Mountain Fire (8 page)

“We could watch TV.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “We could.”

“Or go for a walk.”

His lips shifted to the corner of her mouth. “Sounds good.”

“Then again,” she murmured, and let her head fall back, “we could do something else.”

“I vote for that,” he said, and lowered his mouth to hers.

Blood raced through her veins, blooming in her belly, searing through her centre. His lips were warm, demanding, and he coaxed her mouth open with his tongue. She tasted a hint of spice, and his own unique maleness.

Releasing the ends of the towel, his hands drifted down, skimming the sides of her breasts. He pulled her forward, holding her hips firmly against his, his hardness pressing into her. She wound her arms around his neck, and her fingers threaded through his hair as she dove deeper into the kiss.

His hand found her small, firm breast. Pinwheels whirled behind her eyes. His palm burned through the thin material of her T-shirt and bra, and her nipple stiffened. A whimper escaped her lips. When his thumb rubbed across the taut nub, she wrapped her arms even tighter around his neck, desperate for balance.

In one movement, he hoisted her onto the counter, then swept his hands under her shirt over the flushed skin of her ribs. Lifting the material, he slipped down the white cotton of her bra and dipped his head.

She was afraid she might melt away, so intense was the pull of his mouth. She felt it on her breast, and tugging throughout her body, deep into her core. Her hands grasped his head, holding him close.

His fingers grappled with the button on her jeans. She stiffened as the backs of his fingers brushed low on her stomach.

“No,” she panted. “Wait.”

Her hands gripped his. He raised his head and stared at her with hooded eyes.

She slid off the counter, pulling her T-shirt down. His arms encircled her, drawing her tight to his body. “Don’t let go,” she said, voice hoarse with desire. “I don’t think I can stand on my own yet.”

She tucked her head under his chin, breathing in the subtle scent of his aftershave. His heart beat an uneven tattoo under her cheek, and she was glad he was as deeply affected as she. He loosened her hair from its untidy knot, and spread the strands over her shoulders, running his fingers through it, soothing them both.

“I think we know where this could go,” she said, her breath whispering against his neck.

“Straight to the bedroom,” he said decisively.

She giggled softly, then sighed. “But not tonight.”

The hand weaving through her hair stilled. He drew back and tugged gently, lifting her head to meet his gaze, where the desire and demand still burned.

“Why not?”

She sucked in a deep breath, and stepped away from him, standing on her own. “I am attracted to you.” She blew a gust of air out, fluttering the hair hanging about her face. “And how stupid does that sound, considering. But I’m not going to sleep with you tonight.”

His eyes narrowed. “You want to. You can’t deny that.”

“I do want to. More than you know. But I can’t.”

“Of course you can. What I want to know is why you won’t.”

She was surprised by the depth of annoyance in his voice. “Because I’m not looking for a short term fling...I’m looking for more. We only met a couple of weeks ago. We’ve only seen each other a few times. I’m not ready.”

He closed off immediately, tense, cold, all emotions clamped tight. “What do you mean, more?”

“More time. More chances to get to know you.” She twisted her fingers together. “More commitment.”

“Commitment?” he choked. “You said it yourself, we barely know each other, and you want commitment?” She held tight to her composure, afraid she might crumple beneath the fiery anger in his words, the flare of antagonism in his eyes. “I want to take you, find out how you like to be touched, the noises you’ll make when I please you. But that’s all I’m offering. Pleasure, not promises.”

Turning away, she opened a cupboard, took out a glass, and filled it with water from the tap. “I see.” She took a small sip, and another, trying to soothe the burning at the back of her throat where tears threatened.

“For God’s sake, what do you want from me?” He paced the small kitchen. “I could have had you right here, but you asked me to stop. I did. And now you’re telling me...what? What exactly are you telling me, June?”

“I’m sorry.” She clutched the counter behind her back so tightly the edge cut into her fingers. “I’m not trying to be a tease. I’m trying to be honest.”

“Maybe I should leave.” He glared across the room. “Maybe I should go.”

