Hot & Humid (2 page)

An earthy scent of forest and water clung to the ground. Brine inhaled the land deep into her lungs, praying for patience. To her right, the work crew smoked and watched her every move. They wanted to get paid and she was in the way.

This story was too damn important to fuck up now. This was it. Her only chance to get Elam to talk to the media about the questionable land grabs their company was suddenly gobbling up.

He stopped several feet away.

The first thing she noticed about him was his thick thighs and predatory stare. She suspected he could ruin a virgin with a dirty look, and that girl would be willing to be ruined if it meant she had one wild night riding those thighs.

As he moved in closer, she noticed that Elam was bigger, harder than she expected. His face was rough with a scar slashing over his cheek. The scar knitted around the side of his cheek and disappeared around his neck.

Jet-black hair and hot-blue eyes whispered of an old-world Irish ancestry. Black eyebrows were bent down. His square jaw flexed in annoyance. He was intense and hard in a raw, manly way that left Brine feeling suddenly breathless.

He was gorgeous.

He was more rugged than she ever expected. Had she met him in a darkened alley, she would’ve run the other way in a heartbeat. Brine’s heart was pounding away for no reason. She didn’t understand how and why a man like Thane Elam could make her suddenly so nervous.
I have a Master’s degree from Georgetown for the love of Peter Frampton.

Brine was a woman that loved using words and to her chagrin, she found her mouth suddenly dry.

Elam glowered. His gaze went from the top of her drenched head to her scuffed boots. Her jade eyes flipped him off. She noticed the way he positioned himself between her and the long barrel of the antique gun. He propped up his hardhat and bounced the bolt cutters off his muscled thigh.

“Nice dress.”

Worn, black combat boots came up her calves, laces undone. Lots of cream fabric flowed around her legs and tied at her hip. Yes, she was wearing a turn-of-the-century wedding dress.

She hadn’t planned this move well at all. The problem was she didn’t drink and she had no tolerance for the one drink she had with Steph.

The wedding dress was Steph’s idea. She was the one to chain her to the tree and take off as soon as Elam showed. Brine didn’t want Stephanie’s reputation tarnished by this move and had insisted that she hit the road.

“Nice pants.” His jeans were worn to the point of rips. Her gaze flicked to his button fly and she smirked pretending to be unimpressed.

“Tell me how you got chained to this tree,” he said.

“I chained myself.”

Doubt played over his face. “What are you doing here?”

“I want to know why you haven’t returned my phone calls.”

“Excuse me?” He was truly surprised.

“I’ve left messages. E-mailed. Hell, I even tried to make an appointment. I guess I should’ve sent up smoke signals.”

He came in close to her face. They were inches apart. The smooth spice of his cologne invaded her space and she had no choice but to inhale the intoxicating scent. She felt suddenly heady from the forbidden aroma.

“So you take my company hostage?”

He was angry. She could see that he was a man who normally didn’t get jerked around by anyone. “I have your undivided attention now. Don’t I?”

“This tree. The land. Is all mine. You’re trespassing, and you’re wasting my time. I don’t like my time wasted.”

“I’m well aware of that, but I had to do something to get you to talk to me.”

He paced away. There was more than heat in his glare when their eyes clashed again. “Well the clock’s ticking at fifty thousand dollars an hour.”

“Bill me.”

“I plan on it. Now who the hell are you?”

“I’m a reporter with the
Sentinel
.”

Their eyes warred, and understanding filled the depths of his. The man looked over his shoulder at the land in the distance and shook his head.

“I’ve got no fucking comment. I don’t talk to reporters.”

The trucks puffed plumes of diesel into the cool morning. The man circled the tree checking for weakness in the links. He yanked the chain, pulling her up close.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She’d play cool for now
.
“Brine.”

“Brine what?”

“Just Brine.”

“Well,
Just Brine
, you’re giving me a headache.”

The chains scraped the bark as he dropped them and she circled around. He dropped the bolt cutters to the ground. “I wouldn’t have had to do this if you’d just picked up your phone and called me.” Brine growled. “Your company has been grabbing up land like it’s a national pastime. I want to know why.”

He leaned both palms against the tree, bracing them on either side of her head. His lips were a whisper away. “No. Comment.”

Her breasts were heaving. She hated the way he noticed. She hated the way he riled her so easily and it felt so good. Goose bumps peppered her pale skin. She shivered when he leaned closer, purposely intimidating her with his size. Tribal tattoos snaked around his right arm. She was desperate to know where those tattoos began and ended. His gaze burned with a serious edge.

“The access trail was closed. Which way did you come in?”

“I came up the logging road. What does it matter?”

He shook his head as though she was failing a test. “Do you know what phytophthora ramorum is?”

It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t recall. She shook her head. “No.”

“It’s a water mold commonly known as sudden oak death. It can infect vegetation and soils, spreading easily on hiking boots from place to place.” He kicked the edge of her boot for emphasis. “It’s been detected in Rogue River-Siskiyou National Forest.”

“I didn’t use the redwood trail.”

That was practically right around the corner from where she was. The enormity of what he was saying was starting to sink in. He was trying to contain the spread of the plant disease. That was noble but she still needed this story regardless. The relief was evident in his eyes.

Thane picked up the bolt cutters again and tested the links.

“Your cutters won’t get through those links without a fight,” she said.

“Yeah, I know. Do I need to let the nice police officer take care of this situation for me or are you going to be a good little reporter and go become someone else’s problem for the day?” he asked.

