He gave a doleful shake of his head. “Then it makes you even more of a liability on this trip than I first thought. How in the hell do you expect to know what to look for out in the forest if you have no previous experience in that field, Doctor?”
Libby put a tight rein on her temper. “That’s a fair question,” she said. She rested her chin on folded hands in front of her, holding his burning blue gaze. “I’m coming in to set up the management guidelines for the environmental-impact project. My job isn’t actually to go out and do the studies; we’ll get bids from firms who hire themselves out for that purpose. So, you see, my lack of experience isn’t really a consideration in this case.”
She was smart, Dan grudgingly decided. And she was unlike any woman he had ever met. “If you think on your feet this well, there may be some hope for you after all.”
Libby smiled tiredly. “What are some of the items you wanted to discuss with me?” The waitress brought their orders, and between bites Libby made a list of what she needed. Later, over coffee, she pondered her growing list
“So, what is the most important item here?”
“Boots,” Dan answered emphatically. “Matter of fact, when you finish your coffee, I’m going to measure your feet. I’ll get you the boots. I can’t risk a tenderfoot buying the wrong pair and ending up with blisters the first day of hiking.”
She raised one eyebrow in question. “Measure my feet?”
He barely nodded his head. “Yes. I have a tape measure up in my room. In Challis there’s a good boot store. I’ll take the information back and then send you a pair.”
Libby hid a smile. Despite his gruffness, he seemed to be concerned—even if it was in his own defense. “I never realized that a boot could be that important.”
“When you’re carrying thirty to fifty pounds of gear on your back, Doctor, those boots had better feel just right to you. Otherwise you’re either going to blister or bruise your feet.” He pulled out some money to pay for the meal and then rose. “And like I said before, I’m not going to carry you into or out of the interior.”
Libby rose, her heartbeat quickening. She wanted to say, “Just being around you is an adventure.” It struck her as amusing that he was inviting her up to his room just to get fitted for a pair of hiking boots. She felt his hand on her elbow, gently guiding her out of the restaurant and into the plush lobby toward the bank of elevators. His body brushed against hers and she experienced a thrill of pleasure.
The hotel room was lit by one small lamp on a coffee table. Dan reached over, flipping on the main switch.
“Have a seat, Doctor. I’ll be back in a moment.”
Libby sat down on the small couch, her purse resting in her lap. She watched with interest as he brought an oversize notebook, a pencil and a small cloth tape measure. As he knelt at her feet he met her interested gaze.
“First things first.” He reached over on the dresser and picked up two large pairs of gray socks. “Put these on,” he ordered.
Libby leaned over, gently removing her high heels. Heat flowed from her neck up into her face as Wagner came within inches of her. She tried to disregard the hungry look that glittered in the depths of his eyes as he watched her struggle with the heavy socks.
“Why socks?” she protested.
“You always wear two pairs with any boot to protect your skin,” he answered patiently. She had damn nice legs, he decided. But then, he had known that from the moment he had met her. There was something childlike in her struggles with the socks that brought a wry smile to his face.
Libby sat back. “There,” she sighed. Her laughter was infectious as she looked down at them. “I must say, this doesn’t look like the height of fashion.”
Dan found himself returning her laughter. How could this woman who exhibited the elegance of San Francisco society suddenly lapse into self-deprecating humor? He liked people who could poke fun at themselves. He placed the notebook beneath her right foot, carefully drawing the outline of it.
“You like to laugh, don’t you?”
Libby gave him a startled look. “Why, yes. Doesn’t everyone?’’
“No.” He raised his head, drinking in her puzzled features. “Especially very beautiful, well-bred women who were raised with all the finer things of life.”
Her honey-brown eyes took on a look of devilry. “Just because you see me as a cosmopolitan snob, that doesn’t mean I can’t laugh or enjoy life, Mr. Wagner.”
Dan grinned, maintaining a grip on her foot. He rested it on his long, well-muscled thigh. There was something primitive and stirring about touching her. He slid his hand down over her shapely calf. “Maybe there’s hope for you after all, Doctor,” he said blandly. “You know, you aren’t in as bad shape as I thought,” he said, more to himself than for her benefit, running his hand more firmly across her calf.
