Lost Without You (8 page)

“I — ” she started again.

“It's okay, Zoe,” he said, stopping and placing his hands on her shoulders. “I know what you're trying to say and you're welcome. I'm happy I was able to help you with the names. Just say the word and we can do that again if you need.”

He paused, staring into her eyes while his hand slid up her skin to rest at the base of her neck. He leaned toward her and her breath hitched in her throat, making her struggle to fight the restriction.

“And I meant what I said about you being breathtaking,” he said, pulling her toward his lips. Soft-looking, supple lips she couldn't help but want to feel touching hers. “Not just today, but always. Every time I see you, you steal my breath.”

His lips pressed to hers. She let her eyelids flutter closed, savoring his kiss. Her mouth parted slightly, inviting him in. He accepted, tasting her, teasing her with his tongue. Just as she felt herself melting into him, he stepped back, pulling away from her. He took her hand and started back toward base camp again.

She shook her head, trying to dislodge the cotton suddenly filling the empty space between her ears. She could think of nothing but his lips on hers, his hand in hers. It took everything she had to walk in a straight line without falling over from dizziness. If he thought she took his breath, what had he done to her? It was as if she'd been deprived of oxygen for days, not seconds. She was thankful he had a good grip on her hand so he could keep her from falling if she stumbled. This lightheadedness he'd caused was unnerving. And sort of wonderful.

Had any man ever given her such a reaction before?

No. Never.

No man, no matter how hot or sexy or amazing he'd been, had ever given her this kind of feeling of euphoria before. And all this from a simple thirty-second kiss? Holy crap. What would happen if he kissed her longer, deeper, harder? Her head spun again thinking about it.

Chip stopped walking and a spark of hope for another kiss shot through her. Then she realized he'd stopped because they were outside her tent. How she'd gotten back, she hadn't a clue and yet here she was. And now she had to say goodbye to Chip, which was about the last thing she wanted to do.

“I'll pick you up here at eight, okay?” Chip said, letting go of her hand.

She attempted to force her thoughts into some kind of order. What was he talking about? Why was he coming back to pick her up?

“Are we doing another competition tonight?”

“No.”

“Are we going somewhere?”

“Yes. Dinner. My place. You agreed to let me cook you dinner sometime. Sometime is tonight.”

Oh. Dinner. His place. His lips kissing a trail down my neck to my collarbone. His hands …

“Okay. I'll be ready.”

His gaze penetrated hers. “I will be too.”

Ready for dinner or something more? She'd completely forgotten why she'd convinced herself that staying away from him was a good idea. Distance made it hard for his lips to find hers.

Distance was bad.

Close was good. Close could mean his lips on hers again. And even though she knew it went against everything she told herself she wanted, she couldn't help but hope that dinner alone with Chip would lead to another kiss.

Zoe paced in her tent and checked the time again. Five minutes until eight. Five minutes until she had to make a decision about whether or not it was a good idea to have dinner with Chip, the man she was supposedly trying to distance herself from.

The man who had removed all the oxygen from the atmosphere during their thirty-second kiss.

The man she could see herself giving up oxygen for all together if he'd just kiss her like that again.

Damn.

Canceling and staying in her tent, alone, for the evening was really the smart thing to do. But being in Chip's tent, with him, was way more tempting. After all, it was only dinner, right? It wasn't as if he'd asked her over for a booty call. Just dinner. A little harmless dinner. And perhaps a teeny tiny bit of flirting. Possibly a tiny kiss to end the night.

No. No more kisses if she wanted to keep Chip at arm's length. But did she really want to?

On one hand, Chip was amazing and being with him felt like breathing clean air after living in smog her whole life. She couldn't think clearly when he'd kissed her earlier. On the other hand, keeping people at a distance was what she did. It was how she survived. If she let down her guard with Chip, he could find out about her scars … about what really happened the day of the accident. If he found out the truth — if he saw the real her, hidden under all the makeup and pretty clothes and perfect hair — he'd never think she was breathtaking again.

Her answer changed every few minutes. She couldn't seem to make the two conflicting sides of herself come to any kind of mutual agreement about what to do with this whole Chip situation. If she didn't make a definitive decision soon, she feared she'd walk around in a state of confusion for the rest of the show.

She was only going for dinner since he'd insisted on cooking for her. It would be rude not to go. And didn't she still need to eat dinner tonight? Her growling stomach said she did.

The bubbling pit of lava deep in her belly said she needed something else a lot more desperately than food.

She'd just drink a bunch of water and force that lava to cool off. It was dinner. She could totally have dinner with him while maintaining her distance. Besides, out here in the wilderness, it wasn't like she had anything else to do.

She could call someone except her cell phone had long since lost its battery, not that they'd have let her contact the outside world anyway. Chip's productions always came with an outside world blackout period. Possibly her least favorite part of production. She needed to be connected to the grid.

Not that she really had anyone in her life to call anyway. Putting distance between herself and everyone else had made sure of that.

So what better way to pass an evening than dinner with Chip?

Of course, she could always go to the kitchen tent and socialize with the other production people. But that would involve her being cheery and trying to get people to like her. Did she really feel like putting in that kind of effort tonight? With Chip at least she felt like she could be herself. He'd seen her in some less-than-her-best situations already and it didn't seem to tarnish his opinion of her, whatever that was.

With Chip, she didn't feel like she had to put on some kind of show or be anything other than what she felt like being at that particular moment. There was something very freeing about that.

And dangerous. Feelings like that could get her in trouble with the whole “keeping her distance plan.” She would have to be very careful in this situation tonight.

“Knock, knock.”

Chip's voice filtered into her tent, sounding so close, he may as well have been standing inside. She took a deep breath and unzipped the tent. The scent of his cologne hit her even before she saw him, making her lightheaded all over again.

