Wild with You

 

Dedication

For my sister, the future doctor.

The Summers family thanks you for your medical expertise!

And for Caitlin, my first reader.

 

Acknowledgments

T
HANK
Y
OU
TO
all of the wonderful readers who have fallen in love with the Independence Falls series! I love reading your e-­mails, messages, and comments on Facebook. Every time a reader tells me how much they love these characters, their words brighten my day. And to everyone who posted pictures and suggestions for Georgia's wedding gown on Facebook, I hope you like the one I selected!

My stories are a team effort. Without my agent Jill Marsal, and my talented editor Amanda Bergeron,
Wild With You
would be a very different book. I'm so thankful for their insights.

Thank you to my publicity team, Maria Silva at Avon Books and Kelley at Smut Book Junkies. And to all of the bloggers who promote and review my stories—­I am so grateful for all that you do!

I also want to give a shout-­out to my fellow authors who have supported my writing, and this series in particular. Maya Rodale, I don't know if I would ever survive a writer's conference without you. Samanthe Beck and Toni Blake, thank you for the awesome quotes for my books, and for keeping me up half the night reading your stories. Lauren Blakely, Laura Kaye, Darcy Burke, and Tawny Weber, thank you for the social media love. And to all of the Avon Impulse authors, you guys are such a talented, supportive group!

Happy Reading!

Sara Jane Stone

 

Contents

 

Chapter 1

T
HE
BLACK
SUITCASE
with the gold designer label came out of nowhere, knocking Brody Summers on his ass outside the Portland airport hotel. He looked up, planning to growl at the person wielding the bag, and saw legs. Long, shapely legs designed to lead a man's thoughts straight to the bedroom. And those shoes—­heck, her black and gold high heels matched her suitcase.

His gaze traveled north taking in every inch of smooth skin. Two questions flashed through his mind.

What would she look like bound to his bed?
And:
Where were her pants?

Her heels clicked on the pavement as she stepped closer. He caught a glimpse of her short skirt, peeking out between the tails of her long top. The black button-­down collared shirt mixed business and pleasure in a way that sent his imagination on a side trip, wondering what she wore beneath the silky, form-­fitting material.

Probably a matching bra and panty set that cost too much to rip off her petite curved body without inviting tears. The woman who'd knocked him flat on his ass looked about as expensive as her luggage.

And she was groomed to perfection. Her long blond hair fell in waves around her shoulders and her red lips quirked up.

“Lost your footing, cowboy?” Her voice possessed a low, throaty quality designed for whispering naughty pleas after the fancy clothes hit the floor.

But cowboy? What the heck? Brody raised his hand and touched his head. Nope, his Moore Timber baseball cap still covered his dirty brown hair.

“Your shoes.” She pointed to the shiny black cowboy boots he'd dug out of the back of his truck. His work boots needed to dry out after trampling across the wet, muddy mountainside. “Need a hand getting up?” she added, extending one perfectly manicured hand.

“Thank you, ma'am, but I can manage.” He pushed off the ground. Standing in front of her, he realized she wasn't as tall as she'd appeared from the ground. At six-­foot-­three plus the cowboy boots, he towered over her.

“Ma'am,” she murmured, her green eyes shining with amusement. “I forgot how formal you are out here.”

“Returning home?” While she looked him over, he eyed the automatic door behind her, which led to the hotel lobby. He wasn't shy. Not by a long shot. But compared to her, Brody knew he looked like he'd spent the day rolling in dirt.

“I'm here for work, but this isn't my first time in Oregon.” She extended her hand again. “I'm Kat.”

Knowing it would be rude to refuse, he shook her hand. “Brody.”

Her eyes widened for a second and he drew away from her firm grip, guessing his callused palm had caught her by surprise. A woman who matched her fancy shoes to her luggage was probably accustomed to well-­groomed men in suits.

“I believe I owe you a drink, Brody. For knocking you to the ground.”

After spending the past twelve hours combing Hood Mountain for a lost family, he was overdue for a beer. But first he needed to get cleaned up. “Thanks, but I have a date with the shower.”

Kat's eyes narrowed, her gaze sharpening as if he'd issued a challenge when he said “shower.” While the thought of inviting this near stranger to join him appealed to the same part of his anatomy that appreciated the heck out of her short skirt, high heels, and sexy top, he steered clear of one-­night territory with women he'd just met. And he didn't plan on making an exception tonight.

