Satin Pleasures (2 page)

Dan hated to burst her bubble. "I heard on the radio it might be a couple of hours before this accident is cleaned up."

"Please," Tess straightened, "tell me you're joking."

The haunted look shadowing her eyes was familiar. He'd seen it in the mirror, millions of years ago, before he came to his senses and dumped his stressful career, pristine penthouse, and empty lifestyle. This woman was wound entirely too tight. It was only a matter of time before she snapped under the strain. "I'm sorry. We're stuck here until further notice."

"I've got six suits waiting for me." She threaded her fingers through her hair and yanked pins out, stuffing them into her jacket pocket with all the intensity of a search-and-destroy mission. "I can't be stuck here!"

He was surprised when she punctuated the last word with a stamp of her foot, and even more intrigued by the flush which bloomed under her skin when she realized what she'd done. He'd known his share of businesswomen with tempers, but businesswomen who blushed?

"I can't believe I did that," she said, faintly.

Bending over he quickly picked up her heel, snapped off her right shoe in her flash of temper, and then arched an eyebrow at her. "I'd be happy to jump up and down, too, if you think it would help."

Tess ducked her head on a small laugh. "Thanks for the offer, Mr. McDonald. I don't think that's necessary."

"Daniel." He barely touched her palm when he laid the heel in her hand, and a blast of sensual heat struck him so hard he nearly groaned out loud. "Call me Dan," his voice rough, "since we appear to be neighbors."

She looked in the direction he indicated where his pickup camper sat in the next lane. "Welcome to the neighborhood."

"Thanks. I think I'll like this one." He hadn't reached San Francisco yet but, if Tess was representative of the women he'd find there, he was going to be one happy camper for the next three months.

No! He reeled in his runaway hormones. You're going to be pretty damned lonely. No workaholics, remember?

As if able to read the rejection on his face, she looked away toward the wide, open space of the bay beyond the bridge. Then, she pressed a trembling hand to her forehead and swallowed convulsively. "You'll have to excuse me. I need...to lie down. I feel
diz
—" Her knees buckled.

Dan scooped her up before she could drop to the pavement again, instantly becoming aware of how light and fragile she felt cradled in his arms. For a woman of five-foot-ten, she was too slim despite the delectable curves tucked into his chest and stomach. He didn't know whether to carry her to the nearest kitchen or the nearest bed.

With one look at her pale face and closed eyelids, he took her to his truck where he knew he'd find both. She said nothing until he took the two steps up into the back of the camper.

"What are you doing?"

"Helping you to lie down."
He laid her on his bed over the truck cab and turned away, trying not to notice he'd dropped his fantasy woman right where he wanted her.

“I don't—"

Tess shut her mouth on another wave of vertigo. In truth, she was in no shape to argue with her Good Samaritan, even if his attention made her uncomfortable.

Too used to taking care of everyone else, not the other way around, she ordered herself to take control of the situation, climb off the bed, and get out of there. She lifted her head, let it sink back into the downy pillow, and amended that order. Wait until the world stops spinning.

Tess fixed her gaze on her rescuer's muscular shoulders, flat waistline, and tight butt as he moved around the cramped quarters. Easily six-foot-three, Daniel McDonald filled the camper with a potent, yet oddly comforting, presence. He reminded her of a grizzly bear she saw once at the San Francisco Zoo, fierce and dominating, and infinitely tender with its mate.

The image was strengthened by the reddish-brown color of his hair and mustache. She'd always thought facial hair made the wearer appear scruffy. On this man, with the shards of copper glinting in the sun beneath the skylight, it looked all too inviting. If she brushed her face, her lips, against it, would it feel as soft as it looked? Would it tickle?

Had she lost her mind? This wasn't the time to cater to an aberrant flash of libido.
Been there.
Done that.
It was a mistake not worth repeating, especially not now when she was so close to reaching her goals.

So close...and so blasted far.
Less than a mile stood between her and the opposite shoreline. She should consider ways to get to the office instead of drooling over her rescuer's all-too-dangerous charms.

She had to get back on track. Fast. She looked around the camper. “So, is your phone here or in the truck cab? I really need to check in with my boss.”

“Sorry.” Dan rummaged through an overhead cabinet. “I don’t carry a phone anymore.”

Tess stared at his back. Something was seriously wrong with the man. “Everyone carries a cell.”

“Not everyone.” Turning his back on the pan of water he’d started heating on the gas stove, he broke the seal on the emergency ice pack he’d unearthed. He shook it twice to mix the contents and handed her the chemically frozen pack. Then he shook two non-aspirin tablets into her palm. "These might help with the pain."

Accepting gratefully, she washed them down with some bottled water before pressing the ice pack to the tenderness behind her ear. "I'm sorry to be so much trouble."

"Forget it. I didn't think you had a concussion. Now I'm not so sure." He removed his sunglasses, tossed them on the counter, and scrutinized her pupils.

The world tilted when Tess saw the striking color of his eyes. They were the color of the sea after a storm, dark green with caps of frothy laughter, ready to submerge anyone in their wake. Tied up in the notion of wading into those breakers, she almost didn't hear his next words.

"Is the dizziness going away?"

She gave herself a mental shake and nodded. "My head hurts. Now that I'm not looking at the bay, though, the dizziness is fading." If she'd been thinking properly, she would never have looked beyond the bridge railing.

Dan pulled two mugs from a wall rack. "What does the bay have to do with it?"

"It's ridiculous, but large bodies of water frighten me.”

He looked over his shoulder one eyebrow raised in question.

