Just Trust Me…

“That is definitely the best-case scenario.”

His voice held a note of…something that prompted her to ask, “Do you love your job?”

A frown puckered his brow and he didn’t answer right away. Finally he said, “I love the research, the challenge to discover something new, the knowledge that it could happen in the next hour or day, having a state-of-the-art laboratory at my disposal. But I hate the political bull crap. A lab is no different than an office as far as needing hip boots to wade through the piles of stink.

“I really enjoy the class I teach at Columbia. I like interacting with the students and faculty. At the lab, I spend most of my time alone, so I especially enjoy my time in the classroom.”

His gaze searched hers for several seconds, then he said, “I get tired of being alone.”

The quiet words grabbed her. She knew exactly what “alone” felt like, and she didn’t like it. “What about your breakthrough discovery? I thought it had made you the toast of the town.” Guilt slapped her at the question, but she beat it back, rationalizing that she was asking out of personal curiosity, not in an attempt to gain information for La Fleur.

“Oh yeah. On the surface I’m ‘the guy.’” There was no missing the bitter tinge in his voice. “But all that’s actually done is isolate me more because I have only myself and a very small group of people I trust to count on to make the right decisions.”

She nodded slowly, understanding completely. “So now you’ve discovered how it feels to be lonely in a crowd.”

“I have.” His eyes remained steady on hers. “That sounds like the voice of experience talking.”

“I suppose it is. And I certainly know what you mean about office politics. Where I work, it not only involves wading through the bull crap, but watching out for the back-stabbers. I envy you having a teaching career you could fall back on. If I had an option, I’d seriously consider leaving.”

She’d never said the words out loud before, but the instant she voiced them, she realized how true they were. “I’m tired of placating spoiled divas, of putting a good spin on selfish behavior.” Of being asked to spy on scientists.

A chill ran through her at the thought, and she shivered.

“Cold?” he asked.

“Sort of.” Guilt provided very little warmth.

“Would you like me to get you a blanket? Or I’d be glad to offer some body warmth.” He uncrossed his ankles, spread his legs, then bent his knees, creating an inviting cocoon for her.

Since body warmth sounded much nicer than a blanket, she resettled herself between his thighs, resting her back against his broad chest. His arms came around her, encircling her with heat, his hands resting atop hers. He smelled clean, like the soap she’d brought to the river, and an image of them washing each other, touching each other, flashed through her mind, instantly evaporating any lingering chill.

“Better?” he asked, his warm breath whispering across her cheek.

“Yes.” In fact, it was downright scary how much better. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Men naturally generate more body heat than women. No point in letting it go to waste.”

“No, indeed.” Her eyes slid closed and she snuggled closer to his masculine warmth. The press of his legs surrounding hers, his strong arms wrapped around her, the wall of his chest behind her…it was like being wrapped in a Brett-scented blanket.

“So tell me,” he said, the stubble on his chin brushing against her hair, “who are these divas you do PR for-a bunch of teenage movie stars?”

“Almost as bad. A bunch of drama-prone models famous for behaving badly, and the drama-prone photographers who take pictures of them.”

“Ugh. The lab is looking better and better. How long have you been at your job?”

“Ten years. I was promoted to director of public relations last year. At first I was thrilled, and up until then I had really loved my job. But now…now I’m just…tired. Burned out, I guess.”

“Out of balance.”

“Exactly.”

“Have you looked for another job?”

She shook her head and her temple bumped against his jaw. “I’ve invested ten years there.”

“But if you’re really not happy, maybe you should consider going elsewhere. Remember what the No Change, No Gain article stated about jobs-that the workplace is where we spend one- third of our adult life. That’s a lot of time to be unhappy, so if your job is compromising your core happiness, it’s time to consider a change.”

She tipped her head back to look at him. “Did you memorize the article?”

“Not word for word, but I’ve read it enough times to remember it well.”

“Have you considered leaving your job?”

“No. But the decisions I make regarding my breakthrough will impact my future and my career. So changes are looming on the horizon.”

The word breakthrough elicited another frisson of guilt. “I hope that whatever those changes are, they’re happy ones,” she said softly, meaning every word.

“Thanks. Me, too. Right now I feel like I’m swimming through shark-infested waters with the shore nowhere in sight.” His arms tightened briefly. “Well, not right now. Right now I’m feeling warm and relaxed and happy.”

Pow-another guilt pie in the face. Little did he know that he was embracing one of the very sharks he’d flown to South America to escape. The knowledge tightened her stomach into an aching knot.

“I’m feeling the same way,” she said, again meaning every word. “And grateful. For you keeping me company. And listening. And making me laugh.”

His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It was purely selfish on my part. I like hearing you laugh.”

She shook her head. “You’re trying to make light of what you did, but I won’t let you. It was very nice of you.”

“I’m a nice guy.” She felt him smile against her temple. “Ask my mom. She’ll tell you.”

“I don’t need to ask her. I can tell.” Her heart squeezed. Figured-first nice man she’d met in months and their relationship was doomed to end in only a few days. Jeez. If she didn’t have rotten, stinking luck, she wouldn’t have any luck at all.

“You looked like you needed a friend,” he said softly against her ear, shooting pleasurable tingles down her spine. “I’m glad I was here.”

“Me, too.” She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to acknowledge how it hurt that she liked him so much and her duplicity had destroyed any chance they might have had of taking their friendship further.

16

“TIME TO wake up, everyone! Breakfast in twenty minutes.”

Paolo’s cheerful voice drifted through the closed tent flap and Brett slowly came awake, wincing at the stiffness in his back. The problem with sleeping on the damn ground was that when you awoke, you felt as if you’d slept on the damn ground.

But then something warm and soft and fragrant moved against him, and his discomfort evaporated like water in a desert.

Kayla.

He breathed deeply and the luscious, clean scent of her filled his head. She lay next to him, on her side, her cheek pillowed against his shoulder, one slim hand resting on his chest, one leg nestled between his thighs.

His arms tightened around her, absorbing the sensation of her pressed against him. Of waking up with her in his arms after sleeping together.

And only sleeping.

When the fire had died down to nothing but glowing embers, leaving the air around them cold, he’d risen, then