“I don’t want you to leave. But I’m not going to have sex with you tonight.”

Silence stretched between them.

Slowly the fierceness in his expression faded. He breathed deeply through his nose, once, twice. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” He approached her cautiously. “But if you’re being honest with me, the least I can do is be honest with you.”

Keeping a safe space between them, he mirrored her position at the counter. “Your parents are still together, right?” She nodded, watching his profile. “Mine split when I was thirteen. My dad divorced wife number three last year, and is now with a woman younger than I am. My mother hasn’t re-married, but she continues to have a succession of men-friends.” His voice was sour, his face grim. “It took me a long time to realize they were having their flings on the side long before they divorced. Commitment? Not something I’m used to.”

She wanted to reach out, comfort him in some way, erase the desolation of the boy inside the man. “You don’t believe a man and a woman can love each other, forever?”

He lifted his shoulders in an irritable shrug. “Happily ever after? Really? What kind of fairy tale are you living in?”

She refused to be hurt. Instead, she said lightly, “See, this is exactly my point.”

“What?”

“These are the things I want to know about you, need to know about you. Before we take this any further.”

“You certainly seem to know what you want.” He took his jacket down from the hook by the back door. “Now I have to decide what I want.”

The snick of the latch as he closed the door behind him was the loneliest sound she’d ever heard.

Chapter Seven

“And this,” Thomas said sulkily as he pulled open another meticulously organized cabinet drawer, “is where you’ll find all the agendas and minutes of our meetings.”

She’d never seen file folders so precisely aligned, with colour coded labels and finicky printing that would have made a kindergarten teacher envious. That was, she’d never seen file folders like that except in all the other painstakingly ordered drawers Thomas had shown her during the last half hour.

The original plan had been for June to meet Richard at his office, but when she’d arrived, promptly at ten o’clock, his secretary had sent her on to the RiverForce office, saying Thomas was waiting for her and Richard would join them as soon as he finished a meeting that “he just couldn’t put off.”

The thirty minutes she’d spent with Tubby Tom, as Tabitha maliciously dubbed him, was twenty-five minutes too long. He appeared to covet the job Richard had given her beyond all reason, and it was getting on her nerves. To do him justice, she couldn’t help but wonder what Richard was thinking as well. She’d never seen a better organized office, and she had no idea how he expected her to fill even the measly ten hours a week she was scheduled to work.

“I don’t understand,” Thomas muttered morosely for what seemed like the twentieth time. “I don’t understand why Richard needed to hire someone to do this.”

“Neither do I,” June said, exasperated enough to be brutally truthful. “But thanks for showing me around.” She sat behind the desk. “I’m sure you’ve got all sorts of other things you’d rather be doing. I think I’m all set.” She smiled encouragingly and repeated, “Thanks,” resisting the urge to make shooing motions.

“I thought I’d stick around until Richard got here,” Thomas replied. “See if he needs anything.”

She was beginning to doubt the man’s sanity. Why was he so desperate to stick around when he had to know he wasn’t needed? A small wedge of sympathy edged past the aggravation. “I’m going to get typing the agenda for the next meeting. Stay if you want to.” She wiggled the computer mouse and opened the blank agenda file. Working off an email Richard had sent previously, she began filling in the details, resolutely ignoring the heavy sighs coming from Thomas.

They were still in their own little bubbles when Richard burst in a few minutes later.

“Ah, I’m glad to see you both still here. Thomas, thanks so much for showing June the ropes.” He patted the younger man on the shoulder, but the gesture was shrugged off.

“Richard,” Thomas said stiffly, “I’d like to speak with you for a moment.”

“Of course, of course,” Richard said in his hearty manner. “What can I do for you?”

“Not here,” Thomas said. “I’d like to speak with you in private.”

“Certainly. Let’s go to my office, shall we? It’ll give us a chance to discuss the major project I want you to take on.”

Thomas’ gloom evaporated. “You’ve got a project for me?” His eyes lit up and his entire manner changed from pouting to pompous.

