Jo’s hand flew to her face. “Good grief, I don’t think I’ve had ten or twelve mosquito bites in my entire life.”

Of course that was because she hardly ever went outside, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Considering the number of the beasts attacking us you should consider yourself lucky.”

“Evidently.”

He took her hand in his to prevent her from clawing the itchy spot on her neck. “No scratching. Worst thing you can do.”

She met his eyes. “I’m assuming these words of wisdom come from personal experience.”

“When we were kids, some of us went fishing on Cook Creek one evening and ran into a swarm. By the time we got back home, we were covered in bites. They even got through our clothing. We were pretty sick. Ran fevers. Those things are nothing to mess with. Yes. I’m hoping you’ll learn from the pain of my misspent youth.”

“Aren’t you the noble one,” she teased.

He grinned. “Aren’t you going to fall for my heroic gesture?”

I’m falling, she thought. More than you know.

“Not for a moment,” she lied through her teeth.

He moistened a cotton ball with rubbing alcohol, then gently dabbed it on her skin. She expected it to burn, instead the astringent soothed the sting almost immediately.

“I hate to think of anything marring this beautiful skin,” Mack murmured and ran a thumb along her jaw.

His gaze met hers. How he loved the arresting emerald color of her eyes. Green as Alaska in the summertime.

“Now the Caladryl.” His voice had grown gruff, and he could hear the rasp in his own ears. He dotted her with pink lotion. Neck, forehead, cheek. When he was finished, he rocked back on his heels.

“My turn,” she said and took the supplies from him.

Her slender, delicate fingers handled the cotton ball with deft movements. The easy way she touched him sent a surge of something hot and urgent gushing through him.

Suddenly, his tongue burned with the memory of her indefinable flavor. He wanted to kiss her again.

“You look like you’ve got the measles.” She giggled.

“Me?” He got to his feet, tugged her after him. “Look in the mirror.”

They peered into the bathroom mirror, first examining their own faces in the reflective glass and then glancing over at each other.

She looked completely adorable with a cotton ball in one hand, Caladryl in the other, that silly totem around her neck. And Mack didn’t miss the fact she was scoping him out as well, her gaze on his lips, which thankfully had been spared from the attack of the bloodthirsty mosquitoes.

Her hair was sexily mussed, her sweet face polka-dotted with pink lotion. The top of her head barely clearing his shoulder. Her delicate petiteness made him feel strong and manly. As if he could protect her from anything.

Except from mosquitoes of course.

“Give me that.” He plucked the cotton ball and lotion from her hands, set them on the counter, then turned to draw her into his arms.

When the date started he had not intended to bring her up to the cabin. Not because he didn’t want her here, but exactly because he did. He wanted her so much, in fact, he couldn’t trust himself to be alone with her in his cabin. He wasn’t ready to take their relationship to the next level, no matter how much his body might be egging him on.

He didn’t want to make a mistake with this one. He wanted to be sure. A whirl through the bedroom would propel them into something neither of them was quite ready to handle and he knew it as surely as he knew his own name.

But despite all his common sense and rational knowledge Mack simply had to taste those lips again knowing full well he was placing himself squarely in harm’s way.

Then again, he’d never been one to shy away from danger.

He never felt more alive than when he was testing his mettle. Except in the past those skills had only pertained to physical danger. Like flying his plane in less than perfect conditions or hiking a glacier alone or the summer he spent in the North Sea fishing for Alaskan king crab.

But he’d never really experimented with his emotional resilience.

These thoughts flitted briefly through his head, blotted out almost entirely by Camryn’s softness in his arms. His body definitely had a mind of its own.

Camryn sensed his uncertainty and in the end, she took matters into her own hands. Brave, daring Camryn plunged in with a fearlessness that impressed him, rising up on her toes and planting her lips on his.

Man alive, she pushed all his buttons.

Moaning low in his throat, Mack anchored her tight against his chest.

Camryn melted in his arms. It felt as if she’d always belonged there.

He dipped his head and kissed her collarbone.

She moaned and dug her fingers into his shoulders to hold herself steady. The pressure expanding in his groin startled him. Whenever he was around her, his body turned hard as stone.

Her soft sounds incited his lust. He’d better watch out. He was getting in deep and he knew it, yet he was helpless to pull back, set her aside and walk away.

She was pressing her hips against his in an erotic motion that made him ache to take her. She was hot for him, and not the least bit ashamed of her desire. If he wasn’t looking for a wife, if he had met her even last year, he would have taken her easily and without this detailed examination of motive and desire.

But he no longer had the freedom to take good sex as he found it. He wanted more from life, he wanted more from Camryn. He wanted a family of his own.

Apparently, though, she was intent on pushing him to the edge of reason and beyond. Her body trembled against his. She ran a tongue along his jaw, brushed fingers through the chest hairs peeping out from the V-neck of his shirt.

Oh to hell with it. She wanted him, he wanted her. He would deal with the consequences later. For now he was blinded by lust and all he could think about was burying himself deep inside her lush, hot body.

He brought her close to him again and that awful totem managed to wedge itself between them. Every time he kissed her, the stupid thing stabbed him annoyingly in the chest. Why was she so fond of the perverted totem? It wasn’t her style.

Irritated, he reached to remove the necklace from around her head and found the button of his shirt had become entangled in the beading.

Gulping in raspy breaths, he struggled to free his button from the bead.

“What are you doing?” She squirmed against him, impossibly causing his rock-hard erection to grow even stiffer. Couldn’t he control himself for one second around her?

“We’re hung up.”

“Let me.” She reached for the button. Their fingers clashed.

“I’ve got it.”

“No. I can do it.”

“Hang on. It’s really stuck.”

Oh dear, oh dear, what was she going to do?

Contorting his body, he raised his arms and shimmied out of his shirt while simultaneously lifting the necklace over her head. Cammie Jo gasped, splayed a hand to her throat.

No. No! Oh what now? What to do?

He had taken off her totem!

And his shirt.

The sight was heart-stopping.

She’d seen him bare-chested on the printed page. And she’d seen him bare-chested in the woods. Yet nothing but nothing could compare with being two inches away from his naked torso.

His skin was tan, his muscles hard and firm. His nipples were dark and puckered. Cammie Jo couldn’t breathe.

“There.” He flung the shirt, totem and all across the room.

Frozen in place, she watched the garment sail to the floor, heard the totem clink as it fell. She gulped once, twice, three times.

Mack grinned wickedly and dipped his head to her lips once more. “Now where were we?”

All her fears rampaged to the forefront of her mind. Without the totem to keep her doubts at bay she was overwhelmed by the reality of the situation. She was alone in a man’s house.

Omigosh, what had she been thinking? Making out with a guy she’d only known four days.

Panic wreaked havoc. She felt sick to her stomach, overheated and faint all at the same time. This was awful, horrible. One minute she was Camryn, feeling brave and sassy and very sexy, turning on the man of her dreams with her feminine wiles and then suddenly like Cinderella at the stroke of midnight, she was Cammie Jo again.

But Mack was still kissing her as if midnight had never struck, as if he had no idea she had already turned into a pumpkin.

Run, Cammie Jo, run. Before he finds out the truth.

She couldn’t move. Her limbs were liquid. He held her close, doing very inventive things with his awesome tongue.

Be brave, she told herself. But courage was impossible without the totem.

His heartbeat pounded through the material of her shirt. Her own heart was whipping adrenaline through her system like a greyhound on a racetrack, and she felt as if she was melting like a scoop of ice cream on a hot sidewalk.

She dovetailed so precisely into him it was scary. If she hadn’t felt so frightened, so out of control, she would have savored how perfectly their bodies fit.

He nuzzled her throat with his chin, stroked the nape of her neck with his fingers. “You’re so sexy, Camryn. You drive me wild.”

But she wasn’t Camryn. Not anymore.

Oh her poor head was scrambled eggs, and panic had her in a vice grip. She couldn’t enjoy a moment of what was happening.

Gotta go, gotta run.

His hand was unbuttoning her dress. He was stroking her skin, sending erotic messages screaming to every nerve ending.

Help!

Her stomach churned. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t even work up the courage to tell him she’d changed her mind.

He pulled her snug against the length of him. His masculine smell invaded her nostrils. His taste filled her mouth. She felt the pressure of his erection through his pants as it throbbed against her thigh.

He was really hard.

And really big.

It was all too much for shy little Cammie Jo Lockhart from Austin, Texas who’d been raised by three maiden aunts.

She took a deep breath, looked up into Mack’s brown eyes and keeled over in a dead-away faint.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

9

WELL, THAT WAS the first time his kisses had ever caused anyone to faint.

Once again he was struck by the paradox of Camryn Josephine. On the one hand she came across as worldly, sophisticated and very much in control. And yet at times she seemed so innocent, so naive, so utterly lacking in guile. He had a hard time knowing which was the real Camryn and what it was he most longed for her to be.

Puzzled, Mack stared down at the limp woman in his arms. Her eyelashes were shuttered closed, her face relaxed. The magnitude of her beauty and the corresponding tightness in his chest unsettled him.

On so many levels she was exactly what he wanted in a wife. They certainly had chemistry. No denying his body’s response to her or hers to him. She was brave and feisty, intelligent and adventuresome, and she had a lighthearted sense of humor that appealed to him.

But he wondered about the other qualities he required in a mate. He had a feeling she was hiding something, but he couldn’t imagine what it was. The notion that she didn’t feel comfortable enough to reveal her secrets disturbed him. And as for her loyalty, well, he still didn’t know if he could really trust her or not.

Gently, he lifted her up, carried her to the bed and laid her across the quilt. He took off her shoes and her dress. He sat down on the bed beside her and fanned her with his hand, thinking she might have gotten overheated.

“Cam.” Mack patted first one of her cheeks and then the other. “Camryn, Sugar Plum, wake up.”

She stirred, sighed softly and curled against his thigh.

“Wake up and tell me you’re all right.” He was starting to get a little worried. If she didn’t rouse soon, he would call Quinn’s sister, Meggie, who was an emergency room nurse from Seattle. She was living in Bear Creek for the summer, recovering from the recent breakup of her six-year marriage.

“Camryn.” He stroked her chin with a finger.

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open and she peered up at him. In that moment she looked like a lost little girl. The tightness in his chest wound into a knot the size of a fist.

She blinked at him, then her gaze fixed on his bare torso. Her cheeks pinked, her eyes widened and she quickly glanced away.

“My totem,” she croaked.

“What?”

She held out a hand, palm extended. “Can I have my necklace?”

Mack frowned. The woman had an unnatural obsession with the obscene thing. “Hang on.”

“And then maybe you better take me back to the B&B.”

“All right.

He got up, retrieved the totem from the floor and handed it to her. She grabbed at the necklace with greedy hands and tugged it over her head.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She sat up against the headboard and this time when she looked at his chest she didn’t glance away. In fact, she even wet her upper lip with the tip of her tongue. Here it was again, her strange alteration in personality. One minute reticent, the next moment brazen. She stared at him as if hypnotized.

“Camryn? Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Just a little too much excitement.”

“Sugar Plum,” he said, still a bit disconcerted by the sudden changes in her. “If you faint at the warm-up match, I can’t wait to see what happens to you in the main event.”

THE NEXT DAY Mack was booked solid flying in more bachelorettes from Anchorage. More than one or two made overt passes at him but Mack deflected their advances with an easy grin. His mind was too occupied with Camryn to bother pursuing anyone else.

By late afternoon, he was chomping at the bit to see her again. They hadn’t made plans when he’d left her at the B&B last night—she’d seemed anxious to get up to bed—but he was hoping she would come to Caleb’s salmon bake with him that evening. He went through the B&B’s lobby and ran into the sorority sisters.

He spent a few minutes listening to their drinking antics before mumbling an excuse and ambling up to the front desk. He asked Gus to ring Camryn’s room, but after several rings, Gus shrugged. “She’s not answering.”

Mack turned, saw the sorority sisters eyeballing him like a juicy T-bone. Gulping, he darted out the back way.

And came across Camryn tossing a Frisbee to Lulu in Jake’s backyard.

He stared at her a long moment before she realized he was there. Mack admired the graceful way she moved, the way her hair bounced over her shoulders when she lobbed the Frisbee. Her compact tush looked absolutely delectable in a pair of white, snug-fitting denim jeans.

Damn! But he was getting a boner just watching her.

Camryn reached out to take the Frisbee from Lulu and his eyes followed the smooth, clean lines of her bare arms. He trailed his gaze up her shoulder, down to her breasts then past the tuck of her waist.

Mack took a deep breath and tried his best to think unsexy thoughts in an effort to deflate his perky Johnson. He wanted to go over and talk to her, but he didn’t want to advertise his flagrant arousal and scare her off again.

Lulu barked. Camryn cocked back her arm and let the Frisbee fly.

The sailing disk came straight toward him.

And it hit with a hard thunk against his nose.

“Good God, woman,” he roared in pain, his hands closing around his nose. “Watch where you’re aiming that thing.”

Oh well, he didn’t have to worry about offending her with his overeager boner. It was long gone now.

“Mack!” She sprang to his side. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you standing there.”

“Obviously.” He winced.

“Let me look.” She crowded closer. “Is your nose bleeding?”

Mack took his hands from his face. “I don’t think so.”

She stood up on tiptoes, touched the bridge of his nose with a fingertip. Suddenly, the pain vanished.

She was within kissing distance. He lowered his head, intending to take her lips at the same moment she pulled back, clearly unaware of his plan.

His nose ended up bumping the top of her head. “Ow!”

“Omigosh.” She clamped a hand over her mouth. “I hurt you again.”

“No kidding.”

“Were you trying to kiss me?”

“I made an attempt, yes.”

“I’m sorry.” She clasped her hands behind her back, lifted her face up to his and puckered her lips. “You can kiss me now.”

“Sorry, but the moment’s kinda shattered.”

Still, there was no way he could resist planting at least a small kiss on those willing lips. He stepped back. She gave a dreamy sigh and smiled at him.

“You’re a great kisser.”

“You’re not half bad yourself,” he said gruffly and worried that Mr. Boner might try to put in another appearance. “I see you suffered no ill effects from your mosquito bites. I can barely tell where they were.”

“Thanks to you and your quick administration of rubbing alcohol and Caladryl.”

Their eyes met and Mack felt weirdly breathless.

“Hey,” he said, more to distract himself than to make conversation. “Where’s your totem?”

“What?” Camryn’s hand flew to her neck. “It’s gone!”

Camryn grabbed a fistful of her hair in her hand and tugged. Not again! Frantically she cast her gaze around the yard, saw that Lulu, the consummate thief had disappeared.

Mack was giving her the same funny look he’d given her last night when she’d left his place early. If she didn’t stop losing that frickin’ totem, he would start believing she was psycho woman.

Still, she couldn’t help her reaction to the news that the totem was missing.

It was probably missing when you kissed him and that didn’t scare you.

Well, that may be true, but she was scared now. Hyperventilating in fact. Her knees were as shaky as those paint-mixing machines in the hardware store. She felt herself changing right before his eyes, morphing into nerdy Cammie Jo.

Yipes! She had to get away from him. Pronto.

Easy. Take it easy. Don’t sprint. You keep running out on the guy and sooner or later he’ll write you off as a lost cause.

“What time is it?” Cammie Jo asked in desperation. She could pretend she had an appointment.

“Five-thirty.”

“Oh, ’scuse me,” she babbled. “I gotta go.” She pointed over her shoulder. “There’s something I’ve got to do.”

He was standing between her and the back door, blocking her escape into the B&B. Her heart crashed around inside her chest like coins in a change machine.

“Oh yeah? What have you got to do?”

“Uh…” Darn it. She couldn’t even think without the totem.

“Yes?” He lifted his eyebrows, waited.

“I gotta go somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Um…um…” She was a rotten liar, and it didn’t help that he was staring at her like the Grand Inquisitor. “I’m going over to Kay’s.”

“Kay and Quinn are in Anchorage.”

“They’re not!”

“They are. Flew them there myself not three hours ago, and I’m not picking them up until tomorrow morning.”

“Oh.”

“So tell the truth, Camryn. What’s going on?”

She couldn’t tell him about the totem. It would ruin the magic and with the magic gone, she would no longer be the woman that turned him on. His dark glare quelled her like Godzilla quashing Bambi.

She opened her mouth but no words came out. She couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

Get away, go. Flee.

But this might be your last chance to make things right with him, protested her ragged heart.

She darted around him.

He grabbed for her but she was smaller and quicker. All he got was the hem of her shirt.

Cammie Jo heard a loud rip, felt a draft of cool air on her skin, but she didn’t look back.

The galloping beat of the William Tell Overture pounded in her brain as she ran from him.

Whiz!

She sprinted into the kitchen.

Whoosh!

She barreled through the double doors, hurled her body past the reception desk.

Crash!

He was coming behind her and had obviously knocked something over. But she didn’t dare throw a glance over her shoulder to find out what.

“Camryn, you come back here this instant,” Mack thundered.

Cammie Jo skidded past a couple of women at the bottom of the staircase. They jumped back in surprise. Hauling in a deep breath, she leaped up the steps two at a time, pounded down the hallway and ran into her bedroom. Without even stopping to turn the lock, she dove into the closet and slammed the door.

Change. She had to change. Get out of her Camryn clothes and into her dull Cammie Jo duds. Pop out those green contacts and slap on her eyeglasses. Pin her hair in a bun and maybe jam on a hat. That way, if he found her, he’d do as he always did when he saw Cammie Jo—ignore her completely.

ENOUGH WAS ENOUGH. Even a patient man had his limits and Mack was not particularly patient. Camryn had just pushed him to the edge of reason. He wanted an explanation and he wanted one now. He deserved to know the real reason she kept running away from him.

“Camryn,” he shouted, unmindful of the people in the lobby staring and tittering. Look what the woman had reduced him to. He was a man who valued his privacy. A man who hated to be talked about behind his back, and now here he was making a spectacle of himself over a woman.

Shameful.

But his reluctance to put his personal life on display didn’t stop him from going after her. His anger was greater than his self-consciousness.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he realized he didn’t know what room she was staying in. Dammit.

“Camryn,” he called again and wasn’t surprised when she did not answer.

He trod down the hallway, saw that one of the bedroom doors was standing slightly ajar. He rapped his knuckles against the door and called out, “Hello.”

From inside the closet, Cammie Jo heard the outer door creak open and she sank back against the wall. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut she realized that in her haste she’d neglected to close and lock the outer door.

“Hello?” he called again.

She heard his footsteps coming closer as he walked across the floor. Cammie Jo froze. Her pulse pounded like a rabbit hiding from a marauding coyote. She was half-dressed, her torn shirt peeled off and lying on the floor, her white denim jeans unzipped. She was afraid to move. Afraid he would hear her.

Her eyes flew open but she couldn’t see much in the pitch blackness of the closet.

More footsteps. Were they receding? Or was he just walking around, checking out the bathroom?

A woolen sweater hanging in the closet brushed against her nose. She shoved the sleeve from her face. Her upper lip itched.

Ach-oo! She sneezed, then held her breath.

Softly there came a tapping, a gentle rapping at her closet door.

Maybe she’d gotten lucky and it was a big fat black raven muttering “Nevermore.”

Dream on sister.

“Camryn.” Mack’s voice had the tonal quality of a parent who was trying to discipline his child without giving in to his anger. “I know you’re in there. I can hear you breathing.”

Liar! I’m holding my breath.

“Come on out, you’re not fooling anyone.”

Maybe if she just wished hard enough she’d wake up in her own bed in Austin.

“I think I deserve an explanation. I want to know what’s going on.”

Cammie Jo exhaled.

“Why do you keep running off every time we start to get close? Do you have some big dark secret you need to tell me about?”

Yes!

“Or,” he said, “are you seeing someone else? I need to know. I’m not the kind of guy who likes sharing his woman with other men.”

Share his woman? What was this? Mack considered her his woman?

“I need to know.”

He was jealous! The realization dawned on her and she felt a strange sense of feminine power. To her knowledge, no man had ever been jealous over her. Oh the poor baby. She longed to cradle him in her arms, whisper reassurances in his ear. All this time he thought she’d been dashing off to keep dates with other men.

But would he be jealous of the real Cammie Jo if he knew the truth?

“Please,” he said, “come out and talk to me.”

Cautiously, she opened the closet and peeped out to see Mack sitting slump-shouldered on the foot of the bed. He looked hurt, disappointed, dejected.

“I’m not seeing anyone else,” she whispered, holding up her bathrobe in front of her nearly naked torso.

He raised his head, pinned her to the spot with his dark-eyed gaze. “Really?”

She nodded.

“’Cause it would hurt me if you were. My mother used to run around on my father. It was a pitiful thing to watch and I swore I’d never have an unfaithful wife. I was engaged once and she dumped me for a richer guy so excuse me if I seem a bit suspicious. If you’ve got someone else on the string, just tell me. I’ll bow out of the picture. No hard feelings. Just please don’t lie to me.”

She ached to go to him, to wrap her arms around him, to assure him she was most definitely a one-man woman, but she couldn’t. Not without the necklace to give her courage.

“I’m not seeing anyone else.”

“You don’t have another date tonight?”

“No.”

He stood up and walked toward her, but she retreated back into the closet. His scent filled her nostrils, his nearness had her shivering.

“I’m not dressed.” She used the handy excuse to deflect her fear.

“Why don’t you and I go to Caleb’s salmon bake tonight?” he proposed. “Later, we’ll have a long talk about a lot of things.”

How could she possibly go without the totem? The idea of walking into a party full of strangers struck terror into her heart.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, “but I can’t.”

“Well,” he said, and clasped his hands together. “I guess that’s it. There might not be another guy in the picture, but obviously there’s some reason you don’t want to be with me. Either come with me tonight, Camryn, or I’m calling this whole thing off.”

Call off their romance? Before they’d even had a chance to indulge in such fun games as Slap and Tickle or Red Rover, Red Rover Let The Bare-Chested Hunk Come Over?

No. Not that. Anything but that.

But the serious expression on his face told her if she didn’t go to the salmon bake with him tonight it was indeed goodbye, bachelor.

Cammie Jo gulped and her hand went to her throat as if simply by touching the spot where the necklace had lain against her skin she could extract an ounce or two of bravery.

Damn that kleptomaniac Siberian husky.

“Well, Camryn, what’s it going to be? I really need an answer because I’m starting to care about you, and I refuse to get serious over a woman who can’t commit. So if you don’t feel the same way, now’s the time to let me know.”

Omigosh! Mack was starting to care about her?

Ka-thung, ka-thung, ka-thung, rang her heart.

She dropped her gaze. So this was it. The relationship was over before it ever really began. But what had she expected? How could she and Mack form any kind of meaningful bond based on a myth?

What to do? What to do?

Camryn shook her head, unable to speak.

“Right, then.” He dusted his palms, got off the bed. “It’s over.”

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

10

“OH, AUNTIES,” Cammie Jo sobbed into the phone during the conference call with her three surrogate mothers. “I’ve made such a mess of things.”

She proceeded to tell them what had happened then added, “The thing is, Mack’s crazy about Camryn, but he doesn’t give me the time of day.”

“But you are Camryn,” Aunt Coco pointed out.

“Not without the totem. Me and my alter ego are as different as night and day. She’s beautiful, and I’m not. She loves to flirt, and I don’t have a clue. She’s brave, and I’m a scaredy-cat.”

“That’s nonsense,” Aunt Kiki said. “You’re the same person.”

“And when I’m with Mack, I feel like a big old fraud. And a liar.”

“You’ve never told a lie in your life, Cammie Jo.” Aunt Hildegard clucked her tongue.

“I have now. Mack thinks I’m this bold, wonderful woman and I’m not. This treasured wish totem is more a curse than a blessing, it really is.”

“But without it, you would never have had the courage to go out with Mack,” Aunt Coco pointed out.

“I’m beginning to think that would have been for the best,” Cammie Jo replied mournfully. “I’ve never hurt so badly.”

“Oh, honey, I wish you were here so I could give you a hug.” Aunt Coco sighed into the phone.

“I’d steep you a cup of chamomile tea,” Aunt Kiki chimed in.

“And I’d bake that lemon Bundt cake you love so well,” Aunt Hildegard finished up.

How nice to be home and in the comforting protection of her aunties’ arms. Cammie Jo sighed deeply. She had an overwhelming urge to book a flight to Texas and leave without a parting word to anyone.

The coward’s way out.

She’d used that avenue of escape far too many times in the past, she realized. She’d been hiding behind her aunts too long. Falling back on their TLC when she was too afraid to face the world. She was ashamed of herself.

“Now Mack’s under the impression that I’m a cheating, heartbreaking witch.”

“Well, sweetie,” Aunt Kiki said, “you’ve just got to prove to him he’s wrong.”

“I can’t!” Cammie Jo wailed. “The totem is missing.”

“You could come home,” Aunt Coco said. “If it’s too much for you.”

“Or,” Aunt Hildegard put in, “you could stay there and turn Alaska upside down looking for that totem, the way your mother would have.”

Ooh, what was with the guilt stick? Aunt Hildegard had never spoken to her like this before. Cammie Jo sat up straighter.

“Excuse me?”

“Well dear, you did make the wish, the least you could do is see this through.”

“Please,” Aunt Hildegard spoke again. “Take a chance, Cammie Jo.”

“And if he doesn’t love me?”

“Then,” finished Aunt Kiki, “you’ll come home a new woman. A little battered, a little wiser, but free, liberated and as brave as your mother ever was.”

Cammie Jo told her aunts goodbye and hung up the phone. Dejected, she plopped down on the bed. Her aunts’ staunch belief in her was touching, but misplaced. They had no idea how lost, lonely and helpless she felt. Without the totem, she was paralyzed.

The jingling sound of dog tags drew Cammie Jo’s forlorn attention to the doorway. There sat Lulu, tail wagging, with something dangling from her mouth.

“Lulu!” Camryn exclaimed and sprang to her feet. “You’ve got my totem.”

CAMMIE JO breezed down Main Street in snug-fitting, low-slung denim shorts, high-wedged sandals and a rainbow-hued handkerchief halter top. Heads turned. Men whistled. Horns honked.

She grinned and strutted her stuff, the totem necklace bouncing merrily off her chest. She was on her way to get Mack back.

Humming under her breath, picnic basket swinging from her elbow, she strolled along Inlet Road toward Mack’s house. She walked past the pier where the floatplanes were docked, and caught sight of the Edna Marie. Mack was untying the plane and it looked as if he was about to take off.

Omigosh, he was leaving.

Cammie Jo took off at a run, waving her hand and hollering for him to stop.

He raised his head.

Their eyes met.

“Wait!” she cried. “Wait for me.”

He waited.

She stopped a few feet away from him, panting for breath.

He studied her, unsmiling. “What do you want, Camryn?”

“I came to make peace,” she said, and held up the picnic basket. “See, I brought sandwiches.”

“I hope you didn’t break your other date for this because I’m not interested.”

Cammie Jo stamped her foot. “Darn it, Mack. Will you stop being so stubborn. I’m not seeing anyone else.”

“So why didn’t you agree to go to Caleb’s party with me?”

“Because, I don’t like being given ultimatums.”

“I see.”

“Where are you going?” She inclined her head in the direction of the floatplane.

“I need some time alone to think.”

“Want some company?” Her heart was pounding a thousand miles an hour. She was afraid he would turn her down, tell her to get lost.

A slight smile raised the corner of his lips. He opened the passenger side of the plane. “Get in.”

Woo-hoo! Cammie Jo hopped inside.

Mack flew them up out of the mountains and she wasn’t a bit afraid. “Where are we headed?” she asked.

“My favorite hideaway.”

“Hmm, sounds intriguing.”

Several minutes later, he landed the Edna Marie in a lake near a lush grassy meadow. It seemed they were a million miles from nowhere. He helped her from the plane, took a blanket out of the cargo hold and spread it across the grass. He lay down on the blanket, and patted the spot beside him.

Cammie Jo eased to her knees. The big wide Alaskan landscape seemed suddenly small and very intimate, with Mack’s brawny body taking up most of the space. She’d never been so vitally aware of another human being in her life.

They ate their picnic in silence, enjoying the quiet meadow, savoring the food. But once the meal was over, they had no more distractions.

Mack lay stretched out on his back, palms cradled under his head, staring up at the wide expanse of sky. Cammie Jo sat next to him, admiring his hard, masculine body.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For acting like a caveman back there at the B&B. I had no right to issue you an ultimatum.”

“That’s true.”

“I was being selfish. You’re such an incredible woman. I didn’t want to share you with anyone.” Mack snaked an arm around her waist, tugged her against his body. “Will you forgive me, Sugar Plum?”

“But of course.”

Sugar Plum. She adored the way he said those words. Loved the look in his eyes when he spoke them. His soft, sexy growl made her feel very special.

All her life, she’d been too shy to get this close to a man, had no real notion of how to act around the opposite sex. She had suppressed her sexual needs, sublimated them through her academic achievements. Created her own safe little cell. A jail from which to view the world.

The totem had freed her from that cozy prison of her own making. Freed her to make fantastic choices. Freed her to explore the depths of her uninvestigated desires.

She wanted Mack to make love to her. Wanted it very, very much.

But how could she make love to him under false pretenses? And how could she tell him about the totem, knowing that once she did, the very qualities he loved most about her would disappear?

Mack traced a finger along her bare arm at the same time he dropped kisses on her neck. Her world narrowed in the eternal flow of passion. What was reality anyway? She was Camryn and Camryn was she. Did it really matter that she had to wear a totem in order to be what he wanted her to be?

When Mack rolled her over onto her back and ran his lava-hot tongue down the hollow of her throat, Cammie Jo chucked caution to the breezy wind. She’d come here for an adventure, and she was having it.

Tomorrow loomed far in the hazy distance. All that mattered was this moment. She was living her fantasy. Indulging in the most far-fetched dream imaginable. A handsome, eligible, marriage-minded Alaskan bachelor was kissing her.

And doing a lot more than kissing, it seemed.

His fingers had undone her skimpy halter top and he was running his work-roughened fingers over her smooth, satiny skin.

Mack seemed to know exactly where to touch to elicit the most sensations from her receptive body. He stroked and nibbled. Kissed and caressed. He licked and sucked. Kneaded and massaged.

The meadow flowed into a montage of sensation. The tall grasses rustled and rippled like party streamers. The fresh smell of sunshine and mountain air roused her libido.

Here she was, acting like the brave, wild woman he thought her to be. Something, either Mack’s kisses, the untamed environment or the totem necklace released the spirit of the Alaskan woman buried underneath a lifetime of shyness.

She wasn’t born here, but her mother had been. It seemed that bond reached through space and time. She felt grounded, settled, content in a way she’d never felt before coming to this beautiful, primitive land.

Her halter top fell away from her shoulders. Mack’s teeth nipped lightly at her exposed skin. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply.

“You smell so good,” he murmured with a tenderness that touched her soul. “Like summer itself.”

His hands were undoing her halter bra. He flicked the material away then bent his head to draw one nipple into his mouth.

Cammie Jo gasped at the sensation. “Oh,” she whispered, “oh.”

He lifted his head. His gaze met hers and held it for a long, long time. She saw in those delicious brown depths exactly how much he wanted her.

His desire was a powerful thing.

This man wanted her. Her! The girl who, until this week, had never even been on a real date.

Not you, stupid. He wants Camryn Josephine.

His mouth seized hers, numbing her to any and all thoughts except his passion. Shivering, Cammie Jo forgot about everything else and simply surrendered.

Mack gazed upon Camryn with awe. Her nipples perched like hard little buttons atop her gorgeous breasts. Her bare skin glowed ethereal in the evening sunlight.

He ached just looking at her. He wanted to make love to her so badly he’d almost forgotten his own name. It felt so right.

And yet the risk of getting involved with the wrong woman at the wrong time in his life held him back.

But what if she was the right woman at the right time? He wanted to trust her with his heart, but did he dare? He propped himself up on one elbow, and stared into her vivid green eyes.

“Camryn,” he murmured her name, intending then to tell her about his “wife” list and whisper to her that he thought she was the perfect woman for him.

“Yes, Mack?”

“There’s something I’ve being meaning to ask you.”

“Oh?” She sat up, tucking her legs beneath her. Her hair was a soft, disheveled cloud of caramel. Her scent filled his lungs.

Something, he couldn’t say what, although he suspected it might well be fear, held him back. Instead of speaking the words that would bare his soul and place his heart firmly in her hands, he asked, “Would you like to go glacier hiking with me next week?”

“WHAT DO YOU THINK?” Mack asked, raising his voice in order to be heard over the helicopter noises. He’d flown them in the Edna Marie to Haines, where he’d borrowed a buddy’s helicopter. He’d learned to fly both planes and choppers during his stint in the Air Force.

For the past few days, they’d been dating nonstop.

This was his final test. Camryn would be leaving Bear Creek in two days, and he had to know for sure whether their relationship stood a chance of working or not. On the glacier, he would find out if they really could trust each other. If things went well, then he would tell her exactly how he felt about her before she left for Texas.

Mack had spent all his free time with her, neglecting his friends, neglecting his chores, neglecting everything but Camryn. They’d fished and kayaked. They’d ridden horseback and trekked into the woods to photograph wildlife. And with each passing day he’d come to admire her more.

She grinned and hollered back, “It’s fantastic.”

Ahead of them the glacier loomed cold and imposing in its frigid beauty. Mack had seen it a thousand times but the sight never failed to strike awe inside him. Much in the same way gazing at Camryn did.

They flew low to the water. Camryn laughed out loud when she spotted harbor seals lounging on ice floes. And when he pointed out a humpback whale, she literally choked up at the sight.

“It’s so beautiful.”

“You okay?” he asked and patted her leg.

Camryn nodded. “I’m just going to hate leaving all of this.”

He set the helicopter down on an icy plateau nestled in a cradle of mountain peaks. They put on their climbing gear and collected the supplies they would need for a morning of glacier navigation.

Cammie Jo was so excited she could barely stand herself. Mack helped her down from the chopper. Even though she had on four layers of clothing, the bite of cold air was unexpected. She gasped in surprise and delight. Now this was how she’d imagined Alaska.

The ice was slippery beneath her feet and if Mack hadn’t been there to catch her, she would have fallen. But because he was at her side, because the totem lay around her neck buried under the layers of her clothing, she had nothing to fear. His strong, vibrant arms spanned her waist, holding her steady, anchoring her in place.

In that moment, Cammie Jo realized there was nowhere else on earth she’d rather be than in Alaska with this man. She’d spent a lifetime dreaming of this, while at the same time fearing that her heart’s desire would never come true.

And now she had it all.

But for how long?

As if sensing her mood he reached out a gloved hand and tenderly caressed her cheek.

She looked into his eyes. She was leaving Bear Creek in two days time. Was there any hope for a long-distance relationship? Was there any chance he could love the real Cammie Jo?

She smiled with false brightness. “Let’s start hiking.”

“That’s what I love most about you—your gung ho attitude.”

Love.

There was that word that warmed her to her toes at the same time it worried her.

To hide her confusion, Cammie Jo took action. She tossed her head and marched bravely out across the mountain of ice.

It was like walking on the inside of a freezer, cold and crunchy. Her crampons bit into the ice, holding her secure. She felt invincible.

She could scarcely believe she was the same Cammie Jo who used to hide behind the couch as a child when visitors came over, too shy to even come out despite promises of sweets and treats.

The heady reality of finally living her dream was a powerful enticement. She’d never felt so free, so fully alive as she did at this moment.

“Careful,” Mack warned. “A glacier is a dangerous place.”

Ha! She wasn’t scared. Bring on the glaciers and the polar bears.

Mack hurried to catch up with her, a strange clutch in his guts. Camryn was scurrying over the ice like a crazed woman, laughing and joking. He had wished for a brave woman, an adventuresome wife. A lady wild enough to handle Alaska without blinking twice. And he thought he’d found that woman in Camryn.

Now, he was beginning to wonder if maybe she was too much of a good thing. He thought of his list. When he’d recorded his desirable qualities in a mate, he’d neglected to consider the negative side of those traits. Bravery could translate into foolhardiness. An adventure could easily become tiresome. He wondered for the first time if maybe he needed different qualities in a wife. Did she really need to be his best buddy?

But then his eyes trained on Camryn’s fanny, bundled so enticingly in tight ski pants. He had to admit he was helpless when it came to chemistry. Briefly, he closed his eyes, and fought off his arousal.

“Wait up for me, Camryn. You could easily fall into a crevasse.”

“Catch me if you can!” she called out, and damned if she didn’t take off running.

Real fear for her safety kicked him into high gear and moving as fast as caution would allow, Mack took off after her.

“Camryn, Sugar Plum, no kidding, slow down.” His voice echoed eerily off the surrounding mountains. The crisp cold air he normally loved suddenly seemed far too frigid.

She was twenty yards ahead of him, blithely gawking at the majesty around her. “Don’t be a fuddy-dud, Mack, let’s have some fun. Tag, you’re it.”

Was the woman bonkers? Didn’t she realize they were treading on the face of an ice field?

“Camryn Josephine,” he scolded. “Stop in your tracks right this minute.”

“Or what?” She turned and saucily stuck her tongue out at him.

He wanted to whip her off the ice, toss her over his shoulder, cart her back to the helicopter and make love to her right then and there.

“Or I’ll turn you over my knee and spank your fanny.”

She didn’t look the least bit intimidated. In fact, she was walking backward, still moving away but facing him. “And what if I like it?” she dared.

He could just see her falling into a crevasse, breaking that pretty neck before he had a chance to wring it. “You probably would, you ornery critter.”

Her grin widened. “Why don’t you try it?” she teased.

“Stay right where you are and I will.” He took several long-legged strides. The ice cracked ominously beneath him.

She didn’t look the least bit concerned. Not about falling into a crevasse or the risk of him paddling her backside. “Like I’ll make it that easy for you.”

“Seriously, Camryn, I’m not joking. Please wait for me.”

“Nah, nah, you can’t catch me.”

“I’m not trying to catch you.”

“I’m not falling for your ploy.” She zipped ahead of him, out of reach.

When he got hold of her, he would kiss her until she promised never to do anything this foolish again. Determined to snag her before she hurt herself, Mack stalked after her.

He was so busy watching to make sure she didn’t slip and fall that he neglected to watch his own step. One minute he was standing upright on the glacier. The next minute, he was sliding sideways down a sheet of ice.

“Oh, Mack,” Cammie Jo teased in a singsong voice.

This was so much fun! She was playing the way she’d never been able to play as a kid. Her aunts had never let her ride a bicycle. She might fall off and skin her knees. They’d refused to let her have skates or play sports or even run. It was as if Mack had shown her how to reconnect with the little girl who’d lost out on so much fun.

She stopped and peeked over her shoulder. Hmm. No Mack. Where had he gone?

“Mack? Where are you?”

She sobered immediately and began to retrace her steps. There was nowhere to hide except in the helicopter, and it was a good quarter-mile away. He couldn’t have gotten back to it that fast. There was only one place he could be.

Numerous crevasses cut their way through the ice. Deep fissures that went down into the belly of the glacier. They hadn’t scared her at all. She’d watched and dodged them. But if you were to fall into one…

“Mack!” she shrieked. “Where are you?”

“I’m here, Camryn.” He sounded supremely calm and his composure soothed her.

But all she could see was a white-blue expanse of ice stretching out endlessly before her and the gathering of clouds rolling in through the mountain pass.

“Where is here?”

“Step carefully to your left.”

She eased over, head down, eyes searching the fissures and cracks running under the ice. Surely none of these were large enough to swallow a man’s body.

“Mack?”

“Keep coming, Sugar Plum.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“No recriminations. It wasn’t your fault. It’s simply a risk of walking on the glacier.”

“But if I hadn’t been acting so silly, if only I’d listened to you.”

“Hush,” he commanded sharply. “No more of that.”

Her throat tightened. If anything happened to him she would never forgive herself.

Up ahead, she spotted a big crevasse. Why hadn’t she seen it before? Cammie Jo crabbed forward, angling her head sideways to peer over the icy ledge.

Her breath caught in her throat when she glimpsed Mack’s dark head.

He was three feet from the surface, his body wedged into a narrowing by his backpack, his pickax buried into a shelf of ice. He was holding on with both hands to prevent himself from slipping deeper.

Gingerly, Cammie Jo sank to her knees and leaned out over the crevasse.

He smiled up at her.

Her heart somersaulted.

“You okay?”

“I’m okay. But we’re in something of a pickle. When I fell, I dropped my cell phone. I need for you to go back to the helicopter and radio for help. Can you do that?”

Could she do that? Well of course. She had the totem. She could do anything.

Cammie Jo reached up to caress her necklace but she didn’t feel the reassuring bulge. She patted her thick coat.

Panic welled inside her. No! Not again. Not now.

Frantically, she sat up and stripped off her coat. It had to be here. Even if the clasp broke.

She stripped off her sweater, her shirt, right down to her bare skin. She had to face facts.

The totem was gone, and Mack needed her.

“Camryn? What’s the matter? What’s wrong?”

Mack’s urgent voice yanked her back to reality. Shivering with fear and cold, she buttoned up her shirt, slipped back into her sweater and coat. Her breathing came in short, shallow jerks. She couldn’t answer him. She couldn’t even think, her fear was so great.

She was on a glacier in the wilds of Alaska and the man she cared about most was trapped in an icy tomb.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “Talk to me, Camryn.”

She whimpered, hugged herself and rocked to and fro.

“Come back to the ledge,” he demanded. “Where I can see your face.”

Tremulously, she shook her head.

The clouds rolling in grew thicker, became a dark fog that blotted out the sun. Her chest squeezed, and she found it hard to breathe.

“Camryn! Answer me.”

“I’m not Camryn,” she whimpered, inching toward the edge of the crevasse once more. She looked down to find him staring at her with a mixture of concern and confusion on his face.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

11

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?”

“I’m not really Camryn Josephine. I mean I am. That’s my real name, but I’m not who you think I am. I’m not brave and carefree and adventuresome.”

“Then who are you?”

“Cammie Jo Lockhart.”

“Cammie Jo?” He frowned.

“You know. You flew me into Bear Creek and when I thought we were crashing I stuck my head in your lap.”

“Oh, you mean Tammie Jo.”

“No, Cammie Jo.”

“I don’t understand any of this.”

“I’m petrified. I can’t make it all the way back to the helicopter.”

“Why not?”

And she told him then about the totem. What did it matter now if she ruined the magic? Everything was ruined anyway. She told him why she wore it. Why she had run away from him, why she’d fainted in his arms. Because she was too scared of life without the magic power of the necklace.

“But your eyes are green. Cammie Jo’s are blue.”

“Contact lenses,” she said.

“And you’re…more well-endowed.”

“Push-up bra.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a wooden leg, too.”

“Please, don’t try to make me laugh. I’m deadly serious.”

Mack stared at her, incredulous. This was crazy, illogical and yet he knew she believed every word she was saying. Because as he watched, she changed before his eyes and the transformation was stunning.

Gone was brave, confident Camryn. Instead, at the edge of the crevasse trembled timid Cammie Jo. Her shoulders slumped. Her eyes lost their luster. This was not the same woman he had fallen in love with.

Love?

He felt betrayed by his own heart. He’d been so busy trying to find the perfect woman he’d overlooked the obvious. “I never lied to you on purpose,” Cammie Jo murmured. “Remember when we met at the Metropolitan party? You didn’t recognize me. And then you kept seeing Cammie Jo at the B&B and you never even looked at her, at me. I was a nothing to you. A nobody.”

She was right. Guilty as charged. This situation wasn’t her fault. He had no grounds to feel hurt or hoodwinked.

“None of that matters now, Cammie Jo,” he said. “Look at me.”

Briefly, she swung her gaze his way. The anguish on her sweet little face cut him deep.

“You did all those brave things, not some magic totem. You hiked the Tongass. You shot the Mendenhall rapids. You faced down a bear.”

“Who turned out to be toothless.”

“But you didn’t know that, and you were just now scampering fearlessly over this glacier like a professional mountain climber.”

“Yeah, and look what happened.”

“The totem was just a symbol of bravery. You believed in it and therefore you believed in yourself.”

She shook her head. “I wish that were true.”

“It is true. Listen to me. We’re in deep trouble here, Cammie Jo, and only you can save us. You’ve got to get to the helicopter and radio for help or we’re both going to die out here on this glacier. And as much as I like the wilds of Alaska, we’re too young to die. I haven’t even kept my promise to my father.”

“What promise is that?”

“To have a son, to pass down the McCaulley name. I’m the last surviving male. It was so important to me I even made out a wife list.” He told her about his list, how he’d tried to find the perfect wife. How she’d matched every aspect on his list.

“But you see, Mack, I’m not that woman.”

“Yes you are. Cammie Jo, I believe in you.”

She bit down on her bottom lip. “I’m just so scared.”

“Do it for your mother. She was an Alaskan, right? And a bush pilot. That means she was one courageous woman and you’re her daughter. Her genes are in your blood. Come on, Sugar Plum, you can do this!”

You can do this.

Mack’s encouraging words rang in her ears. Cammie Jo took a deep breath and got to her feet. She had to do this. For Mack’s sake. She didn’t need the totem.

She thought of all the times in her life when she’d been afraid. All the times she’d been too scared to go after her dreams. All the compromises she’d made because she was too chicken to face her fears head-on.

Then she thought of all the fun she’d had as Camryn. How free she’d felt. How liberated to be out from under the tyranny of shyness.

She inched her way through the thick mist in the direction she prayed the helicopter lay. She kept her eyes trained to the ground, on constant alert for treacherous crevasses.

After she’d traveled only a few feet, she heard a crashing bang like the sound of a rifle being fired off in her ear.

She screamed in terror and clutched her hands over her head.

“Cammie Jo,” Mack called out to her when the echoes had subsided. “Don’t be afraid. That was just the glacier calving.”

“You mean like breaking off into the sea?”

“Yeah, but we’re far enough back from the bay that the glacier won’t give way beneath you.”

“Nice to know.”

“Keep going, Sugar Plum. You’re doing great.”

Easy for him to say. He couldn’t see her. She was a ragged mess.

After what seemed an eternity of trudging over ice in a thick fog, she finally made out the hulking black shape of the helicopter and Cammie Jo broke into tears of triumph and exhaustion. She’d made it.

“I’m here, Mack,” she called out, not certain any longer in which direction he lay.

“You did good, sweetheart.” He sounded so far away, but she could hear him. “Now get on the radio and get us out of here.”

THE RESCUERS, who included Quinn, Jake, Caleb and Quinn’s sister, Meggie, arrived to pry Mack from the crevasse. It had been tricky work but eventually, they pulled him free unharmed.

Cammie Jo’s instincts had been to run to him and throw her arms around him, but she was too afraid. Worried what he might think of her now. Afraid that their romance was over.

The rescue squad bundled them into blankets and gave them hot chocolate from a thermos. Another bush pilot flew the chopper back. Meggie rode with them. She took Mack’s vital signs and examined him.

Mack made light of the situation and never once let on that Camryn’s foolhardiness had been the cause of his fall. Every Alaskan who undertook to traverse a glacier understood the inherent risk and he wasn’t blaming her, even though Cammie Jo blamed herself.

But as Meggie told Cammie Jo, “Living is worth the risk, because what kind of life do you have when you stay on the sidelines cowering in fear?”

Meggie didn’t even know Cammie Jo, but it seemed as if she’d spoken straight to her central conflict. Cammie Jo turned her head and found Mack studying her intently.

Gulping, she looked away.

When they reached Bear Creek, Mack assured Meggie he was perfectly fine and didn’t need to be checked out by Doc Henderson over in Haines.

Cammie Jo stood on the dock not knowing what to do. Mack took her elbow and guided her toward his truck. “Come on,” he said gruffly. “I’ll take you to the B&B.”

Once they were in the truck, he turned to her. “I’m very proud of you.”

Her heart fluttered, but still, she could not meet his gaze.

“It took a lot of guts to walk over those crevasses in a deep fog. Especially when you were so scared.”

“Th-thank you.”

“But I’m really confused about a lot of things. I need some time to think.”

She nodded. “When will I see you again?”

“Honestly, Cammie Jo, I don’t know.”

He left her at the B&B and drove away without a look back.

IT WAS OVER. The totem was gone for good, lost somewhere on the ice tundra of the Margerie glacier. Her grand adventure had come to an end. She’d be leaving for Texas the day after tomorrow.

And she had no idea how Mack felt about her.

She wanted to stay in Bear Creek, but how could she? Now that Mack knew she wasn’t brave Camryn, that she could not live up to his fantasy woman, he wouldn’t want her anymore. And without the totem she could never be that recklessly carefree woman again.

Be careful what you wish for, Aunt Coco had warned her. Because you will get it.

And her most treasured wish had come true.

Only to be snatched away before she ever got a chance to find out who she really was.

Despondent, Cammie Jo flopped on the bed in her room at the B&B, picked up the telephone and called the only three people in the world she knew would understand.

Aunt Hildegard answered on the second ring.

Cammie Jo started crying at the sound of her dear aunt’s voice.

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

Sobbing, Cammie Jo told her about losing the totem for good. About losing Mack.

“Are you sure it’s over between the two of you?” Aunt Hildegard asked. “Maybe he just needs time to think.”

“It’s over,” she said mournfully.

“Well, I’m so sorry to hear about that. And it’s a shame the totem’s gone. Your mother put another note inside it for you to read in case you got into trouble.”

“What? I didn’t even know the totem was hollow.”

“There’s a little stopper in the bottom of it.”

“What did the letter say?”

“I don’t know. The message was for you. We didn’t read it.”

Fresh misery washed over her. She would never read her mother’s final words of comfort.

“Oh, Aunt Hildegard what’ll I do?”

“Come home, sweetheart. We love you.”

Coddled. Pampered. Protected. Kept safe from the world. Hidden away.

She’d failed miserably at being an adventuress. She might was well go back to her secure world in that quiet little house and let her days in Alaska fade into a favorite memory. It was for the best.

MACK VIGOROUSLY BUFFED Edna Marie with a butter-soft chamois and tried not to think about Cammie Jo, but he wasn’t having much luck. He’d spent a fitful night recalling everything that had happened on the glacier.

It was six-thirty in the morning, and his first fare wasn’t until eight.

He yanked opened the passenger door of the plane to clean out any litter lurking there. He picked up an empty foam cup and a bubble-gum wrapper. His eyes settled on something wedged between the seats. Was that Cammie Jo’s totem? He reached for it, picked up the unsightly necklace and held it in his hands.

“I wish,” he said, “Cammie Jo could have her happy ending.”

In that instant, Mack had a moment of crystal clarity. For most of his life he’d been content with beautiful but shallow women. As long as he went out with them, he didn’t have to worry about losing his heart or breaking theirs. He’d been seriously afraid of marriage, of having his union turn out the way his father’s had, so he’d avoided the issue entirely by choosing gals who weren’t the marrying kind.

But when his father lay dying and made him promise to wed and have children to perpetuate the McCaulley name, Mack had made up his “wife” list. He’d picked qualities that were the opposite of his flighty mother or his fickle girlfriends. With the future mother of his children in mind, he’d constructed the list.

And then, he’d met Camryn. She seemed to embody the best of both worlds. Brave and loyal but at the same time beautiful and fun-loving.

Until yesterday, when he discovered Camryn wasn’t who he thought she was.

She was more.

So much more.

She was also Cammie Jo. A woman with heart and spirit and verve to spare. She’d wanted so badly to overcome her shyness, to vanquish her fears that she’d placed all her belief in a totem. So strong was her belief, she’d transformed herself to become the very best person she could be.

A full, well-rounded woman. Smart, brave, loyal, beautiful. Fun-loving and adventuresome.

She simply didn’t realize the power had come from her own heart, and not the necklace.

CAMMIE JO was packing her bags. With a heavy heart, she’d decided to leave Bear Creek a day early. What was the point in hanging around? The totem was gone, her adventure over. Mack hadn’t asked her to stay in Alaska.

Her tummy gave a lonely squeeze.

There was a knock at the door. Maybe it was Kay coming to see her off.

Pushing her heavy black-frame glasses up on her nose, she moved to open the door.

And found herself face-to-face with Mack.

She sucked in her breath.

“Hi,” he said softly.

Cammie Jo said nothing. Her whole body was alive with sensation at just being near him, but her tongue wouldn’t move to form words.

“You doing okay?” His eyes were dark with concern.

Tentatively, she nodded. “Would you like to come in?”

She stepped to one side, waited for his response with a sense of suspense that would have thrilled Alfred Hitchcock.

He moved into the room, closed the door behind him and pulled something from his jacket. “I found it in the plane.”

She stuck out her palm and he slowly lowered the necklace into it. She felt the familiar warmth spread up her arm and she stared, incredulous. “I lost the totem before we ever went on the glacier?”

“Looks like you were leaping and jumping over crevasses all under your own steam.”

“Oh.” She remembered then, what Aunt Hildegard had told her about the totem being hollow and the second letter from her mother hidden inside. She turned it over and saw the black rubber stopper.

Anxiously, she removed the stopper then shook the totem against her palm. A small scroll of rolled paper fell out.

She unfurled it with care. The paper was crisp with age, the ink faded. She held it to the light and read:

By now my darling, I hope you’ve achieved your heart’s desire. Whatever you dream of, you can do it. The power to fulfill your destiny and the magic of the totem was in your heart and mind all along. The strength of your belief is what made the magic real. So now you know the truth. You are the creator of your own future. I have no doubt you’ll make the right choices.

Love,

Mom

Stunned, Cammie Jo read the note again and again. There was no magic in the totem. No ancient spell. Camryn, her shadow self, had been buried inside her all along. Her potential was there, it only took faith to release it.

She’d acted bravely because she believed she was brave. Acting brave had led to facing her fears. And facing her fears had given her a sense of peace and freedom, if not every detail of her heart’s desire.

She looked over at Mack and her heart tugged.

“What’s that?” Mack asked.

“A letter from my mother.” She passed it over to him to read. Their hands brushed and he smiled at her.

“Well,” he said after a long moment. “Well.”

“Looks like I wasn’t lying to you.”

“I never thought you were.”

“But last night…”

“Shh.” He placed a finger over her lips. “I came over here for more than one reason.”

Her eyes widened. “Yes?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And I realized something.”

“What’s that?”

“This wife list is a load of hooey.” He pulled the list from his pocket and slowly began to shred it as he walked toward her. “You can’t write down the ingredients for a good wife like a recipe.”

“No?” Cammie Jo took a step back.

“Nope.” Mack took a step forward.

“Then how will you find the perfect woman?” She took another step back.

His eyes met hers and he took another step forward. “I believe I’ve already found her.”

“Miss Jell-O Shooter?” she guessed and took a step back.

“Wrong.” He took a step forward.

“The chubby sorority sister?” Two more steps back. Uh-oh, there’s the wall.

Three steps forward. And there was Mack looming over her. “No, not her.”

“Who then?” she whispered.

“As if you didn’t know.”

“Camryn?”

He shook his head. “Cammie Jo.”

Skip-a-dee-do-dah, her blood sang through her veins.

“I love you, Cammie Jo. You. All of you. The daring Camryn side of you and the side of you that sips hot chocolate in Bugs Bunny slippers. I love you with your glasses on and I love you with them off. I love you with makeup and without.”

“Are you sure?”

He took her hand. “More sure than I’ve ever been sure of anything in my life. But if you’re not ready I understand. If you need more time to think about things that’s okay. No pressure. We’ve only known each other two weeks.”

“I feel like I’ve known you my entire life.”

“I feel like I’ve just been waiting for you to show up in mine.”

“You’re something else, Mack McCaulley. A true Alaskan hero.”

“Move to Bear Creek. Rent a room in Jake’s B&B. They have a job opening for an information specialist at the public library in Juneau. And you can finish your Ph.D. via the Internet.”

“How do you know?”

“I made a call before I came over here.”

She sucked in her breath. “Really?”

“I could fly you to work every day.”

“Or better yet,” she said. “You could teach me to fly.”

In that moment, Mack realized he had been holding his breath, waiting for her reaction to his declaration of love. “Does this mean you’ll consider the idea of moving to Bear Creek?”

“Oh, Mack.” She sighed. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life.”

He tossed the shredded list over his shoulder, then gently took off her glasses and kissed her.

Cammie Jo’s heart beat wildly against her rib cage but the erratic thumping sprang from excitement, not fear. Her nostrils flared at his scent, his taste, his urgency.

More. She had to have more.

There was no reason to hold back. She wanted him. This magnificent man who’d just declared his love for her. She moaned low in her throat, amazed by her passion and the steadily increasing pressure burning low in her abdomen.

She wasn’t going to regret a single thing that happened. With a growl of sexual pleasure, she grabbed him by the collar and dragged him toward the bed.

Mack’s eyes widened. “Whoa, what’s this? What’s going on?”

“What do you think?”

The corners of his mouth turned up and his dimples deepened. “You’re not going to faint on me again, are you?”

“That’s the old Cammie Jo. No fainting. I promise.”

He inhaled deeply when she sank into the plush mattress and pulled him down on top of her.

“Are you sure about this? I want the moment to be just right.”

“You got a condom on you?”

“Yes.”

“No kidding?”

“No kidding.”

“Then darling, it’s just the right moment.”

She was ready, willing and able to make love to the man of her dreams. She’d waited so long for this moment and now that it was finally here, she wasn’t the least bit afraid. With Mack, there was nothing to fear. He made her feel safe and loved and oh, so ready to indulge in her most wicked midnight fantasies.

Mack groaned and kissed her with all the passion he possessed. Many minutes later they broke apart, panting for air.

“There’s something I must tell you first,” she confessed.

More secrets? He froze, preparing himself for whatever she might say. Because no matter what words tripped off her tongue, he wasn’t leaving this room. He loved this woman. Loved her with a depth of emotion that shook him to the core of his previously held beliefs. Whatever she had to say, whatever challenges she presented, they would solve them together.

“What is it, Sugar Plum?” He peered down into her dear face and held his breath. His stomach turned to pudding and a thousand scary scenarios flipped through his head.

“I’ve…er…never done this before.”

He blinked and a thickness of joyful tenderness wrapped around his heart.

“You’re a virgin?” he whispered in awe.

“Uh-huh. Is that going to be a problem?”

He laughed, and damned if a tear didn’t bead up at the corner of his eye. “No problem at all. We’ll just take things nice and easy.”

Her beautiful blue eyes, unchanged by contact lenses, unhidden by thick glasses, stared up at him.

She made him feel as if he could leap tall buildings in a single bound. For Cammie Jo he would do anything to keep that enduring smile on her face, that trusting light shining in her eyes.

Slowly, he unbuttoned her blouse, exposing her creamy skin and then he unhooked her bra.

Lord, she was incredible, soft and willing, her chest rising and falling with each quavering breath. A myriad of emotions washed over him, all of them good.

He brushed his lips along her bare belly and she giggled. He was light-headed, dizzy on Cammie Jo’s sweet, sweet taste and the knowledge that he was to be her first and only lover.

Her nipples beaded in response to his mouth on her skin and he gleefully heeded their call. Mack suckled first one straining nipple and then the other, giving them equal attention. He kissed the fine sheen of perspiration that sprang up in the hollow between her breasts, his tongue eagerly laving the salty flavor.

While his lips were sinking into heaven, his fingers weren’t lazy. He unsnapped her jeans, tugged down the zipper and slowly slid his hand beneath the waistband and past her satiny panties. He stroked her lovingly in the warm, moist spot between her thighs.

Cammie Jo groaned and arched her pelvis against his palm. Her eagerness sent his body into overdrive. He was literally consumed with the fire of desire. So much for nice and easy.

“Mack, oh Mack. I’m so hot for you. I don’t think I can stand much more of this.”

“Me either, Sugar Plum.”

“Make love to me now. Hurry. Hurry.”

Spurred on by her urgings, he stripped off his clothes in nothing flat and slipped on a condom. He tugged off her jeans and sent them sailing across the room and then made short work of her panties. In a matter of seconds, they lay stretched out, bodies entwined on top of the downy comforter.

He rolled over onto his back and lifted Cammie Jo up to straddle his waist. His erection throbbed eagerly against the sumptuous curve of her bottom.

“If it hurts, you tell me and we’ll stop.”

“I’m not afraid,” she whispered. “I trust you.”

Her words made his heart hitch. She trusted him and never, ever would he consciously violate that trust. Slowly, his eyes fixed on her face, alert for any signs of her discomfort. He eased her gently down on his burgeoning shaft.

What a snug fit! She was so tight and slick he almost lost it right then and there.

Cammie Jo gasped and he instantly froze, his hands spanning her tiny waist.

“No,” she said, “don’t stop.”

“But I’m hurting you.”

“No.” Her breathing was raspy, her eyes wide with surprised pleasure. “I just feel exceedingly full. Go on.”

After a few minutes of meeting with resistance, then slightly pulling back, he finally slid deep into her sweetness. He heard himself groan aloud with the wonderment of entering her body.

She was his. He was hers. Together, they became one person. One so much more than two alone.

She rocked forward in a maneuver so bold he had to close his eyes and bite down on his bottom lip to keep from crying out.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw tears tracking down her cheeks. Instantly, fear shot through him. “Oh, Cammie Jo. You’re in pain. I’m sorry. So sorry.”

She shook her head and smiled at him through her tears. “I’m crying because it feels so wonderful, because I’m so happy to be here with you, because I never thought this day would happen.”

“Ah, Sugar Plum.” His voice was gruff with unshed tears of his own. He cupped the back of her head in his palm and inched her face down to his so he could kiss those sweet lips.

She broke off the kiss after a few moments and then began to move over his shaft in a slow, seductive rhythm that sent goose bumps charging up his spine.

In beautiful slow motion, they made perfect love. She climaxed before he did. He felt her muscles tense around his erection, heard her cries of pure surprise and delight, smelled the scent of her womanhood. A few seconds later, his own release followed hers.

Cammie Jo lay spent, her body still wrapped around his, her head resting on his chest. Her hair lay damp against her scalp and her heart was filled with a rapture so great she scarcely dared breathe for fear that it was all a dream.

So this was what she’d been missing all these years. Incredible.

“I love you, Cammie Jo Lockhart,” Mack whispered in her ear and combed his fingers through her hair. “Now and for always. Don’t you ever forget it.”

“And I love you, Mack McCaulley. To the very end of my days.”

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

Epilogue

WILD WOMAN FOUND. Cammie Jo Lockhart Has What It Takes To Become A Wilderness Wife.

Cammie Jo stared down at Kay’s latest article for Metropolitan magazine, then glanced at her friend, who looked resplendent in her wedding gown. The two women were in the church rectory waiting for the wedding march to begin. Shortly, Kay Freemont would become Mrs. Quinn Scofield.

“Thought you’d like to see the final draft.” Kay grinned.

“Why are you thinking about me? It’s your special day.”

“Because you’re my best friend, silly. I’m always thinking about you. The story will run in the October issue, along with your engagement announcement. And the history of the totem, of course. I can’t believe you actually wanted me to give away your secret to our readers.”

“If my story provokes just one shy woman to overcome her fears and follow her heart’s desire,” Cammie Jo said, “then the power of the totem is strengthened by sharing, not weakened. The real magic is about believing in yourself.”

“I’m so glad you moved to Bear Creek.” Kay’s eyes twinkled. “And that you conceded to be my maid of honor.”

“Two months ago I would never have imagined I would have such a wonderful friend, or that I would even possess the courage to walk down the aisle as her maid of honor.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you, too!”

They hugged each other, and tears of joy welled in their eyes.

“No crying,” Cammie Jo said, passing Kay a tissue. “It’ll ruin your gorgeous makeup.”

Kay pressed the tissue delicately to her eyes. “You’ll be walking down the aisle yourself, soon enough. Mack’s a great guy. I’m so glad you found each other.”

“Me too. He’s opened up a whole new world for me and put me in contact with my past. You know he took me to Fairbanks last week, and we looked up my mother’s relatives. I have aunts and uncles and cousins I never knew anything about. And I learned a lot of new things about my mother, as well.”

“That’s just great, Cammie Jo.”

“And now that my aunts Hildegard, Coco and Kiki have decided to move to Bear Creek, too, I couldn’t be happier.”

“You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

“So do you.”

The swell of the music interrupted their second embrace.

Cammie Jo patted Kay’s shoulder. “Time to go.”

With her bouquet of lupines clutched in her hand, Cammie Jo opened the door and started down the aisle ahead of the bride.

The church was rustic, the organ was old and many of the guests were dressed in flannel and jeans. But to Cammie Jo, this was the most romantic wedding she’d ever attended, and she was honored to be part of it.

She moved to her place at the front of the church. Across from her stood Mack, Quinn’s best man. Cammie Jo’s heart almost burst at the sight of her handsome Alaskan bush pilot. Her man.

He smiled at her, his brown eyes full of love.

Soon, he silently mouthed. Soon it will be our turn. Then he surreptitiously lifted something out of his pocket for her to see.

The totem. As naughtily suggestive as always.

For good luck, his glance told her.

She shook her head. They didn’t need luck. They had belief in their love to see them through. She couldn’t wait for all the wonderful adventures that lay ahead of them. It was going to be one hell of a ride.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

Eager, Eligible and Alaskan

By Lori Wilde

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

Contents

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

1

“YOU ARE GETTING very sleepy.”

Sarah Stanhope shifted her scantily clad fanny across the hard wooden chair. The blasted seat felt like a torture device direct from the Marquis de Sade collection. The way her luck was going, she’d probably pick up a splinter. She kept her knees primly pressed together, her back razor-straight and pretended she wasn’t utterly humiliated as she sat on the stage in the Alaskan Queen’s grand ballroom.

“Please, try to concentrate,” the hypnotist scolded. “Keep your eyes on the watch.”

Hypnosis. What a load of hooey.

Sarah ignored the man standing in front of her and instead stared out at the audience garbed in a wide variety of costumes. She fixed her glare on Cleopatra and Marilyn Monroe, AKA her two best friends, Lizzy Magnason and Kim Bishop, respectively.

She flashed them a tight-lipped, I’ll-get-even-with-you-for-this smile. Because of Cleo and Marilyn, she was stranded up here in front of a hundred people, dressed in this ridiculous stripper costume, while some silly man with a goofy-looking Gomez Adams mustache attempted to mesmerize her. If Lizzy and Kim hadn’t double-dared her, if they hadn’t accused her of being a serious stick-in-the-mud without the slightest sense of humor, she wouldn’t be in this predicament.

In the guise of celebrating Lizzy’s birthday, they had lured Sarah on this ten-day Alaskan cruise. Once aboard, her friends admitted it was a ploy to get her to let her hair down and live a little. They were concerned because she spent too much time running the Stanhope vinegar empire and playing nursemaid to her ailing father (their words, not hers). Sarah herself resented neither working hard nor taking care of Papa. What she did resent was Lizzy and Kim force-feeding her their idea of a good time.

And the outrageous costume and cheesy, second-rate hypnotist weren’t the worst of the surprises they’d sprung on her. There was also the rather disagreeable matter of Harvey Donovan.

Oh, Harvey was good-looking and he ran in their social circle. Actually, it was her own fault for not speaking up when Lizzy and Kim had oohed and aahed over what a “catch” he was.

She’d mumbled, “uh-huh,” instead of saying what she really thought of him. Now the fact that Lizzy and Kim invited him along on the cruise in hopes of kindling a shipboard affair between the two of them went far beyond matchmaking and veered headlong into meddlesome busybody territory.

She had been polite about the fix-up so far, knowing her friends meant well. But she couldn’t keep pretending she was the least bit interested in a man who never missed the opportunity to smirk at his reflection in mirrors.

And plate-glass windows and water puddles and the shiny chrome of his vintage Bentley.

Sarah flicked a quick glance to where Harvey—dressed rather aptly as Pepe Le Pew—sat in the front row next to the stage. He winked, pursed his lips and blew her a kiss.

Yuck. The mere idea of kissing him made her lust to scrub her mouth with a scouring pad.

She jerked her attention back to the hypnotist. Okay, this sideshow attraction was as corny as a grain silo, but it was better than watching Harvey make fish lips at her.

And to think she had nine more days of this.

“Concentrate,” the hypnotist commanded.

Sighing deeply, Sarah complied and focused her attention on the pocket watch he dangled before her face.

“You are now falling into a deep, relaxing sleep.”

Uh-huh. Sure.

“Sleep.”

Her eyelids grew heavy.

“Deeper and deeper.”

All right. Sarah closed her eyes. She would be a good sport and play along, but no way was this guy hypnotizing her. She did not have a suggestive mind.

“When I say the words hot sex, you will become a seductive striptease artist by the name of Sexy Sadie.”

Yeah, that’s happening. Not.

He kept talking, telling her all about this Sadie person, but his voice became a soft drone and Sarah couldn’t really make out what he was saying. She decided to enjoy the delicious weightiness settling over her body and not worry what he was blabbing about.

“Married!” The hypnotist shouted and snapped his fingers.

Sarah opened her eyes. The audience applauded wildly.

She glanced at her watch and realized a good fifteen minutes had passed. She must have fallen asleep, and the hypnotist was convinced he’d actually put her under. Shaking her head at the gullibility of some people, she got up and marched offstage.

“Wait,” the hypnotist said. “Miss, come back. I haven’t deprogrammed you yet.”

Sarah waved a hand. Deprogrammed, de-shmoe-grammed. As if that stuff really worked. Besides, she wasn’t about to endure one more minute in the spotlight. She hated being on display.

Lizzy and Kim surrounded her. “You better go back up there and let the hypnotist do his thing.”

“For heaven’s sake, why? It’s all a sham. Like late-night television dial-a-psychics.”

“Because you’re one hot stripper when you’re Sexy Sadie,” Lizzy teased. “Apparently, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. No matter how much you’d like to pretend otherwise.”

“What are you yammering on about?”

“We always suspected your mother’s passionate nature was lurking beneath your prim-and-proper reserve, and boy, were we right. You knocked the crowd’s socks off,” Kim said.

Sarah felt as if an invisible hand had encircled her throat and was squeezing hard. They were wrong. She was nothing like her mother. Nothing.

“You can certainly shake your bon-bon.” Lizzy nodded.

“You guys are nuttier than a Baby Ruth. I did not do anything untoward.”

“You danced for the hypnotist.”

“I did not.”

“You did so, and we’ve got the pictures to prove it.” Lizzy shoved a Polaroid photograph into her hand.

Sarah’s jaw dropped. In the photograph, her head was thrown back, her boobs were thrust out and she was twirling away like some…some…dance-hall floozy.

It was suddenly hard to breathe. She couldn’t believe she had performed such an indecent act in front of all these people.

“Sarah?” Kim asked. “Are you all right?”

“I need some air,” she said, reluctant to let her friends know how upset she was. Cheeks aflame with shame, she turned on her heels—the stupid three-inch hooker heels Lizzy and Kim had conned her into wearing—and sprinted for the nearest exit.

“Sarah, wait for me!” Harvey called after her.

That only made her flee faster. She had to get back to her cabin and change out of these clothes—if you could call four scraps of lacy material clothing—ASAP.

She skipped the elevators and plunged down the stairwell. She zigged. She zagged. And she thought she had given Harvey the slip, until she rounded the corner that led to her stateroom and spotted him waiting patiently at her cabin door.

“Sarah! There you are, you naughty girl.”

The length of the corridor stretched between them, but he was coming toward her at a fast clip.

Egads! She turned and took off again. Fine. Great. Call her a coward if you wished, but she wasn’t going to stay here fending off a giant sex-starved skunk.

Although she hated strutting around in this ridiculous costume, there were worse things. Like spending the next nine days on a cruise with two well-meaning but misguided friends and one overly amorous polecat. She would just go ashore in the sleepy hamlet where they were currently docked, find a telephone since her cell phone was in her room, call Papa and have him send his private plane to pick her up.

She took the elevator to the disembarkation level and rushed down the gangplank, fearful Pepe Le Pew was not far behind. She felt like that beleaguered little black cartoon kitty with the stripe of white paint down her back.

“Sarah!” Harvey alias Pepe called again at the same time her heels hit the dock.

Clackety, clackety, clack. Her shoes clattered as she scurried faster.

Not fast enough. She heard him breathing behind her.

“Wait up.”

Couldn’t the guy take a hint? She welcomed his attentions about as enthusiastically as a case of scurvy.

“Hot sex.”

Sarah stopped short. She blinked, turned around and stared at Pepe, who stood only a few feet away, a wide grin on his face.

“What? What did you say?”

“Hot sex.”

JAKE GERARD LOUNGED in a canvas deck chair with the August afternoon sun warm on his face. He’d put in many long hours for the past month and even though it was Saturday, his busiest day of the week, he’d granted himself a few much-needed hours of R and R before returning to the restaurant in time for the dinner rush. Since the sun stayed out until midnight, most tourists didn’t show up for dinner until 10:00 p.m.

He was surrounded by beautiful women. Candy, a shapely blonde from Memphis, had just popped the top on a can of beer for him. Lola, a green-eyed brunette from Kansas City, was feeding him slices of cantaloupe. Amber of the coal-black hair, from Tucson, baited his hook and dropped his fishing line into placid waters.

Letting gorgeous babes cater to his every whim probably wasn’t such a smart idea. He certainly didn’t wish to lead them on—he was into having a good time, not breaking hearts—and he’d made it clear from the moment he’d met them that his new business venture came before pleasure. But what was the point in advertising for a wife if you couldn’t enjoy the search?

Keep things light. That was his motto. Or rather, it had been until in an impulsive move last winter, he had decided to go in with his three friends on their Alaskan-bachelors-looking-to-get-hitched ad in Metropolitan magazine. At the time, he hadn’t been quite certain he was ready for marriage, but he could now clearly see the benefits of the national exposure.

Bear Creek, Alaska, which had once lamented the lopsided ratio of ten men to every woman, had been inundated with females since the ad appeared in the June issue. His search for the right wife could take a long time. Might even stretch out over years. Especially since he’d just bought the Paradise Diner and was working hard to turn it into a first-class dining establishment.

Jake grinned. Yep. No sense in making a premature commitment simply because his buddies were falling in love right and left.

You can’t hurry love, so the saying goes.

“Another slice of cantaloupe, Jake?” Lola asked.

“No thanks, darlin’. But you can go back to massagin’ my neck if you wish.”

“Hey,” Candy whined. “It’s my turn to rub your neck.”

“You got to slather him down with sunscreen, you don’t get to massage him, too,” Amber chimed in.

“Ladies, ladies. There’s plenty of me to go around.”

“Hey,” Lola interrupted. “What’s going on over there?”

Jake shaded his eyes and squinted in the direction Lola pointed. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said.

Jake pushed his sunglasses up on his forehead, picked up the binoculars resting on the dock beside him and focused in for a closer look.

A giant skunk was stalking after a determined young red-haired woman striding away from the ship. She was dressed in a very provocative outfit. Black bustier, black fishnet stockings, red garter, red-and-black feather boa and three-inch heels that showed off a heart-stopping pair of legs. Whoaaaa, baby.

“Are they putting on some kind of skit or something?” asked Candy, who although extremely lovely, wasn’t exactly the brightest bulb in the box.

“I think they’re having a fight,” Amber said.

The skunk, who upon closer examination looked rather like Pepe Le Pew, grabbed hold of the inadequately clad woman’s elbow. In the next moment, he was pulling her into his arms and planting a big kiss on her lips.

“If they were fightin’, I think they’re making up now.” Jake put the binoculars down and shook his head. Crazy tourists.

“No, wait. Look. She’s really trouncing him. Apparently he’s not a very good kisser.” Candy laid a hand on Jake’s arm.

Sure enough, the red-haired woman was whapping the skunk over the head with his own tail. Vicious.

He grinned to himself. He liked skimpily dressed, feisty, redheaded women.

Face facts, Gerard, you like women, period.

“Don’t you think you should intervene?” Lola nibbled her bottom lip in distress.

“Oh, it looks like she can hold her own.”

“Not for her sake, for the skunk’s.”

“You got a point.”

He would hate to see law-enforcement authorities haul the redhead’s sassy little patooty off to jail for first-degree skunkslaughter. Plus, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t dying for an up-close-and-personal gander at that dynamite body. He rose to his feet and started down the dock to where Miss Oops-I-Forgot-to-Wear-Pants had Pepe on his knees groveling for mercy.

Jake stuck his sunglasses in his shirt pocket and strolled at his normal leisurely pace over to where the ship was docked. Some of the ship’s crew members were also watching the altercation, and it appeared they were passing cash back and forth, betting on the outcome. Jake’s money was on the redhead, all the way.

By the time he reached them, the skunk was blubbering like a baby. “You got tail fuzz in my eye.”

“That Pepe Le Pew costume has obviously gone to your head,” she said. “Do you think you can just manhandle a woman, kiss her against her will and get away with it?”

“No.” Pepe sniffed. “I was wrong, okay? I shouldn’t have kissed you without your permission.”

“Need any help, folks?” Jake drawled.

Pepe scrambled to his feet. “This is a private matter between my lady and me.”

“Baloney.” She glared at Pepe. To Jake she said, “I’ve never seen this skunk before in my life.”

“You’re just saying that because of what happened onstage,” Pepe said.

“I am not,” she protested.

“So does he know you?” Jake cocked his head.

“Yes,” declared Pepe.

“No,” denied the woman.

“You don’t understand,” Pepe said to Jake. “She’s not in her right mind.”

“Are you saying I’m crazy? Don’t make me take that tail to you again,” she threatened.

Pepe raised his arms to block his face in a defensive gesture. “No, you’re not crazy. It’s just that…”

“Yes?” Her hands were on her hips, jaw thrust out, her forehead furrowed in a frown. She was clearly waiting for him to say the wrong thing so she’d have an excuse to light into him again.

Jake felt downright sorry for old Pepe. “Maybe you better move along.”

“I’m not leaving without her,” Pepe stubbornly insisted.

He couldn’t blame the skunk on that account. Jake slanted the woman a sidelong glance. Her waist-length red hair hung down her back in a shower of curls and soft little wisps framed her heart-shaped face. Ultra-long lashes accentuated brilliant blue eyes, and a sprinkling of freckles dotted her cute little nose. Her peaches-and-cream complexion looked good enough to eat.

And what about those lips. Yowza! Ripe and full and crimson. Any man’s dream.

She laid a hand on Jake’s shoulder and his pulse beat faster. “Could you do me a favor?”

“For you, Blue Eyes, anything.”

“Make him go away.”

Jake looked at Pepe and lifted his shoulders. “Sorry bud, but the lady doesn’t want to have anything to do with you.”

Pepe glowered at him.

“Shoo.” She flapped her hands at Pepe. “Buzz off.”

“You’re making a huge mistake,” Pepe said to Jake. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“Just leave us alone,” she said.

Jake stepped toward Pepe. He was a lover not a fighter, but the woman had made her desires clear. “I suggest you head on back to the ship.”

“Okay. Fine. She’s your problem now, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. She’s not what she seems.” With that strange warning, Pepe picked up his bedraggled tail, tossed it over his arm and marched up the gangplank.

“Thank God, he’s gone.” She sighed and slipped her arm through Jake’s as if he were a longtime friend. For some reason the gesture caused an odd, but very agreeable squeezing sensation in the pit of his stomach. “I thought he’d never leave.”

“Quite the stinker. Eh?”

“You’ve got a pretty face, honey. Don’t stretch for funny, too.”

“Ouch. The lady’s been sharpening her tongue.”

“Don’t you forget it.” She smiled and stuck the tip of that wicked pink tongue out at him. Yipes!

She fanned a hand at her neck. “Whew. With all that exertion, I worked up a sweat. Can we find a shady spot? Five minutes in the sun and I freckle like nobody’s business.”

He’d been incredibly polite so far, sneaking surreptitious glances at that incredible body of hers rather than full-out ogling. But her comment drew his eyes to that sensational cleavage on prominent display. Sure enough, tiny beads of perspiration had collected at the hollow of her throat and started to trickle south in a languid trail to Never Never Land.

He escorted her down the dock, a sense of pride swelling his chest. He felt oddly possessive and the feeling startled him. She smelled absolutely terrific. A pleasing combination of roses and soap and healthy woman.

“By the way,” she said. “I’m Sadie. What’s your name?”

“Jake, Jake Gerard.”

Or at least that’s what Jake thought he said. He was so bowled over by Sadie’s sexy strut, the feel of her arm tucked against his side and the silky sound of her voice filling his ears that he might have recited the Pledge of Allegiance for all he knew.

“Nice to meet you, Jake. Appreciate your help with Pepe.”

“Don’t mention it.”

She shaded her eyes against the sun with her free hand and sized up Amber, Lola and Candy, who were heading toward them with the fishing gear in tow. Compared to worldly Sadie, they looked like innocent schoolgirls out to build sand castles.

“Your posse?” Sadie lifted an eyebrow at him.

She was quick on the uptake. He had to give her credit.

“Nah. Just some fans to while away the hours with.”

“Fans?” She leveled him with an amused expression. “My, you do think a lot of yourself, don’t cha?”

He loved the way she teased. Loved the ways she used her body as an instrument of seduction. She was boldly flirtatious, but not the least bit simpering. Nothing hesitant or covert about her. This was a woman who knew exactly the sexual impact she had on a man. An impact with the force of say…oh…a head-on collision between two super-sonic jets.

“I’m not as egotistical as I sound. They really are fans.”

“Fans of what? Cock-and-bull stories?”

He had to laugh. “You’re a tough one to impress.”

Sadie scrutinized him with a long, lingering glance. “Just because I’m dressed like this doesn’t mean I’m easy. As Pepe found out, the hard way.”

Right there on the spot, Jake got an honest-to-Pete shiver that began at the base of his spine and worked its way straight to the pleasure center of his brain. Unbidden, he glanced down at her shapely figure. He couldn’t help noticing that the ribbon closures on her bustier had loosened while they were walking. Her navel peeped coyly out at him between the gaps in the lace. His eyes epoxied themselves to that heavenly spot that swayed gently with each step she took.

If I was struck by a meteor at this very moment, I’d die a happy man.

Jake tripped on a raised plank and stumbled into her.

“You okay?” She placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

Way more than okay, doll-face.

She pursed her lips in concern and for a moment there Jake thought he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from kissing her. But he didn’t want to make the same mistake as that erstwhile skunk. Damn. He understood with complete clarity why Pepe had been so besotted with her.

Watch it, Gerard, remember you’ve sworn off the kind of women who parade around in public wearing racy undies.

Ah, but there was no harm in a little flirtation. Right? Wasn’t that what he’d been doing with Lola and Amber and Candy?

Yeah, but this was different and he knew it from the moment he gazed into the depths of those baby blues.

Unlike Lola and Candy and Amber, Sadie was dangerous.

She was exactly the kind of woman he fell head over heels for and always ended up getting hurt over. Everyone told him he was attracted to the wrong kind of women and he had to admit it was true. What he needed was someone nice and steady. A sensible woman with strong nurturing instincts. He needed an anchor.

And yet the thought of marrying an anchor gave him the heebie-jeebies. He loved his freedom and wasn’t so sure he was ready to surrender it to a lady.

But he was also something of a fraud, cruising along on his Lothario reputation. He liked to flirt—and with Bear Creek being a tourist town there was plenty of opportunity for that—but he wasn’t a playboy, no matter what people might think. He simply enjoyed having a good time. His childhood had been a traumatic one. As a consequence, he spent most of his adulthood trying to forget the past by living every moment to the fullest.

Was it his fault that women responded to his fun-loving nature and wanted to be around him? He’d dated a lot, to be sure, but even his closest friends would be surprised to discover how few of those dates he actually took to bed.

“Hey, Jake.” Lola’s voice snapped him from his musings. She and Amber and Candy were staring at him expectantly. “Who’s your new friend?”

He blinked, cleared his throat and made the introductions. The women sized each other up like heavyweight prizefighters before the opening bell.

“Nice to meet you all.” Sadie smiled.

“We saw you having it out with that skunk,” Candy said. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“Heavens, no.” Sadie rolled her eyes. “Just some creepy guy who was coming on to me.”

Lola scrutinized Sadie’s skimpy outfit. “I can see where he might have gotten the wrong impression about you.”

Meow. Jake darted his gaze back to Sadie and wondered if the fur was about to fly.

Instead of taking affront at Lola’s catty comment, however, Sadie shrugged nonchalantly. “I was performing in a vaudeville revue on board the cruise ship.”

“You mean like a stripper?” Candy asked.

“Yes. Before the gig on the Alaskan Queen, I worked for Strippers-Are-Us. You know, people order a stripper for bachelor parties, things like that.”

“Did you ever pop out of a cake?” Candy asked. “I always wanted to pop out of a cake.”

“A time or two,” Sadie admitted. “But I hated getting frosting in my hair. My specialty was the Naughty Nurse. Nobody could twirl a stethoscope like me. Not even the girls who were stripping in order to put themselves through nursing school.”

He shouldn’t be having impure thoughts, but damned if he couldn’t easily visualize Sadie doing some very creative things with medical supplies. Ulp.

“But,” Sadie continued. “I’ve come to realize I bring the Pepe Le Pews of the world upon myself. That’s why I’ve decided to give up exotic dancing.” She glanced over at Jake. “And this town certainly looks like a promising place for a fresh start.”

Wow. She’d just walked off that cruise ship and decided to begin a new life?

He gazed at her with deepening admiration. He understood impulsiveness, had alternately followed it and fought it his whole life, with varying degrees of success. What she had done took a lot of courage, even if it wasn’t particularly prudent.

Jake grinned. He’d never been overly fond of prudent women.

“Well, then if you’ve decided to come here to start over you must have heard about the Bear Creek bachelors,” Amber said, possessively slipping her arm through Jake’s on his right side, while Sadie still clung to his left.

“Nope.” Sadie shook her head.

“Come on, you’re saying you didn’t know that Quinn Scofield, Mack McCaulley, Caleb Greenleaf and Jake here advertised in Metropolitan.” Lola frowned hard at first Amber and then Sadie. Clearly she was distressed at not having an arm to latch on to. Jake felt like the last Rolaid at a chili cook-off.

“Sorry, never heard of the publication,” Sadie said.

Jake could tell the other three women didn’t believe her, but he did. Sadie hadn’t come to their seaside community trolling for a husband. She just wanted a new adventure.

Boy, could he relate. He’d been chasing adventures his whole life. From scaling Mount McKinley with his pal Quinn, to skydiving with Mack, to sailing with Caleb in a hurricane. He was always up for testing the limits of fun.

“Come on. You mean to tell us that you just happened to come ashore—” Candy waved a hand at Sadie’s outfit “—dressed in that skimpy stripper get-up and yet you claim to have no idea that Jake’s looking to get married?”

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

2

“MARRIED.”

Sarah blinked and then stared at the people surrounding her. Three very pretty women and…what was this! She had her arm linked with a man so ruggedly handsome he took her breath away.

Bewildered, she jerked away from him and stepped back, pulse pumping at a furious pace. Where was she? What was going on? Who were these people? And omigosh, was that the Alaskan Queen pulling away from the dock?

All her belongings were on board that cruise ship. Her identification, her money, her cell phone…her clothes. Plus Lizzy and Kim were bound to be frantic when they found her gone.

The realization that she had not only suffered a slight memory lapse but that she was standing nearly naked on a dock in some teeny town in Alaska with a group of total strangers sucker-punched her in the gut.

Sarah raised her hands to cover her bare cleavage and struggled to remain calm. She would call Papa. Just as she’d been intent on doing when she’d run away from Harvey. Nothing had changed. She was in control.

“Could I…” She looked to the man who was studying her with a quizzical expression on his face and a sudden shyness swept over her. “Could you…er…show me to a phone? And if it’s not too much trouble, perhaps you might find me some clothes to wear?”

“Sure.”

He seemed really nice and helpful. If only she could remember his name.

“Thank you so much.”

Sarah smiled her gratitude and fought to calm the panic clawing through her. What had happened and why couldn’t she remember?

Darn this strange mental fogginess. She felt as if she’d awakened from a long slumber. Just call me Sarah Van Winkle.

Jake turned to his three female companions. “You ladies go ahead and enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

“But, Jake,” whined the blonde, “we’re leaving town tomorrow morning.”

“And you never did take any of us out on a date like you promised,” the brunette said.

“I’ll come see you off tomorrow,” he told them.

None of the women looked very happy. In fact, not only were they pouting, but they were shooting daggers with their eyes at Sarah. What was their deal? Did they think she wanted to steal away their man? Ha! Not hardly.

Lordy, they could have him. The last thing she wanted was to get involved with Mr.-Quirky-Grin-Wilderness-Man from some back country Alaskan town.

Not that he wasn’t cute, she quickly amended, because he was definitely a hunk. But she was a city girl through and through, and she wanted to go home. Now.

Jake turned to Sarah. “This way. I own a bed-and-breakfast called the Red Lantern just down the road. You can use the phone and wait there while I find you something to wear.”

He took her hand and led her up the rustic wooden walkway toward the town. The tenderness of his gesture surprised her and made Sarah wonder if he sensed her apprehension.

She wasn’t accustomed to being on her own, and she felt a little lost. She was almost always with her father, since she worked as his executive assistant, and she still lived at home with him. In fact, if Papa hadn’t insisted she accept Lizzy and Kim’s invitation to take the cruise, she would never have gone.

They strolled past quaint, picturesque shops, a radio station with the call letters KCRK and a bar named the Happy Puffin. Passersby eyed them, openly staring at Sarah and her skimpy outfit. This was like one of those humiliating dreams where you were nude in public and couldn’t find a place to hide.

Except, unfortunately, she wasn’t dreaming.

“What was your name again?” she asked, drawing upon years of good breeding to distract herself from her shameful situation. When in doubt, fall back on the good old Stanhope motto: Decorum in the face of disaster.

“Jake.”

“Oh, yes. I’d forgotten.”

She averted her eyes from his frankly inquisitive gaze. He was probably wondering if she had the shortest short-term memory on record. Actually, she was kind of wondering that herself. What was wrong with her? She shivered.

“Goodness, woman, you’ve got goose bumps on top of goose bumps.”

Sarah glanced down at her arms and realized he was quite correct. Between the barely-there stripper costume, the cool summer breeze wafting off the mountains and the shadows from the store awnings, she was freezing.

Jake had stopped walking. He dropped her hand and unbuttoned his shirt.

“Wh…what are you doing?”

“You’re cold.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t bother arguing with her, he just stripped off his shirt, exposing his chest to the world at large without the slightest hint of awkwardness. Stepping close, he wrapped the shirt around her shoulders.

“There. All better?”

She nodded, a lump the size of a cruise ship anchor in her throat. But it wasn’t better. Not at all.

Now, not only was she still dressed in this flimsy floozy outfit, but her escort was as bare-chested as the day he was born.

And what a chest he possessed.

Sarah’s mouth went dry. She didn’t mean to stare, but she simply couldn’t help herself. It was like ignoring the statue of David, like stuffing one’s fingers in one’s ears at a Van Cliburn competition, like ordering a diet shake at a gourmet restaurant.

Not gonna happen.

She breached every rule of good taste and proper comportment. Sarah Jane Stanhope, heiress to the one-hundred-year-old, four-generation San Francisco Stanhope vinegar empire, ogled.

He was extraordinarily, unmistakably male, no ifs, ands or buts about it. He stood before her in nothing but faded cutoffs that hung entirely too low on his lean hips. His chest was hard, solid and rippled with more muscles than those buff guys strutting their stuff in infomericals for work-out equipment.

A patch of hair the color of glazed caramel spread from his breastbone outward then swirled downward past his navel to where it disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. His legs were long and strong, his skin tanned, his big feet encased in a pair of scuffed deck shoes.

He was more naked than not. Just like her.

Suddenly, Sarah was no longer cold in the balmy seventy-degree weather but hot, hot, hot.

A grin quirked the corner of his mouth. “Do you see anything you like?”

I will not blush, and I will not rise to the bait and give him a response.

“Thank you for the use of your shirt,” she said stiffly and drew the garment more tightly around her shoulders as if the ridiculously thin material could protect her from his overt sexuality.

Her ploy didn’t work. Not at all. The shirt smelled of his warm, heady masculinity. His spicy, tantalizing guy scent assailed her nostrils, and teased her brain with a enticing blend of male pheromones.

She noticed he was studying her with serious intent. As if he saw so much more than her outward appearance—which at this moment was appallingly blatant.

He wanted her. Raw desire lurked in his hazel eyes. But not in the same needy, creepy way that Harvey had wanted her. She felt at once both pleased and flustered.

His gaze rocketed to hers. His eyes narrowed and he stared. Hard. For a good long minute.

Her breath fled from her body and a silly, girlish dizziness washed over her. Getting flustered over a good-looking man was so not like her.

“The telephone?” she croaked and forced herself to wrench her gaze from his.

“Ah, yes. The phone.” He extended his arm and she thought he was going to offer her his hand again, but he seemed to think better of it and instead threaded his fingers through his sexily disheveled hair. He inclined his head northward. “This way.”

She followed him to the entrance of a three-story country inn painted a deep, vibrant green with white accent trim. The house appeared to have been constructed sometime in the nineteen-twenties. It had a bucolic, cozy feel and from the minute they stepped through the front door, Sarah felt as if she’d come home.

The sensation disturbed her. As a woman born and bred in the heart of San Francisco, she’d never felt an affinity for small towns or the countryside. She loved a fast-paced lifestyle. She could not adequately explain her attraction to this place.

Or for that matter, to this man beside her.

She went in for polished, courtly men, not rugged, outdoorsy types who thought nothing of stripping to their naked skin.

They were greeted at the door by an enthusiastic Siberian husky who Jake introduced as Lulu, the consummate kleptomaniac. He warned her not to leave her belongings unattended around Lulu.

What belongings? She could hardly get any less encumbered than she was at the present moment.

Nervously, she petted the inquisitive dog, who kept sniffing her feather boa. She was a bit afraid of large creatures, but Lulu seemed friendly enough.

Jake shooed the husky away and led Sarah to the front desk. He pointed out the phone.

“Um…I was wondering if you had somewhere a bit more private.” She nodded toward the guests in the lobby, then swept a hand at her outfit.

“Oh, yeah. Sure. You can use the phone in my bedroom.”

His bedroom.

Yikes. Which was worse? Standing in the lobby enduring everyone’s stares and getting sniffed by a dog who looked big enough to take her arm off at the elbow or being invited into the inner sanctum of a strange man’s bedroom?

But he didn’t leave her any choice, he’d already rounded the desk and started down the hallway. “Come on.”

She scurried after him, wondering what on earth she’d gotten herself into when she’d abandoned the Alaskan Queen.

“Here you go.” He opened the door to his bedroom, and ushered her over the threshold.

His bed looked as if it had been ordered straight from the Mountain Man’s Dream Cottage catalog. It was king-size—but of course, she couldn’t imagine this large man crammed into anything smaller—and hand-carved from sturdy cedar. The headboard was covered in elk hide, while the bed itself was made up with a bold red-and-black checkered quilt and lots of red-and-black throw pillows.

The bed mesmerized her. She couldn’t seem to stop staring at it. To think he slept here every night.

She caught her breath. She would bet her bottom dollar that he rarely slept here alone.

“Phone’s on the bedside table.”

She remained acutely aware of his bare chest. Whew, there was no denying this was one genetically blessed specimen of the male sex. Ducking her head, she slipped his shirt from around her shoulders and handed it over to him.

“You might want this.”

“Oh yeah. I almost forgot about it.” He took the shirt from her but didn’t put it back on.

He probably was one of those egotistical guys who loved parading around naked to the waist, inviting feminine eyes to enjoy the honed contours of his body.

Well, if that was his game, he was barking up the wrong girl. She wasn’t the sort of woman who willy-nilly followed her physical desires. Come to think of it, she’d never followed her physical desires, willy-nilly or otherwise.

“I’ll just let you make your call while I see if I can find something for you to wear.” He sized her up with a sidelong glance. “Size six.” He said it as a statement, not a question.

“Uh-huh,” Sarah said, amazed at his ability to guess a woman’s dress size. No doubt he’d had lots of practice dressing and undressing women.

“And you’d probably like a more comfortable pair of shoes.” He eyed her three-inch-heels with a speculative gleam. “Seven? Seven and a half?”

“Eight,” she admitted.

“Gotcha covered.” To her utter relief, he put his shirt back on, and then shut the door behind him.

Sarah collapsed on the bed—which smelled distractingly of him—exhaled deeply and realized to her chagrin, she was trembling.

“Calm down, everything is going to be all right,” she soothed herself. “Just as soon as you get hold of Papa.”

She picked up the phone and dialed her father’s private number.

“Hello,” said a cool, feminine voice that did not belong to Margaret, their housekeeper.

“Oh,” Sarah said. “Please excuse me. I must have the wrong number.”

She hung up, certain that she had misdialed and punched in the numbers a second time.

The same woman answered.

“Oops,” Sarah apologized. “Silly me. Looks like I goofed again.”

“Who are you trying to reach?”

“Charles Stanhope.”

“He’s in the shower right now. May I take a message?”

It took a second for her words to sink in. A strange woman was answering her father’s private phone line while he was in the shower? Sarah gripped the phone tighter, telling herself the woman must have misunderstood her.

And then she heard it.

The sound of her father’s voice. Singing an off-key rendition of “Love Is In the Air.”

“Hang on a minute,” the woman said. “I think he just stepped out of the tub.”

But Sarah had no intention of hanging on. Heart pounding, she slammed down the receiver and stared at the phone as if it had morphed into a poisonous snake.

Could her father actually have a girlfriend? But how and when and why?

Okay, scratch the why. That was self-evident. No wonder he’d been adamant that she go on the cruise. In her absence, he’d been planning a romantic tête-à-tête.

Sarah twisted a lock of hair around her forefinger. She normally wore it up in a chignon but had taken it down for the costume party. Now her hairstyle felt messy and out of control. Just like her current situation.

Had she been standing in the way of her father’s love life all these years? Spending so much time with him, fussing over him after he suffered that mild heart attack five years earlier that she’d cramped his style?

She was reluctant to admit she’d never thought of Papa marrying again. They’d always been so close, she’d just assumed he hadn’t wanted or needed anything more than a loving daughter. How could she have been so thoughtless and so naive?

Sarah buried her face in her hands.

Maybe the woman wasn’t a girlfriend. Maybe this was a one-time fling. She couldn’t really call her father again and run the risk of embarrassing him. If he had wanted her to know about this woman, wouldn’t he have just come right out and told her?

Well then, if he didn’t want her to know about his romantic escapade, she couldn’t let on that she’d discovered his secret. Sarah tried to call her friends on board the ship but couldn’t get through. How in the world was she going to get home?

CLEOPATRA AND MARILYN Monroe were knocking on his cabin door. Harvey Donovan, who had changed out of the Pepe Le Pew costume after he had come back from Bear Creek, peered out through the peephole.

He was still plenty steamed at Sarah for taking up with that Alaskan wild man, and he couldn’t wait to get back at her for rejecting him.

Marilyn and Cleo knocked again.

He opened the door a crack. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Harvey,” Cleopatra, otherwise known as Lizzy Magnason said. “Have you seen Sarah? We’ve been searching for her ever since the ship left port.”

He smiled smugly and put a suggestive tone in his voice. “Have I seen Sarah.”

“She’s with you?” Kim asked.

Harvey wriggled his eyebrows. “Yep.”

“Can we talk to her?”

He glanced over his shoulder, pretending to look at Sarah stretched out on his bed. He lowered his voice. “She’s sleeping right now. ’Fraid she’s a little done in.”

“So you two got together?” Lizzy grinned. “That’s just great. But be gentle with her. She’s led a sheltered life.”

“Don’t you worry about Sarah. I’ll treat her right. And just so you know, we’ve decided to spend the rest of the cruise in my cabin ordering room service. If you know what I mean.”

“Oh, okay. We’ll see you guys later.”

Harvey shut the door and leaned against it. There. As long as Lizzy and Kim thought Sarah was holed up with him, no one would know she was missing. Let her be stranded as Sexy Sadie in Bear Creek without any money or clothes. That ought to show snotty Miss Priss Stanhope a thing or two.

HIS BEDROOM DOOR stood slightly ajar. Jake peered in to find Sadie sitting on the edge of his bed staring off into space, a pensive expression on her face. His pulse bounded erratically at the sight of her.

He was carrying a stack of clothing borrowed from his surrogate sister, Meggie Scofield. Meggie was a hell of a gal who could be counted on to come through for him any time, any place.

He loved Meggie and her older brother Quinn as much as if they were his biological siblings. After Jake’s father had been killed in an accident fishing for Alaskan King crab and his mother had died of cancer brought on by a broken heart, the Scofields had taken him in and raised him as their son. He owed them a debt of gratitude he could never repay. Without the Scofields, Jake knew he would have ended up in a great deal of trouble.

“Knock, knock.” He moved over the threshold, and crossed the room to deposit the clothes on the bed beside Sadie. She seemed distant, distracted, and quite different from the bold, self-confident woman who had brought Pepe Le Pew to his knees.

He recognized what was behind the changes in her. The consequences of impulsive ship-jumping had come back to haunt her.

Remorse. He understood that feeling far too well. How many times had he done something on a whim and lived to regret it? A million. A billion? Hell, did numbers even go that high?

“Sadie?”

“Huh?” She looked up, clearly startled by his appearance.

“Brought you some clothes.”

She was watching him with a hefty dose of uncertainty. “What did you call me?”

“Er…Sadie.”

“How did you know my nickname? That was my mother’s pet name for me, and no one else ever uses it.”

“But you told me that was your name.”

“Did I?” She looked seriously confused. “That’s so weird.”

“What do most people call you?”

“Sarah.”

“Okay. If that’s what you want, I can call you Sarah.”

She hesitated a moment. “No, call me Sadie. It’s nice to hear it again after all these years.”

“Your mother doesn’t call you that anymore?”

“My mother took off when I was three, and she died not long after that.”

“That’s tough. I lost my father when I was ten, my mom when I was twelve.”

“I’m so sorry.”

They looked at each other and for a moment shared something in their common loss, but Jake quickly shrugged off the feeling. Talking about unpleasant things made him uncomfortable.

“It was a long time ago.”

He stuck his hands into the pocket of his jeans and fingered the gold nugget on his key chain. The nugget his father had given him before making that last fatal fishing trip.

“This is a reminder, son,” his father had said, while his mother stood to one side, begging him not to go. Fishing for Alaskan King crab was one of the most dangerous jobs in the world, but it paid phenomenally and his father loved it. “Remember, you come from Gerard stock. We’re a long line of adventurers and we don’t let anything stand in our way.”

“Not even love,” his mother had said, sobbing.

His father laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, Gretchen. Jake’s no different. Listen to me, son. Your grandfather was a gambler who wrestled grizzly bears, your great-grandfather worked on the Whitehorse railroad in awful conditions. And your great-great grandfather came to Alaska looking for gold. He found this nugget, and I’m giving it to you as a reminder that you have to be true to yourself, no matter what. You’re a Gerard, boy, stand proud.”

Then his father had tousled Jake’s hair, kissed his mother goodbye and that was the last time he had ever seen him.

And from then on, Jake had striven to live up to his family’s illustrious reputation.

Sadie sighed, thankfully breaking into his memory. Jake had a desperate urge to make a joke; anything to lighten the mood.

“I don’t remember much about my mother,” Sadie said, still hung up on her trip down memory lane. “She smelled like strawberries, and she loved to dance. She was crazy about the Beatles. “Sexy Sadie” was her favorite song. Guess that’s where the nickname came from. What do you remember about your mother?”

Other than the fact his mother had constantly told him never to get married? That he would end up breaking some poor girl’s heart simply because he was a Gerard. He remembered Gretchen being irrevocably sad at the loss of her husband and bitter that an adventuresome life had always meant more to him than she did.

Jake nodded at the telephone, anxious to get Sadie off the gloomy subject of dead parents. “Did you get hold of the person you were trying to call?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Sort of leaves me up Bear Creek without a paddle.”