“I was sucked out to sea on a wave when I was three years old,” she explained. “My father rescued me, but I guess I never got over it."

"You've come a long way, though, haven't you?"

"What do you mean?"

He motioned toward the open doorway. "You're on a bridge over a big expanse of water. You couldn't do that, if you weren't dealing with it."

"I deal with it, barely. As long as I don't look at the water, I can get across the bay. I'm okay on the beach if I stay beyond the waterline. I also learned to swim," she smiled and added, “in a pool.”

Dan nodded his approval. "That's a big one."

Tess wished she were as brave as he seemed to think. "There aren't any waves in a pool."

"There are lots of them in the pools I swim in."

"I'll bet." With this man splashing around in the water, even she might summon the nerve to challenge the waves.

Dream on, Tess. His pull on your senses is as treacherous as any undertow and, if you possess the least notion of self-preservation, you'll run, crawl—swim, if necessary—in the opposite direction. The thought propelled her legs over the side of the bed.

"Don't run off. Your drink's almost ready." Dan poured hot water from the steaming saucepan into the mugs, and then turned away to dig through another cupboard.

Deciding the seat behind the table looked like a safer place to be—despite what she’d told Dan, she still felt a little wobbly so she didn’t dare go too far yet—she took advantage of the space he left behind, removed her heels and eased off the bed. When Dan caught her maneuver, she justified the action. "It feels better when I'm sitting up."

Liar, her conscience chided. You were feeling just fine lying in the man's bed, thank you very much.

Dan set a mug on the table in front of her. "This will help you to relax."

"What is it?"

"Caffeine-free tea."

"Tea?"

"I did have to put a lot of sugar in it to mask the taint of arsenic, but you should be able to swallow it."

The humor in his voice matched the laughter in his eyes, and she found herself smiling. "Is the antidote in there, too, Mr. McDonald?"

"'
Fraid
not.
I can't let you have it unless you call me Dan." He watched her sip the hot, sweet tea. "So, what's it to be?
Dan or the dreaded death?"

His intimate smile promised slow, wicked delights no sane woman would resist...and the blow to her head assured her she couldn't possibly be in her right mind. At least, that's what she told herself when his name slipped off her tongue on a breathless whisper. "Dan."

Goosebumps ran rampant under her skin when he joined her at the dinette. She decided she liked the sensation before she tore herself away from the insidious feelings assaulting her good sense. For goodness sake! They sat on a bridge in the middle of the bay with hundreds of stranded motorists. She knew nothing about this man.

Space.
She needed more space.

Rising, she walked in stocking feet to the open doorway. The fresh dose of reality, the sight of parked cars lining the bridge as far as the eye could see, the almost party-like atmosphere of the gridlocked drivers, diverted her from the temptation behind her. She frowned at the leisurely activities she'd dismissed earlier. Was she the only one here with a career on the brink of a meltdown?

It was the least of the repercussions she now faced. The mere thought of irritating her employers at this point, when she needed money so desperately, made her crazy.

Her agitation mounting, she paced the limited space between the door and the camper bed. She had to shorten her step when Dan stretched his cowboy boots out into the aisle, his long legs crossed at the ankles.

"Want to talk about it?"

Distracted by the appeal of faded, worn jeans stretched over powerful thighs, it took her a moment to respond. "It won't help me get back to work, will it?"

"Sorry. No."

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him watching her. From the appearance of his lengthening frown, she determined he was struggling with a weighty problem. She had the weirdest feeling she was the problem.

Dan crossed his arms. "I know it's none of my business, but you're pushing for one hell of a breakdown. You're a prime candidate for ulcers.
Or worse.
Believe
me,
whatever waits for you on the other side of this bridge isn't worth risking your blood pressure. It's my experience nothing is that important."

Tess's eyes blurred on the burning memory of another time, another man shouting similar, though angrier, words before ripping her heart out. Concentrating on the unwarranted
attack on her priorities instead of the disastrous end of her engagement to Evan Garrett, Tess slid her gaze over the flannel shirt and jeans Dan wore. She scanned the camper interior and saw enough personal belongings to suggest Dan lived in it. "What exactly do you do?"

He hesitated.
"Fish."

"You fish."

"Most recently.
Yes."

Despite appearances, the man didn't strike her as the vagabond type. For some reason, she could imagine him in an Armani suit, the quintessential executive. Maybe it was the way he carried himself or the ease with which he’d cut to the heart of her problem, as if used to taking command and making snap decisions. Most likely, it was the forceful accent of authority deepening his voice. She could actually see him barking orders into three phones at once.

The conflicting images made no sense. "Look, I don't understand your problems, and you know nothing of mine. I manage a shopping center in San Francisco. My directors don't allow for delay. They don't allow for traffic jams. They don't allow...period!"

She blew off her agitation on a puff of air.
"Never mind.
I can't make you understand why it's imperative I get off this stupid bridge."

"I understand more than you—"

Tess grabbed her heels from the dinette seat where she’d tucked them, summoned a smile, and cut him off. "Thanks, Dan. I feel better now so I must see about finding a cell phone. Nice meeting you!" She raced down the camper steps, as much to escape her irritation with Dan as the frustration of her inactivity.

Dan was at her heels, halting her progress with a few terse words. "I know exactly what it is to be that dedicated,” he said. “If I'd been caught like this a year ago, I'd have done a lot more stomping than those dainty, spiked heels of yours could ever handle.

"Ah, hell."
He thrust his fingers through his hair. His voice lowered. "Tess, I'm merely suggesting you stop and smell the roses. Watch the birds fly. Learn to relax and take advantage of the opportunities life throws at your feet."