Exclusively Yours (11 page)

“So he’s up to his handlebars in icy muck and he thinks I’m going to wade out and hook onto his machine.” Kevin was telling a story involving Mike, a winter ride, and an iced-over swampy area that wasn’t quite as iced over as they’d thought. It was pretty obvious everybody but her had heard the tale before, but they listened as though it was the first time. “Since I was behind him and I wasn’t gonna get wet, I had to pull out my winch and toss it out to him a thousand times before he caught the damn thing.”

Keri took a sip of the most delicious hot chocolate she’d ever had, courtesy of Lisa, and snuggled a little deeper into her chair. Because it was chillier than usual, the chairs were close together—making the ring tighter around the fire—and her arm brushed Joe’s as she set her paper cup back in the cupholder.

He threaded his fingers through hers and with their arms propped on the arms of the chairs, it would be obvious to anybody who looked they were holding hands.

Right now the focus was still on Kevin. “Then it takes him fifteen minutes of crawling around to get the winch hooked on without him getting wet. So he gives me the thumbs up and—”

“That wasn’t a thumbs up,” Mike interjected. “I whacked my hand and was flexing my fingers.”

Joe’s thumb was making little circles in the palm of Keri’s hand at that moment, making it a little hard to concentrate on the story.

“So I started winching him in,” Kevin said, “but he wasn’t ready and we didn’t know there was a log under the ice. The front of his machine comes up and Mike goes flying off the back.
Splash!
”

They were still laughing when the rain started falling—big, fat drops that signaled a downpour was imminent.

Joe used the hand he’d been holding to haul Keri out of her chair as everybody yelled goodnights and began to scatter. Terry and Lisa dragged most of the chairs under the tarps, and Keri rescued her hot chocolate seconds before Joe tossed theirs onto the pile.

Even though they moved at an almost-jog, they were soaked by the time they reached their site. Keri laughed when the sky really opened up while they still had the last ten feet to the cabin yet to cover.

When was the last time she’d ventured out in the rain without an umbrella? Years. She gave too much of her income to the salon to let Mother Nature ruin their hard work.

Joe held open the screen door and Keri went in first, stepping to one side to let him in. They both stood dripping on the hardwood floor, neither apparently willing to step onto the braided rug. Water dripped from her hair and ran down her face, and she shivered. Now that the fun of running through the rain was over, she was uncomfortably aware of her jeans and flannel shirt plastered to her skin.

“We should get naked and huddle together to preserve our body heat,” Joe said. “Don’t wanna die of hypothermia.”

“Or I could change into my pajamas, crawl under the covers and finish my hot chocolate.”

“Nudity and friction’s a lot more effective. I read it in a book.”

He was creeping closer, so she poked him with her elbow. “It was eighty degrees today.”

He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Saw you shiver. Was worth a shot.”

“Might have worked if I was actually hypothermic and we weren’t in a cabin.”

He kicked off his sneakers before grabbing a beach towel from the back of a chair and tossing it to her. Then he gathered the bottom of his sweatshirt, gathering the T-shirt under it, and yanked them both up and over his head.

The wet fabric hung up on his head, though, giving Keri plenty of time to admire his naked torso. His muscles flexed as he twisted, pulling at the sweatshirt, and there was no farmer’s tan to be seen. An evenly bronzed expanse of skin meant he spent more than a little time running around outside shirtless. Lucky neighbors.

When he finally got the tops off and started unzipping the bottom, Keri turned her back and buried her head in the towel before he could catch her ogling his abs…or his glutes.

After giving her hair a good scrubbing, she emerged from the towel just in time to see him bend over and rummage through his duffel bag. The hot flash cut through the chill, but it left a shiver in its wake.

Black boxer briefs should be illegal. And didn’t the man own any other—less flattering—colors? Puce? Periwinkle? Even a plain old pair of tighty whities didn’t look good from that angle.

