Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Troy had seen that. So had Susan. Susan seemed to sense the love and care in another person, and that’s why she’d wrapped her friendship around Flo Killian. Birds of a feather, loving, kind, and wise. “You and I were both lucky to have families who supported us.” He didn’t dwell on his parents or their lack of parenting. He’d had his siblings. “Kids need to hear that it doesn’t matter where they come from, they can do anything if they put their minds to it.”
She turned slightly to say, “That’s very admirable. I’m glad you want to give back.”
The terrain changed yet again, and now they were scrabbling over steep rocks.
On the difficult scramble, he stopped talking in order to concentrate. But he couldn’t stop watching her, enjoying every move of her body. The woman was a sight to behold, her beautiful muscles flexing and straining as she climbed, her hiking shorts hugging her rump, her sporty top tight, her midriff bare. She’d pulled her hair through the back of her ballcap, and her lush ponytail swayed back and forth across her back.
The path evened out again, and breathing only slightly hard, she said, “These boots are incredible. Sometimes, when I’m scrambling like that or walking along a rocky path, I feel myself almost slipping. But they hold tight to the rocks.”
A slight sheen of perspiration made her seem to glow. She was so damned beautiful. So damned perfect. But he kept his words light. “Good to know.”
They took a water break. He shouldered off his pack, then stripped off his shirt. Rummaging in the pack, he pulled out a tube of sunscreen and began slathering it on his chest and shoulders.
When she looked at him, wide-eyed, he said, “It’s getting hot.” Then he held out the sunscreen. “Can you put some on my back?”
She hesitated. But finally, she took the tube and squeezed a dab onto her palm. After handing the tube back to him, she rubbed her hands together, and he turned his back, the anticipation of her touch damn near making him breathless.
Her hands were deliciously warm and slippery on his skin. She smoothed in the sunblock, swiping both hands along his sides to get the lotion there, too, then up over his shoulders and along his nape into his hairline.
He reached behind and patted the top of his shorts. “Could you make sure to get some along the line of my shorts? I always miss that and end up with a line of sunburn.” He wished to God he could see her face.
But she did as he asked, making sure she didn’t leave any skin untouched, smoothing the lotion a hair’s breadth inside his shorts. Her fingers trembled against him.
And he trembled with need.
When she was done and took a step back, he turned. He was damned sure her quickened breath wasn’t left over from their scramble over the rocks.
“It’s not going to work,” she said, the slightest quaver in her voice.
He said oh-so-innocently, “What’s not?”
She thinned her lips and narrowed her eyes, and he wanted to kiss her so badly his guts ached. But she didn’t specify what wouldn’t work. Because that would mean admitting what the sight of his naked chest—and the touch of her fingers on his body—did to her.
“Do you want me to put some sunscreen on your shoulders and nape?” He waggled the tube.
She backed up another couple of steps. “I put some on before I left the house.”
He couldn’t help teasing her. “But you’re perspiring. You probably need more.”
Backing up another step, she shook her head, her ponytail swishing. “Nope, I’m totally fine.” She put up her hands as though she was warding him off.
Triumph trickled down his spine. He’d affected her, he knew it. She’d felt the heat between them as she’d touched him.
She turned quickly and walked on. After shoving his shirt and sunscreen into the pack, he shouldered it and followed her lovely figure as she raced along the path as if she was running from him.
For now, he’d let her.
They stopped for an early lunch in a grove with picnic tables and an amazing view of the Santa Cruz Mountains.
She’d brought a picnic, and as she unpacked each item, Troy could barely contain his glee. While she sat facing the table, legs primly together, he straddled the picnic bench right beside her, his knees almost touching her thigh. And his mouth watered. Not for the food, but for her.
Everything in her pack was his favorite—turkey sandwiches with cranberry, two bottles of a dark, reddish-brown Belgian ale he loved. “Thanks for bringing lunch. This is great.”
“You’re welcome.” She lowered her gaze as if she was embarrassed, then concentrated on taking half a sandwich out of the plastic bag.
Twisting off the beer cap, he took a long swallow. Moderately strong, it had flavors of dried fruit and a hint of clove, giving it a rich spiciness. The ale’s fruity flavor lingering on his tongue enhanced the first bite of turkey and cranberry.