Impulse Control (11 page)

Chapter Seven

Her Internet and social media search had to wait until after Billy was sleeping and Holly had dragged every last moment of the camping trip out of her. Susannah spared her nothing. It had been hard to get the words past her lips and her cheeks were blazing, but the jealous expression on Holly’s face was worth the embarrassment of a few graphic details.

“Describe his tattoo again,” Holly begged.

Susannah snorted and reached for her laptop. She stared at the blinking cursor, wondering what keywords would give her information linking Russ and her in the media. She went with their names. The first thing to pop up was a link to Russ’s web page. She clicked.

She’s not answering my calls, people. Got any advice for the Wild Man?

Her heart thumped and then sped. She scrolled down to his first status update tonight. Missing her? She didn’t believe it for a minute. As his half-dozen posts proved, he was having too much fun mocking her. She browsed back and clicked on the images link.
Oh my God.

Pictures of them in the snow, probably from where she’d pulled him down, looked cozy and suggestive. Shots of them with their arms wrapped around each other, when she’d nearly keeled over from exhaustion, looked like something entirely different. And the shot of them on top of the mountain showed every bit of longing she’d felt. She closed her eyes and pressed her hands to her face, feeling sick.

Holly squeezed her shoulder. “I’m going downstairs for reinforcements.”

She reached for her phone as Holly left the bedroom and called up her voicemail, flinching when she heard his voice.
Hi, Susannah. It’s Russ. Call me. We’ve got developments.

According to the time stamp on the call and his first status update, he’d given her all of five minutes to call him back before he’d decided how to handle the
developments
himself. “What an ass.”

Holly swept into the room. “I have no doubt. A firm, hard, bounce-a-quarter-right-in-your-eye ass. You should have taken some pictures of your own.” She handed Susannah a cup of tea.

“I was sure you were going downstairs for shot glasses.”

“Nope, we need a clear head for this, and tea is the extent of my abilities.”

Susannah’s phone rang in her hand. She glanced at it and cringed. “It’s Ethan.”

Holly took the phone out of her hand and chucked it onto the bed. “One problem at a time.” She took over the laptop while Susannah sipped tea. “You need a strategy.”

“I have a strategy. Humiliate him on my show. I think he needs to learn how to de-lime toilets, change a cloth diaper, get dinner on the table, hot, all at the same time for a crowd of vegetarian celiacs…”

“That sounds great, but in the meantime, you need to respond to him online.”

“I’ll talk to my publicist tomorrow.”

“Forgive my bragging, but I don’t think your publicist is a better flirt than I am.”

“I’m
not
flirting with him!”

“Why not? It’s already gone viral. Add some of your own fuel to the fire.”

“But I don’t want to add fuel to the fire. I just want to do my show, take care of Billy, and live my life. I never wanted to do this show in the first place.”

“But you did, and now things have changed, whether you like it or not. Don’t you want to make him suffer even a little bit? It sounds like you guys got pretty close in a short period of time. I get that it wasn’t anything serious for him, but this makes it look like he went into the woods to get another notch on his tent pole.”

Susannah kept her eyes on the screen, lost in the memory of how hard Russ had been in her hand, of him telling her she drove him crazy and then proving it. It had been the sexiest thing that had ever happened to her, and there was no way she would discuss it in a public forum. Some things were meant to be private.

Holly typed in another search.
There’s nothing sexier than a woman who can’t resist a dare
leaped off the page
.
Susannah’s heart turned inside out and then shrank to the size of a dried cranberry. She could barely breathe.

Oh no…no, no, no. This isn’t happening. He wouldn’t…he couldn’t…he had.

She closed her eyes and held very still as if she could hide from the information in the ether, already out in the world, changing peoples’ opinions of her.

“Susannah? Are you all right?”

