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  “What the hell are you doing, boy? If you’re after a midnight snack, then forget about it. We’re not supposed to open that refrigerator any more than we have to with the power out.”

  He felt like a kid caught raiding the cookie jar. Then again, it was kind of a good feeling. As a kid, he’d raided the cookie jar, which had only held bakery cookies, hundreds of times. Nobody had noticed. People around this ranch paid attention. They cared about what went on, and he liked that.

  “We have to coax Rodney out to do his business,” he said. “Olivia thought we should bring a treat, like a hunk of chicken or something.”

  “Well, that’s easy. Close that refrigerator door and shine the light over on the cupboards to the right of the stove.”

  Wyatt did as he was told, like any twenty-something guy would do when confronted by a grandma-type giving orders.

  “There’s a jar of dog treats on the second shelf. Just take a couple of those and you’ll be good to go.”

  “Thanks, Mary Lou.” Wyatt found the jar with no trouble, unscrewed the top, and took out a couple of bone-shaped biscuits. “Sorry if I woke you.”

  “You didn’t. That damn-fool man Watkins decided to leave his warm bunkhouse and knock on my door. But when I heard someone banging around in my kitchen, I had to investigate. See you in the morning.”

  “Okay. Thanks, again.” Wyatt decided not to think about whatever was going on between Mary Lou and Watkins in her apartment. The image might stay burned in his brain forever.

  “Oh, and you and Olivia make a cute couple. You should pursue that.”

  “I… um… she doesn’t want to be pursued.”

  “Hogwash. Any woman likes to be chased after.”

  “Not this one. She says that was the problem with her other guys. Now she wants to be the one doing the pursuing.”

  “Then I guess you’ll have to figure out how to get her to chase you until you catch her.”

  “There’s the trick, all right.”

  “And don’t dither around about it. Women like her don’t grow on trees, you know.”

  “I do know.” Sticking the dog biscuits in the pocket of his jeans, he turned off the lantern, picked up the flashlight, and made his way back through the dining room and the hallway lined with pictures. He’d known Olivia was special from the moment she’d lowered the window on her Jeep. He might not be able to explain exactly why he knew, but he did.

  He couldn’t say that to her, though. She’d think he was coming on too strong. How ironic that he’d stumbled across a woman he thought might be right for him, and he couldn’t go after her or risk ending up like the other three schmucks she’d dumped.

  Logically, all three men who had proposed to Olivia might have been ninety-nine percent sure she was the one. But they’d seriously miscalculated. Wyatt cringed at the idea of offering a ring to a woman who later returned it. When he presented a ring to someone, he expected that ring to stay on her finger for the rest of her life.

  He knew from his parents’ lives that his preferred scenario wasn’t necessarily the norm, but that didn’t stop him from being determined that it would be the norm for him. He’d seen examples of marriages that worked for the long term. He suspected there were some in the Chance family, his mother and Jonathan notwithstanding.

  He found Olivia crouched down next to Rodney. She had rain boots on her feet and a slicker over one arm as she talked earnestly to the dog.

  “You need to empty your bladder, Rodney,” she said. “It’s not good to hold it too long. I’ve made that mistake a few times when I was working and couldn’t take a break. It’s not good for you.”

  Wyatt couldn’t help smiling. Olivia might have dumped three guys, but she wasn’t without compassion. She would probably argue that leaving them had been an act of kindness if they would have been unhappy in the marriage.

  She glanced up. “Did you find some treats?”

  “Thanks to Mary Lou, I have a couple of dog biscuits in my pocket.”

  “She wasn’t asleep?”

  “No, and please don’t ask why. I’d rather forget what I know. In fact, if the Men in Black could come through and zap my memory, I’d be a happy camper.”

  Olivia giggled. “But you’re already a happy camper. Adventure Trekking. That’s what you do.”

  “True enough. Ever been camping?” Bracing a hand against the wall, he pulled off one of his boots.

  “Nope.”

  “So you weren’t a Girl Scout?” He took off the other boot.

  “For a little while, but money was tight, and I dropped out.”

  “I didn’t think it was that expensive.” Money was one thing Wyatt hadn’t worried about when he was growing up.