But Joe’s ass and black boxer briefs equaled a warm flush she was surprised didn’t steam the rainwater right out of her flannel.

Much to her disappointment, he found the old University of New Hampshire sweatpants he’d been digging around for and slipped them on. Then she got to watch the muscles in his back one more time as he pulled a dry T-shirt over his head.

When he turned around, she tried to look like she hadn’t been staring, but probably didn’t do a very convincing job.

“You gonna stand around all night in wet clothes?” he asked.

“How much time do you spend at the gym?” The question popped out of her mouth before she realized how much that would give away.

He shrugged. “I have a gym at home. Not a very hardball question, Ace.”

When she realized what he meant, she threw the towel at him. “That wasn’t my interview question and you know it.”

“Sounded like a question.”

“A
conversational
question, not a professional one. You’re trying to weasel your way around your own rules.”

He flashed his dimples at her. “Guilty.”

The dampness of her clothing was growing more uncomfortable by the second, but she had no doubt Joe was going to be an ass about her changing her clothes.

“I suppose you want me to turn around,” he said, as though he’d read her mind.

“I don’t trust you.”

“Sorry, babe, but I’m not gonna go stand out in the rain while you change.” Then the bastard sat in one of the straight-back chairs, stretched his legs out and folded his arms as though he intended to watch a show.

Two could play at the game of hot flashes and achy places one didn’t mention in polite company.

She
very
slowly undid the top two buttons of the flannel shirt. When his body tensed and his gaze zeroed in on the third button, Keri almost smiled.

“My question for tonight…” she mused, tapping her fingernail on the button a couple of times before sliding it free of the hole and then the next. “Is the whole reclusive author thing just a long-term publicity stunt?”

“Huh?” was all Joe said as she slipped the flannel off her shoulders to reveal a T-shirt damp enough to show off a hint of the black lace underneath.

What the hell was she doing? She wasn’t eighteen anymore and she sure as hell didn’t look like she was. She wasn’t the one with a home gym, either, which wasn’t so much of an issue if she kept her clothes
on
.

But Joe was a breast man and hers still filled out the very expensive black bras she liked to splurge on once in a while.

“What I mean—” she slowly pulled the T-shirt free from the waist of her jeans, “—is have you engineered interest in your books by being a mystery man?”

She slipped the damp T-shirt over her head and tossed it onto his pile of wet clothes. Joe made an incoherent sound she didn’t think was his official answer.

She started tugging at the button of her jeans, then paused. “For instance, there are people who think the myth of J. D. Salinger was far more interesting than any of his work and if he hadn’t been a famous recluse, his books would have faded into obscurity.”

Just as Joe opened his mouth, as though to respond, Keri popped the button, dragged the zipper down and started shimmying the jeans over her hips.

His Adam’s apple wasn’t the only thing bobbing, in spite of the restraint of boxer briefs and sweatpants.

After kicking her pants off to the side, Keri walked to her bags and presented Joe with the same view he’d given her, taking her sweet time rummaging through her clothes. “In other words, would you be just another mid-lister if you didn’t make people want to know more about Joseph Kowalski?”

After snagging her favorite pair of yoga pants, she straightened and turned, only to find herself nose to wings with his Aerosmith T-shirt.

“Quite the interview technique you’ve got, Daniels.”

She’d have to look up to see his face, but she didn’t dare tip her head back while in the
close enough to kiss
zone. If that happened, while he was sporting quite the impressive erection and she was wearing nothing but a couple scraps of black lace, who knew where they’d end up.

“Does it usually work for you?” He crowded her a little more.

She really wanted to throw some witty rejoinder his way, but her brain was stuttering, stuck on
want
. “Depends on how many slices of Hawaiian pizza I’ve had, I guess.”

When his hands rested on her hips for a second before sliding their way up her sides, Keri closed her eyes and dug deep for some resolve. Dug deep, and kept on digging.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about there, babe.” Fortunately—she guessed—his hands went back to her hips rather than moving around to cup her breasts. That would really play hell on the resolve she was still digging for.