She shook her head. “The tent camera. He must have given it to the crew after all.” She pointed at the screen. “He said that to me the morning we woke up together. Other things, too. What if—”

Holly reached over her and tapped the link. An image of their tent popped up on the screen, and Russ’s voice slid across her skin like a slow caress.
There is nothing sexier than a woman who can’t say no to a dare. I’ve got your number now—you don’t like to lose any more than I do…I dare you to hold still.
Her nipples tightened and tingled.

“Jesus Christ. That’s so hot.” Holly stared at her for a second and then hit replay.

Susannah shook herself out of her daze and killed the volume. “Stop it.”

“I had an intellectual understanding of what happened in that tent, but that little clip brought it to a whole new level. I think my panties just dissolved.”

“Yuck.”

“Like yours didn’t. Oh wait—they did.” Holly grinned.

Susannah rubbed her eyes. “I can’t believe he handed over the tent camera. I actually believed…I thought…I mean I knew he was just being nice, but I never thought he’d humiliate me like this—”

“Hold it right there. I guarantee he was not just being nice. He may have had other motives, but you are a beautiful woman. He wanted you. Be angry. Feel betrayed. Get even for the damage to your cast-iron flannel nightgown image, but don’t forget the upside: one of the sexiest men alive wanted to see you naked. Call your people and do what you can to limit the professional carnage, but don’t you dare use it as an excuse to feel bad about yourself. And I still think you should flirt back.”

“My brand is not flirty tent vixen. It’s everywoman mom.”

“And I bet every mom on the planet would kill for a weekend in a tent with the Wild Man. Take that angle. Didn’t Media Life want a wrap-up blog post? Choose a different battlefield. Maybe you can’t play his flirting game with any degree of authenticity, but you can launch countermeasures. Speak to your audience the way he’s speaking to his.”

Susannah lifted her head. “I’m too mortified. Those pictures make it look like I threw myself at him.”

Holly cocked her head to the side. “So what? Who wouldn’t? Can you stand by everything that happened? Are you ashamed of yourself or just embarrassed?”

With a sense of amazement, she realized she felt pretty good. “Just embarrassed,” she said slowly. “Some things aren’t meant to be shared with the world.”

Holly nodded. “I agree. Take that bad boy to school, hot mama.”

Susannah was surprised to feel a laugh bubble up inside her. “Maybe I will. But first I need to get some sleep.”

Holly gave her a hug. “Sweet dreams.”

Since knowledge was power, she curled up on the bed with her laptop and searched for more footage. She groaned when she came across her own voice.
I’d rather hike through hell than have you see me naked.
She set the laptop on the bed and fell back against the pillows. Misery blanketed her, heavy and suffocating, so thick she wondered if she could ever shake it off and get out of bed.

Her words rang in her ears. Everyone would know what happened in the tent, because Russ Donovan couldn’t resist a challenge. She searched her memory for the timeline of events. He’d taken the camera down after the first night, and it seemed like all the sound recordings online had happened before then. She forced herself to replay every moment of their morning in the tent in all its damning glory, and finally thought of something that might give her the edge in this new challenge.

She’d said no and left the tent. Maybe this could be salvaged after all.

Her phone beeped, signaling a text. She glanced at the screen and recognized the same number as before.

I didn’t know it was streaming sound and video, I swear. Please call me.

She stared at the words. Her heart pounded hot blood through her veins. To believe or not to believe? He’d seemed awfully chummy with the cameramen and knowledgeable about technical details, too. She wanted to believe him, but it had certainly seemed like Stan was explaining the functions of the tent camera while she was in the bathroom getting dressed. Russ had looked thrilled.

As much as she wanted to hope what happened between them was more than entertainment to him, she had to face the truth. He’d played her from the moment she’d arrived in the woods, and there was no reason to think this wasn’t part of his game. She took a deep breath and typed slowly.

I don’t want to talk to you.

Her phone rang. She silenced it and waited to see if he’d leave a voicemail. When nothing appeared on the screen, she stared at the ceiling. He was still playing her: posting flirty status updates while claiming ignorance privately. She didn’t roll that way. Although maintaining her image required a certain amount of acting, she tried to be as authentic as possible. During the divorce, she’d lain low, not wanting to pretend everything was fine, even though disappearing from the media eye had temporarily hurt her ratings.