He grinned at her attempt at humor. “Indeed. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Well, I need a job and a place to stay for a while. Do you know if anybody in town is hiring temporary help?”

“It’s kinda late in the year. Tourist season will be over in a couple of weeks.”

“Oh.” She looked dejected.

He needed help at the diner. Especially since he had started renovating the place from a short-order grill into a real restaurant with linen tablecloths and expensive silverware and a gourmet menu. He’d even changed the name from the Paradise Diner to the Paradise Inn. But was offering her a job such a smart thing to do when he was so attracted to her?

Don’t do it. She’ll get you into trouble. She’s a stripper.

A stripper who was trying to turn over a new leaf. He’d made more than his share of mistakes in his life and he was a big believer in second chances. Who was he to judge anyone?

Remember your ill-fated affair with Renny? Remember why you went in with the guys on that Metropolitan ad in the first place?

Yeah. He remembered. All too well. After being deceived by Renny, he’d finally gotten weary of fast, fun-loving women.

Let’s see, there’d been Jenna, Miss-I’ve-Got-a-Death-Wish bush pilot from Juneau, who called him a wussy when he refused to crawl out on the wing of her plane and fix a loose flap—in flight. He’d about had a heart attack when she’d made him take the controls while she repaired it.

Following Jenna, he’d dated Cara, Miss If-I-Insult-That-Guy-at-the-End-of-the-Bar-You’ll-Beat-Him-Up-For-Me-Right? After her came, Miss I-Can-Open-Anything-With-My-Teeth, Miss Keep-the-Engine-Running-While-I-Go-Get-the-Beer and last but not least, Mrs. Oh-Did-I-Forget-to-Tell-You-I’m-Married, Renny.

He’d felt like a clichéd chump escaping out her bedroom window with his pants around his ankles while her husband came barreling through the front door demanding to know whose car was in the driveway. Never again.

That’s when he’d agreed to go in with Quinn and Mack and Caleb on the Metropolitan ad.

“I’ll take any kind of job,” Sarah pleaded, pulling him from his litany of reasons why he shouldn’t get involved with another irresponsible woman. “Sweeping up, washing dishes. I really need the money. I’d appreciate any help you can give me.”

When she turned those wide blue eyes on him, Jake knew he was a goner. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, tugging his gaze helplessly to her full, rich mouth.

So what if she had gorgeous lips? Pink and pretty and pouty. And so what if she was a damsel in distress and he had the potential to be her knight in shining armor. He didn’t need the aggravation. He wasn’t going to do it. He wasn’t.

“Anything at all,” she echoed.

“Are you married?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Pretty sure.” She laughed and crinkled up her cute little nose. “In fact, you can quote me on that.”

He was supposed to be cleaning up his act. He was supposed to be looking for a wife. He was supposed to be…ah, hell, he’d never been any good at doing what he was supposed to.

In spite of everything, he heard himself asking her, “Ever wait tables?”

“No, but I’m a quick learner.”

“Would you like to come work for me at my restaurant?”

Her dazzling white smile did fizzy-type things to his heart.

“That’s so generous of you. Thank you, thank you very much.”

The next thing he knew she had sprung off the bed and thrown her arms around his neck. Her bustier pressed erotically against his chest, her silk stockings rubbed against his leg, her wild red hair tickled his nose. She hugged him. Tight.

Ack! He was in serious jeopardy.

She pulled back and looked up at him. “Now all I need is a place to stay. Any suggestions?”

He knew what she was angling for. Just say no!

His nostrils were filled with the scent of her. His eyes overflowed with the sight of her. His hands tingled with the feel of her soft skin. He knew this was not a good idea but he couldn’t stop his mouth from dropping open, his lips from flapping dangerously and his tongue forming the words.

“You could bunk here at the B&B.”

Wrong answer. His conscience clicked its tongue.

Mark my words, Gerard, you’re going to live to regret this hasty decision.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

3

HOW HARD COULD waiting on tables be? Sarah asked herself the next day. After all, she helped run a vinegar empire, schlepping food from the kitchen to the dining room shouldn’t be any big deal.

Right? Right, Sarah assured herself and tightened her apron strings. Except she had never held a position outside the family business. Sure, she’d studied at the Institute of Culinary Arts in San Francisco for three years and she could make a wicked chocolate soufflé, but a good cook did not a good waitress make.

You can do this. You’re a Stanhope.

She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and stared at her reflection in the mirror of the diner’s ladies room. Her hair was pulled back in her signature chignon, her white uniform blouse was buttoned up tight and her face was completely devoid of makeup. Not by choice, but out of necessity. She had no money to buy lipstick and mascara and her cosmetic kit was on the cruise ship bobbing contentedly on its journey through the Inside Passage.

Perhaps that was just as well. Last night, Jake Gerard had seemed far too attracted to her. Without benefit of the tarty makeup she’d worn for the shipboard costume party he would no doubt be less impressed with her.

That was good. Things were complicated enough now without having to acknowledge the flicker of something potent that tickled her tummy whenever she glanced his way.

The man gives you a bellyache for crying out loud. Stop mooning over him.

But the bellyache felt kind of good.

It’s just because he called you Sadie. Don’t go transferring your childhood longings onto him.

Still, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. The man was—for lack of a better word—delicious. He possessed thick, longish brown-sugar hair that just begged for feminine fingers to thread through it. And those eyes!

Warm, intelligent, charming green eyes dappled with interesting brown flecks. And please, don’t forget the shape of his face—rugged, angular and yet appealingly symmetrical.

Oh and his hands…

Okay, Sarah, okay. We get the picture. He’s a hottie. So what? It’s not like anything can come of this attraction. Forget about it.

Ah, easy to say, but not so easy to erase the epitome of manhood from one’s mind. Especially when one happened to be working beside such a paragon during the day and sleeping in the very next bedroom at night.

Sarah shook her head. She’d been listening to Lizzy and Kim for too long. Enough. She had work to do.

Taking a deep breath, she washed her hands, left the bathroom and marched into the diner, ready, willing and able for her first day on the job.

Jake was behind the bar stocking up on Bloody Mary and Mimosa fixings for the Sunday brunch tourist crowd. The rest of his staff hurried to and fro, getting ready for business. He barely noticed the hustle and bustle, but when Sarah entered the dining area, his attention was immediately drawn to her. For one crazy moment, his heart actually stuttered to a stop.

Then started up again with a restless, pounding rhythm. He had already introduced her to her co-workers and shown her around the place but every time he laid eyes on her, he got this strange jolt of awareness.

She looked especially formal this morning—the picture of propriety. Quite a difference from the bustier-clad goddess he’d sheltered the night before.

And she wasn’t wearing a speck of makeup, but that only added to her allure, not detracted from it. Without gobs of mascara, her big blue eyes seemed even larger.

And those lips!

She came over. “What do I do now?”

Stop staring, dimwit.

Desperately, Jake swung his gaze away and searched the dining room, looking for a chore to get her out of his vicinity. “Uh…you fill the salt and pepper shakers.” He waved toward a table lined with the leaded crystal shakers that he’d blown a bundle on. Nothing too good for the Paradise.

“Got it.” She nodded with the seriousness of a Marine marching into battle.

Jake breathed a sigh of relief when she moved off. He was going to have to stop getting so worked up around her. Now, what had he been doing before she intruded upon his senses?

Oh, yes, stocking the bar.

He’d managed to focus his concentration back on the task at hand when Quinn slipped in through the employees’ side door.

“Hey, buddy,” Quinn said. This was the first time they’d seen each other since Quinn and Kay had returned from their honeymoon on Friday.

Jake came around the corner of the bar, slapped Quinn on the back. “How’s Kay? How was Hawaii? How’s married life?”

Quinn’s eyes lit up at the mention of his new bride. “Kay’s an incredible woman. I thank the northern lights every day that I found her.”

“You two are great together,” Jake admitted and felt a kick of jealousy. Would he ever have that kind of relationship with a woman? Or was he, as his mother had contended, too cursed with his father’s restless genes to ever make anyone a good husband?

“Hawaii was unbelievable. You gotta go there sometime. As for married life…” Quinn’s grin turned downright sinful. “I know you’re the hot sex expert, but believe me, buddy, you haven’t had hot sex until you’ve made love with your soul mate.”

The sound of shattering glass interrupted their discussion. Jake jerked his gaze over to Sadie. A busted salt shaker lay at her feet, a startled expression on her face.

Their eyes met.

“Oops,” she exclaimed and tossed a pinch of salt over her left shoulder.

“New waitress?” Quinn sized up Sadie and then arched an eyebrow at him. “Looks like you’ve been a busy boy.”

“Don’t go jumping to any ridiculous conclusions. I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Later then.” Quinn raised his palm and scooted back out the side door.

Jake went to retrieve a broom and dustpan from the supply closet and hurried over to bend down beside Sadie.

She was picking gingerly through the glass shards. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “I don’t really know what happened. I sort of blanked out there for a moment.”

“Watch out,” he said, adrenaline pumping through his blood like water through a fire hose. “Let me do that. I don’t want you to cut those pretty fingers.”

“Oh, futz. This is crystal, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but don’t worry about it.”

“I’m working here, aren’t I? As a waitress.”

“Er…yes.” What was this all about?

“Oh. Okay. That’s what I thought. I want you to deduct the cost of this shaker from my paycheck.”

Jake stared at her, confused by what she’d just said. Had he heard her correctly? Had she forgotten he had hired her? Nah. He must have misunderstood. Nobody was that ditzy. Not even a runaway cruise ship stripper.

She reached for another shard of glass at the same time he went for it with the whisk broom. Their hands brushed.

And he forgot about everything else except the touch of her velvet soft skin. They crouched side by side, their mouths inches apart. She blinked at him. Tendrils of hair had fallen from the bun atop her head. Her voice was different. Deeper, more provocative. Like yesterday on the dock. Her cheeks were flushed. She looked aroused. Excited.

And sexy as hell.

Back off, Gerard. Pronto.

He rose to his feet, salt shaker guts littered in his dustpan. With a thumb, he pointed in the direction of the kitchen. “I’m just gonna go dispose of this. You carry on.”

“With filling the salt shakers?”

“Uh-huh.”

What was happening to him? Why did he feel dazed and kind of foggy-headed? Why was his heart leap-frogging around in his chest? Jake shook his head.

This had to stop. Delectable as Sadie was, he simply would not let himself pursue the attraction. He really was looking to get married. Just as soon as he put the Paradise Diner, recently renamed the Paradise Inn, on the map. That was his first priority and he wasn’t going to let a pretty face trip him up.

He sauntered into the kitchen on the pretext of dumping the broken glass. He stayed to try and soothe his Cordon Bleu trained chef, Henri Renault, who was put out because Jake had neglected to order fresh dill for the salmon.

When he suggested the chef use the dried spice, he thought the round little man might take a butcher knife to him. The guy might cook like the Galloping Gourmet but he was as temperamental as a pop music diva.

“Out! Out of my kitchen,” Henri thundered and pointed toward the dining room.

“Sheesh, okay. I’m going.” Jake raised his palms in surrender and found himself back through the swinging doors in dangerous Sadie territory.

Damn. When had his own restaurant morphed into a virtual land mine?

The hostess had opened up for business, and Jake was heartened to see a string of customers lining up for the brunch buffet. He glanced around, looking for Sadie.

He spotted his best friend, Mack, with his fiancée, Cammie Jo, queuing up at the omelette station but there was no sign of his erstwhile employee.

“Hey, guys.” Jake went over to greet Mack and Cammie Jo. “How are things?”

“Great.” Cammie Jo grinned at him. “We met your new waitress. Sadie’s adorable.”

Adorable? Humph. The woman was a real nuisance. Breaking salt shakers, distracting his attention from his work, sneaking off when she should be waiting tables.

“And she’s cute, too,” Mack said, nudging him in the ribs. “Ask her out.”

Cute? Well, he couldn’t argue with that. But he wasn’t about to ask her out. Who cared if she was cute? Nuisance trumped cute and adorable every time out of the gate.

“Do you happen to know where she went?” Jake asked.

“Sure. She was completely panicked because she didn’t have any makeup. I loaned her mine and she went to put it on.”

“Oh.”

“Look.” Cammie Jo inclined her head. “Here she comes now.”

Jake turned and watched Sadie sashay toward them. He snagged in a ragged breath. She was just about the hottest thing he had ever seen.

Gone was the librarian’s bun riding atop her head. Instead, the dismaying mass of auburn corkscrews tumbled over her shoulders and down her back like liquid fire. It was the same kind of incredible, sexy hair that every woman in every one of his fantasies possessed. His hands twitched to dive into that wild tangle of play-with-me curls. The notion shifted his testosterone level to maximum dosage.

She had undone the top three buttons of her white uniform blouse and tucked the collar under to expose an enticing expanse of creamy skin. She had also rolled up the waistband of her black skirt, shortening the hemline to reveal far more leg than good taste allowed, and she’d troweled her face with a heavy-duty application of cosmetics.

He felt a definite stirring below the belt. Mr. Friendly was making his presence known.

And Mr. Friendly was clearly impressed by the changes in Sadie’s appearance. What a freakin’ embarrassment.

Down, boy, he admonished his wayward body part, to absolutely no avail.

Sadie strutted across the room with the swagger of a woman who knew men were staring at her. Jake swallowed. Hard.

Oh, Sexy Sadie. What had she done to herself? He couldn’t figure her out. One minute she was poised and demure, the next outlandishly kooky.

He knew that he should favor the demure Sadie and in his head, he did, but he couldn’t deny the facts. Mr. Friendly much preferred Miss Kook.

She waltzed over and handed Cammie Jo a small makeup bag. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t mention it.” Cammie Jo grinned. “Anytime you need to borrow something just let me know.”

“Thanks.” Sadie boldly winked at Jake and then said to Cammie Jo, “I better get back to work before my boss chews my fanny.”

Boy, would he love to chew her soft fanny.

That was his main problem.

She pranced off, the fanny in question beckoning to him provocatively.

“You got a live one on your hands, buddy,” Mack teased. “Better watch your step.”

“Tell me,” Jake mumbled under his breath.

After wishing his friends a good brunch, Jake went over to help out behind the bar. Unfortunately, his attention kept wandering to wherever Sadie happened to be.

The woman was outrageous. She flirted with the men, but then just as easily won over the female customers. She even got gripey old Gus, his desk clerk at the B&B, to crack a smile. Jake decided the woman could persuade the salmon to stop spawning if she so desired.

Good thing she was so captivating, because within the first twenty minutes it was painfully obvious she was a horrible waitress. She couldn’t keep decaf beverages straight from the caffeinated variety. She mixed up customers’ orders and lost their tickets. But she laughed so sweetly and cajoled so nicely, no one got upset with her.

No one, that is, except Jake.

The woman was a hazard, a menace, a distraction. Every time she leaned over a table to refill a coffee cup, he got an eyeful of generous cleavage and Mr. Friendly sat up to take notice. Jake forced his gaze from her chest, but then his eyes got hung up on a long, lean length of leg. From supple thigh to perfectly shaped ankle, he couldn’t stop staring.

He was burning up from the inside out. His skin sizzled as if he’d been lying in the full heat of a tropical sun. His scalp tingled. His stomach burned. His brain was scorched.

And as for his other body parts…well…enough was enough. There was only so much a fella could take.

You got it bad, buddy and that ain’t good.

He needed a cold shower and a heaping dose of common sense before he did something really stupid like follow his natural instincts and ask her out.

Sadie bellied up to the bar and gave an under-shorts-melting grin. “I need two Bloody Harrys.”

“Bloody Harrys?”

She crinkled her nose. “That’s not right, is it?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Wait.” She nibbled her bottom lip, taking his gaze prisoner once more. “Don’t tell me. That’ll be two Dirty Marys.”

“Dirty Marys?”

“Darn. That’s not right, either.”

“I think you’re mixing up your references. Alcoholic beverages, vs. Clint Eastwood movies.”

“I’ve got it,” she crowed and proudly placed her hand on his. Jake’s heart thumped like a tom-tom. Her scent invaded his nose, scrambled his mind. “That’ll be two Dirty Harrys.”

“Two Dirty Harrys it is,” he croaked.

He made two Bloody Marys and hoped like heck that that was what the customers had ordered. Strange though, that a woman who had worked as an entertainer on a cruise ship didn’t know her cocktails.

Okay, so she’s a lousy waitress with a bad memory, Mr. Friendly argued. But get a load of that body.

The skin on the back of his hand still blazed where she’d touched him, and if he thought he’d been hot before, well, he’d just hopped from the proverbial frying pan into the depths of Dante’s inferno.

Huffing in a breath, he dragged a palm down his face. What in the hell was wrong with him? Maybe he was reacting so strongly to Sadie because it had been, let’s see…eight months since Renny. Eight long months without sex. For Jake, that was an eternity.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he told his bartender, Linc Crenshaw.

He tugged off his apron and dropped it onto the bar. He told himself he was going into the kitchen to check on the food preparation but the truth was he had to get away from Sadie.

The kitchen was steamy hot and filled with sizzling noises that nudged his core body temperature even higher. The radio perched in the window over the sink was blasting some song about sexual starvation that seemed very apropos to the situation at hand. He needed relief and he needed it now.

What about the walk-in freezer installed in the connecting hallway between the diner and the B&B?

Perfect. That ought to cool off his incendiary libido. He hurried through the back door of the kitchen, and down the corridor to the freezer.

He stepped inside. Ah. Frigid air swirled around him. Yes. Cold was what settled an Alaskan man’s soul.

Jake plunked down on a box of frozen chicken parts, took a deep breath and savored the frosty sensation filling his lungs.

He was in control now. No more Sadie meltdown. What had come over him anyway? She was just a woman—albeit an incredibly sexy one—but just a woman all the same. He could resist her. He would. Yes, all right, so they were going to be working together by day and her bedroom was adjacent to his at night, but she wouldn’t be in town long. Women like Sadie never stayed put.

Just when he thought he’d regrouped enough to return to the dining room, the freezer door opened and in bopped Sadie.

Oh, for crying out loud.

“Eek!” she cried, spun around and grabbed for the door.

Jake heard a solid “click” but he didn’t think anything about it, he was that overwhelmed by her presence. He stood.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh.” She laughed shakily. “I didn’t see you sitting there. You scared me half to death.”

“What are you doing in here?”

“Linc sent me after vanilla ice cream. Somebody ordered a milkshake.”

“Sadie,” he said. “Your job is to wait tables, not fetch and carry for Linc.”

“I know, but he was really swamped. Everyone was complaining about their drink orders. Apparently he doesn’t make Dirty Harrys the way you do.”

“Imagine that,” Jake said.

“I better fetch the ice cream and get back.”

“It’s heavy. I’ll carry it for you.”

“Oh, okay.” She moved to open the freezer door but it didn’t budge. She pushed harder. “I think it’s stuck.”

“Hang on. Let me try.”

He came over to the door and gave it a solid shove. His wrist flexed against the exertion. Ouch.

He used his body as a battering ram, but the door still wouldn’t give. Then he remembered the solid clicking sound the lock had made when Sadie grabbed for the door in her panic. The errant lock that slipped too easily. The lock he had planned on repairing but hadn’t gotten around to. Uh-oh.

Apparently, she reached the same conclusion at the same time he did. Their eyes met.

They were locked in a freezer. Trapped. Alone. Together.

FIVE MINUTES OF POUNDING on the door and calling for help later, Jake had to admit defeat. He turned his head, searching for the source of his frustrations and found her perched on the box of frozen chicken parts he’d vacated earlier, rhythmically swinging her legs.

“You’re wasting a lot of lung power,” she observed.

“How so?”

“They can’t hear us from the kitchen. Not with the radio blasting and dishes clattering and the sounds of food cooking.”

“You got any bright ideas how we’ll get out of here? I mean, you were the one who locked us in.”

“Ah,” she said. “I was wondering how long it’d take you to get around to blaming me.”

“I’m not blaming you.”

Jake sighed in exasperation and stabbed chilly fingers through his hair. He’d known the freezer lock was faulty when he bought the diner. The blame rested clearly on his shoulders.

“That snide remark you made suggests otherwise,” she said.

“I did not make a snide remark.”

“Did.”

“Did not.”

“You said I was the one who locked us in here.”

“Maybe you’re just feeling guilty for trapping us.”

She angled him a saucy smile. “Maybe I did it on purpose.”

“What!”

“Not so loud.” Sadie winced and scrunched her shoulders up around her ears.

Okay, he shouldn’t have shouted. That wasn’t cool. But he was feeling so…so…what?

Backed into a corner?

“I was just joking,” she said. “Jeeze Louise.”

Jake smiled back at her in lieu of an apology. When had he gotten so uptight? It most certainly wasn’t like him. Jake Gerard rolled with the punches. Just like his father and his father’s father and his father’s father’s father. Just ask anyone. He was a laid-back guy. Not much bugged him.

So big deal if they were locked in here together. Not the end of the world by any stretch of the imagination.

“You know,” she pointed out rather sensibly, “It shouldn’t be long before Linc comes looking for the ice cream.”

“You’re right.” He nodded.

Silence fell. One minute passed. Then two. Then three.

They avoided looking at one another. Jake paced the four-by-four-foot space. Sadie hummed under her breath.

Pace, pace, turn. Pace, pace, turn.

He dropped a quick glance in her direction and his gaze snagged on her spectacular display of cleavage. The pearl buttons were undone to the top of her bra. If he tilted his head just a little bit he could see frilly lace peeking at him. The soft rise and fall of her breathing held him prisoner. How had the woman managed to turn a simple white cotton blouse into a instrument of sexual torture?

Then, through his fog of physical arousal, he realized Sadie was shivering.

“You’re cold.”

“Let me guess, you were the star of your class.”

“There you go with that wicked tongue again.”

“Honey,” she drawled. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

She might be cold but Jake’s insides blazed hotter than a butane torch.

Where in the hell was Linc?

Her teeth chattered. She hugged herself and hunched her shoulders forward.

“Come here,” he said, fighting every sensible bone in his body—which granted wasn’t many—urging him not to do this.

“Wh-what?”

“Come here.” He opened his arms. “Let’s share body heat.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” She leaped off the box and hurled herself straight into his embrace.

He tensed at their body contact. Mr. Friendly jumped for joy. She certainly couldn’t mistake his arousal for anything other than what it was. She wrapped her arms around his upper torso and he pulled her flush against his chest.

“How’s that?” he asked huskily.

“Nice.”

“Warmer?”

“Oh, yeah.”

She was incredibly soft, incredibly curvaceous. Her mass of copper-colored hair, as tantalizing as silk, brushed his cheek. He took a deep breath and the sweet, womanly scent of her filled his head, adding another layer to the chaotic haze clouding his thoughts.

It was as if he’d downed a dozen of her Dirty Harrys. He felt inebriated, intoxicated, crocked right out of his gourd and the strongest thing he’d had to drink all morning was orange juice. This sensation had to be an aberration. Some sort of weird vitamin C high.

Jake looked into her eyes. Oooh, damn. Mistake.

Those eyes deep and blue as the ocean invited him to come right in and swim a spell.

Somebody throw me a life preserver. Now.

Too late.

Her pouty, lipstick-moistened mouth beckoned him, urging him to forget that he was supposed to be seriously searching for a wife. She made him want to forget everything.

He looked into her eyes again and he could not deny the electrical surge of something powerful that sparked between them. He lowered his head.

She made a soft, startled-yet-pleased sound.

Every muscle fiber in his body tensed.

She lifted her chin and blinked those baby blues.

There was only so much a red-blooded man could take.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

4

OH…MY…GOSH.

His arms banded her like steel cables. His lips plumbed hers. His hands cradled her buttocks. She reveled in his strength, his warmth, his unique scent.

He ate her up and she allowed herself to be consumed.

She absorbed his flavor, extended her tongue to meet his. They explored each other like kids let loose in a toy store. Part of the way through the kiss, she peeped at him. His eyes were closed. Aw, Jake was a romantic. Her heart thumped faster.

Kissing him was sooo much better than she imagined, and she’d been vividly picturing this all morning. His mouth was hot, his tongue accomplished. Had she ever in her life received such a toe-curling smooch?

Sadie searched her memory banks, but between the cold of the freezer and the contrasting heat of Jake’s body and the warm moistness of his lips, she couldn’t seem to think straight.

In fact, she couldn’t think at all.

She’d been having these little memory blips she couldn’t quite explain. Was her attraction to him causing the gaps in her recall? Had sexual chemistry short-circuited her brain?

Interesting theory. Was Jake so potent, so virile, so decidedly male, he could make any woman forget her own name?

I’d vote for that. Heck, she would vote for anything just as long as Jake was involved.

She threaded her arms around his neck, arched her back and dragged his head downward in a desperate attempt to draw him closer into her. This guy was a pistol and a half and with those deadly lips of his it wouldn’t take much to have her cocked, loaded and ready for…bare.

Not that a walk-in freezer was exactly conducive for lovemaking, but hey, Sexy Sadie was the kind of girl who would try anything once. No shrinking violet she. When she saw something she wanted she went after it. No regrets, no remorse, no second-guessing. And she wanted Jake Gerard.

She pulled his shirt tail from the waistband of his pants and slid her hands upward. He hissed in his breath as her icy palms touched his hot torso.

“What are you doing?” he croaked.

“Warming my hands.” She was lying and they both knew it.

“Sadie…”

“Yes?”

“Maybe it’s not such a good idea for you to have your hands up my shirt.”

“No?”

He shook his head.

“Why not?”

“’Cause you’re turning me on.”

“I am?”

“Don’t play coy. You know exactly what you’re doing to me.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Yes.”

“How come?”

“Because I can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing we’re locked in the freezer in my place of business.”

“But that’s not your main objection.”

“No.”

“Then why did you offer to share body heat?”

“You were shivering so hard I thought you were going to rattle the teeth right out of your head.”

“And you kissed me because…?”

“A mistake in judgment.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “I get it.”

“Get what?”

“You don’t think a cruise ship stripper is good enough for a successful restaurateur.”

“Come on, Sadie, I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. Believe me, much as I would love to, I can’t let myself get sexually involved with you. I’m looking to settle down, Sadie. I want a wife.”

“And I’m not wife material.”

“It’s not that…honestly, it’s just I need certain things from a woman.”

“Things I can’t supply?”

She looked into his face and her tummy swooped. Passion blazed in his eyes, but so did confusion. He was conflicted between his physical needs and his emotional desires. She couldn’t give him what he needed. She’d walked off the cruise ship without a cent to her name. She didn’t know where she was going or what she wanted out of life. She certainly was not prepared to become anyone’s wife.

“Come on. This doesn’t have to lead anywhere. Can’t we just enjoy each other?”

His gaze was on hers. Her hands were inside his shirt. She wished he would kiss her again, blot out the uncertainty swimming around in both their heads.

She moistened her mouth with her tongue. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, fighting his impulses. She knew he would have kissed her again. She felt him wavering.

Except, auspiciously or inauspiciously, depending on your point of view, Linc chose that moment to open the freezer door.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was interrupting something.” Linc said and backed out.

“No, don’t go!” Jake cried and lunged for the door.

JAKE STARED at the stack of invoices in front of him and tried to concentrate on the work at hand. After that freezer fiasco, he’d hurried over to the B&B on the pretext of going over the books, but that had been nothing but a dodge. He had an accountant. No reason for him to be sorting through the bills, but he needed something to do far, far away from Sadie.

If he wasn’t careful, that killer-diller body of hers was going to be his undoing. Not to mention that smile and her laugh and the way she batted those ultra-long eyelashes at him.

Oh man, oh man, oh man. He was in a serious pickle. This…this…thing he felt for Sadie was counterproductive.

Counterproductive? That was like saying winter in the Arctic Circle was a little chilly.

Face it, Gerard, you screwed up big-time.

Despite all his assertions to the contrary, he’d gone and done it again. He’d acted on impulse, allowed Mr. Friendly to run the show. Just the way he’d been doing since he hit puberty.

Hadn’t he learned anything in his thirty years?

Ack! Cease and desist. No more thinking about her.

But no matter how he chided himself, Jake couldn’t stop waxing about those heart-stopping moments in the freezer.

Why had he kissed her?

She’s not the one. She can’t be the one. She’s too much like the women you’ve dated before. She’s too much like you.

Clearly, from the way she’d responded—running her soft, delicate hands up inside his shirt, returning his kiss with abandon—he’d opened up a Pandora’s box of illicit passion.

The woman was a bomb and he’d lit her fuse. Now everything was threatening to blow up in his face. Hi-yi-yi.

Realizing what he had inadvertently started, Jake chuffed out a deep breath. He wanted her and that’s all there was to it and he wasn’t accustomed to denying himself. Before eight months ago, before he’d taken out the ad with his friends, before he’d made the decision to try to settle down for good, he would have made love to her in the freezer and done his masculine Gerard family background proud.

Sadie had been willing. Oh, yes. And so had he, but he was no longer free to act on his desires and that was driving him around the bend.

Keeping relationships light and superficial had worked for him in his youth, but no more. He wanted a partnership, a real love match, like Quinn had found with Kay and Mack with Cammie Jo.

His friends had convinced him that his mother was wrong. That he could find the right woman and live happily ever after.

But could he?

Maybe Sadie is that woman, a tiny voice in the back of his head whispered.

Jake snorted. Who was he kidding? Sadie was fickle, impulsive, mercurial. One day she was a dancer on a cruise ship. The next day she’d gone AWOL and was waiting tables in Bear Creek. Who knew where she’d end up next week?

No. If he was going to do this holy matrimony thing, then he was going to do it right. No instant replay of his parents’ tragic marriage. No more following Mr. Friendly.

And he was making his plans for the future by transforming the Paradise into a four-star establishment. When his restaurant and B&B became as legendary as he envisioned—appearing in guidebooks, being featured on the travel channel, hosting celebrities and dignitaries alike—then he would make the kind of money to support his wife and kids in style.

Then, he would meet and fall in love with a sweet, prudent, practical woman.

It was a tall order and he knew it, but he could not give in to Mr. Friendly’s desperate urgings. He would not accomplish his goals if he allowed himself to be sidetracked by Sexy Sadie.

A knock sounded the door.

“Come in,” he said and for one moment, he found himself wishing Sadie was on the other side of that barrier.

The door swung open and Caleb Greenleaf, the town’s resident poet and naturalist, sauntered across the room and dropped into the chair opposite Jake’s desk.

Caleb wasn’t any closer to finding a wife than he was. Since Quinn and Mack had found their ladyloves, he and Caleb had taken to hanging out together more, even though they were quite different. Caleb was quiet, somber and studious whereas Jake was boisterous, fun-loving and action-oriented. Still, the two of them forged a deeper friendship over the course of the summer, sharing their laments at being left out of the matrimonial loop.

“Hey,” Caleb said.

“What’s up?” Jake greeted his buddy.

“Brought you the latest batch of letters from the lovelorn responding to the Metropolitan ad. They’re all yours. I’ve decided to give up the search.”

“What? You’re kidding.”

Caleb shrugged. “I haven’t met a single woman who’s really interested me.”

“Not one?” Jake asked, immediately thinking of Sadie. “But hundreds of women have come to town, and we’ve gotten almost a thousand letters.”

“Can’t help it.”

“You’re still hung up on her, aren’t you?”

“Her who?”

“Don’t play dumb. The woman who broke your heart when you were a teenager. What I can’t figure out is why you’ve never told any of us her name.”

Caleb waved a hand. “She’s not the reason.”

“Go ahead, lie to yourself.”

“So do you want the letters or not?” Caleb snapped, clearly anxious for Jake to leave the subject of his anonymous lost love.

Jake eyed the stack. Receiving letters from women eager to marry an Alaskan bachelor had been exciting at first, but now, he didn’t feel the slightest urge to read them. Only one woman had hooked his attention, and she was the wrong woman for him.

So look through them. Maybe someone else will pique your interest.

Listlessly, he leafed through the stack of correspondence Caleb had tossed on his desk. When he saw the envelope with the return address of Yodor’s Guidebook, his hopes leaped. He had forgotten he’d given them the same post-office box address they had used for the Metropolitan ad.

All right. This was what he’d been waiting for. Three weeks ago he’d written the managing editor asking them to review his restaurant in their prestigious publication.

He reached for the letter opener and sliced into the envelope. His heart thumped as he read the contents.

“What are you grinning about?” Caleb asked.

“They’re sending a food critic to review the Paradise Inn. She’ll be arriving on Friday.”

“A woman?” Caleb grinned. “You’re a shoe-in for that four-fork review.”

Friday! That left him three days to prepare for the most important moment in his life.

As he mentally ran through his to-do list, one thing stuck out painfully clear. He couldn’t have Sadie waiting on the critic, mixing up drinks, dropping salt shakers and the like.

He couldn’t even risk having her in the same vicinity as the reviewer. Between her ineptitude as a waitress and the incredible distraction she caused in his head, he only had one choice.

Like it or not, in order to put his restaurant on the map and achieve his lifelong goals, he was going to have to fire her.

“THE FIRST MEETING of the Wild Women City Girls Club is now officially in session,” announced the sleek-haired Charlize Theron look-alike seated in a booth at the back of the Paradise.

Sadie hurried over with the tea and finger sandwiches the blonde and her friends had ordered. At three-thirty in the afternoon, they were the only customers in the restaurant, and Sadie was the only waitress. Everyone else had gone on break.

The three women, one of whom was Jake’s friend Cammie Jo, looked ready for fun. Sadie felt a twist of wistful longing. She wished she could slip into the booth beside them and absorb their enthusiastic energy.

“Here’s your order.” Sadie set their food on the table in front of them.

The blonde gave Sadie a curious once-over. “You’re new to Bear Creek, aren’t you?” She extended a hand and smiled warmly. “I’m Kay Scofield. A newcomer myself.”

“And a newlywed,” Cammie Jo added. “Plus, she’s a super-duper journalist. She’s the one who wrote the articles about the bachelors in Metropolitan magazine.”

Kay blushed prettily. “Thanks, Cammie Jo.”

“Not to mention that she’s from New York and she’s the president of our newly formed Wild Women City Girls Club,” the third woman, a statuesque brunette said. “I’m Meggie Scofield, Kay’s new sister-in-law. I loaned you the clothes.”

“Oh yeah, thanks.”

“You’re more than welcome. Why don’t you join us?” Meggie asked, indicating the empty space next to Cammie Jo. “We were just going discuss ways to bring Bear Creek into the new millennium, now that we’ve got so many young women moving to town.”

Sadie glanced over her shoulder at the empty restaurant. “I probably shouldn’t. I’m sort of in dutch with Jake.”

In dutch? That was the understatement of the year. At last count, she had broken six plates, four saucers, three cups and that leaded crystal salt shaker. Plus, she had sent that testy French chef into a tailspin when she’d asked him to fry a corny dog for a customer’s toddler. She couldn’t blame him if he decided to fire her, although she had no idea where she would go if he did.

“Jake is ready to skin me alive,” she admitted to her new friends, as she slid into the seat beside Cammie Jo.

“Jake? As in Jake Gerard?” Meggie looked puzzled.

“Uh-huh.”

“But he’s the most laid-back man on the face of the earth. He never gets bent out of shape.”

“Ha! He gets bent out of shape with me so much he could qualify as a pretzel,” Sadie said.

“I noticed Jake’s been acting really different lately,” Kay said. “Ever since he bought the Paradise. Not like himself.”

“That’s true,” Cammie Jo agreed. “He keeps telling Mack that he can’t get hitched unless the Paradise is a success. Mack thinks he’s using the restaurant as a stall because now that it’s come down to the nitty gritty, he’s too chicken.”

“Oh?” Sadie asked, suddenly feeling breathless.

“Jake’s always gone in for adventuresome women,” Meggie supplied. “You know, fun-loving, no-strings-attached types. It goes back to his childhood. He’s afraid he won’t be able to commit to just one woman. He’s afraid settling down will be dull and boring.”

“Boy, is he off-base.” Kay grinned enthusiastically.

“Ditto,” echoed Cammie Jo. “Although Mack and I are just engaged, I’ve gotta say nothing beats true love.”

“Well,” Sadie ventured, not really understanding this whole thing. “If Jake’s so scared, then why did he advertise in that magazine? Why put himself through this if monogamy goes against his nature?”

“Peer pressure for one. Jake hates to be left out.” Meggie leaned in close and dropped her voice. “But secretly, Jake’s a big old softy. I grew up with him, I should know.”

“Really?” Sadie tilted her head.

“He likes to pretend he’s a playboy, something to do with all the men in his family being rapscallions, but mostly it’s an act.”

“No kidding?”

“Absolutely. More than anything he wants a home and family of his own, but he’s afraid of messing up a good relationship if he gets one—he never got over losing his parents—so the poor guy dances all around the issue of marriage. He’ll make someone a really good husband, if he would just get out of his own way and realize how much he really wants to be loved.”

Sadie’s heart pinched when she remembered the way he’d hugged her to his chest, sharing his body heat. He was a generous guy.

With very generous lips.

Yo, baby.

One simple kiss from him, and they’d created enough steam to melt that box of chicken parts. What would happen, she dared to consider, if they ever made love?

Hell’s bells, she’d probably evaporate in a cloud of very satisfied smoke. She sighed dreamily.

There will be no lovemaking with your boss, Sadie Stanhope. Absolutely none at all. You’re looking for a new career, not a husband. Jake’s looking for a wife and he certainly doesn’t need you messing up his plans.

Unless he wanted her for his wife.

Just the idea made her sweat. She wasn’t ready to get married. Not to Jake, not to anybody. For reasons she couldn’t explain to herself, she felt like she’d just grabbed hold of life with both hands and had started living. She wanted to taste everything, try it all, inhale the world. Being a wife sounded a bit too stodgy. Even if she was married to a man like Jake.

Still, she couldn’t help wondering what would have happened in the freezer if Linc hadn’t shown up when he did. But Linc had interrupted and things hadn’t gone beyond a few sizzling kisses.

Thank heavens.

So what if Jake was a dynamite kisser? So what if they seemed to have this explosive chemistry? That’s all it was. A chemical reaction. No sense coming unglued over him. Especially since he’d made it clear he wasn’t disrupting his plans for her.

Her resolve sounded sensible and right and practical and…boring.

Good, Sadie. That’s exactly how it should be. You’ve spent too much of your time shaking your bon-bon onstage for people like Pepe Le Pew.

Well, no more. She was a woman of the world. And she would prove it to herself by not giving in to the temptation that urged her to go find Jake and kiss him silly.

“Sadie?”

She blinked to find all three members of the Wild Women City Girls Club were staring at her. “Uh-huh?”

“You don’t happen to have a thing for Jake, do you?”

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

5

“HERE’S THE DEAL,” Jake told his assembled crew that evening after they’d closed the restaurant. Busboys, wait staff, bartenders, cooks, his prize-winning chef and Sadie sat around a large dining-room table, all eyes trained on him. “A food critic from Yodor’s is arriving on Friday to review the Paradise Inn.”

The group cheered and applauded. Linc whistled.

Surreptitiously, Jake glanced Sadie’s way, but he wasn’t fooling her. She caught his gaze and winked boldly as if they shared some secret.

Lord but the woman was audacious.

And relentlessly flirtatious.

He had waited all day to make this announcement, mainly to put off telling Sadie she was fired. It was going to be damned hard looking into her smiling face and telling her he was canning her for incompetence.

That’s not really why you’re dumping her, Gerard. Admit the truth. You could just give her Friday off if this were only about the food critic’s review. Face facts. You’re scared to death that if she keeps working here you won’t be able to resist temptation.

“This is a celebration.” He ripped his gaze from Sadie’s and indicated the iced champagne buckets at the end of the table with a nod. “But it’s also a planning meeting. It’s imperative that Friday night’s dinner go off without a hitch and each and every one of you are integral to our success.”

“Of course, I am zee most important part of your success,” Henri said. “I am zee reason the critic would come to such a place as zis.” He waved a disdainful hand at the restaurant.

Now that’s who you should be firing.

Except he couldn’t fire Henri. The arrogant chef—who was costing Jake a not-so-small fortune—was right about one thing. His reputation for culinary excellence was the sole reason the reviewer had agreed to come to Bear Creek.

Jake stroked the chef’s ego, praising his talents to high heaven, then he spent the next half hour outlining his strategy for perfect service and a perfect meal.

Sadie’s hand shot in the air.

He tried to ignore her, but she kept wriggling in her seat. Finally he had to acknowledge her question.

“Yes, Sadie, did you have a comment?”

“I know I haven’t been in the restaurant business for very long…”

“One day to be exact,” Henri sniffed contemptuously.

“That’s right.” She flashed the chef a brilliant smile that quelled him for a moment. “But I think you’re making a mistake kowtowing to a VIP.”

“Excuse me?” Jake blinked at her.

Enthusiasm fairly oozed from her pores. “You should treat all the customers as if they were VIPs.”

“Ha!” Henri exclaimed. “As if zeeze crazy Alaskans could tell chateaubriand from Limburger cheese.”

Everyone at the table turned to glare at the chef, who suddenly realized he’d let fly with too much opinion. He was, after all, surrounded by Alaskans.

“Sadie’s right,” Jake said. “Our standards should be the same for all our customers. Excellent food at an excellent price with excellent service.”

“Hmph,” grunted the chef. “I am warning you. If one more person orders zee corny dog with zee tater tots, I am walking out zee door and then we will see if your local citizens are really zee VIPs.”

“Thank you for sharing your feelings, Henri. I promise no one will be ordering corny dogs and tater tots.” Jake said.

Of course, he had a gaping hole the size of Wisconsin in the center of his tongue from biting down on it to keep from saying what he was really thinking, but it was worth the effort to keep Henri happy. Without the chef, he was sunk and they both knew it.

Jake inhaled sharply. If he managed to survive the making of this restaurant, then he would most definitely be ready for the give-and-take of marriage.

“Let’s drink to the success of the Paradise Inn.”

Corks were popped. Toasts were made. Champagne was drunk. Lively conversation filled the air and even Henri settled down after a couple of swigs of bubbly. Jake sent his staff home with promises of a big raise if Friday night came off without a hitch.

He’d had his meeting. He’d motivated his employees, and he’d soothed Henri’s ruffled feathers.

Only one task remained, but it was a grim one.

Firing Sadie.

“Could you hang back a moment.” He rested a hand on her shoulder as the others got up to leave. “I need to speak to you in private.”

“Private, huh?”

A flicker of excitement lit her eyes like a blue flame and a corresponding stab of guilt arrowed through him. “Yes.”

“Why, sure.” She beamed at him. “I’ve got some great ideas on how to improve the restaurant.”

“Um…that’s nice.”

“I was thinking you might want to replace the lighting with candles for the dinner hour and…”

“Have a seat.”

He pulled out a chair for her. She plunked down. He waited until the last employee had driven out of the parking lot, before grabbing a chair of his own, and turning it around so he sat with the back of the chair against his chest.

“This is so thrilling.” Sadie rubbed her palms together. “Just think, a food critic for Yodor’s coming here. A good review will put your restaurant and Bear Creek on the map.”

“One can only hope.”

“I can’t tell you how honored I am to be part of the process.”

“Sadie…” He looked into her eyes. He wasn’t a coward. He’d done more daredevil stunts by the age of thirteen than most men did in a lifetime, but facing Sadie and telling her she was fired was even more difficult than he’d imagined.

“Uh-huh.”

“I’ve…er…noticed you’ve been having some trouble keeping your orders straight.”

“But I did better this evening.”

“I know.”

“There’s something else on your mind, isn’t there?”

Did his face give him away, or was she just that perceptive in reading him? It was an unsettling thought.

“Listen,” he said at the same time she said, “If this is about what happened this morning in the freezer…”

“Go ahead.” He inclined his head.

“No, you.”

“Ladies first, I insist.”

She grinned. “Then you take the floor. I’m rarely confused for a lady.”

There she was again with that suggestive innuendo that he loved but shouldn’t.

“Please, say what’s on your mind.”

“I just wanted to thank you for taking a chance on me. I really, really appreciate it.”

“Uh…you’re welcome.”

Why was he saying this? Why didn’t he just come out with it and tell her this arrangement wasn’t working and that he was going to have to let her go?

“I know I made some mistakes this morning but I’m really trying harder.”

“Sadie…”

“No seriously, Jake, I won’t let you down. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t offered me this job. I was in desperate straits.” She looked at him with honest gratitude.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured.

Oh, brother. How could he dump her now? Then again, how could he not?

“I love the people in this town and believe it or not I love waiting on tables even though it’s obviously not my forte. I’m sorry about what happened between us in the freezer, and I swear nothing unprofessional like that will occur again.”

Come on. Give her the heave-ho. She’s bad for business and even worse for you.

“What did you want to say to me?”

What indeed?

“Um, did you happen to find a place to cash the advance check I gave you?”

“Yes,” she beamed. “Thanks so much.”

“No problem.”

“I went shopping and picked up a few items. Underwear was on sale, so I stocked up on thongs in a variety of colors,” she chattered blithely.

He imagined that tight little fanny of hers barely covered with thong panties and felt a pinging sensation deep within the most male part of him. He mentally saw his hand glide over her flat smooth abdomen. He fantasized that she’d had her navel pierced and she wore a gold belly ring.

Stop it, stop it, stop it.

“I got a bra too and one of those baby-doll nighties. You know, they’re really short.” She measured off an area just below her hip with the side of her hand.

“Uh, Sadie.”

“Yes?” She smiled brilliantly.

“Please don’t tell me about your lingerie purchases.”

“Oh, right. Completely unprofessional.”

He forced a tight smile. “Yeah.”

“Guess I’m just used to vaudeville revues where lingerie was our costume.”

“Well, you’re not on the ship anymore.”

“Sorry.” Her apologetic smile was genuinely sincere. She had absolutely no clue what effect she was having on him.

“That’s okay. Just be careful.”

“Was there anything else?” She looked straight into his eyes and he felt something dangerous slip in his heart. He could really fall for her if he let himself.

But he wasn’t going to let himself, even if he was too buffaloed to fire her. “No. Nothing else.”

“Maybe we could have a private toast of our own,” she said, indicating the champagne flutes. “And then I’ll help you wash up these dirty glasses.”

He should say no. Not only no, but hell no.

Instead, he found himself saying, “Sounds like a great idea.”

Sucker!

She poured the champagne, and handed him a glass, then lifted her own flute in a salute. “To the Paradise Inn. May it succeed beyond your wildest dreams.”

“To the Paradise Inn.”

The lips of their glasses clinked.

Sadie raised the flute to her mouth.

Her rich, robust red mouth.

Jake couldn’t seem to stop watching her. His gaze hung on lips moist with champagne. A surge of desire tore through him.

She giggled and lifted her glass a second time. “To the best boss ever.”

“I can’t drink to that. I’m not the best boss ever.”

“Oh, yes you are.”

She clinked her glass against his but a bit of champagne sloshed over the side and landed on the back of his hand at the juncture of his thumb and index finger.

“Oops.”

Then before he knew what was happening, she lowered her head and licked the liquid from his skin.

“Sadie, what are you doing?” He hissed through clenched teeth when all he wanted was to lick her right back.

“Why, I’m cleaning up my mess.” Her grin was wicked and a little lopsided.

That’s when he realized she was tipsy.

Strange, she hadn’t had more than half a glass of champagne in total. He would have supposed a stripper in a vaudeville revue could hold her liquor a bit better than that, but some people were really sensitive to the effects of champagne.

“Sweetheart…” he started, but that’s as far as he got.

She was running her tongue up his wrist to his forearm to his elbow. A shiver of delight sprinted up his spine.

There was just so much he could take. He was trying his best to be good and responsible. He’d vowed to his friends he’d be sensible when it came to women, but he was a weak, weak man.

Especially since Sadie had leaned forward in her chair and was now brushing her lips across his with a featherlight touch. She tasted of champagne and magic and mischief.

He shut his mind against the alarm bells going off in every part of him, except of course where Mr. Friendly resided. His baser self chortled with unabashed glee.

Yessssssss. I thought I’d lost you forever to that Metropolitan ad, Jake the rake.

She playfully nipped his bottom lip between her teeth and sucked lightly.

He moaned low in his throat, cupped her head tenderly in one palm, felt his fingers slip through the warm silk of her hair. His hand had itched to touch that mass of fire-red curls all day. Such glossy, satiny curls the color of fox pelt.

Her taste, that sweet, now slightly tart flavor from the champagne filled his mouth. How long had it been since he’d kissed her? Hours? Days? Forever? It seemed forever.

More. He wanted more. Even as he knew he shouldn’t be doing it, he crushed her lips against his and teased her with his tongue. Her cry of delight arrowed through him. He loved pleasing her, but he felt helpless and little out of his league.

“You taste yummy,” she murmured.

Pulling back a little, he gazed into her eyes feeling dazed and bedazzled and downright bewildered. What was this mysterious hold she had over him? Her eyes shimmered full of passion, brimming with the dizzy effects of champagne.

He shouldn’t be doing this but he simply could not stop. He was like a junkie helplessly drawn to the source of his addiction. He kissed her eyelids and eyelashes. His mouth roved over her cheekbone and the smooth, clean line of her jaw.

She was so soft, and her pampered skin was perfect, except for that cute little dusting of freckles across her nose, which just seemed to enhance her beauty. Jake knew without asking she used special creams and expensive unguents and gobs of sunscreen. Her diligence had paid off. Her complexion was exquisite.

He had the irresistible urge to explore every inch of her body, but he wasn’t the only one with urges. Sadie was not sitting idle while he catalogued her virtues. One of her hands was slowly stroking his arm while the other was tugging gently at his neck, drawing his head down to meet her lips…asking, searching, seeking.

The urgency pounding through him clawed his tenuous control to tattered shreds. Jake groaned and surrendered, kissing her long and hard until they were both breathless with need.

The back of his damned chair separated them. He wanted to press his flesh to hers, enjoy her fully, without any hindrances.

With his hands, he urged her to her feet and as he guided her around his chair, he turned in his seat until he was facing forward. He drew her onto his lap.

She must have felt the proof of his desire for her because her eyes widened and she grinned like she’d discovered the key to Fort Knox. She growled low and lusty, startling him with the extent of her passion, and kissed him roughly.

He loved wanton women who weren’t afraid to let themselves go but Sadie blew him away. She writhed in his lap, causing his errant body part to go ape wild. She tore his shirt from his body. Buttons popped and scattered across the floor with a series of soft plunking sounds.

Jack sucked in air. First time a woman had ever ripped his shirt off his chest.

She nuzzled against his oh-so-sensitive skin, ran her fingernails over his chest, rubbing and stroking and pushing her body flush against his as if trying to burrow inside him.

And damned if he didn’t welcome her with open arms. He wanted to be joined with her. Blood pounded through his ears. If Mr. Friendly got any friendlier, it would take an exorcist to relieve the poor fellow of his demons.

Jake rearranged her in his lap until she was straddling him and they were face to face with Mr. Friendly wedged between both their bellies. Her breasts swayed against his chest. He realized the room was filled with the noise of their harsh intake of air.

Her skirt had ridden up to her thighs, revealing a delicious expanse of soft skin and honed muscles. No mistaking those dancer legs. This woman worked out.

With a thumb and forefinger, he slowly began to undo the buttons of her blouse, just as he’d secretly been wanting to do all day. He eased the blouse from her shoulders, exposing the lacy white bra beneath. That bra had been driving him crazy, invading his fantasies, taunting and torturing him.

Using both his hands and his mouth, he stroked her pale creamy skin, so velvety smooth beneath the rough texture of his callused, work-roughened palms.

She purred like the engine of the classic, chick-magnet Camaro he’d souped up when he was in high school. That car had been his pride and joy. But no vehicle, no matter how fine, could compare with his Sadie.

The woman was as unstoppable as lightning. She leaned her head down and flicked that devilish tongue over his nipples, then gently nipped his skin.

He arched against her as ragged, famished need powered through his body like a riptide. When he arched his body, the chair they were sitting in tipped on its two back legs. Jake’s feet left the ground. He knew they were in trouble, but Sadie was oblivious—she was so into what she was doing—her mouth still latched on to his.

Frantically, he windmilled his arms in a futile attempt to keep them from toppling over.

They teetered.

And tottered.

Jake grabbed for the table, but it was too far away.

Ka-wham. The chair hit the ground with an ear-grinding thud. Luckily, he had braced for the fall and hadn’t struck his head on the floor. But he found himself flat on his back, Sadie above him, one knee planted on either side of him.

“Wow,” she whispered, grinning. “That was some kiss.”

“Are you okay?” he asked. Concern for her was his number one priority. At the first sign of trouble, Mr. Friendly had skeedaddled. Coward.

She looked down into his eyes, her long curls draping over his face, and giggled. “Nothing could be finer.”

“You’re tipsy,” he said.

“I’m certainly not,” she slurred indignantly. “I only had one glass of champagne.”

“Apparently one is all it takes.”

She hiccupped. “Perhaps you’re right. Now, where were we?” She leaned down to kiss him again.

“No, Sadie. No more. Let’s get up.”

“Why? Aren’t you comfy?”

“Not particularly, no.”

He wished she’d stop wriggling around. Mr. Friendly was working on getting his second wind.

“Oh, okay.” She rolled off him.

Feeling as graceful as an ox stuck in a mud hole, Jake got to his feet. Immediately, his eyes went to her torso covered only by that thin, lacy bra. He glanced down and saw he wasn’t in much better shape than she, the buttons ripped from his shirt, his bare chest exposed for her perusal.

And she was perusing him like the Yellow Pages. “Nice pecs.”

He jerked the edges of his ravaged shirt together. “Listen, Sadie. I’m not blaming you for what just happened, but it shouldn’t have happened. I stepped over the line.”

“I wanted you to step over the line.” She grinned at him.

“It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have been here alone with you. We shouldn’t have drunk champagne.”

“Shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t.” She pouted. “I’m beginning to think those rumors I’ve heard about you aren’t a bit true.”

“What rumors?”

“That you’re a fun-loving party animal.”

“I am. I mean I was, but I’m trying to put that part of my life behind me.”

“But why?” She walked her fingers over his shoulders.

He grabbed her fingers with a hand. “I refuse to take advantage of you, Sadie.”

“Not even if I want you to?” She batted her eyelashes.

“That’s just the champagne talking. You’ll feel differently tomorrow.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Look, you’re a terrific woman and I like you a lot. But the truth is, I’m ready to settle down and get married. You’re obviously looking for something a lot more casual.”

“What?” Sadie blinked at him. She seemed confused. “Did you say married?”

He repeated himself.

“Oh, my.” With an expression of pure horror on her face she glanced down at her near-nakedness and slapped a palm over her mouth. “What did we do?”

“Now don’t overreact. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Maybe not to you,” she said, scrambling to retrieve her top, which he had draped over the champagne bucket while they were in the throes of passion. “But I don’t go around stripping off my blouse in front of just anyone.”

That made no sense. She was a stripper. She took her clothes off for everyone. He stared at her quizzically.

“And what about you? Where are your buttons?” She jammed her hands through the armholes of her blouse, not realizing at first she had it on inside out.

“You tore them off.” He gestured toward the buttons strewn across the floor. A virtual button graveyard.

“I did that?” she gasped.

“You don’t remember?”

“I…I…I…”

He thought for a moment there she was going to burst into tears. Jake frowned. What was going on here? In a matter of seconds she seemed totally different. Going from wildly seductive to primly mortified. One minute she was tipsy, the next minute stone-cold sober, but nobody sobered up that fast.

She blushed, clearly shocked by her own behavior. Drinker’s remorse?

Maybe she had some kind of weirdo allergy to alcohol. He had heard of such things but knew next to nothing about the symptoms. Maybe she had an allergy that made her get drunk quick, sober up even quicker and block out everything that happened while she was under the influence.

“I gotta go.” Flustered, she fumbled with her top, trying to do up the closures.

“Your blouse is on wrong side out.”

“I know that,” she snapped.

“So why don’t you switch it?”

“Because I don’t want you to see me naked again.”

“I didn’t see you naked.”

“Well, almost and that’s close enough.”

“There’s no reason to be ashamed. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I didn’t?”

“No.”

She blew out her breath. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Whew, that’s a relief. I was afraid I’d made a fool of myself.”

“Never,” he said. But he found himself wondering if sly Sadie was really as confused as she seemed or if she was instead making a fool out of him.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

6

THE NEXT MORNING, Sarah awoke with a throbbing in her head and a heavy ache in her heart. Something was very, very wrong, and she had no idea how to fix it.

Why was she having these strange memory lapses? What did it mean? Was she buying a one-way ticket to the funny farm?

And in the grip of these—for want of a better term—blackouts, apparently she exhibited rather uncharacteristic behavior. Like stripping off her blouse and getting down and dirty with her boss.

Sarah cringed. How could she ever face him again after last night? He probably thought she was a shameless hussy to end all shameless hussies.

What was going on with her subconscious? Why was she blanking out large chunks of time? How could she tell Jake what was happening without him thinking her mental choo-choo had jumped the track?

Just go to work, do your job and fly low under the radar, she coached herself. Get through the day. By the end of the week you’ll have enough money to book a flight home.

That is if her scandalous alter ego didn’t keep spending her money on vulgar undergarments.

She squared her shoulders and walked over to the restaurant, mentally rehearsing what she was going to say to Jake. She was both relieved and disappointed when she discovered he’d flown to Juneau on business.

All morning long, her co-workers had commented on how quiet she seemed. Where’s that infamous Sadie grin? they asked. Their questions disturbed her. Obviously, they liked this wilder side of her. The side she couldn’t remember.

By the time Jake returned late that afternoon, Sadie had worked herself up into a state of agitation.

“Can I speak with you alone?” she asked, desperate to question him about the night before but dreading to hear his answers.

“I’ll meet you out back in ten minutes,” he said.

Sarah went on break and paced the parking lot, muttering under her breath as she practiced her speech. She didn’t hear him approach.

When he touched her shoulder and asked, “What’s up?” she gave a little shriek and jumped a good foot off the ground.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No. It’s not your fault. It’s me.”

“You’ve got your hair up.” He reached to touch her hair but she backed up fast.

“Yes.”

“And your shirt’s buttoned up to the last button.”

“I thought it looked more professional.”

“Professional.” He nodded. “Right. It looks professional.”

“And dignified.” She patted a hand to her chignon, making sure no tendrils had escaped.

“Dignified it is.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and stared off at the beautiful blue mountains rising up in the distance.

She realized then that he was as nervous about this meeting as she. At the mere thought of what she might have done last night, Sarah felt the color blanch from her face. No doubt she’d behaved in a manner completely unbecoming to a Stanhope.

“You wanted to ask me something?” he prompted after a long moment of silence.

“Um…yes.”

Out with it, Sarah. You’ve been running the vinegar business long enough to know it’s better to just go ahead and say what’s on your mind rather than pussyfoot around the issue.

“I’m listening.” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

“This is rather embarrassing.”

“You don’t have to be ashamed of anything with me, Sadie.”

There it was again. That name her mother used to call her. The name her father never used because it reminded him of his feckless wife. The name everyone in Bear Creek seemed to know her by. The name, that when it tripped off Jake’s lips, sounded comforting and melodious. The name that made her feel wild and sexy and just the tiniest bit naughty.

She both loved and hated that name. She inhaled sharply. “Right. About last night…”

“Yes?”

“I’m having a little trouble remembering what happened.”

“You didn’t have that much to drink.”

“Still, I’m a bit foggy on the details. Did we…did you…how far did we go?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Nothing?” She poked her tongue against the inside of her cheek. “Nothing at all?”

“Well, something, but it’s not important.”

“What? I need to know.”

“Let’s not make a big deal of it.”

“What!”

“Okay. All right. We came close to making love but it was strictly my fault. You were tipsy on champagne. I was tipsy on the news my restaurant is going to be reviewed in Yodor’s. We both lost our heads but thankfully common sense prevailed.”

“Thankfully,” she echoed.

He raised his palms. “You don’t have to worry. It won’t happen again.”

“No.” She said it as a statement but it sounded oddly like a question. She didn’t want a repeat of last night’s performance.

Did she?

Jake frowned. “Sadie, you’re not acting controlled and subdued because of what I said last night, are you?”

What had he said last night? She didn’t remember.

“I’m not following you.”

He frowned. “Don’t play mind games.”

She didn’t know what he was talking about, and she didn’t know how to confess without revealing that she was Miss No-Short-Term-Memory.

“What do you mean?”

“The bun, the buttoned-up shirt, the stiff posture. It’s not going to work. If you’re using this prim-and-proper routine in order to lure me into bed for hot sex, then you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“Hot sex?”

“Yeah. There’s no sense in pretending to be something you’re not just to seduce me into the sack.”

Jake touched two fingertips to his temple and stared at Sadie with a mixture of disbelief and desire. He couldn’t believe what she was up to. Even with her skirt back to its proper place just above her knee and that mound of red hair anchored securely to her head and a light application of makeup rather than her usual super-shellacking of cosmetics, she was impossibly sexy.

“Oh, is that what you think?”

“It is.”

She made a derisive noise, then winked the saucy wink that never failed to bring him to his knees. “Sugar Bear,” she drawled. “If I was trying to seduce you, you’d certainly know about it.”

And with that, she spun on her heels and strolled away.

Was it his imagination, or did she put an extra roll into those hips? Jake angled his head for a sideways view and watched her go.

The woman drove him crazy. He wanted her so badly, he couldn’t think straight. She wasn’t what he was looking for in a wife, not in the least. They would make a terrible married couple. Both of them too impulsive and spontaneous. But man, he just knew they would burn up the sheets.

You’ve done enough sheet burning in your life, Gerard. Time to extinguish those deadly flames.

Aw, but that was so hard to do with Sadie around. If he didn’t stay away from her, Jake knew he was gonna cave.

JAKE MANAGED to keep his distance from Sadie for the remainder of the week by concentrating on preparations for the food critic’s visit.

The reviewer, who turned out to be a pipe-cleaner thin, forty-something woman by the name of Ms. Penelope Snidely, arrived early Friday morning at the B&B. Jake wasted no time in turning on the charm. But he quickly discovered she thought he was sucking up in order to get a good rating—which granted, he was—so he prudently backed off.

Ms. Snidely was, however, quite demanding in her lodging requirements, and he found himself scrambling to meet her every request.

“I want flowers in my room,” she said. “And I’ll need extra towels and an electric blanket on my bed. I’ll require a CD player and classical music CDs.”

“Your wish is my command.” Jake bowed slightly.

She looked down her nose at him and sniffed audibly. She carried a yappy little Yorkshire terrier on her arm. The dog’s name, she told him, was Brigadier BonBon. A champion sire who garnered three-thousand-dollar stud fees.

Jake filed this information in the part of his brain marked—More Information Than I Ever Needed To Know About A Total Stranger, subtitled—Rubbish Bin.

She proceeded to tell him BonBon’s dietary restrictions and his intolerance to lactose. Jake barely listened, his eyes glazing over. She’d just about lulled him into a complete coma, when she let out a sudden, terrified shriek.

Huh? What was up? Had she spotted a mouse? Had she spied a ghost? Jake spun around and saw nothing but Lulu slinking up the staircase behind him.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“The horrid mutt.” Ms. Snidely pointed with a trembling finger. “What’s she doing running loose?”

“Lulu? She wouldn’t harm a fly.”

“You don’t understand, young man. Brigadier BonBon is a world-class stud.”

Meaning he’d hump anything with fur?

BonBon’s yaps grew louder, deeper and more frequent. The little guy was working himself up into a quite a state.

Lulu’s ears stood up and she boldly approached. Ms. Snidely backed against the door of the bedroom next to hers, which just happened to be where Sadie was staying. She clutched BonBon so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“Shoo! Leave. Get out of here. Make her go away, young man. This very instant, if you prize a good rating in Yodor’s.”

“Lulu,” Jake commanded and pointed sternly. “Out.”

Lulu ignored him completely, her full attention focused on BonBon.

BonBon looked at Lulu.

The husky stared deeply into the Yorkie’s eyes.

Their amorous gaze reminded Jake of the spaghetti-eating scene from Lady and the Tramp.

Uh-oh, he realized with a start. Lulu just might be in heat. He’d been planning on letting her raise one set of puppies before having her spayed, particularly since Mack and Cammie Jo had expressed an interest in having one of Lulu’s offspring. He wondered how they’d feel about a Yorkie/husky cross.

Better question, how would Ms. Snidely feel about it?

Clearly, she wasn’t too keen on the idea, but the brigadier was obviously smitten and his taste ran to bigger girls.

The next moment was pure chaos. Sadie’s door opened and she managed to say, “What’s going on?” at the same time Ms. Snidely lost her balance and tumbled backward into Sadie’s bedroom.

Sadie put out her arms to catch the woman. “Who are you?” she asked.

“She’s Ms. Penelope Snidely. The food reviewer from Yodor’s,” Jake said.

BonBon yelped, leaped free of his owner’s embrace and landed on the ground in front of his would-be lover.

Ms. Snidely screamed.

Lulu sprang forward and grasped the little Yorkie by the scruff of the neck.

Snidely screamed a second time. Shrieked bloody murder to be exact.

Sadie looked startled to be holding a hysterical woman in her arms. But not half as startled as Jake was to see Sadie clad only in skimpy pink baby-doll pajamas and feathered mules. What legs, what breasts, what a woman.

His mouth dropped open.

Their eyes met.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Lulu’s in heat, and Ms. Snidely’s BonBon happens to be a prize-winning stud.”

“Oh, my.”

“Stop them, you imbeciles,” Ms. Snidely hollered and gestured toward the stairs. “Before something terrible happens. If you don’t stop them, you owe me a three-thousand-dollar stud servicing fee.”

Jake turned to see Lulu, with BonBon still grasped firmly in her clutches, sprinting through the lobby.

Laughter gripped him. Grabbed him by the gut and tickled. The sensible side of his brain urged him to get going, a disaster was about to befall his business if he didn’t rescue BonBon. He tried to move. Really he did. Tried to put his legs in gear, but the scene was so damned funny, he couldn’t stop laughing.

Someone whizzed by him in a blur of pink. Someone in high-heeled mules and sexy baby-doll pj’s.

Sadie. In hot pursuit of the lovesick Lulu, who’d just eloped with her star-crossed boyfriend.

“Do something,” Ms. Snidely exclaimed. “Do something right now, save my BonBon from that hideous hulking beast or I won’t rest until your restaurant is a parking lot.”

That put an end to his laughing spell. Jake launched himself down the stairs after Sadie.

SADIE CORNERED LULU in her doghouse in the backyard of the B&B, intent on rescuing the high-powered stud. A single thought dominated her mind.

Save Jake’s hide.

The food reviewer was bound to be furious that her purebred Yorkie had been kidnapped by the enamored husky. Sadie also felt guilty when it dawned on her that she’d had a hand in the abduction. If she hadn’t opened her bedroom door at the most inopportune time, Ms. Snidely wouldn’t have lost her balance and stumbled. If she hadn’t stumbled, she wouldn’t have dropped the Yorkie.

Dammit. Klutzy Sadie strikes again.

And here she had been so sure she was going to be the perfect waitress and make a perfect impression on the reviewer at dinner tonight.

Sadie sighed. The best-laid plans.

Her spirits plummeted as she got down on all fours to crawl into Lulu’s doghouse, unmindful of the fact that her barely clothed derrière was sticking up in the air.

Lulu had BonBon cradled in her paws and little BonBon was madly licking Lulu’s face, obviously in the throes of true love.

“Here, BonBon,” Sadie said in a high-pitched singsong and rubbed her thumb against her first two fingers in a “come to me” gesture.

BonBon bared his teeth and growled with a voice much too large for his small stature. It was like hearing a man’s voice coming out of a little girl’s body. The disconcerting sound startled Sadie so much she jumped and ending up banging her head on the top of the doghouse.

“Ouch.” She caressed her aching noggin.

“BonBon, where’s my BonBon?” Ms. Snidely wailed like a fire engine from somewhere behind her.

Sadie reached in and grasped BonBon. The tiny terrier sank his sharp little fangs into Sadie’s flesh, but she refused to let go of him. Maybe there was some way she could salvage this disaster. Being martyred over Ms. Snidely’s dog seemed a small price to pay to redeem Jake’s reputation.

She backed out of the doghouse, BonBon held triumphantly in her hands.

Ms. Snidely rushed to scoop up the Yorkie and began cooing to him in baby talk. The woman didn’t even say thanks.

Rude witch.

Sadie stood, dusted dirt off her knees and raised her head.

And then she spotted Jake.

Her heart tripped.

He grinned at her. “You saved the day.”

“No biggie.” She shrugged nonchalantly, but his grateful smile warmed her to the very tips of her toes.

THE DAY STARTED OFF badly and went downhill from there. It had taken a lot of tall talking to pacify the rather humorless Ms. Snidely. Opting for damage control, Jake had promised her he’d keep Lulu chained for the remainder of BonBon’s visit and then he’d showered her with lavish compensations.

Coupons to Long Bear’s sundries store. A free guided hike in the Tongass Rain Forest. A bottle of his most expensive wine. When he promised to kick in the money for her upgrade from coach to first class on her flight back home, the woman had finally seemed mollified enough to give Henri’s cooking a fair shake.

But the unfortunate episode with BonBon had only been the start of his troubles.

The shipment of filet mignon for the Beef Wellington hadn’t arrived and Henri was ready to split a gasket over the last-minute changes to his menu.

Unknown to anyone, for almost an hour Linc had gotten himself locked in the freezer and was on the verge of hypothermia when they found him. Jake had been forced to give Linc the rest of the day off, and that left him short a bartender.

One of the busboys had left the box of candles he’d bought to add romantic ambiance to the restaurant sitting near the stove and Jake ended up with a slab of multicolored wax.

The dishwasher broke. The credit card machine was on the fritz and his best summer waitress picked that moment to tell him she was leaving town two weeks earlier than expected to help her sister with her new baby.

To top it all off, there was Sadie. He couldn’t—no matter how hard he tried, no matter how important it was for him to keep his mind on the business at hand—stop thinking about her.

And looking at her. And aching to touch her.

He visualized her doing a striptease for him. Peeling off those so-skimpy-I-can’t-believe-it’s-called-clothing baby-doll pajamas, shaking her very fine booty, tossing her luscious red mane, undulating that taut belly.

Heat swamped him. Holy smokes! Where was the volunteer fire department when you needed them?

He eyed her from his place behind the bar as she took orders from a group of local men. As she teased and joked with them, their faces lit up. Jake tasted the bitter flavor of jealousy when she laughed at something Marvin Kemp said and rested her delicate arm on the guy’s shoulder.

It also galled him to notice the men were wearing their dirty work clothes, completely ignoring his attempts to make the Paradise Inn a shirt-and-tie kind of place. None of the townsfolk, except for Kay, Cammie Jo and Meggie, seemed to share his vision for a more sophisticated Bear Creek.

“What’s the special of the day?” Marvin asked Sadie.

“Goat cheese and rosemary tarts with shaved prosciutto and Armagnac macerated figs.”

“Ewww!” said one of the men.

“What’s that?” asked another. “I don’t like eating anything I can’t pronounce.”

“Why is Jake going fancy on us?” inquired the third fellow. “We liked the Paradise the way it used to be.”

“Just bring a round of cheeseburgers and onion rings,” Marvin instructed her. “And a pitcher of beer.”

“Cheeseburgers are no longer on the menu, Marv. Neither are onion rings. I’m sorry.” Sadie shook her head.

“Ah, come on honey, you trying to tell me you can’t go back there and sweet-talk the cook into broiling up a couple of patties?” Marvin said persuasively. “I know he’s bound to have ground beef stashed away somewhere.”

Jake held his breath to see what she would do.

Sadie smiled beatifically. “You’re absolutely right, Marvin. I’ll do that.”

She turned and flounced toward the kitchen. Two seconds later, Jake heard a string of French expletives erupt from behind the swinging doors. He hurried to intervene and burst into the kitchen to find Henri waving a soup ladle at Sadie.

“Mais non!” declared the chef. “I will not make zee cheeseburgers. I have told you and told you.”

“Now, Henri,” Sadie spoke soft and low. “There’s no reason to get testy. It’s nothing personal. They just happen to like hamburgers.”

“Then let them go to zee Hamburger Hut.”

“They don’t serve beer at the Hamburger Hut.”

“Beer.” Henri glowered. “Such a common drink.”

“How about if I just throw a few meat patties on the grill. You don’t have to have anything to do with it.” Sadie made a move for the stove.

Henri leaped in front of her and shook the soup ladle under her nose. “Touch zee grill and you die.”

Adrenaline pumped through Jake’s veins. Not that he believed Henri would actually harm Sadie, although the wild look in the chef’s eyes suggested otherwise, but he would not have the man threatening her. No matter how good a chef he might be.

He stepped between Henri and Sadie.

“Put down the soup ladle,” Jake commanded. “Before somebody gets hurt.”

“Fire her!” Henri said. “She is trying to usurp my authority in zee kitchen. I cannot work under such conditions as zeeze.”

“You’re overreacting.” Jake feared the man’s eyes might bug right out of his head.

“Overreacting? You zink I’m overreacting?”

“I know you are. And I won’t have you menacing my wait staff with kitchen utensils.”

“Bah! Zat woman is an incompetent imbecile. It is very clear why you hired her.”

Jake froze. An eerie calm settled over him. He did not anger easily but when he did, Katie bar the door.

“Yes?” he said in a measured tone. “Share your theory with me, Henri. Why did I hire Sadie? I’m all ears.”

Henri cast a disparaging glance at her. A glance that had Jake fantasizing about punching the chef’s lights out.

“Because you want to have zee hot love with her.”

“You will apologize to Miss Stanhope this instant for your unkind remarks.”

Defiantly, Henri lifted his chin. “I will not.”

Jake took a step closer toward the man and smacked his fist into his palm. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He was the kind of guy who joked and cajoled. He didn’t get into fights. He danced around confrontation, but this obnoxious little Frenchman had insulted his Sadie and he wasn’t going to stand for that.

His Sadie? Where on earth had that come from?

“Apologize.”

“Non.” Henri tossed his soup ladle into the sink and jerked at the ties on his apron. “Zat is it. I am out of here.”

“Jake, it’s all right. Henri doesn’t have to apologize to me.” Sadie’s face had gone chalky white and the sight of her fear escalated his controlled rage.

“Sadie,” Jake said tightly. “Stay out of this.”

“But Jake, you can’t let him leave. Ms. Snidely’s coming to dinner and she’s already disinclined to give us a favorable review because of what happened between Lulu and BonBon.”

Us. Why that word should cause a strange hitch in his gullet, Jake had no idea. But it did.

“You can’t quit,” Jake said to Henri.

“Oh no? Just watch me.”

“You can’t quit, you temperamental prima donna, because I’m firing you.”

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

7

“JAKE!” Sadie pressed a hand to her mouth in disbelief over what he’d just done. “You can’t fire Henri.”

The rest of the kitchen staff stared wide-eyed, as if worried they might be next.

“Don’t let the door hit you in the butt on the way out,” Jake called as Henri stormed off. “On second thought, never mind, let it smack you a good one.”

She grabbed Jake by the shoulders. “Go after him. Apologize. Get him back here. ASAP.”

“No way. He insulted you.”

“We need him, Jake. And I’ve been insulted by far better men than he.”

“Not within my hearing distance.” Jake glowered.

“Your pigheaded gallantry is touching, but kind of dumb under the circumstances.” Sadie shook her head. “Who’s going to cook for Ms. Snidely?”

Jake blinked and then paled, as if realizing for the first time the consequences of his actions.

Sadie glanced at her watch. “She made reservations for eight and it’s five-thirty right now. That doesn’t give us much time for elaborate preparations.”

“Oh boy.”

“Oh boy is right.”

“Well, I’m certainly not going after Henri. Not after the way he spoke to you.”

“Is that the reason, Jake, or are you just too stubborn to swallow your pride?”

“I’m not begging him.”

“Not even for the sake of the restaurant? Come on, a four-fork rating in Yodor’s is what you’ve been dreaming of.”

“I think it’s a lost cause.”

Sadie sank her hands on her hips. “Jake Gerard, I never figured you for a quitter.”

“Sometimes it’s better just to let things go.”

“What does that mean?”

“Maybe I’m not meant to make a success of the Paradise. Maybe it’s a sign my mother was right. I shouldn’t get hitched.”

“Baloney. I don’t believe you’re giving up so easily.”

“It’s not your worry, Sadie.”

“The heck it’s not. You fired Henri over me. What are we going to do about this?” She was ready to grab him by the neck and shake some sense into him.

Then something profound dawned on her. She was just as invested in the restaurant as he was. She wanted it to succeed. For Jake’s sake. He deserved all the happiness in the world. He deserved a wonderful wife and kids.

Even if she wasn’t fated to be that wife.

A golf-ball-size lump of emotion formed in her throat. An emotion she couldn’t identify but didn’t want to prod too hard. Once opened, she feared it would fill her entire body with a wistful longing for something she couldn’t have.

Jake settled his hands on his narrow hips. “I’ve got an idea. It’s a long shot, but maybe Quinn would be willing to help out. He’s a pretty good cook. No gourmand by any stretch of the imagination, but he can make a wicked salmon chowder. I’ll just go on over to his house and see if I can persuade him.”

Perspiration beaded his forehead and that’s when Sadie recognized that he was literally sweating this, even though he had been clinging to his philosophical whatever-fate’s-got-planned-for-me stance.

He glanced at the kitchen help. “Back to work, everyone. Do whatever you were supposed to be doing to prepare the evening meal.”

The helpers jumped to do his bidding.

“Good luck,” Sadie told him, but she wasn’t relying on luck. If he was too proud or too macho to beg Henri to stay, she wasn’t. Unwittingly, she’d instigated this mess and she was going to fix it. The minute Jake departed, she left the restaurant in search of Henri.

Twenty minutes later, she was back, cursing the egotistical Frenchman under her breath. She’d tried reasoning with him, but when he said he wanted sexual favors in return for his cooperation, Sadie had told him to stuff himself.

Yuck. She shuddered. What a creep.

Jake hadn’t returned. Sadie took a look at the revised menu Henri had prepared.

Broiled oysters with arugala puree and

champagne sabyon.

Foie gras sautéed with blueberries.

Herbed salmon flamed in gin.

Gratinee of asparagus.

Curried carrots.

Luxembourg salad.

Chocolate soufflé.

She read over the ingredients. Fancy schmancy names, but the dishes didn’t really sound that complicated. Perhaps she could try her hand at preparing some of them. What would it hurt? It wasn’t like she could make things any worse.

Sadie tied an apron around her waist and the next thing she knew, she was elbow-deep in cream and seafood and butter. Stunned, she watched her own hands performing intricate tasks. Pureeing, sautéing, flambéing. It was as if she had possessed these complex skills her entire life. Whipping up this intricate meal was almost as easy as breathing.

This self-discovery surprised and delighted her. Where had she learned to do such things? Surely not stripping on a cruise ship. But if she’d worked as a cook, why couldn’t she recall it?

And Sadie wasn’t the only one impressed with her newfound abilities. The kitchen staff was staring at her as if she’d stepped off a lime-green flying saucer and greeted them with a hearty, “How’s it hanging, earthlings?”

She was so busy concocting the meal, she didn’t even notice when Jake came back into the kitchen.

“Sadie,” he said sharply, “what are you doing?”

She didn’t even glance up from beating the egg whites for the chocolate soufflé. She smiled to herself as the white peaks grew stiff and glossy. Yum.

“Sadie.”

She waved an irritated hand at him. Didn’t he know how hard it was to make a great soufflé?

“Shh, man,” one of the busboys whispered in awe, and nudged him in the side with an elbow. “Watch her go.”

Jake’s mouth flapped open in awed surprise. He didn’t get it. How could the world’s worst waitress be so darned accomplished with a wire whisk?

She put the soufflé into the oven, then turned to him, grinning happily, a dollop of flour decorating her cute little nose. He was still staring, openmouthed, unable to believe what he was witnessing.

“Here,” she said, spooning something from a pan and popping it onto his tongue. “Tell me what you think. Does it need a little more black pepper?”

His lips closed around the juicy tidbit. His taste-buds came alive with flavor. Oysters, cream, lemon, champagne.

“Mmm, mmm.” He moaned with pleasure. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until that heavenly mouthful. He had been too worried to eat all day. His stomach rumbled for more. “This is absolutely awesome, Sadie.”

“Thank you.”

“Where did you learn how to cook like this?”

She shrugged.

“Come on, don’t be shy. You’re better than Henri, and he studied at the Cordon Bleu.”

Truth was, he was giddy with relief to learn she could whip up an elegant spread like this one. He didn’t really regret canning Henri, especially after the way he had treated Sadie, but he admitted to a momentary panic at the thought of getting a big fat one-fork rating in the Yodor’s guide.

Sadie blushed prettily at his compliments, looking as pleased as a kid who’d just learned to ride her bike without training wheels.

“Honestly, I don’t know. It just came to me. Weird, huh?”

“It’s way more than weird. You’ve been hiding your light under a bushel.”

“Did you find your friend Quinn?”

“No. He wasn’t home. But who needs him when I’ve got you? Can I have another bite? Please?”

She laughed and fished another oyster from the pan. She held her palm under the spoon to catch any spillage and leaned in close to him.

Jake shot her a glance from his peripheral vision. She looked incredibly lovely in profile, with her flame-colored hair caught back in a purple scrunchie. She held the oyster just out of his reach, teasing him. Her face was flushed with the headiness of victory and she was breathing a little too quickly.

In that moment, she seemed so domestic, so accomplished, so in control. She was exactly what he was looking for in a wife. When he needed her, she’d not only pitched in and risen to the occasion, but far exceeded his expectations. This was much more than pretending to be something she wasn’t simply to get him to sleep with her.

Jake was confused. What were Sadie’s motives?

Something’s fishy in Denmark.

She waved the oyster under his nose. “Umm, smell.”

He clamped his mouth around the spoon and at the same time grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close.

“What’s going on?” he murmured, after he’d swallowed the oyster. “You’re up to something, and I want to know what it is.”

God, she felt so good in his arms, all soft, curvy woman.

She wriggled. “I’m cooking a dinner for a food critic from Yodor’s, is what I’m doing. Now let me go, before I burn the asparagus.”

Their gazes met and that now familiar electric spark arced between them. If they weren’t in the kitchen surrounded by his inquisitive staff members, he would have certainly kissed her. Thank heavens for some sort of impediment. He couldn’t seem to control himself where Sadie was concerned.

“Hey,” one of the waitresses pushed through the swinging doors from the dining room into the kitchen. “She’s here.”

“She who?” Jake asked, so distracted by Sadie he had momentarily forgotten about Ms. Snidely.

“The food critic.”

“Oh, her.” He let go of Sadie’s waist and hurried out to greet his guest.

The woman wasn’t any easier to please at the restaurant than she had been earlier, and she’d even brought Brigadier BonBon. Jake wasn’t about to tell her the dog couldn’t sit in the dining room with her.

She complained about her table. It was too close to the window. He moved her. She fussed about the wine. It was too dry. He brought her another bottle. She griped about the other diners, who certainly were not attired correctly for a gourmet establishment. It ate at Jake’s craw, but he apologized for the unsightly appearance of his many friends and neighbors.

She kept on bitching about it until, in exasperation, Jake marched over to the B&B and returned with enough coats and ties to outfit his male customers. He had to do some tall talking to persuade a few of the fellas to put them on, and ended up comping everyone for their meals. It made Ms. Snidely momentarily happy, although in his estimation his patrons looked pretty silly sitting there in work boots, jeans and dinner jackets.

Remember what this is all about, he reminded himself. He forced a smile so fake he thought his face might crack when she pronounced the lighting too harsh.

And Ms. Snidely’s sensibilities were quickly offended again. She didn’t like the linen tablecloths. Too much starch. It irritated BonBon’s sensitive behind. Jake had to grit his teeth to keep from telling her that if she didn’t let BonBon sit on the scratchy tablecloth, his behind wouldn’t get itchy.

Jake’s earlier euphoria at discovering Sadie could cook like Julia Child dissipated. He worried that even Sadie’s culinary talents could not impress this sour prune of a woman.

“You know, if Henri Renault were not your chef I would never have agreed to come to this godforsaken wilderness. How you managed to lure him here is beyond me, but I love his artistry with food. I dined at The Chateau Maison in Seattle when he was head chef there. I cannot say enough good things about his sublime talent.”

Uh-oh. Jake wasn’t about to tell her that Henri would not be rustling up her evening grub.

“I can’t wait to be surprised by what he’s created tonight.”

“The menu was planned with you in mind,” Jake said, and prayed that she wasn’t allergic to oysters or anything else on the menu. “I’ll bring your first course.”

Jake held his breath until Ms. Snidely sampled the oysters and pronounced them divine. She carried on about the foie gras. BonBon seemed to like it too, scarfing up a good twenty dollars’ worth of the stuff. She moaned with pleasure over the herbed salmon, had a fit over the Luxembourg salad and said she could die a happy woman after eating Henri’s superb chocolate soufflé.

That’s when Jake could no longer resist. He told her Henri had not prepared the meal. The surprised expression on her snobby face was priceless.

“What do you mean? No one else can cook like this.”

“I’m afraid they can.”

“You tricked me, young man.”

“You said yourself the food was sublime.”

She frowned, but grudgingly replied, “The chef must have been Henri’s understudy.”

“Nope.”

“Well, then, may I meet this chef and congratulate him on a job well done.”

“Not a him.”

“What?”

“The chef. She’s a woman.”

Ms. Snidely looked more taken aback.

Jake was enjoying this. He half expected her to spit out that last bite of soufflé, wipe off her tongue with her napkin and go, “patooey, patooey, patooey,” as if she’d just swallowed a chunk of Snow White’s poisoned apple.

“Tell her I would like to see her, please.” Ms. Snidely waved her hand.

“All right.” Jake bowed, then grinning, he hurried to the kitchen to tell Sadie the food critic wanted to compliment her.

Sadie threw back her shoulders, held her head high and sailed into the dining room. Before she got to Snidely’s table, she was stopped by many of the restaurant regulars, who expressed delight over their delicious meals.

She absorbed their accolades, feeling herself warm from the inside out at her success. Why hadn’t she realized before now what a good cook she was? Food was definitely her calling.

“Simply marvelous,” gushed one woman.

“You’ve got a gift,” said her companion.

“And you’re not too good to fry up a hamburger,” someone else said.

Their praises rang in her ears. Proudly, she stopped at Ms. Snidely’s table.

BonBon bared his teeth and barked at her.

Miserable mutt.

“Oh,” Ms. Snidely said. “It’s you. Could you get me some more coffee?”

“She’s not your waitress,” supplied Mack, who was sitting at the table kitty-corner from Ms. Snidely’s.

Cammie Jo pointed to her heaping bowl of pasta and mouthed, “to die for.”

Ms. Snidely blinked. “You’re the chef?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You cooked this meal?”

“Uh-huh.”

Ms. Snidely shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

Sadie shrugged.

“My dear, you cook like a dream.”

“Thank you. Thank you very much.”

“But I don’t understand why are you wasting your God-given talents in a dead-end place like this one. I was going to ask Henri the same question. Take my advice. Leave this hellhole,” Ms. Snidely sniffed audibly, “and these uncouth, rough-necked Alaskans and find a suitable place of employment.”

Sadie stared in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“I’m going to give this establishment a four-fork rating based solely on your culinary skills. Believe me, there’s nothing else about this place I can recommend. Not the service, not the atmosphere, not the clientele and not that unctuous owner.”

Unctuous? The witch was calling Jake unctuous?

Anger pushed through Sadie. How dare this woman insult her new friends, the Paradise and Jake? She gritted her teeth against the impulse to scratch the woman’s eyeballs right out of her skull.

Every eye in the place was trained on them. Silence descended. Sadie cleared her throat. “Pardon me, but I don’t appreciate it when people insult my customers.”

Ms. Snidely looked down her nose at the people gathered around their tables. “You work in a dump like this, honey, that’s the risk you take.”

Okay. That did it. No more Miss Nice Girl. She’d been pushed to the limit and she was fresh out of patience.

Without stopping to consider the consequences of her actions, Sadie reached over, scooped up Cammie Jo’s pile of pasta, smiled sweetly at her and said, “Hope you don’t mind me borrowing this. I’ll get you another bowl in a minute.”

Without further preamble, she upended the spaghetti on Ms. Snidely’s pointy little head.

Snidely shrieked.

BonBon yelped.

Been there, heard that, Sadie thought wryly.

“You, you, you…” Ms. Snidely sputtered and shoved spaghetti from her eyes, the bowl still balancing precariously on her head.

“Uncouth Alaskan?”

“Oh!” Ms. Snidely jumped to her feet and scooped BonBon into her arms. “I hope you’re married to this job, sister, because no one in the lower forty-eight states will dare to hire you when I get through with your reputation.”

Married?

“And if you think I’m giving this dive a rating any higher than one fork then you’ve got some serious rethinking to do.”

Sarah blinked and stared disoriented at this strange, rail-thin woman covered in pasta and spaghetti sauce, who was practically hopping up and down, she was so mad. The woman stormed out the door, slinging pasta in her wake.

The restaurant patrons broke into applause. Someone, she thought it might have been Mack, let loose with a catcall. Then everyone in the place began to chant, “Sadie, Sadie, Sadie.”

She looked over and saw Jake stalking toward her, anger flashing in his eyes.

Oh God, how could she face him? How could she face anyone after this? Choking back her tears, Sarah spun on her heels and fled the diner.

SARAH RAN to her bedroom at the B&B because she didn’t have anywhere else to go. But even here, she found no refuge from herself. Spread across the quilt was a pair of thong undies and a red micromini skirt so sheer and clingy, a lady of the evening would think twice before wearing it.

Confused, Sarah picked up the foreign garments and examined them. Did these belong to her? But how? She would never wear such outrageous clothing.

Just like you would never dump spaghetti on someone’s head, or make out with a man you barely knew in a deserted restaurant?

Groaning, Sarah slumped onto the bed. Apparently, she would do just about anything.

Something was terribly wrong with her. She did all kinds of wild and impulsive things that she never remembered doing. Like buying this hooker skirt when she was supposed to be saving her salary for a plane ticket back home. She flung the offending garment across the room. Gak!

She had to be losing her mind. That’s all there was to it. Maybe she should go ahead, swallow her pride and call Papa. Or at the very least, try again to contact Kim and Lizzy on the cruise ship. She’d already tried a couple of times and the ship-to-shore connection hadn’t gone through. She couldn’t help but wonder why her friends hadn’t come looking for her.

Before she could decide who to call, there was a gentle knock at her door.

“Sadie?”

Jake.

Oh no. She dived under the covers and snatched them up over her head. She wouldn’t blame him if he throttled her on the spot. She deserved every bit of his wrath.

Jake knocked again. “Sadie, honey, I know you’re in there. Gus saw you fly upstairs. Can we please talk about what happened?”

Hmm. He didn’t sound mad. Sarah peeked out from under the covers. Maybe it was just a ploy so she’d let him in. Once he got close enough, that’s when he’d pounce.

The doorknob jiggled, and she realized in sudden desperation she’d neglected to turn the lock behind her. She leaped out of bed, lunging for the lock, but she wasn’t quick enough. The door swung open and she found herself nose to chin with Jake. Ulp.

She quickly backpedaled and banged the calf of her leg against the four-poster bed. She braced herself for a good bawling out.

But instead of castigating her, Jake slowly closed the door. “Are you all right?” he asked. The expression in his eyes was one of tender concern.

That’s when she completely lost it and to her utter chagrin, burst into tears.

Jake crossed the short distance between them, scooped her into his arms and sat on the edge of the mattress with her clutched tightly to his chest.

“It’s all right, sweetheart.” He pressed his lips to her ear and murmured softly.

“No, it’s not.”

“Shhh. Don’t cry.” With a crook of his finger, he brushed a glistening tear from her cheek and his heart lurched painfully in his chest.

“Stop being so nice to me. I ruined your chances of getting a four-fork rating. Heck, I ruined your chances of even getting two or three forks.”

He couldn’t help smiling at her. She looked so despondent. “What? You want me to yell at you?”

She nodded somberly.

It was all he could do to keep from chuckling. She was serious. “What’s the point in that? It wouldn’t change anything.”

“I deserve a protracted blessing out.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Go ahead. Scream away. Rant and rave. Holler and yell. Really let me have it. Fire me. I wouldn’t blame you one bit.”

“You’re not being fired.”

“Why not? I dumped spaghetti on the Yodor’s food critic.”

“To tell you the truth, Sadie, I was inches away from doing it myself.”

“Really?”

“Who needs approval from the Wicked Witch of Yodor’s?”

Sadie giggled, and the sound warmed his heart.

It was true, Jake realized. Sadie’s feelings were more important than the financial success of the Paradise. He didn’t need Yodor’s coveted rating to make the Paradise a good place to eat. He needed Sadie and her culinary skills. He needed his friends and the locals. The tourist trade was nice, but not at the expense of his regulars. And that’s what he’d been doing. Turning off his loyal customers by trying to make the Paradise something it wasn’t.

Just like you’ve been trying to be something you’re not. The ideal husband material.

And that was something else he’d realized on the walk over here from the diner, as he kneaded his great-great-grandfather’s gold nugget beneath his fingers.

He’d been using the Paradise as an excuse. He didn’t need a fancy restaurant in order to get married. Rather than getting angry with Sadie, he found himself wondering just why he was erecting roadblocks between himself and matrimony when supposedly that’s what he really wanted.

He wasn’t ready to dig that deeply into his own psyche. Jake was not the sort to kick over rocks to see what kind of critters skittered out or rattle closet skeletons.

“Anybody else would fire me,” Sadie said. “You can’t keep me on simply because you’re attracted to me.”

“That’s not the reason I’m keeping you on.”

“I’m not exactly the world’s best waitress.”

He peered down into her face and just melted. He felt all soft and squishy and romantic inside.

Uh-oh. Last time he felt this way Mrs. Renny had played him for a sucker. But Sadie wasn’t Renny. Yet how much did he really know about her?

He reached out and brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. “Nope, you’re not the world’s best waitress. In fact, I’d say you were on the fast track to claiming the title as world’s worst waitress.”

“So why aren’t you canning me?”

“Because you are one hell of a cook.”

“You’re giving me a new position?” Her face lit up.

“Yep. You just got Henri’s job.”

“Do I get his salary, too?”

“Don’t push your luck,” he growled playfully.

They grinned at each other.

Her body felt soft yet solid in the crook of his arm. Her fanny was pressed tight across his lap and certain parts were beginning to take notice.

If Jake bent his head just a few inches he could kiss her sweet mouth. He drew a shaky breath. He’d come here to comfort Sadie, not to take advantage of the situation. He had planned to reassure her, not arouse her.

And she was aroused. No mistaking the tightening of her nipples beneath the material of her blouse. Those nipples and Mr. Friendly, what a ménage-à-trois.

Her lips parted. He could see the tip of her pink tongue and he had to clench his teeth to keep from groaning. She wanted to be kissed as much as he wanted to kiss her.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he said, fighting against every impulse in his body that urged him to kiss her. Kiss her and do a whole lot more than that.

But, he feared that if he got started, neither one of them would be able to stop.

Gently, he eased her from his lap and settled her on top of the quilt. “Don’t fret over this incident with Ms. Snidely. You stood up for your friends, and you stood up for me. I admire you, Sadie Stanhope. You’re one gutsy gal. A bit impulsive perhaps, but I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Then he leaned over and lightly brushed his lips across her forehead before turning and walking to the door.

Sarah’s pulse boom, boom, boomed in her ears like a whole chorus of snare drums as she watched Jake saunter from the room.

He wasn’t firing her. And he told her he admired her.

Sarah felt a strange clutch in her belly. But it wasn’t the real Sarah he admired, rather, the wild, impulsive, micromini-skirt-wearing Sadie.

Why was she having these memory lapses? Why was she assuming the persona of Sadie, a woman too much like her long-dead mother? Was this some kind of repressed wish fulfillment?

She had to face the fact that she had spent her life trying to be what her father wanted her to be. She’d rushed wholeheartedly toward being the perfect daughter. But those unrealistic expectations had obviously caused her subconscious to short-circuit and go searching for her hidden identity. She also had to deal with the idea that she had been holding her father back from a life of his own as much as he’d been sheltering her.

Everything in her world had changed. Everything.

What would happen if she were to just come out and tell Jake the truth? That she seemed to have developed some bizarre split personality that she could not control? Would he think she was nuttier than a box of trail mix?

It was a legitimate question. One she could not even answer for herself. She shook her head in despair. It was as if she was under some kind of spell. A feminine Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. But of course, she had not ingested any magical potions that she could recall.

And then the truth hit her. Slapped her hard, in fact, with the reality of the situation. Bingo! She knew now what was happening to her.

People had been saying trigger words. She cast her mind back to the costume party on board the Alaskan Queen, when she was hypnotized. She struggled to piece together the disjointed fabric of her memory.

Sarah blew out her breath, at once relieved and embarrassed. Relieved to know what was happening to her but embarrassed to think how she must have behaved as Sadie.

Her heart sank at the recollection of the Polaroid picture Lizzy and Kim had taken of her when she was dancing provocatively on the cruise ship. Briefly, she closed her eyes against the shame flaming through her. She was no better than her mother.

No wonder Jake kept looking at her like she was a real hottie. No doubt that’s the way she’d been acting. Sarah groaned and pulled the pillow over her head. He thought she was some kind of loosey-goosey vixen.

And then another thought occurred to her. A thought that sent her blood racing through her veins in a heated rush. Her mouth went dry.

What if she’d already made love to him as Sadie?

Sarah gulped. No. It couldn’t be. Even in a hypnotic trance she would have remembered that.

Her mind conjured up a million naughty visions of her and Jake in bed, a tangle of arms and legs and sheets. She imagined them making love on the floor, in the bathtub, on a soft spot of ground under the pier where the ships docked.

Sarah Jane Stanhope, this is so unlike you. You stop having erotic fantasies this instant.

But oh, no. Her mind simply refused to stop spinning. She pictured her hands running over the contoured planes of muscular chest. She visualized his palms skimming her sensitive flesh. She conceptualized their joining and her temperature shot up a full ten degrees.

Sarah fanned herself with a hand.

“I want to make love to Jake Gerard.”

Okay, there. She’d said it. She wanted him, but she was too chicken to do anything about it. She’d never made an advance toward any man. She was too nervous, too shy, too darned scared to make the first move.

Maybe you are, but Sadie’s not, whispered a wicked little voice in the back of her head. What if you seduced him as Sadie?

How?

“Why, honey,” Sadie’s voice crooned in her head. “You’ve got to get him to say hot sex.”

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

8

IT TOOK TWO DAYS for Sarah to work up the courage to put her plan in action. On Sunday night, she realized it was now or never. Soon, her father and friends would discover she was missing. Soon, her adventure would come to an end. She didn’t want to leave Bear Creek without making love to Jake.

After the restaurant closed and everyone else had gone home, she strolled out to the bar, determined to see this through. If she could get him to say “hot sex,” then as Sadie, she would be spending the night in his bed, come heck or high tide.

It was Linc’s night off and Jake was wiping down the mahogany wood of the bar with a hand towel lightly spritzed with lemon furniture polish. He stopped what he was doing and crooked a grin at her. An instant thrill raised the hairs on her arms.

“Everyone else gone?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.” She hesitated, then said, “Linc was teasing me the other day about calling Bloody Marys Dirty Harrys. How come you didn’t tell me I’d made a mistake?”

“You were just so adorable, I couldn’t bring myself to break it to you.”

“Well, I hated looking like a dooh-dooh, so I’ve decided to learn all the bar drinks.”

“That’s a tall order, Sadie. You’re a chef now, no reason to worry about drink orders.”

“It’s a source of personal pride.”

All right. How to continue? She paused a moment.

“Linc made me this new drink. It was so delicious, but I forgot the name of it. I hated to admit it to him since he already teased me about the Dirty Harry incident.” She was making this whole thing up as she went along.

“What’s in the drink?”

“I’m not really sure.”

“That narrows it down.” Jake chuckled.

“Some kind of liquor.” This was going badly, she was coming off like an idiot.

“Most bar drinks generally have some kind of liquor in them.” An amused expression crinkled the corners of his eyes.

Just wait until I get you to say “hot sex,” buster, and Sadie comes back around. She’ll show you amused.

“Umm, I think it was something ‘sex.”’

Jake’s grin widened. “That sounds like Linc. Giving you a sexy drink.”

“I believe it had an H in it, too.”

“Sex at My House? Amaretto, raspberry liqueur, pineapple juice.”

“Nooo, that doesn’t sound quite right.” Just hearing him say the name gave her the shivers.

“Sex Appeal? White rum, coconut rum…”

She was shaking her head before he finished. “That’s not right.”

“Sex on Ice?”

Ooh handsome, with you I’d have sex anywhere. On ice, on the stove, in the freezer.

“Nope.”

“Sex in the Shower?”

Hmm. “I don’t think so.”

“Sex in the Red Zone?”

“No.”

“There are many versions of Sex on the Beach. Was it one of those?”

Frustrated, she shook her head again. This ploy wasn’t working at all.

“Then there’s the always-popular Sex on My Face.”

“Jake!”

“Am I embarrassing you?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, so I’m slightly embarrassed.”

“I don’t know about you, Sadie.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes you’re bold and brassy and brave and at other times you’re as prim as a schoolmarm.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. The two faces of Sadie Stanhope.”

He had no idea how close to the truth he was. This was her opportunity to come clean about the hypnosis, but if she did, would she ever get him in bed?

She decided to make a joke of the whole thing. “Are you calling me two-faced?”

“Oh, no ma’am. I’m just a bit flummoxed by your changeable nature, and I find myself wondering if you’ve got a twin sister or something.”

“I think it has coffee in it,” she said desperately. “The drink, I mean.”

“Coffee?”

“And maybe whipped cream.”

“Not an Irish coffee?”

“No.”

“Wait a minute. I’ve got it.” Jake snapped his fingers.

At last. Sarah braced herself, waited for the magic words. When you turn into Sadie you’re going to remember this. You’re going to seduce Jake.

“A Hot Shot. Coffee, Galliano, whipped cream.”

Hot shot? He said “hot shot,” not hot sex.

Argh! Sarah clenched her hands into fists. “The hot part sounds right, but I still think sex was in there somewhere.”

“Well honey, I think Linc has been pulling your leg. As far as I know there’s no drink called a ‘hot sex.”’

Hot sex.

The words reverberated around the vacant tables and booths.

Sadie felt all warm and soft and sexy and ready for anything.

Yeah, baby.

“Why don’t you make me one of those?” Sadie rested her arms on the bar.

“What?”

“Hot sex.” She wriggled her eyebrows at him.

“You’re not talking about the drinks anymore, are you?” Jake’s pulse was racing like a three-year-old thoroughbred sprinting across the finish line at the Kentucky Derby.

She wagged her head and gave him a come-hither glance that threatened to sear his shorts to his backside. The next thing he knew she was rounding the corner and coming behind the bar.

He was in serious trouble here and he knew it. Sadie wanted him and he wanted her. Up until Friday night, he’d been able to tell himself he couldn’t pursue her because she was too much like him to make a good wife.

And he hadn’t been willing to engage in a simple fling on the grounds that he was cleaning up his act. But in the wake of the disaster with Ms. Snidely, he’d come to the conclusion that maybe he didn’t really want to get married after all and he’d been using the restaurant as an excuse.

Mr. Friendly was voting for hot sex.

So was Sadie.

Rising onto her toes, she pressed herself against him. A soft groan of pure feminine approval resounded in her throat at the unmistakable evidence of his arousal.

“Can we go back to your place?” she whispered huskily.

Can we?! In a twinkling, Jake turned off the lights, locked up and ushered Sadie back to the B&B. His heart was going ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching.

He wanted Sadie and she wanted him. As long as they both went into this with their eyes open, there was nothing wrong with that. By the time they reached his room, his stomach was trussed up tight as a sheep shank knot and he was breathing as heavy as a prank caller.