  “It isn’t really, but I saw my dad’s face when I told him I needed a uniform, and it wasn’t worth having him angst over it. Consequently, the only tent I’ve been in was a blanket draped over a clothesline in the back yard.”

  “Ever wanted to try camping?” He took the rain boots she handed him and shoved his feet inside.

  “Is that an invitation, Mr. Wilderness Guide?”

  Play it cool, dude. Let her chase you. “I guess it could be, if you’re interested.” He stomped his feet to adjust the fit of the rubber boots.

  “I’m definitely interested if I can do it with a pro.”

  He was glad the darkness hid his smile of triumph. “Then we should go camping sometime. Not right away, because I’m hoping Jack will agree to go out with me for a night or two this week, but I’d be happy to take you when we’re both free.”

  “Alone in a tent.” She stood. “That could be fun.”

  He pictured Olivia naked on a down sleeping bag. With great effort, he kept his tone nonchalant. “It definitely has promise.”

  Chapter Seven

  Images of sex in a tent with Wyatt got Olivia so hot she was eager to go outside and cool off. Without further comment, she put on the yellow slicker and flipped up the hood. “I’m taking the umbrella.” She grabbed a collapsible black umbrella leaning in the corner by the door. “If I keep the rain off him, he might be more cooperative.”

  Wyatt fastened the snaps on his slicker and picked up the flashlight. “I’ll bet most dogs go out in the rain, no problem.”

  “Not necessarily. Some dogs love it and some dogs hate it. Just like people.” She tucked the umbrella under her arm. “I’ll go out first with the umbrella. Give me one of the dog biscuits and I’ll coax him down the porch steps.”

  Pulling up his slicker, Wyatt dug in his pocket and handed her a biscuit. Rodney brightened and wagged his tail.

  “See? He wants that treat. If I can tempt him down the steps with the first one, we’ll give him the second one as a reward.” She opened the door and rain-freshened air cooled her face.

  Stepping out on the porch, she crouched down and held out the dog biscuit. “Come on, Rodney. Out the door, big boy.”

  Nose twitching, Rodney ventured out onto the porch as Olivia backed away toward the steps.

  “Smells good out here,” Wyatt said as he came out and closed the door behind him. He flicked on the flashlight beam. “Rain, wet pine needles, and smoke.”

  She paused at the edge of the steps and put up the umbrella. “Rain smells better here than it did in Pittsburgh. Okay, if you could hold this over him as we walk, I’ll handle the leash and the treat.”

  “Sure thing.” He took the umbrella, positioned it over the dog and swept the area with the flashlight beam. “No tree branches in your way.”

  “Thanks. I’ll bet sometimes you camp in the rain.”

  “Sometimes. It’s tricky working with a fire when it’s raining, but it can be done.”

  Watching him in his element would be a turn-on. Of course, as ramped up as she was right now, just watching him breathe was a turn-on.

  But she was here to help the dog, not fantasize about sex with Wyatt. Holding the treat in one hand and the leash in the other, she tugged gently as she edged backward down
the first step and into the rain. “That’s it, Rodney. Down the steps.” The rain fell steadily, but not quite as hard as earlier in the evening. “Wyatt will cover you with the umbrella so you don’t get quite so wet.”

  With painstaking slowness the two of them maneuvered the dog down the steps and onto the gravel.

  “My plan is to lead him over to one of those spruce trees,” she said.

  “All that way?”

  “He’s a boy. He needs something to lift his leg on.”

  Wyatt chuckled. “I can see you’re determined to do this right.”

  “It’s that or risk an accident in that beautiful house. I’ll keep a tight hold on the leash, but if he shows signs of backing up, block him from behind.”

  “Okay. If I have to, I’ll break out some of my old football moves.”

  “You played?”

  “Nearly every sport I could squeeze into my schedule. It got me out of the house. And it was a legitimate way to get sweaty and dirty.”

  “I was the opposite, an indoor, playing-with-dolls kind of kid. I set up a beauty shop and spent hours on their hair.” She waggled the biscuit as she backed across the gravel drive and used the flashlight beam to watch for big puddles. Rodney followed. Although he whined a couple of times in protest, the umbrella seemed to give him a feeling of protection. “I played beauty parlor with the dogs, too.”

