Authors: Robin Kaye
“They never have before.”
“Unless you can’t get your hands on chocolate, but then, if I remember correctly, you’re more violent than weepy.”
“I’m never weepy. I haven’t cried in years, not even when I lost my job. Do you really think it was a hormonal malfunction and had nothing to do with Fisher?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Andrew, your job is to make me feel better. You’re dropping the ball in the best friend department.”
“Sorry sugar, but I can’t make a definitive diagnosis. Maybe it’s PMS, maybe it’s great sex, coupled with PMS, or maybe you’re falling for this guy.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it? Fine, but even you have to admit you have emotions. You feel love, hate, anger, jealousy, do you not?”
“I’m feeling angry right now.”
“See, I’m right. You might not believe in romantic love, but you love me, you love your parents and mine. So, let’s just take all emotion out of the equation. What’s left?”
“Hormones.”
“So, if it’s true what you say, and you have absolutely no feelings for this guy you did the nasty with, then by process of elimination, your crying jag must have been due to a hormonal imbalance unlike any you’ve ever known. What else could it be?”
“Good. I feel much better now. I knew you would help me put things in perspective.”
“Yeah, it figures you would. I think you’re wrong, and I’m just telling you now for two reasons. First, you’re too far away to slug me, and second, if I’m proven right, I can spend the rest of our lives saying, ‘I told you so.’”
“You’re right about the first and way off base on the second.”
“Actually, if I were there, I’d be in the bathroom with you, and I have a feeling you’d have to stand in line behind Fisher when it came to a slugfest. Still, you’re a hell of a lot closer than you were in New York. Maybe I’ll fly out for a visit, so I can check out the guy you’re dating for research purposes.”
“Anytime. Just let me know when you’re coming, and I’ll introduce you to my new friend Karma. You’d like her.”
“Are you okay now? Can I go back to sleep?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” I hope. “Thanks. And you know… I really do love you.”
“I know, sugar. I love you too. You have fun with Fisher, and call me when you get back to civilization.”
Jessie severed the connection and set the phone on the vanity before soaking her head. She lay in the tub with her head tipped back, eyes closed, mouth and nose out of the water just enough to breathe, while she ran her hands through her thick hair, wetting it so it wafted around her head like jellyfish tentacles undulating with the movement of the water. She floated for a few minutes, letting the warmth soothe sore muscles, frayed nerves, and drown out all noise inside and outside of her head.
With her eyes closed against the bright sunlight shining through the big skylight above the tub, she lay still, calm, boneless, wishing she could stay there avoiding all the uncomfortable things in life—her job loss, her current occupation… Fisher. She didn’t know how to handle him at all. Still, it didn’t change the fact that he was waiting for her. She came out of the water, reached blindly for the shampoo, and hit human flesh that wasn’t her own. Jessie wiped the water out of her eyes and crossed her arms over her breasts.
“I knocked.” Fisher kneeled beside the tub, wearing nothing but a smile and his unbuttoned Wranglers. She could tell by the lack of elastic that he wasn’t wearing a damn thing beneath them. “You didn’t answer.”
“I didn’t hear you. Obviously.” Fisher’s eyes raked over her, and she was surprised the water around her wasn’t boiling with the heat of his gaze. If her own hands weren’t full, she’d be fanning her scorched face.
“Isn’t it a little late for modesty?” His voice deepened and kicked her inner thermostat into high gear. He rested his arms against the tub and leaned toward her. His hair was wet from a recent shower and was just beginning to curl as it dried. “I kissed and licked almost every square inch of you last night and wouldn’t mind doing it again. Did you and your girlfriend have a good talk?”
“Who?” Her brain was stuck on the kissing and licking part. It kept repeating like a scratched record on her parents’ antique Victrola. Only this wasn’t annoying, it was a turn on.
“Your best friend? The one you called.”
“Oh right. Yeah. It was fine.” God, she felt like a fool sitting in the bathtub holding her boobs and crossing her legs. She had no idea how to get out of the situation without either coming off like a bitch or a sex-starved maniac. “Did you need something?”
“I brought you towels and was hoping I could talk you into letting me wash your hair, scrub your back, and help you with the other hard-to-reach places.”
“You want to wash my hair?”
“Ever since that day in the hot tub.” He grabbed the bottle of her shampoo and took a sniff. “So this is what makes your hair smell so great.” He shot her a grin that had his dimple winking at her and motioned for her to stretch out. “You’d better wet your hair again.”
It was easier to close her eyes against both the embarrassment and temptation—her constant companions when Fisher was anywhere near. She slid under the water, telling herself he was right. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before. She dunked under, ran her hands through her hair, and then sat quickly, spinning around with her back to him.