With a start, he realized that for the first time in his entire sexual history, he was actually nervous. Usually when it came to making love he was very self-confident, but something about Sadie felled him like a western hemlock.

He slipped a breath mint from his pocket and popped it into his mouth. He wouldn’t let fear of halitosis stop this from being a memorable experience.

You need more than a breath mint. Come on. Think romance.

But his mind was numb, he couldn’t seem to do anything but stare at her. She was standing in the middle of his bedroom looking far more lovely than he’d ever seen her look, wearing her simple white blouse and short black skirt. She gave him a grin so seductive his knees almost buckled.

Candles, dumb-dumb. Candles and champagne and soft music. Hop to it. The lady’s waiting.

He went to the bureau drawer, fumbled among his holey socks and found a couple of candles and a book of matches he kept on hand in case of power failure. He lit the candles. Sadie switched off the overhead lights.

She was even more beautiful by candlelight.

“Let’s have some music.” He moved to the bedside table—placing himself within a few feet of her—and flicked on the radio to a romantic oldies station. The midnight-smooth voice of Johnny Mathis poured into the room.

He raised his head.

Their eyes met.

Sadie stepped closer.

“I could go get us some champagne,” he suggested.

“Before you run off, I just want you to know, I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Jake sucked in air at the full impact of her words. The mint was propelled backward in his mouth and slapped against his tonsils.

He coughed. The mint went down the wrong way.

He tried to cough again but no sound came out. How embarrassing. He raised a finger to indicate she was to give him a minute.

Sadie’s forehead creased in concern. “Jake? Sugar Bear, are you choking?”

He shook his head, lying because he didn’t want to look like a dufus in front of her.

“Er…maybe it’s just the candlelight, but I think you’re starting to turn blue.”

He pounded himself on the chest.

“You are choking! Hang on. Lemme give you the Heimlich maneuver.”

He wanted to make a joke about how he would gladly take the licking part but he found it a little difficult cracking wise remarks with a disk of cinnamon candy lodged in his throat.

She jumped behind him and slid her arms around his waist at the same time the candy melted enough to slip down his throat.

“It’s all right…” he started to say, but he was interrupted when she squeezed him just under his rib cage with a hearty thrust.

“Oof.”

“Jake? You okay?” She peered around his shoulder at him.

Gratefully, he sucked in air and then finally said, “Yeah, Nancy nurse. Thanks.”

“You really scared me.”

Me, too.

“Do you want to just call it a night?” she asked.

“Do you?”

Damned if his knees weren’t all shaky. Why was he so nervous, so clumsy, so very un-Jake-like? Where was the smooth operator who’d once occupied his body?

Gone. Vanished. Outta here.

Without the shield of his suave reputation, he felt totally exposed. Like the fraud he was. He knew now why he had always kept relationships light.

He hated getting hurt.

Maybe he should put a stop to this whole endeavor before things got out of hand. Except Sadie was giving him adoring looks like he was the best invention since long weekends.

“I think you should just kiss me. No preamble.”

“You sure about that? You saw what I do to breath mints. You’re taking a big chance on me.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“You’re a brave, brave woman.” He leaned in close. Gosh, she smelled so good. Like rosemary and basil, chives and garlic and pure, sweet woman.

“Or foolishly impulsive, depending on your point of view.”

“From here I’d say the view’s pretty great.”

He glanced into her laughing eyes, her rich pink lips curled into a tantalizing smile, her hands still wrapped around his waist. A Mack truck loaded with sexual desire slammed right into his lower midsection. The expression on his face must have changed because her eyes dilated and her body tensed.

“On the whole, I prefer daringly adventuresome.” He dipped his head to hers.

“Not impetuously scatterbrained?”

“Nope.”

Their lips were almost touching.

She caught her breath.

He dropped a kiss on that curvy indention between her nose and the bow of her upper lip. Then he rubbed her nose with his.

“Eskimo kisses,” she said. “That’s what my mother used to call them.”

“Oh?”

“Uh-huh.”

Her eyes fluttered closed. He kissed her eyelids.

“Hmm, I like that,” she murmured. “My mother called those butterfly kisses.”

He nibbled her ears. “What’s this called?”

“Come on, Jake. My mother never nibbled my ears.”

He chuckled. “I suppose not. How about we name it?”

“What about paradise nibbles?”

“Works for me.” He slid his mouth down to her chin.

Sadie sighed.

When he flicked out his tongue to touch the throbbing vein at the spot where her neck intersected with her jaw, she moaned.

His skin was on fire, blazing with scary intensity. Damn. They were just getting started and he was already a human torch, burning, aching, flaming for her. He wanted her. Over him. Under him. Long, racehorse legs wrapped around him. She was firecracker-hot and ready to explode in his hands.

Mr. Friendly rose to the challenge. He’d never been so horny, so full of lust. Oddly enough, these feelings were unlike anything he had ever felt before, and Jake had a whole lot of experience with lustful feelings. This desperate sensation throbbing through his veins had an urgency, a hunger that was totally alien…a delicious fervor that shattered common sense to smithereens.

Clearly he had given up any notion of getting married and settling down. He had fallen under Sadie’s magnetic spell, and nothing else seemed to matter except their being here together in his room. He was his old rash, impulsive self again and he didn’t regret it for a minute.

“You Sexy Thing” came on the radio.

Sadie stepped back from him, and his arms felt terribly bereft. He reached to pull her back into his embrace, but she shook her head and in that moment, he knew what she was aiming to do. The realization thrust him headlong into a whole new level of arousal.

Holy cow, holy cow, holy cow. All his dreams were about to come true.

Slowly, she began undoing the buttons on her blouse. Mesmerized, Jake perched on the edge of the bed and watched Sadie perform her striptease.

Sadie had never felt so alive, so cherished, so desired. The expression in Jake’s eyes produced a strange tugging sensation deep within her. She loved that he wanted her. She yearned to please him any way she could. She rolled her left shoulder forward, let her blouse slip a notch, revealing a peek of skin.

The musical group sang of believing in miracles.

Jake sat transfixed, his gaze never leaving her.

She rotated her hips. Chaka-boom-chaka-boom-chaka-boom-boom-boom. Tossing her head, she pulled her hair up off the nape of her neck with both hands and twisted her fanny toward the floor, legs gyrating in time to the music.

She got caught up in the dance, savoring Jake’s overt appreciation, enjoying the movement of her own body, relishing her feminine power. In one slowly seductive movement, she stripped off her silky blouse and twirled it over her head like a cowgirl spinning a lasso.

The radio crooned that she was a sexy thing.

Jake apparently concurred, because he was humming along with the song, his eyes locked on her chest, which was now clothed in only a skimpy white bra.

Sadie winked and then turned her back to him. She reached around and inched the zipper of her skirt down a notch.

Jake inhaled sharply.

Glancing over her shoulder, she made certain he wasn’t choking again before she angled him a coquettish smile.

“More?” she asked in a husky, breathy whisper.

He nodded. Vigorously.

She slipped the zipper down just a little bit farther. “Do you see anything you like?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Poor man, he was practically drooling.

Ssssss, hissed the zipper.

The skirt pooled to the floor, she stepped out of the circle of material and slowly turned back around to face him. She wore black stockings with a red garter, white satin thong panties and her chaste white bra.

If Jake were a cartoon character, his eyes would be bugging right out of his head. Oooga! Oooga!

“You told me you weren’t wearing any underwear,” he croaked.

“I’m not, now.” She smiled wickedly, peeled off her panties and unhooked her bra. “Am I?”

Jake slapped a palm across his chest as if to keep his heart from jumping out.

“Come here,” he commanded.

She wasn’t the sort of girl who needed to be asked twice. In a split second, she was standing beside the bed with his legs wrapped tightly around her waist.

“I gotcha,” he said, “and you’re not getting away. There’s no escaping Stalag Jake.”

“As if I wanted to escape.” She laughed. “You just better make sure you know who you’re taking prisoner.”

He rocked back onto the bed and pulled her down snug on top of him. The minute his lips touched hers, the tower of anticipation that had been all day in the making toppled inside Sadie and she collapsed. Had she ever wanted a man to make love to her so badly she literally ached?

She wriggled against him and a low moan of feminine delight escaped her startled lips at the unmistakable evidence of his full-blown arousal. His arms spanned her waist, and she reveled in the magnitude of his strength. She inhaled his masculine, outdoorsy smell, felt the hot hunger of his lips as his tongue explored the outline of her mouth.

Time ceased to exist. His kisses rendered her senseless. One minute his mouth was gentle and coaxing, the next fiercely demanding. She liked both moods, both sides of him.

His hands skimmed her back, then came to rest on her bottom, which he kneaded and stroked and pressed more firmly against his solid arousal. Pure molten lava flowed beneath her skin, burning her, stinging her, thrusting desperate desire and pulsating passion through the core of her body.

She wanted, no, needed to feel his bare flesh against hers, taste the salt of his skin, inhale the scent of his essential maleness.

Her fingers cried out to strum his naked nipples. Her tongue strained to sip his flavor. Her nose tingled to be filled with the smell of him.

In a heated daze, she grabbed for the front of his shirt, fingers fumbling madly at his buttons. Roughly, she shoved the material aside and laid her hot palms against the equally fevered flesh of his taut abdomen.

His hormones were as unruly as hers. He ripped off his shirt and went for the snap of his jeans.

“Let me help,” she cried and shifted positions in order to assist him in shucking off the restrictive denim. She tossed his pants across the room.

He combed his fingers through her hair, then looked deeply up into her eyes. “You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever known.”

“From what I’ve been told about your reputation with the ladies, that’s quite a compliment.”

“My reputation is exaggerated,” he said.

“It doesn’t bother me that you’ve been with lots of women.”

“Not all that many, really. I just like to flirt a lot. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“I know.” She touched her index finger to his chin. “But I’m not asking to be your wife. You don’t have to promise me happily ever after. This is just about sex. No big deal.”

But why then, did it feel like such a gigantic deal?

And why did she suddenly feel so impossibly sad? Did she want more from him?

Sadie shook her head. No. He’d made it clear on numerous occasions that she was the wrong kind of woman for him.

From the radio came the opening notes of a familiar oldies tune, “Going to the Chapel.” She knew the song. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized the word married was mentioned in the song. Not once, but numerous times.

Fear zipped through her. When the singers uttered that word would it trigger her transformation back into stuffy old Sarah? As Sarah, she knew she couldn’t go through with indulging in a one-night stand.

She had to shut the radio off before she heard the trigger word, before she was propelled into the fuddy-duddy personality that had kept her from really living for the last twenty-four years.

Frantically, she rolled off Jake, scrambled across the bed and lunged for the radio dial.

“Come back here, you,” he teased and grabbed her around the waist.

“No, please, you don’t understand.” She squirmed, she wriggled, but she knew she wasn’t going to get away from him in time.

“I get it,” Jake said. “You want to wrestle.”

He flipped her onto her back.

She struggled to get away but he pinned her, spread-eagled, against the quilt. He sat on her legs, staked her arms up over her head.

Their gazes locked.

Sadie was breathing heavily, her ears straining to catch the words of the song.

Oh, no. Oh, no. Here it comes. She cringed.

“Married,” the singers warbled.

And then, she was prim Sarah again.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

9

“SADIE, ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?”

Sarah panted, terrified and yet wildly exhilarated to find herself underneath this powerful masculine man. Startled, she glanced up and down the hard length of his body.

He was exquisite beyond words. And she, sheltered, overprotected Sarah Stanhope, was in bed with a potent stick of human dynamite. Sadie had gotten her this far, but now Sadie was gone and she was all alone with the man of her dreams.

She’d never been so anxious. Or so blasted turned on.

He watched her like a cat at a mouse hole. In one smooth movement, he flipped them over again so that she was on top once more, her legs straddling his waist.

“Sadie?” he repeated, his gaze searching her face.

“Fine,” she said, when at last she found her tongue. “I’m fine.”

“I thought for a moment there that I might have hurt you.”

“Nope.”

Part of her wanted to leap out of bed and run away. But another part of her—the part that had been wishing and hoping and praying for this moment since the day she’d met him—was too hot and hungry and wound up to even think about going anywhere.

And yet the notion of making love to him had her insides quivering with fear of the unknown.

Just pretend to be Sadie. Do what she would do and you’ll be fine.

Yet how did she know what Sadie would do? The woman was a figment of some hypnotist’s imagination.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Jake murmured. “Because it’s allowed.”

She drew in her breath and said in a very shaky voice, “No. No second thoughts here.”

He cradled his palm against her cheek. “Sweetheart,” he said, his voice hoarse with strain.

Her nipples pulled tight at the sound and her belly tingled. He was gorgeous, all sinewy muscles, hard ridges and firm angles. Completely masculine. Totally male. Nothing at all like the soft city boys of her acquaintance.

With tentative fingers, she reached down to touch the velvet head of his manhood. She felt the heat of his pulse beating there, matching the fretful rhythm of her own heart.

She’d never touched a man’s appendage before and she found the experience enlightening as well as erotically stimulating. The softness of him surprised her. Who would have suspected it could at once be so hard and yet so velvety smooth?

Apparently the contact was good for Jake as well. He groaned and closed his eyes.

Her other hand wanted to explore uncharted territories. She traversed her way across his firm backside, the iron muscles of his thighs, the tender area between his bottom and his erection.

Jake gasped, and the strangled, erotic sound gave her the courage to go on. He seemed to like what she was doing.

Liked it a lot if the increased swelling in his shaft were any indication. She kissed his chest, then laved his nipples with her tongue. His appreciative noises increased in urgency and tempo.

He wanted more, and she intended on giving it.

Her lips trailed lower, kissing the swirl of hair from his nipples to his navel and beyond. He rested his hand on her head and then gently, inexorably guided her to where he wanted her to go.

Overwhelmed with a desire to please him, Sadie did what he wanted. But in her naive, innocent enthusiasm, she didn’t lead up, didn’t tease or taunt. She simply drew him deep into her mouth. As deeply as she could.

Jake hissed through clenched teeth, sounding exactly like a tire going flat.

He tasted of forbidden fruit. She swirled her tongue up and down him, enthralled by how much this was turning them both on and by how very natural it seemed.

“Wicked,” he moaned. “You’re so wicked.”

This was Sarah he was talking about, not her wild alter ego. Couldn’t he tell the difference?

Could she?

That disquieting thought disturbed her, but not for long.

“My turn.” He panted. “To torture you. Come here.”

As she moved over, he pulled her into the curve of his arm and kissed her, while his fingers went to work below her waist, gently stroking and kneading the inside of her thighs until her entire body throbbed.

“How’s this feel?” he asked.

“Umm.”

“And this?”

“Heavenly.”

“Then I’m not doing something right. It’s suppose to feel devilishly good.”

“Ah, Sugar Bear, believe me, you’re doing everything right.”

Why did it sound as if Sadie’s voice was coming out of her mouth? Sarah would never say such a bold thing. Was she channeling the imaginary seductress?

“You are so beautiful. I can’t believe I’m in bed with you.”

With the tip of one callused finger, he stroked her slick feminine flesh. Up and down, around and over her most sensitive nerve endings.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for days,” he confessed.

“Oh my.”

He continued to strum her body like a musical instrument. She was amazed at the noises slipping from her throat as his sly fingers played her.

If she made love to Jake, there would be no going back. She could never be the woman she’d been before coming to Bear Creek. She sat perched precariously on the verge of a personality shift, an amalgam of uninhibited Sadie and repressed Sarah.

But who was she really?

And which personality was it that Jake wanted?

She was both frightened and awed, not knowing who she would be once this was over, unable to guess at what the future might hold for her and Jake.

Was this just a one-night stand? Could it be something more? Did Jake want it to be more?

Did she?

The power of his hands and lips, as they did erotic things to her, robbed her of breath and the will to think.

Suddenly, Jake pulled away from her. Was he having second thoughts? Her gaze went immediately to his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve got…we need…”

“Yes?”

“Protection. I’ll be right back.” He vaulted off the bed and darted into the bathroom.

“Huh?”

Dazed, Sarah stared after him, not realizing what he was talking about until he returned a minute later wearing an orange, glow-in-the-dark condom. She slapped a hand over her mouth to suppress her giggles.

“Making fun of me, are you?” he asked, leaping headlong back onto the quilt beside her.

“A fluorescent condom?”

“I didn’t want you to risk losing me in the dark.”

“Like that’s going to happen.” She reached for him.

And then he simply took over. Slowly, thoroughly and with tender loving care, he dove into their lovemaking at a fevered pitch. He left no part of her unexplored. He lavished her with moist licks and heated kisses from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Her body throbbed and writhed beneath his clever hands. Throbbed and ached and begged for release.

Then, when Sarah thought she could not stand one second more of this masterful torture, he separated her legs and gently tried to enter her.

And met with a firm resistance.

Jake gasped and his gaze flew to her face.

“You…you’re…a virgin?” He stared at her, incredulous.

Sarah nibbled her upper lip with concern. “Is that a problem?”

“I…I…” He was obviously stunned by her revelation, his mouth hanging open in surprise. Jake speechless? This was unheard-of. “I never would have guessed.”

“Do you mind terribly?”

“Mind? Mind? Woman, are you nuts? It’s every man’s dream to bed a virgin.”

“It is?”

“Double A right.”

“You’ve never been with a virgin before?”

“No, and if I’d known you were one, I would never have started this.”

“Why not?”

“Because your virginity is special. You need to give it to someone special.”

“You are special, Jake.”

“Really?” he asked huskily.

Slowly, she nodded.

Jake gulped, felt himself falling into something deep and wildly exciting. Was it possible that this woman he thought uninhibited and free and impulsive was not like that at all? Underneath her blasé facade, could she really be the steady, reliable, sensible woman he needed?

He scarcely dared hope, but the discovery of her virginity rattled him to the soles of his feet.

“Stop thinking so much, Jake, and just make love to me,” she whispered.

His mouth captured hers. They kissed for a long, heart-stopping moment and then slowly, inch by careful inch he slid into her warm, willing body.

When she whimpered, he stopped moving.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked anxiously.

“It’s a good kind of pain,” she murmured. “Keep going.”

He savored every second of their journey together. Kissing her tenderly, ruffling her hair with his fingers, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Telling her how beautiful she was, how manly she made him feel.

Her eyes lit up at his compliments and he realized that for the first time he meant these words. He had expressed similar sentiments to other women and perhaps at the time he believed them, but he’d never experienced the true meaning of connection until his body was joined with Sadie’s.

“I love the way you feel inside me,” she said. “Filling me up, making me whole.”

His heart lurched. He cupped her face in her hands and kept moving soft and slow even though he was aching to thrust fast and hard. He was in control here, not his errant member.

His eyes never left her face. She stared up at him and they looked at each other until they seemed to blend into one body, one mind, one soul.

SARAH WOKE, stretched, smiled. Her body ached sweetly, telling her she possessed muscles she’d never known existed. Last night had been pure heaven. She reached across the bed for Jake. Her hand touched nothing but sheet. She raised her head, looked over to where the big, sexy man had lain next to her last night. His side of the bed was empty.

Maybe he’d just tiptoed off to the bathroom.

“Jake?” she called.

No answer. No bathroom sounds from the adjoining room.

Her spirits sank to her ankles. Her smile evaporated.

What had she expected? Tender professions of love? Heartfelt promises of happily-ever-after? As Sadie, she’d made it quite clear to him that she was only passing through. Why did she feel cheated?

Especially since she’d been the one doing the cheating.

She had allowed him to take her to bed, thinking that she was wild, lighthearted Sadie. It wasn’t his fault if last night hadn’t been anything more than a fun time. That’s what Sadie had told him she wanted.

And apparently, it was what Jake wanted as well.

But now he was gone. He couldn’t stand to wake up next to you, Sarah thought.

She bit down on her bottom lip to keep from crying, but it was a hopeless gesture. Tears stung her eyes. She should have been honest with him. The minute she realized that truth about her hypnotized state, she should have told him what was going on. Instead, she’d misled him, using his attraction to Sexy Sadie to get him into bed.

No wonder he’d run out on her.

Sighing, Sarah sat up, clutched the covers to her chest and brushed her disheveled hair from her face.

That’s when she saw the note pinned to his pillow.

With fingers trembling and a pounding heart, she reached for it.

Dear Sadie,

Thought I’d let you sleep in, don’t worry about coming in until noon. Last night was fabulous. Can’t wait until tonight.

Jake.

Her hopes rose on shaky wings. He hadn’t just run out on her, he’d gone to work. Like any responsible business owner. She exhaled and realized belatedly that she’d been holding her breath. Time to get dressed and go tell him the truth. Time to see what he said when he discovered his Sexy Sadie was none other than Staid Sarah.

THE BELL over the door jingled merrily and two attractive young women stepped across the threshold into the B&B. Jake looked up from behind the front desk.

“Morning, ladies.” He smiled in greeting.

The taller of the two, a brunette with a soft Southern accent, stepped across the hardwood floor with her hand extended.

“My name’s Lizzy Magnason,” the brunette said. “And this is Kim Bishop.” She indicated the petite blonde beside her with a flick of her wrist.

“Nice to meet you. How can I help you?”

“We’re looking for a friend of ours. We just found out she walked off the Alaskan Queen when it was docked here ten days ago.”

“And you just now realized she was missing?” Jake arched an eyebrow. With friends like these, who needed complete strangers?

“It’s a long story,” the blonde interrupted. “We thought she was having a rendezvous with some guy in his stateroom. We didn’t discover what had happened until the cruise ended in Anchorage yesterday.”

“We called her father, of course, and he’s frantic,” Lizzy added. “He’s flying out on his private jet from San Francisco, but we were hoping to find Sarah before he gets here. We were thinking that somebody in town might have seen her. Maybe she’s even staying here?”

“We’re really worried,” Kim said. “Although our friend is very smart, she’s also naive about the ways of the world.”

Jake’s gut roiled. Before he even asked the question, he knew what the answer would be.

“What’s your friend’s name?”

“Sarah Stanhope, but she might be going by the name of Sadie. See, we were playing parlor games during a costume party and Sarah got hypnotized on the ship, but she left before the hypnotist had a chance to deprogram her. The problem is, under the influence of this Sadie persona, she acts really wild and seductive. In fact,” Lizzy dropped her voice an octave, “she thinks she’s a stripper.”

Jake was finding it hard to breathe. The room suddenly seemed far too warm and far too small. His head throbbed with the pain of this new information.

“Sarah’s about five-six, beautiful red hair, blue eyes. Have you seen her?” Lizzy asked.

Oh, he’d seen her all right. Every bare inch of her.

Jake nodded, unable to speak. His mind raced a million miles a minute. Suddenly, everything made sense. Why Sadie was sometimes quiet and reserved, at other times giddy and flirtatious. He’d thought her moody and mercurial when all along she’d been under the influence of hypnosis.

Who had he made love to last night? Sweet-natured Sarah or this false persona, flashy-trashy Sadie?

Wincing, he closed his eyes. Considering she’d performed a striptease, it had to be Sadie. It was she who had gleefully surrendered Sarah’s virginity. Not Sarah herself. In fact, would Sarah even remember what had happened between them?

This was too confusing. He couldn’t process it all. Jake kneaded his brow with his fingers and opened his eyes.

Just in time to see Sadie, or was it Sarah, coming down the back corridor to the lobby. Her hair was twisted on top of her head, her blouse buttoned up tight, sensible shoes shod her feet and a anxious expression rode her mouth.

She had to be Sarah.

Nervousness assailed him. Nervousness and fear. All the things he’d planned on telling her this morning about how completely right she felt for him flew right out the window. How could he tell her he’d fallen in love with her, when he didn’t even know who she was?

“There you are,” she said to Jake.

At the very same time Lizzy and Kim spotted her.

“Sarah!”

The next few minutes erupted into chaos as the three best friends squealed gleefully and launched themselves into each others’ arms.

“Omigosh, what are you doing here?” Sarah asked.

“Harvey lied. He claimed you were sleeping with him and we were gullible enough to believe him,” Kim said.

“That jerk. Yesterday evening, when we found out that he’d been fibbing and you’d gone ashore in Bear Creek, we were frantic, crazed with worry. We chartered a plane and got here as quickly as we could.” Lizzy hugged Sarah tight.

“I’m fine. Really.”

The three women chattered like chipmunks, with Lizzy and Kim explaining about the hypnotism, while Sadie told them about her week and a half spent in Bear Creek working as a waitress and then a chef. They seemed to forget Jake was standing there, cut adrift, left out of the conversation.

The very earth had shifted out from under him. All morning he had been making plans, trying to find a way to convince Sadie to stay in Bear Creek and work for him to give them both time to see where the relationship was headed. Now there was this new discovery. She wasn’t the woman he thought she was. No down-on-her-luck stripper, but the privileged heiress to a fortune.

“Sadie,” he said, taking her by the arm after the excitement had died down. “Can I see you in private, please?”

She turned those big blue eyes on him, and he felt a clutch of fear all the way to his bones.

“Give me a minute,” she told her friends. “I’ll be right back.”

“Sure. No problem. Now we know you’re safe. Take your time.” Kim nodded.

“Oh, Sarah,” Lizzy said. “We forgot to tell you.”

Sarah turned back around to look at her friends. “What?”

“We called your father as soon as Harvey confessed. He’s on his way.” Lizzy glanced at her watch. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he arrives at any minute.”

Her father was coming. Here. To Bear Creek.

Sarah wasn’t sure she was ready to face him, but Jake wasn’t giving her much time to think about that. As he dragged her toward the backyard, he seemed really upset. His mouth was screwed into a disapproving line, his eyebrows dipped into a deep V. She had never seen him like this. Stern and vexed.

He hadn’t yet shaved and his beard stubble gave him an ominous appearance. She gulped.

“Okay,” he said, once the back door shut behind them. “Out with it.”

“Out with what?”

“This whole hypnosis thing. How long have you known you were switching back and forth from yourself to this Sadie person?”

She looked at him and got a funny little stabbing sensation in the center of her heart. She had hurt him and she had certainly never meant to do that.

“Jake, I…”

“How long?” he asked gruffly.

“Since the night that I dumped the pasta on Ms. Snidely’s head. Sadie did the dumping; I was remorseful.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have understood.”

“Would you have? Really? You’d already told me you’d had enough of flaky women. If I said that I was toggling back and forth between my real self and this made-up personality, wouldn’t you have thought I was a kook?”

He said nothing, just blew out his breath with a heavy huff. “Do you remember what happened between us last night?”

She ducked her head. “Yes. Of course.”

He cradled her chin in his palm, lifted her face up to his and forced her to look him in the eye. His gaze was troubled.

“Who did I make love to last night? Was it Sadie or Sarah?”

How was she supposed to answer this?

“Which one did you want me to be?” she asked softly.

Her heart broke right into two pieces when she saw the answer reflected in his hazel eyes. Sexy Sadie was the one he wanted. Not Sensible Sarah.

“I told you before that you can’t be what I want you to be. You have to be yourself. So here’s a better question, sweetheart. Just who in the hell are you?”

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

10

FAIR QUESTION. The only problem was, Sarah didn’t know the answer. Not any more.

All her life she’d been a good girl, devoted to her father, doing the right thing, living up to the Stanhope name. No one could question her ethics or claim that her mother’s tempestuous blood pulsed through her veins.

But somewhere in the back of her subconscious lurked a rebelliousness that had seized on the opportunity the hypnotist presented when he turned her into Sadie.

Somewhere deep inside Sarah lurked a wild woman.

And for the last twenty-four years she’d been both ashamed and terrified of that person.

She opened her mouth to tell Jake about her confusion over her identity, when a sudden rapping sound drew her attention to Kim and Lizzy poking their heads around the back door.

“Sarah,” Lizzy said. “I hate to interrupt, but your father just arrived and he’s got some woman with him.”

Some woman? Sarah’s tummy clenched. Was it the woman who had answered his phone?

She glanced over at Jake again. He had his arms crossed over his chest, an unreadable expression on his face. He was shutting down, closing her out, creating a barrier between them.

Could she blame him? No doubt he was feeling hurt and disappointed and confused.

But no more confused than she.

“Go talk to your father,” he said. “Maybe he can help you find the answers you’re looking for.”

Jake was right and she knew it, but was she ready for this? Sarah sucked in her breath. Her eyes met his. “Will you come with me?”

He nodded, and relief washed through her. He hadn’t written her off completely.

Not yet anyway.

Nerves atwitter, heart ajitter, Sarah turned and mounted the back steps with Jake right behind her.

Lizzy and Kim marched ahead of her into the lobby of the B&B. She halted when she saw her father seated on the plush leather sofa. An attractive, well-dressed woman who appeared to be a few years younger than his own fifty-eight years sat beside him holding his hand.

Sarah might have turned and ran if Jake hadn’t been blocking her exit.

“Sarah!” her father cried, and sprang to his feet, arms out thrust.

In that moment her fears vanished.

“Papa,” she cried, and ran to him.

His grip was strong, but he was trembling all over.

“Darling,” he said. “We were so worried about you.”

We. As in him and his new woman. That single word took the joy right out of their reunion. Sarah stepped back from the circle of her father’s arms and eyed his companion.

The woman had risen to her feet. She extended her hand. “I know this is an awkward way to meet, Sarah, but I’m Margery Kowling.”

“Dr. Margery Kowling,” her father said proudly, looking at the woman with deep affection. He draped an arm nonchalantly around her shoulder. “She’s a cardiologist. We met at the vinegar festival. We’ve been dating on and off since then.”

The annual festival had been six months earlier. Her father had been seeing Margery behind her back for six months? Why had he felt the need to slip around? Why hadn’t he told her?

Reluctantly, Sarah shook Margery’s hand and the woman smiled such a genuine, friendly smile. Sarah immediately felt guilty for holding a grudge.

“Nice to meet you, Margery.”

“Your friends told us what happened to you. The hypnotism, getting left by the cruise ship.” Margery nodded at Lizzy and Kim. “It must have been a disconcerting experience for you.”

“To say the least.”

“We need to find that hypnotist and get you deprogrammed as soon as possible,” her father said to Sarah. “We need to get things straightened out before making the trip home.”

“He’s probably still in Anchorage,” Lizzy said. “Kim and I’ll go call the cruise line and see if we can locate him.”

It was all coming to a close. Her time in Alaska. Her wonderful adventure as first a waitress and then a chef. Her father had come to take her home.

But she didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay.

What did Jake want? Sarah glanced over at him. He stood with his back against the front desk, his complete attention focused on her. He smiled and that gave her courage.

“Why didn’t you call me right away, darling?” her father asked. “You know I would have sent the jet.”

“I know and I did try to call, but when Margery answered the phone, I didn’t know what to say to her. Or to you. It occurred to me that I’d been standing in the way of your romantic life. I didn’t want to spoil your good time, so I decided to stay in Bear Creek until I could earn the money to come home. I realized I had been depending on you far too much.”

Her father took her hands in his and guided her to sit down on the sofa on his right side. Margery perched on his left. It felt odd to see him with a woman. Many times as a child, she had wished he would remarry so she could have a mother, but he had rarely dated. As time went on, she’d become accustomed to it being just the two of them.

Too accustomed, apparently.

“No, darling,” her father said gently. “I was the one leaning too hard on you. Margery has helped me to see that. She told me that a lot of my cardiac problems could be related to emotional stress. I took her advice and started seeing a counselor.”

“You’ve been going to a shrink?”

He nodded. “For the past four months. And it’s the best thing I’ve ever done. Should have done it years ago. My blood pressure is finally in the normal range without medication, and I feel more alive than I’ve felt in years.”

She had to admit he did look good. If Margery was responsible for the luster in his eyes and the starch in his step then who was she to complain?

“Why didn’t you mention this before now?” she asked. “And what’s all this about emotional stress?”

Her father looked to Margery and she nodded. “It’s time to tell her everything, Charles. She has a right to know.”

“Tell me what?” Sarah looked from her father to Margery and back again.

“I didn’t tell you that I was going to counseling, because I wasn’t ready to face what I had done to you.” Papa shook his head.

“You didn’t do anything to me. You’ve been a wonderful father.”

“If only that were true.”

“But it is true,” Sarah protested, feeling uneasy.

“No, it’s not. All these years I was terrified you would grow up to be like your mother. That you would find me much too dull and leave me, just as she did. I kept you tied to the business. I never allowed you to fully express yourself. I convinced you to work in my business rather than become a gourmet chef like you wanted. I’m afraid I even exaggerated my heart condition. You were getting to be the same age your mother was when she took off. I used my mild heart attack to bind you even tighter to me. I’m very ashamed of what I’ve done.”

“But you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.” Sarah squeezed his hand. “I loved taking care of you. And I’m nothing like my mother.”

Except that is, when she was Sexy Sadie.

“You look just like her, Sarah, and she wasn’t a bad woman. In fact, she was wonderful. So alive, so vivacious, so uninhibited.”

She studied her father. She’d never heard him speak this way about Maria. “And she was a frivolous, feckless woman who abandoned us to pursue her acting career.”

Her father shook his head. “That’s not true.”

“What?”

“Your mother didn’t leave. My parents chased her away.”

“Gramma and Grandpa Stanhope?”

“Yes.”

Silence wedged itself between them like a gigantic white elephant.

“Are you going to explain?” Sarah asked him at last.

She was so focused on her father she forgot all about Margery and Jake being in the room. All she could think about was the sound of her mother’s voice humming “Sexy Sadie” and rocking her to sleep. She remembered her mother’s smile and the color of her eyes. Blue. Just like her own.

“Your mother was much younger than I. A girl really, when we married. And she was trying hard to break into acting. Her zeal and idealism were what attracted me to her and I suppose that I represented security to her. She had a very tumultuous life. Your grandparents were against the marriage from the beginning, but I was so enchanted with Maria I couldn’t see that we were mismatched in so many ways. She needed someone younger, more flexible.”

“Don’t blame yourself.”

“But I was to blame. I was so involved with the vinegar business, I didn’t see how unhappy she was after you were born. Not that she didn’t love you, Sarah, but she missed her old life. One day when you were about three years old and I was working, she took you with her to visit some of her acting friends. They were laughing and drinking wine and having a good time and she thought you were napping in the back room. But you climbed out the window and the police found you wandering the streets and took you to the station. Luckily, we had taught you your name and address. My parents came to pick you up, but they never forgave Maria.”

Sarah sucked in her breath. Her hands trembled; her heart ached. “But she hadn’t meant for any harm to come to me and none did.”

Her father paused a moment, then took a deep breath and continued. “There’s more. In order to make ends meet, your mother had once worked as a stripper. She was very ashamed of her past, and she never told me about it. But my parents found out, and on top of the other incident, they decided she was unworthy of their son. They told her she was a worthless mother. They convinced Maria that you and I would be better off without her. They told her if she caused trouble they’d make sure she never got another acting job.”

“No,” Sarah whispered, hurting for the sad young woman who’d been her mother.

“Yes. She left in the middle of the night. I hired a private investigator to go after her, but by the time he found her, she was seriously ill from pneumonia and I never got to speak to her. I didn’t find out the real truth of what happened until many years later when your grandmother confessed to me on her deathbed. After seeing how miserable I was without your mother, she regretted what she and my father had done.”

“But why didn’t you tell me this before?” Sarah asked, wondering how different her life might have been if she’d had this information growing up.

“Because I was afraid you would admire her and try to emulate her. And while she was a wonderful woman, I was fearful of losing you. Whenever you showed the least signs of exuberant behavior, I squelched it in you. I never let you fully express yourself. Anything that smacked of your mother, I tried to stomp out.”

“Papa.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t judge yourself so harshly.”

“I’ve come to grips with my role in what happened, thanks to Margery and my counselor.” Her father smiled at his new lady friend before turning back to look at Sarah. “And I’ve also come to realize that I’ve cheated both of us by holding on to you so tightly. It’s time to let go and allow you to stand on your own two feet.”

Eleven days ago, before she’d met Jake and started working at his restaurant, the thought of leaving her father’s home and abandoning her job in the family business would have been unthinkable. It was all she’d ever known.

If she was glib Sadie, she would shrug and say, “That’s how the cookie crumbles.”

But she wasn’t Sadie.

Sarah stared down at her father’s hand, which was clasping her own. She felt oddly cut off from her emotions, as if there was an internal wall between her heart and her head.

Who was she, if she wasn’t prim-and-proper heiress to a vast vinegar empire? If she wasn’t her father’s devoted daughter, his dutiful nurse?

He’d found happiness with Margery, that much was clear, and he was ready for his life to change.

Was she?

Was there, after all, a bit of her mother buried deep inside a place she’d tried to cover over, but never forgotten?

Something fluttered in her chest. A quickening sensation, as if she was finally, fully awakening. She’d been sleepwalking through her existence—never truly experiencing life—for a very long time.

All these years of resisting her natural inclinations to dance and sing and have fun. All this time she’d spent trying so hard not to be like her mother. But Maria had been a modern woman, ahead of her time. She had been mistreated and misunderstood by Sarah’s grandparents.

Hypnosis had been the catalyst. The key that turned the lock and allowed the long suppressed “Sadie” to leap from her dungeon and into the light of day.

Three things had irrevocably changed her.

Her father’s confession.

Being hypnotized.

And making love with Jake.

Jake.

Her heart clutched to realize she’d forgotten all about him in the wake of her father’s revelation. She raised her head, seeking his saucy wink and brave reassurance that everything was going to be okay.

Pulse accelerating, she glanced around the room for him.

But he was gone.

THIRTY MINUTES LATER, she’d searched both the B&B and the diner, but he was nowhere to be found. When had he left the conversation between her and her father? How much of Papa’s confession had he heard?

Concerned, she walked down Main Street. She saw Cammie Jo and Mack, Quinn and Kay. She greeted Caleb and then later, Meggie. There were lots of tourists milling about, but there was no sign of Jake.

Sarah’s hopes sank.

And then she saw him. Sitting on the dock in a lounge chair, watching the cruise ships pull into port.

“Hey,” she said, and sat down cross-legged on the dock beside his chair.

“What are you doing out here? I thought you’d be with your father.”

“I wanted to talk to you. Gus arranged for Papa and Margery to take a room at the B&B.” She stared across the dock at the cruise ship tying up. “It’s weird, when your father has a girlfriend.”

He reached down and took her hand. “You’ll adjust.”

“You really think so?”

“You’re one tough cookie, Sarah. I know so.”

“Sadie’s the tough cookie,” she said softly. “Not me.”

“You underestimate yourself.”

Purple mountain peaks rose up in the distance, pristine in their breathtaking majesty. The breeze was cool on her skin. Cooler now in the middle of August than it had been on the day she arrived, wearing nothing but Sadie’s sexy bustier.

She wanted to talk to him about what had happened the night before. How wonderful their lovemaking had been, how much it meant to her, but she didn’t know where to start.

Plus, she couldn’t seem to concentrate. All she could think about was the pressure of his long, masculine fingers interlaced with hers and the warmth of his palm. She recalled in blinding detail how that same bold hand had greedily roamed her body the night before. Her tender thighs would not let her forget.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked after a long moment.

“Watching the ships roll in.”

“Don’t tell me, you’re gonna watch ’em roll away again.”

“I just might.” He smiled at her.

“Are you sure you’re not just avoiding me?”

“Not sure at all,” he admitted.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said. “Maybe I won’t let the hypnotist deprogram me.”

Cocking his head, he looked at her pensively. “Why not?”

“I’m scared,” she confessed. “What will happen to me when Sadie’s gone?”

“You’ll be the old you again.”

Jake shrugged nonchalantly, but inside, he was worrying about the very same thing. He had as much riding on the outcome as she did. Because, he’d realized back there in the B&B while she was talking with her father, exactly how he felt about her.

He was in love.

But was he in love with Sarah or Sadie?

The answer? Both of them.

It was the amalgamation of these two personalities that had captured his imagination. She was everything he’d ever wanted. At once carefree and stable, frivolous yet sensible, impulsive yet cautious. On the one hand, she could fly with him to the stars, but on the other, she was the anchor he secretly longed for.

What would happen when the hypnotist removed the suggestion of Sadie from Sarah’s subconscious? Would that flirtatious, fun-loving babe be gone? Would Sarah pack up and follow her father back to San Francisco? Would they both disappear from his life forever?

Despite the bright sunshine, the world suddenly seemed a much darker place. The only thing in his past that could compare to this feeling of despair was when he’d lost his parents. How could this woman have come to mean so much to him in such a short period of time?

He had no answer, but he knew it was true. Without her, he was less of a man.

“I don’t want to be my old self again,” she whispered. Tears misted her eyes. This was clearly very hard for her. “I don’t want Sadie to go away.”

He shifted in his chair so he could peer straight into her face and reassure her in a way he could not reassure himself. She needed him to be strong for her.

“You won’t lose Sadie. She’s a part of you. She always has been.” He tapped her chest over her heart with his two forefingers. “I’ve heard it said that someone will never do something under hypnosis that they wouldn’t have done in the first place. Everything that you did as Sadie was a reflection of the part of your personality you’ve been repressing for too long.”

“You really think so?” She sniffled and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Abso-friggin’-lutely.” He grinned and hoped like hell that he was right.

“YOU ARE GETTING very sleepy.”

It was later that evening when Sarah shifted in her chair at Jake’s B&B, surrounded by the hypnotist, her father, friends and Lulu. It was hard trying to concentrate with an audience, but she didn’t have the heart to tell a single one of them to leave. They were all important to her, each in their own special way.

“Please try to concentrate,” the hypnotist scolded. “Keep your eyes on the watch.”

She wanted this. She really did. Because without it, she would never know for sure who she really was.

To thine own self be true.

The phrase popped into her head. Ah, good advice if you knew who thine own self happened to be. It was a tad more difficult when you’d spent the last week and a half alternating between wild and free and staid and restricted.

“Focus. That’s it. Allow your eyelids to close naturally.”

Go ahead. Let go. Let it happen.

She inhaled deeply several times, allowing her body to go loose and limp.

“When I snap my fingers, you will awaken. You will no longer be Sexy Sadie. The words ‘hot sex’ and ‘married’ will no longer trigger a transformation in your personality.”

Okay, okay. She was ready.

The hypnotist snapped his fingers.

Sarah blinked and looked around at all the people she loved.

Everyone held their collective breaths, waiting.

“Hot sex,” said the hypnotist.

Sarah rose from her chair and began to perform a striptease.

The hypnotist looked panic-stricken. “Wait a minute, this isn’t supposed to be happening. I deprogrammed you.”

She stopped and grinned. “You might have taken away the trigger words, but you can’t take away Sadie. Jake was right. She was inside me all along. Your hypnosis just gave her an excuse to come out. Without it, I would never have been brave enough to embrace my adventuresome side. And for that I thank you.”

Everyone cheered.

Her father hugged her close and whispered, “I’m so proud of you.”

Margery shook her hand.

Lizzy and Kim squealed with glee. “At last, you’ll stop spending your weekend balancing the books on vinegar accounts.”

Quinn and Kay, Cammie Jo and Mack, Meggie and Caleb all congratulated her on facing her fears.

And then she turned to Jake.

“I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. You gave me the opportunity to express myself and you never once judged me harshly.”

What was this? Were his eyes misty?

“Excuse us, folks,” he said, took Sarah by the hand and led her from the room.

“Where are we going?” she asked, suddenly nervous again.

“Shhh.” He ushered her into his bedroom and closed the door behind them.

“Are we going to have hot sex?” She winked boldly. “Because I’m ready.”

“Hold that thought, sweetheart, but first there’s something else I want to discuss with you.”

“What is it?” she whispered. Her heart rolled in a low, lazy somersault.

He pulled something from his pocket. A gold nugget on a key chain. He took the nugget off the chain, placed it in her palm and curled her fingers around it. “My father gave me this piece of gold before he died. It belonged to my great-great-grandfather, who found it during the Alaskan gold rush.”

“No kidding?” Sarah opened her palm and stared down at the smooth chunk of gold. It glinted brightly in the light.

“The nugget was a reminder. To be true to myself and not to compromise, no matter what.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“All these years I kept telling myself that I was not husband material. That I was too much like my dad. That if I got married I’d either have to reconcile giving up a part of myself or I couldn’t be the man the woman I loved wanted. I feared hurting her in the same way my father broke my mother’s heart.”

He took her by the hand and led her to the bed. He sat down and patted the spot on the quilt beside him.

“I realize now that’s why I’ve always been attracted to the no-strings-attached kind of woman, like Sadie. I figured it was better for me to get my heart broken than for me to hurt them.”

“Do you still believe this?”

He shook his head. “Through knowing you, I’ve come to see things differently.”

“Oh?” Sarah held her breath, and waited for him to continue. What was he leading up to?

“See, I was wrong about the kind of man I was. I thought I was being true to myself when I was chasing adventures, having a good time, hanging out with the ladies.”

“That wasn’t the real you?”

“No. I was trying to live up to my father’s reputation. I thought when he gave me this nugget he was telling me to be like him and, that’s what I tried to be.”

“So what changed your focus? Why did you go in on that ad with your friends?”

“When all of them decided they were going to get married, I felt left out, lonely. I’d just gotten hurt by a woman who neglected to tell me she was married.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. I realized I did want to get married. I wanted a family, but I was also still scared I couldn’t live up to the responsibility. I convinced myself the only way to prove I had really changed was to provide a financial bottom line. So I bought the Paradise and tried to make it into something it wasn’t. Just like I’d been trying to make myself into something I wasn’t all these years. I had adventures because I thought that’s what Gerard men did. I indulged in casual affairs because I thought it was expected. But now I really understand what my father was trying to tell me when he gave me that nugget. He was telling me to be me.”

“And what is that, Jake?”

“Eager, eligible and Alaskan.”

“Meaning?”

“You’re what I need in order to be true to myself.”

Omigosh, she thought she was going to faint.

“Are you sure, Jake? We’ve known each other less than two weeks. And for most of that time, it’s Sadie you’ve been attracted to.”

“We can take things slow if you want, but I know I’ve never felt like this about anyone, Sarah. No one gives me goose bumps the way you do. No one keeps me on my toes the way you do, either. We’ve got chemistry, darling, and you can’t deny it.”

“No, I can’t. But mix the wrong chemicals and ka-blewy—there goes the neighborhood.”

“Ah, but mix the right chemicals and you create something new and wonderful.”

“What are you saying, Jake?” Her breath was coming in short, fast gasps and she was feeling mighty panicky. Was she ready for this?

“I’m a lucky, lucky man to have had you in my life even for just a few days.” He rubbed her shoulder with the flat of his hand. “But I want more and I think you do, too.”

Sarah went completely still under the gentle pressure of his firm palm. Oh! Oh! She felt light-headed and giddy and well…just plain happy.

“I love you, Sarah.”

She stared at him, slack-jawed and bug-eyed. She’d hoped for this. Hoped and wished and dreamed. But to actually hear him say the words knocked the breath from her body. She couldn’t speak. Her tongue didn’t work.

“This is the part where you tell me that you love me, too.” He looked a little uneasy, as if he were a lion tamer who had just stuck his head in the lion’s mouth and realized belatedly that she wasn’t his lion.

“Jake…I…I…I…” she stammered.

“You’re shocked. I caught you off guard. Well, let me tell you something, sweetheart, it caught me off guard, too. One minute I’m thinking you’re Sexy Sadie and there’s no way you’ll fall for me. And then I find out you’re this wealthy heiress. I felt certain you wouldn’t fall for a regular Joe like me.”

“That’s screwy.”

“I can’t help the way I felt. But then I was holding this damned nugget and I thought, what the hell! If there was ever a time to be true to myself, it’s now. So dumb as it may seem, here I am, laying it on the line. I love you, Sarah Stanhope.”

Jake studied her face, his heart in his throat. Oh God, what if she said she didn’t love him in return? What if she said something truly awful, like she just wanted to be friends?

But he wasn’t sorry he’d taken the risk. He loved her and he knew it. She was the one he’d been waiting for. They went together like lox and bagels, like summertime and ice cream, like a skydiver and his parachute. If she couldn’t see that, well then…what?

“Cut me some slack, Sarah. I’m dying here.”

“Oh, Jake,” she said, and damned if her eyes weren’t misty.

But was it a good kind of misty, as in—hell, I love you too, big boy. Or was it a bad kind of misty, like—I’m so sorry you’ve made a terrible fool of yourself, dimwit, now I’m going to have to be the bitch and break your heart.

A single tear slid down her cheek and panic sliced him to the bone.

“Come on, no crying. Please. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He felt himself beginning to freak out. He shoved his hands in his pockets, frantically looking for a handkerchief he knew wasn’t there.

“I’m not crying,” she denied, sniffling harder.

“Yeah, and it don’t get cold in Alaska in the wintertime.”

Another tear plopped down her cheek. In desperation, he grabbed the corner of the quilt and dabbed at her eyes. “Hush, now. It’s okay if you don’t love me back, I understand.”

“You ninny, I do love you. Jeeze Louise. What does it take for you to figure that out, man? For a building to fall on you?”

“You love me?”

She gave him a watery smile. “Abso-friggin’-lutely.”

“Marry me, Sarah. Let’s spend the rest of our lives together.”

“What about Sadie?”

“What about her?”

“How does she figure into this equation?”

“Other than the fact that it’s going to be one hell of a wedding night?”

“Oh, you.” She poked him in the ribs.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times, yes.”

And then she was in his arms, kissing him with an intensity that took his breath. She poured her heart and soul into that kiss and he loved her all the more for it.

“Mmm,” Jake groaned. “I love how you taste, the way you laugh, the incredible things you do to Mr. Friendly.”

“Mr. Friendly?”

He drew her into his lap and Sarah’s eyes widened. “I believe you two have already met.”

“Oh, that’s Mr. Friendly.”

“Indeed. But that’s not all I love about you. I love how you’re at once sweet and sexy. I love how you stick up for the people you care about, how you throw yourself into your work heart and soul. I love the way you cut your food into a million small pieces, I love the way you snore…”

“I don’t snore.”

“Honey, you snore.”

“Well, then, thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being the kind of guy who likes a woman that snores. For being so damned good in bed, for being so macho and adorable and completely male.” She paused to give him Eskimo kisses and butterfly kisses and paradise nibbles. “But mostly, thank you for loving me, just the way I am. Split personality and all.”

“Hey, babe, we’ve all got our quirks.”

“You too?”

“But of course.”

“Are you going to tell me what they are?”

“I’m more than ready to show you. But first, you’ve got to say the magic words.”

“Magic words?”

“You know what they are.”

Boldly, Sarah winked at him and murmured, “Hot sex.”

“Anything you want, babe.” Jake grinned, sat her to one side of the bed, got to his feet and then he started stripping.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

Epilogue

“THE SECOND MEETING of the Wild Women City Girls Club will now come to order,” Kay said. “Current business on the agenda, induction of our newest member.”

“Hear, hear.” Meggie and Cammie Jo applauded.

“Put your left hand on this copy of Metropolitan magazine.”

Sarah complied, grinning.

“Sarah Jane Stanhope, forever after to be referred to as Sadie, do you swear to uphold the rules and regulations outlined in our handy-dandy City Girls Guide to Wilderness Life?”

“I do.”

“Okay, now put your right hand on this black bustier.” Kay held out the skimpy garment Sadie had worn on the day she’d shown up in Bear Creek.

Giggling, Sadie did as she was told.

“Do you swear to maintain your City Girl essence even while living amongst bears and moose and snow deep enough to get lost in?”

“I do.”

“Do you also swear to act sassy when the need arises in order to keep your Alaskan man on his toes?”

“But of course. How do you suppose I caught him in the first place?”

“Good point,” Cammie Jo said.

“I never had to swear to that clause.” Meggie nibbled her cucumber sandwich.

“Don’t worry,” Kay said, “you will. Just as soon as you catch your man.”

“As if! I’m done with men,” Meggie said.

“Famous last words,” Kay muttered.

“I heard that.”

“Back to the matter at hand.” Cammie Jo interrupted their good-natured squabbling.

“Yes,” Kay said. “All right then, Sadie, we now pronounce you officially wild.”

They draped a feather boa around her neck, kissed her cheek, then dumped a glass of champagne over her head.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on over here?” Jake sauntered in from the kitchen.

Sadie beamed at him and licked champagne from her lips. “Hey Jake, I’m a member of the Wild Women City Girls Club.”

“Heaven help us, as if you need any encouragement to be wild.” He untied his apron from his waist and gently toweled her head.

Sadie looked up at Jake, her heart filling with love for him.

His gaze met hers and the same emotion shimmered in his eyes. Reaching down, he took her hand and hauled her to her feet. Right there in front of all the other wild city girls, he kissed her.

“Oooh.” Cammie Jo sighed.

“Isn’t that sweet?” Kay said.

“Mush, pure mush.” Meggie shook her head.

“Skeptic.” Cammie Jo and Kay threw bread sticks at her.

But Sadie wasn’t paying them much attention. She only had eyes—and lips—for the man before her. The man who had changed her life in so many wonderful ways. He’d given her the courage to face her past and make peace with it. Because of Jake, she was a whole woman, no longer staid on the outside and sexy on the inside, but everything all at once.

“What say we close the restaurant an hour early,” Jake growled low in his throat. “Go on home and give your friends something to talk about.”

“Hey, I’ve got a man of my own to set tongues a-waggin’ with,” Kay said.

“Me, too.” Cammie Jo jumped up from her chair and grabbed her purse. “Mack should be getting home right about now.”

Then at the same moment everyone realized that Meggie had no one. They all looked at her.

“Oh please, no pity. I’ve been married. It’s not what it’s cracked up to be.”

“Not when you don’t have the right person,” Cammie Jo said. “But when you do it’s heaven.”

“Don’t despair, Meggie,” Kay chimed in. “Three bachelors may be down, but there’s still one to go.” She opened the copy of Metropolitan magazine that Sadie had taken her oath on and tapped a finger on Caleb’s picture.

“Caleb? Are you guys nuts? He’s just a kid.”

“Only two years younger than you,” Kay pointed out.

“Two and a half, to be exact. And, in case you’ve forgotten, he’s my ex-husband’s stepbrother.” Meggie shook her head.

“Oh yeah. There is that.”

“Bummer.”

Meggie shifted in her seat, trying to look nonchalant, but in that moment, they could all feel her pain. “Well,” she said. “Guess I better be going.”

“Me, too.” Cammie Jo followed her to the door.

“Welcome to the club,” Kay said, and shook Sadie’s hand. “I’ll be writing up your story in Metropolitan. A special Christmas issue, just in time for your wedding.”

“Thanks, Kay.”

“Don’t mention it.” Kay winked and then went after Meggie and Cammie Jo.

“I feel bad for Meggie,” Sadie said to Jake once her friends had gone. “And Caleb, too. I wish everyone could be as happy as we are.”

He held her tightly against his shoulder. “Don’t worry. Until I met you, I didn’t really believe in happily ever after, but now I know it’s true. Meggie will find someone. And so will Caleb,” Jake said. “I’d stake my life on it.”

“You’re sure?”

“As surely as the sun comes up in the morning.”

“Watch what you say, wild man. This is Alaska. Sometimes the sun doesn’t come up at all.”

“And those are the days you spend cuddled up in bed.”

“I can hardly wait for winter.” She grinned.

“No need to wait. There’s always the freezer.” Then Jake Gerard scooped the woman he loved into his arms and carried her into the rest of their lives together.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

A Touch of Silk

By Lori Wilde

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

Contents

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

1

THE PANTY HOSE were killing him. Cutting his gut clean in two. Whoever invented the torturous things should be strangled outright. No mercy shown.

Sheer, black, tight. They clung like second skin to the most exquisitely shaped pair of legs he’d ever seen. Narrow ankles, smooth rounded calves, supple knees and firm thighs.

She crossed her legs and the panty hose murmured a soft whisper. Swish.

And what about that dark seam running up the back? Simply sin-sational!

Lord have mercy on an Alaskan man’s soul. He’d never witnessed such sights in his hometown of Bear Creek. For a second there Quinn Scofield thought he would have to ask the flight attendant for an oxygen mask.

Boldly he peered over the top of his Wilderness Guide Monthly at the blond, sleek-haired, Charlize Theron look-alike. She sat in first-class seat 1B, one diagonal row up from his position in 2C. She and her dynamite hosiery, presumably on their way to JFK, had boarded the plane during the layover at O’Hare, but not once had she glanced behind her. Instead, she had been studiously typing into her laptop computer for the past thirty minutes.

This one was too cool for school and she knew it. Polished, classy, undeniably an urbanite, she was definitely not the kind of woman he was searching for. But man, did she ever rev his engines. Without the slightest provocation, he could easily imagine those fine, gorgeous limbs wrapped around his midsection or slung over his shoulders in the throes of serious sex.

“Real hottie, isn’t she?” his seatmate, a paunchy, middle-aged businessman who’d had one too many whiskey sours, slurred, and nodded at the woman.

“She’s very attractive, yes,” Quinn agreed, but kept his voice low so she wouldn’t overhear.

Unfortunately the other man’s volume control had been affected by his alcohol intake. He leaned close in a confidential manner, nudged Quinn in the ribs and winked boldly. “I’d do her in a New York minute. Know what I mean?”

Slowly Charlize turned and pinned them both with an icy glare. Quick, like a little boy chastised, the businessman looked away. But Quinn didn’t flinch. He’d been dying for a glimpse of those eyes, and he wasn’t going to let his seatmate’s bad manners deprive him of the thrill.

Their gazes met.

And he wasn’t disappointed. Her eyes were as compelling as the rest of her. Sharp, slightly almond-shaped, the color of dark chocolate.

His heart did a triple axel, then dropped, ker-plunk, into his stomach. He’d always had a weakness for brown-eyed blondes. Quinn smiled, giving her his best George-Clooney-on-the-make imitation.

Charlize didn’t return the favor.

“Hi,” he greeted her boldly. “How you doin’?”

For a minute there he thought she might speak.

Her lips parted. Her eyes widened. A hint of a smile hovered.

Come on, sweetheart, give it up.

His hopes lodged in his throat. Suddenly his imagination transported him back to the fifth grade. He remembered sneaking off during recess to play spin the bottle with his classmates in the basement of Seward Middle School with the singular hope of kissing Mindy Lou Johnson.

But then Charlize cruelly shattered his dreams. Without a word, she flicked her gaze away, as if he was of no more significance than a pesky fly, and went back to her laptop.

Snubbed! Okay, that’s what he got for daring to speak to the Queen of Cool.

Quinn tried to focus on his magazine, but he couldn’t concentrate. Eventually, his gaze found its way back to those legs. Eighteen months without the comforts of female companionship was a far stretch to go.

That’s how long it had been since his ex-girlfriend Heather had turned down his marriage proposal. She’d told him that no matter how much she might love him, she could never be more than a fair weather Alaskan. The winters were just too harsh.

Heather begged him to move to Cleveland, but Quinn figured he must not have loved her as much as he thought. He had not yet met the woman who could convince him to leave his home. Alaska was in his blood, his heart, his soul. But man alive, sometimes those long, dark winter nights got really lonely.

Some of his friends had told him he was too stubborn, letting his love of Alaska overrule his heart. They said if he didn’t learn to compromise, he’d never find true love. But others had congratulated him on sticking to his guns. He was an Alaskan man, and only a woman willing to become an Alaskan wife could make him happy.

At thirty-two Quinn was ready for a family of his own, but he knew it would take a very special lady to make her home in Bear Creek. Elegant thing like Charlize Theron there, with her fancy panty hose and her hundred-dollar haircut, would be crushed by the regal brutality of the Alaskan landscape. Nope, pretty she might be, but he needed someone tough and strong and resilient. Someone like his younger sister, Meggie. Or at least how Meggie used to be before she married Jesse Drummond and moved off to Seattle to fulfill her dream of becoming a city girl. Trouble was, in Bear Creek, men outnumbered women ten to one.

In the meantime he wasn’t opposed to studying Charlize for sheer enjoyment. He tried to imagine her in Alaska and had to smile. No Broadway theater. No champagne-and-black-tie charity events for cultural enrichment. In Bear Creek if you wanted to raise money for, say, the volunteer fire department, you threw a salmon bake, got a keg of beer, slapped some hard-driving music on your CD player and let it go at that.

From where he sat, Quinn could only see her profile and those elegant hands tapping away at the keyboard. Her nose was perfectly shaped. Exquisite, in fact. Not too big, not too small. Not too sharp, not too soft.

Her cheekbones—Quinn could see just one, but he knew the other matched—were as high and sculpted as any fashion model’s. Her firm but feminine chin was an artist’s dream. And that mouth! Full, but not overblown like those Hollywood actresses who had their lips shot full of collagen. Lips currently adorned with lipstick the same russet shade as an Alaskan summer sunset.

Oh, this one was a fascinating combination of fire and ice, all right. Her regal demeanor shouted “You’re never gonna get it,” but those panty hose and spike-heeled shoes gave totally conflicting messages. Deep down she was a sensual woman aching to shake off that repressed disposition.

She closed her laptop and settled it under her seat. Her pencil dropped to the floor, unnoticed.

Quinn, never one to let good sense hold him back from something he wanted, seized the opportunity. Leaning forward, he tapped her gently on the shoulder.

“Miss?”

She jerked her head around and stabbed him with a hard, what-do-you-want-from-me-wilderness-boy expression. No doubt she was accustomed to strange men making passes at her, and she’d perfected that “hands off” look to quell even the most ardent admirer in his tracks. A necessary skill for a woman who dressed like that.

“You dropped your pencil.” He pointed.

Her expression softened when she realized he wasn’t hitting on her—even though he was working up to that. The corners of her lips edged upward and she silently mouthed, “Thank you.”

Argh! Her simple thank-you struck like an arrow through the heart.

Yo, Mama, I think I’m in big-time lust.

When she leaned down to retrieve the pencil, she shifted her legs and her skirt rode up higher on her thigh. Quinn almost choked.

He spied the hint of something black and lacy. She straightened, pencil in hand, and reached to tug her skirt down.

But it was too late. He already knew her secret.

She turned her head, met his eyes again and sent him a Mona Lisa smile.

Those were no panty hose.

The audacious woman was wearing a garter and stockings!

KAY FREEMONT casually took a compact from her purse.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t so casually. Maybe she wanted another peek at Paul Bunyan back there without turning around and giving him the satisfaction of knowing she was interested.

Not interested in a serious way, of course. She was trying to untangle herself from an unsatisfactory relationship, not get into a new one. She merely wanted to confirm that the broad-shouldered man clad in flannel and denim was indeed as ruggedly cute as she thought.

Kay might have worried her bottom lip with her teeth, so curious was she about this man, but many years of her mother’s nagging stopped her. Mustn’t smear one’s lipstick. Freemonts had a certain image to maintain.

She feigned using the compact mirror to pat her un-mussed hair into place, but she angled it so she could see him. Secretly she’d always been sexually attracted to burly, outdoorsy men. Strong, physical men who played contact sports and repaired their own cars. Men who chopped wood and roasted raw meat over fire pits. Men who’d fight to the death to protect their women.

The fact that her boyfriend Lloyd was a slender, brainy, pacifistic vegetarian who didn’t even own a car, much less know how to work on one, did not escape her. But just because she daydreamed about extremely manly men didn’t mean she coveted a relationship with one. It was simply a sexual fantasy.

Besides some things were more important than sex. Companionship, for instance.

And Lloyd is such a great companion? He works eighty-hour weeks. And when was the last time he made love to you? Seven, eight weeks ago?

That wasn’t fair. She couldn’t lay blame solely at his feet. She was as busy as Lloyd.

And is it your fault that Lloyd has never satisfied you in bed?

Maybe it was her fault. Even though she spent a lot of time researching and writing how-to-improve-your-sex-life articles like “How to Achieve Multiple Orgasms” and “Tantric Sex, The New Revolution in Intimacy,” for the hottest women’s magazine in the country, Kay had yet to experience such lofty sensations herself.

Yes, she read and she read and she read. From classics like The Hite Report and The Story of O to the most up-to-date literature on the subject, she knew them all by heart. Kay understood the mechanics of sex, and she kept thinking that if she just gathered enough knowledge on the subject, one day she’d be able to scale her way to the stars.

Maybe she should see a counselor, instead.

Or maybe you should just have a wild, uninhibited fling. I bet Paul Bunyan’s got what it takes to please a woman. Did you get a load of those hands? If it’s true what they say about the size of a man’s hands and the size of his…

Kay tilted the mirror to the right to get a better look.

Paul Bunyan’s upper arms were as big as her thighs. For some illogical reason, this thought made her shiver. He was so very large and seemed to be constructed of pure steel. He was tall and muscular and solid. She imagined he could toss her over his shoulder more easily than she could pick up a tea bag. He possessed hair the color of aged whiskey and sultry gray eyes that snapped with surprising intelligence.

His shirt was a comforting shade of blue, and he had the sleeves rolled up a quarter turn, giving her a peek of sexy forearms offset by a thick, leather-banded watch. Nice. Very nice. Just the right amount of hair. Kay had a weakness for sexy forearms.

She licked her lips, forgetting all about smearing her lipstick. A weighted feeling settled over her and made her blood flow hot and sluggish as the erotic sensation drifted down to wedge heavily between her legs. She wondered what would happen if she stood up and walked toward him. What would he do if she bent down to his ear and with a seductive whisper invited him to become a member of the mile-high club with her? Tingles dove down her spine.

If she pivoted on her heel and sashayed to the lavatory, would he follow?

She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. What a tight fit! The two of them crammed into an airplane lavatory. It would require some maneuvering. Kay stared so hard into the mirror of her compact that her vision blurred and she was transported.

He lifts her up on the counter; his eyes fill with heated desire. He takes one of those big hands and, starting at her right ankle, he oh-so-slowly moves it up her leg, past the curve of her calf, to the bend of her knee. She gasps at his touch. His callused fingertips snag her stockings, tearing them until she resembles a lady of the evening after a long night of selling pleasure.

Then his other hand starts its journey up her left leg. He moves closer, and she wraps her legs around his waist. The top of her head is resting against the restroom mirror, and her back is arched. He stares into her eyes, captivated. Clearly he thinks she is the most exquisite creature on the face of the earth.

His right hand goes farther. Moving up her knee inch by inch. Her skirt hikes high. The sensations are incredible. His rough fingers sliding over her bare skin, the cold sink beneath her bottom, the feel of his hard waist against the inside of her legs. She feels a million things at once, and they are all good.

He’s still looking at her, but not saying a single word. He smells delicious, like Christmas trees and woodsmoke and leather. She feels herself moisten with desire. She wants him like a lion wants a lamb.

“Kiss me,” she commands him in a bossy voice.

He dips his head. His hands are on her thighs, palms splayed. He’s so close, but he doesn’t lower his lips to hers. He’s teasing. There’s a naughty gleam in his eye.

“What will you give me for a kiss?” he asks.

His voice is heart-stoppingly sexy. A resonant sound that fills her ears like the loveliest bass instrument. Her pulse throbs at her throat. She’s hot all over. Hot and wet and desperate.

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” she whimpers.

“I want you to touch me,” he says. “Here.”

And then he takes her hand and guides it to the bulge straining against the zipper of his blue jeans. She eases down the zipper, slips her hand inside. He’s going commando, no underwear. She touches him.

It’s so big. So hard. So hot. Scalding. He smells of musky male, and her excitement escalates. He groans and closes his eyes.

At the same time as she’s touching him, his hand is busy snaking up her thigh to hook a finger around the waistband of her panties.

She moans. He crushes his mouth to hers.

He tastes too good to be true. Not the finest caviar in her mother’s pantry, not even the most expensive bottle of French champagne in her father’s cellar can compete with his flavor.

Her palm is pressed hard against his erection, which seems to keep growing and growing and growing. His tongue is a menace, dazzling her with moves she never thought possible.

“I want you inside me.”

“No. Not yet. First, I’m going to make you beg.”

She whimpers again.

“That’s right.” He nods. “This has been a long time coming.”

Her nipples tighten. She wriggles her hips. Her panties are whisked off.

“What are you doing?”

“Hush, woman,” he growls. “Hush and enjoy. You deserve everything I’m going to give you and so much more. You drive me wild.”

She glows at his words. Men have told her she’s beautiful before, but no one has ever told her she drives him wild. He’s telling her exactly what she needs to hear, and she loves him for it. She feels incredibly powerful that she’s controlling such a big man with her sexuality.

Then he goes to work with his fingers.

He’s stroking her inner thigh, and then he trails his fingertips inward. He’s doing something that makes her eyes roll back in her head with sheer ecstasy.

Oh, gawd, what that intoxicating hand is doing at the apex of her womanhood!

She writhes against him, clutches his shoulders with both hands, digs her fingers into his flesh through the soft flannel of his shirt.

His movements are gentle but firm. The pressure builds. No man has ever caressed her in quite this way. It’s as if he knows exactly how to make her cry out for more. She’s never been this excited, this desperate, this famished for a man’s body.

“Don’t stop,” she pleads.

He grins. For a moment she fears he’ll stop simply to taunt her. But to her relief he keeps going. And going. And going.

She feels as if she’s riding a roller coaster. Chugging up, up, up. Breath held in anticipation of the rapturous plunge.

She’s close. So very close. Teetering on the verge. One more second. Oh, yes. Yes. She’s just about to—

“Miss?” The flight attendant’s voice slammed her rudely back to earth.

“Yes,” Kay gasped, feeling breathless, edgy and achy.

“Would you care for another beverage?”

She shook her head. The flight attendant moved on down the aisle. Then Kay realized she was still holding the compact. She glanced into the mirror one last time and was horrified to see Paul Bunyan staring right at her.

Their eyes met in the mirror’s reflection. Her heart raced. Her mouth went dry. He gave her a cocksure smile as if he knew exactly what she’d been thinking.

Flushed and flustered, Kay snapped the compact closed and dropped it into her purse. She burned weak, shaky, her entire body swamped in heat. This wouldn’t do. She had to compose herself. Immediately, if not sooner.

Unbuckling her seat belt, she got up, slipped into the lavatory and locked the door. Bad idea. This was the scene of the fictitious crime, and she couldn’t escape her own mind.

She wet a paper towel, pressed it first to the back of her neck, then to the hollow of her throat and took several long, slow, deep breaths. For the past few months she’d been plagued by uncontrollable sexual fantasies. It was quite embarrassing, really. As if she was some kind of X-rated, female Walter Mitty.

Perhaps a fling was in order. Find someone to pop her cork, as it were. Perhaps that would put an end to these persistent flights of sexual fancy.

Kay pinched the bridge of her nose to ward off more blushing. This was simply ridiculous. She had to stop entertaining such unsuitable thoughts about total strangers. She took several more deep breaths, tossed the damp towel into the trash, then ran her fingers through her hair. There. She looked fine. Perfectly normal. Perfectly in control. No one would suspect anything to the contrary.

The plane lurched, jostling her as she unlocked the accordion-style door and tried to shove it open, but the silly thing stuck.

The plane pitched again, throwing Kay forward. She put a hand on the door hinges to brace herself, and the door folded open. She raised her head in alarm.

And found herself tumbling headlong into Paul Bunyan’s arms, as if he’d been waiting outside the door just to catch her when she fell.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

2

“WHY, HELLO.” Quinn smiled down into the face of a goddess.

What compelled him to trail her to the lavatory, he couldn’t say. Maybe it was that sassy, controlled walk of hers that hypnotized him. Maybe it was her contradictory aura, pushing and pulling him in two different directions. Or maybe it was plain old horniness on his part.

But now he sure was glad he’d followed her. If he hadn’t been there to catch her, she would have pitched head first into the bulkhead opposite the lavatory and bruised her pretty face, and that would have been a crying shame.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Fine,” she whispered.

Her voice surprised him. One more irreconcilable fact that added to her allure. He’d expected her tone would be more cultured, aloof, cool and reserved. Instead, the sexy sound of her had him remembering all those nights during high school and college that he’d spun records of throaty-voiced female blues singers at his family’s tiny radio station in Bear Creek.

Unblinking, the goddess met his gaze and held it. The impact slugged him. Her sultry eyes, dark as coffee and surrounded by lashes as impossibly thick as paintbrushes, snagged something deep inside him and refused to let go.

In the brief, endless moment he held her in his arms, he noticed everything about her.

The tiny mole at the left corner of her mouth. The smooth, expertly penciled arch of her brow. The erratic throbbing of her pulse in the hollow of her neck. The slim curve of her waist. Her rich, fresh scent that made him ache to bury his nose in her hair and breathe deeply.

And the unnerving realization that beneath her ultrasoft silk blouse and bra, her nipples were puckered.

It wasn’t cold in the plane’s cramped confines. In fact, it was very, very hot.

Had her breasts hardened in response to him? Quinn almost groaned aloud at the thought.

Was he reading too much into this casual encounter? Was his desire for one last fiery sexual adventure before he found a wife and settled down for good feeding into his imagination and causing him to misread her reaction?

Her lips parted, and he could see the pink tip of her tongue pressing against her top teeth. She looked as if she might say something to him, but she didn’t.

Oh, Lord, he could feel her stockings rub against the leg of his jeans as she shifted in his arms.

So many thoughts raced through his brain it seemed as if eons had passed. But it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds since she’d toppled into his embrace.

She raised a hand to her cheek to brush away a strand of golden hair. He tracked her movement, peered into those compelling brown eyes once more.

And stumbled. Literally lost his balance as the plane hit another pocket of turbulence. He tipped backward, taking Charlize with him.

They ended up in the middle of the aisle, a jumble of arms and legs. The fall hadn’t knocked the air from his lungs, but nonetheless, he found it hard to breathe with her lying on his chest.

“Are you okay?” There was that breathy whisper again, uncertain, a bit nervous. And unless he missed his guess, tinged with an acute awareness of him as a man.

“Okay,” he replied, hating for this moment to end.

“Please take your seats,” a flight attendant said sharply as she rushed over. “And buckle yourselves in.”

“Let me help you up,” Charlize offered, rising to her feet with amazing agility and grace for a woman wearing three-inch heels and a mean pair of stockings.

He almost laughed at the notion of a slender branch like her helping a tree trunk like himself to his feet. But he liked the idea of touching her again, so he put out his hand, which dwarfed hers, and allowed her to tug him.

Quinn pushed against the floor of the plane, and his own momentum brought him to a standing position. The top of her sleek head only came to his armpit. Her hip was level with his upper thigh. She seemed as perfect and delicate as the first butterfly of spring.

Without a doubt she was the most exquisite woman he’d ever met. Her straight blond hair was cut in a polished style and appeared as finely spun as silk. Her complexion was flawless, except for a small scar below her right earlobe. He had an almost overpowering urge to explore that scar with the tip of his tongue.

How he wanted to say something more to her, to do something more with her, but the frowning flight attendant was clucking her tongue and waving at them to take their seats. Charlize scooted past him, her breasts lightly brushing his upper arm, causing a brushfire to leap up his nerve endings, and made her way to her seat.

Kay was practically panting as she clicked the seat belt in place around her waist. Her heart pounded, blood suffused her skin. She couldn’t believe what had just happened and her body’s heated response to a stranger. Touching him had been far more electric, far more satisfying than her wildest imaginings.

She didn’t look up, because she knew he was still standing there staring at her as if he’d been struck with a bolt from the blue. What was the matter with him? Didn’t they have women wherever it was he was from?

“You sure you’re all right?” He squatted in the aisle beside Kay, defying the angry flight attendant, who looked as if she wanted to tie him into his seat but was too quelled by his size to approach.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me. Please, for your own safety, sit down.”

“If you need me, I’m right behind you.” He touched her wrist with his massive paw, and her blood slipped through her veins like quicksilver. Intense. So intense. If she closed her eyes, she could see the two of them in a forest. Walking. Alone. On a bed of soft, mossy ground. The sunlight flitting through the trees.

Stop it, stop it, stop it. Don’t you dare go into another sexual fantasy, Kathryn Victoria Freemont!

She raised her hand to her face. The hand that had been wrapped in his. She smelled of him. Robust, masculine. Like pine needles, wilderness and soap. A shiver she could not suppress overtook her body. She could easily imagine him back there in his seat watching her with eagle eyes.

What was it about this man that so stirred her blood? What was it that made her feel giddy and girlish and oh-so-happy to be alive?

Kay was kidding herself, and she knew it. Just because he made her feel desirable didn’t mean she was licensed to jump his bones. She didn’t even know the guy’s name. What he made her feel was simply a reflection of her wishful thinking. She wanted rescuing from her life, and he was a convenient escapist illusion.

Because lately, nothing in her current experiences seemed to satisfy her. Not her relationship with her parents, who were pressuring her to marry Lloyd and produce an heir. Certainly not her romance with Lloyd, if you could even call what they had a romance.

Lloyd had proposed to her by e-mail two days ago in a manner as romantic as a root canal. His exact message had been “Your father says he’ll make me partner if we’re married by the end of the summer, guess it’s time to do the deed.”

Whoopee! Sweep a girl right off her feet, why don’t you?

She’d ignored Lloyd’s e-mail, pretending she hadn’t yet seen the missive, because she wasn’t ready to deal with it, and surprise, surprise, he hadn’t even called her in Chicago to see why she hadn’t responded.

And even her job as a reporter for Metropolitan magazine no longer fulfilled her as it once had.

“What happened to you?” she whispered to herself, grateful no one was seated next to her. “In college, you dreamed of writing novels and having adventures and taking a lover that was as kind and considerate and understanding as he was good in bed. Where did that girl go?”

It seemed her entire youth had been spent trying to please Mommy and Daddy and striving to be the perfect Freemont. Her one tiny insurrection had been insisting on studying journalism rather than art history, as her mother had wished.

“Lloyd Post comes from blueblood stock, dear, just like you,” her mother had told her when she called the day before to see if Kay had gotten Lloyd’s e-mailed proposal. Apparently Lloyd had already discussed it with her parents. Would have been nice if he’d talked things over with her first. “Give his proposition some serious thought. You could do worse than marrying him.”

Hmm, what was worse than binding yourself for life to a man who virtually ignored you for weeks on end? What was worse than until death do you part with a man who didn’t even care where your G-spot was located? What was worse than spending the next forty years beside a guy with whom you had absolutely nothing in common other than the fact you were both filthy rich with impeccable pedigrees?

Let’s see, what was worse than marrying Lloyd Post?

Well, owing money to the Mafia had to be a bummer. Being stranded in the desert with no water wasn’t cool. Having oral surgery wasn’t a blast. So yes, Mommy, you’re absolutely right. There are worse things than marrying Lloyd.

But there were so many better things, too.

Like taking that rugged woodsman to bed?

She tried to picture what would happen if she was to walk into her parents’ house on Paul Bunyan’s arm and announce they were engaged. Laughable! Even she, of the overactive imagination, could not conceive of such an event.

Helplessly she found her head drawn to the right, her eyes peeping surreptitiously over her shoulder.

And there he was, just as she knew he’d be. Staring at her and not a bit ashamed of his unabashed appreciation.

He was pure testosterone in a huge package that proclaimed, “I’ll never let any harm come to you.” It was a heady promise. Between his protective attitude and his raw animal magnetism, the man oozed an essential sexiness that called to something wild within her. Like a wolf to his mate. Something primal and elemental she hadn’t known she possessed until now.

She deserved to be happy. She deserved to be sexually satisfied, and she deserved far better than settling for Lloyd Post. In reality she knew Paul Bunyan did not figure into her future, but regardless, meeting him at this juncture had changed her. It was time she stood up to her parents and started living her own life. It was past time she found out what she’d been missing.

QUINN PLANNED to waylay her in the jetway, help her with her luggage, hail her a taxi, get her phone number and ask her out to dinner. In fact, he was so excited about the idea that he’d kept shifting restlessly in his seat, unable to think of anything else.

But when the plane landed at JFK, she leaped from her seat the minute the flight attendants opened the door. Quinn got up to follow her, but an elderly lady sitting across the aisle asked him to retrieve her carry-on bag from the overhead bin. What else could he do? By the time he made his way into the terminal, Charlize had vanished as if she’d never existed.

He looked left, then right, but the crowd had swallowed her. How could she have disappeared so quickly?

Damn!

He hadn’t mistaken her interest in him, no matter how cool she liked to play it. The attraction had been instant and physical. No denying her raspy breathing when he’d held her in his arms, no hiding her aroused nipples. She’d wanted him, all right.

So why had she run away?

Maybe she was married, the thought occurred to him, but he didn’t recall seeing a ring on that delicate third finger of her left hand.

Ah, well. Quinn wasn’t the sort to cry over spilt milk. He took a deep breath and headed for the baggage claim. Nothing to be done about it now. He tried to push her from his thoughts.

But despite his best intentions, he couldn’t help feeling he’d lost out on something pretty darn terrific.

“KAY, COME HERE, you’ve got to see this.” Her editor, Judy Nessler, stood in the doorway of Kay’s office on Monday morning, grinning from ear to ear and crooking a bejeweled finger at her.

Kay frowned and glanced up from the piece she was working on about finding love on the Internet. She’d gone to Chicago to interview a couple who’d met in an online chat room, and she had her notes spread out on the desk around her. Included in the pile were copies of the spicy messages the couple had posted to each other during their courtship. Reading the sizzling missives had her feeling oddly cranky.

“What is it, Judy?”

“Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.”

She wasn’t in the mood for Judy’s guessing games. It had been almost twenty-four hours since her plane ride with Paul Bunyan, but she couldn’t seem to stop spinning fantasies about him. How could the thought of one man make her ache so badly?

Nor had she been able to locate Lloyd in order to pin him down for a dinner date to discuss his marriage proposal in person, and he hadn’t yet returned the call she had left on his answering machine.

“I’m in the middle of something,” Kay said.

“Just come with me.”

Sighing, Kay pushed away from her desk and followed Judy down the corridor to the advertising department. As usual, the room was abuzz with activity. But atypically, all the activity seemed concentrated in the middle of room. Centered, in fact, around a skyscraper-size man who had his back to them.

A man clad in red flannel and blue denim. His head was cocked to one side and he was laughing at something one of the blushing assistants had said. Kay’s pulse momentarily stuttered to a stop. She raised a hand to her throat.

No. It couldn’t be.

Judy leaned in close and whispered, “You don’t see guys like him traipsing up Fifth Avenue every day of the week.”

Please, don’t let it be Paul Bunyan, Kay prayed, but in her heart she knew.

Judy took her by the elbow and dragged her across the room like a reluctant puppy on a leash.

“Quinn,” Judy said. “I’d like you to meet Kay Freemont, one of our top writers.”

Slowly he pivoted on one booted heel, an insouciant gleam in his eye. Then recognition hit. His brows sprung up on his forehead and the grin went from free and easy to downright seductive.

It was Paul Bunyan! What an awful coincidence.

Of all the magazine offices in Manhattan, he had to walk into mine.

Why was he here? Was this some kind of a sign, him showing up so unexpectedly? Was the universe trying to tell her something?

“Kay, this is Quinn Scofield from Bear Creek, Alaska.”

She stared at him.

He stared back at her.

Neither of them spoke.

The air around them seemed to vibrate with heat and energy and overpowering awareness.

Quinn. From Alaska. The Mighty Quinn. She should have known he would have a macho moniker. The name fit him like the mackinaw he wore.

Puzzled, Judy watched them watching each other. “Have you two already been introduced?”

“Actually, no.” Quinn didn’t even wait for Kay to offer her hand. He simply took it, and her blood puddled like melted butter in the pit of her stomach. “I’m very honored to make the acquaintance of such a lovely lady.”

Pul-leeze. Enough with the flattery. I just saw you flirting with that assistant.

And yet, a small frisson of pleasure spiraled through her body and lodged with stunning acuity in her most feminine parts. If anything, her attraction to him was even stronger than it had been the day before.

Scary.

When Kay finally tore her gaze from his face, she realized that all the single women—and more than a few of the married ones—in the room were looking at her as if she’d snatched a prized morsel of filet mignon from their mouths.

“Quinn’s come to New York looking for a wife,” Judy said.

A wife? Kay took a step backward.

She jerked a quick glance in Quinn’s direction and saw he was observing her reaction to Judy’s news. Oh, boy, and here she’d been dreaming of having a red-hot fling with him. Well, certainly not now!

She’d just about decided to give old Lloyd the heave-ho and to tell her parents she was tired of living her life to suit them. She was ready to stretch her sexual wings and fly. She was not getting involved with a man who was looking for a commitment. No way. No matter how sexy he might be.

“He wants to place this full-page color ad with us.” Judy took the advertising copy from an assistant and handed it to Kay.

Full-page color-ad space in Metropolitan magazine didn’t come cheap.

“The four of us pitched in,” Quinn said, as if reading Kay’s mind. “The bachelors of Bear Creek.”

“Doesn’t that have a great ring to it?” Judy’s eyes glistened. Clearly she was enamored of Quinn, his buddies and their ad.

Kay stared down at the photograph in her hand and sucked in her breath. Pictured were four of the most gorgeous men she’d ever laid eyes on, one of them Quinn. They looked sexier and far more masculine than anything Madison Avenue could have dreamed up. The men wore blue jeans, devilish grins and nothing else, their hunky, well-muscled bare chests on prominent display.

In the photo Quinn was lounging on one end of a black leather couch. He was bigger than she’d even imagined, with the buffest biceps on the planet. Draped across the other side of the couch was a coal-haired, blue-eyed Adonis with a dreamy, angelic air about him. On the floor, perched atop a bearskin rug, sat a dishy blond man with more charisma than a movie star, and another dark-eyed man with a lantern jaw and deep-set brown eyes. All four men were looking straight into the camera as if staring into the eyes of a beautiful woman.

Her gaze went from the one-dimensional, bare-chested Quinn to the fully three-dimensional Quinn standing beside her, and she gulped.

“That’s Caleb Greenleaf,” he said, leaning over her shoulder and pointing to the Adonis. “He’s a naturalist for the state of Alaska. And that’s Jake Gerard and Mack McCaulley. Jake runs the local bed-and-breakfast, and Mack’s a bush pilot.”

But Kay wasn’t thinking about Caleb or Jake or Mack, no matter how good-looking they were. She was completely and totally distracted by Quinn’s warm breath fanning the hairs on the nape of her neck.

Her gut tripped. She inhaled sharply and caught the arresting scent of his subtle aftershave and heated male flesh. That delicious smell sent her senses reeling.

Shaking her head to dispel the sultry cocoon Quinn had woven around her, Kay returned her attention to the glossy paper in her hand. Beneath the photograph of the four very eligible bachelors was the provocative caption: Wild Women Wanted!

“Do you have what it takes to be a wilderness wife?” was the first line of copy.

For absolutely no reason at all, Kay’s heart fluttered. That line shouldn’t have titillated her. She definitely did not have what it took to be a wilderness wife. She considered eating fast food roughing it. She had a low tolerance for cold weather, and she was scared to death of creatures like wolves and moose and bears.

Of course, if you had a man like Quinn to protect you from the cold and the critters, it might make Alaska a little more palatable. Still, a life without four-star restaurants, Broadway shows and department stores was too dismal to consider.

“I love this whole idea,” Judy was chattering to Quinn. “Sexy bachelors forced to advertise in the lower forty-eight states to find wives. It’s romantic. It’s enchanting. It’s a modern-day fairy tale. Our readers will eat it up. In fact, I’d like to run a feature article on the four of you.”

“We could hold a contest,” Kay volunteered, her marketing instincts kicking in, despite the fact that she really wanted nothing more to do with this particular bachelor and his wife hunt. “In thirty words or less tell us why you’d like to win a free trip to Bear Creek, Alaska. That sort of thing.”

“Fabulous!” Judy enthused, and patted Kay’s cheek. “You’re such a dynamo. I knew you’d have something valuable to say. I love the idea. Simply love it. Then we can do a follow-up story on the contest winner. And who knows, if any of the guys find a wife as a direct result of the ad, we can do follow-up articles all through the year. I’ll have to run this by Hal first, but I know he’s going to adore it, too.”

Kay shrugged, playing it cool as always. Freemonts never acted too eager.

“So what do you say, Kay? Ready to pack your bags and spend a couple of weeks in Alaska?” Judy asked.

“What?” She shook her head, thrown off by Judy’s question. “Me go to Alaska?”

“Well,” Quinn said, “late February probably isn’t the best time of year to visit. When I left home, it was ten below.”

“No kidding?” Judy whistled. “That is cold. But if we want the article to run with your ad in our June issue, then there’s no time to waste. Kay can do it. She’s pretty intrepid, aren’t you, darling?”

Ten degrees below zero! Kay shivered at the very idea. “Are you nuts?”

“Come on, where’s your spirit of adventure?” Judy goaded her. “Besides, it’s perfect for the article. You can tell the readers firsthand that being an Alaskan wife is not for the faint of heart. Marriage-minded, handsome, successful bachelors do not come without some kind of price tag.”

Kay shook her head. She was not going to Alaska—it would give Quinn the wrong idea. He might start thinking she was interested in becoming his bride. Besides, she had to settle things with Lloyd. “I’m sorry, I can’t commit to this project right now—I’ve got too much on my plate. Why don’t you ask Carol? I’m sure she’d love to go.”

Was it her imagination, or did Quinn look disappointed? The notion that he wanted her to come to Alaska did strange things to Kay’s insides.

“Don’t give me your answer yet,” Judy said. “I still have to talk to Hal. Then you can make up your mind. How’s that sound?”

“All right, but don’t tell Hal that I’ve agreed to sign on yet.”

“Understood. Now why don’t you take Quinn to lunch? In fact, take the rest of the afternoon off. Show him New York. Since you’re practically engaged, I know you won’t be a threat to his bachelorhood and snatch him off the market before the ad even has a chance to run.”

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

3

PRACTICALLY ENGAGED.

So that explained why she’d fled from the airplane before he’d had a chance to ask her name. She’d been as attracted to him as he was to her, and very clearly disturbed by that attraction because she was in a serious, committed relationship.

Damn.

And he’d come to New York in person, rather than handling the details of placing the ad over the phone or through the mail, not only because he was considering purchasing new wilderness gear from a sporting goods outfit run by an old friend, but because he’d secretly hoped to have one last sexual adventure before seriously beginning his wife search.

With all his heart and soul, Quinn believed in monogamy. His parents, who’d had a solid, loving marriage for forty years and still counting, provided him with a blueprint. Once he made a commitment to a woman, he’d be hers for life. But until he found her, well, he was a red-blooded male, after all. He had physical needs. Needs that were growing stronger by the minute.

He’d known from the moment he’d watched Kay Freemont board the plane that he wanted her, and then to find her working in the office of Metropolitan magazine—unbelievable! He’d taken it as a positive sign that she was supposed to be his passionate last fling. But now, to discover that she was practically engaged. Where did that leave him? He wasn’t the sort of guy who came between a woman and her almost fiancé.

Then again, what the hell did “practically engaged” mean, anyway? Quinn ran a hand through his hair. Where he came from, either you were engaged or you weren’t. Maybe it was a New York thing.

“Well.” Kay nodded and looked rather uncomfortable with the assignment of baby-sitting him for the rest of the afternoon. “Well.”

Had her boss’s edict to wine and dine him left her at a loss for words? Or was it something more? Was it meeting him again?

Dream on, Scofield.

And yet, that was exactly what he wanted to do. Dream on and on and on of taking her to bed. Seeing her in her work environment, amid people who obviously admired and respected her, looking so professional and self-possessed in that short-skirted purple business suit made him crave her even more. Did she have any earthly idea what those magnificent legs of hers did to a man? Women who were practically engaged and possessed legs like Thoroughbreds should not be allowed to wear skirts like that! There oughtta be a law.

Damn, but the woman blew him away! Her cocoa-brown eyes simmered with a suppressed sexuality that begged to be brought to a boil. When he had turned and spied her beside Judy Nessler, adrenaline walloped him in the gut.

Now, simply standing here next to her, inhaling her scent—a fetching combination of vanilla ice cream and sharply scented cinnamon sticks—his body came alive. To the point where he wished for a bucket of ice cubes to chill his throbbing member.

“Your cologne smells nice. What’s it called?”

“White Heat.”

He angled her a glance. “White Heat, huh? It suits you.”

“Pardon?”

He could tell by the way she pursed her lips that he’d unnerved her. “You’re like white heat. You’ve got this cool, outer demeanor, but inside, there’s a deep, smoldering flame.”

She gulped. He watched her struggle to control her features. She hated giving away her thoughts, he realized, and she’d mastered the art of suppressing her emotions.

How he longed to unsuppress her. To teach her how to open up and say exactly what was on her mind.

“Uh, let me get my bag and coat and change my shoes.” She gestured in the direction of what he supposed was her office. “And we can grab some lunch.”

She dashed away, leaving him to rein in his hormones, and returned a few minutes later wearing a black leather coat with an oversize purse thrown over her shoulder and a pair of Nikes on her feet. He almost laughed at the sight of her in that glamorous business suit and shod in running shoes, but once they were out on the street, he noticed a lot of the women similarly dressed. He commented on it.

“Try walking twelve blocks in high heels. You’d carry a spare pair of sneakers in your bag, too.”

“We don’t even have blocks in Bear Creek.” He grinned.

She gave him a strange look as if he was speaking Mandarin. And it struck him then how different their lives were. He could survive alone in the Alaskan wilderness for weeks if necessary, but in New York City, he feared being unable to survive something as simple as crossing the street. He couldn’t understand how people lived here day in and day out. The pollution, the noise, the crowds. Eventually it had to drive you out of your mind.

Kay stepped off the curb and raised her hand. A taxi glided to a stop at their feet.

How’d she do that? he marveled. When he’d tried to get a taxi to carry him to the magazine office, he’d been ignored. Was he so obviously an out-of-towner? Or did she know some taxi-halting secrets? Then again, if he was a cab driver, he would willingly risk whiplash to jam on the brakes for those legs.

Quinn moved to open the taxi door for her. Kay gave him an odd look, then scooted across the back seat of the cab to make room for him.

“You don’t have to do the he-man routine with me.”

“What?” He stared at her, puzzled.

Kay could tell he had no clue what she was talking about. “You know. First the door to the building, now the cab. I can open my own doors, you know.”

“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just habit. My mother drilled good manners into my head. I’ll try to stop if you want.”

“No. Please forget I mentioned it.”

She immediately felt badly for saying anything. She had to remember he was an Alaskan and obviously rather old-fashioned. He probably carried a clean hankie in his shirt pocket at all times in case some damsel burst into tears. Plus, she was accustomed to Lloyd only opening doors for her when they were around other people. Putting on a show to impress his business associates.

Honestly, she’d never met anyone quite like Quinn.

Kay took him to a Cuban restaurant that served to-die-for mahi-mahi with mango chutney, black beans, rice and fried plantains. And as she suspected, he told her that he’d never tasted anything like this exotic fare as the food disappeared from his plate.

He also told her stories about Alaska. About his loyal friends and loving family. Then he asked her questions about New York. He spoke with such open animation, she was helplessly drawn to his enthusiasm. He didn’t play games, he didn’t pull punches. Her parents would probably have thought him too loud and too eager, but she found his down-to-earth candor refreshing.

“So tell me,” he said after he’d polished off the last crumb of key lime pie. “How long have you been ‘practically’ engaged.”

She could tell by the way he said “practically” that he found the notion ridiculous. “Lloyd and I have been dating four years.”

“Your guy’s commitment-phobic, huh? Hasn’t gotten around to popping the question, but you’re expecting him to?”

“No, that’s not it. I mean, well, actually, he did ask me to marry him a few days ago.”

“So you are engaged.” His tone was flat. She saw disappointment in his eyes.

“No.”

“You turned him down?” Hope flared fresh in his face, and the sight of his renewed optimism confused her.

“No.”

He frowned. “I don’t understand. You told him you’d think about it?”

“It didn’t happen that way. Listen, I really don’t feel comfortable discussing my personal life with you.”

“Okay.” He gave an easy shrug, but she could tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted to dig deeper. What she didn’t know was why, but she certainly wasn’t going to open up and spill her guts to a stranger.

Not even her closest friends knew what was in her heart. She’d been taught by her father, the cutthroat businessman, that the more people knew about you, the more they could use against you. Once, when she was a little girl, her father took her to work with him. When his secretary asked her if she’d rather be playing in the park, instead of touring a stuffy old building, Kay had responded with an enthusiastic yes. Her father then jerked her into his office and lectured her until her ears burned about expressing her true feelings to underlings. She never forgot that lesson.

Quinn cleared his throat. The waiter refilled their coffee cups.

“I’m sorry about what I said,” Kay said. “That sounded bitchy.”

“No need to apologize. You’re right. It’s none of my business. It’s just that if I was dating a woman like you, I wouldn’t have waited four years to ask you to marry me.”

“Which raises the question, if you’re not commitment-phobic yourself, how come you’ve stayed single so long?”

“Not a lot of women to choose from in Bear Creek. And most of the tourists that come to town are looking for a summer fling. And who’s to say I’ve never been married?”

“Have you?” Kay lifted an eyebrow. Although she hated answering personal questions herself, she had no compunction against asking them. Enjoyed it, in fact. Perhaps that’s what attracted her to journalism. The opportunity to discover the intimate details of others’ lives without revealing any information about her own.

“Came close once.”

“What happened?”

“Now I’m the one who’s uncomfortable discussing my private life.”

“Whoever writes the feature article on you is going to want to know the answer to these questions.”

“Then I’ll save the interview for that reporter.”

Silence.

“So in general, what qualities do you look for in a woman?” She spoke lightly, but every cell in her body stood at attention as she waited for his answer.

“I don’t really want a career woman. I know it sounds old-fashioned, but I see myself with a woman who’s mainly interested in making a home. I want kids. And I like the idea of providing for the woman in my life.”

“Oh, I see. The caveman mentality. Keep ’em barefoot and pregnant.”

“I don’t mind if she wants to work,” he expounded. “But the children and I should be her priority. Just as she and the kids will be my top priority, not work, not a job. Family and friends. That’s what counts. Don’t look so disapproving. I’m being honest here.”

“I’m not disapproving. You’re misconstruing my expression. Besides, does it matter what I think?”

The truth was, she’d been thinking that she’d never heard a New York male express such a sentiment or, for that matter, even admit to wanting children. She found it oddly refreshing, even though one side of her wanted to argue that women could have both prosperous careers and happy, well-adjusted children if they learned how to juggle.

His gaze was on her face. He was running his index finger around and around the rim of his coffee mug in a slow, languid motion that made her feel dizzy with desire. “My ideal woman has to be tough. She’s got to be hardy enough to brave winters in Alaska.”

“What about beauty?”

“Beauty’s good, but not really important. I mean, there’s got to be sexual chemistry between us, but I’m not looking for perfection. On the contrary, I think a little sass, a little attitude spices things up.”

“Really?”

“And even though I’m ready to settle down, I’m not willing to settle. When I get married, it’ll be forever. Until then—” he grinned “—I’m up for whatever adventures come my way.”

“Oh.” At this, Kay took heart. Perhaps he might provide that illicit affair she was yearning for, after all.

“So what do you look for in a man, Kay Freemont?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Then how do you know if Mr. Practically Engaged is the right one for you?”

She winced. “Please, I—”

“Oh, right, no personal questions.”

“How long are you in town?” She changed the subject and wondered what she was going to do with the information. Wondered why her heart was pounding.

“I fly out at seven-thirty on Wednesday morning. Tomorrow I’ve got an all-day thing with my friend from Adventure Gear. I’m thinking of switching over to their climbing harnesses, and he’s taking me on a climb upstate.”

“Ah.” Her hopes plummeted. No time for a wild fling.

He reached across the table and lightly grazed her hand with the tips of his fingers. It shouldn’t have been an erotic gesture, but it was.

“You could come to Alaska,” he said, reading her thoughts as clearly as if they’d been etched on her face. His habit of expressing exactly what was on her mind was uncanny and, frankly, a little disturbing. “Write that article for your editor. We could have a lot of fun together, you and I. Why not consider it?”

Astounded by the sensations that surged through her at his touch, she slipped her hand away. She never did answer his question.

After lunch he wanted to see the Empire State Building, so off they went. Quinn moved through the crowd like a redwood among matchsticks. On more than one occasion, she noticed women’s heads turn as they shot him appreciative glances. She felt oddly jealous.

And strangely aroused.

More aroused, in fact, than she’d ever been.

While Quinn admired the view from the top of the Empire State Building, Kay admired Quinn.

She couldn’t seem to draw her gaze from the ripple of muscle in his forearm where he’d rolled back the sleeves of his mackinaw. It was as if he knew how much she loved sexy forearms and was simply taunting her with a view of his.

She studied his strong profile, raked her gaze down his shoulders to his back before stopping to blatantly admire his delectable fanny so prominently displayed in snug-fitting blue jeans.

Raising a hand to her throat, she inhaled deeply, hauling in an unsteady breath. Quinn turned from the railing, a wide, boyish grin on his face. Kay smiled back.

“Wow. So many people. So many buildings. So many yellow-checkered cabs.”

She nodded.

The wind gusted. Shivering, Kay used a pillar as a windbreak. She crossed her arms over her chest and danced from foot to foot.

“You’re cold,” he said, and she found it touching that he’d noticed. He stripped off his mackinaw.

“I can’t take your jacket. It’s freezing up here.”

“Honey,” he said, and she did not take offense at his easy endearment; rather, she found it kind of charming. “Where I’m from this would be considered a heat wave.”

He stepped closer and settled his mackinaw around her shoulders, wrapping her as tenderly as a mother swaddles her baby.

“Thank you.” Her voice emerged as a breathless whisper, and she realized they were the only people still on the observation deck. The cold had forced everyone else back inside.

“You’re welcome.”

Quinn peered down into her face and damned if little Miss Too-Cool-for-School didn’t look nervous. The tip of her tongue darted out to wet her upper lip. Was her gesture an unconscious invitation to kiss her? God, he hoped so, because he wanted to do that more than anything in the world.

“Uh—” she took a step backward “—perhaps we should go now.”

“Why?” His body was so very aware of hers. “Are you frightened?”

She forced a laugh. “Frightened of what? Heights?”

“Of this.”

Then, taking them both by surprise, he caught her upper arms in his hands, raised her to her toes and kissed her the way he’d been longing to kiss her since the moment he’d caught her in his arms on the airplane.

She yielded. Accepted him with ready acquiescence. Complied by parting her lips and letting him slip his tongue in deep to taste the honeyed, warm recesses of her mouth. Languidly his tongue glided against hers.

Lust, swifter, more vehement than anything he’d ever experienced, exploded inside him. And it was just a damned kiss.

His gut clenched hard. He could only imagine how his hardness sliding into her would feel, her slender arms entwined around his neck, her luscious tush cupped in his large palms.

He was not the kind of guy to sit idle on the sidelines. When he saw something he wanted, he went after it. But even he had never moved so fast or wanted anyone so strongly. He had no more control than a moose in rut. That’s what this woman did to him.

Had he shocked her with his boldness? Had he indeed moved too quickly?

But no, she moaned softly and leaned into him. Quinn swallowed the sound, tilting her head back, threading his fingers through her hair. The softness of those silken strands was in sharp contrast to the hardness building inside him.

Incredible. Simply incredible.

He forgot that she was practically engaged. He forgot that he didn’t steal other men’s women. He forgot that she was out of his league. He forgot everything except how wonderful she felt, how good she tasted.

Kay held her breath, dazed and ashamed. Freemonts did not act like this! They didn’t kiss strangers in public. They did not lose control. They did not succumb to wanton lust.

Good. Good. Good. Good.

She was no longer behaving like a Freemont, and it was liberating beyond description.

But what was she getting herself into?

Quinn, the Alaskan man who smelled of wilderness and tasted of mangoes and key lime pie, was giving her the most possessive kiss of her life. Branding her with his tongue, searing her with his passion.

She’d never experienced anything like it, certainly not with Lloyd or with that guy from college. Her heart did a triple backflip before taking on a frantic, galloping rhythm of thrill and response.

Up was down, down was up. Nothing made sense anymore, but it felt so right.