“Flattery won’t get you out of answering the question,” she told him.

“And your ass, sweet as it is, won’t distract me from noticing how insulting your question was.”

“I prefer
probative
.”

His fingertips were ever so slowly sneaking their way under the elastic at her waist. “Speaking of probing…”

Keri laughed and darted to the left, taking her yoga pants with her. “Oh no you don’t.”

“What?” His expression was all innocence. “We’re talking about questions.”

“With your hands down my pants?”

“Helps me think.”

It took a few awkward, sideways hops that drew his attention right back to her breasts, but she managed to pull on the yoga pants. Rather than try to get past him again for a T-shirt, she grabbed her hoodie from the hook by the door and pulled it on over her bra.

“We talked about this already,” she told him from out of arm’s reach. “We are
not
having sex.”

He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I was hoping the striptease meant you’d changed your mind.”

“If it was a striptease, I would have borrowed a pole from Kevin’s tent.”

“I’d pay to see that. I’d pay
a lot
to see that.”

“I already have a job. I ask questions, you answer them, and my scary boss pays me.”

“Then I get to ask
you
a question.”

Keri rolled her eyes. “I haven’t forgotten your stupid rules. But you haven’t answered my question yet.”

“No, my desire for privacy isn’t some elaborate publicity stunt. I think the only person on the planet who actually gives a damn about my not doing book tours or interviews is your boss, who I totally believe would stalk me in person if she lived close enough.”

She couldn’t deny that. “So why such a recluse?”

For the first time real annoyance clouded his features. “I’m not a goddamn recluse. I do my job, which is to write books. Most readers could give a shit less about me as long as my books continue to scare the crap out of them.”

“Most authors try to build a relationship with their readers.”

“My words are my relationship with them. We do virtual signings for charity and I answer legitimate emails from real readers. They’re not entitled to any more of my personal life than that.”

“Tina thinks your disappearance from the public eye has to do with the emotional distress suit you settled with Lauren Huckins.”

If she was trying to douse the flames flickering between them, she couldn’t have found a better glass of ice water. His eyes hardened and his mouth formed a grim, dimple-free line.

“Your question for the day’s been asked and answered,” he said. “And you were already informed Lauren’s not on the table for discussion.”

Keri bit back the curses on the tip of her tongue. She was better than this and hadn’t had a subject so completely close up on her since her rookie years.

Before she could wrap her mind around the best way to salvage the situation, Joe pulled a dry sweatshirt over his head, shoved his feet into his sneakers and went out the door. It slammed closed with a resounding bang.

“Well,
hell
,” she said to the empty cabin.

No matter how good she looked in skimpy black lace—and holy morning wood, did she look good in skimpy black lace—Keri was there to do a job and that job was to find skeletons in his closet. Getting pissed off when she did the thing she’d told him right up front she was there to do probably made him an ass.

He paused at the junction of dirt roads, pondering a direction. With the rain still falling at a steady clip, nobody was out and about so he’d have to knock on somebody’s door if he wanted company.

Kevin’s tent wasn’t big enough for both of them unless they spooned. His parents were probably already snoring in their matching rocking recliners. In the mood he was already in, it was probably a good idea to avoid Terry, Mike and Lisa.

Damn. With no place to go, he just shoved his hands in his sweatshirt’s kangaroo pocket and stood there.

“It’s raining.”

He hadn’t heard Keri come up behind him, but she was next to him now, rain dripping off the bill of the baseball cap she’d donned. “At this rate, we’re going to run out of dry clothes.”

“May as well take a walk now that we’re already soaked.”

“Okay.” He headed off to the right, but he didn’t take her hand in his as he had earlier.

“I’m sorry I mentioned Lauren,” she said after a minute or two of uncomfortable silence. “I kind of segued from my question to conversation without a clear stop and start point.”

“Just doing your job.”