He was bluffing.
Isn’t he?
She had to push this. As long as she was attached to the tree, she had him. This entire situation would’ve been comical had it not been so vitally important. Her job was on the line. She promised she’d get the story and at the end of the day she would.

Thane leaned in to brush a few strands of wet hair off her cheek. His hand was erotically rough and shockingly warm to her chilled skin. She shivered at the thought of those big hands on her body. Heat simmered in his gaze but she was certain it had nothing to do with the sexual tension suddenly thrumming beneath her skin. Her nipples tightened into hard peaks when he pressed in even closer. Brine felt her pussy clench in seductive anticipation. She could feel his heat seeping through his clothing.

“Well? What’s it going to be?” he asked.

“You’ll have to take me kicking and screaming from this tree,” she dared.

Their dance had taken them to the far side of the tree where no one could see them. He leaned down to touch his lips to her ear. “I’d like to make you scream for other reasons.”

She shivered at the thought of handing her body over to this man. She wouldn’t. “Kicking and screaming.”

“Now, I like the sound of that. Fine, we do it your way princess. Enjoy the tree. It’s yours for as long as you’re chained to it.”

“What the
hell
are you doing?”

“Giving you just what you want,” he said.

She frowned. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I believe I
am
. I’ll be back in a little while. Maybe you’ll just get that interview after all.”

Brine screamed through her clenched teeth as she dragged the chains around to follow him. Thane reached down and picked up the gun, propping it on his shoulder. She knew he was about to make a statement out of
Just Brine.

Chapter Two

He was really leaving her there. Brine’s eyes widened with tempered panic. She couldn’t lose it now. Not when she was close to getting what she wanted.

Brine pulled her grip on the chains tighter when she saw Thane go straight for the cop. They had a little back and forth that ended with the cop heading for his cruiser. The lights were shut off and he pulled out into the access road. Next he went to his workers, who loaded back up into their oversized F-150s and hit the road.

They were leaving, all of them. Well, all of them except Elam.
Now isn’t this a complicated mess?

Brine tugged on the cuffs, trying to free her hands. She twisted her wrists and yanked hard. Nothing. Brine blew her bangs out of her eyes, narrowing her gaze on Thane Elam. Damn her pride. Damn his. Damn the deepest bottle of Glenlivet. She needed this story
.

Thane was the last of the crew to get into his truck. He sat there for a long while. Brine could see him make a few phone calls on the latest and greatest gadget. Then she gasped when he started up the F-150, spun out the tires, and honked a jingle as he drove away.

“Lumberjackass!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Her voice echoed. Brine’s voice was hoarse by the time she stopped screaming. That had panic billowing up in the back of her throat. They wouldn’t leave her out here all night, would they?

“Damn it.”

Brine hung her head. Tired, cold and hungry. It was for her job, she reminded herself, but that thought felt suddenly hollow. Maybe it was time she moved on.

Journalists didn’t chain themselves to a tree in their grandmother’s turn-of-the-century wedding dress to make a point. That was something nutcases did for attention. Brine stuck her tongue out at the Glenlivet bottle. The silver handcuff key taunted her from the last few inches of alcohol.

Maybe Stephanie would come back to check on her? Maybe Elam would come back and grant her the interview? She suspected that neither would happen anytime soon. Brine hadn’t expected to be abandoned by Elam. The plan was for Stephanie to bail her out of jail if needed. Now that one phone call wouldn’t be coming.

Last night was a blur of bad decisions, bad music, and a bottle of booze to keep her and Stephanie company. Chaining herself to the sequoia had seemed like a good idea to both of them at the time. Now, not so much. The wedding dress was a bonus found in the attic. The length of chain, found in the shed, was a boa to go with the dress. The cuffs…were a bad idea all around. What was she supposed to do now?

Right now, her granddaddy was probably flipping over in his grave because she lost his gun. No way would he be real proud of that.

This was all her making an impulsive, stupid and drunken point to get the story.

Brine slid to her butt and shot her right leg out toward the bottle. If she could just get the edge, she could knock it back, get the key and then never have to see Elam again. The bottle spun further away when her ankle slipped in the mud. Brine dragged the chains around, and she straddled the thick root. She reached out with her foot again. She concentrated on hooking her heel over the neck. The bottle rolled slowly toward her. She laughed out loud.

“Yes! Come on…
come
on!” She pulled her leg back and the neck caught on the thick root. “No! Oh, hell no!”

Frustration had Brine shifting her leg impulsively. She cried out when the bottle spun further away. “You got to be kidding me!”

Brine dropped her head against the tree. The rain finally tapered off. She pulled on the chains but there wasn’t much slack. There was nothing to do but wait until Thane Elam decided to return. Brine pulled her knees in close.

“Brilliant plan, Brine. What did you have in mind for round two of putting the story to bed?”

Sunlight drifted through the fog. She passed the time by sensing the movement of the sun. She closed her eyes and dozed. An hour ticked into two before she heard the sound of a truck. It was Elam. He shut off the truck.

He sat for a few minutes. He was on the phone.

Ten minutes later, he got out of the truck with a giant, grease-stained bag in one hand and a giant soda in the other. She tracked his movement. He had a thick-limbed, athletic swagger that bragged that he was experienced with women. He could make any woman with a set of eyes look twice and have a lifetime’s worth of fantasies to keep her warm at night. Brine knew she’d be thinking of this man as she fell asleep tonight. Had they met under different circumstances, maybe…