Was she indeed supposed to begin her journey of self-discovery with this man? Or was she kidding herself? Using his willingness as an excuse for acting out her long-hidden desires?

Splaying a hand on Quinn’s chest, Kay thought to push him away, but instead, she let her hand rest there, feeling his heartbeat and marveling that it pounded as forcefully as her own.

Even through his flannel shirt, she could feel his muscled flesh. In spite of the cold, he felt blisteringly hot and wonderfully solid against her palm. She realized he was coiled as tense as a snake waiting to strike. The comparison alarmed her. Did she really believe he might be dangerous? What was she doing? She didn’t know this man.

But that was rigid Freemont thinking, and more than anything she wanted to break free of the constraints of her old thought patterns. She wanted to stop berating herself, wanted to take some risks, inhale the danger, embrace the challenge, not fear it. She wanted to be fully alive. She wanted to replace fantasies with reality.

And Quinn was serving up huge helpings of reality on a silver platter.

Her knees were weak, her breath faint. How could one simple kiss do so many different things to her? Okay, it wasn’t such a simple kiss. It was more like an implosion. His mouth caused her insides to topple and collapse in on themselves.

He tugged her close against his body, bringing her in startling contact with his rock-hard erection. One of his hands slipped underneath the hem of her leather coat to caress her behind.

Oh, my!

Everything she was feeling was so new, so exciting, so unbelievable, and precisely like one of her fantasies.

Quinn pulled his mouth from hers at last, his breath coming in jerky gasps. Her lips felt swollen and wet, her body both tight and liquid at the same time. He rubbed his cheek against hers, setting her on fire. She quivered and he pressed his lips to her ear.

“Woman,” he whispered hoarsely, “I’m so turned on by you.”

In that moment she experienced a unique and exhilarating power. She, cool, poised Kay Freemont, had made this mountain of a man lose control. She wanted more from him, and that was all there was to it.

What would your parents think? What about Lloyd? the nagging voice that made her do all the right things for all the wrong reasons piped up.

To hell with her parents. To hell with Lloyd. She’d been the dutiful daughter for twenty-seven years, and where had it gotten her?

An orgasmless career woman practically engaged to a man who did not even love her.

Marshaling her courage, Kay took Quinn’s chin in her palm and looked him square in the eye. She’d never done anything like what she was about to do, and therein lay the thrill of it. She knew he would be a kind and gentle lover and maybe, just maybe, he would be the one to turn the key of her womanhood and lead her to new levels of physical joy.

His smoky-gray eyes met hers with a sheen of raw desire, and he did not look away. He didn’t even blink. He stared into her eyes as if he could peer right into the depths of her soul.

“Yes?” he growled. This talent he had for anticipating her thoughts was downright spooky.

“Would you like to go back to my place?” she asked breathlessly.

Quinn couldn’t believe his ears. “What? What did you say?”

She cleared her throat. “My place. You. Me. Now.”

He shook his head, unable to comprehend his good fortune. “Are you sure?”

“No. I’m not sure of anything, except that for once in my well-ordered, well-behaved life I need to do something irresponsible and unpredictable and capricious. So let’s go before I change my mind.”

She grabbed his hand and started pulling him toward the elevators.

“Whoa, wait a minute.” He dug in his heels and she couldn’t budge him. “I don’t want to be your biggest regret.”

“Well, you should have thought of that before you kissed me.”

“A kiss is one thing, Kay. Sex is something else entirely.”

“That’s what I’m counting on.” Her voice was husky, her eyes heavy-lidded.

He shook his head again. What was the matter with him? This was his fantasy. So why was he putting on the brakes? Was he out of his ever-loving mind?

“Please.”

Ah, this was killing him.

“You’re a beautiful woman, and I want to make love to you so badly I can taste it. But I don’t break up couples. And you’re practically engaged.”

“No. In fact, I was thinking I might break up with him.”

“You don’t love the guy?”

“I thought I did once. Or what passed for love. But lately I’ve come to understand that I don’t even know what love is,” she said. “My parents like Lloyd. They think we’re great together. They’re the ones pushing for this marriage.”

“You let your parents tell you who to date?”

She took a deep breath, waved a dismissive hand. “Let’s not talk about them. Let’s not talk at all.” She angled him a coy glance that almost brought him to his knees.

She looked so damned appealing standing there with the wind whipping his mackinaw around her shoulders, her golden hair falling across one cheek, her full lips pursed in fervid anticipation of his acquiescence, her hands cocked on her slender hips.

Much as he wanted to say yes, as much as he knew he’d be kicking himself tonight in his lonely hotel room, Quinn knew he had to turn her down.

He heaved in a heavy lungful of chilled air and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Kay, but I’ve got to say no.”

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

4

OH GOD, SHE’D MADE a fool of herself. What had she been thinking? Freemont women did not throw themselves at perfect strangers, no matter how sexually appealing they were.

She tossed her head, averted her gaze.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I’m flattered. Very flattered. You’re one hell of a sexy woman.”

His comment, meant to soothe, only served to fluster her more. Was she that transparent?

“I’m not embarrassed,” she lied, and gave a casual shrug for good measure. “I asked—you weren’t interested. I can handle rejection.”

“Lady, you’re wrong about that. I’m extremely interested. But you’ve got something to settle with that boyfriend of yours, and hopping into the sack with me won’t solve your problems. I’m sorry.” He reached out to take her hand, but she stepped back and shook her head.

Don’t touch me. Please. If you do I’ll crumble into your arms.

She held only the most tenuous control over her libido. These unstoppable, blazing-hot fantasies, combined with her lack of sexual release, had compelled her to do something she normally would never have done in a million years. And she was ashamed of herself. Best to get away from this man ASAP.

Especially since the hot tingling between her legs had not abated one whit since he’d kissed her.

“Look,” she said with her usual crisp efficiency. “You’re right. Maybe we should call it a day.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, and pushed the elevator button. “That’d probably be best.”

Quinn gazed at her with such heated desire, with such greedy longing, Kay almost threw her arms around his neck and begged him to reconsider. But she didn’t, of course. She was at her core a Freemont, after all.

She drew herself up straight. “Yes. Well, it’s been an experience meeting you.”

“Will I see you again? Are you coming to Alaska?”

She shook her head.

“I was afraid of that.” He smiled wistfully. “Another time, another place.”

Her heart hung suspended in her throat, and for some idiotic reason tears hovered behind her eyelids. Kay blinked. The elevator door dinged open.

“Come on,” she said. “I’ll hail you a cab.”

She dropped him off at his hotel in Times Square, but asked the driver to linger a moment at the curb so she could watch him disappear through the revolving glass doors. She was too shaken to return to work. Besides, Judy had given her the rest of the afternoon off, and she’d be irritated to know Kay hadn’t spent it squiring Quinn around town.

And besides, there was another matter that demanded her attention. She couldn’t go forward with her life until she broke up with Lloyd. No more phone calls or e-mails. No more evading. This had to be face-to-face. She had a key to his place; she would go to his apartment and confront him. And if he wasn’t home, she’d pack up the few things she kept stashed there and wait for him to return.

It was a plan. Taking action made her feel better. She gave the cabby Lloyd’s address and leaned back.

Sighing, she wistfully trailed her fingers over the seat where Quinn had been sitting, the vinyl material warm from the heat of his body. She lowered her head, lifted her collar to her nose and breathed deeply of his scent, still clinging to her blouse.

What a masculine man.

Hair as thick and wavy as a Kansas cornfield. Eyes the color of a cold November sky. Warm, inviting lips that promised so much in that short but sizzling kiss they’d shared. Broad shoulders, honed waist, narrow hips.

Kay moaned under her breath, closed her eyes and pictured him with his shirt off.

He’s splitting logs with an ax, and he’s stripped bare to the waist. It’s summer. Midday. Hot for Alaska.

She’s watching him from a shelter of thick trees. The scent of pine fills her nostrils. Behind him in the distance rises snowcapped mountain peaks. He doesn’t see her. She knows he’s had trouble with hunters poaching his land, and he’s not friendly toward secretive visitors spying on him from the trees.

She shouldn’t be here, but she can’t look away. She can’t even move. Her eyes are transfixed on his exquisite, tanned torso.

His muscular biceps bunch as he swings the ax down in one long, smooth stroke.

Whack!

The ax strikes home with a metallic, hypnotic ring that echoes strangely in the still forest. Shivers of excitement run up her spine.

She licks her lips.

He pauses in his work. Rests one arm against the ax handle, swipes at his forehead with a blue bandanna pulled from the back pocket of his tight, denim jeans.

The sun glints seductively off the sweat beading his chest. A sultry heat settles low in her belly, then fans out like thick fingers, growing, clutching, pressing down on her, until every part of her body pulsates with awareness of his overt maleness.

She shifts her position, lifts her head higher, hoping for a better look. She startles a squirrel, which begins to chatter at her.

The woodsman jerks his head sharply in her direction.

“Who’s there?” he calls out.

Heart racing, she jumps to her feet. She can’t be discovered. No telling what he’ll do to her if he finds her encroaching on his land.

“Show yourself,” he demands.

She whirls around—must get away—and darts through the underbrush.

“Come back here, damn you.”

She hears him crashing through the forest as he thunders after her, but she doesn’t look behind her.

Something snags her blouse. The silky material splits wide open, exposing her bra. Her skirt, too, gets caught on something sharp. She hears the rip. Her clothes hang in tatters, flapping about her skin.

Thud, thud, thud.

He is coming.

Faster, run faster.

She tries, but it’s as if her feet are encased in cement. She’s moving in slow motion. She can hear his breathing as he gets closer.

Her hair streaks out behind her, and her legs churn through the thick carpet of pine needles. She zigzags around trees, leaps over downed logs like a doe fleeing a pursuing rutting buck. She’s heading for the clearing and freedom. Her pulse is pounding, thumping, thrashing madly in her ears.

He’s quick for a big man. So quick. And so very close now. She’s not going to make it.

He tackles her. His arms go around her waist. He pulls her atop him as they fall together.

Then she’s on her back and he’s above her, pinning her arms to the earth with his knees. His breathing is raspy, ragged. There is an angry gleam in his smoldering eyes.

“Who are you?” he commands.

But she can’t answer. She’s so afraid. Her whole body trembles. What’s he going to do to her?

“You were trespassing on my land.”

She nods, fear and a strange feeling she’s never had before pooling in her belly.

“You must be punished.”

She squirms, trying to get free, but his knees hold her fast. She can’t move. Can’t get away. She is captured. His prisoner. Will he require her to be his love slave?

She catches her breath.

He grabs what’s left of her blouse and rips it from her body. Her bra follows, exposing tender breasts. Her chest heaves as she exhales.

His hands, work-roughened and callused, are suddenly gentle as he massages her nipples. “I must teach you a lesson,” he whispers. “You must learn never to spy.”

She whimpers.

He leans over her, takes one nipple into his mouth, and she gasps. He plunders her with his tongue.

The pleasure is beyond description. She writhes beneath him wanting more punishment, more sweet torture….

“Lady—” the cabby’s voice jerked her rudely back to reality “—that’ll be seven-fifty.”

She thrust a ten at him. Dazed and stuffy-headed from her interrupted fantasy, she stumbled out of the taxi.

The doorman greeted her with a smile, and Kay took the elevator to the penthouse and let herself into Lloyd’s apartment. Emotionally exhausted, she dropped her purse on the table in the foyer and kicked off her shoes. This wasn’t going to be easy.

That was when she heard the noises coming from the bedroom. She cocked her head, listening.

Giggles. Moans. Oohs. Ahhs. It sounded like someone having sex.

And not just any sex, but wild, uninhibited, swinging-from-the-chandelier monkey sex.

Bed springs squeaked. The headboard banged. Ka-wham, ka-wham, ka-wham.

“Oh, baby, yeah, you hot stud. Give me all you’ve got. That’s it. That’s right.”

Kay froze. Who was in Lloyd’s apartment having sex? His maid and her boyfriend?

She tiptoed down the hallway, her stocking feet gliding over the cool, terrazzo floor. She should be upset or offended on Lloyd’s behalf; instead, she was weirdly curious. It sounded as if they were having a hell of a time.

His bedroom door stood slightly ajar. Kay pressed her body against the opposite wall of the hallway and angled her head around for a peek. She shouldn’t be doing this, she knew, but she wanted to see how other people made love.

Clothing lay strewn across the carpet, a bra—that looked to be nothing short of a D cup—dangled over the shade of a thousand-dollar antique lamp.

“Faster! Harder!” the woman cried.

Kay inched closer, helpless to stop herself from watching. A man, garbed only in black socks, stood with his back to her, his arms supporting the woman bent over in front of him.

She recognized the man at once. No mistaking that bony behind. Shock jolted through her. It took a moment for her to react, but then Kay kicked the door open wide.

Startled, her wannabe-fiancé turned to gape at her, his body still embedded in the flesh of the buxom redhead in his arms.

“Kay!” he cried in a strangled voice. “What on earth are you doing here?”

TWO HOURS LATER Kay sat morosely in her darkened kitchen, staring at the crystal salt and pepper shakers that sandwiched a crystal napkin holder and slowly shredding a lace paper doily.

She felt empty inside. Empty, hollow and cold. She hugged herself tightly and clenched her jaw to stay the tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks if she dared let them.

It wasn’t so much finding Lloyd with another woman that bothered her. No, what really upset Kay was the cruel words he’d hurled at her as he’d wriggled into his pants.

“I’m glad you caught me, Kay. I’ve hated sneaking around behind your back. But you gave me no choice. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is being with a frigid woman?”

Frigid.

The word reverberated in her head. Was she really frigid? She’d suspected for many years she might be, but to have someone say it to her face caused her more pain than she could have imagined.

He blamed his cheating on her.

A sick sensation flipped over in Kay’s stomach as she recalled the blissful expression on the red-haired woman’s face. She had obviously been having a very good time with Lloyd. If he could satisfy that woman, then apparently his lousy technique wasn’t the reason for Kay’s lack of sexual arousal. It was true. She was frigid.

She dropped her head into her hands and softly began to cry. In that moment she felt so alone. All those years of struggling to be the perfect daughter, the perfect Freemont, had extracted an extravagant toll. Decades of watching her p’s and q’s, worrying about what other people thought and putting on a polished facade had resulted in a repressed personality.

In truth she didn’t know who she was or what she wanted. If only she could activate her sexuality. If she could come alive in that area of her life, might it not be the gateway to freedom?

But how did she go about liberating her libido?

Then she thought of Quinn. With his heated kissing and his bedroom eyes, he’d obviously desired her. If anyone ever made her feel like a woman, it was him.

And she’d let him get away.

She stroked her lips with fingertips gone salty from her tears and wistfully recalled their kiss and the power of their connection. A shiver passed through her. Could Quinn light the fire in her that she feared did not even exist?

You’re idealizing him, Kay. He’s nothing but wish fulfillment. The inner, sensible voice that had guided her actions throughout her life spoke sternly.

Right.

Sighing, she raised her head and straightened her shoulders. Freemonts did not pine for the impossible.

At that moment her door buzzer went off.

Great. Just what she needed. Company. Kay trudged to the door and pressed the intercom. “Yes?”

“Dearest, it’s Mommy. I’m coming up.”

Oh, no! “Mother, I’m pretty busy.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to pretend with me. Lloyd has been to see your father. I know what happened between you two.”

“Then you know I never want to see his two-timing ass again.”

“Is that any way for a Freemont to talk?” her mother chided.

More Freemont guilt. “Come on up.” She sighed again.

A few minutes later Honoria Freemont rushed into Kay’s apartment with her hair freshly coiffed, smelling of expensive French perfume and wearing an impeccably tailored suit. Immediately she took both of Kay’s hands in hers and led her to the couch.

“You look terrible, darling. Your eyes are red and puffy.”

“I’ve been crying.”

“Do you have any cucumbers? We could make a cold compress.”

“Mother, I don’t care if my eyes are swollen. I’m in my own apartment. Don’t worry, none of your friends are going to see me.”

“Oh, you’re in one of those moods.”

“Yes, I do believe I am. Not two hours ago I caught my boyfriend in bed with another woman. Under the circumstances I’m entitled to be a little testy, don’t you think?”

Her mother shifted, let go of Kay’s hands. “You mustn’t allow something like this to come between you and Lloyd.”

Kay stared at her mother openmouthed. “What?” She wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. Was her mother suggesting she overlook Lloyd’s blatant infidelity?

Gently Honoria reached out and pushed Kay’s jaw up. “Lloyd is your father’s right-hand man. He’d be lost without him.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

Her mother would have frowned, but her recent Botox injection ruled that out. Instead, a disapproving look came into her eyes. “It’s got everything to do with you, darling. One day Freemont Enterprises will belong to you.”

“And I can’t inherit without a man at my side?”

“Not just any man. You must have a husband who comes from the right stock. A man who knows how to navigate your world. A man of good breeding.”

“Oh, from what I witnessed this afternoon, Lloyd’s good at breeding, all right.” Kay crossed her arms and glared. How could her own mother side with her father and Lloyd in this matter?

“Don’t be crude. It’s unbecoming of a Freemont.”

If her mother said one more word about being a good Freemont, Kay was going to scream. She rubbed her pounding temples.

“I’m not saying what Lloyd did was right,” Honoria went on, “but he’s very sorry. He’s already apologized to your father, and he desperately wants to apologize to you, but he’s afraid you won’t speak to him.”

“He’s right. I never want to see him again.”

“You’re making a grave mistake. Lloyd comes from a long and illustrious bloodline.”

“I’m not a racehorse, Mother.”

“You’re going to be seeing him at every social function. You know he’s got opera-season tickets right next to our box. There’s no way to avoid him.”

“So I’ll stop attending social functions and, news flash, I hate opera.”

“You can’t avoid him forever.”

“Then I’ll ignore him.”

“Darling, you’re old enough to understand this.” Her mother patted her knee. “There’re certain things a woman must put up with in a marriage. Any marriage. Be it good, bad or indifferent.”

“And infidelity is one of those things?”

She simply couldn’t believe her mother was saying this to her. Then again, what did she expect? Her mother had chosen to look the other way whenever Kay’s father came home with lipstick on his collar or took late-night telephone calls in his den or went on “business” trips several times a month. Well, not her! She’d be damned if she’d live that way. No amount of money or social status was worth that kind of misery.

Kay got to her feet. “Mother, I think it’s time for you to go.”

Honoria looked startled. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not going to discuss Lloyd Post. I’m not going to marry a man who cheats on me. You might have been willing to settle for a marriage in name only, but not me.”

Her mother looked as if she’d been slapped across the face with a broom. “Kathryn Victoria Freemont, I will not allow you to speak that way to me.”

“Then if you don’t want to hear what I have to say, there’s the door.”

Flabbergasted, her mother picked up her purse. “I’ll talk to you later when you’ve come to your senses.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Kay muttered, and locked the door behind Honoria, then collapsed onto the tiled floor and drew her knees to her chest. She rocked back and forth in a vain attempt to comfort herself the way she had as a little girl on Nanny’s night off.

Oh, God, she had to get out of the city. Away from Lloyd’s humiliating behavior, away from her father’s chiding disapproval, away from her mother’s terrible advice.

When had her life become such a mess?

From the outside, strangers might be envious of her. She had a plum job at the most successful women’s magazine in the country. She had lots of money, got invited to all the right parties. She was thin and young and blond.

But others had no idea what it was like to be Kay Freemont. She was miserable to the core and hadn’t a clue how to salvage herself. All her life she’d had this bizarre sensation of being on the inside looking out. While in the midst of prestige, money and privilege, she dreamed of being like other kids, wearing clothes off the rack, cheap sunglasses and colorful, rubber flip-flops.

She’d longed to do simple things like eat cotton candy or ride on a carnival Ferris wheel or lie on her back in the grass and stare up at a canopy of stars.

Instead, she’d been escorted to the planetarium and the museum by bodyguards. She’d been forced to attend boring parties and was kept isolated from ordinary people.

She was sick of it. And she wanted out.

For the longest time she had experienced no passion, no fire, no zest for life. That is, until yesterday when she had met Quinn Scofield.

Something about the man—be it his ruggedly sexy appearance, his independent nature, his engaging smile—stirred dormant emotions deep inside her. For the first time in years she felt excited.

The man was real; he didn’t hide behind a facade. He was honest; he spoke what was on his mind, consequences be damned. He had true friends, not leeches who sucked up to him for his power and money. And he had family who loved him for who he was. In other words, he was everything she was not.

Go to Alaska. Write the feature article. Get away. Spend some time with Quinn. Tell him you’ve broken things off with Lloyd. Find yourself. Find your sexuality. Come home a new woman.

It sounded so good.

Determined, Kay crossed to the telephone in the alcove, picked up the receiver and called Judy to tell her she was taking the assignment. She was going north to Alaska.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

5

KAY FREEMONT was coming to Bear Creek. Quinn still couldn’t quite get his head around the notion. To think, in less than an hour, that cool, sleek beauty would be strolling the streets of his hometown.

The notion was enough to give a man the shakes. He wasn’t quite prepared for the reality of her visit, and yet he didn’t feel as if he could wait another second, much less sixty minutes or more.

She had already arrived in Anchorage, and Mack had flown out to retrieve her. Quinn could scarcely sit still. He had reserved the best room for her at Jake’s B&B and arranged for her to borrow his parents’ extra vehicle. Since his mother had slipped on ice and broken her right ankle the week before, she wouldn’t need the old Wagoneer, anyway. He’d stocked his refrigerator with supplies, planning to cook a few meals for her. Quinn was proud of his culinary abilities and couldn’t wait to show off for her.

And he was hoping against hope that his wildest dreams might come true and they could finish what they started in New York City. He had stopped by Leonard Long Bear’s sundries store and picked up a box of condoms, a bottle of massage oil and edible body paints. Bear Creek might be small but because of the cruise ship trade, Long Bear’s had to be prepared for every kind of request. Especially those of a confidential nature.

Unfortunately Quinn’s private business hadn’t remained private for long. By lunchtime at least half a dozen townspeople had kidded him about the naughty thoughts running through his mind.

Fine. Let them talk. He wasn’t ashamed of his sexuality. Particularly since he hadn’t had sex in more than eighteen months.

He hoped he could keep himself under control. He wanted to please Kay as much as he wanted to be pleasured. That kiss they’d shared atop the Empire State Building told him she was as hungry for physical love as he.

He couldn’t wait to taste those lips again, to caress her soft flesh, to run his fingers through her silky hair. For the past week, ever since Judy Nessler had called and told him Kay was on her way, he’d been unable to consider anything else. Although he couldn’t help but wonder if she was still “practically engaged” or if she had broken things off with her boyfriend.

Just thinking about Kay stirred him, and he had to breathe deeply and think of ice hockey in order to calm down.

Finally, finally, he heard the sound of Mack’s bush plane glide to a stop in the inlet. Bundled in his parka, he threw open his front door and hurried down the walkway that was already covered with a light dusting of fresh flakes, even though he’d shoveled it earlier.

The first of March was an awful time to visit Bear Creek. They wouldn’t be able to do much beyond sit by the fire. Kay certainly didn’t seem the type to snowshoe or snowmobile or ice-skate. He couldn’t see her sitting in the bleachers wrapped in thermal blankets at his hockey games. Ah, but he could visualize her curled up in his bed.

By the time he reached the dock, Mack had already helped her from the plane. Quinn took one look at her and his heart flipped.

She smiled in that cool, controlled way of hers. “Hello, Quinn.”

He’d been nervous, not knowing exactly how to proceed, but in that moment instinct took over. He swung her into his arms, lifted her off her feet and hugged her to his chest.

“Welcome to Bear Creek, Kay,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m so glad you decided to come.”

“Thank you.” She stiffened in his arms and he realized that his easy informality made her uncomfortable.

He sat her gently on the ground, wanting to respect her need for distance, and surveyed her with hungry eyes. She looked good, if somewhat out of place, in her virgin-white ski outfit and snowboots. It was probably the only cold-weather gear she owned.

Feeling self-conscious before Quinn’s intense perusal, Kay adjusted the knit cap she wore. She loved the way he’d swung her into his arms but she had a hard time relaxing and enjoying his ebullience.

Mack, the bush pilot, busied himself with tying down the plane and pretending he wasn’t eavesdropping on their conversation. She had enjoyed talking to the down-to-earth man on the flight over, and she’d been unable to stop herself from pumping him for information on Quinn. Now she feared Mack knew exactly how much she liked Quinn. For a woman who’d spent her life hiding her feelings from the world, this was a disconcerting prospect.

“Well,” she said. “Well.”

Her heart was galloping a mile a minute. On the long flight to Alaska she had decided once and for all to use that sexy underwear she had stuffed into her suitcase and seduce this bear of a man. One way or the other, she was bound and determined to prove Lloyd wrong. She was not frigid.

But now that she was here, staring into Quinn’s mesmerizing gray eyes, an odd sensation of anticipation, excitement and fear gripped her. Her brain short-circuited, issuing two simultaneous but opposing commands.

Run for your life! Get out while you can!

Strap your arms around him and never let go!

Oh, God, she wanted him so badly. Maybe too much. But did she have the guts to go through with this? Were her expectations of this chemistry between them unrealistic?

He looked impressive in his fur-lined parka and all-weather boots. A rugged man’s man who needed no fancy gym to keep in shape. Life in the Alaskan wilderness was his personal trainer.

Another twinge of anticipation. This time low in her anatomy. Heavens above, she was scared and thrilled.

You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, she reminded herself. After all, you’re here to write an article. Focus on that. Forget the other for now.

That admonition and a deep breath of frosty winter air calmed her nerves.

Quinn held out his gloved hand to her. Tentatively she accepted it and allowed him to lead her cautiously up the snow-dazzled sidewalk to his rustic log cabin, which was perched on a small hill just above the shoreline.

“Come inside.” He ushered her over the threshold, stopping long enough to stomp the snow off his boots on the welcome mat. Kay followed suit.

“Let me hang up your coat.”

Kay started to pull down the zipper, but her fingers, even through her leather gloves, were so cold that she fumbled.

“Allow me.” He reached for the zipper. Their hands brushed briefly. They both tried to ignore the contact. She glanced at the moose head mounted over the mantel, while he kept his eyes trained to the floor.

Rubbing her palms together, she gazed around the cabin. It was obvious he’d tidied up. The room smelled of pine cleaner and air freshener. The floor was hardwood and covered with a thick, braided rug. Hockey trophies were displayed in a glass case. In one corner sat a massive fireplace, in the other, a big-screen television with satellite hookup. It was definitely a man’s place, painted in dark, masculine colors and decorated with large, sturdy furniture. A brown leather couch, a bold scarlet recliner, a hand-carved rocking chair.

She shrugged out of her ski jacket and stripped off her ski pants. He took the garments from her and hung them on a rack by the door. When she felt confident enough to glance his way again, she apprehended his gaze in a leisurely stroll down her body. He took in her red cashmere sweater, her form-fitting black pants, her fluffy white after-ski boots.

Despite the fact that she was bundled up to the teeth, thermal underwear on from neck to ankles, the way he looked at her made Kay feel like Lady Godiva prancing through the town square in the altogether.

“Nice place,” Kay said, trying her best to keep her tone upbeat and lighthearted, as if his perusal didn’t affect her one bit. But her breathless, whispery voice gave her away.

“Here,” he said eagerly, his voice no steadier than her own. “Stand by the fire, get warm. I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”

Hot chocolate? Had she stepped back in time to a simpler place, a simpler era? It was nice, very nice, but she felt out of place. A stranger in a strange land.

“That’d be great.”

Then an appalling thought occurred to her. Was she supposed to lodge here with him? Not that she didn’t want to stay with him. She just didn’t want it assumed.

“Quinn?” She watched him move around the kitchen, which was separated from the living area by a waist-high counter. She heard the oven door open, saw him bend over and remove a cookie sheet.

The smell of chocolate-chip cookies filled the air. Handsome and he could cook. A deadly combo.

“Uh-huh.” He deposited the cookie sheet on a cooling rack and glanced over at her. His hair had flopped boyishly over his forehead. For no good reason whatsoever her stomach did a backflip.

“Did you…am I…” She cleared her throat and tried again. “Where am I supposed to sleep?”

“At Jake’s B&B a quarter mile up the road in the center of town. Mack’s already hauling your luggage there.”

“Er…that’s good.”

“You didn’t think…I mean…did you want to stay here?” He raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Oh, no. No. Of course not.” Kay groaned inwardly. This was going horribly. They were both so afraid of making a mistake, they were treading on eggshells.

He returned to the living area, balancing two mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of cookies on a tray.

“I really am glad you changed your mind about coming to Alaska.” He handed her a mug.

She took a sip of hot chocolate and nibbled on a cookie. The room was silent except for logs crackling in the fireplace.

“Cookies are good,” she said as a way to fill the void.

“You can thank the Pillsbury Doughboy. All I did was slice and heat.”

“Still, you sliced them very evenly and heated them to the perfect degree of doneness.”

“Are you making fun of me?” His eyes teased.

Feeling suddenly shy, she glanced away. Oh, she was getting in way over her head here. Liking this guy too much, when they had no future together.

But she was in no position to ask for anything more from him than sex, nor did she want to. For one thing he was an Alaskan and she was a New Yorker. For another, she was on the rebound, still aching from Lloyd’s betrayal. She had a lot of things to sort out before she could ever entertain a relationship that extended beyond the physical. With anyone.

Maybe coming here hadn’t been such a great idea, after all.

Disconcerted, she moved away from Quinn and turned her attention to the photographs artfully arranged on the paneled wall on the opposite side of the room.

There was Quinn playing hockey. In another he was standing on the summit of Mount McKinley grinning like a happy kid. In a third he was kayaking. In a fourth he was guiding a group of tourists down white-water rapids in a rubber raft.

One picture caught her eye. It featured six muscular, bare-chested teenagers laughing and lobbing fistfuls of blueberries at each other. She recognized four of the boys from the magazine advertisement.

Quinn hadn’t changed much. His hair was darker, his shoulders broader, but he still possessed the same insouciant grin and macho stance.

“That was the summer we all worked in Juneau taking tourists down the Mendenthall.” He come up behind her and was standing so near she could almost feel his chin touching the top of her head. “We’d been picking blueberries and things got out of hand. My sister Meggie, the camera buff, sneaked up on us and snapped this photo.”

“Who’s that?” She pointed to a swarthy, dark-haired boy with straight white teeth.

“That’s Jesse, Meggie’s husband. They weren’t married then, of course. In fact, I believe that was the summer Jesse’s father married Caleb’s mother.”

“And this guy?” She pointed to a lanky, string-bean fellow whom Quinn had in a headlock while he smashed berries into his hair.

“That’s Kyle.”

“You two look like the best of friends.”

“We were.”

Something in his voice made Kay turn and look at him. “You’re not friends anymore?”

Quinn shrugged. “I don’t talk to him much. He met some girl who’d come to Alaska for the summer. Kyle fell head over heels. Moved to California for her. Haven’t seen him in twelve years.”

“You act like he betrayed you by falling in love.”

Quinn cracked an uneasy smile. “It wasn’t the falling-in-love part, it was the leaving Alaska. That woman put a ring in his nose, and he let her pull him around by it. Guess that’s why I’m so determined to find a wilderness wife.”

“Because you’re not willing to compromise?”

“Not when it comes to leaving Alaska.” He thrust his chest out as if he was proud of his stubbornness. “In fact, that’s what happened to my last relationship. I asked Heather to marry me, but she refused to move to Bear Creek. I wasn’t about to go to Cleveland where she lived. If a woman wants to love me, she’s got to love Alaska, too. It’s a package deal.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate, then said, “You can quote me in your article.”

Kay raised her eyebrows. With such an obstinate attitude the man might be hard-pressed to find his perfect mate. So why did she find his stubbornness attractive? Maybe it was the clear-cut, simple way he said what was on his mind and if people didn’t like it, well, too bad. “I’ll be sure to note that. Getting your story for the article is the reason I’m here.”

“The only reason?” His eyes sought hers.

“No. It’s not the only reason.”

“No?” He gave her a quirky smile, which struck her the wrong way. As if he was feeling pretty cocky about his ability to attract her all the way across the continent.

“I needed to get out of the city after breaking things off with Lloyd.”

“Ah.” He grinned all the wider. “So you’re no longer practically engaged.”

“No, I’m not.”

He smirked.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Looking so smug. My breaking up with Lloyd had nothing to do with you.”

“I never said it did.”

“Your expression implied it.”

Why was she being so sensitive? What was the matter with her? For the past week, while she packed and made travel arrangements, she had been unable to think of anything but seeing Quinn again, and now that she was here, she was experiencing all kinds of conflicting emotions.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That sounded argumentative.”

“Hey, I can handle it. If you need to get something off your chest, go right ahead.”

Well, that was refreshing. He was ready to let her spew out her emotions. Her mother and her father and Lloyd encouraged her not to express her feelings. To keep things bottled up. Good little girls didn’t let their anger show. She was damned tired of being good, and here was Quinn egging her on.

“You sure you’re up for this?” She looked into his eyes, saw nothing but sincere interest and acceptance. She leaned forward and set her half-empty mug back on the tray.

“FYI for the article. I don’t want a submissive yes-woman for a wife. I want a true partner who speaks her mind, shares her thoughts with me even though I might not agree with her. I’m a firm believer that passionate couples fight. As long as they fight fair. Hell, if you don’t fight sometimes, if you agree about everything, where’s the spark? Where’s the passion?”

Kay gulped. Oh, yes. She had always felt the same way. Just once when her father came home late, she had longed for her mother to confront him, throw a tantrum, demand he stop sleeping with other women. But Honoria had never once expressed her anger or voiced her opinion. Well-bred wives did not behave that way. Civilized-society women simply went shopping, spending extravagantly, consoling themselves with expensive but totally meaningless gewgaws.

And when she had tried to tell Lloyd her feelings or express her displeasure over something, he’d always headed her off, shut her down, closed her out, reminding her she was a Freemont with a certain level of dignity to maintain.

“You got something to tell me, Kay? Blast away, I’m listening.”

Quinn gave her his full attention, his eyes on her face, his palms splayed over his thighs. Kay couldn’t help but feel that the future Mrs. Scofield was going to be a very lucky woman—just as long as she was willing to move to Alaska.

“All right. It hurt my feelings when you turned down my offer at the Empire State Building. I don’t go around inviting men into my bed willy-nilly. I just thought you should know that.”

“I never thought you did.”

“You thought I was terrible, wanting to cheat on my boyfriend.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

He shook a finger. “Now don’t go telling me what I thought.”

“So what did you think about me?”

“I figured there must have been trouble in ‘practically engaged’ paradise for there to be so much attraction between us.”

“And?”

“I thought you were a beautiful, sexy woman who was obviously unhappy with her life and not getting what she needed from her primary relationships.”

Boy, he’d hit the nail on the head. Was she that obvious, or was he that observant?

“I think you’re frustrated and disappointed and searching for something special.”

She ducked her head. This didn’t feel very comfortable, having him analyze her and be so accurate.

He reached out and cupped her chin with his palm, raised her face to meet his gaze once more. “I’d like to make you feel special, Kay.” His expression was doing her in, causing her to feel hot and cold at the same time.

“Quinn, you’re looking for a wife, and the last thing I’m in the market for is a husband.”

“Kay, I’m a pretty simple guy. I take life as I find it. I don’t put expectations on people.”

“Then why did you reject me back in New York?”

“Like I told you then, I don’t come between couples. You had to get free from Lloyd first before you could come to me. But you’re here now. Officially unattached. Anything can happen.”

Anything.

The word reverberated in her head. It was exactly what she wanted to hear. Exactly what she feared most. By coming to Alaska she had set herself on a course of sexual exploration. If a man as virile as Quinn couldn’t give her an orgasm, if he couldn’t save her from a life of frustrated sexual fantasies, then could anyone?

QUINN DROVE KAY over to Jake’s bed-and-breakfast in his parents’ Wagoneer and gave her the keys. He’d started to walk her to the door, not wanting her to slip in the gloom and the snow, but she surprised him by announcing she wanted to walk around and check out the town.

“For the article,” she explained.

They walked to the end of the half-mile-long boardwalk, which ended at the pier where the cruise ships docked in the summer. Most of the shops were closed for the winter, except for Long Bear’s sundries and MacKenzie’s trading post. He took her over to KCRK, his parents’ radio station, and they waved to Liam Kilstrom who was in the control booth. They wandered past the community rec center and the nearby church, where the ladies’ auxiliary was having a quilting bee. They strolled by the Happy Puffin bar, where half the town was hanging out, because it was trivia night. The other half of the town was either probably in Jake’s huge sitting room or at the adjacent restaurant, Paradise Diner.

He was not quite certain what had passed between them at his house. Had she come to Alaska to have an affair with him or not? She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. He saw the desire reflected in her eyes, noticed her passion in the way she held her body, recognized longing in how she got flustered in his presence. But something was holding her back.

It was all he could do to keep from touching her, brushing a wisp of hair from her cheek, taking her hand to guide her over the icy patches on the road. He wanted to caress her and hold her and never let her go.

He had it bad and he knew that wasn’t good. He had to be careful. Kay was not a long-term relationship. He knew that. He didn’t want either of them to get hurt. But man, how he wanted to make love to her.

His gut somersaulted and he drew in a deep, steadying breath, unable to remember when one woman had tied him so inextricably into knots. He was afraid of screwing up, of making a wrong move, of letting this one slip through his fingers. He wanted her with a power that shook his normal confidence.

Kay stopped on the wooden promenade, inhaled deeply of the cold air and gazed at the mountains surrounding the town.

“It’s so incredibly beautiful here,” she murmured. “Breathtaking. Overwhelming. Majestic. Totally wild. Honestly, I had no idea.”

“It’s just home to me.” He grinned.

“I can’t believe how different it is from New York. Bear Creek is quaint and clean and charming. No noise, no pollution, no panhandlers. I’ve got to tell you the truth, all this quiet is a shock to my system. How do you stand it?”

“How do you stand Manhattan?”

She gave a little laugh, and the delicate, feminine sound drilled a corkscrew of awareness straight through his groin. “I suppose it’s what you’re accustomed to. Although I’ve got to admit it can be a tough place to live. I’ve been mugged twice in two years.”

“That’s awful.”

She shrugged. “Builds character.”

“I hate the thought of someone accosting you,” he said vehemently. “Makes me want to do bodily harm.”

“Omigosh!” she exclaimed, and latched on to his arm.

“What is it?”

“There’s a moose. Trotting right down Main Street. I was reading a book on Alaska on the flight over, and it said moose are often more dangerous than bears. Is that true?”

“Moose have been known to cause a lot of damage.”

“Do they bite?”

Quinn struggled not to laugh. Her gloved fingers dug into his forearm. Her lithe body trembled against his. Ah, at last, here was his opportunity to touch her, even if he had to do something a little underhanded to keep her latched on to him.

“Shh. Hang on to me, Kay. We’ll tiptoe past him and hopefully he won’t notice us.”

“Quinn—” her voice warbled and her eyes grew round as hubcaps “—maybe we should turn around and go back to the pier. Give him the whole street.”

The moose snorted and trotted closer.

“Oh! Oh!”

“I’ll protect you.” He thrust her behind him.

Her arms went around his waist and her sweet-smelling head popped out from under the crook of his arm so she could keep her eyes fixed on the moose.

“He’s huge,” she whispered. “What if he charges?”

“I’ll hold him off while you run away.”

“Quinn, I’m scared.”

He patted her hand. “It’s all right, Kay. I won’t let any harm come to you. This isn’t New York.”

The moose snorted and pawed the ground. Then raised his shaggy head and glared at them.

Kay tightened her grip on his waist.

“We’ll just ease on by.” Quinn took a tentative step forward.

“No, no.” She dug in her heels. “Please don’t move.”

The moose chose that moment to turn and lope off in the opposite direction. Kay sighed and sagged against his body. “Whew. That was a close call.”

Reprobate, his conscience accused. Tell her the truth.

“Kay…” he began, but she was no longer next to him. She was sprinting toward Jake’s B&B. He had to run to catch up with her.

She wrenched open the door and tumbled headlong into the foyer.

The place was packed with toddy-sipping locals gathered around a roaring fire, playing chess, swapping tall tales, listening to the weather report on the radio. The minute Kay burst through the entryway, every head turned to stare at her, and he hated the way they gawked.

“Wild moose!” Kay gasped. “Walking down Main Street.”

The denizens of Bear Creek, mostly men, all Quinn’s neighbors and friends, stared at her as if she was some exotic bird who’d migrated too far north. More than a few mouths dropped open, and even Lulu, Jake’s Siberian husky, lifted her head off the rug. A twinge of guilt bit him for having let her believe the moose was dangerous.

“Well,” Kay demanded, sinking her hands on her hips and glaring about her, “aren’t you guys going to do something about it?”

The room broke into raucous laughter.

Kay blushed and pivoted on her heel to face Quinn. “What’s so funny?”

“Quinn got you thinkin’ that moose is a killer?” cackled an old fellow seated at a table near the door, a chessboard on the table in front of him.

“Don’t let old Gus give you a hard time,” soothed a handsome man that Kay recognized from the publicity photo Quinn had shown her in New York. He had sandy hair and a boyish grin that promised lots of fun. “That’s just Kong, our resident moose. Caleb bottle-fed him from the time he was a calf. His Momma got hit by an RV during tourist season five years ago. Kong’s tamer than a poodle.”

“Oh.” She felt like fifty different kinds of fool. Why had Quinn let her believe the moose was dangerous? She glared at him, and he had the good sense to look ashamed of himself.

“I get it, ha, ha, ha. Play a trick on the city girl.”

“I’m sorry.” Quinn jammed his hands in his pockets.

“It’s okay. I can take a joke.”

“I’m Jake, by the way. You must be Kay.” Quinn’s buddy held out his hand. “We’ve heard a lot about you. Welcome to Bear Creek.”

“Thank you, Jake.” She shook his hand and smiled graciously, determined to regain her dignity.

“Would you like me to show you to your room?” Jake asked.

“That would be lovely.”

“This way.”

Jake led her up the wide cedar staircase to a room decorated with rustic charm. Quinn started to trail after them, but Kay turned and planted a palm on his chest. “Excuse me, big man, but I don’t recall anyone inviting you up to my room.”

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

6

“SHE SURE PUT YOU in your place,” Jake teased Quinn when he returned to the B&B three hours after Kay had kicked him out. Lulu lay on the rug at his feet, eyeing Quinn with the same amusement that was evident in her owner’s face.

“Oh, shut up.”

“Quinn’s got a girlfriend.”

“Grow up,” Quinn growled, and scowled.

He had gone home to give her time to cool off and to prepare a peace offering, and he’d come back to restlessly pace the corridor of the B&B, trying to gather his courage to knock on Kay’s door. Since when could one feisty little woman make his knees quake?

He pushed his fingers through his hair and let out a long breath, which did nothing to ease the nervousness and self-reproach squeezing his gut. If he wasn’t careful he was going to mess things up royally with Kay.

He had fibbed to her, inadvertently embarrassed her, and that had never been his intent. He had to apologize, get back into her good graces.

Resolutely he knocked on her door.

“Should I go get Meggie?” Jake asked. “Just in case Kay decides to slam-dunk you down the staircase and you need the services of a trained RN?”

“Beat it.” Quinn glowered at his friend.

Chuckling to himself, Jake sauntered off, Lulu on his heels.

And Kay answered the door. “Oh. Are you still here?”

“Can we talk?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “So talk.”

“In private.” He waved a hand. “Eavesdroppers are rampant around here.”

She shook her head and studied him for a long moment. Should she stay mad? He gave her a sad expression. She opened her door wider. “All right.”

Quinn scooted over the threshold.

Kay shut the door behind him, then turned to face him. “Did you have fun embarrassing me in front of all your friends?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t like what? I was terrified of that moose!” She punched him lightly on the shoulder. He arched his eyebrows in surprise. She wasn’t given to admitting feelings of weakness, and the fact that she had done so amazed her. But darn it, she had been scared.

“You told me you’d survived two muggings and it was no big deal. Why would a moose scare you?” Quinn looked genuinely puzzled.

“Because it’s the unknown. Why did you let me make a fool of myself?”

“I had no idea you were going to rush into Jake’s and call everyone to arms against Kong. What can I say? I liked it when you grabbed on to me, when you needed me to protect you.”

“Really?” She slanted him a sideways glance. She was flattered and she probably shouldn’t be, but truthfully it had made her feel very feminine to know this brawny man could protect her from wild creatures.

“Yeah. I am sorry—I acted like a jerk, Kay.”

Her name on his tongue tracked an unstoppable awareness through her. She pressed a hand to her stomach to still the fluttering there. A man who could admit when he was wrong? Unbelievable.

“Forgive me?”

“You’re forgiven,” she said.

“Forgiven enough so that you’ll agree to have dinner with me?”

“All right.” She nodded. “Just let me change.”

“I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

Grinning, Quinn hurried back downstairs. Thank heavens she’d accepted his dinner invitation. He’d gone all out, preparing his famous salmon chowder, putting Coltrane on the CD player, chilling a bottle of champagne. He hoped he wasn’t going overboard or pushing too hard.

His stomach took a dive at the thought. He’d never felt so out of his element with a woman. He was used to cocking a seductive grin at the ladies and having them tumble right into his bed. Why this one caused him to doubt himself, he had no idea.

Maybe because he wanted her so badly.

A few minutes later Kay floated down the staircase. Once again every eye in the room was trained on her lithe, graceful form. Even Lulu thumped her tail approvingly from her place by the fire.

Quinn gulped. He could only stare, bug-eyed. She wore a black velvet long-sleeved dress and black high-heeled fashion boots. Not exactly Alaskan wear, but damn, those boots did fine things for her legs.

In that moment he flashed back to the first time he’d seen her on the plane. He recalled the way her legs looked encased in silk stockings. A rampant forest fire suddenly blazed through him, and he was at a loss for words.

The bodice of her dress clung snugly to her full breasts. The skirt swished seductively when she moved.

As she descended the last step, he stood up to greet her.

“Are you going to be warm enough in that outfit?” he asked.

She leaned in close, the hair on the top of her head tickling his nose. “Shh, don’t tell anyone. I have on long-handled underwear.”

That secret should have killed his libido-fed fantasies about satin and lace covering her silky skin. Instead he found himself even more aroused by the thought of her in cotton flannel. Perspiration beaded his brow.

He was a sick, sick man.

The sky was inky black as they walked to the SUV. This time of year they got only about five hours of daylight. He carried a flashlight and shone it over the parking lot to light their way, while keeping his arm firmly locked around Kay’s waist. He wasn’t about to let anything happen to her.

“I can’t believe how dark it is,” she whispered. “No streetlights. No cars on the road. Quiet as a cemetery.”

He tried to see Bear Creek from her point of view and failed. He considered the darkness comforting, the vastness of the landscape inspiring.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“My place.”

“Not to a restaurant?” Her voice rose on the question, as if she was nervous about his reply.

“The only restaurant open during the winter months is the Paradise Diner next to the B&B. You’ll be sick enough of it by the time you head back to New York.”

“Only one restaurant? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’m not. Bear Creek’s winter population is about fifteen hundred.”

“And in the summer?”

“Late May through mid-August the population swells to three, four thousand, double that when the cruise ships are in town.”

“Wow.”

They arrived at his cabin, and he escorted her inside and took her coat.

“Something smells wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I’m starving.”

“Salmon chowder and grilled sourdough bread.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“Made it myself. The chowder that is, not the bread.”

She laughed.

Once in the kitchen, she enthused over the tablecloth, the candles, the champagne just as he’d hoped, and Quinn began to relax. He’d pleased her, which was precisely his intent.

He pulled back her chair for her. She smiled up at him. They ate and talked and ate and talked as if they’d been friends for a thousand years.

Quinn couldn’t quit staring at her. Whenever her pink tongue flicked out to take a morsel of food from her spoon, it felt as if she was licking him in a very private place. Several times he had to bite down on his bottom lip to keep from groaning out loud.

Kay was impressed that he’d worked so hard to make such a delicious meal. She admired his impeccable table manners and sent sideways glances at him. The candlelight accented his features. He’d rolled up his sleeves while serving their dinner, exposing those magnificent forearms that drove her wild with desire.

“So, Quinn, for the sake of the readers of Metropolitan magazine, what’s your idea of the perfect date?” she asked, desperate to get her mind off his extreme sexiness.

“We’re back to the article again.”

“Yes.”

“We’re having it.”

“What?”

“The perfect date.” He reached across the table, laid a hand on hers. “Good food. Great conversation. A pretty woman.”

“Oh.” Taken aback by the very bold look in his eyes, Kay removed her hand from underneath his.

“There’s only one thing that would make it better.”

She held her breath.

“Dessert.”

He disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes and then brought out baked Alaska.

“You made this yourself?” she gasped as he set the flaming dessert in front of her.

“It’s not as hard as it looks.”

“I’m impressed.”

“That was my intent.”

He nailed her with his steady gaze.

She’d never met a man like Quinn. At once extremely masculine, yet oddly enough quite domestic. He possessed a self-confidence that would attract any woman. He had an intense strength underlying his every action, and hey, the guy could even admit when he was wrong. She wagered that mere weeks after his advertisement ran in the magazine, he’d be well on his way to matrimony with the wild woman of his dreams.

She experienced a strange tug in her belly. Was she actually jealous of that as-yet-nonexistent woman?

You don’t have to be jealous. You can have him for now. He’s the tonic to soothe your shattered ego. So what if there’s no happily-ever-after? What about happily-right-now?

They ate the baked Alaska; then Quinn wiped his mouth with his napkin, checked his watch and shoved back his chair. “It’s about time.”

“Time for what?”

“Come with me. There’s something I’d like to show you.” He got to his feet and held out his hand to her. “This way.”

He guided her toward the stairs.

Toward the bedroom?

Kay gulped. Was she really ready for this? She had taken the assignment because she wanted to see Quinn again. And because she couldn’t stop lusting after him, but when push came to shove, could she go through with it?

“Quinn…I…”

He placed a finger to her lips. “Shh.”

His finger tasted slightly salty, the pressure of it against her mouth startlingly arousing. She had the strongest urge to capture that finger with her teeth and suck.

He cocked his head and smiled oh-so-slightly, as if miraculously reading her thoughts. The five-o’clock shading riding his jaw looked rough, exciting, and she wondered what it would feel like rasping against her cheek.

In a split second she was locked in another fantasy. She envisioned him without his clothes on and hiccuped at the image that rose to her mind. He would look gorgeous naked. She just knew it. Golden skin, perfectly defined muscles, firm hiney.

Kay gulped.

“Come,” he urged. “Come.”

Did she dare?

Maybe, Kay realized, maybe she was afraid of finding out that she really was sexually dysfunctional. But how could she be frigid when she felt so hot and wet and achy deep inside? When her entire body begged for a release she’d dreamed about on a daily basis?

He laced his fingers through hers and, walking backward, slowly pulled her up the first step. “I’m not going to bite,” he murmured. “Unless you want me to.”

Her heart punched her rib cage as she placed one booted foot on the first hardwood step.

His gaze snagged hers and held on tight. Kay shivered at the purely masculine gleam in his sultry eyes. Even from arm’s length, she could feel his body heat radiating outward.

She was coming undone. Something uncoiled in her belly. Something soft and warm and messy.

His breathing, husky with desire, echoed loudly in the confines of the staircase. The erotic sound strummed along her nerve endings, escalating her excitement. She struggled to draw in a steady breath of her own, but ended up panting shallowly, her eyes locked to his.

Up another step and then another.

Scalding hot. It must be 110 degrees in here. Quinn tightened his grip on her fingers. She needed to run outside and roll around in the snow.

“Almost there,” he coaxed.

Almost where? His bedroom? At the thought she experienced this incredible, inextricable push-pull. Her nipples tightened in anticipation; she could feel them protruding against the material of her bra. Pressure, sweet, sweet pressure, grew between her legs.

“Here we are,” he said at last, and she mounted the last step.

But where he led her was not a bedroom.

Kay blinked.

It was another spacious living area with rafter ceilings, a second fireplace, leather couch, braided rug. A handmade quilt graced the back of the couch. The far corner housed a desk complete with computer, printer, fax, copier and scanner.

Outdoor and rescue equipment hung from pegs mounted along the paneling or were in organized rows on built-in shelves. Harnesses, ropes, pulleys and crampons for mountain climbing. Life vests, oars and wading boots for river rafting. There were fire extinguishers and first-aid kits, a citizens band radio and a huge stash of flashlights. Obviously this was his office.

But what grabbed her attention and held her transfixed was the plate-glass window running along one wall overlooking the bay and the incredible display on view.

Kay’s hand rose to her throat as she stared at the brilliant curtain of shimmering green, red and white that fluttered ghostlike across the sky. She had never seen anything so awe-inspiring as those radiant spectral waves.

The shimmers danced and twirled, gauzy curtains of brilliant brightness changing shapes, billowing out like a green genie from a bottle in those old cartoons she had been banned from watching as a child.

“The northern lights,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” His voice was as husky with awe and respect as her own.

“It’s incredible. Resplendent. Superlative. Words can’t began to describe it.”

“Nature’s light show. We see the aurora up to two hundred times a year from early spring to late fall. This year promises to be particularly vibrant because of increased sunspot activity.”

“What causes this spectacle?”

“Scientifically speaking,” Quinn said, “the northern lights are electrical discharges resulting from the interaction between wind and the earth’s magnetic field.”

“Oh.”

“But the Native Alaskans believe the lights were torches carried by old souls to guide the new souls into the next world.”

A carpet of gooseflesh covered her arms, despite her long-handled underwear. She felt shivery inside and not just from the eerie legend, but from her closeness to Quinn.

He’d brought her up here to see this breathtaking display, not to make love to her. She was simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

Kiss me, she thought. Kiss me now, kiss me hard, kiss me long.

But she didn’t say those things. Instead, she turned to him and smiled softly, belying the inner turmoil raging through her mind. “Thank you, Quinn, for showing this to me.”

“You’re welcome. Hang on, I’ll get us some champagne and we’ll toast your arrival and the appearance of the sometimes temperamental aurora. I’d hoped she would come out to play tonight, but you never know for certain.”

“She?”

“The aurora is most definitely a feminine force,” he said. “Watch the sky. See how the lights flicker and tease? She’s fickle. Coming on hot, then shying away. Coyly fading one minute, flaring boldly the next. Cool yet strangely hot. Oh, Aurora is a woman all right. She’s got many moods.”

“You’re quite the romantic,” Kay said.

“So I’ve been told.”

“I still don’t understand why you’re not married.” She shook her head.

“Hopefully your article and our ad will help rectify that.”

But I don’t want you to get married, a selfish little voice inside her cried. If you get married, you can’t be my boy-toy.

She watched him amble to the champagne bucket positioned next to the stereo system. He turned on the radio, and the sound of Wilson Picket’s “Midnight Hour” spun out into the room.

“Oh,” she said, “I love this song.”

“That’s KCRK,” Quinn told her. “I put together the play list for tonight.”

He wrangled with the champagne bottle. She heard the cork pop, watched him fill two flutes with fizzy champagne.

“You went to a lot of trouble for me.”

His eyes met hers as he handed her a flute. “You’re worth it.”

Blinking up at his handsome face, Kay noticed things she hadn’t paid attention to before—the way his brown hair, shot through with golden strands, curled slightly over his forehead, the way his eyes went soft and seemed to caress her, the tiny mole an inch above the left side of his mouth.

He raised his glass. “To the moment,” he murmured.

She clinked the lip of hers against the lip of his. “To the moment.”

They sipped their champagne, eyed each other over the rim of their glasses. Kay felt at once heavy and yet extremely light, like a helium balloon tied to a child’s wrist. Weighted but yearning to fly.

Suddenly she burped.

“Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed, and slapped a hand over her mouth. In her family burping aloud was a sin akin to indecent exposure. “I’m so embarrassed. Please forgive me.”

“Lighten up, sweetheart. What’s to forgive? So you burped. Actually it makes me feel better. I was beginning to think you were too perfect.”

“I’m not perfect. Not by a long shot.”

“Well, if burping on champagne is your biggest fault, I won’t kick you out of my bed.”

Their eyes met, held for a long moment.

“Come sit.” He eased down on the couch, patted the cushion next to him.

She sat down beside him. He stretched his arm out over the back of the couch. She was acutely aware of it resting there. She imagined his fingers tangling in her hair, his mouth devouring hers. Briefly she closed her eyes and when she opened them again, she focused on the dancing lights beyond the window.

Quinn studied Kay as she watched the northern lights. Her profile mesmerized him. Her nose was refined, her cheekbones sculpted. Just looking at her made his heart feel crooked, as if it had slipped in his chest.

Her scent teased his nostrils. Warm and rich and compelling, it smelled of something foreign and exotic. Was that what attracted him to her? She was like no other woman of his acquaintance.

Her hair brushed lightly across his skin. He noticed her perfectly manicured fingernails, the delicate shape of her hands, her narrow wrist decorated with a gold tennis bracelet. Even though she was right beside him, she still seemed detached somehow. Her detachment intrigued him just as it had on the airplane.

Her aloofness roused him, made him want to do something drastic to bring her into the fold. She had lived in New York too long, spent too much time disconnected from people, too often kept her feelings to herself. Her two-week stay in Bear Creek would do her a world of good. Help her open up to herself and the world around her. He wondered if he should tell her about his urge to rattle her cage, ruffle her feathers, crack her facade. He ached to tell her exactly how he hoped to liberate her. But Quinn feared that if he spoke these words, it would be a mistake from which he could never recover.

And yet he felt driven, nervous. His heart began a fretful pounding. There were no words for what he wanted to say, and his tongue lay paralyzed on the floor of his mouth. A knot of pressure built inside him. Pressure that urged him to haul her into his arms and show her everything he simply could not say.

He wasn’t good with flowery sentiment. He was a man of action, and only action could quiet his restlessness. His body tensed and he leaned in close.

She looked at him then, her pale hair gleaming in the firelight, rivaling the natural phenomena flickering outside the window. Her breathing was shallow, and her brown eyes shone with a fevered effervescence. He’d never seen anything so lovely.

Kay felt his body shift toward her, pressing her deeper into the plush leather couch. His left side was crushed against her right, and he placed a hand on her thigh. Then his mouth was on hers—oh, how she had dreamed of kissing him again—urgent and insistent. She was concurrently both hot and cold. His body was tense, hard, but his lips were soft, inviting.

And his tongue.

Dear Lord, it ought to be illegal to possess such a tongue!

From there everything went wild, flailed totally out of control. He dropped his arm from the back of the couch, wrapped it around her waist and hauled her against his body, forcing her to spread her knees.

She felt his erection through his pants. It throbbed against her belly with a provocative rhythm. They were fused. Lips to lips. Chest to chest. Thigh to thigh. And yet it wasn’t nearly close enough. Too much clothing in the way.

Twining her fingers into the warm, thick, whiskey-colored hair at the nape of his neck, she arched her body against his. She opened her mouth wider, encouraging that roving tongue to pepper her with wet, sexual thrusts.

He mimicked her moves, one hand cupping the back of her neck. The fingers of his other hand stroked her jaw, her throat and skimmed lower until he was caressing her breasts through the velvety bodice of her dress. He kneaded the pliant flesh, searing her with triple-digit heat. Oh, she couldn’t wait until his hands were on her bare skin.

His thumb flicked across the pebble-hard nipple straining tight against her restrictive clothing. Damn, but she wanted to be naked. She threw back her head and a needy moan escaped her lips.

Putty. She was nothing but putty in his hands. The notion both frightened and exhilarated her.

Feverish desire clawed through her, pulling her down, drawing her under the power of Quinn’s spell. With the aurora borealis whipping gracefully in her peripheral vision, the fireplace embers glowing and Quinn’s tongue on its restless pursuit, she felt swept away by some unstoppable, forbidden fantasy.

Except this reality was more titillating than her most taboo dreams.

Too much torture. She simply could not stand this any longer. She wanted him. Now. Crazily, illogically, this very minute. She refused to stub out her urges. Passion pushed all her fears aside. Desire evaporated any shred of common sense she might have possessed. She wrenched her mouth from his.

“Quinn,” she gasped. “Before we go any further, there’s something I must tell you.”

He looked dazed, muzzy with craving. Their breathing mingled in rapid spurts.

“What is it?”

“I’m not…” She paused, not quite certain how to put this. “I’m not like other women.”

“You got that right, sweetheart.” He couldn’t seem to resist dropping a kiss on her jaw. That achingly light pressure threw her completely off-kilter.

She splayed a hand on his chest and pushed him back. She needed a moment to regroup. “No. I don’t mean it like that.”

He rearranged himself on the couch, shoved a hand through his hair and gave her his complete attention. “I’m listening.”

“I’ve never…” She squirmed uncomfortably. She hated admitting her deficiencies. She’d been raised on the myth that Freemonts never revealed their flaws. So why was she going to tell him her darkest secret? Because she felt as if he was the only one who could help her. “Well…you know…”

“What? Had sex?” He stared at her in disbelief.

“I’m twenty-seven, Quinn. I was almost engaged. Of course I’ve had sex.”

“Oh. What then?” He frowned.

This was so hard. She squirmed, she fidgeted. She tried the words out mentally first, but nothing seemed right. Finally she blurted, “I’ve never…” Then paused again.

“Never what?”

She dropped her voice to a whisper. “…had an orgasm.”

“You’re kidding. For real?”

She nodded. “Lloyd says I’m frigid. That it’s my fault he had to turn to other women.”

“Bullshit!” Quinn spoke with such vehemence, Kay jumped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. But that ex-boyfriend of yours is a jerk.”

His anger at Lloyd flattered her. She knew then that she had done the right thing by coming to Alaska, by revealing to Quinn her hidden shame.

“How he could fool around on such a beautiful, exciting, interesting woman is beyond me. He must have sawdust for brains.”

“You think I’m interesting?” She smiled shyly, not meaning to be coy. She wasn’t milking him for more compliments, but she was touched beyond measure that he found her interesting, as she’d always thought herself rather dull.

“Interesting, hell.” Quinn snorted. “You’re downright mysterious. You keep yourself so contained. I ache to know what you’re thinking when you get those Mona Lisa smiles on your face. And you’re anything but frigid. If you’ve never been able to come, it’s through no fault of your own. You’ve just been with the wrong men.”

Kay gulped. This next part was hard, but she had to say it. “I want to ask a favor of you.”

“What is it?” His eyes never left her face.

“Do you think that maybe you could help me…er…achieve sexual fulfillment?”

“Say the word, sweetheart,” he encouraged her, lifting a hand to capture a strand of her hair and rub it between his fingers. “Put aside that aristocratic breeding of yours and tell me that you want to come bigger than the state of Alaska.”

Pressing her teeth into her bottom lip, she stared straight into his eyes.

And almost lost it completely.

“I want you to make me come,” she begged him. “More than anything in the world.”

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

7

HOW HAD HE GOTTEN so lucky?

Kay Freemont, rich, successful, cultured and beautiful, wanted to entrust him, a simple Alaskan man, with her sexual awakening.

Stunned, delighted, touched, flattered and horny beyond comprehension. How had he gotten so lucky?

He sent a brief prayer of thanks to the heavens and added a pleading postscript: Don’t let me lose control. Help me to be strong so I can give her what she needs.

It was going to be hard—pun definitely intended—to rein in his own ravenous desires. He hadn’t been with a woman since he and Heather had broken up. He was hanging by a thread.

But he had to dig deep, find a way to put his own needs on hold. Because Kay was giving him the opportunity of a lifetime. She was granting him the privilege of bringing her to the heights of her sexuality.

He was a fortunate SOB and he would not let her down.

She took a long swallow of champagne, then sat her glass on the floor at her feet and shifted her body into his. “I’m ready, Quinn. Make love to me.”

Shaking his head, he reached out and tenderly traced her lips with his thumb. She shivered beneath his caress, and the shot of adrenaline that jumped into his gut floored him.

Control, Scofield. Control.

“Oh, no, my sweet, not so fast,” Quinn said, when what he wanted to do more than anything in the world was strip that velvet dress over her head, rip off those long johns and make messy, wet, hot love to her.

“What do you mean?” she whispered, her eyes growing wide.

“A proper seduction takes time.”

“Oh, yes? How much time?” She seemed alarmed.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

He grinned wickedly. “When you’re ready.”

“I’m ready tonight,” she said a bit peevishly. She narrowed her eyes at him and he understood her frustration. If she thought she was frustrated now, she was in for a big shock.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Listen, sweetheart, we’re doing this my way or not at all. Got that?”

She glared at him, crossed her arms over her chest, flipped one knee over the other. “I’m not sure I like this.”

“Before I make love to you, you’ll have to eject that uptight demeanor.”

“I’m not uptight.”

“Arms crossed, legs crossed. Babe, you’re closed up tighter than Glacier Bay in January.”

“So you do think I’m frigid.”

“No! Okay, that was a bad analogy. I do not think you’re frigid. But in order for you to get the full sexual experience, you’re going to have to relax. And before you can do that, you’re going to have to trust me completely.”

“And how long will this take?” she asked, purposely uncrossing both her arms and her legs to show she was ready, willing and able to start trusting and relaxing right now.

He lowered his head, his mouth almost on hers. He smelled the fruity scent of champagne on her lips. Right then and there he almost caved. He barely resisted the urge to capture that sassy mouth with his once more.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered huskily. “You’ll know.”

EXHAUSTION CLAIMED her mind, haunted her body. Kay had spent the rest of the night in her lonely bed at Jake Gerard’s B&B pining for a man who was bent on serving up sweet torture.

And in between the tossing and turning, she had been consumed with rampant fantasies about Quinn. In one scenario he was a wild-eyed pirate who kidnapped and savaged her repeatedly in the hold of his ship. In another fantasy she was a domineering amazon who kept him chained in the basement for her pleasure. In yet another vision he was a wounded soldier fighting for the other side, and she was a caring nursemaid who hid him in her father’s barn.

Ack!

She was slowly losing her ever-loving mind. She had to stop thinking about Quinn. She had work to do. An article to write. She was going to get dressed, go out on the town and explore Bear Creek. She refused to dwell on the fact that he wouldn’t make love to her yet and put her out of her misery.

Groaning, she threw back the covers and crept out of bed, stripping off her nightgown and heading straight for the shower. Standing under the stream of hot water, she kept thinking about what Quinn had said.

You’re not ready.

Well, how the hell did he know what she was ready for? He barely knew her. But in a way that was what made this whole venture so exciting. Knowing she would never see him again after her trip to Alaska, having this fabulous memory of her sexual adventure and possessing a wistful fondness for the man who showed her that she was all woman. This knowledge was the only thing that had given her the courage to express her true desires to him. To ask him to become her mentor in love.

So here she was, with her fanny on the line, ready, willing and able for action. And Quinn had been the one to put the brakes on.

She soaped her hair but in an instant she was fantasizing again. She saw Quinn in the shower, massaging the shampoo into her scalp, then rinsing her hair.

Her belly clenched with heated desire as she envisioned his hard body brushing hers, his manhood standing at attention. He would press her against the cool tile while hot water sluiced over their fevered skin. He would claim her mouth with his. Roughly, insistently, pillaging her territory. Then he would change tempo and the kisses would turn long and soft and lazy.

She arches her body into his. Desperate for release. She begs him to enter her. She needs to feel him inside her. Needs to experience the fullness only his large shaft will bring.

His fingers curl into the most private part of her. He rubs her cleft gently at first, then with more pressure.

Her sensitive breasts tighten and swell in response, and he gloats over her hardened nipples, taking credit for her arousal. He dips his head to those perky mounds, taking first one into his mouth and then turning his attention to the other. He flicks his tongue over the pink peak. It’s as if there is a string connecting her nipples to her groin. With each seductive lick she feels a deepening ache at her very center.

She bites her bottom lip to keep from crying out, but he urges her to let go.

“Scream if you want,” he insists, his mouth against her ear. “Let the world know we’re making love.”

Then he’s nibbling her earlobe, running his silky tongue along the outside of her ear. The shudder that crawls through her rocks her to her core. She wraps her arms around his neck, clings to him….

The hot water gone cold forced her back to reality.

Kay opened her eyes, found her lips were pressed against the wall tile. Chagrined, she hopped backward, slipped and would have crashed to the floor of the tub if she hadn’t grasped the soap rack.

Oh, she was pathetic. If Quinn didn’t make love to her soon, she would explode into a million pieces. That would go over big on the New York social register—and with her mother!

Shaking her head, Kay turned off the water, eased out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself.

Okay. No more nonsense. She was going to stop thinking about Quinn. She had work to do.

Twenty minutes later she was in the Paradise Diner enjoying blueberry pancakes and surrounded by a curious contingency of Bear Creek’s entertaining citizens.

Kay knew she was a novelty, and they were asking her more questions than she was asking them. Jake Gerard introduced her to Caleb Greenleaf, the only wife-hunting bachelor she hadn’t yet met.

Caleb turned out to be a serious man with almost unbelievable good looks. It took a lot of coaxing, but after a while he told her about his job as a naturalist for the state of Alaska. He was quite different from his buddies. Introverted, where the other three were clearly extroverts.

Everyone in Bear Creek was friendly, open, welcoming, so very unlike some of the New Yorkers she knew, who had a tendency to be curt, suspicious and unimpressed. They enthusiastically told her many things about their lives. They were so trusting. Too trusting, to her way of thinking. But that’s what she liked most about them.

Her New York life seemed very far away, and she couldn’t think of anything she missed.

Later, after she’d already compiled copious notes and recorded more than three hours worth of conversations, an attractive, middle-aged couple, holding hands and grinning at each other as if they shared the secret to long-term romance, came in for lunch.

The woman stepped carefully, slowed by a booted walking cast on her right foot. Her husband solicitously helped her up to the counter. They sat on Kay’s left, the man taking the stool Caleb had vacated.

He held out his hand to her and gave her a friendly smile. “Jim Scofield. We just had to come over to meet the reporter our son coaxed to come here all the way from New York City.”

“You’re Quinn’s parents? Thanks so much for letting me use your extra car.” Kay ran a hand self-consciously through her hair. She hadn’t bothered to blow-dry and style it that morning since she knew she would be wearing a woolen cap much of the day, but now she wished she had. Skimping on her grooming was not normal for her, and she felt exposed and at a disadvantage, even though she had already discovered most of the women in Bear Creek didn’t wear makeup or style their hair. Everything from their chunky Gore-Tex boots to their sensible parkas were geared for warmth and comfort. You’d never find a fashion show in Bear Creek.

“Yep.” Jim slung his arm over the woman’s shoulder. “This is my wife, Linda.”

“You did a fine job raising your son,” Kay told them as she shook their hands.

“We’re pretty proud of him.” When Linda smiled, her gray eyes softened into welcoming crinkles, just like Quinn’s. “And our daughter, Meggie. She’s an emergency-room nurse at a children’s hospital in Seattle. She’s visiting for a couple of weeks to help me while I’m out of commission.” Linda gestured at her cast. “You and Meggie ought to get together. She’s a city girl just like you, and I do believe you two are the only single women in town under thirty and over eighteen.”

“I’d love to meet her.”

Kay felt a tug of sadness in her heart, and she couldn’t really say why. Maybe because this couple were so different from her own parents. They wore woolen pants, nylon and flannel, where Honoria and Charles Freemont were never seen in public without being impeccably dressed.

Linda and Jim sent each other private signals with their eyes. Kay’s parents rarely even looked each other in the face. The Scofields touched frequently with simple, loving gestures. Her mother and father were rarely even in the same room together.

Without any encouragement, Quinn’s parents extolled his virtues.

“Did you know Quinn’s on the volunteer fire department?” Linda asked.

“No, I didn’t.” Kay scribbled on her notepad, Bet he looks good in fire boots and suspenders and nothing else.

“He’s captain of the local hockey team,” Jim bragged.

“Quinn has a bachelor’s degree in sports physiology,” Linda said.

“He’s owned his own business for ten years and each year he turns a bigger profit.” Jim nodded.

“And he still finds time to help us out at the radio station. You couldn’t ask for a better son.” Linda took a sip of her coffee. “Or better husband material. Write that down.” She waved a hand at Kay’s notebook. “I’m hoping this advertisement thing pays off for Quinn. I’m ready for grandchildren, and Meggie doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to accommodate me.”

Jim eyed Kay. “You wouldn’t be interested in our boy yourself, would you? You’re a beautiful young lady. You two would have the handsomest kids.”

“Oh, no.” Kay struggled to tamp down the telltale blush she knew was spreading up her neck. “I mean, I like Quinn very much, but I’m a New Yorker. And I just got out of a relationship. I’m not ready for anything serious. Quinn and I are at two different places in our lives.”

Immediately she realized she’d given too much information too quickly. Why had she said so much? That certainly wasn’t like her, spilling her guts to strangers. Probably she’d spouted off because she didn’t want them getting the wrong idea about Quinn and her.

But oddly enough, her nervous revelation seemed to endear her to Quinn’s parents. The Scofields smiled at her sweetly and Jim patted her on the shoulder. “No explanation necessary.”

“But you do like him,” Linda said.

Oh, great. How had she gotten herself into this conversation?

“Mom, Dad,” Quinn boomed from the door of the restaurant, “stop bending Kay’s ear.”

Relieved, Kay looked up to see him stalk toward them. Her heart gave this strange little thump and she suddenly felt all loose and melty inside. He was even better-looking than she remembered in that hard-edged, masculine way of his.

He stopped beside her stool. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” Inwardly she cringed. That sounded too flirty.

“Sleep well?” He grinned as if he knew she hadn’t slept a wink.

“Considering the circumstances.”

“Strange bed and all that.”

“And all that,” she echoed.

“We better be heading out.” Jim Scofield got to his feet, left some money on the counter, then turned to help his wife from her stool. “Linda’s got a doctor’s appointment in Anchorage at two-thirty, and Mack’s waiting to fly us over, so we better get a move on. Nice meeting you, Kay.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” She wriggled her fingers at them.

“Quinn, you must bring Kay to dinner on Saturday night,” Linda insisted. “We’re having a little get-together.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Scofield. I’d love to come.”

Linda whispered something in Quinn’s ear and nudged him in the ribs.

“All right, Mom. We’ll be there.”

“What’d she say?” Kay asked after his parents had left the restaurant. Quinn perched on the stool beside her.

“She said I was supposed to be nice to you.”

“Oh, really?”

“She likes you.”

“How can you tell?”

“I just know.”

“I like her, too. I like both your folks.”

Kay couldn’t help but think about her own parents again. Honoria and Charles would be as rejecting of Quinn as his parents were accepting of her. The vast differences between them yawned before her. Good thing her relationship with Quinn was purely sexual. They wouldn’t have to deal with sticky things like disappointed in-laws. Best leave that to the bachelorettes who would come pouring into Bear Creek with marriage on their minds.

“I dropped by to see if you’d like to come over tomorrow night,” Quinn said.

“Tomorrow? Not tonight?”

He smirked at the disappointment in her voice. “I’m playing hockey tonight, but I’d love to have you in the stands rooting for me, if you’d like to come.”

“And after the hockey game…?” She let her sentence trail off.

His grin widened. “I’ll take you to the B&B.”

“Couldn’t we go back to your place afterward?”

“No way.” He shook his head.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m clearing my calendar on Wednesday night for you. What I’ve got in mind, sweetheart, is going to take hours and hours and hours.” And with that, he winked, chucked her under the chin, pivoted on his heel and strode out of the restaurant.

THE TEN PLAYERS whizzed over the ice in a blur. Hockey sticks clashed loudly in the still night air. Bright stadium lights lit the perimeter of the frozen lake turned outdoor hockey rink. In the bleachers, Kay sat huddled under a blanket with Jim and Linda Scofield, her notebook and pen clutched in her gloved fingers. She had yet to write a word, so caught up was she in watching the game.

The players zipped by them again heading for the opposite team’s goal. If Quinn wasn’t so tall, Kay would have had trouble following him. He moved with a graceful power, pushing across the ice with smooth, long-limbed strokes. The expression on his face showed fierce concentration. He manned his stick like a gladiator doing battle.

Wow. Did he bring that kind of concentration to the bedroom? Kay shivered at the thought, grateful she had the cold as an excuse for her quivers.

She was so busy eyeing Quinn’s amazing bod, she never even noticed when he slammed the puck home until the crowd roared and jumped to their collective feet. Kay followed suit, dropping her notepad and pen into her seat so she could applaud without hindrance. “We Will Rock You” blared from the outdoor speakers mounted on the lampposts.

Because of his goal, the Bear Creek Grizzlies had taken a 2 to 1 lead.

“Quinn, Quinn, Quinn,” the crowd chanted.

He turned then and caught Kay’s eye.

A chill of excitement shuddered through her.

He put his hand to his mouth and blew her a kiss.

Kay’s heart fluttered and her belly went warm against the sudden adrenaline rush. Quinn skated down the middle of the ice alone, his stick raised over his head in victory, accepting his accolades, relishing his accomplishment with unabashed glee.

The man was truly magnificent.

A warrior, self-reliant and strong. He was brave and passionate and not the least bit hesitant about expressing what was going on in his head.

Oh! To be like that, instead of a repressed rich woman so alienated from her emotions she didn’t know if she would ever find the approval she needed to release herself from her societal prison.

“Kay, dear, you’re shivering, get back under the blanket.” Quinn’s mother smiled and held up the thick thermal cover, welcoming her beneath it.

Kay sat beside Linda, squashing her notebook and pen beneath her, but she didn’t care. Quinn’s mom tucked the blanket around her and snuggled close. It felt nice to be wrapped in this warm cocoon, to share body heat with Quinn’s family.

In that sweet moment she experienced an amiable sense of kinship she had never felt with her own mother. Linda Scofield, she knew with sudden certainty, would never advise her to marry a man who cheated on her.

Why can’t my mother be like this?

But Kay knew it was a ridiculous wish. Wishing her mother was different was like wishing that she was five inches taller or had been born in Bear Creek.

“Here comes Meggie,” Linda said. “Let’s scoot down.”

Kay looked up to see a woman about her own age picking her way through the stands. Unlike everyone else, who were clad in mackinaws, boots and woolen pants, Meggie wore an outfit more like Kay’s own stylish attire.

Meggie possessed an open, honest face and an understated but totally natural prettiness that would serve her well into middle age and beyond. Her eyelashes were enhanced with mascara, her cheeks heightened with rouge. Flame-red lipstick adorned her mouth. Her jet-black hair was tucked up under a bright red and orange cap.

Just like Kay, she looked out of place among the locals. City girls in the Arctic wilderness. Kay felt an instant kinship with her.

Meggie greeted her parents, then plunked down beside Kay. “Hi.” She slipped off a glove to shake Kay’s hand, revealing slender hands with short-trimmed but well-manicured nails. “I’m Meggie Drummond.” Her lively green eyes twinkled. “And you must be Kay.”

Kay nodded. “Nice to meet you,” she said.

“I hear you’re from New York City.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Wow, I’ve always wanted to go to New York. They practice some of the most cutting-edge medicine in the country.”

“That’s right, you’re in the medical profession.”

“Head nurse of the emergency department at Seattle Children’s Hospital.”

“Aren’t you awfully young to be head nurse?”

Meggie grinned. “I live and breathe pediatric medicine.”

“How are they managing without you?” Kay asked.

“Probably very happily since I’m not there to keep them in line.” Meggie laughed. “I’m known as something of a taskmaster among my crew. I strive to be fair, but I’ve got high standards when it comes to patient care.”

“I can see that about you.”

Meggie’s eyes sparkled at the compliment. Obviously, she loved her work. “I had lots of vacation time accumulated—in fact my boss was threatening to lock me out of the hospital if I didn’t take off—then when Mom broke her ankle and needed help around the house, I figured now was as good as any to get away.”

The woman was so easy to talk to. Friendly, frank, uninhibited, with definite opinions about the world. Just like Quinn.

“I’m going for hot chocolate,” Quinn’s dad announced, getting to his feet and taking his wife’s hand. “You ladies want anything?”

Meggie, Kay and Linda all said they wanted one, and Jim climbed down the bleachers. When he was gone, Meggie turned back to Kay. “Quinn’s been unable to talk about anything but you since he came back from New York.”

“Really?”

“You’ve impressed the hell out of him.”

“He’s a special guy,” Kay replied, surprised at the sudden pressure pushing at her heart like champagne bubbles against a bottle cork.

“Yeah,” Meggie murmured, “real special. Can’t say I’m too keen on this modern-day mail-order-bride concept he’s instigated.”

“No?”

“Oh, Meggie,” her mother said, “give it a chance. You never know what might happen.”

Meggie shook her head. “He’s just going to get hurt.”

“You think so?” Kay asked.

“Uh-huh. You wouldn’t believe it by looking at him, but Quinn’s pretty tenderhearted. When he loves, he loves deeply.”

“That’s true,” Linda added.

Don’t worry, Kay longed to tell them but couldn’t. This thing between us is purely physical. He won’t fall in love with me.

“He needs an Alaskan wife,” Meggie said. “Someone who understands him and his love for this land. I’m afraid that all he’s going to get for his advertising dollars is a gaggle of giggling bimbos who’ll take him for a ride, then skedaddle out of here at the first sign of winter. Just like Heather did.”

“His ex-girlfriend.”

“He told you about her?”

“Now, honey, don’t judge Heather,” Linda interjected. “She just couldn’t get used to the quiet of Bear Creek. Besides, isn’t criticizing Heather’s reluctance to live in Alaska a little bit of the pot calling the kettle black?”

“Hey,” Meggie said, “I never pretended to want to stay in Alaska. Even though I happened to be born here, I’m a city girl through and through. I gotta have action.”

“Isn’t that the truth.” Linda rolled her eyes. “I swear you kicked like a mule to get out the entire last trimester of my pregnancy.”

“I love the city, too,” Kay said, happy to have found a kindred spirit in this land of ice and snow.

“Honey, you are the city.”

“I don’t understand what’s so fascinating about people being crammed on top of each other and driving like maniacs. What’s the attraction?” Linda shook her head.

“Stimulating conversation,” Meggie said.

“Great parties,” Kay added.

“Museums,” Meggie popped off.

“Shopping!” Kay grinned.

“Symphonies.”

“The theater.”

“Terrific Chinese take-out delivered right to your door!” they cried in unison, stared in awe at each other, then burst out laughing.

Kay felt instant camaraderie with Meggie, and the feeling astonished her. She didn’t make friends this readily. Ever. But they’d forged a connection. She knew by the merry gleam shining in Meggie’s blue-green eyes. She possessed the same irresistible magnetic personality as her older brother.

“My daughter, the cosmopolitan gourmand.” Linda smiled indulgently. “Who’d have thought it when she was spitting peas in my face at ten months?”

“Ah, Mom. If you’d just give Seattle a chance, you’d love it.”

“Not as much as I love Bear Creek,” Linda replied adamantly.

Kay had to admire their affectionate mother-daughter exchange. She felt another twinge of sadness that she and her own mother would never have this kind of relationship.

The crowd roared again. Kay’s attention was drawn back to the ice rink. Quinn had scored a second goal.

The referee blew his whistle. Shook his head, made some kind of motion with his hands.

The crowd booed.

Quinn skated over to the ref and shouted in his face. The man shouted back.

“What’s happening?” Kay leaned over to whisper to Meggie.

“Ref’s claiming the shot was no good. Puck got caught in the crease.”

Quinn argued. The ref balked. Quinn gestured at the goal. The ref crossed his arms over his chest, adamantly shook his head.

It was exciting to watch Quinn. He was so ardent in his beliefs, and he didn’t avoid conflict. Kay, a confrontation avoider from way back, couldn’t help but admire his courage.

“Uh-oh,” Meggie said.

“What? What?”

“The referee’s going to toss Quinn out if he doesn’t let up.”

“Will he back down?”

“Not if he thinks he’s right.”

Nervously Kay raised a hand to her mouth and realized she had been holding her breath. The other players rallied around, tried to get Quinn to accept the verdict. But nothing doing. When Quinn took a stance, he took a stance. There’d be no swaying him from his original position. She found that passionate quality in him both compelling and disturbing.

The ref blew his whistle and pointed for Quinn to leave the rink. Quinn ripped off his helmet and threw it on the ice.

Kay’s stomach looped and dived like she was on a roller-coaster ride.

“Yep,” said outspoken Meggie. “It’s going to take more than some sweet little city girl from the lower forty-eight to corral our Quinn.”

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

8

“HI THERE, BEAUTIFUL,” Quinn said when Kay came over to sit beside him. He was sitting on the sidelines unlacing his skates.

Happy to see her, he raked his gaze over her body. She looked stunning in that white ski-bunny suit with the hood zipped up around her head. To think she was here with him made his heart give this strange little hop.

She’d stood in the stands with his family and friends, looking like a pristine rose in a field of wild, black-eyed Susans, until Meggie had shown up. The appearance of those two city girls in Bear Creek added color to the place. He imagined the streets filled with pretty women, and his heart soared. That was exactly what the town needed to pump some life into it, and even if he personally didn’t find a wife, if his ad pulled women into Bear Creek, then it was money well spent.

While he’d been playing hockey, he had tried hard not to look Kay’s way too often, because every time he did he got distracted. An unusual occurrence. He found her power over him slightly disturbing.

Just hormones, pal. Don’t read more into it than there is.

“Too bad about the ref’s call.” She nodded at the game still in progress.

“I was robbed.” He grinned. “I made that shot fair and square. Where’s instant replay when you need it?”

“Does it really matter? Your team is still in the lead.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “Of course it matters. I was right.”

“Yes, but your stubbornness got you thrown out of the game.”

He shook his head. Was this discussion about much more than hockey? “Ah, your politically correct side rears its head.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

“No. I want to know.”

“You were raised in a world where you subjugated your beliefs in order to fit in with those around you.”

“And you think that’s bad?”

“I didn’t say it was bad.” He removed his skates, jammed his feet into his boots. “It’s just not the way I was brought up. My folks taught me the most important things were honesty and integrity. If you’re right and you know it, you don’t buckle no matter what the peer pressure, and you don’t care what others think about you as long as you know you’ve done the right thing.”

“And arguing with the ref was the right thing to do?”

“Yes. He was wrong. I made that goal.”

“And if you’d been mistaken?”

“I’d swallow my pride and admit it.”

She looked at him a long moment. A peculiar queasiness assailed him. Had he put her off by being himself? But hell, he didn’t know any other way to be. He couldn’t pretend to be something he wasn’t. He hadn’t been schooled in subterfuge the way she obviously had. He wasn’t well versed in suppressing his convictions. Nor did he want to be.

“It’s my opinion that nothing important was ever gained by sitting back and keeping your mouth shut,” he expounded. “If you have something important to say, say it. If you don’t let people know what’s on your mind, how are they ever going to understand you?”

Kay shrugged. “Is it important for everyone to understand you?”

“Not everyone, no. But the people you care about, the people you deal with on a daily basis.”

“I’m not sure I agree with that.”

“Fair enough. You’re entitled to your opinions, just as I am to mine.”

“I think one can say too much and change a good impression into a bad one.”

“But if you’re just letting people know who you are, where you’re coming from, then how can that be a mistake? If they dislike you for what you believe in, then they dislike you. If they admire you simply for the image you portray, then how do people ever get to know the real you?”

Kay said nothing at all. Instead, she studied him silently.

“Like now. You’re thinking I’m full of crap, but you’re too polite to tell me to go take a flying leap. Right?”

“What gave you that idea?’

“Right?” He cocked his head, gave her his most dazzling grin.

She smiled then, a little sheepishly. “Okay. All right. Yes, I do think you’re full of it.”

He pushed to his feet, threw an arm around her shoulders, drew her close to his body. “See there, sweetheart? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Not too hard,” she admitted.

“Come on.” He chucked her under the chin. “I’ll take you back to Jake’s.”

She gave him her hand, and he knew then that everything was okay between them. She accepted him for who he was. Her approval lifted his spirits, and his feelings for her took on a new dimension. They could disagree and still respect each other.

He kissed her under the porch light of Jake’s establishment. He knew full well that half the town was peering through their curtains watching them, but he didn’t care. Let ’em gawk.

A groan escaped his throat and he tugged her flush against the length of him. She kept her eyes wide open during the kiss and so did he. Damn, but it was erotic. They couldn’t seem to peer deeply enough into each other. Her pupils dilated and her lips softened.

She tasted ripe, willing, ready. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow night. Couldn’t wait to see how she responded to the things he had in store for her.

Pulling away, he stroked her jawline with his thumb. “I wish I knew all the thoughts that passed through that magnificent brain of yours. I wish I could know the real Kay Freemont.”

“That’d be quite a trick,” she said huskily, “since I’m not sure I even know myself.”

The weird thing was, Kay already felt as if he could read her mind at times, and she couldn’t figure out where he’d obtained this amazing ability. Why was this man so different from any other she had ever known? She’d heard that men were supposed to hate talking about things like feelings and emotions and sentiment. Especially masculine men of action like this one.

“Please,” he encouraged, his eyes softening, his pupils dilating, “talk to me. Let me in. I’m dying to know everything there is to know about you. What are your hopes, your dreams, your wishes?”

She realized then that he wasn’t this inquisitive with all women, that it was she alone who interested him. The thought terrified her. “I’m wishing you would kiss me again.”

“I think you’re evading my questions, but that’s a wish I can’t pass by.” Quinn smiled so deeply he felt the edges of his eyelids crinkle, and he leaned in to take her lips once more.

She was like velvet heat in his mouth.

He thought of hot-fudge sundaes and chocolate fondue and cinnamon rolls drizzled with melted butter.

Then, irrationally, he thought of all the things he wanted to do with her that he never could. Necking in the balcony of a sexy, romantic movie. Holding hands and ice-skating on a frozen pond. Sharing a banana split and listening to fifties music on a jukebox at Marilyn Hecate’s soda fountain in July. With Kay, he wanted to be a kid again, exploring her with the eager enthusiasm of a seventeen-year-old in the back seat of his daddy’s car.

What would she think if he told her all this? Would he chase her away with his honesty?

He cupped her firm yet soft fanny with one hand, but the excess padding of her ski suit frustrated him. His fingers ached to glide over her bare skin. His hands cried out to knead her tender flesh. His palm itched to delve into new and exciting places.

Her scent filled his nose. That lovely aroma of jasmine mingled with her own natural windswept smell, and his knees loosened. He wanted to lay her down on the sidewalk and do all kinds of decadent things to her.

“I can’t wait until tomorrow,” she murmured into his mouth expressing exactly what was on his mind.

“Me, neither.” His voice was gruff and his body had gone rigid from the taste of her. The chase was on. His hunter’s instincts were roused. His sporting blood boiled.

“Will we be doing more aurora-gazing?”

“No, I’ve got something else in mind.”

“Oh?” He heard the excitement in her voice and it served to supercharge his erection.

“Yeah.” He grinned. “I’ll pick you up at five-thirty. But be forewarned. You might want to bring a change of clothes.”

HIS CRYPTIC WORDS had sent her into orbit.

What in the heck did he mean? Kay wondered as she rifled through the clothes she had brought with her, excitement racing up her nerve endings until she tingled with heightened anticipation. Had he known what effect his statement would have on her? Driving her crazy with curiosity.

The man was a genius at mind games.

After much deliberation, she dressed simply in black jeans and a sapphire turtleneck sweater, then stashed a pair of woolen slacks and a crimson blouse into her satchel. As she was applying the finishing touches to her makeup, the telephone rang.

“Hello?”

“How’s the article coming?”

Kay winced. Judy.

“I was just getting ready for bed and thought I’d give you a call. Is that hunky bachelor keeping you warm on those cold winter nights?”

“Oh, please.”

“Go ahead, lie to me if you want to, darling, but don’t lie to yourself. Any fool can see there’s chemistry between you two. I’m not going to lose my prize reporter to the Alaskan wilderness, am I?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Judy. I’m not about to stay in Alaska. It’s dark nearly twenty hours a day.”

“I don’t know. That Quinn is pretty cute. You’re never going to find anyone like him in Manhattan.”

“And it’s freezing cold. I have to wear three layers of clothing to stay comfortable, even indoors. Hard to get romantic under those conditions.”

Then again there was nothing more romantic than body heat.

“So if you’re not canoodling with bachelor number one, where were you last night when I tried to call?”

Sampling a taste of heaven.

“Out doing research.”

It wasn’t a lie. She had been researching Quinn’s background for the article, never mind that her research had concluded with some fierce kissing.

Judy didn’t need the details. She had nothing to worry about. Once Kay returned to New York a satisfied woman, she would never see Quinn again.

Why that thought made her tummy ache, she couldn’t say.

“I hope you got some good info.”

Oh, it was good all right. Sinfully good. The best. And just as soon as Judy hung up the phone, she was going back for seconds.

BLUSTERER. BLUFFER. Blowhard.

Quinn had shot off his mouth and told Kay he was capable of giving her an orgasm. Now that she was sitting here in his kitchen and the moment was at hand, he was panicking.

Big time.

What if he failed her?

Over the course of his thirty-two years, he’d satisfied many lovers. Several of his former girlfriends had affectionately dubbed him Slow Hand. He loved making love and he loved pleasuring his partner.

But this was different. This was pressure. Kay’s whole sexual awakening lay in his hands, and his normal cockiness had deserted him. Especially because that dynamite body of hers drove him to distraction.

Quinn refused to be like the other men of her acquaintance. He refused to let her down, and he intended on devoting himself to the pursuit of her orgasm while putting his own needs on hold. Because that was what she deserved.

Kay was exceptional.

Would ten days with her be enough for him? After Kay, would any woman be enough?

Don’t get all romantic, Scofield, he told himself. This is only sex and you know it. You’re getting mixed up because you want to get married. But let’s get real for a moment. You could never provide a woman like Kay with the things she needs. She’s accustomed to bright lights and the big city. It was honor enough that she had selected him as her sexual teacher. He took his responsibility seriously. He wouldn’t ask for more than she could give.

Kay cleared her throat and he realized several minutes had passed where he’d done little more than stare at her when he was supposed to be making them a cup of hot tea.

“So.” She rubbed her palms together, and that was when he realized she was as nervous as he. “So when do we begin?”

Virgins on their wedding night couldn’t have been more unstrung.

He took a step toward her, his heart pounding. Damn, but she was breathtaking. She practically glowed, her features arranged in a piquant orchestration of enthusiasm and excitement.

Gone was her normally reserved demeanor. Her mahogany eyes had a fervent gleam. Her mouth was tipped up in a zealous grin. Her brightness, sunny as the twenty-four-hour summer solstice in the Arctic circle, completely bowled him over.

You’re the man. The one with the supposed experience in eliciting women’s orgasms. Take charge. Do something, dillweed.

But he couldn’t do more than stare at her. “You look beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you.” She ducked her head.

This wouldn’t do. Casanova didn’t win women with clichéd compliments and an “aw shucks” attitude.

“Well,” she asked, sneaking a surreptitious glance at his face, “what’s the first lesson?”

“We’re going back to the basics,” he said, her question unfreezing him at last.

“The basics?”

“Don’t ask questions.” He reached out a hand to her. “Come here.”

And damn, if she didn’t giggle just a little bit as she slipped off the bar stool and placed her small, soft hand in his. He would have thought such an elegant woman incapable of giggling. He also never thought a giggle could have such a profound effect him.

“Did you bring a change of clothes?” he asked.

“Yes, and that’s been driving me crazy all day. Why did I need a change of clothes?”

“Shh. No questions, remember. I want you to sit here.” He patted the tabletop.

“On the table?”

“Was that a question?”

“My mother would have a fit if she caught me sitting on the table.”

“All the more reason to sit there.”

“You’re sure this is necessary?”

“No questions,” he growled, feigning sternness.

She clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oops, forgot. Questions, curse of the journalist. I’m sorry.”

Without warning, he cupped her under the chin with his fingers and forced her gaze upward so she had no choice but to look him squarely in the face. Her eyes were so deep and brown and inquisitive he immediately felt as if he were drowning in a vat of chocolate.

“Trust me.” He could tell this was difficult for her, letting go of control, trusting a man she didn’t know very well. But that was exactly why it was so important for her to do it.

“Okay.” She nodded in agreement, her expression softening. He was stunned by how much she wanted this. Even enough to go against her instincts.

He put his hands around her slender waist and lifted her onto the table. He could see her pulse racing in the hollow of her throat, and the intoxicating sight caused him to stiffen again.

She watched him as he drew the silk tie from his pocket. Her breathing quickened, grew shallower as he slowly ran his hands over the delicate material until he had one end clutched in each fist.

The tip of her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips. A glimmer of expectation lit her eyes.

She looked from the tie to his face and back again. She swallowed hard.

“I want to ask a question.”

“No.”

She clenched her jaw. He saw the muscles work beneath her skin.

“You want to know what I’m going to do with this tie. Is that correct?”

She nodded.

“I’m going deprive you of the sense of sight.”

Kay gulped and a tremor passed through her at the wolfish expression in Quinn’s eyes, at the unmistakable feral intent…but she wasn’t scared. Instead, she was very turned on and extremely aware of her body’s heated response—the reckless stagger of her pulse, the incandescent spark that shot through her veins and rooted low in her belly, the sudden dryness in her palms and equally sudden moistness in her most feminine place.

He approached like a lion stalking his prey. Leaning forward, his chest bumped into hers as he secured the tie around her eyes. Her nipples hardened in instant response. How she wished they were naked, with his bare, muscled chest pushed against them.

He secured the tie, cutting off her vision.

Blind. Sightless. And questionless, too. She couldn’t even ask him why he was doing the things he was doing to her. She was at his mercy.

A spark of fear touched her then. Fear and an accompanying thrill. Trust was not her strong suit. She had resided too long in New York. Lived too many years as a Freemont woman. She wasn’t like the Alaskans she’d met, who’d assumed everyone was a friend until proved otherwise.

But she had asked for his help, and he was giving it to her. Too late to back out.

Quinn pressed something into her hand. Her fingers closed around it. She recognized the shape. A metal whistle on a chain.

“Now,” he said, “if you start to feel uncomfortable with anything that happens, I want you to blow this whistle. I’ll stop immediately. But I ask you to bear with me and give it a chance before you resort to the whistle. Once the whistle blows, the evening is over. Understand?”

She nodded, comforted that he’d given her a way out, but determined not to use the whistle, no matter what.

He took the whistle and slipped the chain around her neck. “We start,” he said, “with the sense of taste.”

Her tongue responded to his suggestion. It began to tingle and her mouth watered. She realized her entire body was tensed. Waiting.

She felt him move away from the table, heard the oven door open. Her nose twitched at the bewitching scents. The spicy aroma of barbecue, she recognized. And was that fried chicken?

His footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor as he tromped back over to her. His finger touched her chin, and she parted her bottom lip.

“What is this?” he asked.

She bit into the morsel he offered. “Barbecued ribs.”

“No, go deeper,” he insisted. “What does it taste like?”

She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Dig, Kay.”

She felt the pressure of his hand on her knees. Sighing with exasperation, she said, “Pork. It tastes like pork ribs.”

“I can see why you have so much trouble with sex. You’re too literal in your thinking.”

“Frankly,” she said, a little annoyed with him, “I don’t see what this has to do with sex.”

“That’s your problem, sweetheart, but don’t worry. Quinn’s here to help.”

She was about to tell him he was acting like a pompous ass when she felt a flutter as his lips brushed her throat. Spicy sparks shot through her system. Okay, maybe she was wrong and he was right about this.

“This is your reward,” he said huskily. “Answer my questions and you get more kisses.”

“Tangy,” she said. “Rich. Full. Smoky. Woodsy. Oaken.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m impressed. See what you can do when you put your mind to it?”

What a heavenly assault! Her senses sung to life and she was aware of everything not visual. Quinn’s musky male smell. The scent of spray starch on his shirt. The pressure of his hand on her shoulder. The hardness of the table beneath her bottom. The flavor of barbecue lingering on her tongue. The faint plunk-plunk-plunk of water droplets from a leaky faucet hitting the bottom of the stainless-steel sink.

From head to toe, her body tingled. Tingled and prickled and quivered.

He pressed something else to her lips. An icy coldness that was a brisk contrast to the warmth of his fingers.

“Ice cube,” she said as he traced her mouth with it. “Cold. Frosty. Tasteless.”

“Stick out your tongue.”

She extended her tongue. He dropped the ice cube onto it.

“Now suck.”

She wrapped her tongue around the ice cube, sucked gently as it melted.

“What does it taste like?”

“No taste.”

“Wrong. Try again. Use your imagination. You’re a writer—I know you’ve got one.”

“It tastes like winter.”

“More.”

“Refreshing. Invigorating. Chilling.”

“I’m very proud of you.” He rewarded her with a rain of kisses, showering her forehead, the tip of her nose, her cheeks and chin.

She thrilled to his kisses, exalted in having earned them. She had pleased him. This sensory deprivation was driving her mad. She wanted to rip the tie off so she could see his face, gaze deeply into his eyes.

She reached to undo the tie, but he saw her intent and stilled her hand.

“Oh, no, sweetheart. There’s much more to do. The night is young and we’ve only just begun.”

He fed her more tidbits and made her describe each one in detail. She got into the spirit of the game, and when he gave her salsa guacamole in corn tortillas she exclaimed, “Lime, tequila, sangria, Acapulco sunsets, hot sand, thong bikinis.”

When he handed her a slick, round cob of corn, she bit into it and pronounced, “Crunchy, buttery, hot, salty. Summer. Fireflies. Picnic tables.”

He pushed the sleeve of her sweater to just above the elbow and slowly kissed and nibbled a blazing path up her arm.

“Ah,” he said. “I think I’ve made my point. We move on to the next phase.”

“You’re a wicked man, Quinn Scofield, to torture me so.”

He chuckled. The fertile sound resonated in her ears. She could tell so much from his laughter. She heard passion and kindness, humor and an earthy intelligence.

“Come.”

His fingers reached for hers and he helped her slide off the table. Her feet touched the floor and she realized she was eye level with his chin. She knew her face was decorated with barbecue sauce and corn nibbles and smears of guacamole. She felt like a messy kid.

She reached out a hand to touch him and he stood perfectly still and allowed her to run her fingers over his features the way a blind person might.

Her fingers trailed over to his nose. A sturdy masculine nose that was neither too large or too small, but bent slightly, knocked crooked from playing one too many games of hockey.

From his nose, her fingertips migrated to his mouth. Oh, this was dangerous territory. Firm and wide. Hearty and willing. His lips parted and he licked lightly at her fingertips, sending a blast of high-voltage electricity coursing through her body.

Startled, she jerked her hand away.

He laughed again, delighted with her, and began to clean her with big, wet kisses. His tongue frolicked over her upper lip.

“Mmm,” he said. “You’ve never lived until you’ve slurped barbecue off the face of a beautiful woman.”

“I think I’ll trust you on that one.” She laughed. “What’s next?”

“Dessert, and in the process, we’re going to fully explore the sense of touch.”

“Oh.” She inhaled sharply.

His hand reached for the button on her sweater. She stiffened beside him.

“Relax,” he soothed. “We’ve got to get you out of these messy clothes. Take a long, slow, deep breath.”

She obeyed. What else could she do? She wanted this so much. And yet she felt vulnerable, standing here blindfolded while he got to watch her every move.

Button by button, he undid her sweater, then carefully slid her arms from the sleeves.

He hissed in a breath.

“What?” she asked, then remembered she wasn’t supposed to ask questions.

But this time he answered her. “That black lace bra. It’s giving me a hard-on that won’t quit.”

Heat spread from her neck to her face. Blushing, the scourge of the blonde.

“Any woman who wears the kind of lingerie you wear can’t be frigid. You’ve just been waiting for someone to treasure you.”

To Kay’s horror, she began to cry. Fortunately, she had on the blindfold.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

9

“WHAT’S WRONG?” Quinn asked. He drew her to him, her naked skin pressed against the crispness of his shirt, the metal whistle imprinted below the hollow of her throat. “Did I say something to offend you?”