  Wyatt’s boots crunched on the gravel as he followed close behind Rodney and sheltered him with the umbrella. “So that’s why you became a beautician? Playing beauty salon with your dolls and your dogs?”

  “No.” She waggled the biscuit again. “I got into it because I practically lived at a salon called A Cut Above. My dad had no idea what to do about my hair, and the salon was only a couple of blocks away, so he took me there when I was two. After that I went once a week, sometimes twice, until I graduated from high school. Those women were my substitute moms.”

  “Now that must have been expensive.”

  “I’m sure they felt sorry for him and gave him a smokin’ deal. Plus I started helping out when I was old enough to fold towels and sweep the floor. Then of course I went to work there after I graduated from beauty school.”

  Talking about A Cut Above always swamped her with nostalgia. For a while the only sounds were the patter of the rain and the soft crunch of their boots on the gravel.

  “I’ll bet it was hard to leave that place,” Wyatt said at last.

  “Yes, it was.” It was the hardest thing she’d ever done. She’d known some of those women for twenty-five years. But her father’s heart had been set on moving to Jackson Hole, and he’d convinced her that they were in a rut living in Pittsburgh. “I still call back there once a week.” Glancing behind her, she saw that they’d reached the edge of the gravel. “This part might be harder because of the mud. He won’t want to walk through it.”

  Wyatt gave a resigned sigh. “I already figured that out. If you can hold the umbrella and take over with the flashlight, I’ll carry him to the tree.”

  “All right.” She had to hold the umbrella and the biscuit in one hand and the flashlight in the other, but she managed the tradeoff.

  Leaning down, Wyatt scooped Rodney into his arms. “Oof. You are heavy, dog. I can see why Sarah put you on a diet.”

  “It’s just that his bones are dense.” Olivia held the umbrella over man and dog as they squished through grass and mud to the nearest spruce.

  “It’s just because he’s porky, is what I’m saying.”

  “He’ll be lighter on the way back.”

  “He damned well better be.” Wyatt lowered him to the ground under the tree. “I don’t think you need the umbrella right here. The branches are shielding him.”

  “You’re right.” Setting the umbrella on its side on the ground, she offered Rodney the dog biscuit. “Here you go. That’s a good boy. Now do your thing.”

  Rodney chomped happily on the biscuit, swallowed it, and stood looking up at them and wagging his tail.

  “Go ahead, Rodney.” Olivia made shooing motions with the flashlight beam. “Do your business.”

  “I swear to God this is turning into a three-act play.” Wyatt tossed back his hood and crouched down next to the dog. “Want me to show you how it’s done, Rod?”

  The dog whined again and licked Wyatt’s hand.

  Olivia burst out laughing.

  “Well, I’m not gonna demonstrate, because there will be no unzipping of flies out here. It could lead to something else.”

  Olivia nearly choked on her laughter, but a hot river of lust sluiced through her at the thought of Wyatt’s potentially unzipped fly. “Honestly.”

  “Well, it could.”

  “Not likely, considering the rain and the mud factor.”

  He rose to his feet and turned to her, his face in shadow. “Then I guess you’ve never done it up against a tree.”

  “Uh, no.” Her pulse raced. “Can’t say that I have.”

  His voice was low and filled with repressed desire. “We might have to remedy that if we go camping together.”

  She wanted him so much she could barely breathe. “Promises, promises.”

  “Those are the kind I like to make.” Dropping the leash to the ground, he anchored it with his boot as he took the flashlight from her and shut it off.

  She trembled in anticipation of his next move. “It’s dark out here without a flashlight.”

  “Are you afraid of the dark?” A rustling sound indicated he’d shoved the flashlight in the back pocket of his jeans.

  “Not when I’m with a professional wilderness guide.” Her heart beat so fast she felt dizzy.

  “There you go.” He brushed back the hood of her slicker and cradled her head in one large hand.

  “Are you going to kiss me?”

  “Thinking about it.” His tone was lazy, almost casual. “How would you feel about that?”