Cool shampoo plopped on the top of her head, and she expected the worst. Most guys she knew wouldn’t think of shampooing a woman’s hair, but then, maybe there were other sides to them she never saw.
Fisher’s fingers dug through her thick hair, and he worked up a lather, massaging her scalp before drawing the shampoo through its length. He piled most of it on top of her head and then massaged her neck, moving to the base of her skull and up the back of her head. In less than a minute, he had her moaning.
His soapy hands moved to her shoulders and down her back. “Are you always this tight?”
She was unable to speak. A sigh escaped her lips.
He gently pushed her head toward her chest and ran his thumbs from the nape of her neck down either side of her spine.
“God, you’re good at that.”
He chuckled as he pressed her shoulders forward and massaged under the edge of her shoulder blades. “Glad you approve.”
It was as if he knew every muscle, every pressure point, every sensitive spot on her head and back, and just how to touch it. One of Fisher’s shampoos was better than every other massage she’d ever had, except maybe that one he did on her ass and leg. If she erased the memory of the pain she’d been in, she was pretty sure it would rank right up there next to his shampooing ability. She’d never noticed the tension in her neck and back until his magic fingers relieved it.
“I’ll let you finish up while I start breakfast.”
She looked over her shoulder. “You’re leaving? Now?”
“Darlin’, you’re gonna get pruney if you stay in there much longer, and if I stay, we’re never going to eat breakfast.” He stood, the bulge in his jeans evident before he bent over, and gave her a peck on the lips. “You have ten minutes.” He took another look at her, groaned, and left the bathroom.
Good thing the water was cooling. Still, she had a feeling she could be in a walk-in freezer with Fisher and still get hot.
Jessie dressed in a pair of sweatpants, rolling the waist to her hips, and a long-sleeved T-shirt, since she wasn’t sure what they were going to do today. It would probably be smarter for her to talk Fisher into leaving, even though everything in her wanted to stay with him. She reminded herself that he wasn’t her type—okay, physically he was, in bed he was, but the rest… She strode into the kitchen and found him in front of the stove.
“Great timing. The eggs are almost done.”
He’d put on a shirt, and she tried to hide her disappointment. He piled steak, eggs, and hash browns on two plates and handed her a fresh cup of coffee.
“It looks wonderful. Thanks. This beats a PowerBar any day.”
He followed her to the table and pulled out her chair. “Karma said you wanted to learn to fly-fish.”
“I did, but I don’t have to.”
He leaned toward her. “It would be a real shame to come all this way and not get what you wanted.”
Was it her imagination, or had his voice just dropped an octave? Visions of him above her, under her, and in the bathtub with her, flitted through her mind like fireflies on a hot, sultry summer night on Long Island.
“I’m the best around.”
She ripped her eyes from his and stared at her plate. Yeah, she’d figured that out last night.
“I did it every summer from high school on. My brothers and I have a white-water rafting and fly-fishing guide company. Hunter’s running it now.”
She swallowed a mouthful of decadent hash browns and concentrated on not choking. He was talking fishing, and she was thinking about hot, sweaty sex. “A man of many talents, huh? A cook and a guide.”
That dimple of his peeked out again. It was utterly charming. “Those are just two of my many talents.”
Jessie cut into her steak and refused to take the bait. Still, it didn’t stop her from thinking about the massages he gave, or the way he made love.
She caught him looking at her as if he could read her dirty little mind as well as he read her body. He made her uncharacteristically self-conscious. She pushed back her wet hair and wished she’d done something with it, or put on some makeup at least. Never one to put on makeup unless she was working or dressing up, all she’d done was put on face cream with sunblock and call it good. She was nothing like the women she’d seen throw themselves at Fisher. Just like she was nothing like the girls Jamie Babcock had dated before he took the dare. Still, she was all grown up and not looking for anything more than she and Fisher had. Sex was enough. Hell, it was all she wanted from Fisher or any man.
He took a sip of his coffee as she tucked into her meal. “Is it okay?”
“What?”
“The food.”
“It’s wonderful.” She looked down at her plate. “It’s also half gone. I’m not shy about eating… or much else, to tell you the truth.”
“I like that about you. I can’t stand when women pretend they don’t eat anything. It definitely takes the fun out of cooking.”
“I can imagine.”
When he shot her a get-real smirk, she put her knife down and rolled her eyes. “Okay, I can’t imagine cooking, which is probably why I don’t. But it’s got to suck if you go to all the trouble to cook for someone, only to have her put on an act, and pretend she’s not enjoying it—especially if she’s obviously holding out on you for nefarious reasons.”
“That’s an interesting word choice.” He cradled his cup in his hands and sat back.
She shrugged. “That’s what it is. Me—I’m a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of person. I’m not a good liar, and I don’t care enough about what most other people think to bother lying about who I am. If they don’t like me, that’s their problem.”