She shook her head.

“I shouldn’t have made that crack about my hard-on. I just wanted you to know how much you move me.”

“It wasn’t that remark.” She sniffled. “I’m a New Yorker, after all. I hear much worse than that on my walk to work.”

“What is it, then?” He sounded genuinely worried, and his tenderness only exacerbated her emotions.

“No one’s ever treasured me before.” She placed a palm to her mouth and tried to will herself to stop crying.

Her feet left the floor when he clasped her so tightly she could hear the steady lub-dub of his heart. “I know, baby, I know.”

And then he just held her for the longest moment.

“Maybe we should call it a night,” he said, gently easing her back down to the floor. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No,” she said. “I want to continue.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, and imagined she looked pretty incongruous standing there in a blindfold, black lace bra and her black denim jeans.

“I wasn’t going to do this yet, but I can’t help myself.” The next thing she knew he was on his knees in front of her kissing her belly and easing down the zipper on her jeans.

Kay caught her breath. So this was it. They were going to make love on the kitchen floor. Couldn’t get much wilder than that. She thought back on some of the articles she had written for Metropolitan. Articles on spontaneity. Well, for once she was about to practice what she preached.

Once her pants were undone, Quinn placed a hand on either side of her and slowly began to nudge the thick material down over the curve of her hips.

“More sexy underwear.” He groaned when he spied her black thong. “You’re going to propel me over the brink, woman.”

His comment filled her with elation. She liked that she had the power to literally bring him to his knees. She had never held such control over Lloyd. He had acted as if her body was nothing special. In fact, he often prodded her to lose weight, and for heaven’s sake, at five-five she only weighed 115 pounds.

But Quinn seemed to relish her curves, and his appreciation made her feel like a goddess.

“Step out of your pants,” he instructed when he’d pooled the material around her ankles.

Trembling, she did as he asked. She still wore her boots and her underwear. Would he make love to her with her boots on? She found the thought incredibly erotic.

What now? What would come next? Her mind sprinted ahead of her body, imagining them coiled in the throes of sex, the hardwood floor pressing into her back.

But then he surprised her yet again by taking her hand and leading her through the house.

“I’m going to push you right to the edge,” he growled in her ear, “and then pull you back before you tumble over.”

She gasped, heard him open a door and felt a gust of frigid air. He was taking her outside!

He opened another door and a moist, heated blast washed over her. She smelled cedar and dampness. He closed the door behind them.

“My sauna.” He directed her to sit on a bench.

Her skin came alive. It seemed separate from the rest of her, as if it were a living, breathing organism all its own. Goose bumps piled up. Everything she touched was greatly magnified. The rough feel of the cedar bench, the damp heat draping over her body, the soft silk of the tie binding her eyes.

“I’ll be right back with dessert,” he whispered, his lips on her ear. “Don’t go anywhere.”

She sat in total silence for a moment, soaking in the experience, reassuring herself that this was indeed happening to her, that she wasn’t caught in the sleepy midst of one of her explosive fantasies.

The door snapped open again. Quinn pressed something into her hand. “For you.”

Her fingers were wrapped around an ice-cream cone. Kay laughed. Ice cream in a sauna?

“Hold mine a minute.” He handed her a second cone and stepped away from her.

Her ears, attuned to the slightest nuance in sound, pricked up when she heard the whisper of material and realized he was getting undressed. Not being able to see him catapulted her excitement into overdrive, and she found herself growing hotter and wetter than the sauna itself. When he finally settled himself on the bench beside her, it seemed as if her heart had ceased beating.

Waiting.

Perspiration pearled around her collarbones, trickled down her chest. The silence was deafening.

“Thanks for holding my cone.”

He took it from her. By now, her ice cream was melting in a sticky stream down her wrist.

“Oops,” he said. “Let me lick that off for you.”

He flicked his tongue around her wrist and Kay groaned. Then she felt something cold plop onto her breast.

“Sorry, lost the top of my cone.”

Then his tongue was on her skin just above her cleavage, and he was licking with mad abandon.

“Gotta eat it all up before it melts,” he gasped.

He went back and forth in rapid motion, first feasting at her breasts, then sucking on her gooey fingers. Kay was mad with the sensation of his hot, wet, sticky tongue seemingly everywhere at the same time. She dropped her cone. It hit the floor with a soft crunch, but she didn’t care. She was drowning, falling, dripping into a pool of crazy agitation.

“I want a taste!” she cried.

So he kissed her on the lips, his mouth full of ice cream.

“Mmm, chocolate,” she cooed. “No wait—vanilla? Strawberry?”

“Neopolitan.”

“Ah. That explains the mix of flavors.”

His gooey hands were on her shoulders, then her stomach. Damn this blindfold! She wanted to see him, wanted to watch what he was doing with that awesome tongue.

But then he stopped licking.

“What’s wrong?” she whimpered.

“Damn,” he said, disappointment winding through the timbre of his voice. “The ice cream is all gone, and we’re running out of steam.”

Quinn shifted off the bench, and she heard the sound of water being poured over the hot lava rocks. Hiss. Sizzle. Fresh steam rose and rolled over her skin, muggy as summertime in New Orleans. He returned to his seat beside her but said nothing.

Kay waited.

And tried to imagine what he looked like naked.

She wanted to ask what they were waiting for, but he’d warned her not to ask questions, and she was determined to play the game his way.

Finally she couldn’t stand the tension any longer. She reached out. Her hand collided with his forearm. Ah, those forearms that stoked an instant flame inside her. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, crushed his arm hairs now damp with humidity beneath the palm of her hand.

“Quinn, I want you,” she whispered.

“Then come here.”

He took her by the waist and lifted her onto his naked lap. She straddled him, his incredibly hard erection caught between their naked bellies.

“Oh!” she exclaimed because she could not think of one single thing to say to express her feelings. “Oh.”

“See what you do to me, woman?” He leaned close to growl in her ear.

Quinn cupped the sweet curve of her lush bottom left exposed by those dental-floss-size panties and pulled her even closer.

She made a little noise, soft and low, and the sound drilled a hole straight through his gut. She settled her hands on his shoulders. Her lovely breasts overflowed the lace of her low-cut bra. Like flags of pink velvet, her jaunty nipples peeked out above the delicate fabric gone soggy from the sauna.

Quinn wanted to seize her right then and there. Wanted to lower her onto his throbbing shaft and give her the ride of her life.

Control, he warned himself. This night was about Kay’s pleasure, not his own. He was going to drag this out as long as humanly possible. He was helping her explore her erogenous zones so that when she did finally climax, it would be like scaling Mount Everest, thrilling, incomparable, the experience of a lifetime and thoroughly earned.

Damn, but he should have spent some private time in the shower before he picked her up. Mentally steeling himself against the growing pressure inside him, Quinn dipped his head and suckled first one perky nipple and then the other.

Her fingers flew to his hair and knotted there as if she was anchoring herself in place. She wriggled and squirmed and writhed against him.

“Experience this with your skin,” he instructed in a voice choked with lust. “Focus on what you’re feeling. Tell me about it.”

“Hot,” she gasped. “Utterly hot.”

“And?”

“Wet and slick and slippery.”

“More.”

“Mucky, sticky, spongy.”

“Yes.”

“Squishy, sloppy, soggy.”

“Don’t stop.”

“Pervaded, persuaded, invaded.”

“Go, go.”

“Drenched, saturated, undone.” She was breathing heavily, her breasts rising and falling with each ragged pant. The tail end of the tie, soaked with steam and perspiration, trailed down her slender shoulders.

“Burning!” she cried. “Sweating, sweltering, ablaze.”

A strand of hair was plastered to her forehead. He would never have believed the cool, sophisticated woman he’d met at the offices of Metropolitan magazine could be so completely wanton. And so totally delicious.

Quinn loved it.

Man alive, how he loved it.

He had to grit his teeth and clench his fists to keep from tearing off that scrap of panty and piercing her through with his pulsating sword. The instinct to sheathe himself deep inside her was primitive. If he didn’t get her out of here quickly, he’d mangle everything he was building toward.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“Wh…what?” She bobbed her head at him, raised a hand to her tie.

“Leave it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Hush.” He tugged her off his lap, her booted feet bumping lightly into his shins.

“But Quinn…” she protested.

He didn’t give her a chance; he just dragged her from the sauna and plunged them, steam rising from their bodies, into the cold, cold night. The air was brisk, the northern sky filled with dancing light. Quinn realized with a start that Kay wasn’t the only one having her senses put through the paces. The moment seemed utterly surreal. Like something from an erotic fantasy poem.

Holding hands, they ran together through the snow. He pulled up short beside the house and leaped with her into a snowbank.

“Omigosh!” Kay exclaimed. “This is absolutely exhilarating. Like a splash of cold water on a muggy August afternoon in Manhattan.”

Her skin had pinked, her cheeks flushed red. A huge grin decorated her face, and the sight of her joy tugged at Quinn’s heartstrings.

Watch out, Scofield! You’re treading on thin ice here. She’s not available. She’s on the rebound.

“I’m floored,” Kay said, apparently invigorated by the experience. “Completely floored.”

“Enough,” Quinn said. “We don’t want to get frostbite.”

“How could you get frostbite from something that feels so lovely?”

“Trust me on this.” He struggled to his feet, his arousal gone, and reached down to help her from the snowbank.

“You’re amazing,” she said.

“Me?” He speared her with his eyes, raked his gaze over her body. “I don’t think so.”

She wagged a finger at him. “Oh, yes, you are.”

“Let’s get you inside, Miss Eskimo. I’m beginning to think the cold has gone to your head.” Feeling inexplicably protective, he placed a hand to her back and swept her up the walk beside him.

She was shivering so hard her teeth were clattering by the time he got her to the fireplace. He wrapped her snugly in a quilt and seated her on the hearth. “Don’t move,” he said. “I’ll be right back with a hot toddy.”

Before going to the kitchen, he hurried to his bedroom and pulled on red nylon jogging shorts and a T-shirt that said, “Mountain Climbers Never Die, They Just Reach Their Peak.” He wasn’t cold; he did the sauna-snowbank thing on a regular basis, but he didn’t want Kay to see him naked. Not yet.

A few minutes later he settled a mug of Irish coffee in her hands and untied the blindfold.

She blinked up at him, the firelight reflecting the golden strands of her disheveled hair. Her mascara had smeared a little, causing her eyes to look wide despite their slightly almond shape.

He liked her like this, Quinn realized. Mussed and rumpled and smiling. Bang, bang, bang, went his heart.

“What?” she asked. “Or am I still not allowed to ask questions?”

“Game over,” he said. “And I was just shaking my head in amazement at how beautiful you are.”

She raised a hand to her head. “Yuck! My hair’s all clumpy with melted ice cream. I must look like a bachelor pad at 4 a.m. on New Year’s Day.”

He sat beside her, stared into her eyes. “You don’t need hairspray and makeup and fancy creams to look beautiful, Kay.”

“Ha! Tell that to my mother. She’d be appalled if she could see me now. Appalled on so many levels.”

“You’ve spent your life trying to please your parents.”

“Well, that’s part of why I’m here. To start untying those apron strings.”

“I’m your bit of rebellion.”

“Kind of,” she admitted.

He’d suspected as much, and he shouldn’t have been surprised or even disappointed by the knowledge. But he couldn’t help but wish that she’d come to Alaska because she liked him, not to piss off her parents or learn how to exceed her sexual speed limit.

Still, she was here and he wanted her, and he certainly wasn’t going to send her away. She would be a sweet memory. His time with Kay was teaching him more and more what it was he wanted from a wife. Maybe that was the whole cosmic reason of their meeting in the first place.

He realized he needed someone more like him. Someone with the same traditional family values, the same kind of experiences, the same love of the land, the same frank ability to speak her mind. He tried to imagine Kay living in Alaska and failed completely. She would survive here about as well as a hothouse orchid.

“So what happens next?” she asked.

“Clean up,” he said as they moved to the bathroom. “You’re gonna love this.”

“Should I take off my underwear?”

She was glad to have the blindfold removed, glad to be able to see him. He was wearing a pair of jogging shorts, but there was no hiding the imposing package that bulged beneath the constricting material.

“Get in the shower.” He tested the temperature with his forearm. “Just as you are.”

“Aren’t you getting in, too?”

“Right behind you, sweetheart.”

Giddily she stepped into the warm shower. He climbed in beside her and pulled the glass shower door closed. He took her in his arms and smothered her giggles with kisses. She felt as if she was eighteen again and experiencing sexual pleasure for the very first time.

Ah, this was what she wanted. This was why she had come to Alaska. To wipe her sexual slate clean and start fresh.

He reached around her for the bath gel and squirted a dollop into the palm of his hand. The almost empty bottle made a wheezing noise that had her giggling again. He began lathering her up, scrubbing her through her saturated underclothes.

The sensation of his warm, slippery skin massaging her through wet lace was intensely erotic. His hand slid over her smooth mound, and her slick, soapy panties pulled against the curve of her buttocks and plucked tightly over her most feminine and sensitive flesh.

Kay closed her eyes and clung to him. With one hand, he stroked a swollen breast through her bra.

He was a master of exquisite torture.

The steam, the sensuous spray of warm water, the stimulation of his wet fingers were more than she could tolerate. He deserved to get a healthy serving of what he was dishing up.

She smiled devilishly and reached for him.

Quinn gulped. The woman was turning the tables on him. Didn’t she realize how truly dangerous that was? If she wanted her longed-for orgasm, she’d better stop rubbing him down there.

Leaning into him, she nuzzled up hard against his chest. Right then and there he knew he wasn’t as in charge of the situation as he wanted to be. She kissed him then, sinking her fingers into his shoulders to hold him still.

The force of her kiss surprised him and stoked his own internal furnace higher and hotter. She made sweet mewling sounds deep in her throat.

He felt like a fallen mountain climber, dangling precariously from the end of a taut rescue line. Every muscle in his body tensed. His erection was so damned hard he feared he’d turned to granite, and he yearned for her with a desperate urgency that scared the hell out of him.

Ah, he was lost!

“Don’t stop,” she whimpered. “More, more.”

He clutched her hips and ground himself against her far more roughly than he’d intended. The thin material of her thong rubbed provocatively against his nylon jogging shorts, and he about flipped.

“Yes, Quinn, now!” she cried, and pressed her breasts so tightly to his chest that the whistle around her neck made an indention in his skin. The whistle he’d given her to blow if things got too out of hand. “Make love to me right here in the shower. I’m ready.”

He was startled to discover she welcomed his aggressiveness. His lack of control hadn’t scared her one bit.

But it scared him.

Desperately Quinn reached for the whistle, took it from around her neck, pressed the wet metal tightly against his lips and blew.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

10

WHEN HE ARRIVED on Friday evening to escort Kay to his parents’ dinner party, Quinn didn’t say a word about what had happened between them. But he did take her arm possessively. He angled her a glance that made her feel all woman. She was ready to skip the party and head back to his place for another love lesson.

Since Wednesday night, she had been unable to think of anything but Quinn. To hell with the article. To hell with work. She caught herself lying on the bed at the bed-and-breakfast staring at the ceiling and recalling ever nuance of what they’d shared. And she imagined what other wicked treats he had up his sleeve.

The Scofields’ large, homey kitchen was crowded with Quinn’s laughing family and friends. The decor was an eclectic hodgepodge. Nothing looked as if it fit. Just like at Quinn’s place, his parents had rafter ceilings and leather furniture.

A stenciled border featuring moose and bear and salmon ran along the kitchen wall. A carved totem pole in the corner did double duty as a coatrack. Numerous knickknacks graced shelves and corner nooks. Photographs of Quinn and Meggie as children graced the walls. Gingham curtains hung in the kitchen window. Slightly bawdy cartoons were stuck with magnets to the refrigerator. A pot of plastic flowers on the window ledge sang “Let the Sunshine In” and twirled wildly in opposite directions when anyone approached.

Honoria would have blanched at the sight and proclaimed the house “irreparably tacky.” Kay found the place both charming and comfortable. It was a real home, not a museum showcase like her parents’ penthouse apartment in Manhattan or their summer retreat in the Hamptons.

The smell of sourdough bread and beef stew permeated the room. Everyone was milling around, talking at once, balancing hearty bowls of stew and slabs of buttered bread in their hands. Raucous classic rock music underscored the gathering. Jim Scofield filled his guests’ mugs full of frothy ale from a tapped keg. In the next room a lively group of poker players yelled good-natured insults at one another.

Kay had never witnessed anything like this jolly free-for-all at her parents’ parties, where guests nibbled exotic tidbits from silver trays and sedate classical music poured through the piped-in system.

At first she had been taken aback by the exuberant rowdiness. But when she thought about how her mother would have turned up her nose at such a party, she began to relax and enjoy the camaraderie. She was here to experience Alaska as it was—sprawling, unruly, wildly independent—not to resort to prejudices against what Honoria would call “common folk.”

Even though she had become unhappy with things of late, Kay had never really realized how much she’d lived in an ivory tower or how cruelly snobbish her family was. This new knowledge reinforced her desire to become more open, more accepting, more forgiving of others.

All four bachelors were in attendance at the party. In fact, the house was crowded with men. Kay and Meggie were the only single women under thirty-five. In fact, they were the only women under thirty-five except for six-months-pregnant Candy Kilstrom, wife of KCRK disk jockey, Liam.

Quickly enough Kay learned that Jake was the life of the party, cracking jokes and telling stories. He possessed a keen wit and grinned ninety percent of the time.

Mack, the shortest of the bachelors but by no means small, never seemed to stop moving. He was quick and industrious, the first to volunteer when Quinn’s father had asked for help unloading the keg.

Caleb was hard to figure. His calm nature drew her, but he didn’t say much and preferred to stay perched in the corner watching the others with a sage smile. She did notice that whenever he glanced at Meggie, his smile disappeared and his dark eyes turned moody and restless. Kay wondered if he disliked the young woman for some reason.

If that was the case, she didn’t know why. Kay really liked the straightforward woman, who seemed to have the courage to say all the things Kay thought but wasn’t candid enough to express.

But she did wonder where Meggie’s husband was. No one had commented on his absence. Meggie seemed in high spirits, however, laughing, joking, cutting up with all the men who looked at her with covetous expressions. At one point Meggie herded Kay and the four bachelors in front of the fireplace for a group photo. And Kay loved it when Quinn leaned over to kiss her cheek just as the flash went off.

Glancing up from where she was sitting next to Linda Scofield at the kitchen table, she caught Quinn watching her with those gray eyes the same brooding color as the snow-heavy clouds that hovered over the town. He winked and Kay felt a now familiar thrill.

Where have you been all my life, wilderness man? The question floated unbidden into her head, lodged there and refused to leave.

She had to be careful. As wonderful as Quinn was, she couldn’t allow her feelings for him to become anything more than physical. This infatuation brewing inside her was just that, infatuation. She was intrigued by their differences, turned on by his complete opposition to all the other men she had ever known.

Plus, she liked the way she changed whenever she was around him. Already, in less than a week’s time, she’d began to relax, to let her hair down, to explore the part of her psyche she’d kept shut away for so many years and to abolish her old thought processes.

Kay was also impressed with Quinn’s family and friends. They were close-knit and yet very welcoming to a stranger from New York City. Yes, she had to be very careful not to mistake this infatuation for something more. The last thing she wanted was to hurt him.

Or herself.

Quinn moved across the room toward her as if called by the glance she’d sent him. He lowered his head and placed a hand on her shoulder. At the pressure of his touch, at the tickling of his warm breath in her ear, Kay’s heart revved.

“Are you doing all right?” he asked.

She nodded. His chin lightly grazed her cheek and caused an immediate reaction deep in her center.

“We’re a rambunctious bunch,” he said. “But don’t let them overwhelm you.”

She shook her head to let him know she was fine.

“Bet you’re not used to this kind of shindig.”

“It’s different,” she admitted, “but a lot of fun.”

“Would you like to dance?” he asked.

“To this music?”

“We can fix that.”

“Where would we dance?”

“Just watch.” He winked again, and Kay was warmed clean through her toes.

Quinn straightened, clapped his hands and raised his voice. “People, we’re in need of a dance floor and some dance music.”

Kay stared in stunned amazement as soup bowls and beer mugs were deposited on the counter and half a dozen burly men relocated the poker players to the kitchen. They scooted furniture against the wall and rolled the heavy braided living room rug back from the glossy hardwood floors as if they’d done this many times before.

Linda took a seat at the upright piano parked in the corner, and solemn Caleb Greenleaf surprised Kay by retrieving a fiddle from his truck. He perched on a wooden stool pulled up next to the piano and soon the sounds of “Cotton-eyed Joe” filled the house.

“Shall we?” Quinn held out his hand to Kay. Several other couples were already gathering on the makeshift dance floor and forming a circle.

She’d danced at many a cotillion. She’d waltzed with politicians and bankers and stockbrokers. She’d worn five-thousand-dollar dresses and sipped five-hundred-dollar champagne from crystal flutes.

But she’d never danced the two-step in front of a roaring fire on a cold winter night in someone’s living room wearing blue jeans and boots and a turtleneck sweater. She’d never drunk beer from a keg or eaten sourdough bread sopped in beef stew.

And she’d never had so much fun.

All these years she’d been unfairly deprived!

From “Cotton-eyed Joe,” Linda and Caleb segued into “Achy Breaky Heart” with an ease that told Kay they’d been doing this for a long time. And all the men seemed to be vying for the honor of squiring Meggie around the dance floor.

Kay didn’t know the steps, so she had to follow Quinn’s every move. For a large man he was amazingly graceful, stepping lightly without any of the awkwardness brawny men often possessed.

“Achy Breaky” melded into “Tennessee Waltz.” Quinn took her into his arms, held her close and twirled her about the living room. She was so intent on staring up into his compelling eyes that she didn’t even notice for several minutes that they were the only ones dancing.

She vaguely registered that the telephone rang and someone hollered at Meggie that it was for her. Her mind was in a dream where she noticed nothing except Quinn.

Resting her head against his broad chest, Kay inhaled his piney scent, listened to the beating of his strong heart. His hands tightened on hers and he squeezed lightly, letting her know she was safe with him.

Then, for absolutely no reason at all, a lump rose in her throat, forcing her to swallow hard to keep from crying. She was happy. Why this urge to bawl?

From childhood she’d been trained to control her emotions, to repress her feelings, deny her impulses. She’d been taught that appearances were paramount, and you conducted yourself based on what others thought of you.

Growing up rich and privileged was like living on a island with other people exactly like you. The lifestyle imposed on children of the wealthy and powerful entailed certain duties and conditions foreign to the majority of the population. There was no blending into an anonymous background. You were required to watch your step at every moment. No one trod easily on the emotions of others where money and manners mingled. This behavior resulted in an inbreeding of the spirit, too much held in, regret and silent brooding.

And Kay wanted out.

She’d wasted so much time living on her island and pretending to agree with people whose values and beliefs differed so greatly from her own. She’d expended too much effort struggling against her natural tendencies. The truth of the matter was, she’d never felt more at home than she did right now in Quinn’s arms.

Tilting her head, she looked into his face. He smiled at her with a lustfulness that made her hot and achy. Then without warning, he dipped his head and kissed her, all the while moving them around the living room.

It wasn’t a long kiss. Nor the most passionate he’d ever given her, but it was blindingly tender.

They danced past a clump of men gathered in one corner.

“Will you get a load of that?” old Gus whispered none too softly. “Looks like Quinn’s found himself a city girl to play with until the real thing comes along.”

The words, when they sunk in, stung. She wasn’t considered wife material. No matter how kind, how welcoming these people seemed, she wasn’t one of them and never would be.

Oh, Lord, what was she thinking? She didn’t belong here. She was a New Yorker, a socialite, a magazine reporter romanticizing her first trip to Alaska.

This was why her mother warned her against public displays of affection. For the first time in her life, she’d dared to let her hair down, and look what happened. She pulled away from Quinn, but he held fast to her hand and refused to let her go. She didn’t want to jerk back and make things worse.

“I need some air,” she murmured, avoiding his eyes. “It’s too warm in here.”

“I’ll get your coat,” he said. “We’ll take a walk to the barn.”

She shook her head. “I’d rather be alone.”

“No, ma’am. I can’t let you go by yourself.”

“Why not?” she snapped.

“Wolves out there.”

“Look, I live among two-legged wolves. I think I can handle myself with the furry variety.”

Linda and Caleb had stopped playing. Everyone was eyeing them. Kay clamped her jaws and headed for the kitchen. She retrieved her coat from the totem pole and rushed outside.

She didn’t know why she was upset. She only knew she needed distance from Quinn so she could sort out her feelings.

It was cold outside. Very cold. Kay shivered despite the warmth of her heavy coat, woolen gloves and cap. The light from the barn some fifty yards away welcomed her. She hurried toward it and tumbled inside.

To find Meggie Drummond sitting on a bale of hay struggling to light a cigarette with an obviously shaky hand. The minute Meggie saw Kay she flung the unlit cigarette across the barn.

“Oh!” Meggie and Kay cried in unison, and then laughed.

“I’m sorry,” Kay mumbled. “I didn’t mean to violate your privacy.”

“You didn’t,” Meggie admitted. “You saved me.”

Kay arched an eyebrow. “How so?”

“I kicked the ciggy habit years ago, but when I get nervous, that old urge returns. I sneaked out to take a couple of drags off a cigarette Gus gave me. I’m glad you stopped me. I’d hate to harness that old monkey to my back again.” Meggie grinned.

“Then I’m glad I interrupted you.” Kay smiled back.

“Have a seat.” Meggie scooted over and patted the hay bale.

Kay sat beside her. “What drove you to sneak off for a cigarette?” her inquisitive reporter instincts made her ask.

“Mom’s ankle. Looks like she’s going to have to have surgery. It’s not healing the way they hoped.” Meggie gave her a convenient excuse, but Kay had a feeling something else was on her new friend’s mind. Should she pry?

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah.” Meggie made a face. “Means Mom will need me to stay through the summer, and I hate being away from home that long.”

Kay nodded. “Your job?”

“Yeah, the job.” Meggie shrugged nonchalantly. But Kay could tell from the expression on her face that there was something else on Meggie’s mind.

Suddenly Meggie brightened. “Looks like you and Quinn are really hitting it off.”

“We like each other.”

“He’s a great guy, and I really like you, Kay. But as one city girl to another, I have to warn you about something if you think you might be getting serious about my brother.”

“Oh, don’t worry. We’re not serious. I know Quinn’s looking for a wife, and I’m a New Yorker through and through. Couldn’t live anywhere else,” Kay denied, and waved a hand.

“That’s good.” Meggie nodded. “Because you can take an Alaskan man out of Alaska, but you can’t take Alaska out of the man.”

“Is that how it is with your husband, Jesse?” Kay asked, struggling to tamp down the odd strangeness pressing against her heart. Meggie’s words were not a new revelation, but what she’d said underscored what Kay knew. The gulf between Quinn and her was simply too wide to breach.

“Jesse?” Meggie’s eyes darkened with an emotion Kay couldn’t pinpoint. An emotion akin to pain. Was her marriage in trouble? “Oh, no, Jesse’s not a native Alaskan. He moved here as a teenager when his father married Caleb’s mother. Jesse is pure big city. Which I suppose is what attracted me to him. I wanted so much to get out of Bear Creek, and Jesse was always talking about the places where he was going to go and the things he was going to do. He really turned my seventeen-year-old head.”

“And everything worked out for you. You got what you wanted.”

“Yeah,” Meggie said, but it sounded as if she was still trying to convince herself of that fact. She rose to her feet. “I better get back inside. Been nice dishing the dirt with you, girlfriend.”

Kay wiggled her fingers, watched Meggie walk away and realized then they had something else in common besides their love of cities. Neither of them liked to trot their feelings out for others to examine, and deep down inside, they were both very lonely.

QUINN GLANCED about the room and waved a hand. “Everyone go on dancing.”

“Can’t, the two beautiful single ladies are gone,” someone said.

“You’re out of your league with that New Yorker, boy,” old Gus cackled. “She’s too high-class for you. Best to stick with your own kind.”

Jake came over and clapped Quinn on the back. “Don’t pay attention to Gus. You know how he likes to stir up trouble.”

Irritated, Quinn stalked to the kitchen and paced. He wanted to give Kay some space, but he felt antsy. After five minutes of waiting for her to return, he couldn’t stand it anymore and went out to find her.

The darkness was thick. The overcast sky obscured any chance of seeing the aurora tonight. A muted light from the barn was the only illumination.

Winding his way past the vehicles parked in an uneven grid across the driveway, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called, “Kay.”

Silence.

What was the matter? he fretted. What had he done wrong?

“Kay,” he called again.

Still no reply.

He was aware of a strange pounding in his chest, a burgeoning fear he couldn’t seem to control. What if something had happened to her? What if she’d stepped into a hole and twisted her ankle, or worse?

His treacherous mind conjured up a hundred different horrific scenarios that had almost a zero percent chance of actually happening. But when it came to winter in Alaska, all bets were off, and Kay was a babe in the woods.

Of course, she probably went into the barn to get out of the wind, he told himself. He increased his stride, reached the barn door in a few paces and flung it open. Startled horses and cows raised their heads from their stalls to gaze at him.

He sprinted across the cement floor, examining each nook and cranny. No Kay.

By the time he burst outside again, his chest heaving, his body drenched in sweat, real fear had latched hold of his gut and wouldn’t let go.

“Kay!” he shouted, panic rising.

“I’m right here, Quinn,” she replied in a tone as untroubled as a frozen lake.

He skidded to a halt and jerked his head in the direction of her voice.

She was sitting in his truck, and she’d rolled the window down to speak to him. He trotted over.

“There you are.” He smiled, goofy with relief.

He rounded the hood of the truck. She rolled up the passenger-side window. He climbed in beside her and started the engine. It responded sluggishly at first, then took hold. He switched on the heater, then turned in his seat to look at her.

“What happened back there?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Liar.” He reached out, ensnared one of her gloved hands in his. “We were having a good time, then you changed just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

“Really, Quinn, you’re making a much bigger deal of this than it is.” Her breath fogged the darkness between them.

“Did I do something to offend you?”

“It wasn’t you.” She stared out the windshield.

“What, then?”

She shrugged and in that slight gesture, he felt her pain. She was hurting and he didn’t know why.

“Talk to me. Please.”

“I overheard someone make a valid observation. I guess that’s why it hit a little too close to home.”

“What did they say?” Quinn asked a second time through clenched teeth.

Kay stared down at their entwined hands. “You heard old Gus. He said I was nothing to you but a playmate until the real thing came along.”

Quinn’s breath caught. “And you believe that?”

“Yes. You are looking for a wife, and I’m certainly not what you had in mind when you concocted that ad.”

“Look at me,” he commanded.

She raised her chin, met his eyes with a steadfast gaze. She was so good at cloaking her feelings when she wanted to. She was putting up barriers, keeping him from getting too close.

“Would you like to be more than just my sexual playmate?” Quinn asked, barely daring to hope that she might say yes.

Kay laughed. “Of course not. We’re at opposite places in our lives. You’re ready for marriage, and I just got out of a lousy relationship. I’ve got a lot to learn about myself before I can be with any man.”

His hopes sank as quickly as they’d buoyed. So much for wishing on a star.

“That man’s comment,” she continued, “simply brought home to me how different we really are. How much a fish out of water I am here.”

He squeezed her hand. “Sweetheart, don’t let what other people think bother you so much.”

“That’s hard for me. I was raised to believe the opinion of others matters a great deal.”

“You’re going to have to get over this need to please everyone.” He traced a finger along her jawline. “Or you’ll never please yourself.”

“I know.”

“We’ll have to address this issue in our next love lesson. Obviously it’s deep-seated. In fact, I think we may have stumbled onto the real reason you’ve never been able to have an orgasm. You are repressed.”

“Tell me, Doctor—” she laughed again “—is there any hope for me?”

“As long as you have that sense of humor, there’s always hope.”

In that moment she looked so forlorn he knew that the laughter was merely a cover. She really feared that she could never have an orgasm.

He shook his head in disbelief, wondering where she’d gotten such an idea. Frigid women didn’t wear stockings and garters and sexy black lace bras. They didn’t travel more than three thousand miles in search of sexual release. He admired her courage more than he could say, and he was even more determined than ever to help this amazing woman achieve her goal.

Quinn hauled her across the seat toward him, wrapped his arms around her. Her pale hair shone in the darkness, her tantalizing feminine scent filling his nostrils. He was overwhelmed with myriad sensations, and he didn’t fully understand a single one of them. Except for a flourishing need that was both distinguishable and unequaled. Lust. Yet wildly stronger than lust.

His body ached to be joined with hers. He wanted to be buried inside her. He longed to hear her soft cries of encouragement, yearned to feel the satisfying clench of her love muscles around his erection as he thrust deeper and deeper until she began to be a part of him.

Kay was as eager as he. Her lips parted in anticipation; her breathing sped up.

“And you want me?” she whispered.

He guided her hand to his rock-solid erection. “You tell me.”

She gasped, and in the glow from the dashboard, he saw her eyes widen. “You’re so hard.”

“That’s what you do to me, Kay.”

He kissed her then, inhaled her sweet, sweet taste and reveled in the heat of her mouth against his. Every time he kissed her, it felt like the first time. He marveled at everything about her. Her flavor, her scent, the plushness of her pampered skin. He felt as if he was tumbling down a long, dark hole, and he didn’t care one whit that it was bottomless.

She made muted noises of pleasure, and he almost came right then and there. He pulled away, panting slightly.

The rasp of their breathing filled the cab of the truck.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing’s wrong. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any woman. I want you so much it literally causes me pain.”

She trembled against his chest. “Oh, Quinn, I want you that way, too. I never knew my body’s hunger could be so overpowering.”

“Neither did I, sweetheart, neither did I.”

Then without warning she scooted her tush across the seat until her hot body was flush with his. She pressed those sweet, honeyed lips to the pulse at his throat and lightly bit down. She ran a hand up the nape of his neck, entangled her fingers in his hair and stoked little swirl patterns that sent spikes of hard desire shoving through him.

“What are you doing?” His voice was so husky, so soaked with desire, he could scarcely hear the words.

“Take me home with you,” she whispered between nibbles. “Take me home and make love to me right now.”

“You have no idea how much I’d like to do exactly that.”

“So put the truck in gear and let’s get out of here.”

He shook his head. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” Her lips puckered into a pout.

“Because,” he said, “you’re still not ready.”

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

11

WHAT DID HE MEAN she wasn’t ready? If he didn’t make love to her soon, Kay was going to split in two.

He’d left her on the front porch of the B&B last night with the promise he’d pick her up the following evening to continue her love lessons. But that wasn’t enough. She wanted more and she wanted it now.

Kay stared at the screen of her laptop computer, at what she’d written more than four hours earlier and hadn’t added a word to since: “During early March in Bear Creek, needle-cold wind rinses every impurity from the air.”

But that sharp cold did nothing to dispel her impure thoughts. In fact, the weather seemed to escalate her horniness. Face it, her brain was mush. Courtesy of Quinn Scofield.

The tease.

She was beginning to think he was enjoying torturing her far too much. What was he planning now?

The knock at her bedroom door startled her. She slid off the bed and padded over to throw it open. And was brightened to see Quinn standing there with a large, brown paper bag in his hand.

She glanced at her watch, then back at him. “You’re way early.”

“I know. Thought I’d catch you off guard.”

“I’m not ready.” She gestured at her long-sleeved T-shirt layered over powder-blue long johns.

“We’re not going anywhere.”

“We’re not?”

“Nope. I decided to bring the party to you.”

“Oh?” Warily she eyed the bag. “What’s in there?”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

“Satisfaction brought him back.”

“Precisely.” He shouldered past her and his big frame seemed to fill the whole room. Kay kicked the door closed behind him.

“Ah.” He set the bag down on her dressing table and nodded at her laptop. “You’re working on the article. Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all. I was done for the day.” She skipped over to the computer and slammed the top down. She didn’t want him seeing what pitiful little she’d written and figuring out he was responsible for her writer’s block.

“Don’t you think you should save your work before you lose it?” he asked.

One sentence. How tough would it be to lose one sentence?

“I already saved.” She circled closer to the paper bag, hoping to get a peek inside.

But Quinn was quicker. He clamped a hand around the top. “Ah-ah, no peeking.”

“You’re driving me right out of my skull. I hope you know that.” Then she did something completely out of character for a self-possessed, controlled Freemont. She stuck her tongue out at him.

It felt great. It felt freeing. And it made Quinn laugh.

She liked making him laugh.

“Yeah,” he said. “You better be careful the way you use that thing. I can think of several good uses for a sexy tongue.”

“You’re all talk, big boy,” she challenged, squaring off with him toe-to-toe. “You had your chance last night and you blew it.”

“That’s why I’m here. To make amends.”

“Yes?” She perked up at the offer. Was he actually going to make love to her this time?

“The real reason I came over here, instead of taking you to my place, is that Jake’s rooms all come complete with those nice, deep, oversize whirlpool-jet bathtubs.”

“Meaning?”

Oh, she was enjoying herself.

Quinn reached for the sack and with excruciatingly slow movements removed first a bottle of foaming bath oil and then a package of floating candles.

Kay grinned. Was this guy romantic or what?

“I’ll run the bath,” he said. “You slip into your robe and pin up your hair.”

He went into the adjoining bathroom. Kay heard the water come on and she couldn’t get naked fast enough. She stripped off her T-shirt and long johns and wrapped a fluffy white bathrobe around her body. She peeled off her socks, nudged her feet into house slippers, then twisted her hair up off her neck and pinned it in place with a couple of bobby pins.

By the time she edged into the bathroom to join Quinn, the mirrors were already steamed over.

Watching her walk into the room made Quinn’s pulse jump. One sleeve of her too-large bathrobe had slipped down on her shoulder, exposing a slender collarbone and an enticing expanse of creamy-white skin. He almost dropped the bath oil and felt himself grow instantly hard with desire for her.

God, she was gorgeous.

She crossed the room toward him. Quinn gulped and backed up as far as he could, until a towel rack poked him in the shoulder blades. Holy cow, what was she doing?

She went up on tiptoe, cocked her head and lightly brushed her lips over his before lowering her heels to the floor again.

Yo, Mama!

She nuzzled his neck, her labored breathing fanning warmly across his flesh. He tried not to think about their perfect fit, his throbbing arousal and how easy it would be to surrender to temptation and take her right here on the bathroom floor. She was extracting her revenge, torturing him the way he’d been torturing her for days. And he was defenseless against her.

He kissed her ear, then ran a tongue along the faint scar traversing her skin from her ear to her jaw. “How’d you get the scar?”

She shivered into his chest. “Who cares?”

“I do,” he whispered. “I want to know everything about you.”

“Why?” She raised her head so she could study his face.

“You’re interesting.” He traced a finger along the scar.

She made a dismissive noise.

“You’re not going to tell me?”

Dropping her gaze, she shrugged. “Not much to tell. It happened during the one and only time my mother let me play with the maid’s children. For weeks I’d begged to be allowed to join in their fun. We were running and diving on a Slip-and-Slide when I slipped off the slide and slammed into a yard ornament.” She raised a hand to the scar. “I had to have six stitches.”

“Your mother never let you play with those kids again?”

“That was the end of my Slip-and-Slide days. Mummy said the maid’s children were ruffians. That they’d maimed me for life.”

“I love your scar,” he declared fiercely.

“My mother still hounds me about getting plastic surgery. But it’s such a small mark, and to tell the truth, I was always a little proud of my battle wound.” She smiled.

“I hate to say this sweetheart, but your mother…” He shook his head, let his words trail off. He didn’t want to bad-mouth her mother, but the more he found out about Kay’s family, the more he understood why she was so emotionally repressed.

“Shh,” she said. “No more talking.”

Lifting her shoulders, she untied her sash and the next thing he knew, the bathrobe lay in a circle about her feet.

He swallowed. Hard. And waved at the tub.

Kay pushed a tendril of loose hair from her face and met his gaze. There was no mistaking the appreciation in his eyes as he visually caressed her body. That and the slight groan that slipped from his lips let her know how much he wanted her.

Suddenly she felt self-conscious. Freemont women don’t get naked and splash around in the bath with men they barely know.

That thought overrode her hesitancy. She wanted to do the exact opposite of what a Freemont woman would do. Face it, Freemont women were fuddy-duds who tolerated adulterous husbands and sublimated their sexuality through shopping sprees and plastic surgery. Did she want to end up like her mother and her grandmother and her aunts and female cousins? All superficial women with nothing more to concern themselves with than the latest fall fashions or which bedroom to redecorate next or how many people to invite to their summer soirée. None of them had real marriages or real jobs or expressed authentic feelings.

She raised her head again, determined to see this through, and noticed Quinn was wincing. Her gaze trailed lower, and she spotted the source of his discomfort—the erection pushing against his zipper.

He was watching her, his eyes taking in every curve and dip of her body. His glance traveled from her shoulders to her breasts to her waist and lower. Up and down the length of her legs, then stopped to linger a moment at the blond triangle between her thighs.

Awareness and a dazzling heat prickled her skin. She’d never felt so exposed. She’d thought that night in the sauna had been sexually charged, but then, because of a silk blindfold, she’d been unable to read his reaction to her body. Now she saw every erotic thought that crossed his face. And the power she held over him blew her away.

Her entire body flushed with the heat of his stare. Damn. She’d never blushed so much in her life as she had around him. That unabashed stare of his caused her heart to do the conga against her rib cage. Her hormones were flipping like acrobats in the far recesses of her groin.

He made her feel special, and yet she had no right to feel that way. Quinn was a ladies’ man. No doubt about it. From that wolfish grin to the romantic bath complete with bubbles and candles, it was clear he appreciated women. Right now he was appreciating her for all he was worth, and she was helpless against his charms.

It wasn’t that men hadn’t told her she was beautiful before. She’d had many admirers. The trouble was, because of her own lack of sexual interest in them, she hadn’t believed their flattery. She figured that, like Lloyd, they were interested only in her wealth, her family’s reputation, her blueblood pedigree.

But Quinn was different. He made her feel a thousand times a woman, and he didn’t seem to care one whit that she came from blue-blood stock or that her family oozed money.

Funny that the man she was most attracted to would be the man she couldn’t have in the long term.

Ha, ha, good one, Fate. The joke’s on me.

Because despite her best intentions not to get emotionally involved with Quinn, he had a sneaky way of flying under her radar, weakening her defenses, slashing right to the root of her intimate longings. It was if he knew what was in her heart and in her mind.

Spooky stuff.

Enough to make her rethink this whole orgasm business.

When had things gotten so complicated?

Just go along for the ride, she told herself. Savor every step of the way with this star-kissed man. Abandon all caution. Bestow yourself on him here and now. Accept what he can offer you; don’t pine for more.

This extraordinary man was giving new life to her parched body, waking up her sleeping soul. For that, she would be eternally grateful.

He tipped his head in that rakish way he had, and a lock of whiskey-colored hair fell across his brow. He arched an eyebrow expectantly. “Well? Are you going to get in the bath or not?”

Well, indeed.

Here goes nothing.

Gingerly she stepped into the bubbling water, then sank into the steamy depths. A moan of pleasure escaped her lips as her muscles at first flexed and then relaxed, soothed by the pulsating jets and silky heat of the water. It felt as if she was sliding into a tub of liquefied butter. Hot, thick and sinfully delicious.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and knelt beside the tub. “The point here is to get you completely relaxed.”

“I’m well on the way.”

“Close your eyes.”

The corners of her mouth tipped up in a smile, and she let her eyelids drift closed. In a moment she felt Quinn’s hand on her fingers, oh-so-leisurely massaging each knuckle.

She didn’t know what to expect. Anything and everything he did was a wondrous surprise. From her hand, he advanced to her wrist, then ran his fingers, in a feather-soft stroke, up and down the delicate underside of her forearms.

Kay shivered, alarmed at the intensity of the sensation. “No, don’t, it’s too much.”

“Shh,” he soothed, and kept stroking. In a moment the tickling sensation passed and she began to enjoy herself.

He massaged each arm, then turned his attention to her feet.

“Oooh.” She sighed as his fingers kneaded her toes, the balls of her feet, her heels.

His tender massage seemed to last forever. When she thought she might fall asleep she was so relaxed, he moved up her legs to her calves and there, he applied hard pressure that made her groan. When his fingers brushed the erogenous area behind her knees, she almost came undone.

She waited for his hand to slide upward to her thighs and beyond, but he disappointed her and stopped. She opened one eye, saw him soaping up a sponge with vanilla-scented bath soap. She smelled the homey, sweet aroma as it clung to drops of steamy air.

He rubbed her shoulders with the sponge, then ran it over her breasts. Kay sucked in a breath. Her nipples beaded and begged for more attention. He washed her belly, then her thighs, but he completely avoided the part of her she most wanted him to touch.

He was doing this on purpose, she thought, working her to a fever-pitch, then dropping her like a skydiver without a parachute.

She shifted position and spread her legs, hoping to tempt him to go farther, explore more. Water sloshed over the edge of the tub, soaking his shirt. She looked up at him and smirked. She could see his nipples had beaded as tight and hard as her own.

“Whoa there,” he said, his voice husky. “Slow down, sweetheart, we’ve got hours and hours yet to go.”

She heard a whimpering noise then and realized the sound came from her. “I can’t stand much more of this, Quinn.”

“Oh, baby, we’re just getting started.” He pampered her like a mother coddling her small child. He turned off the jets, lit the scented candles and set them in the water to float beside her. The heady aroma of a spring floral bouquet curled through her nose. Jasmine, lavender, honeysuckle.

He got up, turned out the lights, then sat back down beside her and took her hands. “Now stare at the candles, inhale deeply and concentrate on your body for a few minutes.”

She blinked at him.

“Go ahead, do it.”

She closed her eyes again, leaned her head back against the tub and inhaled deeply. She’d tried meditation, of course. And creative visualization and yoga classes. She’d heard rave reviews of all these techniques to enhance your sex life, but she’d never been able to relax. Something had always held her back. She felt odd letting herself go in the company of strangers, and she’d never been able to freely express herself like everyone else in the classes.

But here now, for the first time, she felt her body floating as if on a cloud, while at the same time she felt leaden, affixed to the tub. It was an exhilarating experience.

“That’s right,” he whispered as if he knew she’d achieved an exalted state. “Focus your attention on the center of your belly.”

She did as he asked.

“As you breathe in, imagine a warm light settling in your solar plexus and gradually spreading outward.”

How had he become so sophisticated about such things? she wanted to ask. Living out here in the wilderness, so far from people and activities.

But she couldn’t ask him this, because she was supposed to be concentrating. Yet it was hard to focus when she could smell his masculine scent even over the flowery aroma of the candles.

Warm glow. That was it.

Then like a match to a wick, her belly suddenly did feel hot. Hot and tingly. She rode the sensation, imagining the heat spreading out, coursing through her body, pooling in her groin.

And then she was so hot she couldn’t stand it a second more. The power she had over her own body was eerie. She’d never been so in touch with herself.

Her eyes flew open and she found Quinn watching her in the candlelight.

“Pretty awesome, huh?”

All she could do was nod.

“Okay,” he said. “Time to get out, your fingers are turning pruney.”

He got to his feet, opened a fluffy bath towel and held his hand out to her.

When she touched him, the contact amazed her. Quinn wrapped the towel around her dripping body. He rubbed her dry. The towel was new, mildly scratchy. Her skin was pink from the heat, the water, the brisk toweling.

His affectionate attention reminded her of the nanny she’d had as a little girl. After her bath, Nanny Marie would dust her with talcum powder, help her into her pajamas and then sit by Kay’s bed reading one of her favorite books for the millionth time until she fell asleep. Once in a while, on her way to a party, Mommy would pop into her room to say good-night. But she never hugged or nuzzled her cheek the way Nanny did. Honoria wouldn’t risk smearing her makeup or mussing her elaborate hairstyle by bending over to kiss her daughter.

Kay blew out her breath, pushed away the melancholy memory. This wasn’t the time or place for a stumble down memory lane.

“You okay?” Quinn asked, his gaze on her face.

“Fine.” She forced a smile.

Once she was dry, he took her hand and guided her into the bedroom. “Lie down on the bed on your stomach.”

“I feel guilty,” she said. “You’re doing all these things for me, and I’ve done nothing for you.”

“Hush. My time will come. Tonight is all about you.”

She lay then, on her belly, with her face pressed into the pillow. Outside she could hear winter spitting icy rain against the windowpane, but inside they were wrapped tight in a snug cocoon.

Quinn sat on the edge of the bed beside her. The mattress sagged under his weight. His hand, warm and slick with heated peach-scented oil, slid over the planes of her back, lightly caressing.

Had anything in the world ever felt this luxurious?

His hands advanced in ever-widening circles, down her spine to her lower back and then to her buttocks, which he teased with firmer caresses.

She felt sexy deep in the most intimate part of her. Sexy and wet and desperate for this man. She tried to turn over, to face him, to see what he was thinking, but he pushed softly on her shoulder.

“Not yet.”

She groaned. “Bastard.”

“Now, now. No call for such language.” He laughed. “You’ll be thanking me soon enough.”

“Pretty damn sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she said through gritted teeth.

“Don’t you know it.”

His motions changed but never stopped. Short strokes to long strokes and back again, he swept his hand up and down her back until she felt as if she’d melted into the sheets.

“Turn over,” he said.

She barely had the energy, but she managed.

His big hands slid down her neck. Mentally, her mind went where his fingers were. Butterfly pressure on her throat. Tingles in the hollow spot where her collarbones met.

Hot, cold. Soft, hard. She felt so many things.

Her breath caught in her lungs when his right hand made a leisurely foray from her hip to her left breast, kneading with gentle, rhythmic motion that had her squirming even more.

His hand grazed her hardened nipple, and she sank her teeth into her bottom lip to keep from crying out. He leaned in close, ran his tongue over that insatiable nipple, tugging, licking, suckling until her breathing was nothing but shallow, ragged gasps.

His splayed palm felt different than his fist. He used both to fondle her. First one, then the other. Round and square, up and down. Opened, closed. Curved, straight.

After what seemed an eternity, his fingers finally skated to her belly button.

She writhed as his hand lingered there. “Don’t,” she said breathlessly. “I’m ticklish.”

“That means you’ve got a lot of sexual energy stored there. We need to release it. Let it flow throughout your entire system.”

Then he leaned over and pressed his lips to her navel. His hair glinted in the light from the bedside lamp. No one had ever kissed her belly button before, and she found it wildly erotic.

But then the next thing she knew, he’d left there and was headed decidedly south.

What was this?

With one hand he gently spread her knees. “Hold still,” he commanded. “Keep your eyes shut.”

She closed her eyes, felt his weight shift off the bed. In a minute he was back. She heard what sounded like jar lids being opened. She cracked one eye to see what in the heck he was doing.

“No peeking.”

“What’s going on?”

“Lie back and enjoy the ride.”

She tried to sink into the pillow, to let her body go limp, but she was so damned curious. “I can’t stand this. Tell me what you’re doing.”

“Pretending I’m Michelangelo. I’ve always wanted to paint a masterpiece.”

“What?” She frowned.

“Shh,” he whispered, and she felt a soft feathering of a dry artist’s paintbrush sweep against her furrowed brow.

Everywhere the brush touched, she burst into flames. Down he went, traversing her body for a second time.

Eyebrows, eyelids, cheeks, nose, lips. He worked his way around first one ear and then the other, then slipped to the underside of her jaw.

He took the brush away, and when he brought it back, it was warm and wet.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Open your mouth.”

She parted her lips. He leaned over and lightly dabbed something on the tip of her tongue.

“Mmm. Chocolate body paint.”

“Very good.”

With bold strokes, he painted a wide stripe straight down between her breasts to her tummy. Her toes curled at the delicious sensation. He drew a design around her belly button.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“A heart.” She grinned.

“And this?”

She felt him spell out K-A-Y. “My name.”

He switched to a tiny brush and swirled it around her nipples. “Yes,” he hissed triumphantly. “I love how they glisten when they stand perkily at attention.”

Was she still on planet Earth? Or had she been shot clean into outer space?

He returned to her knees, edged them apart again. “There we go. I’m switching to my smallest tool.”

“Wh…?” she started to ask but got no further.

His sizzling-hot hands rested at the apex of her thighs. And he was manipulating that brush like Michelangelo himself. The tip was wet and hot and sticky and oh-so-fine. And he definitely knew how to use it. He gently eased back the flesh protecting her womanhood and caressed the hard, thrusting nub with the warm, damp sable of the brush.

The sensation was nothing short of electric.

She inhaled all the way to her feet. She felt every velvety strand of the brush’s thick fur as it fluttered back and forth over her flowering cleft. She swung her hips, gyrating against the brush, reveling in his sounds of approval.

“Yes, baby, yes,” he purred.

He flicked the brush. Back and forth, back and forth until she was covered in steamy chocolate.

“Now,” he said, “I’m going to lick you clean.”

He dipped his head. His hair rasped against her belly. He was licking at the high recesses of the inside of her thigh. So near the area where she was dying for him to be. She was tired of this torment. She wanted to feel his hard, throbbing member thrusting deep inside her.

She smelled his maleness, and his scent spurred her arousal. Her body, which minutes before had been soft and pliant from the bath and the sensual rub, was now stiff and ready. She was wet, so incredibly wet. She wanted it. This spectacular release everyone spoke of. This colorful, vibrant fantastic orgasm. It was possible. Within her reach at last. She could feel it building, feel herself getting more strung out and desperate.

She tossed her head like a restless mare. She arched against his mouth, wanting, no, needing more, more. Her nerves were raw, ragged.

His tongue, oh, sweet heaven, his tongue! She unfurled to him like a rosebud opening to the sun, exalting in the heat, blooming, growing, expanding.

He was too slow. He was taking too long. This was maddening. This was incredible. This was hell. This was heaven.

Was it possible to feel so much driving need and not collapse if that need was not met?

“Take me, Quinn,” she begged, unable to stand this one second longer. “Make love with me. Get inside me. I want you.”

But he diligently ignored her pleas, still slowly, gently licking her with his tongue.

He inched closer and closer to the prize, his mouth now between her thighs and her outer lips. He drew circles with his tongue and each lick felt like a stinging-hot brand. Whimpering, she pushed her hips upward, her lower back clearing the bed.

And then he was flicking his tongue across her aching cleft while at the same time stroking the sensitive area just below with his fingers. She cried out at the dual sensation. She was falling, stumbling, careening into a caldron of heat.

Boiling, baking, blistering heat.

Hijacked, bushwhacked, shanghaied.

He’d kidnapped her, mind, body and soul.

She tried to say something, but her tongue wouldn’t work. Her ears rang.

I need, I need, I need.

So this was what it was all about. This was why everyone extolled sex as if it was some great curative. She felt as if she was hanging on the edge of a precipice by her fingernails.

She was aflame, ablaze, incandescent. She was the aurora borealis, and Quinn’s dangerous, exquisite mouth created sunspots, shooting highly charged energy through her until she was aglow with electricity.

She gyrated and rotated. She writhed and bucked.

Make it happen, she begged silently, hungering to tumble over into that magical abyss.

His tongue loved her, caressed her, lifted her to the pinnacle.

She waited for the drop, entwined her fingers in his hair and waited with bated breath, knew that orgasm was only seconds away. At last. After twenty-seven years. At last.

And then, just before she came, he stopped.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

12

“NO,” SHE WHIMPERED. “No. You can’t stop now.”

Quinn looked down into her face, scrunched tight with both pain and pleasure, and his gut torqued. How he wanted her! If only she knew how difficult this was for him, holding back when more than anything in the world he ached to bury himself deep inside her and stay there forever.

She raised herself on her elbows, flicked out her tongue and licked his throat. “Please,” she whispered, her eyes still effulgent with the sheen of lust. “Please.”

He almost lost his minuscule shard of control and took her, but his overwhelming desire to confer upon her the precious gift of her first orgasm kept him tethered to his goal.

“One more night, sweetheart.” He pressed his mouth to her ear. “Just one more night. Trust me on this.”

Kay groaned and sank against him. “Quinn, this is cruel and unusual punishment.”

“I know, baby, I know.” He gently caressed her head. “But it’s for your own good. Tomorrow night, my place. I promise.”

But could he keep that promise? She’d been close to orgasm just now, but if he’d continued stroking her, would she have plunged over the edge or remained on the precipice, unable to make the plunge? Was that the real reason he’d pulled the plug on tonight’s proceedings? Because he was afraid that, when push came to shove, he couldn’t deliver on his promise?

The thought of letting her down, of not being able to fulfill her sexually, caused a clutch of anxiety in the bottom of his heart. God, how he wanted to be the one to make her happy.

That was why he wouldn’t give in to those pleading eyes and his raging hormones. That was why they had to wait one more night. Everything had to be perfect. Tomorrow night he was pulling out all the stops, unpacking his arsenal, opening his bag of tricks. He was going to make sure she had the sexual experience of a lifetime and return home to New York with treasured memories of Alaska that would never fade.

For some odd reason he felt empty at the thought of her leaving. He’d known from the beginning that this could not be a long-term relationship, that for many reasons they weren’t well suited as a couple, but he’d hardly had any time to get to know her the way he wanted to know her.

“Quinn?” She reached up and traced his lips with a finger. “Is something wrong?”

Wrong? Oh, only that he was holding an exquisite angel in his arms and soon he would have to let her go. He feared that consummating their passion, joining their bodies and taking their relationship to the highest physical level would make things that much harder.

And yet, he could not, would not, let her down, even if it meant getting hurt himself. She was worth the sacrifice. He would award her all he had to give.

“Nothing.” He smiled. No point tormenting himself over something that could not be changed. “Just planning tomorrow night.”

She curled against his body. “I can’t wait,” she whispered, “to see what you’ve prepared for me.”

Oh, boy. The pressure was on, and somehow, he would rise to the challenge. But how could he provide Kay with what she needed while at the same time keeping himself from falling head over heels in love?

“Kiss me again,” she whispered. “Just kissing and nothing else.”

How could he refuse that?

Kay sighed into his mouth. This man was so powerful and yet so tender. He was controlled and yet willing to do whatever she asked of him. She’d never met anyone like him.

They lay on the bed together, side by side, his tongue softly exploring her mouth.

In her mind, a vision appeared. She saw him in her mind’s eye as clearly as if it was happening. He was cuddling a sweet newborn baby in the crook of his arm, gazing tenderly into the baby’s face. His hands were bigger than the baby’s tiny head. The explicit contrast was startling.

He would make a wonderful father.

Kay opened her eyes, stared at Quinn, who was looking right at her. Why was she picturing him as a father? Why was she thinking about babies? When she’d been with Lloyd, she’d barely given babies a second thought. Oh, she supposed she wanted a child someday. But she’d been too consumed with her career, too unimpressed with Lloyd to spend much time fantasizing about babies. Now, in a sudden rush, all those maternal feelings she’d suppressed came to the forefront of her mind, confusing the hell out of her.

She couldn’t have him. She could never be the kind of wife he needed, so why daydream about having his baby? She pulled away from him, disturbed by her feelings.

“What’s wrong?” His husky words clobbered her thoughts, demanded entry into the part of her she kept most private—her heart.

She struggled for her famous Freemont control, tried to force her features into expressionless lines.

And failed miserably.

She couldn’t keep dragging that tired facade over her face, couldn’t keep hiding her true feelings.

Quinn reached out and gently massaged her shoulder. “Tell me, sweetheart, have I done something wrong?”

In that moment Kay lost it completely, and to her horror, she began to cry.

“What is it?” Alarmed, Quinn sat up. His heart thundered. What had he done wrong? He gathered her to his chest. “Talk to me.”

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “It’s just that no one man has ever treated me so gently, so kindly.”

He squeezed her tight. “Well, darling, your luck has just changed.”

Concern for her, and another emotion he wasn’t quite ready to name, filled his chest. He searched for the right words to say, to tell her how special she was, when the beeper he wore for fire-call emergencies went off.

THEY CAREENED down the street, headed for the fire. Kay’s blood was pumping through her veins like Freon. Quinn had agreed to take her along as a journalist as long as she promised to stay clear of the fire. He gripped the steering wheel in his hands, his gaze focused intently on the icy road in front of them. Through the two-way radio mounted on the dash, he was in touch with the other firefighters and had learned that Millie Peterson’s house was on fire.

Millie, Quinn told her, was an eighty-five-year-old widow who lived just outside Bear Creek. She’d grown absentminded of late, and he worried that maybe she’d forgotten to turn the stove off before she went to bed. He gave the truck more gas and took the curve far too fast. Kay, thankful for her seat belt, gripped the armrest and prayed that Millie was all right.

Quinn braked to a stop outside a small, two-story frame house at the same instant that Mack, Jake, Caleb and a couple of other men arrived in the fire truck. Orange flames licked their way across the roof. The acrid smell of smoke consumed the air. Quinn sprinted over to the truck.

Kay got out and watched him quickly and methodically go about the business of putting out a fire. She wanted to help. Needed to keep busy so she wouldn’t worry so much about Quinn and the other firefighters. Glancing around, Kay saw an elderly woman standing on the lawn. She hurried over.

“Millie?” she asked.

The elderly lady, dressed in long johns and a bathrobe, was shivering, her glasses askew on her wrinkled face. Kay whipped off her coat and draped it around Millie’s shoulders.

“Doodles,” Millie cried. “My little doggy, Doodles, is inside.”

“I’ll tell the firemen,” Kay said, and raced over to Quinn, who was breaking out an ax from the back of the truck. “Quinn,” she called to him. He raised his head. “Millie’s dog is inside.”

Quinn glanced toward the house. In the short time they’d been here, the flames had grown taller, arched higher into the night sky. Mack grabbed Quinn’s arm. “Don’t do it, man. The house is about to go.”

“Doodles!” Millie wailed, and wrung her hands.

“I’ve got to try,” Quinn said. “Millie would give up and die if anything happened to that dog.”

“Quinn,” Kay whimpered, “be careful.”

“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll be back.” He leaned down and placed a quick kiss on her lips. “I promise.”

While Mack and Jake turned the fire hose on the house, Quinn charged through the front door.

Kay’s heart crammed into her throat and stayed there.

“I’m scared,” Millie said.

Kay surprised herself by confessing, “Me too.” Since coming to Bear Creek, she’d found it easier and easier to express her feelings. She didn’t know if that was good or bad. She only knew that in New York she would never have felt comfortable enough to throw her arm around a frightened little old lady she didn’t know and hug her close.

For what seemed an eternity, Kay and Millie huddled together, waiting. More cars arrived. A crowd gathered. At one point Kay looked around and realized the whole town was here, people running to and fro, doing what they could to help. Someone threw a blanket over her and Millie.

Kay turned to see Meggie standing behind her, a worried expression on her face. Kay nodded.

Meggie reached over, took Kay’s hand and squeezed.

A huge lump of emotion formed in Kay’s throat.

I’m among friends, she realized. Honest-to-gosh friends. Not just people who pretended to like her because she was rich.

Suddenly she felt a part of Alaska, a part of the community, a part of Quinn’s family. But almost as suddenly, her fear quickly pushed aside her quiet feeling of acceptance. Quinn should have been out by now. Where was he?

Just as Jake said, “I’m going in after Quinn,” a form appeared in the doorway of the burning house and Quinn staggered out, something clutched tightly in his arms.

Doodles.

Millie sprang forward to snatch her dog from him, and Kay sprang forward to scoop her smoky, cinder-smeared man into her arms, unmindful of the hubbub surrounding them.

Quinn picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.

“You’re safe,” she whispered.

“I told you I’d be back,” he said gruffly. “And I always keep my promises.”

“I was so worried, so scared I’d never see you again.”

“Were you really?”

“Of course, you big goof.”

“Hey, what’s this?” he asked.

Tears were streaming down her cheek and she didn’t even realize it until he kissed them gently away.

TONIGHT’S THE NIGHT.

It was six o’clock on Sunday evening as Kay parked the Wagoneer that Quinn’s parents had lent her, then made her way up the frozen walkway. The smell of wood smoke hung in the air. The snow crunched delightfully underfoot.

At last, at last, at last, she mentally chanted.

Underneath her coat she wore a red silk dress, sheer red-tinted stockings, a racy red garter belt and three-inch red stilettos. But in the short distance from the heated car to Quinn’s front door, the icy bite of wind had turned her legs into Popsicles. Alaska in late winter was no place to wear seductive clothing.

But the sexy outfit made her feel ultrafeminine, her gift to Quinn. She hadn’t considered wearing anything else.

Tonight was the night.

He opened the door and let her in.

She tilted her head at him, and the sight of his rugged profile caused a hitch in her breath. He was so handsome, so masculine, so unabashedly male. She couldn’t wait to see him naked. Couldn’t wait to have him inside her.

He caught her watching him and grinned. She looked away but not without holding his gaze for a long moment first. He led her inside to the rug by the fire.

“Sit,” he instructed, then took her coat and went to hang it up. When he returned, he sat beside her.

An awkward silence hung between them for the briefest minute, then they both chuckled at once.

“Your feet look pale.” He said. “Give ’em to me.”

Languidly, as if moving through a pool of pudding, Kay raised her legs and plopped her feet in Quinn’s lap. He slipped off her high heels and tossed them into the corner. The sensation of his warm fingers on her cold toes caused her to hiss in her breath.

He rubbed her feet between his palms. First the left and then the right. “I’d lecture you on dressing warmly,” he said, “but you look so damned sexy in that outfit I’m not saying a word.”

She laughed, pleased at his compliment. He made her feel like a seductive vamp, and she loved the feeling.

“Mmm,” she moaned softly against his tender ministrations, lying back against the stone hearth and closing her eyes. “That feels wonderful.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “Dinner’s keeping warm in a Crock-Pot, so we could eat now or whenever you’re ready.”

“Just keep rubbing,” she said, her body going eagerly limp. She amazed herself at how easily she relaxed with Quinn.

His fingers rubbed and kneaded, caressed and massaged. He moved from her feet to her ankles, then up her calf.

“How does this feel?”

“Heavenly.”

“How about this?”

“Ooh, you wicked devil.”

“At your service, angel.”

She thrilled at his words, at the sex in his voice. Her body erupted in a shower of mind-numbing tingles.

“You have gorgeous legs,” he said.

“And you administer a mean foot rub. Your hands are like a touch of silk.”

“Your legs were the first thing I noticed about you. You know, on the plane to JFK.”

“Really?” She opened her eyes and peered at him in the flickering glow from the firelight.

“Uh-huh. What was the first thing you noticed about me?”

“The way you kept staring at my legs.”

“No kidding.”

“It wasn’t hard to miss. Your eyes were practically bugging out of your head.”

“I didn’t know you were paying any attention to me at all.”

“You’re a hard one to miss, Quinn Scofield.”

His hands were on her knees now and climbing higher. She felt herself swept away as if drugged by a magical potion and carried off into an X-rated fantasy land.

She and Quinn are Russian nobles traveling at high speed across the snowy landscape in their troika. Their thick fur wraps protect them from the harsh Siberian winter.

Suddenly highwaymen seize them, haul them from their sled.

“Strip,” the brigands demand, and in the bitter cold they peel off their garments. Now, they’re going to freeze to death, together, in the bitter cold.

But highwaymen are not completely merciless, even though they are laughing at their nakedness. Before they leave, the bandits toss down a fur rug.

They wrap the skin around them and stagger toward a wooden hut at the edge of the forest. He builds a fire, and she falls asleep in his arms.

She awakes to find him rubbing the fur between her legs. Suddenly he seizes her around the waist, flips her onto her belly and he takes her from behind, while his hand stimulates her from the front. As she sinks down into the throes of climax, she hears a snowstorm howling outside the hut and knows they will not be rescued for days.

“Let me in on your fantasy,” Quinn whispered. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Kay’s eyes flew open and she blinked up at him. She realized his hand was on her upper thigh and so very close to the most dangerous part of her. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t lie to me, Kay, you’re no good at it.” He reached out a finger and lightly stroked her cheek. “You’re having an awesome sexual fantasy.”

“How do you know?” Her lip quivered. She was amazed at his powers of deduction. He seemed to know her most intimate thoughts.

“You’ve been holding your sexuality at bay for so long you’re bound to be brimming with fantasies. Tell me and we’ll reenact them.”

She hesitated. She’d never revealed her wildest sexual fantasies to anyone.

Was she brave enough to do this?

“Trust me,” he murmured. “Share. Let me go there with you.”

“Snowbound,” she murmured after a long moment. She was giving him the highest degree of trust she was capable of bestowing. “In the frozen Russian tundra. We’re rich nobles who’ve been stripped of all our wealthy trappings by bandits and left to die in a storm. But we have a fur coat, and we find a shack on the edge of the forest.”

“Hang on a minute.” He jumped up and disappeared down the hall. Shortly he returned carrying a plush sable coat, an open bottle of red wine and two glasses. “This coat belonged to my grandmother back before fur was politically incorrect.” He filled the glasses with wine, rested the bottle on the hearth, then spread the coat over the rug. “Lie down.”

Kay sank into the fur and gasped at the luxurious sensation. “Oh, my.”

“You know,” he said, “I’ve been going about this whole seduction the wrong way.”

“How so?” she purred and rubbed her body into the coat like a kitten curling up to its mother.

“I’ve been doing to you what I thought would make you responsive.”

“And you’ve been doing a damn fine job of it, too.”

He shook his head. “I was off base. You need to learn what turns you on, to learn to control your own body before you turn it over to me.” He sat down cross-legged beside her. “Let’s get that dress off.”

With incredible slowness that pushed her to the limits of endurance, he unbuttoned her dress and slipped it over her head. Her underwear was next. He unhooked her bra and tossed it into the corner. A second later her red satin thong followed. The fireplace gave off enough heat to warm her bare skin.

“Give me your hand,” he said.

She did as he asked.

He took it, guided her hand to her belly. “Touch yourself.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“While you watch?”

His gray eyes had turned stormy slate. “Yes.”

“I feel silly.”

“Stop that thought right now. You’re anything but silly. Have a sip of wine.” He held the glass to her lips. Obediently she raised her head and swallowed the tepid liquid. “Good girl. Now close your eyes and let your fingers do the walking. Pretend you’re alone. I’m not here.”

Hesitantly Kay traced her fingers over her breasts, amazed at how good it felt.

She was really embarrassed at first, but the more she let herself go, the more Quinn made appreciative noises. She loved hearing that she turned him on. She snuggled into the fur coat and tugged at her nipples. When she twisted gently, they came to life. A warm, wonderful tingling spread from her belly to her thighs. She followed the sensation with her hands.

She could hear Quinn’s breathing, and his raspy intake of air spurred her on. She caressed herself and slowly slid one finger into her folded flesh. This felt great, but lonely. She wanted to see Quinn. Opening her eyes, she was shocked and yet thrilled to find him naked and hard.

Quinn had never watched a woman pleasure herself, and it was driving him beyond insane. He’d done well to hold on this long.

“Help me,” she whispered. “I don’t want to do this by myself.”

Yes! He surged toward her, came to rest beside her on the fur coat. He began by kissing her and took his time working his way down to her other pair of lips. When he ventured too close to her delicate cleft, she hissed in her breath.

Easy, he told himself, easy. That pretty pink cleft was a shy little devil. Gently he wet her with his mouth and when he pulled away, she moaned.

He retrieved the lubricants he’d bought for her, moistened his fingers with a smooth gel and rubbed them across her blood-engorged flesh. With the first two fingers of his right hand he carefully edged them apart.

Starting directly to the left of her pulsating cleft and inching clockwise, he brushed against her with fast, short, circular stokes, looking for the perfect combination that would rocket her to the moon.

So as not to abrade her tender membranes, he made sure her cleft stayed wet and slick by dipping his fingers into her warm recesses and drawing out a trail of love juices to rub over her burgeoning womanhood.

The small cleft changed as her arousal reached new heights. It swelled, grew harder and finally climbed eagerly from its hooded cave.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, “or ruin your arousal. Show me what feels good to you. Talk to me. Tell me.”

She brought her hand to his. He followed her lead, memorized her every move. It was the most intimate thing he’d ever indulged in with anyone.

“Oh, Quinn,” she breathed, and writhed beneath him. “Yes. Right there. Like that.”

His own arousal was beyond anything he’d ever felt before. Together they massaged and stroked and caressed her, both working in tandem to achieve the same goal. But after forty minutes, Kay still wasn’t anywhere near the summit. Maybe it was because she was too nervous about having him watch her.

Then he had an idea. It was something he’d heard once, supposedly a favorite sexual trick of Marilyn Monroe’s. It would solve the problem of Kay’s embarrassment and yet allow her to have full control over her own orgasm. It was worth a try. If it didn’t work, well…

Since their relationship had no foundation other than a physical one, Quinn didn’t even want to think about that. He would present her with what she so desperately craved. He would, he would, he would.

Kay whimpered in frustration. “I’m so close,” she moaned. “Why can’t I get there?”

“You will, baby,” he soothed. “You will. I promise. Keep stroking, I’ll be right back.”

Kay almost burst into tears the minute Quinn left the room. She had a feeling he was at his wit’s end. She bit down hard on her bottom lip. Everything he’d done for her felt so good. He’d treated her like a princess—she couldn’t let him down. If she had to, she’d fake the orgasm for his sake.

“Get off the coat,” he commanded.

She rolled over and looked up at him. He had a plastic tarp under one arm and a bottle of baby oil in his hand. His erection was still as big as the state of Alaska. He took the coat from the rug and tossed it on the couch. Then he spread the tarp across the rug.

“What’s going on?”

“Shh.” He began coating the front of her body in baby oil. “Now,” he said, when he’d finished, “you oil up my back.”

He lay facedown on the tarp. Puzzled, Kay took the bottle of heated oil and squirted some onto his back. He groaned deeply as she ran her hand along his naked torso, down his buttocks and legs until he was as wet with oil as she was. She loved the feel of his firm skin beneath her fingers.

“Now what?” she asked when she’d finished the task.

“Lie on top of me.”

This was a weird request. Feeling awkward, she lay down atop him, her breasts smashed flat against his shoulder blades.

“Your breasts feel like velvet,” he murmured.

“Your back is so muscular. Hard as a rock.” She breathed into his ear.

“I’m going to stay completely still. This is all you, babe. You’re at the helm. You’re in control.”

“But what do I do?”

“Slide your hands down my arms.”

She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she enjoyed feeling the wide expanse of his back beneath her, and she trusted him. She raised herself enough to lean forward, clasp her hands around his wrists and slip her arms down the length of his.

It felt like the time she went shooting over that Slip-and-Slide with the maid’s kids.

“That’s right. Keep touching, keep moving,” he coached. “Make love to my back. You’re looking for a certain spot. Go down a little.”

Spurred by the easy glide from the baby oil, she got into the rhythm, rode on the motion. She rocked her hips in slow, small circles pressing her pubic bone directly against his tailbone.

And then she found it. The spot on his body that was a perfect fit for her cleft to snuggle into. A nice, welcoming groove.

She let loose with a shout of glee and wriggled happily.

Nothing had ever felt so good. She kept rocking, stoking her own fire. Her aching cleft set the pace, as she rubbed it up and down, up and down his oil-soaked skin. Up and down and around and around. She surfed his body like a wahine cruising a curl off Oahu’s north shore.

“Quinn!” she cried, desperate to share her experience with the big, motionless man beneath her. “This feels phenomenal.”

“Go, baby, go. Get it anyway you can.”

“I’m getting so close. I can taste it rising up in my throat.”

She clasped her arms around his waist, squeezed him tight. His heart was pounding so loudly she could feel it vibrating throughout his whole body and up into hers.

“Glory!” he cried, startled at the extreme intimacy this unorthodox maneuver wrought. “I can feel every twitch you make, Kay.”

“Quinn, it’s happening. I’m coming.”

And then it hit her with the force of an oncoming freight train. Her entire body was engulfed in a hot, flushed, quaking release that started in her sensitive cleft but unfurled in a jerking starburst all the way to her toes.

She shuddered as wave after wave crashed into her. It was a force more powerful than an erupting volcano, more awe-inspiring than an ageless glacier. It was as if every dam in the country had broken at once, spewing torrents of wild water over the land. Seven days of sweet torture, years of hungry fantasies, a lifetime of repression burst forth from her.

At last! At long last!

Panting, she slid off Quinn’s back. He rolled over, tucked her into the curve of his arm and smiled down at her. “My only regret,” he whispered, “was not being able to see your face.”

She was dishrag limp and unable to speak for a good five minutes. When she finally caught her breath, all she could say was, “That was…incredible.”

In that fortuitous moment Quinn’s telephone rang.

He leaned in to kiss her. She raised her head.

The phone rang again.

“Are you going to answer that?” she murmured sleepily, his lips so close the air vibrated off his mouth back to hers as she spoke.

“Let the machine pick up.” He lightly ran his tongue over her upper lip.

By the time the machine intercepted the call, her arms were entwined around his neck, her legs around his waist, and their lips were fused.

“Quinn, this is your mother. Are you home? If you’re home, please pick up.”

“You better answer that,” Kay said into his mouth.

“Do I have to?”

“It might be important.”

Sighing, Quinn untangled Kay’s limbs and got to his feet. “I’m here, Ma,” he said, picking up the receiver and running a hand through his hair. His gaze slid over to his sexy Kay and he winked at her. “What’s up?”

“Liam is rushing Candy to the hospital in Juneau. It looks like she might be in preterm labor. Your father’s been at the station all day, and I need him at home. My ankle is giving me fits. Is there any way you can sub for Liam tonight?”

“Right now?”

“Yes, dear. Meggie’s at the station for now, but Liam and Candy want her to fly with them.”

Quinn took a deep breath. He loved his family and he was distressed to learn that Liam and Candy were having a crisis, but tonight of all nights? When he’d promised Kay he would make love to her?

He glanced at Kay again. She’d gotten to her feet and was looking at him with a quizzical expression on her face.

Helplessly he met Kay’s gaze. “I gotta go,” he muttered, holding a palm over the phone so his mother couldn’t hear. “Minor emergency.”

Kay nodded.

“Okay, I’ll be right there,” he told his mother.

“You’re a good son.”

He told her goodbye, hung up and gave his attention to Kay.

“I hope everything’s all right,” she said.

Briefly he explained what was happening. “I’m so sorry,” he apologized. “I intended for us to spend the whole night together.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault.” She shrugged. “There’ll be other nights.”

“But you’re leaving on Saturday.”

“And this is only Sunday. Go. Help out your family.”

“You’re sure?”

“Don’t be silly, of course I’m sure.”

Her forgiveness and easy understanding filled him with an odd sensation. When he first met her, he’d been attracted to her physically, but he’d thought that was as far as the attraction went. In all honesty, he’d seen her as a spoiled, rich socialite. But here she was acting anything but spoiled. And in that moment Quinn knew his attraction had jumped to a whole new level.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

13

HOW COULD SHE get upset with Quinn, even though her body was aching for his attention? Devotion to his family was one of his most attractive traits. She loved that his family meant so much to him, that they were so close. She wished his family was hers. She wished she could be a part of such a loving community.

In six days, she would be gone. His family was here for a lifetime. How could she begrudge him his choice?

She didn’t, but as she watched him shrug into his coat, she couldn’t seem to tamp down the torrent of loneliness washing through her.

Alone again.

Alone and super horny. She wanted more sex. More orgasms. More of him.

“Stay here,” Quinn instructed, coming over to brush her lips lightly with his. “I’ll be back after midnight. Eat some supper, watch a movie, finish off that glass of wine, take a nap, but don’t you dare go anywhere. Got that? We’re not through yet.”

She nodded, even though a nagging voice in the back of her head was urging her to go to the bed-and-breakfast, pack her things and head back to New York right now. They’d yet to take that irrevocable step toward becoming full-fledged lovers. This was her chance to back out before she made a fool of herself. Before she got seriously hurt.

Because she was already starting to care for Quinn far more than was prudent.

“Say it.” He leaned over to nibble on her earlobe. “Say you’ll be waiting here for me when I get home.”

What was it about this man? He seemed to know every errant thought that passed her mind. How? She had spent so much of her life learning to cloak her feelings, keep her countenance unreadable, her head clear, her mind undisturbed, and yet she could never fool Quinn. What gave her away? she wondered. How had he known she was panicking?

His gentle nipping of her earlobe was more than she could bear. “I’ll be here,” she promised huskily. “Now go.”

“I could get used to this,” he said. “Having you to come home to.”

Kay inhaled sharply. “It’s not me you want, Quinn. It’s a wife.”

He stepped back a moment, studied her in the foyer light. Too bad she couldn’t read his mind the way he seemed to read hers.

“Yeah,” he said. “You’re right. Long term, I do want a wife, but for tonight…” His gaze raked over her body. “I can’t forget what sizzling, sexy blonde will be waiting for me.”

He turned and walked out the door, leaving Kay feeling more confused than ever. She wandered about the house, snooping a little and finally ending up in the large room upstairs where he’d taken her the night he’d shown her the northern lights.

She didn’t open any closets or drawers, but she did touch the things that were lying out. His ice skates, the blades cleaned and freshly sharpened. His gloves. His heavy snow boots—good grief, he wore a size fourteen. She fingered his hockey jersey, which she held to her nose to breathe in the scent of him. The smell aroused her with a perplexing kick to the belly. Immediately she dropped the jersey back on the chair where she had found it.

She drifted over to the stereo system, flicked on the radio, then settled herself on the couch with her wine to watch the show outside the window. The northern lights were in full swing, flickering and dancing hypnotically.

“Hello, listeners.” The soothing sound of Quinn’s voice came through the speakers and wrapped around her like a thermal blanket. “You’re listening to KCRK, number 840 on your AM dial. Sorry folks, but you’re stuck with the native son tonight. Mack’s flying Liam and Candy into Anchorage as we speak. Seems little Liam Junior is trying to put in his appearance two and a half months too early. I know they’ll appreciate any prayers you can send the family’s way.”

A knot formed in Kay’s throat. Bear Creek was such a caring community. Small, intimate, cozy, a place where neighbors looked out for one another and nobody worried about stupid, inconsequential things like what kind of wine went with what kind of meal, or which pair of earrings to wear to an art-gallery opening.

Kay realized she’d invested too much of her life worrying about things that didn’t really matter.

“On a lighter note,” Quinn was saying, “Millie Peterson and Doodles are doing just fine. Millie’s staying with her sister over in Haines for a while in case anyone wants to run by and say hi. And thanks to everyone who donated money and clothes. Also, I’d like to thank everyone for helping out our visitor from New York City, Kay Freemont, with her article on Bear Creek. The magazine will be hitting the newsstands in mid-May, so be sure and drop by Leonard Long Bear’s to get your copy.”

Kay grinned at the radio, brought her wineglass to her lips and took a sip.

“And speaking of Kay, I’d like to dedicate this next song to her.”

Rod Stewart’s “Hot Legs” soon issued forth.

Kay hooted her approval and started tapping a foot in time to the lively music. After it was over, Quinn came back on. “It’s an open request line tonight, folks. So call in—577-5555 for those of you with bad memories—and let me know what you’d like to hear tonight.”

Getting to her feet, Kay padded back downstairs, took her cell phone from her purse and punched in the numbers to the radio station.

“I’d like to request a song,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am, what can I play for you?” He gave no hint that he knew it was her, but how could he not know?

“‘Natural Woman’ by Aretha Franklin. Do you have that one?”

“Why, yes, ma’am, I believe we do.”

She grinned again, sat down in front of the fire and kept the cell phone in her lap. She hummed along with the song that expressed her sentiments exactly. Quinn did make her feel like a natural woman. Sexy, feminine, loving.

“We gotta another dedication, folks,” he said, when “Natural Woman” was over. Then he played a very provocative Barry White number, and Kay knew he was playing that one for her as well.

It was naughty, suggestive, and Barry’s deep-throated voice sent spikes of hot desire down her spine. Damn! At this rate she wasn’t going to last until midnight, which was when the radio station went off the air and Quinn returned home.

Kay felt herself go soft and moist and warm inside. She picked up her cell phone and dialed the station again. “How about ‘You Sexy Thing’?”

“Coming right up,” Quinn replied. He played her request followed by “You Can Leave Your Hat On.”

That gave her an image to giggle about. She programmed the radio station to speed dial and whispered seductively when he answered, “‘Let’s Get It On.”’

“Your wish is my command.”

Kay giggled again and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth.

He topped “Let’s Get it On” with “Feel like Making Love.”

“Keep those requests coming,” Quinn said, when the song had played. “Oh, wait, I’ve got a call right now. Go ahead, caller.”

“Hey!” Kay recognized the voice as that of old Gus. “Why don’t you two have sex, already?”

Quinn sputtered into the microphone. “Er…I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve only been taking requests.”

“Stop yanking my chain, Scofield. Obviously the lady’s hot for you, and the rest of us would like to listen to something a little less arousing. Play something decent, like big-band tunes.” Gus huffed loudly, then disconnected.

Kay burst out laughing.

Quinn put on “In the Mood,” which only made her laugh harder. Why was she sitting here? Kay wondered. Why not toddle on over to the radio station and surprise him?

She grabbed the bottle of wine from the hearth where Quinn had left it, hurried into the kitchen, dug a wheel of cheddar cheese from the fridge and scooped a loaf of crusty sourdough bread off the counter.

Then, just before she put on his grandmother’s fur coat, she took off her dress. Wearing nothing but stockings, garter belt, stilettos and the heavy sable coat, she got into the Wagoneer and drove to the radio station.

At nine-thirty, the main street of Bear Creek was deserted. Fat snowflakes spiraled from the pitch-black sky. The only vehicles she passed were the few trucks and cars gathered outside the Happy Puffin bar. Her heart hammered as she parked in front of the KCRK station. She could see Quinn through the window, seated in the booth, headphones over his ears.

The sight of him made her stomach go all jiggly.

Her breath came in frosty puffs. She knocked on the door, balancing precariously on her too-high heels, the bottle of wine in one arm, the cheese wheel and loaf of bread in the other.

A second later Quinn pulled open the door with such force he knocked her off balance, and she tumbled into his arms.

“Whoa.” He grabbed her shoulders to steady her. “What are you doing out in this weather?”

“Coming to see you.” She grinned up into his face. “I realized old Gus was right. It is high time we had sex, already. Real sex. Not just playing around.”

“You called what we did earlier ‘just playing around’?”

“Uh-huh. Now I’m ready for the hard stuff.”

“Get in here.” He tugged her inside and shut the door against the swirling cold. “Silly woman.” He pressed her to his chest, breathed into her hair.

“I brought sustenance.” She held out the wine and bread.

His eyes glimmered. “You’re one hell of a woman, Kay Freemont, you know that?”

He parked her on a tweed couch in the studio. “Have a seat. I gotta go give the call letters and put on some more music. Got a request?”

“You pick.” She smiled and settled back against the seat.

He did so in record time, the strains of Nat King Cole’s “Unforgettable” seeping into the room. In his hands he held two paper cups. He appropriated the wine from where she’d set it on the floor, filled the cups and passed one to her.

“To the sexiest woman on the planet.” He raised his glass.

“I can’t drink to that. I’m not the sexiest woman on the planet.”

“You are to me,” he growled softly.

She drank then to the sexuality she’d repressed for so long. The sexuality that Quinn had so lovingly cultivated and coaxed from her over the course of the past eight days.

“I’m ready, Quinn,” she said, finishing the wine and blinking in surprise at her sudden boldness. “No more games. I want you. Right here. Right now. Right this very minute.”

GOD, BUT SHE WAS gorgeous, swaddled in his grandmother’s fur coat with nothing showing but her legs from the calf down encased in crimson silk stockings. Her sweet feet were in sexy stiletto heels.

Her hair, normally perfectly controlled, was mussed, and her lipstick had come off on the edge of her paper cup.

He liked her this way. Relaxed. Natural. Asking for what she needed from him.

She was so beautiful and yet so out of place here on the worn tweed couch in his parents’ radio station in Bear Creek, Alaska. She deserved to have her first orgasms at the Plaza Hotel in New York City while dining on chocolate-covered strawberries and expensive champagne, not supping on stale sourdough bread and third-rate wine. She deserved so many things he couldn’t provide.

She reached out a finger, ran it along the crease cleaving his forehead. “Stop worrying,” she murmured. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

But was it?

Quinn studied her, knowing she didn’t belong here, knowing he had no right to want her as badly as he did. She was on the rebound, after all, looking for sex as a way to rebuild her self-esteem. He was a vehicle to her goal, and although he couldn’t blame her for that, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from wanting more.

Take what you can get. When the ad comes out in the magazine, you’ll be knee-deep in women and Kay will be nothing but a pleasant memory. Make the most of it.

“Let me just make sure we’re not interrupted.” He went to the door and slipped the lock into place with a resounding click. He flicked off the overhead fluorescent bulb, leaving them bathed in the glow of red and green lights from the control panel.

Her almond eyes widened, and she ran the tip of her tongue along her lips, making him hotter than the volcanic Ring of Fire bubbling beneath Alaska’s crust.

She was like Alaska itself. A cool, perfect beautiful exterior with a hot, smoldering center just waiting to erupt. He’d sensed this about her from the moment he’d seen her on the plane.

And her exciting combination of fire and ice stirred something inside him, just as his homeland did.

He admired so many things about her. The way she carried herself, regal and self-confident. The little noises she made when he caressed her. The taste of her mouth. Her unexpected laughter, her inquisitive mind, the special smile she gave him when he’d pleased her.

How he loved making her smile. He was ready to please her any way he could. All night long.

Kay shifted on the couch. She lounged against the armrest, swung her legs across the cushions until she was sprawled out provocatively. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as he sauntered nearer.

He grinned wickedly, and his fingers went to the buttons of his flannel shirt. Kay sat up straighter, her eyes riveted to his fingers, watching as, one by one, he undid the buttons and stripped off the shirt.

Next came his sweater, then his T-shirt and at last his thermal top. When his chest was completely exposed, Kay’s mouth dropped open and she rubbed the back of a hand across her forehead.

He winked, stepped closer. He was almost to the couch, his clothes strewn in a haphazard path behind him. Looking at her made him hungry all over again. And this time not for bread and wine, but for a taste of that sumptuous skin. He licked his own lips.

Yum.

Kay’s gaze traveled from his chest to his mouth and remained transfixed on his lips. Enjoying himself immensely, Quinn rounded the couch and slowly lowered himself beside her, his blue-jeaned thigh brushing against her stiletto heel. He watched the pulse at the base of her throat jump, felt a corresponding surge of blood through his body.

Tonight his goddess was going to come during intercourse. Tonight she’d be screaming his name in reverence.

He leaned across her legs, her knees hitting him midchest, the crush of fur against his nipples. He idly toyed with a strand of her hair, then oh-so-gradually traced his finger down her right ear.

She shivered.

Violently.

And closed her eyes. He watched the column of her throat work as she swallowed.

“What,” he whispered, “are you wearing beneath that coat?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” she invited.

His finger tracked a path from her ear to her cheek to her chin, then slid down that hot, hot throat to her collarbone, where he parted the fur coat, splayed his hand beneath it and found nothing but bare skin.

And he’d thought he had a raging hard-on before. That erection felt puny compared to this shaft of steel rising from him now. If he didn’t watch himself, this whole endeavor would be over in a matter of seconds.

He pushed his hand farther down, relishing in the feel of her silken flesh. He peeled back the coat, watched his man-size fingers glide over her smooth breasts. He inhaled as deeply as she when his thumb rasped over her nipple and he cupped the full globe, bent his head to kiss it, then looked up to meet her gaze.

Her eyes were glazed, her breathing thready.

“You look more delicious than red-velvet cake, sweetheart. I could eat you right up with my hands tied behind my back.”

“Oh, Quinn, you say the nicest things to me.”

“I mean what I say, Kay. I’m not a man who tap-dances around the truth.”

“And I love that about you.”

“Honesty can make a guy unpopular at times.”

“Not with me. I find it refreshing.”

“I find you refreshing.” His eyes gobbled her up. Strangely his heart felt too big for his chest.

“Nobody’s ever appreciated me the way you do.”

“By nobody, I’m assuming you mean that sorry son-of-a-dog you used to date.”

Kay nodded.

“Forget about him,” Quinn growled. “He was a jerk and he didn’t have any idea what a treasure he threw away. I appreciate you, darling. And don’t you ever forget it.”

“Don’t,” she said, her voice oddly choked, “be so nice to me.”

“Why not?”

“Because if you’re nice, I’ll want to stay, and we both know I don’t belong here.”

He said nothing to that because he wanted to beg her to stay. But Bear Creek had nothing to offer a blueblood magazine reporter from the most cosmopolitan city in the world. He could offer her no more than this. If Alaska hadn’t been enough for Meggie, who’d been born and raised here, how could it be enough for Kay? Most women, his sister included, considered Alaska a lonely place. He had no right even to ask her to stay. None at all. He was going to take what he could have and give her a night to cherish always.

“Let’s not talk anymore,” she said huskily. “Let’s just make love. Send me into orbit, big guy. I want to know what it feels like to frolic with the aurora borealis.”

Quinn wrapped his arms around her narrow waist, then leaned back against the opposite end of the couch and pulled her on top of him, until they were touching head to toe, her bare breasts flattened against his bare chest, the warm apex of her womanhood flush against the zipper of his jeans.

She let out a low, feral sound that inflamed him beyond measure. She nuzzled her face in his neck and whispered his name.

His hands skimmed down her luscious body, then back up again beneath the plush material of the fur coat. He kissed her throat, then licked and lightly sucked because he couldn’t get enough of the taste of her.

He rubbed her calves through the silky material of her stockings, and it was almost his undoing. He fondled the backs of her knees, then toyed with the garter at her thigh. His hands roamed higher, kneading the tight muscles of her compact tush until he was hot as a blowtorch and hard as the arctic tundra.

How was he going to last long enough to give her the pleasure she needed? The top of his head was going to blow off if he didn’t get some relief soon.

Kay writhed above him. “Quinn, you make me so wild. I never knew I could lose control the way I do with you.”

“Wild women wanted,” he murmured, repeating the tag line of his ad copy. He slid his fingers down between her thighs, found her wet and hot. “Are you wild for me, Kay?”

“Wild, savage, frantic.”

“That’s good. ’Cause I’m going to have to make love to you now, darling, or go insane.”

HE WAS BEYOND handsome to her. Beyond strength and size and manliness. He was clean and raw and unspoiled. He was pure man and pure animal. He and his instincts, his ancestry, blended together against all the edicts of the polite society from whence she came, and Kay loved him for that.

His mouth claimed hers. Roughly, sweetly. He tasted of heat and wine and soul. He smelled of Sitka spruce, wood smoke and lemony soap.

The life she’d always lived to satisfy the needs of her civilized culture was erased, as he framed her face with both hands and stared deeply into her eyes.

The pressure in her very center that had been building night after night was coiled tight, waiting to burst forth again in sweet release.

“Straddle me,” he whispered, gently pulling his lips from hers. “I want you to be in control. You need it this way.”

She arranged her thighs on either side of him. She felt the hard bulge of his erection throb against his pants, against her bottom. Her hands fumbled frantically with his belt, unbuckling it and jerking it through the loops with a slithering swish. She grabbed for the metal button, but was trembling so hard she couldn’t free it from the buttonhole.

“Let me.”

She shifted, rising on her knees and leaning her right side into the back of the couch. He raised his hips, undid the button, tugged down the zipper and shucked both his pants and underwear at the same time, shimmying them past his hips.

Kay took it from there. Grabbing the denim and his long johns, she pulled the garments off his legs and tossed them aside. Panting, she returned her attention to him, and her eyes widened as she surveyed the long, hard length of him, getting her first really good look at his impressive package.

When she’d dubbed him Paul Bunyan that first day on the plane, she hadn’t been far off the mark.

She stared, openmouthed. “You’re incredible.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, sweetheart.”

“I’ve got to have some of that.” She swung her legs over his torso again, her body clenching in anticipation of riding his erection into oblivion.

“Wait,” he said in a strangled voice, and struggled to sit up.

“What?” She stared. Dazed, glazed, starving beyond measure.

“I don’t have a condom,” he croaked. “They’re back at my place.”

Her face broke into a smile as she slipped her hand into her pocket and produced a small foil packet. “Let me deal with this one, fireman.”

Then with the inexpert fumbling of a woman who’d researched and written about such tricks but never tried them herself, Kay scooted down until she was sitting on his knees. She placed the condom in her mouth, leaned forward and, after a few failed attempts, successfully rolled it over his shaft.

Quinn groaned and shuddered so hard she thought he was going to come right then and there. “Give me a minute, sweetheart.”

She sat up, watched his face as he fought for control.

“Okay.” He held out his hands to her. “Come back up here.”

With the fur coat slapping seductively against her naked behind, she straddled him once more, facing forward. Remembering all those sexy tomes she’d read, Kay curled her hand around his shaft and slid him into the length of her.

She spread her hot wetness across the head of him, then lowered herself, impaled herself just half an inch, no more, then pulled up again. She rubbed her yearning cleft all over his swollen end, then let him slide a little deeper. She pulled away again.

And repeated the steps several times until, desperately, he grabbed her around the waist and yanked her down hard until her tight, wet, warmth engulfed his flaming erection.

Simultaneously they hissed in their breaths as they were fully joined for the first time.

Quinn was rigid as a slab of marble beneath her, his hands spanning her waist, his face twisted in a grimace of pure pleasure. He penetrated her, filled her up, filled the emptiness that had been inside her for so many years. Filled her beyond her knowledge of herself. She had never been so physically possessed.

Peals of pleasure unfolded and sang through her blood. She moved with him as if she’d been doing it all her life. Moved as graceful as horse and rider. Up and down. Agonizingly slowly at first, getting her bearings, adjusting to the thickness of him. She stretched out on top of him, her legs over his, her face cradled against his neck. She rocked her hips, pushing lower and lower until her cleft pressed directly against the base of his shaft.

“That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it,” he encouraged. “Take charge. It’s your turn to be in the driver’s seat.”

She reveled in her ability to do this for him, and she gave a cry of joy at the mystery of her woman’s magic, which allowed her to accommodate his maleness. She sat up, squatted over him, feet planted precariously in the yielding couch cushions just outside his thighs, hands on his chest for balance.

In an instant she was flying. Riding up to the tingling tip of him, then pounding back down. Every smack of her bottom against his hips produced in him the most erotic groans she’d ever heard.

He was close to jettisoning off the edge of reason. She heard it in his voice. Not yet. Not yet.

She stopped, then turned carefully, keeping him embedded inside her as she moved. She leaned her back against his chest, begged him to reach around and caress her breasts. She pulled her legs together on top of him and squeezed, the muscles of her thighs and buttocks effectively became a velvet vise around his manhood.

“Kay,” came his muffled, garbled cry, and she felt an awesome sense of power. “I’m about to come.”

“Hold on. There’s more.”

She knelt over his hips and leaned forward. She knew for him this was an incredibly erotic position. He had a spectacular view of her bouncing bottom. He could actually watch himself slip in and out of her.

Instinct urged her to quicken the pace, and soon she was thumping him so hard the couch vibrated. Soon, it seemed, the whole room was vibrating, singing with heat and energy and the dark pulsating power that emanated from the frenzied meeting of their bodies. Kay worried crazily that the small room couldn’t hold the blizzard force of their grappling union.

“Unforgettable,” Nat King Cole sang for the umpteenth time.

Kay felt both exalted and afraid. Her body was a glorious temple and he, Quinn, exalted her.

And that’s when she flew apart.

A tingly, heated buzz that started inside the deepest, wettest part of her and rushed forth to encompass every nerve ending, every cell.

She came. Hard.

It was explosive. The twisted emotions of a lifetime came pouring out of her. The frustration, the shame, the avoidance of intimacy all evaporated.

She was laughing, she was crying. Tears streaked her face, giggles shook her body. She’d done it! She’d had an orgasm during intercourse! She felt like the queen of the world. And Quinn was her king.

I’m not frigid, Lloyd. I’m not. You were wrong. So damned wrong about me.

She gasped, slid off him, turned around and collapsed against his chest. She’d always hoped it could be like this. Hoped and wished and prayed.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her, tenderly kissed her forehead, then brushed his fingers through her sweaty hair. “There, there, sweetheart. You did good.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, tears still choking her voice. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

14

QUINN FELT PROUDER than he had the day he had scored a hat trick to beat the Ketchikan Freeze in intramural hockey play-offs. He had done it. He had helped Kay achieve the orgasms she so deeply deserved, and he had still managed to hang on to his control. He hadn’t come, and he wasn’t through with her yet.

But for the moment, he lay basking in his accomplishment, her head resting against his chest, his fingers entwined in her hair, her scent all around him, her sweet taste in his mouth. He lay listening to “Unforgettable” play on and on, past the time when the station should have signed off the air. But he wasn’t about to get up and break this wondrous spell.

She’d taught him so much in a short period of time. How to be patient and tender and understanding. Unwittingly she’d shown him how to be a good husband, skills he would need when he found his life’s mate. By teaching Kay about her own body, he’d learned serious self-control. He’d also learned to put her needs ahead of his own. He felt grateful for these lessons and forever indebted to her.

She was an extraordinary woman.

As he lay watching her breathe, he began to kiss her. She roused and met his gaze with a lusty gleam of her own.

“More?” she asked.

“Don’t you know it?”

She purred deep in her throat. “Come here my burly bear of a man.”

He treated her to more foreplay, then when she was once again fully aroused, he moved her around and entered her from behind, his belly against her back, one hand kneading her breasts and the other steadying her pelvis.

Kay flung back her hair and cried encouragement. Her frenzy excited him. Harder, faster he moved, driving deeper into her willing body.

When she said, “I can’t bear any more, Quinn. I’m going to shatter into a million pieces,” he knew the time had come. A second climax was upon her. He slipped his hand from her breasts to her protruding nub and rubbed with a gentle, ceaseless caress until he felt the beginning of her contractions.

“I’m coming, Quinn!” she cried.

He groaned.

Nothing had ever sounded so beautiful. Nothing had ever galvanized him as much as those words. Her cries pushed him over the edge, and he let his body’s streaming heat launch him into oblivion.

Afterward they lay spent and content, suffused with well-being. They slept briefly. When they awoke, they talked of the sensations of their bodies, their physical desire for each other. Both avoided speaking of something deeper, of the emotions they were experiencing but afraid to express.

They reinvented kisses, warmed by the rhythmic blending of their breaths. No one had ever kissed like her. Kay’s mouth traversed erotic areas he never knew he possessed—the nape of his neck, a sweet section of skin on the tender side of his upper arm, the back of his ear. He returned the favor, licking and nibbling in unusual spots.

They murmured to each other, lips muffled against breasts, throats, bellies. Neither of them spoke of the future or the past. Nothing existed but now.

They held each other, cuddled and spooned. They pulled the fur coat over their naked bodies and reveled in their new discoveries. Both were happier than they had ever been. Or so it seemed to Quinn.

SOMETIME AROUND FOUR in the morning, a steady pounding on the back door roused Kay from deep slumber.

“Hey,” she whispered, poking Quinn gently in the ribs. “Someone’s outside.”

“Quinn,” a woman called. “Are you in there? Is everything okay?”

Quinn grunted and sat up, blinking and yawning. His disheveled hair stood in spikes all over his head. “I feel like I’ve been trampled by Kong.”

“There’s some woman outside, knocking on the door,” Kay said.

“Tell her to go away.” He grinned. “I’ve got more woman than I can handle right here.”

She pinched him lightly on the arm. “Don’t get cute.”

“Hey!” He rubbed the spot where she’d pinched, pretending it hurt. “You’re vicious.”

“Quinn!” the woman at the back door demanded. “Open up this minute or I’m gonna get J.C. to knock down this door.”

“J.C.?” Kay clutched the fur coat to her bare breasts.

“Sheriff’s deputy from over in Haines. But don’t worry. Even though it’s only five minutes by plane from here to Haines, it’s eight hours by road. She’s just making idle threats.

