Paradise (17 page)

“We’re emptying it out? Do you know how much work that is? Do you know what a pain in the ass it is to load this canoe? Everything has to be in a specific spot or we’ll capsize. No, we’re not doing this. Trust me, there are no snakes in our canoe.” He picked up the few items lying about and re-packed them. “Come on, get in. We need to get moving.”

Robbie reached in, grabbed her unicorn backpack and marched toward the ranger station.

“Where are you going?”

“Sorry, McGraw Tours,” she called over her shoulder, “but if you’re not going to check for snakes, I’m waiting here for Ranger Harrison. I’m sure he’ll be happy to give me a lift to the park entrance. I’ll find some way to get to my car. Thank you so much for a most interesting time.”

He scrubbed his face, biting back his completely logical argument.
No more teasing. She’s scared. I’m here to protect her. The customer is always right.
“You’re absolutely right,” he called after her, his friendly tour guide face firmly in place.

Her determined step faltered, and she slowly turned.

“We should check for snakes. You won’t feel comfortable unless we do. The whole purpose of this trip is for you to have a memorable time.”

Her delighted smile almost made it worthwhile -- almost. He turned back toward the canoe and rolled his eyes.
The customer is always right. The customer is always right. What a crock.

* * * * *

Robbie dipped her paddle and stroked in earnest now. She didn’t care if they were heading into the heart of Gator-town as long as they put distance between her and Snake-land.

Hiding behind her sunglasses and ignoring Eddie’s lecture -- again -- she contemplated how quickly the beasties would get her if she dove into the swamp to put herself out of this misery. On the downside, it probably wouldn’t be a pretty sight but on the upside, it might put an end to his lecture and would most definitely put an end to her overwhelming embarrassment.

She couldn’t quite single out the most humiliating moment of the morning. There were so many to choose from: Robbie, propositioning the hunk and getting turned down; Robbie, posing in her underwear, screaming over a stupid little snake; Robbie, making the hunk stand guard while she showered -- a not-so-subtle ploy to get him to join her, which he ignored. Or how about Robbie, demanding the hunk empty the canoe and search every piece of gear for little critters?

She mentally tore open the award envelope.
And the winner for the most disastrous stunt of the day is -- Robbie! For her realistic portrayal of a crazy woman losing her lunch
.

How could she be such a putz? For sure, any thoughts she had about Eddie McGraw being her Rebound Man had been flushed away this morning. If he didn’t want her before, he sure wouldn’t want her after that display. Maybe Rick was right. Maybe she didn’t have what it took to keep a man’s interest.

Eddie had been polite and solicitous, but she’d seen the exasperation on his face. It had taken him over an hour to empty the canoe, search every flap and pocket of the equipment and re-pack the thing. And he’d done it all without griping, teasing or tossing her into the swamp. He had to think she was a first class nincompoop -- or a first class bitch.

Fear of snakes was only part of the reason she’d made him empty it. How could she be so spiteful? Just because he didn’t want a fling-ding with her.

She hung her head. That was it. She made the vow for the third time. From now on, she would enjoy this trip. Well, maybe not
enjoy
, probably more like tolerate. But no more complaining. No more making George of the Jungle empty the canoe. No more searching restrooms. She would be a pleasant little camper if it killed her. It probably would.

“Are you all right up there? You’re not feeling sick again, are you? Do we need to stop?”

Her head snapped up. How could he be so kind after the way she treated him? “Yeah, I’m okay, just a little stiff neck.” She resumed paddling.

“That happens when you’re not used to this. When we get to the platform, I’ll give you a neck massage. That should help.”

She sat up tall, digging in her paddle with renewed vigor. “Sure, whatever,” she choked out.

Her chest tightened at the thought of his hands exploring her neck, her shoulders and anywhere else he wanted. She closed her eyes and imagined herself naked, lying on her stomach, her head buried in her arms, her hair cascading across the sleeping bag. The wind howled outside the tent as a thunderstorm raged, rhythmically rocking the lantern on the crossbar.

Eddie straddled her hips, the rough denim of his jeans a sharp contrast to the warm flesh of her bottom. Wait. Hold that. No, no jeans. He was naked, too.

The crinkly hair on his legs tickled her hips. His weight pressed solidly against her, forcing titillating sensations down her legs, and better still, back up.

His hands massaged, stroked and caressed her back before sliding outward to tease the tender sides of her breasts. Her breath seared her empty lungs as she fought for control, unwilling to surrender just yet. Every feathery touch of his fingers sent flames licking between her thighs.

Those fingers never stopped moving until his lips replaced them. The crisp hair of his chest brushed her sensitive back, heightening her awareness of him, if that were possible. He was speaking -- still -- only now, it wasn’t a lecture but dark promises of what he would do to her, and what he wanted her to do to him. She shivered at his suggestions, waiting to fulfill them.

“Hey, darlin’! You daydreaming up there or just plum tired of rowing?”

She boomeranged back to the present to spy her paddle floating ten feet behind them.

As if stomping on a hidden brake pedal, Eddie stopped the forward motion of the canoe with his paddle and, using it as a rudder, quickly veered left to turn them around. With his powerful thrust, the canoe shot forward and corralled the wayward paddle before it escaped. He leaned over and plucked it from the murky water.