He raised an eyebrow and took a bite of meat.
“It pretty much made me an outcast during high school.” It didn’t help her that the entire school found out about the dare before she did.
“Were they blind?”
“I wore T-shirts and jeans when everyone else shopped at Bloomingdale’s. I was a tomboy and better at sports than most of the boys, and they didn’t like being bested by a girl. I stopped trying to fit in a long time ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “I’m not. When I got to college I dated a few guys. It was fine.”
“Still, that must have been rough.”
“I went back for my ten-year reunion and wore a dress, heels, makeup—the works. No one recognized me. When the bane of my existence asked me out, I told him who I was and left.”
“It must have felt good to get even with him.”
Not as good as breaking Jamie’s nose had. She pushed her plate away. “Not really. I just felt stupid for showing up at all. I didn’t think I wanted to impress them, just show them I’d moved on. But I only ended up feeling sorry for them. Maybe they’ll change, but it seemed as if high school was the high point of their lives. Sure, a lot of them have married, a few more than once, but no one seemed to be soaring to the stars, you know? I couldn’t find anyone who had achieved anything beyond the ordinary—at least no one who’d showed up. I had nothing in common with any of them.”
“Have you soared?”
“I thought so. I had my dream job that I loved. I had exactly what I’d always wanted. Then a few weeks ago, I got laid off. For a while there I felt like my whole world crashed down around me. Now I wonder if soaring is all it’s cracked up to be. The higher you fly, the farther you fall.”
“So that’s why you came out here? To get away?”
“That and I can’t afford my apartment without a paycheck. I had to sublet it.”
“And the book?”
“Fast cash. I’m staying in my best friend’s house rent-free, but I still have bills. I can manage them working at Starbucks part-time, and that will keep me in health insurance too.”
“Sounds like a good plan if you can sell your book.”
“It’s a romance. How hard can it be?”
He didn’t say anything, but then he really didn’t have to. He wore the same expression Karma had when Jessie posed the same question. She just hoped they were wrong. Fisher picked up his plate and reached for hers.
“Oh no, you don’t.” Jessie rose and took both plates. “I’m doing the dishes. It’s the least I can do after you cooked, so don’t even argue with me.”
“Okay, if you insist.” He followed closely behind her and leaned against the counter. “I thought I’d give you a fly-fishing lesson.” He put away the butter and reached above her for a container before scooping up the leftover potatoes. God, the man smelled good. Even over the scent of the food he cooked, he smelled like pine, laundry detergent, Ivory soap, and something that was just him.
Fisher tossed the container in the refrigerator as she rinsed the plates and stacked them in the dishwasher. “With any luck, we’ll catch our lunch and maybe even dinner. There’s nothing better in the world than fresh rainbow or cutthroat trout. I swear I could live on it. Heck, I did every summer while I worked out here.”
Jessie grabbed the cast iron pan and brought it to the sink. “Okay, but just because Karma tricked you, doesn’t mean you have to teach me.” She reached for the dish soap and he took it out of her hands.
“Darlin’, you never wash cast iron with soap. You’ll ruin it.”
“What do you wash it with?”
“Hot water.”
“But then it’s not clean.”
“Sure it is. If you use soap, you’ll wash away all the seasoning, and then the iron will rust. Never, ever, wash cast iron with soap. And if it looks dry, just give it a nice coat of oil, and set it in a warm oven. It’s better than Teflon if you take care of it. My grandfather has a fifteen-inch pan his ancestors brought over the Oregon Trail.”
He took over rinsing the pan, scrubbing the bits of stuck on potato, and then dried it with paper towel. “As for staying, I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do. Believe me, spending the weekend making love and fishing, and getting to know a beautiful woman, is no hardship.”
She chose to ignore the whole beautiful comment. “Fine. I just didn’t want you to feel as if you need to babysit me.”
“Do you have a fishing license?”
“Of course.” She put soap in the dishwasher and started it. “I bought one in Boise before I drove up.”
“Good. Let me get a few things together, and we’ll go.”
***
Fisher led Jessica to the meadow. The river below filled the air with sound, cut only by the wind sliding through the pine trees on the opposite side of the clearing, and the birds calling out. The sun shone down on them. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but the coolness of the morning lingered.
“Okay.” Fisher laid the fly rod on the grass as he sat on the blanket he’d tossed down to shield them from the tall grass. He dug through the backpack he’d filled with bottled water, his ever-present first aid kit, and the practice leader he’d brought for Jessica’s fly-fishing lesson. He tied one end of the leader to a piece of yarn cut from his project for his blasted knitting class, and the other to the fly line. He really didn’t mind the knitting. Actually, he found it relaxing. He just wasn’t sure how he’d get his homework done with Jessica around.