Her cell screen flashed and caught her eye.

If you won’t talk to me, we’ll have to deal with this in public. Ignoring it won’t work. Trust me.

She snorted and texted back.

Trust you? I’ve heard that before and look what happened.

You loved it. ;-)

Every inch of her skin tingled. Arousal stole through her breasts, belly, and thighs, making her shift on the bed. She’d spent two nights in his arms. Only two nights. How was it possible that her body now craved his touch? She imagined him pressed behind her, sensed his arm around her ribs, hand cupping her breast, fingers caressing her nipple. His breath ghosted across her neck, and she felt his lips and tongue leaving soft, cool trails on her body.

It was a mistake.
She hit send.

Want to do it again?

She couldn’t believe her eyes.
Are you kidding me?

I’m stuck in DC this week, but I’ll be in New York on Sunday. Dinner?

We agreed on one night.

That was before the TV world thought we were dating. Might as well keep up appearances. Make some lemonade with me.

The thought of having dinner with him sent a flare of heat through her.
Can’t. Expecting a call from a nice, non-kissing-and-telling banker.

Seriously? Fast work, Susie. Although I think I should get some credit. I told you I was good. I’m even better at other things if you want some more practice.

No thanks. I’m going to bed.

Tease. ;-)

She put her phone on the bedside table and walked down the hall to check on Billy. Snug as a bug. She returned to her room, turned off the light, and buried herself under the covers. Heat rolled up and down her body in shimmering waves. There was no way she was going to fall asleep like this, but if she did anything about her arousal, she knew she’d think of him. Did she really want to relive the memories again?
Yes.

No. She did not.

She forced herself to remember the low points of the trip, like how cold she’d been. But then she remembered how he’d warmed her up. She thought of the physical exertion that had built up painful lactic acid in her muscles, but that just made her recall how he’d massaged her legs. And then she traced her tender upper lip. She cupped her breast, remembering his hands on her. Her hand drifted lower, between her legs, where she felt…different. Aware. Aching. Alone…in a very big bed…while fantasizing about a cramped sleeping bag.

She gave up trying to sleep and turned on the light. Since she was going to be exhausted tomorrow anyway, she might as well write while the experience was fresh. She reached for her laptop.

Chapter Eight

Russ woke in his hotel room exactly as he’d fallen asleep, hard as a rock and thinking of Susannah. He grabbed his phone. Anticipation zinged through him when he saw a text from her. He clicked the link and grinned in triumph. He knew she’d have to respond to his media pokes.
One Wild Weekend…

He started reading, immediately drawn in by her conversational writing style. He could almost hear her warm laugh in his mind and imagine her bright smile. Good God, he could almost smell coffee brewing and breakfast cooking, and he’d only read the first paragraph.

I spent the week before the trip watching Russ’s show. I knew who he was, of course, but I’d spent the last few years trying to get a marriage off the ground and raising a baby. You all probably know by now what happened to the marriage. (Thank goodness the baby is still amazing.) Anyway, I haven’t watched much TV lately, and after my
In the Wild
marathon, I was terrified. What did he have in store for me?

A mountain, as it turned out. On snowshoes. At fifteen degrees. I wanted to crawl into a snowbank, make a hole, and hide. I haven’t gotten a full night’s sleep in fourteen months. I’m a single mother with a full-time job. I don’t work out because I’m scared I’ll fall asleep on the treadmill and get rolled underneath. And Russ Donovan challenged me to climb a mountain.

And I did.

It may have only been a New York mountain, small in the scope of the world, but it was big to me, and I feel transformed. If I can climb a mountain, what else can I do? What an amazing feeling!