“Of course I do,” Richard boomed. “Why else did I hire June? So you would have time for your new duties.” He clapped Thomas on the back, and this time the younger man blushed at the attention. “June, we’ll go over more details after I’ve talked with Thomas. Any questions right now?”

She wasn’t about to ask how the heck she was going to keep occupied with Thomas right there, so she shook her head and turned to the computer. In no time at all, she was done with the agenda. She emailed a copy to Richard for his approval, then called up the minutes from the last meeting, which Thomas had already typed, emailed them to everyone in the group, and printed one copy, which she posted on the bulletin board.

And was done.

She surveyed the tiny room. From where she stood, with her back against the wall immediately opposite the door, the desk was to her right, facing into the room, with a window behind it overlooking a shipping and loading dock. On the left was a row of three filing cabinets, Thomas’s pride and joy. Various posters tried limply to enliven the institutional beige paint.

Idly she opened a filing drawer, vaguely hoping to find something to do. Inside were folders with labels such as “Itinerary — Fleetham, Richard”, “Trade Fairs” and “School Visits”. She pulled out the itinerary folder and found various sheets tucked together tidily with silver paper clips. The one on top was dated the beginning of May, before June had met Alex on top of Longworth Mountain, and gave a list of transportation details, hotel accommodations, and conference seminars in regards to a trip Richard had made to Vancouver.

She slipped the folder back in its slot, slid the drawer shut and was thinking about checking Facebook to kill time when her cell phone buzzed.

****

Alex would have suffered untold tortures before admitting to anyone how many times he’d changed his mind about calling June.

He had been upset and aroused, disappointed and disturbed when he’d left her house last night. Kissing her, touching her, had set off a firestorm inside him. He still had her scent in his nostrils—soap and fresh air and something even more basic, more primal, he couldn’t define. When she’d asked him to stop, to wait, he’d struggled for the control she’d wanted from him, but had been willing to slow things down. The need for her had pumped through his system as he’d waited impatiently for her to invite him to her bed.

And then she’d told him no.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle rejection. But he’d never wanted to be with a woman as strongly as he wanted to be with June. When she told him she wasn’t ready, wanted more time to decide, something very much like panic had balled in his gut, and desire had faded into fear. He’d hid behind anger, until her stricken face extinguished his fury.

It had taken a severe act of will to head out into the night. Tall and slim, she had beckoned to him like a flame in the dark, but he couldn’t let himself go to her. Wouldn’t, until he knew what he wanted from her. Was able to give her what she wanted from him.

One sleepless night had made him realize he hadn’t walked away from her for good. If she needed time, he’d give it to her.

As long as she gave him another chance.

The phone rang so many times he worried it was going to voice mail. When she finally answered, he spoke briskly, striving to hide his nervousness. “How’s the new gig?”

At first he thought she wasn’t going to answer. When she did, her tone was blandly polite. “It’s fine, thank you.”

“Good, that’s good.” More silence at the other end of the line. Alex drew in a deep breath and felt fifteen again. The worst of it was he deserved the treatment he was getting. “I’m sorry,” he said bluntly. “I want to apologize. I acted like a jerk last night.”

“We both needed to say some things, and we did. Now we know where we stand.”

Alex gazed unseeingly out his office window. She didn’t sound welcoming, but at least she was talking to him. “I don’t usually react that way when a woman tells me ‘no.’”

“I don’t imagine it has happened too many times.”

A hint of warmth coloured her voice. A powerful wave of relief swept through him. “Maybe it should happen more often.” He hurried on. “I want to see you again. Soon.”

“I’d like that. I’d like that very much.”

“I’ve got a meeting tonight I can’t miss. Iain Provost...remember him, you met him that day at the office...” she made a noise of assent “...has arranged a big get together about the McGregor kills to brainstorm a direction for us. And I’m scheduled to be on call the next two days, so I’m not supposed to leave town. But Iain owes me a couple of favours. Let me see if I can get him to cover for me. If I can swing that, could you arrange to come hiking with me? I’m thinking of heading to Fort George Canyon.”