“Yes and no. Yes, I have professional obligations but no, not everything I ask you is for
Spotlight Magazine
. It’s just…I’ve never interviewed somebody I have a personal relationship with before. It’s awkward.”

“And I’ve never been interviewed by an ex-girlfriend a few black scraps away from naked before.” Even in the dark, he could tell she was flustered.

“I only did that because you did it to me,” she said. “Parade around almost naked, I mean. I wanted to…”

“Wanted to what?” he prompted when she let the statement die off.

She said the words all in a rush. “I wanted to see if it would affect you the same way it affected me.”

They had just turned the corner into a dark, secluded part of the campground, so hopefully nobody would notice his suddenly bowlegged walk. “If it made you want me to bend you over the end of the bed, then yeah.”

“That would be about the same, then.” He could hear her reluctance to admit it. “We talked about this. It’s not a good idea.”

“Just so you know, I imagined you naked all through that conversation.”

“I’m serious, Joe.”

“So am I.”

When she stopped walking, he looked back to see her standing with her arms folded, glaring at him. He grinned and walked back to her. “Sorry, babe. Truth, though.”

“Do you see how our past history already screws with how I do my job? Imagine how it would be if we had sex in the present day.”

“Oh, I do. A lot. Every five minutes or so.”

“I meant imagine how blurred the line between personal and professional would become if we start sleeping together. I’m not sure I could finish the article.”

Which meant she’d lose her job—a good job she’d worked hard for. “Is there a definitive place your objectivity starts slipping? Kissing? Can we make out a little?”

“If we start making out a little, we won’t stop.”

“Probably not.” He stepped closer and lifted her chin with his fingertips.

She didn’t stop him so he lowered his mouth to hers, capturing a raindrop on her lip with the tip of his tongue before going in for the kiss.

Because he already knew it wasn’t leading to anything but a restless night, he kept it short and sweet. Or he meant to, but Keri wrapped her arms around his neck and her ballcap came off and the kiss didn’t end until they had to catch their breath.

He blew out a breath and wiped some rain off his face. “How’s your objectivity holding up?”

“It’s a little…warm and tingly.”

“We should go back before we drown out here.” Back to the cabin where they’d have to change out of their wet clothes…again. He wasn’t sure he could survive another glimpse of the black lace.

“Yeah, and you still get to ask me a question,” she reminded him with a wry smile.

If he’d opened his mouth, they’d roll off his tongue. Had she ever regretted leaving him behind? If he crawled into bed with her, would she shut him down? If not, would she hate him in the morning?

“You’re not going to ask me if I ever faked an orgasm with you?” she teased.

Oh,
hell
no. He didn’t even want to open that door. He hadn’t exactly been a smooth operator their first few times around that block. “I’m saving that question for a night I can’t think of a better one.”

Her smile gleamed through the darkness. “Chicken.”

Absolutely. “Okay, here’s a question. You had any work done?”

“Oh, you mean like Mike had done on his truck at the body shop?”

“Heard about that conversation, did you?”

“Yeah, Bobby filled me in.”

“Tact and discretion aren’t a part of that kid’s playbook yet.”

“I’ve discovered that. And no, I’ve had no work done. Everything’s still one hundred percent me.”

“It’s customary to offer a squeeze to determine if breasts are real or not, you know. Don’t you watch TV?”

She laughed and shoved the retrieved ballcap back on her head. “Nice try, Kowalski. You’ll have to take my word for it.”

It was worth a shot. “Since we’re out, let’s hit the bathhouse. And when we get back, I expect you to behave like a lady and turn your back while I change.”

She laughed, as he’d expected, and the tension was broken. The tension between them, anyway. The tension inside of him would only build with every passing minute he didn’t allow himself to coax her into throwing her professional ethics to the wind and getting naked and sweaty with him.

Once that happened, she’d be upset with herself and upset with him and things would get really awkward between them. In the meantime, he’d just have to continue being really careful when zipping his fly.