She scanned the surface, silently praying there were no logs with eyeballs in the vicinity to snack on his fingers. Her face flamed at where she’d imagined those long, calloused fingers just moments before.

“No point in blushing like a rose. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” His eyes crinkled in merriment as he held her paddle aloft. “Everyone drops one over now and then. You just lose yours more than most people. See, got it right here. No harm done.”

Thank goodness he didn’t know the real reason she turned six shades of crimson.

Before passing the paddle, he pointed it skyward. “Looks like we’re in for a show.”

A large bird, its feathers a mixture of rich chocolate and cream latte with a crown as white as virgin snow, circled above them. The bright sunlight bounced off her glasses, and she shaded her eyes, steadying herself as Eddie turned the canoe to afford them a better view.

“What is it?”

“I guess I didn’t expect you to stand and whistle ‘Yankee Doodle,’” he said wryly, “but I thought you’d recognize a bald eagle.”

Soaring high above, the eagle unexpectedly dropped from the sky, plunging down, plummeting toward the water only to halt its descent inches from crashing and climb back into the heavens.

The water glistened like black glass, the air stilled and the only sound was the cry of the eagle as it dipped and swayed. Time drifted past the motionless canoe as the graceful play of the eagle’s wings performed the mesmerizing dance again and again.

She tore her eyes from the eagle’s lissome waltz for a quick glance at Eddie. Her breath caught as he stared at the bird. Never had she seen such an expression on a man’s face. Wonder. Contentment. Excitement. A man totally in charge yet at peace with himself.

His eyes lowered before she could look away and his expression changed. Instead of the teasing, sardonic look she’d come to expect, his eyes glowed darkly, sending an unreadable message. No, not unreadable, just…unexpected, in light of his earlier refusal.

At a sharp cry, her attention reverted back to the magnificent bird. Whether it accomplished its goal or simply tired of its game, she’d never know. It ascended, then swooped low over their heads to circle the canoe twice before gliding out of sight.

“Wow,” she breathed when her voice returned, “I’m not a bird watcher, but that was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.” She twisted in her seat, but the mesmerizing alpha male of a minute ago who she swore wanted to haul her off to his secret lair had vanished. The charming Crocodile Hunter sat firmly in the seat behind her.

“Just one of the many benefits of booking with McGraw Tours.” His mouth slanted up on one side, giving the distinct impression he was laughing at her.

* * * * *

The rain battered relentlessly against the thin nylon of the tent, and she was grateful for the wooden overhang that kept the deluge away from the front flap.

It was her fault they’d been caught in the downpour. Making Eddie search the canoe for non-existent creepy-crawlies wasted valuable time. She had no right to be aggravated, but she was, with herself. Of all the stupid stunts…

Pitching camp in a storm had become routine. He set up the tent. She dropped the cooler in the water. He helped her onto the platform. She tried not to fall off. He hung up the clothes line. She dribbled over the floor. They made a good team.

Light faded quickly with the thunderstorm and in the last haze before total darkness settled in, she squatted and rummaged through her backpack for her yellow sweat suit. Eddie wouldn’t light the lantern until they had both changed.

“I can’t find my backpack. You didn’t throw it in the water again, did you?” His soft chuckle only partially disguised a concerned tone.

“Don’t be silly. It’s next to the camp stove, behind the cooler.”

“Right. I hadn’t counted on doing so much laundry this week.” He stripped off his shirt, wrung it out the tent flap beneath the lean-to and hung it on the line before reaching for the backpack, all the while keeping his back to her.

She should turn around. Evidently, he thought she already had, or he wouldn’t undress so casually. Gawking at her guide wasn’t part of the tour, but she couldn’t take her eyes off his muscled back. Pulling a towel from the backpack, he carelessly rubbed it across his chest and shoulders. Her mouth was dry and her panties wet, and not just from the rain.

Flipping the towel, he see-sawed it against his back. Her nipples beaded into hard berries. He leaned forward and shuffled the towel through his dripping hair. Her little nubbin tingled and spears of electricity shot to that delicious spot below her navel.

The soft sound of a belt unbuckling followed by a zipper caught her attention. She should look away, give him some privacy before he…
My God, he’s got a great butt.

He ran the towel briskly across his firm buttocks and the backs of his sturdy thighs. It disappeared around his front but from the position of his hands, she knew exactly what was getting his attention now. Her palms itched to take over the task of drying him while her tongue yearned to make him wetter. When he bent at the waist to dry his calves, her own legs turned to gummy snacks, and she plopped back on her fanny. What her mouth could do with those buns.

His back was to her but when he tossed his Crocodile Hunter shorts over the line and reached for his jeans, she gaped at him in profile. She’d been right. Mr. McGraw Tours was well hung. Even flaccid, he was long and thick. Imagine his size when he was swollen and rock hard.

The slow burn of a few minutes ago centered directly between her legs, threatening to explode. Her breath came in silent, ragged gasps. Oh, she could make him hard. Her eyes half closed in anticipation. She could give him a hard-on he’d never forget.

In dismay, she watched him balance first on one foot then the other, and those lovely firm cheeks disappeared under the denim jeans. He did that delightful little shake guys do when they zip up their pants. The one where the butt wiggles and they adjust themselves.