Libby blushed and compressed her lips. His touch acted like a hot brand on her nylon-clad skin. She could feel the rough texture of his fingers as they slid over her ankle. She wanted to pull away. She wanted him to continue. A tumult of emotion momentarily silenced her, and all she could do was stare at him.
Dan forced himself back to the business at hand. Taking the tape, he measured her slender ankle, the ball of her foot and the instep. Carefully marking down the information, he released her right foot. “What do you do, work out at a health spa?” he asked, reaching for her left foot and placing it on his thigh.
Libby swallowed, her heart pounding at the base of her throat. His touch was electric, triggering a myriad shocking and pleasant sensations within her body. “I—uh, yes, I work out three days a week.”
He regarded her for a moment “A city snob working up a bit of a sweat? Doesn’t that go against your image, Doctor?”
There was a pleasant tension building between them, and Libby could sense the fragile bond of trust. Since he approved so highly of honesty, she felt it best to remain on that tack. “You must hate city women.”
Dan drew her foot on the paper. “Now, whatever gave you that idea?” he drawled.
“Your whole attitude, Mr. Wagner. Taking sniping shots at me because I do try to stay fit even though I sit at a desk all day long isn’t necessary.”
“It was a backhanded compliment. Most of the women I know are country-born and—bred. They’re used to working. They have calluses on their hands.”
Libby had the sudden urge to hide her hands so that he couldn’t see her palms. She didn’t have one single callus. “And city women are weak, lazy and snobbish in your book?”
He raised his head, his blue eyes darkening. “That was my general assessment until just now. You obviously aren’t a weak woman, Doctor.”
“Weak? In what sense of the word?” Why was she interested in what he thought of her?
“There aren’t many women who care to stand up to me. Or men, for that matter.”
She smiled wryly. “I can see why. The kitchen gets pretty hot where you’re concerned.”
Dan shrugged. “You even have some old-fashioned logic. I’m impressed, Doctor.”
He finished measuring her left foot, his hand remaining around her ankle.
Libby pressed forward with her desire to know something of how Dan Wagner operated. She was acutely aware that her foot was resting on his thigh, his hand nonchalantly curled around her ankle. “So, you see me as a feminist?” she probed.
Reluctantly, Dan released her foot “I have no qualms with a woman doing any job—provided she can do it”
“Then strong women don’t get under your skin?”
A sliver of a smile touched his eyes as he watched her struggle out of the socks. “Contrary to popular opinion, Doctor, I like a woman who can stand on her own two feet.”
Libby handed him the socks, her fingers brushing his momentarily. She felt the room getting warm. Or was it her? There was a dangerous tension lingering between them, and she was feeling flustered, unable to think as quickly as she might ordinarily. “You said you feel that city women are weak, lazy and snobbish. I just wanted to know how many of those adjectives apply to me, Mr. Wagner.” She picked up her shoes, slipping them back on her nylon-clad feet.
“Well, if you’re lazy, it will show up soon enough. Being out on the trail isn’t for anyone who doesn’t have stamina.” He gave her a dark look. “And if you do manage to come through this experience in one piece, you’ll earn my respect.”
She rested both hands on her thighs, her eyes sparkling with challenge. “Obviously you don’t see me finishing.”
Wagner rose, standing over her. “Let’s just say I’ll suspend my judgment of you, Dr. Stapleton. You’ve already shown you have a backbone.”
He walked over to the door. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”
Libby picked up her purse. “You don’t have to.” She gave him a slight smile. “We strong women can take care of ourselves.”
Before she knew what had happened, she felt Dan Wagner’s fingers on her shoulder. In one deft, seemingly lazy move he had imprisoned her within his strong, work-hardened hands. She was wildly aware of his fingers caressing the fabric at her shoulders. Her heart soared, her breathing suddenly uneven at his masculine closeness. Her eyes lifted upward to meet his dark, appraising stare.
“You know,” he began softly, “you aren’t strong in some ways, Doctor. I’ll know by the time our hike is over just who and what you are and are not.’’ The disturbing quality of his voice sent a dangerous thrill through her. She felt trapped, excited and frightened, all at the same time. Her body wouldn’t react to her commands. She should move away...away from his dizzyingly male essence, which acted like an aphrodisiac to her awakening senses.