Damn it, she had to stop that from happening every time she was around him or she'd be totally screwed. Well, even more screwed than she already was.

“Hi,” she said, holding the tent flap open. Chip stood on the other side. She was glad she'd changed clothes after the challenge since he'd apparently done the same. He cleaned up really nice. Every hair was in place and his shirt was crisp as if he hadn't gotten ready in a tent. In short, he looked damned good.

Chip's gaze slid down her body from her tight fitted shirt to her skinny jeans and finally to the Jimmy Choos she'd strapped to her feet. They weren't practical for wearing around camp, but she wanted to look good and feel good and Jimmy fit that bill perfectly.

“You look stunning as always.” Chip held out his hand to her. She accepted it.

Slipping through the opening, she zipped it closed behind her. “And you are a sweet talker as always.”

He shrugged with indifference. “I just call it like I see it, that's all. And I certainly like what I see in front of me tonight.”

Her cheeks grew hot with his words. She was used to people saying nice things about her, but for some reason, his words seemed more genuine than the ones she usually got. Sure, he was still feeding her a line, but it felt like there was truth behind it instead of some empty bid to get her into bed.

“Thank you,” she almost whispered while she waited for him to open his tent. She was strangely excited to have been invited inside. It felt as if she were entering his sanctuary. Like he was letting her into his life more than he allowed others. Maybe he was.

Stepping through, she was surprised to find the space so different from her tent. He had a similar cot to hers, with similar bedding and canvas bedside table, but that's where it ended. The other things in the room were completely different. He had a makeshift wardrobe with a rod, which explained his crisp shirts. A much better solution than her way of laying clothes out and turning them over each day to keep the wrinkles from setting too deep.

In the center of the room, a picnic area was set up complete with a glowing lantern in the middle. A couple of other lanterns were positioned near the tent walls giving the whole area a warm amber glow, almost as if they stood in front of a roaring fireplace instead of inside a tent.

“This is so amazing. How did you do all of this so quickly?”

“It wasn't difficult and I was highly motivated to make tonight special.”

“Oh, why's that?”

He led her to the blanket and motioned for her to sit. “I wanted you to have a good meal after all that crap you were forced to consume today on behalf of my competition.”

“Feeling a little guilty about your challenge choice?”

“It sounded like a good idea in my head, until I saw what they scrounged up and made you eat.” He laughed and poured her a glass of wine before pouring himself one. “I was feeling pretty sympathetic when your gag reflex kicked in.”

She laughed too. “Not my best on-camera moment.”

“To better moments to come,” he said, raising his glass in a toast.

“To better moments,” she echoed, clinking glasses with him and taking a sip. Just what she needed, a little liquid relaxer after a long day filming in the woods. The only thing missing was air conditioning. Although even cool air probably wouldn't cool the heat she felt radiating from Chip.

“How did you manage to find wine out here?” she asked, enjoying the crisp, lightly fruity flavor.

“I may have brought my own secret stash of supplies in case of emergency.”

She giggled. The wine must be going to her head already because of her empty stomach. “I've never heard of wine emergencies before.”

“Hey, it could happen. Never say never.” He peered at her over his glass of wine, a twinkle in his eyes she hadn't seen before. Mischievous somehow. Or maybe the better description was devious.

“What are you up to?” she asked. “You look like you're plotting something.”

He feigned offense. “I am not plotting. More wine?”

She laughed. “Oh, I get it now. Load me up on alcohol then take advantage of me. I'm on to you, Mr. Cormack, and your games are not going to work on me.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. I just thought we could share this nice big bottle of wine and then maybe you'd feel a little more relaxed.”

What will happen if I get tipsy?

“That's all? No ulterior motive?”

He nodded and took another sip of his wine. “Why don't we eat? It will help soak up all the wine I'm forcing you to consume. Maybe then you won't be so suspicious of me.”

He removed the lid covering a platter in the middle of the blanket, revealing a dish of pasta. Circling the platter was a ring of what looked like garlic cheese bread and a tossed salad sat in a bowl to the side. He served her a plate, then made another for himself.

She took a bite. “Oh my God. You made this? Out here? From scratch?”

“I did. It's not my finest meal, but it was the best I could do with the limited resources available. Most of my first choice ingredients wouldn't keep in these conditions.”

She wiped her mouth with her napkin. “This is amazing. I can't even make a sandwich and here you are making all of this on a camping stove. You really shouldn't have gone to so much trouble just for me.”

“You were worth every second I spent in the sweltering heat of the kitchen tent this afternoon.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling around the edges slightly. “I'm glad you're enjoying it. So tell me what your specialty is. Everyone has something they can cook.”

She shook her head. “Not me.”

“One dish. I know you don't eat in restaurants every night. And there's only so much you can order in. So what's your go to meal of choice?”

“You think I'm kidding, but I really can't cook. Nights when I stay in and don't want to order, I usually eat cereal or yogurt or some other easy food. I don't cook. But I do love to bake.”

“Really? You must not eat the things you bake.” His eyes drifted down her body. Heat radiated along her skin in his wake.

“I do eat it actually. Most people think I must be anorexic or something, but trust me, I have a very healthy appetite. I also have a high metabolism and I try to workout when I can.” She shrugged. “It seems to work for me.”

“I agree.”

The silence around them was comfortable as they ate. For once in her life, she was on a date —
Just dinner, remember! —
and wasn't completely nervous about doing the right thing or saying the wrong thing. It was refreshing.

“So how do you manage to keep looking so incredibly put together all the time when you're out on these crazy locations filming and eating whatever your cooks make for you that day?” Zoe asked. She knew other people, tabloids mostly, had made fun of Chip and his very “metrosexual” appearance. But she didn't mind it at all. She liked a guy who took care of himself as much as she did.