“Hang on, Meggie,” Quinn called, searching the floor for his clothes. “I’ll be right there.”

He dressed, then pulled open the door, Meggie tumbled inside.

“My gosh, Quinn, what happened? Did you fall asleep or something?” Meggie shivered and stomped snow off her boots. “I just got back from taking Liam and Candy to the hospital. I drove by the station and saw your truck was still here and the Wagoneer, too. Then Mack called me and said that on his way home he had the radio tuned to KCRK and you were playing ‘Unforgettable’ over and over again. So I came here to see what gives.”

“How’s the baby?” Kay asked from her place on the couch.

“Oh,” Meggie said, apparently noticing her for the first time. “You’ve got company.” She wiggled her fingers in greeting. “Hi, Kay. Listen, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

Grinning, Meggie started backing up.

“You didn’t.” Kay returned her smile. If her mother had taught her nothing else, it was how to make the best of awkward situations. “The baby?”

“Oh, they stopped Candy’s contractions. Looks like Liam Junior’s going to stay put until May, the way he’s supposed to.”

“That’s great news,” Kay said. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“I’ll just be going now.” Raising a hand to her face to hide her expanding grin, Meggie turned and rushed out the door.

“Guess we surprised her,” Quinn said. While she and Meggie had been talking, he had given Nat King Cole a rest and signed off the radio station.

“Guess so.”

He held out a hand to her. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s go home.”

LATER, IN QUINN’S four-poster, king-size bed, Kay lay looking up at the ceiling and listening to the reliable sound of his steady breathing.

He was sleeping on his stomach, one arm thrown around her waist, one leg pressed against hers. She loved that he wanted to touch her. Loved it and feared it.

Because as his body heated hers, his kindness, his tenderness, his unselfishness melted her heart. How had she grown accustomed to him so quickly? How had she come to anticipate his touch, to listen for the sound of his voice, to long for the flavor of his unique taste?

And how would she adapt when this was all gone? How could she ever be satisfied with her lonely New York apartment now?

He’d worked hard to give her a most precious gift. He’d held his own orgasm at bay, pushed his own needs aside for her. She’d never known a man like that. In fact, she had secretly doubted such men existed outside the pages of a romance novel.

But here he was. The man who’d taught her so much about herself.

Oh, the things he’d taught her.

Kay smiled into the darkness. His lips had branded her in the most private of places, marking her as his own. And she’d not only let him, but begged him for more. He knew her body inside and out.

All she wanted to do was bask in the afterglow, revel in the glory of their lovemaking. But she was afraid of her escalating feelings for him. Worried that she might be falling in love.

You can’t fall in love with him. It simply isn’t prudent. He’s from a different world. And besides, it’s not really love. You’re just infatuated. Grateful to him because he gave you the one thing that had eluded you for so long.

Sexual fulfillment.

No! her heart cried. It’s not infatuation, it’s something deeper, something more meaningful.

But her troubled mind, which for too long had been indoctrinated in staid thinking, wouldn’t let her indulge such nonsense.

Okay, challenged her brain. What if you are in love with him? There’s no guarantee he loves you back.

And even if he did love her back, she wasn’t the kind of woman he needed. A man like Quinn needed a practical wilderness woman. A woman who could start her own fires and bake sourdough bread. A tough sort of woman who didn’t turn blue in the cold and wasn’t scared of a tame moose. He needed much more than a lover. He needed a companion and a friend. But most of all, he needed a woman who wasn’t afraid of her feelings. A woman who could express her emotions and give herself to him wholly.

She could never be the kind of woman he needed. Never in a million years. If she’d learned anything from this adventure, she’d learned you have to be yourself. You can’t pretend to be something you’re not in order to please those around you.

She simply didn’t have what it took to make it in Alaska. And the sooner she accepted that, the quicker she could start getting over him. Because deep in her heart, she knew that if she let herself, she could fall madly in love with him.

THEY AWOKE around noon on Thursday. They’d spent the past few days in bed, barely coming up for air, packing a lifetime of sexual memories in four short days. Good thing she’d already completed the research for her article. Quinn made blueberry pancakes, and then they bundled up and took a frosty walk through the forest, both of them revved into overdrive with excess energy from the long nights before.

In silence they tramped through woods muted with snow. Overhead a pair of bald eagles soared. They stopped for a few minutes and watched the regal creatures wing their way across the sky.

Quinn took her hand in his, helping her to step over fallen logs and frozen creekbeds. He marveled at how small and delicate her hand felt in his.

When they reached a clearing, she pulled away from him, took a deep breath and looked up at the gray, cloud-strewn sky, awash in only a modicum of pale yellow light. Her elegance and private nature never failed to stir him on an elemental level. She was so damned self-contained.

Somewhere along the way—maybe it was living in a big city with so much stimuli to block out, or maybe it came from putting on a game face for the high-society crowd she came from—she’d learned the art of withdrawing quietly into herself. Just another facet of her personality that drew him to her.

He admired the graceful way she moved and the way her mouth tipped up at the corners when she was pleased with him. He adored the way she blushed so easily at things he said or did, and the way she’d tilt her head in his direction when she was listening to him.

Face it, he told himself, making love to this woman had been a gigantic ego boost. He would never have believed a wilderness man from Bear Creek, Alaska, could attract the likes of Kay Freemont.

Somehow he’d managed to have done just that.

But soon she’d be leaving.

Leaving him alone with this empty space in his chest. Quinn didn’t like that sensation. It made him feel helpless and vulnerable. And he hated feeling unprotected.

His emotions ran deep. So deep he was afraid to explore them. What if he actually spoke the word love?

You’d get hurt, stupid. That’s what would happen.

Kay was rich, well-bred, classy. She would never move to Alaska, and the notion of him moving to New York was unfathomable. It was best not to speak of his feelings, to deny them even to himself. Despite the fact he’d spent the better part of the past two weeks trying to get her to express her feelings, he was not going to follow his own advice. His best bet was to simply live in the moment and stop thinking about the future. He’d always been good at that.

Sometime soon he’d find a wife, and he’d forget all about Kay Freemont.

Liar!

He would never forget her. Not if he lived to be a 108. She was unforgettable.

The tune played in his head and, damn, if an odd lump didn’t rise in his throat.

“You look cold,” he said to her. “Maybe we should go back.”

“Okay,” she said simply.

Then for no reason other than he wanted to nurture her, Quinn scooped her up in his arms and carried her back to the cabin. He took her upstairs to the bed and undressed her. They made love again, slow and leisurely.

Later, when he looked down into her face, he saw tears glistening in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Sudden panic gripped him. “Did I hurt you?”

She gave him a watery smile. “Nothing,” she whispered. “I’m just so happy.”

He kissed the tears away, understanding immediately what she was feeling. Her tears tasted of her salty happiness. The happiness tinged with sorrow that this thing between them could never be more than it was right this moment.

He was the rebound guy. The tonic that gave her the strength to go forth and face the world again after being cheated on by her boyfriend. He’d served his purpose. He’d helped to heal her. That was enough.

Besides, tourist season was fast approaching, and he had a lot to do to get ready. They were adding new rafting trips to the itinerary for the cruise-ship excursions, and he had signed up to serve on the mountain-rescue squad once a week. And besides, he had a wife to find.

“I better go,” she said. “I’ve got to finish my article. I checked my voice mail, and Judy’s already left six panicked messages.”

“Will I see you again before you leave Bear Creek?”

“I’ve got an early flight on Saturday morning, so Mack’s flying me into Anchorage tomorrow night. I’ve booked a room in a motel near the airport.”

“This is your last day, then.” Amazing how they’d spent the past few days together without discussing the details of her departure. But they’d both been avoiding the inevitable, choosing not to speak of it until they absolutely had to.

“Yes.”

“I’ll come with you to Anchorage. We can share the room.” He quirked a smile. “One last orgasm for the road.”

THE LAST TIME they made love was bittersweet. Kay memorized everything. The way Quinn moved above her, the feel of his hands on her skin, the taste of him on her tongue. She imprinted the decor of the room, what they wore, the room-service meal they ate.

I’m making memories, she told herself. To sustain her through the hard days ahead. She had a lot to think about, a lot of soul-searching to do.

What did she want in her future? She knew one thing—she had to face Lloyd again, to confront him about how shabbily he’d treated her. Before she could move on, she needed that closure.

No one was going to believe the change in her.

But it was high time. And thanks to Quinn, she now had the courage to proceed with her life.

He sat holding hands with her in the terminal while the ramp workers de-iced the plane. Her heart lay heavy in her chest. A wave of feeling welled up in her, and she had to fight to keep from expressing it. He’d trained her too well. And there was so much she wanted to say, but the old Kay reminded her that silence sometimes was golden. She figured it was better to stay quiet and not tell him what she feared. Because what would he do with that information?

“I can’t thank you enough,” she said when boarding for her plane was announced. She stood up, and he rose to his feet beside her.

“Sweetheart, I didn’t do anything but take the lid off the box.” He smiled tenderly, ran a finger down her cheek. “You had it in you all along.”

“Thank you for believing in me. No one else did.”

“They didn’t see in you what I saw.”

“And what was that?” she asked breathlessly.

“Passion.” His eyes met hers. “Fire beneath the ice. Heat simmering under that unruffled surface.”

“I’m glad you’re so perceptive.”

“And I’m glad you picked me to help liberate you.”

“If you’re ever in Manhattan, please call me.”

“And if you talk your boss into doing a follow-up story on the bachelors of Bear Creek, I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

“I’ll put a bee in Judy’s ear.”

He took her hand. He started to say something, then hesitated.

Over the intercom, the gate agent announced last call for her flight.

“I gotta go,” she whispered.

He pressed his forehead to hers, looked deeply into her eyes. “You take care, Kay, you hear?”

“Same to you, big man.”

“Maybe I’ll call you sometime.”

“I’d like that.”

She slung her carry-on bag over her shoulder and started for the jetway.

“Hey, Kay,” he shouted as she reached the mouth of the jetway.

She turned, her heart hammering.

“Remember when I told you there’s supposed to be a lot of sunspot activity this summer?”

“Yes.”

“Mean’s the aurora will be highly visible. Maybe as far away as New York. Plus, the aurora does strange things to radio signals. If you’re lonesome some night, turn to KCRK. Maybe you’ll hear a song that reminds you of our time together.”

“I’ll do that.” Damn. She had to go before she burst into tears.

Luckily the flight attendant rescued her. “Please, ma’am, if you don’t move along, we’re going to have to shut the plane door without you.”

“Bye.” She waved gaily over her shoulder at Quinn, putting on her game face and pretending that her heart wasn’t splitting in two.

THE ADVANCE COPY of the June issue of Metropolitan magazine arrived in his mailbox in mid-April with a short note from Kay stuck to the front cover.

“Hope you like how the ad and article turned out,” she’d written in her elegant script. “My publisher was very pleased. See page 110.”

That was it? His spirits plummeted. He flipped to page 110.

There was the advertisement and on the opposite page was Kay’s article. “The Bachelors of Bear Creek Beckon; But Are You Gutsy Enough to Become a Wilderness Wife?”

He read slowly, cherishing every word, knowing Kay had written them. In glowing terms she exalted all the bachelors and their little town. Quinn’s chest filled with emotion when she lauded his skills as both a hockey player and a volunteer fireman.

She wrote of the stark beauty of the land, the soul-stealing majesty of the mountains, the water, the wildlife. She described the northern lights. She wrote about the fierce independence of the Alaskans, their old-fashioned values, their love of the land.

Pride filled Quinn’s heart. For his home, for Kay, for his life in Alaska. Obviously she’d fallen in love with the place.

But then came the negatives. Cold and darkness. Moose freely roaming downtown streets. Wolves and bears lurking in the woods. Danger aplenty. No convenience stores. No movie theaters. No shopping centers. No restaurants. She wrote of Liam and Candy’s baby scare, how the hospital was a long plane ride away. She wrote of the isolation. She wrote about the lonely sound of the wind whipping through the Sitka spruce on frozen winter nights.

And any hope Quinn had been holding out that she’d come back disappeared. Much as she might love Alaska, it was too different from anything she’d ever known. Asking her to move here would be like asking a salmon to sprout wings and fly, or asking an eagle to unhinge his feathers and dive into the depths of the ocean.

Their differences were what had attracted them to each other, but it was those differences that kept them apart. And the main reason he hadn’t called her.

Many times over the course of the past six weeks, he would start to pick up the telephone. But on each occasion, his doubts held him back. He feared he wasn’t good enough for her. He told himself she needed her space, needed time to get her life in order. Needed to see if what she felt for him was real or merely the result of him being the one to open her up to her own sexuality.

Hell, truth be told, he had no idea what she felt for him.

Besides, if he kept picking at the wound, his heart would never heal.

He closed the magazine. Closed his eyes. He could see her as plainly as if she was standing in front of him, cloaked in his grandmother’s fur coat and nothing else.

She was the sexiest, smartest, most savvy woman he’d ever known, and he’d been lucky to have her in his life even for a short while.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Since her visit, he’d lost ten pounds, because without her, food had no taste. He couldn’t sleep—the bed seemed too empty, so he threw himself into getting ready for the tourist season. He’d added a whole new wilderness adventure to his regular offerings. The business kept him occupied from six in the morning to very late at night. That was the point. To stay so busy he had no time to think of her.

Except it wasn’t working.

Quinn couldn’t comb her from the snarl of his thoughts. No one smelled as good as Kay. No one he knew spoke with her smooth, polished voice. No one had her sleek hairstyle, her dynamic way of walking.

She was special and he was never going to find anyone else like her, so he might as well stop trying and start concentrating on what he could have. Like the cute new guide he’d hired last week. Or any of the women who would undoubtedly show up when Metropolitan hit the newsstands in May.

Except he couldn’t seem to work up the energy even to think about dating.

Good grief, he thought suddenly. Was this more than mere infatuation? Could he actually be in love with Kay Freemont?

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

15

QUINN.

How she missed him, Kay thought as she sat in her office staring at page 110 of the June issue, which had come out in May and had been on the stands for three weeks now. Her gaze riveted on one of the four bare-chested bachelors stretched out like movie idols.

With a heavy sigh she traced a finger over his one-dimensional image and recalled what it felt like to touch him in the flesh. All sinew and muscle. All hard edges and solid tissue.

She thought about his winsome smile, his self-confident stance, the tender way he gazed at her when he didn’t think she was looking. She thought of his loving family, his good-hearted, down-to-earth friends.

Since coming home to her own family, she’d been doubly struck by how shallow and image-conscious they were. Lloyd had begged her to come back. Her father had demanded she reconsider his proposal. Her mother had clucked her tongue and told her she was no longer behaving in a manner becoming of a Freemont. And when she finally spoke her mind—letting loose with a stream of opinions she’d kept cloaked for twenty-seven years, opinions that differed vastly from Charles and Honoria’s rigid rules of conduct—they’d told her they didn’t want to see her again until she had come to her senses.

Kay had told them not to hold their breaths.

That’s when Kay realized exactly how much she had changed.

She no longer cared that her father was angry or that her mother was upset. She didn’t care if Lloyd got his nose out of joint or if her mother’s friends were furiously whispering gossip behind their hands. She was ready to make her own way, lead her own life, unfettered by the expectations of others.

Those two weeks in Alaska had transformed her.

Two weeks in Quinn’s arms enjoying orgasm after orgasm and learning how to take control of her life.

“Knock, knock,” Judy called from the doorway before strolling into Kay’s office, a manila envelope tucked under her arm. An ear-to-ear grin split her face.

“Hi.” Kay managed a smile.

“Guess what?”

“I’m not in the mood for guessing games, Judy.”

“Still pining over the Mighty Quinn?”

“No.” But even to her own ears, the denial rang false.

“Liar. But cheer up, I’ve got fabulous news.” Her boss perched on the edge of her desk.

“I’m listening.”

“Between the Bear Creek bachelors, your article and the contest, sales of our June edition are already up sixteen percent.”

“You’re kidding!” Kay gaped.

“Nope. And as a result, Hal’s not only giving you a tidy bonus, but he’s prepared to offer you the position of head writer when Carol leaves next month.” Judy clapped her hands.

“That’s nice.”

“Nice? Is that all you’re going to say? Kay, this is an opportunity of a lifetime.”

What Judy said was true. Kay had dreamed of being head writer ever since she graduated from Vassar and hired on at Metropolitan. But somehow it no longer seemed like such a big deal.

“You’re going to take the position, aren’t you?”

Kay shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Judy stared at her. “You’ve been acting downright weird ever since you got back from Alaska.”

“I’ve changed the way I look at things.”

“Yeah, you’ve taken several steps backward. You used to be so focused, so centered, so ambitious. What happened?”

What had happened indeed?

She’d learned a new way of being. She’d learned to listen for the cries of bald eagles soaring overhead. She’d learned to enjoy the sight of moose trotting down the main street. She’d learned to love a place where the northern night sky lit up in a dancing swath of colored lights.

Unmindful of Judy’s presence, Kay reached out to caress the photograph she’d framed on her desk. The picture Meggie had taken of her with the four bachelors at the Scofields’ party and mailed to her when she’d gotten them developed. They’d even exchanged a few e-mails since then, but Meggie only mentioned Quinn in passing, and Kay had been reluctant to come right out and ask direct questions about him.

In the photo Quinn was standing to her left, Jake to her right. Quinn’s arm was draped over her shoulder, and he was gazing at her with a tender expression on his face.

“Oh, my God!” Judy exclaimed suddenly. “It’s all so clear. Why didn’t I see it before? You’ve been moping around here for weeks like a sick puppy. You’re in love with the lumberjack.”

Kay’s head jerked up. “I’m not,” she denied.

“Oh, yes, you are.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Quinn and I were just…” What? Friends? No sir. Considering the sexual adventures they’d shared, they were so much more than that. Lovers? Well, not really. The word implied a long-term relationship. Two ships that passed in the night?

“Yes?” Judy arched an eyebrow, waited expectantly for her to continue.

“We had a good time together, but that’s all it was.”

“You sure about that? Your article was great. Full of emotion. You’ve never written anything so passionate,” Judy enthused. “And you showed both sides of the coin. The sexy bachelors, that homey little town, the beauty of Alaska versus the serious negatives. Any woman that snags one of those guys can’t say she wasn’t forewarned.”

Kay nodded.

“I was thinking, in case any of those bachelors does get married as a result of the article, maybe we could do a follow-up story. Would you like to go back?”

“I…I don’t know.” She would love to go back, but what if one of those bachelors was Quinn? Could she stand to see him with his new bride, his face shining with a happiness that had eluded them?

“Just think about it,” Judy said. “In the meantime I brought these for you to look at. Thought you might enjoy picking the winning contest entry.” She handed Kay the fat manila envelope.

“Thanks.” Kay put the envelope in her top desk drawer. “Anything else?”

“No, that’s all.” Judy turned to go, but stopped when she reached the door. “Kay, if you really are in love with this man, don’t let him go without a fight.”

SEVERAL HOURS LATER Kay carried the manila envelope in her briefcase as she walked swiftly down a side street in the misting rain. She’d been late leaving work after a powwow with Hal about the possibility of taking over Carol’s job as head writer. She’d tried for a taxi, but getting a cab in rainy weather was like getting good Chinese take-out in Bear Creek.

She’d gone through the bulk of contest entries Judy had given her, and while several were well written, none had jumped out at her. She had a few more to read, so she was bringing the rest home with her. But she couldn’t really concentrate on the contest. Her thoughts were on Quinn, and she allowed her usual mindfulness to slip. She didn’t even notice that she was the only person on the block, and when she passed a Dumpster, she didn’t even look behind it.

Big mistake.

A man grabbed her from the shadows and held a knife to her neck.

Kay was so startled she couldn’t even scream. Her brain went numb.

“Give me your purse, lady,” the man demanded. “And the briefcase.”

This simply could not be happening to her again. Mugged for the third time in as many years!

Resigned, she handed him her purse. But the clasp on her briefcase hung on her purse strap. He snatched at her things while at the same time throwing her to the ground. The briefcase burst open, and the manila folder fell to the ground beside her. The man ran off into the night, leaving Kay alone in the wet darkness bleeding from scrapes on her palms and knees.

It was almost midnight by the time she arrived home from the police station.

She plunked the manila envelope wearily on her bed. Her hometown. The place of her birth suddenly seemed like an alien and hostile place. Outside the window she heard the wail of an ambulance.

If only she had someone she could talk to. Someone who understood. She thought of Quinn.

Call him.

But what would she say? How would she begin? She wandered over to the radio, turned it to 840 AM as she’d been doing almost every night since she’d returned from Alaska. Even with her high-power radio, she’d picked up KCRK only a couple of times, and neither time had Quinn been manning the control booth.

She got nothing but a few staticky crackles. Glumly she sat on the bed. The manila envelope had torn during the encounter with the mugger, and one of the remaining contest entries was poking out. Idly Kay reached for it.

I want to go Alaska because I’m very timid, and more than anything in the world I long to be brave. If Alaska can’t save me, nothing can.

The heartfelt words reached out to Kay. The writer had touched something inside her. She, too, had gone to Alaska seeking salvation. And she’d found it. But in the end, she’d been too scared to act on her instincts. She hadn’t trusted herself. Or her true feelings.

She glanced at the name on the entry form. Cammie Jo Lockhart from Austin, Texas.

“Well, Cammie Jo,” Kay whispered. “Let’s see if you can do better than I did. This is your chance to test your courage. You win the contest.”

She closed her eyes and leaned back. Behind the static she heard a faint trickle of music. She cocked her head and strained to listen.

Paul Anka’s “Having My Baby.” She sat up, reached over and fiddled with the dial. The reception improved.

Kay’s heart clutched at the sound of that voice she knew so well.

“I’ll be standing in for Liam for the next couple of nights since Liam Junior got here. Hope you folks will bear with me. Since I’m at the controls and there’s one hell of an aurora tonight, I’m going to be talking to a friend of mine, hoping she can hear me. Kay, baby, if you’re out there, if you’re listening, these next two are for you.”

He played “New York, New York” and followed that with “Unforgettable.”

She promptly burst into tears.

What on earth was she so scared of in Alaska? If she could live in Manhattan with the muggers and the pollution, why couldn’t she make it in Alaska with a little darkness, a little cold weather, a few wild animals?

She missed that beautiful land. She missed Bear Creek. She missed the kind and welcoming townspeople.

And most of all, she missed Quinn.

What the hell was she doing in New York when everything she cared about was in Alaska?

THREE DAYS LATER Kay waited in line to board a plane bound for Anchorage. She was ready to begin her new life. She’d not only gone out on a limb, but sawn off the branch behind her. She’d sold off most of her belongings. And she’d quit her job at the magazine. Hal had been appalled at losing his best writer, but Judy had given her a thumbs-up and a ride out to JFK.

“Go get him, honey. He’s a keeper,” Judy had whispered in her ear as she gave her one last hug in the terminal before Kay passed through security.

The scary thing was, she hadn’t spoken to Quinn. She was taking a huge chance, and she knew it. But if she’d learned anything from her first visit to Alaska, it was how to take a risk.

Thanks to Quinn.

Showing up unannounced had seemed like a terribly free-spirited, romantic, un-Kay-like thing to do. But now that everything was in motion, she started to panic.

Shifting the shoulder strap of her carry-on bag, she shuffled forward as the line moved. To distract herself from her anxiety, she studied the jetway neighboring her gate. A plane from Anchorage had just arrived and a gate agent moved to open the door. A steady stream of people began to disembark. From her peripheral vision, she caught sight of a tall, broad-shouldered man.

And did a double take.

Her heart thundered like a calving glacier. Could it be him?

Nah.

Her line moved forward as her plane began to board. The big man in flannel and jeans was almost rounding the ticket counter. Was it him? “Quinn!” she shouted, not caring that people stared. “Quinn!”

The man turned his head.

Gray eyes met hers. Recognition dawned. Then he stared in stunned disbelief.

“Kay?” A huge grin split his face.

He dropped his bag. She dropped hers.

She ducked under the roped-off area separating the departing passengers from their visitors.

He dodged a mother pushing a stroller.

In four, long-legged strides, he had her, catching her under the arms and swinging her high in the air as if she weighed no more than a toddler. Strong emotions surged through her—joy, excitement, wonderment.

And something else.

Love.

Quinn held her tightly to his chest. She could hear his heart pounding as heavily as her own.

Then he captured her mouth and kissed her.

Ah, the taste of him. How she’d missed his flavor!

“Isn’t that sweet,” someone in the crowd murmured.

“Makes me remember our courting days, Melinda,” said someone else.

But it was all background noise to Kay, who only had eyes and ears for Quinn.

She kissed him hard and long. Kissed him in the airport terminal in front of dozens of openmouthed onlookers. She didn’t care what anyone thought. She didn’t care who she shocked or outraged. There was nothing wrong with expressing your love. And she refused to be ashamed of her physical urges any longer. He kissed her back until they were both gasping for air, and then he pulled away ever so slightly.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, at the same moment he said, “Where are you going?”

“I’m moving to Manhattan,” he answered at the same moment she announced, “I’m moving to Bear Creek.”

“What?” they cried in unison.

“Last boarding call for flight 1121 to Anchorage,” intoned a voice over the loudspeaker.

Kay looked over her shoulder at the gate.

“You’re not going now!” he exclaimed.

“No.” She shook her head ruefully. “But everything I own is on its way to Alaska.”

“And Meggie’s staying in my cabin. Jesse’s left her for an eighteen-year-old, and she’s devastated. She’s taken a leave of absence from her job, and she needed a place of her own to think things through.”

“Oh,” Kay said, genuinely sorry to hear about Meggie’s trouble. “I feel so bad for her.” As soon as she could, she’d give Meggie a call.

“It’s been a long time coming.” Quinn shook his head. “Jesse and Meggie were always too much alike to make a good couple.”

“That’s such a shame. Hadn’t they been married a long time?”

“Six years. But let’s not talk about Meggie’s problems right now.” He put his hand to Kay’s back and ushered her toward a row of chairs. “What happened to make you decide to move to Alaska?”

They sat down. His hand curled over hers. He couldn’t seem to let go of her. It was as if he feared that without his hands on her body, she’d disappear.

She told him then about everything that had happened. Her realization that her family were snobs and would never change. How she’d confronted them about their attitudes and behaviors toward those less fortunate. How her parents had withdrawn from her after she’d expressed herself. She told him about being offered the head-writer position and not wanting it. About getting mugged. About reading Cammie Jo Lockhart’s winning contest entry. And about hearing him dedicate those songs to her on the radio.

“I got the distinct impression the universe was trying to tell me something.”

“Sweetheart.” He kissed her forehead.

“It was the mugging that made the biggest impression. I kept thinking that if something like that happened to me in Bear Creek—and what are the chances of that? A million to one?—the whole town would come to my rescue. Meggie would doctor my scrapes. You and Jake and Mack and Caleb would track him down. Even cantankerous old Gus would be there to lecture the guy when you captured him.”

“You’re right about that.”

“I gave up my apartment. I quit my job. I wanted to go to Alaska. To come home. Quinn, Alaska has been in my blood and in my brain every since I left. I couldn’t stop thinking about Bear Creek, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Are you sure, Kay? You’d be giving up a lot. Success, social position, access to world-class shopping and cultural events. I can’t offer you the kind of things your father can. But I can offer you respect and a sense of community, and most of all my love.”

“Oh, Quinn.” She looked into his eyes. “Yes, I’ll be giving up a lot of things. But they’re only things, after all. I’ll be gaining my freedom and friendship, and most of all your love.”

“You really feel that way?”

Tears glistening in her eyes, she nodded. “Can’t you tell? But what about you? Look at the sacrifices you were willing to make for me. I can’t believe you’re moving to Manhattan. How were you planning to make a living?”

“Testing sporting equipment for Adventure Gear. I’ve already got a job.”

“What about your mountain-guide business?”

“I hired someone to manage it for me.”

“You’d be miserable in New York. This place would suffocate a wilderness man.”

He cupped her chin in his hand. “No, it wouldn’t. Not as long as I had you, sweetheart. It doesn’t matter where we are as long as we’re together. I decided I wasn’t going to let my stubbornness get the best of me anymore. I have a problem with compromise. It’s what came between me and my best friend Kyle. It’s what came between me and Heather. After a lot of soul-searching, I realized I wasn’t willing to give you up. This time I wasn’t going to let pride and stubbornness keep me from the woman I love.”

“You want to tell me more about that?”

“I gave you a hard time about not expressing your feelings, but when push came to shove, I couldn’t tell you what was in my heart. I was worried I wasn’t good enough for a classy lady like you and too damned proud to admit it. Then I remember that because of my stubborn pride, I lost my friendship with Kyle.”

“Oh?”

“I got angry with Kyle when he let Lisa wrap him around her little finger. It hurt when he chose her over me and Bear Creek. Lisa was the best thing that ever happened to Kyle, and he was smart enough to see it. I called Kyle recently and we talked for a long time. He made me see that I was throwing away a lifetime of happiness with you by being too set in my ways to change. I love Bear Creek, Kay, but I love you even more.”

“You mean it?” Emotion clogged her throat. She laced her fingers through his.

“I love the soft, little snoring sound you make when you sleep. I love that scar below your ear. I love the way your brain works, the way you figure through problems intelligently and methodically. I love that you understand my need for independence. I love the way your body feels curled against mine. I love the way you look at me. As if I’m something.”

“You are something.” She was trembling. Trembling with a deep yearning for this man. “I want you so badly I ache, but I’m still scared.”

“Fair enough,” he murmured, and pulled her onto his lap. “You know the drill by now. Talk to me, babe. Tell me what’s on your mind and in your heart. Don’t hide your feelings from me. Lay them on the table.”

“I’m afraid of bears,” she whispered.

He threw back his head and laughed. “Whew! You had me going. I thought you were afraid of loving me.”

“No! Not that. Loving you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Well, don’t you worry about those bears. We’ll bear-proof our garbage cans, and I’ll stock the house with bear repellent. You can wear bear bells wherever you go. I promise, honey, you’re far more likely to get mugged in New York City than mauled in Bear Creek. Besides, you’ve got me to protect you.”

It felt good to know that was true. She didn’t need him for protection, but she wanted him. She was brave enough to make it on her own, but why should she have to when she had a man like Quinn?

“I’m so hot for you I can taste it,” she whispered, running a finger along his lips. “Now let’s find a hotel. When you made love to me, big man, you started something big.”

TWENTY MINUTES LATER they were ensconced in a hotel room near the airport. Quinn tipped the bellboy, closed the door and turned to Kay with his best George-Clooney-on-the-make imitation.

“Come here, you.” He crooked a finger at her.

Kay ran to him.

He whisked off her clothes, and to his utter delight discovered she was wearing a garter belt and those black seamed stockings underneath her blue jeans.

“You kill me, woman, you honestly do,” he said, pinning her to the bed.

“How so?”

He raked his gaze over her body. “Those stockings,” he croaked. “Have you no idea the effect they have on a man?”

Kay could feel his body heat radiating through her bare skin. Teasingly she turned her head and nipped at his wrist.

“So take your clothes off,” she said, “and let’s make up for lost time.”

“Hang on. There’s something I’ve got to do first.”

“What?” She sighed, too hungry for him to wait any longer.

He rolled off her and perched on the edge of the bed. Kay sat up and tucked her legs beneath her. He reached into the pocket of his mackinaw and withdrew a small, black, velvet box.

“Oh, my God!” Kay put her trembling hand to her mouth as Quinn cracked open the box with his thumb. A beautiful heart-shaped diamond ring in a platinum setting winked up at her.

“I’d intended on waiting. After I got to New York. Found a place. Romanced you some more. But I can’t wait anymore. I put out an ad for a wild woman to become my wilderness wife. And from the moment I met you, even though I tried to deny it, I knew you were the one for me. Kay, you’re beyond my wildest dreams. I never believed I was good enough for you, but you’ve never made me feel that way. You’ve made me feel like twice the man I was before.”

“Oh, my God,” she repeated, staring into the depths of his eyes.

“Will you marry me, Kay?”

“I can’t…I mean, I will…” Her hand was shaking so badly she couldn’t hold it still. Her stomach fluttered as if someone had let a million mad butterflies loose in it. “Oh, just let me show you.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with all the passion she’d stored for just the right man to shower it upon. By taking a chance, by opening up and sharing her feelings, she found that intimacy she’d craved for so long.

“Is that a yes?” Quinn gasped a few minutes later.

“Yes.”

He had to capture her hand at the wrist to hold it steady while he slipped the ring onto her finger. “Marry me in New York. Marry me today. Marry me now.”

She shook her head. “No. Not today. I want to get married in Bear Creek. With all your family and friends. I’ll marry you when we get home.”

Home.

The band of emotion that had been getting tighter and tighter the closer he got to New York and Kay loosened, and his eyes stung with tears of hope and happiness. “I love you, Kay, I always will. Now and forever. Here or in Bear Creek.”

“And I love you.” She touched his heart. “I can’t wait to start steaming up those northern nights with you.”

“I’m not waiting until we get back to Bear Creek for that.”

In a flash Quinn shucked his clothes, lay down on the bed and pulled Kay on top of him.

“You know,” she said as he planted kisses over her bare belly, “there are going to be a lot of disappointed women when they show up in Bear Creek and find there’re only three eligible bachelors instead of four.”

“But think of the article possibilities,” he said, and made a frame with his hands. “I can see your title now—One Down, Three to Go. How I Landed the Wilderness Guide.”

“Well, it definitely needs some tweaking, but you just might have something there, big guy.”

“I’ll show you what needs tweaking,” he murmured, his tongue heading for a very sensitive place.

And the next thing Kay knew she was shooting into space with Quinn piloting the rocket, proving once and for all that she was indeed a very wild woman.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

A Thrill to Remember

By Lori Wilde

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

Contents

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

1

WHO WAS THAT masked woman?

Spellbound, Caleb Greenleaf watched the auburn-haired lady in red strut through the front door of the Bear Creek, Alaska, community center and into the rowdy, masked costumed ball hosted by New York City’s trendiest women’s magazine, Metropolitan.

“Red, hot and rockin”’ he muttered under his breath, narrowing his eyes and studying her more closely in the muted, atmospheric lighting.

Tall. Curvy in all the right places. Good legs.

Correction. Very, very good legs.

In fact, showcased so fetchingly in those four-inch, heartbreaker-red stilettos, they might even be the most stupendous pair of gams he’d ever clamped eyes upon.

The tight, scarlet bustier she wore snugged her luscious body like a second skin. The satiny material flared out provocatively over those generous curves before nipping in again at her narrow waist.

Below the bustier she had on crimson tap pants that barely covered her bodacious bottom. Then came vermilion fishnet stockings topped with a black lace garter that set his pulse charging like a stampeding bison. She was as vibrant as a Vegas showgirl and three times as sexy.

The term brick house permeated his brain.

He recognized the lingerie. Had seen similar attire at Dolly’s House, a brothel museum in Ketchikan, gracing the voluptuous wax figure of Alaska’s most notorious gold-rush madam, Klondike Kate.

What a costume.

What a body.

What a woman!

Who was she?

Brazenly, Caleb ogled, not the least bit ashamed of himself, which wasn’t like him at all. No hound dog, he. In fact, he was leaning against the wall in the insouciant slouch he’d carefully perfected for unwanted social occasions such as this.

An introvert by nature, he found his job as a naturalist for the state of Alaska suited his personality. Caleb spent a great deal of his time alone, in the outdoors, and he treasured his freedom. He avoided big parties, but since he was one of the guests of honor, he couldn’t steer clear of this shindig. Even though townspeople, husband-hungry wannabe brides, curious tourists and an assortment of media types packed the community center, he was suddenly very glad he had come.

Just inside the foyer, she hesitated. He observed her make the conscious decision to proceed in spite of her fear. She squared her shoulders, pasted a smile on her luscious lips and sallied forth. That split second of vulnerability, followed by her resolute marshaling of courage, touched him in an oddly tender way, and he almost applauded.

In she stalked. Boom-shaka-boom-shaka-boom. Her breasts bounced jauntily.

Wowza!

Watching her bottom sway caused Caleb’s body to tighten, his temperature to spike and his breathing to quicken. A seething longing gripped his gut. In conjunction, the wistful flavor of yearning burned on his tongue. He wanted her. Badly.

She aroused him with the stunning impact of blunt force trauma. No woman had aroused him quite like this since the object of his very horny teenage fantasies—Meggie Scofield.

He grinned crookedly at that memory. At one time he’d been so infatuated with his best friend’s sister Caleb had thought he would never get her out of his head. And unfortunately, Meggie, who was two years older, had never seen him as anything more than a surrogate kid brother. It had taken both a stint in college and his stepbrother Jesse marrying Meggie for him to let go of his youthful obsession.

As the last of the four Bear Creek Bachelors who had advertised for wives in Metropolitan magazine, Caleb had just about surrendered all hope of finding someone who inflamed him in the same way Meggie once had. But then, out of the clear azure sky, in marched sexy Klondike Kate, piquing his interest and stirring long dormant passions.

Was she a tourist? He knew everyone in town. She certainly wasn’t a local. Maybe she was with the magazine.

He couldn’t stop staring at her. She sashayed over to the bar, ordered a glass of wine and started chatting up the bartender. Lucky bastard.

Look at me, Caleb willed her. Forget that joker and look at me.

As if compelled by his silent entreaty, she raised her head and glanced across the room.

Their gazes clashed like lightning striking. Hot. Intense. Compelling.

Heavy-duty.

Her eyes widened behind the showy red-feathered mask that hid the upper portion of her face. She moistened her lips with the tip of her pink tongue and Caleb just about came undone. In an instant, his overactive imagination transported him to a world of his own making.

She’s splayed spread-eagle across his big, king-size bed in that daring damned underwear.

“Come here,” she invites.

He’s out of his clothes and beside her quicker than you can melt butter in a microwave.

She kisses him with a vital pressure, thrusting her honeyed tongue against his. Heat rushes to his groin, whetting his voracious appetite.

He unhooks her bustier, allows it to fall open and expose her full, creamy breasts. When he growls low in his throat, she closes her eyes and softly coos, “Help yourself.”

Bending his head, he takes one budded pink nipple into his warm mouth. She hisses drawing in a breath. Desire shoots through him. She encourages him to continue by holding his head in place.

“Harder,” she whimpers. “Don’t be gentle.”

Reaching down, she runs her hand over the length of his shaft, greedily signaling to him exactly what she needs. Her fingers tangle with the leather strings on his pants and she gives a series of short firm jerks that send a shower of sparks scorching through his groin.

He is beside himself with cravings for this marvelous creature. He could take her right here, right now, with no thoughts except to quench his undying thirst for her. But he doesn’t. He wants her to be as desperate for him as he is for her.

Hungrily, he cups her breasts together, filling his palms, so he can easily drift from one to the other with a quick flick of his tongue.

Her moans almost send him over the edge of reason, plunging him headfirst into a world of sensation of which he has only dreamed.

Pure heaven.

He feels himself grow stiffer, not even realizing such hardness was possible. His brain is addled by the sweet scent of her womanhood, the luxurious touch of her hair, the heavenly taste of her skin, the hypnotic sound of her voice.

More. He had to have more.

“Hey, guy.” A lithesome brunette dressed as Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, sidled up to him and shattered his reverie.

“Yes,” he replied rather curtly. Gee thanks, lady, for interrupting the grandest fantasy I’ve had in years.

“Ooh, the dark, brooding type. My favorite.” She circled her index finger around the rim of her champagne glass and batted her eyelashes at him.

Aggressive women had approached him many times before. Especially after he’d made it rich and even more especially after the June issue of Metropolitan had hit the stands. All too well he recognized that flint-edged expression in her eyes, and he could almost hear the cha-ching sound of a cash register echoing in her head.

Gold digger, he diagnosed, right off the bat.

“So, who are you suppose to be?” Elvira purred.

“What?”

Her gaze roved over him. “Let me guess. Zorro?”

“No.”

She snapped her fingers. “I know. You look like Johnny Depp in that movie Don Juan Demarco. You’re supposed to be Don Juan, the infamous Latin lover.”

“Uh-huh.” Caleb nodded, barely glancing at the woman. He wished she’d go away and let him resume his fantasy.

“So say something sexy to me.” She winked.

He frowned.

“Brooding and silent. Okay, then I’ll say something sexy to you. I really love the way your leather pants fit, if you catch my drift.”

Great. He was lusting after Klondike Kate but he’d gotten stuck with Miss Hot-for-Your-Wallet.

Undaunted by his lack of response, Elvira continued. “Somebody told me you’re that millionaire bachelor. Is that true?”

“Sorry.” He shook his head. “Don’t have a penny to my name.”

“Oh.” Her eyes rounded in alarm as if she’d just stepped in a big pile of something unsavory with her expensive designer shoes.

And his friends claimed he was too cynical. Well, he had his reasons.

From the beginning of this whole advertising-for-wives venture, Caleb had been reluctant to join his friends. Not that he was afraid of commitment—he did yearn for the same intimacy and happiness the ad had generated for his three buddies, Quinn, Jake and Mack. But given his family’s history of numerous weddings and divorces, stepfamilies merging and then dissolving, he was a bit leery of marrying for any reason other than true love.

You’re paranoid, Greenleaf. Terrified of getting involved with a woman like your mother who ditches rich husbands for even richer ones. Or of winding up like your dad, down and out after two failed marriages.

Okay, all right. Perhaps he was sensitive on the subject. And maybe he did have trust issues when it came to women.

At age twenty-seven, he had amassed a small fortune by translating his love of the wilderness into a lucrative dot-com company that supplied indigenous flora and fauna to universities and laboratories. When he’d sold the company in the midst of the bull market and parlayed his hobby into a cool million, he’d discovered that other than impressing his hard-to-please, social-climbing mother, the money had been a hindrance rather than a boon.

He realized too late he shouldn’t have worn the attention-grabbing Don Juan costume. He couldn’t say why he’d chosen the guise of the infamous lothario. Perhaps because he was nothing like the gregarious Spanish lover and it was easier pretending to be something he wasn’t. More than likely it was because the outfit had been fairly simple to put together.

But if he was honest with himself he would admit the Don Juan masquerade did elicit a certain confidence in him. Something about these leather pants, shiny black boots, dashing cape, dapper fake mustache and billowy white pirate’s shirt stoked his confidence in a way he couldn’t explain. The costume served as a conduit for the darker side of his personality and dared him to act upon impulses he normally would have suppressed.

Like the urge to glide across the room and introduce himself to Klondike Kate.

He had never been one for casual sex, although in college he’d indulged in a few short-term flings in an attempt to douse his desire for Meggie. But the woman in red made him so darned hot that he was ready and willing and open for just about anything.

Short-term, long-term. He didn’t care. He just wanted to get to know her.

And, after much speculation, he was ready to call off the wife search and plunge headlong into a reckless affair in order to ease his sexual frustration.

Tonight he was suave Don Juan.

Anything was possible.

Go on. Do it.

He searched for his crimson goddess, but she had walked away. He was bereft for a moment, but then he caught a flash of red as she disappeared into the costumed throng gyrating on the dance floor in time to a jivey disco version of “Wild, Wild West.”

He exhaled.

“Wild, Wild West” morphed into “Super Freak.” Blood strummed in his temples and his heart pounded like a headhunter’s drum. Panic scratched through him at the thought she might leave the party before he could speak to her.

Where had she gone?

“Will you excuse me?” he asked Elvira, and before she could reply, he pushed off from the wall and went to prowl through the crowd.

After several minutes of searching, he spied Klondike Kate sitting alone in a cloth-backed chair positioned in a dimly lit alcove just off the main hall.

He smiled to himself.

Gotcha.

One high-heeled shoe dangled from her hand and she was slowly massaging her foot. At the sight of those delicate toes, painted not stark scarlet as he might have suspected, but a beguilingly innocent cotton-candy pink, Caleb’s lodged in his throat. She inclined her head, exposing the gentle sloping curve of her neck, and he had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning out loud. His gut constricted, his muscles loosened, his body warmed—and extreme reaction he recognized but could not seem to control. His unexplained nervousness scared him, smacking of a weakness he did not want to accept.

Don’t let her get to you.

It had simply been too long since he’d had sex. That was why he was so susceptible to her allure. No other reason.

Yeah, right. If mere horniness was what motivated him, then why not take advantage of the dozens of women who’d thrown themselves at him all summer?

Nope, this was different, even if he couldn’t say why.

Klondike Kate started to lean forward to slip her shoe back on, but stopped short. His gaze tracked her movements. He noticed one of the hooks on her bustier had snagged the chair’s tweed cloth.

Squirming, she tried unsuccessfully to dislodge herself.

This is your chance to meet her, Greenleaf. Don Juan to the rescue.

Heart thudding, he hurried over, boldly leaned down, pressed his mouth to her ear and heard himself whisper in a debonair Spanish accent that sounded nothing like his natural voice, “Please, allow me. It would be my greatest honor to assist you.”

DON JUAN’S MANLY HANDS rested on her bare back, his fingers finessing the hook of her bustier.

Meggie Scofield caught her breath, stunned that the drop-dead gorgeous man in the black leather mask who had been staring so blatantly at her ever since she strolled into the community center was touching her in a most intimate fashion and causing a frisson of heat to spread fanlike over her tender flesh.

No. No. This was much too soon. The guy was more than she had bargained for. She wasn’t ready for this much masculine attention.

It had taken every ounce of courage she possessed—plus generous encouragement from her friends and a hefty quaff of chardonnay—to stroll into the party wearing this skimpy outfit. If she hadn’t been so darned determined to shed her goody-goody image she wouldn’t have made it this far.

But now she was paralyzed, intoxicated by the smoldering nearness of this stranger. He stood so close his spicy cologne filled her nostrils with the bracing combination of orange zest, piquant cinnamon and rich licorice. He smelled like a holiday feast.

Anticipation, charged and fiery, crackled between them. Adrenaline shot through her veins, prickled her sensitive skin, seeped beneath the auburn wig she wore over her coal-black tresses.

Who was he? And why did he seem so fascinated with plain ordinary Meggie Scofield, when a man like him could have any available woman in the room?

It’s the costume, ninny.

Disquieting heat waves shimmered through her body as his fingers tripped down her spine. She shivered and shifted away from him.

“Hold still,” he murmured in a low Spanish accent so erotically seductive it caused the fine hairs at the nape of her neck to lift. “I fear sudden movement will render your beautiful garment worthless.”

“Sorry.”

“No reason to apologize.”

Her heart hammered restlessly. His leather-clad hip was level with her shoulder. She dropped her gaze to his knee-length, shiny leather riding boots, and had to force herself not to shiver again.

For some reason she could not fathom, Meggie envisioned rubbing her fingers over the soft, fluid folds of his silky white shirt. The unexpected image sent goose bumps skittering up her arm, and the budded tips of her breasts stiffened against the lace of her bustier.

She gulped.

This whole moment felt weirdly surreal, as if she were moving in slow motion through a favorite recurring dream. When she was younger her secret fantasies had been chockful of ferociously naughty characters like Don Juan. Rock stars and motorcycle men. Pirates and Vikings and irascible black sheep. But those days were gone. She’d had her fill of rogues, and she was finished with living vicariously through risk-taking men.

She wanted her own adventures.

Except her body wasn’t listening to her mind’s vehement denial.

“There,” he pronounced. “You are free.”

Meggie leaped from the chair, almost careening into him in an urge to remove herself from his disconcerting proximity.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Unable to resist peeking, she shot him a sidelong glance. The intense blue eyes lurking behind his black leather mask rocked her, upsetting her equilibrium.

“You’re most welcome.”

He kept his voice low, and she wondered if the Spanish accent was real or if it was simply perfected for his Don Juan persona. She remembered then that she was supposed to be in character, too, and she should be speaking with the bawdy, teasing drawl of Klondike Kate. But bowled over by her body’s unexpected response to this stranger, she couldn’t force herself to speak above a whisper.

Whoever this guy might be in real life, in costume he was a dead ringer for the infamous Spaniard. Had he chosen his costume because he was indeed a masterful lover?

He caught her watching him, and Meggie’s stomach fluttered. Deliberately, he raised a hand and slowly traced an index finger over his pencil thin mustache in a surprisingly intimate gesture.

Her gaze darted from his eyes to his mouth and back again and her chest squeezed.

Look away! Look away!

But she could not.

His audacious gaze collided head-on with hers. Smoldering, fervent, deeply blue. He possessed the sort of eyes to make any woman tremor with sexual anticipation. Eyes that promised a thousand taboo pleasures.

He didn’t smile; his expression remained one of inexplicable containment. His lips were full; his jawline solidly masculine.

Who was he?

There was something incredibly powerful about the secrecy of his masquerade. Was the man beneath the mask just as potentially explosive as he appeared?

His masculine aura of supreme self-confidence seduced her, while at the same time made her extremely skittish. Her heart galloped and she did, indeed, tremble. Meggie hated the torturous, achy sensation and the helpless vulnerability that such potent physical attraction implied.

“You are cold.”

Say something flip and flirty. Something Klondike Kate would say, the voice in the back of her head urged.

But overwhelmed by this man and her body’s response to him, she couldn’t find her tongue.

He whipped off the black cape from around his neck and settled it over her shoulders. At the simple pressure of his hands, Meggie’s heart popped.

“There.” He stepped back. “Warmer?”

“Much,” she croaked. The cloak smelled of him, all delicious spice, rugged leather and masculine male.

He was staring at her again, and everywhere his gaze roamed, her body burned.

Helplessly, she found herself imagining his fingers traversing the same ground his eyes had just traveled. Her breasts engorged with heated desire. She was very aware of him as a virile, potent man.

Disconcerted, she stared down at her feet and realized to her chagrin she was wearing only one shoe.

Good grief, why had she just now noticed that? What was the matter with her?

Why didn’t he say something?

Why didn’t she?

Meggie glanced around the room, desperate to distract herself from the intensity of his scrutiny. The community center was crowded with tourists and townspeople alike, everyone decked out for the lavish, end-of-summer masked costume ball. Excitement and mystery tinged the atmosphere as everyone tried to guess who was who.

The costume theme was “notorious characters from history,” and guests wore a wide variety of attire, from Attila the Hun to Bonnie and Clyde.

Animated conversations buzzed around her. A cavalcade of delicious scents wafted from the buffet—onions, garlic, rosemary, freshly baked bread, a banquet for the senses. Liam Kilstrom, the disc jockey from KCRK—the local radio station her parents owned—spun a kicky, raucous song by Pink that had everyone on their feet. But Meggie couldn’t seem to focus on anything except the perplexing pull of the exotic masked stranger and his unwavering stare.

She wished he would cut it out.

Now she could say she knew exactly how a goldfish felt.

Exposed.

He leaned over, picked up her orphaned shoe and indicated her bare foot with a nod. “May I?”

Numbly, Meggie plunked back down in the chair and extended her leg.

Don Juan sank to one knee, cupped her heel in his palm and, like Prince Charming with Cinderella, gently slipped the scarlet shoe onto her foot.

The warmth from his hand was too much. She felt as if she’d slipped into a vat of melted chocolate.

He stood. Unbidden, her gaze tracked a path down the length of him. His body was hard and lean and muscular. A honed body that spoke of time spent outdoors, not lingering behind some desk.

Impressive.

He was a provocative specimen, from his thick unruly black hair, which contrasted starkly with the pristine white of his collar, to his broad-shouldered torso that tapered down to the narrow waistband of those exquisite leather pants.

This was way too much excitement for one night. This evening was supposed to be her coming-out party. The first time she had attended a public function since her divorce six months earlier. The first time she’d done anything remotely social since taking a leave of absence from her job as a pediatric nurse in Seattle.

She’d returned to Bear Creek under the auspices of helping her mother while she recovered from ankle surgery. But in truth, Meggie had come back to the safety of her hometown in order to regroup and lick her wounds.

She refused to get trapped in a rebound situation. She wasn’t about to repeat her past mistakes by falling headlong for some totally inappropriate guy.

You could just have a wild affair.

Impossible.

She felt her face heat at the very suggestion. Meggie Scofield was not a wild affair kinda gal. She was too sensible, too responsible and too darned cautious to leap without looking.

One thing was clear. Because she couldn’t seem to trust her own emotions, she had to get away from this guy. Fast.

Grabbing her clutch purse, which had slipped into the crack behind the chair cushion, she jerked a thumb in the direction of the ladies’ room.

In a tight whisper she stammered, “I’m gonna…I just gotta…go.”

A smile curled his lips, as if her nervousness amused him. He looked as if he might say something else, but Meggie didn’t wait to hear it. She darted from the chair and made a beeline for the bathroom, her heart pounding as it never had before.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

2

SEVERAL MINUTES LATER her three best friends found her hiding out in the ladies’ lounge, head tucked between her knees as she tried not to hyperventilate.

“Meggie! Are you okay?” Kay Freemont Scofield, Meggie’s new sister-in-law, settled herself on the sofa next to her and draped an arm around her shoulder.

Woefully, Meggie raised her head. “Fine if you consider a five-alarm hot flash fine.”

“Does it have anything to do with that hottie in the Don Juan costume we saw you talking to?” Classy, native New Yorker Kay looked stunning in her Mata Hari costume. Then again Kay, a Charlize Theron look-alike, would be stunning in a tow sack.

“Certainly not. I just got overheated in that crowded room.”

“Don Juan looks like he could definitely steam up the sheets. Need an ice pack?” Sassy Sadie Stanhope, dressed as Marie Antoinette, wriggled her eyebrows and parked her fanny in front of the vanity mirror to freshen up her makeup.

“No,” Meggie declared, reluctant to admit her helpless attraction. But then she ruined her nonchalant pose by asking, “Do you know who he is?”

“Nope.” Kay shook her head. “But he is adorable.”

Adorable? That wasn’t a label Meggie would have chosen for that studly slab of manhood. Her heel still burned from his touch.

Reaching over, Cammie Jo Lockhart rubbed Don Juan’s silk cloak between her fingers. “Cool cape. Did you two play superhero and damsel in distress?”

“Don’t be silly, I did not play anything with that man. I was cold. He lent me his cape. End of story.”

“Wait a minute. I thought you said you were overheated.”

“That was before.”

“Before what?” Cammie Jo grinned.

“Before Mr. Hot-Bod draped his cape over her shoulders.” Sadie measured off an inch with her thumb and forefinger. “Come on, Megs, are you sure you’re not just the teeniest bit interested in him?”

Meggie shook her head. “Okay. So the man is sexy. Big deal. I’ll tell you what the real problem is—this costume. I told you guys it was a big mistake. I look like some third-rate hooker. He probably thought I was a hooker.”

She got up to lean over Sadie’s head and peer at her reflection in the vanity mirror. Kay had helped her get ready for the party, and she’d spread enough makeup on Meggie’s face to frost a cake.

But at the same time she was protesting, a quiet thrill of pleasure rippled through Meggie. She had managed to attract the attention of a very handsome man. Still, in this racy disguise she felt like an inexperienced driver behind the wheel of a souped-up muscle car.

So much flash. So much power.

So darned much potential for disaster, whispered her voice of reason.

The same confounded voice that had kept her tied to outmoded values for far too many years. The same stick-in-the-mud voice she had desperately tried to quell when she had allowed her friends to talk her into this outrageous costume.

“Don’t be silly,” Kay said matter-of-factly. “Klondike Kate is the perfect alter ego, and you look fabulous in that bustier.”

Meggie twirled, the cape whirling about her waist as she peeked over her shoulder at the mirror. She sighed. “It makes my butt look big.”

“Stop cutting yourself down,” Kay said. “You’ve got a great figure.”

“Not according to Jesse,” she muttered blackly, narrowing her eyes at the reflection of her well-rounded bottom.

“Oh, screw Jesse.”

“Not anymore, thank you very much. I’ll leave that to the eighteen-year-old groupies,” Meggie said in a tart tone that caused Sadie and Cammie Jo to lapse into gales of laughter.

“As well you should.” Kay nodded.

Jesse’s leaving hadn’t hurt nearly as much as his cruel parting shot. He had told her point-blank she was a lousy lay and that’s why he had been forced to stray from their marriage bed.

“Face it, Meggie. You’re a dud in the sack,” he had said, lashing out at her. “Sock puppets are more fun than you.”

Meggie winced at the memory. His words hurt because they were true. She wasn’t very adventuresome when it came to sex, and she’d always preferred snuggling to the actual act. Not that her ex had been much of a cuddler.

Kay, Sadie and Cammie Jo had rallied around, just as they were now, helping her through the rough spots with too much chocolate and lots of laughter. Most surprisingly, and most comforting of all, however, was the support she’d gotten from Jesse’s stepbrother, Caleb.

Caleb was such a sweet guy, concerned that she might be humiliated or worried that the rest of the family thought ill of her. He had come to see her at her parents’ house right after he’d found out about the divorce, just to assure her that everyone understood and sympathized with her.

“You’ve got to stop judging yourself on what other people think,” Sadie advised, “and find your authentic self.”

“Thank you, Dr. Phil.”

“Sadie’s right. You are much too good for Jesse’s sorry ass.” Kay picked up on Meggie’s sadness.

In a moment of weakness, she had confessed to Kay the whole sordid details of their breakup, which included finding black thong panties that definitely weren’t hers dangling from the kitchen ceiling fan.

“You shouldn’t let him squash your self-esteem. If I can come out of my shell, so can you,” Cammie Jo said. After meeting her husband-to-be, bush pilot Mack McCaulley, she had recently been through a startling transformation of her own.

“Cammie Jo makes an excellent point.” Sadie nodded. “You need to reclaim your womanhood. Declare your independence. Redefine your sexuality. It’s way past time you started to live a little.”

Live a little.

Just the mention of those three short words caused Meggie’s heart to flutter with anticipation. She thought of Don Juan and her stomach did cartwheels. Did she have the guts to go back out there and start a conversation with him?

A conversation that might lead to…where?

An edginess nibbled at Meggie, challenging her to do something forbidden. She felt concurrently hot and cold and bizarrely excited.

“If you’ve got it, flaunt it,” Kay said.

“I’m not much of a flaunter.”

“It’s time you started. You’ve spent too much of your life taking care of other people. Your mother’s ankle has healed. You’re going back home to Seattle tomorrow to begin your new life as a single woman. What better time to start taking care of numero uno than right this minute?”

Kay spoke words of wisdom, but Meggie felt uncomfortable admitting her vulnerability. She was a nurse. She was supposed to be the strong, reliable one. She blew off her shortcomings with a laugh, pretending a sharp sticker of emotional pain did not skitter low in her belly.

It wasn’t so much sadness over Jesse’s betrayal. Truth be told, she was relieved to be out of the unhappy union. Their marriage had died long before the divorce; she just hadn’t had the gumption to bring it to its natural conclusion.

Rather, the tight coil of anxiety resulted from realizing she’d wasted so much time trying to be what Jesse had wanted her to be in order to hang on to something that wasn’t right in the first place.

A nurturer by nature, she’d never put her own needs first. Meggie had spent her entire life looking after others in one way or another. As a kid, she had taken in every stray animal she had stumbled across, and she’d helped her mother care for her invalid grandmother. As an adult, her natural ease in providing moral, emotional and physical support had led to a career in nursing, which was a source of constant pride.

Unfortunately, her need to be needed had also led her into an unsatisfactory marriage. She’d fallen for Jesse because he was everything she was not. Lively, animated, adventuresome, freewheeling. He played in a hip-hop band, drove fast cars and was always surrounded by people.

She had mistakenly believed he could give her the courage she lacked, while at the same time convincing herself she could offer him stability and security. She’d been drawn to the fact that he’d needed her, but not long after their wedding, the problems surfaced.

All too clearly now, she could see her mistakes.

What she’d once perceived as Jesse’s ability to take life nice and easy was in actuality irresponsibility. He was always on the road, leaving her at home to take care of everything—the bills, the house, the cars. She’d been as good as single for the past five years, but without the freedom to choose for herself what kind of life she really wanted.

“Remember,” Kay said, uncannily reading her mind. “The best revenge is a life well lived. Come on, Meggie. Let your hair down. Don’t be ashamed to explore.”

“You’re absolutely right.” Sounded good, anyway.

“This is your chance. You’ve been stagnating and you need something to snap you out of the doldrums. Don’t be nervous about spreading your wings. Now is the time to fly.” Sadie threw in her two cents worth.

Why not? Under the protection of her Klondike Kate guise, Meggie could flirt with Don Juan to her heart’s content. No one in Bear Creek, other than her three friends, would ever know whose face lurked behind the red-feathered mask. She was anonymous.

Why that thought should thrill her so, she had no idea, but it did.

She would flirt with Don Juan and dance with him.

And?

Who knew? She might do something totally out of character for her, like make out with the guy in a darkened alcove.

Live a little.

Take a chance.

Carpe diem.

Just the idea of taking a walk on the wild side caused her throat to constrict and her palms to perspire.

“Go back out there and flirt with Don Juan,” Kay insisted. “You’ve got nothing to lose.”

“Yeah,” Sadie agreed. “What’s the worst that can happen? He has no idea who you really are. Play the game. Have fun. You deserve it.”

“And just in case…” Kay opened her Gucci handbag and produced a roll of condoms.

“Kay!” Scandalized, Meggie slapped a hand over her mouth. She had never in her life had a one-night stand. Did she dare start now?

“Always be prepared.” Kay grinned and slipped the condoms into Meggie’s purse.

“I don’t need those. I’m not going to be doing anything like that.”

“You never know what might pop up.” Kay winked. “Better safe than sorry.”

Meggie nibbled her bottom lip. She was very open to suggestion right now—susceptible, vulnerable, fragile—and she knew it.

But that knowledge couldn’t quell her long-ignored need to shake up her complacent world. She would take Jesse’s betrayal and use it as a stepping-stone to a whole new Meggie. Why not?

And here were her dear friends, supporting her, encouraging her, egging her on with their spunky you-go-girl attitude. They recognized that she needed a little masculine admiration to repair her tattered ego. It seemed they knew her better than she knew herself.

She wanted this, Meggie realized with a start. She was twenty-nine years old, newly divorced and fighting off a deep-seated dread that life was sprinting by her at a dead run. This might be her last chance to really explore her limits and relish her youth.

Question was, did she have the courage to go for the gusto? Was she brave enough to reach for what she wanted? To explore the secret sexual fantasies she’d never shared with anyone? A weird sense of panic scampered through her. Did she possess enough chutzpah to initiate something wickedly wonderful with Don Juan?

Or was she going to end up a lonely old spinster with a houseful of Siamese cats, pining sadly for what might have been?

Take a risk. Who knows what you’ll discover about yourself? whispered an audacious voice in the back of her mind—the voice she’d spent a lifetime denying because it scared her so.

Go for it. You may never have a chance like this again.

“METROPOLITAN WOULD LIKE to thank the Bachelors of Bear Creek for taking out that wonderful advertisement. You guys single-handedly boosted the magazine’s circulation by twenty percent.” Kay Scofield stood on the stage at the back of the community center, microphone in hand, her husband, Quinn, by her side.

She smiled at Quinn with a shining love that made Caleb’s gut hitch with jealousy. All the bachelors had found someone to love except him.

“And on a more personal note…” Kay stared deeply into her husband’s eyes “…I want to thank you for making me the happiest woman in the world, Quinn. I’m honored to be your wife.”

“Aww!” The crowd sighed in unison when Kay stood on tiptoes to kiss her husband, who was dressed, appropriately enough for his size, as Paul Bunyan.

“This party is also to celebrate the impending marriage of Sadie Stanhope and Jake Gerard.” Kay scanned the audience. “Sadie and Jake, please take a bow.”

Liam, the disc jockey, shone the spotlight on Jake and Sadie, who were swaying together in the middle of the dance floor. Jake waved his hand and Sadie blew kisses to the crowd.

Caleb shook his head and grinned to himself. Those two were a pair. He’d never thought fun-loving Jake would settle down, but Jake had met his match in Sadie.

“Wedding is December 16 at our B and B,” Jake said. “Remember, you’re all invited.”

“And Cammie Jo Lockhart and Mack McCaulley,” Kay continued, “are you out there?” She raised a hand to her forehead to scan the crowd.

Liam flashed the spotlight to the corner of the room, interrupting the two lovebirds in the throes of a deep kiss.

Someone whooped with delight. Cammie Jo blushed and ducked her head. Mack grinned like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The audience applauded.

In a very short time Bear Creek had changed considerably, and mostly for the better. Not only had Caleb’s three best friends gotten hitched or engaged, but the population had grown from fifteen hundred to almost two thousand.

Some of the ladies that had arrived in response to the ad had fallen in love with Alaska and decided to stay, even though they hadn’t found a husband. Some of the fellows from surrounding communities had moved in, hoping to catch the eye of one of those ladies. Bear Creek was growing and changing from a summer tourist resort into a real town. Part of Caleb liked the changes. Another part of him feared his hometown might one day lose its rustic appeal as an increase in population tamed the wilderness.

“The ad’s success rate stands at seventy-five percent,” Kay continued, once everyone had settled down. “That’s pretty darned impressive, but the magazine would love a hundred percent success rate. There’s only one bachelor left. Caleb, where are you?”

He took a step back, not interested in being thrust into the spotlight.

“Caleb?” Kay called out. “Come on up here.”

That’s when he realized no one knew he was dressed as Don Juan. Relief washed through him. All he had to do was keep quiet. He didn’t want Klondike Kate to know he was the millionaire bachelor, which would seriously alter her perception of him. At least for tonight he wished to remain incognito.

“Caleb, where are you?” Kay coaxed.

Meggie cocked her head to one side and peered through the crowd, hoping to spy her ex-stepbrother-in-law. She hadn’t seen much of Caleb this summer—he’d been too busy fending off love-starved ladies, while she’d been sequestered at home taking care of her mother.

But since she was catching the first plane out of Anchorage tomorrow morning, this would be the last chance she’d have to say goodbye. She was very happy that her divorce from Jesse hadn’t caused any hard feelings between them; Caleb was a good, stable, honest man. The kind of guy she should have married.

“Caleb?” Kay repeated for the third time, but he did not appear. “Anyone seen Caleb?”

Meggie wasn’t surprised, although she felt disappointed. Caleb wasn’t much of one for parties or crowds.

“Well, I guess all you single ladies are out of luck. Seems our most eligible bachelor has flown the coop,” Kay said. “But on a positive note, the buffet is now open for business. Enjoy, everyone.”

Meggie kept searching the crowd, but when her gaze landed on Don Juan, she forgot all about Caleb.

Don Juan was talking to a razor-thin woman in a black cat suit. Meggie immediately felt fat and dumpy in contrast. She shook off that feeling. She wasn’t going to think negatively. So what if she was a size twelve and not a size two? Just because her ex had preferred rail-thin women, that didn’t mean everyone did.

Don Juan turned slightly, and she could see his stunning profile made all the more intriguing by the camouflage of his mask. She stared at his full, ripe mouth.

What would he taste like?

She knew the answer deep within the most hidden parts of her. He would taste like sin. She pursed her lips and slowly released a pent-up sigh.

He angled his head, caught sight of her from his peripheral vision and smiled very, very slightly, as if he harbored a hundred sexy secrets. No one else in the building would have noticed the glance, the smile, so subtle was his execution.

But Meggie did.

Go on over and put on a show. Pretend to be Klondike Kate.

She wanted to, but she was afraid of so many things. Like making a mistake, or getting in too deep.

How deep could you sink, Meggie? You’re leaving town tomorrow morning, never to see Don Juan again.

Not knowing exactly how to deal with her unexpected sexual desires, she sought sublimation. The buffet beckoned. She hurried over to the table, picked up a plate and started down the serving line.

With a cocktail fork, she leaned over to spear a moist, pink shrimp, but before she could retrieve her succulent prize, someone on the other side of the table got to it first.

“Hey,” she protested, then raised her head and caught Don Juan’s stare head-on.

He stood before her, the fat, slick shrimp impaled on his fork. Leaning forward, he dangled the seafood mere inches from her lips. Damn if he didn’t possess a small, wicked smile tilting up one corner of his mouth.

Meggie’s stomach did the hula and her knees loosened. She had the sudden urge to sit right down on the floor so she wouldn’t topple over from his body heat.

“I will share with you, belladonna,” he murmured with his captivating Spanish accent, rolling the word belladonna around in his mouth, savoring it as if it was the finest Belgian chocolate money could buy.

Slowly, Don Juan lowered the shrimp until it lightly brushed her bottom lip. Meggie flicked out her tongue to whisk away a drop of juice. Audibly, he sucked in his breath, his eyes never leaving her face.

Her heart careened into her rib cage, and she felt oddly enchanted. Determined not to let him know exactly how much he had affected her, Meggie shrugged and stepped back.

“On second thought I think I’ll skip the shrimp,” she said, affecting Klondike Kate’s uncultured inflection.

“Why is that?” he whispered. “Are you afraid?”

“Afraid?” She avoided looking into his eyes again. “What’s there to be afraid of?”

“Some say shrimp is an aphrodisiac.”

“Old wives’ tale,” she pronounced, really getting into the gold-rush madam’s brogue.

“So why not take a bite and see?”

He was flirting with her, no doubt about it. Meggie didn’t know what to do. It had been a very long time since someone had flirted so openly with her. She wanted the attention and yet she didn’t.

“No, thanks.”

“Ahh,” he said knowingly. “I understand.”

In spite of her best intentions not to meet his eyes again, Meggie had to slip a quick glance his way to see what he was ahhing about. She was immediately sorry she had. Sympathy for her shone on his face.

Damn. She didn’t need his pity. She didn’t want anyone’s pity, and she’d spent the past six months trying to convince everyone in Bear Creek of that fact. Now here was this masked stranger, reading her every emotion as if he truly knew her.

“You’ve been hurt by love.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh please. Anyone over the age of eighteen has been hurt by love.”

“But you’ve been hurt recently and you’re afraid to try again.”

“Hush up,” she insisted, but her pulse sprinted through her bloodstream.

How could he know this about her? Who was he? Was he from her hometown? If so, then who was he? No local man had ever set her libido to whirling the way this guy did. Bear Creek was too small, everyone too much like family.

“He has made you doubt your desirability as a woman,” Don Juan said. “He is a terrible bastard. Do not concern yourself with him.”

Her chest suddenly felt tight and she had the strangest urge to laugh and cry all at the same time.

“Look at me,” he insisted. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not in pain.”

For pity’s sake. With a sigh of exasperation, Meggie stared him squarely in the face.

And lost herself.

With that warm smile and lusty expression in his eyes, Don Juan made her feel womanly, wanted and appreciated. Cherished. It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a very, very long time.

Entranced, she felt ensnared in a provocative reverie. A dreamy vagueness settled over her, wrapping her in a warm envelope of altered perception. She didn’t know if it was the masks or the wine or Don Juan’s solicitous smile, but she experienced a drowsy sense of peace.

Something about him seemed comfortingly familiar, as if she’d met him in another life. Except Meggie didn’t believe in that stuff. Even though she couldn’t exactly explain why, she felt safe in his presence.

Don Juan was the tonic she needed. The physical vehicle for her emotional healing. This magnetic man could be the cure for the psychic malaise that had dogged her for years.

In that instant, Meggie knew she was going to sleep with him.

MAGIC.

His costume was magic. It had to be. Caleb could think of no other explanation for his miraculous ease with the beautiful mystery woman. Wearing the mask and fake mustache was a liberating experience. He could be anyone. He could say and do anything.

Hell’s bells, he felt as if he were channeling Don Juan himself.

He was breathing hard, and roughly, the shrimp still dangling from his outstretched fork as he waited for Klondike Kate’s sweet, crimson lips to part and sheathe the tender morsel.

Their gazes locked. Who was she really?

She was breathing as hard as he, the gentle swell of her chest rising and falling in a mesmerizing rhythm. Holding him enthralled.

She reminded him vaguely of someone. But who? His mind probed the question but arrived at no answer.

Kate’s green eyes were lively and intelligent, the top half of her face hidden by the red-feathered mask. She wielded her tongue like an instrument of torture, touching it lightly against her upper lip as if purposely trying to make him lose control.

The visual impact slugged him. Hard.

His blood flowed hot and viscous through his veins. The way she gazed at him, like a curious innocent intent on exploring a brave new world, clutched something deep inside him and refused to turn it loose.

In that brief endless moment, as they faced off across the buffet table, the wet, pink shrimp as the prize, Caleb memorized everything about her not swaddled by the mask. The way she smelled of fresh summer rain, making him ache to bury his face in the curve of her neck. The fine brown freckles that lightly decorated her upper chest, exposed so engagingly by that red bustier. The irregular pounding of her pulse at her jawline. The sweet ruby bow of her lips.

And the completely gut-scorching realization that beneath the satin and lace of her flimsy undergarment, her nipples were standing at erect attention.

He almost groaned aloud.

“Excuse me,” Genghis Kahn interrupted, leaning across the table between them, tortilla chip in hand. “Could I get at that crab dip?”

Flustered, Caleb moved aside at the same time Klondike Kate blushed prettily, smiled and turned away.

Damn. The moment was lost.

Or was it?

Caleb ate the shrimp himself, hurried around to her side of the buffet table and boldly took her elbow. Instantly, his fingers tingled at the warmth of her soft skin. He pressed his mouth next to her delicate ear and murmured in a muffled growl, “What is your name?”

She lowered lashes so dark and long they brushed against her mask with a whispery rasp. “Now, now, that’s not part of the game.”

“And what is the game?” he asked, his voice thick with feeling.

“Secrecy. Anonymity. Mystery. That’s the fun.”

“You’re not going to tell me your name?”

“My name is Klondike Kate. Don Juan, I presume?”

He took the hand she offered him and pressed the back of it to his lips, as if he’d performed the courtly gesture a million times. He clicked his heels and bowed.

“At your service.”

“I am flattered. The famous lothario gracing the halls of my brothel. Perhaps, Señor Juan, we can teach each other a few tricks.”

Ah, but she was extraordinary. One minute blushing shyly, the next sassily playing at being a brothel madam in that whispery tone that obviously wasn’t her real voice. Just like him, she was playing a part. Her words hung between them like a physical entity, their meaning sinking into his brain one vivid movie-reel image at a time.

She wanted to teach him a few tricks.

Holy macaroni!

He was going to combust right there on the spot. What a game. Suddenly, he knew he had to get her alone.

“Wrap up your plate,” he said, barely remembering to keep up his Spanish accent. “Take it to go. We’ll have a picnic in the forest.”

“The forest?” Her eyes widened and for a moment he thought he’d panicked her and she was going to back out of their little masquerade.

“Twenty yards right outside this door, and you’re in the Tongass National Forest.”

“You don’t say.”

He waited. “Well?”

“I don’t think I’m really in the mood for food,” she murmured.

“No?”

“My appetite is of a different nature.”

Caleb thought he was going to break out in a sweat right then and there. “Mine as well.”

“You go on ahead.” She cast a surreptitious glance around the room and settled her plate on an empty table. “And I will follow. One can never be too careful. There might be spies.”

“Spies?” He knew this was just part of her charade, but damn if he wasn’t turned on by the thought of being observed. “Who is watching us?”

“Why, any number of your women, or my men.” She winked. “We must keep our clandestine affair secret. No sense making our other lovers jealous.”

Caleb gulped.

Potential scenarios tumbled through his head, each more stimulating than the next. He was cast iron hard, and the leather pants did nothing to arrest his arousal. All she had to do was glance down and she would know his every illicit thought.

“Go,” she urged in an imperative whisper that charged his libido. “Hurry, before we are spotted. I will meet you in the forest. Wait for me.”

She pressed her hand to his forearm, setting off monster ripples of sensation straight up his shoulder and into his chest, to his belly and beyond—a tautness, an electrical impulse, a dynamic combustion that made it difficult to string two words together.

“Don’t stand me up,” he growled.

“I won’t. Now just go.” She pushed him toward the front door.

Then, before he could respond, she turned and disappeared out the side exit adjacent to the stage.

Caleb had never done anything like this before—scheduled an amorous rendezvous with a woman he did not know and might never meet again. He was by nature a quiet, solitary man guided more by his brains than his body or his heart. But ever since putting on that Don Juan costume, he’d been transformed.

Tonight he was different.

And so was she.

Caleb sensed this was as much an erotic adventure for the mysterious Klondike Kate as it was for him, and he was bound and determined to make it a night neither of them would ever forget.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

3

WHAT IN THE HELL had she just done?

Had she gone completely mental? Could the stress of the past six months have caused her to take leave of her senses and chase after the first man who showed her some attention? So what if Don Juan was sexy and handsome as Hades, and apparently more than willing to indulge in flirtatious games? None of this explained her uncharacteristic behavior.

Her brain squawked, telling her how foolish she was to take such a chance, but a tiny voice in the back of her head whispered, “Seize the moment. For once in your life, Megan Marie Scofield, live a little.”

Then again, maybe her real motivation was more of a compulsion than any sincere desire to take charge of her life. From the moment she’d spied him lounging so lawlessly against the wall, she’d felt…well, something special.

As she picked her way through the forest in the twilight, her condom-filled clutch purse tucked beneath her arm, Don Juan’s cape flapping about her shoulders, her heart rate thudded faster and faster, headed straight for the danger zone. Still, she couldn’t seem to make herself turn around and go back to the party.

She was like a songbird unaware it had been caged until one day the door was left open and the opportunity to fly presented itself. Should she take wing and explore the brave new world extending before her? Or stay safely hunched on her perch, watching life pass her by?

The answer wasn’t difficult, even to her conflicted brain. Don Juan was simply too exciting, and too good-looking, the prospect of making love with him far too sweet to be denied.

Besides, when was the last time she had been so sexually aroused? Never? Ever? Could he actually teach her to let go of her hang-ups in bed? She owed it to herself to find out.

Her shoes bogged in the mossy carpet of undergrowth beneath the towering hemlocks and swaying Sitka spruces. She was glad she’d taken the time to change into the sensible footwear she kept stashed in the trunk of her car.

A blueberry bush, devoid now of its berry harvest, grazed her leg, startling her. The air was heavy with moisture and she heard nothing beyond the gurgling creek and the faint hmm of voices and music from the party she’d left behind.

Oh dear. Where was Don Juan? She had expected him to stay close to the perimeters of the forest, where she could find him easily.

“Come.”

She heard the whisper, low and seductive. She wasn’t certain from which direction it originated.

He was concealing himself from her, ratcheting the game up a notch.

Meggie bit down on her bottom lip, tasted the opulent flavor of her own lust. She was nervous, confused, curious and extremely turned on.

What was going to happen next?

“Don Juan?” She heard a faint rustling in the trees, then nothing more.

In the phantom of rapidly dwindling daylight, she walked through the forest, pushing back vegetation, stepping gingerly over tree roots, eager not to fall and sprain her ankle. A sprained ankle would definitely blow the moment.

And the last thing she wanted was a dose of reality. She wanted to escape, as she had of late in the pages of fantasy romance novels. What she longed for was to disappear in this dreamy netherworld. She could easily envisage unicorns and fairies, woodland sprites playing flutes and dancing around magic toadstools. She ached for a pretend world of virginal maidens, stalwart knights and deep, undying passion.

Her friends had regaled her with their own tales of acute throbbing desire. Of lust at first sight. Of being drawn helplessly into earthly pleasures beyond emotional control. She’d never really believed those stories, even though she had desperately wanted to. Hadn’t known such intensity of physical feeling was possible.

Until now.

She stopped walking.

He’d been here. On this path. Right where she was standing. She could smell him. As individual as a fingerprint, his scent hung in her nostrils like a primal memory.

A faint fear, tinged with escalating anticipation, pinched her solar plexus in a dazzling heat that hastened her footsteps and sent her heart staggering headlong into a restless, thrashing rhythm.

Another step deeper into the gloaming. Another and then another.

Twigs crunched beneath her feet. A fingered fern crept across her ankle. A bubble of fear caused her to jump, and then laugh at her own spooked state.

Nothing to be afraid of. She was in control of the situation. She wasn’t little Red Riding Hood evading the Big, Bad Wolf. She could turn if she wished and go back to the party. Nothing was keeping her here except her own inquisitiveness and her escalating imagination.

Walking up a slight embankment, she glanced left and then right, saw only the tall, thin thrust of tree trunks and the full orange moon rising over the horizon.

Was it possible to breathe any faster and not faint from hyperventilation? Could her stomach possibly squeeze any tighter? Could her knees grow any weaker and not dissolve into noodle soup?

He was enticing her, this man. And she wanted him to capture her, no matter how sinfully foolish her subterranean desires.

Goose bumps pricked a warning, raising the hairs on her forearms and the nape of her neck.

He was near. She could feel him.

CALEB WAS IN HIS ELEMENT. The forest. The wilderness. Home.

He inhaled her on the cool evening breeze. Sweet, ripe, glowing. Soap, perfume, saltiness. The luscious aroma stirred a pulsating pressure of impulsive hunger deep within his masculinity.

Like predator to prey her scent drew him. His mouth watered and every fiber of his being grew taut, every male sense alerted to the wondrous female encroaching on his territory.

Relentlessly, her womanly bouquet lured him. Silently her body entreated, Come to me. Pheromones. Natures mating call. As surely as any hapless male moth enticed to a flame, she ensnared him with her spinning scent song.

He could not resist.

Through the copse of trees he caught a flash of crimson, a glimmer of her auburn hair, the sound of her teasing laugh.

“I see you,” he crooned in his heavy Spanish accent.

“Come and get me,” she dared, and darted from his sight.

He heard the sounds of her feet crashing through the woods. Grinning, he followed.

The hunt was on.

Every cell in his body strummed to life in a way he’d never experienced. Feverish heat punched through his system like a fist through a paper bag, tattering any shred of civilized behavior. A savage hunger dogged him, his feral passions mounting in shocking disregard for decorum.

He wanted her—in a way he’d never wanted another. Not even Meggie in his teenage years.

He moved with long, easy loping strides, knowing he could effortlessly outlast her.

This was his every naughty fantasy come true.

SHE’D CAUGHT A GLIMPSE of him back there. Silhouetted at the top of the embankment, with the fat full moon at his back, he’d been watching her with hooded eyes.

Consumed by both thrill and trepidation, she slipped away the minute she realized he had spotted her, too. She had issued a challenge that reverberated in the silent air.

Come and get me.

She pushed through the undergrowth and then realized with a start that she was lost. It had been a long time since she’d visited the Tongass, and she had no idea which direction Bear Creek lay.

Licking her lips, she furtively scanned the forest, every muscle in her body tense with anticipation. In the moonlight, she spotted a clearing just ahead of her.

She moved toward the opening, not knowing if she should go there, risk exposing herself to him and foiling the fun, or stay secluded and draw out their play. But she needed to get her bearings and discover her location.

Cautiously, she emerged and peeped through the trees to see a pond shimmering in the moon glow. Beside the pond squatted a small skaters’ cabin, meticulously maintained by the forest rangers. As kids she and Quinn, Caleb, Jake and Mack had shared many happy memories there. Ice skating on the frozen pond, laughing, joking, teasing each other, and then slipping inside the cabin to warm up with hot chocolate and marshmallows toasted over a fire in the black potbellied stove.

Her heart gave a strange tug of nostalgia at the memory. As a young woman, she couldn’t wait to leave Bear Creek for big-city lights. She’d thought she would never miss anything about living in the isolated wilds of Alaska. But seeing that little cabin again reminded her that Bear Creek could provide her with something special that Seattle never could—cherished childhood memories.

She heard the rustle of leaves and slipped back into the sheltering trees.

Don Juan was behind her. Coming quickly but quietly, as if he knew every step of the path.

Hide! a giddy, childish impulse urged her.

Trying her best not to giggle and give away the game too soon, Meggie looked for a good hiding place. Trees trunks loomed on either side of her, tall and imposing but narrow and thin.

She crawled behind a spruce, hoping that if she stood sideways and stayed as still as possible he wouldn’t immediately spot her in the gloom. Pulling herself tall, she pressed flat against the trunk, closed her eyes tight, strained to hear, and waited.

Nothing. Except for the wind whispering faintly through the trees and her own blood roaring in her ears, there was only silence.

She held her breath.

Her heart lub-dubbed

Had he gone? Given up already?

Oh, no. Please don’t let that be so.

She wanted to look, to move, to breathe, but hated to end the suspense. Not just yet.

Sweat popped out on her brow despite the chill.

An uneasy minute passed.

Still nothing.

Finally, unable to hold her breath any longer, she let out a soft whoosh of air and inhaled deeply.

She waited, breathing hard.

That’s when his viselike arms clamped around her waist.

Meggie let out a shriek, the sound reverberating throughout the forest, and dropped her clutch purse. But he did not let her go. In fact, those ropy, muscled arms wrapped more tightly around her.

“You are mine now, slippery minx.” His lyrical Spanish accent stroked her ears, transporting her deeper into the magical dream.

He was standing behind her, securely holding her bottom pressed flush against his groin. She could feel the heat and hardness of his throbbing erection through the inconsequential restriction of his leather pants. His hand came perilously close to her womanhood, cloaked so thinly by the satiny tap pants. Her flesh felt seared, achy, desperate.

She wanted to see his face. To read the expression of the eyes beneath that mask. As if intercepting her thoughts, he spun her around, clasping her wrists in his hands, and held her restrained.

“You make my blood race,” he said.

God, she loved the way he’d been masterfully setting the tone from the moment he’d approached her at the buffet table. He seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear.

Two could play this game. Meggie swallowed hard, valiantly tilted her chin and met his gaze. “You make my body ache.”

“And you bring me to my knees.”

She saw sexual hunger in his eyes, yes, but tenderness as well. He caressed her with his gaze, as if he knew precisely where to touch and how to torment her with sweet, exquisite pleasure.

“You’re feeding into my most taboo fantasies,” she told him.

“I know.”

“I want to feed yours as well. What are your most wicked desires, Don Juan?” Meggie thrilled to her own bravery. “How can I captivate you?”

He pulled her flush against his strong, solid chest and she inhaled the arousing scent of a man in his prime. They generated so much body heat, pressed together, that Meggie could almost feel the steam rising from their contact.

“Can’t you guess? I like to play games.”

Anonymity had all sorts of benefits, she decided, nuzzling his neck. She was catching the early morning flight to Seattle. The whole population of Bear Creek was inside the community center. No one would ever know she had slipped into the forest with Don Juan. It was just their little secret.

“But we must make sure neither of us does anything to truly scare the other,” he said. “Agreed? Nothing too freaky.”

“So you’re kinky, but not freaky.”

“Exactly.”

“No S and M.”

“No.”

“Bondage?”

“Not unless you want it.”

Meggie licked her lips. “Maybe just a little.”

He chuckled. “We need a word. Or a sign. In case things go too far.”

“You’re right.”

“How about something simple, like ‘enough’?”

“All right. Things get out of hand and if either one of us cries ‘enough,’ the other backs off.”

“Agreed.”

“Okay, the ground rules are set. What next?”

What next indeed?

His lips were so near, his warm wafting across her mouth.

She wanted to ask him what he was going to do next, but the words would not come. If her very life had been threatened she could not have spoken. She could do nothing but wait in suspended animation for the abracadabra magic that would break his spell.

And then he kissed her.

His lips were warm, soft and perfect. Damn, but the man could kiss. She moaned wantonly into his mouth. Not in a thousand years could Meggie have predicted the earth-cracking impact of Don Juan’s kiss or her body’s out-of-control response to him.

The excitement of pretending to be an accomplished seductress, the scintillating ego boost from Don Juan’s admiration, the titillating secrecy of their masks, the sexy hide and seek, the frank discussion of their sexual limits had dissolved into something much more primal than mere play-acting the very moment his lips brushed hers.

The friction of his kiss unraveled every firm lecture she’d given herself about protecting her heart and staying far away from bad boys. Because none of that mattered at this wondrous moment, when the baddest of bad boys was sweetly, tenderly cajoling her with the silky slide of his mouth across hers, taking time and care to draw her deeper, ever deeper into dangerous territory. Meggie had no defenses against his special brand of languid seduction and beguiling charm. And when he carefully eased her back against the trunk of the tall Sitka spruce and slanted her lips more firmly beneath his, she came utterly undone.

No way out. Absolutely none.

For support, she gripped his corded forearms, which were covered only by his thin shirtsleeves, and held on for dear life. Even though their masks rubbed together as they kissed, Meggie had no desire to remove the barricade and reveal herself.

She liked this experience—anonymous, provocative, daring.

This secrecy was what she craved. As Klondike Kate she was a bold, brash, seductive woman who knew lots of sexy tricks. As Meggie, she was an ordinary twenty-nine-year-old nurse who’d been dumped for a younger woman. She wanted to live this fantasy if only for a short while. Wanted to feel feminine and desirable again.

His eager tongue dipped inside to taste her, tormenting her with silken assaults that liquefied her knees and set her nerve endings tingling. Brazenly, she hunted for a more in-depth sampling of him. At the delicious flavor of man and shrimp and red wine, she shivered.

Ah, sweet lover, thy name is Don Juan.

She shouldn’t have been so surprised to find he was a man who took his time and did a thorough job. He kissed her with a scrumptious sleepiness, as if he possessed all the time in the universe captured in the flat of his hand. He seemed intent on exploring every indulgence her mouth had to offer, as if he was memorizing every nuance of taste and texture.

And perhaps he was, for Meggie was doing the same, committing every flavor, every smell, every touch to memory. In the days ahead, whenever she felt lonely or dowdy or depressed, she would take out this moment like a treasured photograph and mentally review it over and over and over again.

He pressed his hips closer, making her all too aware of his burgeoning erection, pinning her hard against the tree trunk. The smell of tree and man combined into an earthy, sprucy scent that sent voluptuous flourishes of sensation coursing throughout her eager body.

With his thumb, he traced her jaw, and her skin caught fire. His wide chest was pressed firmly against hers. Beneath the bustier, her breasts swelled and her nipples tightened and ached. His masculine thigh insinuated itself between her trembling legs and she felt his penis, covered by that tight stretch of black leather, grow even harder against the curve of her hip. Heated desire uncoiled deep within her parts most feminine.

She had never kissed a man with a mustache, and the hair on his upper lip was soft and smooth. She’d expected it to be bristly and uncomfortable. Their masks chafed together in a maddening way and she found herself wanting to rip away their disguises, but she was too afraid of what she might find. Too afraid he would no longer want her once the secrecy had been dispelled.

When he took the kiss even deeper, Meggie responded with an enthusiasm that terrified her. Never had she experienced a passion this all-encompassing, spontaneous and fierce. She had never with such careless abandon wanted a man. Not even in her most untamed daydreams.

What was happening to her, the woman who until tonight had never really cared that much about sex? Nothing had ever prepared her for this kind of concentrated, consuming hunger and desperate, painful need. She was flummoxed, stunned by the intensity of what was happening. Without even realizing it, she’d been searching for something to make her feel alive again, and now, here it was. With one explosive kiss Don Juan tapped into her secret yearnings and made her crave more. So very much more.

What had he done?

While her love-famished body wanted to find out where this irresistible delight might lead, her rational brain reminded her that she wasn’t the kind of woman who indulged in one-night stands. Neither a madam costume nor a single kiss, no matter how thrilling and mind-bendingly awesome, could change her into someone she wasn’t.

Sensing the shift in her mood, Don Juan slowly dragged his lips from hers. He was breathing heavily, his forceful blue eyes locked on her gaze, his mouth glistening wet from her moisture.

“You’ve stolen my control,” he murmured hoarsely into her ear. “And, I fear, my heart as well.”

This was part of the game, she reminded herself. He didn’t really mean that she’d stolen his heart. Nor did she want him to mean those words. This was about animal attraction, pure and simple. She wasn’t prepared for anything else.

To prove her point, she took his hand and lifted his index finger to her lips. In deliberate, measured increments, she slowly took his thick, round digit into the recesses of her mouth.

He groaned. Loudly.

The searing wet velvet of her tongue had him writhing. Oh, she was wickedly good. His cock bulged against his pants and he feared the seam was going to split right open. He couldn’t stand this torture a minute longer.

She looked up at him. Caleb watched her irises grow dark as velvet emeralds and her pupils widen with stark, desperate desire. She wanted him. Savagely.

And best of all, she didn’t know that he was the wealthy, unattached Bear Creek bachelor. She didn’t want him for his money or what he could buy her.

A surge of fire sped through his veins. Her bare thigh brushed his leather-covered one and he heard her hitch in her throat.

Unable to let the moment pass without indulging himself in one of his milder fantasies, he raised his hand and gently glided his rough fingers along the outline of her chin, relishing the soft smoothness of her feminine jaw, wondering what her cheekbones looked like beneath that sexy red-feathered mask.

They were face-to-face and chest-to-chest. A shadowy expression of pent-up passion clouded her gray-green eyes.

He reached up to touch her hair, his fingers almost trembling from the tension that was building layer upon layer, but she blocked his hand with hers.

“No. Don’t,” she said.

“Why not?”

“It’s a wig.”

“What color is your real hair?” he asked, aching to dispose of the wig and plunge his fingers through her sleek locks.

“Let’s not ruin the fantasy.”

“All right.”

He cradled her in his arms, all the while plumbing her ripe, rich mouth. She responded in kind, sending the flames of his libido higher and higher with each flick of her fiendish tongue. Her fingers traced enticing circles over his face and along the edge of his mask. He could feel the steady drubbing of her heart. He stared down into her eyes and felt himself falling, falling, falling.

Playfully, Klondike Kate bit his bottom lip and growled low in her throat, sending his control shattering into a million pieces.

“I need….” she whispered, and that was all she said. It was all she needed to say because he understood her perfectly.

“I know.”

His arousal matched hers. Their intrepid game had generated a craving in him he feared might never be sated, and he knew without words that she felt the same way.

Her lips parted and her eyes remained transfixed on his as if she were mesmerized. Slowly, she lifted her hands and softly traced her fingertips along his mouth. Her feathered touch triggered a reaction in him so potent he was ready to explode. As the real Don Juan most assuredly would have, Caleb took advantage of the situation and surrendered to his basic male instincts.

He kissed her again.

Soft, slow and sweet. Gently, tenderly. He knew if he didn’t approach this with care, his control would be shot.

Easy. Take it easy.

But what an almost impossible task it was not to slake their desire with rough, spontaneous pleasure.

“The skaters’ cabin,” she whispered.

“What?”

She nodded toward the clearing. “I saw a skaters’ cabin near the pond. This time of year it’s sure to be empty, and far more comfortable than the forest floor.”

He stared at her, incredulous. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Bending down, she retrieved her fallen purse, tucked it under her arm, then raised her head to meet his gaze.

“Take me,” she said.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

4

HE SCOOPED HER into his arms, carried her through the forest and into the clearing.

It felt like a dream, a fantasy, a fairy-tale romance.

Without the happily ever after ending, of course. But that was okay. She didn’t believe in happily ever after anymore. What she believed in now was living in the moment.

She wanted wild, mind-blowing sex and lots of it. She wanted to prove once and for all that she was not a lousy lay. She wanted to explore, experiment and enjoy. She wanted to reach for and achieve her maximum potential as a woman.

His boots clattered on the wooden steps to the cabin. Giggling, she reached out to open the door and he carried her over the threshold like a virgin bride—cherished, treasured, prized.

The cabin, which would have no electricity until the pond froze over for the winter and Caleb or one of the other naturalists brought over a generator from the ranger’s station, was awash in darkness.

Don Juan set her on her feet and put out a hand to steady her. Even with moonlight slanting across the wooden floor, she could barely make out the shape of a sofa pushed against the wall. Then he closed the door behind them, smothering all light and plunging them into blackness so thick Meggie caught her breath. The utter darkness disoriented her. It was too dense, too absolute.

His heady masculine scent enveloped her, drowning out the musty, stale cabin smell. Leather, oranges, cinnamon, licorice and a bracing woodsy aroma. His large hand tightened around hers and he slowly waltzed her toward the sofa. They knew they’d arrived at their destination when their shins brushed against the vinyl material. He eased her down on the seat, then let go of her hand and stepped away.

“Don Juan?” Fear and excitement in an invigorating combination charged through her.

Nothing.

She inhaled shakily. The vinyl was cool and slick against her barely clothed bottom. Meggie strained to hear sounds of him moving. A whispered breath, a creaky floorboard.

“Are you still there?”

Nothing.

Then from out of the ether, a heavy hand settled on her right knee.

She jerked.

Because she could neither see nor hear anything, the hand seemed disconnected, detached, the touch of a phantom lover straight from some erotic hallucination. Warm fingers crept up her knee to her inner thigh.

She tensed, with anticipation or apprehension; she couldn’t really say which. The feelings surging through her were electrified, distorted by the sensation of both time and place suspended. Nothing felt real, and yet at the same moment her body hummed with heightened intensity that channeled all her focus to this minute stroking of her skin.

The hand continued, moving upward to skim over her bustier to her waist, and finally stopping to lightly caress her tormented breasts through the stiff lacy material.

No more!

She couldn’t tolerate idly waiting. She had to participate in this exquisite teasing. Palms extended, she reached out for him and found his chest. She hissed in air when her fingertips grazed bare, muscled skin and she realized he’d discarded his shirt. Her fingers sank into the soft tuft of chest hair, and the strangeness of his body heightened the dark fantasies revolving through her head.

The texture of his skin, the sculpted configuration of his musculature felt alien but oddly right. She and her unfamiliar lover were alone—in the dark, deep forest, in a deserted cabin. Her normally taciturn body had become wickedly willful, silently begging for more mystery, more suspense. She knew neither this man nor her new self that his caresses had unearthed. And she liked the indefiniteness of it all.

Her hands roamed, learning this different man by the sense of touch. His flesh was damp and hot beneath her palms. The heaviness of his breathing filled her ears, and as she kneaded first his chest and then his shoulders, she felt his fingers work the numerous tiny hooks at the back of her bustier.

Meggie explored him thoroughly, touching here, there, everywhere.

She sensed the raw energy pulsing through his pores. He untied the cape from around her neck. She felt the bustier fall apart in the back, experienced the blaze of his hot, wet mouth as he planted it on her sensitive shoulder blade.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked. “To lie with me?”

He was giving her a way out. She was eternally grateful for his consideration, his kindness in fact heightening her desire for him.

“I’m sure.”

“I would hate for you to have regrets.”

“No regrets. I promise.”

“What would you like?” he whispered. “I want to please you.”

“Being with you and playing this game pleases me.”

“I need more information. I need specifics.”

“Like what? I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Where should I touch you? And how? Soft? Hard? Slow? Quick?”

“Anything.” She moaned softly and arched into the curve of his body. She wished to sample it all. “Everything.”

“You are an adventuresome woman.”

“Thanks to you, I am now.”

She shivered at the wonder of what was happening. An electric power gushed between them, a vital power strong enough to light the whole of Alaska. They needed neither lamp nor torch. Their passion gave them the vision to see each other as they really were.

Open, vulnerable, ready.

“Where shall we begin?” he whispered.

“Kisses. Lots of kisses.”

“Hmm.” He pulled her onto his lap so that she was facing forward, her bare back flush against his naked chest, her legs astride his leather-clad thighs. “A very good start.”

And then, for what seemed like an eternity of bliss, he kissed her. Brief, velvety kisses on the back of her neck, over her shoulders, down her spine. She tossed her restless head back and he kissed her jaw, her ear, her throat.

He shifted her position, turning her around until they faced each other in the darkness. The sizable bulge in his pants grew harder against her silk-covered womanhood as he planted long, moist kisses on her lips, her chin and the hot pulse throbbing at her collarbone.

Lower and lower he roved, moving her for comfort as he went. First kissing, then licking and at last gently nipping a trail from her neck to her nipples and down her rib cage to her smooth, flat belly. She ended up with her back on the vinyl couch cushion and his taut male body positioned over her, one leg planted on either side of her thighs.

Meggie groaned. “No fair,” she whispered. “My turn to tease you. What do you like?”

“Talk dirty to me,” he whispered. “Tell me exactly what you’d like for me to do to you.”

“Oh, my.” Meggie felt the color drain from her face. She wasn’t sure she could be that boldly uninhibited.

Dull in bed.

The mean-spirited words rang in her head.

Do it. Tell him what you want.

Meggie panted, short and hard, at the thought.

“Tell me,” he insisted in a commanding tone that curled her toes.

“I…I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know how.”

“Open your mouth and say the words.”

She hesitated.

“What are you afraid of?”

“That I won’t do it right,” she confessed.

“Why would you think that?”

She shrugged.

“Let me guess. Some jerk you’ve been with has misled you about your desirability.”

“He said I was dull in bed.”

“Dull! You?” Don Juan’s vehement reaction warmed her heart. “You are anything but dull. Now talk to me.”

“I don’t have the guts.”

“Yes, you do. Let me hear you say it.”

Pretend you’re Klondike Kate. She’s not dull. Forget the past. Lose yourself. This isn’t really real. It’s just a dream. Play-acting.

“What do you want?” His low, husky Spanish accent dragged her into the fantasy. She could do this. She would prove that she was brave and exciting and wildly sexual.

Meggie swallowed. “Take off my panties.”

“That’s good. Very good.”

In an instant he slid the silk of her tap pants down her hips, past her knees to her ankles and then over her shoes. A blast of air cooled her heated flesh and she shivered.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Finger me.”

“Where?”

“Down there.”

“Down where?” She heard the teasing tone of amusement in his voice.

“You know.”

“Down here?” He lightly entangled his fingers in the curly hairs at the juncture between her legs.

“Lower.” She was panting so hard she could scarcely speak.

His three middle fingers slid over the slick mound of her womanhood and edged toward her aching center. One finger went left, one right, the other straight down the middle.

“Here?”

She nodded, breathless.

“Shall I go on?”

“Uh-huh,” she whimpered.

“Say it.”

“I…I…”

His face was pressed against her ear, his leather mask rubbing her cheek. She could see absolutely nothing; the darkness was as pure as her desire. Gulping, she squeezed her eyes tightly closed. The hypersensitive sensations spurring through her groin were incredible.

“You’ve got to tell me or it won’t happen.”

Say it, Meggie!

Oh, the risks she was taking, the things she was learning about herself.

Dull no more.

“I want to feel your fingers inside me,” she said, surprising herself with a strong voice of authority.

He obeyed, sinking his middle digit deep within her warm recess. Meggie gasped out loud and clutched his hair in both her fists.

“You’re so wet,” he whispered. “So hot.”

She tightened her muscles around his finger and his responding groan made her smile into the darkness.

He raised up to kiss her again, his body wedged between her and the back of the sofa, his mouth searching for hers as his inquisitive finger continued gently to investigate her delicate nook. When she arched her pelvis against his hand, he chuckled with satisfaction.

Stroking, rubbing, massaging.

The pressure built inside her like a balloon being blown up…and up…and up…to the point where one more expanse of air would cause it to explode.

Then he stopped and removed his hand.

Meggie cried out in despair. “Don’t torture me.”

“Do you want me to make you come?” he asked.

She pushed her hips higher and whimpered, low and impulsive.

“Tell me.”

“I want you to make me come. Please, please, please. Make me come now.”

Caleb’s ego soared. He tenderly sucked on her bottom lip while slowly moving his finger in and out, in and out of her magnificent softness. Her moans spiraled steadily, filling the empty blackness with her throaty, feminine noise until his ears rang with the splendid sound.

Her tongue thrashed against his. Her breasts quivered. Her hips undulated madly. And when he slid a second finger inside to join the first one, she momentarily stopped breathing.

Her entire body stiffened. He felt her hover on the edge, her muscles taut, straining. When he touched his thumb to her clitoris she let loose a high, keening sound of pleasure.

“Don’t…stop,” she begged, her voice muffled with the expectation of climax. “Oh, oh, oh…”

And then, in one shattering moment, she came.

Her muscles spasmed around his fingers, her buttocks arching off the sofa cushions. He’d never witnessed anything so lovely.