I’m grateful for the gifts this wild weekend brought me, even though I was cold, tired, eating canned soup, and expecting to find spiders in the outhouse. Transformation doesn’t come without effort and suffering, I suppose. At least, that’s what I’m going to tell the Wild Man when it’s time to film
At Home
in my kitchen next month. :-) I hope he’s ready to put on an apron!

He couldn’t resist. He reached for his phone and shot her a text.

I promise to be prepared for whatever you have in mind.

He waited. Bubbles appeared, telling him she was typing. They vanished and then popped up again. His anticipation grew and then burst when the bubbles disappeared and stayed gone, making him acutely aware of how much he’d been looking forward to her response.
Not good.

What the hell was he thinking? He couldn’t pursue Susannah. Despite what had happened over the weekend, she wasn’t the fling type, and he’d vowed never to leave anyone waiting for him back home. It wasn’t fair to have a relationship when he took so many risks. He knew firsthand how much it hurt to lose a loved one. Bitter loss burned in his gut. He was heading into a whole week filled with reminders.

Susannah’s blog post had neatly shifted the focus from the scandalous sound bites to the heart of the show. If he’d been smart, he would have done the same thing with his status updates last night, but he’d been thinking about what had happened in the tent and wanting to do it again.

His cock throbbed at the memory of her soft curves under his hands. The chemistry between them was unbelievable. Her sweet responsiveness was like a gateway drug; one taste made him crave more intense pleasures with her. She had no idea what her body could do, but he did. He wanted to take her to the next level and show her just how good it could get. But he wasn’t whom she needed, and eventually she’d expect more from him than he could give. Flirting publicly had been a mistake, and asking her to dinner had been idiotic.

It would be cruel to lead her on.

She has a date with a banker, dumbass. She’s already moved on.
His mind went still, and his muscles locked. Something primitive rose to the surface, pure instinct devoid of reason.

I’ll kill anyone who touches her.

He rolled his shoulders to loosen them and opened and closed his mouth several times to relieve the tension in his jaw. Where the hell had that come from? Susannah wasn’t his, but he couldn’t deny the possessive fury that gripped him at the thought of anyone else continuing the lessons he’d started. He took a deep breath, slid out of bed, and forced himself to think. He didn’t want a relationship, and Susannah was the marrying kind. A banker would be perfect for her.

He walked into the bathroom and turned on the cold water. What had happened between them was a one-off, and he needed to stay focused on his career, not his cock. He stepped into the spray and welcomed the freezing sting as well-deserved punishment for bad behavior. As soon as he got out of the shower, he’d text her an apology and let her know he wasn’t going to continue to harass her. Then he’d do what he’d come to DC to do.

His parents were already bristling that he’d chosen to stay at a hotel instead of at the house, and if he were late for brunch, it would make things even more volatile. He didn’t enjoy pissing them off, but being trapped at home made him feel like he was being strangled. Even thinking about it made adrenaline flood his system, and there was no doubt what his instincts were telling him to do.

Fly.

He couldn’t—not yet.

His parents had established the charity to raise research money for the cancer that had taken Lance’s life, and there was a ton of glad-handing to be done this week and at the gala this weekend. They might hate everything about the career he’d chosen, but his parents didn’t complain when he used his celebrity to get people to write fat checks. The very second the last guest left, he’d be back on a plane. Until then he was stuck in a suit.

He rinsed off soap and shampoo and turned off the frigid water. At least he wouldn’t need any coffee at brunch now—if he were any more awake, he’d need a sedative. He dressed quickly, left the room, and headed for the front desk. As he’d expected, a car was waiting.

“Hey, Carlos. How’ve you been?” He shook hands with his father’s driver and slid into the backseat.

“Can’t complain too much. Good to see you, kid.”

“You, too.” Their eyes met in the rearview mirror, and Russ flashed back to being a teenager, when Carlos had arrived in the nick of time on too many occasions to count. He probably had the guy to thank for keeping him out of jail until the military could turn his tendency to act first and think later into an advantage. A wreath of wrinkles bracketed Carlos’s penetrating black eyes, some of them courtesy of him, no doubt. It was nice to now see warmth instead of censure in his gaze.