“Now,” he continued amiably, “I’m going to walk you to your car. No protests, Doctor.” He released her shoulder, his other hand on her elbow as he led her out the door.
Libby was at a loss for words. There was a commanding presence about Dan Wagner that simply defied description. She stole a look up at him once as they were walking down the street. In some ways he reminded her of a knight from the days of chivalry. In other ways he was a cougar on the prowl, and she felt as if she were his intended prey....
On Tuesday morning Libby found a priority-mail package on her desk when she came to the office. Puzzled, she slipped the white smock on over her Qiana dress of pale pink. Betty bobbed inside the door. “Dr. Stapleton! That box just arrived. I wonder what’s in it.” She smiled brightly and stood at Libby’s desk, waiting.
Libby returned the smile. There was no return address, simply her name scrawled almost illegibly across the brown paper in which the box was tightly wrapped. “I don’t know.” And then she laughed. “The postmark is from Challis, Idaho...”
“Oh, from that gorgeous Dan Wagner, maybe? Oh, hurry, open it! I can’t believe it—he sent you a gift. Isn’t that wonderful?”
Knowing that Betty was about to be sadly disillusioned, Libby tore the paper wrapping off the huge box. A neatly folded note rested on top of the tissue paper. Peeking under the paper, Libby saw a pair of highly unflattering hiking boots in the box.
Betty’s animated expression faded. “Boots?” she asked. “Is this his way of paying homage to you?” She giggled.
Returning the smile, Libby opened the note. “I doubt it. We got along like dogs and cats on Friday night,” she confided to her secretary. “And he made it very clear that he wasn’t going to coddle me during the time we’ll have to spend together. These boots are his way of making sure I don’t hold him back when we’re hiking.” A smile tugged at her lips as she met her secretary’s bewildered gaze. “Where I’m going in three weeks, I’ll be needing these.”
Betty sniffed at the gift. “What a shame. He was so dashing and masculine. I guess his sort doesn’t think to send a woman flowers....”
Finally alone, Libby sat down, unfolding the note. Her fingers tingled as she opened the crisp white paper. Suddenly, she was anxious to read his letter.
Dear Dr.
Stapleton
These boots won’t do your beauty justice
,
but they are practical.
Wear them each day when you go for your walk.
Remember
,
be sure to put on a pair of heavy wool socks so that you don’t end up with blisters.
D.W.
A part of her felt rebuffed and hurt; another part of her laughed. Well, there was one thing that could be said about him: he was consistent. Infinitely practical, attentive to detail and as caustic as acid, Dan Wagner was certainly going to earn a corner of her memory. He reminded her of a rogue stallion that was used to having his way about everything. And then he had to run into her, a woman. It seemed obvious that he was used to dealing with women on only one level: the bed. He didn’t enjoy dealing with her in his business world. She gently laid the note back on top of the boots, smiling to herself. “Well, Dan, for better or worse, you’re going to be saddled with me,” she murmured. A glint of mirth danced in her brown eyes. “Serves you right.”
Doug Adams rested his thin leg casually over the corner of Libby’s desk, an amused smile on his long face. “Well, you about ready to graduate to the forestry level?” he asked her.
Libby pursed her lips and mentally went over the last-minute chores she had to attend to before she caught her plane at San Francisco International. “I hope so, Doug. I can’t quite envision myself being in the woods for that long.” Worriedly she lifted her gaze to meet his green eyes. “I feel terrible about leaving the office. Are you sure that Cherie can handle the necessary follow-up on my other four cases for that long? I mean, she’s only just recently been made assistant. Isn’t that quite a bit of pressure to put on someone?”
Doug shook his head. “Do you ever stop worrying? Relax, Libby. Frankly, if I were you, I’d be more anxious about having to work with Wagner.” He watched her for a moment “Have you heard from him?”
A grin touched her lips. “We’ve been trading cryptic notes for the past three weeks in preparation for this outing. Mr. Wagner doesn’t believe in company biologists, impact studies or the EPA.” She gave a laugh, shrugging her shoulders. “So you see, it will be a piece of cake.”