An indescribable emotion tightened his chest. He felt as much satisfaction as if he himself had climaxed. This was his purpose—to pleasure this beautiful woman and help her heal whatever demons it was that pursued her. For he knew without knowing how he’d come by the knowledge that she had followed him into the forest as a tonic for what ailed her. He was so happy that he had been able to give her this small respite.

She sagged against him and he held her close. He murmured sweet nothings in made-up Spanish, listened as her heart slowed from a racing gallop to a sedate pace.

He felt oddly sated, to the point that when she reached up in the darkness, cupped his chin and said, “Now it’s your turn.” He shook his head.

“No,” he said softly.

She pushed against his chest, struggling to sit up. “Why not?” she asked.

Caleb frowned. It had been bugging him for a while now, ever since she’d forgotten to speak in her Klondike Kate vernacular. Her voice sounded naggingly familiar. Did he know her?

“I would rather wait.”

He realized it was true. He had to see her again, and he feared if they fully consummated their passion he never would. But if he left her aching for more…who knew how long this game might last? Maybe, just maybe, she’d want to return for seconds.

“Wait?” Panic settled in her voice, obscuring the familiarity. “Wait for what? I don’t want to wait.”

He had her exactly where he wanted her. Caleb reached for her hand and held it tightly in his, even though she tried to pull back.

Eventually the throbbing in his groin would abate. Eventually.

“I want to see you again,” he told her.

“No,” she said adamantly, reverting back to her Klondike Kate drawl. “This is supposed to be a one-night stand. Now take your pants off.”

“Relax. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“You don’t understand. I don’t want anything more from you than sex.”

“I’m not saying I do, either,” he cajoled, but his stomach pitched. Truth be told, he would like to see where this attraction might lead. See if the powerful sexual pull might take them to something deeper, more meaningful. “But I think dragging out the seduction will make it so much more memorable when we finally do go all the way.”

Her nails bit into his palms. “It’s not such a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Tonight we were overcome—by hormones, the full moon, by our costumes. It was magical, special. Why ruin it? Just make love to me now so things aren’t lopsided, and then I’ll slip away into the darkness. Let’s leave this a wonderful flight of fancy.”

“I can’t accept that.”

What was the matter with him? What she was proposing was every guy’s wildest fantasy. Anonymous sex with a beautiful stranger. No strings attached. No consequences. No regrets. Except more than anything in the world, he wanted to see her again. He was taking a risk, pressuring her like this, and he knew it, but he felt it was a risk worth taking.

“I must see you again,” he insisted, unable to quell the urgency building inside him. “I must know more about you.”

“Impossible.”

“But why?” Then he froze as an ugly suspicion dawned. “Are you married?”

“No.”

Caleb exhaled in relief. Thank heavens. He wasn’t a home wrecker. “Then why deny us this pleasure?”

“Simple logistics, my dear Don Juan. I’m leaving town tomorrow morning.”

“You’re not from Bear Creek then?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry, but I cannot let you get away.” Stubbornly, he clung to her hand.

“Please, Don Juan, this was nothing more than an extravagant game. We both got turned on, but it’s no more than that. Please, let it go.”

“It’s more than a game and you know it.”

“It’s not,” she insisted.

“All right then,” he said, scrambling for something he could say that would change her mind. “Let me help you get dressed and I’ll walk you back to the party.”

Several minutes later, they were clothed again and walking through the forest hand in hand. His body was still stiff from wanting her. His mind raced with ways to convince her to see him a second time. Things couldn’t end on this disappointing note.

Caleb led her into a moonlit field not far from the community center where the party still continued. Laughter, music, the sound of car doors slamming echoed in the still of the night.

He stopped, drew her closer to him and stared into that unfathomable face hidden so dramatically behind the red-feathered mask.

“What if I happened to come to where you lived? I travel a lot on business,” he lied, still speaking in his Don Juan accent, reluctant to release the disguise and break the enchantment. “Could I see you then?”

She paused for a long moment. “Perhaps. I don’t know.”

His heart leaped with hope. “You realize this was special. How often have you felt this way?”

She inhaled deeply. “I’m not sure this is such a good idea.”

“Think of all the fun we could have.”

“Do you swear that it would only be fun? Nothing else? I don’t want anything else.”

“Nothing else,” he promised. At this point he would promise her anything to get her phone number.

“I’m doing this against my better judgment, but you’re right,” she said. “I’ve never felt anything like what happened between us tonight. You’ve made me feel like a desirable woman.”

He made a deep sound of approval. “You are a desirable woman.”

“Okay.” She swallowed audibly. “Here’s the deal. I’ll whisper my phone number to you and if you can remember it, then you can call me.”

Caleb’s pulse pounded in his ears. He was beset by the riddle of her. He wanted her so badly it hurt. Wanted to be inside her, buried deep.

“Sweetheart, I could never forget,” he crooned, meaning every word.

She whispered the number.

“What?” Startled, he shook his head, certain he had heard incorrectly. “Please say that one more time.”

She repeated herself.

With the rapidity of lightning striking, his blood froze. His world skidded to a screeching halt. His ears echoed with the sound of her voice mouthing those digits. Realization dawned. He knew that number. Had called it many times over the years.

“Good night,” she whispered. “And if I never see you again, goodbye. I’ll always remember the precious gift you gave me in the skaters’ cabin, Don Juan. Thank you.”

Then, without another word, she turned and started toward the community center, her graceful body illuminated in moon glow.

He literally could not speak. His senses reeled. He splayed a palm over his heart. He knew now who she was. No wonder she had sounded familiar. No wonder he had been so inexplicably attracted to her.

She was the woman who had dominated his teenage fantasies. The very same woman who had once been married to his stepbrother Jesse.

Klondike Kate, the lady upon whom he’d just performed sexual maneuvers, was none other than his unrequited childhood crush.

Meggie Scofield.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

5

“HOT DAMN, woman. I love the hair!” Wendy Roseneau, Meggie’s next-door neighbor and good friend for the past five years, declared.

It was three days after her return home to Seattle. Wendy, a brown-eyed, bottle blonde with Kewpie doll cheeks and a Cindy Crawford beauty mark over her upper lip, settled her hands on her hips and nodded approvingly as Vincent, a tattooed, nose-pierced, fuchsia-haired stylist at En Avant!, the trendiest salon in Seattle, put the finishing touches on Meggie’s dashing new coif.

“Your friend’s right, darling. You look absolutely plucky,” Vincent enthused.

Plucky? Her?

Sure. Why not? Yes, by gosh. Her. Plucky.

“You were in desperate need of a change,” Vincent continued, waving his hand with a theatrical flourish. “That bland Buster Brown blunt cut you were sporting was just too, too retro. I’m sooo glad you chose me to be the artist of your transformation. You are my masterpiece, my muse, my Mona Lisa.”

Okay, so Vincent was a bit of a drama queen but he did have a point. The conversion was startling.

Meggie stared into the mirror. The difference in her appearance astounded her. The spiky cut flipped out from her head in short, sassy wisps. The style not only slimmed her face and accentuated her green eyes but also lent her a hip, dynamic edge.

She looked like the kind of woman who took life full throttle. It was exactly what she’d been seeking when she’d plunked herself in Vincent’s chair and asked him to create a wild, new, independent persona for her.

“Wow,” she murmured and reached up to lightly finger her hair. “Wow.”

“Wow indeed,” Wendy concurred. “You should have gotten divorced years ago. Freedom definitely agrees with you.”

“It’s not just the divorce,” Meggie whispered to Wendy as she slipped Vincent a tip so big he actually purred.

Normally, she wasn’t the kind of woman to kiss and tell, but she was filled to the bursting with thoughts of her erotic night with Don Juan.

“Oh no?” Wendy rubbed her hands gleefully. “I smell a juicy story. What’s up?”

“Come on. I’ll tell you later. In the meantime I’m buying a whole new wardrobe at La Chic Freak.”

Wendy plastered a hand over her heart. “You? In La Chic Freak?”

“Yep. I’m going for leather and lace and chains. And who knows? Maybe I’ll even get a henna tattoo.”

“Omigosh, I thought I’d never live to see the day you decided to recognize your full potential and rebel against that good-girl image that’s kept you trapped in that tight little black-and-white box. I’m so proud of you, Megs.” Wendy wrapped her in a honeysuckle-scented hug.

“Me, too,” Vincent chimed in. “You go, girlfriend.”

Geez. She knew she’d been something of fuddy-duddy but she had no idea everyone had been holding their breath just waiting for her to cut loose. This had certainly been a week of prolonged self-discovery.

And it’s all because you stepped outside your comfort zone and took a gamble.

The evening she’d spent in the skaters’ cabin with Don Juan had been the most liberating experience of her life. Ever since that fateful night she felt changed in ways she couldn’t explain. Ways that made her long for all the things she’d missed. Why had she hidden her light under a bushel all these years?

Well, no more. From now on, everything was going to be different.

She and Wendy left the salon and headed for La Chic Freak. An hour later she emerged wearing a red mesh blouse and a matching red leather miniskirt so short it would have caused even Klondike Kate to blush. In her hands swung a shopping bag filled with equally intrepid clothing.

“Okay,” Wendy said as they wandered down the street. “We’re out of earshot of anyone. Spill it. What in the world happened to you in Alaska?”

She tried not to smirk, but couldn’t help herself. “I met the most awesome guy.”

“Get out!”

“It’s true.”

Wendy stopped walking and smacked her forehead with a palm. “No, no, no. Please say it ain’t so.”

“What?” Meggie felt perplexed. “I thought you would be happy that I met someone.”

“Yes, in a year or so. Maybe. Not yet. It’s too soon after your divorce, sweetie.”

“I’ve been divorced for six months.”

“No good can come of this relationship. He’s nothing but the transition guy. A temporary fix. You need to live a little before you get involved with anyone else.”

“Give me some credit, will you? I totally realize that. Why do you think I got this new haircut and bought new outfits? Believe me, this thing with Don Juan was nothing but a fling.”

“Don Juan? Oh, please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Settle down. Don Juan’s not his real name and, besides, I’m never going to see him again.”

“You? A one-night stand?” Wendy shook her head, incredulous. “Not that there’s anything wrong with a good, lusty romp in the hay once in a while, but I just never thought you of all people…”

“Not only that,” Meggie whispered. “I don’t even know his real name.”

“What?”

Leaving out the most intimate details, Meggie told Wendy about Don Juan, the costume party and the cabin in the woods.

“From what you describe it sounds like there was a whole lot of sexual chemistry going on,” Wendy said when Meggie had finished. “That kind of passion can be hard to ignore, particularly with a guy who has obviously made you feel special. I have been there and I’ve been burned. Be careful, sweetie. I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

“Don’t worry. He doesn’t know my name, either. We were two ships passing in the night.”

“Well,” Wendy said, linking her arm through Meggie’s and continuing down the street to where they’d parked the car, “maybe you’re right. Maybe this was exactly what you needed. I certainly approve of the changes in you.”

“Honestly, I swear, it’s just what the doctor ordered. I’ve never felt so free. It’s like I’ve unearthed this confidence in myself I didn’t even know I had.”

“And you promise you’re never going to see this guy again?”

“I promise.” Meggie held up two fingers. “Girl Scouts’ honor.”

“That’s good. As long as you’re not tempted to jump into a relationship with a man you don’t know just because the sex is stupendous.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then congratulations on stretching the limits of your imagination.”

“Thank you,” Meggie said, but a nagging little voice reminded her that she wasn’t being completely honest with her friend. She had given Don Juan her telephone number.

But what were the chances of him even remembering her number? And if he did remember it, what were the odds of him calling her or ever coming to Seattle to see her?

Very slim to none. She was safe with her lusty memories. She didn’t have to worry about falling hard for some stranger in a black leather mask. All Meggie cared about was exploring her newfound sense of adventure in whatever form it might take. New hairstyle, new clothes, new experiences.

And speaking of new experiences…

She stopped in front of the dance studio sandwiched between La Chic Freak and En Avant! Through the window she spied a group of costumed belly dancers executing a series of mesmerizing gyrations.

For the longest time she had hankered to take belly dancing lessons, but because Jesse had called her an awkward klutz the time she had tried to do a striptease for him, Meggie had felt too self-conscious about her body to give belly dancing a go.

Well, phooey on her ex and his stupid opinions. Thanks to Don Juan she was more than eager to rip the envelope of adventure wide open.

Purposefully, she pushed through the door of the dance studio.

“Hey,” Wendy said. “Where you are going?”

Meggie glanced over her shoulder at her friend and grinned. “To stretch the limits of my imagination.”

“MAY I SPEAK TO YOU in my office?” Meggie’s boss, Jenny Arbenoit, asked three weeks after her shopping spree with Wendy.

“Sure,” Meggie said, wondering what was up.

She didn’t think she’d made any mistakes lately, but perhaps she had gone overboard with her newfound confidence. Recently, she had stopped kowtowing to the doctors’ every whim, and she’d also started making more decisions based on her own assessments without asking for corroboration from her colleagues as she once had. A sinking sensation settled in her stomach.

It was a slow afternoon in the emergency department. The nurses had been enjoying a welcome respite from earlier in the week, when they’d been deluged with nearly an epidemic of children suffering from high fevers related to a recent outbreak of a Lyme disease type illness. Meggie had been catching up on paperwork when Jenny singled her out.

Mouth dry, and prepared to offer an apology, she followed Jenny into her office.

“Have a seat.” Her boss indicated a chair and closed the door behind them.

Meggie sat and nervously eyed the older woman.

“Meggie, ever since you returned from your leave of absence, I’ve noticed a change in you.”

“Mrs. Arbenoit, if I’ve done anything—”

Jenny held up her hand. “Please, let me finish. Several of your co-workers have also commented on your new attitude. You’ve always been a good nurse—kind, caring, considerate of others—but until these last few weeks you have lacked the kind of self-confidence that would make you management material.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your exemplary performance during this latest public health crisis has not gone unnoticed by the doctors. You’ve assumed more responsibility and presented yourself as a thorough professional.”

Meggie’s head spun. She wasn’t being taken to task. She was being praised.

“We were hoping you would accept a position on the community health education board. Do you think this is something that might interest you?”

“Absolutely.” Ideas sprouted in her head. She loved teaching patients, and this was a marvelous opportunity to boost her career.

“Excellent, excellent.” Jenny Arbenoit got to her feet and extended her hand. “I’m looking forward to working on the board with you.”

“Thanks.” Meggie shook her hand, a sense of pride filling her chest. A new job offer because of her increased self-confidence. Just one more debt of gratitude she owed to Don Juan.

CALEB STARED OUT the window of the ranger station at the vast white expanse of new-fallen snow. It had been six weeks since that fateful night he’d discovered his new lover was none other than his teenage fantasy woman. Six weeks since his world had been turned completely upside down. For the first time in his life, the wilderness he loved so deeply felt desolate and lonely.

With Meggie gone, everything in his world seemed quiet, dull, empty. He got through his daily routine, but nothing brought him joy. Listlessly, he dug in the pocket of his crisp, hunter-green uniform shirt and pulled out a photograph he’d gleaned from an old album—a picture Jesse had taken of him and Meggie together on the rare occasion he’d visited them in Seattle.

It had been Christmas Eve. He and Meggie were sitting on the couch together. He had on a Santa hat, and she wore a blue package bow stuck in her hair. They’d had too much holiday eggnog, and Meggie, with one arm thrown over his shoulder, was mugging cutely for the camera. He’d been staring at her with a look of such deep admiration it was a wonder neither Jesse nor Meggie had ever noticed. Hell, even Caleb had never realized before how much like a lovesick puppy he looked.

And he’d told himself he’d gotten over his childhood crush. Ha! One glance at the photo and he knew he’d been lying to himself for years.

The photograph was frayed now, the edges curled from wear. As he did every day since discovering Klondike Kate was actually Meggie, he traced a finger over the picture and murmured her name.

He recalled how she’d looked the last time he’d seen her, dressed in that scarlet bustier and auburn wig. He thought of her sweet scent, and his imagination supplied the aroma he was searching for—jasmine soap, strawberry shampoo and a hint of Obsession cologne.

His brain didn’t stop with scent memories. He thought about those cinnamon freckles that decorated her collarbone and those intelligent green eyes the color of verdant summer grass. He envisioned her soft, womanly curves, the creamy taste of her full, rich lips and the way she’d felt wrapped in his arms. The way her body had responded to his touch.

In a twinkling, he was transported back to that astounding night.

Slowly, tenderly, he removes her red-feathered mask and the long auburn wig in order to reveal her own coal-black hair. She does not resist. She is not ashamed to let him see her face. And when he removes his mask, she is not alarmed or upset. He sucks in his breath, overwhelmed. His heart thumps at her easy acceptance of his role as her lover.

She wants him. In fact, she lifts her arms to him and a tempting smile teases her lips as she slowly undoes the top hook of her bustier.

Another tiny hook undone. Another and then another, until the stiff lacy material lays open just beneath the swell of her breasts. The cool evening breeze causes her nipples to tighten into pink pouting buds.

Her eyelids drift closed. Loose tendrils of dark hair curl invitingly over her forehead. Her lips part. She tips her chin up.

“Kiss me,” she commands.

His blood is at the boiling point, and he’s clutched so hard with need he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to control himself.

But he must. For her sake. No matter how much his body aches for a frenzied coupling, he will not surrender to the instincts raging within. Not yet.

Apparently, however, she is feeling just as desperate as he, for she opens her eyes, takes hold of his shirt in her fists and rips the garment from his body. She splays her palms against his chest and then savagely sinks her nails into his flesh. Her breath hisses out through clenched teeth in a sultry sizzle.

His bulge is straining hard against his leather pants. Roughly, he grasps her wrists and pins her hands above her head.

“Is this how you want it? Fast and hard?”

In answer, she just growls and raises her head to nip at his throat.

He claims her mouth with a merciless kiss that leaves them both gasping for air. He glides his fingertips down her raised arms to her exposed breasts. She shivers at his featherlight touch, obviously confused, but also delighted by his change in tactics.

Using great care, he unhooks her bustier completely and pushes it open until her flat, ivory-white stomach is bare. He makes quick work of the tap pants, shoving them past her hips. The delicate wisp of red satin tangles around her ankles. She helps, kicking the panties off into the darkness.

Restlessly, she undulates her hips, calling him back down to her. When he lowers his head and takes one of her pert nipples into his mouth, a low guttural moan slips from her lips.

He caresses his hands along the smooth, firm planes of her body, exploring every inch of her. She is any man’s dream lover. The fantasy woman to end all fantasies, and at long last, she is his.

He wants her so badly he can barely think, but at the same time, he wants to draw this night out and make it last forever.

Cupping her hips in his palms, he lifts her up and she gyrates against his erection.

“Take off the pants,” she commands. “Now. I want to see you. Touch you. Taste you.”

At the notion of her tasting his shaft, he almost comes right then and there.

Control. Hold on to your control.

But how impossible this wonderful woman was making that task. She was actively licking his chest while he fumbled with the drawstrings of his pants.

Then he was naked, his pants flung out into the empty cabin, and her fingers—oh, her wicked fingers—were wrapping around his hard cock.

“I’ve spent my life waiting for you,” she whispers. “Take me, Caleb. Make me your own.”

“Mail call!” Quinn Scofield’s booming voice, and the loud thumping of his feet on the staircase, yanked Caleb from his X-rated reverie.

Cricket on a crutch! He’d been fantasizing about his best friend’s baby sister, and now here was Quinn, coming through his front door.

Caleb tossed the Christmas photograph aside, grabbed the high-powered field binoculars from the table and pulled them into his lap to disguise the vestige of his arousal.

“Hey, Greenleaf.” Quinn came grinning into the cabin, stomping snow off his boots and bringing the cold, late-October air with him. “What’s happening?”

If only you knew, you’d probably punch my lights out.

“Morning, Scofield. You didn’t have to make a trip up here. I was headed into Bear Creek tomorrow to pick up supplies.”

Quinn dumped the mail onto the table. “Truth is, buddy, we were all a little worried about you. I know you’re the strong, silent type, but we’ve hardy seen you in town since the Metropolitan party.”

“No need to worry about me. I’m just tired of the matchmaking and having women throw themselves at me. It’s getting harder and harder to tell the sincere ones from the gold diggers.”

“Old Gus commented that you might have a harder time finding an honest woman because of your money.”

“Don’t you people have anything better to do than gossip about me?”

“As the last remaining bachelor, Greenleaf, you’re a cause for much speculation.”

“Lucky me. Let me guess—old Gus has got a pool going about my future marital status.”

Quinn’s grin was answer enough.

Caleb shook his head. “So what’s your bet?”

“I’m predicting you’ll be swept off your feet by the pretty interim park ranger who takes your place while you’re in Seattle. You’ll get married here in the ranger station next summer—I forecast a June wedding—have sixteen kids and live happily ever after.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not going to Seattle.”

But even as he denied this statement, Caleb’s heart rate accelerated. There was no way Quinn could know he’d spent the past six weeks debating whether or not to go to Seattle after Meggie.

Quinn reached in the mail sack, withdrew a letter and passed it over to Caleb.

“Have you been reading my mail?” He frowned.

“Didn’t have to. Talked to Meggie this morning.”

“Meggie?”

“You know, my sister. Your ex-stepsister-in-law.”

“I know who she is. What does her calling you have to do with me going to Seattle?” His gut twisted with a mix of excitement and hope.

“Read the letter.”

Caleb stared down at the return address of King County Health Department, Seattle, Washington, then flipped the envelope over and opened the flap.

The letter was from the director of public health services. There had been a massive outbreak of a tick-born illness in Seattle and the surrounding counties. The ailment mimicked Lyme disease. The local medical community was woefully lacking in knowledge about the type of ticks that caused the condition. They needed an expert to come to Seattle, all expenses paid, and give a series of lectures at area hospitals for the next four weeks. Caleb’s name had been recommended by one of the board members, Meggie Scofield. The director had worked out a deal with the park services of Alaska. In exchange for Caleb coming to Seattle, one of Washington’s naturalists would take his place in the Tongass during his absence.

It was the perfect excuse to go to Seattle. At the thought of seeing Meggie again, Caleb’s chest squeezed.

He had to remind himself this meant nothing. Meggie didn’t know he was Don Juan. She had suggested his name to her superiors simply because he knew more about insects than anyone in the Pacific Northwest, not because she secretly wanted to see him again.

Unless something on a subconscious level was at work here. He looked over at Quinn. “Meggie recommended me?”

“Sure. Why not? You are the best bug guy around. She’s on the board. In fact, she’s on the committee that’s throwing a Halloween charity ball to raise money for public awareness of Lyme disease and other tick-born illnesses. If you take the job, maybe you’ll be in time to attend.”

Caleb pushed the envelope away. Apprehension took hold of him. What if he did go to Seattle, tell Meggie he was Don Juan, and she rejected him?

“I don’t know. A month is a long time to be away.”

“Come on, Greenleaf. You need to get out of the forest every once in a while, and you said yourself you’re tired of all these women throwing themselves at you. No one in Seattle except Meggie will know you’re a millionaire bachelor. Take off—have a good time.”

“I suppose it would be a vacation of sorts.”

“Darn right. Go for it, man. Get Meggie to show you around town and introduce you to some of her cute single girlfriends.”

“I thought I was suppose to fall in love with the interim ranger and have sixteen kids.”

“Come on, everyone needs a plan B. What if the interim ranger is a guy?”

“Good point.”

Caleb thought of the Don Juan costume stuffed in the top of his closet. A Halloween party charity event put on by Meggie’s hospital. He could show up a few days early, take the costume with him to Seattle, wear it to the party, and then he could take off the mask and show her face-to-face that he was the man who’d enflamed her that night in the forest.

Take a gamble. Roll the dice. Go to Seattle.

He had nothing to lose.

Nothing, that is, except his heart.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

6

“SO TELL ME MORE ABOUT this cute, rich friend of yours giving the symposiums.”

“Caleb?” Meggie glanced over at Wendy.

“You got more than one cute, rich, lecture-giving friend?”

“No.” Meggie chuckled. “Just Caleb.”

They were taking their daily jog around the park adjacent to their downtown apartment complex. A foggy mist had settled on trees resplendent with a vivid splash of autumn color, dampening the ground and lending a slight chill to the air.

“Caleb.” Wendy rolled his name on her tongue. “I like it. Sounds rugged and woodsy and he-mannish.”

“He is.”

“Ooh.” She gave a little shiver of delight that for some unknown reason irritated Meggie. “Tell me more. What’s he like?”

“He’s really not your type.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Wendy slowed, but Meggie kept going.

“You’re a party girl,” she called over her shoulder.

“And?”

“You’ll spend a month’s salary on a pair of Manolo Blahniks.”

“So?”

“Caleb lives in a park ranger station in the middle of the Tongass National Forest, Wendy. He uses a two-way radio for a telephone. Not too many occasions turn up for putting on the Ritz.”

“Hey, wait up! I’m falling behind,” Wendy hollered, but Meggie never slowed her pace.

Why should she care who Caleb went out with? Besides, the guy needed a little fun in his life. He was much too serious, and if anyone could lighten him up, effervescent Wendy could do the trick.

You feel protective toward him. He’s practically like a brother. You don’t want to see him get hurt, that’s all, Meggie reassured herself. Her feelings for Caleb were strictly platonic.

Then why are you feeling jealous? a tiny voice in the back of her head whispered. But she ignored the obnoxious nudge. Meggie had enough trouble dealing with this obsession she’d developed for Don Juan without throwing Caleb Greenleaf into the mix.

What was wrong with her, anyway? Why couldn’t she forget about Don Juan? She knew he wasn’t good for her, and yet night after night she had hauntingly erotic dreams about the masked man coming to her bed and making fierce, passionate love to her.

Probably because he had curtailed their sexual adventure that night in the cabin. Meggie felt certain if they had consummated their romantic assignation she would not be fixated on him. It was a clear case of wanting what she couldn’t have.

Wendy, panting and red-faced, finally caught up with her. “Witch. Why didn’t you slow down?”

“Interval training. You burn more calories this way,” Meggie said, slowing at last and feeling a bit ashamed of herself for sprinting ahead. She reduced her speed to a fast walk, and Wendy shot her a grateful smile.

“So about Caleb…”

Obviously, her friend wasn’t going to let go of the subject. Meggie sighed. “Yes?”

“What’s he like?”

“Tall, dark hair, deep-blue eyes, handsome as a Greek statue.”

“Yum, tell me more.”

“He’s quiet, somber, deeply into nature and very intelligent. That’s why I recommended him as a lecturer. Actually, I’m pretty surprised he accepted. He generally hates to leave Alaska.”

“The strong, silent type.” Wendy licked her lips. “I’m intrigued.”

“He’s a great guy.” Meggie gazed across the street at a schoolyard where a group of kids played soccer. Why watching those kids at play should make her feel wistful, she had no idea. Maybe because she was beginning to wonder if she’d ever have any kids of her own. “A good listener. But you would probably think he was boring.”

“Hmm.” Wendy stopped walking.

Meggie halted. “Hmm, what?”

“Why don’t you want me to go out with him?”

“I never said that.”

“Come on, you tell me how great he is on the one hand but warn me off on the other. Saving him for yourself, are you? That’s a little selfish, considering your almost religiouslike conversion after your naughty costumed tryst with the suave Don Juan.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m not interested in Caleb.”

“Why not? He sounds perfect.”

“For one thing, he’s younger than I am.”

“Oh, big deal.” Wendy waved a hand.

“And he’s Jesse’s stepbrother.”

Wendy made a face. “I can see where that could cause problems, but still…”

“He loves Alaska, and I love Seattle.”

“True love conquers all.”

“I just don’t have those kinds of feelings for him.”

“Okay then. Since we got that cleared up, you gotta introduce him to me.”

Meggie swallowed. She wasn’t sure Caleb would appreciate being fixed up, but Wendy was a lot of fun to be around. Even if she and Caleb didn’t click, maybe they could at least have a good time together.

“All right. I’ll introduce you.”

“Hot dog!” Wendy did a little jig, and then gave Meggie a hug. “A decent date prospect for the first time in weeks. Megs, you’re a doll.”

Yeah. But how was Caleb going to take the news?

THE MINUTE HIS PLANE touched down at SeaTac Airport, Caleb remembered why he didn’t like big cities.

Crowds. Noise. Traffic congestion. Pollution.

He’d been to Seattle only once before and he’d had the same reaction. The frantic pace gave him a headache. Hurry, hurry. Where was everyone dashing off to in such an all-fired rush?

It took him a good forty-five minutes to find the baggage claim terminal and retrieve his luggage. Then another ten minutes wading through the jostling throng to find the taxi stand.

Feeling like a stranger in a strange land, he suspected the cabbie was driving him around in circles, but he had no proof. When the guy pulled up in front of his hotel and told him the fare was thirty-six dollars, his suspicions were confirmed.

He tried arguing, but the driver suddenly pretended he didn’t speak English. Grudgingly, Caleb paid the fare, but as he turned to deliver his bags to the bellhop, a scruffy-looking teen on a bicycle darted up the hotel’s circular drive, leaned down and scooped up his briefcase. The kid disappeared before Caleb realized what had happened.

Dammit!

All the notes for his lecture were in that briefcase. Stupid kid was going to be disappointed when he pried open the case and discovered it contained nothing more than a treatise on ticks and half a power bar.

An hour later, after a powwow with hotel security and a Seattle police officer who was not optimistic about Caleb’s ever seeing his briefcase again, he was finally ensconced in his room.

If it wasn’t for Meggie, he would have been sorely tempted to turn around and head straight back to Bear Creek. But she had staked her reputation on him, recommending him as a guest lecturer. He wasn’t going to let her down. Even if he would have to wing his speech.

Besides, how could he leave Seattle without seeing her again? At the very notion of meeting up with her his heart went thumpa-thumpa-thumpa.

Call her. Let her know you got a lower fare by coming in on Friday night instead of Sunday, a little voice whispered.

Caleb circled the phone. “Go ahead, Greenleaf. Call her.”

Determined, he perched on the edge of the bed, reached for the telephone and punched in her number.

It rang three times and he almost hung up.

“Hello.”

Meggie’s voice was so breathy, so overwhelmingly sexy, he sat stunned for a good ten seconds, his fingers wrapped tightly around the receiver.

“Hello?” she repeated.

Heat, sultry and sudden, swamped his body. How he wanted her!

Caleb opened his mouth to say, “Hi Megs, it’s me. I just got into town,” but instead it seemed as if alien forces captured his throat and took possession of his larynx. He’d never in a million years intended on saying what he said next.

“Buenos dias, belladonna,” he crooned in Don Juan’s husky accent. “Are you surprised to hear from me?”

MEGGIE ALMOST DROPPED the receiver as her stomach slid into her sensible bedroom slippers.

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

She plastered a palm against her bare chest above where her towel covered her breasts. She had just stepped out of the shower, following her jog with Wendy, when the telephone rang.

Water from her wet hair trickled down her back. She heard the distant whizzing of cars on the freeway. Tasted the tangy flavor of her own desire on the tip of her tongue.

For the past six-and-a-half weeks she had scarcely thought of anything besides that magical night with Don Juan when she’d dared to let go of her inhibitions and had discovered a whole new side of herself.

Meggie Scofield could be as wild and wanton as the next girl.

Her pulse was pounding a rhythmic tyranny. She hadn’t really expected him to come to Seattle, or even call her, for that matter.

Meggie’s knees loosened. She groped for one of the straight-back chairs gathered around the kitchen table, and sat down hard.

“Don Juan?” she whispered.

“Do you have any other Spanish lovers?”

Ripples of desire undulated up her spine. What was it about the man that caused such sensations to engulf her?

“I have been unable to forget you.”

She heard the sly smile in his voice, felt a corresponding hitch in her belly. She laughed as much to dispel the strange achiness inside her than anything else.

“You’re a little hard to forget yourself.”

“So it was not my imagination. You felt for me the same as I felt for you.” His rich masculine sound wrapped around her like a blanket.

“It wasn’t your imagination,” she murmured, having no idea why she said that. What in the heck did she want from him? What did she think she was doing?

“I dream about you day and night. Night and day.”

“Oh?” She forced herself to sound cool, casual.

“Yes. I think of the way you move, so graceful, like a swan skimming over a peaceful lake.”

It was corny and hokey and blatantly a line but, heaven help her, she was falling for it. With shaky fingers, she shoved a spike of soppy hair behind her ear.

“Your walk is so sensuous. Perhaps because you have such beautiful legs. The shape of them, so slender and feminine, excites me beyond measure.”

“Really?”

She was a weak, weak woman. The man was no good for her and she knew it. She should hang up the phone on him right now and forget he’d ever called.

But she did not.

“Your legs and your butt excite me.”

“My butt?” His use of frank language both startled her and turned her on.

“Yes, you possess a fine bottom. Nothing inflames a man more than a woman with a narrow waist and generous hips.”

He thought her big rear end was sexy? Pensively, Meggie reached around and patted her fanny.

“If I were there with you right now, I would pinch your butt. Not too hard, just enough to let you know how much I admire it.”

Hang up! Hang up!

Meggie cleared her throat. “Then what?”

His chuckle was smooth and seductive. “Ah.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

“You know what it means.”

“I don’t.”

“But you do.”

What was he insinuating? That he wanted to have phone sex with her? She’d never talked dirty over the telephone and she wasn’t about to start now.

Prude.

I’m not, Meggie silently insisted.

Prove it. Step outside the box.

“What are you wearing?” he asked.

She glanced down at the beach towel wrapped around her midsection and winced. Think dowdy. Stop this before it gets started.

“A sweatsuit,” she lied.

“I do not believe you.”

“Okay, what do you think I’m wearing?”

Dammit, Meggie, why did you say that?

“I think perhaps you are wearing baby doll pajamas. Or maybe a silky, sheer black negligee.”

Meggie laughed.

“Or maybe…” His voice, already deep, dropped another octave “…you’re wearing nothing at all.”

Whew, that was too close for comfort.

“But I hope you are wearing something,” he continued. “Because I’d like to imagine undressing you. I’d like to slowly slide those skinny black negligee straps off your shoulders.”

“Umm.”

“I wish I could kiss you,” he said. “Would you like that?”

Unbidden, she imagined Don Juan there with her, nibbling her lips, his tongue gliding over her mouth. She realized then she was panting in short, fevered gasps.

“Yes,” she murmured helplessly, “yes.”

“And then I would like to run my hot tongue over your gorgeous bare breasts.”

She sucked in her breath and unknotted the towel.

“Stroke yourself. Pretend I am there. That it is my fingers touching you. Remember what it felt like?”

She did as he commanded, rubbing her nipples and delighting in the erotic sensation.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” she gasped.

“I wish I could lick you. Kiss you. Hold you. I’m getting hard just thinking about you.”

“I’m getting excited, too,” she panted, thrashing about in the chair as she ran her hands down her belly to the triangle of hair between her legs.

“I wish I could slip my hands into your panties and stroke your warm, wet…” He spoke a word that made her blush and ache to come all at the same time.

Perspiration beaded on her forehead as her brain spiraled off into another seductively vivid scenario. She imagined him sliding her naked body down the length of his until she was on her knees, her lips even with the hard length of his erection. She envisioned wrapping her warm, moist mouth around his manhood until he groaned with ecstasy and begged for mercy.

She saw herself pinned under his hard, masculine body, his manly fingers tangling in her hair, holding her prisoner while he ravished her with his mouth, feasting on her nipples, dragging his tongue along her belly, then lower to her heated depths.

A sharp shudder thrust its way through Meggie’s system and she shifted in her seat, crossing one leg over the other in a desperate attempt to stay the sensations flooding her groin.

“I count the moments until I see you again,” he whispered. “Until I can kiss you and gaze into your beautiful green eyes.”

Absently, she ran a hand along her throat, fingered the erratic pulse beating there and was surprised to find her skin so warm to the touch. Desire heated her from the inside out and made her crave this man’s presence.

“I must see you again.” His voice through the phone line was a low, masculine rumble of urgent sound that grabbed hold of her and aroused the most secret places of her body.

“I’d like to see you, too.”

“To finish what we started.”

She felt her face flush hot, but, yes, this was what she wanted, what she had dreamed of for the past seven weeks.

“Yes,” she murmured softly.

“I will be arriving in Seattle in the morning. I have business to attend to during the day, but my evening is reserved for you.”

“I can’t tomorrow night. I’m attending a Halloween charity event.”

“I’m only in town for one night. I must see you tomorrow or not at all.”

He was pressuring her, but damn if she didn’t want to see him again. “You may come to the Halloween party if you like. If you’ve got a pen, I can give you the name and address of the hotel where it’s being held.”

“Should I come as Don Juan?”

“But of course.”

A thrill ran through her at the mental picture of his tight leather pants and shiny black boots. She certainly did not want him to come without a costume. If she was going to have a red-hot, mindless affair with this man, she must not know his real name or see the face behind the mask.

She bit down on her bottom lip. Molten passion seeped through her being with a heat that obscured all rational thought.

“Are you there?” he asked, his devastating accent fueling the fire between her legs. “Are you all right?”

Meggie blinked and realized several seconds had gone by while she had indulged her fantasies. She cleared her throat.

“Fine. I’m fine.”

“Until tomorrow night,” he whispered.

“Until tomorrow night,” Meggie echoed, not knowing how she was going to make it through the next twenty-four hours.

CALEB HAD STUNNED HIMSELF. He couldn’t believe he had said those provocative things to her over the telephone. And after he’d hung up, alone in his hotel room with nothing but erotic visions of Meggie pleasuring herself, he had been forced to take matters into his own hands. There was only so much control a guy could command before the dam burst.

Now here he was, dressed as Don Juan, in a taxi on the way to the Halloween party. His blood surged feverishly with thoughts of the night ahead. How and when was he going to reveal himself to Meggie?

While he was enjoying this masquerade, he couldn’t keep it up forever. And dammit, call it ego, but he was ready for her to know that he, the guy she considered no more than a friend, was the one pushing her sexual buttons.

But he also knew that Meggie was loving this game they’d built, and wearing a disguise was what gave her confidence to move into uncharted territory, just as the Don Juan costume supplied him with the courage to take a chance on fulfilling his fantasies.

He smiled to himself. Meggie Scofield. What a woman! Brave and smart and sexy as hell.

The taxi parked in front of the Claremont Hotel. Caleb paid the fare and got out. As he walked through the elegant, upscale European-style lobby, numerous feminine heads turned to stare in his direction.

He barely noticed. All his thoughts were concentrated on one woman and one woman only. In a brash move, he stopped at the front desk and made a room reservation for the night.

Are you sure this is such a smart thing to do? his practical side argued. Aren’t you assuming a lot? And what if you do make love to Meggie? What if it turns out to be terrible and you end up ruining your friendship?

He thrust out his jaw and shoved aside the voice that kept him trodding the straight and narrow. Keeping quiet, holding back, had never gotten him what he wanted. The only time he’d achieved success was when he’d pursued something with passion.

When he crossed over into the packed ballroom, he realized he had no idea what costume Meggie would be wearing tonight. Feeling at a loss, he found a vantage point by the front entrance from which to peruse the crowd.

Suddenly, two hands slipped around his mask and covered his eyes, her dainty pinkies tickling his fake mustache. “Guess who.”

Caleb started at the sound of her voice, so familiar and melodious. He began to turn toward her, but a hand on his shoulder stilled him.

“Wait.”

She was so close he could feel her soft breath fanning the nape of his neck, and despite the crowds in the ballroom, he felt as if they were totally and completely alone.

“Guess who,” she repeated.

“I need a clue.”

“Think extravagant.”

“Well, that narrows it down.”

“Someone sinfully rich.”

“Don’t tell me. Wait. I’ve got it. Bill Gates is flirting with me?”

Meggie’s laugh sent an arrow of pure sexual energy shooting straight to his groin. “Not that rich and further back in history.”

“Marie Antoinette.”

“Closer, but not so headless.”

The lush, velvety material of her sleeve scratched gently against his cheek. She rested her elbows on his shoulders and he could feel her breasts brushing seductively against his cape.

Alarmed, Caleb became cognizant of the very stunning effect this new game was having on the other parts of his body. He felt a swift stirring of arousal. If she didn’t step away from him soon he was bound to embarrass them both.

“Guess who,” she whispered into his ear again, her hands still locked in front of his face.

He’d never noticed before what cute palms she had, and her fingers were long and delicate. Refined. Certainly not the hands of an Alaskan woman. She belonged here, he realized with a twinge. In this city.

And he did not.

Before he could follow that depressing train of thought too far, Meggie did something that completely knocked him for a loop. She stood on tiptoe, leaned in close and ran her hot little tongue along this ear.

It was the most incredibly erotic thing anyone had ever done to him. He felt his control unraveling fast. What was she playing at?

“Come find me if you can,” she whispered, then turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

7

DRESSED AS Catherine the Great, Meggie slipped across the room and found a place to hunker down behind Dracula, the Wolf Man, Michael Jordan and John Wayne, who were discussing the pros and cons of extended antibiotic therapy in the long-term treatment of tick-born illnesses.

Her pulse was pumping with enough endorphins to kick start a Harley. She was high on adventure and the thrill of the chase. Crazed with a bright excitement as memorable as childhood Christmas mornings.

She certainly hadn’t planned this little escapade. She’d simply spied Don Juan standing in the crowd and had gone to greet him, but by the time she’d made her way over, he had his back to her. Impulse had driven her to stand on tiptoe, rest her elbows on his shoulders and cover his eyes with her hands. Impulse and animal instinct.

His sharp intake of breath at her presence, his rich masculine scent, the way his broad shoulders had tensed beneath that silky white pirate shirt had compelled her to take things a step further. To dare him to figure out what disguise she was wearing and try to find her in the midst of the costumed congregation.

She should have known better. Hadn’t that night in the forest taught her that hunting and capturing a mate was a compulsion written in a man’s genetic code? By extending him this challenge, she’d effectively pitted herself against thousands of years of evolutionary conditioning.

And now Don Juan was on a quest, stalking through the gathered horde with a confident, ground-eating stride and an expression of serious intent riding his tightened jaw: he was searching for her.

What a buzz! What a lark! What a fantasy!

Meggie’s mouth was dry, and she shivered from her head to her feet. She felt warm and jittery, as if she’d downed a half-dozen espressos in one sitting.

Was she losing control of the situation?

This masquerade was in danger of becoming an obsession. Don Juan made her feel things she had never felt before. Wonderful, delicious things she wanted to explore more fully.

Did she truly dare finish what they had started in the Tongass?

Dracula shifted to one side, leaving Meggie exposed to the crowd. She glanced around the room, looking for a new place to hide, but when she tilted her head to the right, there was Don Juan, standing just a few feet away, an inscrutable smile on his enigmatic lips.

The minute their eyes met Meggie knew she was in trouble. He started toward her. Meggie gulped. What was he going to do?

Wicked intent glistened in those commanding blue eyes, made even more powerful by the erotic frame of his black leather mask.

Her stomach fluttered. A jolt of pure, raw sexual energy rushed through her and her world narrowed, shifted into agonizing slow motion.

Stomp, stomp, stomp. The noise of his boots striking the marble floor was sharpened and elongated, echoing loudly in her ears with each resounding step. His black hair was wildly tousled. The material of his silky shirt rippled when he walked, fluid as water. His gaze was locked on hers and she was helpless to look away, even to move. In what seemed both an eternity and a mere whisper of a second, he was at her side.

My God, he was handsome.

He reached out and wrapped a hand around her right elbow. The pressure of his fingers caused her to disintegrate into a quivering mass of organic matter. His body heat muddled her brain.

When the two of them came in contact it could only be described as chemistry, electrical conductivity, spontaneous combustion. Oh, how seriously pathetic to be reduced to bottom-level biological rubble by a man.

He slipped a key card into her palm, then pressed his lips to her ear and whispered in his robust Spanish accent, “Come to room 716 as soon as you can get away. I will be waiting.”

THIRTY MINUTES LATER, a short, firm rap sounded at the door of room 716.

Forcing himself to remain calm and in control, he let her knock again before pulling open the door to find Catherine the Great leaning against the doorjamb looking like a billion bucks.

He was about to speak, to say something comforting to soothe their nervousness, when she took him totally and utterly by surprise. Meggie splayed a palm across his chest and pushed him back as she stepped over the threshold. With one delicately slippered foot, she slammed the door closed behind them at the same time as she wadded his shirt in her fist and pulled him forcefully toward her. Her green eyes lit up like a lynx’s and she pounced on him, growling softly. His knees went weak with lust and he felt a curious tingling sensation in the back of his throat. She planted a kiss on him with such ravenous aggression that he found himself propelled backward onto the bed. She followed, melding her mouth to his, straddling his prone body and tugging his shirt from his waistband, all in one smooth move.

Her brazenness bowled him over. Holy buried treasure. What had he wrought?

He was both pleased and disconcerted by her overt onslaught. This wasn’t the sensible, restrained Meggie Scofield he’d known his whole life. This was the lusty, uninhibited wench from his fantasies.

Wait a minute. Maybe he was dreaming all this. Maybe he should pinch himself.

But no, she was nibbling on his bottom lip with her straight white teeth, and it felt very real indeed. Apparently their role-playing had unleashed a long-dormant tempest within her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her body against the length of him and eagerly ran her tongue over his lips.

No. Wait. Stop the presses. This wouldn’t do. At the rate she was moving, he wouldn’t last five minutes.

Reaching up, he untangled her hands from his hair at the same time he disengaged his mouth from hers. He lifted her off him, placed her to one side and sat up.

“Sweetheart,” Caleb crooned. “Slow down. This isn’t a race.”

She pulled back, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She blinked and then a red flush ran up her neck to color her cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never acted like that.”

He pulled her to him. “Shh…don’t be embarrassed. I liked it. We just need to slow down.”

“You’re right.” She nodded. “I guess I was just wanting to get to it before I lost my courage.”

Aw hell.

Was she trying to rush through sex with him just to get it over with? Was she trying to prove something to herself, using him as a means to her end?

He took her hand. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I’m not,” she insisted, and rested her head against his shoulder.

“Good.” He exhaled, troubled by the unsettling sensation tromping around in his gut.

“But I do have two requests.”

He would do absolutely anything for her, Caleb realized. If she asked him do handstands atop the Space Needle, he would have asked her how many and done one extra for good measure—even in the face of his fear of man-made heights. He would grant her every whim, from the simplest appeal to the most sublime demand. He wanted her that much.

“We must leave on our masks.”

She didn’t want to see his face. What did that mean? Caleb bit down on the inside of his cheek. He’d intended on revealing himself to her tonight, but he had promised to comply with her desires, and he was a man of his word.

“All right.”

“And turn out the lights. All of them.”

“Whatever you wish.”

He did as she asked, drawing the curtains and turning off each lamp until the room was pitch-black, the way it had been that night in the cabin.

With no lights anywhere, he had to feel his way in the darkness. His other four senses pricked in awareness. He could not see her, but he felt her presence, heard her breathing, smelled the wonderful womanly scent of her, tasted her unique flavor on the tip of his tongue.

And he had to admit, not being able to see was highly erotic. The anticipation had been building for seven weeks and his nerves were taut as newly tuned guitar strings just waiting to be strummed.

He moved toward where she had been standing, but felt her slip past him.

She giggled. “Find me if you can.”

Caleb smiled in the darkness. Obviously, she liked playing tag.

He lunged for her, came into contact with some soft part of her body, but she squirmed away before he could clamp a tight hold on her.

She pattered across the room, and he heard rustling noises.

Caleb went after her, his blood chugging through his veins, thick as syrup. He moved slowly, listening for sounds of her. He kept his arms outstretched, feeling for obstacles.

Table, chair, lamp.

“Where are you?”

Curtains. An armoire. The television set.

And then his hand brushed bare breasts, and the impact of connecting with her ripped through him like a detonated time bomb. He realized with a shock that Meggie had shed her clothing.

Like a blind man reading braille, he skimmed his palms over her smooth naked skin. He felt goose bumps raise on her flesh, and experienced a corresponding tactile reaction of his own.

She reached up to stroke her fingertips over his face and his body caught fire, singeing him internally from head to toe.

He cupped her pert full breasts in his hands and wished like the devil he could see the pink tips of her nipples poking out at him. He had to satisfy himself with tenderly pinching those straining buds until she murmured a soft, “Oh my.”

He lowered his head, ran his tongue across first one nipple and then the other.

“You’re wicked,” she gasped.

“Isn’t that why I intrigue you?”

“Yes, yes.”

“You never know what I might do next.”

She inhaled sharply.

“That’s why you don’t want me to remove my mask. You like an outlaw.”

“Uh-huh.”

He grasped her hands, raised them over her head and pinned her to the wall.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, señorita.” He had to force himself to stay in character as Don Juan although this game was driving him right over the edge of reason.

She was his prisoner now, trembling with excitement and need. “Please,” she whimpered, “don’t…”

“Don’t what? Ravish you?” He’d sensed that she was taking their game to a new level, and he would play along.

He felt her nod, and a rush of blood drained straight to his groin.

“I could take you right here, right now. Up against the wall. Hard and fast. It’s dark. You can’t see my face. You couldn’t even describe me to the authorities. It’s best if you don’t give me an excuse to punish you.”

“But I’ve been a very bad girl. I’ve told the police where they can find you.”

The playful tone in her voice let him know he hadn’t gone too far. He amazed himself at the boundaries he was able to cross with her.

Helpless to resist her plea for more sex play, and wanting to give her as much pleasure as he possibly could before taking his own release, Caleb lowered her arms to her sides and then sank to his knees.

“Uh-oh. That means I’m going to have to give you a thorough tongue-lashing.”

He spanned the curve of her waist with his hands and then slowly began to run his tongue from her rib cage to her navel. She entangled her fingers in his hair and clasped him tightly against her belly. His mask must have scratched her tender flesh for she made a moaning, mewling sound of heightened awareness that nourished his own arousal. He ran a hand down the voluptuous curve of her hip to cup her buttocks, and discovered she still wore thong panties and thigh-high stockings.

Man alive. She was volcano hot and seducing him without even moving.

He hooked his thumbs under the ribbon of silk hugging those spectacularly feminine hips and started the exhilarating procedure of inching the flimsy morsel of fabric down her warm, firm thighs. She gasped, an erotic sound that reverberated like a prayer in his head.

When he feathered his fingertips along her skin in languid exploration, her grip on his hair tightened. He touched the inside of her thigh, the top of her legs, drew circles on her tight fanny. He stroked every inch of the area between her navel and knees, except where he knew she most wanted him to touch.

“You’re vicious,” she moaned. “I thought you promised me a tongue-lashing.”

“Punishment, sweetheart, takes many forms.”

“Bastard!” She uttered the word with clenched teeth.

He laughed.

She leaned back against the wall and arched her pelvis up toward him, planting her womanhood right near his face. Begging.

“Brazen wench,” he declared.

“If you can’t take the heat, then get out of the kitchen.”

“I’ll ignore that, because I know you don’t really mean it.”

Her sigh in response was like a caress in the darkness, inching down his spine, spilling through his bloodstream, setting him on fire with escalating desire for her. Swelling need seized him and his pulse knocked wildly in his temple. To wrest back a modicum of restrait, he compelled himself to disregard the provocative smell of her, the seductive rhythm of her undulating hips, by resolutely turning his attention back to the thong caught around her knees.

He skimmed the scrap of satin down to her ankles, his hands brushing against the enticing silkiness of her nylons.

“Step out of your panties,” he demanded.

She obeyed.

“You really are as mercurial as the wind,” he said. “One minute aggressive, the next coy, the next acquiescent. Who are you, really?”

“My identity is secret, just as you are a complete mystery to me.”

She liked not knowing him. Controlled, sensible, honest-to-a-fault Meggie liked adventure and rowdiness and subterfuge in the bedroom. As long as he remained behind the mask, as long as he was the sensual, roguish Don Juan, he could provide her with all the things she needed. But what could he do for her as plain, ordinary Caleb Greenleaf? The unsettling thought disturbed him and quashed his libido.

But not for long.

“I’m naked, and now you must get naked, too,” she declared.

The mental image of her standing completely unclothed before him dispelled his self-doubts and goaded illicit visions of untying his leather pants, freeing his ferocious erection and plummeting deep inside her feminine recess.

But not yet. She deserved much more than a blazing quickie.

She began unbuttoning his shirt, her cool fingers tracking lightly over the heated flesh she slowly unveiled. She plunged her fingers into the curls of hair on his chest.

Caleb groaned, clasped her to him and delivered a series of searingly desperate kisses to her smooth, flat belly. She moaned and slid her body down his until she was on her knees in front of him, her breath flowing hot and fast against his skin.

She explored him with her honeyed tongue, tasting the skin she uncovered while completing the task of removing his shirt. She stripped it off his shoulders and over his biceps before flinging the garment across the room. Splaying her palms against his chest, Meggie muttered a pleased sound of discovery and traced her fingers down his torso to the hard planes of his stomach. His body tensed and flexed in response to her inquisitive, reverential exploration.

“I wish I could see you,” he croaked.

“No,” she said sharply. “No lights.”

He wanted to ask why, but dammit if she didn’t start licking his ear in the provocative way she’d done in the ballroom. The very same maneuver that had caused him to press the room card key in her hand and invite her up for a midnight romp. It seemed they both operated better in disguise.

Was secrecy what fed the flame between them? What would happen once the mystery was gone?

Caleb didn’t want to think about that eventuality. He didn’t want to think about anything. He just wanted to be in the moment.

As a man accustomed to spending much time alone in the wilderness, appreciating and living in the moment was his specialty. He could give both Meggie and himself the gift of total concentration. He would. Just for tonight, no more doubts, no more fears of what might happen once she discovered a familiar face behind the Don Juan mask.

“Nibble on my neck,” Meggie requested in a jagged whisper.

His blood pulsed, fiery and brutal. As if hypnotized, he followed her instruction. Nestling his mouth to the hollow of her slender throat, he bared his teeth against her fevered skin. She cried out and squirmed against him when he took her flesh into his mouth and nipped lightly. He shivered in awe that he’d produced this reaction in her.

The taste of her succulent saltiness wasn’t nearly enough. He was famished for her. Had been for years. He nibbled on her like a banquet feast, sucking and licking, swirling his tongue over the sweetness of her. Caleb plunged his fingers through her hair and cradled her naked body in his arms.

She was all soft swells and generous curves. Her nipples thrust hard against his chest, begging for attention. He left her neck and went straight for the eager buds, curling his tongue around one puckered peak and gently tugging. She hissed like a hot griddle doused with ice-cold water.

“You inflame me.”

“Shh. Don’t talk, just lick.”

He laved her with his mouth. A tremble shuddered through her and a slow, deep groan unfurled from her throat.

“That’s it, don’t stop.”

He savored her, claimed her and ached to possess her on a baser level. He gorged on the sugary taste of her, indulging his whims.

Caleb caressed her with his hands, kneaded her skin, massaged her, quickly learning which spots produced the most explosive reactions. He discovered where she liked it firm and where she preferred a whisper-light touch. Which stroke made her quiver and which made her sigh with restless longing.

Steadily, relentlessly, he pushed her toward the edge of reason. He experienced it, too—the heady anticipation, the measured buildup, the escalating wildness.

She strained her hips against the hard ridge of his erection. He knew what she wanted because he wanted the same thing. Wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. Passion throbbed between them, blistering them both. They hovered on the verge of stepping completely out of bounds of all rational behavior.

Whimpering, she sought his mouth and kissed him with a yearning, soulful need.

Scuttling his hands up her naked back, he crushed her to him, hugging her breasts—still damp from his tongue—tightly against his chest. Their hearts raced in unison, ratcheting upward in a building crescendo. Frenziedly, he dragged his mouth from hers, gasping for air and attempting to stay his frantic lust.

God, how he wanted to see her face, to examine her eyes and learn exactly what she was feeling. Did she want him as much as he wanted her?

Stupid question.

Even as he sought a small respite from this ever-increasing whirlwind of want, Meggie clearly had another plan in mind. To garner his notice, she bit down lightly on his earlobe and tugged the susceptible flesh with her teeth.

“Show me what you like, Don Juan. Take my hand. Guide me where you want me to go.”

“Ah, señorita, it is my place to please you, not the other way around,” he managed to gasp. If she were to suddenly start plying those lips of hers in his most sensitive areas, he wouldn’t last two seconds.

“This can’t be one-sided like that night in the cabin. I have to know I can please you as much as you please me.”

He shook his head.

“You must. It’s very important to me.”

“All right,” he said with an exasperated groan. “If it really means that much to you.”

Spellbound, he plunged his fingers through the silky strands of her hair and began with a long, heartfelt kiss simply because he could not get enough of the flavor and texture of her mouth. He leaned backward, taking her with him until he was splayed flat on his back and she was straddling him.

After a few heated minutes, he tenderly broke off the connection and gently steered her moist, parted lips down his chin, over his throat and, in measured increments, along his chest.

Her tongue fluttered across his ridged nipples, and she did to him what he’d earlier done to her. She was making every single one of his most forbidden fantasies come true, and he loved her for it.

She tracked a path from his nipples to his belly, scooting her bare fanny down his leather-clad thighs as she moved lower, ever lower.

Although he wished he could see her, there was something unspeakably erotic about total darkness—not being able to spot her next move, unable to predict what else she had up her sleeve, because he wasn’t privy to the naughty gleam in her eyes.

Everywhere her mouth touched, his skin sizzled. He moaned as her lips traveled to where his belly hair disappeared into his waistband. When she stretched her mouth over his hardness through the pliant leather of his pants, he almost came right then and there.

He raised his hips and hissed with sharp, greedy need. “That’s it.”

She drew back and her fingers went to work on the drawstrings at his fly. Without faltering, she tugged his pants past his hips and chortled out loud when she realized he wasn’t wearing underwear.

“You’re going commando.” She giggled, obviously delighted by the fact.

“No boxers or briefs for Don Juan.”

“Guess with those drawstrings you don’t have to worry about anything…er…important getting caught in a zipper.”

Her lighthearted, teasing tone touched his heart. She was happy. He’d made her happy.

She wrapped a hand around his rock-hard penis and his smile vanished as he fought his natural instinct to explode at her searing touch.

“And my, Don Juan, may I say, what an impressive package you have.”

“The better to—” He almost said “make love to you with, Little Red Riding Hood,” but he figured “make love” was the last thing she wanted to hear. Instead he used a crude street term that seemed to rev her engines, for she made short work of his pants, peeling them right off his body.

“That’s right, talk dirty to me.”

She returned her attention to his throbbing organ, and he was unable to speak at all, much less talk dirty. She stroked him with her fingers, squeezing and rubbing, revelling in the raw and ready hotness of his sex, exploring the paradoxical velvet and granite texture.

Tentatively, she sheathed her mouth around him, tasting his masculine essence with the tip of her tongue. She ran her lips up and down his shaft in a maneuver that caused his entire body to quake helplessly.

Oh mercy. Mercy.

She took her time, trying out a variety of experiments. She blew hot little puffs of air against his skin. She swirled her tongue around the head of his penis. She sucked and licked, teasing him, drawing him ever closer to the brink of climax.

He shuddered when she discovered the sensitive ridge lurking below the proud, jutting tip. In that moment, he almost called out her name. In fact, the first syllable was past his lips when he remembered the game and her rules. He bit down on his tongue.

“Mmm.”

“You like?”

“If you keep doing what you’re doing, then we’re both in trouble.”

“Good.”

Before Caleb knew what was happening, she took his engorged shaft as deeply into her mouth as she could possibly manage in a blinding, white-hot kiss that turned his world inside out. He whimpered as she engulfed him in a way that made him absolutely maddog crazy for release. For her.

His hands searched for her in the darkness, clutched her hair in desperation and tried to get her to break contact. If she didn’t quit he simply would not be able to stop the force of nature that had kidnapped his body.

But she would not be denied.

He gasped, he writhed.

She moved faster, sucked harder.

He could not think. Could not reason. Could only let himself be swept up in her vortex.

Up, up, up, she took him. Climbing higher and higher. When she gently cupped his balls in the palm of one hand, he knew it was the end for him. Every muscle in his body tensed. He stopped breathing and for one brief second in time felt as if he hung suspended on the edge of the world.

The searing orgasm red-hot and mind-blowingly powerful, shot up through his shaft in a blinding rush. Intense, blistering pleasure shuddered throughout his system in a kaleidoscope of sensation.

He tried to pull her away but she ignored his attempts. The moist, warm recesses of her mouth stole his restraint, and he could do absolutely nothing but ride the roller coaster down, down, down as he plummeted earthward into heavenly release.

Meggie! Meggie!

What a gift. What a surprise. What a woman.

Emotion pressed into the corners of his eyes, and for the first time since turning out the lights, he was grateful she couldn’t see him.

Panting, she raised her head and whispered in his ear. “Make love to me with your mouth, Don Juan. Make love to me right now.”

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

8

TAKE A RISK, she had told herself when she’d accepted Don Juan’s key card. Take a chance. No telling what you might discover about yourself.

Boy, had that been an understatement.

She knelt beside Don Juan, trembling in the darkness, stunned and amazed at what she had just done. She’d never done anything so intimate with a man before.

How would he react? What would he do?

In answer to her question, he gave a groan and she felt him get to his feet. He fumbled for her in the darkness and latched his arms around her waist with a possessiveness that both frightened Meggie and delighted her. Without speaking, he scooped her into his arms and gingerly made his way to the bed.

What was it about him that drew her? What made her yearn to throw caution aside and proceed with the reckless abandon of a horny teenager? He fascinated her like no one else on earth, and she didn’t even know his real name.

This is just for tonight, Meggie. Don’t for a moment forget that. You can lose your head if you wish, but don’t give this guy your heart.

But of course not. She had learned her lesson the hard way. Don Juan was a dalliance to help her repair her shattered self-esteem. As long as she understood that, she wouldn’t get hurt.

By providing her with a safe outlet for sexual exploration, Don Juan was giving Meggie her femininity back. Because of his precious gift, when she did find the right man and fall in love, she would come to her new lover with a free heart. Whatever happened tonight, the knowledge that she would be better prepared for a loving relationship in the future because of Don Juan buoyed her hopes.

She could find love again. She would. And next time, it would be with the right guy.

Tonight, however, was about cutting loose, experimenting and finding out just how far her limits stretched.

Don Juan deposited her gently in the middle of the mattress. He stepped back and she reached for him.

Sudden fear struck her. What if he wasn’t taking this affair as casually as she? She didn’t want to hurt him any more than she wanted to be hurt.

“Don Juan?”

“Yes?” His sexy, disembodied voice floated from the blackness, causing her to shiver with expectation.

God, how she loved the way he spoke. Never mind that the accent was fake. She knew he wasn’t really Spanish, but she ignored that knowledge for the sake of fantasy, and reminded herself she would not ruin everything by delving into reality.

“This is just a game for you, isn’t it? I’m just one in a long string of your lovers. Right?”

He said nothing. Silence roared in her ears. Oh, no. What if he wanted more than she could give? She wasn’t about to get involved with another rogue, no matter how sexy or how good at foreplay he might be.

“Right?”

“Remember,” he whispered at last. “I’m here for one thing and one thing only. Your pleasure. Do you understand?”

Relief washed through her. Yes. The last thing she wanted was to hurt him. Thank heavens they were on the same wavelength, because it would have been next to impossible to walk away from him at this point.

She felt the mattress sag from his weight as he settled himself on the bed. From nowhere, it seemed, his fingers made contact with her arm and roved up her shoulder to her collarbone and then down to her aching, engorged breasts.

“I want to reward you. To thank you for the perfect present you just gave me. I wish to reciprocate.”

Meggie hitched in a deep breath as his fingers trailed lower, inch by exquisite inch.

“You are so beautiful.”

“I’m not beautiful.” She laughed. “You’ve only seen me in a mask, with a costume on. For all you know I look like Quasimodo.”

“And I could say the same. Isn’t that part of the attraction? Not knowing what is behind the mask and getting excited anyway?”

“Yes,” she admitted, and moistened her lips with her tongue.

His fingers were getting closer, ever closer, to the place where she wanted him to be.

“I could be anyone. No?”

“Yes.”

“That excites you, doesn’t it?”

“Uh-huh.”

He stroked her lower abdomen, stoking the flames that were building inside her. After several minutes of this, her entire body was rigid and she wanted to grab him by the hair and tell him to get on with it.

When she didn’t think she could stand the teasing one second longer, he let his hand drift to the hair at the juncture between her legs. Gently he stroked a finger over her right upper thigh.

“Open for me. Nothing is more erotic then the moment a woman parts her legs for her lover.”

He didn’t have to ask twice. Meggie shifted, moved her legs apart, welcomed him in, opened herself to the greatest vulnerability a woman could experience.

“The holiest of holy spots. The gate to heaven.”

He made her feel attractive and powerful and womanly. His reverential sigh brought a tightness to her chest. No wonder women fell at Don Juan’s feet. He was irresistible.

And then his hot, wet mouth was on her. He kissed her belly, while his cheek caressed her soft, bushy thatch of hair.

She realized then he wasn’t wearing his mask, and panic gripped her. What if she saw his face?

Calm down, calm down.

The room was dark. She would insist he put his mask back on before turning on the lights. Besides, she couldn’t freak out right now because the things he was doing to her down there were way beyond her realm of experience.

“Sweetheart,” Don Juan murmured. “I want to drink you up.”

“Yes. Yes, please.”

He was between her parted thighs, his head lowered. She tensed, waiting.

And then he slipped his tongue inside her dewy folded flesh and licked her. One small quick flick, as if getting a drop of ice cream before it melted off the cone and ran down his hand.

She gasped.

“Mmm, you taste delicious.”

A sigh escaped her.

“You are so hot, so wet.”

“You make me that way.”

She felt his lips, which were pressed against her, curl up in a grin. Oh, he was arrogant about his prowess, but with good reason.

He unwrapped her like savoring the opening of a birthday present, using his tongue to explore layer after layer. The ridges and folds of her womanhood blossomed beneath his seductive ministrations. She felt the delicate tissue swell in sultry response to his devilish sucking as his saliva mixed with her natural juices.

He changed tempo. Whereas before he’d been delivering light, rapid flicks over her protruding cleft, he dawdled and pressed more firmly.

Slow, long, deep strokes. Down, then up, in a mesmerizing configuration.

“Aaah.”

“So you like things nice and slow.”

She nodded her head and twisted her fingers through his hair. “Stop talking.”

He laughed and returned to his task. He varied his patterns. One minute circles, the next a grid, after that a haphazard zigzag. Meggie felt a gigantic pressure building beneath the hood of her cleft, building and growing and throbbing.

Ever so slightly he nibbled on her inner lips, and she just about leaped off the bed, the sensation was so excruciatingly incredible.

“More. More.” She trembled and clutched the bedspread in her fists.

Sucking very gently, he drew her cleft into his mouth. In and out. In and out. Tugging. Releasing. Tugging. Releasing.

Entranced by the erotic decadence of the act, Meggie could do nothing but enjoy. How was it she didn’t feel tense and anxious about this? What was different about Don Juan?

Because he’s a stranger.

Odd that she could let down her guard with a man she didn’t know, and allow him do the most private things to her when she’d had trouble relaxing and letting go in the midst of a long-term relationship.

You weren’t in the right relationship.

She’d been with Jesse for all the wrong reasons, and she knew it. Jesse had been her ticket out of Alaska, and she’d lived vicariously through his wild ways. But now, no matter how irrational her actions might seem to her practical self, she was having her own adventure, embracing life on her own terms.

It felt damn good. No more taking care of other people’s needs first. This time, she was doing what was right for Meggie.

Don Juan glided his silken tongue around the tiny base of her, and then skated up to the tender, surging tip. The hood of her cleft slid back and the sensitive nubbin strained for his attention.

There was danger here. One slip of his teeth and the fun would be all over.

But he understood. He was a careful lover. Oh, so very careful. Everything he did elicited unbelievable tides of carnal bliss.

She shivered and quivered and groaned.

He blew a steady stream of cool air against her, before returning to the hot licking. He alternated: chilly air; scalding, wet tongue. Frosty, fiery, icy, boiling, until Meggie thought she wouldn’t be able to bear this sweet torment one second longer.

But he wasn’t finished.

On and on he went until she lay limp, wrung out, and when he gently inserted one finger inside her, she lost all self-respect.

“Make me come,” she cried out. “Please. Make me come. Now!”

The ache that had been coiling tighter and tighter inside her unfurled then in one blinding, clear starburst that radiated outward in an exploding rush.

No one had ever brought her to orgasm this way. Tears sprang to her eyes, and as she shuddered and trembled, Don Juan positioned himself beside her on the bed and drew her into his arms.

He kissed her tenderly, hauntingly. He tasted of her feminine flavor. Full and rich, robust and healthy. Nothing had ever tasted so sexy. Meggie snuggled into his body, rested her head against his chest and, in her warm, sated state, happily fell asleep.

NEVER IN HIS LIFE had Caleb known such total rapture. And to think he had been so very afraid that making love with Meggie could never live up to his teenage fantasies. Instead, their glorious encounter had exceeded all his previous expectations.

The woman was better than his most provocative daydream. One more night with her was not going to be nearly enough. That much was clear.

He lay in the darkness listening to her breathing. She was spooned into him, her fanny curled against him, his arm thrown over her waist. He squeezed her tighter and his gut clenched.

He wanted more of this.

Of her.

But first, he had to come clean and tell her the truth—that he, Caleb Greenleaf, was her secret Don Juan lover. What was the best way to do that? Let her wake up, look over and see his face?

Nah. He immediately discarded the idea. Too jarring. He didn’t want her to regret their night together, and if he didn’t handle this just right he ran the risk of having her never speak to him again. He had to find another way, a better time and place to reveal himself to her.

But where and how?

He would have to think about it. In the meantime, he was going to have to slip from the room while she slept.

Inwardly, he groaned. The last thing he wanted to do was leave this bed and her warm, soft body. He wanted to languish here, savor this moment. He wanted to wake her with kisses and make love to her all over again, not just with his mouth this time. He wanted to be inside her, consume her, claim her as his own.

But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. She wasn’t ready to learn the truth. If she had been, she wouldn’t have insisted he douse the lights.

Caleb wondered if deep down inside somewhere she knew that he was Don Juan and she simply couldn’t face the reality. That thought caused a twinge of anxiety to pierce his heart. His fingers gently stroked her sleeping form, and sorrow paralleled desire in the immense complexity of these new emotions.

He wasn’t going to pursue that line of thought. For now, he would do what he had to do, even though the thought of leaving her was killing him.

Much as it hurt, he had to go.

MEGGIE AWOKE WITH A START, confused and disoriented. The hotel room was still dark, but sunlight shadows were seeping beneath the drawn curtains, casting enough illumination to let her see that the space on the bed beside her was empty.

Breathing in a deep sigh, she pushed her tangled hair from her face and sat up.

“Don Juan?” she called, thinking he might be in the bathroom. If he was in there and not wearing his mask, she didn’t want to see him.

The thought of coming face-to-face with her lover caused her pulse to accelerate. She threw back the covers and hopped out of bed. But she needn’t have worried. He didn’t answer, and no sounds came from behind the closed bathroom door.

She knocked. No response.

Whew. That was a relief!

Okay, so if she was so happy that he’d abandoned her, why the heavy sadness settling low in her belly? Was this the morning-after-a-one-night-stand blues? She stepped into the bathroom and flicked on the light.

“Eeek!”

Who was that woman in the mirror? Her lips were slightly swollen, her hair a rat’s nest, her mascara-smeared eyes like a raccoon.

She studied herself for a long moment. The thought of Don Juan hung like a mist between herself and her reflection. As if in a dream, she saw him before her. She gazed at that shadowy image, memorizing it to forever carry him with her, knowing she would treasure it for fear if it might break up and scatter like paperweight snowflakes.

“Stop being so fanciful,” she told her reflection. “It’s not like you.”

She had no reason to feel blue or abandoned. She had nothing to complain about. She’d gotten what she wanted—a thrilling night of no-strings-attached sex. Raw, animal intimacy to help her overcome her fears and regain her femininity.

“Don’t feel sad, Meggie. You just reclaimed your sexuality,” she declared to her bedraggled reflection in the mirror. “Be happy. Be proud. Go forth from this moment knowing that you are not dull and predictable either in bed or out.”

She made herself grin.

Feeling a little better, she showered and dressed, then realized she was going to have to sneak out of the hotel room just after dawn, wearing her Catherine the Great costume and no makeup. Hopefully she wouldn’t run into anybody she knew.

“Better get a move on, Scofield,” she muttered under her breath.

Groaning, she slipped her feet into her high-heeled shoes and headed for the door. That’s when she saw it dangling from the doorknob.

Don Juan’s mask.

That was all? No note requesting to see her again? No phone number where she could reach him?

But that was a good thing. Right?

Except she did want to see him again. No matter how irrational the thought.

If you want to know who he is, it’s easy to find out. All you have to do is call the front desk and ask who reserved this room.

Quickly, she slammed the door on that idea. She did not wish to pursue a long-term relationship with the man. It was over.

For the longest moment she stared at the mask, trying to find a double meaning that wasn’t there. This was it then. With a sigh—of disappointment or relief, she couldn’t say which—Meggie balled the mask in her fist and flung it into the wastepaper basket.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

9

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” Wendy demanded, sizing up Meggie’s bedraggled costume. She was sitting on Meggie’s front stoop, the Sunday morning newspaper tucked under one arm, a box of doughnuts resting on her bent knees. “I’ve been ringing your doorbell for a good ten minutes.”

“You got Krispy Kremes? I love you.”

Meggie reached for the doughnuts in an attempt to sidetrack her friend, but Wendy was having none of it. She hunched forward, shielding the box with her body.

“No way, sister. You don’t get one until you tell me where you were.”

“You’re not my mother,” Meggie said defensively. She didn’t want to talk about her night with Don Juan. It was too special.

Besides, she was afraid that if she spoke of their lovemaking, and of how he had left her without a single word, she would start crying. For no good reason at all. She had wanted a no-strings-attached fling. What was there to bawl about?

“No talkie, no Krispy Kreme.”

“Fine. Keep your doughnuts.” She stepped around Wendy to insert her key in her door lock.

Looking startled, Wendy jumped to her feet and followed Meggie into her apartment. “You’re seriously turning down doughnuts?”

“Seriously.” She tossed her keys on the table and kicked off her shoes.

“Ooh, this must be really juicy.” Wendy opened up the doughnut box and fanned the lid. “Mmm, smell. Got your favorite. Plain glazed.”

“Forget it. I’m not talking.”

“If it was the other way around, I would tell you.” Wendy pursed her lips in a pout.

“That’s beside the point. You love to blab.” Meggie pulled a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator. “Want some?”

“With doughnuts? Yeck. You’ve gotta be kiddin’.”

“Suit yourself.” She shrugged and poured a glass for herself.

Wendy set the doughnuts on the counter. “I’m getting kinda worried about you, Megs.”

“Don’t be.”

“How can I not? You’re my best friend. And at first, when you came back from Alaska all charged up after your romantic encounter with this Don Juan dude, I thought it was really cool the way you were taking charge of your life. Cutting your hair, getting new clothes and speaking up for yourself at work.”

“But now?”

“Well.” Wendy eyed Meggie’s rumpled dress. “You’re not acting like the Meggie I know and love. I mean, obviously you were with some man last night.”

Meggie said nothing.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“It’s personal.”

Wendy slapped her palm over her mouth. “Omigosh. It’s that hometown guy. You spent the night with your old buddy.”

“Caleb? Don’t be silly. His plane isn’t even due in until this afternoon. Of course I wasn’t with Caleb. Why would you think I was with Caleb? I told you I don’t have romantic feelings for Caleb.”

Meggie realized she was talking too fast, denying Wendy’s accusations too vehemently and using Caleb’s name too often. Why?

And why the sudden tightness in her breasts at the thought of making love with Caleb? Good grief! What a mental picture. Maybe she was losing all control when it came to men. Maybe Don Juan had turned her into a sex-crazed nympho.

“I don’t know. Whenever you talk about Caleb, your eyes light up and you get this glow about you.”

“You’re nuts.”

“Then who were you with?”

“I don’t want to discuss it.”

“Oh no.” Wendy groaned. “It’s that Don Juan dude, isn’t it?”

Meggie looked away, refusing to meet her gaze.

Wendy bit her bottom lip. “I care about you and I’m afraid you’re getting in over your head. You know after going through a divorce some women go wild and do things they would normally never do. Things they regret afterward. Don’t get swept away by lust, Meggie.”

“I appreciate your concern, I really do. But I really am okay.”

“Promise?”

Meggie nodded.

“All right then, but if you need anything, anything at all, I’m here.”

“Thank you for that. Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to take a nap.”

Wendy nodded. “I’ll leave you a couple of Krispy Kremes, even if you won’t tell me about your sordid night of pleasure.”

“It wasn’t sordid.”

“What fun is that?” Wendy grinned impishly.

“Go on, get out of here.”

“See you later.” Wendy put three doughnuts on a saucer, covered them with a paper towel and then retreated with the box.

After Meggie closed the door behind her friend, she wandered into the living room, intent on checking her answering machine. The green light blinked. One message.

A bubble of hope expanded inside her. Maybe Don Juan had called to tell her what a wonderful time he’d had. Or maybe he’d even called to make another date for the next time he was in town.

Don’t be ridiculous. You made it clear you didn’t want to see him again. He didn’t call.

She depressed the play button, crossed her fingers and strained to hear the voice spilling into the room.

“Hi.”

For one moment she thought it was Don Juan.

“Meggie, this is Caleb.”

She exhaled and sank onto the sofa. Why was she so disappointed?

“I just called to let you know I got into Seattle a little early, so you don’t have to pick me up at the airport. I’m staying at the Crowne Plaza. I’ve got some things to do today, so I guess I’ll catch you at the lecture tomorrow. Can’t wait to see you. Bye.”

Well, at least somebody wanted to see her. So what if she never heard from Don Juan again? No sense feeling sorry for herself. It was all for the best. Besides, Caleb was in town. If anyone could cheer her up, that man, with his understanding smile and soulful blue eyes, most certainly could.

DESPITE THE LOSS of his notes and reference material, the lecture was going really well. Caleb knew his entomology as intimately as he now knew Meggie’s luscious body.

He fielded questions and comments from the audience, which consisted of various medical personnel interested in knowing what they could do to educate the public about Lyme disease and related illnesses. He hadn’t made a single mistake.

That is, until Meggie slipped in through a side door and took a seat on the aisle just a few feet from the podium.

He had been in the middle of a sentence, but the moment he spotted her, every bit of knowledge he possessed flew from his head. She looked exquisitely gorgeous, no matter that she wore shapeless pink hospital scrubs and not a speck of makeup. A catwalk supermodel would not have looked any better to him.

“The…er, I…um,” he said, desperately wishing he had papers to shuffle, a pencil to tap, anything to help him focus.

Meggie caught his eye, broke into a beaming smile that lit her face from corner to corner and winked at him.

“Sorry I’m late,” she mouthed silently.

His heart pinched. A half-dozen conflicting emotions converged upon him, clogging his throat and tightening his chest. Guilt, excitement, longing, fear, desire and inexplicable tenderness.

Thoughts of Saturday night flooded his mind. He recalled those lips, soft as rose petals and tasty as taffy. How he wished he could have kissed her awake Sunday morning, massaged her taxed muscles and then served her breakfast in bed.

Instead, because of this deception he had been forced to perpetuate, he had slipped from her bed, sheepish and embarrassed. He wondered what she’d thought when she found the mask dangling from the doorknob, and if he’d hurt her feelings by leaving her without so much as a goodbye kiss.

Had she awakened in the cold dark and reached for him, only to find him missing? Had she looked for comfort and found only sharp emptiness?

Perhaps he was being fanciful. Perhaps she was relieved he’d crept away like a sneaky thief, glad she did not have to face him in the sobering light of day and discover his true identity.

He looked at her and his heart tore.

She was still smiling. She wriggled her fingers. She seemed fine. In fact, there was a distinct sparkle in her eyes he hadn’t seen there in a very long time.

Apparently orgasms with unknown masked men agreed with her.

Jealousy clenched his jaw.

Dumb-ass, you were that masked man. What? Are you envious of yourself?

Yeah, okay. Maybe he was the guy who’d put the rosy color in her cheeks, but it just as easily could have been someone else.

Caleb realized he was staring at her and silence had settled over the room, while everyone waited for him to speak. But he couldn’t continue. He had no idea what to say next.

“Why don’t we take a break for lunch?” He glanced at his watch. “The lecture will resume in one hour.”

He had to talk to her and find out how she was doing. He had to make sure he hadn’t irreparably harmed her.

She rose to her feet. He stepped off the podium and hurried toward her.

Calm down. Chill out. Take it easy.

“Meggie,” he said, feeling rather awkward and unsure of himself.

What now?

“Caleb.” Her smile crinkled the corners of her green eyes in a way that rendered him useless. She held out her arms and motioned him closer. “Come here and give me a hug. It’s so darn good to see you.”

And so he embraced her, pressing her tightly against him and patting her back. She smelled fragrantly sweet, like springtime in the Tongass. They were friends, after all. The hug meant nothing more to her than good to see you, old buddy and he knew it.

But that didn’t stop him from wishing and praying for more. Her body heat infiltrated his consciousness on a primordial level and sent a bolt of desire shooting through his groin.

This wouldn’t do. He had to get away from her before he got hard and she discovered that her good old buddy wanted to be way more than just friends.

He stepped from the circle of her embrace and looked into her eyes. She gazed at him, a quizzical expression on her face. She blinked and the look was gone. Had she begun to suspect he was Don Juan?

In that moment, he almost confessed everything, but something about the way she was looking at him now, as if she were honestly happy and excited about him being in Seattle, rendered him mute.

This clearly wasn’t the time or place for true confessions.

“I’m taking you to lunch,” she declared. “There’s a lovely little French bistro on the corner.”

He nodded, tongue-tied.

She squeezed his hand. “You’ll never know how pleased I am that you decided to teach the symposiums. For one thing, we were in desperate need of a knowledgeable instructor, but the truth is I’ve really missed you since I left Alaska.”

“You’re kidding. You missed me?”

“Of course I’m not kidding, doofus.” She slung her arm over his shoulder, leaned into him and reached up a hand to tousle his hair. “You’re my surrogate kid brother.”

His hopes sputtered and died.

Surrogate kid brother. Not exactly the sentiment he was hoping for. When he finally got around to telling her that he was Don Juan, he would remind her exactly why he’d been forced into this pretense. She refused to see him for the grown man he was and not the gangly teen he’d once been. The Don Juan outfit had been the only way to burrow under her prejudices and expand her mind.

Problem was, would she appreciate the underhanded education?

MEGGIE PEERED AT CALEB over the rim of her teacup. It was a little after one o’clock and they were sitting across from each at other at La Maison sharing a thick turkey croissant and bowls of hearty French onion soup.

Damn, but she’d never really noticed how very handsome he was. There was no way she was going to get out of introducing him to Wendy. If she refused, her friend might never speak to her again. Good-looking, caring men like Caleb didn’t come along every day. He would be good for Wendy, who had a tendency to get tangled up with freeloaders.

But would Wendy be good for Caleb?

Why do you care so much? Introduce them and they can sort it out for themselves.

She had enough problems of her own without fretting over other people’s love lives. Absently, she fingered her lips, her thoughts traveling back to Don Juan and the erotic night she’d spent in his arms.

Truthfully, she was still a little shaky over what had transpired, both shocked and pleased by her uncharacteristic behavior.

Does it stick out all over me? Have I changed? Am I different? Can people tell by looking at me? Can Caleb?

She shot another glance his way and found him studying her with such a peculiar expression on his face that for one halting moment she believed he must be privy to her every thought and know exactly what she’d been up to.

But that was fanciful nonsense. How on earth could Caleb possibly know that she’d been with Don Juan?

And if he did know, why would he even care?

Embarrassment frosted over her like an icy film, followed by an unexpected blast of heat. She felt her face flush pink.

This had to stop. Her obsessing over Don Juan was beginning to bleed over into other aspects of her life, causing her to imagine all kinds of crazy things.

Not good. Not good at all.

Meggie peeped up at Caleb again. He was still staring at her as if she were some ageless riddle he couldn’t quite decipher.

“Umm, delicious soup,” she said, although the soup could have been swamp water for all the flavor her taste buds registered.

“Excellent choice of restaurants.”

His comment sounded forced, or was she imagining things? Surely Caleb was no different than usual. He’d always been quiet, observant, contemplative. His steady, unwavering calmness was what she liked most about him.

Maybe guilt was causing her to read more into his expression than was there. She cringed, imagining what he would say if he knew she’d just had a two-night-stand with Don Juan. He would probably be as protective as her brother Quinn and want to beat the guy up.

Ack!

This was one of the reasons she no longer lived in Bear Creek. Too many people knew her too well and tried to run interference for her when life didn’t go her way.

But what was she saying? Life simply couldn’t be better. Thanks to Don Juan, she’d found herself again. She had nothing to be ashamed of and everything to be grateful for.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Caleb said.

“What?” She blinked.

The corner of his full mouth tipped up in a rueful grin. “You’ve been a thousand miles away. Is it the company?”

“Oh, no. I’m sorry.”

“Trouble at work?”

She shook her head.

“Come on, you can talk to me. This is your buddy Caleb.”

“It’s nothing. Honest. I was just woolgathering.”

“Okay. But if you ever need to talk…” He patted his shoulders. “These are pretty broad.”

“Thanks.” She smiled.

He was just the nicest guy. She was most definitely going to have to introduce him to Wendy. They both deserved someone special.

And right now Caleb deserved her undivided attention. Resolutely, she relegated all thoughts of Don Juan to a closet in her mind, stuffing him in there as her first skeleton.

She folded her hands one on top of the other. “So, tell me, how’s the wife search going?”

He shrugged. “I’ve given up on that.”

“Really? How come? That ad in Metropolitan worked wonders for Quinn and Mack and Jake.”

“Yeah, but you know me, Meggie. I need my space, and here were all these strange women crowding me. I couldn’t help but wonder if they wanted to be with me or with my money.”

“Oh. I keep forgetting you’re rich.”

“Well, you’re the only one.”

“Not all women are gold diggers.”

“Like my mother, you mean?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No. You’re too nice to criticize. But I haven’t given up on the idea of getting married. I’ve just decided to let nature take its course. I’m not answering any more correspondence from the ad, and to tell you the truth, that’s why I accepted the lecturer position. I needed to get out of town.”

“Bear Creek can be kind of claustrophobic,” Meggie admitted with a laugh, “despite the wide expanse of geography.”

“Tell me about it.”

Caleb tilted his head and looked at her in the light through the stained-glass window. Her silky hair glistened darkly; her green eyes sparkled, verdant and alive. She was so pretty and seemed to have no idea how appealing she looked bare faced and smiling. No artifice, no disguises.

Son of a bear, if he didn’t ache to claim her right then and there, consequences be damned. He wanted to drive his fists into his thighs and bellow her name with such passion that every diner in the place would turn to stare at him. He wanted to wrap his hand around the nape of her neck and pull her across the table in a kiss so fierce it left no doubt what he needed from her. He wanted to jump to his feet, scoop her into his arms and carry her all the way back to Bear Creek like a caveman, a Viking, a marauding pirate.

Instead, he did the polite, civilized thing and lied through his teeth.

“You’ve got a little something there on the side of your mouth.” He pointed with his index finger.

“Oh?” She raised a hand to the right side of her mouth and brushed at the nonexistent particle.

“The other side.”

She dabbed a finger at the left side of her mouth. “Did I get it?”

“Allow me.” Caleb leaned across the table and gently swept his thumb along her lower lip.

The contact was electric.

Meggie’s eyes widened.

His heart thumped.

“Did you get it?” she whispered.

“Uh-huh.”

“That’s good.” She sank back against the vinyl booth safely out of his reach.

Damn. That was all he was going to get? One slight touch of her lips?

Not enough. Not nearly enough.

He had to take some kind of action to ensure he would see her often during his month-long stay in Seattle. He wanted Meggie to give him a chance. He wanted to see if he could spark the same feelings without benefit of that confounded disguise.

A simple plan came to him.

He told her about his trouble with the taxi driver who had taken him the long route to the hotel, how his briefcase had been stolen. He embellished the story, playing on her sympathies.

“I feel like such a small-town hick. I want to go sightseeing while I’m in Seattle, but I’m worried about making more mistakes and getting taken advantage of. I feel like a fish out of water.”

“You’re not as helpless as all that.” She laughed and the sound burst through him like a song.

“I am. I’m pathetic in the city.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I swear it. I get lost just crossing the street. Call me a backcountry boy, but I’ve spent my life with moose and bear and salmon and trees. I don’t know much about navigating traffic or getting the best deal at the fish market or how to spot a con artist. Come on, Megs. You gotta take pity on me. I’m begging you. I need someone savvy to show me the city or I’ll be stuck in my hotel room for a month.”

Her smile broadened. “Why, Caleb, that’s an excellent idea.”

“It is?” His heart soared and his grin matched hers.

“And have I got just the woman to escort you around town.”

He felt confused. Was she talking about herself? “You do?”

“Uh-huh. My best friend, Wendy. She’s in between jobs right now and she’d love to show you Seattle. Here, let me give you her phone number.”

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

10

MEGGIE RUMMAGED in her purse for a pen and paper to jot down Wendy’s phone number, then looked up and ran smack into Caleb’s deep-blue eyes.

He placed one of his large hands over hers. The warmth, and the corresponding jolt of awareness, surprised her as much as the odd expression on his face. She felt flustered, knocked off balance by his unexpected touch.

“I’m sure your friend Wendy is a terrific woman, but I was hoping that you could show me around.”

“Oh.”

She blinked, not certain what to say next, not really sure what she was feeling. She wished Caleb would take his hand back. The weight of it against her fingers was disconcerting.

“That is, if you don’t have other plans. I don’t want to intrude.”

“No, I have no plans.” She stared, owl eyed, uncertain of this strangeness stretching between them.

Caleb couldn’t be asking her out. Could he?

Come on, why would she even suppose that? He was her friend, her buddy, the guy she used to baby-sit when he was still stuffing tadpoles in his pocket. He just wanted someone to hang out with, and here she was blowing it all out of proportion.

She shook her head to dispel her crazy thoughts. What was the matter with her? Had rediscovering her sexual prowess gone to her head?

Imagine. A handsome, rich, younger man like Caleb interested in her? Simply ridiculous.

It had been a very strange forty-eight hours. She was still hungover from her night of sinful luxury with Don Juan, and she was misreading things. That had to be the answer to her confusion.

“Nothing against your friend, Megs. It’s just that over the past few months I’ve grown tired of the dating scene and I just wanted someone I could kick back and relax with. Do you realize that in the past four months I’ve been on sixty-seven first dates?”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were. Frankly, it’s exhausting, having to make idle chitchat with someone you don’t have anything in common with. Especially for a guy who spends most of his time communing with flora and fauna. And, believe me, most of the women I’ve met are not the type to sit and watch glaciers melt.”

Why would they be watching glaciers melt when they could eyeball the likes of Caleb’s handsome physique?

“No second dates?”

He shook his head. “Not a one.”

“But why not?”

“It never felt right.”

“Oh.”

“So you don’t mind spending a few hours a week dragging a greenhorn tourist around Seattle?” he asked.

“With you, Caleb, I could spend twenty-four hours a day.” Now why had she said that?

Jeez, what was happening to her? She had no idea receiving oral sex from a sexy masked man could so disorient a woman. She had to stop thinking about Don Juan and cease reading sexual innuendo into something as innocent as an old friend’s touch.

“What I mean is,” she said, backpedaling, “I’d love to show you my city.”

CALEB AND MEGGIE STROLLED through the bustling Saturday afternoon crowd at Pike Place Market. The cool autumn breeze rolled in off Puget Sound, carrying with it the earthy aroma of fish and salty sea air. The day was unexpectedly sunny, and behind them, Mount Rainier was visible over the top of the city’s skyline.

Meggie was dressed warmly in woolen leggings, a vivid red tunic sweater that complemented her dark hair and ivory complexion, stylish thick-heeled black boots and a black leather jacket. A crimson tam was cocked jauntily on her head, the color reminding him of the bustier she’d worn at the Metropolitan party.

He had on black jeans, a black turtleneck and a green-plaid mackinaw. Meggie teased him about the mackinaw, joking that you could take the man out of Alaska but you couldn’t take Alaska out of the man. But Caleb saw plenty of other guys dressed as ruggedly as he.

Although a thriving metropolis, Seattle had managed to hang on to its wilderness roots. Things were a bit more casual here then in classy New York or hip L.A. If he were forced to live in a big city in the lower forty-eight, Seattle would be the one he’d choose.

The city, he decided, was a lot like Meggie herself, an interesting mix of sophisticate and earth mother.

A wide array of vendors had their wares spread out in a smorgasbord of selections, from fish to fresh fruits and vegetables to spices and cheese. Tantalizing aromas assaulted their noses.

Also interspersed between the buildings and food stalls were artisans with handmade crafts on display. Leather belts and wallets. Beaded rugs and pottery. Portraits and seascapes. Sculpture and jewelry.

“I come here almost every Saturday morning.” Meggie inhaled deeply. “I love the fresh food.”

“How about we pick up something for dinner and I cook for you?” Caleb offered. “To thank you for showing me a good time.”

“You don’t have to do that. We can just grab a pizza and rent a video or something.”

His heart skipped a beat. So she had planned for their outing to extend into the evening. This was a good thing. A very, very good thing.

“How about linguine with clam sauce?” he suggested enticingly. “Garlic bread and a tossed salad.”

“Okay.” She laughed. “You’re on.”

They wandered through the buildings, picking out the ingredients for their meal. When she casually linked her arm through his, Caleb almost stopped breathing.

He sneaked surreptitious glances her way, trying to decipher what the gesture meant, but she seemed so tranquil he could only conclude she felt relaxed enough in his presence that she hadn’t giving a second thought to slipping her arm through his.

Was that a bad sign or a good one?

Meggie chatted gaily about the market, about Seattle, about her job and his lecture series. He hung on her every word, but he was so dazzled by the feel of her arm against his side and the heavenly smell of her that he forgot what she said the minute the words left her ripe, sweet mouth.

She purchased a sack of tangerines from a fruit vendor and, as they strolled, peeled one with her long, slender fingers. Dropping the scalped peel into her sack, she then broke off a segment of the citrus fruit and slipped a wedge into her mouth.

“Mmm.”

Her soft sound jolted him straight back to that night at the Claremont Hotel. A shiver sliced through Caleb at the vivid memory.

“Oh, this is so good.”

Helplessly, he dropped his gaze to her mouth and spotted a glistening bead of wet nectar clinging to her lush bottom lip.

That tiny droplet mesmerized him more surely than a pocket watch entranced a hypnosis enthusiast. And his agony didn’t end there. When her tongue darted out and whisked the luscious liquid away, the sight reminded him even more of the erotic adventures they’d shared.

“Here, you’ve gotta taste this.” Meggie stopped walking, reached up and lifted a section of tangerine to his mouth.

With an indrawn breath, Caleb allowed his lips to part. Meggie slipped the tangy, sweet, pulpy fruit between his teeth. Her fingertip, soft and inviting, lightly caressed his lower lip, and Caleb’s mouth exploded in a riot of sensation. Between the sugary burst of tangerine on his taste buds and the lingering imprint of Meggie’s warm finger on his lips, he seriously considered that he might have just died and gone to heaven. The sound of appreciation he made had nothing to do with the fruit and everything to do with Meggie’s closeness.

She beamed at him. “It’s a perfect tangerine, isn’t it?”

“Perfect,” he agreed.

“Want another?”

Baby, you can feed me tangerines all day long, was what he wanted to say, but instead he said, “Nah, I don’t want to fill up before dinner.”

“Okay, but you’re missing out.” She polished off the tangerine with a satisfied smirk, and then daintily licked her fingers in a casual move so frigging hot it left Caleb aching to kiss her to taste the heady flavor of Meggie mixed with the perfect tangerine.

They continued walking. A couple of times she paused and tilted her head, looking at him as if he was a familiar pair of slippers or a comfy bathrobe.

That thought disturbed him. He didn’t want to be comfortable and familiar. He wanted to be a dangerous, exciting risk taker like Don Juan.

But he shouldn’t be complaining. For now, he had her all to himself. His real self. Not the consummate lover he pretended to be when he was behind that mask.

Ah. The sticking point. Would Meggie rather be with him or some long-dead lothario that Caleb had resurrected in order to romance the woman of his dreams?

Things were getting way too complicated.

He should come clean and tell her the truth about Don Juan, but he didn’t know how to start. Besides, he wasn’t sure she was ready to hear the truth, and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her friendship.

Meggie leaned her head against his shoulder in a guileless gesture that captured his heart. She pointed to a vendor selling porcelain figurines.

“Ooh, dolls. Let’s go see.”

Okay. All right. He wouldn’t tell her about Don Juan. Not yet, even though he was bursting with the need to scoop her into his arms and kiss her.

He would wait. He would slowly romance her, as Caleb. By the time she realized her true feelings for him, he hoped she would be ready to discover the identity of her mystery lover.

Caleb swallowed hard. He didn’t feel particularly good about his plan, but saw no way around it. The outcome hinged on what he did in the next few weeks. Could he get her to see him as boyfriend potential? Could he convince her that she would rather have him than Don Juan?

He had less than four weeks to win her heart. The clock was ticking.

CALEB SEEMED DIFFERENT and Meggie couldn’t quite put her finger on why. Usually whenever she was around him she felt as relaxed as she did around her own family, but ever since his arrival in Seattle, there was an odd uneasiness between them.

When she’d leaned in close to feed him that slice of tangerine, she’d felt his whole body tense, and when her fingers grazed his lip she could have sworn she saw his skin pale.

Was he angry with her for some reason? Meggie had no idea why. She glanced over at him. The afternoon sun had slipped from behind the ever-present clouds, catching them for a moment in a swathe of orange light.

His hair glinted darkly. A five-o’clock shadow had begun to sprout on his rugged jaw. His brow was pulled down in a brooding expression. His eyes, as blue as the ocean beyond the pier, shimmered with an intensity that grabbed hold of her belly and squeezed. In that moment, he was a complete stranger to her.

Meggie gulped and the oddest sensation came over her. She couldn’t begin to name her emotion. Anxiety maybe, but a nicer feeling than that. Apprehension? No, not really. She wasn’t afraid of Caleb.

Excitement? Weirdly enough there was an element of that. Fondness? She’d always been fond of Caleb, but the sensation was deeper, more complex, than fondness.

Knocked off balance by the abnormal emotion—whatever it was—Meggie shook her head and hung back.

Caleb stopped and turned to look at her. The crowd flowed around them, but it was as if they were the only two people in the marketplace. The sun was retreating into the clouds, but left behind enough light to silhouette him in a surreal, ethereal glow.

He looked like…who?

Meggie stopped breathing as a dark, unthinkable thought skittered across her consciousness, but she quickly shoved it aside before it had time to take root in her head and bloom.

She needed something to distract her. Now.

The dolls. That was the answer. They’d been on their way to look at the doll vendor’s stand. With her blood darting rapidly through her veins, she hurried over to the vendor without glancing in Caleb’s direction again.

Inexplicably, her hand trembled slightly as she picked up a doll and pretended to examine it. But, in truth, she couldn’t seem to focus on the porcelain figurine in her hand.

Calm down, Meggie. What’s wrong with you?

She felt Caleb come up behind her and stand so close he almost touched her. Meggie’s body flooded with a sharp rush of adrenaline. She had the wildest urge to either flee or spin on her heels and snap at him to back away.

The fight or flight response.

But why on earth was she experiencing that cornered-animal gut reaction to a man she had known her entire life? It made absolutely no sense.

Was she attracted to Caleb Greenleaf?

At once, she knew it was true. When the switch had been flipped, she couldn’t say, but she wasn’t about to let Caleb know of her feelings. He was her ex-stepbrother, for crying out loud. He was two-and-a-half years her junior, and Meggie had no doubt that he considered her nothing more than a friend.

Whoa! Slow down. What is going on with you, Meggie? So what if you’re attracted to Caleb? It means nothing. Probably just some temporary transitional thing you’re going through. Like when patients fall in love with their therapists. Displacement. That was it.

Okay. She was calming down. See? Deep breath in, deep breath out. Calm. Controlled.

She was attracted to Caleb because he was familiar. He had been kind to her. And this probably had something to do with Don Juan stirring up a lot of sensual feelings she’d kept buried for a long time. Her unexpected desire for Caleb was simply a result of her rebounding femininity. This would pass.

“See anything you like?” Caleb murmured, his warm breath fanning the hairs on the nape of her neck.

Meggie forced herself not to shiver. She started to shake her head, but then her gaze landed on a black porcelain mask. A glass miniature of the same type of mask Don Juan had worn. She reached out to touch the mask in the bizarre hope of grounding herself.

“Ah, you’re attracted to the unknown,” the doll vendor said. She was a gray-haired woman with an unlined face and mystic aura about her. She wore a dreamy, blue gauze dress and too much jewelry.

“What?” Meggie blinked.

“The mask. It represents what we keep hidden deep within us. The veil that separates the civilized part of our psyche from the uncivilized. The mask symbolizes our secret desires, our forbidden passions, our clandestine affairs.”

A coldness passed through Meggie. It was as if the woman possessed a strange telepathy that allowed her to look straight into her heart.

“We’ll take it,” Caleb told the woman.

“No, please. I can’t let you buy this for me.” Meggie shook her head.

“You like it and I want to get you something to repay you for squiring me around town.”

“Showing you Seattle is my pleasure.”

“We’ll take it,” he repeated insistently, and pulled a wad of cash from his pocket.

“Caleb.” Meggie leaned back against his body to whisper a warning. “Don’t be such a tourist. This isn’t Bear Creek. Don’t go flashing your money.”

His face colored and he looked chagrined. He peeled off two twenties and handed them to the doll vendor to cover the cost of the mask, then stuffed his money clip back into his front pocket.

Meggie realized she’d embarrassed him and immediately felt bad. “I’m sorry to make a fuss,” she mumbled.

“Don’t be,” he said. “You were absolutely right.”

The doll vendor wrapped up his purchase, made change and handed him the sack. He turned the package over to Meggie. “To mark the event of my visit to Seattle.”

She clutched the sack to her chest, felt the solid weight of the mask inside the package correspond with the solid lump of emotion lodged in her chest.

“Thank you. It’s a lovely gift and awfully sweet of you to buy it for me.”

Their eyes met. Something meaningful passed between them. Something more than mere friendship. Something she was too afraid to name.

“You’re welcome.”

He smiled, and for one starstruck moment she thought he was going to touch her face, but instead he clapped his palms together. “Now how about we get those ingredients for that clam sauce?”

TWO HOURS LATER they were ensconced in Meggie’s apartment, with a crackling fire in her gas fireplace and a feast laid out across the dining room table.

They had prepared dinner together, chopping and mixing, slicing and dicing, stirring and sautéing. They’d sipped wine as they worked, and Caleb had fiddled with the dial on her radio, jumping from station to station until he caught an edgy salsa beat and left it tuned there.

They had bopped around the kitchen to the lively tunes while the exotic Spanish sound brought unbidden thoughts of Don Juan. Would she ever see her mysterious lover again? Did she even want to?

But she pushed those questions aside to listen to Caleb talk about the lectures, his impression of Seattle and what tourist attraction he wanted to see next.

A fissure of pleasure broke through her earlier anxiety because things seemed to have gone back to normal between her and Caleb.

They were friends again and nothing more.

Thank heavens.

Meggie discounted the weird flush of emotions she’d felt at the Pike Place Market, chalking everything up to her fascination with Don Juan. She was so intrigued by the man she was imagining the most ridiculous things. She really had to do something about her obsession with Don Juan before it started causing her serious problems.

“This clam sauce is the best I’ve ever tasted,” Meggie told Caleb, determined not to think of Don Juan for the rest of the evening.

