Instant Gratification

  She stepped closer to the water lapping at the coarse mountain sand, taking in the cattails lining the edge, the lily ponds in the shallow water, and shook her head. It was so beautiful she could hardly speak.

  They were completely isolated, surrounded by three-hundred-feet-tall sequoias and pines.

  And alone.

  Stone dropped the small backpack he’d worn on the ride. Something inside squawked, and he crouched down, pulling out a radio. “Go ahead, TJ, over.”

  “Where are you? Over.”

  “Third Hidden Lake. Over.”

  “That group going down Cascade Falls tomorrow showed up two days early. Annie and I rushed back to the lodge and they’re pissed. The schedule’s fucked up, and Annie’s bitching because her pies didn’t get delivered, and now I’m double-booked for tomorrow. When the hell are you getting back? Over.”

  “If the schedule’s fucked up,” Stone replied, “it’s because you put your grimy fingers on it.” Sitting on his haunches, he sighed and shook his head. “Leave it alone. I’ll fix it when I get back. The two clients yelling at you can wait for me as well. You’ll just piss them off more. Send Nick for the pies. And you’re not double-booked for tomorrow. I’m taking the Alpine trip. Over.”

  “You still didn’t say when you’d be back. Over.”

  Stone glanced up at Emma and smiled. “I’ll be back when you stop yelling at me. Over.” With that, he tossed the radio to the ground.

  “He sounded desperate,” Emma said. “You’re just going to leave him hanging?”

  “Sure. He’s done it to me plenty of times. You okay?” he asked when she sank to the coarse sand.

  “Just shaking. I think it’s the altitude.”

  He opened the backpack and pulled out two bottled waters and a Ziploc bag full of cookies, which he handed over. “Some sugar should help. Try ‘em. They’re my specialty.”

  She took a bite and moaned in sheer bliss. “Oh. My. God. This is better than the scenery, and that’s pretty darn amazing.” She couldn’t get the rest of the cookie in fast enough. “Seriously. You made these?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They’re the best cookies I’ve ever had.”

  He looked amused. “They’re just basic chocolate chip.”

  Yes, but when she wanted cookies, or any food for that matter, she went to the store. She used her oven as storage for the pots and pans she’d never used. “I burn water.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not asking you to cook for me then, isn’t it.”

  She looked up, caught the teasing light in his eyes and smiled. It was true. He hadn’t asked her to cook for him. He hadn’t asked anything of her.

  Which should have made him the perfect man.

  Did make him the perfect man.

  Except for the fact that she didn’t want or need one. She didn’t want or need anyone in her life, thank you very much, she thought as she licked the last bit of chocolate from her fingers. “Omigod, these are better than…everything.”

  He followed the movement of her tongue with his eyes, but smiled easily. “Life isn’t all about food.”

  “True. It’s all about take-out.”

  He laughed.

  “Hey, I’m not kidding. After twenty hours on your feet and only a few coffees in your system, you wouldn’t snub your nose at Taco Bell, I can promise you.”

  “You must work some crazy hours.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You miss it.”

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “I do.”

  “What do you miss the most?”

  “Oh, that’s easy. I miss…” She blinked, shocked to find herself drawing a blank.

  He arched a brow. “You miss…?”

  So much. But suddenly, there in the last of a gorgeous, hot day, surrounded not by the smell of antiseptic and the nagging beat of her pager and cell phone, instead looking into a set of deep jade eyes which were smiling at her with affection and heat, she couldn’t think of a single thing.

  How odd was that? “I miss…Thai food,” she said triumphantly.

  There. She’d thought of something. A lame something, but still.

  Looking amused, he slowly shook his head. “That’s reaching.”

  Yeah. It was. Then, still looking at her, he stood up, tall and lean and damp with sweat, and her heart skipped a beat. “What are you doing?”

  “Relaxing. Swimming.” He kicked off a shoe. “You remember who won, right?”

  Oh, God. “Yes, but…but your brother sounded pissed. Maybe we should go back.”

  “Serves him right. You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Um,” she said brilliantly as he kicked off his other shoe.

  “You lost,” he pointed out gently.