Duty had landed him in Portland and he needed to stay focused on his missions. Somewhere on the snowcapped mountain, a ten-­year-­old boy was wandering around looking for the parents Brody and his team had located earlier. Heck, if he'd had his way, he'd still be out there searching for the kid. But the team leader had ordered him, and the rest of the guys who'd been working for twelve hours, to take a break. He hated walking away without finishing the job, but he had to admit that a fresh team of search-­and-­rescue volunteers might cover more ground. And Brody had been bone-­tired from the moment he started the search, thanks to the “mission” waiting for him back home.

His family.

Back home, his little brother sank deeper into depression as the hope of recovering the short-­term memory he'd lost to a logging accident dimmed. Sure, Josh was lucky to be alive after getting hit in the head with a metal hook. He'd spent weeks in a coma following the accident. But writing down every detail about his day-­to-­day life drove Josh crazy.

Now, thanks to the doctor who'd agreed to include his brother in her clinical trial, Josh had a fighting chance. Brody planned to meet Dr. Westbury, the famous neurologist, here in the morning and drive her back to Independence Falls. Before that he needed a solid six, maybe seven hours of sleep, not a detour into casual sex.

“Nice meeting you, Kat.” He moved around her, heading for the double doors. Now, when he'd finally found someone who might be able to help his little brother, was not the time to find out how Little Miss Perfect would look in his shower.

“Brody.”

He paused by the open doorway and glanced over his shoulder.

“If you change your mind,” she said, one hand clutching the handle of the designer bag that moonlighted as a weapon. “Come find me in the hotel bar.”

“I'll do that.” He suspected his ironclad willpower would keep him in his room. But looking back at her, Brody had to admit he wanted a taste of perfection.

 

Chapter 2

K
AT
FROZE
ON
the edge of the generic carpet separating the hotel's attempt at a fine-­dining restaurant and lounge from the lobby. The boy she'd been half in love with throughout high school sat at the black granite bar with one hand wrapped around a pint glass and the other clutching his cell phone. Only he wasn't a teenager anymore. Brody Summers was a prime example of droolworthy male perfection.

And it looked like he'd changed his mind about meeting her for a drink.

Excitement threatened her usually logical mind. Brody Summers was sitting at the bar, waiting for
her
.

Earlier, when she'd glanced down at the pavement, her first thought was: I took out Brody Summers with my suitcase! But fate rarely worked in her favor. And it had certainly never dropped a hot-­as-­sin man at her feet. In the moment, she'd assumed the lingering effects of her Brody Summers's infatuation had blurred her vision.

Those deep brown eyes had haunted her dreams in high school, and later, during her long years in medical school, her fantasies. Add those broad shoulders and the muscular, imposing body, and the grown-­up version was oh-­so worth it. Then he'd said his name, confirming that he was in fact her crush from the town she'd sworn up and down she'd never set foot in again—­Independence Falls.

But Brody hadn't recognized her.

Not that she blamed him. There were days when she could barely connect the painfully shy foster kid who'd grown up wearing whatever the charity bin had to offer with the person she saw in the mirror. After she'd left Independence Falls, Kat had traded her hand-­me-­downs for designer labels. And she'd changed her mousy brown hair to an eye-­catching blond.

Still, he was here now. Sitting at the bar, waiting for her.

A healthy dose of reality caught hold of her runaway hopes, anchoring the would-­be fantasy. He was here because she'd caught his attention on the sidewalk. He'd looked at her legs as if he wanted to strip away her skirt and explore. But looking didn't always lead to action. And it wasn't as if he harbored an ancient crush that was pushing him to seize the moment.

Brody Summers probably didn't remember the shy sophomore he'd stumbled upon in the Independence Falls High art room Super Gluing her shoes back together. Or the fact that he'd stayed to help, talking to her as if he gave a damn about her sneakers. And not once had he suggested that she ditch her worn, ripped shoes and get new ones. It was as if he understood the sacrifices that came with poverty. Or maybe he believed it when she'd told him these were her lucky shoes. He didn't know her well enough to realize that luck had abandoned her at age six and never looked back.

Until now.

Maybe.

She'd caught his attention again. And this time Brody Summers hadn't looked at her with pity brewing in his eyes while he saved her sneakers. If she'd known knocking him over would get his attention, she would have tried it in high school. Maybe in the weeks and months following the Super Glue adventure, when she'd looked at him from afar waiting and hoping for him to notice her.

Oh, he'd never been rude. Brody had nodded and smiled, waving when they passed in the halls. But he'd never looked at her as if he was picturing her in his shower.