As the miles between him and his parents lessened, Russ steeled himself for the guilt he always felt in their presence. They’d been angry when he enlisted in the army instead of going to law school as planned. When he’d been selected for the Special Forces and disappeared for months at a time, they hadn’t been happy either. His parents didn’t like anything they couldn’t control, and he understood that perfectly—he’d inherited that trait.

When Bergman had tracked him down and offered him
In the Wild,
his hunger for a new adventure had reached its peak. The military had been a great place to train, but he didn’t plan to follow orders for the rest of his life. The idea of bringing his skills to bear in a challenging new environment every week excited him on every level. The show had taken off, and Russ had gotten an agent and signed on for two more years.

But then Lance had gotten sick.

His parents had eventually forgiven him for trashing their plans for his future, but they would never forgive him for taking Lance out of treatment. His little brother had been the apple of their eye, the peacemaker, the suave, politically correct diplomat in the making—or so they’d thought. After his first round of grueling chemo, Lance had privately admitted he’d never wanted a life in politics at all. He’d only followed in their father’s footsteps to keep the family peace, something he wouldn’t have had to do if Russ had done it for him. That was the night they’d made the list, and Russ had been determined to make his little brother’s last wishes come true.

Lance’s prognosis sucked, and he didn’t want more drugs. There hadn’t been any time to waste. The next day, he’d picked Lance up from the hospital, and they’d headed for New Orleans. Their parents were livid. The hospital staff was appalled. Russ had taken the blame, never telling them it was what Lance wanted. It was easier that way. Lance hadn’t wanted to disappoint them, and Russ already had.

He’d never forget the joy on his brother’s face each time they crossed an adventure off the list. They’d cruised Glacier Bay in Alaska, watched the bulls run in Pamplona, gambled in Monaco, and done things in Amsterdam that had eased the pain for both of them considerably.

The good times had lasted until Egypt. They’d been standing in front of a pyramid when Lance said it was time to go home. Then he’d said the words that had driven Russ ever since.
Keep living for me, bro. Don’t ever stop.

The door opened, startling him.

“Sir? We’ve arrived.”

“Thank you.” He got out of the car. The front curtain moved, and a suffocating sense of expectation descended on him. Nothing had changed. His mother had likely been watching for him all morning, waiting for her next chance to bring him back into the fold.

It wasn’t going to happen. He’d never be the son they wanted, but he could play the part for a week—for Lance. He straightened his shoulders and strode up the walkway.

The front door opened, and his sister leaped off the porch and sprinted toward him at a dead run. She jumped, and he caught her, swinging her around.

“Russ, you asshole. It’s been a year!”

“Sorry, Jess. Been busy. You’re welcome to join me anywhere and anytime, you know.” He set her back on her feet and tugged her sleek blond ponytail. It was hard to shut down the urge to tell her how much he’d missed her, but he did. If she knew he thought about her every day, she’d intensify her already-fierce campaign to get him to visit home more often. “There’s a big wide world out there.”

“Some of us like it in Washington.” Her gaze shifted to the porch.

“Welcome home, son.” His father hadn’t changed, either. His back was ramrod-straight, and his expression was impassive. The cold blue eyes he’d passed on to his children warned Russ to keep his distance, and he knew he’d still feel miles separating them when they shook hands.

Jessie gave him a sharp shove, but he didn’t move forward. “Dinner later?” he asked.

“It will have to be here in the dining room.” Her blue eyes gleamed. “Mom’s having a party for you tonight. Did you forget?”

“More like repressed.” He could feel the Windsor knot tightening around his neck already. His mother appeared beside his father, and they stood, waiting for him to make the first move. The house loomed above them. The adventure he sought out for a living was nothing compared to the challenge in front of him. Icy adrenaline flooded his system, readying him for battle. It was time to do this.

With a measured stride, he stepped forward.