Jessica lay beside him, staring at the sky, focused on a hawk catching a thermal on the other side of the river.
“I have a practice leader on here. It’s the florescent orange part, so it’s easier for you to see.” Grabbing the rod and stepping well away from the temptation lying on the blanket, he stripped some line from the reel and gave it a few false casts. “Are you ready for your first lesson?”
“Sure. Let’s go down to the river.” She got up and grabbed his backpack.
“Your first lesson is here.” He slid the backpack off her shoulder and tossed it back onto the blanket.
Jessica picked up her baseball cap and stuck it on her head, pulling her ponytail through the back. She rolled her eyes before slipping on her sunglasses. “And just how am I supposed to learn to fish if there’s no water?”
“You can’t fish if you can’t cast. Lesson number one is casting. The water and the fish would only get in the way.”
“I thought the fish getting in the way of the hook was the general idea.”
“Stand over here in front of me.” He held the rod in one hand and her left hip in the other. “Feet shoulder-width apart, right foot slightly behind your left.”
She adjusted her stance, and he stepped closer, holding the rod in front of her. “Your thumb sits on top of the cork handle. Now grip the rod like you would a golf club.” The memory of last night and the way she’d gripped his rod, rose out of nowhere, and his body responded. Damn. He had to stop thinking about sex.
He wrapped his hand around hers, immediately feeling the tension. “It’s a rod, not a bat. Relax your grip.”
“Okay, it just feels weird.”
It felt anything but weird to him. It felt amazing with her body tucked against his, his arm around her rib cage, her breasts resting against it.
Fishing, think fishing.
“First things first. You need to strip some line.”
She turned her head, and her breath fanned his face. “I thought we were going to fish, not strip.” She wiggled her ass against the growing problem in his pants. He held back a groan and taught her to cast.
By the time Fisher took her through the basics, coaching her on timing, rhythm, and motion, he was so sexually frustrated he couldn’t see straight. He reeled in the line, his arms still around her, and then released her, stepping back, missing the press of her body immediately.
The sun caught the strands of gold and red running through her chestnut hair. God, she was stunning, and she focused fully on the rod in her hand. She hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t there behind her, guiding her, holding her.
Jessica stripped the line like a pro, cast, and gained distance—just like he’d showed her. Graceful, focused, beautiful, and if the grin on her face was anything to go by, she loved it. He couldn’t wait to get her into the water. He adjusted himself and admitted he couldn’t wait to get her back into bed again either. Hell, it didn’t matter where they were. All he knew was he wanted to be inside her. Too bad she was more focused on the damn fly rod than on him. “Start reeling it in. I think you’ve got it down. I’ll teach you the finer points in the river.” He considered taking a swim. The ice cold water might help keep his mind on fishing.
Jessica spun around, and Fisher held up his hands to protect his face from being hit by a newbie angler with a nine-foot rod.
“Oh. Um… Fisher? What are the rules?”
God only knew what she was talking about now. “You lost me, darlin’.”
She looked around and then at him. “Can I just put the rod down on the ground?”
“Yeah, or I can hold it for you.”
“No.” She gently laid the rod down and turned, looking up at him. “Thanks for teaching me. I think I’m really going to like it if I ever get the chance to actually fish.”
Fisher stepped a little closer and pulled her shades off, so he could look into her eyes. “We can go now if you want, or we can eat. It’s up to you.”
“When’s the best time to fish?”
“Early morning or at dusk.”
She reached up and kissed him. It looked as if she were going for a simple kiss, but that wasn’t at all what he wanted. He caught her about the waist, pulled her to him, and took full advantage of her surprised gasp to stake his claim on her mouth. She tasted like coffee, sugar, and excitement. Her whole body vibrated with it. He wasn’t sure if it was the kiss that caused it or learning to cast. Either way, he wasn’t going to question the outcome. He speared his tongue into her mouth and his thigh between her legs, tugging her closer. The scent of her, the meadow, and forest mingled, making an intoxicating combination.
She pulled her mouth away from his. “I’ve never had sex in a meadow before.”
Finesse.
He had none where she was concerned, and he was supposed to be romancing her. What a joke! “We’ll have to remedy that. Maybe tonight under the moon and stars, but for now, I didn’t bring condoms. I didn’t think—”
She pulled a handful out of her pocket and slid beside him as gracefully as a cat. “I did. We have a blanket and a half-dozen condoms. So now… what were you saying about stripping?”
He had her shirt off within a millisecond. With a flick of his wrist her bra followed, and thanks to her loose sweatpants, one yank had them slipping to her knees. She toed off her sneakers as he unzipped his pants, cursing the fact he’d put on hiking boots. “Shit. Give me a minute to get these off.”