Because knocking him over and winning an I-­want-­you look only worked when Dr. Katherine Arnold plowed into him with a bag that cost more than the sum total of her worldly possessions back when she was a teenager. From her designer luggage to her perfect blond hair, she presented a very different picture now. And it had been a long time since anyone had offered her pity.

But in high school?

From the moment she'd walked through the doors of Independence Falls High in her freshman year, the other kids had left her alone as if her condition was contagious. Halfway through her first semester she'd started to wonder if “orphaned at six” was listed in the science books alongside leprosy. Her situation felt like a disease, spreading and growing worse each time she moved from one foster family to another. She'd become a shadow to everyone but the local police, who'd started appearing in her teenage life with regular frequency.

But she wasn't a teenager anymore. Dr. Katherine Arnold had walked away from the labels that had tormented her throughout high school—­orphan and troublemaker. At eighteen, she'd packed everything she owned in an industrial strength trash bag and headed for the one place that wanted her. College. A perfect SAT score and a heartfelt essay offered a way out of the town than had branded her unworthy.

Now, she'd returned looking so different that no one would connect Dr. Katherine Arnold with Kat, the juvenile delinquent orphan from the wrong side of town. Not that she'd ever planned to return to Oregon. But when Dr. Westbury, her mentor and the doctor in charge of her clinical trial, broke her ankle, Kat had packed her bags and agreed to fill in for the esteemed neurologist.

Kat could have called off the trip and pulled Josh Summers from the trail. The severity of his accident and subsequent symptoms didn't exactly line up with the rest of the patients in the trial. Kat had a feeling Dr. Westbury had noted Josh Summer's address and envisioned a relaxing trip through Oregon wine country. Instead, Kat had boarded the plane, determined to show Independence Falls that she'd succeeded despite the fact they'd cast her aside over and over.

But tonight, before they drove to his hometown, she wanted Brody to get to know the person she'd become. She wanted him to look at her for a few hours and see
her
. Not Dr. Katherine Arnold, his brother's doctor, or Kat, the awkward, friendless girl no one wanted to talk to growing up. Brody Summers would never mess around with his brother's doctor. And connecting the woman he'd wanted on the sidewalk with the girl who'd clung to the shadows as a teenager wouldn't help.

For the first time in her life, Kat felt as if fate was handing her a fairy tale—­a few carefree hours with the man of her dreams. Summoning the you-­can't-­intimidate-­me attitude she'd fine-­tuned in college and perfected in medical school, she stepped into the bar. And Brody reached for his phone.

Moving toward the empty bar stool at his side, Kat's gaze fixed on her old crush. He was reading a text message.

“Shit,” he muttered, setting the phone down and lifting his pint glass to his lips.

Kat rested her hands on the back of the leather bar stool beside him. “You don't look like a man ready to celebrate his amazing recovery.”

Brody glanced over his shoulder. His mouth formed a line thin. The look in his deep brown eyes . . .

Kat caught herself before instinct pushed her to run. The agony staring back at her was too familiar.

His brow furrowed. “My recovery?”

“From your tumble on the sidewalk?” She forced a smile, though she knew from experience that laughter and teasing didn't help, not when pain had a choke hold on your emotions. Still, halfhearted jokes were sometimes the only defense. “Did the hotel shower erase the aches?”

“I'm fine.”

You're lying
.

She pulled the stool away from the bar. “Mind if I join you?”

He stared at her hands, resting on the back of the bar stool. For a second she wondered if he'd reach out, covering her hand with his.

“I'm not good company tonight,” he said finally. “Just came down for a beer.”

“But the fact that you're here, in the bar, tells me you didn't want to be alone.”

“I called room ser­vice, but the wait was over an hour.”

Kat slid onto the leather seat. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Brody's too serious gaze drop to her skirt, watching the fabric slide up her thighs. She signaled the bored young woman behind the bar who'd spent every minute since Kat had walked in with her fingers dancing over the keys on her tablet. “A glass of Oregon pinot noir, please.”

Brody's phone vibrated and he scooped it off the bar, scanning another message on the screen.

“Good news?”

“No.” He set the cell down and looked over at her. His lips parted but he hesitated as if debating how much to tell this woman he still believed to be a total stranger. “I'm part of the volunteer search and rescue squad. A family visiting from out of state—­mom, dad, and two kids ages twelve and ten—­went for a hike on Mount Hood a few days ago and never came back. We found the parents and the twelve-­year-­old this morning. Dehydrated and hungry, but otherwise OK. No sign of the younger kid. According to his parents, their son fell off a ledge. They left the trail to find him, but got lost.”