  “Oh, that silly bet?” She swallowed hard as he lifted his T-shirt off over his head and tossed it aside. Sweet Jesus. She stared at his mouth watering chest as his fingers went to the button on his jeans. “Stone?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you wearing a bathing suit?”

  “Nope.”

  Chapter 13

  Stone’s eyes were full of mischief and a wicked intent, both of which had the same effect on Emma’s insides as his bad boy truck. “Stone. You can’t just—”

  He could, and did.

  He toed off his socks.

  “Yeah, now see—”

  Ignoring her stammering, he unbuttoned his Levi’s, and she nearly swallowed her tongue. She’d seen him without a shirt before. On her examination table up close and personal, though of course this time he was void of all the dirt and blood. He still had some scrapes and bruises, which in no way marred the utter perfection of his broad shoulders, chest, and six-pack abs that she suddenly and inexplicably, desperately wanted to lap up like she’d lapped up the last of the chocolate.

  His jeans were low-slung and loose enough that they pulled away from him, leaving a tantalizing gap that a woman could stick her entire hand down and—

  “Your turn,” he said, pausing from his stripping down.

  “I am not going skinny dipping with you.”

  “Now here’s one thing I don’t get about women. They always make blanket statements like that, and then change their mind. Wouldn’t it be easier to say nothing at all?”

  He wasn’t wearing a belt, so when he finished unbuttoning his jeans, they sank even lower, nearly to indecent levels, and she stared at what he was slowly revealing. “I don’t make blanket statements as a rule, and I always mean what I say.”

  “See?” He smiled. “Another blanket statement.”

  “I do mean what I say. Look, it’s…late. I need to go back.”

  “It’s seven thirty.”

  “Almost my bedtime.”

  “You said you were hot,” he pointed out reasonably.

  Yes. Yes she was hot. Holy smokes…

  He added one of those panty-melting smiles. Oh God, she was in trouble.

  “I’m simply offering you the solution to your problem,” he said.

  “Yes,” she managed. “While creating a whole new one.”

  “Which would be?” he asked innocently.

  Ha! “You. Naked.”

  He shoved off his jeans and kicked them aside, leaving him in a pair of dark blue knit boxers that clung to his tough thighs and lean hips. When she managed to lift her gaze to meet his, she found his eyes both hot and amused.

  If she thought she’d been sweating before…

  Then, without a word, he turned from her, stepped a few feet into the lake water and dove in.

  Vanishing beneath the smooth surface with hardly a splash.

  A few drops hit her and they were so deliciously, deliriously cool, she actually moaned. Goddammit.

  He surfaced facing her, just his perfect chest, shoulders, and head popping out of the water. He shook his head, and water went flying. He looked at her, hair crazy, face streaming water, smile so contagious she had to work to keep solemn. “Stone—”

  “You los
t.”

  “Yes, but—”

  Still smiling sweetly, he pushed his hand through the water, and splashed her.

  Right in the face.

  “Hey!”

  He arched a brow.

  She let out a breath, torn between indignation and utter bliss—because God, the water felt amazing. “What if I’d straightened my hair and didn’t want it wet? What if I was wearing makeup?”

  “Did you? Are you?”

  “No. But still—”

  He splashed her again, and that was it. He was going down. She yanked off her shirt and tossed it to the ground while she kicked off her shoes at the same time. “You are so going to get it.”

  “Promises, promises.”

  Leaving her plain black cotton bra in place, she shoved down her trousers. Her equally plain cotton bikini panties weren’t any prettier than the bra, but she didn’t happen to care much about lingerie. She cared about comfort. Right now she was uncomfortably hot and uncomfortably worked up. She stalked toward the water, ready to rumble.

  His gaze had all but glued itself to her body. His mouth had fallen open a little, as if he needed it that way just to breathe. His eyes were eating her up, caressing her body as if she was the best thing he’d ever seen, and if she hadn’t been so overheated, with adrenaline pumping through her instead of blood, she might have been flattered. “Prepare to die.”

  He lifted his gaze to hers. At the look on her face, he backed up, further into the water.

  “Get over here and take your medicine like a man.” She stood at the edge and let the water lap at her feet. Oh, God, it was so cold. She kicked it and splashed him, but it wasn’t enough.

