them.
“Maybe we’d better move to higher ground,” he suggested.
Carly looked alarmed. “Are we going to be flooded?”
“No, no,” Hank lied. “But the noise of the creek might keep us awake.”
Carly frowned as if she didn’t believe him. She helped Hank pack up their few belongings and shift everything to a different location. The work was made more difficult by darkness and a biting wind.
The second spot Carly chose was almost as bad as the first, and the tent collapsed into a heap as they moved it. Hank doggedly reassembled the damned thing and held back colorful curses while he worked. When they reentered the tent, they were both shorttempered, cold and tired.
“We should have started back sooner,” Carly said, bumping into Hank in the dark.
He bumped her back. “We were otherwise occupied.”
“I’m not blaming you.” She sounded touchy.
“I didn’t think you were.”
“Your tone—”
“Don’t bite my head off.”
“Let’s get some sleep.” Carly handed Hank one of the blankets. “Or try to, at least.”
They wrapped up in separate blankets and lay down in the darkness just as the rain started again. Somehow, the sound of rain made their situation even more miserable.
Beneath them, the ground was unforgiving and damp. The tent was leaning dangerously in the wind and threatened to blow over any moment. The whole world was cold and noisy. Hank’s stomach growled.
But there was no food, no heat, nothing to talk about anymore. Nothing to do until morning—and that was hours away.
Beside him, Carly was silent and motionless, but it was easy to sense that she felt exactly the way he did. Never had either one of them been so miserable in all their lives.
But suddenly a thought made the miserableness even more complete.
There was something they could do to keep their minds off their troubles. Carly’s warm body was just a touch away. Her clothes could come off in a trice, Hank thought. He almost groaned at the thought of how she might feel, slipping into his arms again. His imagination conjured up images of how they could spend a breathless night together.
But they lacked one important thing.
If only, Hank thought, we had a condom.
Six
C arly had never spent a worse night in her life. Not only was she horribly uncomfortable, but her brain seemed permanently fogged with sexual fantasies concerning Hank Fowler.
And she woke up thinking she never wanted to see him again.
Oh, it wasn’t that she wasn’t attracted to the man. Or that she didn’t like him. Frankly, he was the sexiest and perhaps the sweetest man she’d ever met. And he’d managed to wrap himself around her during the night and even slipped his hand under her shirt so that he had warmly cupped Carly’s right breast in a deliciously unconscious way.
God help me, she thought, but I want to roll over, strip off his clothes and make love to him here and now.
But there was no way in hell they’d ever have a future together.
I hate the outdoors, she told herself. There’s no use denying it.
Even if he was God’s gift to women everywhere, the fact that he lived in the middle of a wasteland rendered Hank Fowler the last man she’d ever start a relationship with.
Not after yesterday and last night.
Just my luck. I find Mr. Right and it turns out he owns several hundred acres that would make a grizzly bear weep.
Nevertheless, Carly enjoyed the heat that radiated from his lean body. Her bottom was intimately snuggled against him, and one of his long legs rode comfortably between her knees. She could feel his breath—even and deep—whispering along her hairline. Remembering the heart-pounding way they’d explored each other’s bodies yesterday, Carly flushed warmly. When had she ever allowed a man to touch her the way Hank had?
We certainly got to know each other fast.
And yet Carly couldn’t help feeling Hank was holding something back.
She wanted to know him completely. But not at the risk of dying in
“Maybe we’d better move to higher ground,” he suggested.
Carly looked alarmed. “Are we going to be flooded?”
“No, no,” Hank lied. “But the noise of the creek might keep us awake.”
Carly frowned as if she didn’t believe him. She helped Hank pack up their few belongings and shift everything to a different location. The work was made more difficult by darkness and a biting wind.
The second spot Carly chose was almost as bad as the first, and the tent collapsed into a heap as they moved it. Hank doggedly reassembled the damned thing and held back colorful curses while he worked. When they reentered the tent, they were both shorttempered, cold and tired.
“We should have started back sooner,” Carly said, bumping into Hank in the dark.
He bumped her back. “We were otherwise occupied.”
“I’m not blaming you.” She sounded touchy.
“I didn’t think you were.”
“Your tone—”
“Don’t bite my head off.”
“Let’s get some sleep.” Carly handed Hank one of the blankets. “Or try to, at least.”
They wrapped up in separate blankets and lay down in the darkness just as the rain started again. Somehow, the sound of rain made their situation even more miserable.
Beneath them, the ground was unforgiving and damp. The tent was leaning dangerously in the wind and threatened to blow over any moment. The whole world was cold and noisy. Hank’s stomach growled.
But there was no food, no heat, nothing to talk about anymore. Nothing to do until morning—and that was hours away.
Beside him, Carly was silent and motionless, but it was easy to sense that she felt exactly the way he did. Never had either one of them been so miserable in all their lives.
But suddenly a thought made the miserableness even more complete.
There was something they could do to keep their minds off their troubles. Carly’s warm body was just a touch away. Her clothes could come off in a trice, Hank thought. He almost groaned at the thought of how she might feel, slipping into his arms again. His imagination conjured up images of how they could spend a breathless night together.
But they lacked one important thing.
If only, Hank thought, we had a condom.
Six
C arly had never spent a worse night in her life. Not only was she horribly uncomfortable, but her brain seemed permanently fogged with sexual fantasies concerning Hank Fowler.
And she woke up thinking she never wanted to see him again.
Oh, it wasn’t that she wasn’t attracted to the man. Or that she didn’t like him. Frankly, he was the sexiest and perhaps the sweetest man she’d ever met. And he’d managed to wrap himself around her during the night and even slipped his hand under her shirt so that he had warmly cupped Carly’s right breast in a deliciously unconscious way.
God help me, she thought, but I want to roll over, strip off his clothes and make love to him here and now.
But there was no way in hell they’d ever have a future together.
I hate the outdoors, she told herself. There’s no use denying it.
Even if he was God’s gift to women everywhere, the fact that he lived in the middle of a wasteland rendered Hank Fowler the last man she’d ever start a relationship with.
Not after yesterday and last night.
Just my luck. I find Mr. Right and it turns out he owns several hundred acres that would make a grizzly bear weep.
Nevertheless, Carly enjoyed the heat that radiated from his lean body. Her bottom was intimately snuggled against him, and one of his long legs rode comfortably between her knees. She could feel his breath—even and deep—whispering along her hairline. Remembering the heart-pounding way they’d explored each other’s bodies yesterday, Carly flushed warmly. When had she ever allowed a man to touch her the way Hank had?
We certainly got to know each other fast.
And yet Carly couldn’t help feeling Hank was holding something back.
She wanted to know him completely. But not at the risk of dying in
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