Kat nodded, her mind calculating the time frame, potential injuries, and the child's age. Based on those details, the outlook wasn't good.

“Have you worked search and rescue for long?” she asked.

“Five years all in. But lately I've been going out on more searches. I just started helping teams in other counties. I guess I'm new to the big rescues. In the past, I did a lot of sprained ankles and lost hikers. When I had the time to go out at all.”

“It takes a while.” She raised her wineglass and took a sip. “To separate your work, the job you need to do, from the fact that a child might die.”

Brody studied her as if trying to blend his vision of a first responder with her skirt and heels.

“I worked in the ER at a New York City hospital.”
A rotation in medical school
. But he didn't need the details of her résumé, not right now.

“You're a doctor?”

She nodded, leaving out
and I also have a Ph.D
. He'd find out in the morning when he went to pick up Dr. Westbury, the neurologist who he believed would be treating his brother—­and came face-­to-­face with her. Right now, it sounded like Brody Summers needed someone to listen. Nothing more.

Shoving her teenage fantasies aside, Kat focused on the man buried in worry for a lost child.

Oh hell, he's still perfect, ready to rush in and save the day. Only he's moved beyond Super Gluing sneakers.

Lust fought for control, but she pushed the pesky, physical feelings aside. Right now she needed to do something to help Brody Summers climb out of the pit of worry and dread he'd dug for himself.

“I know the feeling of doing everything you possibly can for a kid and still losing,” she said. “The first time, I was convinced I'd failed. The little girl was only five years and we tried everything. She was in a coma for four days. It felt like forever. But the whole time, I kept thinking this must be so much worse for the family. I was the one who could do something about it. I had the training. If only I could be there, at her side more, or come up with a way to save her—­”

And wow, that was so much more than she'd planned to share. It had been a long time since she thought about that kid.

“What happened?” Brody asked, his brow knit with concern.

“We lost her. The worst part was facing the parents to deliver the bad news. In that moment, you realize it doesn't matter that you tried every trick in the book. At the end of the day you still failed and their baby is gone.” She took a sip of her wine, carefully setting the glass back on the bar. “And that was the wrong story to tell right now. I sent plenty of patients home to their families, healed and happy.”

“I haven't done everything.” Brody glanced at the lobby, ignoring her disclaimer. “I should be out there searching, making sure the kid gets reunited with his parents.”

“Your shift ended?” she guessed.

“Yeah. The team leader in this area plays by the rules. He wants everyone searching the mountain rested. I told him to call me if they need more hands later, once I'd had a break. And the guys still out there are sending updates. So I'll find out when it's over.”

He turned his focus back to his drink, his jaw still tight with frustration. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” She took a long drink from her wine. When she'd daydreamed about seeing Brody Summers again, she'd skipped over the depressing-­conversation-­in-­a-­generic-­hotel-­bar fantasy. She'd imagined a wanting smile as he pulled his shirt over his head. But fate was up to her old tricks again, offering her the man of her dreams buried in concern for a child. Sex was probably the last thing on this man's mind.

“Ask away,” she said.

“How did you cope when your everything wasn't enough?” His brown eyes stared into hers. “When you lost a child?”

I counted down the days until the end of my ER rotation and I hit the gym.

But she had a feeling Brody Summers, Mr. I'll Help Save Your Sneakers, wasn't ready to give up search and rescue.

“Did you bring a swimsuit?” she asked, her imagination running full speed ahead. Brody Summers in a swimsuit, every inch of his muscular upper body on display . . .

She mentally slammed the door, knowing she needed to draw the line at looking tonight. But she could still offer a way to work off the building fears for a child and his frustration at being sidelined.

“I'm only here one night,” Brody said. “Why?”

“Boxers or briefs?” she asked.

“What?” His eyebrows shot up, his brown eyes widening.

“I'm going somewhere with this.” Maybe not back to the king-­size bed in her hotel room, but tonight she would have to settle for Brody Summers dripping wet in his underwear.

And the knowledge that she'd stepped in and helped him this time.

“Boxers.”

“I know just what you need.” Kat signaled the bartender for the check. “A little late night exercise to take your mind off the things you can't change.”

“Exercise?” His brown eyes glanced down at her legs.

OK, so maybe sex wasn't the very last thing on his mind.

“In the hotel pool,” she said.