She stared at it like it was a brick of gold. “I’m on a diet.” But she took it. “A see-food diet, apparently. I see food and I eat it.” She took another big bite. “I mean, I try to eat healthy, but I have a little thing for junk food. Uh-oh… ”
“What now?”
“Abigail, no.” She reached back and pulled the strap of Brady’s duffel bag from the duck’s beak. “She also likes to eat.” She laughed easily, and he found himself smiling at the sound with rusty facial muscles. His shoulders loosened and he realized he was feeling relaxed.
And even more odd-at ease.
“Are you here on vacation?” Lilah asked, petting the creatures in the box at her feet.
“Not exactly.”
She let that go, leaning back to watch the scenery, which was admittedly worthy of the fascination. Lush and green, the mountains loomed high thirty miles off in the distance, the exotic rock formation forming mouth-gaping canyons he’d once explored as an angry teen looking for a place to belong.
His passenger let the silence linger, which he suspected was unusual for her. When he felt her watching him instead of the landscape, he turned his head and briefly met her gaze. Yep, she was waiting patiently for him to crack the silence. A good tactic, but it wouldn’t work on him.
“Huh,” she finally said, slightly disgruntled.
He felt the corners of his mouth turn up. “Used to people caving?”
“ And spilling their guts.” She eyed him again, thoughtfully. “You’re a tough one to crack, Brady Miller, pilot and photographer. Really tough.”
Not anything he hadn’t heard before. “I was thinking the same could be said of you,” he said.
That got him a two-hundred-watt smile, along with a sweet, musical laugh. “True,” she agreed.
The road ended, and he had two choices-the highway straight ahead, or left to head away from the towering peaks and out to ranching land, where as far as the eye could see was nothing but gently rolling hills and hidden lakes and rivers.
“Left,” she said, pointing to a dirt road. “And then left again.”
The road here was narrow, rutted, and far rougher. “Ah. You’re bringing me to the boondocks to off me so you don’t have to pay for the damages to my truck.”
She laughed. She really did have a great laugh, and something went through him, a long-forgotten surge of emotion. “Not going to deny it?” he asked, sliding her a look meant to intimidate.
She wasn’t. Intimidated. Not in the least. In fact, she was smiling. “Worried?” she asked, brow raised, face lit with humor.
Giving her another long look-which she simply steadily returned-he shook his head and kept driving. “I never worry.”
“No? Maybe you could teach me the trick of that sometime.”
Yeah, except he didn’t plan on being around long enough to teach anyone anything.
His enigmatic passenger shifted in her seat and crossed her legs. The hem of her Carhartts rose up, giving him a good look at her scuffed work boots and the cute little black and pink polka-dotted socks peeking over the top of them. Which of course made him wonder what else she was hiding beneath those work clothes.
The growth thickened on either side of the road, which narrowed, commanding his attention. He caught glimpses of a sprawling ranch, and then a glistening body of water, flashes of brilliance in a color that changed the definition of blue. The road narrowed again, and at the hairpin turn, two of his four tires caught air.
“Not bad,” she said in admiration. “So how does a pilot get such mad driving skills, anyway? Because you’re not just a pilot and photographer.”
“No?”
“No. You’ve got a quiet intensity about you, an edge. It’s why I thought cop or military.”
She was good. “Army.”
“Ah,” she murmured, saying nothing more, which both surprised him and left him grateful at the same time. People were naturally curious, and his life choices and experiences tended to bring that curiosity out, but he didn’t like talking about himself.
“Here we are,” Lilah said a minute later. “Home sweet home.”
The road ended in a small clearing, at the top of which sat a tiny cabin next to what looked like a large barn. The sign on the barn read SUNSHINE KENNELS.
Peeking behind the property was a small lake, shining brightly, surrounded by a meadow radiant with flowers, and lined by the not-so-distant jagged ridges stabbing into the sky.
Actually, Brady knew this land fairly well, though it’d been a long time. Emotions tangled with the need to reach for the beauty wherever he could find it, and he soaked it all in, letting it bring him something that had been sorely lacking in his life.
Pleasure.
Lilah unhooked her seat belt. “It’s special.”
“Yeah.”
“The Coeur d’Alene Indians found it,” she said. “They lived here.” She paused. “The myth goes that the water has healing powers.”
He slid his gaze her way, wondering if she believed it.
“They based their lives around the legend.” She paused and bit her lower lip, like she knew damn well he didn’t buy it. “Don’t laugh when I tell you the rest.”
He wasn’t feeling much like laughing. Not while watching her abuse that lush lower lip that he suddenly wanted to soothe. With his tongue. No, laughing was the last thing on his mind.
“Legend says that if you take a moonlight dip, you’ll supposedly find your one true love.”
“Of course.” He nodded. “It’s always midnight. So, do you swim often?”
“Never at midnight.”
He couldn’t help it, he laughed.
With a slow shake of her head and a smile curving her mouth, she reached out and touched a finger to his curved lips. “You’re a cynic,” she chided.
It’d been a long time since someone had touched him, unexpected or otherwise. A very long time, and he wrapped his finger around her wrist to hold her to him, letting his eyes drift closed.
“For how big and tough you are,” she said very softly, “you have a kind mouth.”
He opened his eyes and met her gaze. “You should know it’s not kindness I’m feeling at the moment.”
“No?” A brow arched, and the light in her eyes spoke of amusement, along with a flash of heat. “What do you feel?”
Dangerous territory there. Nothing new for him. He did some of his best work in dangerous territory. “Guess.”
Still smiling, she leaned in so that their lips were nothing but a whisper apart. Even surrounded by a duck, two puppies, and a potbellied piglet, she still smelled amazing. He wanted to yank her in and smell her some more, but he held very still, absorbing her closeness, letting her take the lead.
When she spoke, every word had her lips ghosting against his, her breath all warm, chocolately goodness. “I’m more of a doer,” she whispered, and kissed him.
She tasted as good as she smelled. Then almost before it’d even begun, she pulled back. “Thank you.”
He had no idea what exactly she was thanking him for now but he was all for more of it. Their connection, light as it’d been, had still carried enough spark to jump-start his engines. “For…?”
“For driving me all the way out here.” Again she was letting her lips brush his with every word. “And for not being a serial killer.” She was staring at his mouth. “And for… everything.”
Not wholly in charge of his faculties, he took over the lead, pulling her in until she was straining over the console before covering her mouth with his.
With a low murmur of acquiescence, she wrapped her arms around his neck, angling her head for the best fit, deepening the kiss.
Which worked for him.
He lost track of time, but when she pulled back, breathless and panting for air, she licked her bottom lip as if she needed that last little taste of him.
He knew the feeling. He was more than a little flummoxed by the loss of blood to his brain. She’d felt good. Good and soft and willing. He had one hand low at her back, the tips of his fingers tucked into the waistband of her pants, against warm, satiny skin while his other hand cupped her jaw.