He saw the exact moment her mind engaged enough to remind her he wasn't her friend. She was in the midst of stretching for the mechanism to comply with his command when she suddenly stilled. Her hand dropped to her side and she struggled upright, wrapping the fleece blanket tightly around her. What the hell—was that his Northface she was wearing? "Will you move it?" he growled. "Let me in."
"No," she said.
"Dammit, Lily, open the door! It's snowing out here."
"I can see.that. Are you cold?"
"Yes!" And that was his jacket. The giveaway was the fact that it was about ten sizes too big for her.
"Well, gee, that's a crying shame. Although as I recall it, you didn't care that I was cold last night."
"Hey, I offered to share my bag." Big mistake. Not only did her upper lip curl in disdain, but his dick had a deja vu moment of the instant just after he'd proposed the option, when the ramifications of a possible acceptance had left him in a half erect state. He rattled the door. "Lemmein!"
"There are some things we need to discuss first."
He regarded her warily. "Like what?"
"I want a few concessions."
"Shit." But he knew he probably wouldn't get in without them—not without a lot of bother on his part. Mentally calculating how far he was willing to go, he demanded, "What do you want?"
"Bathroom stops I don't have to fight for, for starters."
"Oh." It caught him by surprise… then left him feeling guilty. Denying her those yesterday had been petty of him. "Okay, sure."
"And your word that you'll behave civilly from now on."
Now, that was a tougher one, especially considering his less-than-cheerful frame of mind lately. Still, he nodded. "You've got it." He watched through the window as she pulled her heels up on the seat next to her round little butt, pinched the toes of her socks—no, his socks, by God—and pulled them off her feet, trading them for her sandals. It was a sad day when a woman's naked feet got him itching. He raked his fingers through his hair. "What else?"
Dropping her feet to the floor, she straightened and fixed him with a stern glare. "I want water so I can wash up. Hot water."
"I'll get right on that—the minute I have access to the camp stove."
"Okay, then." She stretched over the front seat to flip the mechanism that opened all the locks.That was easier—not to mention a whole lot cheaper—than he'd expected. He went around to the cargo hatch and popped it open just as Lily tumbled out of the jeep and trotted awkwardly toward the stand of trees, a wad of tissues clenched in one fist. The sight brought a sardonic smile to Zach's lips, and he reached for the camp stove to heat her water. Damned if he hadn't been out-bluffed.
His amusement fled when he saw his belongings scattered all over the cargo area, and it suffered a further .downturn when he went looking for a dry shirt to put on and discovered his two long-sleeved thermal T's were gone. It was all he could do not to glare at Lily when she returned a short while later. "Give me back my shirts."
"Excuse me?" She cocked an expectant eyebrow at him.
Words he forced himself to swallow went down like ground glass. "Please."
To his surprise she immediately removed his North-face, laying the jacket inside the hatch. Then she reached for the hem of his burgundy T and peeled it off over her head. When she removed the silver one beneath it, her own top came partway with it, hitching up to expose a golden slice of skin just above her jeans waistband.
"Here, you wear this one," she said amiably, handing him the silver, waffle-weave shirt. "It does the most for your eyes. But I get to keep the burgundy one—at least until I warm up." She put it back on, then had to reroll the sleeves several times to prevent them from flopping over her fingertips.
Without her usual sky-high heels, the top of her head barely reached his chest, and his shirt wasn't simply long in the sleeves on her; it hung clear down to her knees. "You look like a damn kid playing dress-up," he muttered insincerely. No way in hell would anyone ever mistake her for a child. Not with those round hips or the sweet curve of her breasts pushing against his T.
He hated it that he was so physically aware of her. But when she pressed a hot wash cloth to her face a moment later and moaned in pure pleasure, he immediately thought of sex, down-and-dirty sex, in one position after another, each one of which flashed raunchier than the last across the screen of his mind. Disgusted, he stomped away and went to stand with his face lifted to the sluggishly falling snow.
Shit. Being rude to women might not be the way he was raised, but it had sure been a dandy cushion between him and the pull of Lily's sexuality. Now, because a deal was a deal, and he always kept his word, that cushion was gone.
Busy dealing with the nasty suspicion that this civility business just might be the death of him, he failed to notice the old Ford LTD parked behind the big wooden site map when he drove past it soon after.
Hours later Zach conceded that sometimes a man would just as soon not be right. His jaw ached from gritting his teeth as he drove through the sweeping ranch land of southernOregon. Dammit, did I call this or what? A guy honors his word to be polite and just look where it gets him — ass-deep in sexual frustration .
It was the very thing he'd feared, and observing Lily's feminine rituals sure as hell hadn't helped. At the campsite earlier she'd accommodated his need to hit the road by merely washing her face and brushing her teeth, then immediately restoring order to his trashed duffel bag without him saying a word. As soon as they'd gotten underway, though, she'd balanced her train case in her lap and started doing the girly thing.
She'd applied lotions and scents and war paint with a skill and feminine appreciation for the process that was downright erotic. From the corner of his eye he'd seen her mouth drop open slightly as she leaned into the mirror to apply mascara, watched her lips purse as she stroked on lipstick. She'd combed and teased her hair, then applied something to it and mussed it all up again until it looked as if a man's hands had just lost their grip on it in the wake of some world-class oral servicing.
Jesus,Taylor. He shifted in his seat. What're you, a masochist? Don't even go there .
It was the direction in which his mind kept wandering, though. A short while ago she'd decided she was finally warm enough and had peeled off his thermal T-shirt. It was a fairly utilitarian stripping, but he couldn't have been more affected if she'd been working the stage pole at the Pussy-Kat Club. That was approximately the same time he'd begun to notice that the silver T-shirt he wore—the one that "did the most for his eyes," for crissake—bore her scent. Man, he was beginning to lose it. But why the hell couldn't she be a tall brunette? None of this would be an issue if she were a tall, dark-haired woman, since for some odd reason they'd never held much attraction for him.
And why didn't she say something? Yesterday he'd been perfectly content to spend the entire drive without exchanging a word, but today he needed a distraction from all this awareness. Hell, at this point he'd even welcome a dialogue about David Beaumont, sister-hustling, money-grubbing little pissant that he was. But although Zach's body kept hearing the whisper of come on and get me, big boy from Lily's lush curves, except for a single request for a pit stop about forty minutes ago, she hadn't uttered one word in the three hours they'd been on the road.
To be fair, she was probably waiting for him to demonstrate good faith and start the conversation himself. But he couldn't think of a thing to say.
Then, almost as if she could read his thoughts, Lily suddenly shifted in her seat to look at him. "Glynnis once told me she was born inAfrica."
All right! This is more like it. "Yeah, she was."
"She said she was too young to remember it, but that you actually lived there for quite a while?"