  “I kind of like the idea.”

  “I sort of do, too.” Cupping her damp cheek in his other hand, he settled his mouth firmly over hers.

  The fuse had been burning within her for hours. With his deliberate kiss, the flame reached the keg of gunpowder, blowing away all thought and leaving only heat and fire. She moaned and wrapped her slicker-clad arms around his neck as her mouth opened in surrender.

  He took what she offered, thrusting his tongue inside, mimicking the connection they both wanted, yet were denying themselves. With several loud pops he unfastened the snaps down her front and cupped her breasts in both hands. She pressed against his palms, desperate for his touch.

  He lifted his mouth a fraction from hers as he massaged her breasts through her shirt. “The whole time I was rubbing your feet, I really wanted this.”

  “I wanted this, too. Oh, Wyatt, kiss me. I want your mouth on me.”

  He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, the tip of her nose. “Where do you want my mouth, Olivia?”

  She groaned. “Everywhere. All over. Wyatt…” His name turned into a wail of frustration. “You’re torturing me.”

  His breathing was heavy. “No more than I’m torturing myself. Right now we have to settle for this.” He deepened the kiss, ravishing her in a way that left no doubt what he would like to do once they were free to explore each other.

  The wind picked up and blew a shower of water down from the pine needles, drenching them. Wyatt just kept kissing her, his mouth supple, wet, and intoxicating. She squirmed closer, wanting more, wanting everything.

  A series of sharp barks jolted them out of their frenzied kiss. Wyatt let her go. She put her hand to her chest and struggled to remember her original purpose in coming out here. Oh, yes, Rodney.

  Leaning down, Wyatt scooped up the end of the leash. Then they both looked at the dog. Rodney had been hit by the same splash of water from the tree as they had, but he didn’t seem nearly as pleased with the erotic feel of it. Slowly he lifted his muzzle and began to bay in true hound-dog style.

  “No, Rodney!” Olivia dropped
to her knees and held his mouth closed. “Don’t do that! You’ll wake up the whole house!”

  “I think he mostly wanted to get our attention.”

  Olivia glanced up at him. “Guess that wasn’t so easy to do.”

  “Nope.” His grin flashed in the dim light. “You are one great kisser, Sedgewick.”

  “Speak for yourself, Locke. I’m surprised you didn’t create a layer of fog around this spruce tree from all that steam.”

  His grin softened. “I loved kissing you, Olivia. I could do it all night. And it’s going to be hell trying to sleep when that luscious body of yours is right down the hall. But we need to get back to the house and do our damnedest to be respectful houseguests.”

  “But what about Rodney? We stopped watching him. Now we don’t know if he did anything or not.”

  “You’re right, so I’ll take him up to my room, which will serve a couple of purposes. If he didn’t go just now and ends up peeing on the floor, I’ll be the one to clean it up. Also, I won’t be tempted to creep down to your room when I know this dog would probably start howling if I leave.”

  “Rodney’s a canine chastity belt.”

  “Something like that.” Wyatt lifted up his slicker and fished out the second treat from his pocket. “Here you go, Rod. Sorry about the unexpected shower.”

  “I’ll bet he went, after all. I’d hate to think we did all of this for nothing.”

  Wyatt’s eyebrows lifted. “Nothing?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I just—”

  “I’m perfectly willing to let the dog wait in the rain a little longer. I’d hate for you to leave here feeling all let down and disappointed.”

  She held her breath, wondering if he’d pull her into his arms again. “I don’t feel let down and disappointed. I feel keyed up and horny, and if you kiss me again it’ll only get worse.” And wouldn’t that be fun?

  But instead he backed off. “Wouldn’t want that.”

  “Right.” Oh, yes, she would.

  Later that night, as Wyatt tossed and turned on a mattress built for two, he wondered if he could maintain the façade of coolness with Olivia. Their kisses had raged through him like a brush fire and every time he thought of the way she’d responded, his cock turned to granite. Instead of sleeping, which was the smart thing to do, the thing Rodney was doing on the braided rug beside Wyatt’s bed, he imagined making love to Olivia.