He grinned at her. “Thanks.”

“You’re going to make some lucky lady a very good husband someday.”

“You think?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

She waved a hand. She was feeling a little tipsy from the wine. A soft, warm glow settled over her. She was happy to be sitting here with her friend, and she was glad he hadn’t let her fix him up with Wendy. While she had boiled the linguini, he’d set the table and lit the candles that had been sitting on her dining room table for years. When she looked at him across the table, she saw twin candle flames reflected in his eyes.

“For the life of me, Caleb, I don’t know why some woman hasn’t already snapped you up.”

He shrugged. “Guess I just haven’t met the right one yet.”

Why wasn’t he married yet? The man was beyond gorgeous. And kind and trustworthy and wealthy and very, very sexy.

As far as she knew he’d never even had a serious relationship. Quinn had mentioned once that Caleb had sown a few wild oats in college, but no one in Bear Creek could ever recall him having a steady girlfriend.

Why not? He didn’t seem like a one-night stand kind of guy.

Yeah, and seven weeks ago you weren’t a one-night stand kind of girl.

She thought of Don Juan again, felt a flush of heat rise to her face.

Dammit! She was not going to think about him anymore. The affair was over and that’s the way she wanted it.

“Let me speculate,” she said, looking for any excuse to distract herself. “You’re a wee bit commitment phobic because of your family history.”

“On the money.” Caleb gave her a wry smile. “When your mother has been married three times and your father twice, and you have a total of eleven stepsiblings or half siblings, it sorta shakes your faith in happily ever after.”

“Tell me about it.” Meggie shook her head.

“You’re thinking of Jesse.”

“Well, we were together six years.”

“How come you married him, Megs? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I messed up. What can I say?”

“Was it an opposites-attract kind of thing between you two? Or did you have that silly romantic notion women sometimes get, thinking they can change the bad boy? Because I never understood what you saw in him and I always thought you deserved better.”

“My, my. What a big speech for a guy who doesn’t talk much,” Meggie teased, but the hitch in her stomach made it hard to breathe.

“I won’t get offended if you tell me it’s none of my damned business. Because it’s not. But I’m curious.”

Meggie stared into her wineglass and took a swig of the tepid liquid. “To tell you the truth, I’ve been struggling to answer that question myself.”

“Come up with any stunning insight?”

He cocked his head to one side. In that moment he looked so endearingly boyish, Meggie felt something warm and slippery melt inside her.

“Other than I was young and dumb?”

“Yeah, other than that.” He grinned.

Caleb made her feel safe. Like she could tell him anything and it would be all right. She recalled then pleasant snippets from their childhood. Because of his jumbled family life, Caleb had often stayed with the Scofields, especially during the summer when school was out and his stepsiblings had shuttled off in a half-dozen different directions on vacations with their respective parents. Homebody Caleb had always preferred staying in Bear Creek, and Meggie’s loving parents had readily opened their home to him.

They’d had the kind of routine that had stayed with her as a model of how summer mornings were suppose to be. As kids, they rose early, listening to the birds trilling. They’d make themselves breakfast if her parents were still asleep. Cold cereal or frozen waffles if Meggie convinced the boys to eat properly. Cookie dough or leftover pizza or even ice cream if they had their way.

Then her parents would get up. Usually her father first, shuffling into the kitchen in his bathrobe to make coffee while her mother showered. Then her mom would make them a picnic lunch if they were going exploring. Cheese and bread, fruit and juice that she put in brown paper sacks. She’d wave them off with instructions not to get lost or fall into the fjord.

“Remember when we were kids and you used to spend the summer with Quinn?”

“I remember.”

“You guys were nice to let me tag along with you, even though I was such a cautious scaredy-cat.”

“I think your mother made us.”

“Yeah, well, there was that.” She smiled at him. “But somewhere along the way, I picked up this craving for adventure. Funny, though. At the very same time I was always afraid of letting go, of being out of control.”

“You’re a complicated lass, Meggie Scofield.”

She laughed. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

“So what did Jesse have to do with any of this?”

Meggie moistened her lips. “Okay, here it is. My theory on why I was with your stepbrother.”

Caleb pushed his plate aside, propped his elbows on the table and dropped his chin into his open palms. “I’m all ears. Go on.”

“The way I figure it, with my limited knowledge of pop psychology, Jesse provided me with a safe outlet, a way to get my vicarious thrills. I could watch him skydive or bungee jump and I never had to take a risk or put myself out there. I inhaled the fumes from his high and that got me by. Secondhand adventure, so to speak. Does that make any sense?”

Caleb nodded. “I can see where you might find my stepbrother exciting.”

“Also makes sense that he would eventually leave me for being too dull.”

“You’re not dull,” he declared vehemently. “Not in the least.”

“Oh, believe me, I was. I spent all my time working. My job is everything to me. I never wanted to try anything new, do anything different. I had my routine and I liked things that way. I’ve got to thank Jesse for that at least. He shook me up and made me realize how I’d been sleepwalking through life.”

“If you say so.”

“But that’s all changed now. I’ve starting taking a few risks of my own and I’m amazed at what I’ve discovered about myself.”

“How? What happened?”

Meggie ducked her head, suddenly embarrassed. Should she tell him about Don Juan?

“Megs?”

She raised her chin and met his gaze. She saw nothing but calm acceptance reflected in those big blue eyes. Maybe if she told him about Don Juan she could start getting over her obsession with the fantasy.

Caleb was a great listener and an even better friend. He wouldn’t go back to Bear Creek and gossip. If she told him about Don Juan, no one else would ever find out.

“I’ve got big ears and tight lips.”

“Your ears aren’t big.” She swatted playfully at his shoulder, almost fell out of her chair and realized belatedly she was a tad tipsy.

“Whoa there.” He put out a hand to steady her and his touch did very strange things to her skin. It sizzled, fizzled and tingled.

It’s just the wine, ninny.

“Thank you, kind sir.”

Caleb’s eyebrows dipped in a frown. “Are you okay?”

Gosh, he seemed so serious. Meggie hiccuped, lifted a palm to her mouth and giggled. “Oops, sorry.”

“Don’t feel embarrassed around me. How long have we known each other?”

“Years and years and years.”

Man, he really was cute, especially when you focused on his perfect mouth.

Meggie narrowed her eyes and stared unabashedly at his lips. Gee. His mouth looked a lot like Don Juan’s. She must have a thing for really great mouths.

“Exactly. So you should feel free to say anything to me. Anything in the world.”

“Anything?”

She would bet her last quarter that wasn’t really true. What would he do if she told him she thought she might be developing a serious crush on his mouth? And that she was fighting the strongest urge to kick off her sneakers, run her toes up his shin and play a down-and-dirty game of footsie?

Ha! He’d probably make a human-size hole in the wall as he ran away from her.

“Anything,” he reiterated.

“Okay, then. I think I’ve had too much wine.”

“All right.” He took her glass away. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

Damn, he seemed to know something was gnawing at her, and he obviously wasn’t going to let it lie. Served her right for knowing him more than half her life.

“Meggie, it’s me, Caleb. You know you can trust me with your darkest secrets.”

He reached out and squeezed her hand, giving her the courage to spill out her heart and ask his advice on how to stop fixating on yet another bad boy.

That did it. The giddiness of the wine, the warmth of this hand and her desperate desire to overcome her sexual obsession all culminated into one unstoppable urge to come clean about what she had been up to with that dastardly Don Juan.

“Caleb,” she whispered, “I’ve got something to confess.”

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

11

ONE SECOND. Two. Three. Was she going to tell him about Don Juan?

“Why don’t we go sit in front of the fire?” she invited with a coy little smile that jerked his heartstrings. “Get comfortable.”

“Okay.” He held out his palm. She hesitated only the briefest second before sinking her hand into his and allowing him to lead her into the living room area.

He wanted to kiss her so badly he couldn’t think, but he had to be careful, had to move slowly. When he’d bought her the mask this afternoon and she’d acted so oddly he thought maybe he’d already ruined everything. But tonight, preparing the meal together, and just now, when she’d agreed to tell him her darkest secret, Caleb felt the old sense of camaraderie return.

He also felt a nasty stab of guilt. Because she was tipsy, she was about to entrust him with her vulnerability, and he was the one lying to her. Should he stop her before she got started?

God forgive him, but he couldn’t. He had to hear what she was going to say.

They sat crossed-legged on the rug in front of the fire. Meggie pushed her hair back from her face. Lord, she was lovely. She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed contentedly. The weight of her against him caused a sweet ache in his soul.

Her lashes drifted half-shut as she stared at the mesmerizing flames. Caleb’s anxiety mounted with each passing moment that she didn’t speak, but he was not going to rush her.

Finally she said, “I met this guy.”

Struggling to maintain a cool facade, he simply nodded.

She gave him a sideways glance, as if gauging his reaction, and seemed reassured. She told him then about how she’d met Don Juan at the Metropolitan party, how she didn’t even know his name but she’d recklessly given him her phone number. How he’d turned up in Seattle for one glorious night.

“He’s so wrong for me, but I’m afraid I’m hooked.”

Caleb pursed his lips but said nothing.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not thinking of this guy as happily ever after material. Not by a long shot.”

“No?”

“Honestly, I’m not. I didn’t want anything more from him than great sex.”

“Megs, this falls under the category of a little too much information.”

“I’ve embarrassed you. I was afraid of that. You still see me as an older sister figure, and here I am talking about sex.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” he growled. And the last thing I see you as is my sister. “Keep talking.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. I told you I’m here for you, no matter what.”

“Okay. Like I was saying, the last thing I want is any kind of a relationship with this guy.”

Caleb didn’t know what to think about this latest development. Or how to feel. He wanted her to want him, not Don Juan. But if she just wanted Don Juan for sex, what did that mean for him?

Damn. This whole deception was turning into a real mess. What had started out as a daring game had veered into dangerous territory.

“This guy is just a bit of the hair of the dog, if you know what I mean. I suppose I’m using him to get this wildness out of my system, to boost my ego. Doesn’t that sound terrible? Using a guy for sex.”

“Not if it’s what you need.”

“And it seems to be working.”

“Does it?”

“Well, except for one thing.”

“Yes?”

God, what a struggle to keep his tone noncommittal and not say anything that might do irreparable damage to their friendship.

“I’m completely obsessed with him,” she whispered.

He looked into her eyes, two glorious green vortexes shimmering with the seductive double whammy of shame and thrill. Her upper teeth sank into her full lower lip, and Meggie dipped her head a bit to hide her expression from his perusal.

Her confession caught him by surprise, while at the same time filled his heart with an inexplicable joy. Meggie was obsessed with him!

Not you, dimwit. She’s obsessed with a fantasy. When she finds out the truth, she’s gonna be mightily pissed off.

“I can’t stop thinking about him. I know it’s foolish, but there it is.” She knotted her fingers and dropped her hands into her lap.

“It’s just an infatuation.”

“I know. And even if it wasn’t, I realize this guy’s not right for me. I know nothing about him, and besides, how could a relationship built solely on sex ever stand a chance?”

“Do you want a real relationship with him?” Caleb dared to ask.

“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “I just wish I could stop thinking about him.”

“It’s the mystery that’s intrigued you. That’s all.”

“You’re absolutely right and that’s what I keep telling myself. I’m betting if I were to meet this guy without his mask and costume I wouldn’t be attracted to him in the slightest.”

Ouch. That wasn’t pleasant to hear. The whole Don Juan thing was backfiring on him. In the beginning, Caleb’s rationale for hiding behind the disguise was to convince Meggie to see him as a virile, potent man who desired her.

What had started as an impetuous impulse upon meeting Klondike Kate had turned into a driving desire to indulge his long-held fantasies, once he’d discovered who she was.

He recalled the first time he had became aware of Meggie as a woman. It was the summer he was fourteen and she was sixteen. She’d shown up to go sailing with him and Jesse and Quinn, wearing white short-shorts and a blue polka-dot halter top. He could still remember how the soft material had clung to her breasts. How he’d been completely fascinated by the sight.

He swallowed hard. He was slipping, sliding, tumbling headlong to a place he wasn’t sure he wanted to go because it was simply too overwhelming. And the realization that he wanted more from her, that two nights of anonymous sex were never going to be enough for him, scared the living hell out of Caleb.

What did it all mean?

“It’s getting late and the rain is drumming pretty hard on the roof,” he said, unnerved by the thoughts and memories rushing through his head. “I should go.”

“You don’t have to leave.”

“No?” He looked at her, and she was giving him a smile that was quintessential Meggie. His heart tripped. What was she implying?

“The couch makes into a bed,” she said, dashing his foolish hopes that she’d meant something else. “I keep an extra toothbrush in the cupboard in case of company.”

The idea of staying the night was incredibly tempting. Too damned tempting. He thought of lying on the couch while she slept in the next room, and he knew he’d never be able to do it.

“I think I better go. I have some paperwork to catch up on.”

“Oh, okay.”

She walked him to the door. They stood there a minute looking at each other.

“What I told you tonight was strictly confidential,” she said.

“Of course.”

“Thanks, Caleb. It helped, talking to you about my little, er…problem.”

“Anytime.”

She rose up on her toes, leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You’re the greatest.”

“See you tomorrow?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I’ve got to work and then I’ve got a committee meeting.”

“Monday?”

“I’ve got belly dancing class.”

“Oh.”

“But maybe after? We could go to a movie or a comedy club or check out a local band.”

“Sounds good.” He didn’t care where he went or what he did as long as Meggie was there.

“Why don’t you pick me up at the dance studio? My class is over at seven.”

The thought of watching Meggie belly dance drove a spike of hot, achy need right through his spine. And the imprint of her lips still burned his cheek, feeding his libido. It was all he could do not to kiss her back, and this time not on the cheek.

She gave him the address of the studio, then ruffled his hair. “Good night, little brother. See ya on Monday.”

Caleb left her apartment gritting his teeth and clutching the pink paisley umbrella she had given him, knowing one thing for certain. He would have to take some very determined steps to show Meggie exactly how unbrotherly he could be.

But where and how to start?

He had no idea how to go about seducing her without that damnable mask.

MEGGIE SHUT THE DOOR behind Caleb and sagged against it, thankful he’d decided not to stay the night. But she was not really sure why she was so relieved. Probably because she felt pretty darned vulnerable after spilling her guts to him about Don Juan. Why had she told Caleb all that stuff?

Or maybe you’re glad he left because of the way he’s starting to make you feel, an irritating voice in the back of her mind whispered.

Frowning, Meggie began putting their dinner dishes in the dishwasher. That was ridiculous. She wasn’t feeling any differently toward Caleb than she ever had.

Oh no? Then why were you noticing how nicely his long legs looked stretched out across your carpet? Why were you admiring the way his dark hair curls around his collar? And I saw you staring at his chiseled-from-granite biceps.

“I wasn’t,” she retorted, jamming forks, spoons and knives into the silverware holder.

Liar.

What about the way he’d listened to her confession about Don Juan, without a hint of judgment or condemnation on his face?

“So he’s a good friend. I already knew that.”

You kissed him.

“On the friggin’ cheek.”

First comes the cheek. The lips are bound to follow.

“Oh, shut up.”

She scrubbed her large cooking pot, attacking the starchy linguini residue with a vengeance.

And then you went and invited him to come watch you belly dance. Now tell the truth, what in the hell was that all about?

What indeed?

“This is preposterous,” she muttered. “I’m not attracted to Caleb Greenleaf, for heaven’s sake.”

Why not? This time it was Wendy’s voice echoing in her head. He’s handsome and smart and rich. Reliable and trustworthy and kind.

Why not, indeed?

Meggie rinsed off a dinner plate. Well, for one thing, he had shown absolutely no indication of being interested in her.

He bought you the porcelain mask.

“Big deal. He’s a generous guy.”

He cooked dinner.

“He was just thanking me for showing him around town.”

Why are you showing him around town?

“He’s an old friend!”

Yeah, right.

“He is,” Meggie stubbornly insisted to herself.

Okay, so why haven’t you introduced him to Wendy yet?

“Because he’s all wrong for her.”

Really? Maybe it’s because you think he’s all right for you.

“Come on, he’s not interested in me!”

And even if he was interested in her, which she seriously doubted, Meggie wasn’t about to embarrass herself by coming on to a younger man. No way, no how.

I’d rather be an old man’s darling than a young man’s fool. One of Wendy’s favorite reasons for dating older men flitted through her head.

And Meggie was a little gun-shy about taking a risk and laying her emotions on the line, which no doubt explained her interest in her no-strings-attached relationship with Don Juan. With him she didn’t have to worry about getting hurt. Caleb, however, was another story completely. Just thinking about Caleb in this strange new way caused her to hyperventilate.

No. Absolutely not.

Meggie cringed, imagining what her mother would say, how the gossip would fly from one corner of Bear Creek to the other.

“We’re just friends!” she shouted to the wall. “Nothing’s changed.”

But in her heart, she wasn’t so sure she believed that.

THE DANCE STUDIO was chockful of attractive women, but Caleb had eyes for only one. He was standing outside the door of Meggie’s belly dancing class, peering through the glass partition and trying hard to work up the courage to step inside.

So strong was his desire for her, Caleb didn’t trust himself not to have an overt physical reaction, and he didn’t want to embarrass them both in public with a gigantic erection.

When had he lost control over his own body? What was it about Meggie that caused him to act like a horny teenager in the throes of a hormonal storm?

He watched greedily as she undulated in the middle of the room with the other dancers. She wore a gauzy little I Dream of Jeannie outfit that showed far too much of her smooth flat belly.

She was the most conspicuous woman in the room, moving with the grace of a true performer. Her arms were raised over her head as she clicked tiny cymbals attached to her fingers. She turned with the group, but she was much more graceful than the others. She was facing away from him now, rolling those curvaceous hips as if she were personally beckoning him to her.

Come.

God, she was hot!

Shake it, baby. The crude, yet thoroughly masculine thought bounced through his brain. He felt like a voyeur, like some kind of a Peeping Tom pervert, but he simply could not stop himself from watching…and wishing she was performing this erotic dance just for him. He hated the thought that anyone else might see her and lust after her.

He realized he was jealous and there was no one to be jealous of. The room contained only the other dancers and the female instructor. No one else was peeking through the glass partition with him.

Cricket on a crutch! He was in deep, and like a quicksand victim, the harder he struggled the deeper he sank. He was falling for her. Fast.

And the misguided jealousy streaking through his heart told him he couldn’t fool himself any longer. The desire he felt for her went far beyond the physical. He’d been kidding himself when he decided making love to Meggie would once and forever quell his sexual fantasies about her.

What an idiot he’d been, thinking he could take this lightly and then just walk away.

Meggie executed a series of complicated shifts and steps that had Caleb almost swallowing his tongue. He found his own body swaying in time to the seductive Middle Eastern music seeping under the door and oozing out into the corridor. A mesmerizing sound that had him aching to dance with her. To press her body against his as they moved in tandem.

Stupid urge. He had no idea how to dance.

And yet here he was, his hands burning to touch that wavering waist, to grind his pelvis against those incredible, womanly hips.

The costume she wore was almost as provocative as the scintillating dance she performed. The silky material clung to her well-developed curves and rippled with a stimulating flow that incited his hormones to riot. And a filmy purple veil cloaked her mouth, hiding those full lips he loved so much and adding a tantalizing layer of mystery to her dance.

God, she was gorgeous. The memory of her scent came to him, clinging to his nostrils as surely as if she were standing next to him—the sweet, erotic elixir of lavender, strawberries and Obsession. He recalled the taste of her as well—hot, rich, creamy.

If he wasn’t careful he was going to start salivating right there on the spot.

He realized his palms were pressed against the glass, his eyes trained on her. He was a kid outside a toy store with no money in his pockets.

Why had she invited him here?

The thought struck him from the blue and the answer came to him.

This was another one of her fantasies, entitled Just Watch Me, or Let Me Drive You Wild. She was playing a game. Teasing and tantalizing him. But he didn’t think she’d been consciously aware of what she was doing when she had encouraged him to come by and pick her up. In fact, he knew that if he were to point out this astounding fact to her, not only would she deny it but she would probably get defensive.

This sudden insight into her psyche jerked like a string attached to his heart. There was only one reason why her subconscious would prod her to ask him to come to the dance studio so he would see her performing such a rousing routine in that electrifying costume. On some uncharted subterranean level she wanted him.

A surge of hope, more uplifting than he thought possible, rose inside him. A powerful updraft of expectancy that said yes, maybe he stood a chance of winning her over on his own—without that damned mask.

The music ended. Caleb shook his head, breaking from his reverie as he realized the dance class was over. The door opened and women began streaming out.

Meggie was the last one through the door, and the minute she spotted him, her face lit up with a smile that twinkled like the myriad of holiday decorations the Scofields had put up around their house every winter when he and Meggie were kids. His own parents had been too busy marrying and divorcing to bother much with Christmas ornamentation.

Her excited expression underscored his hope. Caleb was jubilant. He wanted to dance a jig right there in the hallway with her classmates streaming around them. He wasn’t wrong on this matter and he knew it, even if Meggie wasn’t yet ready to admit to herself what game she was playing.

Did she suspect, at least on a subconscious level, that he was indeed Don Juan?

“Caleb!” She thrust herself into his arms for a quick hug.

The gossamer material of her outfit grazed his hand and spent a spark of awareness leaping up his nerve endings. She smelled of sweet perspiration and earthy woman, a scent that drove him to the very brink of distraction.

She stepped back. “Have you been here long?”

“A few minutes.”

She lowered her lashes, dabbed at her neck with a small, white gym towel. “Did you see me dance?”

Ah, coyness. This was a mating game, whether she would admit it or not.

What a rush.

“I saw you.” His tone was sexier than he intended, but dammit, he couldn’t help himself.

She lifted her head. Her green eyes were startled, her pupils wide.

She honestly doesn’t realize what she’s doing to me. This is all subconscious.

“You’re very good,” he said.

“Thank you. I really love to dance.”

“You could be a professional.”

“Nah. I’m a nurse at heart, but dancing is my passion.”

“I remember.”

“You do?”

Caleb stuffed his hands in his front pockets, mainly to keep himself from touching her. His fingers itched to trace the fabric of that sparkly costume and feel her body heat beneath.

“One year for your birthday—I think you were probably eight or nine—your mom got you that pink ballerina outfit and you spent the whole summer twirling up and down the streets of Bear Creek. I recall thinking you looked just like a stick of cotton candy.”

And, boy, how he loved cotton candy. He’d been stone-cold addicted to the stuff.

“You remember that? But you were only, what? Six, maybe seven?”

“I remember a lot of things, Meggie.”

She seemed flustered. Her cheeks darkened and she glanced away again, jerking a thumb in the direction of a door marked Ladies’ Locker Room.

“Listen, I’m going to go hit the showers and change. I’ll be ready to leave in about twenty minutes. Is that okay?”

He motioned to a nearby bench positioned beneath a bulletin board. “I don’t mind waiting. I’ll just have a seat. Take your time.”

“You’re a doll.”

She reached over to ruffle his hair in her irritatingly familiar fashion, but halfway to his head, she seemed to realize what she was doing, stopped and dropped her arm. Without another word, she turned and scurried into the locker room.

Grinning, he settled himself on the bench. Mark this day on the calendar, folks. Meggie Scofield had stopped ruffling his hair. One small step in the direction he wanted her to go, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to move faster. He needed a major weapon in his campaign to persuade Meggie to stop seeing him as just an old childhood friend and start picturing him as a potential lover.

What would it take to convince her?

He leaned his head back and collided with the bulletin board behind him. A pushpin fell from the cork, bounced off his head and skittered across the floor. An orange flyer swooped through the air and slid under the bench.

Caleb got up, retrieved the pushpin and fished under the bench for the flyer. He moved to tack it back to the bulletin board, but as he read the page, he stopped and an idea took shape.

SALSA CLASSES START FRIDAY.

Looking for an exciting new way to romance your ladylove? Try salsa dancing. She’ll be putty in your hands, guaranteed. Even if you’ve never danced a day in your life, our instructors, the renowned flamenco dancers Raul Roman and his lovely wife Luisa will have you doing the tango, the merengue, the cumbia and many more in a matter of ten easy lessons. Sign up in the office today!

Caleb stared at the flyer. It was as if the thing had been conjured up by divine intervention. He was looking for an exciting new way to romance his lady. And Meggie loved to dance.

Salsa dancing. It was the perfect solution to his dilemma.

Resolutely he pinned the flyer back to the bulletin board and went in search of the office.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

12

WHY WAS HER PULSE hammering so hard? Meggie wondered as she stripped out of her belly dancing outfit and stepped into the shower.

Er…maybe because you spent the last fifty minutes belly dancing?

Ha! She wished.

Unfortunately, she had a sneaking suspicion her accelerated heart rate had nothing to do with exercise and everything to do with the way Caleb had been staring at her.

Don’t be silly. Don’t be ridiculous. Caleb wasn’t looking at you any differently than he’s ever looked at you.

And if by some chance he was looking at her differently, it was only because of her sexy costume. He was a normal red-blooded male. She was a skimpily dressed woman with a bare midriff. What did she expect?

She shouldn’t have asked him to pick her up at the dance studio, especially on a night they were performing a dress rehearsal for an upcoming competition. What had she been thinking?

Well, on the practical side, the studio was much closer to the Space Needle—where she’d intended on taking him for dinner—than her apartment. But if she were being honest with herself might she not admit that maybe, just maybe, she’d wanted Caleb to see her dancing in costume?

Why?

That was the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.

She shook her head to dispel the notion and concentrated on soaping down her body. As she scrubbed, she found her thoughts wandering back to Caleb.

He was such a great guy. Too bad he hadn’t been able to find the right woman, particularly after all his friends in Bear Creek had paired up with the ladies of their dreams. He had to be feeling left out.

She slid her hands down her body, lathering her belly and beyond. Her skin tingled where she touched. She was glad Caleb had come to Seattle. He had badly needed the vacation, time away from home. And she was happy she’d been able to show him the town. It’d been fun reconnecting with her old friend again.

And then without warning, an image popped into her mind that was anything but platonic. Meggie pictured Caleb right there in the shower with her. His hands were washing the triangle of hair between her legs. He was taking his long masculine fingers and slowly rubbing her in private places, stimulating her to a fevered pitch as she pressed herself into his hard, naked, wet body.

Yikes!

What in the hell was she thinking? Caleb was the guy next door, the kid she’d spent her summers playing hide and seek with. She should not be having these thoughts about him. Caleb simply was not fantasy material.

Oh yeah? I’ve seen you giving him the once-over. You can’t deny he’s gorgeous. Admit it, Meggie. Caleb grew up real nice.

“WHERE ARE WE GOING?” Caleb asked as they left the dance studio. He’d just signed up for ten salsa lessons, and he could barely keep from grinning. Was Meggie ever going to be surprised when he took her salsa dancing.

“Seattle’s number one tourist attraction.”

“Which is?”

“The Space Needle, of course.”

“What?”

Balking, he stopped walking. He wasn’t sure Meggie knew of his fear of man-made heights, such as tall buildings, and he hated to admit a weakness, but the thought of going up to the Space Needle made his gut torque.

“I made reservations at SkyCity, the revolving restaurant at the Needle. They make a killer Dungeness crab cocktail, and their famous dessert, the Lunar Orbiter, is to die for. Afterward, I thought we could go up on the observation deck and gaze out at the city lights. I haven’t been up there in such a long time, I’m really looking forward to tonight.”

Caleb looked at her standing in the glow of the light from the dance studio and his heart slipped in his chest. She held her workout bag in one hand and her car keys in the other.

She wore a flowing rust-colored skirt, the hem just skimming the tops of her calf-high, brown leather boots, and a black long-sleeved Lycra top. She had a cream-colored sweater draped over her shoulders. Her short black hair, still damp from her shower, curled enticingly around her face. She had applied fresh lipstick, and a light dusting of mascara to her lashes, enhancing her natural prettiness without overdoing the cosmetics.

She wasn’t a raving beauty in the way of models and movie stars, but in his eyes, Meggie was the most gorgeous creature on the face of the earth. Just looking at her changed him in ways he could not verbally express. She made him want to spend less time alone in the wilderness and more time in the world with people. It was a strange sensation for an introvert, and he didn’t completely understand his new emotions.

Her smile encompassed her face and her green eyes came alive with excitement. If she wanted to go to the Space Needle, then, by damn, that’s where he would go. Phobia or not.

His bravado held until he was faced with climbing into the toothpaste-dispenser-size elevator at the Space Needle. At the entrance, they were greeted by a pleasant attendant who was extolling the virtues of the glass lift to a handful of other visitors.

“Time to face the fear, Greenleaf,” he growled.

“What?” Meggie blinked at him.

“All aboard,” the attendant announced, unclipping the velvet rope blocking the entrance to the elevator.

Caleb hung back.

“Come on.” Meggie smiled and took his hand.

You can do this. There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just an elevator.

He took solace in the feel of Meggie’s warm palm pressed against his, and reluctantly stepped into the small glass cage. The attendant asked them to move farther back in order to make room for more people. Gritting his teeth, Caleb shifted toward the outer glass wall with a vertigo-inducing view of the ground below.

Up, up, up. The elevator moved with a series of jerky clicks. Was the damned thing suppose to be so noisy? It wasn’t natural for the scenery to blur so fast.

Take the risk. You can handle it. Not just for Meggie’s sake but also to prove to yourself that you’re not set in your ways. You can do different things. You can face your fears. You can adjust to life in the city.

Much to his relief they made it to the restaurant without incident. The hostess escorted them onto the rotating dais and they were seated at an intimate table for two with a spectacular view of Seattle.

He felt a little quivery, but took in a deep breath and managed to quell the jitters by gazing into Meggie’s face cast so beautifully in candlelight. He wasn’t going to let a bad childhood memory control his life.

“Isn’t this fabulous?” Meggie enthused, turning her head to look out the window and revealing the smooth expanse of her long, graceful neck.

“Yes,” he said.

But much more fabulous than the panorama below was the stunning view right across from him. Meggie beamed at him and he felt as if he’d been given the most precious of gifts.

He did as she suggested and ordered the crab. She chattered gaily and, it seemed, a little nervously, as if frightened to leave the opportunity for silence. Caleb wondered why. He and Meggie had sat in companionable silence many times before. It was one of the things he loved most about her. In the past, she’d waited patiently in the forest with him in the hopes of spotting a mama bear with her cubs or a bald eagle building a nest. Why this sudden need to fill the air with talk?

“What do you think of Seattle?” Meggie asked.

“It’s a very romantic place, as far as cities go. Of course, nothing can beat Bear Creek for sheer beauty.”

“Romantic?” There was laughter in her voice. “Can’t say I’ve ever thought of Seattle as romantic. Too much darn rain.”

“Rain can be sexy.”

“Oh?”

“Sure. Like the other night at your apartment. A roaring fire, good company, rain drumming seductively on the roof.”

“You thought that was romantic? Dear Caleb, you’ve got to get out more.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“Is it?”

His gaze met hers. “Yep. I came to Seattle to explore the perimeters of romance.”

“Ah, now you’re pulling my leg.”

“A little,” he admitted, enjoying the teasing banter between. “But I confess—I am searching for something.”

He waited to see what she would say. He felt sexual chemistry shimmering between them, but he had to wonder if it was all in his imagination.

“Have you found what you’re looking for yet?”

“Maybe. I can’t say for sure.”

“Oh.”

He glanced at her. She was slowly scooting her food around on her plate.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No.” She shook her head.

“Not still pining over this Don Juan guy?” he dared to inquire.

“Nah,” she muttered, but dropped her gaze.

“You’ve beaten your obsession?”

“Yes. Talking about it with you the other night helped immensely. Thanks.”

He wasn’t sure that he believed her. Something was different between them and he didn’t know what. Or why.

The waiter cleared their dinner plates, brought coffee, two spoons and one serving of the spectacular Lunar Orbiter dessert, which turned out to be a massive ice cream concoction delivered with fanfare amid swirls of dry ice to simulate Seattle fog.

She scooped up a spoonful of ice cream. Caleb’s gaze tracked her movements, fixating on her lips as she daintily slid the cold ice cream into her warm, wet mouth.

“Mmm,” she moaned, soft and low.

When she flicked out her tongue to whisk away a drop of melted ice cream from her bottom lip, he shivered so hard he felt it straight down through his bones.

“Caleb, are you okay?”

Easy, Greenleaf. You’re going to give this gig away before you have a chance to put Operation Salsa Dancing in action.

“Yeah…I—” His voice cracked. “Uh…”

Oh, that was about as smooth as gravel.

She reached out and placed her hand over his. “Is something wrong?”

Other than the fact that her touch was causing him to get a high-voltage hard-on?

“Fine,” he lied. “Absolutely fine.”

They lingered for a while, talking softly, enjoying the city lights, savoring the dessert. Meggie tried to pay for the meal, and when Caleb refused to let her, she lobbied for dutch treat.

“No,” he said adamantly. “This one’s on me.”

“Okay, I give up. You win. Pay away.” She waved a hand.

“Thank you.”

“You know, most guys would jump at a chance to let their date pay.”

“I’m not most guys.”

She studied him with a pensive expression. “No, no, you’re not.”

“And we’re not on a date.”

“We aren’t, are we?”

“Nope.”

Caleb rose to his feet, took her sweater from the back of her chair and held it out for her to slip her arms into. She seemed flustered by the gesture and missed the armhole twice before getting it right.

“Ready to go out on the observation deck?” she asked just a bit too brightly.

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t want to go, but he wanted to be with Meggie. Anything to prolong this evening. Even if it entailed peering down from a great man-made height.

He gulped.

Meggie guided him from the restaurant and up a short flight of stairs to the observation deck. The minute she took his hand, her heart started the same crazy stuttering it had back in the shower at the dance studio. What on earth was the matter with her? Wrong time of the month maybe?

But of course not. PMS triggered crankiness and cramps, not this strange, inexplicable euphoria that set her heart to skipping beats.

This was Caleb, for crying out loud, not Don Juan. Had her hormones gone haywire?

Disconcerted, she dropped his hand and moved out onto the observation deck. Clutching her sweater more tightly around her in the wind, she meandered to the edge of the railing and stared out into the night.

When Caleb didn’t move to join her, she turned to find him still hovering in the archway between the restaurant and the deck.

The sight of him standing there, his hair whipping sexily in the breeze, his coat collar flipped up around his strong, muscular neck, made her feel very mixed up indeed. She had an inexplicable hunger to feel his arms wrapped around her waist. She wanted to lean against his chest, rest her head on his shoulders.

“Come on.” She motioned him over.

“I’m fine right here,” he called.

“The view is terrific.” She pointed. “Come look at the harbor.”

“You go ahead.”

“What’s the matter, Greenleaf? You chicken?”

“Actually, yes.”

“You?” She laughed. “I don’t believe it.”

“Guilty as charged. I’m afraid of heights.”

“But you climbed Mount McKinley with Quinn and you serve on the mountain rescue squad.”

“I’m not afraid of heights per se. Just man-made heights. Towers, tall buildings that sway, elevators that go farther than ten or twelve floors. It’s sort of a claustrophobia-acrophobia combo.”

“That’s right. I remember Jesse saying something about that. You got lost in an elevator at the Eiffel Tower when you were a kid.”

“Lost, my ass. Jesse abandoned me.”

“No kidding?”

“No kidding.”

“He was suppose to be watching me but instead he got distracted by some girl and let me get into the elevator by myself. Just so happens the elevator hangs up and I’m stuck in there alone for two hours.”

“He was an irresponsible butthead even back then.”

“Yes, he was.”

They smiled at each other.

His admission of vulnerability surprised her. Strong, capable Caleb afraid of something? She would never have imagined it. She thought of Don Juan and what he had shown her about herself. He’d taught her how to take risks, and she would be forever grateful for that lesson.

Meggie extended her hand to Caleb. “I’ve recently learned a powerful lesson about facing your fears.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And what is that?”

“If you want to find out what you’re really made of, you’ve got to take a few risks. Come on. Join me on the ledge of life.” She swept a hand at their surroundings. “I have faith in you.”

“Meggie, you have no idea what a challenge this is for me.”

“But that’s wonderful. The bigger the risk, the bigger the payoff.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Lady, when you throw down a gauntlet, you throw down a gauntlet,” he grumbled, but even as he shook his head he was slowly edging one foot toward her.

“You’ll thank me in the morning.”

“Humph.”

“Come to me,” she beckoned, wriggling her fingers at him.

He started toward her. The floor beneath them swayed ever so slightly in the gusting wind, and she saw him wince.

“You can do this,” she coaxed.

“This better be worth it.”

“Trust me. One step at a time.”

And that’s how he did it, one step at a time toward the brink. When he finally reached her, his face broke into a smile that stole her heart.

“Woo-ho! You did it.”

“I did it,” he echoed.

“Congratulations. You conquered your fear of man-made heights,” she murmured, and spontaneously threw her arms around him.

And then, not even realizing what she had intended on doing, she kissed him.

Caleb wrapped his arms around her as her lips sank onto his, enveloping her in his woodsy scent. The smell of him entered her nostrils, invaded her bloodstream with a heady rush of sensation.

Heaven help her, she hadn’t meant to give him a real kiss. It was just suppose to be an atta-boy-I’m-darned-proud-of-you-for-conquering-your-fear kiss. But somewhere between her lips and his, the intention had become distorted, and she could not seem to control what happened next.

Blame it on Don Juan. Blame it on the full moon. Blame it on the fact that for the first time in her life she was seeing Caleb for who he was now and not for the kid next door he had once been.

He was all-man, absolutely no doubt about it.

Meggie melted against his body. She increased the pressure of the kiss, coaxing his lips apart, thrilling to her own bravery. Caleb wasn’t the only one taking risks tonight. She’d never been the aggressor in romance. Had never initiated a first kiss.

Boy, when she let her guard down, she really let her guard down.

Gently, she flicked her tongue over his lips, slow and lazy, seducing him by increments. Her head spun with the realization of her own audacity as she took their first kiss deeper and deeper still.

He tasted of creamy, sweet Lunar Orbiter and strong, dark espresso. And something else. A sweet, familiar taste she could not name.

His mouth was hot and moist against hers. The gusting wind, the tower’s gentle sway, shook the very air between their bodies and sent a fog mist swirling about them like something from a fantasy.

Time out! her brain cried. What do you think you’re doing? More importantly, what message are you sending Caleb? You’re giving him ideas you’re not able to support. Wise up, Meggie. Wise up right now.

With a low, throaty moan, he arched his body into hers, and when he reached out a hand and cupped the curve of her hip, Meggie’s eyes flew open. He was staring at her and she knew then that she was in over her head. Startled and suddenly frightened by what she had done, Meggie pulled away.

“I—I…didn’t mean to do that,” she stammered. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. I certainly wasn’t trying to seduce you.”

“You could have fooled me.”

His voice was rough, abrupt. Was he angry or disappointed? She couldn’t blame him for being either. She’d sort of led him on. But she hadn’t meant to. It had just happened.

“I know. I’m sorry.” She turned her back, unable to look him in the eyes. Oh heavens, what must he think of her? She didn’t know what to think of herself.

“Sorry for kissing me?”

“I’m confused. Between getting dumped by Jesse and this whole Don Juan thing. I’m just really, really confused right now and I’m taking it out on you. That was wrong of me.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She plastered a perky smile on her face and glanced at her watch. “Will you look at the time? It’s getting late and we’ve had enough excitement for one evening. What say we call it a night?”

“Meggie…” He reached out for her, but she danced away. She couldn’t bear the words if he said something sweet simply to make her feel better for acting like an oversexed doxy.

“Don’t worry, Caleb. Believe me, that kiss meant nothing to me, absolutely nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“I’ve forgotten it already. Honest.” She waved a hand as if she kissed men atop the Space Needle every single day of her life.

“And I suppose you want me to forget all about it, too.”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Maybe I do mind.”

“Caleb, please,” she begged. “I had too much wine. That’s all there is to it.”

He stared at her a long moment without saying anything. He looked at her with great blue eyes gone dark in the mist. His expression made her heart lock. She felt as if she had crossed some unbreachable boundary and could never make it right, no matter what she said.

A group of rowdy revelers came up to the deck from the restaurant below, thankfully interrupting the awkward silence between them.

“I’m ready to go.”

A strange mix of sadness, shame and guilt dissolved into a muddle as thick as the gathering fog. This unfortunate episode was going to not only keep her awake at night, but also cause her to flinch at the memory. She wished the damned fog would enshroud her so totally that she disappeared.

How could she have been so stupid?

In that moment, guilt, sadness and shame morphed into a stinging sense of regret. Despite that Caleb had taken her elbow to steady her on the steps, Meggie felt utterly and completely alone.

The trip to her car was heavy, weighted with a sludge of unvoiced emotion neither of them wanted to explore. After she’d unlocked the vehicle, Caleb opened the driver’s door for her. She plunked down in the front seat and looked up, beseeching him with her eyes to forgive her.

“Aren’t you getting in?” she asked, when he just kept standing there.

“I think I’ll walk. My hotel is only a few blocks.” He inclined his head east.

Tears pressed against her eyes. He didn’t even want to be in the same car with her. Oh God, had she ruined everything between them? Was their friendship kaput?

“It’s chilly and damp.”

“I’ll be all right.”

She should have shut up right there and let it go, but, no, in a wretched attempt to ease her pathetic suffering, she had to push.

“Are we on for tomorrow night? I can get tickets to the Sonics game.”

He shook his head. “I’m booked tomorrow night.”

“How about Wednesday?”

“No can do.”

Hey, idiot, buy a clue. He doesn’t want to see you.

“Saturday? We could hit the aquarium. Go on a harbor cruise.”

“I’m going to be pretty busy for the next couple of weeks.”

“Oh.”

He reached out a hand, trailed a finger down her cheek. His touch ignited her skin. “It’s not what you think.”

“You’re not looking to avoid me?”

“Of course not.”

“Then…” She paused as a new thought popped into her head. “Oh. You’ve met someone.”

“Something like that.” His smile softened the edges of his eyes. “She’s a very special lady.”

How could Meggie have been so self-centered? Her kiss hadn’t freaked him out in the way she’d supposed. Caleb had met someone else, and here she’d been thinking he was disgusted by her kiss. What a ninny.

“Why, that’s great,” she babbled. “Fabulous. I’m so happy for you.”

“You are?”

“Absolutely. Sure.”

“What about that kiss on the observation deck?”

“I told you, it meant nothing. Go. Enjoy your new girlfriend. You have my blessings.”

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

13

HE CAME TO HER in a dream. Dressed entirely in black. Gone was the flowing white shirt, replaced with a black leather vest and nothing else.

Just leather and bare skin.

But was this a dream? Meggie wondered, her entire body trembling in his overwhelming presence. Or a reality she was afraid to admit? From the moment she’d met him, she’d been caught up in this seductive fantasy where reality and dream merged into something powerfully erotic.

He stared at her, his steely blue eyes enigmatic as always behind that mask. His jaw tightened when he noticed she wore only a gauzy red gown.

Her fingers curled with a savage urge to explore that masculine chin. She ached to press her tongue against it, to taste the saltiness of his skin.

He reached for her. When his rough fingers grazed her wrist, she hissed as if burned. His firm clasp propelled liquid heat to the soft tender flesh between her legs.

His expression was unreadable. He did not smile. He pulled her to him and captured her lips with a kiss so tempestuous it took her breath.

He drove the spear of his tongue deep inside her mouth. The taste of him filled her. His mustache grazed her upper lip with a light tickle that launched a languid shiver down her spine.

Her skin hummed with severe pleasure. Her nipples tightened.

He made a hungry male animal noise and ground his pelvis against hers. Their bodies fit perfectly. Streamers of fiery heat flowed from him to her.

Oh, this felt so good.

She breathed hard against his mouth, taking in the scent of man and leather and sex.

“Don Juan,” she whimpered.

“Yes, yes?”

“I want you inside me. I want you now.”

He pushed her back onto the bed, pressing her body into the mattress. He stripped off his vest, his pants, and settled his weight over her body. With brazen fingers, he ripped the material of her nightgown, exposing her nakedness.

This was what she missed. What she wanted. His forcefulness, his boldness, his daring.

“Hurry, please hurry,” she begged. “I’m wet and ready.”

He drove into her. Hard, hot, powerful. Again and again and again. She felt as if all the air had been knocked from her lungs.

And then they came in one blistering moment, crying together in rough, desperate groans.

He collapsed upon her, drenched in sweat and love juices.

Slowly, slowly, they drifted back down to earth.

“Let me see your face,” she whispered a few minutes later. “I must know who you are.”

“How long I’ve waited for you to say that.”

Then he raised his head, peeled off his mask along with the false mustache, unveiling himself to her.

Oh God! What had she done?

Her masked lover was Caleb!

That’s when she cried out and jerked herself awake.

Meggie bolted upright in bed, her heart pounding, her body soaked in perspiration, her covers flung to the floor. The dream seemed so real. Too real. She splayed a hand over her chest.

On trembling legs she went to the bathroom and took a shower to cool her scorched skin.

Why had she dreamed Caleb was Don Juan? Fretfully, she dried her body, which strangely enough was as tender as if she actually had made love with him.

Mind in turmoil, she padded to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of tomato juice. She sat at the table and tried to decipher her dream.

Subconsciously, did she want Caleb to be Don Juan?

Meggie gnawed her bottom lip. The two men were different as night and day, even though upon reflection they did possessed similar physical characteristics. Both were tall and lean, dark-haired and blue-eyed.

But Don Juan was wickedly naughty, intrepid and brash, definitely not the sort of man you married. Caleb was sweet and kind and caring, the kind of guy you’d love to bring home to Mother. Too bad Meggie couldn’t have both. The exciting lover who revved her blood and made her dare, mixed with the steady, reliable man she could always count on.

And then she had her answer. No wonder she’d dreamed that Caleb was Don Juan. She was attracted to both of them, but she had reservations about each. Caleb was too quiet, too familiar; Don Juan too wild, too reckless. Her subconscious had simply taken the two and melded them into one.

The perfect man who didn’t exist.

“YOU ARE THE MOST naturally gifted dancer I have ever had the privilege to instruct,” Luisa Roman told Caleb two weeks and ten salsa lessons later. “And such a determined student. I have never seen anyone pick up the tango with such ease.”

“Thank you.” He accepted the certification of completion she handed him.

His instructor didn’t know the half of it. Over the past fourteen days, when Caleb hadn’t been either giving lectures at local hospitals or attending classes here at the dance studio, he’d been in his hotel room practicing the elegant yet seductive moves.

Last week, he’d almost run into Meggie in the hallway at the studio as she came out of her belly dancing class, but he’d spotted her first and, just in the nick of time, dashed into the men’s locker room. Even though it was a little cruel, he would rather have her thinking he was out with another woman than uncover his plan before he was ready.

But time was not on his side. He was leaving Seattle the following Tuesday. He had to act quickly. He was determined to impress Meggie and he intended to do it up right. Make a grand romantic gesture. Give her one thrilling night she would remember for the rest of her life.

A night they would never forget.

He was ready to push all boundaries, risk everything in order to win her over. Take a chance and grab for the brass ring. He was going to prove to her that their kiss at the top of the Space Needle had indeed meant something very special.

The lessons were finished, he’d even impressed Luisa Roman, and now he was ready.

Even though it had been pure torture, he’d resisted calling Meggie these past two weeks. He wanted her to think about him. To remember their kiss. To wonder what it meant. Yes, he was playing a mind game with her, but then he was counting on a huge payoff.

Love.

Did he have the courage to seduce her without the Don Juan mask? He would find out for certain on Saturday night, when he took her salsa dancing. He imagined the moment and his heart swelled with possibilities.

Then Luisa Roman said something that altered the trajectory of his plans. “Because you are my prize student, I will tell you of a very special place.”

“Ma’am?”

She pressed a card into his palm. He glanced at the bold black lettering that said simply The Mystery Room, with an address underneath.

“The Mystery Room?” He raised an eyebrow.

“An exclusive nightclub, offering the finest in salsa dancing and a little more.” Luisa’s voice had gone low, suggestive.

“A little more?”

“The patrons attend in costume and masks. No bare faces allowed.”

Just the thought sent a thrill rippling through his body, and Caleb knew then that he would pose as Don Juan one last time to lure Meggie to the Mystery Room.

“It is very erotic,” Luisa continued. “And if you have a special lady, you might want to rent one of the rooms above the club. It’s amazing what a night of mystery will do for your love life.”

“No kidding.”

Perfect. The pieces of his plan fit like a puzzle. He would invite Meggie to the club and dance with her all night. Afterward he would take her upstairs, make love to her and then remove his mask.

“HELL-OOO. Meggie, are you even listening to me?” Wendy’s voice broke through her reverie.

“Huh?”

“I asked you twice if you thought I should shave my head and you never even blinked, much less offered an opinion. You’re a gazillion miles away. What’s the matter? Still mooning over that foreign guy?”

Meggie shook her head. They were in her apartment, measuring for new living room curtains. She’d decided she needed a change, but she couldn’t seem to force herself to concentrate on the task at hand.

No, she wasn’t mooning over Don Juan. She was thinking about Caleb. Worrying about him, actually. He was a babe in the woods when it came to city living, and she wondered about the woman he was seeing. What if she was just some gold digger looking to get at his money? What if the wench ended up breaking the poor guy’s heart? Meggie gritted her teeth. If that happened, she would personally hunt the twit down and crack her skull.

The vehemence of her thoughts startled Meggie.

“Oops, there you went again. One minute you’re looking me in the eye, the next minute staring off into space,” Wendy said. “What gives?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry. I called you over to help me and then I get distracted on you.”

“Hey, what are friends for, except to be there when you need them?”

Caleb was her friend.

Or at least he used to be.

God, why had she kissed him? Meggie cringed and dropped her face in her hands. Had she ruined their friendship for good?

She’d been agonizing over that stupid kiss for the past two weeks, wondering why Caleb hadn’t phoned, but too embarrassed to pick up the phone and call him. And she’d even been too ashamed of herself to confess to Wendy what she’d done, or talk about that crazy dream where she’d wished Caleb was sexy Don Juan.

“I’m not sure, though, that I’ve completely forgiven you for not introducing me to your handsome Alaskan naturalist before some hussy scooped him up.” Wendy pretended to pout.

“Sorry.” Meggie felt a twinge of guilt and regret. If she hadn’t been so selfish, if she’d introduced Caleb to Wendy, he probably wouldn’t have met that other woman at all, whoever she might be. At least if he’d been with Wendy Meggie would have had a chance to see him.

The telephone jangled.

Caleb? Her hopes soared as they did every time the phone rang. But this time, for some reason, she had an overwhelming sense it was him.

She raced across the living room, stumbling over the coffee table and whacking her shin.

Ow, ow, ow.

But even pain didn’t slow her down.

“’Lo,” she answered, her pulse pounding wildly.

“Belladonna.”

“Don Juan,” she whispered.

In a second Wendy popped in front of her, eyes wide, a huge grin on her face. Meggie waved her away, her mind spinning with a thousand splintered thoughts. Just when she thought she’d put Don Juan in her past where he belonged, here he was again.

“You sound disappointed,” he accused in that rich Spanish accent.

“Oh, no. I’m not disappointed. I was just expecting someone else.”

“Ah. Another lover?”

“No, no. A friend.”

“I have missed you,” he crooned, and she felt that old helplessness weaken her knees.

“I never expected you to call me again.”

“And why is that?”

“The way you left me the last time we were together, I assumed it was a one-time thing.”

“Never assume. Life is too full of surprises for that.”

“Are you back in Seattle on business?” she asked, unable to identify the emotions churning inside her, not knowing if she wanted him to be here or not.

“Yes. And I wish to see you again.”

A shivery thrill leaped through her. Oh no. Here we go again.

“Are you still there?”

Meggie hesitated. “I’m still here.”

“Are you busy Saturday night?”

This is a really bad idea, Meggie. Say no.

Ah, but how she wanted to see him again. She ached to run her fingers through his hair, to be kissed and caressed by him. Don Juan had given her sexual healing. Their arrangement was perfect. Not like this oddness she felt for Caleb. No personal information. No entanglements. No falling head over heels in love. No getting hurt.

And yet she fully understood that this thing with her masked fantasy man was dangerous. She was taking a big chance, walking a tenuous tightrope between just sex and something more. It was too easy to confuse love and sex.

Except that wasn’t really true. Sex was pretty cut and dried. It was the excitement that confused her. The titillation. The sexual adventure that promised much more than it could ever deliver on an emotional level.

If she had one more fling with Don Juan, for the sake of her own mental health she had to keep one thing firmly planted in the forefront of her mind. It’s just a little sex. Nothing more.

“I’m free on Saturday night,” she said, dismayed at her own weakness, but riddled with lust at the thought of seeing him again.

“That is very good. You make me so happy. Now, I have a favor to ask of you.”

“All right.”

“I am sending over a costume. Wear it. Inside the box you will find an address for a nightclub. Meet me there. Eight o’clock on Saturday night. I will be waiting for you,” he whispered, and then gently hung up.

THE MYSTERY ROOM, a dark, cozy nightclub filled with people in a variety of exotic costumes, oozed sensuality. The huge salsa band played the lambada and there was some pretty steamy stuff happening on the dance floor.

Caleb checked his watch: 8:05.

His heart hammered and he willed Meggie to appear in the doorway. He had positioned himself with his back to the far wall so he would know the minute she stepped over the threshold.

What if she didn’t show? What then?

Caleb bit down on his thumbnail. She simply had to come. His need for her was all-consuming, and so intense he didn’t think he could stand the disappointment if she never arrived.

And in that dread-filled moment, she appeared.

She looked breathtakingly beautiful in the red-and-black flamenco outfit he’d had delivered to apartment. Her hair was swept off her neck and decorated with a mantilla, and she wore the black leather mask he had included in the box.

Moisture sprang into his mouth and his stomach clamped tight. In that moment, he knew. He wanted to have children with her. And grandchildren. He wanted to be with Meggie Scofield for the rest of his life.

He should have seen it coming. Should have known this infatuation with her was much more than physical. He had tried to use sex as a release from his distracting fantasies. Instead of freeing him, however, making love with her had only dug him in deeper.

Without her, he was lost.

She appeared bewildered, sliding her gaze around the club, taking in the band’s accomplished horn section, the clutch of colorful dancers writhing on the dance floor, the intoxicatingly exotic lighting. As Caleb stalked toward her, she nervously reached up a hand to pat her hair, making sure her mantilla was staying in place.

When she spotted him, her mouth curled up in a smile of relief, and he found himself grinning like some fool in love. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, and when he reached out to take her elbow in his palm, he noticed a telltale pink flush spread up her neck, and her swift intake of breath.

“You came,” he exclaimed, and leaned in close to brush his mouth over hers in greeting.

He’d meant the kiss to be light, a hint of welcome, of what was to come. But the minute his flesh touch hers, it was seared. Not to taste her would have been a sin of the highest order, and apparently Meggie agreed because she returned his kiss with a ferocity that rocked him to the soles of his boots.

He thought of the rented room upstairs and his body temperature notched upward. His impulse was to scoop her into his arms, carry her up to the room and get her naked as quickly as possible.

With a great internal struggle, he denied the impulse. He was going to seduce her tonight as no man had ever seduced her, and when his mask was removed and she learned his true identity, she would not be able to deny her real feelings for him.

He would seduce her not only with the dance of love, but with all his heart and soul. Caleb was ready to lay everything on the line and take the greatest risk of his life.

“I almost didn’t come,” she confessed. “But I can never resist the opportunity to dance.”

“Or play games?”

“Or play games.” She smiled.

“Then we shall dance, belladonna. And play. Until dawn if you desire.”

He signaled the band with a coded message he had worked out with them earlier. It had cost him a handsome tip, but the cue was worth it. Smoothly, the band segued from the mambo into the tango.

Caleb bowed low from the waist and offered Meggie his hand with a courtly flourish. The color riding her cheeks deepened, but she readily accepted his arm and he guided her proudly out onto the dance floor.

The hauntingly dramatic music swept over them with its hypnotic rhythm. Images of all the romantic movies he had ever seen featuring the tango swept through his head. Caleb let himself go, giving over completely to the dance, caught up in the moment when fantasy and reality merged into an idyllic blur.

Meggie inclined her head and gave him a coy smile. “You’re an excellent dancer, Don Juan.”

“We have only just begun.”

At his inscrutable words, Meggie felt her self-control slip even future. The man knew how to charm. She shouldn’t have come, but now that she was here, she was glad she had ignored the common sense that had dictated her life up until the moment she’d met Don Juan. She gave herself over to the craziness.

Living la vida loca.

She danced with Don Juan as she had never danced with another man. They moved in perfect unison, their bodies pressed close together, stepping in tandem with a smooth fluidity.

A heated calm seeped through her body, replacing her earlier nervousness. She experienced a blissful sense of homecoming, a wondrous peace unlike anything she’d ever known. Her confusion and doubts about coming here vanished as surely as darkness at dawn.

In that single fragment of time, she understood the mystery of creation, recognized the cosmic connection between herself and Don Juan. They were one soul, one entity, even more surely than when they’d made love. His eyes remained locked on hers and she could not look away. Nor did she want to.

Step, step, step, step. They tangoed, never missing a beat.

Everyone else had left the dance floor. The other dancers stood on the sidelines, watching in admiration. Meggie barely noticed their audience. All she focused on was Don Juan, as the scent of his sexy body dominated her senses. It seemed so utterly natural to be encircled in his arms. Even more natural to press her cheek against his and close her eyes.

Time ticked by. She heard the throb of his heart and, overlaying that, the mesmerizing tango beat.

The music and his heartbeat became one sound, strumming with a growing intensity that encompassed her mind, body and soul. The sensation leaped beyond surreal and bordered on budding rapture.

And when he dipped her, she felt her brain short-circuit. She wanted him. No matter how foolish, how stupid, how irrational it might be to sleep with this man again—especially since she was also having sensual feelings for Caleb—she simply could not resist. She had to have Don Juan one last time before she could relinquish her obsession and move on with her life.

They danced for what seemed like hours as one spicy salsa song flowed smoothly into another. From Gloria Estefan’s rousing rendition of the conga to the exuberant cha-cha-cha to the sensuously flirtatious rumba, their bodies brushed, touched, seared. Their clothes grew damp with passion and perspiration.

Not once did they take their eyes off each other. Their faces were hidden by the masks, but their souls…through the simmering heat of their melded pupils, they laid their souls bare to each other.

Throb, throb, throb.

The relentless beat pushed them higher and higher. Drums, saxophone, trumpet, keyboard. The instruments bloomed, a musical bouquet of sensual sound.

Their passion for each other escalated with each step they took, drawing them deeper and deeper into a vortex of sexual hunger.

When Meggie swirled, her skirt eddied about her legs in a wild, compelling flash of red satin and black lace. She felt the material slap at her shins, the back of her legs, saw frank desire in the eyes of the other men lining the dance floor.

She felt incredibly beautiful, and for that lofty feeling she could never repay Don Juan. He was such a splendid partner, an utterly charming companion. And she knew he made her look like a much better dancer than she was.

With him, dancing seemed effortless, magical. On and on they danced, until the band played the tango once more. As Meggie kept gazing past his mask and into those blue eyes filled with the promise to give her a night to remember, she knew she would never forget the Mystery Room, the tango or him.

When the song ended, she stopped dancing and splayed her palm over his chest. “I simply must have some water.”

“But of course.”

He guided her to a table at the back of the club; several of the masked and costumed patrons complimented their dancing skills as they went past.

“I will be right back,” he whispered, low in her ear, and then departed for the bar.

Tilting her head, Meggie admired the swagger of his leather-clad hips as he walked away. The man had it going on. No doubt about it. His butt was even cuter than Caleb’s, who definitely possessed one primo heinie.

Immediately, Meggie felt disloyal to her old friend. She shouldn’t compare Caleb to Don Juan. It was like comparing Granny Smiths to Clementines. Caleb was Caleb and Don Juan was Don Juan. Complete opposites in temperament and comportment.

She wondered for a moment who Don Juan really was, but then quickly squelched the thought. She didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to unearth something better left buried.

Don Juan returned a few minutes later with two tall glasses of iced water. He sat beside her and took a long drink from his glass. Meggie watched him swallow and realized she was in deep when she found even that simple action incredibly stimulating.

The delicate material of his white, puffy-sleeved shirt clung damply to his masculine chest, and Meggie felt her insides slowly unravel.

His face was flushed from the heat of dancing, and a droplet of water glinted on his lower lip. She wanted to lean over and lick it off, watch the flicker of sexual arousal leap to life in his eyes.

When she realized that, without even trying, he equally mesmerized the women seated at the next table, Meggie had to curl her fingers into her palms to keep from getting jealous. Good thing he was only her temporary lover and not her boyfriend. She would have a hard time dealing with this kind of feminine adoration on a regular basis, especially since Don Juan was such a powerful flirt.

Loyalty is something you would never have to worry about with Caleb, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her mind. Now there is a one-woman man.

Meggie pushed the thought away. She still wasn’t ready to deal with her budding feelings for Caleb. Those emotions scared her too much, because she knew he was a man she could actually build a life with.

But Caleb had another woman, and he’d been avoiding her with a fierce diligence ever since she’d kissed him atop the Space Needle. She sighed. She had certainly made a mess of that.

You can’t expect all risks to pay off.

The most she could hope for was self-discovery, and she’d certainly found that.

Don Juan placed his hand over hers. The familiar jolt of electricity shot through her. She raised her head and met his stare.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“You seem unhappy. Is it me?”

“Not at all.”

She smiled, trying hard to dispel the sad wisp of longing in her heart. She wasn’t right for Caleb and she knew it. She was older than him. She had a life here in the city. He needed a woman his own age or younger, an earthy type who would embrace life in the wilderness.

Don Juan lifted her hand to his mouth and slowly began kissing each knuckle and then running his tongue over her skin until her fingers tingled with the fire of his masculine heat.

If Caleb could see her now, would he be shocked by her indiscretions?

Probably.

What was happening to her? Why did she keep thinking about Caleb when she was in this exotic club with a dashingly charismatic man who impressed her with his flashy dance moves? She was very confused and she knew it. But this was the last time she would see Don Juan. She’d best make the most of their final encounter.

“This club is also an inn,” he murmured, low and husky, in his devastating accent. “And I have reserved us a room. Would you like to go upstairs with me now?”

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

14

HE LED HER UP the narrow staircase illuminated only by wall scones holding red bulbs. When they reached their room on the second floor, Don Juan did not turn on the lamp, but the curtain was open and a soft glow from the streetlights fell across a four-poster, king-size bed with a leather upholstered headboard.

Closing the door behind them with a soft click, he pulled her into his arms and ran the tip of his tongue over her lips, gently probing the warm recesses of her mouth.

She caught his head in her palms and sank her fingers in his raven hair. She melted into his arms, offering herself to him and giving without restraint.

A deep, guttural sound of pleasure slipped from his throat, a hungry, greedy noise that raised the hairs on her arms and filled her with a deep sexual need.

This might be wrong, but heaven help her, nothing had ever felt so right.

“What game are we playing tonight?” he asked. “The choice is yours.”

What game indeed?

He understood her need for fantasy. Her mind hopped from one scenario to another. Since this was absolutely the last time she was going to be with him, Meggie craved a thrill to remember—a provocative memory she could carry with her to the grave.

Her mind snagged on one idea, and when the mere thought of it caused her knees to weaken and her pulse to grow thready, she knew what she wanted.

“I want you to tell me what to do,” she whispered, trembling with excitement as the new sex game unfurled in her brain.

“You want me to command you to do things to me?”

Yes. She wanted him to be in control. She needed to relinquish the reins, allow him to lead her to a place of sexual discovery where she had never dared enter.

“Tonight, I am your slave. You are my master. I must do whatever you tell me.”

“Are you sure? This is a perilous game, indeed.”

Meggie shivered and whispered, “I know. That’s why I want it.”

“You are a goddess,” he murmured.

“No. I am a slave. I am here to do your bidding. What is your pleasure, master?”

“If you are certain.”

“I am.”

“Take off your clothes.” His voice changed, grew rough, dark and demanding. The shift in him both thrilled and scared her.

With shaky hands, Meggie slowly removed her clothing.

Don Juan sat in a wooden, hard-backed chair positioned in front of the window. He said not a word, but watched her with a hard-edged gaze.

She kicked off her high-heeled shoes and fumbled with the buttons on her dress, her hands perspiring so much her fingers kept slipping.

When she was finally down to her black lace bra and thong panties, Meggie discovered she was reluctant to go further—whether from nervousness or a desire to prolong the game, she couldn’t say. Probably a bit of both.

Don Juan was massively aroused, a fact his tight-fitting leather pants made clearly evident. He suddenly seemed very dangerous, and she didn’t know what to expect. After all, she didn’t really know the guy, had no idea what he was capable of, even though they had intimately explored each other’s bodies.

She crossed her arms over her chest and cowered.

“Come here.”

Meggie hesitated.

“Come here, slave. Don’t make me repeat myself or there will be dire consequences.”

He stared at her with such arrogant disregard, his haughty eyes enshrouded by that mask, that Meggie almost stopped the game by crying out, “Enough.” But at the same time she was panicking, she felt the crotch of her panties growing decidedly moist.

“Now!”

Tentatively she inched across the room to where he sat enthroned on his chair.

“On your knees.”

Slowly she slid to the floor, her pulse jackhammering in her head. Ribbons of sensation streamed through her when she saw just how turned on he was. She licked her lips.

“Now untie my pants.”

No sweet croons of “belladonna.” No soft murmurs, no tender touches. But she had asked for this and her body was swamped with a degree of stimulation she’d never before reached. The thick wetness in her panties seeped down her thighs.

She untied his pants and tipped her head upward to study his face. His jaw was stiff and uncompromising. Pale lines of strain bracketed his mouth. The mask covered half his face, hiding much of his emotion.

What kind of man lurked beyond that facade?

He reached out and grazed her chin with the rough pad of his thumb. “Do I excite you, slave?”

“Yes, master. I am wet for you.”

“Pull down your panties and let me see.”

She hooked her thumb beneath the waistband of her panties and self-consciously edged them over her hips and down her thighs.

“Straddle me.”

Trembling, she did as he commanded, placing one leg on either side of his thigh and resting her bare bottom against his leather pants. With a forefinger, he stroked between her legs, brusquely caressing her heated wetness.

Meggie tossed her head at the abruptness of the experience. His fingers curled inside her and she almost came right then and there.

“Do you want it rough?”

“You are the master. I am the slave. My only wish is to please you.”

“Then kiss me.”

His breath flew from his body in a smothered rush of sound as her mouth covered his. She tasted his hunger, felt his desperation. The kiss claimed them both, a whirlwind feeding on its own power.

The next moments passed in a desperate flurry as Don Juan lifted her from him, stripped off his clothes, sat back down and pulled her backward, into his lap. For the first time she realized he could see their reflection in the mirror running the length of one wall.

A fresh thrill shot through her.

His nipples were adjacent to her shoulder blades; she felt their sharp peaks jutting against her skin.

“Lean back,” he demanded. “Let me play with you.”

Meggie leaned back against his chest and he ran a hand up to cup her bare bottom in his palm. The sensations he aroused in her were so unbelievably exquisite that tears stung her eyes.

God, this felt so good. Magical.

While one hand kneaded her fanny, the other trailed to her bare breasts. He swept her nipples and pinched them lightly between his fingers, massaging them with the electricity of his masculine body heat. The sensation was at once delicious, sinful and sweetly familiar, like a favorite dessert eaten for the first time after a long hunger strike.

She’d missed his touch so very much. But how was that possible? She’d only been with him twice, and barely even knew him.

Meggie’s body grew heavier, more languorous, until it seemed to liquefy into his. He forsook her nipples and returned to making those idle circles around her breasts, until once more he was back, pulling and plucking the straining peaks.

She writhed against him.

He circled back around her breasts.

This time she moaned through clenched teeth when he reached her nipples at last and rolled them between his rough fingers.

Her breath came out in low episodic gasps and her entire body felt swollen and achy with intense arousal. Nibbling her ear, he lifted her higher up on his thighs, her back still pressed to his chest. She felt her moisture slicken his skin.

His lips tugged on her ear. She delighted in the sensation as he began to suck on her flesh and the opal stud nestled in her lobe. She shuddered at the wetness of his tongue, the heat of his mouth.

He spread his legs and, in the process, pried hers farther apart. One hand slid down her breast and across her inner thigh. His other hand continued to gently massage her butt.

At first, she didn’t realize what he was doing as he rotated both of them, spreading her thighs wider, moving closer to the mirror. And then she caught a glimpse of their reflection, the tantalizing picture of his naked flesh pressed against hers.

She gasped, scandalized, embarrassed and monumentally turned on.

She had never made love in front of a mirror. It seemed a wickedly sinful thing to do. She closed her eyes and turned her head.

His devilish laugh rang in her ears. “Look at yourself. Watch me make love to you.”

And, heaven help her, watch she did.

He bent her over the dresser and she clung to the furniture for dear life, her entire body trembling. He lightly smacked her bottom.

“What an ass.” He clutched her butt with both hands and sighed rhapsodically, as if having an oversize caboose was something to be proud of.

Their bodies shifted in the throes of pleasure. Sometimes she could see more of him, sometimes more of herself. The picture in the mirror was a hundred times more erotic than any dirty movie ever filmed. She lost all sense of herself, all sense of time and place.

The world tumbled, an easy glide into ecstasy. When she was quivering and oh so wet, he paused long enough to slip on a condom. He spent a few moments working her up again and then finally, finally, he slowly entered her from behind. She whimpered like a grateful puppy.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, and sweetly stroked her hair.

His gentle croon, his loving caress, fueled her fervor. She tried to move, to give as good as she was getting, but he wouldn’t allow it.

“No,” he whispered, and held her still by tugging lightly on her hair. “If you do that, I won’t last a moment.”

With much difficulty, she restrained herself. And each time she was about to shoot over the edge, he shifted his body just enough so it didn’t happen.

Frustration welled in her throat. “Please,” she begged. “Please.”

“What do you want?” he whispered roughly, pushing deeper into her. “Tell me. What do you need?”

“Please.” She choked on the word, barely able to speak at all.

“More? Do you want more?”

“Yes…oh yes.”

His tone was gruff and tender and thick with the same emotion that clogged her throat. “Not yet, sweetheart. Not yet.”

A long, fat sob spilled from her lips as he lifted her off him. She tried to turn, to take hold of him and force him to finish what he had started, but he had stepped back.

She could see him in the mirror; the light from the street glinting in through the blinds cast him in silhouette. She saw the hard, broad thrust of his erection. Blindly she reached for him.

He caught her wrist before she could make contact. “Wait. Please. Just a little bit longer. It will be worth it, I promise.”

Then he bent, scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He settled her on the covers and then stepped back. Meggie peered at him. She watched him illuminated in the light from the streetlamp outside the window, his face cloaked by the mask. If she reached out, she could easily flick that cover up and stare straight into his eyes.

“Take off my mask,” he demanded. “I want you to see my face.”

“No,” she whispered, her pulse suddenly pounding so much she feared she might have a heart attack on the spot.

“I am your master and you are my slave. You must obey me.”

“I won’t.”

“Then I must punish you.”

“Go ahead.”

Don Juan pinned her to the bed. “Take off my mask, slave.”

She was on the verge of hysteria. She could not, would not, remove his mask. Her mind balked at the very idea. She did not want to know who he was. It would ruin everything, and she feared he was leading up to more than an unmasking. She worried that he was falling in love with her. She simply could not have that happening.

Meggie realized then she needed the fantasy of the unobtainable male. His games had sustained her, bolstered her self-esteem and renewed her belief in her womanhood after her divorce.

But the last thing she needed in her life was another bad boy. She’d made that mistake once. She wasn’t about to do it again. Fireworks might be nice for a fantasy, but real life commitment required so much more than spice and flash. What she needed was an emotionally secure guy. A quiet, steady man. Like Caleb.

Except Caleb already had another woman.

“Take off my mask,” he repeated.

“No! Enough! I won’t.”

“Why not?” he growled.

“Because I don’t want to know who you are. Don’t you get it? I don’t want to see your face. I don’t want to fall in love with you. I need security. I need a man who can provide for me, not some gadabout pretty boy who likes to dress up and play sex games with strangers!”

MEGGIE’S WORDS SHATTERED Caleb’s world.

She wanted a man to provide for her. She didn’t care about love, but security. She was no different from those women who had shown up in Bear Creek seeking to marry him because he was a millionaire.

Disappointment and a great sadness washed over him, but those emotions were quickly replaced by anger.

“Then why are you here with me?”

Meggie blinked up at him, her face obscured by her own mask. “Why, for the sex games, of course.”

Sex. She wanted him for sex. He was either a wallet or a sex object.

You’re one to talk, Greenleaf. You started this whole mess with the intention of living out your teenage fantasy. No sense blaming her for something that’s your fault. She told you from the beginning she wasn’t looking for anything serious. You’re the one who messed things up.

His conscience scolded him, but his heart was aching so much he didn’t want to hear anything rational.

“So it’s sex you want?” His voice grated rudely in his own ears.

She nodded. Her eyes widened, looking rather frightened, but also very excited.

“Then sex is what you’ll get.”

He shouldn’t have taken her. He was too mad and he knew it but, dammit, he couldn’t help himself. This was the last time he would be intimate with her.

Caleb parted her thighs with his hands, positioned his body over hers, and then in one forceful, barbaric thrust buried himself deep within her warm wetness, in a pathetic attempt to assuage his despair.

“Oh yes!” she exclaimed, wrapping her slender arms around his neck, arching her hips upward and pulling him deeper inside her. “Yes.”

Sensation, hot and solid, spread outward from the core of his belly. He might not be able to love her forever, but he could love her tonight. And she loved him back, in her way, using her hands and her mouth. Caressing him, biting him, tugging impatiently on his hair whenever he slowed.

Nothing mattered now. Not the past. Not the future. There was only this moment.

He shifted, going from long, slow thrusts to short, quick ones.

“Yes,” she whimpered, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. “I like that. More. Deeper. Harder. I want you to fill me up. More…give me more.”

She hugged him with her love muscles, tightening around him with each thrust and parry. His heart slammed into his chest, into his ears, into his head, swamping his body with a heat so intense he felt as if he were on fire.

He stopped moving and stared down at her.

“What’s the matter?”

“Look at me.”

She raised her lashes to peer up at him, and he almost stopped breathing at the expression of sweet longing in her eyes. With his gaze fastened on her like a heat-seeking missile locked on a target, he began to move again.

She surrounded him, engulfed him, absorbed him so completely that he couldn’t say where he ended and she began. He’d never experienced anything like it. Not with anyone.

It wasn’t her sexiness—although she certainly was sexy! It wasn’t simply a testosterone dump. It wasn’t the masks or the games or the mystery of the moment. And it wasn’t even the notion that he would never have her again after tonight.

Rather it was the yearning in her eyes. The solid connection between them. The sensation that they were the only two people on the face of the earth.

It was too much to take. Particularly since she’d just made it clear she didn’t want him for anything more than sex or money. He’d spent his entire life being loved and respected only for what he could provide, never for simply being himself.

The old pain, along with this new one, knotted his chest. It was all too much emotion, too much hurt, to contemplate. He refused to think anymore.

He broke his visual bond with her then. Closing his eyes, shutting himself off, pulling away like he did when feelings got too intense.

Caleb thrust harder, faster. Meggie growled her pleasure, sounding all the world like a she-cat. She ran her nails down his back, scratching him lightly. She wrapped her legs around his waist and clung tight. She lifted her head off the pillow and nibbled on his bottom lip.

“Almost,” she cried. “Don’t stop.”

He was about to make her come and he’d never felt so proud, so manly. Pushing into her one last time, Caleb felt her convulse around him, just as his masculine essence shot from his body in a splurge of release.

In his blind, heady rush of energy, he cried out her name, forgetting that Don Juan was not suppose to know it. Forgetting, in fact, to use his Spanish accent. He forgot everything except that for the first and last time he and Meggie had shared the ultimate act of intimacy. He had made love to her with all his heart, mind and soul.

And the awful thing was, it hurt more excruciatingly than anything he could ever have imagined.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

15

I DID IT. I took a walk on the wild side. I lived a little. I made my own adventure. I had a no-strings-attached affair and proved I’m not a dud in bed.

She’d gotten what she wanted.

Why then did her victory feel so hollow? Why was she aching for something more? And why couldn’t she stop wishing that the man in the bed beside her was not this dashing, unobtainable masked stranger, but rather her dear friend and confidant, Caleb Greenleaf?

Kind, sensitive, intelligent, caring Caleb.

She had thought she had wanted mindless, feel-good sex. She had thought that proving Jesse wrong was a worthy objective. Instead, she’d discovered that revenge was never sweet, and while Don Juan had indeed satisfied her most forbidden fantasies, her real craving wasn’t for adventuresome sex at all, but for true and lasting intimacy. Something she would never find through meaningless encounters with strangers.

She’d been looking for love in the wrong place, when Caleb had been right under her nose all along.

Could she be in love with Caleb?

No. That was crazy. She’d known him most of her life. If she’d been in love with him wouldn’t she have realized it long before now?

Okay, then why did she keep thinking about him? Why, in the middle of having sex with Don Juan, had she kept pretending he was Caleb? Not to mention that weird dream she’d had. And why did she continue to wonder what Caleb would say if he could see her now?

He would be so disappointed that she’d been unable to resist Don Juan’s seductive allure. Shame had her swinging her legs over the side of the bed and searching for her clothing in the darkened room.

Don Juan sat up. She refused to look at him.

“So you are going?”

“Yes.”

“I will never see you again.” It was a statement, not a question. He got up and came toward her.

“No.” She shook her head, reached around to zip the back of the flamboyant flamenco dress.

“You have taken from me what you needed.”

“Yes.” That sounded so cruel, so cold. “You’ve given me a lot, Don Juan. You’ve given me back my femininity and I can’t thank you enough for that.”

“You are welcome.” Gently, he touched her cheek. “I will always remember you fondly.”

She slipped her feet into her shoes and then turned to go. She hesitated at the door, her hand on the knob. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Adios, belladonna,” he whispered in the Spanish accent that no longer sent chills of desire pushing down her spine. “Adios.”

MEGGIE PACED THE LENGTH of Wendy’s kitchen floor, arms crossed over her chest, a thousand conflicting thoughts tumbling through her brain. She’d arrived at her friend’s apartment not long after leaving Don Juan’s bed, still dressed in her elaborate dancing costume. She’d desperately needed someone to talk to, but now that she was here, she didn’t know how to begin.

“Whoa, girlfriend,” Wendy said. “You’re gonna wear out the linoleum way ahead of its time.”

Pace, pace, pace. Hit the wall. Pivot. Pace, pace, pace. Repeat.

She liked the short rhythm of measuring off Wendy’s small kitchen in her high-heeled shoes. It kept her focused on something other than her tumultuous feelings.

“Can you at least give me a hint at what’s got you so agitated?”

Meggie opened her mouth and started to speak, but then sighed and just shook her head, not knowing how or where to start.

“What? Talk to me. How can I help if you don’t tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s all wrong,” Meggie finally said.

“What’s all wrong?”

“What I’m feeling.”

“You’re gonna have to clue me in.” Wendy’s brow dipped in an expression of concern. “What are you feeling?”

“I think I’ve fallen in love with him.”

Wendy gasped. “Oh, Meggie, I knew you were going to lose your heart. You’re just not the kind of girl who can love ’em and leave ’em.”

Irritated, Meggie waved a hand. “That’s where you’re wrong. I used Don Juan to bolster my damaged ego and I thanked him and walked away.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that.”

“But I thought you said you thought you were falling in love with him.”

She shook her head. “Not Don Juan.”

“Then who?”

“Caleb.”

“What?” Wendy looked as shocked as Meggie felt.

“I know. It’s illogical, irrational, but there it is. I’m in love with him.”

“Wow.”

“The awful thing is, he doesn’t feel the same way about me.”

“How do you know?”

“I kissed him,” Meggie admitted. “And he backed off. Quick. Told me he’d met someone else.”

“Ouch.”

Meggie bit her bottom lip to keep from crying. “I feel like such an idiot.”

“Are you sure Caleb doesn’t have feelings for you? If he just met this woman, surely it’s not that serious. What if you told him how you felt?”

“I can’t do that,” Meggie wailed.

“Why not?”

Why not indeed?

Because she was afraid to put her heart on the line. Afraid of getting hurt again. How did she know that what she was feeling for Caleb was real and not some weird case of transference? But all the signs of real love were there, weren’t they? Her heart skipped a beat whenever she heard his name. She’d melted when they’d kissed. She had erotic dreams about him.

He took a risk for you, Meggie. Remember that night atop the Space Needle when he dared to brave those heights? Take a chance on him. He might surprise you.

“You owe it to you both to at least go and talk to him,” Wendy said. “Ask yourself this—what have you got to lose if you don’t?”

Meggie eyed her friend, swallowed hard and whispered, “Everything.”

“I’M SORRY, MA’AM. Mr. Greenleaf has checked out.”

“Checked out?” Numbly, Meggie stared at the desk clerk. “What do you mean, checked out?”

“Mr. Greenleaf paid his bill and vacated the premises about…” the man consulted his watch “…an hour ago.”

“No. There must be some mistake. He has one more lecture to give. He’s not supposed to leave town until the middle of the week.”

Even to her own ears her voice sounded high and desperate. The desk clerk probably thought she was a certified nutcase.

The clerk shrugged. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“Maybe he moved to another hotel. Did he leave a number where he could be reached?” She curled her fingers around the counter and stood on tiptoes to peer over the desk, as if the paperwork stretched out in neat piles might reveal some clue about Caleb’s unexpected departure.

“No. He left no forwarding number.”

“Oh.” Meggie let out a sigh and settled the soles of her shoes back down on the ground. She felt as if she’d just taken a swift kick to the solar plexus. Where had Caleb gone?

Perhaps he’s staying with his new girlfriend. The thought hit her like a sledgehammer.

“Wait.” The clerk pulled a yellow Post-it off the edge of a nearby computer screen. “Are you Meggie Scofield?”

She pressed a hand to her throat. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“It seems Mr. Greenleaf left a package for you.”

“A package? For me?” she parroted.

“Just a minute. I’ll get it from the back room.”

“Okay.”

The clerk disappeared through a door behind the desk. Meggie glanced down at her hands and was surprised to find them trembling.

Calm down. Don’t jump to conclusions.

A couple of minutes later the desk clerk returned with a brown paper bag. “Here you are, Ms. Scofield.”

Meggie took the sack and went to sit down in a plush upholstered chair in the lobby. She set the sack on the floor, opened it up and removed a pair of shiny, knee-length leather boots.

What the heck?

Her pulse skipped erratically. What was this?

Next she extracted a pair of black leather drawstring pants, a black cape and a white, puffy-sleeved pirate’s shirt. By the time she reached the bottom of the bag and the black leather mask, Meggie literally could not breathe.

She stared at the evidence in her hand, at first choosing not to comprehend what it meant. Then she sucked in a shuddering breath.

Oh no! Oh no! It couldn’t be!

Don Juan and Caleb, one and the same? Just like in her dream?

Disbelief knifed her belly.

Caleb simply could not be Don Juan. No way. There had to be another explanation. Honest, trustworthy Caleb would never have deceived her this way.

The main question was, why?

Why had this kind, understated man gone to great lengths to hide his real self? Why the charade? Was it because he simply wanted an erotic adventure of his own before finding a wife and settling down for good? Meggie cringed to realize she had been far more than eager to oblige.

Or was there a more deep-seated reason?

Denial is not just a river in Egypt, honey.

Meggie rubbed her fingers over the leather mask and clamped her lips closed over a deep, mournful moan. Her life was filled with lies, lies and more lies. The lies Caleb had told her. The lies she’d told herself.

She had wanted so desperately to believe in a fantasy, to relish the way he made her feel as a sexual being, that she had been too selfish to see beyond the mask to the real man beneath. In an attempt to assuage her emotional pain and bolster her self-confidence, she’d accepted Don Juan at face value. She’d gone seeking shallow pleasures, telling herself it was all in the name of living a little.

She hadn’t wanted to look beyond surface appearance. Why else had she insisted they make love in the dark after the Halloween party? Why else had she refused to remove his mask last night, even after he’d begged her to?

That’s when she realized the startling truth. Somewhere deep down inside her, in the part that had ached to live out her wildest fantasies, she’d secretly known all along that Don Juan was Caleb. She had wanted the pleasure without accepting the responsibility of a real relationship, so she had willingly indulged in his pretense.

And now they were both in pain. Suffering for their perilous masquerade.

She had no one to blame for this mess but herself.

CALEB SNOWSHOED through the forest. He’d gotten reports of poachers in the area, and he was checking out the sightings, but his heart wasn’t in his work. He missed Meggie something fierce. Missed her and hated himself for his weakness.

It had been almost two weeks since he’d left Seattle and returned home to Bear Creek. Two weeks, and he hadn’t heard a word from her. He told himself he was glad, that it was for the best. But he was lying.

For the hundred millionth time, he imagined her sitting in the lobby of the Claremont Hotel, looking through the paper bag, realizing for the first time that he was her masked lover.

His gut twisted at the thought of her pain.

She probably despised him. Probably felt pretty darn betrayed.

Well, no more than he. Caleb had thought Meggie was different. That if any woman could accept him for the man he was and not for the money he’d made, Meggie would have been the one. When she’d told him she needed security, she’d as good as turned his soul inside out and stomped on it with both feet.

Yeah? Well, buddy boy, how can you expect her to accept you for your authentic self when you deceived her? Lies don’t breed trust.

How many countless times had he had this argument with himself since returning home? A thousand? Ten thousand?

He should let the whole thing go, stop poking and prodding the snafu with his mind. It was better this way. They’d had great sex. Both of them had gotten their needs met. Problem was, he’d romanticized the situation, made out their loving to be more than it was.

So why the hell couldn’t he stop thinking about her—and wishing things could be different?

Caleb snorted, disgusted with himself. He’d manufactured this house of cards. He shouldn’t have been surprised when it came tumbling down. Solid relationships were built on honesty and trust. They had neither. Because without honesty, how could you trust someone?

He tramped through the forest, not really noticing where he was going. The wind gusted with the waning daylight. He snuggled deeper into his parka and raised his head to see where he was. He should be getting back to the ranger station before nightfall.

That’s when he saw where his subconscious had been leading him.

To the clearing in the woods. To the skaters’ cabin where he and Meggie had first become intimate. He stared at the cabin, remembering, and a fresh tear rendered his heart in two.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

16

THE TELEPHONE RANG.

As she’d been doing for the past three weeks every time the stupid thing jangled, Meggie jumped and made a mad dash for the receiver.

Caleb?

“Hello?”

“Meggie?”

Her hopes fractured. “Kay?”

“What’s going on?” her friend demanded in a none-too-pleasant tone of voice. “Your mother just told me that you’re not coming home for the holidays.”

“I can’t afford the time off from work,” Meggie said.

It wasn’t a total lie. She’d recently been promoted, so there was no problem with her job. Although she was entitled to take time off at Christmas, even after taking a leave of absence this past summer, working overtime during the holidays would go a long way toward earning her additional brownie points with her boss.

But the real reason she’d told her mother she wasn’t coming home for Christmas had nothing to do with work and everything to do with Caleb. She wasn’t up to facing him again. Not yet. Not now. Not until her heart had plenty of time to heal. Whenever the hell that might be.

“I’ve got to tell you, Meggie, Sadie is really hurt you’re not coming back for their wedding.”

In the tumult of her messy love life she’d forgotten all about Jake and Sadie’s wedding. “I’m really sorry. Tell Sadie I’ll make it up to her.”

“If she’s lucky a girl only gets married once,” Kay chided.

“You’re right. I’m a terrible friend. What can I say?”

“Just tell me what in the hell happened between you and Caleb.”

“Caleb?” Meggie heard her voice rise an octave. “Who said anything happened between me and Caleb?”

“Oh, come on. The way you two were making goo-goo eyes at each other at the Metropolitan party, the way Caleb came home in an utterly black mood, the way he scowls whenever your name is mentioned…I’m not dumb.”

Stunned, Meggie blinked. “You knew that Caleb was Don Juan?”

“Well, of course I did.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because you and Caleb both needed a grand romantic adventure. I don’t know what happened, but you two need to make up. It’s as obvious as the noses on your faces you guys were made for each other.”

“It is?”

“For a smart woman you can sometimes be pretty dense, sister-in-law mine.”

“You don’t understand. This thing between me and Caleb is very complicated.”

“Whatever. But by behaving like a spoiled brat you’re hurting a lot of other people.”

“Spoiled brat?” Meggie felt herself growing angry.

“Yes, spoiled brat. Just because you and Caleb aren’t speaking to each other doesn’t mean the rest of us should have to suffer. Your folks want to see you for the holidays. Sadie and Jake want you at the wedding. And there’s something else you’re needed for. Metropolitan found out Bear Creek’s health-care needs are grossly underserved and they’re planning on holding a Christmas bachelor action as a fundraiser for a new clinic. They wanted to know if you’d serve as spokeswoman.”

“They did?”

“Yes. Caleb’s going to be in the auction.”

Meggie gripped the receiver tighter. “That’s not really an enticement.”

“Okay, here it is. My big confession. I need you to come home.”

“You?” Meggie laughed. Kay was the most self-contained woman she knew. “Why would you need me?”

There was a pause.

Anxiety gripped Meggie. “Kay? You and Quinn aren’t having problems, are you?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“What is it then?”

“I need a nurse to assuage my fears.”

“Are you sick?” Alarm swept through her at the thought her sister-in-law might be seriously ill.

“Well, not exactly.”

“What then, exactly?”

“Quinn and I were going to wait for Christmas day to spill the beans, but since you won’t be here, I might as well tell you now.”

“For heaven’s sake, Kay, tell me what?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“LET’S HEAR IT for bachelor number three,” Kay spoke into the microphone. “Put your hands together for the single remaining bachelor from the Bachelors of Bear Creek Metropolitan ad. You know him, you love him, our own Caleb Greenleaf.”

Wild applause, catcalls and whistles greeted Kay’s announcement. Liam Kilstrom shone the spotlight and played a short refrain of “Bad Boys” as Caleb strutted out on stage in tight blue jeans and a red flannel shirt. He looked so handsome Meggie forgot to breathe.

Jitterbug nervous, she stood at the back of room, her heart in her throat, running her hands over her brand-new outfit. Red leather pants, red silk blouse, red cowboy boots. She had arrived a few minutes earlier, slipping through the doors and lurking among the crowd. So far only Mack—who had flown her in from Anchorage—knew she was home.

The Bear Creek community center, gaily decorated with red and green Christmas lights, was packed to the rafters with women of all shapes, ages and sizes, eager to bid on the bachelors and add to the charity coffers for the Metropolitan clinic fund.

Meggie’s stomach knotted. She chewed her bottom lip. She was willing to spend all her savings if that’s what it took to win Caleb away from the next highest bidder.

“Let’s start the bidding at a hundred dollars,” Kay called out. “Who’s willing to fork over a hundred dollars for the pleasure of this man’s company?”

Two dozen hands shot up.

Meggie cleared her throat. “Five hundred dollars.”

“Goodness, ladies, you hear that? Someone is willing to shell out five hundred dollars.” Kay grinned. “Do I hear five hundred and ten?”

Most of the women who’d bid earlier dropped out, all but one saucy lady that Meggie recognized as Lizzy Magnuson, a friend of Sadie’s. Lizzy had recently moved to Bear Creek from San Francisco.

Boldly, Lizzy waved a hand. “Six hundred.”

“Seven hundred,” Meggie exclaimed.

Kay shaded her forehead with her hand. “Okay, who’s Miss Moneybags in the back of the room?”

Meggie moved closer to the stage, pushing through the crowd of women, her eyes on Caleb.

He stared at her, first with shocked surprise. Then a wide grin spread across his face and his eyes crinkled in greeting.

Meggie’s heart soared. He was happy to see her!

She kept walking. People shifted, allowing her through.

“Seven-fifty,” Lizzy challenged.

“Eight hundred.” Meggie never dropped her gaze from Caleb’s.

“Nine hundred.” Lizzy was damned determined, but Meggie was even more so.

“A thousand dollars.” She arrived at the edge of the stage.

Caleb took the microphone from Kay and dropped to his knees in front of Meggie. His stare drilled a hole straight through her. “Sold to the lady in red for one thousand dollars.”

The crowd went nuts, laughing and talking and cheering.

Caleb tossed the microphone back to Kay, hopped down off the stage, took Meggie by the elbow and swept her out the exit and into the cloakroom.

He spun her around to face him. His intense blue eyes ate her up. “You came home.”

“I came home.” Now that they were alone, she felt her nervousness return.

“For Christmas? For the wedding?”

“For good.”

“What? But you’re a city girl. You love Seattle. Why would you move back to Bear Creek?”

“A lot of reasons.”

“Yeah?” He arched a quizzical eyebrow.

“Well, Metropolitan offered me a job running their clinic.”

“Oh they did, did they?” He pulled her into his arms. It felt so good. So right. The minute his chest touched hers everything just fell into place.

“Uh-huh. And Kay’s going to need a lot of help with that baby. Did you hear? I’m going to be an aunt.”

“You being a nurse will really come in handy.” His lips were millimeters from hers. His rich, masculine scent filled her nostrils.

“True.”

“So are those the only reasons that you decided to move back?”

“Well,” she said, enjoying drawing this out, “there is one other reason.”

“And that is?”

“I discovered I don’t need the big city for excitement, after all.”

“No?”

“Nope.”

“If that’s the case, then how do you plan on getting your kicks from now on?”

“I was kind of hoping you might help me answer that question.”

“Me or Don Juan?”

She bit her lip, dropped her gaze. He cupped her chin in his palms, raised her face and made her look at him.

“Why did you leave me that night, Meggie?” Caleb whispered.

It hurt looking him in the eyes and seeing just how much she had wounded him. “I wasn’t ready to face the truth. But then again, I wasn’t the only one running away. Why did you flee Seattle? Why did you leave me the sack? Why didn’t you tell me face-to-face?”

“I owe you an apology for that. I have no excuse. I was scared to death and that’s the honest truth.”

“What were you afraid of?”

He swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple bobbed. “That you only wanted me for my money.”

Meggie shook her head. “Why on earth would you think that?”

“When I tried to get you to take my mask off, to acknowledge who I was, you told me you needed security. I realize I’m apprehensive about money issues, because of the way my mother is, because of my childhood. But I was afraid you could never love me for myself.”

“Caleb, I meant emotional security. As exciting as Don Juan was, I needed more. Great sex wasn’t enough. I needed a strong, steady, reliable man.”

“You thought the sex was great?”

“You’re an amazing lover. An amazing man.”

“Really? You don’t mind a guy who’d rather commune with nature than join the rat race in pursuit of the almighty dollar?”

“I don’t give a damn about your money. Give it away for all I care.”

“You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

Caleb couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He reached out with his index finger and pushed an inky curl from her cheek. As he stared into her upturned face, he couldn’t recall ever having been moved so deeply by anything.

“I’ve loved you since I was fourteen years old, Meggie Scofield. But because I believed I never stood a chance with you, I convinced myself the attraction was purely physical.”

She gazed up at him with a quiet acceptance in her eyes that gave him the courage to continue.

“I was a goofy kid who liked hanging out in the woods watching animals. You were older and so sophisticated. I knew you were out of my league and yet I couldn’t stop fantasizing about being with you.”

“You fantasized about me?”

“Babe, you have no idea.”

“I never thought I was fantasy-worthy,” Meggie admitted. “I mean, my butt is too big for the rest of me and I’ve got freckles and my face is sort of plain and—”

“Shh.” He placed his finger on her lips. “I love your butt. It’s perfect. I adore your freckles, and your face is most certainly not plain. I know you’ve got this idea that you’re not very pretty, and my stupid stepbrother is partially to blame for your distorted sense of yourself, but I’m sorry to disillusion you, Megs. I think you’re gorgeous and I always have.”

“Honest?” she whispered.

“I tried to forget you. I had a few flings in college and thought I got you out of my system.

“But I never could seem to connect with anyone. Not with the level of intimacy I craved. And then when you strutted into the costume party in that Klondike Kate costume, I was a goner, even though at the time I had no idea it was you.”

“I fell for Don Juan the minute I saw him, too.”

“No kidding?”

“No kidding.”

“When you whispered your phone number to me and I realized Klondike Kate was you I was totally rattled. After what we’d done in the skaters’ cabin…” He shook his head. “I wasn’t going to act on the attraction. I tried to pretend it never happened. But then I get this invitation from that committee you were on, asking me to give lectures in Seattle and I’m thinking maybe you had figured out that I was Don Juan and this was your way of asking me to come for you.”

“I didn’t realize you were Don Juan, at least not consciously,” she admitted. “But deep down inside, I knew. That’s why I didn’t call. I thought I’d just been using you to get over Jesse. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And when Kay told me how miserable you were, I knew I had to come home. I had to discover if there was a chance for us. Do we have a chance together, Caleb?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

She smiled. “I love you, Caleb Greenleaf.”

“You know what, Meggie Scofield?”

“What?”

He pointed above her head. Meggie glanced up, saw she was standing under a sprig of mistletoe.

“I love you, too.”

She said, “Oh,” just as his mouth closed over hers and he gave her a thrill to remember.

Forever.

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

Epilogue

MEGGIE AND CALEB WERE married exactly one year to the day after the masked costume ball where suave Don Juan first clamped eyes on his mysterious Klondike Kate. The ceremony took place in the Tongass National Forest on the front porch of the skaters’ cabin. The guest list included the entire town of Bear Creek, Meggie’s friends from Seattle and the Metropolitan editorial staff, who’d insisted on paying for their reception as the last bachelor joined his buddies in wedded bliss.

From where she sat in the audience, Kay shifted baby Ella on her lap, leaned against Quinn’s big, comforting chest and whispered, “I told you they were meant for each other.”

He laughed softly. “Who am I to argue with an intuitive woman? You convinced me that I was perfect for you and you were right on the money.”

“And don’t you ever forget it.” Kay regarded him with loving eyes.

“As if I ever could.” He draped his arm across his wife’s shoulder and pulled her and the baby closer to him.

Quinn gazed over the crowd and met the eyes of his buddy Mack, who was one of Caleb’s groomsmen. Mack grinned and mouthed, “Look what you started with that advertisement” and nodded at his wife, Cammie Jo, who was positioned at the makeshift alter. Cammie Jo wore a chic maternity bridesmaid’s dress and an expression of pure joy.

Sadie, Meggie’s matron of honor, stood beside Cammie Jo. Sadie studied the blushing bride with a hitch of happiness in her throat. Meggie looked completely adorable in her white wedding gown and that red-feathered mask substituting for a veil. And Caleb was pretty darned handsome in his Don Juan outfit. Although, in Sadie’s estimation, no one was as handsome as her husband, Jake.

Sadie snagged Jake’s gaze. As Caleb’s best man, he was positioned across from her. Sadie tipped the corners of her mouth up in a Mona Lisa smile. Jake winked. Just wait until she told him about the outcome of her recent doctor’s visit. It looked as if Bear Creek was in for a real population boom, courtesy of those lusty ex-bachelors.

Sadie’s attention was drawn back to the ceremony when Caleb started reciting in a deep, poetic voice the wedding vows he’d written himself.

“Darling, you are my sun, my moon, my stars, my everything. My heart lights up when you walk into a room. You’ve helped me to change, to grow, to become a better man. I promise to spend the rest of my life showing you exactly how much I love you.” With shaky fingers Caleb took off Meggie’s red-feathered mask and gazed into the sweet face he knew as intimately as his own. “The removal of our masks symbolizes that we lay bare our souls to each other and place our faith in the greatest power of all—real and unconditional love.”

The audience sighed in unison.

Tears rolled down Meggie’s cheek as she gazed deeply into his eyes. Caleb’s heart thumped with emotion. To think this wondrous day had come at last.

Sadie handed Meggie a handkerchief and she dabbed the tears away before raising her hand to remove his mask.

“I lay bare my soul to you, Caleb Joshua Greenleaf. From this day forward we are one. I, Megan Marie Scofield, take the…”

As she continued, Caleb was aware of nothing except his beloved bride and their bright future together. Not the crowd, nor the minister, not the majestic mountains surrounding them. He was the luckiest man on earth to have captured the heart of the woman he’d loved for half his life, and he knew it.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the minister announced.

Caleb’s lips took possession of Meggie’s in a kiss so powerful her body hummed with its impact. The crowd cheered when he deepened the kiss.

After a long, rapturous minute, he dragged his mouth from hers, pressed his lips to her ear and whispered, “You know we have an hour before the reception starts, Mrs. Greenleaf.”

“What are you suggesting, Mr. Greenleaf?” she whispered back, tantalized by his bold innuendo right here in front of everyone.

When she had set her course for adventure that fateful night she’d followed Don Juan into the woods, she had never guessed she would get everything she’d bargained for and then some. Her body tingled with anticipation for what lay ahead.

Caleb took her hand and led her down the path strewn with rose petals. A saddled horse awaited as their getaway ride. The guests got to their feet and blew bubbles as they walked past.

“A game?” he whispered.

“What kind of game?” she murmured, all the while smiling at the crowd. “Master and slave? Doctor and nurse? The Big Bad Wolf and Little Red Riding Hood?”

“You know my favorite.”

“Mountain man and city girl?”

“You got it,” he growled.

“In the park ranger’s cabin?”

“I was thinking on horseback.” He stopped beside the waiting steed.

“Caleb!” She spoke too loudly, then glanced over her shoulder to find that everyone was still watching. She ducked her head and lowered her voice. “Is that even possible?”

“Never know until you try.”

His strong hands spanned her waist and he lifted her onto the saddle. The crowd cheered and applauded. Caleb climbed up behind her. He gathered the reins and urged the horse into a trot.

They quickly disappeared into the forest. His back was flush against hers, and even through the lacy material of her wedding dress, she could feel the evidence of his desire pressing hard against her fanny.

He slowed the horse to a walk and wrapped his arms around her. Meggie leaned her head into the curve of his neck and sighed deeply. Her mind expanded with the erotic logistics of making love in the saddle.

Caleb growled low in his throat. “You are the sexiest woman in the world. Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“Mmm.” She turned her head and flicked out her tongue, licking a hot, wet trail along his jaw as she slipped her hands behind her back and undid the string ties on his leather pants.

“What…what are you doing?” he asked in a gravelly voice.

“Following up on your fantasy. If we’re clever we might not even have to take our clothes off. Oh, by the way, I forgot to mention I’m not wearing any underwear.”

His chuckle was low and seductive. “Neither am I, babe. Neither am I.”

“I love playing games with you.”

“There’s no one else on the face of the earth I want to play games with.”

Her nimble fingers separated the leather material at his fly, and Caleb’s now-exposed rock-hard shaft burgeoned in her hand, letting her know just how much he wanted her.

“Ah, woman, see what your naughty games do to me?”

Meggie trembled with excitement as the man she loved slid his hands beneath her dress, cupped her bare bottom in his palms and lifted her off the saddle.

As he eased her down over his erection, Meggie hissed in her breath and whispered, “Let the games begin.”

ISBN: 978-1-4268-2123-3

Copyright © 2008 Harlequin Books S.A.

The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows:

Sexy, Single and Searching

Copyright © 2002 Laurie Vanzura

Eager, Eligible and Alaskan

Copyright © 2002 Laurie Vanzura

A Touch of Silk

Copyright © 2002 Laurie Vanzura

A Thrill to Remember

Copyright © 2002 Laurie Vanzura

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

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Table of Contents

Bachelors of Bear Creek Bundle

Sexy, Single and Searching

Prologue

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

Epilogue

Eager, Eligible and Alaskan

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

Epilogue

A Touch of Silk

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

A Thrill to Remember

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

Epilogue