  So she dove in. Not nearly as gracefully as he had, but she hadn’t been in the water much since high school, where she’d been on the swim team. It came right back to her, and as the gloriously cold water closed over her head, she pushed down, swimming underwater up to a pair of long, masculine, still scraped up legs. Her plan was to swim past him, out as far as she could get, hopefully ridding herself of as much of her restless energy as possible, and only when she could be sure to keep in control, would she turn back.

  She got maybe a stroke past him when she felt a big, warm hand close around her ankle. She kicked, but he was far stronger than she, and pulled her back against him.

  She fought, but he merely wrapped two long, hard arms around her and lifted her to the surface for air.

  The air was shimmering hot, the water icy cold, his body a perfect mix of hard sinew and warm skin. A paradox, because her instincts were at odds.

  Fight him.

  Hold onto him.

  Kiss him.

  Splash him.

  God. She wanted to do all of it, and all that heated, strong, sleek flesh was pressed up against hers. In fact, staring into his stark green eyes, eyes that didn’t attempt to hide a thing from her, she was having a hard time remembering that she was supposed to be fighting him at all, or why she even wanted to.

  Then he smiled; a soft, sweet, sexy smile, and she was lost. She smiled back, and let her fingers play in his hair. Just for a minute, she told herself. Then he dipped his head close to hers, kissing her cheek, letting his mouth skim the edge of her jaw, and she sighed in pleasure, closing her eyes, melting into him, all resistance gone, and—

  And he dunked her.

  Dunked.

  Her.

  Sputtering and wriggling, she nearly got away but once again he caught her, slowly tugging her back like a fish on a line. As much as she tried to get away, she was held tight, her back to his chest, her butt to his crotch, which she only realized because the more she fought, the harder he got. “You should know,” she said through her teeth. “I’m pretty good at this.”

  “Swimming?”

  “Kicking ass.” But though she struggled and fought, she couldn’t get free. “Let me go!”

  “Say the magic word.”

  “Let me go or you’ll be walking funny tomorrow.”

  With a low chuckle, he put his hand on the top of her head and pushed, dunking her again.

  His mistake.

  Because beneath the water, she whirled to face him, then sank even lower, where she grabbed his ankles and lifted, tumbling him backwards under the water. Without waiting to see how he took that, she whipped around and started swimming away, laughing in sheer triumph. She got two strokes this time before she was once again dragged back against his hard, wet body.

  He turned her to face him, but she wasn’t falling for those sweet, sexy eyes again. Oh, no. She learned from her mistakes, and she twisted free, sinking back down and around him. Opening her eyes, she placed her hands on the backs of his knees and pushed.

  When his legs obligingly collapsed, she laughed beneath the water and nearly drowned herself. She managed to swim away, and she kept at it, going as hard and fast as she could while laughing out loud.

  He caught her, disturbingly easily, so easily in fact that she had to wonder if she’d meant him to. Hands on her waist, he yanked her under with him. They wrestled beneath the surface, and though she had little wrestling experience and he apparently had plenty, she did have one advantage. When he pulled her up against him and held her in so that her arms were completely ineffective, she brought her knee slowly up between his, stopping just short of her mark.

  He went instantly still. His eyes met hers.

  She arched a brow.

  “Uncle,” he cracked, and loosened his arms enough that she could drop down through.

  But she hadn’t thought it all the way through, because she felt every inch of his chest and belly and thighs, every single hard, perfect inch, and here she was, free to swim away, and she didn’t want to.

  “You think you’re all that,” he said, his mouth to hers, his voice low and husky and full of laughter as he completely supported her.

  “I am all that.”

  He laughed again, and looked into her eyes.

  And she had one thought. Send a life vest, I’m going down. The last of the sun beat down on them as the water lapped at their entangled bodies. His arms were hard around her, her breasts mashed up against his bare chest, her belly plastered to his.

  He was still hard, and she could feel him, pressing up against the soft core of her. She looked into his face. The cut over his eye was still healing, but that wasn’t what made her breathless. Her legs bumped into his, and she actually physically had to fight the urge to wrap them around his waist, further opening herself to him.